Tuesday, June 21, 2016


                                                                  TUESDAY, JUNE 21, 2016 

SEPTEMBER 23, 1977- JUNE 21, 2008




Today is the anniversary of the eighth year of an eternity in agony, marking the horrific day, June 21, 2008, that my oldest child, Steven Nathaniel Wolkoff, was cruelly killed at the age of 30, his life brutally stolen from him, family, friends, me. 

I dread the coming of this day every year.

Steven died on the first day of Summer, it was 5 PM on a Saturday afternoon, exactly eight years ago.

It seems so much longer than eight years have gone by since we lost him. 

I still feel that it cannot be true, somehow suddenly he will appear, call me on the phone, or send me an email. That feeling never leaves, it is always there, I will wake up from this nightmare, and Steven will be here, alive.

There are mornings that I wake up believing for a few seconds that Steven is alive and it was just a horrible nightmare that he is dead. Then the reality strikes me full force in the face and gut,that he is dead forever, how can that be?

Oh how he loved the summer months and life itself. He was looking forward to it all, never realizing that his life would end that day in 2008.

I posted the other pictures above of Steven because they are some of my favorite ones, and also he is so real, alive in them, and for a second, he seems to actually be here.

Today, on this eight anniversary of Steven's tragic death, if you can, please take a moment now to remember who Steven was and how deeply he is missed by each of us.

The last time I spoke to Steven, was on the phone,Tuesday evening, June 17 , 2008.

I didn't know that moment was going to be our last.
The last time I would talk to you, and hear your beautiful voice.

The last time I would tell you that I loved you, and hear you say “I love you too dad”. Strong and so real, so vibrant and alive.

A smiling face, with twinkling eyes, your special smile, my fine young man, my oldest child.

The shattered remnant of my heart with holes so black and fathomless no light can ever fill. I am and will be in shock forever.

Time has passed before me, so bleak and dark and long, the wind that whispers through the trees, the brightest star at night, the rain on a dismal day, my endless dreams, nightmares, the constant thoughts, hearing the door bell ringing, seeing the 2 Nassau County Policeman at my door at 4 AM asking me politely if they could come inside, no eye contact from them, I knew and asked them "which one of my children", their response "do you have a son Steven living in San Francisco, he was killed in a car collision". 

That moment is frozen in my mind, repeating itself endlessly almost every waking and sleeping moment of my life.

The tragic death of Steven was caused by stupid, senseless acts. Every day, each night, my mind is focused on the highway at the collision, looking at Steven’s face while he is alive and then later, he is dead, covered by a tarp on the highway.

The collision seems less a random act, and more determined, by a series of factors, not so benign, each one a contributing cause of my son’s death.

Steven was killed not by accident, but by horribly connected actions, and inaction's, of many others, each building on the impact of the other. Steven’s death began when distinct acts of design and error grew to become the chaos of negligence.

Steven was killed by the lack of highway signage, a secret State cover up of a structurally flawed highway design known as a "death trap", whose design errors were deliberately never corrected, violating the written safety codes of the  same government department responsible for building the highway, and the carelessness of a local community program, having a gathering, unaware that their visitors, were parking, turning, merging, clogging this already too narrow stretch of road that had no separate turning lanes.

Steven was killed by a 21 year old drug impaired driver, who did not even have a driver’s license, an illegal alien. His danger to others not in his thoughts, but mostly I think he just didn't care about the effects of his irresponsible actions on Steven.

Steven was killed by an army of first responders, Paramedics, Emergency Medical Technicians, Police, Firefighters, and Park Rangers, etc., busy littering the highway with equipment, while they tried to look busy and important.

Steven courageously lived for about an hour after the collision while multiple systems of rescue professionals failed to get him to the hospital, and were unable to properly provide a minimum standard of the medical skills that they were trained to perform.

The first responders missed his airway, suffocating him, vital oxygen crushing against his heart, lungs and diaphragm, taking his breath away, and horrifically killing him.

The responder’s mission, to stabilize Steven for triage care at the Hospital, failed, lost in a few hundred square feet of disorder, with no one in charge, no one leading, standing, telling, helping, shouting, or recognizing the obvious signs of their medical errors.

My son Steven was killed by carelessness, thoughtlessness, and negligence on the part of multiple entities and individuals.

