People Don’t Recover So Spectacularly from Criminal Psychiatry (Actual Violations of the State Mental Health Code): Fallout (Part VII).
by Gina Fournier
People Don’t Recover So Spectacularly from Criminal Psychiatry was published on the Mad in America website. It summarizes the first part of my story: setup and suicide swatting by my employer, police abduction from home and the week I was held illegally by the Catholics of my youth, in a criminal mental ward, at a Catholic hospital, in Livonia, Michigan. The hospital was built by the old-world nuns who ran St. Michael’s grade school and defunct Ladywood High School, which I attended. People Don’t Recover So Spectacularly from Criminal Psychiatry (Actual Violations of the Mental Health Code): Fallout (Parts I-VII) cover the retaliation and negative fallout I have been forced to endure in lieu of equal protection for criminal psychiatry, including jail time. Thank you for reading.
Over five years after Land of Motown Community College first suicide swatted me, resulting in unnecessary police abduction and illegal looney bin lock up without evaluation, in lieu of equal protection, so-called welfare checks continued in Bay City. Between August 30, 2018, my 55th birthday, and August 19, 2019, six potentially dangerous and psychologically harassing so-called welfare checks were befallen upon me.
I was still crying inside my home due to mental torture as a result of unchecked criminal psychiatry and the added burden of state sanctioned retaliation.
However, there was no longer a lake to amplify and bounce sound, like at Lake Miramichi. Now neighbors were living much closer by, in a row of duplexes.
At first, my landlady and a neighbor called the cops. Then, again following the pattern set at Lake Miramichi, eventually Michigan State Police took over from the county sheriffs and their reports named no instigator for so-called welfare checks.
On April 3, 2019, a so-called welfare check was led by a black female Michigan State police woman, the only black cop among dozens I’ve dealt with, and only the second female cop amid a sea of white male cops.
Much to my dismay, she noted in her police report that my body did not smell — as in ‘at least the crazy lady is bathing.’
I was still paying for illegal looney bin lock up with my body, mind and soul, then, and I am still paying now.
Uncharacteristically, Hunter, my German Shepperd, growled at the black female cop, the first cop he responded to with any aggression. I don’t think he’s seen many black faces. Or maybe he realized this woman was on the scene only to insult and abuse my humanity.
By the time of the last welfare check, on August 19, 2019, I had not even been crying, not at all.
Like every so-called welfare check since the first, February 22, 2013, a total of twenty by my count, over six years, most videotaped, the police left without abducting me from home, unlike the Livonia cops did that first fateful day.
~*~
There is no way I can let go of the fact that I was locked up in a mental ward without evaluation, in America, in modern times. The world can gaslight me, but I certainly can’t gaslight myself.
That spring, a year before COVID, I launched my website and began to combine my story with the mountains of paper documentation and video clips I have gathered to support my claims. I was working under the gun, with my bank account dwindling. I put together a first draft of my story, narration plus evidence, with pictures, part defense, part memoir, in six months.
Mental torture affects emotional health but not intellect. I knew I needed to edit and shape my website presentation, but I also needed an income.
Terrified, I was running out of money from the sale of my dead husband’s cabin.
But my necessary job hunt was not going well. Now, box stores did not want to hire me because of my bogus retaliatory criminal record thanks to Land of Motown Community College and a less than equal and fair justice system.
~*~
I guessed, if requested, that St. Mary Merciless would not send an exact duplicate copy of my medical records in 2019 to match what it had sent in 2013. And I as right. When I finally received a second set of records, they were scrubbed, changed slightly and greatly reduced to hide violations of the state mental health code.
At this point, I now possess three sets of medical records from my week held against law in the psych war that do not match. After I called out the Livonia Catholics for scrubbing the second set of records, they sent a third set of records with more pages than the first, yet each set has a distinct layout, making comparison more difficult.
On April 1, 2019, I called the hospital to follow up on my recent records request. Later that day, St. Mary Merciless called their local Livonia Police, the same police that botched the original suicide so-called welfare check that started this whole mess.
