Death Car

He says: "Are there more cats then the 9 in the truck?"

I said: "Yes."

He said: "How many more?"

I said: "I don't know. I have Autism. I can't count."

Him: "How many more are in the camper?"

Me: "That is not a camper, that is a motorhome. They are not the same things."

Him: "How many cats are inside?"

Me: "I don't know, you got the door open. I open the door to let the cats go out. When the door opens they go out. I wasn't here when you opened it up. I don't know how many you let out. No one is supposed to open the doors while I'm not here, they are feral cats, they are scared of people. Me and my brother are the only two people they will come for. They trust us. They run from everybody else. They go back to the woods. It takes days or weeks to get them back if someone scares them."

He asks me the same question, reworded every way he can think of, again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again...

It is very frustrating for me, because I HATE repeating myself and he's making me repeat myself again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again...

"I don't know. I have Autism, I can't do math."

"I don't know. I have Autism, I can't count."

"I don't know. I have Autism, I can't do numbers."

"I don't know. I have Autism, I go by names not numbers."

He just absolutely was not listening to me and just kept making me repeat myself again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again...

Finally he says to me, that he had another cat in a box, (which he had hidden out behind my motorhome), but that he had not brought in the truck yet, and a second cat had escaped and ran into the woods, and he'd been questioning me because he wanted to see if I'd lie to him about there being two more cats than he had in the van.

Then he hands me paper and says I have to sign and date them. And I ask him what the date is. I have Autism, I can't do numbers or calendars or any kind of math. I ask him what the date is and he just starts spouting number at me. And telling me over and over again to sign and I'm trying to remember what the numbers look like so I can.

I am Autism. Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to understand things under normal conditions and how much harder it is when people are screaming at me and smashing my home and torturing my cats?

At this point most of the police cars leave and Will Watson explains he has to take the cats to a vet to be checked out, asks me to move my car so he can leave with the cats. I back the Razzberry back out, and one officer, runs over and stands there ready to pull his gun out, like he's expecting me to run over him or ram his car or ram the van. Once the van is out into the road, he relaxes out of his gun ready position and starts directing traffic so the van can get all the way out.

Will Watson leaves with the van and the other officers stand around looking at each other for a few seconds, then get into their cars and leave.

I pull back into the driveway and I'm just sitting in my car for, I don't know how long, while I try to wrap my brain around, what in the heck just happened.

This occurred around 1PM in the afternoon. It was around 3PM when the officers left.

They had been about to leave when we drove up. They had waited until they knew I was not home, broke into the motorhome, and acted fast to capture the cats, but they were unable to leave because my car had driven up behind them. I NORMALLY would not have gotten back home before 2PM. Had I gotten home at my NORMAL time, they would have already been gone. Like I said, it was raining (pouring with thunder and lightning, several times off and on throughout the day) and thus I had come home earlier than expected.

I sat in the yard in a snowbank for a long time. A couple of hours, I think. It was not until around 8PM (after dark) that I pulled out a flashlight and started reading the paperwork, which they had handed to my mom, when she had asked if they had a warrant. It was NOT a warrant.

THEY DID NOT HAVE A WARRANT!

THEY DID NOT HAVE A WARRANT!

THEY DID NOT HAVE A WARRANT!

What they had was an Ex Parte Order.

An Ex Part Order, for those who don't know, is a temporary order for an emergency request for temporary custody.

IT REQUIRES A DILIGENT ATTEMPT TO CONTACT THE OTHER PARTY (in this case me).

NO ATTEMPT TO CONTACT ME WAS MADE.

Oh...but it gets worse...the paper says, and I quote:

