The Indictment & Relief Sought
Maricopa County Superior Court
James “Jim” Hlavac
Eddy Broadway, CEO, et al.
Mercy Maricopa Integrated Care
4350 E. Cotton Center Blvd., Bldg. D
Phoenix, AZ 85040
Dorothy Williams, et al.
3640 West Osborn Rd., Suite 1
Phoenix, AZ 85019
Phoenix Shanti Group
2345 W. Glendale Avenue
Phoenix AZ 85021
Thomas Donovan, Chairman, et al
82 S. Stone Avenue
Tucson, AZ 85701
Juliet Yardy, et al
SAAF Board President
375 South Euclid Avenue,
Tucson, Arizona 85719
Lindsay Morgan, et al.
3001 N. 33rd Avenue
Phoenix, AZ 85017
Julie Norton, et al.
2601 E. Roosevelt Street
Phoenix AZ 85008
UA-UMC, Petersen Clinic, et al
1501 Campbell Road
Petersen Clinic 6OPC
Tuscon Arizona, 85724
Arizona Department of Health, et al
Ryan White, ADAP, HIV/AIDS Program,
150 N. 18th Avenue
Phoenix, AZ 85007
Gregg Scaggs, et al.
1101 N. Central Avenue, Suite 204
Phoenix AZ 85004
jointly and severally
and unknown others
May it please the court, I am requesting a hearing pursuant to statutes:
ARIZ. REV. STAT. § 36-540 (A) “If the court finds by clear and convincing evidence that the proposed patient, as a result of mental disorder, is a danger to self, is a danger to others, is persistently or acutely disabled or is gravely disabled and in need of treatment, and is either unwilling or unable to accept voluntary treatment . . . “
ARIZ. REV. STAT. § 36-501(5) “Danger to others”
ARIZ. REV. STAT. § 36-501(6) “Danger to self”
ARIZ. REV. STAT. § 36-501(16) “Gravely disabled”
ARIZ. REV. STAT. § 36-501(33) “Persistently or acutely disabled”
ARIZ. REV. STAT. § 36-501(11) “Evaluation”
I believe this matter is subject to compulsory arbitration according to Maricopa County Superior Court local rule 3.10 and Rules 72 through 77 of the Rule of Civil Procedure.
Every agency and person listed herein, the defendants, to one degree or another, believes I am a danger to myself and to others, or in danger somehow – and I am not. I am a fabulous fellow – and these people imagine peril. I am a charming guy of great accomplishment and these people imagine a hopeless mentally ill basket case. I do not have any disorders or problems they proclaim – I have a rich, complex and rewarding life.
The only complaint anyone could have is that I’m a cranky old gay geezer – and I’ll admit to that up front. In fact, that’s why I sought a gay male counselor – I’m cranky. Rationally so, but, yes, cranky about the way I was treated in my life over the reality of being a gay man in our society – and living through AIDS all my adult life. In July 2012 I asked SAAF for a gay male counselor – they sent me to a drug rehab counselor while saying I was a meth head. Then — stuff happened. Then, in June 2016 I asked again to my insurance company Mercy-Maricopa for the name and number of a gay male counselor covered by my insurance so I could make an appointment with him and speak to him about the wonder of life and surviving AIDS. Since then I was told “No, that is not your problem” by everyone herein. This story starts in Tuscon in July 2012 when I first asked SAAF for someone to speak to, and now involves multiple agencies throughout the health care system of this state, seemingly beyond those listed herein. And now, every time I talk to anyone in the health care system they see what the defendants wrote, that is in their computers, and that is then somehow “me” – and none of it is true. Do these defendants wish to know me? I present here just a snippet of my life. If what they wrote is remotely true I could not do what I do and did.
What I present below is an amazing story – two of them really. One is me, what I did in my life and since I came to Arizona, who I am, my creative intellectual output, my family and friends, which I can prove – and the other is the person the system imagined – which doesn’t exist except in the records these people created. These people cannot prove a word of what they wrote – but what they wrote is somehow “me” to the system. And I am not that person they imagined.
As of today – so far I have determined that I am declared across the records, a “cocaine, meth, and marijuana addict, who abuses alcohol, with mania, depression, manic-depression, bipolar, anxiety, panic, agoraphobia, and paranoia disorders – with mood instability, social isolation and no contact with family – with legal, weapons, debt and gambling issues, with decompensation, hallucinations, and who is moving to Philadelphia and Costa Rica and has delusions to become a Hollywood movie star — who is delusional about writing books, painting and playing the piano – while in survival and crisis mode – and was an abused child, with child neglect.” And I’ve been declared “Severely Mentally Ill” and “Special Needs.” They have declared me “in crisis” and “at risk,” and even “suicidal.” None of this is true, it is absurd – and dangerous to my life.
I apologize for taking the court’s time – I would have rather spoken to a gay male counselor about my issue, which is being a gay man who survived astonishing times – than arguing with a plethora of known and unknown agencies in this state and seemingly the state itself. I appealed to Mr. Greg Scaggs, Director of the McDowell Clinic where I get my primary health care, several times to somehow do this administratively, to somehow get all these people together so this could be figured out – without going to a court. He said that was not possible. On April 3rd, 2017, I wrote him up a detailed timeline of my time in Arizona, it runs to 20 pages. And so I appeal to this court as best I can, and ask for you to order these people to cooperate with me to resolve this matter.
I request a hearing under ARIZ. REV. STAT. § 36-501(11) “Evaluation” means:
(a) A professional multidisciplinary analysis that may include firsthand observations or remote observations by interactive audiovisual media and that is based on data describing the person’s identity, biography and medical, psychological and social conditions carried out by a group of persons consisting of not less than the following:
Two licensed physicians, who shall be qualified psychiatrists, if possible, or at least experienced in psychiatric matters, and who shall examine and report their findings independently. The person against whom a petition has been filed shall be notified that the person may select one of the physicians.”
I am asking for the appointment of independent observers per statute and section ARIZ. REV. STAT. § 36-501(11) to “evaluate” me. … and the only thing I ask is that they be men over the age of 40. I simply cannot and will not open up to any woman, or youth. And I cannot explain my life in 15 minutes while filling out forms – nor in an hour in an office. My creative output is at my house, and at a piano, and on the internet, and in my computer – my personality is in the community – and no one can really believe it until they see it in its entirety. I cannot bring 150 paintings to an office, I cannot present 1000s of pieces of music in an office. I cannot show my family and friends across the world and in this state in an hour. No one can grasp my written output by me saying “I wrote 16 books.” And more, endlessly more. My life is rich, varied and complex – and nothing short of astonishing – for 45 years – 59 even. I am well aware that what I did and do is simply unbelievable – but I can prove it all – but I cannot do so by mere statements in someone’s office or by answering endless questions about if I had troubles with the law or drugs or whatever other problems the system seems to like to dwell on. My life has been endless positive – there is nothing negative. It is good – there are no troubles – except these defendants.
I might say “I paint mazes.” And what does that mean to anyone? I am, after all, the only person on earth I can find who paints mazes like I do. What does such a declaration mean to anyone who has not seen the mazes I paint? Any observers have to see my mazes – perhaps even watch me paint one – not questions in an office. All these people except one, Michael Castaneda, refused to look at my mazes. They claim I state “I can’t concentrate” and “can’t focus” and I concentrate and focus on creating mazes of astonishing complexity (some pictures in the exhibits of those I did in Tucson in 2012 and 2013.) They say I have “no connection to the community” and I was involved in six public art exhibits.
