Police Abuses Against Me;

 Apparently, my first ever chapter in this section, “Current Update”, that laid out the dozens
of police assaults and abuses against me, was found missing after my old data was restored.
For those of you who don’t know, my site was hacked last Early October of 2014.
It makes me think that the C.I.A., F.B.I., Pentagon and The White House are all getting
ready to assassinate me and make it look like something else and they don’t want you people
to know what a massive campaign of abuse they have already left behind for the record.
It is now October 29, 2014 and, before anything happens to me, you should all know that, for
openers, the government has done all of the following to me;
My father, a practicing doctor on a business / ski trip in New Zealand died in a small ski lift
airplane crash that killed three of the six on board. It happened just weeks after his beloved
dog was found hanged in a drape cord and just two weeks after Stephen King wrote me a letter
warning me of “Phase Three” since I won’t cease my investigation and, perhaps most telling,
it happened on the tenth anniversary of Nixon’s resignation. Did the government kill my
father to see if I’d back off my activism? I think so, with a 70% assuredness, I’d say.
Three years later while attending a John Lennon artworks gallery exhibit hosted by Yoko Ono
S.F.P.D. kidnapped, handcuffed and pistol whipped me unconscious in the back of a police van in
San Francisco and stole my camera and made up a complete lie to slander me, after.
My crime? Giving Yoko Ono an envelope containing copies of my magazine to get to Paul, George
and Ringo. That’s it. It was Yoko’s security that came back a half hour after she left the
art gallery and violently shoved me out the door and into the waiting arms of S.F.P.D. who
told me; “We’re going to beat your ass!” Twenty minutes later, in S.F.’s roughest neighborhood,
they burst in and wailed on me and I woke up bloody and wondering what I was doing in the
back of a police van.
That was in October of 1987, just four months after two strangers walked up to me to say;
“We don’t need the publicity.” before they dislocated my arm and smashed my face into a side-
walk breaking my nose. Strange, because officer Kevin Hall or Steve Rist (I don’t know which
is which.) said to me as we arrived at San Francisco General Hospital; “I’m going to break
your nose.” Fortunately a passing doctor heard that and may have discouraged that crime. It
was as if he would have to have known that I just got my nose straightened days earlier by
a doctor. Like one big, interconnected plot.
The strangers who assaulted me were let go, uncharged by D.A. Costello.
Regarding the Dyansis Art Gallery incident with Yoko Ono the officers who assaulted me alleged
that I yelled death threats to Yoko Ono. Ridiculous and completely false. If that were true it
would have made world headlines. I simply said, quietly; “Yoko, this is about your husband’s mur-
der. Please read it.” Period.
The only yelling I ever did was when the police were carrying me by all fours to a van after
one of them said; “We’re going to beat your ass!” I was yelling to the crowd waiting in line
for help telling all of them what the officer said.
It was in the weeks of recovery from that kidnapping and assault that I was able to piece to-
gether all the reasons why Yoko Ono was behind that assault, to tell me to back off, that she
was, indeed, part of the cover-up conspiracy. As it turned out I later learned that she had been
living at The Clairmont Hotel in Berkeley for a year, presumably spying on me in secret.
Before these two possibly linked incidents I found myself being summoned to court in Santa
Rosa, California for charges of ‘Breaking and entering” and I forget what else. All bogus.
Apparently an insinuation that I had broken into and entered into government codes.
When I went to court I found I was the ONLY person there, several times, until it just dis-
appeared like nothing but terrorism from the fed to me had happened. In fact they gave me
Juan Corona’s attorney and he tried to make me take a psychology test to entrap me until
I fired him. Juan Corona was a mass murderer from the 70’s, I believe.
Another episode, also in the mid and early 80’s, took place was when I was arrested for a de-
linquent ‘riding a bicycle on a sidewalk’ ticket that I received right before my evidence find
made me move back to my home town from San Diego.
