In times past and remote places the least liked people of a community (usually women and / or elderly and / or strangers) were accused of witchcraft. The accusations were less for “witchcraft” and more for ambition and contempt: once freed from the “witches” the “community” was free to steal (yes, to steal … the “witches” are expelled or killed with violence, it is not mere theft) their houses, lands and any other possessions.
I thought this only happened in times past and in remote places. But it can be much more personal than that. I found myself a witch.
The road from my house where I live today to where I lived my childhood is only 40km, I’ve been here for six years, I try to help the association of the neighborhood, give a ride to the people who are walking because here there is buses, go in the local shops at what I can, but …
Starting from the beginning: the start of 2019 was bad for me. In February, a truck driver slept behind the wheel and hit his truck on the wall of the Fernão Dias highway, right in front of me. He was not injured, I managed to divert the car from the overturned truck, as well as the people right behind me. I warned the Road Police about the accident, in theory there were no casualties. Aside from that the truck was carrying Round-Up, and I managed to deflect from beating, but not from the pesticide bath thrown in my car. Which is not cool, since this is one of my top MCAS triggers.
I had an immediate worsening of health, and to go on I had to appeal to inhaled corticosteroids. To try to get in the car again, even after my hubbie took it to wash, I still had to use inhaled corticosteroids, and there’s no public transport alternative here. I was able to make a bank loan and change cars. The new car, and its new car smell, were more triggers for MCAS, but lesser than the pesticide. And well, it is a privilege to be able to decide to change cars suddenly, even if it is because I can not breathe inside the old one.
So far, it seemed that the year had started with the left foot, but, ah, little by little it should improve, right? Then came April 29. Blackout in the whole neighborhood.
A blackout, it happens. Especially during the summer rains (which lasted until the autumn). To my bad luck, however, the blackout came along with the only neighbor next to my land (although by the road, from gate to gate, is 750m, straight from her cane field to my house is 150m) deciding to dose her fields in Round- Up and burn them, first thing in the morning, at 7h30min just as the blackout began. Which means that the air purifiers I have at home did not work, that I took the full hit of the smoke, and my body revolted for good.
My last count was four anaphylactic shocks and one cardiac arrest, but my last anaphylactic shock, counting only those when I had to appeal to epinephrine, run to the hospital and receive an oxygen tube thrown in the throat, had been in the year 2000. April 29 was the first in a long time … and the first of this year.
My husband, on the 30th, went to talk to our neighbor. Eletricity had not yet returned (only came back on May 3, a transformer burst on the street and it took time for the Elektro staff to find out). He asked her not to put Round-Up again on the cane field until the electricity came back, explaining that it was a risk of death for me. After all, anaphylactic shocks are complicated, I may not be able to get to the hospital in time.
I should note that I believed I had a good relationship with this neighbor. Since she does not have a car, I used to give her a ride to Mairiporã, the nearby city, when she needed it, or to her daughter’s house at the other end of the neighborhood. After a tornado destroyed the school bus stop her grandson used, I offered some tiles left over from the renovation of my house to fix it. I always stopped to wish for a good day when I passed by, and I heard many stories about children and grandchildren …
On May 3, shortly after eletricity returned, a motorcycle riding man came to check the street and the eletricity inlet box. As the eletricity inlet box of Emília, the neighbor, is next to ours, not surprising. The guy turned off the eletricity keys and left. My husband did not understand, but simply turned our eletricity on and put a padlock on our inlet. I barely saw the guy on the bike, since I was planting trees in the woods.
Then I hear voices and Troll, my dog, begins to bark desperately. And then I suffer a strong MCAS triggering, Round-Up as if it were right there (I was, but I still believed it was in Emília’s fields). I begin to cough uncontrollably, unable to breathe. I go home, where, fortunally, I had my medicines ready and the electricity running, on the beginning of yet another anaphylactic shock, but this time, I did not have to go to the hospital because I had all the medicines and equipment working at home.
And it was lucky that I had it, as in the next day, around 5´o clock in the morning, I had a new strong triggering event, a new anaphylactic shock, luckily I still had epinephrine at home.
I began keeping the air purifiers always on at night (usually, since I live in a forested and remote area, I don´t need to do this, but after the two triggering events, I decided for caution).
Even with the air purifiers, every day, around five in the morning, I noticed the triggering caused by Round-Up being applied close to home. The most bizarre one was that it seemed much closer than Emilia’s canefield. Old trees from my land fell. Walking the exit ramp from home felt like hell, the house door seemed wrong, Troll always barked just before the infernal scent began.
