Laz Rojas

These godforsaken bastards broke every law they're supposed to uphold. There was NO basis for my arrest, no basis whatsoever. I was never even shown a warrant. There was no evidence that they mistakenly misconstrued or misinterpreted to believe I was guilty. They MANUFACTURED all the evidence, and somehow got the doctor to go along with it and make a false medical report which listed all sorts of physical injuries I'd supposedly inflicted on my mother. Fractured skull, spiderweb pattern, broken nose, and other things which NEVER existed at all. All of this came to light when the Medical Examiner's report came out ten months later showing NONE of these injuries existed. The entire thing was one BIG LIE, a total falsehood, slander and false witness. And I was arrested based on all this, stuff which didn't exist, and the case was filed the very next day with no investigation done at all. My mother and I used to watch Forensic Files on TV all the time, and there were murder cases where the cops and DA were convinced someone was guilty but had to wait a year or more for enough evidence to be gathered from the investigation to make an arrest. Yet I was arrested on the spot at the hospital waiting to hear about my mother, and the whole thing went into motion at the speed of light. At my arraignment, I was charged with "inflicting grievous bodily injury", because according to the detective, I had severely beaten my mother and caused the fractured skull, broken nose, etc. etc. etc. Of course, no such injuries ever existed, so I never inflicted any bodily injury of any kind. That didn't stop the judge from calling me a menace to society and cutting me off from both my own bank account and my mother's, or stop the prosecutor from telling me my mother was braindead and on life support and I'd be charged with second degree murder once they took her off the machine. This entire thing still makes my head spin and I wouldn't be able to believe it if it hadn't actually happened. Each day that passes, I get angrier and angrier. If it weren't for my faith in God, and for my refusal to break the law, I'd hunt these people down and annihilate them in cold blood. I have to allow the legal process, and the will of God, to deal with this obscene depravity, this abomination, and rectify it. But if this was 300 years ago, I'd challenge everyone involved in what was done to me to a duel at 20 paces and then shoot them all at ten, or if this was Old Testament times, I'd wipe them out and their entire families and keep everything they had as the spoils. When I talk about all this to anyone, I don't even call my arrest an arrest. I wasn't arrested, I was abducted and kidnapped, since there was no reason for an arrest. The entire basis was fraudulent, a pack of lies that was destroyed by the coroner's report and left the judge with no alternative but to toss the whole thing and let me go. Of course, even though they finally let me go, the damage had been done by then, and continues to be done to this moment. They destroyed my life, wiped out my past, and put me where I am now. And everything that's happened since I was set free is the consequence of this unbelievable abuse of power. Hence why I'm keeping my lawyers informed of everything I go through out here on the street, because the people who framed me owe me for all of that too, not just for the ten months in jail. It's all on them, every last bit of it, all of it caused by them and their actions. They terminated my life and replaced it with this nightmare, and they owe me a new life. When someone totals your car, they or their insurance company must pay to replace it. These monsters totaled my LIFE. It can't be salvaged or repaired, there's nothing left of it. It can only be replaced by a new one, at their expense.

First, the good news. I've finally retained a law firm to represent me in this fiasco. They are highly motivated, not only because of the enormity of what I've been put through and am still suffering, but because the son of one of their clients was shot and killed by El Monte police. They are filing my lawsuit in federal court next month. Federal, not state, court, which should make the case more significant and powerful. The bad news is that, while I'm finally over this hurdle, I have to survive until the suit is resolved, and life on the street is getting worse all the time. Things have gone steadily downhill in the time since my stuff was stolen on the train. They're rapidly getting worse and worse and I feel like I'm sinking into quicksand without a lifeline. It's just one thing after another, one thing after another. Would you believe I was robbed again? Yes, again, for the second time. On the same train line as before, a line I am never, ever going to travel on again, not for any reason whatsoever. The first time, it happened because I had dozed off. This time, I was wide awake. I was sitting in my seat next to a window, and my new duffel bag and new drawstring bag were on the seat next to me. The drawstring bag was atop the duffel bag, and my arm was over both, protecting them. As the train pulled out of the Little Tokyo station (which seems to be where the thieves attack), I was looking out the window. Suddenly, I felt the drawstring bag get yanked out from under my arm. I immediately looked and saw it was gone. I never saw the thief come or go, not even with my peripheral vision, nor did I hear a sound. I immediately grabbed my duffel bag and got up and searched the car I was in. There were five or six other people, and I looked at their belongings and under their seats. None of them had my bag. Then I went into the next car. My bag was there, left on a seat. I grabbed it and opened it and found that nothing was missing. I don't keep anything of value in it anyway, only a water bottle, a small pillow for sleeping, and various snacks. Everything else is in the duffel bag. The thief must have searched it quickly and then left it behind. From the moment he yanked the bag out from under my arm, to the moment I found the bag, no more than a minute elapsed. The guy struck like lightning, and I never saw him. I got off at the next stop and found security and told them what had happened, then also told Metro police. They both told me the same thing, that such incidents were on the rise and there wasn't much they could do about it except file reports. I got on another train and went back to Little Tokyo and got off when I saw a Metro ambassador there. I told him about the incident and he remarked that someone had stolen his backpack the week before. We both agreed that the action seemed to be centered around that station, and he said he'd file a report and recommend increased security there. While riding the trains has become so risky, sleeping in the park isn't much better. I've been sleeping there for three months now, and for the first half of that period, things were rather calm. It sucked, and it was cold, but it was relatively stable. Not very many homeless people around, and the area where I sleep was deserted overnight. Not anymore. Over the past several weeks, more and more people have been showing up at the park, unsavory people, drug users, nutjobs howling and screaming in the night, including one guy who howls like a wolf. And they all gravitate to the area where I sleep. There isn't a single night when I have any sort of privacy at all like I did before. They don't seem to sleep and they spend the night wandering around and prowling like lost souls. I wake up in the middle of the night to urinate and often find