The FTC is not calling to deactivate your phone number

Here’s the latest twist on FTC impersonators: someone claiming to be an FTC official (who’s really a scammer) calls to say a phone was registered under your name and number and is being used to commit scams in another country. The “FTC official” even reads off their badge ID (it’s a fake badge). If you don’t cooperate, they threaten to deactivate your phone number. Sounds scary? That’s (unfortunately) the point.

To keep making the story sound real, the FTC impersonator will transfer you to a (fake) police officer to file a report. If you hesitate, they might have you call back the police department directly. They’ll tell you what to search online to find the number. It feels like you’re verifying the story, but it’s all part of their scheme. And when you call, people involved in the scam pick up.

They ask for your ID and other personal information for your “report” and tell you to keep everything secret. Later, you get more bad news: They claim you’re under arrest for the scams your phone number was associated with — and they say you have to go to another country. Unless you send money for a security deposit.

None of this is true — it’s all a scam.

• A real FTC employee will never ever reach out to ask you to send money, and will never connect you to someone who says to send money. That’s a scam.
• A real FTC employee will never ever threaten to disconnect your phone. That’s a scam.
• A real FTC employee will never ever tell you to keep your conversations secret. That’s always a scam.
• A real FTC employee will never ever text you a photo of their employee ID to “verify” their identity.

Ann Wilkinson - Excerpt from my book

Ann Wilkinson entered my life in a week after Easter 1988. The day was simply stunning; spring had arrived, and I cherished the scent and sound of the ocean. Ann was graceful, standing around five feet tall, with flowing blond hair and lovely blue eyes. She lived just a few houses away from me. Her husband, Tim, a Marine Corps officer, and his wife were also from Minnesota, just like Russ. Interestingly, despite living in the officers' new housing on Camp Pendleton, I never really noticed Ann or her husband. They seemed to fade into the background for me at that time. My life was about to turn upside down. 

 

I stopped by the mailbox one day to pick up my mail, as I did every day. The mailboxes were located at the cul-de-sac entrance.

While checking my mail, I heard a voice call out, “Hey, when did you get a new car? That’s really nice!” 

I looked around, trying to locate the source of the voice, and saw a woman leaning over the fence.

“It’s a rental,” I replied. “My car is in the shop after I got into a car accident a few days ago.”

“Oh, are you okay?” she asked.

“Yes, I am. Thank you,” I said with a smile.

“I’m glad to hear that! My name is Ann. We haven’t seen you at the playground lately, and we wondered if you were doing alright.” 

The playground, I thought to myself. I never noticed anyone there, probably because I never took the time to look. My thoughts were always somewhere else.

“Yes, I’m fine. Just dealing with some issues since my husband left for deployment.”

“I’d really like to get to know you better. I'm having a Tupperware party on Saturday. Would you please come?!”

"Yes, I will"

"Great, I can't wait to see you."

And with that, she disappeared behine her fence. 

Kevin played with the kids at the Tupperware party, but I found myself more focused on Ann than on the woman selling the products. I had never been so captivated by someone before, and my feelings for Ann were unlike anything I had ever felt. She kept looking at me too, and there was this instant attraction between us.

Ann was the first person in years who made an effort to talk to me, and it truly brightened my day. That evening, I decided to go out to the playground, and Ann arrived just a few moments later. I loved our conversations; she was one of the nicest people I had ever met. 

We sat outside and talked for hours. It was a delight for Kevin too, as it allowed him to play with the other kids instead of being cooped up in the house. It was the first night I hadn’t had a drink since Russ left. 

As time went on, our friendship deepened into a profound connection. We became inseparable, spending every day together, and I experienced a sense of comfort and emotions I had never known. I decided to rent one of the mobile homes on base for Memorial weekend, conveniently located a few feet from the ocean. My family joined me, and so did Ann. We were less than three minutes from her house. 

The evenings were magical, especially when Ann came to visit. We would gather around a fire, roast marshmallows, and listen to the soothing sounds of the waves crashing against the shore. Sitting in the sand by the water, we talked for hours. Occasionally, she would gently lay her hand over mine, leaving me with a mix of uncertainty and excitement as her presence stirred something deep inside me.

The time apart felt endless. 

One morning, as the sun began to rise, I took a stroll along the shore, watching dolphins swim by. Standing there, tears slowly started to fall from my eyes, though I couldn’t quite understand why—maybe it was because Russ was coming home soon. I could see his ship on the horizon, which meant he would be home in a few days. The fresh air filled my lungs, and the sky was incredibly clear. The sounds of the dolphins were enchanting, and all I could feel at that moment was the cool saltwater washing over my feet.

Occasionally a mild scent of bacon and eggs would bring me back to reality. I began getting hungry; smelling the food was a change for me from the last few months. On the last evening, everyone sat around the fire, talking and cooking marshmallows as usual. I sat alone, looking out at the ocean and feeling confused inside. I had already pulled away from Russ because of the affair he had when he was in officers' school.

Ann and I spent every day together, and I even stopped drinking. I felt good about our friendship and a sense of comfort that I had never experienced before.  Ann's husband, Tim, was often preoccupied with golfing or watching television. He didn’t seem to care where Ann was or what she was doing. Instead, he just wanted his house kept clean, his meals prepared, and expected intimacy every night. He was a short man, around five feet four, with blonde hair that he mostly shaved off, and he had an arrogant attitude. Ann often complained about his demands for sex every night. 