A gifted, talented, precious, irreplaceable, meaningful life was stolen from all of us who loved him deeply, because of the actions of so many who, each in their own way, miserably failed to help Steven, all destroying Steven’s life.

I cannot believe that my son Steven lies buried in a grave so young, me dreaming of things that he was and might have been. 
I am not religious, nor do I believe in god, so the traditional Mourners Kaddish prayer for Steven are meaningless words to me. 

I have written my own Mourners Kaddish as a way to honor Steven, and I post it every year at this time.

It is my way of expressing that Steven left behind a legacy of goodness, and worthy descendants, those who loved him, who will always remember that he lived.

These sentences speak directly to Steven, because his pain and loss need to be honestly described in real words that accurately reflect my true feelings.               


Steven Nathaniel Wolkoff, Shmuel Nacham Ben Yaakov,  (Samuel Nathan, Son of Jerry).

September 23, 1977- June 21, 2008

I am sorry that you are dead.

I am sorry you suffered so painfully, on that awful day, as you fought to stay alive.

I am sorry for the agony you felt, I see it in your eyes, face, and body from the horrific evidence photos.  I see and feel it in my endless nightmares.

I am sorry for the fear, terror, unimaginable pain you felt in fighting for your life, as they killed you. I know the truth of your courage in being able to fight so bravely to stay alive.

I am sorry for you because you were not killed by accident, but instead by the senseless, stupid, careless, actions of so many others who could have saved your life, but instead, each in their own way, miserably failed you that day, never realizing or even considering taking responsibility, or accountability for the consequences of their actions, inaction's, indifference, and incompetence.

I am sorry you died not due to fate, nor randomly, but were instead killed by the cascading chaos of connected, dysfunctional, defective entities and others, all who caused your preventable death.

I am sorry that you died because the State of California did not care about your life and decided not to fix a dangerously unsafe road, instead they deliberately hid the structural defects in the highway that made it into a death trap.

I am sorry that you died because of the 21 year old drug impaired driver speeding out of control into your car. His danger to you not in his thoughts, but mostly I think he just didn't care about the effects of his irresponsible actions.

I am sorry about the inept, licensed, qualified, medical first responders who had no idea, not a clue, of what they were doing medically to you as they killed you. They have no consciences and lied to hide how they murdered you in cold blood.

I am sorry for you, that so many corrupt, ugly cowards of evil, who have evidence of the truth, but have no conscience to speak up, remain silent, lie, omit, refuse to come forward to admit their responsibility in covering up the true facts that all contributed to killing you.

I am sorry for those whose toxic evil allowed all of the above to be done to you and escaped from being held accountable for participating in your death.

I am sorry that your soul and body were desecrated in death.   

I am sorry for the wicked hideous ones who desecrated your body in death and refuse to take accountability for their violation of your body, your soul.

I am sorry that it has took us five years to finally successfully legally force the spiteful, hateful San Mateo County Coroner to release your final remains for proper burial.

I am sorry that you died in spite of the true medical facts that show you should be alive today.

I am sorry for all the multitude of evil ones who have tried to defame you and erase that your name.

I am sorry that life is so cheap and yours has no value to those who killed you and try to erase you ever existed.

I am sorry that the Legal system is weak, corrupt and I was not able to obtain justice for you. I failed to accomplish getting that Justice for you, please forgive me.

I am sorry for my failing as your father to keep you from dying.

I am sorry you did not leave the beach one second earlier or later to return home that day of June, 21, 2008.

I am sorry that I was not there to protect you.

I am sorry that I was not there that day to comfort you, hold you, ease your pain.

I am sorry that I don't know the last thoughts in your mind before you died.

I am sorry that you died alone, with strangers, and no one even had the courage, kindness to hold your hand.

I am sorry that you died lying on a hot highway pavement, in a place unfamiliar, in the middle of nowhere.

I am sorry that no one had the decency to cover your right arm and both feet, as you lay dead under the blue tarp.

I am sorry the Medvac trauma helicopter was delayed in arriving there by 4 minutes, too late to stop the killer first responders from touching you.

I am sorry that I was not even able to protect your dignity in death.

I am sorry you cannot cry.

I am sorry you cannot scream.

I am sorry you cannot laugh.

I am sorry you cannot smile.

I am sorry you cannot feel.

