Tuesday, July 3, 2012

VULTURES-A LESSON LEARNED ABOUT YOUR CHILDREN

I remind myself everyday to never take what you have for granted. So stop pissing, whining about stupid insignificant things and focus on the really important things in your life, if you are a parent, that means your children. Sometimes easier said than done with our busy lives these days.


June 21st will forever be the worst day of my life, the day my amazing, wonderful son Steven Nathaniel Wolkoff was taken from us and his life stolen from him at the age of 30 by the negligent acts of others who don't care about what they did to him.  

I will never be at peace, or have any peace as I fear Steven remains forever in limbo, perhaps never will he be able to rest in peace. I wish peace was something  that could be bottled and sold, as I would purchase the entire inventory and send it to Steven, my family, myself.


I have done and will continue to do the very best I can to obtain Justice for Steven. Sadly, it appears that there will never be any Justice for Steven, as the many Entities and people who are in political, judicial, legal power are vultures in a myriad of corrupt, vile, toxic, dysfunctional systems which they cowardly hide behind to manipulate, interpret, and use in ways that allow them to circumvent the sworn duties they have to uphold our Laws. It is all about their covering up and avoiding being held accountable for their actions, inactions, lies, and sub human behavior.


The life and death of my son Steven means absolutely nothing to those who prey on innocent victims as they hold zero value for a human life, instead trying to protect their own asses from being held responsible for their deadly negligence.
 
The Judge is simply supposed to rule on July 11th whether our case has any merit to go forward in the legal process and that it is not frivolous as claimed by the County, State and Ambulance Company. That is all he is charged to do, simply determining yes or no that there is the minimum, even tiniest possibility of negligence on their part, thereby allowing our case to proceed. 

Clearly our case is not frivolous, it more than meets the criteria of having merit, which should allow the Case to proceed to a Jury trial, where jurors will decide based on the facts, whether what happened was wrong, and that we suffered deep emotional grief from what was done. It is called due process and every citizen of the United States is guaranteed it under the Constitution.


Instead we have an unfeeling, cowardly San Mateo County community "circling their wagons", with a Judge who will likely rule once again against us, totally ignoring the facts, inappropriately expanding his own powers to be the Judge, jury, and decision maker, simply because he can. 

Pisses the shit out of me. What a fucking circus, a shit hole of laws made to be stretched, bent, twisted, broken by those who don't give a damn about providing Justice for victims or following the Laws according to the way they are written. if the Judge rules against us, our case is dead.


In particular, the Court, Legal System, "Privacy Laws" such as HIPPA and Public Health Coroners laws have been bastardized by the Insurance Co's, Coroners, politicians, and the long list of scumbags to be used to deny regular people of their human rights, especially those who are legitimately entitled to have their privacy protected, obtain justice, receive the rights intended to be provided by these Laws.


A perfect example is Steven's case where we are not able to get  critical info on the Paramedics, their Supervisors, their follow-up meetings discussing the negligence of all of them, and many other critical pieces of information  denied to us because "it would violate the HIPPA Law" which were designed to protect individuals such as Steven, ourselves. Instead these prick cowards ironically use this same law for them to hide behind so they can avoid being held accountable for killing Steven. What a sham, they won't release the information to us because "it would violate Steven's right to privacy", but they can kill him and withold this information by claiming they cannot violate Steven's privacy. Makes sense right, not really, but it is legal and misused all the time to protect those who have committed acts that kill people. 


These injustices are taking place throughout our Country, this so called Democracy called the United States of America, a Nation that has become a joke when it comes to the reality of protecting it's citizens, and providing freedom. It is all a phony mirage of propaganda that falsely claims we are a Country of Laws, a model of Democracy, when the truth is our Country is a cesspool of corruption, controlled by those in power who have no intention of doing what is best for we the people.


The Coroner owns your body, not you, not your next of kin as we all believe. No, the Laws as to what a Coroner can and cannot do are written deliberately in a weak, poorly defined, ambiguous way so that the limits of what a Coroner can do are almost unlimited. The Coroners powers derived from these laws are specifically written this way by certain politicians who are "owned" by special interest groups, in consciously NOT saying very much what the Coroners Office cannot do, thereby making just about anything they do legal by default, because it is not specified in the Laws as being prohibited.