My health began to worsen. I could no longer go to the bathroom without blood coming out of all the places it wasn´t supposed to. It was a coin´s throw probability wheter I would be able to keep a meal in my stomach or if it would leave soon after I ate, along with more blood, of course. Some days I would wake up with bleeding eyelids. Edema and inflammation increased my weight. The agonizing pain was continuous, sometimes worsening in pangs difficult to disguise. Worst was the mental haze, where thoughts seem to be struggling to be formed, as if swimming against the stream of a viscous ocean. At work, it was at the apex of a major and important operation against the wild animal trade, Urutau, and failing to function properly when it is needed is extremely frustrating.
I started to faint and have convulsions. Decades ago had already had this (many fainting episodes in childhood, none more recent than 2003, three seizures at different times of life, no more recent than 2012. Until these last two months.).
The seizures I have are atonic, in which the muscles stop responding, but the consciousness does not disappear … the body just drops, as if I were a rag doll. It´s not possible even to try to ask for help, since the mouth does not move. They are more discreet than the tonic-clonic seizures, in which the body shakes and has spasms. I feel a pre-aura strong enough to alert me, and I was able to sit down before all the seizures I had, but … it was something I had not had in years, and it was 22 in those 2 months. When I faint there is less “warning” of the body, and I fell twice, one of them in the service, fortunately after my co-workers had left. Now that I know what my diagnosis is, I know that seizures and fainting are caused by inflammation of the brain, the same thing that causes the mental fog, but more dangerous because if the inflammation is causing seizures, the chances of a stroke (like the one I had in the past, which left me deaf for three months) are larger. And each seizure, by itself, worsens the inflammation.
And all this time, I did not understand why it was getting so bad. I felt the triggering, but in the past, the air purifiers were enough to hold the impact of a Round-Up application on the neighbors, 150m or more away. Why weren´t they enough anymore? What was making the triggerings so strong?
My husband discovered what was happening on June 7th. By chance, he, who had driven me to work (he was worried I would have a seizure or fainting episode in the way), had to return home in the middle of the day, instead of just returning at night with me. And then he caught a moving-truck on our street.
Our street has three things. There’s our house. There’s the jungle. And there is an old, falling apart house of a neighbor, not inhabited. The truck did not have things from the neighboor.
There is plenty of discussion about the ethics of social movements that invade abandoned homes to get housing / land for poor people. If these people were only trying to invade the abandoned house of my neighbor, it would be possible to find moral justification for their actions. I warned the neighbor, of course. But I would not have gone further, if all the invaders were doing was trying to live in a house whose owner had neglected even to visit for almost five years.
But it wasn´t all the invaders were doing. Why would it be? The house they were invading is a shack with the floor cracking and the roof leaking, no water supply, broken windows and termites on the door.
Just before, in the street, there´s our house, and our house has water, eletricity, an orchard, a functional ceiling, is bigger, more beautiful and decent. And they found that I have a deadly allergy to a product they buy for pennies in the local agro-store (my husband points that their plan had several flaws, including the fact that even if they killed me, he is not allergic to Round Up).
And you know, there may be several ethical and moral justifications for invading an abandoned house.
But there is none to murder a person to steal her house.
The (rightful) neighbor came on Saturday 08th to see his house. In the street, the invaders had left furniture, a mattress, a stove, a refrigerator, and a six-gallon Round-Up bottle half-empty.
The neighbor opened the door to the house (it’s his) and we found another six-gallon bottle of Round-Up, this one full.
I made a mistake: being a Federal Police Criminologist, my first instinct was to preserve the crime scene. I did not remove the gallons from there, so that they could be examined. If I knew how few resources the State Police had, I would have tried to get rid of those gallons right away.
The neighbor made a formal complaint in the local police station, reporting te invasion of his house. The next day, my husband went to check the street after Troll started barking, and found three women throwing poison in front of our house using disposable coffee cups. They said that they were there to visit their relative, who had gone to live in the house next door, one said that it was “Lady Maria” (these people love to give themselves titles), from the neighborhood, he did not recognize her (not)? My husband warned the women that the neighbor had already called the police, and that the owner of the house had not given anyone permission to live there. The women left..
We put cameras on the street. The invaders did not stop. I finally realized that I was the witch.
The flaw in the plan of my killers, though, is that they´ve forgotten witches have claws.