There is a clear danger that if the Owner is notified in advance of the issuance of an order, the Owner may remove the Animals from the state, conceal them, or otherwise make them unavailable. Unless an ex part order issues allowing the Applicant to take possession of the Animals, the Animals will die, their condition will be substantially impaired or worsened or medical attention will be necessary to restore the Animals to a normal healthy condition. An Ex Parte Order for possession of the animal(s), pursuant 17 M.R.S.A | 1021(4) is necessary because there is a reasonably likelihood that the owner/defendant is not subject to the jurisdiction of the court for purposes of a hearing because he/she cannot be found by reasonable diligence; or he/she is a resident of the State of Maine but currently out of state. There is a danger that unless immediate action is taken the condition of an injured, overworked, tormented, tortured, abandoned, poisoned, or mutilated animal, animal deprived of necessary sustenance, necessary medical attention, proper shelter or protection from the weather or humanely clean conditions will be substantially impaired or worsened or the animal's life will be jeopardized or a great degree of medical attention will be necessary to restore the animal to normal healthy condition or there is a clear danger that Wendy Allen if notified in advance of an issuance of an order of the Court for possession of the animal pursuant to 17 M.R.S.A. | 1201(3), may remove animal from the State of Maine, conceal animal or otherwise make it unavailable. The gray and black cat with a white chest and long hair as seen in the attached picture is being deprived of necessary sustenance, necessary medical attention, proper shelter or protection from the weather or humanely clean conditions and unless and Ex Parts Order issue allowing the applicant to take possession of the animal, the animal will die, it's condition will be substantially impaired or worsened or medical attention will be necessary to restore animal to normal condition. No loss will result from the Town of Old Orchard Beach taking possession of and providing for the animal(s) pending a hearing in this matter, therefore no security should be required.

What a load of libelous lies that is! I don't even know where to begin.

It states they don't know how to contact me, and yet Will Watson is a casual friend of the family and has all our contact info and has often stopped by "just to talk" several times over the past 10 years.

He's the damned officer who checks in on us to make sure no one is sleeping in the motorhome at night, thus why I have to sleep under the tarp, for crying out loud.

I've never lived anywhere else. I've never left the state. I have no where else to go. Where would I go? Where the hell do they think I'm supposed to go? And where exactly am I supposed to hide the cats from them? What in the hell are they talking about?

Everyone in this town knows me and knows the feud that is currently raging between my dad and the town hall right now, and they know that the ONLY reason there is any peace between the clan and the town right now is the fact that I've been mediating between the clansmen and the town hall.

Because of the feud, there are currently tractors and dump trucks, leveling the land, pulling up trees, they took three damned feet of top soil out of here. How the hell do they expect us to grow our crops now that they've obliterated the place.

Why are they here? Because vandals dumped 3,000 wood pallets, 57 tires, and 14,000 pounds of actually garbage in our yard, which the town is fining us and making us pay for the clean up costs, regardless of who dumped it on our land!

THE HARASSMENT DOESN'T STOP!

In 2013 the Town drove a bulldozer over my grandmother's house.

photo July 2013

photo August 9, 2013

In 2001 that exact same bulldozer drove over our barn, which is why the egg farm got shut down, ending our income.

Do you know what the REALLY STUPID thing of all this is? They could have just come over while I was home and ASKED me why the cats were in the motorhome and I could have told them, that there are some feral cats, that have been living in my yard for well over a decade, I've been feeding them and taking care of them.

I could have told them why the cats weren't outside that day the Public Works crew was there. They could have asked me and I could have told them. But instead they run around lying about me and claiming I had abandoned them when I hadn't and Will Watson knew that.

These men are crude monsters. Look at what they did to our motorhome! Look at how deploribly they treated my cats! They don't care about my health. They don't care about my cats. No one does. All they want to do is make trouble and spread nasty rumors and lies, and defam my good name and reputation, because they don't like the race I was born as. So what if I'm a Gypsy? That doesn't make me any less deserving of basic Human Rights! My cats were the only ones who care about me. I don't have anyone else. I'm alone all day, except for when my mother and brother come visit, the cats are the only ones I have to talk to, and now they're gone and I have no one.

I don't even have a place to sit down and write any more. All I can do right now is sit in a cold snow bank because they trashed my motorhome. Look at what they did to my motorhome! The table is smashed. The couch is trashed. The benches are broken. The foam bench seat covers are slashed and ripped to shreds all over the yard, now I have to clean that up. There's a freaking pitch fork stabbed into my couch. That was in the closet. I had my garden tools in the closet.

There is no place to sit. Not one place. The rugs are gone, my nice white shag flokati rugs, they're mashed into the spring thaw mud outside. all the curtains are ripped off the windows and torn in half. The screen door is pulled off and slashed. And what does that matter, there's no door at all. Look at it! Look at the door! How am I supposed to lock up the motorhome now?

Look at the before and after pictures. Look at what my motorhome looked like before they came, inside and out, and after they left.

What is wrong with these people? Why are they doing this to us? I don't understand any of this.