one or two of them no more than 20 feet away from me, just hanging around, and I wonder what they're up to while I sleep. I feel like I'm risking my life every time I close my eyes and curl up on that bench, but what can I do? I just pray to God to protect me while I'm asleep and completely vulnerable. Over and over, I get approached by people who ask me for drugs, or ask me if I want drugs. I tell them I don't do drugs, sorry. They walk away. I can't help but worry if one of these days my answer will piss one of them off. And I ask God, "Why, why have You put me here? You know the kind of person I am, the way my parents raised me, the way You have fashioned me. You know this isn't my environment, any more than jail was, that I'm not compatible with it at all, and that I don't belong here one single iota. Why am I here? Why am I being forced to endure and suffer all of this? What is the point? What is being accomplished?" What is being accomplished is the slow, gradual destruction of my psyche, and both my mental and physical health. I've lost all the weight I had regained during the months I was at the motel, and I'm thinner now than I was before. When I first left the motel in early July, I could hardly put on my pants, that's how tight they were. Now I could fit twice in them. Same goes for my pullover. The sleeves hang on me to the point the cuffs cover half my hands. The stress is killing me. Until recently, I was able to handle all of this. My mind and my faith were both strong enough to roll with the punches and keep functioning. But now it's become just too much. It's too much, everything that's happened since March 6 of last year, one thing piled on top of another with no respite, no mercy. I feel like someone continues to force my head under water and won't stop until I drown. A couple of weeks ago, as I sat on that park bench playing solitaire on my phone before going to sleep, a guy wandered over and said hello. So I said hi. Then he asked me if I was friendly. I didn't know what he meant by that, so I said, "What?" He asked again if I was friendly. I shrugged and replied, "I guess I am." He turned and walked off. About fifteen minutes later, he came back, sat down on the ground right next to the bench, and asked me if I was there looking for a sexual encounter with another guy. I couldn't believe what I'd just heard. I said, "Look, I'm not gay in the slightest. Not at all. That's NOT why I'm here." I didn't bother to tell him why I was there, the whole story of how I'd ended up on a bench in the park. He was surprised at my reaction, and embarrassed. He said, "Oh, I'm sorry" and got up and quickly walked off. I never saw him again. But over the past week, I keep seeing guys wandering around and hovering nearby and occasionally watching me, and it seems this area has become, or was all along, a place where guys cruise looking for other guys. Last week, I started to develop urinary problems. Normally, I'd get up once or twice during the overnight to urinate, but over the past month the number of times started to increase. I didn't give it much thought because I know being in cold weather makes you urinate more, and I reasoned it wasn't any prostrate problem because I have a strong, steady urine flow and don't feel any restriction. But last week, my urination rapidly increased to the point where I had to go nine times in just one night, NINE times. On top of that, I developed flu-like symptoms and general body aches, forcing me to buy some Advil and take it. Two a day were enough to keep me going, but it was obvious to me that the toll all of this has been taking on me has reached crisis levels. This past weekend, Saturday and yesterday, were the worst. I woke up Saturday morning to find that I'd wet myself while sleeping the night before. It wasn't much, just enough to moisten my underwear and my pants. The last time I wet myself was before I started first grade, so we're talking 1967 or '68. And yet I wet myself now at the age of 60. I had to wait until I got to the Target in Azusa to duck into the bathroom and change my underwear and clean myself and my pants as thoroughly as possible with baby wipes. After that, I tried to take it easy for the rest of the day and stayed in a park next to the train station in Azusa which is always empty and very serene. But I had no peace, because every so often I got the urge to urinate and had to keep ducking behind bushes to go. Each time, only a little bit dribbled out. I considered the possibility I had cystitis, which would account for the urinary symptoms and the flu-like symptoms, and I've had cystitis in the past, but this time it was different. With cystitis, you have a burning or stinging sensation when you pass urine, but I had no such sensation. In fact, I barely had any sensation at all, as if my penis were under anesthesia, and it reached the point where I no longer felt the need to urinate. I could feel a few drops leak out every now and then with no prior warning, and even if I tried to hold them in and constrict my muscles, they leaked out anyway. This went on all weekend. Yesterday, I stayed in Azusa again, and at midday I went to a 99 cents store that's a 15 minute walk from the park. While shopping there, I got the urge to urinate, so I asked an employee if I could use the restroom. She said it was not in service. This was a lie, since they have restrooms for the employees, but they don't want people coming in off the street and using the facilities, so this is what they say. It's not fair to customers and it's an insult to the intelligence. Why not just say, "It's our policy that restrooms are for employees only"? Lots of other business WILL allow customers to use the restrooms but not anyone off the street. By yesterday, I wasn't in a good mood at all. After everything that's happened since March 6 of last year, and everything that's been going on recently, seemingly ramping up, I was about to take someone's head off, anyone. I asked the employee for the manager, and she said he was up front. So I went to see the man and asked to use the restroom. He started hemming and hawing, so I told him, "Look, I usually don't do this, but I have cystitis right now and I need to go. Do you know what cystitis is?" He said no. I said, "It's when you have an infection in your urinary tract. You get sudden strong urges to go that you can barely hold in. I need to use the restroom." He continued to dilly-dally, so I said flat out, "Look, I'm shopping here right now, and I shopped here last weekend and the weekend before that. I don't want to wet my pants in front of your other customers, and I don't think you want that either. I need to use the restroom. Now." He paused, then called over another employee and told him to take me back to the restroom. The rest of the day continued to decline, with my urinary symptoms getting no better. By evening, I left Azusa to return to the park in Pasadena where I sleep. When I got off the train, I did what I always do -- stop at the nearest bench, put my duffel bag on it, then put the drawstring bag on my back before picking up the duffel bag again and heading out. This time, as I put the drawstring bag on, someone came up behind me suddenly and yelled "Hey!" right in my ear. I I had a heart condition, I could have had a heart attack or a stroke. As it was, I jumped in alarm, and instinctively, without even thinking, grabbed my duffel bag so whoever it was couldn't grab and steal it. The guy who'd yelled came around in front of me, laughing like an idiot, as if he'd just played a