MindFreedom & A Shield BIO From A Mental Health Patient

[William Mahler]

To those of you whom for the first time have come across this document before you, I hope to inform you of my life revolving around mental health. At the least you’ll no doubt find some of my claims to be borderline delusional and at most, totally unbelievable but to that I say, I expect nothing less. I’ve always wanted to write extensively about my adult life since being diagnosed with mental illness but the thought of writing more than a reader’s digest seemed insurmountable. Now, in the upcoming early 2021 year, once again, I am faced with a seemingly vast army of legal and mental health care allies as my attorney and assorted professionals consisting of independent psychologists and soon a psychiatrist work with me to free me from a lengthy unjust captivity. If not for a clause in a legally binding agreement made August 2020, I’d have zero recourse and no legal ground to challenge forced hospitalization until late August 2021. Already, a district court judge dismissed my right on the basis that she understood no valid reason for discharge. My attorney took this to the state supreme court and won an argument that the previous judge disobeyed a state court order for hearings, thus, at the worst I’m facing the embarrassed district court judge again.
So, I write for your knowledge, my brief yet lengthy digest of all things involving my life since 2000 in the intolerable mental health care community here in the state of Massachusetts of the United States of America. If anything, if you decide to aid my fight to be free, I’ll gladly pay it forward to someone else in my lifetime, many times over.


Prior to my first diagnosis of “paranoid schizophrenic” winter 2000, I had three jobs, one full time, two part time. I was doing well economically and school was in the works too while I remained married to a woman who since day one, remained unfaithful yet a close loving friend of mine during that time. Rent was fully paid, other than a car payment perhaps along with the usual bills, food, internet, phone, car insurance and rent, life was good and debt remained pennies to the dollar. Always had enough for some cigarettes and the occasional night out at the local bar for a drink or two with my disabled wife, a highly manageable diagnosis of Cerebral Palsy. Our housing was state funded and that alone made life passionately livable in an area where 60 hour a week employment barely covered apartment or house rents for most working adults with or without children on Cape Cod. Then, an assault and battery took place. I was charged in Barnstable District Court and faced with my first time ever court ordered psychologist. Dr. Lauren Berger asked me what happened and I said, “I was being cheated and threatened”. To that the doctor told Judge Joe Reardon, “Mr. Mahler is a paranoid schizophrenic and delusional, he believes he was cheated and threatened”. That turned into 2 months of clinical observation at the infamous Taunton State Hospital. The forensic doctor gave me an ultimatum. “Either admit you struck the person or I keep you here for six months”. That threat cost me my belief of freedom so I soon learned. Risperdal was the norm along with Depakote and a year’s pretrial probation. “If you don’t stay on this medication, you’ll get into more and more trouble to the point no one will help you anymore” said the overweight, sweaty psychiatrist of Cape Cod Human Services. What did he know? Correction, what did I know, he got it right, looking back now, or did he entirely? I went from 150lbs to obesity of 212 pounds at 5”6” tall, slept entirely too much, ate little, didn’t do anything other than smoke cigarettes, never used the internet and worked part time as a cashier, rocking back and forth and never knew it was the prescribed drugs causing me the inability to function as I had prior to diagnosis.

It turns out, although Judge Joe Reardon took me for a paranoid schizophrenic, his take on that turned 180 degrees different in four short years. The same person who accused me of assault and battery stood accused by me of the charge. So, in spring of 2004, as the defendant sat by a Cape Cod Times reporter and that reporter was a relative, I stood facing the judge as he asked me did I seek to further charges. To that I was about to answer when Reardon abruptly stated on the record, “Mr. Mahler, you are not a paranoid schizophrenic, in fact you’re not mentally ill at all, your wife’s a pervert”. As he was speaking the last few words, I turned my eyes to Leonda of whom in front of the entire court officers, was seen groping and massaging the outer pants where behind that zipper was a penis. As to why I had the charge of domestic assault and battery dropped and didn’t file for divorce? The first part was I honestly believed she’d be killed in prison or worse, raped by fellow female inmates. She’d be left homeless, banned from the Barnstable Housing Authority and left to reside in counseling and a world of drugs that I personally knew did far more harm than good. At best, perhaps she would have stayed with her uncle and aunt as they have a large 2 ½ bath home and five bedrooms all to the two of them. At least with me her destructive lifestyle was contained. At times I felt she thought of me as a jailer, geek and thoughtless, reckless unemotional man whose sole purpose was to unleash a by the book relationship that had zero bendability, based on a fairytale of the perception of how a relationship was meant to be, not as life truly was. Part of me wanted out of the relationship since day one, catching her red handed on our wedding night, walking in from the parking lot of our motel room completely naked and for the record, the closest body of water was over 100 yards away in a pond. I never ignored her infidelity, but resigned to the belief, life was not greener on the other side of the fence. Economically we were dependent on her SSI and my meager earnings as a cook, unable to support ourselves wholly due to her inability to have any belief that she could attain an education beyond 11th grade, get a driver license and find a decent job. Life with her, knowing she didn’t eat healthy food unless confronted with nothing for an alternate choice and zero room for McDonalds or Dunkin’ Donuts. She quickly went from a cake fueled 110lbs to 96lbs. Despite leaving fresh fruit, milk, juice and veggies with her, not fat inducing but healthy choices, they stayed largely and barely touched. For seventeen years, how she maintained a 96lbs weight with a near invisible diet, I don’t know but rest assured, one look in her direction even with the most encouraging, humble expression and she would stop eating entirely and that food would be left overs for days, wrapped up in the refrigerator. During our wedding day party at my fathers home, my new father in law, to the best of my knowledge, the only words I can remember to this day of him volunteering were “Leonda, here you go, get yourself a good lawyer” as he handed her a thousand-dollar personal check. Looking back now at our early days of a non-traditional fidelity based relationship, I leave no room for doubt there was more to her than her quiet near choir girl approach to me. Rumors swirled that she from her own talk with me and her behavior, suggested I had to accept her behind the doors relationship with her ex-boyfriend and any new neighboring male she set her sights on. Meanwhile, any sexual relationship with her was at the least formal with zero room for romance despite my best efforts. It can be said that Cupid insists men be the chasers and majority romance starters but one look at the real world of amateur videos, women simply love being fully active with massive appetite for being self-starters in bed, unlike Leonda’s near “former nun” by the text book make no effort approach with me and her wild party life while my eyes at best, were attentive to employment. I witnessed the pre-internet world around me and tried to ignore my envy of my brothers lives and the public displays of affection women gave their men while Leonda seemingly begrudgingly existed by my side as a friend with benefits, nothing more nothing less. Certainly, the one-man one-woman monogamous exclusive relationship marriage by definition to nowadays alternate lifestyles was largely not Leonda’s choice to live by at all. Every time I managed to genuinely show true emotional depth to Leonda, every time I dared to show true intimate feelings to her, leaving myself wide open to her, unguarded and fully attentive to her, she’d either flirt with another man, tell me of her latest escapade or worse. So one stupid, reckless and totally idiotic moment of my life, at a time where she was on the abusive side of attack emotionally and vocally, stepping into my direct personal space with an angry unresponsive approach<, I slapped her on the face. Yep, domestic assault and battery for all the years of spousal abuse that finally caught up to me.