Ann and Tim had a daughter named Kristin, who was just a few months younger than Kevin. I had taken Ann to my mom's house a few times, without Jim. We usually opted for a hotel if Jim was there during our visits. My mom seemed annoyed with Ann, though I never understood why, and honestly, I didn’t care. At times, Ann and I would go for a drive to get some privacy.

Tim Wilkinson

When Russ came home in June, Ann and I cherished our daytime moments together, but we always felt the need to see each other before bed. We often took long walks along the beach, eventually sitting down to watch the waves and talk. On the walk home, I felt more confused than ever. When I returned, Russ and Kevin were asleep on the couch. I gently placed a blanket over them and went to bed alone, where I cried myself to sleep.

As the days passed, I found myself resenting Russ's return. I couldn’t spend time with Ann as freely as I used to, which put a strain on our friendship. The only moments we could find to be together were when Tim and Russ were at work. Every evening after dinner, Ann and I would continue our daily walk along the beach, relishing the rarity of our solitude. Tim and Russ kept the kids occupied during those times.

During our walks, Ann often confided in me about her unhappiness with her marriage and how she couldn't stand being intimate with Tim any longer. I understood her feelings all too well, as I was unhappy in my own marriage. My distance from Russ had begun long before Ann entered my life; he had cheated on me multiple times, and I had suffered the heartbreak of losing two of our dogs because he ignored my concerns. One of those dogs, Kelly, had been with me since childhood, and her loss left a deep scar.

Russ was on duty for twenty-four hours the night before Ann was set to leave. While Kevin slept upstairs, I began drinking, troubled by the thought of Ann being away for two weeks. With Kevin asleep, I sat on the couch listening to Barbara Mandrell. When her song "Married But Not to Each Other" started playing, it struck a chord. The song is about two people in love but not with their spouses, mirroring my situation with Ann and my fear of hurting Russ. Around 11:30 PM, Ann came to see me. I was on the couch, and she sat beside me.

Ann moved closer and laid her head on my shoulder. My stomach quivered with a mix of nerves and arousal. I had never felt anything like it before. I looked at Ann, and we started kissing. It felt natural and good. She took off her bra, and I began caressing her breasts.

Touching her aroused me, and I didn't think about Russ. All that mattered was Ann, and neither of us wanted the evening to end. However, Ann had a flight to catch the next day. She left around 2:30 in the morning. After she left, I sat on the couch, reflecting on what had happened. I never went to sleep, just watched the sunrise through the open curtains.

I went to Ann's house around 9:00 AM. We were both exhausted, but I needed to understand what had happened that night and what to do about it. While Ann curled her hair in the bathroom, she bent down and told me she was in love with me. As I drove her, Tim, and Kristin to the airport, I couldn't figure out what to make of her confession. She was leaving for two weeks to visit family in Minnesota, which felt even more complicated since Russ's family was also there, and we were planning to leave just a few days after Ann returned.

After saying goodbye at the airport, Ann kept calling to express her love for me and urged me to hold on until she came back. I trusted her and believed everything she said, but her words left me tangled in questions about myself and my emotions. How could I possibly know what to do with my feelings when I didn’t even fully understand them? I was in love with a woman who had awakened something within me that no one else ever had. Throughout her absence, the days stretched on and felt like the longest two weeks of my life, as my thoughts revolved around Ann.

A few weeks later, Ann returned from Minnesota. I picked her up at the airport; Tim had flown back a few days earlier for work. After a brief drive, we found a secluded area just before we entered the Marine Base. The kids were asleep in our van so we embraced and kissed each other deeply.

A week and a half after Ann's return, Russ and I were preparing for our trip to Minnesota. I was hesitant to go, especially since Ann and I had become physically intimate several times since she had come back. I had never expected to be with a woman in that way, but the experience with Ann had been incredible, and I cherished the intimacy we shared. It was satisfying and comfortable, and the thought of leaving made me fear that those feelings would fade.

The night before Russ and I were supposed to leave, I poured myself a few glasses of vodka mixed with orange juice. Overwhelmed, I began to cry because the idea of leaving felt unbearable. I worried about how Russ would handle it all, but I felt lost regarding what to do next. Soon, Russ came downstairs to check on me, concern etched on his face.

“What are you doing down here, Becky? You should be in bed since we have a long drive tomorrow,” he said, his voice filled with concern.

"I don't want to go to Minnesota. Please take Kevin and go without me."

"What the fuck are you talking about? What is wrong with you lately?"

"I don't know, Russ. I don't want to go."

We got into a huge argument, and I had drunk so much that I couldn't even think straight. I went upstairs, and got our gun, and went to the garage where I was crying uncontrollably. I was so upset.  I couldn't deal with Ann and Russ pulling me in different directions. My guilt about Ann was getting worse every day. A few hours later, Russ walked into the garage looking for me.

"What are you doing out here?" 

"You don't understand, Russ. I don't want to go. I have to stay home. Please, Russ, let me stay, or I'll blow my head off."

Russ didn't know what to do, so he called Ann to see if she could talk to me. Ann came over and talked me into putting the gun down. Russ went upstairs so Ann and I could speak alone.

"Ann, I want to leave Russ. I have thought it over and decided I want to be with you."

"I love you too, but you can't leave Russ yet. We need to take it slow, and I promise I will be there for you when you return. We will work things out then."

I finally agreed, but I was miserable during the trip. I closed off everyone in Russ's family, including Russ. During most of the trip, I sat in the back of the van looking out the window with headphones on and the outside world turned off. Russ and I fought every day while we were gone, and I ran off every chance I had to call Ann or just to be alone. Russ's parents knew something was wrong, but they had no idea it had to do with another woman.