practical joke on a friend instead of scaring a total stranger half to death, and asked me, "Do you smoke weed?" The guy's lucky I didn't pummel him to the platform or whip out my stun gun and put him down. I said, "NO, I don't use drugs!" He kept laughing and wandered off. I just stood there for a while, recovering and trying to calm down, and realized just how angry I was. After the illness and everything else this weekend, I felt half-delirious and wasn't thinking straight. I thought, "I'm in one of the levels of hell, surrounded by demons. Why am I here???" If I'd had a gun when that punk did that, I can't guarantee I wouldn't have pulled it out and either shot him or threatened to shoot him if he didn't get the hell out of my face. I left the station thinking, "I'm gonna end up like Charles Bronson in "Death Wish" or Robert DeNiro in "Taxi Driver" if these people keep getting in my face. By the time I reached the bench in the park, I had decided that I had to book a night at the motel again and get the hell off the street if only for 24 hours, so I could relax, take a bath, wash my hair, wash my clothes, and clean all my stuff, especially after having wet myself. It has been a whole month since the last time I was there for a one night pit stop and I desperately needed another pit stop. There's simply no way I could carry on without getting a break. So I checked my finances, and what with having to replace everything that was stolen a month ago, I barely had enough to book one night. If I did it, that would bring my bank account to only $50 and leave me nothing to pay my monthly Earthlink bill or my B of A monthly service fee after November. Then I remembered that my EBT card can be used to pay for food OR to withdraw EBT cash, and since there's enough accumulated in my EBT account to give me an extra month every month, I reasoned that I'd withdraw $50 in EBT cash and deposit it in my bank account. So I went ahead and made the reservation. When I went to the Azusa Target this morning, as I do every morning to use the restroom and buy my food for the day, I attempted to withdraw the $50. It wouldn't let me do it. I tried several times, but it simply wouldn't let me withdraw cash. I couldn't even call my social worker because all ,my EBT information, all the correspondence and paperwork I had from DPSS, was in my original duffel bag and was stolen along with everything else in it. So now I'm screwed, because I can't cancel the reservation, and even if I could, I wouldn't, because I simply cannot go beyond this week without a rest. I guess when I check into the motel tomorrow, I'll have to beg them not to take their usual security deposit, otherwise my bank account will get wiped out and I have no idea how I'm going to get anything else done past this week anyway.

My life has become an extended, never-ending Twilight Zone episode. Ever since my stuff was stolen two weeks ago, things have gotten worse..Although I was able to replace most of my stolen things, including the phones, more things that I'd never have expected continue to happen , and it feels as if I'm under a curse This past weekend was the weekend from hell. After not encountering him for the past three weeks, the guy who crossed the tracks at the Irwindale Metro station and harassed me showed up again. Four separate incidents; two on Saturday and two on Sunday, twice in the morning and twice in the afternoon. I spent both days fleeing from him and filing reports with three different police departments as he followed me from city to city. Saturday morning, I was sitting at the Irwindale station passing the time after buying food at the Azusa target store. After a couple of hours, he got off a train on the opposite platform and apparently immediately recognized me, because he walked to the end of the station and crossed over to my side. As he approached from the distance, I wasn't sure it was the same guy from three weeks ago; but as he got closer, I realized it was him. I prayed he wouldn't confront me, to no avail. He stopped about 25 feet away and started haranguing me just as he'd done during the earlier incident, spewing paranoid and vulgar rants that made no sense whatsoever. "Why don't you leave me alone?" I asked him. "I'm not bothering you in any way, I'm just sitting here. Just leave me alone." He responded that he knew I was there to spy on him and that he was going to "take me out". I told him, "There are cameras here. Law enforcement is watching." He replied, "I don't give a f*ck. I'm gonna take you out." I grabbed my things and got up and moved past him as quickly as I could so I could reach the station entrance, where a red emergency call box is located. I didn't realize at the time there was another box just a few feet in the other direction. As son as I reached the box, I pushed the button. As I waited while the line rang, he started to advance towards me. No one answered the call yet, so I gave up and crossed to the opposite platform to get away from him and call from the box there. As I made the call, he crossed the tracks and continued coming towards me. I glanced at the screen that shows the ETA for the next train and saw it was due in just one minute, so I abandoned my second attempt at a call and ran towards the far end of the platform, hoping the train would arrive and I'd get aboard before he closed the distance and reached me. The train arrived, and as I got on, I looked back. He had stopped halfway up the entrance ramp because three other people had entered the station, and he just watched as I got on the train. I rode the train to the next stop, Azusa Downtown, and got off. The Target store I had been at earlier is located right next to the station, and there's always a Sheriff's department car parked outside. I went to the car planning to tell the deputies what had just happened, but there was no one in the car. So I went back into the station and called from the red emergency box there. I explained what had just happened at the Irwindale station and was told two deputies would be sent out to that station. I crossed to the other side hoping to catch the next train back to Irwindale and hoping both the guy and the deputies would be there so I could point him out to them. But the next train was due in 12 minutes, and by the time I got to Irwindale, the guy was gone and there were no deputies around. Three Metro Ambassadors got off the same train, though, and I went to them and told them everything that had happened. They told me they would file a report and suggested I download the Transit Watch app from the Google Play store and install it on my phone. With it, I could submit a report on the incident and also call for help during an emergency. I thanked them and got on the next train. I downloaded the app aboard the train, but I got off two stops later at the Monrovia station and sat on a bench on the platform to make the report. I wrote out a detailed account of the incident, answered all the questions, and submitted it. Just then, a train arrived and the same guy got off it! He saw me and walked right past me, ranting as usual, and stopped bedside the red call box between me and the station exit. And he stood there, blocking my access to the box and continuing to rant and threaten me. Among the things he said was, "I don't want to see your ass at Irwindale nor more. Keep your ass out of Irwindale." Just as I had done at Irwindale earlier, I grabbed my things and moved past him and out of the station. There's a park directly next to the station which you enter as soon as you come off