An Alternative To The Police

This is a re-blog of a post for

This morning, I was sitting at my kitchen table having my first cup of coffee for the day and listening to one of The Stalkers repeatedly calling my name.  For just a second, it flashed in my mind, “I wish there was someone I could call.”  Someone, anyone who would go and tell her to ‘shut the fuck up!”

I knew, with absolute certainty, that I couldn’t call the local Maywood Police because they were the ones ‘protecting’ The Stalkers from me.  So, who do I call?   And then it occurred to me that perhaps a lot of Maywood citizens might feel the same way I do.  Who do they call when something goes wrong and they know they can’t call the Police?

And then, I thought PT MAN (Proviso Township Ministerial Alliance Network).  Perhaps all those ministers and leaders could get together and come up with someplace the people could go to get help when going to the Police is out of the question.  It is exactly what we need, a go between.

Now, let me share with you exactly why I will never set foot in the Maywood Police Station again (and I have kept this promise to myself even with being stalked 24/7/365, being shot at, being robbed, and my car tampered with repeatedly).  This experience was that soul  devastating.

The following was first published on August 20, 2012

“Now Miss Ankum. It is Miss? Is that Right?”


It’s your complaint that ….. someone is following you?


“Miss Ankum have you recently broken up with a boyfriend?”


“Are you dating someone’s husband?”


“Umh, Miss Ankum are you engaged in an illegal activity that would cause someone to be upset with you? And by that I mean drugs or prostitution!”


“Ok. Well, then Miss Ankum, are you a singer?


“Are you an actress?


“Are you a dancer, particularly, of the exotic kind?


Then Miss Ankum, help me understand why anyone would want to follow a nobody like you around.”

I crawled out on my battered ego, walked slowly over to the park behind the Police Station and sat totally defeated on a bench beneath a tree.

I’m wearing a green plaid madras skirt that’s new because I’ve regained most of the weight that I’d lost. I look down at my hands which are folded in my lap and I start to cry.  Help is not coming.

This happen in 2001 after I was fired from Albertson’s (Jewel and Osco).  But I did try again in 2005 and I received the exact same treatment.

Eliza D. Ankum
Author of
Flight 404
Ruby Sanders
Jared Anderson
OneThreeThirteen – Master Of The Day Of Judgment
Dancing With The Fat Woman


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