Lenora was abused by her father for ten years until one day as a teen she panicked and stabbed him. She ran away from the foster home which was the epicenter of trafficking children all over the world. She ended up in the streets of Detroit for three years until she was picked up by a senior police officer who thought she did the only thing she could - the right thing! Saved other kids from molestation!
Detroit is a violent city and I remember one of my first nights there we were approached by a group of boys. I don’t think they wanted to rob us because we didn’t have anything to rob. I think it was more of a pissing contest.
I stood in the back and they went up to the fireplace where some of the elders were trying to keep themselves warm.
They started talking but I couldn’t hear what they were talking about. It was clear though that one of these guys was accusing one of the old men of something and he was kind of in the defense.
I got somewhat alert because the situation escalated as they began to push one of the elders around.
They began to hit the old man and he fell to the ground while they continued kicking him.
Now I’m not really a fighter, but there is no chance in hell that this man could handle five young men armed with bottles and metal pipes, so I quickly ran over to them.
– HEY HEY HEY!!!! What seems to be the trouble? I asked politely but loud.
– Piss off. You are not part of this. One of them replied.
– I am now!
– OK bitch! I’ll teach you who is in charge here!
– I laughed. In charge? Of what? Empty streets and no food? You are a joke man!
He was the one with the metal pipe. He raised his arm and I guess he planned to smash my skull with it.
But If I gotta be a bitch, imma be a bad one!
So a fast stroke to his throat even before he was ready to strike and he fell to the ground gasping for breath.
I didn’t wait for the next guy to attack. I just jumped the closest one. He got the underside of my shoe right in his face. It is called a back spinning roundhouse kick. The ones Chuck Norris famously delivers in all of his movies.
It is fast and in real life, it works a lot better than in the movies where the bad guys need 5 or 6 of these kicks before they give up.
In real life just ONE of these kicks – if it is well placed can be lethal.
He went down without a word. And he didn’t get up. He wasn’t dead. If I wanted to kill him I would have hit him with my heel in his temple. This was just like a hard slap on his chin with the sole of my left shoe and he fast-forwarded to his sleep.
After that kick, the third one stood right in the landing zone for a jumping front kick which completely sucked all air out of his body. As a matter of fact, it was a variation of the Crane kick from Karate Kid. He sat gasping on the ground growling funny sounds.
The two last guys ran off…
I went over to the old man and kneeled. He was conscious but bleeding from bruces in his head and from what I have seen he probably had some injured ribs on top of that.
– Can you breathe?
– Yes, but it hurts like…
– OK, we need to get you to the hospital.
That was the moment the police arrived. Accidentally I guess. They pulled over and looked at the old man. They seemed like they didn’t really care but they called for an ambulance and ten minutes later the old man was on his way to the hospital.
I wanted to go with him but the officers stopped me. They wanted to know what happened.
They took a report and they asked me why one of the guys was unconscious and two of them had problems breathing.
– Dunno, I said. Maybe they got a throat infection or something.
– You have any ID, one of them asked.
– No. Where did they take him?
– Henry Ford hospital I believe. What’s your name?
– Quiet is my name.
– Oh, I thought you told me to shut up.
The other people from my group told the police what happened. That they attacked the old man and I went between them. But I had nothing more to add.
So, the police drove off and we went back to Tent City to get some sleep.
The next day I went to the nearest hospital to see if I could find the old man.
I asked in the emergency room for the old man and one of the nurses said:
– Come with me. We got a man who was attacked last night. It’s probably him you are looking for. Follow me.
– He got beaten up and got a lot of injuries and needs to stay here a few days, but he is ok.
We took the stairs up to one of the upper floors. I followed the nurse into a room and yes! It was him.
– Hi there! I said.
– Ohh It’s you! My Guardian angel!
– That’s me all right. Aren’t you a little too old to involve yourself in a fight like that?
– Yeah, I tried to avoid it but it seemed inevitable.
He tried to sit up in the bed but couldn’t get up so the nurse had to help him.
– Boy I’m glad you showed up! My name is Harry by the way. People know me as Street Harry!
– I’m Lenora. But they call me Quiet. Are you doing all right?
– I will live. Thanks to you!
– No problem. I said!