the ramp, and there were two women from Jehovah's Witnesses there to hand out material. I approached them and said, "Do you have aphone? I need you to call 911 for me. I have a phone but I put it away and I'm too nervous to use it." I explained what had been happening, and they quickly called 911. For the next 20 minutes or so, I repeated my report to the police four or five times as I was transferred from one department to another. During this, the guy stopped at the entrance to the park and stood there, watching both me and the women. They began to get scared, but after a while, he went back up the ramp and we couldn't see him anymore from our angle. The police asked me for a description of him and I gave it to them. Then they told me they were sending two deputies out and asked me for my own description so they could find me quickly. After the call ended, the women said they need to leave and did so. After they were gone, I peeked down the station platform and the guy wasn't there. He'd gotten on one of the trains that had passed during the call, and I breathed a sigh of relief. The deputies arrived about 15 minutes later and I recounted the incident to them. They were concerned but told me there really wasn't much they could do because these had been chance encounters that didn't rise to the level of stalking. They also advised me to be careful and keep my eyes opemn, and to call 911 immediately from my own phone if I ran across him again. By now, it was noon. All of this had happened within an hour span that morning. I spent the rest of the day trying to follow my normal routine and recover from the ordeal. At night, I went back to memorial Park in Pasadena where I sleep on a bench and went to sleep around ten o'clock. Sometime later, during the wee hours, I suddenly woke up. I had never woken up that way before. There was no transition between being asleep and arousing. One moment I was sound asleep, the next I just opened my eyes, fully conscious. There was another man standing right in front of the bench, mere inches away, looking down at me. I didn't even get a look at his face, because as soon as I opened my eyes, he turned and quickly walked away and out of the park. I couldn't believe it, and I wondered what he might have done had I not woken up at that moment. I also felt that God had made me wake up so that I'd catch the guy in the act and prevent whatever might have happened. I prayed for His protection and then went back to sleep. The next morning, Sunday, I followed my normal routine. Bought food at the Asuza Target, then went to Irwindale to pass the time. Despite the two encounters I'd had with that lunatic the day before, I was feeling more angry than scared. I thought, "Who the hell is he to tell me where I can and cannot be? And if I really have faith in God, then I must trust that no harm will come to me. This guy cannot hurt me unless God wills it, and if God doesn't, it won't happen. God controls this, not the guy or anyone else." With that confidence, I sat on the same bench again. But just in case, I dug out a pair of scissors I have in my duffel bag and placed them on top of everything else for quick and easy access. There were also two rocks on the bench and I wondered who would put them there and why.I thought about David and Goliath, and I planned on using the rocks as self defense should the scissors fail. About an hour later, two Metro ambassadors got off a train on my side of the station and remained by the vending machines at the entrance. A while later, the guy got off another train. I tensed up, thinking, "Here we go again!" He saw me, but he didn't approach me. He remained at the entrance, near the two ambassadors. After some time, the ambassadors got aboard another train and left. Then the man started to approach me. r Remembering what the deputies had told me the day before, I thought, "If THIS doesn't rise to the level of stalking, what does? Every time he sees me, he confront and threatens me, and he just now bided his time and waited for the ambassadors to leave before making his move." Unlike the day before, when he stopped about 25 feet away from me, he walked all the way to me and passed in front of me and then stopped about ten feet to my left -- right between me and the red call box at the middle of the station. He said, "I want your ass out of Irwindale. I don't want to see your ass in Irwindale any,more." Despite my earlier resolve not to be intimidated by him, despite my having the scissors and the rocks, and despite my desire to stand fast in my faith and in God's protection, I jumped onto the first train when it arrived and escaped. As I rode the train, I castigated myself for fleeing. I felt like a coward, and I felt I had shown a lack of faith. I got off at the next Station, Duarte, to report this new incident on the red call box there, but the two ambassadors who had been at Irwindale and who he had waited until they'd left were there. So I told them what had happened, and about everything that had happened the day before. They asked me, "Was he the guy who was standing near us?" I said yes, and they said they'd file a report and that they knew what the guy looked like. They also said they'd recommend that these stations be watched more and that security be increased. I spent the rest of the morning afternoon trying to resume my normal routine and not allow all this to rattle me, and I went back to the Irwindale in the afternoon. I sat there for three hours and was planning to leave in about another half hour when three Metro ambassadors got off a train. My first impulse was to tell them about all the incidents, but then I thought it would be redundant after all the reports I'd already made to three police departments. But after a few minutes, another train arrived and the guy guy off. Just like before, he saw me and started to approach me, then he stopped and sat on a bench between me and the station entrance. The ambassadors were at the far end of the opposite platform. I grabbed my stuff and quickly walked past him to go to the ambassadors, and as I passed him, he said, "Why are you hanging out around here, old man? I told you I don't want to see your ass around here." I reached the ambassadors and quickly told them everything that had happened since the day before. One of them went with me halfway down the platform to get a closer look at the guy, and he said, "Okay, we know what he looks like. We'll include that in our report. If we see him again, we'll take a picture of him." The guy watched us, then got aboard the next train and left. Four encounters in two days. As a writer, it would never have occurred to me to write a story like this and have all these things happen to the protagonist, but this is what my life has become. As I write this, I have absolutely no idea what's yet to come, what more may be in store. Nothing would surprise me at this point, which is why I've just ordered a stun gun and pepper spray from eBay which I should receive by Friday, before the weekend. I don't want to be caught unarmed should I come across this lunatic again. For all I know, he may be all talk and never actually attempt any physical violence, but he's obviously disturbed and I cannot predict what he might do if the situation goes further or what he's capable of. I admit that if I'd been armed with a gun yesterday, I would have shot him without hesitation. For now, though, the police departments of Azusa, Irwindale, and Monrovia, as well as Metro police, all know about this guy, and hopefully there'll be increased security.