If I tell someone in an office that I can play piano like Schubert or Mozart but never had a lesson – could anyone really grasp it? I can’t write this music either – but I can write music – I just can’t play what I write. Most people just look at me strangely. Ah, but then they hear the music. I have a youtube channel with 70 videos of my music. None of these people would bother to listen to a note I created – they dismissed my glorious, upbeat, happy, effervescent, beautiful – and complex classical music that would withstand the analysis of any musicologist – as perhaps a delusion of a “severely mentally ill” person. They asked me about my life – I said – “my music” – they dismissed that and asked “no, your troubles with the law,” or something else negative – of which there is none. Meanwhile they label me agoraphobia, paranoia and social isolation – and I’m the official lobby piano player at St. Joseph’s Hospital at Thomas Road and North 7th Avenue – to the delight of 100s of people a day.
Between 1985 and 1990 I lived in both NYC and Lake Charles, Louisiana – I was a radical militant homosexual AIDS activist in NYC; and a printer, and a family man, who did some cocaine – and I helped create the Cajun Food Industry in Louisiana, and did not do cocaine – at the same time. How is anyone to believe this by statements in an office for an hour? Everyone looks at me like I’m crazy – and yet I can prove it all – and I ask this court for the opportunity to do so – for it is my life these people are playing with – and messing with – and lousing up and imperiling. I deserve a fair hearing – and this court, and these defendants, will be surprised at who I am and what I did – and continue to do – and plan on doing; what is in the pipeline will astonish anyone. And it is totally opposite to what this system has labeled me and imagined about me – and put on my medical record.
I am a man of Supreme Confidence. Few have ever really known it. But my late dear mother said to me in 1985 when I graduated from New York University, while being a full time printer, while winning 5 years of free rent in Manhattan, while doing internships with politicians and citizen groups, while traveling the nation to friends and relatives, while being in engaged with family in the NYC area, while being in touch with the relatives in the Czech Republic in Czech – and while being a gay man coping through the AIDS struggle – as one of my mom’s own friends succumbed to early in the struggle, because her husband did the “down low” – my mom said “I am in awe.” My two brothers, very important to this story – had already disappeared.
And she kept that attitude about me till the last days of her life in September, 2010, when I spoke with her only in Czech in the last six months – as she showed me the family history she knew only I could comprehend. Jenom ty bude rozumět – only you will understand, she said. And more – I can show this court and these defendants endlessly more good and great things I did and do and plan on doing. The court and they will simply marvel, trust me, and sorry for the bluntness, or perhaps the pat on the back – but I do not apologize for the Supreme Confidence with which I led my life up to the present moment. And these defendants have imagined a deranged hopeless idiot who needs their endless intrusion into my life for a host of disorders they labeled me after brief form signing sessions.
A big part of my life has been arguing with heterosexuals – which bizarrely – I find myself doing again today in this pleading as I did 45 and 50 years ago. 99% of these people are heterosexuals – and I simply do not like heterosexuals. I seek to avoid you all. And I carefully delineate between straight folks and heterosexuals, heteros and heteroos and “Screaming heteroos” – I have a pecking order. Nor have I ever made a secret of it – testimony and documentation of this could take weeks to present, pages and pages, witness after witness – more than a few of the letters of support I include attest to it. And the crux of the issue is I asked to speak to a gay male counselor about being a gay man who survived it all. This “all” that is the discussion in this nation, and the world, going on even today, about gay men. As my grandmother said “I lived from outhouse to outer space” and as I say “I lived from felony to marriage.”
However – this very plea and exhibits is an example of my brain power, my output, my Supreme Confidence – and my emotions. I can certainly represent myself against the entirety of these agencies and whatever system they have, or their lawyers – because, to me, this is rather easy. It’s what I did – and who I am – versus who they fabricated. I can prove me – they cannot prove their alternative me. As for experts to evaluate me – this court could send a squadron of ASU professors to me – and I would impress them all. I am a jovial creative polymath, as I elucidate in my exhibits – and these people are for the most part – simpletons. They understand nothing of what I say – and dare to label me falsely as they please. I had to explain such words as iconoclast, polymath, vivacious, boisterous and others to these people “assessing” me – they don’t even have a developed vocabulary.
At the behest of Southwest Network and apparently Shanti – who were miles away from me when they made their complaint to the police – I was hauled to a psyche ward at Phoenix Memorial Hospital at 1201 South 7th Avenue by the Phoenix Police Department on December 12th 2016. Obviously someone thinks I am at risk for something. It is noted I am “at risk” and “at risk for crisis” and “in crisis” and in “recovery” and in “survival mode” — and my brother’s suicide is featured as “strong family history” and somehow I am now in danger of the same thing. About my two biological brothers and what I consider my spiritual brothers I expound upon in my supporting pages. However, I did not have any real contact with my two brothers since 1978 – and the last time I saw them was 1984, briefly – what they did is no influence on me. And my sister and I often pondered about this – and in the exhibits I write a bit about our relationship – for she is the sibling I spoke to – so perhaps I am more “at risk” for her influence. Those two never spoke to anyone in the family, for decades.
On the morning of January 17th, 2013, I wrote a 4500 word article on Buckminister Fuller, a well known futurist and thinker, for a friend of mine, about world progress and capitalism and greed and more – and posted it to my blog, “The Daily Mush.” (www.dailymush.wordpress.com) It is a fine expose and romp through current times and history, comparing reality to dreams of utopia. I doubt more than a few of these people I spoke to in this system even knows who Buckminister Fuller is. It behooves these defendants to read it at my blog. Indeed, it behooves the defendants to read all 980 articles there, and my books, and listen to my music too. Perhaps after not listening to me for 4 years – they’ll now investigate the real me.
On the afternoon of January 17th, 2013 – I was declared “severely mentally ill” by a Nigerian Christian immigrant man named Toate Ganago, working for COPE. I was told I just had to see this man – so I went, with Michael Castaneda. This man “assessed” me – by asking endless questions that were irrelevant to my life. He asked me about problems. I said there are no problems. Anything positive was dismissed as irrelevant. And then – he just checked off the box on the form that said “SMI” – “severely mentally ill” – because – to a Nigerian Christian – gay men are insane. That’s their culture, that’s their politics, that’s their religion, that’s their beliefs, and that’s their law. Nigeria is one of the most anti-gay countries on earth, and the Christians (and Muslims, for that matter,) there are notorious for torturing and imprisoning and killing gay men. And Mr. Ganago is of that culture – he is “at risk” for believing what pretty much all Nigerians believe about gay men. And it is not good.
Here are 10 website links about the treatment of Gay Guys in Nigeria – by any “Toate Ganago” running the place or down the streets –
These are but 10 articles on this subject, many, many more can be presented. And this man, of this culture, of this belief system – labeled me “Severely Mentally Ill” gratuitously – and since then every single person in the system went by his designation – and what I said was irrelevant. The man before them, me, was nothing – the computer and Mr. Ganago’s checked off box were godly.
We held hands, Mr. Ganago, Michael Castaneda, and I – and we got a blessing from “our heavenly father” and “Jesus” to “help this man” – and what help did Mr. Ganago think I needed? He thought, most likely, that I needed to be “cured” of the “mental illness” that “homosexuality” is to such a man. There is absolutely nothing in anything I said to this man that he or anyone could rationally conclude I was “severely mentally ill” by the federal definition of SMI (included in my documentation,) or any definition at all. He was even quite impressed with my knowledge of Nigeria, which we talked about because I recognized his accent. His sole reasoning was – I am a gay man – so I must be insane. Nor could he have any competency to label me such a thing. What are his credentials? An intake specialist? He’s not a doctor, not even a nurse practitioner of any kind. He is probably less educated than I am.
