August 14, 2019 – I was returning to the building when a man I recognized from being around Richard Pollington’s unit spit at me, and called me a pedophile. The incident occurred on Hunter Street East, so was not recorded. (I guess I’ll have to run this damned camera 24/7). A complaint was made to police, who said they’d be by. I was quite specific that the complaint was for criminal harassment.
While I was at the building, there were several loud bangs heard in the building. As far as I could tell, they were coming from Richard Pollington’s unit.
So, I called Agostino to complain (again, not because I thought I’d get any results, but because a landlord can’t be held responsible for a problem of which he was unaware). I didn’t get any results.
I left East Ave and took a bus downtown. While I was in Jackson Square I found myself unable to move and displaying some of the symptoms of a stroke. Security called an ambulance and I was transported to St Jospeh’s, where they did some tests. I believe this was a reaction to the stress of dealing with our landlord’s crew. The camera clipped to my belt caused some comment, until I explained that it was to record some nutty neighbors. (One of the EMT’s had asked what it was. I told him “A body-cam”. He then said “I feel like I’m being set up. Is it on?” I answered, “It shouldn’t be. It was off when this started.” (He’d been handling it, and I didn’t know if he’d turned it on by accident. He hadn’t. He wrapped it in a towel. His attitude was irrational. At the time, we were in Jackson Square, right below at least three cameras. The entire downtown core is under video surveillance. He’d been on several different cameras before he even saw me. I’ve noticed an increasing tendency for ALL first responders to avoid cameras, or to object to them (police in particular, but this wasn’t the first time I’d seen an EMT wary of a camera). Other than that one oddity, the EMT’s were thoroughly professional.
August 15, 2019 18:00 – Still waiting for the police to take my complaint. I might post the telephone calls back and forth to the police, but they apparently have other things to do. I won’t go home until I’ve had a chance to make the complaint because I can’t handle those assholes any more, so I’m at a friend’s place until the cops have a chance to take the complaint.
It has been about 30 hours since I made the complaint; the police are aware I am afraid to return home, and nothing is happening.
However, Alicia (spelling uncertain) at the police communications switchboard did inadvertently give up one bit of useful information. Apparently Richard Pollington called in a complaint about the noise, and said I was looking in his doors. Alicia thought that was my complaint.
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