FIRST I want to remind all of you that on JUNE 9, 2016, we will be memoralizing my mother, Mary G. Sykes, and in doing so, celebrate life and our abulity to pursue the evils that caused her premature death, the premature and wrongful deaths of other elderly and disabled caught in unnecessary guardianships–and hopefully prevent other premature deaths.

I look forward to meeting the many people who I’ve only met through FACEBOOK or email, or other social media and seeing the other people who have been so supportive my mother, me and other men and woman who were wronged.

NEXT….This is Jan 3, the third day in the year of 2016,where now with 20/20 hindsight I look back and acknowledge some of what was taught in the now gone year of 2015. Abundant in things to grieve over with violence smeared on every screen along with exhausted anger pulsing in the majority if faces I encounter daily, 2015 was a year of being lost and found. I lost the love of my life, my mother, Mary G. Sykes to the horrors of financial exploitation, discrimination,discrimination and elder abuse all sanctioned by the Cook County Probate Court (Judges, Connors, Stuart, and MacCarthy)  — and then, over medication, suffocation, and as Dr. Bennett Blum explains it, “MURDER”. I found love and ate its bounty heartily trying to stave off grief and further finding humility in its presents and eventual absence and the knowledge that the courage to move forward is now even more heightened. I’ve become more acquainted with unique frequency of rage, distrust and loathing that’s been with me for many years making the interplay between people often difficult for me and I recent last year, learned to practice letting it go. In “letting it go” I was able to forgive, but never forget, which has given me a great positive outlook on life, and humanity, yet the people who did my mother harm, are but entities — and I no longer fear them or hate them. These people, lawyers, judges, relative(s) are non existent, like a roach eaten wooden chair, sprayed with poison and tossed away, forgotten. Letting go of any attachment in this life is very hard even when what you hold may be poisoning you, you may just be holding tighter to feel the embrace of something or anything in a tempest that is doing its best to uproot you and truly make you forget what it was like to be held, acknowledged, and cared for. In sum, life is good and I will never forget the blessings that have come my way, and often, overwhelmed me with the love, which I spoke of earlier. And such love, though often gently felt, provided the nexus for courage.

I will remember it all as the last six years are embeded in my brain like a carving so deep there is no filler that will hold. I want to remember you the lovely people, men and woman, young and old, most I’ve never met in person or even spoken to, who are reading these words and caring enough to hear these thoughts and to share your life in the moments it takes you to do so. I’m hungry to tell you I love you because it’s not such a scary thing to feel and the forces that preach to that standard probably do so because it’s real and there is nothing scarier than real life. It is beyond doubt, that I have, like many of you, been living a reality so horrible that even the greates of minds like Stephen King, could not create the experiences my mother — and I–have endured: A real life where a species beheld in open light of life literally, elderly and disabled people, ripped from their homes and good lives, placed under guardianship with the encouragedement of a Cottage Industry of attorneys who are presumed to be telling the truth to the elderly and disabled financially exploited and emotionally and often, physically abused — to the collateral damage, adult children who stand tall in the face of unfit and ignorant judges, who laughing at their deaths for their personal financial gain of the lawyers who stood/stand before them. These people are the enemies on their own chosing: and the law enforcement and other state institutions who failed to investigate, or aide an elderly or disabled person, there is also a sense of love in my heart for all of you. None of us can hide from God, or the Universe and there is no political power who can protect your from your upcoming(s). In this uncertain world, this I am certain.

We must remember, here in Cook County, especially Chicago, it is the very policing agencies I and other adult children seeking protections from the “enemies” sought, who believe that 16 gun shots into Teenager McDonald, or 7 gun shots killing Betty Jones and Quintonio LeGrier…..

On January 6, 2008, I too was roughed up by 5 Chicago Police Officers, who threw me to the floor of my home, handcuffed me and accused me of calling the Indiana State Police and telling them I had a gun and was going to kill myself.  Then I was dragged down a flight of stairs, tossed in the back of a police wagon, and after driving me around for 30 minutes, hoping I would cause them reason to do me more harm, they pulled me into a local hospital psyc ward.  Here, two CPD threatened to “take off” my clothes if I would remove the (tennis outfit) I was wearing.  I recall it with great horror when one jumped on top of me and held me down, while another ripped my tennis shirt off of me, and then held me down while a nurse injected me with some medication — while I yelled rape and begged them not to give me any medications.  I recall with greater horror when I awoke and the doctor said I could go home.  I was without my phone, identification, money, let alone a coat, and it was 17 degrees outside.  Then I recall the false police report the CPD entered, and attached was a medical record stating that I abused “an unknown prescription drug”.  Hell, the only drug I ever used in my life, was Tomixfin, a drug to prevent another breast cancer which I ingested by doctors prescription for five years!  This same medical report was used to discredit me in the probate and other courts, and the same police officer who held me down and stripped me of my tennis clothes, was the same man who LIED to the States Attorney and told them that Fred Toerpe didn’t beat me up and got the State Attorney Linda Alveraze to dismiss the charges against him in 2013.  The Independent Police Review board not only received a certified letter from the Indiana Sheriff’s department that I never called them, and that they never called the CPD, but also the evidence that proved I never called and I was never suicidal, and yet, after two meetings with me, and I signed the affidavit, all the documentations were lost and the five CPD were never ivestigated.   In sum, these are the same officers, or police department I and so many other adult children have reached out to for help, and law enforcement refused to help us and or help our loved ones.  THE CHICAGO POLICE as other policing  agencies, THEY ARE NOT HERE TO SERVE AND PROTECT US…. It makes no difference whether you are black, elderly, disabled or adult children trying to save lives.

I hope to see many of you on January 9, 2016, in memory of my dear, loving Mother, Mary G. Sykes and together we will celebrate life.  Together, we will show the enemies that we are united far greater than the thousand of protesters who are demanding the resignation of Mayor Emanual, States Attorney Alverez, et al.  .This is what January 9th is all about: my mother lost her life while under guardianship — as so many other elderly and disable who were “murdered” before — in order that US adult children can save lives.

Now that, saving lives, is a mighty reason to enjoy 2016.

God bless,

Gloria Jean Sykes