They were trying to kill me using poison, an easy, cruel and cowardly way. Scruples they had not, but the courage to confront me face to face? If I were defenseless, maybe.
Witches are not defenseless.
As a police officer, I have a weapon. As a person, I do not want to kill anyone, but self-defense is self-defense. My scruples are bigger than theirs, though.
I started with a warning. When Troll once again started barking, this time around midnight, I went up the house ramp with a flashlight and my pistol. I ignored the poison filled plastic cup thrown on the ground, expending as much willpower as I could. I saw the guy running, but I did not shoot him. I was not going to shoot someone in the back. I shot at the mud, so that the bullet wouldn´t ricochet. Warning.
I screamed I would not accept being poisoned anymore. That I would not wait to be killed. That it would not be me to die there, I would not leave my house or run away, and if they were trying to kill someone, they had better count on the risk of dying too. That they were invading a house that was not theirs, they were a bunch of murderers trying to kill me, and that the situation was not going to stay that way. That it was not going to be me in a coffin. By the way, what coffin? If it were between them and me, I would kill everyone, and leave the bodies in the jungle for the animals to gnaw.
Witches need to remind their enemies that they can kill.
I went down the house ramp, locked the doors, put the gun away, took a shower, and got to lie down before I started to seizure.
On Sunday June 9th, Troll began barking at 11am, warning me once again about the invaders. I called the local State Police before anything else to ask for help. I was alone at home. I saw the guys passing with the gallon of poison, I photographed their car. The clerk, instead of helping me, laughed, called me hysterical, said that it was city employees that used Round-Up on the streets (of course, in the middle of a municipal environmental preservation area > _ <). I gave up and hung up, embarrassed to be a cop after hearing such ableist nonsense.
I’m lucky and have a great privilegy: being a cop. With three men who were trying to kill me and armed with six gallons of a substance incredibly poisonous for me and I alone at home, I would be dead now if I had no weapon. With the state police clerk ridiculing anyone who asks for help instead of doing their job and dispatching a car, I can no longer be against gun rights, especially for those in the countryside.
For the difference was the pistol in my hands.
I made the three men surrender while one of them had his hand on the lid of the gallon of poison.
They tried to lie saying it was water. Which part did they not understand that I can very well differentiate the poison that kills me of water? Besides… why exactly would they be trying to thrown water at my door?
They tried to say that they were poor, and only wanted a roof to live in (again, this may justify trespassing, but no attempt to murder).
They wanted to reason that “Lady Maria said that we could live here” as if a) I knew who was “Lady” Maria b) I cared about who “Lady” Maria was and c) as if “Lady” Maria had any authority in here, in relation to houses and properties which NONE are hers.
I made it very clear that I would not accept this, that it was for them to take away all the things they had left in the house invaded by the neighbor, or I´d call the garbage truck to take it. That the owner of the house had not given them permission to stay there, and that I would not accept poisoners as neighbors.
They tried to throw the bottle of poison at me. They tried to throw a LPG gas canister, too. It was not my first rodeo, and I’m not a dumb-ass TV cop who, having a gun in her hand, comes close to the criminals.
Even during a MCAS triggering, as I have already proven in a PF shooting test (where an instructor decided to smoke right behind me), I can still manage to hit a twenty-five-meter away target perfectly well. I wouldn´t ever get close enough for them to hit me while throwing a six-gallon bottle of poison or a gas canister. I almost shot them (if the lid of the bottle of poison was open, instead of still sealed, I would have shot them). But I was not willing to kill. I let them go, because I could not handcuff them safely, and there was no back-up coming.
They left with their car. I went back home. I warned my husband, who had gone fetch some of our friends (we had a RPG game in that day). I fainted and lost half an hour of time.
My husband and our friends arrived. I needed the company, but at the same time I was worried about having people there. It was not a very functional RPG game, it could not be. Then Troll began to bark desperately again. Our bell rang. Our friends were already there. My husband went to see who it was first, and then called me.
I went up our entrance ramp armed. The invaders had returned, now in twelve people, men, women and children. I do not know if they meant to intimidate or cause pity. They failed miserably, either way.
They tried again the bullshit of being poor, now with the plus of “we have many children”. My answer was, what a pity, it would be better for the world if murderers would at least use a condom, but you can not expect morale from people who think poisoning people is a good way to steal money, is not it? That if they took another step inside my property I would shoot. That they were not welcome there. That I would call the garbage truck to take out the trash they had left in the street. They tried to raise crying children in front of me. I said not to use the children as shields, but okay, because they were small enough to leave exposed vulnerable areas of the body and my aim was good. They asked for a truck to take their things away on Wednesday. I told them they had until next Wednesday to get their things. And I did not want to see them any more. But if they threw poison into my house again, I would not be nice anymore.