I don't even know what to say right now, how to put it, I'm barely holding it together. Thank God for the Center for Health Justice where I was able to come now after what happened this morning, in whose office I wrote and posted the update to this forum yesterday. This morning, my duffel bag was stolen as I rode on the train. Everything I had is gone. What little I had left was in that bag and it's all gone. Two phones and a tablet, which I received not two weeks ago along with free phone and internet service as government relief, are gone, along with everything on them. Important information, passwords, even my mother's death certificate. Everything that I've been carrying for these months which kept me going, which helped me survive from day to day, all gone. I thought I was back at square zero before; where am I now??? All I have are the clothes I'm wearing. I don't even know where I'm going to sleep tonight without any of my stuff. I have absolutely no plans or idea what to do from this point on. things were bad enough as they were, but today their even worse. Today makes what I described in my update seem like a picnic. This is too much, just too much to happen to one person. I still couldn't wrap my head around everything that happened before over the past year and a half, now THIS. Pray for me. Please pray for me. I can't believe any of this is happening. It's so overwhelming I feel as though my mind is going to short circuit from the stress. I simply cannot believe any of it is actually happening, but it is. I don't know if it's worth trying anymore. For what? Why keep trying when a setback like this just comes out of nowhere and wipes everything out again. Why?

Update: I wouldn't wish my life on my worst enemy. This is what my life has been like for the past month. During the day, I kill time by riding back and forth on the MetroRail trains, or by sitting at a station and watching the trains go by. At night, I sleep on a bench in a park, averaging about four hours of sleep a night. At first, riding the trains seemed a good way to pass the time and have someplace to be, until I realized the police and sheriff department are cracking down on homeless people. On one occasion, they made me get off the train, and on another, they made me get off the train, then made me pay again to get back on it. Now, I don't look like a homeless person. I'm clean shaven, my hair is neatly trimmed, my clothes are clean, and I only carry a duffel bag with me -- since all I have left in this world after the police destroyed my life and made me lose everything fits into a single duffel bag. I look like any typical commuter. But somehow they know, probably through some form of profiling, and I get victimized by these fascist tactics. A week ago, I stopped off at a Target store in Azusa to buy food, then got back on the train to Pasadena. But I decided to kill some time at the station in Irwindale, because it's the least busy station and a quiet spot to pass the time. When I got off the train there, there were only three people at the station -- myself, and two deputies. The deputies were at the far end of the platform and walking away from me down the exit ramp. So I sat on a bench. They must have had eyes in the backs of their heads, because not two minutes later, they were right beside me. One was a woman, the other a man. The woman stood in front of me and asked me if I was okay. The man stood a bit to the side and watched as if ready to act should I pull out a weapon. I couldn't for the life of me understand why they doubled back and came all the way down the platform to ask me anything, when I had just arrived and all I was doing was sitting there, so I replied, "Yeah, sure. Why wouldn't I be?" Then she asked me, "Are you going to get on the next train?" My first impulse was to say, "Maybe, maybe not. Why should you care? Am I doing something wrong?" But then I thought, I already have enough trouble as it is and don't need any more. So I answered, "I suppose so." Would you believe they remained standing there for fifteen minutes until the next train arrived? When it did, I got aboard, wondering what would have happened had I stayed on the bench. The entire time I sat there, I felt intimidated and abused. They had no right to even approach me when all I was doing was sitting there like any regular commuter. As far as I'm concerned, they invaded my personal space and infringed upon my personal liberties, and I did nothing whatsoever to warrant it. Supposedly, I've been a free man since January 9, but I don't feel free. I was under less scrutiny when I was in jail. It is a disgrace that after everything I've endured since March 6 of last year, and everything that was inflicted on me, I should be dealing with this sort of thing. The abuse of power that put me in jail in the first place continues even after exoneration and release, and I continue to suffer in its aftermath. It feels like I'm caught behind enemy lines during a war, and something as simple as riding a train or waiting at a station could lead to a situation that I never would have envisioned. That's what my life is like during the day. Nights are not much better. The police show up in the park sometimes to chase me out of there as well. One night, I was sitting on a bench playing solitaire on my phone when a patrol car came into the park. The police shined a light in my face and ordered me to leave, else they'd have to give me a ticket. So I left, with absolutely no idea where to go or what to do. I walked around the area for about an hour and returned to the park only to find them still there, so I continued to walk around. When I went back again, they were no longer there. But before I could reach the bench, they showed up yet again, and I was forced to hide inside some playground equipment, a small mock train that small children play in, until they left. Needless to say, this is nerve wracking for me. Having to play cat and mouse with the police as if I were a criminal on the run just to get some sleep is something I never would have conceived of, yet that is the situation I find myself in. And the only reason I'm in the park in the first place is because the police framed me and ruined my life. This is beyond sheer irony. It's beyond outrageous. It's an abomination. But the police are just one factor hampering my attempts to sleep. The weather is another. Regardless of how warm it might be in the daytime, the nights can get quite chilly. Sometimes so much so that I actually shiver. But this past holiday weekend was a nightmare, because a storm system came in and it rained all Friday night and through much of Saturday. I wasn't able to sleep a wink that night because it was impossible to be outdoors without getting drenched, so I had to find a place to duck into. I tried the train station right next to the park, but the ceiling has openings in it through which the rain got in, and even the benches were wet and impossible to sit on. So I ended up hiding all night in the park's playground, crouching inside the same mock train that I hid from the police in. But that was nothing compared to what happened the following night. The rain stopped Saturday evening and I was able to go to sleep on the bench. But at some point during the wee hours, someone shook me awake suddenly as I slept. I was in a deep sleep at the time, and I was so groggy I didn't know what the hell was going on. I looked up and all I could see was a man towering over me and staring down at me. It caught me completely by surprise, and I heard him ask, "Who are you?" My brain still hadn't kicked into gear and I just stared up at him and said nothing, so he asked me again, "Who are you?" I scrambled for something to stay, and I didn't want to give him my name, so I said, "I'm just me." He said something I didn't