In Steven's case the defendants San Mateo County, The great State of California, and American Medical Response desecrated Steven's brain by having their private pathologist remove Steven's remains to her own private place of work, from the protective custody of the Coroner. She then dissected Steven's brain into 20 pieces, this all taking place without our permission as Steven's parents, 2 years after the Coroner of San Mateo County issued his final findings and closed the case.


All this was done in response to our legal suit against them and in an attempt on their part to prove that their Para-Medics did not kill Steven. In the end they were never able to prove that because the truth medically beyond a doubt is in the Coroners report performed by his own Pathologist that the Para Medics did kill Steven by negligence of missing his airway, instead mistakenly pumping 60 pounds of pressurized air into his chest cavity, literally causing Steven to explode, a horrifically, painful slow death for my son. 

I have seen the pictures of Steven after he exploded, they are indescribably horrific, forever embedded in my brain. I cannot forget that image, it would haunt any human being yet these bastards who killed Steven are able to somehow not feel the evil they have done. I do not how they can live with themselves knowing what they have done.


Certainly this is more than enough to prove that our legal action is not a frivolous legal case but so far the Judge disagrees with us. We appealed his decision and his response will come on July 11th.


I received an e-mail in response to one of my Blog posts "Shame on San Mateo County from a person that I will call "anonymous". I don't know this person but it speaks volumes about the way human life is erased by those in Government who instead of helping us, will do anything, including murdering its citizens, to escape their being held responsible for fairly, equally, applying to the laws of the land to all of us, instead of only those they decide to use in their getting away with breaking the Laws, including the taking of a human life, mutilation, desecration of those in life and in death, whatever it takes for them to avoid being found guilty of violating the Law.

-----Original Message-----
From:
To:
Sent:
Subject: your son


Jerry,
 
I read your blog and  you are not alone.  My dad was buried in 2010 without his brain, and I never learned of this until after his burial.  There was no reason at all to keep it. None.  Every time I visit his grave, I have terrible imagery. I am so very sorry for your loss and for the insult upon the injury.
 
The pathologist who made that decision was Dr.------------------------------------ in California. He was ruled incompetent by the California State Bar in 2006 and was fired many times and traveled the nation doing negligent work.  


A Frontline documentary called "Post Mortem " uncovered a huge mess in the coroner system in the  U.S.  If you have not seen it, I suggest you watch it.  It helps to know that there are those out there working hard to change the system that hurt you and your family and so many others.
 
 
Very powerful writing from another victim and family who feel what we are going through, have experienced the same indifference, ARROGANCE OF THE LAW in ignoring innocent victims, erasing facts, erasing human lives, families scarred forever by these acts of depravity.  New laws need to be passed but it is doubtful that this will happen, as self interest groups rule our country.

There are thousands of victims families who have been treated in this inhuman, illegal manner because those in power can do whatever they want without being afraid of being prosecuted by the system. They make the laws and break the laws with impunity, but hold the rest of us to a different standard when we are accused of breaking a law.

All of us have many different stresses and demands made upon ourselves as part of daily life. As a result there are so many difficulties in balancing our commitments to work, children, family, and even ourselves.


Putting things into perspective is a hard thing for people to understand but it is one of the most important things we can do to maintain our sanity.


It can be best understood by a comment I made on my son Steven Nathaniel Wolkoff's Memorial Page in September 23, 2011 and a recent reply dated June 29, 2012 June 29th 2012 .


Dear Steven:
         Today, September 23, 2011 is your 34th birthday.
It has been 3 and a half years since you were killed.


I remember when you were born and the magical, feelings of being there, watching you, my first child, as you breathed life as part of the miraculous moments of birth. I remember the happy times we all had being together as a family, experiencing the precious baby, child, teenager, and man you became.


I remember how you always asked me as a child to tell you a story before going to sleep, in particular you wanted to hear story’s about my own childhood. No sooner did I finish the story, you would lovingly say to me “tell me the story again”. I remember so much more, I will never forget you, and the unique love we shared as son and father.