Bizarrely – I spent my entire life extolling the glorious good of gay guys – and this one man from an extremely anti-gay culture labeled me insane – and every heterosexual afterwards believed it – and thereafter refused to believe a word I said. They simply believed a heterosexual moron – because they are morons. I am reliving the 1970s with these morons today. I will not gloss over the issue – these people are morons – and I am not happy about it – nor shy. And see, that’s the crux of the matter – I wanted to speak to a gay male counselor about surviving all of this – this national, even worldwide discussion on gay men while we died by the 1000s. And the system said “no, that is not your problem.” They know more about me than I know, in the “arrogance of presumption” – and then created a fictitious imaginary me – because a man from one of the most anti-gay cultures on earth said I was “severely mentally ill.”
SAAF, COPE and Southwest Network have provided me with certain of my records, I do not know if that is all they have, and it runs to 350+ pages combined. Mercy Maricopa, UMC, MIHS, AHCCCS, McDowell Clinic and Jewish Family Services have not – I didn’t even ask Bayless, REN and Shanti. I have no idea what other agencies in Maricopa County, Pima County or anywhere else in Arizona now have the same records, or created their own fantasy. I would like to see what everyone wrote. I have no idea what “Cerner” is – but my records are being sent there. What is in these records? I am even being told I have no right to see these records because I am “severely mentally ill.” And I am being told I have to go back to the same people – so many now – that have labeled me this and that – to see if they still think so. And that is Orwellian, Kafka, and Catch 22 combined. I will not go beg these heterosexuals who declared me insane to see if they still think I am insane or not. I have not done so in 50 years – I’m not going to start today. I won’t ask them what they think about me – all of which is wrong so far – I will tell them they are out of their minds. I have no trust in these people to be fair, or rational, or reasonable, or truthful – or not just involved in creative writing. And to put my fate in the hands of Toate Ganago of COPE is simply insanity itself – this man shall not hold my life in his hands.
Every single person I met in this system for four years asked me the same question right away: “Are you thinking of harming yourself or others?” – and every time I said “absolutely not” – and it is noted repeatedly “denies” – which word alone implies I could be lying. Never once did I express anything remotely like it. At the St. Joseph’s Hospital, Tucson, psyche ward on September 2nd 2013 it is noted “vague” “he just wants to die” – yes, I was up for 7 days fighting off bedbugs – I was severely sleep deprived and who knows what I said? No one can really function after 7 days without sleep. The next day, after hours of good sleep, amply noted by the doctor I spoke with, Dr. William Lambert, MD, he concluded I was just pretty much fine. His report is in my documentation. (Among several mistakes in it is that it says that I have hepatitis C – and I do not.) However – in four years – he’s the only doctor I spoke to at all – the rest were at most nurse practitioners.
In the records it is stressed I am “at risk” for what my brother I didn’t speak to for 40 years did – commit suicide. Let the court consider – I was a printer – my father was a printer – my grandfather was a printer – my great-grandfather was a printer – my great-great-grandfather was a printer – and as far as I can tell – my great-great-great grandfather was a printer – for that’s what “hlavac” means – a man with knowledge – literally a “big head” (hlava = head, the “c” is for “big”) – and we are that. Except – my two brothers were not printers – that’s their problem. I was “at risk” for being a printer – and I was one. But I am not “at risk” for being like my brothers whatsoever, which I show. My two brothers lived together for 40 years – and no one is claiming my little brother is at risk for anything – or that I am like my little brother –and yet, I, who did not know them for 40 years – I’m supposedly at risk for what they did. That is nonsense. These people know nothing about my two brothers.
But somehow percolating in the system is the next go round. These people have concluded I am a danger to myself and to society – and I cannot live comfortably while this is a threat. People I don’t know are just showing up at my door unannounced – calling me out of the blue – demanding entry into my home – demanding I go with them – demanding I meet with them for what they think ails me. They have applied labels to me that anyone reading them would conclude too that I am in some peril somehow. They seem to have the ability to call the police on me to be carted away. Perhaps they will do so again. This is a threat to my liberty, and my rights to live in peace. It is also physically dangerous – I have osteoporosis and I am brittle – perhaps I will be taken away with more force – and break some bones. It is dangerous because with the sheer list of disorders and statements of drug and alcohol “abuse” and “issues with weapons” any police sent to my house might conclude I am a danger to them somehow – perhaps I have something in my hand when they arrive – and in that millisecond of thought – think it a gun – and shoot first and ask questions later. This is a real worry of mine, and certainly the press is filled with such stories, so it has validity. And certainly these people have sent police to my house twice already.
In December, 2016, in an effort to just circumvent Southwest Network I called a group called Shanti that holds itself out as helping gay men with HIV. I had one phone call with them, maybe 10 minutes, 15? I spoke to two men – in which they said they didn’t take my insurance from the state’s largest provider, Mercy Maricopa, nor my Medicare, nor my AHCCCS. This vaunted group to help guys like me – just didn’t take my insurance, which are the major insurance programs of the state. So I told them “what point are you?” And I probably said something like “I am fed up with all this nonsense.” And with that they concluded erroneously I was going to kill myself because they had access to my records which are filled with falsehoods and false labels – so they called Southwest – and somehow I don’t know yet – this resulted in them calling the police against me – because they were arrogantly hopeless. I have not seen the police report yet. But I went with them willingly, I didn’t argue – I just posted a few quick things to Facebook, which I had been doing all afternoon, while the police admired my art – that I was being taken away. It is noted in several places that my friends called people looking for me. But I did express my displeasure at being hauled out of my house in my pajamas – to the police and the people at Phoenix Memorial. I was enraged – and rationally so, comedic even, as I can be. I was labeled “mania” there – apparently “Righteous Indignation” is not on their forms or in their minds.
Bayless and REN called me – I have no idea who these agencies are – and I have no idea how many agencies are accessing my records nor at whose behalf. I ask this court to order them all to Cease and Desist from any further action about me until this matter is settled. I am the only person with the last name “Hlavac” in the state – surely this should be possible. I apologize that I do not know what law to cite.
More amazing, is when I read these reports – particularly Southwest Network’s – they are talking about me as a hopeless child. They have concluded I cannot function, that I am floundering in life, that I am somehow unable to live without them in my life. They have misconstrued everything I said into some hopeless person who needs their assistance and oversight. They misconstrued everything I said into some delusion, some negative fantasy. They dismiss anything positive I said as “he claims …” – and they write every negative they conjure up as “he is …” And they didn’t even talk to me. 4 or 5 meetings with SAAF, 4 or 5 with COPE and 4 with Southwest – all brief meetings to sign yet more forms before I told them to go away. There were even more women from more agencies I don’t know why or who involved – and a pointless trip to a fancy Scottsdale chiropractor! In four years some 50 or 60 people from nearly 2 dozen agencies paraded through my life, asking me to sign their forms – from agencies I met once and never met again. And other than SAAF which I did go to for the life saving AIDS drugs, which they could not provide, and MIHS, for the drugs which they could not provide either – I did not go to any agency willingly – but I was told I had to go. So I went, cooperated, signed their forms, and never spoke to them again if I could help it.
I met with no doctors – at most nurse practitioners. But I had dozens of “intake” appointments with bureaucrats – and with Patrick Scullion of an agency called Empact I created a new word – I said I was “Intooken” again. I met with no psychologists, no psychiatrists, no counselors – certainly no gay males of any kind. I was given no cognitive tests, no aptitude tests, no personality tests, no reasoning tests, no IQ tests – no tests of any kind. They asked me about problems, I said I had none – and the one issue I brought up that I wanted to speak about they dismissed as unimportant. I signed their forms – told them again my issue which they dismissed – and they went on a labeling spree.
I can prove everything I did while in Tucson and Phoenix – I can prove my life – I can prove a slow, steady, able, rational, reasonable, normal, get things done and deal with life and its many adventures progress while putting out music, books, art and more and making friends and being involved with the community and life. I lead the life I always have – and these people all got in the way – and worse – they insist they must be involved in my life based on their own erroneous statements and labels – to the point of police at my door. And I can prove that SAAF was hopeless and inept, and UMC and MIHS too.