I was put on an airplane, in handcuffs and flown 180 miles south to Salinas jail where I was
poisoned with a plate of food that the server seemed overly interested in, it seemed to me.
Then I was bused north 130 miles to San Francisco, Oakland and about four jails in one week
until I reached Vista, California where my case was dismissed as time served. Before I was
released the warden took me aside and said to me;
“Listen, Mr. Lightfoot. About this John Lemmon thing. We could cut you up into little pieces
and flush you down the toilet and nobody would know any better.”
All of this over a two year old riding a bicycle on a sidewalk ticket.
I believe I received over 150 parking tickets in three years in San Francisco and Berkeley,
having to run back and forth to court all the time to beat 95% of them. I felt like a yo yo.
I once received four in one day. All bogus.
There were arrests made on me, blocking a sidewalk with signs, etc., that I will have to
look up when I find a copy of that lost chapter “Current Update” that I have, mercifully, for-
gotten. One I do recall was a pot arrest the Santa Clara police made while I was watching
tv in my van while on a trip south.
It was preceded by a white, unmarked car with a police antenna and a V-8 that trolled next to me.
Ten minutes later six patrol cars were in the lot searching my van and I was given a possession
citation and released. Months later, after I was convicted and the day before my deadline to
appeal, I was stopped for no reason and held behind my van by one officer while the other
officer, I’m not kidding, took a crow bar to my water pump pulley (I could hear the loud
creak he made doing it) The next day I had to fix my car before barely getting in my appeal.
I recall discovering a brand new radiator leak an hour after visiting those police offices when
I wrapped up the final paperwork over that issue.
The night Reagan was re-elected, within two hours, S.F.P.D. were pointing a gun barrel right
at me. They never asked for I.D. but searched my belongings. A stone, cold terror maneuver.
Palm Spring’s police also pointed a gun at me while I was watching tv in my van in 1996. It was
one of 23 police episodes in one month, including four falsely issued citations and one arrest for
informing a Starbuck’s crowd about the gun pointing incident a day earlier.
I beat all their tickets and one judge asked me if I’d agree to stay away from Palm Springs if
the charges were dismissed. I retained my right to go all places and declined to agree.
I was there to caddie for a golf event only to find out that Stephen King lived there part time.
One night, after I blabbed to the public what was going on, at least five officers ganged up
and encircled me, forcing me walk into a restaurant and yell to everyone that they were going
to beat me up until they all left. No kidding.
The Palm Spring’s police pointed a gun at me, again, years later, again while watching tv.
Most of all my abuses came from the San Francisco, Berkeley and Santa Rosa police, though.
There was at least two attempts to plant a tiny bag of weed on me seconds before a squad car
swooped in to find nothing on me and other incidents. I recall being arrested the day before the
famous Golden Gate Bridge walk that was closed to traffic. Why? To confiscate all my signs so
I couldn’t advertise during that spectacle.
There were so many abuses by police against me over 30 years that I believe I may be the most
systematically harassed and abused citizen in California history.
My signs over one campaign got the Santa Rosa Police Chief fired. I stood out with a large
To get a flavor for it envision the sight of me in face bandages and my arm in a sling hang-
ing out huge signs that read; FEINSTEIN AND S.F.P.D. HIRING THUGS TO CRIPPLE ME
and I forget what other sign. It was Feinstein’s secretary who told me a year earlier; “Take your
story to another town.”
I recall going to the offices of the F.B.I. in the early days and found myself sitting across
from a man in a suit who looked like F.B.I. and he said to me, regarding my reason for being
there to present evidence in Lennon’s murder,; “Have you ever read a book called ‘None Dare
Call It Conspiracy.’?”
All my police troubles began after Terry Chodash of the San Francisco Secret Service sur-
prised me with a visit at the Santa Rosa library in early 1983. I would later learn that he
was wearing a blond wig, dyed blond stubble, blue contact lenses and more that day after I
bumped into him a year later outside their offices when he was not in costume. They’re sneaky.