Do you have any idea how traumatized my cats were? They had these long poles with hooks on them, loops around their necks, dragging them across the yard while they howled and screamed in terror. You should have heard them in the van. Screaming at the top of their lungs terrified. In cages. They put my cats in cages. I hate cages. They've never been in a cage before. That's torture. They are feral cats, they had the whole forest, the whole garden. They were only in the motorhome at night or when I had to go run errands. They were in there to protect them from the bear and fisher and coyotes and foxes.

The motorhome was my writing office. I stayed I there 6 to 8 hours every day, set up with my digi-memo writing. That's where I write books? Where am I supposed to write now? And how am I supposed to write without my cats? I've never not had cats. I've always had cats. Why do you think my grandmother called me EelKat when I was 3 years old? Feral cats came running out of the woods to play me. No one else could get near them. It's been like that for 40 years.

You should have seen poor Emily. She was laying floor of the cage screaming, she looked like she was going into a seizure. She's 14 years old. Poor Dog, he wasn't even moving. He was just laying there like he was dead. He was so scared out of his mind, he couldn't even move.

I hate the men who did this to my cats. They are evil men. They don't care about my cats. They're just looking for one more way to hurt me and don't care what it does to my cats.

We are Gypsies. Those are Gypsy cats. Family is important to Gypsies. Those cats are my family. They broke up our family. I'm always sleeping outside on the hill in the grass (and in the snow, I don't mind the snow) and my cats would all gather in a pile on top of me. We'd all sleep together, on my big fur coat. My Unicorn coat, the one from the opera? It's over a 100 years old, and very strange looking, but it opens up into a big giant square, and I'd take all the pillows and build like a round bird nest shape out of them and put the fur coat, fur side up over that, and then, me and the cats would sleep in it.

Now I sleep alone.

Or rather I don't sleep at all. I have night terrors (Autism and PTSD at the same time is horrible.) Ever since I've had the cats, the night terrors went away. I looked it up and Doctors online say that when an Autistic or PTS patient has night terrors, they have them sleep under a weighted blanket and the the pressure of the weight causes them to feel like they are being hugged and they relax and sleep. The night terrors go away.

It used to be really bad. The night terrors. But then the cats found me under the tarp and moved in with me, and they sleep on top of me, and the night terrors went away.

Now they're back. The cats are gone and the night terrors have returned, I'm fast nearing 48 hours since I last had speel. The longest I ever went without sleep was 5 days, that's how bad the night terrors get. I had forgotten what it was like to have night terrors, it's been so long since they went away. I can't sleep without my cats.

They separated Blackie and Sprout. They're brothers. They've never been apart. NEVER. They stay together ALL THE TIME. They had Blackie in the front compartment and Sprout in the back. I told them, they needed to be together. I asked them to put them together and they wouldn't do it. They are mean, cruel, hateful people. They separated Pip and Mittens too. They always stay together.

And Fizzgig and Kewpie, mother and daughter, always together, they separated them too. And my poor Bela, my giant 20 lb Black Bombay - I've never seen her scared before. She's always so happy and confident, and she was laying howling, terrified. And Georgie, my oldest, I've had him since he was a kitten. He wasn't feral.

They are traumatizing my cats. They put them in cages and separated them from each other. They put them in cages, cat that had an entire forest to play in, trapped in tiny cages. That is horrible.

We are Gypsies, we hate being trapped inside. We love the open freedom of outside. We find it very difficult to be indoors at all. People/locals have often described me and my people as "feral" they say we live like the feral cats that follow me, because we live in the woods and rarely live in houses. People have a hard time understanding Gypsy culture. But we hate to be locked away separate from Nature. And we hate being alone or separated from family.

That is why I know how scared and confused and traumatized they must be right now, locked in cages, separated and alone. Understand how that feels, because I am a Gypsy and I know what it is to be close to nature and love freedom and family.

I think that is why the feral cats have always felt safe with me. I have the same untame wild spirit they do. They are afraid of everyone else, but they act as though I am one of them. They do not act like I am a human, they act like I'm just another cat. It's very strange to see the vast difference in these cats when they are with me, to when they around other people.

And I still can't find Cleo. They said she ran out into the woods. I looked all day and all night and all day, calling her and calling her. She's Pip's, Blackie's, and Sprout's mother. She's never been separated from them before. They'll be missing each other. She must be so scared. Big mean, bully strangers coming in and tearing her home apart and kidnapping her family. There's 30 acres of forest out there and a lot of swamp and quicksand and hundreds of acres of motorhomes and trailers on the other side. Second largest RV park in the town borders our land. And the snow has mostly melted now, so finding tracks out there in the pine needles is next to impossible this time of year. I can't find her anywhere.

