What we have here is a business attorney, Rudy Bilawski of Neumiller & Beardslee in Stockton, who takes “one week of vacation time”1 to do some trial work and then complains that trial work is not his forté and essentially wants out of the case. A couple of monfths later, my trial lawyer who specializes in personal injury, Larry Drivon of Belli, Drivon & Bakerink in Stockton2 (to whom I was referred by Bilawski), will tell me that business law is not his forté and he wants out. So I have a business attorney who does some trial work (to my knowledge, the only work he did on the case) and then wants out because he does not like trial work. And I have a personal injury lawyer who takes on a business case and then wants out because it is a business case. Go figure.3 It should be noted that the Interrogatories posted herewith were prepared for and sent to Haig Berberian’s lawyers. However, these Interrogatories were not sent to the lawyers for Wells Fargo Bank. They were sent to an attorney for their legal counsel; namely, James Wiezel at 2 Embarcadero Center in San Francisco. But he was not on the directory in the lobby of this huge office building with many very large law firms and businesses. His law firm, Thelen, Marrin, Johnson & Bridges, was indeed listed. But, as can be seen on the Proof of Mailing, the Interrogatories were not addressed to them. And the zip code for this firm is 94111, not 94108. Additionally, and as can also be seen on the Proof of Mailing, the zip code for Steven B. Sacks, a lawyer for Haig Berberian’s San Francisco counsel, Titchell, Maltzman, Mark, Bass, Ohleyer & Mishel, is completely missing. Try mailing something without the inclusion of the zip code of destination and see what happens. And one more thing. No “Esq’s” were appended to the names of the two attorneys, probably to make sure that if the envelopes did make their way to the printed street address (assuming that they were, in fact, mailed to begin with and not handed over to the other side before lighting their cigars, shuffling the cards, teeing off, or the first dance began), the mailman would not know, at least in the case of Wiezel (floor unknown), that he was an attorney. And if the papers did make their way to opposing counsel, said counsel would have the choice to either opt out of acknowledging their receipt or respond to the received papers at any time that they so chose. (I do not have a motive to offer for this minutia, but I like to keep track of all details, because the devil may turn out to be in them) Was all of this stuff attorney and/or secretary error? Maybe. But maybe not. In this convoluted case of mine, you never know what might be an intentional mistake for some nefarious reason. I had to watch everything once I knew that intentional errors and omissions were being made and that the attorneys on both sides were operating in accordance with a coordinated agenda to which I was not privy.4 Did Haig Berberian’s lawyers respond to the Interrogatories? Yes. But as stated above, among other liberties, the addressee and address “errors” would give them indeterminate extra time to do so. As such, they could pretty much pick and choose their time to respond, coordinating their response with the hidden agenda proceeding in this matter. (And yes, the implication here is cooperation between the two sides) This entire website is based on a timeline because I have found that dates, time periods, lapsing of time and statutes of limitation are a common synchronistic theme throughout the case around which the timeline revolves and vice versa. And this is why I zero in on and make note of areas wherein either side can slip and slide around statutory deadlines while zig-zagging in and out of the progressing relevant timetable. Regardless of whether or not they officially received the subject document, Wells Fargo Bank’s counsel, Thelen Marrin, never responded in any way regarding these Interrogatories which were prepared for and propounded upon Haig Berberian’s counsel, Titchell Maltzman. And no Interrogatories were ever prepared for and propounded upon Thelen Marrin for their direct answers. You would think that both conspirators would be accountable and therefore be held to account. Wells Fargo Bank was the party-defendant having the strictest fiduciary duty to me, a duty that they breached in grand fashion. Yet Drivon and Bilawski angled the entire case at Haig Berberian. And the question is and remains, why? 5
1 This is an example of curious attorney behavior in my case. You never know just what lawyers are up to at any given time, especially when they’re clandestinely up to something. Which is often. At least in my case. And I smell something here. Has anyone ever seen anything like this? Does anyone out there have a logical explanation as to why Rudy Bilawski would take “one week of vacation time” to do the only work that he did on my case? Does this mean that he did not officially work on my case when he prepared my Interrogatories during those lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer? Or does it mean that he went out of his way to prepare them? And just who is Bilawski addressing in the cover letter? Larry Drivon, me, or you and John Q. Public out there just in case the story gets told? (Such as now, probably to The Brotherhood’s chagrin, hopefully sticking deep in their craw) And if this be true about “vacation time,” why would he mention it? Was my case too unimportant to warrant using his regular hard-at-work non-vacation days to work on my case? Or was my case too important, needing his undivided attention, to use his regular run-of-the-mill everyday ho-hum work hours with their many interruptions to work on my case? What’s his point?-Perhaps, in the future, if it proved that he had screwed up on the Interrogatories, he could then say that all that week when he was on vacation in Bremerhaven, he had drunk a little bit too much Schnapps? (Ich hatte getrunken ein wenig zu viel Schnaps-to be exact. I took German in high school. What can I say. I can say that I’ve forgotten most of it.-I Googled) 2 The firm is now known as Drivon, Turner & Waters. 3 The cover letter from Rudy Bilawski to Larry Drivon dated September 13, 1984 regarding the Interrogatories instigated an angry call from me when I received it in the mail on September 28, 1984. As you can see, Rudy states his intention to essentially withdraw from my case. In fact, this letter indicates that he already had one foot out the door. Actually, both feet were already essentially firmly planted outside of my lawsuit parameters unless he intended to add his two cents to the case as indicated in his letter, free of charge. Why Rudy had put on a trial lawyer’s hat with regard to the case to begin with is anyone’s guess. That was Drivon’s job. It is so obviously fishy that one would think that Rudy wanted me to know that his participation stunk like a dead mackerel. Well, I did know and he knew that I knew beforehand. But seeing it in writing pushed my buttons. Maybe Bilawski anticipated that it would. He wanted out altogether and I gave him his reason, if not “excuse,” to make it formal. He got his wish. (A somewhat paranoid view of things, yes. But it still makes sense, whether actually and factually true or not) Can anyone understand why I would be angered by his letter? I once asked Rudy why his firm’s trial department and its top trial lawyer, Jim Askew (who was present during most of the meetings with me, my father and Bilawski), did not want the case. Rudy responded as follows (virtually verbatim): “He is simply not interested in it. Jim runs five miles a day. I could run five miles a day myself, but I’m just not interested in doing so.” I was a runner at the time, running three miles a day. After my meeting with Rudy and from then on, I started running five miles a day. (I don’t know why. I was just interested in doing so) 4 Such errors and omissions would be manipulated by the attorney if not executed by him. Neither a legal secretary (Sheri L. Navone, in this particular case) nor a paralegal would ever be allowed into the loop of a case like this. Of course, there is no other case like this. There has been nothing like it, ever. (I came of age during the sixties. I believe that the psychodrama around which my lawsuit revolves and vice versa, is as unique to the world of law as The Beatles are and were to the world of music) This website/exposé details my involvement in what must be considered a “phantom case,” which was upstaged and playing second fiddle to some other similar matter in a parallel legal world involving my father. And my particular reaction to this grand sham was an ingredient that was never anticipted by any of the players. Not even my psychiatrist of fourteen years had a clue, because I didn’t get my shit together until I left therapy. With no prior notice, I surprised Dr. Arnold A. Sheuerman, Jr. of Stockton one day by exiting cold turkey. And I think that I left The Doctor believing that those around me, my circle of friends, were all losers. Actually, of all the people I know, I was the biggest loser in the bunch, thanks to The Doctor and his circle of friends. Either way, he was wrong. He’d missed one guy, though I’d talked about this friend while in session with The Doctor from time to time over the years. I remember telling The Doctor that this friend would be the last person to whom I’d want to mention my lawsuit (and this did turn out to be the case), because this particular friend would be interested in it. I didn’t really want to tell him when the time came, because I was tired and weary of the matter and I didn’t feel that I had the energy to do anything more. But in my mind, I was out of options and fatigue didn’t quite cut it. So I told him. He was indeed interested. And a rock star entered the scene. The help that I received from my new confidante in the matter after I left The Doctor’s so-called “care” would make it possible for me to clarify and define Dr. Sheuerman’s agenda, the full monty. Three years after extricating myself from The Doctor’s clutches, on August 1, 1987, I did indeed proceed to confide in my most dependable, loyal, substantive, educated, scrupulously honest and ethical, intellectual and intellectually curious friend. Unquestionably cerebral, yet I have never met anyone else with such wit and funnier. On top of this, he was and is the most generous non-materialistic person that I have ever met. Vocationally, he is a poetically-minded singer/songwriter and artist extraōrdinōrius. As indicated above, this confidante