To that I say, what business do women have of being in the battlefield of war in the military or law enforcement if they are not willing to face being attacked and equally so, be an attacker yet do not adhere to being slapped to stop harmful abusive behavior in domestic situations? How can any judge deny a man his personal freedom for simply being a week late with child support yet allow a all but totally absent mother total freedom with a child support bill never at all paid to the sum of nearly $50,000 and counting? My own brother won custody of my nephew when his wife lied before a judge. Troy had massive bloody scratches photographed by me of his upper back. When Sandy lied about attacking him, Troy handed the pictures to his attorney and Brandon came home with Troy. Sandy was not so much as reprimanded to the best of my knowledge. Little did I full well know and to my fault, discount that Troy himself whom at one time told me before I married Leonda that she is a party girl, that she’s a known cheater, would totally in a drug and alcohol fueled haze, have me committed for not taking meds, accuse me of speaking threats of violence and did that simply so he could have an adulterous STD filled sexual affair with Leonda and his mistress, caught entirely in photos. When both Troy & Leonda had similar black marks on their privates, Troy said “Billy, you are a paranoid schizophrenic are you taking your meds? I’d never do that to you”. His mistress, mother to my princess niece was too fearful of losing her state sponsored section 8 housing and custody of both her son and my niece and her personal well being than to actually do anything more than take his abuse. It stayed that way as Troy told me on more than one occasion Kelly was being difficult, insulting him of his alcoholic anger and behaviors, lack of financial responsibility and I kept my mouth shut, being totally with Kelly and her side all the while hanging out with Troy and quietly telling Leonda everything, leaving all this totally between her and myself and not another living breathing soul. You see, in my view, one word about alleged plots and against the grain behavior to a mental health professional would lead to interventions of unwarranted and inhumane reason, I already experienced that. This entire time, I was working as a landscaper, musician an intelligence professional with a worldwide spanning online audience with countless known and unknown friends and equally worse terroristic enemies while being forced to content with the diagnosis that served to cripple my abilities and nothing less than that have I ever believed. Despite any behavior to suggest otherwise, one word against the system of mental health in the attentive ears of family, both in-laws and blood meant I was taking a huge risk of hospitalization, all minor children with unlocked loaded pin missing grenades, pistols and backing of an all to eager public news system constantly speaking droves of positivity regarding health care. I resented it entirely, barely cracked a smile with social workers and acted outwardly as if I was complying and had near blind faith in their watered down “humane” approach to enslavement in health care.

Family, if they inwardly believed I am not mentally ill, to this very day, it’s their best kept secret. Despite any reasonable, common sense approach to conversations with clinicians as to the open possibility of not being mentally ill, to this day have always fallen, with exception to Judge Joseph Reardon, largely into totally dismissive professionals. If you ask me, only the Jews of World War II suffered a worse fate. It’s on record that mental health care and the core of psychiatry here in America is broadly based on the same principles, beliefs and findings of Nazi era psychiatrists. Is there one physician of the body who would without warning a patient of life shortening drugs actually prescribe the drugs? Sure there are, but to the best of my knowledge, other than mental health based anti-depressants and anti-psychotics, known to largely take 15 years or more from a persons lifespan, nothing else comes anywhere close to that. My mother says that her drugs for cancer left her brow less and bald but she knows that isn’t a life shortening situation and her hair is fully grown now while I’m less of 15 years of my life due to an largely on and often not off again 20 year enemy of me lifestyle and regiment of mental health drugs. My online life and off line life, with the exception of music remained by far, totally separate. With years of vocally in person speaking positively of non-lethal technologies to my family, not once have they so much as hinted at anything more than listening with a near ignore me attitude. The only concern of theirs as family if anything can have is my well being and it’s been primarily “take your meds or we wont allow you to visit your nephew or niece, won’t talk to you at all” from two of my brothers while a third, at least he is always friendly and genuinely supportive of me while making no demands. Can you imagine a conversation with a U. S. Armed Services Veteran, life long adult service in law enforcement brother with two children also police, a sister in law valedictorian attorney and me, the black sheep of the family regarding health care? Believe me prior to diagnosis we used to talk but since then, there’s been utter silence with a rare occasion critical juncture conversation about the immediacy of our parents health. Despite always asking my mother how my brother Tommy is, I’m stonewalled with week later news and little more than “he’s fine”. If Tommy is anything like I remember him to be, when he and his wife Julie do email or call, they are very informative but I know nothing.

