UPDATE June 26, 2013
Filed this one under "Irony" - Spencer Shockley's daughter is the same age E & I were when Spencer sexually assaulted us at Senior Frog's in Cancun Mexico. I bet she has no idea the filthy behavior her father condones.
Wonder what Kelsi's mom Lynda thinks?
During the Winter & Spring of 1991, my friend E and I were working in Downtown LA. We were in what is known as “Little Tokyo” and we were part of a corporation which was literally building Los Angeles. We began a habit of going out every weekend, except the weekend started on Thursdays. E and I had bonded quite accidentally in an elevator. We kept the very same schedule, riding the elevator up to the 8th floor in the morning and down to the parking garage in the evening. It wasn’t long before we began parking near each other on the same garage floor. Our conversations quickly turned to the men in our lives, or rather, the men who were no longer in our lives. It was during this time in 1991 that the Audio Thief had disappeared once again, leaving me to wonder which stripper he was running around Vegas with this time. Evelyn was in a similar situation, her Latin Lover avoided her only until he had several drinks and more than just a few lines. It was one Thursday evening after making our way back to the Parking Garage from our favorite Hole in the Wall conveniently located across the alley from our office that we decided, the only way to rid ourselves of these men was to go on a vacation. Somewhere tropical. It was the middle of February, 1991 and Spring Break was eight short weeks away.
The next morning, as I walked past E’s conclave in the office, she grabbed my arm and yanked me to a desk. She pointed to the newspaper open to the Travel section: Seven days, six nights in Cancun Mexico, 5-star Resort, round trip airfare, there was even a day trip to Chichenitza. We booked the trip for June that afternoon.
Between February and May 1991, my Grandmother would have told her friends I was “not well” and the tone of her comment or the movement of her head would signify the severity of “not well”. By April of 1991, I would have had only the disapproving tone level of “not well”. I was determined to go on my vacation to erase the Audio Thief. I was taking a cocktail of antibiotics & hormone therapy in the days leading up to the trip to Mexico and the treatment ended about 3 days before my flight. For the entire month of May, my family did everything they could think of to persuade me to cancel the trip. I coped by working, running, going to the gym and of course drinking heavily with E.
In June of 1991, it was time to wash away our man-trouble by running off to Cancun, Mexico for 7 days. At the time, my stubbornness in going on my vacation was fueled by the illness. If I was really that sick, I at least deserved a tropical vacation. I was supposed to be thinking about the side effects of Lupron therapy for 9 months. So if I had to have another surgery, I wanted to go out having seen the Yucatan Pyramids, specifically Tulum, Xelha and Chitzchenitza. After all, I had served my Country did my duty and I deserved something out of it …. Right?
By the last week of May, just 2 short weeks before the magnificent tropical journey, I was back to myself, not sick but rather healthy. On June 5 we were off to Mexico. From the get go it was a catastrophe, and it was the most exciting trip of my life. Through a calamity of events, the transportation plans for the Airport changed last minute because E’s Latin Lover could not believe she was going on a vacation without him. He convinced her to let him drive her to the airport – I would take a shuttle – but - I missed the Shuttle. I missed my non-stop flight out of LAX and I arrived at the airport just as the plane was taxing down the runway to take off for Mexico. Through some miracle I got re-routed for a mere $50 on a multiple stop Flight from LAX to Mexico City, where I changed planes at 8am for the final leg arriving in Cancun at 10am the next morning June 6. If I was lucky and made all my connections, I could get to Mexico City and go stand by to Cancun, arriving at 8pm on June 5th. Yea, I’m not lucky – the flight was booked solid. I had to take another route, LAX to Guadalajara to Mexico City, spent the night in the Mexico City airport where I changed planes for the final leg to Cancun.
The second night of my trip, June 5, through June 9, I spent dancing and club hopping. E had met up with 2 other girls on vacation, two sisters on vacation from Irvine California. They were from Guatamala, and they met up with family in Cancun. They were staying in the resort next to ours and we partied with them as much as possible. We Resort hopped, we club hopped, we even hopped the Pyramids with them.