befriended me in an unprecedented valorous way. It is astonishing what he did on my behalf. (I may be the central character in this saga/story, but as I just inferred, he’s the hero) Even though he believed that I had gone into this thing with my eyes open, he saw as I do now, that the way I had been treated over the years was inhumane. But he had conscientiously not allowed himself to come to any distinct conclusions about my case or the treatment I had received until he had studied the case-file and had met and seen the demeanor of some of the players. And most probably all of the players he met and those who knew him through the “new me,” had no clue what my friend’s motives were. I wasn’t paying him and there was no sex involved. What the hell was he so diligently unrelentingly and untiringly helping me helping me for? That’s their world. I can’t speak regarding my friend’s motives. I can only speak to what his motives were not. And his motives were not anything the players had ever seen. Anyway, it was six months before he agreed with me and knew without a doubt that there was indeed something rotten in Stockton. In response to my pleading for the truth from the players, I was told absolutely nothing. In fact, I was abandoned. Oh yes, my psychiatrist, who involved himself in the matter early on by making comments about the issues, some comments being bold-faced and brazen as though he was in the know and squarely in the loop, threw me a bone of information now and then. But only when he had to. In a tight and sticky legal situation wherein I was going out of my mind, he was performing a follow-up favor for Rudy Bilawski to whom he had originally referred me and my case (and in whose law firm The Doctor’s two sons were interning or had done so in the past). My friend thought that Dr. Sheuerman’s behavior was the most egregious of all of the players. Evidently so, because of who The Doctor was and his position of trust. This was not only a legal case. It was a psychodrama (a continuing study in psychology as well) and The Doctor was the main orchestrator of that tormenting aspect of the matter. Additionally, the treatment that I was enduring at the hands of my deceitful father in concert with whoever was handling his legal matter(s) was horrendous and horrifying. Throughout his tenure as my psychiatrist during the first four years of my involvement in the matter, Dr. Sheuerman waved his maestro’s wand to keep me from going insane and thereby keep all of the attorneys involved out of legal hot water. (Insane, to my knowledge, I never went. But I did experience several bouts of clinical depression for which medication was prescribed and I continue to take them to this day) The attorneys were dancing a little side-step around me (as they did, albeit to a lesser degree, with my father). I discuss this at length elsewhere in this exposé. (The most notable document in this regard can be found in the Timeline at 04/26/88, “‘The Jig is Up’ Letter to Rudy Bilawski”) Anyway, enter my friend and our extraordinary merging of talents created a perfect storm that the players would have to face, thanks to their deceitfulness. And in response to what this new “confidante-counselor” saw in my records and heard in my account, voilà, he masterfully helped me to transform myself into a credible pro per. Katy, bar the door. All of a sudden, I was a contender. I got more literate and literally serious and the players had to take me infinitely more seriously. (Of course, they would never admit to this, because of their sky-high mile-wide egos: “Who does that little piss-ant think he is?!” Answer: “Someone who ended up embarrassing you.” Opposing counsel must have been snickering like Muttley or is it Mumbly) As a result, all hell broke loose. I lifted the lid on a gigantic can of worms. (This website is the lid flipped open to near capacity) It turned out that I had inadvertently set everybody up. The five and one half years leading up to my exit from all of the players’ influence (the period when I was being “good” by not going public, just writing scores of letters to them), all of that craziness, as it were (though a catharsis as well), turned out to be my right lead, a sucker punch. I had told all of the players all along what I planned to do if I wasn’t told the truth about all of the bull that had been going on for years and years and years, most all of which they knew I was memorializing in my notes and letters to them. (At the time, I also meticulously kept a journal which grew to over 6,000 pages. This website picks up where the journal left off. In time, I will post pertinent parts of my hand-written journal to this site as evidence of my private personal thoughts along the way) In response to the sheer hell I’d gone through, with my friend’s help, I would eventually be able to strip the players, who were lawyers, judges, doctors, businessmen, banking and accounting professionals, down to their respective birthday suits. And judging by the level of success that they had achieved with regard to keeping their treacherous game a secret (see Berberian Mystery Theatre), the empty suit filed on my behalf precipitated and thereafter instigated my turning these players into the empty suits that they were. (That is, empty suits with regard to ultimately dealing particularly with me. To my knowledge, no pro per has ever taken their former counsel on like I have. And that is because, not only did I take them on legally, shamelessly and with absolutely nothing to hide, a position affording me unbridled freedom, I took them on outside of court, which is/was not their turf. Hopefully, Berberian Mystery Theatre will ultimately prove my point) When my friend came on board, to put it bluntly, together, we snipped the players’ balls off. All of the players got made, most notably Dr. Sheuerman. My friend was a game-changer and he helped me deliver the left hook with which I knocked the players down. Though not out. I never expected to win per se. As they say, you can’t beat a man at his own game. I was fighting “The Brotherhood.” They watch out for their own and each other. They call it “law.” They are lawyers (and judges). And they wear well-tailored suits (unless they’ve got a Columbo routine going on). But big-time hard-ball law is a blood sport. And innocent people like me get bloodied up in the process. Not that I was ever intimidated, but their experience, education and high IQs ended up meaning virtually nothing. The players were embarrassed by a screwball and a musician. Back in the day, I might have wet my pants had I tried to go tit for tat with a player. As I have said on numerous occasions, I had the handicap of not being sure of my sanity. I was afraid that I might be delusional about my case, both before and after it was filed. I sensed that my lawsuit was phony and I sensed if not knew that I was surrounded by a bunch of liars, every last one of them. But for many many years now, I have been confidant that I could go head-to-head and toe-to-toe, mano a mano with any of the lawyers regarding the civil procedural history of not only my lawsuit, but the handling of matters prior to its filing and the aftermath of it essentially dying on the vine for lack of prosecution. Legally and otherwise, I know the history inside and out, including all of the legal and other players’ roles in all of it. This would, of course, include my father’s role in it as well. The “uncivil” procedural history of the matter is what was crazy, not me. I know that now. I’m not saying that I could take anyone on concerning the legal side of things. The one thing that I can say in a legal sense is that there is no statute of limitations for fraud. The fraud continues and there is a menacing liability that hangs in the air and is still feared by some of the players. Generally speaking, I am good at addressing the common sense side of matters, the side where the things that don’t get filed or put into briefs are taken into account. In other words, the parts that make the other side look silly. For example, see again Paragraph 1 of the main text at the outset of this commentary. Another example would be Rudy Bilawski’s withdrawal letter and his courtesy-copying Dr. Sheuerman. Subtle way of saying that I have mental problems, though it could be said that since the original referral of me and my case came from The Doctor, thereto did the “un-referral” go. Well, I have now put The Doctor and his role in the case into its proper context. (See Timeline, 07/06/96, “The Hypocratic Doctor”) And I have proven at least an unspoken conspiracy between The Doctor and Rudy Bilawski. The Doctor looks petty when compared to his reputation. And the man from Bremerhaven looks verschwörerisch. Getting back to my helpful friend, as far as the case law in my lawsuit is concerned, that’s his department. He could hold his own if challenged. He might have to take leave to look at some law books, but he’d analyze and dispose of any legal bullshit, if that’s what it was. He couldn’t dispose of genuine legal arguments, but he could competently respond to them. Absolutely no one can say that I did not have a great case. Not even my own lawyers, no matter how hard they might now like to try. They already opened their big mouths. They memorialized their opinions of my case. You can see their verification of the strength of my lawsuit and the legal matter as a whole in words immortalized in legal documents and correspondence to me, as well as in my commentary being posted hereto in Berberian Mystery Theatre. My entire attorney-authored legal case, filed in San Francisco County Superior Court is posted to this site and can be found in the Timeline at 08/30/83, “Case File—813484.” Regarding the merits, my friend and I would not have been able to appeal my case, as we did, through the appellate court and on up to the California Supreme Court without a good legitimate case and some legal competence. So much fraud and deceit in the procedure of my case created a house of cards. The players hung themselves by their impudence prior to my friend’s involvement. Moreover, I have too much truth on my side to be any kind of pushover in the matter, legally and otherwise. Dr. Sheuerman brought this to my attention when he was so confident about the case: You have so much truth on your side! (I don’t recall if he was referring to me or my father or both, but at the time, it was my father who may have taken some kind of action. I was still waiting in the wings. But the same rules apply to my present state of affairs. I had and have so much truth on my side that when I finally got mentally organized and legally analyzed their behavior, memorializing the true picture of their legal shenanigans in letters and legal briefs, I wiped the smile right off the face of these court jesters who had represented me) Even though the highest court in the state would not review my Petition for Review, as a pro per and as I said a moment ago, I would eventually get it together enough to meritoriously appeal my case all the way up to the California Supreme Court. My friend and I had become a five-year malignant snafu that just wouldn’t die, metastasizing from the Stanislaus and San Francisco County Superior Courts to the U.S. District Court of Appeals to the Supreme Court of California. (One attorney, a young guy with whom I consulted, who in turn, after smelling the potential of my case, albeit way above his pay-grade, surreptitiously consulted an in-the-loop Brother somewhere, tried his best to kill the appeal of my San Francisco Superior Court case. With his Brothers watching him, it must have been real humiliating that he couldn’t pull off such a minor attorney trick. Michael W. Donahue.