He strangely asked me if I was a vampire. He asked for a handwriting sample which I realized
later could be used to forge a suicide note if ever needed.
When I traveled to Bangor, Maine for the first time in the summer and fall of 1992 I was imme-
diately accosted by, first, the media, and then the police. The police gave me a false red light
ticket minutes after the media interview where I was presented with a stay away order by
King’s lawyer. Then a photo of me getting the ticket was plastered on the front page of
The Bangor Daily News to brand the public with fear against my cause and to portray me as a
law breaker. I beat all the tickets their police issued, for your information, two or four, as I
recall, but felt my life was in danger that first day when I had six police contact incidents in
one day where they even shadowed me while shopping at a mall and even stole my tape re-
corder and car keys that night when I made a pay phone call at a small convenience store.
One scene in court found the officer admitting to the judge that he told me that; “Stephen King
pays me thousands to harass you…”
Years later, on one of my several return trips there, I defeated King’s lawyers who tried to
issue a protection from harassment injunction that was targeting my evidence distribution.
I told the judge that my life was in in danger until King is exposed and I have a right to ad-
vertise and expose a crime if the authorities won’t help. That no order would stop me, anyway.
Two years later, King’s pride badly bruised by my first visit, King laid a trap for me with
the Santa Cruz Police to slander me as a stalker by arresting me on national television while
holding a huge sign outside a book signing event with King that read;
I spent two or three days in jail but was never charged with anything. It was a media trap
to brand me as a stalker.
Meanwhile I can prove King was stalking Lennon six hours before the murder with a photo that
places him at the scene getting John Lennon’s last autograph.
Just this last April 4, 2014 the Los Angeles police failed to investigate or prosecute a case
involving a man who sucker punched me as hard as he could while I was holding a valuable guitar.
My jaw could have been broken but wasn’t. My neck was injured, however.
A dozen or so months before that a Navy cadet, in uniform, plowed his truck into my logoed van
on a San Diego freeway while doing over 60 mph. The CHP then blamed ME! What a crock. I was
the one who called the CHP over the protests of the cadet who never tried to claim damages, after.
My van had his tire marks all over my drivers side like he didn’t like my website.
In 2007 (?), while working driving a delivery truck, I was broadsided in an intersection by a
woman driving almost 60 mph who had her foot to the floor as she ran a red light right into me.
Amazingly no one was seriously injured though my truck was knocked 20 feet and fell on it’s
side injuring my shoulder and foot. The police did not cite the woman who ran the light and
ignored witnesses who said she did. They tried to blame me for the accident but cited nobody.
I later learned that the city of Concord, California has a room that can manually manipulate
all the traffic lights in the city, complete with live camera viewing. Accident or conspiracy?
A San Francisco red light camera was manipulated to entrap me in a violation at 3:30 am in 2011.
The whole episode was so weird and eirie you’d have to have been there to see it to believe it.
I found myself being stopped at the last second at four lights in a row. In reality I was being
positioned for a camera light intersection and I had to be set up, first. The photo was so
borderline that a lawyer I showed it to in line scoffed that it was being accepted. John Ken-
nedy, a San Francisco city attorney, was the man who pushed it through, anyway. Apparently
the authorities were not finished with me, yet.
During that same time another camera light citation was mailed to me but, when I had it re-
viewed, it was found to be invalid. Weeks later, minutes after buying a book on how to fight your
own ticket an Oakland police officer gave me a ticket I didn’t deserve and even lied in court
to prosecute me.
Forward three years and no tickets I just received one for barely crossing a double yellow line
in Goleta, California and while my website is accusing L.A. mayor Garcetti and L.A.P.D. chief
Charlie Beck of being behind an assault on me last spring.
I told the officer in this recent case that I was feeling ill, like food poisoning, and that
a “No outlet” sign caused me to abort that route and make a hard turn to my right. I also ex-
plained that I was vomiting just minutes earlier and was unfamiliar with the area. This occured
just days before Halloween of 2014.