Home wreckers. That's what they are. Evil homewreckers sent here by Satan to steal and destroy, like a thief in the night. It was evil men who did this to us. They broke up our family.

The doctors said last December, when I was hospitalized by the shock of Town taking our land, that my heart needed to relax. He was just some random ER doctor, didn't know me or my history, but he said: "I can tell you have too much stress in your life. You need to get away from the stress. Find a way to relax or you won't live to see another year." He didn't know the OOB took the land. I didn't tell them. My brother took care of the cats while I was in the hospital. They are with him the same way they are with me. He too has the untamed spirit and love of nature I have and they can sense that so they trust him as they trust me.

Sometimes I think maybe it's just time to say: I give up. The bullies win. I'm not physically strong enough to fight for my rights any more. And I don't have anyone to fight with me or for me. I have Chronic Tendonitis in my arms, my wrist, my legs, and my back. You have no idea how much I hurt. Every move I make, stretches my muscles and makes them hurt. I can barely walk any more. It's very hard for me to type now.

I am an author. I sit down down to write every day, and I end up sitting there for hours writing nothing, just close my eyes and listen to the cats purring, for 6 or 7 hours a day, all day, every day. Because the chronic tendonitis has gotten so bad, that my hand locks up, like it's paralyzed, and I can't even pick up a pen. The doctors say it's because I've been exposed to to the extreme cold, with no protection from the weather, for so many years now. I'm aging faster then I should, because I've been homeless for 9 years.

I used to walk 13 miles every day. The whole leangth of the beach and back.I can barely make it down to the end of my 175' long driveway now. I used to be able to bench press 78lbs, now I'm on doctor's orders not to lift more then 20lb. People see me with the cane, but they don't see the back brace or the arm braces, or that I often have my legs wrapped in bandages, and some days, not even the cane is enough. I got a pair of crutches for those days. I don't talk about it, so no one knows, how much every move I make hurts, and how most days, the only thing I do, is lay on the grass, with a mountain of cats piled on my back purring to me.

My cats are what keep me going. Life has been so hard since the bomb, with all the vandalism and harassment, on top my health. It's hard to not want to kill myself and just say I'm done. I don't want to die, I just want the pain to and hate crime to go away. My cats are what kept me going through all this. And now they've taken them away.

The cats were the only thing keeping me going, these past 9 years since the bomb took my house and left me homeless. They were all I had left to live for. Now I have nothing.

No house.

No land.

No cats.

And not even my motorhome to sit in.

The Town of Old Orchard Beach has now taken everything.

Losing the house to a hate crime bomb was hard, but we are Gypsies, we are used to such hate crimes against us. We learn to turn the other cheek and continue on with life.

I barely tolerated them taking my land. Land my family has lived on since 1530. My people, the Scottish Gypsies, we were marooned here by the British, in 1530, because of our race. And we've lived on this ever since. We've never moved. Never left this spot. Generations of my family have farmed this land.

They smashed up my motorhome, leaving me homeless once again. This is the 4th time the Town has done this. We had a house again, and on August 8, 2013, the town's bulldozer "accidently" ran over it and flattened it. I am very thankful the cats were not in the building at the time.

We used to have and egg farm here since the 1800s. Hundreds and hundreds of chickens. In 2001, that same town bulldozer "accidently" ran over that building too.

The town has been harassing us for a long time.

The Public Works crew was here this week, because for the past several years, people have been trespassing on our land and dumping garbage. One time a 18 wheel crate loader truck dumped wood pallets. I counted them - there were 3,000 of them piled up like an eyesore, right on top of my vegetable garden. Three freaking thousand of them. It was more then one truck. It was truck after truck. We had no crops that year or any year since. The wood pallets were only just finally removed this past month.

We had hoped we could go back to life as normal. We planned to build a house there and start farming again, and in the middle of those happy, hopeful plans, they return yet again and take my cats. It is for them that I had planned to build the house. Without the cats I have no need to build a house. I am a Gypsy, I don't need a house, but I wanted a house for the cats. I was designing a house, a 25'x23' two-storey chalet, that I designed specifically for the cats to have wide open space to roam indoors safe from winter and rain and predators. They are my family, I wanted them to have a house and now they have taken them.