-formerly of Modesto, latterly of Pacific Grove. He was deceased in his thirties. Don’t know why. Perhaps his botched “hit” on my case rubbed the Lawyerestra Familia the wrong way. I was too smart for the guy, if I do say so myself. And I can prove it with documentary substantiation. But that’s a whole nother story which I will address elsewhere) This website and exposé as it is, is evidence of my redemption. However, this website along with the story within is the only good concrete thing and all that I’ve got to show for everything that I have done and gone through with regard to this complex enigmatic lawsuit supreme. Sadly, the investigation and scrutinization of the lawsuit (presently existing only within the confines of my mind and this website) and especially my audit of and “casing” the behavior of the players therein/herein, has become my life’s work. Perhaps it all ends with this website, if not with this website’s end. (Berberian Mystery Theatre will remain on the Internet, the World Wide Web, the Information Superhighway and/or out there in Cyberspace for as long as I’m alive. So, if the website disappears, it will be because I’m dead or someone made me an offer that I couldn’t refuse, though the two concepts aren’t mutually exclusive) All in all, as it turns out, and hopefully as may be evident herein, I was born to go after this thing. In my bailiwick and my wheelhouse both. The quest fit me like a glove. My predilection for recognizing and analyzing grotesque bullshit (and not everybody can) provided my bearings in the matter. Don’t get me wrong. This affair became my raison d’être. And it ruined my life. Again, my involvement in the matter emotionally and in terms of thinking time is at thirty-three years and counting. I’d rather be and have been doing other things. My life has passed me by as my September 2, 1980 time-warp continues on. I recall having once said in jest in a letter to Larry Drivon regarding my dedication to this matter: “I regret that I have but one life to give to my lawsuit.” Nevertheless, who knew? (Perhaps Larry did. And Dr. Sheuerman most definitely knew the potential, for he never mentioned any sort of “when” when it came to his optimistic outlook on the scheme of things, although one time he did say that big cases just “inch along and inch along”) The sad and sorry truth is that it turned out to be true with regard to the time that it has taken from my life. Tangible visible consequences are/were aplenty as well, one being the loss of my seventeen-year marriage. Though there were, of course, other contributing factors, my ex-wife said that the main reason she ended up leaving me was because of my obsession with my lawsuit. I’m just stating the fact that the lawsuit cost me a great deal. However, after all that I have invested time-wise, financially and most importantly, emotionally, I have a moral obligation to myself among others to see this thing through to whatever possible end that exists out there in the future, good or bad notwithstanding. As I have said elsewhere, I am not looking for pity. I’m just a guy who got screwed by the powers that be as they forged forth with their lust for money and power, if not “the game” per se. There are others, of course, who have been screwed by worse things than I have been screwed. But no one has ever experienced the nature of the fraud and deceit perpetrated on me in its conspiratorial form involving a renowned psychiatrist (at least here in the Central Valley of California), top of the heap attorneys, a national bank and its largest-in-the-USA trust department, and other bigwigs, including judges. Let me say the latter again, including judges. Ipso facto, I cannot and will not let this thing go. I am the ingredient that made and makes this matter as unique as it is (or so I have been told). This is not to brag. There is nothing about which to boast, especially in view of the fact that nothing concrete has resulted from my efforts. But my response changed the soul of the matter. As indicated earlier, one of the players’ biggest problems is the fact that I was fighting them from my world. And they were trying to evade punches coming from someone who had the plain, simple, and obvious truth on his side. That’s not a part of their “sneaky” world. And I was not a businessman or professional who had spent years trying to obtain money, power and/or prestige, someone learned in the ways of the world and subject to seduction by the common lusts of most of those in the world of business and the professions. I was coming at them from my own personal pure yet “crazy” perspective. However, albeit unconscious, there was probably a method to my madness. And I exposed the players after I got overtly serious. As I have said before, I embarrassed them. Ultimately, I may embarrass myself, if I haven’t already. (I don’t claim to be a writer, by the way. And although this website is a work in progress, my writing is probably embarrassing. But that’s a price I don’t mind paying to create this exposé) All that I know how to be and all that I know how to do is how I am and what I am doing. If someone tells me a better way of doing whatever it is that I’m doing, I’m willing to listen. Until then, it’s moi, yours truly, and Berberian Mystery Theatre. What happened with me involved, a modern-day Diogenes, has resulted in three decades of anguish and agony for me, the first four years of which I was under the “spell” of a well-known psychiatrist whose reputation was on the line. However, The Doctor did not know that his reputation was in jeopardy while I was in his “care.” Perhaps he came to such a realization when I caught him unawares the day that he saw me stand up before him when my session was coming to its end, and finally walk out his door in September of 1984. (I could not afford to see him anymore both financially and emotionally) When I told him that I had other priorities and I leapt from my chair despite his offering to see me at half price “until the suit money comes in,” it was check. (Generous offer? Nope. He wanted me to remain under his watch so he could manipulate my moves) And when I walked out the door, it was checkmate on Genius I.Q. He knew that I was taking with me the memories of what had been going on during “therapy” for the previous four years. He knew that I was obsessive about keeping records about it. He knew that obviously such records reflected the way I was looking at the matter. And he knew that I was literally memorializing proceeding events through the reality that he accommodated and nurtured while I was within his realm. He also knew that my experience in there, because of its nature (egregious to anyone other than a player), would not stay put. Although a cool, calm, collected, serious doctor/psychiatrist (and “lawyer”), these facts must have scared the shit out of him. Notwithstanding the validity of my memorialized thoughts on the matter, both in my journal and correspondence with the players including him, he necessarily had to be worried what I might do with the information that he had instilled in me. He had to be concerned that I might eventually figure this thing out, and in so doing, figure him out. But not in his wildest Freudian-Adlerian-Jungian dreams did he (or anyone else, myself included) know the nature of what was yet to come. Dr. Sheuerman and his co-conspirators underestimated my will, even though, for years, it was front and center, staring them right in the face. I gave The Doctor a four-year heads-up (09/1980-09/1984) and the rest of the players a six and three quarter-year heads-up (09/1980-06/1986 before I actually made any kind of move to expose them and their incestuous game. The lead time that I provided didn’t do them any good. They had never been challenged by the likes of my unorthodox style. And on April 26, 1988, flat-footed, Dr. Sheuerman, et alii got their just deserts. Especially for The Doctor, his worst fears came true. (See Timeline, 04/26/88, “‘The Jig is Up’ Letter to Rudy Bilawski,” pp. 4-5. Additionally, for an admittedly tedious in-depth look at my thoughts about The Doctor and his role, see the Timeline at 07/06/96, “The Hypocratic Doctor”) As long as my April 26, 1988 letter is out and about, the reputation that preceded Dr. Sheuerman will remain right where it is, a thing of the past, his “therapy” morphing on this website into a recognizable pattern that could only have been designed by a deceptive legally-oriented medical mind. The “prescription” that Dr. Sheuerman issued and administered to me post-September 2, 1980 is and will continue to be accurately defined by me. Such will become his legacy. (The Doctor in his birthday suit) Still, within this website, I am looking for help in answering the question as to exactly what, with Dr. Sheuerman’s aiding and abetting, The Brotherhood was ultimately up to other than no good. The attorneys didn’t exit for no reason. They wouldn’t desert without reason what Rudy Bilawski implied during a meeting with Dr. Sheuerman, was an open and shut case. (Yes, he was referring to some legal maneuver that my father had taken at the time, but my father and I had very similar cases. In fact, my case was the strongest) I am to believe that they turned their back on millions and millions of dollars and vast amounts of land simply because I was a raving lunatic (in some of my letters), or as Larry Drivon would also have the court (with a wink and a nod) believe, “lack of time and resources” on his part. (Larry told me that he had spent $40,000 on my case. That was some pretty serious coin back in the day. Curious that he should leave after that kind of an investment) Nor did the lawyers evaporate because my father, the man who could and should have been my star witness, dropped dead unexpectedly from a heart attack (brought on partially because of his troubles with his brother as my erstwhile personal attorney, Ralph Ogden, once declared in a meeting with me and a trial lawyer named Daniel L. Mitchell located here in Modesto at the time). Had my father’s health been an issue, they would have taken his deposition during the four or so years that he lived after our case(s) began. (Actually, I believe that some attorney did, in fact, do just that. And my father’s deposition is under lock and key somewhere out there in lawyer-land) By the way, I do not believe that the lawyers absconded with any land or money. That’s not it. If a payoff were the case, such payoffs do not come in the form of money or land per se. They come by way of favors and special referrals, especially when the payee is granted a role as a middleman. Such a go-between gets played in the referring party’s favor. (This is to be found in Berberian v. Berberian and Gallo v. Gallo as well) And such favors and referrals can never be tied to any specific case unless one of the Brothers rats on another. Any lawyer who does rat another one out, bada-bing, becomes dead meat, legally speaking. Such a lawyer can thereafter only hope to draw up wills for little old ladies. Getting back on point, I do not believe that my lawyers were bought off by Haig Berberian, Wells Fargo Bank, or anyone else. Despite my ranting and raving about the corruption of counsel, the antics that I have described throughout Berberian Mystery Theatre and said dishonesty’s end was to circumvent my insatiable seeking of understanding in the matter. This drive was based on the one understanding that I did have, i.e., my father was not just the weakest, but the only weak link in the matter. And therefore, he was running the show. My father’s infinitely fragile ego was being protected as well as the ego and reputation of Haig Berberian, “Walnut King of the World” (as he had been called in The Modesto Bee, our local newspaper). If my father could have grown a set, the suit would never have happened, a settlement would have been, and I would not be here three decades later talking to you. Regarding a settlement of any kind at any time, my intuition and belief has always been that, if and when my lawyers get paid, I do as well. Neither Haig Berberian nor Wells Fargo Bank had enough money to buy off Bilawski and/or Drivon. When you’re as good as they are, their license to practice is all that they need. And no, I’m not contradicting myself. I never said that I was smarter than them or that they weren’t exceptional at what they do. I said that they underestimated me, my will, and my ingenuity, and that they had so much rope in the beginning that they hung themselves, with me.-No one else. Me, my case and I, are the odd man out. (At least, I have that confidence now. And by the way, my letters to Drivon continued full bore as a reaction to Larry Drivon’s secretary egging me on. She said to, “keep the letters coming.” And I did so. Trouble is, from virtually out of the blue, they morphed from crazed and crazy into deadly serious. Thank you, Judith Ann Miller, for believing in me) My lawyers got themselves into big visible trouble. Without my ego in check, I’ll say again that no client has ever exposed and embarrassed their attorneys like I have, not attorneys of this caliber. They had shown all of their cards regarding their relationship with me, and when my father died unexpectedly, they could not retrieve what they’d put out there, because they had committed most of it to print, i.e., in letters to me. Their letters coupled with my letters had proverbially gotten them stuck between that rock and a hard place. And our correspondence as a whole placed into their chronological sequence within the timeline of the court documents, left Drivon and Bilawski up Shit Creek. Me too, unfortunately. (Regarding Dr. Sheuerman, no one has ever stripped their psychiatrist down to his undies like I have, not a shrink with an I.Q. like The Doctor’s. As I read these words in real time, I see that I’m repeating myself. I’m guilty of worse) The big questions regarding my attorneys are, what were they up to, why did they go, where did they go, and where are they now aside from infamous out in cyberspace thanks to yours truly? Yep, my question looks silly alongside the previous bravado. The situation boils down to the fact that I still don’t know my ass from a hole in the ground regarding the hidden agenda in all of this. But the ton of information that I have compiled will explain that agenda if and when some attorney tries to explain it away. In other words, it won’t get “explained away” if I’m around. In the meantime, my search for answers continues on. It is my cause célèbre. But not by choice. By necessity, the dreadful agonizing investigation of this suit, as I said earlier, has become my life’s work. (Let me add with emphasis, although still an understatement, I’d really really really rather be doing something else) As I have said before, as long as I am thinking about and investigating this matter, even merely within the confines of my mind and this website, the case remains alive. Unfortunately, the only good thing to come out of my three-decade investigation is some additional understanding of the matter, a story which is essentially writing itself, and this website reflecting both. I was forced by the players to conduct this investigation by virtue of their conspiratorial existence or co-existence or better yet, “coaxial asses.” In effect, ipso facto, their secretive curious behavior called me out. And I showed up. In a big way. (I’m sure that it bugged The Brotherhood players that an outsider managed to stick his big Armenian nose into their affairs and find out about its incestuous inner workings. Even worse is/was my exposing what I’ve learned. This all happened because I was abandoned and left to my own devices. It’s payback. But, since when did the truth become a bad thing.-See Berberian Mystery Theatre) I have a psychological if not an innate aversion to a bona fide conspiracy in my life. (I guess this means that I prefer the ones that are all here in my head) For quite some time, the conspiracy at hand scared me and I had to understand it. I had no psychological choice. Among other reasons, I could not and would not be kept in the dark. The entire matter, this “dark matter,” as I sometimes call it, was shrouded in so much secrecy. And I’m a compulsively inquisitive person. (Unquestionably habitual, asking questions is almost a fetish of mine. I sometimes get on people’s nerves with my questions) Intuitively inclined with a penchant for noticing details in a person’s demeanor, I’ve watched human behavior all of my life. And the conspirators were easy to read. Piece of cake. Once I was confident that my hidden agenda theory wasn’t psycho, I was successful in figuring them out. In large part, this happened with the entrance of the friend that I have referenced above. For one thing, he’s the smartest guy that I have ever known. He would have been a real intellectual match for Dr. Sheuerman had they gone tit for tat, mano-a-mano, in my estimation, Dr. Sheuerman having an I.Q. in the 175-range. And if they debated what The Doctor dished out to me during my last four years of “therapy,” my friend could have wiped the floor with him. So could yours truly. How so, whence and wherefrom my aplomb? Because The Doctor would have to lie. A forté of his, he once told me, he could talk in circles until the end of time. However, during his circle turns, if he lied in my matter (and he would have to lie in my matter), I’d nail him to the cross. I’ve “got so much truth on my side.” His own truism would bite him in the butt. Additionally, as stated earlier, I am no longer fearful that I’m crazy. I became free of this fear after my friend’s involvement. Pretty ironic that The Doctor wasn’t the one to help me accomplish this. Actually, he “failed and refused” to do so. Why? Because he was [enter double entendre] playing for the other team. And I could emasculate The Doctor now. Unfortunately, he’s not available. Regarding my friend, like me, he was alien to the players. Over the years, they had taken advantage of my naïveté so egregiously that they created the perfect storm for my friend’s entrance onto the scene. He touched down like a tornado and the players ran for cover. They had never faced anything like him. His motives, they did not understand and know how to deal with. For, again, like me, he was neither the familial lawyer nor businessman essentially motivated by lust for money, power and position, and he was therefore not at their beck and call with the prospect of the usual covert untraceable Brotherhood bribe. “Aesthetic” might be a fitting description of this friend. I have never met anyone else who is so genuinely not impressed with money, power and celebrity and those who have any one or all of them. He’s the real deal when such people just don’t exist. Again, a genuine “rock star.” In combination with crazy anal-retentive me, who remembered and wrote down everything important (along with those things that were not) regarding matters that I saw, heard, smelled, tasted and felt, the players had to face a shitload of legal and other problems for which they really weren’t prepared. When it came to us, they didn’t know whether to scratch their watch or wind their backside. We were lethal and they scrambled for cover like bugs under a lifted rock. My new “counselor” told me shortly after our efforts got under way, “the players are going to have a hard time putting a lid on this thing.” As I said, my education then and present understanding in the matter (freeing me of the fear that I’m crazy) have much more to do with my confidante than with Dr. Sheuerman. And by the way, in an ethical/moral match-up, my friend beats Dr. Sheuerman hands down, now that I’ve exposed The Doctor’s agenda, hidden as it is and was. I have forced The Doctor to show his true colors. “Legal tender green” comes to mind. The Doctor is amoral at best. And if it seems odd that I am discussing The Doctor in the present tense, I am doing it for purposes of the story and this website. And