– How on earth did you manage to handle five guys that were bigger than you?
– Well… I’m very boring. People tend to fall asleep when I come too close.
– Haha!!! What a skill to have!
We talked for several hours. He told me his story and I told him mine. Both our pasts were stories of pain and despair.
– I can imagine with a past like yours you must be a very angry woman? I think that’s where you get your power and strength from. Yes, it must be!
I never thought of my past this way, but it made a lot of sense when thinking about it. All the betrayal, the abuse, and my non-existing confidence in people – especially in a certain kind of men. Yeah, I was angry. Very angry.
I took his hand with a tear in my eye and he looked at me with his deep, dark, and soft eyes. I felt his pain as clear as my own.
– I’ve been abused my entire childhood, he said. By my father and his brothers. They raped me and made me do horrible things. My life got so messed up that I couldn’t keep a job for very long. I have lived in these streets for 27 years now and I will die here. This is my home. The only thing that ever worked for me.
– You… you… They abused you? I stuttered.
– They sure did! As a child, I thought life was supposed to be like that and I was the one to blame because I didn’t fit in. For half my life I thought something was wrong with me. I was so shameful that sometimes I just wanted to die. Does your anger come from the same kind of thing?
Boom! It was like being hit by a runaway Amtrack! He was direct and it was spot on!
It wasn’t just a tear from my eye any longer. I was flooding his entire bed. I buried my head in his duvet.
He put his hand on my shoulder and I asked him how he managed to live with all that pain.
– Considering the alternative, I simply had to, and looking at you I see a very strong woman trying to protect that child who got molested. It’s not your fault it happened. It is the world that is bad. Not you. You probably feel just as shameful and misunderstood as I did, but my little boy inside of me now understands there was nothing he could do and he did nothing wrong. It was my parents who failed miserably. Not me. That attitude helped me overcome my shame and helped me move on. You hear me? It’s NOT you!
His words echoed in my cold and empty heart, but I sure as hell understood what he said. And listening to his words I realized I had to forgive myself because I knew he was right! It wasn’t me who was wrong! It just might be the world that is crazy.
– I killed my stepdad.
-That’s very admirable. One scumbag less in the world to hurt us. You are a true fighter. You can do anything you want! You have a bright future! I KNOW you have! You are going to accomplish great things. I can feel it!
Harry looked right through my tough face. He saw ME! And it felt good to be seen and understood by one who it was forced upon to live with the same kind of shit as me.
I visited Harry every day for the next half week and on day four he was released from the hospital.
Unfortunately, child sexual abuse is way more common than people want to believe. 8% of men and 20% of women have prior to the age of eighteen suffered some form of sexual abuse. Pedophiles and trafficking are EVERYWHERE!
If you are aware and you look around you will most likely spot someone who is a pedophile.
But – you probably don’t know what you are looking for so in this trip to Long Beach I will show you a very typical example of a pedophile and how they are ‘grooming’ their victims.
Len, Angel, and I had decided to go to Long Beach just to shop, relax, and talk. You know – we were sisters but we had only known each other for a few weeks so we still had a lot to catch up on and talk about. Imagine being sisters and you don’t know each other – there are a gazillion things to talk about to get to know each other. So that’s what we did.
After a few hours of shop crawling we sat down in a nice café to get something to eat and it was while we were eating Angelica noticed a mother with her 5-year-old daughter and a man in his seventies. Maybe her father or an uncle.
— Look at them, Angel said right away and nodded in their direction.
I immediately noticed that the mother didn’t seem interested in her daughter at all. She talked to the old man while eating and if she talked to her daughter she didn’t even look at her.
The old man on the other hand was very focused on the daughter. While he talked to the mother he also looked at the daughter and talked to her. We couldn’t hear what they talked about, but he smiled a lot at her daughter.
At some point, the daughter needed to go to the toilet, but it was the man who took her hand and followed her to the back.
Now, Angel knows exactly how to spot these scumbags. She has encountered hundreds of them and they all have the same ‘vibe’. They kinda ‘smell’ the wrong way.
— I know what is going to happen, Angel said. Come with me.
Angel went out back and followed them silently. She gave them sixty seconds, and then she violently kicked the door to the toilet, and voila! There he was. Groping her in all the wrong places.