I remember how proud you always made me feel that you were more than any father could ever want in a son.
I miss you more than anything I can say in words. I love you more than anything can describe that I feel. It was 30 years of love and happiness that you gave to all of your family. You taught me how to love and the meaning of what is important about life.


You will never be 34, never be all that you would have become in embracing a full life if you had been allowed to live.


The brutal reality is that every single day and night you are not here, and I am sorry for your life being stolen from you, that you cannot feel the sun, rain, snow, air, laughter, be with those you love, and enjoy the simple every day experiences of life.


I hope you feel no fear, no pain any more, that you are not lost, or alone, and I often wonder if you are here, in some way your soul still living, perhaps the red Robin that often perches on the tree limb outside of my window, or in the wind as it touches my face. I want to comfort you, touch you, talk to you, there is so much catching up to do, but none of this is possible.


I think of you almost all the time. I see your face everywhere, I hear your voice all the time as young men come and go and it is as if you were just with me, my hugging you and kissing your cheeks.


I think of you when I hear the song “Tears In Heaven”, it makes me wonder, ask unanswered questions, and sometimes cry. I dedicate it to you, forever, my beloved first born, my Stevie.
                             TEARS IN HEAVEN
                         The pain of your death gets worse every day that goes by. There is no Steven to touch anymore. I know this was not how it was meant to be. In this part of life we were all supposed to be smiling. Steven should be with his family, friends, loved ones, at the ballgame. He should be across the table at holidays, eating, blowing out the candles on his birthday cake. He should be living, not being written about being dead. I miss you so very much as only a parent who has lost a child can describe of an emptiness, feelings that never goes away, of the deepest, darkest, most painful hole inside our gut. I said it often to you, that I LOVE YOU STEVEN, and you ALWAYS responded to me ” I LOVE YOU TOO DAD”. I so miss the words, the feelings, the hello’s and the goodbye’s. I never knew that you would not return, that it was the last time we would see each other, talk on on the phone, and say the words of our love. It breaks my heart. I LOVE YOU STEVEN but there is no response anymore. Love-Dad.
Today almost a year after that post a beautiful reply written from someone by the name of Kristen who I also do not know, was posted to Steven's Memorial Page. Her reply (see below) certainly puts life in perspective and gives me hope that some good things can come from the horrific death of my son Steven.
"To the parents of Steven, I stumbled upon this webpage, saw the picture of your son and started to read your comments. I can’t even imagine the pain you feel inside! I can’t stop crying…my heart is breaking for you! I am grateful to have read your words about how you loved your son because I am a mother of 4 young children and I am having difficulty enjoying time with them and playing with them and just snuggling with them…life seems so busy and overwhelming! Tomorrow and every day after, I will make time to do the things I want to do with my children. Thank you for reminding me to cherish my children EVERY day! I am so sorry that your heart aches everyday for Steven! I hope you both find peace very soon!"
Her words deeply affected me and I needed to write her back (see below):
"Dear Kristen- I don’t know who you are but the feelings expressed in your comment have had a deep impact on me. I appreciate your understanding that Steven and our family have suffered a horrific loss that will never allow us to live in peace, there will never be closure. I cherish the 2 children I still have and am grateful every day for them being a central part of my life. Life is unpredictable and we all need to prioritize what is important for us to focus on. Our children are the legacy that we leave on this earth and there is only a limited time that we have to be a part of their lives. It is comforting to know that something good can come out of the tragic loss of my son Steven when a parent such as yourself realizes the importance of making themselves available to spend more time to be with their children. Tell your children every day how much you love them, cherish , feel, teach, and learn how irreplaceable your children are. Never think that losing a child happens only to ”other families”. It happened to us, and will sadly happen to many others like us who never ever imagined burying their own child. No parent should have to bury their child but it happens all the time, every day and night. Take nothing for granted and live each day making your kids a central part of your life. Your willingness in sharing personal feelings within you that were evoked by my above post recognizes the pain, suffering of our family.  We will never forget our beloved Steven Nathaniel Wolkoff, but he is gone forever. We will always have wonderful memories of the great times spent with him as a young child and young brilliant man. People such as yourself can also keep his memory alive by learning from our tragedy the importance of their own kids. As Steven’s father, I thank you for caring".                 The biggest shortcoming of most most decent people is their failing to usually appreciate the things in our life that are taken for granted. The next time you feel that your life, job,whatever sucks, or that your personal "issues" are more important than those of your children, wake yourself up, take your head out of your ass and learn to not sweat the small stuff and focus on what is important.    You never know what the next minute, hour, day will bring, life change happens in a nano second, there is no time left when forever dead is at your door, there are no do overs.                             