All these defendants can prove is this:
1) – I signed every form they asked me to – in 4 years I signed at least 100 forms – and I have no idea what for – they asked, I did – bureaucrats were happy and I walked away thinking “what a waste of time.” 95% of these people I never spoke to again. The system is so obtuse, so convoluted, that every six months I must prove I am still HIV+ as if an Act of God will cure me while the state was unaware. So I prove it, I make no fuss, and life goes on.
2) – I went to every appointment they requested, and I was on time (they mostly late) – until finally in December 2016 I told Southwest to get lost. And then I dutifully went to Jewish Family Services in January 2017 as I was told I should do – to sign their forms and listen to this woman Lindsay Morgan talk to me like I was an imbecile. It was insulting and demeaning.
3) – They did not provide me with the name and number of a gay male counselor covered by my copious insurance that I could call and set an appointment with to discuss surviving AIDS – which is the only thing I sought.
4) – They wrote dozens of statements about me that are demonstrably not true.
5) – SAAF, UMC, MIHS and others were unable to get me the life saving drugs for months and months – it took people outside the system to get it done.
6) – They all pushed a powerful mind altering drug on me – Risperdone – that I repeatedly said I did not need and did not want to take – but I followed their insistence – and this drug harmed me.
7) – And I got aggravated with them – and told them so – a few times just sputtering in rage at them for about 2 minutes before I ceased all further contact with them. Because they weren’t listening to me – and they were wrong about so much – and they didn’t provide me with what I asked for – and they talked to me like I was an imbecile and a child and it was insolent.
In the 1980s we gay men got more done for our fellows dying around us – as we thought we ourselves would die – in hours without a form or bureaucrats around – than these fools can do in 8 months with a 100 meetings. I wanted to talk to someone about those times – and these defendants dismissed that as nothing – and then labeled me every disorder they could conjure – while telling me I would not understand while they talked “at” me – not to me – at – they talked at me like I was an imbecile.
Why I wanted to speak to a gay male counselor is simple – I buried a 100 friends and lived to tell about it. I have had the life of a gay man who survived it all for 45 – nay, 59 years. There has begun to be some examination of this “AIDS Survivors Syndrome.” (ASS, we are crafty fellows.) It’s not depression or mental illness – it’s a wonder and a wistfulness at the same time. An ennui, a melancholy filled with wonderment – they died, my friends by the scores died, and I did not. It’s a vague “Wow, I lived, now what?” And each of us deals with it differently. And I just wanted to speak to someone about this, about my manageable yet strong emotions. Yet every single one of these people said to me “No, that is not your problem.”
Here are links to just four articles on ASS in the very early stages of anyone trying to figure out what it was like to be a gay man during what I call “The Dark Ages” –
In 1978 I was a budding gay activist – and I wrote to President Jimmy Carter and to Governor Dixie Lee Ray of Washington state – and they responded. My letters to them and their answers are in my exhibits. It is doubtful that many 20 year old gay men were getting responses from such people at that time. These letters are gay history – they are important to the struggle of my life. And I have not since in my life relented from my extolling of Gay Guys Are Great By God’s Good Grace – and undeserving of the nonsense directed at us. My two brothers joined the Air Force in 1978 and I essentially never spoke to them again – and I flew to San Francisco one way – and never looked back. And if I am “at risk” today for what these two strangers did – then what we did in 1978 is very relevant. They went off to listen to the president as commander in chief – and I went off to tell the president to get rational on gay men. And these defendants did not want to hear the complexity of what happened – but only one word. These people are more concerned with my brother than they are with me, which is just weird. I doubt they even know his name, it’s not in the records.
In 1986 Bowers v Hardwick was handed down – and I led a demonstration in Manhattan. My article on it is included here. My friend Jerry Rosco was with me – he writes in support of me today. And most of the defendants weren’t even born at that time – or perhaps they were toddlers. And I wanted to talk about my emotions of those times – and these people labeled me insane and incompetent. This is gross malpractice – and a sullen nastiness and ignorance I cannot fathom.
My desire for a gay male counselor also comes from the fact that I am extremely uncomfortable talking to women, especially about my feelings. I stated it to them repeatedly – they all note it. Then they dismissed it. Southwest notes 13 times: “James asks for a male counselor” and concluded “It could be an option.” And then they decided no, that is not what I needed, but some woman to talk to me about drug rehab. They are obtuse, they are blind, and frankly, it’s even malicious. However, I simply will not discuss with any woman my feelings, and being a gay man surviving AIDS is my feelings. I do not know many women, most are aunts and cousins and my sister, and my mother – it is only since I moved to Phoenix that I have any women friends at all, and they are all lesbians and transgendered.
For 40, even 59 years, 85% of my friends have been gay men. 10% are straight men, nearly all in two groups – Esteban & Co. in New York City and a group of guys from Southwest Louisiana. Other than Debbie Moldau Mack in the early 1980s, still a dear friend today – I did not have any women friends in my life, ever. And these agencies sent me to woman after woman – and then they sent women to my house. Their obtuse refusal to provide a gay male counselor is stunning and obnoxious, evil even. I can’t even describe the depth of disdain I feel for these people who so ignored my simple request to talk to a gay male counselor about those times long ago. Indeed, their insistence I talk to a woman is reminiscent of those years long ago when it was demanded by heterosexuals that gay men comport with women or else. The same nonsense I experienced in the 1970s is still here? By what are probably liberals all for diversity and cultural sensitivity and the L(g)BTQ+ “consortium” – (you all can’t wait to hear my description of this monstrosity) – and they ignore me? This is just monstrous. They give me notifications that state I can speak to someone “culturally relevant” to me – and I asked for a gay male therapist – and they told me no – I do not need that by their false reckoning of a man they don’t even know – so they sent me to women and send women to me – for the imaginary problems of an alleged “severely mentally ill” misfit. Are these defendants going to argue gay men can’t even talk to gay counselors? Are we that despised and disdained yet? Egad.
And yes, since there’s a “homosexual” involved I suppose everyone will look to see if some law is allowed to us, perhaps they will dredge out some Arizona statute of the pre-WWII years against gay men. However, I note that in 1994 the late, great Senator Barry Goldwater – an icon of this state – said “Gay Men deserve all the constitutional rights of Americans, including marriage and military service.” My father was a Goldwater Republican – and so am I – and we are from New York City – via Vlkos u Kyjov. This is a small village in southeastern Moravia, in the Czech Republic, where I am in touch with cousins still. Wolftown – that’s “Vlkos.” The town motto is “First you kill the wolf, then you drink the wine.” Bez prace, neni chleba – without work, there is no bread. And zatra ceni kral a kram – goddamn king and church. Delate dobry – do good. These are my guiding lights in my life, that is what my grandparents and parents taught me in our Hussite Freethinking Tradition – my strongly held religious belief. I have stated it repeatedly for decades. I stated it to these people – and they told me no – I have no religious beliefs – so their forms state maliciously. I am a gay man – we don’t have them, I guess. They are very, very wrong. Though, probably none of them even heard of Jan Hus and Hussism.
“I Have Fought the Good Fight (2 Timothy 4:6-22)” – 6 For I am already being poured out like a drink offering, and the time has come for my departure. 7 I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. 8 Now there is in store for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award to me on that day — and not only to me, but also to all who have longed for his appearing.” I fought the Good Fight for my Gay Guys for nigh on 50 years since I was 10 years old – I was never in any “closet” – the stories I could tell about my youth as an open gay man in the 1970s – that’s just one of the book ideas about my fascinating life I have in the works. And not one person in my extended family ever had a negative word about it – ever – it’s our religious belief. And these people claim I was abused as a child and suffered child neglect. They just fabricated lies.