On June 6, the sisters had to meet their family for dinner but would be free at 10p for club hopping. E and I decided it would be Senior Frogs for Dinner & Daddy O’s for Dancing. That was the night I met the Stranger. We sat at his table, we ate with his friends, and I danced with him for 2 hours, until our the sisters gave their wave through the window to signal it was time to go to Daddy O’s. The only reason we sat with the Stranger and his Friends was because they were in the window booth. It would enable us to see the sisters when they drove by and gave us the wave.
In all honesty, while E and I drank a lot, the reality was that we went home alone, a lot. And it was entirely by choice. The perception, however, was that we were far more promiscuous than we really were. For all intents and purposes, we were more interested in alcohol, dancing, flirting and mor dancing than we were in sex with strangers. I can not count the number of times we feigned lesbianism just to ward off a particularly over bearing brute with roaming hands.
The night in Senior Frogs, we found ourselves in a booth with three overbearing brutes who were somehow convinced that buying us a few drinks entitled them to more than conversation. When we walked into Senior Frogs it was completely full. The three men in the booth waved us over and offered to let us sit with them. They were the only Americans in the bar, and we were the only American Girls. The three men situated E and I so that they sat between us, separating us at the table. The Stranger held my attention, and I could not help but feel his only purpose at the table was to keep me occupied while the other two worked on E.
After only one drink, E and I moved to the bar at her insistence. The two men were pawing her under the table and asking her repeatedly how much she wanted for “a good time”. They would not keep their hands off of her and the more she pushed them off the more aggressive they became, the point where one brute held her against him while the other tried to paw at her. The Stranger followed us, apologizing and offering to buy another drink. It would be another hour before the sisters arrived and Daddy O’s opened, so we stayed for one more drink on the condition the two brutes leave us alone.
Eventually someone else asked E to dance. The Stranger and I drank for a bit, danced for a bit and I gave the Stranger my phone number. It was when I came back from the Ladies Room that I found the Stranger at the bar pawing at E. She was furious, but at that time, the sisters waved through the window and off we went Dancing. I never saw him again.
It was 17 years later that Don Stovner established himself as the man I met while on vacation in Cancun in 1991, the Stranger. He knew details of the bar, the conversation, the music that we danced to, even the fucked up heel on my shoe that tore his boot when I stepped on his foot with it while we danced. It was The Stranger and Spencer Shockley and a 3rd buddy in Cancun that night in Senior Frogs, on their way the next morning to Cozumel. The revelation shocked me because I had seen Fireguy123 had followed me on Twitter in May 2009. I thought it was someone else, a Fire Fighter friend of mine, until I saw the name and realized I never knew a Spencer Shockley. Hearing it from Don 3 months after the fact took me by surprise. For the entire month of September, through to his birthday, he began his push for love and a life together. The lost love from the bar in Cancun. The boy who held my hand in the balloon fields in Perris. He knew so much about my past, events in my life that were so far removed from Las Vegas, things and events that happened years before I ever met Don. There was no way he could have known some of these things unless he had been there, watching the events take place. I, and my friends, began referring to him as my Stalker. We jokingly said that I fell in love with my Stalker.
Don claimed that Spencer was in the bar with him in Cancun. That meant Spencer was one of the men pawing and harassing E. Was he the brute who held her against him while his friend pawed at her legs and crotch? Or was he the brute who ran his hands over her body asking her how much she cost and what her price was for sex?
Don claimed that Spencer worked the balloon fields with him in Perris. So was Spencer one of the thieves who ransacked the Cottage when Grampa died? Did he paw through my Grandfather’s belongings the way he pawed E? Running his hands over things that did not belong to him? Was he one of the Squatters at the Cottage? One of the many who lived in our Vacation home and never paid a dime in rent, mortgage or even utilities?
In September 2010, I received a call from Don as he was driving from Las Vegas to Long Beach. An unfamiliar voice said “Hello, Onagh”. I asked who it was and the voice identified themselves, “this is Spencer”. Since I never spoke to the two brutes in the bar in Cancun, I had no idea if this was the same person or not.