Ann kept calling me while I was in Minnesota to tell me she wanted to be with me and was still very much in love. Things changed a few days before we were driving back to California. Ann called me and told me that she was pregnant. Ann said she was confused about everything and needed to try to fix her marriage, saying she wanted to be friends, but the intimacy had to stop. I didn't know what to say. I loved Ann so much, but my friendship meant everything to me. No matter how much it hurt, I respected what Ann wanted and agreed.

On our drive home, I prayed a lot and tried to let go of Ann. I had to try to make things better with Russ. We talked the whole two thousand miles of our trip home. We both agreed to work harder on our marriage and to try to communicate better. He promised that he would control his temper. I stayed home, tried to be a good wife, and didn't even call Ann. I needed time to overcome the fact that we would not be as close as we once were. However, Ann started calling me, but I didn't answer the phone. She would knock at the door for a few days, so I finally gave in and let her come inside. We walked upstairs to the bedroom because I needed to check on Kevin who was taking a nap.

"I think you should stay away so I can work on my marriage. I'm confused because that is what you wanted."

"I know, Becky, but it is so hard. I love you, and I want to be with you."

I looked at her, feeling at a loss. I didn't know what to say anymore.

"I'm not happy with Tim. I am so jealous of Russ, and I can't stand sitting at my house knowing you are having sex with him."

"What do you want from me? You are messing with my head."

"I'm so in love with you, Becky, and I need you."

She lays me on the bed, I'm trying to understand what she was saying. Ann began kissing me, and I couldn't stop kissing her back. We were both happy and decided to make a plan to leave. Ann and Russ constantly yelled at me about one another, and my depression started again.

I hurt my back due to all the stress and began to have muscle spasms. My doctor gave me some pain pills, and I used them to numb myself. Between the medications and the alcohol, I would close off the whole world. Kevin became my entire focus. He was the one person I could love and who loved me in return.

I wanted to be far away from everyone. Each day became more difficult for me to function. I didn't want to feel anything anymore. My feelings of being lost and confused with my life emotionally destroyed me. One night after Russ went to bed, I swallowed ten pain pills, drank a bottle of vodka, and hid in the garage. A few hours passed before Ann and Russ found me. They called 911, and I was rushed to the hospital, where they gave me a shot to make me vomit. A psychologist came in to talk with me.

"Why did you want to kill yourself?" the woman asked.

"I didn't want to kill myself. I just wanted to make the yelling and pain disappear," I replied.

We spoke briefly, and then I explained what had been happening with Ann and Russ. The psychologist decided I needed to go to a psychiatric hospital for at least a seventy-two-hour evaluation. I agreed because it meant getting away from everyone and clearing my head. An ambulance arrived at the hospital; they placed me in a straitjacket and took me to a psychiatric hospital about twenty minutes from the house.

"What has happened over the last year, and how do I fix it?" I just kept thinking.

The following day, I called Ann to talk to her. She started to cry when she found out I was in a psychiatric hospital. She apologized for everything that had happened over the last eight months. I told her I had been confused, and all the game-playing made it challenging to move on. She planned on visiting me later that day. 

The psychiatrist entered my room after I hung up and took me to a private conference room.

"How are you this morning?" the doctor asked.

"Fine."

"Then tell me, why did you want to commit suicide?"

"I don't know if I wanted to commit suicide or if I wanted the problem to go away for a while."

"What problem would that be?"

"Well, I suppose it would be Russ and Ann."

"And who are Russ and Ann?"

"Russ is my controlling, jealous husband who has anger issues. Ann is my best friend who I have fallen in love with."

"I see. Have you been sexually involved with her?" "Touching, but I never thought anything like this would happen."

"Are you a lesbian?"

"No. What makes you think I'm a lesbian?"

"Well, you're kissing and touching another woman. What would you say that makes you?"

"Being a lesbian is a sin; I can't be one. I just can't!" 

"Who told you it's a sin to be a lesbian?"

"My family, society, and God."

"Okay, Becky. Then let's say that you're bi-sexual. What do you want to do now?"

"Why do I have to be labeled? Why can't I be in love with her? I'm so confused. I love Russ, but I'm completely whole with Ann. Please help me figure out what I can do?"

"I can't. Only you can make that decision. I'm here for you to talk to and try to help you along the way. The final decision will have to be yours. I do think you should have Russ and Ann stay away for a while so you can figure this out."

We ended the session that way, leaving me no better off than before. That evening, Ann came to visit me and told me she still loved me and wanted to leave Tim to be with me. Following the psychiatrist's advice, I decided to stay in the hospital for a week to figure things out. I asked Russ to stay away, and he did. I should have told Ann the same thing, but I didn't.

Ann attended a few therapy sessions with my psychiatrist and me. She told the psychologist that she was in love with me and wanted to ask her husband for a divorce. Ann said she would tell her husband as soon as I left Russ. I never took the time or made the effort to resolve my issues when I knew we would be together. I just buried them and pretended like the problems didn't exist.

After seeing Ann every day and not seeing Russ, I concluded that Ann was who I wanted in my life. I asked Russ for a divorce the day before leaving the hospital. He was distraught, and I felt horrible for causing him so much pain. The hospital released me on a Friday night. I stayed with Ann, but Russ refused to let me see Kevin. Russ had Kevin hidden, and the military police wouldn't help me because Russ convinced them that I had escaped from a psychiatric hospital.