I sent the photographs of the invaders to the neighborhood What´s App group, talked to the Neighborhood Association staff, who had contacts with the local command of the police (the problem was the clerk because the rest of the local police staff was kind and considerate). One of the neighbors identified one of the invading women as “Alexandre’s niece, who has two houses near the bus stop.” Another says that the older invader is Maria, who has three houses near the Dib restaurant. Very poor these people with multiple houses, right? I’m rich, I have my home and that’s it. But then, I had to work for my house, I did not get it by invading or murdering.
I went to my doctor on Monday, I arrived a little early, because there was no traffic, and while I was at the waiting room, I had a seizure. When it passed (I do not lose consciousness, but I can´t change where my eyes are turned, which was the ceiling in this case), and my doctor, who was before at her lunch, is there, very worried, holding my hand. She immediately asks the nurse what corticosteroids are there in the stock of the clinic, because it is necessary to reduce my inflammation urgently. I dismantle as I explain to her what is happening, beginning to cry. She tells me that no one is going to kill me on her shift, and starts adjusting all the medication, confering with the nurse to check the intravenous medication. She wants to give me a sick-leave of thirty days, but I still have urgent reports to deliver for the Urutau operation. She tells me that I need to rest for at least five days, even more because it is not safe for me to drive alone in the state I am in. After going to the doctor I go to laboratory, collect blood for the exams she asked for, from there I go to my work, to warn about the medical leave and to pick files that will allow me to complete at home the reports that I need to deliver.
And from there I go to the police station of Mairiporã Civil Police, do the formal complaint on the poisoning. A crime out of the ordinary pattern, the first scrivener, whose turn was ending, is left in doubt as to how to classify, passes me to the scrivener of the next shift, who mutters about Round-up not being forbidden. The sheriff hears and scolds him, telling that knifes aren´t forbidden either, but using a knife to kill someone is, and using poison to try to kill someone is of course a crime. The sheriff apologizes for the scrivener words, let me continue with my voc-mask, asks if I need water or anything and looks very worried about my health (I was pale, with difficult to breath, coughing and trembling).
The invaders came back at night. Troll starts barking at about one o´clock. I wake up and get dressed, but I´m not fast enough, and I feel the triggering caused by the poison. I climb to the street armed. This time, fortunately, I do not see the guys. I don´t know if I would have had the willpower not to shoot. I shoot the mud one more time. I shout. I hear people running in the darkness, leaving the trail in the woods to the other street, but I don´t see anyone.
Desperate, I begin to think that the only way to solve the problem would be to tear down the neighbor’s hovel. I sent a Whats-app message to him, offering me to buy the land, for the price (already high) he had once suggested. I would be badly indebted, at the limit that the bank allows consignment, but debts are better than death.
I go to the medical legist office for exams the next day.
The neighbor, greedy, asks more for the land.
His land is in a area that is protected by local legislation of water conservation, totally (except for the hut) forested with primary Atlantic Forest. It is forbidden by law to deforest any tree, plant any exotic vegetation, or build any area that was not already built in 1985. That’s no problem for me, because I would buy the land to demolish the house, take away the rubble, reforest the area it was once on, keep the forest there, building only a fence to keep invaders out, but how many people want to have a land of primary Atlantic forest and nothing else? Not to mention, a land that was already invaded.
By the map I have of the original allotment here, his land smaller than my land. The neighbor insists that he wants US$95.000 (R$350.000), US$27.000 more than what I paid for my terrain. Which had the possibility of building up to 600m2 (I did not use all of this but could), and is located outside the area where all deforestation is prohibited, which allows me to have my vegetable garden and exotic trees in the orchard, and the chicken coop and goat pasture I want to have in the future.
My husband shows me that the guy is just trying to take advantage of my despair, and there are several other, more useful and less expensive things we can do to increase our home security. The first of these is contract a security and alarm firm, so that we can have a SOS button to call the local police more easily. There were several other ideas, better and more effective than buying the neighboring land, impossible to do if we were drowning in debt to buy it. The greater despair having passed, I agree with him.
On Wednesday, June 12, we spend the day talking to the alarm salesman at Verisure, who schedules the installation for Friday.