“So you’re the guy from Cancun, huh?” I asked
“Seems to be”, he replied.
“And you’re the guy from Perris, huh?” I asked again
“I guess so”, he said.
And that was the extent of our communication. Short and perfunctory. I wondered if the curtness of the exchange was due to embarrassment that yes, he was the bute who molested my friend, or yes, he was lying through his teeth to support the ridiculous fantasy of his childhood friend.
If he is the brute from the bar, I sincerely hope a future brute does to his daughter what he did to E. I sincerely pray that his daughter experiences the fear, the humiliation and the absolute helplessness of being held against her will by a man 3 times her size and called a prostitute, a whore and a slut. It is the only justice I can imagine for E.
You must be asking why publish this information on the internet for the whole world to see? The answer is simple.
The cast of characters in this ridiculous charade made up by Don Stovner is long. The Stalker has implicated so many people in his attempt to legitimize his behavior that it’s hard to keep track. So many of these people have championed his cause, praising his quest for happiness, as if “coming out” to his victim is some sort of personal Victory to be relished and celebrated. What tends to get lost is the fact that these characters are real people who have made real contact with me in an effort to legitimize the Stalker, just like Spencer has done. There should be no reason to keep any of this information private. Besides, the Stalker and his Family felt no compulsion to protect my privacy. Spencer made no attempt to protect me from humiliation and embarrassment over the past 20+ years at the hands of his “best friend”, so why should he expect his involvement to remain secret?
Think long and hard now. Were you a character in the Stalker’s Charade? Did you facilitate one of his lies? Did you provide credibility for him? Spencer did, and look at what’s happened.
This is my personal experience – real life events that happened to me. Not fiction, not a story, not make believe. After 23 years of being Stalked, Terrorized, Followed, Watched and Burglarized, I realized there are only two options which could possibly satisfy me: Money or Revenge.
I have chosen Revenge.
Filed this one under "Irony" - Spencer Shockley's daughter is the same age E & I were when Spencer sexually assaulted us at Senior Frog's in Cancun Mexico. I bet she has no idea the filthy behavior her father condones.
Wonder what Kelsi's mom Lynda thinks?
During the Winter & Spring of 1991, my friend E and I were working in Downtown LA. We were in what is known as “Little Tokyo” and we were part of a corporation which was literally building Los Angeles. We began a habit of going out every weekend, except the weekend started on Thursdays. E and I had bonded quite accidentally in an elevator. We kept the very same schedule, riding the elevator up to the 8th floor in the morning and down to the parking garage in the evening. It wasn’t long before we began parking near each other on the same garage floor. Our conversations quickly turned to the men in our lives, or rather, the men who were no longer in our lives. It was during this time in 1991 that the Audio Thief had disappeared once again, leaving me to wonder which stripper he was running around Vegas with this time. Evelyn was in a similar situation, her Latin Lover avoided her only until he had several drinks and more than just a few lines. It was one Thursday evening after making our way back to the Parking Garage from our favorite Hole in the Wall conveniently located across the alley from our office that we decided, the only way to rid ourselves of these men was to go on a vacation. Somewhere tropical. It was the middle of February, 1991 and Spring Break was eight short weeks away.
The next morning, as I walked past E’s conclave in the office, she grabbed my arm and yanked me to a desk. She pointed to the newspaper open to the Travel section: Seven days, six nights in Cancun Mexico, 5-star Resort, round trip airfare, there was even a day trip to Chichenitza. We booked the trip for June that afternoon.
Between February and May 1991, my Grandmother would have told her friends I was “not well” and the tone of her comment or the movement of her head would signify the severity of “not well”. By April of 1991, I would have had only the disapproving tone level of “not well”. I was determined to go on my vacation to erase the Audio Thief. I was taking a cocktail of antibiotics & hormone therapy in the days leading up to the trip to Mexico and the treatment ended about 3 days before my flight. For the entire month of May, my family did everything they could think of to persuade me to cancel the trip. I coped by working, running, going to the gym and of course drinking heavily with E.