Even after showing the military police my release papers, they sided with Russ. They allowed me into the house just long enough to gather a few clothes. While inside, I grabbed one of Kevin's stuffed animals and the letters I had written to him over the years. Russ had opened them, and he had no right to do that.

I headed to Ann's place. Tim didn't mind me staying with them; he spent most of the weekend playing golf. Despite being with Ann, my depression and insecurities grew. I lay on Kristin's bed for two days, staring at the ceiling and holding Kevin's musical teddy bear, playing the song Jesus loves me! This I know, For the Bible tells me so; over and over.

Ann would cry, begging me to talk to her, unable to bear listening to the musical teddy bear anymore. I didn't want to talk to Ann. My pain was unbearable. The thought of Russ taking Kevin away had never occurred to me. Kevin had been my life, and Russ knew that.

After days of begging, Russ finally let me see Kevin, but only if I talked to the Military Chaplain. We sat on a bench outside. I tried to express my feelings while the Chaplain told me I would go to hell if my relationship with Ann didn't stop. Confused and desperate to see my son, I reluctantly agreed.

The next day, I left to stay at a hotel just to sppend time with Kevin. Russ agreed, but i had to take him back the next day. I made the mistake of calling Ann. She kept calling me, begging to see me until I finally gave in. I met her at her house, insisting we talk outside to avoid any physical contact. The kids played while Ann kept telling me how much she loved me. She always brought back my confusion. She was an addiction, one that needed to stop.

Russ didnt have anyway to keep Kevin, so he gave me custody. I stayed at a nearby hotel. My hotel stay was for five days. Russ finally canceled the credit card, making me have to go home. By the time I went home, Ann and I had already engaged in sexual intercourse. Russ, Ann, and I sat together on the stairs of our house to talk. I only wanted to talk to Russ, but Ann insisted on staying. My attempts to explain everything to Russ weren't going anywhere because Ann kept talking. She told Russ everything about what had happened between us, even told Russ things he didn't need to know. 

It was hard for me to sit there and listen to Ann talk to Russ because his pain made my guilt unbearable. For a short time, Russ seemed excited about my sexual relationship with Ann. He kept asking us for a threesome and would become angry when we refused. He threatened to tell Tim about everything, but Ann begged him not to, promising she would do it herself. She also assured me she would tell Tim. That was a lapse in judgment on my part.

Ann and I continued seeing each other during the day but not at night. Every night, Russ would yell at me, demanding to know where I had been and if I had seen Ann. Over the next few weeks, his cruel words and hurtful remarks made me feel like I deserved the pain.

Russ was starting to realize our marriage was over, so he agreed to let me take Kevin and leave. He said he didn't have the time or energy to care for Kevin. Even though Russ knew it was over between us, he knew leaving would get Ann away from me. We moved everything into storage. He helped me buy a new truck to get a job to support Kevin and me. Russ was willing to do anything for me at the time. He was hoping that if he got me away from Ann, we could work on saving our marriage. 

Kevin and I stayed at my brother's house for a few days. Ann kept calling me, telling me she would stay with Tim until  I found a place to live. She insisted she was going to join me and that she loved me. Why didnt she just leave me alone?

Russ called me every night, still trying to win me back, insisting it wasn't my fault. He said Ann was playing games with me and that she would break up with me after leaving. He was right. On the third day after I left, Ann called me in a panic. She said she had thrown all my letters, cards, and gifts in the trash because she didn't want Tim to find them. She knew that if she got rid of everything, Tim would never learn the truth, and then she hung up.

My thoughts were scattered, and my heart was broken. I kept calling her, desperate to understand what had happened and why she had lied to me. She would laugh at me and then tell me she loved me. She said she was confused and that the pregnancy had made her reconsider. Why now? I kept asking why she did this to me, why she didn't leave me alone when she first told me she was pregnant and that it was over. Why take everything from me and then say all of this? What a cruel thing she did, not only to me but also to Russ.

I couldn't take it anymore. One night, I was so drunk that I had my gun in my hand, contemplating suicide. Kevin played with my niece in the other room, and my brother found me on the bedroom floor. He begged me to give him the gun, but my thoughts were everywhere, convinced my life was over. I put the gun to my head, ready to pull the trigger, when my sister-in-law brought Kevin into the room. My God, what was I thinking? My son walked over to me, and my life was about to end. I thought about what would happen to my son if he saw his mom blow off her head. I gave my gun to my brother, hugged Kevin, and everything seemed okay, but the police had already been called.

They handcuffed me and took me to the San Bernardino County Department of Behavioral Health. I spoke to the officer about my thoughts and what had happened. There was a lot of time to talk since it took an hour to reach our destination. Russ was there by the time we arrived. My brother had called him, and he was the last person I expected to see, especially since he drove further than the officer. After speaking with the psychiatrist, they released me to Russ. He had always been there for me, but it was too late when I realized it. We talked during the drive to my brother's house. He wanted me to come back to him and start over.

My thoughts were a mess. I asked Russ to be patient while I tried to fix myself. There was nothing I could say to make him feel better. I didn't even feel good about myself. However, I often apologized during our drive to my brother's place. Russ saw Kevin before heading back to Camp Pendleton. My brother informed me that his in-laws wanted me to leave since the house belonged to them.