understand, then walked away. I waited until he was out of sight before I tried to go back to sleep, but it was quite a while before I was able to do so. That incident was disturbing enough, but it was just a prelude for what happened later on Sunday. That afternoon, I decided to kill some time at the Irwindale train station again, the same station where those two deputies harassed me a week earlier. As usual, the station was empty most of the time, so I sat down and played solitaire on my phone. After about a couple of hours, I saw a homeless man get off a train that had stopped at the platform opposite me. He didn't leave the station and sat down on a bench some distance away, apparently intending to kill time just as I was doing, so I continued playing solitaire. After a while, however, the man got up and sat down on a bench directly across from me and started to say something. I couldn't make out what it was, and at first, I thought he was talking to himself. But he got louder and insistent, and I realized he was addressing me directly. So I ignored him and continued to play as if I wasn't aware of him, hoping he would lose interest and stop. He didn't stop. Instead, he got up, jumped off the platform onto the tracks, crossed the tracks, then climbed onto my platform and sat down right next to me and started to berate me with a tirade of vulgar and obscene ranting. Among the things he shouted at me were demands that I get my dick out of his head. I won't even repeat the other things he said. The minute he started crossing the tracks, I couldn't believe what I was seeing. Now I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I never would have expected anything like this at all. I was so stunned by it that I literally didn't know what to do, and I just sat there trying to ignore him. That just made him more insistent and belligerent, and I felt trapped and scared. I thought of getting up and leaving, but I feared he would simply follow me and perhaps even get physically violent. If he had been compelled to actually cross the tracks to get in my face, there was no telling what he was capable of. This went on for two or three minutes, during which I sat there basically paralyzed into inaction and praying to God to protect me and make him go away. At one point, he shouted, "I don't care if you have a Uzi in there" -- referring to my duffel bag -- "I'll take you out! You wanna fight me? You wanna fight me? I'll take you out!" I finally spoke to him and said, "Look, I don't want any trouble. Please leave me alone." He continued threatening me and berating me as if he hadn't heard me, but then a train arrived at our platform and he broke off and got on the train. As I watched the train leave, I was relieved the situation had ended so abruptly, and I went back to playing solitaire and tried to recover. About fifteen minutes later, a train arrived at the opposite platform and the man got off it. He must have gone only two or three stops and then caught a train in the opposite direction and doubled back. He immediately came over to me again and picked up where he'd left off. I was completely stunned, unable to believe this was happening on top of what had already taken place. But before I could think of what to do, a train arrived at our platform and I got up and quickly boarded it. He didn't follow me, but I was literally shaking as I sat on the train and left him behind. After the events of this weekend, I feel shell shocked. Whenever I see someone nearby, I bristle, because I don't know what to expect. They might be the nicest person in the world, or they may want to harm me. I just don't know; I can't read their mind. And I tense up whenever someone walks in my direction, because I can't help but feel they're going to confront me, and it's a relief when they pass by without incident. I used to live a normal life in a safe and secure environment. That was all destroyed last year. First, I found myself in jail, a place completely inimical to me and that I never should have been in. Now I'm out, but again I find myself in an environment where I don't belong and which I have no experience handling. This nightmare didn't end when they released me from jail eight months ago. It just took on a different form, and continues uninterrupted to this day. Because everything I'm going through, everything that's happening, each and every single day, is the direct result of what they did. And it won't end until it is rectified in some manner, until they are held accountable and I am compensated for their malicious and unconscionable abuse of power and the heinous injustice they committed against me. Only a lawsuit will accomplish that, it seems, because even my application for General Relief was denied by the county. I can think of no one more entitled to GR than me, as my current situation is the result of the corrupt and criminal actions of county employees.

After months of trying to obtain a civil rights attorney to help me file a lawsuit over my false arrest and imprisonment and the destruction of my life that they incurred, the only lawyer who gave me an appointment and agreed to look into my case eventually changed his mind and decided not to help me. His only advice was to continue looking for a lawyer. I've contacted dozens and he was the only one to respond positively at first. All the others either never responded or told me unbelievably that what was done to me didn't justify their involvement. Who the hell else am I supposed to contact who will actually want to help me and won't fink out afterwards? It is inconceivable that in this country, a 100% innocent man can be completely framed by the authorities, have his entire life destroyed, have the case against him thrown out ten months later when the truth comes out and shows the charges and allegations against him were fabricated and false, be released and set free with nothing left to his name, and then be unable to get anyone to help him sue and obtain some measure of justice and compensation for all he was put through and forced to lose. My civil rights were violated in numerous ways, as were my constitutional rights and my basic human rights, and yet no civil rights attorney will champion my cause. My case encompasses multiple aspects and consequences and damages, each of which is sufficient cause and basis for legal action. I could literally file a separate lawsuit for each of them, or one big one that includes everything. But the criminals who did this to me so gratuitously and maliciously are not held accountable; and me, the victim of their egregious abuses of power, cannot find anyone to help me get any compensation and be able to build a new life. It's absolutely obscene and incomprehensible. I have a huge civil rights case and no one wants to touch it. If someone totaled my car, they'd have to pay for it, or their insurance company would have to. If neither did, I'd take them to court and I'd be awarded damages. These people totaled my LIFE and left me with nothing, and there's nothing I can do about it? The crimes against me continue to this day despite my release and I have no remedy and no recourse. I've been living on the street again for days now with little food and without any sleep at all. I don't know which will do me in first, lack of food or lack of sleep. No one can go on this way for long without succumbing to one or the other. If this weren't happening to me I would never ever think it was possible, but it's come down on me like a curse. I wish to thank everyone here who donated for extending my life for a few months, but I don't have much hope for the future anymore and it's only a matter of time before I reach the end. This has crushed my soul and destroyed my faith, and when it comes, death will be a relief and an escape from this horrific nightmare.