Over the years, I got into trouble and to that I can to this day rationalize the bad times, never being an instigator and making honest mistakes. For instance, interviewing a court officer and recording the conversation with an open microphone exposed and known to the court, just not with the officers permission, thus wiretapping and two years of probation and court ordered psychiatric care. Then, my brother (RIP) and his drug fueled abusive ways took advantage of my Achilles heel while he never fully knew how drugs affected me outside what I told him, like a borderline idiot, I believed he as well as my father and mother would take my side and leave me be. I felt better for being open but paid a price due to their “child with a loaded pistol” mentality. My personal life got totally weighted with the day in day out routine of “don’t need it, not mentally ill and the drugs are causing the problem” belief that to this day, for the most part I adhere too. Am I mentally ill? There is no room for doubt the twenty years of stress and lack of support until I found Mind Freedom & Mad In America has taken its mental toll. Other than the new to me “Dance In The Rain” of Cape Cod where I’m from, there is not one provider in any capacity that adheres to anything holistic in mental health care whatsoever. 90 miles of land and not one provider in any capacity. Truly, the internet is in my reach reality and amen to that. As for the diagnosis that got changed to Schizoaffective Bipolar type? It originally started and came from being in the same doctor’s office with my business partners and aunt and uncle in-laws along with my wife, a psychologists office. I truly thought the doctor was speaking of me when he said “don’t talk to him unless he gets help for his schizophrenia” but little did I realize that new to me psychologist was talking of my in-law. Is that a sign of my alleged mental illness or a logical mistake of an assumption considering everyone in the room was entirely in the know of my life. My mother shows outwardly a barely perceptible smile in her voice, always quick to raise her voice, tell me “enough” or “I don’t want to hear it”, “that’s not funny” or “I’m gonna hang up on you if you don’t stop it” and I’ve come to realize that is a core component to how I approach mental health professionals here in the Worcester Recovery Center. As for my father, he finally seemingly has agreed and understands now that I am his son and thankful for that. He is on the record for saying no one should have to legally forced to take a drug that causes diabetes type two yet he also says “you need your medicine”. My Mr. Miyagi version of best friend Richard always is quick to state “if you go off your medicine, you’re going to end back in jail and in the hospital”, “everyone can see when you are not on your medicine” and it’s been the same way despite proving to him for instance, my then in-law possessed federally backed listening capabilities you know as eavesdropping as far back as pre-2000. In Richards office, there sat the two of us. Also, a landline phone and a disconnected, powered off Compaq desktop PC with only the electric cord and a phone line from the internal dial-up modem connected externally. We both head Chris Morris speak through the monitor speaker and only Richard smiled and asked pointing at the monitor “did you hear that”? He at the least especially since an October 12, 2018 public interview both in print and online of Janet & Chris Morris vast involvement in non-lethal technologies with reference to the United States Global Strategy Council and their employer Deputy Director of The CIA Ray S. Cline mentioned, well, Richard went on to state “don’t mess with those two” as if he thought I needed advice. The reality is he finally with his own intelligent two eyes, believed everything I ever told him but to this day, does not consider me more than mentally ill with very little chance of a life beyond it. How do I tell a mental health professional, I’ve been involved with the intelligence community as a private consultant since age sixteen and have been totally engrossed in pre-September 11, 2001 behavior with my CIA trained in-laws without being totally drugged up and labeled as a threat to myself for having delusional beliefs that I am a government agent? Maybe I should take the chance considering that diagnosis has been largely going on for twenty years without a hint of my professional life spoken to anyone in health care since 2011. If anything, I dare say, it’s time to step away from the acting stage and let them know exactly who I am and my beliefs of the system, my mental health and make it entirely public. Not any of my landscaping, restaurateur employers and in person face to face musician friends and people outside of my immediate core family know anything. The LGBTQ community has had severe public reaction to them coming out but over time, acceptance is more common place so the press says. But for me and the mental health community? The psychiatrists themselves will go to their graves never seeing me more than a mentally ill person with zero chance at anything close to a normal life without constant daily medical intervention both in and out of an institutional setting. Yet, my silence is only furthering their diagnosis. On September 11, 2001, I faced Judge Joe Reardon in a near empty court as I was sent to Corrigan State Hospital for a week citing non compliance of health care despite no court order previously. Had I chosen to stay at home that day, life would have been dramatically different but strong headed me sought ways to have my record expunged on the very worst day of American history even with my overnight one on one conversation with all 19 terrorists well into dawn that day for the most part totally forgotten and non-existent in my mind while at the court. To that you’re wondering perhaps “what did I just read”? You read that right. I’d have made it out of that court house but if not for my idiot comment volunteered without a hint of question from a former probation officer about not taking meds. Did I really pose such a threat to anyone by bringing the subject up? Only to myself I now know. One week after September 11, 2001, I walked out of Corrigan State Hospital knowing my only week-long roommate was a living breathing version of how God is perceived to look like in almost every Bible. Tall, elderly with long white hair, beard and mustache and simple robes complete with sandals. That experience was solely the only time I felt good about my unwarranted situation in a hospital. I’m telling you now, I have zero doubt God and I spent private exclusive one on one time alone in the same room nightly for seven full days and six full nights.

The health care on Cape Cod is atrocious, bordering on illegal practices involving pornography, enslavement and law enforcement that in my case, will outright slander, create false police reports just to get that “patient’ off the streets. It worked, I was charged with two assault and batteries and a bomb threat. For a couple of years, I sat in Bridgewater State Hospital unable to react other than a talk or two with my less than informative defense attorney. At the time of my arrest, I was neck deep in private undercover investigations aimed at removing a terrible scourge from my immediate neighborhood, ISIS in America and heroin, literally in the home I rented a room in. My ex-in-laws Janet & Chris Morris stood by in the know and their business M2 Technologies Inc. was formed with as a psychiatrist would believe and say “paranoid schizophrenic delusions of the government” yet for a fact, Ray S. Cline, head of the United States Global Strategy Council and longtime direct assistant to President John F. Kennedy during the Cuban Island nuclear missile crisis, deputy director of the Central Intelligence Agency hired my in-laws from 1989 – 1994 as senior research director and senior fellow of the USGSC. I personally can attest to my partners prowess in non-lethal matters in of all things, being authors. During the month of July of 1984, both Janet & Chris Morris and I shared our thoughts on their book “The 40 Minute War”, publicly released in August 1984. Twenty Saudi Arabian & Pakistani terrorists hijack a passenger jet and trash Washington DC, a complete futuristic sixteen year in advance September 11, 2001 bullseye and probably the only to exist that I’m aware of at this writing. Over the span of 5 years during the early nineteen nineties, my boss, also my in-law and her husband traveled to Russia and as a non-lethal technology strategist duo helped arm our military and law enforcement with non-lethal tools including, infrasound, digital and psychological weaponry. The ability to put sound squarely in the head of an assailant that no other living person can hear has existed since the 90’s and the Russians had it first. Nowadays, that capability is sold nationwide in of all areas, entertainment. To hear a show without headphones and no one else but that person unless the device is programmed for others actually exists and cheap too. This also lays credibility to the idea that the government can make voices heard plain and simple. To this day, I’ve never knowingly talked with a mental health professional in person, face to face about this other than a CISW “Dave” of whom did believe me as we jammed on stage performing blues classics in Hyannis. He’s the same CISW that got my diagnosis changed from “paranoid schizophrenic” to “schizoaffective, bipolar type” and unfairly I still to this day feel slighted by societies “media darling” psychiatric community.