My dad let me move in for as long as I needed. My drinking increased as Russ kept sending me money, and I had nothing else to do. I repeatedly tried to get Ann to explain what had happened and attempted to tell Tim, but Ann convinced him I was a liar and not to listen to me. My conversation with Tim confirmed he knew nothing. 

Then one of Ann's sisters called me to inform me that I was a sick person and that I better leave Ann alone or she would come to California to shove a plunger up my vagina and kick my ass. I told her to come, and my pain turned into anger. I continued calling Ann, desperate to know what had happened and how she could change so drastically overnight. She never answered the phone, and if anyone did, it was Tim. I was surprised he was at home. Something had happened, but I would never know what or why.

About a month after I moved away, Tim and Ann got a restraining order against me. I didn't care about the order; I just wanted to hear what Ann had to say, so I went to court. Tim claimed he was concerned I would physically hurt Ann and that my calls were excessive. Of course, Ann never said a word or looked my way. Tim asserted that I had tried to seduce his wife, that he considered me crazy and dangerous, and that he was worried about his family's safety. He was such a blind idiot. How could he not know? I stood in front of the judge and told the absolute truth. I explained that I was a suicidal person, not a homicidal one. Hurting Ann or anyone else had never crossed my mind. Russ was in the courthouse and told the judge I was telling the truth. Ann just stood there, not looking at me or saying a word.

After returning to my dad's, I retreated into a nightly routine of drinking, the days blurring into a haze of resentment towards Ann. My mind was a constant loop of how she had derailed my life. My father, burdened by his own struggles, seemed oblivious to my pain, or perhaps unable to address it. The affair itself, a daughter involved with another woman, was likely a truth too difficult for my family to process, explaining their silence. Ann had fractured my world, and a desire for retribution flickered within me. The thought of exposing her to her family crossed my mind, but it wasn't in my nature to inflict that kind of pain.

The truth of Ann's actions remains elusive, locked away in her silence. Now, thirty-seven years later, the questions linger, though I've formed my own conjectures. Perhaps pregnancy played a role, or familial disapproval, or maybe she believed forcing a separation was the only way to truly let go. The reasons remain unknown. What is clear is the profound cruelty of her actions, a stark contrast to the person I believed her to be during those intense four months. Yet, time has allowed for a measure of peace. I can finally say that I forgive her. What I do believe is Ann really loved me. You can't fake that.  The sad thing is she has had to live with this lie where I am free of all lies. I sincerely hope she has found happiness and health in her life. Ultimately, despite the pain, she gave me the experience of my first true love. I’ve spent so much of my life looking for answers in the world around me, but the only answer that truly matters is Cheryl. She is my rock, my best friend, and my true soul mate. I am so lucky to walk this path with her by my side. 

 

Kristin and Ann Wilkinson 

Kenneth Wilkinson 

On September 23, 1875, Billy the Kid is arrested for the first time

On September 23, 1875, Billy the Kid is arrested for the first time after stealing a basket of laundry. He later broke out of jail and roamed the American West, eventually earning a reputation as an outlaw and murderer and a rap sheet that allegedly included 21 murders.

The exact details of Billy the Kid’s birth are unknown, other than his name, William Henry McCarty. He was probably born sometime between 1859 and 1861, in Indiana or New York. As a child, he had no relationship with his father and moved around with his family, living in Indiana, Kansas, Colorado and Silver City, New Mexico. His mother died in 1874 and Billy the Kid—who went by a variety of names throughout his life, including Kid Antrim and William Bonney—turned to crime soon afterward. 

McCarty did a stint as a horse thief in Arizona before returning to New Mexico, where he hooked up with a gang of gunslingers and cattle rustlers involved in the notorious Lincoln County War between rival rancher and merchant factions in Lincoln County in 1878. Afterward, Billy the Kid, who had a slender build, prominent crooked front teeth and a love of singing, went on the lam and continued his outlaw’s life, stealing cattle and horses, gambling and killing people. His crimes earned him a bounty on his head and he was eventually captured and indicted for killing a sheriff during the Lincoln County War. Billy the Kid was sentenced to hang for his crime; however, a short time later, he managed another jail break, murdering two deputies in the process. Billy the Kid’s freedom was brief, as Sheriff Pat Garrett caught up with the desperado at Fort Sumner, New Mexico, on July 14, 1881, and fatally shot him.

Although his life was short, Billy the Kid’s legend grew following his death. Today he is a famous symbol of the Old West, along with such men as Kit Carson, Jesse James, Wild Bill Hickok, Doc Holliday and Wyatt Earp, and his story has been mythologized and romanticized in numerous films, books, TV shows and songs. Each year, tourists visit the town of Fort Sumner, located about 160 miles southeast of Albuquerque, to see the Billy the Kid Museum and gravesite.

38-year-old Malia Nummerdor

The Charlotte County Sheriff's Office identified  38-year-old Malia Nummerdor, of Punta Gorda who was arrested on September 15 after authorities said they watched videos of her with the family dog, Ranger, that showed her "partially nude and the animal positioned in a manner consistent with sexual activity."

The New York Post on Tuesday reported that Nummerdor's friends said her ex-husband, Erik -- who allegedly provided home-surveillance footage to investigators -- set her up. 

According to reports, Nummerdor also said the cameras had been installed without her knowledge, that the recordings were from 2024, and that her estranged husband had previously threatened her with them. 

Sheriff Bill Prummell called the alleged conduct disgusting. How does he even know the tape was real?

It is amazing to me how quickly people can make allegations against someone before all the facts are even known. We don’t know what happened behind closed doors, and we shouldn’t automatically accept one person’s allegations as the truth—especially when those allegations are coming from an angry ex.