And these people are trampling on my religious belief. And I have argued for decades – I do not have facetious “gay rights” – I have American Rights – and among them are religious belief, amply protected by sundry laws – not a one of which has a clause “except homosexuals cannot have religious beliefs.” My religious belief is that gay men are a test of the simple admonition of Jesus: “Treat others as you wish to be treated” – about which heterosexuals have been woefully deficient as can be amply proved. And these defendants carry on in that miserable tradition of treating gay men like garbage.
Obergefell v. Hodges, 576 U.S. (2015) was the famous or infamous (depends on your view) case that in a 5-4 ruling found vaguely somewhere in the 14th Amendment a “right” to “gay marriage” – and the right was right there in the Declaration of Independence. “That all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.” And gay men are men – and we have a Creator, even if He is not yours – and our pursuit of Happiness has been woefully denied throughout my life. My attorney in New York City, Stephen Loeb, wrote an article about what he thinks is the reach of Obergefell. I include it in my exhibits. He didn’t write it for this present matter, but he does bring up the case from time to time. Nor is he my lawyer in this matter, he is not licensed in Arizona. But he is my friend, and we discuss the cases – and gay men – and he wrote a letter in my support.
Snyder v. Phelps, 562 U.S. 443 (2011), decided 8-1 (Alito dissenting) – said pretty much “anyone can say anything against gay men however they well wish anywhere and at any time up to and including ‘death to fags’” With some bizarre unstated corollary, that might be described as Justice Antonin Scalia’s “jiggery pokery” – or even “penumbras” and “emanations” of what the Constitution means – somehow implying that gay men have to just stand there and listen to this nonsense. Well, if they can say anything to me – I can say anything back at them. I am an American – not a “gay man” as some alien among the populace. That the right to disparage gay men was clear to an 8-1 court, while the right to be celebrated as good was an iffy, well, could be in there somewhere, 5-4 – stuns me. As it should anyone.
I never have just stood there and listened. Never – I have said things to heterosexuals that would astonish the court and the defendants. The letters by friends included in this pleading attest to that. And that’s what this case is about. I am a gay man who asked for a gay male counselor to deal with gay male issues – and a horde of heterosexuals, mostly women, and the men from anti-gay cultures, told me no, that was not my issue – while creating a fantasy about me. They even note I would not go to some LGBTQ+ community center as if this is some problem of my life. Heterosexuals daring to tell me who I should agree to be connected to? Really? No – that’s not happening.
I am not claiming discrimination on the basis of “LGBTQ” anything – nor on the basis of being a gay man. I have American Rights – not “gay rights.” There are no such thing as “gay rights.” For decades I argued we have American Rights. I would argue it’s on my marital status, my national origin, my religious belief and any perceived disability – coupled with the sheer incompetence of these people I barely encountered – and the fantasy they wove about me – which surely is in the neighborhood of malpractice and fraud.
It is also what I call “the arrogance of presumption” – because every heterosexual has a presumption about gay men – and they insist they are right, and we are wrong. Every heterosexual has a view, an opinion, a belief – about why we are gay men, about what is “homosexuality” – about the vaunted “homosexual lifestyle.” Not a heterosexual doesn’t have such ideas – that are based on their religion, whatever few articles they read about it, perhaps a Psych 101 course, or from a textbook written by heterosexuals, perhaps they know a gay person or two. I can show this to be true with 1000s of examples and as recently as the day this complaint was filed. Indeed, during the very time SAAF and COPE were labeling me hopeless – I wrote a book laying out my case against the heterosexual presumptions about gay men. “The Pink Sheep of the Ninth Circle” was published in August 2013. I wrote it during the year I was in Tucson – while trying to avoid these people – who I come to find labeled me “severely mentally ill” and more. Their designation flies in the face of what I presented to the world. These defendants should all go read it – learn about my views on the searing issue.
And never once in my life have I been shy about stating this reality. Sure, today everyone is so much more polite, even benign – but the presumption is there that heterosexuals know more about gay men than we know about us. It is most amazing. And to show you how very contentious the whole subject is – in the Supreme Court term when Obergefell was decided there were 131 other cases – and Obergefell got more amicus briefs than the rest of the cases combined. Indeed, some 200 briefs were filed – 3/4s of them against us. The same happened with Bowers, Lawrence, Windsor – any case about gay men gets more briefs than any other case that Supreme Court term. We gay men are quite a thing – as no one can deny. And these defendants tell me they know more about me than I know about myself, amazing.
And I certainly did not go to some female heterosexual bureaucrat as COPE claims, on April 8th and April 9th 2013, and blithely agreed that I was “severely mentally ill, can’t concentrate, can’t function and can’t focus and am seeking services” On April 7th 2013 I published to my blog an article called “And on the 8th day He created Guy Guys.” It’s about how wonderful we are – and heteros are not rational about us. On April 9th I published an article to my blog about North Korea that still applies today. I did my utmost to avoid these people – for they are the very sort of people I avoided all my life. It is preposterous to think that after 40, even 50 years of stating forcefully that gay men are not mentally ill – which was, and still is to some, the claim about gay men – I would go to a woman heterosexual bureaucrat and agree that I was “severely mentally ill.” It is obnoxious to rational thought.
To top it off, on April, 10th, 2013, I was published at a national Christian, Tea Party, Right Wing – and not gay friendly – website called “American Thinker” – stating that gay guys were wonderful and “much ado about nothing.” So rational am I – that the website published a defense of me that very day by a noted anti-gay pundit – after a torrent of anti-gay comments from 300+ heterosexuals to my article. On the very days I’m on the national stage as rational on gay men – this woman states “I agree I’m severely mentally ill. ” That’s just not possible. And my reality is real – and she created a fantasy.
COPE and McDowell Clinic and then Southwest pushed a drug called Risperdone on me – I said repeatedly that I did not need this drug – and they insisted. I regret I relented and took this drug – but well, they were professionals – perhaps I should listen to them. Sometime in December 2016, I had a Skype call with Carl Bednarz, a man I know and trust for 40 years. He took one look at me and he said “stop the Risperdone, it’s killing you.” (His letter included in exhibits.) I was up to 2 mgs by then. Nearly every detrimental side affect that the Mayo Clinic posts on their website for this drug – I was having. For first it was .5 mg. Then 1 mg. Then it was bumped up to 1.5 mg, and finally to 2 mg – and this pill – which I did not want to take anyway, as Dr. Lambert in Tucson notes I mention, as do others – is killing me. It is a powerful mind altering drug – that I just don’t need. And instead of helping me – it was harming me. Then they pushed Zyprexa on me which I refused to take. They are pushing drugs on me for what they believe is some psychosis created by Mr. Ganago – and I’m asking to speak to a gay male counselor about my emotions from a life of wonderment.
Sometime in late December 2016 – an agency I never heard of – Bayless – called me to tell me I’m “severely mentally ill” and “special needs” so they can’t help me. Just point blank told me I was basically insane and incompetent and I wouldn’t understand. Where they got my name and number from I have no idea. Why they even called me to spend the 4 or 5 minutes telling me this is bizarre. But to have strangers calling me to tell me I’m crazy is just not good.
On December 30th 2016 I met with my regular Nurse Practitioner, Brian Arey, and I tell him of this designation of “Severely Mentally Ill” and he all but shouts out “No Way!” – the most demonstrative I had ever seen him – this is the ‘doctor’ I’ve been seeing regularly for 2 years or more. I also handed him a stern letter addressed to Mr. Greg Scaggs, Director of the McDowell Clinic, dated 12/20/2016, to share with anyone stating forcefully: “I will not meet with Southwest, I consider them evil.” A copy of that letter in my documentation. Mr. Arey has left the McDowell Clinic – and no one will tell me where he went. At least with him I discussed Tolstoy’s “War and Peace” – I doubt the rest of these people even heard of the book.