On Thursday the invaders come back. Troll barks. I call the Verisure representative, my husband, the local Police number, the neighborhood Association representative, anyone who can send help. I go to the street armed. The time to make the phone calls was the time to pour one of the gallons of poison in front of my garage ramp, and as I climb the poisoners hurry back to the path in the jungle of the neighbor’s land, which goes to the other street.
When I approach I see all three on the trail. I hear them saying, “She’s only one, we can outpower her.” I pull the gun. They hide behind the trees, not quite out of my sight, two of them with machetes. I can´t climb the trail without risk, so we are in a stalemate.
A clerk from the local police calls me in the cell, asking for information on where is my street. This time I’m not alone, there are two masons at home, people of trust. But they are far away, doing a job in the beginning of the street.
When I looked at the cell phone, the invaders moved. I couldn´t discern if they had ran away or if they hid better among the trees, and were waiting for a second more of distraction to jump on me.
And once again, I felt like a witch.
The bush animals around the house know me. I put fruits and snacks for them. That bunch of buffy-tufted-marmosets have eaten nuts from my hand in the past. I once saved one of them from being devoured, taking it from the mouth of a stray dog and bandaged its wounds before releasing it back in the jungle.
I do not know if they understood what my problem was, whether they were curious about what their human was looking for or whether it was just a coincidence. But suddenly they come from my terrain to the neighboor´s, jumping in the trees of the track, from the beginning of the trail to the end of it, in the other street, whistling and singing like only marmosets do. They stay a few moments looking to the street, singing and chirping in playful tones, without releasing any alarm shriek . And they come back. Some come down to me. And then I know the invaders are gone. Chance or intention, the marmosets informed me.
I say to the clerk that I will meet the police at the beginning of the road to show them where it is and that I am Federal Police, so I am armed. I put my gun in the holster, and go warn the masons that the police is coming, asking them to come greet the officers with me, so that there is no misunderstanding, I get my Federal Police badge to present to the local police, and we go until the dirt road on which I live meets the asphalt. The police arrives. I show the signs of the invasion, the gallons of poison. I’m coughing, unable to stop, even with my voc-mask protecting me. The sergeant, by the photos, identifies one of the invaders as José Adriano Galdino Gouveia, RG 32105932-3, already under warrant for vandalism and invasion. I find a vaccination card torn between garbage on the street, in the name of Cristina Aparecida Rodrigues, born on 03/20/1989. The sergeant explains that the state police do not have the resources to examine the poison, not even to look for fingerprints in the bottles. He advises me to get rid of them, so it will not be so easy for the invaders to poison me again. He says that next time they’ll get there faster now that they know where the street is. Gives me advice.
The stonemasons helped me, taking the two bottles of poison, the full and empty, and carrying it away. I go back inside the house, with Troll on my side. When my husband arrives, I’m having a seizure. It’s the first time he sees me convulsing. His concern is clear.
After that, the invaders only try to come back again on June 18th. As I had urgent reports to deliver, I was at work, my husband was alone at home. I left my gun with him, for anything. But my husband is a madman. Instead of picking up my gun, he picks up one of the softball guns we have for RPG games. According to him, he did not trust himself not to kill the invaders if he had a real weapon, after seeing me agonizing all this time.
He calls me saying he thinks the guys are on the street, so if he doesn´t call back in five minutes, I´m to call the police. I call everyone and everything again, without waiting for the five minutes. I speak also with my Federal Police colleagues, who offer to come along to help me. I go first, very worried, my husband alone with those guys, this time seeing from his perspective, he risking himself trying to surrender the guys, while I´m only able to worry, call the police and trying to get there as fast as possible there.
Maybe I´ve got a speeding ticket, but if so, I´ll pay it without complaining.The local police arrives, in two vehicles, with long guns. My husband had surrendered and immobilized the two invaders who had came this time, one of them the same invader that tried to attack me the last two times, the one who had tried to throw the bottle of poison at me. The other, irony, was a pastor for one of the local evangelical churches (truth be told, that was the only time that the pastor appeared on the street, and it is possible that he really only knew that the would-be-killer needed a ride with the van to get his stove and refrigerator out of the place.). The local police arrested them and took them to the police station. I was almost at Mairiporã when my husband told me that they were going to the police station. My colleagues were still in the road, so I called them to tell that the situation was already ok..