In June of 1991, it was time to wash away our man-trouble by running off to Cancun, Mexico for 7 days. At the time, my stubbornness in going on my vacation was fueled by the illness. If I was really that sick, I at least deserved a tropical vacation. I was supposed to be thinking about the side effects of Lupron therapy for 9 months. So if I had to have another surgery, I wanted to go out having seen the Yucatan Pyramids, specifically Tulum, Xelha and Chitzchenitza. After all, I had served my Country did my duty and I deserved something out of it …. Right?
By the last week of May, just 2 short weeks before the magnificent tropical journey, I was back to myself, not sick but rather healthy. On June 5 we were off to Mexico. From the get go it was a catastrophe, and it was the most exciting trip of my life. Through a calamity of events, the transportation plans for the Airport changed last minute because E’s Latin Lover could not believe she was going on a vacation without him. He convinced her to let him drive her to the airport – I would take a shuttle – but - I missed the Shuttle. I missed my non-stop flight out of LAX and I arrived at the airport just as the plane was taxing down the runway to take off for Mexico. Through some miracle I got re-routed for a mere $50 on a multiple stop Flight from LAX to Mexico City, where I changed planes at 8am for the final leg arriving in Cancun at 10am the next morning June 6. If I was lucky and made all my connections, I could get to Mexico City and go stand by to Cancun, arriving at 8pm on June 5th. Yea, I’m not lucky – the flight was booked solid. I had to take another route, LAX to Guadalajara to Mexico City, spent the night in the Mexico City airport where I changed planes for the final leg to Cancun.
The second night of my trip, June 5, through June 9, I spent dancing and club hopping. E had met up with 2 other girls on vacation, two sisters on vacation from Irvine California. They were from Guatamala, and they met up with family in Cancun. They were staying in the resort next to ours and we partied with them as much as possible. We Resort hopped, we club hopped, we even hopped the Pyramids with them.
On June 6, the sisters had to meet their family for dinner but would be free at 10p for club hopping. E and I decided it would be Senior Frogs for Dinner & Daddy O’s for Dancing. That was the night I met the Stranger. We sat at his table, we ate with his friends, and I danced with him for 2 hours, until our the sisters gave their wave through the window to signal it was time to go to Daddy O’s. The only reason we sat with the Stranger and his Friends was because they were in the window booth. It would enable us to see the sisters when they drove by and gave us the wave.
In all honesty, while E and I drank a lot, the reality was that we went home alone, a lot. And it was entirely by choice. The perception, however, was that we were far more promiscuous than we really were. For all intents and purposes, we were more interested in alcohol, dancing, flirting and mor dancing than we were in sex with strangers. I can not count the number of times we feigned lesbianism just to ward off a particularly over bearing brute with roaming hands.
The night in Senior Frogs, we found ourselves in a booth with three overbearing brutes who were somehow convinced that buying us a few drinks entitled them to more than conversation. When we walked into Senior Frogs it was completely full. The three men in the booth waved us over and offered to let us sit with them. They were the only Americans in the bar, and we were the only American Girls. The three men situated E and I so that they sat between us, separating us at the table. The Stranger held my attention, and I could not help but feel his only purpose at the table was to keep me occupied while the other two worked on E.
After only one drink, E and I moved to the bar at her insistence. The two men were pawing her under the table and asking her repeatedly how much she wanted for “a good time”. They would not keep their hands off of her and the more she pushed them off the more aggressive they became, the point where one brute held her against him while the other tried to paw at her. The Stranger followed us, apologizing and offering to buy another drink. It would be another hour before the sisters arrived and Daddy O’s opened, so we stayed for one more drink on the condition the two brutes leave us alone.
Eventually someone else asked E to dance. The Stranger and I drank for a bit, danced for a bit and I gave the Stranger my phone number. It was when I came back from the Ladies Room that I found the Stranger at the bar pawing at E. She was furious, but at that time, the sisters waved through the window and off we went Dancing. I never saw him again.