At least since 2017 my family listens to me seriously pull no punches about the stark, raw reality of drugs and borderline inhumane behavior of the mental health care community at large. There is one other CISW by the name of Eric Larsen whom was with me before and after September 11, 2001 and he knows full well the depth of M2 Technologies Inc. and our business position in all things including a document known as “Weapons Of Mass Protection” online long before September 11, 2001 and that is one word away from “Weapons Of Mass Destruction” coined by then President George Bush. That era got the three of us thrust into an internet national spotlight, for over a decade, the leading national non-lethal consulting contractors and top three in the free world outside the USA. Whether you’’ll believe me or not, M2 Technologies Inc. got me a private audience twice with President Bush on my turf on Cape Cod. Once via phone in my home office and once at work in Dunkin’ Donuts, summer 2003. As a musician of precognitive works both prior to September 11, 2001 and the Christmas Day 2004 South East Asian tsunami, well that Christmas Day, our president asked me if nuclear weapons were involved at the site of the biggest quake this planet experienced since the day of the dinosaurs. “No sir there was not” was all I remember saying to him via the internet and technologies only someone on his level has to use. Our work got me a one on one private audience with fresh from the office of vice president, then citizen Joe Biden in downtown Hyannis, March 2017, a short walk from his favorite mode of transport, a train station. To that I say, not a soul around for as far as the eyes could see, just citizen Biden and myself. He is an extremely honest, gentle God-fearing man complete with a large sky-blue marble colored cross he wears around his neck. The two words we shared, is the word Joe used during his acceptance speech of the democratic nomination, “possibilities”. But for all intent purposes, I’m a “mentally ill” person with no foreseeable future other than the existence of “eat, sleep, take meds, work and pray” with little chance of economic freedom in the eyes of God knows how many people. To say to an extent, looking back, I never know fully exactly what to expect but when it happens, I manage to get out of it physically unscathed and equally so does other people, friend or foe.

So what led up to two assault and battery charges and one bomb threat charge? It’s a long sordid story and I’m willing to give you the readers digest version. Believe me, a long near one-and-a-half-year journal detailing every living and breathing moment of my life up to, during and well into after the charges were feloniously and libelously falsified by a callous, lying, self-serving, traitorous officer of Barnstable Police by the name of Kevin Shaw. Shaw was summoned to Victory Chapel by fellow church goer and new acquaintance Stanley Miranda at my insistence. Stanley and his close relative, if not his sister were tenants of my mother long term, residing in my father’s hand built South Yarmouth home shortly after she married my awesome step dad Dave. Stanley is a born-again Christian, given a new lease on life complete with a new beautiful wife. Unfortunately, although he attends church and men’s meetings religiously, he continues to be heavily involved in the porno industry despite a year and half jail sentence in Walpole State Prison for unrelated charges. To this very day, I really ponder occasionally exactly how four 4 X 6 inch photos in a Hustler porno of Stanley and his new bride in a spread became property of a fellow inmate and from that day on, my personal friend. He did not know anything about me, only my newly spoken name when he showed me the photos stuck to his cell wall. Stanley, I believed since he attended Cape Cod Tech and resided in the area, knew of my former personal friend Shane Kelly during teen years attending the same technical school. Shane at one time became my go to guy for nearly everything, a brother but not by blood. We both shared our deepest secrets and fears intensely. I trusted Shane with my very wife’s personal safety and wellbeing every time I was hospitalized. Shane and his wife Audrey knew the two of us from as far back as 1900 being close by neighbors in Hyannis and remaining so up until 2004 when our worlds forever came apart. Shane had at one time confessed to vehicular homicide for he was driving drunk. He managed to cover the evidence by almost replacing his bumper and hand washing his undercarriage. Shane also single handedly gave the television company financial fits to the tune of hundreds of thousands of dollars in lost local revenue by engineering and building en mass illegal cable boxes of which his La Costra Nostra mafioso elder friend hawked to the tune of $250 cash and more per each unit. The Yarmouth Police caught up to Shane and his partner. The Yarmouth Lockup was hijacked by three personally trained teenagers by none other than Shane and Yarmouth Police lost all evidence in one fell theft. Shane also single handedly managed to thwart the IRS heavily involved in lottery winnings that no doubt legal, left plenty of room for amazement and wonder as to how he managed to consistently win hundreds to thousands of dollars with winning scratch tickets. Purely the luck of the Irish in his alcoholic life. He boasted he owned no less than six Cadillacs, parked all over Barnstable and merely claimed less than $12,000 dollars on his federal tax returns while paying large rent, utilities, insurance, food, the usual complete with a law enforcement supplied marijuana habit solely from his as he said, state trooper sister. Shane also like countless of other porno movie makers and owners, possessed video of the secret under aged Traci Lords, known to be 18 yet confessed publicly to being sixteen for a large part of her scandalous adult film career.