Thursday, June 21, 2012

THE HEADSTONE IN A CEMETERY NEVER LIES

null

                 THURSDAY, JUNE 21, 2012

                            




THE HEADSTONE IN A CEMETERY NEVER LIES


STEVEN NATHANIEL WOLKOFF


SEPTEMBER 23, 1977- JUNE 21, 2008


BELOVED SON, BROTHER,GRANDSON,
NEPHEW, COUSIN, CHERISHED LOVE
GOOD FRIEND


GENTLY THEY GO,
THE BEAUTIFUL,
THE TENDER, THE KIND


FOREVER IN OUR HEARTS


Today is the fourth year of the horrific day, June 21, 2008, that you were cruelly killed at the age of 30, your life brutally stolen from you, your family, friends, me.

I posted the other pictures above of my son 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.

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 never said the traditional Mourners Kaddish prayer for Steven because it's words are meaningless to me.

I wrote my own Kaddish for Steven because his pain and loss need to be honestly described in real words, that accurately reflect my true feelings.               

STEVEN NATHANIEL WOLKOFF'S MOURNERS KADDISH :


Steven Nathaniel Wolkoff, Shmuel Nacham BenYaakov,  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 horrific evidence photos. 

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.

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, inactions, 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 for you about the DUI, drug impaired, unlicensed driver, speeding out of control, who didn't care about your life.

I am sorry about the inept, credentialed, qualified medical first responders who had no idea, not a clue, of what they were doing medically to you as they killed you.

I am sorry for you, that cowards who know the truth, but have no conscience to speak, remain silent, lie, omit, and cover up the facts that they all contributed to killing you. 

I am sorry for those whose toxic evil allowed them to desecrate your body in death and refuse to take accountability for their violation of your body, your soul. 

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

I am sorry for the evil ones who have tried to defame you and erase you ever lived.

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

I am sorry that the Legal system is weak, corrupt and I have not been able to obtain real justice for you.

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

I am sorry you did not leave the beach 1 second earlier or later to return home.

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 held 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 first responders from touching you.

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

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

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 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 you are deep inside a cold, dark grave, rotting away, alone.

I am sorry you are blind and will never see again.

I am sorry you will never experience the rest of your life, nor remember the wonderful life you had until that final second before you died.

I am sorry you will never be able to realize your dreams.

I am sorry you will never feel the joy of being a father, husband , uncle, grandfather, great grandfather.

I am sorry you will never have another birthday.

I am sorry you will never again feel the experiences and potential of your incredibly gifted skills.

I am sorry you will never again be happy.

I am sorry you will never again feel the warmth of the sun.

I am sorry you will never again feel the wind on your face.

I am sorry you will never again feel the rain, snow, water.

I am sorry you will never again listen to music.

I am sorry you will never again play music on your Fender bass guitar.

I am sorry that you will never again enjoy reading books.

I am sorry you will never again ride your bike.

I am sorry you will never again play Ultimate Frisbee.

I am sorry you will never again play softball.

I am sorry you will never again play basketball.

I am sorry you will never again swim.

I am sorry you will never again be able to express your kindness and caring for others.

I am sorry you will never again explore your genius ideas that changed technology.

I am sorry you will never again experience the excitement of your life.

I am sorry you will never again be creative with your ideas, hands, and brain.

I am sorry you will never again discuss with passion the things that you believe in.

I am sorry you will never again write, expressing the magical beauty of your words.