Coincidence or connection? The Livonia Police dispatched to the hospital the same lead cop, who misled Wayne County Probate Court about me, back in 2013, though his police report and petition for hospitalization. In his 2019 report, the police office lied, again, or misreported out of sexist bias, again. He stated that he had taken me to St Mary Merciless human trafficking mental ward numerous times. In actuality, only one trip transpired.
One trip was all it took to destroy my life.
In retaliation, I was accused by the Catholics of threatening to burn down the hospital, which I had not done.
~*~
Casually, and sarcastically, while waiting for the hospital to figure out why it had not released my medical records, on the phone I had told the two young woman I had talked to in records, as well as the lawyer who denied my most recent legal demand, that the Felician nuns should have been raped by Jesus, too.
“Jesus raped me” is the metaphoric phrase I sprayed painted on the Garden City house, in 2015, when it was in foreclosure.
In 2018, the Felician nuns who raised me in lousy Livonia Catholic schools, in the 1970s, raised two million dollars to build a chapel for the hospital they had built but technically no longer owned. Previously, they sold St. Mary Merciless to Trinity Health, a conglomerate of Catholic hospitals nationwide, based in Livonia, with offices across the street from the hospital and the on-campus nunnery.
The nasty old-world nuns of my youth, who refused to advocate on my behalf, bought a large WASPY crucifix from Germany to hang in the chapel. Metaphorically speaking, thanks to The Exorcist, in my pain and anger, I have a pretty clear idea what the state of Michigan should do to those nuns with that crucifix.
Shackle and Jesus rape me? Shackle and Jesus rape them too! Equal lack of protection. At least in their nightmares. At least in a civil rights protest verbal theater.
~*~
I really don’t think that Americans who have not had their civil rights and liberty annihilated, who have not been shackled hand and foot in a criminal manner to silence their voice, who have not been gaslit by employer, hometown and state to bury their person, who have not been mentally tortured, who have not had their life systematically dismantled, who are not grown female feminists, can fully comprehend my position.
Whether or not people understand my motivation or sympathize with my story, I need the record clear.
I can’t let Catholics raise and rape me slowly dead with criminal psychiatry in modern America.
~*~
The Livonia police relayed the local police to show up at my door, but I was not arrested. Because I had not threatened to burn down the hospital.
I was not handcuffed and taken to another psych ward. Because I had not threatened to burn down the hospital.
I was provided with grounds for further action against the Catholic hospital.
~*~
I want to move forward from hate and heal, but I need support.
In the fall of 2019, I filed with the Michigan Civil Rights Commission numerous complaints, which were accepted, against Land of Motown Community College, Livonia Police, St. Mary Merciless, the state AG’s office, the Michigan Department of Health and Human Services (MDHHS), various police agencies and Inside the Thumb Mid Mitten Community College.
A Facebook follower had told me about an obscure community college police officer state law, aimed at reviewing campus police behavior. At my request, both Land of Motown Community College and Inside the Thumb Mid Mitten Community College refused to review the conduct of their police officers, which provided timely grounds for action.
Similarly, MDHHS harassed me surrounding FOIA requests, which was enough basis for a timely complaint against them.
The state of Michigan’s civil rights arm apparently agreed that too many police so-called welfare checks had transpired, so complaints exist against the Michigan State Police and the state attorney general’s office.
Because of COVID, my claims are still under investigation. If one claim is decided in my favor, I may be able to get a second civil rights lawyer and sue somebody, finally, over the fallout from unchecked criminal psychiatry.
But, like the federal EEOC is useless, hoping for a good outcome from the state’s civil rights office would be foolish.
~*~
Some good news: filing of civil rights claims finally stopped the so-called welfare checks.
However, I still cry in my home. I have been telling the world for nine years that I never the white male doctor who locked me up a criminal looney bin for a week. But the world does not care. Worse than criminal psychiatry, beyond gaslighting, that’s mental torture.
Haven’t I proven that I was never suicidal or dangerous by now?
~*~
In November 2019, the state tax collector emptied my back account of my last dollars because of unpaid back income taxes.
I negotiated, hounded, and got my money back, with the help of a state presentative, contingent upon a repayment agreement.