besides, The Doctor’s handiwork, along with the rest of the players,’ lives on, haunting my life every single day. Prior to my friend’s involvement, much of what I was able to figure out about the matter was accomplished through intuition and watching the players’ behavior. Much of what my friend brought into play was some understanding on my part and a lot on his, of applicable law. (Of course, he became thoroughly familiar with my story as well, for he was my only confidante. He was also the only one I knew who was truly interested in my plight. But was I delusional? Did I induce delusion in him? And do we have “shared delusional disorder”? Folie a deux? May be) After my discovering fraud and even after the institution (or “non-institution”) of my lawsuit, Dr. Sheuerman’s tidbits of information impartation were cryptic in their delivery since I was in such a state of fear. And he would not elaborate nor allow me room psychologically for cross-examining him. I was still at a loss for what the hell was going on and worried that I was delusional. In effect, Dr. Sheuerman played the role of “God,” suggesting that I “believe” in him. (Sorry, Doc. I do not worship false gods. And according to Sigmund’s take on most human beings, they are “trash” and you belong in the round file) No, The Doctor was not God. Somewhere deep within, I knew that he couldn’t be God. Unless God is a phony, fake, lying, manipulative, dirty rat bastard. And to my understanding, that’s not who God is. But The Doctor still has a hold on me. As you can see, I have been tortured by his unelaborated-upon words ever since. He screwed with my mind. If he was manipulative and deceitful with a hidden agenda, that’s criminal and he was indeed screwing with my mind in the common as well as the legal and medical senses of the term. The Doctor essentially gave me a life sentence with his unexplained “messages” and little “hints.” I am worried that he grew in me a “life lie” that I cannot shake. At one point, Dr. Sheuerman stated that perhaps I was approaching the matter from “the wrong premise.” I did not know and I never figured out what he meant by that. (Hey, Doc. I’m Haig Berberian’s illegitimate son. He told his younger brother that he’s a better impregnator and my father reluctantly agreed like he did with everything else Haig said. But Haig didn’t like the way I turned out, being that I was raised by his piece-of-shit younger brother. And so he didn’t want us to have our fair share of the family fortune. How’s that, Doc? Am I getting warm?) The only “premise” of which I knew at the time was in a different plural sense of the term, that of being in a leather chair next to a photograph of Sigmund Freud’s office on Dr. Sheuerman’s office wall to my right. It was a premise where I was sitting across from a psychiatrist who was leading me on, though I didn’t know it at the time. He was leading and allowing me to believe that my father had taken steps (the nature of which were unbeknownst to me), in order to rectify the legal matter at hand. In reality, The Doctor was tinkling in my face and telling me that it was raining. Falling into this scenario was an unforgettable statement one or two years before I formally had a lawyer and had filed suit. In his usual “back to the future” mind-set, The Doctor spoke these words: I don’t think that it’s a matter of if you’re gonna get any money out of this thing, I think that it’s a matter of how much. (This is the comment that stuck in my brain more so than any others. It kept me going and keeps me going. However, like I said, I’m just hoping that the comment wasn’t a “life lie” into which The Doctor thrust me and which I’m still following to this day) My personal attorney at the time, Ralph C. Ogden, III, was a Modesto attorney to whom I was referred by Rudy Bilawski. He used to be an associate with Neumiller & Beardslee. Sometime after I had filed suit, this attorney stated that there was something that didn’t make sense about my case. But he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. The phrase, “wrong premise,” comes to mind now. But it didn’t then, when I was up close and in the trenches of legal warfare. No lawyer’s ego would accommodate such a statement unless he eventually figured out such res occulta for his client. (Yes, I had to look it up) But of course, he did not figure it out for me nor did he tell me what was “nonsensical” about my legal case. Had he known the answer, he never would have advised me about it. But he couldn’t anyway, because I ditched him like I did Dr. Sheuerman. To me, the entire procedural history of my legal case, from the day that I discovered fraud until the day that I walked out on The Doctor’s “wrong premise,” and on through to the day that I let Ralph Ogden and his “nonsense” go, my case and the matter in general was self-contradictory, incongruous and unseemly to me. I was serious about my lawsuit and not a single other person involved (allegedly) on my behalf, was. They were seriously not serious about it. Therefore, that particular wrong premise, I knew about. Ogden never told me what didn’t make sense about my case, because, in reality, there was nothing mysterious and nonsensical about the case to him at all. He was already simply and directly apprised as one in the loop. And I was not to know the big secret. That is, unless I figured it out for myself. Like Dr. Sheuerman, this lawyer was trying to lay the ground-work in my mind for some other wrong premise issue that would eventually rear its attorney-engineered ugly head. But such issue never came to my attention. Something went wrong. Unless it was the fact, which I figured out recently, that technically, I did not institute a lawsuit (i.e., Larry Drivon did not do so on my behalf), because an Original Summons was never issued and/or filed. That made no sense, though I only knew this by intuition buried deep in my psyche. Additionally, Haig Berberian was never served with the phony suit. If this be the case, then there were two wrong premise issues. One, when I “apparently” filed suit (with no summons) and one thereafter, because Haig was not served with papers, summons or no summons. Back to the context of Dr. Sheuerman when he mentioned the wrong premise issue. I was addressing the matter at face value and as if everything being said and done was on the up-and-up. In essence, I was ignoring my strong suspicions and operating in the “real world,” so to speak (though my suspicions were journalized and cryptically referenced in some of my letters to the players, my being afraid to come right out and say what I suspected). I was going to sue Haig Berberian and Wells Fargo Bank for fraud and conspiracy, etc. And I was researching areas of interest that I did not believe were being researched by someone else, such as newspaper articles about the family business dating back as far as there were such articles. Things like that. Simple good-to-know sensible stuff. That’s all I was doing. That’s all I knew, though I was thinking about all sorts of possibilities, including the chances of my being psychotic or insane or both for believing that, unbeknownst to me, regarding our whole family’s case, “something else is going on.” Yet, during it all, The Doctor was playing guessing games. Whatever The Doctor was talking about with regard to the wrong premise issue, in some way, had to be counter-intuitive. I was neither soundly grounded nor smart enough at the time in the matter to become “counter-intuitive.” That’s a different world (I think). And I probably do not even know now how to conceptualize and use the term correctly. I just have a sense that “counter-intuitive” is fitting. I can sense things and I have intuition, but I lack what it takes to thoroughly figure this thing out. I don’t get it. (Aside from the conspirators themselves, is there anybody out there who does? Especially from this particular admittedly scattered account?) Regarding Dr. Sheuerman’s “wrong premise” comment, how would The Doctor know such things anyway? If he wasn’t directly advised in the matter, then he was super-human. Mind you, he made his comment a year or two before I had filed suit. Nothing was visibly going on except my all-consuming research effort on behalf of my future case or the one that I kind of sort of believed with great mystification and disquietude had already been started by my father. Early on, from time to time, Dr. Sheuerman did say things which were direct, such as, your father was screwed, blued and tattooed. (Actually, this fact is probably one of the main reasons why he said that I/we, my father and I, had “so much truth on our side.” He had met my father a few times in the past when my father visited him about me. He learned how naïve [and yes, stupid] my father was. My father’s ineptitude and incompetence at reading people translates into a big screwing by his brother and the diabolical accountant for the family business, Peter B. Jeppson. My father’s “condition” coupled with my noninvolvement with the business and its affairs is how and why The Doctor knew just how much “truth” there was on our side. My father and I were individually and jointly clueless) Another bold statement by The Doctor: Between your father and your uncle, Rudy’s going to have to earn his money. Implied in this statement is the unavoidable fact that whatever my father did, it tied the hands of whoever his negotiator was. It also implies that the matter was still between the two brothers Berberian. Therefore, since Haig and Vasken had never seen eye-to-eye in their 50-year business relationship, perhaps I could count on 50 additional years for them to get things settled. I don’t know how else to interpret The Doctor’s words. His words meant that Haig would not want to give our family a dime and my father would let Haig keep 90% of what he stole (even if it amounted to tens of millions dollars), as long as what remained and would be forked over to us was a good chunk of money relative to what we already had. And no, I’m not exaggerating My father was not a greedy man, though this money was rightly his (and mine and my mother’s and my sister’s). Neither my father nor I was a millionaire at the time (nor at any other time). And when this whole thing first got started, stupid is as stupid does, my father asked me if I’d settle for $500,000. The legal competition hadn’t even really started yet and he was already jumping to an Olympic level of idiocy. With alarm, I said to him: “You don’t even know how much money is involved and you’re talking about settling?!” My father was