I am sorry you cannot talk.

I am sorry you cannot breathe.

I am sorry you are silent forever. 

I am sorry that the world said nothing, heard nothing, says nothing about the injustices done to you.

I am sorry that it was you and not me.

I am sorry that I had to bury you and that you didn't bury me first, as it should be.  

I am sorry for everything that I forgot to say now, or cannot, and did not say here.

I am sorry for YOU because you are not here, you are NO MORE on this earth. 

I am sorry that you cannot rest in peace.

More than anything, I am sorry that you didn't have a chance to say goodbye.

Your family will always honor you, remember you, miss you, keep you in our heart, preserve your memory in lovingly telling future generations about you, and love you forever. 

We all miss you so very much.

I mourn what was, what could of been, and what will never be.

You deserved so much better my son, it just wasn’t meant to be.

Your brother, sister, mother, family, and others who love you, will do the same. We will never forget YOU, never stop loving you, our precious beloved Steven. NEVER.

Steven, I can only say, I am SORRY, SORRY, I am so SORRY.

My heart is broken, my Steven is gone, and we will mourn forever.

 Hebrew -Amen. Love, Dad.     

Wednesday, June 8, 2016


I have been doing a lot of thinking about the upcoming Presidential election.
It's an election between two of the most disliked candidates in the history of the United States.
Personally, I will hold my nose and vote for the one that is less disgusting. 
I  also have another solution for those of you who can't hold your nose, which I admit is cynical, but I hope in a constructive way.
This is a political race between two flawed major candidates. If you throw your vote away on a third party candidate who can’t possibly win, or don’t vote at all, you look like a coward, plus you should always want to exercise your right as a citizen to vote.
Yet if you vote for one of the major candidates and that candidate does win, you feel responsible for the catastrophe that must follow because both Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump are hopelessly flawed.
So the only way to go is to have voted for the major candidate who loses.
Some of you may remember way back when Watergate engulfed President Nixon and caused him to resign or he would have been impeached by Congress. The country erupted in bumper stickers that read “Don’t blame me, I’m from Massachusetts,” because that was the one state he lost.
And that’s how you want to position yourself. You want to vote for the candidate that loses. 

Yes, it would be better to vote based on a serious analysis of the issues. But there are so many lies, rants, and moronic bull shit flying around, I don’t think that’s possible anymore.
So you might as well vote in a way that causes you the least personal embarrassment after the election is over.
Vote for the loser, that way, when one screws up, you can say “don’t blame me, I voted for the other.”
And whatever you do don’t tell anyone this is what you’re doing.
Because if it gets around, they’ll all do it, and a huge defeat becomes a catastrophic victory, and suddenly the next four years are all your fault.

Monday, June 6, 2016


Samuel Wolkoff- June 6th, 1958, forever etched in my soul. My father was gruesomely murdered on this day many years ago, at the age of 42. 

I was 10 years old. He lost his life that day, I lost my childhood, my inner peace, and my soul. 

Samuel Wolkoff was MY FATHER. Tragically, I hardly remember anything about him, and almost nothing about our relationship as father and son.

Today's Blog is in memory of Samuel Wolkoff, My Dad, tortured and murdered (CLICK HERE TO READ MORE).

The march of the dead continues, May/June are the saddest months for me, I dread this time of the year, horrifically gruesome memories of human, innocent lives of my family wasted. 

The rest of the year, the ever present demons make sure I remember those whose memories others have tried to erase, these are my family, they were human beings who will never be forgotten by me, they lived and never deserved to die in such horribly suffering ways. 

To me it's very personal when June 6th arrives every year, a very painful day. It has now been 58 agonizing years since my father Samuel Wolkoff was brutally tortured and murdered.

I am often intrigued as to why over 71,000 people as of this date have visited my Blog. 

I suppose they come for many different reasons and I can see they are from all over the world.

There are many good people who come here, victims, families of victims, people seeking justice, those who are fighting against injustice, human beings who care. 

But there are also extremely evil people who visit here. 

I see search terms on my blog from people who arrive looking for information about my father, a lot of other interesting search words that only "you" would know. 

I get anonymous emails frequently from others about the monster subhuman animal who murdered my father. They vary from other victims families murdered by the monster, friends of his, and entities that shall remain not named by me.  