At this point, we don’t know what really happened, and we certainly shouldn’t assume that every allegation is true without seeing the evidence.

I’ve been a private investigator for 30 years and have worked on some extremely difficult cases. I learned a long time ago that you cannot reach a conclusion based on one person’s accusations. I reach my conclusions only after reviewing the evidence, investigating the facts, and looking at the entire picture.

And today, we also have to consider the possibility of manipulated or AI-generated videos. How do we even know a video circulating online is authentic without verifying it?

We need to stop convicting people in the court of public opinion before the facts are established. Allegations are not proof.

Think about it from the other person's perspective: If this were happening to you, would you want thousands of people judging you based solely on accusations and an unverified video before anyone knew the truth?

Let’s wait for the facts before we decide what happened. Now I’m hearing that her husband is attributing what happened with the camera to things from his past. Regardless of what someone has experienced in their past, that doesn’t automatically explain or excuse their actions. 

Erik Nummerdor

Doc Holliday Hits Bottom

August 19, 1884

A reporter caught up with Doc in Leadville: “He is a thin, spare looking man; his iron gray hair is always well combed and oiled; his boots usually wear an immaculate polish; his beautiful scarf, with an elegant diamond pin in the center, looks well on his glossy shirt front.... He usually talks in a very low tone.... In his pocket he always carries a beautiful, silver-mounted revolver, .45 caliber, and while talking to a stranger, his right arm restlessly wanders in that vicinity.”

Broke, sick and usually drunk, Doc Holliday hits rock bottom in Leadville, Colorado. Today, a fellow gambler, Billy Allen, is demanding Doc repay a $5 loan by noon, “or else.” 

The $5 was a pretext. Doc was the target of a group of gamblers. Afraid for his life, Doc goes to his room at 405 Harrison and retrieves his pistol (variously described as a Colt .41 or .44). He hands off the gun to someone, possibly his gambling pal Pat Sweeney, who takes it to Mannie Hyman’s saloon at 316 Harrison. As it is against the law to carry the weapon inside, that person stores Doc’s pistol for him under the bar. 

When Holliday reaches the saloon, he waits nervously by a cigar case next to the bar. He has already told the police about the situation, but he is worried Allen will catch up to him first.

After a shoe shine, Allen enters Hyman’s at about five p.m. with his hand suspiciously in his pocket. Doc quickly reaches down, grabs his pistol, leans over the cigar case and fires. 

The first bullet hits the door casing above Allen, who turns to run, but trips and falls forward. Allen is flopping on the floor when a second shot hits him in the right arm, halfway between the shoulder and the elbow. 

Bartender Henry Kellerman leaps over the bar and grabs Doc as he attempts to get off a third shot. Police Capt. Edward Bradbury comes running in, shouting, “Doc, I want your gun!”

Doc surrenders his pistol to the captain, who arrests him.

Aftermath: Odds & Ends

Arrested on a charge of “assault with the intent to kill,” Doc Holliday sat in the city jail until two friends signed his $5,000 bail bond. The police, meanwhile, made a “quiet raid upon everybody who carries concealed weapons,” reported the Daily Democrat on August 22.

At the preliminary hearing on August 25, Holliday testified he shot Billy Allen, adding, “I knew that I would be a child in his hands if he got hold of me; I weigh 122 pounds; I think Allen weighs 170 pounds.” The judge assigned the doc’s case to criminal court and raised his bail to $8,000, only to reduce it to $5,000, due to the doc’s poor health. Even so, Holliday had to wait in jail for over a week before his friends posted his bail. He was released the night of September 6.

The judge had scheduled the court date for December 23, but Holliday’s lawyers successfully got a continuance until spring. The trial began March 27, 1885, almost three years to the day that Holliday and Wyatt Earp had confronted Curly Bill Brocius at Mescal Springs. After a short deliberation, the jury acquitted Holliday on the grounds that Allen’s threats had justified the shooting.

Allen apparently never got his $5. He remained in Leadville for a time before moving to Garfield County, where he served as a scout during the Ute troubles in 1887. After stints in Chicago and Salt Lake City, Allen joined one of the Oklahoma land rushes, then settled in Cripple Creek, Colorado, where he became fire chief. In 1898, he went to Alaska, where he was appointed fire marshal and, later, deputy U.S. marshal in Nome. Allen died in Orting, Washington, in 1941.

Domestic Abuse Myths and Facts

Myth: Domestic violence only happens to women.

Fact:1 in 3 women and 1 in 4 men have been victims of some form of physical violence by an intimate partner within their lifetime. 30-50% of transgender people will experience domestic violence in their lifetime.

Myth: Drugs, alcohol, stress, and mental illness are the causes of domestic violence.

Fact: While drugs, alcohol, stress, and mental illness can be factors in an abuser’s life and can certainly make an abusive situation more complicated, these things do not cause domestic violence.

Myth: Abusers are just out of control and need anger management.

Fact: Abusers use many deliberate tactics to maintain power and control in a relationship. Sometimes these tactics can include physical violence and aggression, but there are many other ways that control is established.

Myth: Domestic violence is always physical abuse.

Fact: While physical abuse can be one way of maintaining power and control, it does not occur in every abusive relationship and is usually not the only form of abuse if it is occurring. Emotional abuse, financial abuse, sexual abuse, isolation, threats, and intimidation are all forms of domestic violence.