Please is there anything you can do to help me get my cats back. You know me, you know I don't abuse animals. You know that what they are saying is a lie and nothing but wild exaggerations to make me look like something I am not.

Officer deLuca was right, I'm not important to anyone. No one cares about me. It didn't matter that I was homeless, going way too many days in row between meals, spending my winters freezing cold living under a tarp, with no medical insurance and very ill health. But who cares, right?

As Officer deLuca said while they were strangling my cats with those hooks on poles: "I don't care about that. It's not important." Oh, yeah, I know, my not being important to anyone is why I was homeless so long, with only my cats to inspire me to wake up each day.

My cats loved me and I loved them. They were the only ones who cared about me. They were the only ones who spent time with me. All day, every day. And now I'm alone. Just alone. Sad and alone. No cats to keep me company. No motorhome to sit and write in and no land to park the motorhome on anymore.

Why is the Town of Old Orchard Beach harassing me? I don't understand any of this. So many strangers keeping coming in here and invading and terrorizing, and I just want people to leave me alone. If they can't be nice to me, just leave me alone.

A lot of people don't even know anyone lives here. That's how quiet and none disturbing of the peace I am.

Before the bomb, no one ever came up in here. But ever since the bomb, it's been a steady line of people dumping garbage on our land or vandalising stuff or raising hell for us. Why can't they leave us alone? We never bother anybody, why are they bothering us?

If you can't bring love, then why bring hate? Why are there so many evil people, who think it's fun and games to hurt others?

They have been harassing us for years because we are by race Gypsies and we are a peaceful people, we don't fight back, so they think they can get away with doing one thing after another, because they have gotten away with it for so many years.

I stood back in silence when they took first one house after another.

But I will not stand back in silence while they break up my family and terrorize my cats. This is nothing short of terrorism. The damages to my motorhome are way beyound incredibly unbelievable.

Ask at Mac's Garage, what we were doing on January 25 during Blizzard Juno? We were out there, me and my brother and my mom, shoveling the show, during the blizzard, so that we could keep the paths open for the cats. She knew, because she saw us out there and stopped to help us. She brought her truck over and helped plow the land out.

I love my cats so much, I would never hurt them. Please help me get them back. I don't know what to do. I don't know how to get them back.


I have no income and because I have Autism I am not eligible for disability, food stamps, TANF, welfare, medical insurance (including FreeCare which I'm also denied). I don't know what to do. My income from writing only brings in $20 to $200 a month. I have no way to hire a lawyer and I don't understand all the paperwork the police have given me. I don't know who to turn to for help. I don't know if you can help me or not.

I Googled for info on helping Autistics fight against harassment and that is how I got your email. Google sent me to your site.

I need to find a lawyer to help me with this. I have multiple court dates on the papers and I don't know how to do any of court thing and I have major massive panic attack meltdowns in court. I was in court years ago as a witness to an event and when I had to go testify, I froze, like I had gone into a coma or something, I couldn't talk for weeks and weeks and weeks, I was totally shut down. It happens every time I'm under stress and every time I've ever been in court it happens. I also have Selective Mutism form of Autism, and around some people I can talk okay but around most people my speech is slurred really bad or I just can't talk at all.

I know I can't represent myself in court with a disability like this, but I have no income and am homeless and living off food pantry and Salvation Army food and so I don't have anyway to pay a lawyer and I don't know how to find a lawyer that takes a case like this for no pay. If you know of any like that could you please, please, please forward this to them.

I need help and I need it very fast to get my cats back. They are my family. The oldest one I've had for 14 years. I don't have anyone else. I don't have any friends because no one wants to be friends with a "retard" (that's everyone calls me, so my cats are my only friends and they took them away. Please can you help me to get them back?

If you can not help me, can you please forward this to someone who can? Thank you. - Wendy

Wendy C Allen
146 Portland Ave
Old Orchard Beach, Maine

(the town has stopped out home mail delivery until at least May 2, 2015)

207-502-5776 (text is best, I have Autism and conversations verbally are difficult for me; more so on a phone)

Skype: eelkat

email: [email protected]


The contact officer for this is Will Watson of the Old Orchard Beach Police Department 207-934-4911

(there is a lot more info then what I've said here; full details, including transcripts of conversations with police, and photos of before and after damages can be found here: http://www.eelkat.com)

EelKat Wendy C Allen: Author, Artist, & Art Car Designer - The Se