He flew up and tried to look as if this was the most natural thing in the world. But his face was all wrong. His body language revealed with 1000% accuracy that he knew this wasn’t good.
Len took the girl by her hand and helped her finish her visit to the toilet. Angel was not that polite. As soon as Len and the daughter were out of sight she kicked the man so hard in his balls that he fell to the ground!
— I know who you are and in particular, I know WHAT you are! I know where you live and if you continue this pedophilic lifestyle I am going to cut your balls off and the police will find you dead while eating them!
Well… we didn’t know where he lived but we know the car he drove so it was only a matter of looking at his license plate.
We took them both back to the mother and Len started out saying:
— Fortunately, we entered the toilet while this man had her hands and fingers in all the wrong places of this young lady and I suggest that you take a lot more interest in how your daughter is doing!
She looked confused. Not in the innocent way. The way you try to act when you know you are wrong but not ready to admit it.
At the same time, Angel threw the man in his chair. He looked terrible. She threw her gun – which is a Glock 22 and a pretty impressive piece of hardware, at the table in front of him and said:
— From this day on you will NEVER even think of touching an underage!
She took her gun and we left.
I could tell Angel was furious! Furious because there was no one to defend her when she got raped, abused, sold, and trafficked to Albania. Furious because we probably were the only people in the world who were able to spot this and at the same time do something.
The world is populated by morons, criminals, pedophiles, drug abusers, abused people, traffickers, violent people, exploited people, relation retards, drunkards, psychopaths, narcissists, egomaniacs, pedophiles, sex offenders, liars, scumbags, and corrupt politicians who get paid to protect most of them. Millions of people with limited emotional bandwidth…
What could have happened if Angel didn’t notice:
The man would have done things to the girl that if he got caught, he wouldn’t survive his imprisonment. This kind of people are called Chomo’s which is short for child molesters – the lowest and most dangerous rank for a prisoner and they are raped AND killed behind the prison walls! Even in prison, they are outcasts.
He would come out from the toilet with the little girl in his hand. He would probably kneel and whisper something in her ear while smiling AND touching her. He would instruct her like this: “Don’t tell anyone about this. This is OUR secret!”
And he would have continued to molest this girl and maybe even other girls too.
There is nothing wrong with granddads and uncles taking care of their grandchildren. The problem is when they look too much, smile too much, and in particular TOUCH too much.
It is easy to spot when the child thinks it is too much. They will try to avoid contact because it feels uncomfortable.
And that’s where you step in!
When Debra started this blog Google did not even notice. TrinitySisters.net did not appear anywhere in a Google search unless it was a long-tail keyword like Trinity Sisters Dirty business. This is a short essay on AMP – Accelerated Mobile Pages and why you should be careful.
Normally when you create a website you should easily be able to occupy position one on page one for a search on the URL without extension. This means that a search like this: Trinity Sisters will show you Trinity Sisters as the very first. Of course, there are factors like the number of backlinks and other sites with the same words in the URL – competition, but the site should still be pretty near position one.
The first thing we noticed was that Google Search Console told us that the AMP (Accelerated Mobile Pages) version of the site had a ton of script errors and of course they did not provide ANY clues to these errors!
We had experts looking at the site and they all agreed that there were NO script errors and Google got it wrong. So trying to do something we tried another AMP plugin, submit the site for a new review and wait. That didn’t make any difference what so ever.
Then we tried deleting plugins – half of them each time and narrowed it down to Really Simple SSL. It has probably nothing to do with Really Simple SSL as it works brilliantly on gazillions of sites all over the world AND both the SSL plugins we used caused errors. BUT there is a reference to SSL in the image below.
When we deleted this plugin and submitted the site again the AMP errors disappeared very slowly over the next month. The number of script errors began to decrease in Search Console. The first three days they reviewed three pages and three AMP errors disappeared. Then Google slowed down and it would take 3-4 days between new reviews – probably because they will not allow people to ‘spam’ the Review button.
After one and a half months, Trinity Sisters began showing up in Google. On page 20! Slowly during the next two months, the site rose to page 7-8 – which means position 70-80 which clearly was better than before but not good enough yet.
And why isn’t this good enough?