January 6th 2017 I met with Lindsay Morgan of Jewish Family & Child Services, because once again I am told I must do it, so I complied. My appointment was for 10 AM. I watched as Relles Abeytia of Southwest Network got to meet with Ms. Morgan first – for a half hour I’m left stewing in the lobby – an astonishing disdain for my time. He hands over about a 100 page report presumably about me – riddled with errors and falsehoods and I don’t know what else – and gets to “explain” all about “me” from his own delusions. It is infuriating. Finally I get to Ms. Morgan’s office and she talked to me like I was a child. She asked me in a sickening singsong voice like one uses with a toddler if I could say three words after she did. “Sure,” I said. “Door, chair, tree” she says. So I repeat the words – and I ask her what is that for? And she tells me it’s a test of my memory. And that is an abomination of a “test” of my memory. During this farce I concluded it was going to be just a waste of my time – so I just went to full joke mode. I repeated the three words in English, Spanish and Czech, and French, German and Portuguese too, in different orders, over and over after every single one of her pointless questions – and I asked repeatedly: “Do you have the name and number of a male counselor?” Finally at the end of our meeting she tells me she does not have the name of anyone, but because I am so very “severely mentally ill” and “special needs” she’s going to refer me to the very best agency she can find for people like me – and then to add insult to injury she tells me “You wouldn’t understand, we’re going to help you.” And I just left shaking my head and vowed to never talk to this woman again.
And that’s when I concluded going to a court was going to be necessary – again – I apologize to the court. I tried to reason with these people – but they are convinced by Mr. Ganago’s checked off box. I even filed a formal grievance with the Mercy-Maricopa Grievance Committee. I wound up speaking with and emailing Ron Valdez, their ombudsman. In obfuscated language he and the Committee sent me back to Southwest – who then did nothing but haul me to a psyche ward.
Meanwhile, in the first week of January, 2017, Mr. Scaggs and Eric Moore of MIHS are trying to convince me to go to Southwest – I refused – and they just blithely went along assuming they were going to take me there. I said “no” repeatedly, and they said “we’re going with you.”
Even though on December 14th 2016 I signed a form stating I “voluntarily” ceased being a client of Southwest – everyone ignored this form. They seem to believe I am so “severely mentally ill” that I can’t even make decisions for myself.
On December 16th 2016 at 2 PM a woman named Cory from Southwest called me – insisting I meet with her for whatever she thought ailed me. Most astoundingly – at 5 PM a woman telling me she’s my “peer counselor” just shows up at my door unannounced. I tell them both to go away, stridently. At 6 PM on Sunday December 18th, 2016 Dorothy Williams of Southwest calls me – demanding I speak to her – I tell her to go away. They note with concern that I said “Who are you and what do you want?” as some indication of my problems – without a clue that for all my life my father’s older brother Uncle George used this phrase and I adopted it from him! As I do “greetings” and other phrases. He was my favorite Uncle about which I can tell endless stories – up to an including visits to him in the last years of his life in Keystone Heights Florida.
I had two lawyers call Southwest to tell them to leave me alone; my facebook friend Charles Johnson of Los Angeles, and my broken wrist attorneys Lerner & Rowe (to really just wreck things, in the middle of all this, I broke my wrist in a bus accident on October 26th, 2016 – and for a pianist to break his wrist is just devastating! And these morons don’t even believe I can play the piano!) Southwest’s report notes the calls, there are letters of inquiry from Lerner & Rowe in the records.
Those calls made no difference. On January 9th, 2017, a woman named Laura from Southwest calls telling me I must make an appointment with their doctors on January 11th – I tell her no – and do not call me again. So incompetent are these people that an hour later she calls to tell me the appointment is really on January 12th – I tell her again – do not call me and I will go to no such appointments. Meanwhile, Greg Scaggs and Eric Moore are calling me to tell me they are going with me and I said “no” and they ignored me. I explained to Mr. Moore that they are “harming” me – as the protocols they themselves gave me define – they are “harming” me – and he ignored me and dismissed what I said.
On January 10th 2017, I got the Camelback Properties call I waited for 7 months to get – and by January 20th I signed a lease – and by January 30th I moved in to this great new apartment at 11th Avenue and Camelback Road, from where I can see a gay bar out my kitchen window. One where I want to live out my years as Providence decrees – in peace – without busybody mostly women heterosexual bureaucrats, and a few male heterosexual bureaucrats from anti-gay cultures – who refuse to listen to a word I say as they imagine who knows what – bedeviling my life with unannounced visits, phone calls from strangers and police so far twice – and essentially slander and libel about me on my medical record.
In early February – a woman named Dijana calls from JFCS to tell me she’s my case manager – I tell her to go away – I will not meet with them. I told her to tell Lindsay Morgan to send me my records – and otherwise leave me alone. I inform her I am suing their agency.
A week later a man named Brian from JFCS calls to tell me he’s my counselor – I explain to him in a 20 minute call – that no – just no – I will not talk to this agency – and that I plan on suing this agency. I explained what I thought about the entirety of this situation to him – perhaps in his records he notes the call. And I also told him I resolved the issue through another counselor. (Which I did, somewhat, not completely, as noted in my exhibits, and Steve White’s letter included here.)
A few days later Lindsay Morgan of JFCS calls – and in a sickening way she talks to me like I’m a child and tells me she’s going to take care of me and get me the help she thinks I need – and I tell her she’s out of her mind – and I demand again to get a copy of all the records about me she has.
On March 27th, 2017 at 1:30 PM from this phone number: 602-248-0368 – I received a call from “Recovery Empowerment Network” and a woman told me she was my “peer counselor” for “recovery” I have never heard of this agency. I have no idea who they are or where they are or what they do – and I don’t want to know. I asked this woman, “recovery from what?” and she told me from booze, and drugs, and a life of troubles – and I was furious. “Who gave you my name and number?” I asked. She said “Southwest Network.” And if more than 4 months after I signed a form from Southwest “voluntarily ending services” (as detailed herein) they are still sending women to me about imaginary issues – there is a problem. These people believe something – and it is all wrong. I tell her she’s out of her mind. Besides the lack of any troubles which these people think I have – I asked for a gay male counselor dozens, even hundreds, of times – and 9 months later they send a woman to me! It is just a stunning disregard for what I told these people repeatedly.
On Friday March 31st 2017 some huge linebacker sized guy pounds – not knocking – pounding! – on my door demanding entry to my home and perhaps for me to go with him and he’s going to take care of me. He’s from JFCS he says. I tell him he’s out of his mind. I would not let him in – I would not go with him – I told him to get lost – and I also told him to tell Lindsay Morgan to send me a copy of my records. I showed him the COPE report through the screen door as a sample of what I am talking about. And there’s Lindsay Morgan, poking out from behind this man – talking to me like a child again – and I was just furious. I told her to send me the report – and get out of my life. And then I just slammed the door in their faces. I have not seen this agency’s files on me yet. Ms. Morgan seems to think I have to go back to talk to her – for another assessment or other nonsense. She is rude, obnoxious and ignorant. I will not speak with her. I had to spell words for her in our meeting – egad.
There are so many wrong statements and misstatements of fact in the three reports I have seen that it is astonishing. They created this fantasy, and alternate me that is not real. There are misrepresentations, one word truncated versions of a whole story, labels of disorders, fabrications, quotes I could never have said and more, page after page of it – all of it making me look bad and worse. There are people I never met, never heard of – going on and on about what troubles they think I have. Anyone reading this would conclude there is something drastically wrong with me – and there is nothing wrong with me at all. To contest every single thing they said would be easy, but time consuming – hours and hours, page after page, document after document, witness after witness – of me contesting what they wrote – and proving me right, and them wrong. I wrote up a few pages on each of the three reports detailing the errors and misconstruing of everything in just the first few pages, which are included in my documentation. There’s 350 pages of this what can only be called nonsense. Is it: Malpractice? Malfeasance? Incompetence? Maliciousness? Fraud? Slander and Libel? Whatever it is – it’s a fantasy of unimaginable proportions. I led a life of probity and acclaim – and because Mr. Ganago labeled me “severely mentally ill” – everyone else in the system piled on with more labels and more absurd nonsense. 50 years of marvelous conduct did not change at the Arizona border, I assure you – and I can prove it beyond a shadow of a doubt.