I am sorry that you will never again feel love. Never.

I am sorry that you will never again be with those close to you now and in the future.

I am sorry for you that life is unfair.

I am sorry because you didn't deserve this to happen to you.

I am sorry for you that there is no answer to " WHY, WHY YOU"?

I am sorry for you that there is no god.

I am sorry for you that there is no heaven, just a dark, cold grave.

I am sorry that you cannot rest in peace.

I am sorry that you cannot wake up from this nightmare, that all this is real, irreversible, final.

I am sorry for you that time has stopped forever.

I am sorry that some people have forgotten about you.

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

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.

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

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

 
 Hebrew -Amen. Love, Dad.

Wednesday, June 6, 2012

HE CANNOT REST IN PEACE

It's that time of the year again. Another June 6th to mark the date of his execution by evil.

Today's Blog is In memory of Samuel Wolkoff,
My FATHER, My DAD, tortured and murdered at 42 years of age.

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

MY FATHER was a courageous HERO. 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, moral "systems" to protect him from those that wanted the business that he had built from nothing with his blood and sweat.


All of this because he believed in a code of  personal ethics, morality, integrity that dictated honor, 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 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 the souls of my family.

Today, June 6th, 2012, the world is infinitely more evil, corrupt, life is cheaper, scum bags thrive as they take what they want, from who ever they want.

There was no shame in 1958, no conscience on the part of the evil scum that murdered my father. They have all done extremely well financially and life wise for themselves, their families. 


There is no shame today in 2012 as we live in a world where corruption reigns supreme in every part of life, the value of a human life is treated as worthless, and money remains the god that is worshipped by our society.

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 strongly in doing the right thing. Yet somehow, he who had nothing, created a thriving business, and maintained his righteousness of believing in goodness, the legal system, and that goodness is rewarded.


In the end, he was dead wrong and paid for it with his life.



Dead heroes, no matter how courageous they are, are not recognized by society for their acts of courage. 

There has and is a pervasive societal process that stinks like a toxic cesspool, spreads as a deadly cancer which pays homage to those who are corrupt, steal, and become powerfully rich with money. Those human beings, who are good seem to be ignored, forgotten, and deemed fools for believing in fairness, a code of respect.

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? What must he have been thinking during those horrific hours of going in and out of consciousness?

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


SAMUEL WOLKOFF IN HIS MEMORY


           HE CANNOT REST IN PEACE

Samuel Wolkoff- June 6th 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. 



Certain facts in this blog post and also in the book "Blood Relation" have been deliberately edited to protect myself and others. To learn more information from the bookYOU CAN CLICK ON THIS LINK,
OR THIS LINK.

The following are excerpts taken from the book, "Blood Relation":

  BLOOD  RELATION-P.130


"Thanksgiving  morning, 1957, and left on the floor of a parked car in Jersey City. Thirteen  one-dollar bills were fanned out on the backseat above them. The tableau, and the fact that one of the men had taken a bullet in his mouth and one in each eye, led a supervisor to surmise in the Jersey Journal that they'd been killed as payback for a "gangland double cross." Harold's version of events confirmed this. He said that he and a team of mobsters had carried out the killings. The victims had been indiscreet in their handling of a truck full of stolen cobalt, he said, and the Cosa Nostra boss who assigned the hits "wanted to teach every­ one a lesson."


There  was Samuel Wolkoff, whose body had been found on  June 6,1958, in a parking lot near the West Side Highway.He was forty-two years old and a partner in a meat packing company. Harold and two men whom the F.B.I. identified as Genovese soldiers killed him because he supposedly knew the whereabouts of a hoard of stolen cash and jewels to which the Genovese's felt entitled.