A lawyer finally responded positively to me and gave me an appointment to see him yesterday. I went to see him and came away totally disillusioned and depressed. Despite his initial desire to help me, he told me my case is one of the most difficult to prove. That in itself blew me away and shattered my entire outlook on this, because everyone else I've explained my case to who isn't a lawyer considers it a no-brainer. They can understand and appreciate the enormity of what was done to me and all that I endured, and the many aspects of my case and all that it encompasses. Does the law not address any of these issues? I don't even know why he had me come in if he's so doubtful about the prospects. He's well aware of the details and issues of my case, because as part of my communications with him I sent him the same recounting of them that I posted on my Facebook and my YouTube, the very same words that compelled Dynamo to repost them here on the Doomworld forum and compelled members to whom I am forever grateful to send me $8500 in donations in less than a week. Since he's the only attorney who's responded after reading that, I thought he understood, and that he both wanted to help me and believed that he could. He asked me how much money I would like to get, and I replied that although no amount of money can ever truly make up for what I've suffered, and that although people have told me to sue for a hundred million, I'd be satisfied with only five. He told me he probably can't even get that much for me. This is mind boggling, because there are people who sue over car accidents who get at least hundreds of thousands, and I'm dealing with the destruction of the life of an innocent man and all the emotional, psychological, physical, and financial damage that was inflicted on me. In the end, he didn't agree to represent me, and he told me he has to get the case file from my PD before he makes a decision. He left me with the distinct impression that he doesn't really believe me nor in my case, and that whatever the file says is more important than everything that really transpired and my testimony of all of it. I don't need to prove anything, because the case and its many issues speaks for themselves. And the authorities can't prove anything against me because all of the charges and accusations were false, a total fabrication and a fraud, which were disproven by the medical examiner's report. That's why the judge dismissed the case and set me free, and that act alone is an admission that they were in the wrong. There can be no debate about any of that at this point, and the only issue that needs to be resolved is just how much money I should be awarded as compensation. Yet it seems my prospects for a resolution are slim, or that I'm faced at the very least with an uphill battle. Next Thursday, I have to leave the motel where I'm currently living because I no longer have enough money to stay any longer. I'll be back on the street with nowhere to go and little if anything to eat. All of the progress I've made over the past few months, including regaining my health, is going to be lost. I can't begin to describe how disillusioned and wounded I feel. I may be a free man again, but nothing has been resolved, and I continue to suffer and be victimized with no justice or compensation. I am stuck in a limbo with no resolution and no path forward, my past completely wiped out and my future held in abeyance. What little safety and security I've had the past few months will come to an end soon, and the only solid ground I've had beneath my feet since this nightmare began fifteen months ago is going to vanish before I get any remedy at all. And the people who did this to me go on with their lives with no accountability. If it weren't for people like the members here who've reached out to help me, I'd truly lose all faith in humanity and in this world.

Another update. Although I've recovered from whatever illness I had (probably covid) and gained back the weight I had lost, I'm now suffering from a delayed reaction to the illness. I developed a case of acute telogen effluvium a month ago and I've shed about 75% of my hair. From what I've read on the internet, this happens to some of the people who recover from covid. Hopefully it'll grow back in time, but right now I look like someone who's undergoing chemotherapy or suffering from radiation poisoning. But that's the least of my worries. Although I've contacted numerous lawyers, I still haven't found one willing to handle my case. I would have thought any lawyer would jump at the chance to take it on, but so far I've gotten no results. One firm even told me my case has no merit and that nothing about it justifies their involvement. This is absolutely incomprehensible to me. How can anyone say this? The enormity of the crimes committed against me is obvious and indisputable, and I have multiple foundations for a lawsuit. If the monsters who did all of this to me not be held accountable, and should I not be compensated for any of it, then there truly is no justice in this world. They will have succeeded not only in completely destroying my past, but in sabotaging and aborting my future as well. My money is running out and in two weeks I'll be back on the street like I was earlier this year, a situation I thought I'd left behind and would never be in again.

Update: I have been very sick for the past month. I don't think it's covid because I don't have any typical symptoms. But I've been extremely weak and my skin is crusting and flaking and peeling. I really have no idea what I've got. I haven't been able to look for lawyers yet but I intend to sue Los Angeles county for at least $100 million. Most of you are outraged and indignant over the account I wrote which Dynamo posted here. Believe me when I say that account barely scratches the surface of all I endured and that was inflicted upon me for those ten months. Put in a supermax prison and designated a threat to society and treated as such, and all because the detectives and the doctor fabricated a completely fraudulent medical report on day one that falsely claimed my mother's skull was severely fractured from blunt force trauma and that I had beaten her to death. I was arrested based on this alone and charged with "inflicting grievous bodily injury". All of this bullshit was completely discredited ten months later by the medical examiner's autopsy, which showed no physical injuries at all and determined death was natural and caused by a swarm of strokes from my mother's dementia. They maintained the charade for those ten months. Each time they called me to court, they kept claiming my mother had many broken bones and that I must have beaten and abused her for years. They even went so far as to claim that my mother and I following a natural, organic diet for years was "unconventional" and my keeping her on such a diet constituted "the willful inflicting of physical harm" according to the statute. Can you believe this? Here's just one example of the kind of things I went through. I was put in a small cell with two other inmates in the men's central jail at one point for just one night, and they spent all night tormenting me, making little cigarettes out of toilet paper and lighting them and throwing them on me and forcing me to constantly put them out. I wasn't able to sleep at all that night for fear of what they'd do to me while I slept. This is just one example of what I suffered thanks to the malicious actions of the police and the prosecution in my case. Why these motherfuckers would do all this still blows my mind. They're not just corrupt and evil, they're sadistic sociopaths. If any of you had been their victim you'd want to hunt them down and slaughter them and wipe them from the face of the earth. But I am going after them legally, including personally suing the detectives and the doctor. I won't stop until I've completely destroyed them. Payback is going to be a bitch.