Some of you are the cowardly, but powerfully dangerous scum bags who murdered my father, some are close murderous associates of my father, as well as those of you in the arrogant, incompetent, corrupt law enforcement systems, whose agencies knowingly covered their asses, and in doing so, betrayed your sworn oaths to defend justice, by participating in covering up the truth, obstructing justice in this capital offense, which has no statute of limitations.

There are visitors here who are criminals, murderers, organized organized crime family leaders, law enforcement, the curious, all are responsible by their actions or inaction's to change the injustices that are specifically detailed in many of my different Blog posts about all the victims I write about.

For an ultra private person like me, a blog is obscenely public, personal, grossly revealing, definitely not my style, but  interestingly, momentarily cleansing, a way of coming out, being up front with unbearable realities, my reality. Mostly I do it for those that can no longer speak for themselves, who experienced unimaginable suffering that ended their lives. In this moment, my father's reality.

I do know that MY FATHER was a courageous HERO. 

My father believed in kindness, honesty, family, hard work, ethics, and his rights as a human being to reap the fruits of his labor for himself and our family.

He was a man who did not run away from the corrupt animals who wanted a "cut of his business" for themselves. 

He believed in himself and the law enforcement, legal, supposedly ethical "systems" to protect him from those that wanted the business that he had built from nothing, with his blood and sweat.

He believed in a code of personal ethics, morality, integrity that dictated honor, family, respect, fairness, loyalty, faith in humanity, and that no one is entitled to steal from another human being their right to live.

On June 6th, 1958 the world was already very evil, corrupt, his life was cheap, and scum bags took what they wanted, from who ever they wanted. That was the day they took my father's life, his business, and all of our souls.

Today, June 6th, 2016, the world is infinitely more evil, more corrupt, life is even cheaper, scum bags enjoy their lives as they take even more of what they want, from whomever they choose.

Many of the murderers of my father, and their children are still alive. They have all done extremely well financially and live with a high standard of living for themselves, their families have all thrived in spite of their evil deeds. 

Yes, my father was a hero, he is a hero who sacrificed his life for his beliefs. Seems old fashioned, naive, for someone to believe so strongly in doing the right thing. 

Yet somehow, he who had nothing, created a thriving business, and maintained his righteousness of believing in goodness, his business associates, his relatives, the legal/law enforcement system, and that being a hard working, good person is to be rewarded.

In the end, his naive belief in the humanity of others, particularly his relatives (we know who you are) proved that he was DEAD wrong and he paid for it with his life. 

We all know each other, or about each other, you know I have hidden away safely the written confidential secret official documents with my honest law enforcement and political friends, the written proof of all the detailed real facts. 

Nothing to be concerned about, it will remain buried. 

We all know the deal that protects all of us, the reasons that nothing else has been done by any of us about my father's murder, the reason these documents will remain hidden, is the unspoken but very clear mutual understanding we all have forever, of don't ever again fuck with any of us, and in return, we won't fuck with any of you by making the real truth public.

Dead heroes, no matter how courageous they are, never get remembered by society for their acts of courage. They are quickly forgotten, except by those who loved them.

Was it worth it for MY FATHER, Samuel Wolkoff, to stand his ground and give up his life in such a terrifying, grotesque manner at the hands of cowardly pussy punks? 

Was it worth the unimaginable pain that he felt as he was tortured slowly for 5 hours on the night of June 6, 1958? 

What must he have been thinking during those horrific hours of going in and out of consciousness as they repeatedly tightened and loosened a rope around his neck?

Samuel Wolkoff's cause of death, 5 long hours of tortured Murder By Strangulation. 

Try to hold your breath for as long as you can, then wait 40 more seconds, exhale, that will give you a tiny sense of the horrific way my father felt for 5  consecutive hours, a rope tied as a noose, was continuously alternately tightened, then loosened around his neck, while his hands were tied behind his back. 

Death, when it finally came, must have been a merciful release for my father.

Was it worth it to believe that your goodness would triumph above evil, that god would watch over you, that law enforcement would protect you, that your wife, and children would not suffer beyond imagination for the rest of our lives?

The world did not care about his life and did nothing.

Justice not served, justice not given, nothing complicated, nothing new, an innocent, good person, a human life stolen without any remorse, it happens all the time. 