Harold had walked into Wolkoff's office on West Fourteenth Street, according to the statements he gave, and claimed to be an N.Y.P.D. de­tective sent to arrest him. He told Wolkoff that a surveillance operation had implicated him in a case, then let him call his wife from a pay phone to tell her he wouldn't be getting home on time. Wolkoff begged not to be put in handcuffs, so Harold held off until they got into his car. Harold's two accomplices were waiting for them in a cream-and-orange Mer­cury.They drove Wolkoff to a house in the town of River Edge, New Jersey, where they alternately tightened and loosened a rope around his neck and questioned him about where the money  and  jewels were. Harold told the others, "This  guy isn't going to tell you anything be­ cause he doesn't  know anything. Let's kill him now." Then, as he re­counted to the agents, he and one of his henchmen took hold of the rope


BLOOD RELATION-P.131

and strangled Wolkoff to death."Subsequent events," an F.B.I. report notes, "proved  that the 14th Street butcher never did have control of any alleged fund."


On and on it went, over the course of two years,with Harold doling out information in bits and pieces, depending on his mood. When he was unhappy with his prison treatment, the Feds would move him to a new facility. Sometimes, once he had established his own participation in a given murder, Harold would narrate in the third person,  referring to himself as "you know who" or "the other guy." In some of the 302s, as the F.B.I. reports are known, Harold says that he was the person who fired the gun, or tightened the garroting rope, and so on. In others, he gives the credit to a collaborator or leaves his own role vague. In the de­scriptions of the latter type of confession, the agents' play-by-play leads to the moment  that Harold and a couple of his thugs are about to commit a murder, then stares elliptically that the victim "was killed" or "was shot," without naming the trigger man.There are also murders he discusses that he claims to have had no part in, explaining that he has merely heard about them.

"The assumption was, he had a primary involvement in these muders he was talking about," one of the F.B.I.agents who visited him told me, and two of Harold 's lawyers confirmed this. "He  wouldn't have survived in the Mafia, because they couldn't have controlled  him. But they put him to work."

Given the sheer magnitude and dimension of the confessions, some people in the government who did not hear them firsthand were initially skeptical. David M.Satz, Robert Kennedy's newly appointed U.S. At­torney for New jersey at the rime, says that when the F.B.I. first mailed him the interview reports, "I thought this guy was just popping off." John Wilgus, an agent charged with  running down Harold's  claims.


         BLOOD  RELATION-P.262

"gunned down in gangland fashion." The Manhattan District Attorney had called Scanlon "the most vicious goon on the waterfront." He had once been charged with opening fire on a Greenwich Village stoop after a girlfriend dumped him, killing a sixty-six-year-old  woman and a teenage boy.

"When I saw the newspaper, I was purely disgusted," she said. "My image of my father was always this wonderful man, good father, good husband. My mother talks about a soul mate. I cried all the way home. I told my husband and he said, 'There was always rumors about your dad and I didn't  mention it.'"

Scanlon's daughter had never heard of Harold either,and had no in­terest in learning more about her father's death."I don't care if the case is ever solved," she said."It's over, it's in the past, but they should hook him into a chair and electrocute him. I'm sorry. I want to meet the man and spit in his face."

She was by turns,impassive,sarcastic,grieving,irritable, and above all ambivalent, even about  the loss of her father. "Maybe we'd have been worse off if my father had lived with his criminal activities and not been killed," she said."I  think my mother thanks God that they didn't do it at the house. She raised five children with good values. There's been no arrests or troubles with the law."

She wanted to know the "nationality" of the name Konigsberg. I told her.  "He  was  Jewish in the Mafia?" she said. "How many people did be kill again? I'll tell you, in my religion, he's not going to heaven with that on his record."


Most recently, I was contacted by Jerry Wolkoff, a man with a surname I immediately recognized. The protracted strangulation of Samuel Wolkoff, his father, was one of the murders Harold had boasted of to the F.B.I.

BLOOD  RELATION-P.263
Jerry's ordeal was no less excruciating than that of the other sur­vivors. He was ten years old when he lost his father, in 1958.When his father's sister heard about it on her kitchen radio, she collapsed from a fatal heart attack, and the family ended up holding a joint funeral. "I became a husband and a father and I became a social worker, but I have a hard time getting close to people," Jerry said. "I been cut open. My kids are angry with me. They say I taught them how to take when somebody pays you a compliment never to believe them. Well, how do you relate to people when your upbringing was such that when you were a boy your father was tied up like a pig and killed?"

