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On the day before they hauled me off to the slave hole, which would have been after Helene and her accomplice submitted their fraud papers to the court, the man at Alliance was very uncomfortable. I had never seen him in that state, and I never saw him in that state again. The next morning, Helene tricked me into opening my door. When I did, six or eight cops rushed in and hauled me off to the slave hole in Hannibal Lecter restraints. The doctor in the slave hole asked me why I wasn't working. I told her I was working on getting my research situation squared away so I could work in an research position. She asked to speculate as to why I was having a problem publishing. I told it probably had something to do with the government or something. She used that as a predicate to find that I was having psychotic paranoid ideation about the government being out to get me and that I must be "schizoid or schizotypal or something."