Myth: If a victim doesn’t leave, it must not be that bad or they are ok with how they are being treated.

Fact: Leaving an abusive relationship is extremely difficult. On average, a victim will try to leave an abusive relationship at least eight times before they can leave successfully. Some of the things abusers do to make leaving hard can include: creating financial dependence, using children as a coercion tool, making threats of violence or legal retaliation, or using the court system to keep control of a victim even after they leave.

Justice for Marilyn!

A recent article in The Times of London highlighted Andrew Wilson’s upcoming book, I Wanna Be Loved By You, in which the author claims to have utilized the restricted case notes and correspondence of Dr. Ralph Greenson. This claim is factually impossible, given that the Greenson papers have been legally sealed within the UCLA Special Collections since 1980. The continued publication of unverified claims underscores the urgent need for historical transparency. The speculation surrounding this case will only cease when UCLA opens these archives to legitimate scrutiny.

With the global community celebrating Marilyn Monroe's 100th birthday tomorrow, there is unprecedented momentum to leverage. My immediate goal is to significantly increase our petition signatures and request assistance in drafting targeted correspondence. I will be working with twice the urgency during this time to capture the public and media attention necessary to secure historical transparency and JUSTICE FOR MARILYN. 

I am asking for your assistance in sending formal letters to the key figures listed below to demand the release of these files.

I am writing to you today on the centenary of Marilyn Monroe’s birth to formally request a re-evaluation of the restrictive seal placed on the Dr. Ralph Greenson papers, specifically the case notes, audio files, and private correspondence regarding his patient, Marilyn Monroe.

Just yesterday, The Times of London published a prominent feature on Andrew Wilson’s new book, I Wanna Be Loved By You. In this feature, the author explicitly claims to have accessed and utilized Dr. Greenson’s private letters and case notes. As your own catalog dictates, these specific files have been strictly restricted and sealed since 1980, with a rolling restriction that bars legitimate researchers from viewing them.

This situation highlights a critical issue: while legitimate, independent researchers are locked out by your archival restrictions, mainstream commercial authors continue to publish unverified claims, citing "exclusive access" to sell books. The enforcement of this 1980 seal is no longer protecting privacy; instead, it is creating an information vacuum that allows unsubstantiated rumors and false historical narratives to proliferate globally.

The speculation, sensationalism, and ongoing public distress surrounding the final hours of Marilyn Monroe will never cease until the primary source documents are made available to the public.

On this historic milestone of her 100th birthday, public interest and the integrity of the historical record vastly outweigh a decades-old privacy restriction. I urge the UCLA Library Special Collections committee and the Greenson estate representatives to act in the interest of historical truth, lift the current restrictions, and open these files to the world.

Thank you for your time and serious consideration of this urgent matter.

Respectfully,

[Your Name]

[Your Contact Information]

[Link to Petition, if applicable]

Administrative Vice Chancellor
Michael Beck
adminvc@ucla.edu

Associate University Librarian for Collections, Research Data
Todd C. Grappone 
grappone@library.ucla.edu

Library Special Collections
Maxwell Zupke 
zupkem@library.ucla.edu

Library Special Collections Archivist
Kelly Besser
kellybesser@library.ucla.edu

Computer Resource and Visual Communications Specialist
Caroline Cube
pinky@library.ucla.edu

LSC Archivist
Douglas Johnson
dejohnson@library.ucla.edu

Joan Greenson Aebi
Daughter of Ralph Greenson
jgaebi@gmail.com

Katie Aebi Rodriguez
Granddaughter of Dr. Ralph Greenson
karodriguez@pasadena.edu

UCLA Media
media@stratcomm.ucla.edu

UCLA Chancellor
Chancellor@ucla.edu

Andrea Hoff
University Archivist
andreahoff@library.ucla.eduJustice 

At least five people pardoned by Trump for Capitol attack accused of new crimes

Ryan Nichols is the latest such person to face charges after he allegedly brandished a gun during an argument. The number of president’s supporters accused of committing new crimes after Donald Trump pardoned them for their roles in the 6 January 2021 US Capitol attack recently increased to at least five.

Ryan Nichols, 35, became the latest such Capitol attacker on 10 May, when authorities in Harleton, Texas, say he threateningly displayed a handgun to a person with whom he was arguing in a church parking lot.

Nichols in November 2023 had pleaded guilty in connection with the insurrection at the Capitol from Trump supporters after his first presidency ended in defeat to Joe Biden after the 2020 election. Among other things, he acknowledged attacking officers with pepper spray and making a video during the riot in which he said, "It’s going to be violent and … if you are asking, ‘Is Ryan Nichols going to bring violence? Yes, Ryan Nichols is going to bring violence."

A federal judge later sentenced Nichols to five years and three months in prison. But Nichols was freed early when he was unconditionally pardoned along with 1,500 other participants on the first day of Trump’s second presidency in January 2025.

Then, on 11 May, the sheriff’s office of Texas’ Harrison county – which includes Harleton – said its deputies encountered Nichols one day earlier while responding to a complaint about “a person reaching for a firearm during a dispute outside the church”. Investigators learned Nichols had confronted someone in the church’s parking lot and continued doing so even after that person tried to leave, a sheriff’s office statement said.

The alleged victim reported turning away from the confrontation and trying to usher his family towards their car while asking Nichols to go away. The victim alleged that he eventually turned around to face Nichols, who then raised his shirt up, showed a gun and wrapped his hand around the weapon’s grip.