the definition of dumb on steroids and the personification of bird-brained. A pound and a penny foolish was he. No smarts involved at all. (I wonder if I’ve made my point yet) Of course, because he was so foolable and his older brother’s fool, his case was very strong. He had been swindled, duped, defrauded and screwed every which way but physically. And he really had no clue. Therefore, fraud was applicable to him and his case bigtime. My father’s cement-headedness provided Haig and his crooked accountant, Pete Jeppson, so much rope, that they hung themselves. (The rope expression, I use a lot. I borrowed it from my father who used it in a meeting with Bilawski, though of course, it’s an old adage) And this is why any lawyer would jump at the chance to get his case. My father only knew how to do one thing, be a walnut and almond processing plant manager. I don’t mean that it was an easy thing. But he was gifted in this way. And coupled with his work ethic, he produced an unsurpassed product which helped the family business grow into the largest independently-owned walnut and almond processing business in the world. Working fourteen-hour days, my father’s superb finished product gave Haig Berberian, with his supreme buying and selling skills, the opportunity to land the entire See’s Candy account. (Other accounts included, Almond Joy, Russell Stover, and on and on) The meshing of their two fields of expertise was the secret to their success. But Haig gave his brother zero credit privately and publically. The two brothers would have furious fights over the years. My father never stuck his big Armenian nose into Haig’s area of expertise. And my uncle should have kept his big Armenian nose out of my father’s running of the plant. It was Haig’s massive ego that caused so much trouble. And as a result of that ego and my father’s ineptness at dealing with it, my big Armenian nose is now stuck into the middle of the wake that the two brothers Berberian left behind. And I don’t like it! (emphasis added) My father told me more than once to watch my trust account if something happened to him and to “trust nobody.” Well, something did happen to him. He forgot about his advice to me and it was he who I could not and did not trust. I’ve gotten off on a tangent again. Back to The Doctor. Again, how did The Doctor know what he knew about my case and/or my father’s case to make all of these statements and “suggestions”? I did ponder and speculate in his presence how he could know such things and he answered in his usual sarcastic albeit witty way: I am not now, nor have I ever been, a member of any conspiracy. And how did he know about and what use did I have for things relating to my father? That’s the elephant in the room. At the time, I myself was also getting “screwed, blued and tattooed,” because The Doctor himself was part and parcel to the screwing, bluing and tattooing. Everyone involved can partially thank The Doctor for my filing suit. For example, one time, when I was describing my father’s behavior (which is one of the things that I watched for clues regarding what might be going on), Dr. Sheuerman said to me: It sounds as though your father dropped the matter. Therefore, he suggested that whatever my father did was droppable and my father may have done so. Therefore, it follows that, according to The Doctor (who had transformed into a virtual lawyer), the matter was not out of my father’s hands and, in any meaningful way, into the hands of a lawyer. And The Doctor wanted me to know this. I had to file suit. However, unlike my father, I meant it. How else could I file a suit after all that I had been through except to file a lawsuit with meaning and mean intentions? But then, seeing that I was serious, the lawyers hightailed it out of my case by dropping me. (Nice going, guys. No hard feelings. And because I’m a nice guy, I’m making you famous. Or is it infamous? Which ever you like. Be my guest. Take your pick) Bilawski and Drivon had talked the talk, but when it came down to it, I was the one who had to walk the walk. Anyway, despite Dr. Sheuerman’s “help,” in time, I would find out that I was simply yet emotionally dealing with a bunch of dirty rotten scoundrels who were playing the scorched earth game of hardball involving the highest of stakes and they were marching to the beat of a real secret agenda to which I was not privy. Dr. Sheuerman was one of these scoundrels, a tacit co-conspirator, though I believed everything he was telling me. And rightly so. But they were only grains of truth. He was telling me half-truths, which, as most people know, is a form of lying. It’s deception and he was manipulating me. At the time, I did have enough wits about me to know that I could not take anything that the other players said to me at face value. Like The Doctor, with regard to my case, they were tinkling in my face, etc. But the players, of course, knew that I knew this. And they knew that I knew that they knew that I knew this. And I would always assume that they knew everything that I knew and was doing. I thought that this was a smart strategy. It ruled out any chance of my not knowing about something that they knew about me and what I knew and was doing. (Makes sense) Regarding Berberian Mystery Theatre, do I think that someone monitors it? You bet I do. And I know what the most toxic documents would be were I to post them. But I haven’t posted them as of yet, because they don’t have an overt provable link to my lawsuit. However, these documents are part of the story and I’ll eventually get to them. Part of my procrastination is that I don’t want to show all of my cards just yet. (Should I wait another twenty years when all of the players are dead except me?) One or more of the conspiratorial players are reading these words. No, not as I write them (although it is doable in the present age of computers). And no, I neither assumed nor presumed that the players knew what I was thinking. I’m not that crazy. But did I believe that my phone was being tapped? My phone records were being watched? My mail was being steamed open, read, and re-sealed? My checking account was being monitored? My garbage was being sifted and pilfered through? My computer was being hacked into and my files inspected? My e-mails were being hijacked by a peeping tom for a little lookilooing? A satellite was launched to watch my comings and goings, zooming in on the terrain of my house key in order to duplicate it, thereby acquiring unfettered access to my home when I was away? (It’s a joke!) I’ll say this, I’ve thought about them. Obviously. But the question is, “how seriously.” It’s anyone’s guess, but mine. (You’re not paranoid if everyone really is out to get you) But don’t think for a minute that I don’t believe that any one (minus the one) or all of them (minus one) aren’t doable by some of the powerful players in this matter, some being backed by billion-dollar entities. I do have reason to believe that one or more of the most reasonably doable ones on the list just enumerated has been employed in my situation. And were I to prove it, such would reveal just how pathetic the players are, having to resort to those means to defeat a fruit loop like myself. Here’s a quick little story on the subject. Early on, I wanted to change accountants because I believed that I would need a good one in the future. I guess I planned on being Mr. Moneybags. Anyway, I got a referral to a CPA from Rudy Bilawski. Ray Wiley is/was his name. One time when I was having a phone conversation with him, we got disconnected. When I called him back, I said in jest: “Maybe your phone is tapped and something went awry.” His response: “They can’t get to my line.” He wasn’t joking. Serious man. Nice man. But no jokester was he. Not that phone-tapping necessarily happened in my case, but it does happen in the real world, folks. And it’s coming to a town near you. (By the way, one time when I was in Mr. Wiley’s office, he asked why I don’t just drop my march toward filing suit, how do I know that I have such a good case. I retorted: “Because my attorneys say so.” He smiled at what I believe was my perfect answer. We were standing face-to-face and he took hold of a pin on the lapel of my jacket, asking what it said. I told him that it said, “journalism.” Apropos, I would think. Especially now. I have a question. Why in the “f” would he ask if not suggest such a thing! Answer. Because he knew something that all of the players knew but me. I would be the last to know. And I still don’t know. (And people wonder what drives me.-I’m in this thing alone, folks) Bacxk to the bugging of phones. Could it happen in my case? Do I have delusions of grandeur? Let me add that, with what is/was involved in my case, some of the afore-listed cloak and dagger modi operandi would be warranted to stop the big-mouth me that the players created, from getting at the truth. One more note on my “paranoia.” Not too long ago, CIA Director John Brennan’s e-mail account was broken into/hacked by a teenage high school student. And you think that my computer cannot be hacked into by agents for entities worth billions? Were I to think that would be reverse delusions of grandeur. What you are seeing within this website is a screwball (possibly nuts) figure out something that crème de la crème/cream-of-the-crop professionals designed so as to never see the light of day, never to be analyzed and “made” by anyone but one of their own. And they don’t like it. I’m sure of it. The only question is whether or not the attorney and judge malfeasance in my case warrants some of the aforementioned lengths gone to by the players. I believe that it does. In saying all of this, I know that I’m really putting myself out there. Eventually to be embarrassed by it. Or not. Getting back on point (hopefully, whatever my latest one is), I was challenging the powers that be who knew everything that there was to know about the case. In order to add to their vast knowledge, I did in reality send to my lawyers, things that I was finding out through old newspaper clippings and other resources. I sent them everything that I learned from my research and everything that I knew from other sources, including my memory bank. In a sense, I gave them the deposition that they never bothered to take from me. I was trying my level best to help the case that I believed my father had leveled (pun intended). I provided the information of which I speak in my letters and in photocopies of articles and documents that I had found which I hoped were relevant. However, in return, I was given no info, no clues by them. Zip, zero, zilch, nothing, nada. Neither a pinch nor an iota, not a smidgen nor a smattering of the actual facts about the strategy of the case nor what was actually going on, was I given. (Not even a hangnail’s worth) Dr. Sheuerman was told more about the disposition of my family’s case by Rudy Bilawski than I was. That in itself is enough to piss anyone off whose mental health hung in the balance. At the time, however, I was distraught and confused and in no condition to be pissed off. The situation was demoralizing to me and I needed help. I must add that it is my belief that Bilawski told The Doctor the bottom line “personality” of the case, such that The Doctor would in turn tell me. As well as The Doctor, Bilawski knew that my father did not and would not tell me anything, hoping that I’d think that he had done nothing to rectify the matter. And this horrified me. Of course, this was before I filed suit. The most memorable thing that Dr. Sheuerman said to boost my spirits regarding what Bilawski told him was (and I quote): It came down to a matter of whether or not he was going to do it. (I guess that what my father did or didn’t do depends upon what the meaning of the word it is) I said to The Doctor in essence, “big whoopty doo.” Then The Doctor added that Bilawski thanked him. Again, “big whoop, so what.” The Doctor then added that it wasn’t just a simple, “thank you.” Rudy thanked him profusely, from side to side and head to toe and in and out of every orifice. He may have even licked The Doctor’s face. (Get a room!