Even as I type this, donations continue to come in. I know I've said it before, but I have to say it again, I am absolutely floored by all the support that has come from this community. It is really incredible, way beyond anything I ever would have expected. My deepest gratitude to all of you, and especially Dynamo, who may have single-handedly changed the course of my life for the better.

My bail was set at $170,000, which put it out of my range. I was also designated a threat to society, and a restraining order was placed to keep me away from my mother -- needlessly, of course, since I was in jail the entire time and she was transferred by them to another hospital (which I didn't even know about until after I was released). Even now, I still can't wrap my brain around everything that happened. It defies logic as well as justice. They did just about everything they could do to me except kill me. And I still don't know how the main culprits behind it thought they could pull it off and keep it going. Like me, they must have known the autopsy would reveal the truth and destroy the fraud. Whatever their intentions, they essentially shot themselves in the foot at the end and left the door wide open for me to file a hall of a lawsuit. On that front, one lawyer who deals with wrongful imprisonment said he wouldn't take my case -- because my case involves more than just wrongful imprisonment. Wrongful imprisonment can be when cops pull you over thinking you're DUI and put the cuffs on you, then release you the next day. My case, he says, involves a lot more than that and includes civil rights violations, so I need to find a lawyer who deals with civil rights cases.

Twenty-four hours later, and I'm still floored by the outpouring of support and donations that I've received from this community. I raised the goal of my Gofundme campaign yesterday because the original one had been exceeded, and now less than a day later the new goal has almost been reached. Absolutely astonishing. Words cannot convey my gratitude to all of you. This is truly extraordinary. On the legal front, I've been advised that I should retain a civil rights attorney, and that seems the best course of action. There are lawyers who specifically handle wrongful imprisonment cases, but I believe my case involves a great deal more than just wrongful imprisonment and should be taken as far as it can go. My arrest led to a violation of all of my rights, including my being dispossessed of intellectual property, and I'm sure the implications of it stretch across a wide range of things. Could be a landmark case, for all I know.

Hi, Laz Rojas here. I just signed up to the forum only to find the topic "Tormentor667. Care to explain why you plagiarised Epic 2?" has once again been closed, so I'm posting what I would have replied there regarding his lifting of almost the entirety of Rheingold Episode 1's first map and his current disclaimer about it. Quite a while ago, Torm emailed me privately and told me about BoA, explained it was an homage to WolfenDoom, and asked for my permission to use some of my stuff. I gave him my permission, he kept me informed about the project's progress, and I'd say he handled that situation properly and as well as I would want. His use of Rhein1 in UTNT is an entirely different matter. I wasn't even aware of it until I read the plagiarism thread two days ago after someone brought it to my attention via email. He never told me about that project or asked for my permission, and regardless of his description of what he copied as being a "snippet", it's obvious to anyone that the majority of the map and everything in it was copied right out of Rheingold and pasted into his project. In fact, I saw a video on YouTube yesterday of UTNT gameplay on that map, and if I hadn't already known that it was UTNT, I would have sworn I was watching someone playing Rheingold itself! His explanation for not crediting me in UTNT is specious at best. As I stated, he never informed me about that project nor his use of my map in it, nor did he ask for permission to use the map. I can fully understand the reasoning for not crediting me in the text file. Since the inclusion of the map was intended as an Easter egg, any mention of it would obviously spoil the secret. But there's a simple way to keep it a secret yet provide proper credit at the same time. You include a wall texture with the credit. Somewhere on the map, the player can read the credit right there and know where the map came from. If the player never finds the secret, he never sees the credit but it doesn't matter because he's not aware the secret even exists. But if he finds the Easter egg, he also finds out about the map's origin. An homage is also not effective if what it's paying tribute to is not known. Only Doomers familiar with my work and with Rheingold itself would recognize the inclusion of Rhein1 in UTNT as a tribute. Other Doomers would have no idea I actually made it years ago and be unaware of any homage. The fact that Torm never contacted me about using Rhein1 in UTNT in the first place throws cold water on his explanations and justifications now. Asking me for permission and then not crediting me would have been bad enough, but he never asked and never credited. I wish he had been as up-front about it with me as he was about BoA. Laz Rojas

Picture this. As B.J. Blazkowicz rounds the next corner and ducks into the shadows, catching his breath after managing to escape from yet another contingent of relentless Waffen-SS shouting "Halten sie!", he turns to see the following scrawled all over the side of the building, like graffiti: THIS MAP ORIGINALLY CREATED BY LAZ ROJAS FOR OPERATION RHEINGOLD AND IS USED WITH HIS PERMISSION Doomers familiar with WolfenDoom would say, "Yeah, I already knew that." Doomers unfamiliar would say, "Okay, that's cool to know." B.J. himself would say, "Who the hell is Laz Rojas? Crap, here come some more of those Krauts and I've only got one ammo clip left!" Something as simple as this would have properly resolved the situation and it wouldn't be an issue twelve years later. But I was unable to suggest it back then because I was never even told about the intention to use Rhein1 or asked for permission. Had permission been asked in 2008, I would have granted it, and when the issue of keeping the secret had come up, my solution then would have been the same as it is now.