More so – these falsehoods, labels, accusations and more, harm me in a multitude of very real ways. And even though bizarrely they label me “agoraphobia” – I am a public person. I am the official lobby piano player at St. Joseph’s – Phoenix’s largest hospital. I have a position of some importance. I have a position in the public eye. I have fans there. I provide happiness and joy to people in stressful jobs, and those visiting the hospital to see loved ones. If this nonsense is somehow brought to the attention of St. Joseph’s it will jeopardize my career there – one where I plan on playing for the rest of my life – until as Providence decrees I die – and the Arizona Republic will publish my obituary “long time volunteer pianist dies.” And more, I am a known person in the LGBTQ community of Phoenix for having painted a monumental painting of our history. I am the piano player at an Alzheimer’s home, another place I plan on playing for a long, long time. More so, I am a known quantity in Louisiana, in the Tunica Biloxi nation, in Czech and Slovak circles in Louisiana, nationwide, and in Europe, in the Cajun food industry, and the music industry. I have not severed my ties to Louisiana, even if I choose not to live there anymore. I only left there 4 years ago, after all. I am a known man of rational discourse on gay men in the right wing, tea party, conservative blogosphere – and across the internet. I am a published author, and more – endlessly more good. I have begun working on a book about the Czechs and Slovaks of the Four Corner states – which will be a public good for the history of this region.
All of what these people wrote and believe endangers my public persona, my public position – and my reputation, my position in the community – my liberty – and my very life. It imperils my apartment, my rental history, my credit – everything – this is just dangerous. These people are a danger to me.
In the middle of all this nonsense with Southwest Network and Mercy-Maricopa – on December 1st 2016 comes a letter from the Arizona Department of Health Services informing me that I am no longer eligible for the AIDS Drug Assistance Program – because “we did not receive your ADAP birthday renewal application for processing.” This is the sort of steady flow of bureaucratic foul ups that bedevil the system – and keep appearing in my life. I got the proper paperwork and proofs to Care Directions, the supposed HIV support agency which I avoid as best I can – on time, well before even – which sends it to the Center for Eligibility – which sends it to the state – and someone didn’t follow up – so the flow of life saving drugs is imperiled. I went to the McDowell Clinic and spoke to a woman named Olga who is the Care Directions case manager there – and she tells me “don’t worry” and I thought “no, I do worry.” The letter is in the exhibits.
And part of this whole series of events was the inability of SAAF, UA-UMC, MIHS and even the Arizona Department of Health Ryan White/ADAP program to get me the life saving drugs when I entered the system. It took them months of errors, foul ups, phantom appointments, inability to figure out what insurance I was covered by and more, in both Tucson and Phoenix. The incompetence and lack of knowledge about their own systems was stunning. And yes, I admit I got cranky at them. However, I have been an AIDS activist since 1981. I helped create ACT UP! in 1986, and the “Silence=Death” logo for AIDS activism. I was never quiet about it for decades, so I wasn’t going to just calmly go “Oh well, no drugs for me” while my T-cell count, the major indicator of HIV/AIDS health was falling from the 454 that SAAF notes at my entry into the system to the 254 they were when I finally got to see a doctor at UA-UMC. 200 is the cut off point for an official AIDS diagnosis rather than just HIV+. Even today they have yet to return to the levels prior to my moving to Arizona. While the drug and medical issues seem to be resolved – it took people outside the system to get it done. In Tucson, Michael Castaneda knew someone in the system and had to make monthly calls to ensure the flow of medications continued. In Phoenix it took Nadine Wells to guide me through AHCCCS and more, and she was just a volunteer at the One Voice Pride Center. Her letter is in my documentation. Surely these defendants are not going to claim that any disorders or mental problems they imagine are founded on my being angry at their incompetence. I was desperate for the life-saving medications – and they could not and would not provide them.
The relief I seek –
I want to see what all these agencies wrote about me – for so far it’s all nonsense – who knows what else might have been added? It’s quite a work of fiction so far.
Remove all this from the record – it’s all false or so misconstrued as to endanger my being.
Apologies from all of them – for not listening to a word I said, and dismissing everything I said as unimportant as they zeroed in on their imaginary problems they claim I have – and for being so cruel to an old gay man with AIDS who just wanted to talk about that with some guy who could help me put this wonderment at life, this amazing existence – put it all in some perspective.
$50,000 in punitive damages. They abused me, harmed me, endangered my life, and hauled me to a psyche ward all based on their own invincible ignorance.
Yes, I have no attorney – but I spent 100s of hours on putting this plea together. I charge for my time. For my art, my writing, my know how, my music, my advice – I charge for my time – that’s how I made a living for decades. There is something called opportunity cost – these people cost me endless hours on buses, pointless meetings, 17 hours in a psyche ward and two and a half hours to get home in my pajamas through the streets – and more. So I want reasonable attorney’s fees reimbursed. I would think it fair that the average hourly rate of all the lawyers these people shall bring against me be determined – and that be my compensation for the 100s of hours I put into this – this that was not necessary if any of these people bothered to listen to a word I said – instead of just relying on Mr. Ganago’s malicious designation and their own fetid nonsense.
They should all be required to read Franz Kafka’s “The Trial” and write a book report on it so I can grade it like the professor I am. Mr. Abeytia of Southwest can barely spell, egad – he writes “maintain” as “maintaun” multiple times.. I told them all about the book – I am K. they are the authorities – and barely a one of them even heard of this seminal work on the absurdity of bureaucrats. It starts: “Someone must have traduced Joseph K., for without having done anything wrong he was arrested one fine morning.” They traduced me and had me taken away. Never in my life had I a negative experience with police – until these people. (Well, other than nine gay bar raids, which I mention herein.)
And finally, please give me the name and number of a gay male counselor covered by my insurance so I can speak to him about this wondrous life and how I survived AIDS while burying a 100 friends. I am a gay man who led a gay existence and wish to speak to a gay man about gay issues – and I will NOT have a horde of heterosos tell me no! Egad – it’s miserable – it is 2017 – we are beyond those years of long past when gay men could be treated like garbage with impunity. Aren’t we? I hope so.
What follows in my exhibits are explanations of the timeline of events in Tucson and Phoenix, my life, my being, my creative output in Tucson and in Phoenix, and beyond, my brothers, my family, my friends, my cocaine use in the Dark Ages, letters of support from people across the globe, and more – for what I did during the four years I have been in Arizona is be the same rational reasonable fellow creating good works at a steady pace while charming everyone that I always have been.
I would rather not waste the court’s time with a lengthy trial where I can prove everything I did – and all the defendants can prove is that I signed their forms and they did not give me the gay male counselor I desired – while they wrote falsehoods, misrepresentations, fabrications, misstatements and worse – while pushing a dangerous drug on me. These defendants could give no testimony supporting the assertions they put on my record. Had any of them spent but a few minutes googling me or going to Amazon, Youtube, The Daily Mush – as I suggested repeatedly they do – which they dismissed as irrelevant – they would have seen their folly first. Instead – with the “arrogance of presumption” they knew all about me from their fetid minds – and dismissed my existence as piffle. I recommend they go look before they even think of contesting this plea.