-Okay, so I’m exaggerating a speck) I don’t know if Bilawski thanked Dr. Sheuerman for originally referring me and my case, or me and ultimately my father’s case, or manipulating me over the previous year or so to essentially bide my time, or for The Doctor doing his thing with my father when my scared-shitless father saw him about his reluctance to properly take care of the legal situation at hand. I tend to believe that it was the latter, though I’m sure that Bilawski was grateful for all of the above. Nevertheless, Bilawski and Sheuerman were whistling past the graveyard because the only thing that would work was a complete hands-off irrevocable power of attorney for Bilawski to do his business like he normally does. But Bilawski did not have it. He had some kind of limp-wristed power of attorney or some other lawyer did. Never works in hardball. Haig Berberian would rather have suffered another heart attack rather than cough up to my father and I what was essentially pocket change to Haig. (I had prompted my father to go see Dr. Sheuerman. And Rudy knew that I had done so, because I advised him verbally or by mail. I cannot remember which, though such is neither here nor there. From Rudy, The Doctor got the info and got the thanks.-“Hey, what about me?!” Starving me of information and the truth in the matter drove me to figure things out for myself and I found out that Bilawski had a premature “e-thank-you-lation.” I made it up on the fly. Sorry) My father told me that Dr. Sheuerman took a phone call when they were in session and it ate up a pretty good chunk of time. I didn’t think much of it at the time. But in thinking about it now, I don’t recall The Doctor ever taking a phone call when I was in his office except for a half a dozen times over a fourteen-year period and even then, it was just for a minute or two. The Doctor was up to something with my father. I just know it. I’ll bet that The Doctor had previously asked someone to call him during that time-frame. (But that’s just me) Whether or not the substance of what Dr. Sheuerman said during the call would “suggest” anything to my father, I haven’t a clue. My father neither told me what he had heard nor if he was even listening. Perhaps the call simply served the purpose of counteracting any possible notion in my father’s mind that he was a head case, needing fifty minutes of uninterrupted psychotherapy: “Oh, The Doctor’s taking a phone call while I’m here. It must not be that serious for me that he can just take a call and leave me sitting here in this chair. Whew! I’ll just go sign that power of attorney, play some golf, we’ll all sing Kumbaya, and everyone will live happily ever after.” Wrong! What a dunce. Just a bit of speculation by this head case. Anyway, getting back to Bilawski and Dr. Sheuerman, the message to me from The Doctor after he met with Bilawski (allegedly for The Doctor’s own legal matter-yeah right) was that my father had done what he needed to do in order to legally empower negotiating an end to the entire matter for our whole family. This is exactly what I wanted. And Dr. Sheuerman knew it. (I believed at the time and for most of the years since that my father gave his power of attorney to Rudy Bilawski. However, I have lately come to believe that such power probably had been given to some other attorney and/or law firm. There would have been a real conflict of interest between my father and I as it related to Rudy, as both my father and I had consulted him regarding our individual cases as well as our family’s case as a whole. And when I filed suit with Rudy as a participant, that conflict grew exponentially) Of course, I would only get this relayed message from Bilawski to Dr. Sheuerman to me when it was legally safe to tell me. I will elaborate on this some other time. I need to interject that, sometime thereafter, when I mentioned his telling me that my father had taken care of the matter, Dr. Sheuerman said in response: I didn’t say anything about what your father did or didn’t do. See what a lying sack (of shit) The Doctor was? He was using lawyer-speak. In relationship to merely the above-referenced Bilawski quote about whether or not my father was “going to do it,” The Doctor was lying, but he wasn’t lying. I didn’t get it at the time. But recollections like this go through my mind year after year. Then suddenly, something clicks and I get it. At the time, I thought that The Doctor was just trying to walk back from his comments into a noncommittal position on the matter, trying to get into a gray area where he couldn’t be pegged and pinned down about something that was supposed to be confidential. I was right, but I was wrong about what he said about what Bilawski said. This is what happens when you get into lawyer bullshit. Word games and therefore dishonesty. The Doctor tried to turn the little story that he had brought back to me in a little single-sentence package out of his visit with Rudy into an, “I said, he said, he said,” situation, if you get my drift. But I did not, would not, cannot let him. I will not let him. Dr. Sheuerman knew me well enough to know that what he said to me had sunk in deeply and it would never go away. That was his intent when he said it. He had to provide the foundation for a belief that would be severely tested and needed to be sustained over a long period of time. (I’ve still got one melancholy hope in my heart that I will eventually get some answers. Some money would certainly be nice as well. What might even be nicer is The Doctor turning in his grave over my exposition of his deceit and disingenuousness) My father was convincingly lying to me as did the lawyers around me. But along with himself, The Doctor was trying to protect Bilawski by getting cloudy about what he had told me. As I indicated a minute ago, what he said to me was a breach of someone’s confidentiality, albeit an unprovable violation or one that would never be acted upon. Dr. Sheuerman had become a lawyer. And that’s when the lawyer in me started to grow. Now looking at his words as a lawyer would see them, he was telling me some form of the truth. By saying, I didn’t say anything about what your father did or didn’t do, he was saying that it was Bilawski who said something about what my father did or didn’t do. And that’s a “distinction without a difference.” The Doctor’s distinction without a difference statement is the only way his words can be interpreted as having some grain of truth to them. But it’s dishonest. A dishonest form of the truth. And as I said, I am not going to let him get away with it. The Doctor obviously didn’t say specifically what my father did. But, as referenced above, whatever the “it” was that my father did, Bilawski was thoroughly grateful for. And The Doctor implied, propagated and propelled my father and Bilawskis’ “it” into a fact, regardless of who said it (in both senses of the word, “it”). Moving forward, since Dr. Sheuerman tried to (insincerely) redact and retract the information that he had brought back from Bilawski, I did have to assume that my father did not go all the way with Bilawski or with whichever lawyer my father had gotten legally frisky. This was another reason why The Doctor got squishy as to my father’s doings. But whatever my father did, I knew that his way, the nice way (surprise surprise) didn’t and does not work in hardball. And I knew that it was me who had to carry the thing all the way to court. And that’s exactly what I did, or so I thought. (For clarification regarding, “or so I thought,” see the Timeline at 8/30/83, “Case File-813484”) Anyway, I want to switch back to my research efforts, because I have more to say on that. By assuming that the players knew what I knew and was doing (which was no great leap since I was sending them most everything that I found along with some of my thoughts and commentary), I believed that I was not only helping the case, but thereby maintaining a fighting chance to stay on their tail. (Perhaps this is a creative way of saying that I was paranoid. Or maybe I put paranoia to a good creative use. I’m figuring things out as we go along here, folks.