When Shane one drunken afternoon decided to take his motorcycle and drive by my apartment. Well Leonda and I were enjoying our happy selves when Shane yelled out “I was merely fucking your wife” and sped off. Within ten minutes he answered his phone to “yes what” and all but said nothing to his antics in broad daylight. I was determined to know in person why he did that and to get the truth out of him. So, my wife and I waited until night to travel to Shane’s home, shared with his very friendly parents, as he resided in a cellar apartment with a walkout living room. Leonda waited in the car, doors locked as I looked for Shane. Shane drunkenly ran from his father’s garage and proceeded to jump on my fiberglass hood and stomped his feet directly in the face of Leonda from the opposite side of the windshield repeatedly. When we were in point blank range of each other next to my car door, he said “hit me” and before he got the “t” out his mouth, I decked his 5’10” 190 lb self so hard, my fist was inside his truly broken jaw and his fractured teeth all going back to his molars. He fell back to his knees almost twenty feet away as I got inside my car. He got up without a hint of pain other than his lips inside his mouth shut entirely and just like the killer in Halloween Michael Myers, Shane proceeded to put his fist through my windshield as I drove away. Barnstable Police got a visit at their station by Leonda and I and I was not so much as doubted or questioned when I explained Shane’s actions. To that the investigating officer said “that was brutal” referring to Shane’s badly beaten face. A photo surfaced on the internet of Shane in the care of a facial surgeon, completely and fully left online everywhere. For that I pled guilty to stalking for indeed, I posted a stay away message complete with a request for info to be given to Yarmouth Police that included every last detail I knew of Shane as well as his home address. Rather than face certain jail time and risk due harm to Leonda, I did two years of pretrial probation with pride. However, Shane got clean away with the charge, in similar fashion to his not guilty finding of raping a Hyannis woman also handicapped. So, you may wonder why I continued to loath Shane, sometimes, I do carry grudges especially when a loved one is shamelessly raped and no doubt, with Yamouth Police not supplying a female rape councilor during the entire investigative process, Leonda was called a liar and charges were dropped. It practically wrecked Leonda and I. Within a few months, the chance to renew a teenage love affair surfaced and Leonda is to this day with Paul Pacheco, her husband. I filed for divorce and uneasily gave her everything including the PC that was stolen out of her apartment that belonged to me yet her PC remained. How Paul without employment managed to visit his son in New York, remains a solved mystery to me yet the Yarmouth Police questioned my whereabouts during the robbery. If not for my friend Richard Brown and my entire day with him personally, life would have been drastically different no doubt. So, Stanley became my new friend and I solely focused on making police aware of Shane considering I resided with the sole survivor and mother of a sixteen-year-old son, killed by Shane in front of the Mill Hill Club circa 1990. For that, Kevin Shaw entirely saw this as an excuse to charge me with a bomb threat against Victory Chapel. If not for Stanley Miranda and head pastor Paul Campo testifying to my private detective and defense attorney, specifically about video that did not in any shape or form exist for no video equipment was on the church property – contrary to the falsified entirely fabricated statement Kevin Shaw recorded Stanley Miranda stating. I believe Stanley, although telling me to get lost that Sunday did indeed tell Shaw of Shane and made no ill will towards me whatsoever and I hold him totally harmless to my situation. Upon the bomb threat charge, I was arrested peacefully as I napped awaiting a housing representative inside the Housing Assistance Corporation April 24, 2017 late afternoon. I was verbally assaultive to a Barnstable Police social worker in front of the court for she managed to expose my investigative assistance to both Yarmouth & Barnstable Police involving heroin distribution and ISIS on Cape Cod. Both, other than present visually in my life inside the very home I resided in and in various public locations in Hyannis became public knowledge leaving me at the mercy of dozens of criminals all listening to proceedings.

I was sent to Bridgewater State Hospital for forensic evaluation, I stayed nearly 3 ½ years against my will, facing a once a year evaluation led by a woman who refused to look at the evidence and stating on the record I was guilty for I was mentally out of control with untreated illness. In the meantime, Kevin Shaw, forged to assault and batteries, lies of myself throwing coffee in the face of a nurse and another charge of spitting. The spitting had actually happened when four security guards pinned me down and cut off my clothes entirely for I was unwilling and peacefully stating no to putting on a johnnie while under psychiatric evaluation, fall 2003. The law states authorities have the right to charge me up to six years after an assault and battery. That ended in late 2009. Shaw made it out to have taken place late winter 2017. As for the coffee, indeed I did throw it at a completely shut security door window when the serving nurse informed me it wasn’t coffee at all. Amusingly and embarrassingly I asked her “did that hit you?” to which she said smiling “not at all”. I had been in that security room for five days without a shower and using a pot to relieve myself in. I remained for seven days in total and missed an announced court appearance despite Cape Cod Hospital staff being told frequently and daily of my plight. My landlord had placed a restraining order against me for non-payment of rent, something of which, I’ve never missed ever in my lifetime, late once in fall 1987. I was totally disheartened, homeless and cast aside as if I were a dying cockroach into the arms of a mental health system that fortunately showed immense respect and compassion despite a unapologetic and abusive forensic investigator, again, saying I did the crime despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary. In fact, a former police man turned advocate between patients and staff shared the same last name as Kevin Shaw. Karma and sheer coincidence bordered on the two being related faced me down big time.


All my felony charges had been otherwise dismissed in full as late as late summer – early fall 2019. Bomb threat carry a maximum twenty years in prison but the charges never made it out of district court where only 2 ½ years is the maximum allowed. It seemed I should’ve waited until after planned discharge the 21st of December 2020 to publicly call for an investigation into the false accusations made by one Barnstable Police officer Kevin Shaw and left my PG 13 rated insults off the internet. Shaw in turn accused me via the legal Department of the Worcester Recovery Center of making a threat. So, it is a threat to his criminal behavior that I seek a public investigation into the bad behavior he has done not only to me but no doubt other unsuspecting people. Barnstable Police have a documented in the press history of abuse of mentally ill people and specifically the homeless as I was during the spring of 2017 even with a roof over my head, a temporary one at that, complete with federal offenses taking part in the bedroom next door along with a landlord who was aiming to kick me out for not having sex with her. This all reads as If I am that stupid to get involved with this sort of stuff and sure does make me out to be ill to say the least but I’ve always managed to keep a positive outlook and level head even when I felt as if the Devil himself was truly behind the madness of my life. God only puts what I can handle in front of me. As a result of the police current false allegation, my psychiatrist and social worker have now resorted to cruelty by revoking my discharge. The social worker cited my “unreasonable fear of the policeman” as the sole reason for not being discharged. If America took that mentality after September 11, 2001, there is little to dispute we would not be living with the freedom we have currently as it’s all but fact America will face worse if we resolve to put our defenses and offenses down. In front of the human rights officer, Bernice Gero, my CISW Crystall Hollenkamp and psychiatrist Rafit Sharif have both denied their previously privately made excuse of my irrational fear. At one point they wanted written consent to investigate the officers claims but rescinded that too. Whether it’s because they believe my rational explanation or think I’m out of my mind or a combination of both remains to be known. In any event, I’m now forced with the following.