“The victim advised that he was in fear for his life due to this action,” and deputies arrested Nichols on a count of deadly conduct, the sheriff’s office said in its statement.

He was also booked on unrelated warrants alleging harassment. County jail records show Nichols was released two days later on bond in the amount of $8,000.

Nichols in April 2025 declared his intent to run for a seat in Congress. However, as the Texas news outlet KLTV reported, Nichols later announced he was withdrawing from the race.

“My heart is in the right place,” he said at the time. “But I do not have the ability to properly lead this country.”

A database maintained by the non-profit Citizens for Responsibility and Ethics in Washington (Crew) first published in December listed more than 30 people who attacked the Capitol who were pardoned by Trump, but face criminal charges in other cases.

Of those on that list prior to Nichols’ arrest, four had been accused of crimes reported after the Republican president pardoned them, according to Crew.

One of those four was Christopher Moynihan, who pleaded guilty in February in New York to a harassment charge over threats to kill Hakeem Jeffries, the US House Democratic leader. Moynihan was later sentenced to three years’ probation.

And another from that group was Zachary Alam, who was sentenced on 7 May to seven years in prison after a jury convicted him of committing a burglary in Virginia.

Anthony Pellicano

 There are people in this industry who did more damage than any criminal I ever investigated—and Anthony Pellicano is one of them.

He wasn’t a “fixer.” That word implies skill, strategy, maybe even a certain kind of professionalism. What he did wasn’t fixing anything. It was manipulation, intimidation, and criminal behavior dressed up as investigative work.

And the worst part? Hollywood rewarded him for it—until it couldn’t anymore.

I spent my life building a reputation based on truth. Real investigations. Real victims. Real consequences. The job of a private investigator is not to control the narrative—it’s to uncover it. It’s to follow facts wherever they lead, not bend them to fit a client’s agenda.

Pellicano didn’t just cross that line—he erased it. 

Wiretapping, threats, illegal surveillance—those weren’t gray areas. Those were crimes. And every time someone like him is labeled a “legend” or a “fixer,” it drags the entire profession down with him.

Because people start to believe that’s what we do. 

They start to think private investigators are hired guns for the wealthy. That we intimidate, manipulate, and bury the truth for a price. That our loyalty is to whoever writes the check.

That has never been what this profession is supposed to be.

Most of us work in the shadows for the opposite reason—to bring things into the light. To give a voice to people who don’t have one. To uncover facts that others want hidden, not to help keep them buried.

Pellicano didn’t represent us.

He exploited access, power, and trust—and in doing so, he damaged the credibility of every investigator who actually does this job with integrity.

There’s nothing admirable about that.

And there’s nothing to glorify.

Stanley Gifford — The Man Who Wasn’t There

He existed more as a shadow than a man.

In the golden haze of old Hollywood—where illusions were currency and identities were as fluid as the roles actors played—Stanley Gifford moved quietly through the machinery of the film industry. He was not a star. He was not a legend. He was a working man in a town built on dreams, tied to studios like RKO Radio Pictures, part of the unseen backbone that kept the illusion alive.

And yet, his greatest impact on Hollywood would come not from anything he did—but from what he refused to do.

Gladys Baker kept his photograph. 

That detail matters.

She wasn’t a woman given to sentimentality without reason. Life had already begun to unravel for her in ways that would only grow more severe with time. But the photograph of Gifford—well-dressed, composed, distant—remained. To her, he wasn’t just a passing relationship. He was a possibility. Stability. Maybe even escape.

And then came the child.

Norma Jeane Mortenson, who the world would later know as Marilyn Monroe, entered a world already fractured. Her birth certificate carried a name, but not a presence. A father, but not a man who would stand in the doorway, hold her, or claim her.

Gladys said Stanley Gifford was the father.

Gifford said nothing.

Or worse—he denied it.

There is a particular cruelty in silence.

Not the silence of absence alone—but the silence of refusal. Gifford was not a mysterious figure who vanished without a trace. He was alive. He was reachable. He made a choice.

He chose distance.

Whether it was fear, reputation, convenience, or simple indifference, the result was the same: a little girl grew up without him. No birthday cards. No acknowledgment. No quiet moments of recognition that say, you belong to someone in this world.

In later years, Norma Jeane would reach out.

She wanted confirmation—something simple, something human. Not money. Not status. Just truth.

She didn’t get it.

Absence is not empty. It fills space.

For Marilyn, that absence became a defining force. It shaped her relationships, her longing, her need to be seen and loved in a way that felt permanent. The world would come to adore her—millions of eyes, endless attention—but none of it replaced the singular thing she never had: a father who said, yes, you are mine.

And so, she built herself.

She became an icon. A symbol. A woman the world could not ignore.

But beneath that construction was always the unanswered question—the quiet, persistent ache of origin. Who was he? Why didn’t he want me? What did I come from?

Decades after both of them were gone, science did what Gifford would not.

In 2022, DNA evidence confirmed what had long been suspected: Stanley Gifford was, in fact, Marilyn Monroe’s biological father.

It should have been a moment of closure.

Instead, it feels more like an indictment.

Because the truth had always been there, waiting—not hidden by impossibility, but by choice.

Stanley Gifford never stood on a red carpet. Never gave an interview. Never told his version of the story in any meaningful way. History remembers him not for his life, but for his absence in someone else’s.

And that absence echoes louder than anything he might have said.

In the end, he is a reminder of something deeply human and deeply painful:

That sometimes, the people who shape us the most… are the ones who never show up at all.