ChristopherLee Sheek:

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this is over a year ago when i started into my side career as a painter interior/exterior. on,07-30-09


This isn’t my story but I’ am going to tell it anyways, my name is Cody White.

I was however born in the same time era even the same month as my best friend just a few days apart. His name was Joshua Lee he was born April, 11, 1984 in Fairfield California. For this to be easier for everybody this is going to be in second person point of view. So I’ll just tell this story like it was mine that is how it feels like anyways.

So let’s do this over again my name is Joshua Lee I was born April, 11, 1984 in Fairfield California, At North Bay medical center at 1420 hours or at 2:20 pm my mother said it was a rainy day when she was in labor then after I was born the sun came out. My mothers name is Veronica my fathers name was Randy at that time we were living in Suisun city a small harbor town a navel ship yard that was later rebuilt. I was two when we moved out of there to go live with my grandparents.

Actually we ended up living with both sides of the family for some number of years. My dad’s side of the family lived on Hopkins Street and my moms side lived over the tracks don’t really remember the name of the street but for some reason it has been blocked out of my memories.

From what I remember my dad Randy was a mechanic and drove truck with my grandfather Coy, but my father also had a side job he was a drug dealer, a big drug dealer from what I remember and later heard stories of later in life from his old partners. Some of my first memories were of my dad drying out six foot spears of marijuana then later that week him rocking out large amounts of cocaine. Then some of the other first memories were of my grandpa Coy building model airplanes and drinking whisky and beer and my other side if the family my moms side were all alkies. These are just the first few visual memories I ever had. Or at least that I can remember. Other ones were of television and of my parents splitting up which will play a predominant role in the outcome of the next few years.

From what I can relive in my memories my parents started to split up soon before I was three it was very abusive for everybody all the family was included in the battle over me. The thing that sticks in my mind first is when my dad through a set of mechanic keys at my mom then beat her bloody until she past out, this was at my grandmas house of my moms side grandma Toni she then went at it with my dad and fought him out the house. That’s when shit got ugly my mom and dad divorced or at least separated then I was the object of argument.

This is when my stepbrother Jeffery came to my world. Before I was a semi lonely child the only cousins I had all spoke German and broken English so with my hearing problems and the language compromise I was very hard to understand but by my own family. Back to where I left off my brother Jeffery was a year and half younger than me, he was blond hair blue eyes and pale white skinned.

His mothers name is Star She was a coke head from what I heard the only reason she was with my dad was he was moving five kilos a week to down south in San Diego from what his exrunning partner said that was just the half of what he was dealing. I don’t ever remember him drinking outside of being with his dad coy but that must off just been a cover for being under the influence of coke and meth. My mother said my dad could smoke a eight ball of coke in a single sitting and go back to rock up more in a night. That is part of the reason I kind of understand how my dad could lose his temper the way he did at times.

Randy was extremely abusive not just to my mom and star but to his whole family, brothers sisters, and his own children stepchildren included. You know my dad only taught me three things, how to piss standing up, how to lose my anger, and how to forgive yourself and others the later will be explained last. Like I was saying my dad was a fucking abusive son of a bicth, this man had no remorse it seemed like when I look at it now. This is where the story gets deep for me but it seems like having told it so many times that its like reciting a poem or a short story, but its far from anything like that, with the memories still so vivid and when relived its called a Vietnam flash back cause I can regress strait back to being four years old, if I don’t concentrate on any single thought when I tell this story, that’s why its called p.t.s.d. or nam syndrome.

All I can think back on is that the day was unbearable hot that day, it was October 31st 1988 and my dad had been up for a couple of days smoking coke and speeding on meth, he and my mother were fighting over who was going to have me for Halloween that night. The argument started at my grandma Toni’s house early that morning well my mom had tried to keep me all day and night but my dad fought for me all day then after the night fell he won and took me from my mom by force.

He was already under investigation from child welfare services, for neglect and abuse for me and my brother Jeffrey my brother Jeffery always got the worse of it.

I still believe that was because he was a stepchild to my father. Jeffery had one broken arm a broken thigh bone and several other serious bodily injuries up to that last month he was here. Back to Halloween night, so we are over at my dad and Stars apartment on Walnut Street. It’s still early that night but Randy was already on a rampage with everybody what I don’t bring up is how long we were beat for that night. That was the last night Jeffery ever breathed. We were up stairs Jeffery was tied down like always to his bed, imagine that being three years old and tied to your bed every night after a passionate ass whopping to put you to sleep instead of a lullaby. That was what I and my brother got from my dad and Star ass beatings not bed time stories.

Well I remember my brother slipped out of his restraints like always and I followed him down stairs to hear the screaming between Randy and Star I cant remember why they were yelling but it was about money or drugs or my dad accusing Star of cheating. Then all I can still see was Randy came charging at Jeffery and I like I said I followed Jeffery down the stairs so he was in front of me when Randy struck him full force. He started the beating with a kick to Jeffery’s stomach which later on I found out is what killed him a ruptured spleen, never mind my brother didn’t die instantly.