I do not really want this to be about the law, though I know it is. Nor am I trying to change the system. I do not want to fight these people. I am trying to extract myself from the system – and remove these people from my life where they have no need to be. And I wish to do that by presenting my extraordinary life of extraordinary accomplishment while living through extraordinary times – in comparison to what they wrote – to competent observers appointed by this court – and get this solved as amicably as possible. For, again, what this is about is an accomplished 59 year old gay man who survived a plague and wished to speak to some gay male professional about it – and a group of agencies filled with heterosexuals that declared me “severely mentally ill” and a host of other disorders with no evidence.
I would rather some independent observers come to my home and go out and about in town with me – and spend some days with me so I can show someone the vast intellectual, artistic, musical and written outpouring that whooshes out of me effortlessly and daily in a steady, friendly, vivacious, humorous, wondrous cascade – it doesn’t stop – I am a jovial creative polymath – so these observers can report to this court their findings, so that a decision can be made without a lengthy trial which the defendants have no hope in winning. The only thing I ask is that these observers be men over 40 years old.
Even better, if the court would consider it – I would just love you to order all these people to attend a day long presentation by me of my life to them. They want to know all about me? They want to fill in their forms correctly about me? I would love to start out with an hour of my music live at the piano at St. Joseph’s Hospital. And then, in one of the many conference rooms there – for me to give a presentation to all of them that would simply astonish them. And when I am done – they will avoid lawsuits and the like, and do as I request – and remove all this they wrote from the record – and apologize, and offer me reasonable restitution. As I said above – I have Supreme Confidence in myself – like few this court ever met. With Supreme Confidence – I can state – this court is welcome to examine my life any which way it wants – for I am above reproach and I am forthright. In my exhibits I present just a snippet of my life. I regret I cannot include my music – the defendants should all go listen to it at my youtube channel “Jim Hlavac” and enjoy it while they read all of this.
As Supreme Court Justice William O. Douglas stated: “The right to be let alone is indeed the beginning of all freedom.” Dissenting, Public Utilities Commission v. Pollak, 343 U.S. 451, 467 (1952). And I wish to be let alone by these people who have no need to be in my life, nor know a thing about me, nor have a word about me in their computers, especially such incredibly wrong, even malicious, statements.
And I wish to just continue getting the life saving drugs from the McDowell Clinic. (And someone should give the receptionist Barb there a raise. I do not know her last name, but she is the only person who ever listened to me in this system. She is marvelous.)
An emotional thing – the great state of Arizona rightly extols family as the cornerstone of society. SAAF, COPE and Southwest Network all insist that “James has no contact with his family.” This is just malicious. I told them I was in constant contact with my family – and they simply denounced my claim and put their lie. All my life I have heard heterosexuals say “gay men are anti-family.” And I have a fine relationship with my father, my late mother, my sister, niece, nephew, aunts, uncles, cousins – on three continents in two languages. I wrote a book with my father in 2009, I wrote a book for my mother in 2006 – I am friends on facebook with many cousins, my nephew and my Aunt Stephanie. I am my family’s historian. I did not all of sudden become anti-family or cease contact with them in 2012 when I crossed the Arizona border. What more I can tell about my family would simply amaze you all. I include just three letters from family, my cousin Jimmy in Florida, my Uncle Myles in Massachusetts – and the Gottwald family of Prague, Czech Republic. I could produce 200 more if necessary.
More amazingly – these people have decreed that I am a threat to myself because of the only two family members I did not speak to in 40 years – my two confounded brothers. They went off to the Air Force to follow orders – and blend in – in 1978 – and I never spoke to them again. And I went off to meet Harvey Milk and Harvey Fierstein. They hid from life – and I comported with Rock Hudson, Lauren Bacall, the Village People, and Mick Jagger, Deborah Harry and Sharonna. I partied with Robin Williams and danced with John Travolta and smooched him too. I did business with Andy Warhol, I had dinner with Truman Capote – and I met with every governor of Louisiana from David Treen in 1986 to Kathleen Blanco in 2006. And more – endlessly more – while my brothers sat in hiding and did nothing. They – for reasons I don’t even know – hid themselves from existence – and I went out and experienced the world. And if these people wish to compare me to my two brothers – they are in for quite a destruction of their beliefs. I only wrote up 4 pages on them and I.
Even during the very time in Tucson they claim I am “severely mentally ill” with “no contact with his family” – I found long lost cousins in Australia – and had weekly conversations for months on Skype with my cousin Alice Javurek Tapfield of Wagga Wagga, New South Wales, Australia – and reconnected all the relatives in America and Czech Republic with her and her family. And the only two family members no one in my family had contact with – were my two confounded brothers – who are but wisps of memories from 40 years ago. Yet to these people here, these defendants – these two brothers of mine are the sine qua non of my existence. The people I know are nothing, the life I led is nothing – and the two I didn’t know are everything – and that is bizarre. This canard against me by these agencies simply infuriates me. And I have a right to be indignant at their aspersions upon my good name. So I ask this court for redress.
I am of course open to whatever other remedies, examinations, proposals or solutions this court might desire. I am an open book – my life is beyond reproach. I welcome anything this court might decide must be done to resolve this – including the state investigating all these agencies for what they did to me – because I am a man of Supreme Confidence. And I am right – and these people are very wrong.
As is written in Scripture – Matthew 5:39: (New International Version) But I tell you, do not resist an evil person. If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them the other cheek also.
I have turned the other cheek with heterosexuals all my life – but no more, not with these people in 2017. Not once in my life did I ever sue a heteroo for being nasty and obnoxious, not at one slight did I protest, but moved on – I let it all slide. Not this time. I ask this court to give me my due – and tell these people it is best to cooperate – so we might resolve this without a lengthy court proceeding which they cannot win. Though I am prepared for one – and then I will have fun with them like they can’t believe – for I can prove the real me, which will astonish them – and they cannot prove their version of “me.” In fact – none of these people have a clue who I am.
I apologize again for being a cranky old gay geezer – but well, that’s who I am. I lived through it all – and that’s what I wanted to talk about – and they told me “no, that is not your problem.” These defendants won’t even call me by the name I desire – “Jim” – but instead obnoxiously insist on calling me “James” – my name, yes, but I so rarely use it. Indeed, most of my friends call me “hlavac” – which the court is welcome to do. I sign my Christmas cards to family and friends “hlavac.” I doubt most of these people even know how to pronounce my (h)last name – it is “La-vick.” The H is silent, at least in English. In Czech the name is said “HLA-vatch.” HL is simply a weird Czech thing, and seemingly impossible for an English speaker to say – there’s only 12 languages on earth with this consonant cluster. Czech has 60% of the usage. With all of them I joked about HL words – and I give my example: “hloupy hlodovaci” – “Stupid Rats.” You know, in my family we joke about a “hlavacattack” – and that, after enormous patience and forbearance – is when we Hlavacs go “No, you cannot do this.”
Moreover your honor – all my life I have done good works – as my Hussite Tradition declares I should do. The numbers of youth I rescued from the streets after “good” heterosexual “godly” families chased them away would astonish this court. To this day – when I get my lunch from the chapel on Sundays I play piano for – I give it to a homeless person who lingers at 7th Avenue and Camelback. If these agencies had a heart or a mind they would set up a tent I could see from my kitchen window – and help those truly in need – rather than bedeviling an accomplished old cranky gay man with their nonsense. Or having the poor bedraggled in for another pointless meeting in their hard to reach offices for the pleasure of their sinecures. Egad, they are miserable bureaucrats – but – that is the system. I do not contest it – I wish to be removed from it.
However, in light of the defendants’ claims about no contact with my family, which seems to be the very cornerstone of my many alleged problems they imagine – I start off my exhibits with my sister. For she is the sibling I talk to. And when everyone is done reading her tale, and my role in it, I’m sure cooperation will be forthcoming. Thank you.
James “Jim” Hlavac
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