A 21st Century Holocaust… In New York…

Published on August 04, 2018, 4:08 pm
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The invasion in the house started on Friday, January 13, 2012. It was a one family house. I lived there as the owner’s new roommate, I had newly moved in. I was in the attic (3rd floor) of the house, where my music room was, and I rehearsed with the headphones on, for my busy weekend in the three churches where I worked as a musician and a singer.

I may not have heard the noise from the very beginning, because I wore the headphones. Besides, the house was full of our beloved animals that we rescued – both my roommate and I were animal rescuers. His two big dogs were downstairs, and a number of my cats were in the attic with me. The owner always kept the basement door open for the dogs to stay in and out. What scared me upstairs, was a sudden smell of marijuana – we did not have friends who would smoke stuff like that. Also, all our friends knew about my medical ailment, I have a very strong allergy to toxic fumes, so, I knew that none of our friends would ever enter the house even with a single cigarette. With fear, and covering my nose with a towel-filter, I went down the house to see what happened. I found a drunk, intoxicated woman, engulfed in marijuana fumes in our basement. I called the owner, he was at work, and he told me to call the police. You can see this first 911 call on my phone bill, at the time of 03:18 p.m. here.

Two patrol officers responded to my first 911 call, and said that they could not do anything, since the owner was not there. They told me to call again when the owner would be back from work. I ran back to the attic, locked all the doors behind me, and in deadly fear waited for the owner to return. In the meantime… It is hard to describe what I saw through the attic windows, and heard from the lower floors of the house. The house was surrounded by a crowd of completely intoxicated youngsters, from the backyard as well as from the front, still more and more of them were coming, like a countless “swarm”… Some of them were crawling, not able to walk, or not even able to stand straight on their feet, rubbing against the ground and “howling” with inhuman voices, fighting with one another, yelling with extremely vulgar, filthy language… They were completely incapacitated by the narcotics or alcohol they had in their systems… First time I saw something like that. From the inside of the house I heard a noise of devastation, like a sound of broken glass, and other roars – later I realized that they were ransacking, breaking our furniture into pieces and throwing the big items around. Strong odors of marijuana, and whatever else, I do not know, were getting into the attic even through the windows. I put together new towel-filters and used my prescription inhalants to be able to breathe. Can you find words to describe how I could feel?… With my diagnosed ailment, doctors’ warning how it may affect my job as a singer, when I stay within toxic fumes?… and what about my general safety and property devastation?…

It was about midnight when the owner (50+), and our other roommate, his female cousin (60+) returned from their jobs. We were in touch through our cellphones. They were too afraid to enter the surrounded house, when they approached. I made the next 911 call when I knew that my housemates were downstairs. You can see it in my phone bill as the second 911 call. This patrol: Sgt. Brendan Dolan and P.O. Salvatore Ronzino responded to my call at this time. After so many hours of hiding in the attic and suffocating, I could go downstairs and report what happened. I could not even open my eyes in the heavy, hurting smoke. In addition, my scared to death cats kicked one of their liter boxes and the litter spilled down the attic stairs. I grabbed the small whisk broom that was always there, in the stair hall, and, groping, I tried to remove the spilled litter from under my feet and feel the stairs, to be able to walk down. All I remember, I tried to cover not only my nose, but my entire face to protect myself from the deleterious fog, when I met with my housemates and with the police downstairs. In plain English I immediately explained about my medical ailment and began to translate for the owner, who already had been making efforts to report what happened. SgtBrendan Dolan started yelling: “YOU RENTED THE HOUSE ILLEGALLY, YOU HAVE TO GO TO LANDLORD TENANT COURT!”…, but I desperately tried to explain, on behalf of the owner, that he DID NOT rent his house, and that none of those dangerous intruders were known to him. Our lives were in danger and the property being devastated, that seemed to be the most important, and my medical issue in the middle of that… Suddenly, while I was suffocating from the fumes and continued with the desperate efforts to explain the situation, SgtBrendan Dolan twisted my both arms to my back, made me unable to hold my nasal filter, faced me to the heaviest smoke direction, and forced me to inhale it. He said “YOU BETTER KEEP QUIET OR YOU WILL SEE WHAT WE CAN DO!…” I cried “I have a medical ailment, I am not allowed to breathe with this heavy smoke!”“WE WILL TEACH YOU, IT’S AMERICAN LAW!” – the oppressor said. My housemates began yelling in shock, I began chocking, and he released me… I then ran back to the attic, and, in shock and fear I made another 911 call and reported what just happened – you can see my third 911 call in the phone bill. The 911 call officer transferred me to the Internal Affairs to place a complaint against the policeman who abused me and who colluded with the dangerous attackers. I received a complaint number. I, of course, continued the alarm for more help for my attacked home. After I made that third 911 call, I realized that I could not stay in the poisoned house any longer. I had to get dressed and leave. But I had put some lotion on my hair before the attack started, and I realized that I could not go outside in the middle of winter with the soapy cosmetic on my hair… Still holding my breath and exercising how to breathe, in the small attic shower I tried to remove the lotion with the intention to dry my hair as quickly as possible, and be able to leave.