My father's fatal errors that cost him his life? He  believed in trust, in the sense of obligation to very close members of his family, by giving them a chance to change their ways.

The good deeds he did, paid back by these very same, who had him murdered. Horrifically ugly, but brutally true, and they all got away with it, no guilt, no conscience, didn't bother any of them, never mattered to them.

Today we remember my courageous father. He is not resting in peace, and he never will rest in peace, that is certain. 

How can a loved one who dies suffering, rest in peace, ever? The answer is they cannot rest in peace because of the way they died.

Seems like a simple thing to believe and its even reduced to a short acronym, R.I.P., easy to write. I can't write it, not possible, not after all the never ending suffering of my father, and our family.

Was it worth it, my hero, my dear beloved father? 
Was it worth it?

Monday, May 30, 2016


                                                     REST IN PEACE LITTLE ONE

Don't look too close at the picture, this beautiful baby is not sleeping, the baby is dead. 

Maybe it will evoke feelings within those of you who don't care.

This photograph of a drowned migrant baby (see above) in the arms of a German rescuer was distributed on Monday by a humanitarian organization aiming to persuade European authorities to ensure safe passage to migrants, after hundreds are feared to have drowned in the Mediterranean last week.
The baby, who appears to be no more than a year old, was pulled from the sea on Friday after the capsizing of a wooden boat. Forty-five bodies arrived in the southern Italian port of Reggio Calabria on Sunday aboard an Italian navy ship, which picked up 135 survivors from the same incident.

German humanitarian organization Sea Watch, operating a rescue boat in the sea between Libya and Italy, distributed the picture taken by a media production company on board and which showed a rescuer cradling the child like a sleeping baby.
In an email, the rescuer, who gave his name as Martin but did not want his family name published, said he had spotted the baby in the water “like a doll, arms outstretched”.
“I took hold of the forearm of the baby and pulled the light body protectively into my arms at once, as if it were still alive ... It held out its arms with tiny fingers into the air, the sun shone into its bright, friendly but motionless eyes.”
The rescuer, a father of three and by profession a music therapist, added: “I began to sing to comfort myself and to give some kind of expression to this incomprehensible, heart-rending moment. Just six hours ago this child was alive.”
I wrote a previous Blog about a three year old boy Syrian Aylan lying lifeless on a Turkish beach last year, the image also puts a human face on the more than 8,000 people who have died in the Mediterranean since the start of 2014. 
At least 700 migrants may have died at sea this past week in the busiest week of migrant crossings from Libya towards Italy this year, the UN Refugee agency said on Sunday.
The boat carrying the baby left the shores of Libya near Sabratha late on Thursday, and then began to take on water, according to accounts by survivors collected by Save the Children on Sunday. Hundreds were on board when it capsized, the survivors said.
I am certain very few people are aware of the horrific picture of this dead baby and the continued loss of lives of innocent human victims. 
Instead, inexplicably, bizarrely,  the world is focused on the killing of a Gorilla in Cincinnati.
The killing of an endangered gorilla at the Cincinnati Zoo to rescue a boy who fell into a dangerous enclosure unleashed an outpouring of grief over the holiday weekend.
Within hours, that grief had turned to fury as critics questioned the zoo’s decision to kill the endangered 17-year-old gorilla, named Harambe, and called for the boy’s parents to be punished for not adequately supervising their child.
A Facebook page called “Justice for Harambe-Rest In Peace” received more than 84,000 “likes” within hours of its creation. The page’s description says it was created to “raise awareness of Harambe’s murder” and includes YouTube tributes and memes celebrating the western lowland gorilla and admonishing zoo officials.

Two online petitions  demanding justice for the gorilla have been created with thousands of signatures already signed.
“Shooting an endangered animal is worse than murder,” a commenter from Denmark named Per Serensen wrote on the page. “Soooo angry.”
Where is the outrage, grief, compassion, protests, the "soooo angry" about this dead baby, where are the petitions for an end to the silence of killing babies, children, adults, human beings who are dying every day because the world does not care.
Victims of injustice all over the world, whether they are here in America or in the middle of an ocean are treated in the same indifferent manner, no-one cares about them, deadly silence that is now the sicko norm of our endangered human society.
The Gorilla gets the outrage and the dead baby gets nothing, not even a Face Book Page.
We truly live in a fucked up world .