The scream that came out my brother will haunt me forever, it sounded like a deer or some other wild animal it was inhuman. It would if been me that fatal kick to the abdomen if I was first down the stairs, but I got mine to that night I was next after Jeffery stopped moving Randy came after me I was beat until I blacked out and woke up at my moms house. This was the pinnacle point of the case of the people vs. Randy in Solano County in 1988.

You know there are a few things I must leave out of order because they are like puzzle pieces that don’t fit in chronological order.  More like an enigma ok here we go in my brother’s case something happened another case was brought to the attention of the district attorneys office. There was a coroner that fucked up on thirteen autopsies six years prior to Jeffery’s case. The case that was brought to the district attorneys was of my sister Elizabeth; two years before I was born my mom had a child right before she met my dad so it was another step child to him. The story goes that in October

Of 82’ my dad was getting up to feed or change my sisters diaper in the middle of the night and my aunt Cheryl said she was there, heard my dad get up to change Elizabeth and could hear the baby crying then heard my dad scream to the baby “Stop crying for Gods sake” then that was it. The child was silent, and then the ambulance was called because Elizabeth stopped breathing.

Well what was determined was that Elizabeth had suffered from (SIDS) sudden infant death syndrome. That is what the coroner said and to took a few more botched autopsies for that corners mistake to not be fixed but to be recognized and justices be brought to the people. This was a hell of a shock to not only my mom but to Star and my dad mainly cause now he was fighting two cases and metaphorically a third his life. Ah yes he was fighting for his life alright I still remember that he was on death row in the county jail until the (DA) dropped the charges to (Murder 2 and Manslaughter 1)        – 3 -that was what got the jury give him 19 years to life. It’s real funny that sentence that California handed down to him you can figure it out real easy, basically if you live to see the tail end of those 19 years the sad thing is the state of California never really lets you out of their prison. Especially when it’s a high profile case such as my father’s case the state likes to make an example out of you.                 This brings us to the year 1989 See this is not the year my sister Bethany was born it was 1988 but for the life of me I always thought it was, funny how my memory works the thoughts are always there but out of order. Guess it was because that was the year my dad went to prison. I remember when my dad was in county jail was right after Bethany came home, I remember the most significant thing about it was that I came home from lee bell park to see my dad and mom and uncle matt in the living room sitting there with my dad holding Bethany all newborn and innocent and this overwhelming fear came over me like why is he holding that baby? But the whole thing about it was that I didn’t even know who that child was let alone why I was so petrified that he was holding this child. Some researchers say it is because of the repressed memories and or post traumatic stressed disorder (PTSD). Or it was just the fact that I couldn’t relay to everybody what my dad did cause it was not there in my memory ?All I do know is there is a lot of blanks in those years that only a few things bring them back the most powerful memory releaser is smells.

When I was in the third grade in Mrs. Pilgrims’s class something set off all my memories at once and I flipped the fuck out, not only in class but when the teacher tried to calm me down I went crazy on her. First I started kicking her then she grabbed my ears and I bit her hand and drew blood. So I was sent to the principal’s office and of course my mother was called to talk to the principal and to take me home. But when I got in to the office I went schizoid in there and tore up the office and started to attack the principal. All I can remember was I felt like I was four years old again, it felt like everybody was my dad and all I could do was fight them off. I came out of the regression later on that day in my bedroom. Only to try to commit suicide by entering the kitchen and try to cut my own throat out, luckily my mom had a friend named Clayton who was over there at the time and was keeping a watchful eye on me cause if not it would have been dead.

So what does a parent do with a child who is suicidal? They take them to the crisis center. That’s where I went to then to Vallejo First Hospital a state mental facility. I went in sometime in March of that year and got out after my birthday in mid April.

Then it was all down hill from there; that’s around the same time my mom had my little sister Brandi spelt with an I not a Y. That’s how it was told to me when I was introduced to my lil sis. But my sister is not why it went down hill; oh no it all went down hill because I was kicked out of my elementary school Bransford elementary at the beginning of the forth grade. My mom paid to put me in a private school called A+ learning center that cost 500$ a month and was 15 miles away in Vacaville CA, I only went there for about a month and my mom said to me screw it. It cost too much but it was a damn good school. Then we started having problems with my dad’s side of the family. The women and all the men started saying to my mom that I was going to end up just like my dad a killer or worse. So with my little sister Bethany living with her fathers grandparents in Visalia CA already that’s when my mother decided to relocate us; uproot us was a better word.