Each of the drugs, listed in a roger’s order, antipsychotics and related side effect drugs, when combined in any form, according to Drugs.Com have for me great potential for heart problems. My mother and her father each have had heart attacks, without mental health drugs. As for my father, I recently spoke with my DNA match father, and know nothing other than he is 79, near sighted, has prostate cancer and Parkinson’s disease. As for the man I call my father, Richard Mahler, it cannot be 100% ruled out we are not related but his mother and father both had heart problems. My father’s father had a heart attack. Of the drugs listed, least likely to have adverse effects, Latuda, was not chosen to be mixed with Geodon, rather Haldol and Geodon are prescribed now 2x daily. Previously as Geodon went up to 80mg’s from 60mg’s 2x daily. While taking Geodon 60Mg’s I had heart problems, out of sync, out of rhythm as if the beat was totally irregular for almost 45 minutes. Although told to the nurse of the unit I was in at Bridgewater State Hospital, no treatment took place. Both the head physician, Dr. Khan & my psychiatric nurse practitioner Erin Regan were made aware of my problem and to date, here at the Worcester Recovery Center, beginning day one in late August 2020, I’ve vocalized to two physicians and two psychiatrists about my experience with Geodon. No strenuous fast paced activity shall I permit myself, including sex with a female partner or anything beyond a simple game of catch or free throws on the court. I manage to keep up as a singer songwriter but leave no room to get fully absorbed in an all-out physical setting fully immersed in the highly active stage persona. I was never told despite up to date blood tests regularly at Bridgewater State Hospital that I became type 2 diabetic. Other than the obesity and high cholesterol that staff contributed to a lack of exercise and genetics, no reasonable word came from anyone to address the effects of anti-psychotics. Ever since I started the ungodly regiment back in 2000, I’ve always became a metformin for type 2 diabetes oral dosage taker. After 5 days here in the Worcester Recovery Center, I learned I am type 2 diabetic. My current psychiatrist, Rifat Sharif when asked if she’d prescribe anti-psychotics for her own flesh and blood if he or she became type 2 diabetic, her answer was emphatically without hesitation “yes I would”. Sharif did not take any of my history into account – yet regarding my current drug prescriptions. I’ve been to the official www.mass.gov website, have filed one complaint against the license of the psychiatrist and await until Monday for free advice from the proper channels to further a complaint against the social worker and psychiatrist. My attorney is the attorney in charge of the mental health litigation unit for all of the city of Worcester and its surrounding county. I’ve also got the backing of a independent clinical psychologist and a long documented track record / history of no threats of physical violence and literally no physical violence going back as far as 2011 when I was charged for assault and battery against 3 security guards of whom, without provocation, dared to place their hands on my peaceful self in a hospital, totally self-defense yet I pled no contest to assault and battery and did three years of confinement at Bridgewater State Hospital. 90 days to serve, the rest for a year suspended but in Bridgewater, one slightest incident of any nature, including slapping a friends back got me stripped naked and placed into the Intensive Treatment Unit for hours to days on end. Anything other than admitting to mental illness and full med compliance without so much as a hint of displeasure got people like me stuck there within a volatile Department of Corrections staff that thought nothing of getting into fist fights and started many of their own, many times a week sometimes in my 22-person unit. At one point, a patient was murdered by way of suffocation by correctional officers in the ITU and due to that horrible incident, that by the grace of God changed with private prison – hospital caretakers in the form of Well Path Recovery Services taking over. To the best of my knowledge, even in the direst trying times, not one staff member was heard using expletives such as the f-bomb or the word “damn”, always professional and at times near family like between patients. Yet like any hospital, it was entirely their belief system, not democratic and no room for debate in the slightest means differing from their perspective. At one lengthy time during circa 2018? A part time television news station reporter of Boston25 was employed as a mental health worker whom spoke intimately with myself and other patients who were put at relative ease by her natural appeal as a person both mentally and physically. When world got to officials, she quietly slipped away and remains a reporter with the station. Reporter Litsa Pappas has received occasional email about life at Bridgewater from me as recent as late October of 2020. Other employees of Well Path have also been reporters for both CNN and Fox News, mainly part time and short lived as employees.


As for my creative life on and off the internet during this entire sordid mental health constant crisis, I’ve been steadily writing of previous achievements while trying to avoid what I consider to be a conflict of my personal best interests. Letting on to the powers that be know that I had been deemed mentally ill within the entertainment and intelligence world yet going on full steam ahead in accounting for every action held against me in public mental health support groups. Some of my childhood idols have clinical depression and one has even died of HIV/AIDS. I’ve worked exclusively with Queen & Paul Rodgers within their 2008 world wide release “The Cosmos Rocks” with unlisted writing credits for “Through The Night” and “We Believe”. While Queen & Paul Rodgers were in the writing stages of their 2008 full length release, my 1981 self-penned anthem “All Through The Night” became a gift and payment sent directly to Roger Taylor for all the unpaid digital music, bootleg audio and official releases I managed to obtain and do to this day. The song “We Believe” is a largely penned piece about life without war and non-lethality as a whole, also becoming an internationally performed single and European chart-topping song. Roger Taylor solo from his founding role in Queen as singer and drummer took the time to record his rendition of my self-authored, cryptic and descriptive melancholy, sad and somber pre-September 11, 2001 song “Prelude To September 11, 2001 – Leonda (I’m Coming Home)”. I’ve heard my song dissected publicly via a DJ and caller in on WMVY radio while driving on the mid Cape Cod highway shortly after September 11, 2001. Rogers version was played via satellite radio as my wife and I along with nearly a dozen locals ate at Friendly’s of Hyannis summer 2003 one early night.