In the meantime however, SgtBrendan Dolan found out about my complaint and returned to the house. He called an ambulance and ordered the paramedics to make me “mental”. The wheel chair equipped with the long sleeved jacket was waiting for me fully open in the porch of the house. The paramedic, however, refused to confine me into the long sleeved jacket when he saw me upstairs covering my nose with the filters, struggling how to breathe in the heavy amount of fumes, and desperately getting ready to leave the house. He left the attic and allowed me to continue to get dressed and leave. But after the paramedic left, SgtBrendan Dolan entered the attic. He left the attic door wide open, and, like before, he again twisted my both arms to my back and forced me to inhale the poisoning fumes. “I CAME HERE TO TEACH YOU SOME AMERICAN LAW'” – he said, and… handcuffed me to the back. Then he dragged me all three floors down through the intoxicated area while I was almost naked and had wet, soapy and dripping hair, right from the shower. My unfastened bathrobe opened, and with my arms cuffed to my back I could not fix it, so the crowd of intruders in the stair hall were laughing upon seeing my naked private parts. With my arms cuffed to my back, I was also not able to hold any nasal filter and my allergic reaction started for the the first time at that night. I tasted a painful and burning bloody rash in my nostrils and palate area. I realized that it might be life-threatening if the inflammation spread and reached the lungs. I needed the filter and my soothing medication immediately. I cried for help regarding my medical ailment, but I heard only: “SHUT UP WE WILL MAKE YOU MENTAL!” as the response from the oppressor. In this condition I was dragged to the street in the middle of winter, then, to jail. That was the last time that I saw my home in Kew Gardens with all my belongings and medical facilities in. The gang robbed everything or burned with the narcotics. In jail I couldn’t receive any medical help because SgtBrendan Dolan along with the EMS paramedics fabricated a FALSE MEDICAL REPORT including a FORGERY OF MY SIGNATURE, to cover for the physical abuse committed on me. The City later granted me the Crime Victim Board Insurance as to the victim of NYPD, and until now I am being on treatments as a result of that extended abuse. See the falsifications that they invented, fictitious “exams” that never happened, and the oppressor’s shield number as the witness of the forgery here.

My condition was also aggravated and impossible to be treated normally, because of the fact that I was deprived of my home where all my medical facilities were, as normally ordered by the doctors for my diagnosed ailment. After three days in jail I found out that I was not allowed to return home. Both policemen, SgtBrendan Dolan and Salvatore Ronzino fabricated a FALSE REPORT and Salvatore Ronzino signed it for his criminally involved boss. Instead of my name as the 911 Caller who reported the criminal invasion on the house, they placed a name of one of the attackers, and enclosed a number of other falsifications. For example, they put my name as a fictitious “house owner” who tried to “kill” her “tenant” with an imaginary “weapon” that never existed. The whisk broom for cleaning the cat litter was that invented “weapon”. Both policemen’s false memo-pages are enclosed in the “report”. They even fabricated a FALSE COMPLAINT on behalf of that criminal attacker, who could not possibly place any “complaint” against me on his own, since he did not know me, and like all the other intruders, was not aware of my presence in the house while I was hiding in the attic until the police came. And.. how can a completely intoxicated, unconscious from narcotics individual place any “complaint”?… Now see this perverse report here.

The assigned to me Legal Aid defense attorney, as well as the lady ADA (Assistant District Attorney) prosecutor knew very well that I was the REAL VICTIM and the only 911 caller at the Kew Garden address, because the 911 calls report from the Police Plaza records room was even attached to the false report here.

…But the life-threatening criminal prosecution called “proof of guilt” had to go on until the given time expired. The fictitious “guilt” was never found, but until then the gang had the time to use the house for trading with narcotics and running escort services under the NYPD supervision with no limitation!. Based on all the falsifications invented in the false report, the criminal attacker was granted an ORDER OF PROTECTION against me, the real victim here.