It was 17 years later that Don Stovner established himself as the man I met while on vacation in Cancun in 1991, the Stranger. He knew details of the bar, the conversation, the music that we danced to, even the fucked up heel on my shoe that tore his boot when I stepped on his foot with it while we danced. It was The Stranger and Spencer Shockley and a 3rd buddy in Cancun that night in Senior Frogs, on their way the next morning to Cozumel. The revelation shocked me because I had seen Fireguy123 had followed me on Twitter in May 2009. I thought it was someone else, a Fire Fighter friend of mine, until I saw the name and realized I never knew a Spencer Shockley. Hearing it from Don 3 months after the fact took me by surprise. For the entire month of September, through to his birthday, he began his push for love and a life together. The lost love from the bar in Cancun. The boy who held my hand in the balloon fields in Perris. He knew so much about my past, events in my life that were so far removed from Las Vegas, things and events that happened years before I ever met Don. There was no way he could have known some of these things unless he had been there, watching the events take place. I, and my friends, began referring to him as my Stalker. We jokingly said that I fell in love with my Stalker.
Don claimed that Spencer was in the bar with him in Cancun. That meant Spencer was one of the men pawing and harassing E. Was he the brute who held her against him while his friend pawed at her legs and crotch? Or was he the brute who ran his hands over her body asking her how much she cost and what her price was for sex?
Don claimed that Spencer worked the balloon fields with him in Perris. So was Spencer one of the thieves who ransacked the Cottage when Grampa died? Did he paw through my Grandfather’s belongings the way he pawed E? Running his hands over things that did not belong to him? Was he one of the Squatters at the Cottage? One of the many who lived in our Vacation home and never paid a dime in rent, mortgage or even utilities?
In September 2010, I received a call from Don as he was driving from Las Vegas to Long Beach. An unfamiliar voice said “Hello, Onagh”. I asked who it was and the voice identified themselves, “this is Spencer”. Since I never spoke to the two brutes in the bar in Cancun, I had no idea if this was the same person or not.
“So you’re the guy from Cancun, huh?” I asked
“Seems to be”, he replied.
“And you’re the guy from Perris, huh?” I asked again
“I guess so”, he said.
And that was the extent of our communication. Short and perfunctory. I wondered if the curtness of the exchange was due to embarrassment that yes, he was the bute who molested my friend, or yes, he was lying through his teeth to support the ridiculous fantasy of his childhood friend.
If he is the brute from the bar, I sincerely hope a future brute does to his daughter what he did to E. I sincerely pray that his daughter experiences the fear, the humiliation and the absolute helplessness of being held against her will by a man 3 times her size and called a prostitute, a whore and a slut. It is the only justice I can imagine for E.
You must be asking why publish this information on the internet for the whole world to see? The answer is simple.
The cast of characters in this ridiculous charade made up by Don Stovner is long. The Stalker has implicated so many people in his attempt to legitimize his behavior that it’s hard to keep track. So many of these people have championed his cause, praising his quest for happiness, as if “coming out” to his victim is some sort of personal Victory to be relished and celebrated. What tends to get lost is the fact that these characters are real people who have made real contact with me in an effort to legitimize the Stalker, just like Spencer has done. There should be no reason to keep any of this information private. Besides, the Stalker and his Family felt no compulsion to protect my privacy. Spencer made no attempt to protect me from humiliation and embarrassment over the past 20+ years at the hands of his “best friend”, so why should he expect his involvement to remain secret?
Think long and hard now. Were you a character in the Stalker’s Charade? Did you facilitate one of his lies? Did you provide credibility for him? Spencer did, and look at what’s happened.
This is my personal experience – real life events that happened to me. Not fiction, not a story, not make believe. After 23 years of being Stalked, Terrorized, Followed, Watched and Burglarized, I realized there are only two options which could possibly satisfy me: Money or Revenge.
I have chosen Revenge.
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