Simple! These search engines have TrinitySisters.net on position ONE:
And Google has TrinitySisters in position 50-65…
This tells me that Google Search has a BUG!
One of our search engine experts at MakeItCountSEO.com got an idea that made our site climb approximately 20 positions up. On the site, he created a 301 redirect and began visiting all AMP versions of the site and 14 days later June 14. 2020 TrinitySisters.net was on position 50-65 which is better but still, we have a long way to go.
This little trick tells Google that the AMP version of the page has been permanently moved and hopefully, Google deletes the page from the AMP cache on their servers, and it is a perfectly ‘legal’ whitehat SEO trick. We also made feedback to Google but who knows if they even read those…
And of course, we are still looking for other factors that can cause Google to rank TrinitySisters.net in position 50-60. Factors that apparently are hidden.
Trinity Sisters 30 days later.
The past 30 days we worked on getting traffic up and we got it from 25 visitors/day to 250 visitors/day. We also got one extra backlink which is DS 43 whish isn’t remarkable enough to make any noticeable difference.
TrinitySisters.net is more and more to be found at pos 8-12 the last week. A week isn’t much so we will just have to wait and see.
We also found out that we have the worst Google positions in Europe and the best in the US, but as it is now it seems that Europe is also moving up to pos 8-12.
Approximately 1 out of 10 searches will still show Trinity Sisters on page 4 or 5. Even if it is 10 or 20 searches in a few minutes. Google’s AI is like a crazy woman (sorry for the analogy) who is caught up in drama and can’t find anything…
But one single thing we have noticed with Google is that a long tail keyword such as “trinity sisters trafficking” ends up showing 4 sites with links to Trinitysisters and the rest of the results has NOTHING related to Trinity Sisters AT ALL! NOTHING!
Google is BROKEN! Bert is dyslexic!
This AMP story leaves us with the following things to consider:
Move the entire site to a new URL.
This is how AMP SHOULD work:
Detroit is half dead. Or half Detroit is dead. It’s a broken city. Just like me. I guess half the city is abandoned and all around the city in homeless communities, it’s easy to be accepted as part of a group. People are really nice and help each other all they can. I ended up in a place with tents and was invited by a woman to sleep in her tent at night and in the middle of this place that once was a thriving community, we had a huge fire to keep us warm. These people have nothing. Nothing! Apart from the outworn clothes they are wearing. Some of the gangs around are criminal and weaponized, trying to dominate a block that laughs back at them because there is nothing left to dominate. Nothing to rule over. Nothing to live for…
Everybody is trying to survive in some way. The general mood is despair, desperation, decay, and destruction…
There were 15-20 people in my group trying to survive. There were empty houses all around, but most people preferred the tents. The houses were cold and they had no water anyway. But there are shelters here that are better than sleeping in the streets, especially in the winter, and there are organizations, mostly churches that provide food for the homeless. In the daytime, we try to keep warm and once in a while, someone is lucky enough to find work for a few hours or a few days, but never enough to lift him out of this swamp. This is one of the reasons to run a tent city because when you are finished at work late at night the shelters are closed.
It is as if this city wants us here. Eternally poor, living day to day. Maybe we are the heart of this city and downtown Detroit is the unnecessary money making ego maniac center that keeps this polarization – the gap between rich and poor alive. This gap is like a prison wall except a prison wall is probably easier to jump. Maybe it is us who are free and the rich who are the slaves…
No doubt capitalism works. For the top 1% of ‘humanity’! The richest. But it doesn’t work for the rest of us. Trickle down economics is a filthy excuse the rich use to make even more money. There is no such thing as trickle down. Not even a microscopic part of the money they make will ever trickle down.
Like everything else in this world, it works the opposite way around. Money trickles UP! Money is exempt from gravity. Money has always been made in the low and middle class and then they go upwards in society and ends up in offshore taxfree accounts. From there they go to the stockmarkets and grow even more without anyone except the billionaires benefitting from it.
Money is a tool for the richest to make even more money. Because of one simple thing. Money is the best way to power and influence for small insecure egos that hide behind a facade of strongness and willpower. The purpose of money should be a tool for everybody.
The money supply is either a tree where you can pick all the money you want or it is a closed limited system! Right? It can’t be both! And we can probably agree that the money supply is not unlimited (although the rich behave like it is).