I did not know who the order of protection holder was, I did not know what the person looked like, so, how could I avoid that individual, as I was being ordered to?…

I was still lucky to have good friends-attorneys. I had been working as a bilingual interpreter for some attorneys offices, and those attorneys who were my friends were more helpful that those who were involved in my case… They advised me, “Go to the criminal court disposition room and find out if the order of protection holder has any criminal records”. So I did, and I found out that that was a criminal recidivist who during the time of the attack on my home was arrested 9 times (at the age of 21!), and his number 10 arrest was while he was squatting there as a fictitious “tenant” and trading with narcotics for his NYPD protectors… This is what I found in the criminal court disposition room here.

And then, still thanks to my friends attorneys I became aware of the arraignment charges that I could find at this link here.

A dangerous criminal recidivist, under charges of narcotic possessions, attacks on other people, other robberies and thefts, was granted an order of protection against me, his follow up victim! My home equipped with my medical facilities according to the doctors’ orders, was granted to that criminal as a venue for trading with narcotics and running escort services!…And it was not enough… That empowered with an order of protection criminal, along with the whole gang, began chasing after me within the City area. They were looking for the venues of my music performances, and threatening the house owner to “KILL THE B*TCH” or …“TO GET THE B*TCH ARRESTED AGAIN” if he dared to evict them… A few days after the initial house attack, they chased me in the street while I was on my way to one of my job places, and caused another false arrest, even though again, I was the one who called 911 for help when I was being chased by some unknown, violent group of intoxicated individuals…. I had to abandon all my jobs and permanently move to another state for safety reasons.

Whenever the house owner called 911 or went to his local precinct for help regarding his house being robbed and vandalized, he, and his interpreters were threatened to be arrested for calling 911. Every new burglar who broke into the house was encouraged by the police to stay as his fictitious “tenant”. The owner started some eviction procedures in the civil court, but those were completely fruitless efforts, not to mention life-threatening. Still new vandals were breaking into the house and squatting there, encouraged and protected by NYPD. Still new false documentation was being fabricated, find it in my blog here. And find out how the Internal Affairs Bureau kept falsifying all my complaints, always in favor of the guilty cops. IAB simply copied the initial false report, instead of typing what I had reported.

The gang escaped from the house when the TV “Help Me Howard” showed up with the cameras, see these clips:


and here:


Thanks to the help of “Help me Howard” the owner could safely approach his completely vandalized house, remove the debris, and then he promptly sold the house.

The gang began to attack other residents, I found out about other victims of exactly the same system. They choose immigrants with the pending status, as their victims, and the police make them “mental cases” and/or put them on groundless deportation as inconvenient witnesses. My roommate in Kew Gardens was evidently their follow up spotted victim, since his immigration status was also pending. But they did not expect to find ME in his house, since I had newly moved in. They could not deport me, as usually they do to other inconvenient witnesses, since I was an American citizen, so they invented other, new methods to make me harmless and to enable the gang to use the spotted house as a venue for their unlawful activities.

Three years later my civil case against NYPD was settled in my favor, but the involved lawyers were too afraid to reveal the whole truth in front of the court, as they said: “You shouldn’t go too far after the police, you may then experience traffic problems!“… This way, the uniformed evildoers keep doing what they have been doing, because they know that everybody is afraid of them. They keep bringing narcotics to the City and still look for new venues to trade. The worst criminals are their best clients in this business. There is no unit to handle these crimes. The Internal Affairs Bureau falsifies all the complaints from the victims. The guilty cops are constantly being exonerated and can keep going on with their crimes. The dangerous gang supporter and document falsifier has been transferred from Queens to Bronx. The countless, swarming, dangerous, pestilence of the intoxicated elements still have remained on the loose.

I reported everything to the United Nations Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights in Geneva, and was then invited to refer it in person a few months ago. These large size posters are still hanging in the UN Offices, and I still hope that something finally is done on the international level regarding this abnormal system in this country. Take a look here.

For more details, please visit here.

Jonas Bronck is the pseudonym under which we publish and manage the content and operations of The Bronx Daily.™ | Bronx.com - the largest daily news publication in the borough of "the" Bronx with over 1.5 million annual readers. Publishing under the alias Jonas Bronck is our humble way of paying tribute to the person, whose name lives on in the name of our beloved borough.