You know what it was the best and the worst thing a parent could do to their child is to uproot them from their home town. But in all actuality I have to thank old moms for it who knows what I would have gotten into in my dads old stomping grounds? This is where my life got to be very interesting. Living in Visalia at the age of nine; but wait I remember living in San Jose for eight months during the forth grade that was where I can first remember my mom doing dope (METH) at. I went to Hillsdale elementary for part of that year but I think I got the time frame messed up because I believe I went to five different elementary schools that year alone. Even my mother is not sure how we did it, keeping me in school that year was very costly for her but she did it that year and for a few others. Living in San Jose for eight months was very difficult but I made it out alive. Going to Hillsdale was a life lesson; for one being a white boy in an all Mexican and black school was painful got in to a lot of fights and had my jaw dislocated. I also had a lot of fun in those eight months. My mom was so strung out that on any giving day I could ditch school and run around town on the west side of the big city all day until school would get out and just ride my bike back to the mobile home park that we lived at. That mobile home park was right behind the fairgrounds we went every where there in San Jose but my favorite place to go was to the swap meet and most favorite was the Fosters Freeze that was a few miles away from where I lived but that is where I could go and play 25 cent street fighter arcade games all day. I of course would be eating half and half ice cream cones every time I went there. They only cost one dollar back then I have never been back there since I was nine years old. The people I remember the most of San Jose was all my cousins and my mom’s friends some beautiful woman named Angela and her husband Dennis. I remember seeing her breast on night can’t remember how it came about that I saw her naked but she was gorgeous 28 year old Hawaiian woman long hair all the way down to her buttocks. Then there was my cousin Steven and his little brother Andrew who I occasionally talk to they all live in Montana now even my Aunt Michelle.

Then that brings us too the turning point of my life Tulare County and the city of Visalia which is where I currently reside in today in my life. So lets start from the beginning of this mess in the central valley; when my family and I got here I was still nine years old in the forth grade. I went Mineral King elementary that year some how I had to ride the bus all the way there. From the address 1008 E, Ferguson Ave still can’t believe I still remember that but there it is still staring me in the face all the memories that took place there. When we got down ere I was still so shell shocked about moving around so many times that one year that when it came time for school I had a better ideal another suicide attempt and a case of bulimia. You know because it wasn’t enough to want to die no I came up with the ideal of eating food and going to the bathroom and puking it back up. Needless to say my family was very pissed that I played them like a fiddle. My sister’s grandmother Donna was the one who took it out on me the most. She came in to the bathroom and pulled my pants down and beat me like it was going to save my life or something. That was a long love hate love again relationship with my step grandmother Donna, she died a few years back come to think of it God rest her soul. When it was all said and done we were good friends before she passed away. To get back to the story when in the forth grade and a suicidal child who would rather stick their own finger down his mouth until I through up I quite scary and that child needs heavy duty psychiatric medication and lots and lots of hours of therapy. Well it was on Christmas that I learned what it was to be on welfare. But my sister Bethany wasn’t to fall subject to that no her grandparents made damn sure of that she got so much shit it wasn’t funny she couldn’t even play with it all in a day or let alone a week for Christ sake. Then my mom got tired of the elders bull shit and them nit picking on me for any thing I did or didn’t do right. They need less to say where old school I mean no elbows on the table and you had to finish all the food that was on the plate in front of you, even worse than that you had to be excused from the table and no reaching over the table or your hand could comeback with a fork in it literately.

So oh yea we moved out of there and only moved across town where we ended up not even staying for more than a few months. Then my family and I were on the move again but still only across town once again I was relocated to a new school new friends and a new life. So where I was relocated to this time was 232 East Caldwell St apt 10 which was upstairs in this old 1950’s renovated hotel into an apartment complex. This place was a trip living there for the year that I did, I went through quite a lot in just one year. Fuck I should have died once or twice maybe even three times while that one year was going down. I went through three different overdoses during that one year’s time. But what I remember the most was the skateboarding that was when I really got into skating. I would skateboard to Mountain View Elementary school and back in that time it was fifth grade and then into sixth grade. That was just a start of what would later to become my legacy or even my signature look, nobody still to this day can separate me from that piece of wood. There was more to myself then just skateboarding at that time in my life, in school I was in evolved in band and choir music. I had a natural talent for both then when I started to hit puberty there went choir out the window. I always knew that would happen. So I was seeing and hearing all kinds of new and exciting things lots of music foods and was accidently exposed to drugs. This new environment was all due to my mother and her twenty one year old boy friend. His name was Mark S. I think I will leave out his last name and his entire families’ names out of this. For some reason I still hold a high level of respect for them. So living in Visalia for just a few months was crazy as hell. All I saw was love sex and rock and roll; laugh out load all that could of went worse was me over dosing on Acid. But luckily I am came back after a day or two I am still not sure how long I lost it for but it passed. So Living in those apartments was one hell of a trip if you catch my drift.               So what happened after my family and I moved out also changed everything in my little life; we moved to Tulare to the Blackstone Apartments where when we got there the Military Police were just leaving their post at that complex. So yes I move from Ghetto to ghetto after ghetto and even now I still live in a ghetto in Visalia. When I got to Tulare I changed schools of course to Wilson elementary

To Be Continued……