THE MONEY SUPPLY IS A CLOSED LOOP!
The money supply is a closed loop. Just like a birthday cake. If the two fastest (most greedy) eat 4/5 of the cake there is only 1/5 left for the other 23 children at the birthday! Right?
THE MONEY SUPPLY IS LIKE A BIRTHDAY CAKE!
Sometimes a police car drove by to check and in one of these police cars was a senior police officer that sometimes stepped out and handed us bread and sometimes even a few dollars. He often took some time to talk to us and listen to our stories and he also told us what happened outside our little ghetto.
One day he asked me my name and I told him I was Quiet. Well I’m John, he said and I wanna tell you a story Quiet. Can we sit down over here?
”I read a story recently”, he started. “A very sad and moving story – but not without hope”, he started. “Once there was this beautiful innocent girl living in London with her mom and her sisters. They had a fine life but one day a man moved into the house and he started destroying the family. They got split up and lost contact with each other. That little girl had a father, she did not know and instead, she got this horrible stepfather that was the devil himself and if someone had not killed him, I sure would have found a huge amount of pleasure in doing it myself, before he killed someone.”
Slowly I began to realize that it was ME he was talking about and I almost panicked and started thinking of running away as fast as I could. But he noticed I was scared and he said: ”I’m obviously not here to arrest you. I know everything about you. The UK police know that you escaped to New York and I was assigned to the case via Interpol to find you. It wasn’t easy and I learned a lot about you and your family along the way. At this point, I am pretty sure I know who your real father is because I got access to some of his records in CIA and I am trying to locate him right now.”
”I think you did the world a big favor helping your stepdad into the next world. The world is a better place without him and as far as I am concerned I will just keep on working on your case never finding you. By the way… The police in London is not that eager to find you either. Your stepdad had a very long record of violence and sexual crimes against kids and he was released from jail only a week before he moved in at your mom’s place.”
The detective from England and I became good friends. He knows every bit of your story and his short bold comment on this case was that you saved the British taxpayers a lot of money. As far as he is concerned justice has been served extremely well!
The next day he came back with more food and he also brought me some clothes. We talked some more and he told me he had a daughter at my age Debbie (16 yrs) and the clothes were from her. He also had a son John Jr. (25 yrs) that wanted to be a policeman.
He then asked me what I wanted to do for a living and I was very surprised to notice that I never ever thought about anything else than making it through the night. It was like opening a fantasy door and I began imagining things and dream about a brighter future. Scary and exciting at the same time. And it suddenly occurred to me that I wanted to become a nurse.
So I told him with a passion in my voice I never had before: ”I want to be a nurse. I want to heal and help people!”
“I knew you would, he said. Your heart told me long ago that you are going to change the world for the better!”
John Sr. often came by to check me and one day he told me that one of his friends in Detroit had a Café and he was in need of a pair of hands to serve food, drinks and coffee. It’s a nice cozy place, but the owner is getting older and would like to hire some help. “Would that be something you are interested in?” he asked. I was very surprised. I told him I never had a job in my life before and didn’t know anything about cafes and serving people.
My friend is a very nice man and he will teach you everything you need to know. In a year you will be able to run your own cafe! Think about it. I will be back tomorrow, then we can go visit him if you are interested.
I was still equally anxious and excited the next day when John took me to the Coffee shop. We went in and he took me to the kitchen out back and introduced me to the owner James who was making sandwiches.
James was a grey-haired big African American and he said: “Ohh I heard so much about you Lenora and I have been looking soooo forward to meeting you! Have you gotten anything to eat yet? I’ll fix you a delicious sandwich he said before I could answer. Find yourself a table and I will be right back.”
John and I walked back into the cafe and sat down at a table and shortly after James came back with sandwiches, soda and coffee for all of us.
He sat down and began to talk. “My wife died last year and things have been hard here in my cafe ever since that time. I didn’t know how to continue after that. I sometimes just wanted to quit everything, but John kept coming every day ordering coffee and food, so I really couldn’t close the cafe, could I? He looked at John, took his hand and laughed!