I can substantiate that I was in the process of passing a kidney stone at the time as I had
to check into an emergency room hours later where I did pass a kidney stone from my kidney to
my bladder. I will try to explain this all to the judge. Very painful and distracting. Before
I found out it was a kidney stone I thought I needed an emergency appendectomy.
I use library computers and have to sign off for now, but know that much more has happened
to me, by far. Stay tuned for more on police and C.I.A. abuses against me.

March 5, 2015 update; TRAFFIC TRIAL RESULTS:

My crossing a double yellow line ticket issued last October 28,2014 in Goleta went to trial today
and I discovered that officer Valadez is pretty loose with lies in a courtroom.
Some gems; ” a distance of 40 feet…” from my van to his car at time of alleged violation.
The dash camera video shows the true distance to be 40 plus yards, some 135 feet in fact.
The judge did not disagree with me when I pointed out this fact. He was, obviously, way off.
Gem two; (Written in his notes and asserted orally in trial):
“Subject admitted he had committed the infraction and that it was dangerous of him to do so.”
As I told the judge, I never admitted what I did was dangerous and I only allowed that I
was “..a little askew..” to the officer.
Gem number three; When I asked if he had momentarily tried to pull over another white truck
just a minute before seeing my white van he said “No.” In fact, when he and I both viewed the
video at his Goleta sub station and it was obvious that he stopped, began to back up but
continued towards me and I asked him why he was about to pull over that truck he told me;
“I thought I saw him using a cell phone.” That was months earlier. In court, when I challenged
him on the discrepancy he said it was having something to do with a worker of someone he knows
and some message he was supposed to give to someone. He left out any reference to his remark he
saw a cell phone in his hand like he told me.
Gem number four: When I was issued the ticket he told me that his video would record every-
thing we were saying. I found out before trial that the audio was missing. In my motion to sup-
press I pointed out that I suspect his conversations with dispatch might reveal a sinister other
side of the video evidence and that the missing audio represented only the officers claims
erasing anything available to support my claims and there was an unfair bias. That it did
not reflect the “whole truth”.
In court he said it was because of an uncharged battery but, if that’s true, how did the
camera even work?
A lot of lies from officer Valadez of Goleta. Let him sue me if I’M lying.
As for the judge; Denise De Bellef, who presided, it was a cold, calculated, dishonest,
kangaroo court that I witnessed. I’ve witnessed a lot of other peoples trials in my harassed
lifetime of fending off the government, maybe hundreds. There was a look among the other of-
ficers also there. They all seemed solemn and ashamed, their heads bowed in unison, as if to
say to me; “Yeah, it’s rigged kid, we all been talking about your case for months. That’s why
Valadez has this smirk all over his face. You don’t see the rest of us smiling. It stinks.”
This was their body language even before the judge arrived. I’ve never seen such a sight.
I discovered that the judge had no idea how many motions I had submitted, (at least three) and
that she had not read them before trial. For a period of not over eight seconds she observed
the motions, I don’t believe she even glanced at the accompanying photos and arguments that
relate to each one, and exclaimed; “O.k., I’ve read your motions and I deny them.”
Now, it would take at least two minutes to read them if you are a fast reader so how is it I
only get her eight seconds of nothingness where my motions are concerned?
There was one about my physical incapacitation related to my passing a kidney stone as I
was cited and my subsequent visit and evidence from a hospital where it passed completely.
There was a motion to suppress the video.
There was also one to make an oral motion to dismiss due to discriminatory prosecution. Here
is my best recollection of how that went;
“Your honor, it had to happen to someone, it happened to happen to me. I discovered hard
evidence that proves our government killed John Lennon. I’m probably the single, most perse-
cuted citizen in California history and left the San Francisco bay area where I’m from because
of a spate of false traffic citations. I thought they were going to kill me in a phony accident.