Bruce Springsteen from as far back as 2002 used large portions of a co-authored song of mine with a local musician known as the dark brooding prescient “No Highway” released shortly before the capture of two murderers shooting random people dead at gas stations sniper style throughout Virginia in fall 2002. Bruce clearly copied the guitar arrangement for his live 2008-2009 renditions of his title track “Magic” a song represented on the full-length release of the same massively popular name.. Indeed, the foundation for his song “Gypsy Biker” also upon “Magic” lies deeply in his cover of my song 2003 “Act Of Mercy” rumored to be included in his upcoming Tracks II release. Bruce Springsteen and his 2005 Grammy nominated song of the year “Devils & Dust” with its “tower two” harmonica solo is tightly based upon my co-authored with friend Audrey Lee Kelly, our song and my “tower one” harmonica solo within “Freedom” from September 19, 2001 captured live first and only performance, later released the same night worldwide with announcements in Bruce’s fanbase. In turn I’ve lovingly covered some of his most treasured songs such as “Thunder Road’, “Tenth Avenue Freeze Out”, “Reason To Believe” & “State Trooper”. The last dedicated to my step brother, niece and nephew all of whom work as law enforcement officers for the state and local police here in As for Bruce Springsteen and his cover of my song “Act Of Mercy”? Not only did he do a standup note for note rendition, he added instruments, described by fans as a combination of “Thunder Road’ & “Badlands” two of his most beloved pieces of music known worldwide. There is proof positive in my mind the photo also serving as an autograph Bruce signed stating “To Bill – Let’s Rock- Bruce Springsteen, spring of 1983 became what neither of us knew to be as an agreement for future work and it’s paid off in droves. Every single song of my 27 track digital release including two cover songs from Queen & Warren Zevon, recorded by me without a shadow of a doubt exist entirely with huge Springsteenian influence start to finish. The release is still buzzing with nearly unique individual yet sometimes repeatedly visited but in total, 3000 streams in less than six weeks since November 2020 even though it’s original debut in 2004 was made internationally public via the internet. A dedicated team of unknown musical allies locally and from afar including local radio and CD purveyors helped the success come to fruition and without the strong show of support, life would not be gratifyingly the same. If anything, the stark, raw one take finished songs of entirely first time ever performances took place over four years in a coffee house, the streets and public spaces of Hyannis and a home studio in the same small city with one final nod to a song recorded in South Yarmouth, Christmas Eve 2004. Through each note and attempt to create music, Leonda stood steadfastly supportive of my entirely with good sound quality advice always readily spoken of and taken into serious and often used consideration. She became the first model on the original cover of “W. K. Mahler” now known as “Outshining The Sun” available almost anywhere music is public online. So, I’m bragging, can you blame me, the outlet has always been relief and inspiration came all the time while deemed mentally ill and in some form of legal trouble.

U2 & Melissa Etheridge each in turn wrote their personal views and takes on relationships of the opposite sex and named their fan favorite songs “Mercy” shortly after “Act Of Mercy” was first ever performed and in front of a coffee house packed audience too. During early spring of 2004, while U2 was creating the grammy award winning “How To Dismantle An Atomic Bomb” release, the band took the time and effort to record “Miracle Drug” a blueprint rendition of my spoken word and written rant left in U2 newsgroups entitled “A Hint”, giving a huge nod to anyone disabled. Bono went on record to say “Miracle Drug” is dedicated to a personal friend confined to a wheelchair. Also that same year, both Bono and Larry Mullin took time to visit the coffee house known in Hyannis as “The Prodigal Son’ during a open microphone Wednesday evening annual weekly event. The both of them stood shoulder to shoulder with me on each side as we all stood intently listening to a local act. Honestly, nor one autograph or celebrity gazing patron acknowledged their worldwide known status. “Rip it” is a co – authored acoustic rock song that became known as an ode and dedicated to the US Army Airborne. Within five years, an energy drink of the same name became public and one of its first known supporters and supported is the Airborne of the US Army. The renaissance blues rock and roll band Blackmore’s Night honored both Janet & Christopher Morris with a instrumental released publicly in 2003 on “Ghost Of A Rose” known as “Mr. Peagrams Morris & Sword”. Why? Janet & Chris are renaissance fantasy authors and as usual, I wrote of them in Ritchie Blackmore’s and his wife singer songwriter Candice Nights public YahooGroup known as Blackmores Night back in late winter 2003. I was largely doing this in support of the underlying message of non – lethality all the while trying my best to avoid online publicity as being known as mentally ill but always facing that reality in court ordered psychiatric care, probation officers and family who seemed needlessly and tirelessly quick to point out my character flaws and mental illness. It got to the point where life became unenjoyable amongst family yet quietly and with dedication, I remained active as a husband, brother, son and uncle. Not so much as a hint came forth from anyone about my online activities and largely remains that way to this day,

Every day and every night, I lived a “gotta keep the reputation untarnished” life of mental health secrecy by all means but due to circumstances beyond my control, word got out to the public often by the very professionals who adhered to none of the patient privacy they are supposed too and largely they believe public knowledge leads to acceptance. It also became knowledge via the local newspaper and the law that states intent of using mental health medicine on patients judged necessary in a court of law shall be made public for persons to air their opinions in the matter, like it or not. I can go on for the record that some local individual singers of the bar scene of Cape Cod go as far as publicly blasting me for my work with a certain Grammy award winning female UK artist known simply as Adele, although entirely uncredited is my original version from summer 2004, “Hello” ripped straight from my PC as I helplessly watched the hack before my slow to react mind. From that session, “Hello To You” made its debut that summer. Of all songs I’ve created, what I consider to be merely a little heard demo, “Words Called Love”, recorded summer 2004, released for no more than two months summer 2004 with less than ten downloads in total, taken off line and re-released via ReverbNation in 2016 with less than six streams and downloads. There is 7+ Billion people on this planet prior to my only public performance of “Words Called Love” in front of the Boston Public Library on Boylston Street in Copley Square. Only the 4 second piano intro was played without introduction when a complete male stranger in from behind me yelled out “Words Called Love”. Most surely, it’s because of my lengthy bio within the deep records of the Federal Bureau of Investigations in all September 11, 2001 matters that go beyond what you might be willing to believe but it is no less than being entirely online from sundown September 10 to sunup September 11, 2001 with exactly nineteen middle eastern internet relay chat inhabitants whom, in professional opinion were the terrorists for their usernames matched the infamous names days to weeks later. You see, both Janet & Chris not only travelled to Russia during the nineties, they ventured into almost every country in the middle east during that same overseas business and pleasure CIA backed and sponsored trip. Janet has personally left me believing she as so much communicated with the number one terrorist responsible, Osama Bin Laden himself, long before he became known for more than being a feared terrorist outside the middle east. So, I do safely believe that the FBI, Homeland Security, National Security Agency and Central Intelligence Agency at one time or another surely became attentive to both Mahlers.Com and M2 Technologies Inc. largely because the lead September 11, 2001 terrorists frequented our websites extensively and exclusively for almost three weeks prior to their fateful attack and from the University of Arizona’s own student library, according to CNN whom made the announcement as to their whereabouts a week after the maddening loss of life. All logs going back two months prior to September 11, 2001 were without hesitation and with full cooperation, handed over via the internet to federal authorities and a CD hard copy was delivered by my wife to M2 Technologies Inc. I never got passed the sensor laden elevator open door but did manage to speak of M2 Technologies Inc. to an FBI agent and security guard who politely told me I could not gain entrance and to go away. After all the time that passed since September 11, 2001, what could I possibly do to help? I offered myself as a goat to be watched as I ventured into the deep realms of all things Boston, never knowing who or what I’d come face to face with. Ya, I worked effortlessly for M2 Technologies Inc and the federal government but never once considering myself a agent of any federal agency, merely a private citizen with a sworn duty to uphold democracy and it’s freedoms. It also helps that I’m musically inclined and work with stellar people that I still consider to be family.