“John has been a tremendous support since my wife died and it was him who suggested that I should find someone to help me. At first I didn’t have the energy to find one but on the other hand, I don’t have the energy to continue this alone either. I can pay you 15 bucks an hour and free meals from the kitchen and if you are interested I have a spare room upstairs where you can move in if you want to. There’s a toilet up there too, but regarding the kitchen, I’m afraid you will have to suffice with this down here. There’s a washing machine out in the back for cleaning towels and so on and you can use it for your own clothes if you want to. I would really like you to feel at home – even though it is a café.”
After finishing our sandwiches we went upstairs and I realized in a huge moment that my life was about to change. Change for the better and I was overwhelmed. I cried and I had to give them both a big, big hug. I felt hope and I was happy for the very first time in my life.
I remember hiding and sleeping in the closet because I didn’t want him (my stepfather) to find me. But he always did. And when he did he wanted me to ”pet his dog” as he called it. It was horrible. The smell of booze and sweat was unbearable. In the beginning, he wasn’t violent, but when I resisted he began hitting me and sometimes he also had a knife and threatened to cut off my fingers if I didn’t ”touch his dog”.
In ’93 when mother fled back to Korea with Debra, I was placed in an orphanage outside London. Basically a nice place with a huge garden and close to the forest. I must have been around 5 years old at that time. My stepfather was not supposed to know where I was but unfortunately, he was very aware of my whereabouts and he visited me quite often and at some point, he began to take me out for a ride in the forest – with his ‘dog’ of course – ‘Daddy’s Dog’!
For years I didn’t dare to tell anybody about this. I was simply too terrified and I also felt embarrassed thinking of telling someone what was happening. But I did. One day I told the superintendent what my stepfather was doing. He didn’t say a word. He just turned around and walked away. Something was wrong here. Badly wrong. I felt totally rejected and I was very confused that he did not say anything at all.
So I went outside and took hide in the woods trying to find some kind of meaning or explanation, but I couldn’t. So instead I decided to spy on him and try to find out why he acted suspiciously. I had gained some experience hiding in closets, so I thought I would do the same here. As a result, I spent a lot of evenings in his closet at his office, sitting there behind clothes, books, and briefcases listening to his phone calls and watching his meetings with strangers. Many of them were not from the UK. I heard them speak languages I did not know. Probably some kind of European language but I’m not sure.
One night he got this special call where everything suddenly fell into place. I overheard a meeting with some strangers from abroad, where he agreed to deliver a boy and a girl at a small airport south of London in return for 50.000 pounds!
Suddenly I understood why my friends disappeared from this place. They were simply sold!
I knew I had to do something, but before I could figure out what I should do, the situation somehow appeared all by itself. A few days later my stepfather picked me up for another ride. He was drunk as usual and this time he took me home to his apartment. Inside he immediately dropped his pants and I tried to escape through the front door while he stood there with his pants halfway down but he managed to block my way despite the position of his pants. I was terrified but determined that this had to stop! I could not take it anymore! I had enough!
For some time he chased me from room to room and I ended up in the kitchen – suddenly remembering that he once used a knife to threaten me, so I immediately went for the drawers and found what I needed – a big knife. A huge wonderful companion which was able to do what my parents failed to do – protect me!
Of course, he noticed that I held my hands behind my back, but my best advantage was probably that he was under heavy influence of the booze he had been drinking and before I knew it, I planted the knife in his belly. Not once. Not twice. But over and over! I later learned the coroner had counted 28 knife wounds. I did not count. I was totally captured and mesmerized by the feeling of being released from my prison as I stabbed this low life scumbag again and again and again. A feeling of freedom that was way too big to grasp.
There was blood everywhere and I only had the clothes I was wearing, so I ran out of the house as fast as I could and I ended up at the harbor where I entered one of the huge cargo ships and took hide deep down behind some of the containers.
I don’t know exactly how long time I spent in the cold dark stomach of this containership from London Container Terminal. It was more than a week but less than two. I slept on some card boxes I arranged as a mattress and used some tarps to pull over me trying to retain some kind of body temperature that was high enough to not kill me. It was hard to sleep. Every time I closed my eyes I saw my stepfather attacking me and me stabbing him. I was still shit scared, half in panic and afraid to sleep and relax. What if someone found me and turned me over to the police? What if I didn’t make it? How was I supposed to survive?