-Confusing the issue even more? I’m a master at non-sequiturs, so watch out. In fact, the preceding comment about non-sequiturs is a non-sequitur. Things sound like they fit, but they make absolutely no sense. So, if you made sense out of what I said thereat, therein and therefrom, then I’m smarter than I thought. But I’m not banking on it) As I said, I was doing all of this research, because, to my knowledge, no one else was doing so. And I also wanted to learn as much as I could, since I wasn’t being leveled with by anyone involved. What’s idiotic is that, except for just a couple of documents provided by my father, over a period of three years, I provided most all of the statistical and documented fact-based elements and extrapolations on which Rudy Bilawski based his June 8, 1983 referral letter to Larry Drivon. And Rudy based the subject September 13, 1984 Interrogatories in my case almost entirely on documents which I provided him. This was loco. I knew shit about business and shinola about real estate. And I did not have access to the real-deal documents needed for a suit like this. But crazy situations in my case were not the exception. They were exceptional. What Bilawski and Drivon did do was research the law and craft legal arguments essentially based on information and documents that I had provided them. (When I picked up Bilawski’s case-file and that of Drivon, neither file contained any document that I had not provided them) Switching gears again and getting back to my eventual relationship with the two barristers, and all of the gobbledygook as a whole, like I said before, I was not trying to outsmart anyone. And also as I said earlier, I was smart enough to know that you cannot beat someone at their own game. (Eventually, I’m sure that I forced some of the players to redeem some of the Brotherhood favors owing to them. Sorry guys, but after you said, “buh-bye,” did screwball me force you to take and make some long-distance calls to and from some of your Brothers around the state and even Washington, D.C., because of my big thick legal solicitation packages sent by certified mail all over tarnation?) Via the commentary that I provided along with the hopefully useful information and documents, minimally, I wanted the players to know that I was watching them perform their tricks. In a sense, I was taunting them. And they were letting me have my fun. But they had no idea that I would ever be able to unscramble, translate and define to any appreciable degree, what I saw in what they probably considered “memorabilia,” and especially in what I gleaned from their demeanor and behavior over the years during my association with them. Their game-plan was that, despite my scrutiny, they were not going to let me get in their way. Getting in their way would be my understanding what was really going on and interference from me regarding their secret agenda which would then not be so secret. But was it not my legal case that was ultimately going on? Or was it my father’s? I recall once again Dr. Sheuerman’s words when I complained of being frozen out of the matter: Some lawyers like to consider a case their own once the client has signed on. In retrospect, when I was frustrated and angry and ready to hit the ceiling, The Doctor was always sure to deliver the “wisdom” that kept me in my seat, or “on the couch” (but not literally the latter). But in the end, the conspirators’ jig was up (Dr. Sheuerman’s among them) as soon as my head was clear (of Dr. Sheuerman, for the most part) and I had some honest help. To date, there has been but one person who can understand the mechanics and general nature of my conspiracy theory. That person is the friend to whom I have been referring throughout this chapter (or “footnote,” as it is). Others had and have no clue. Most any lawyer could not only understand my belief, but by reviewing merely a half a dozen or so documents, he or she could explain the bottom line as to what actually transpired, what that “thing out there” is or was. And they would know that the unbelievable fantastic comments that I have enumerated in this chapter and elsewhere in this exposé which I claim were made to me by Dr. Sheuerman, not only ring true, but are, in fact, etched in stone. There is no way that I could make these things up, the substance of which, as well as the obvious aspects, probably jive with the hidden agenda every step of the way. This be true especially in view of the fact that The Doctor’s comments were said to me early on, when I was totally clueless and worried that I was “hearing things,” if you will. Minimally, some lawyer could make an educated extrapolation from the data and explain why the lawyers left and where they might have gone. However, out of the 10% of the law firms in California that I solicited for help in the matter (1200 being the number, a probable Guinness Book record, my having provided the solicited lawyers voluminous pertinent documents in person, though mostly by certified mail, as referenced above), not one barrister among them was talking. Not even one member of the big batch of “Christian” attorney “Brothers” who I solicited for help uttered a peep about the obviously fishy incestuous legal nature of my lawsuit. These “believing Brothers” did not want to get booted out of The Brotherhood, which proved to be a higher cause and calling to them than the one they usually yak and yap about. To be frank, it came as no surprise to me. There is no honest lawyer when it comes to Berberian v. Berberian and Wells Fargo Bank. So, the onus was, is and always has been on me to try to figure out what transpired during the continuing history of this entire matter. (Berberian Mystery Theatre being the “continuing” part, the storied history) I will eventually, without the help of a lawyer, wrestle all of the remaining important aspects of this matter to the ground. (No lawyer will ever help me when it requires sticking his or her nose into another Brother’s shenanigans, especially when it’s a big-time case. It’s just not going to happen) The burden of my case and my family’s legal case as a whole has been on my shoulders since the beginning of my participation in this wretched matter, including the span of time at the outset when I was frightened to death about the potential reality of my conspiracy theory. But I am no longer scared of the probable existence of the conspiracy and the secret agendas of which it is comprised. It is the conspirators who are in hiding and in that sense, scared. Am I delusional? Such big shots afraid of me in any sense? We shall see. Perhaps the crimes committed prior to and during Richard Berberian v. Haig Berberian & Wells Fargo Bank may indeed go unpunished and/or not even be exposed in their most basic elements. And although the documents which this exposé embodies pretty much speak for themselves in this account with the most fidelity, the story as a whole will not go untold in as many other ways as I can conceive.Within the pages of this website, I am to some degree still trying to prove my sanity. Though dwindling down in size with the passing of the years, was there in reality a grand conspiracy out there? If so, after three decades, as nuts as this sounds, is it still going on? Or did I and do I have a fantastic imagination and all of this hidden agenda stuff was and is all in my head? Read on, if you are inclined. 5 It is evident throughout this website that I believe that my family’s legal case as a whole was bifurcated. This is why much of what I have written is somewhat scatterbrained. (Hey, I’m human. I gotta blame something) Reading what I have written, one must conclude that I not only think that the matter as a whole was bifurcated, I think it was bisected and dissected, branched off and branched out, chopped, cleaved, cut, dichotomized, dimidiated, disconnected, disjoined, dissociated and disassociated, disunited, divaricated, diverged, divided and divorced, forked, hacked and slashed, halved, parted, partitioned, ramified, rended and rived, ruptured, sectioned, separated, severed and dissevered, split, and sundered. This, because the matter involved working around the polar-opposite dispositions of the two brothers Berberian as well as that of the son/nephew whose disposition is/was off the map entirely. You couldn’t count on me to not do anything. (But this was true only after my attorneys withdrew from my case and I realized that I had in fact been deceived that someone was actually on my side. No pity party. Just a fact. Until proved otherwise) Plus, the legal case itself is/was complex, because a conspiracy is/was involved. Not only did a conspiracy exist between players (Haig Berberian, Peter B. Jeppson, Wells Fargo Bank, et al.) during the business years, but a conspiracy came about at the hands of the attorneys and those aiding and abetting them when the matter was finally and forever trying to be rectified by my father who wanted to lose, and trying to be rectified by me to the nth degree in order to win, thereby countering my father’s way of doing things, losing. The proverbial, “oh, what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive,” applies in this matter as much as any throughout recorded history and more than most. As a matter of fact, this matter is in a class by itself. And as I have said before, there is and has been nothing like it.-Ever. First, there was my father’s case in which he could resolve the entire matter for his whole immediate family, a case to which I believe the mysterious res judicata that popped up refers. (“Res judicata” means that a legal matter has already been adjudged. And said doctrine refers to my case in opposing counsel’s defense. Raised as the 13th Affirmative Defense on Friday the 13th of July, 1984. This element in the matter, my attorneys mysteriously did not inquire about from Haig’s lawyers. You’d think that my lawyers would want to know who settled my case, where and when, wouldn’t you?) Then there is/was my case which “assumed” (with a wink and a nod and some wining and dining and pocket-lining) that the case was headed to trial. But since opposing counsel knew that Larry Drivon was bluffing (although using a client/plaintiff who was watching his every move), they found some kind of opening to get to my father who folded his cards fearing that he might be asked about the weather and what his favorite color might be. At this point, the game was essentially over. Whatever power of attorney, even without provisos, that my father might have signed with some law firm, was worthless. He was mummified and unable to speak. If asked to do so, he could drop dead. That is how scared shitless he was. (Well, actually, he might have shit his pants instead. It could’ve gone either way) And with that, my case soiled its pants and dropped dead as well. First, good-bye Rudy Bilawski, my business attorney. Next, good-bye Larry Drivon, my trial lawyer. And last but not least, good-bye to the rest of my life. And here I am today. This thing will never be over for me. I will not stand for all of the fraud and deceit perpetrated upon me by my father, the lawyers, the Defendants, and most of all, the star of the show, “The Doctor,” my Stockton, California life lie psychiatrist at the time, Arnold Aaron Sheuerman, Jr., M.D. (I’m coming after you, Doctor, even if I have to dig you up out of your grave)
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