No doubt, in late winter 2000, Dr. Mike Maguire of Cape Cod Human Services got it right, I’ll get into more and more trouble and it could be argued I lived to do exactly as he said I would. A wrong chosen path but really? No, I could not wish my life on anyone and for a fact, there are countless others whom have faced worse. However, for a fact, the health care system on Cape Cod towards mental health patients is based on the same insane principles of Nazi Germany albeit watered down now known as "humane treatment? Really if that is so, can any of you explain why a small delicate woman whom was seen praying on top of a gurney was literally manhandled by two Cape Cod hospital security guards and thrown violently face first to the floor in front of my eyes? Gods honest truth, she not once did anything to come close to deserving that. The health care there on Cape Cod is "do as we say completely or we will hold you against your will, we are correct, you are argumentative, delusional and a serious threat to those around you" which is exactly what the nurse practitioner, mental health rep was saying to the woman seconds before she was slammed hard to the ground. that is modern day gestapo no doubt. In late winter 2017, I was at Cape Cod Hospital with the slightest questionable symptoms and horribly treated there. No shower for 7 days, in the same clothes, crapping in a bowl. That's what they did holding me in a white dirty security safety room. Another time in 2016 not one but two security guards said to me male and a patient female, both strangers to each other "Make a porno and we'll let you go tonight, if not, you will be committed". well if that isn’t illegal I dont know what is. CCH is the worst example of health care known in the state. Their satellite community mental health center in Pocasset equally relies on the porno industry, offering yet another strange and friendly older female and I the chance to make a “purno”. One young woman actually did. She left the facility for several hours to have stitches cleaned in her finger yet came back speaking of making a “lollipop” adult film while wiping off her left cheek a lipstick painted red heart off her face. She was discharged the next day, free to drive herself away as she had originally three days prior, voluntarily checked herself in for symptoms of depression. Of all the patients who were there due to drug overdoses, only one of nearly ten stayed longer than three days. For those with problems other than drug and alcohol related such as the defiant self that I am, time moved slowly and commitment lasted for weeks to months on end for some. The community center has barred me from ever becoming a patient largely due to my physical reaction to their attack on me to use medicine court ordered by injection. So, I rightfully beat on a few male workers for putting their forceful hands upon my body. I don’t look back on that in regret. If you look closely, you’ll see a near the eyeball skin scar on my face next to my nose from my glasses being punched into my face and that started my fists flying and mouth biting without relenting. It’s also those bad memories that get me to seemingly and unwarranted defensive towards any staff that dares hint at being confrontational in speech and physical action here in the Worcester Recovery Center, literally, I jump the gun and honestly, needlessly too as the behavior has been great towards everyone with the occasional tense moments between myself and my treatment team. To that I’ve not witnessed any foul language or any physical activity used against patients if not warranted by the patient’s own self-starting physicality towards staff, rare at that too.

Taunton State Hospital’s own Dr. Ali, a Indian American doctor once diagnosed me as an alcoholic despite not discussing the subject with me entirely. So, I can actually count on one hand minus my thumb times when I’ve been out of control drunk during my entire lifetime. The last when I celebrated my overdue divorce, January 2008. That same psychiatrist Dr. Ali went as far as to keep entirely from me a roger’s commitment hearing based on what he perceived as my out of physical control behavior and to that I say, he is easily the best liar of all doctors I’ve come across. Ali went as far as to personally insult my birth mother by calling her to my face a whore for the Kennedy’s. To his unprovoked comment I quietly said “take a cheap flight back to India” and less than two months later, he resigned. I also know for a fact, the powers that be in charge of the Cape Cod Hospital psyche center blacklisted and banned me from being a patient for I told the human right officer, no one was allowed outdoors since the center opened decades ago. As a result, the reluctant staff let patients into a yard where the hospital removed the volley ball court entirely in spite. My personal relationships with the flirty women of Well Path goes to the memory of waking up with a guards personally left strand of foot long purple hair draped over my blanket covered left arm, placed on top of my bicep and under the wool blanket. Some female guards amongst us were eight months pregnant and almost regularly, the women would remove their shoes entirely, sometimes falling asleep alone in the dayroom as us patients watched rap videos on Revolt TV and Mtv, talking about our beyond insane crimes and our lives before justice took effect. Drugs that cause overwhelmingly sexual side effects, oversleep, obesity, high cholesterol and triglycerides and type 2 diabetes in almost 40% of all patients? The 22 “brothers” of Well Paths Bridgewater State Hospital were all medicated and at least eight of them including me were diabetic solely due to a lack of good food, exercise and of course, “caulking gun for a needle” medicine. You call that health care and its' damning awful the drugs become addictive too. In fact, it makes it nearly impossible to survive without, often resulting in rehospitalization and near total dependence on the public welfare system, Social Security and Medicaid / Medicare. Is there room for future dishonor? Yep but the difference is Mind Freedom and Mad In America as a solid foundation, not utilized until now.

You’ve got my plea to use Shield in full force, over the top too. My court date will most likely be in mid-January and it will be video streamed live.

William Mahler
17744183253
17743144121
https://mahlers.net
https://revervnation.com/williammahler