About ten years ago, Jerry began to look into the case, filing requests "with every law-enforcement office from here to Guam," and hiring a private eye. Through these efforts, he was able to glean that the prime suspect had been Harold Konigsberg- a detective let him know surrep­titiously that Harold's name, which he had never heard before, was all over a heavily redacted case file-but that all of the government's in­vestigations had been subsequently left to rot. Eventually, his was, too. "I gave up because after a while none of the authorities would return my messages," Jerry said. "Somebody got killed and nobody cared."

And though Jerry had called me looking for answers and I was able to share some with him in the form of Harold's F.B.I. statements, he still couldn't see the point in holding out any hope for resolution. "It's useless," he said when I visited his house on Long Island. "It's  not going to give me back the past forty-seven years with my father."

In his  dining room, Jerry took a picture frame from the credenza and thrust it at me. It  held a faded photograph of his parents at their wed­ding. "Look at this,"he said.
  
          "Samuel Wolkoff was a person. He Lived."

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.

The autopsy showed that my father struggled so bravely to live, that his eyeballs eventually burst, and he finally stopped breathing. His body then deposited at a desolate gas station, in the middle of the night, thrown out onto the ground, as a piece of garbage. Hold that entire scene in your mind forever, it is I can assure you gruesome, and haunting in its profoundly graphic endless replay, over and over in my mind.


Oh, as an aside, his sister learned about his murder on the radio news, she immediately dropped dead of a heart attack in front of her four children.

The family never talked about it for 40 plus years, not even to speak my father's name, it is the taboo secret code followed by many families of victims, as if somehow, the unbearable pain would get less. I have spent most of my life investigating his case and eventually shared it with our family. Never have figured out if I did good or bad by reopening the wounds, but I do know, those are permanent gaping, seeping, toxic, painful holes, they never really were ever closed.

I have been doing more thinking than usual lately, not necessarily a good thing for me, as I yearn to be one of those who are able to practice the art of ignorance is bliss.

How can a loved one who dies suffering, rest in peace, ever? Seems like a simple thing to believe, say, 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 us.

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.


When Konigsberg was in prison years ago awaiting trial on extortion charges, he initiated contact with the F.B.I. He began confessing to these F.B.I. agents about these murders, many of which he had committed himself. They suggested the possibility of immunity, but they did not give him immunity for what he told them.  

Youve got ten murders that I was able to find explicit wriiten confessions to from Konigsberg, and another nine or ten he was aware of. These were cases that for whatever reason the government didnt want to pursue.   


These unprosecuted and officially unsolved murders of human beings that nobody in the corrupt, cowardly U.S. Justice system  and Government had cared enough to do anything about them

To this day, law enforcement has continued to cover up the real reasons why nothing was ever been done to prosecute Konigsberg for these murders. My requests to do so, have resulted in threats made to me by law enforcement officials and then complete arrogant indifference on their part.They didn't prosecute him because of many reasons that only "we" know as the ugly truths. 

I have absolutely no idea, not the slightest clue why over 15,700 people as of this date have viewed my blog. I am sometimes intrigued as to why and what would anyone want to obtain from my words that could bring them here. I see search terms on my blog from people who arrived looking for information about my father, a lot of other interesting search words.

Some of you are the cowardly, but powerfully connected scum bags who murdered my father, as well as those of you in arrogant, incompetent, corrupt law enforcement, 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. 

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, truthful 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.

 Justice not served, justice not given, nothing complicated, nothing new, an innocent, good person, a human life has always been cheap. I did the best I could to obtain that justice. My father's error 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 deed he did, paid back by these very same, who had him murdered. Horrifically ugly, but brutally true, and they all got away with it, didn't bother any of them, never mattered to them.

 The March continues, May/June are the busiest  months for me, I dread this time of the year, horrifically gruesome memories of human, innocent lives wasted. The rest of the year, the ever present Demons make sure we remember those, whose memories others have tried to erase, these are my family, they  were human beings who will never be forgotten, they lived and never deserved to die in such horribly suffering ways. 

Today we remember my courageous father. He is not resting in peace, that is certain.

Why? Why Him???