You may recall the shooting at U.C.S.B., Roger Elliot, who murdered those students. The very
next day I was at the murder scene with my van and website and my guitar and signs and….”
The judge interrupted and cut me off and refused to let me continue and ordered me to be
quiet and sit down. Before this she cut me off when I was about to explain that the reason I
wanted to suppress the film was not because he promised my remarks would be on tape but be-
cause his conversation with dispatch might reveal incriminating evidence against the officer
if he was shown displaying discriminatory prosecution against me and that I had the right to
show what his conversation with dispatch revealed.
My oral motion to dismiss got as far. I was just about to tie things all together, too.
I wanted to say that I find it hard to believe that the officer had never known about my
half day presence and demonstration there the day after given the way such scenes are treated.
A guy with murder on his van rolls up and breaks out provocative protest signs and speaks and
plays guitar the next day and his whole squad is not briefed at all about it? I doubt it.
In fact, officer Valadez, whose station is just blocks away from the shooting scene, told me
he had never heard of me before the citation.
In fact the Goleta police, just the night of my citation, revealed on local t.v. news that they
were cracking down on any activities near the area where the shootings occurred this Halloween.
That the whole area would be closed to an extent.
I suspect that the officer, in fact, WAS apprised of my presence at the scene the day after
the shootings and of my presence in Goleta now, months later, and to hunt me down and give me a
citation to intimidate me from demonstrating there again. Especially in a few days on Halloween.
I suspect that the missing audio would reveal that the officer and dispatch were not having
just an ordinary conversation but were orchestrating each and every next move now that he
was able to intercept me at that dead end intersection making a hard last minute right hand
turn as often happens there because of the sign. Also missing from his video is the part
where he is seen speeding, suddenly, for a few seconds, as if he is behind in his schedule
to intercept me in time if he already knows where my vehicle is via possibly a police planted
geo positioning device they had ample time to plant. In fact I was sleeping in my van just two
day before I was cited on that same street just seconds from the scene of my subsequent citation.
The sign I’m talking about that entraps motorists to turn late to avoid going straight is
a “NO OUTLET” sign. It was a likely place to entrap anyone they wanted to.
I would then have pointed out some of the highlights from other departments who brutalized me
and how I was a victim of an assault that went unpunished by L.A.P.D. A serious assault.
So, another day in the life of your evidence hero. I know some of you are having your eyes roll
up into your eyelids and are likely chuckling at the thought any of my seemingly paranoid scen-
arios could be true.
Get your heads out of your asses you blind ingrates. That’s exactly what likely happened.
Oh, yes, I will appeal this guilty verdict that this judge levied on me after squashing my
deliberately oral motion to dismiss. I knew I had the right to be heard in open court with
the oral presentation to ensure that my argument was heard if not read by the judge for whatever
This brings me up to Santa Barbara, the culture there. A dishonest, back stabby kind of town
that puts a pecuniary price tag on every customer without real justice to fill there pockets?
My first night ever in Santa Barbara someone tried to steal my 12 speed bike and travel bags.
It was 1981 in October as I was pedaling from Monterey to San Diego the year before I found
my Lennon evidence. Fortunately everything I owned was secured with a tie chord around a wheel
and I retrieved it a few yards away.
Ronald Reagan has left his imprint on the area. His pagan, Darwinian style of government and
his disingenuousness. He never believed in God or America but poisoned it with Stephen King.
They are somewhat of a hick town to not be able to disown him and get beyond that false
A man in a grocery line attacked my manliness for not being a boot-licker such as he.
“Is that a man’s watch you’re wearing? Is that a man’s (whatever) ?”
I replied; “So you have a “man” thing, huh?”
I guess he thinks Reagan is god. Poor him.
The traffic lights in Goleta are over two minute wait lights. That’s stupid. It just is.
It’s not even that busy. Why the dumbing down of the public with stupid lights.

Oh, yes, names are being enshrined on my site over all this.