~*~
In December 2019, on the brink of financially insolvency, I finally got a job working customer service for a Saginaw-based phone bank, one that hires people with a criminal record, servicing customers of major automobile manufacturer.
When COVID hit three months later, work moved from the office to home.
A coworker moved into the second bedroom in my apartment to help pay bills. I can’t imagine any other stranger would put up with my crying. He’s a discarded senior citizen with a shell-shocked life, too.
~*~
In March 2021, I appealed to the governor of the state of Michigan and the director of the MDDHS to remove from her position the committee chairperson of the state committee of patients’ rights advisors.
Patients’ rights advisors are mandated by state to work inside psychiatric wards, paid by the psychiatric ward and hospital, to ensure state law is upheld and that patients know their limited rights.
Well, that’s the plan.
The same patients’ rights advisor who had covered up violations of the state mental health code at St. Mary Merciless, in 2013, was awarded top patients’ rights advisor in the state, in 2018, under Republicans.
At some point, she became the chairperson of the state committee of patients’ rights advisors of the MDHHS.
I appeared via zoom at the March 2021 patients’ rights advisor committee and named the woman, the committee’s chair person, as the person who covered up the psychiatric crimes committed against me in 2013 at St. Mary Merciless.
Her name was not included in subsequent meeting minutes, despite my request.
Subsequently, within the year, she resigned her chairperson appointment and was given the job as the patients’ rights advisor at the state forensic psychiatric hospital in Saline, Michigan.
Given my story, and all the nefarious actors involved, I fear I will be forced to be a recipient of her criminal so-called patients’ rights services again in the future.
~*~
In September 2021, I was fired from my customer service job for asking management to admit they had sped up the assembly line of calls and associated computer work due to staff shortages, which they refused to do.
Same old big mouth me.
I’m back in the job hunt, but my bogus criminal record is standing between me and the ability to support myself.
I am facing financially insolvency, again.
The fear of homelessness and the loss my ten-year fight to defeat criminal psychiatry loom, again.
~*~
58 years old now, my health is poor. I have arthritis, which led to a hip replacement, due to my time playing ox and hauling wood to keep warm at Lake Miramichi.
I was recently diagnosed with heart problems, mitral value regurgitation, and a permanently injured esophagus, a condition called achalasia.
My heart is broken, and my story is stuck in my throat.
I endure ongoing mental torture best I can. But I am rightfully terrified of the present and the future.
Not coincidentally, in a country where health care is perhaps as screwed up as the justice system, no doctor is interested in my number one health concern: I need the record of criminal psychiatry corrected.
-*-
I have gathered evidence to support all my claims. It has been a huge task, due to the numbers of documents from Land of Motown Community College, St. Mary Merciless human trafficking mental ward, and state and county officials, including way too many police reports.
With emotional bombs buried everywhere, I’m still editing my website.
My story is so long and retelling it is so painful, but I have no other choice but to try and finally “save my life.” Not only because of mental torture, but due to negative effects on my income.
Knowing my efforts will likely fail?
I wake up to panic attacks most mornings.
Especially in this post-fact world that likes to draw lines between us and them, minus greater regard for psychiatric survivors, claims and evidence documenting criminal psychiatry have proven so far useless.
~*~
With the help and support of a writing group dedicated to reimagining mental health care, distinct from my website, I’ve started finding my voice and prose for a memoir.
Will a publisher ever be willing to publish my story?
~*~
All these years, I have regularly and repeatedly written letters to my legislative representatives in the state of Michigan, both Republican and Democrat, across three jurisdictions.
I have asked state representatives to sponsor a simple bill mandating that all hostile psychiatric evaluations be video recorded.
Had a video recording law been in place, I may not have been locked up at St Mary Merciless. No doctor, just a first-year intern, was on staff in the emergency room, February 22, 2013.
No politician has ever responded to my claims or proposed legislation.
Kiwi Farms, an online troll farm, whose members seek to induce suicide in people they target online, pays unwanted attention to me instead, which reaffirms my belief that criminal psychiatry, mind rape, is worse than vaginal rape.
This story wasn’t supposed to happen to anyone, but it happened to me.
Thank you for reading. GMF