I meet my husband in the police station. The invaders are identified and given fines, but the neighbor does not bother to come to the police station, so the guys just have their mug shots taken and do not even spend the night in jail, because the only flagrant possible would be the invasion, since they were removing the things they had left in the neighbor’s house when caught. But they spent 40 minutes under the sight of a weapon (plastic, but they didn´t knew it at the time) and the rest of the day at the police station, where we arrived at 14:00h. and only left at 20:00h. I had three convulsions at the station, and one soldier almost carried me to the car for me to get my medicine.
On the following Wednesday I would have an (unrelated) hearing before the Federal Court of Justice on av. Paulista (where, invariably, there are a multitude of people smocking, which means that I always have my MCAS triggered), and it was necessary to finish two urgent repor ts. So, at that same day, between 21pm and 2am I typed what was missing from the reports, in order to be able to deliver them the morning before the hearing … with two convulsions while at it, but between stress and poison … Still, I was able to deliver the two reports, went to the hearing, which was canceled (without anyone warning me about it). I had another convulsion in the court while waiting to receive the notice that there would be no hearing more.Thursday, Corpus Christi day was a holiday, and on Friday there was building maintenance at the superintendence where I work. Monday I returned to the doctor, now with all the urgent reports delivered, and I got a larger medical certificate, which would go until a short vacation period that I had for the beginning of July, , with the whole notion that I need to take care of myself, try to stop convulsing. There is always the risk of not turning from one of these.
After this, at least, the invaders did not come back again. Not that it changed our plans to invest in security, the priority of this got higher, passed in front of the solar power and batteries that were our previous plan of next change in the house.
A Civil Police investigator contacted us to find out about the poisoning problem, told him what had happened on Tuesday, and who the people were. But at least it’s been two weeks when the invaders did not show up any more, and did not try again to put poison here again. In fact, the cameras show that no one tried to come back here again. I think they’re finally afraid of the witch (and the wizard. I´m filled with pride, now that the fear has passed, about my husband holding the guys until the police arrive). Good.
And I have not had a seizure for a week, so slowly I’m getting better. (At the time I wrote this text, I was in. But since it is good to do light exercises to improve, I was a little cleaning the house during my medical leave, so I went to wash the window next to the entrance door. who had cut off her screen, and tossed a glass of Round-up coffee into the window, between the screen and the glass. Almost empty, they’d poured the contents into the window, probably at the very beginning, perhaps when I had the third anaphylactic shock. Still, just getting in touch with it, I got worse again, and I had another seizure on July 3rd. Worst: I also fainted that day, and hit my head in the concrete floor. Accordind to the neurologist, I´ve now got an inflammed occiptal joint And I had another two convulsions in July 19th and 20th, after another audience in Av. Paulista, plus one in July 31th. But at least they´re getting more spaced.).
I am happy that in the end, the situation was solved without anyone but me being injured. I am very happy that it was possible to solve this without anyone being killed. Very happy indeed, because Iwas despairing that there would be no alternative, that this could get to kill or die. It’s a choice that I do not wish on anyone. But seriously, if I have to choose, it´s better to kill than to die.
So I hope the invaders really don´t come back. Because if they do, I will not have a choice.
I know there are people who will be shocked by my violence. I pulled a gun and threatened people who were trying to kill me, even when they came in with women and children to gather pity. And I did not pull the gun in jest. If I had to, I would shoot. I tried hard to avoid hurting, it seems I managed it, I’m happy, but … if I had to, I would shoot. Men, women, the pastor, Maria, whoever I needed to shoot to defend myself.
On the other side, I know that a lot of people would tell me that I should have killed the guys, or shot their balls (a lot of people gave me these advice). I frankly prefer my solution, if the invaders don´t come back.
I do not even really wish the guys arrested, I just want them not to come back to where I am, not to try to kill me anymore. They won´t change their crappy ways (prison wouldn´t change it neither), but there are nor many other witches as easy to be poisoned as I am. Rumor in the neighborhood is that they´re trying to invade an abandoned house in the other side of the borough. As long as they keep their distance from me, this is the problem of the owner of the abandoned house.
I pity the children of these people, but it is not possible to do anything for them, they the genetic lottery, being born to unsuccessful cowardly murderers.
And I leave all the identifications that I have of these people in this post, as a warning to someone in the future to deal with them (pity that my husband did not get the bulletin of occurrence from that Tuesday, with the name of the worst of them). They are people willing to kill, but cowards.
I think they’re cowards enough not to come back. Hope so. I do not wish to kill anyone. But this witch here is not going to die for people like that.