I am the person behind the first “mean girls” law in the state of connecticut
Meaning a law created for same-sex stalking and harassment three years before the movie was released.
Did I mention that the restraining orders are STILL active?!
Which if you are familiar with restraining orders (I hope you aren’t) - they only last a few months to MAYBE a few years. The justification behind it was that the girls’ defied the judges order to such an extreme, that we were able to ask for the extended order due to any reunions I would go to in the future. They viewed themselves as being that “above the law” they continuously defied the judges orders to the point that he took it personally.
Oh, and before. you read this … I learned recently that part of my autism, synesthesia, and ADHD “magic” is that I have a condition called hyperphantasia. Meaning, when I write I relive what I experienced very visually. So much so that yesterday Jeff held up a piece of laundry in front of my face, and I couldn’t even see or acknowledge him.
I’m aware of my physical environment, I’m just not “there” mentally. I’m “back” to what I was experiencing. It’s like being a hologram … I can “see” the emotions, see what I was wearing (and in most cases) see down to a crack in the wall … but I’m not physically “feeling it.”
I know I’m not an empath, I just don’t have another word for it yet. It’s not a feeling it’s visual and I can interpret it.
Either way, onto the post …
My part time career in crime fighting began 22 years ago.
A sentence I never thought I would say.
As an undiagnosed autistic girl, I LONNGGEDDD to fit in, but never could.
My “extreme” special interests combined with a lack of social cues made communication really difficult.
Around people I felt comfortable with you couldn’t get me to shut up, but around everyone else I felt like I “always said the wrong thing” and constantly second guessed myself.
I had different sets of friend groups where I would mask and “play a role,” but never felt like my “actual” self.
That is until I met my “actual” best friend … who in less than three years was then arrested and charged with one count of second-degree stalking, five counts of second-degree harassment, one count of breach of peace and three counts of threatening.
When I was 16, I was stalked by four of my former best friends.
Well, two of them were my best friends - the other two were good friends.
I was the first person in Connecticut to get a restraining order in a Same Sex, non-sexual relationship.
Typically stalking cases up until this point were done by a scorned spouse, or domestic partner.
I was told over and over that “this was just a cat fight” by people in authoritative positions (who were blinded by their own sexist bias to be able to see the reality I was living).
I passionately stood up for myself, and not only set legal precedent, but one year later when I thanked the juvenile’s advocate, he said my case had already helped countless other women (which wasn’t my intention, but happy to be here! Literally) .
Onto my truth on how it all happened.
Maestro …
I was born in Bristol, CT and moved to West Hartford, CT (where I call home) in the summer of 7th grade.
Living in Bristol was easy. I knew I didn’t fit in, but I was considered one of the smartest in my class (despite now knowing I’m dyslexic, have various reading comprehension issues, and oh yeah - ADHD).
While it was biologically where I was born, I didn’t have much of an attachment to anyone or anything; I wasn’t sure if I was an alien, I just knew I didn’t belong.
(Thinking you’re an alien, btw is another autistic trait.)
Before I began 7th grade I felt this jolt in my body and KNEW, I wouldn’t be in the same school system for much longer. (I actually went around to classmates and said this was my last year with them - who was I, an aging rocker doing a fair well tour? Also, go me for having the foresight and balls to actually say that to my peers.)
At the end of the year, I became Student of the Year and then told my parents “if I’m the biggest fish in the pond shouldn’t I upgrade to a different pond so I can challenge myself?”
They agreed, and ran the numbers financially.
The only other option within the school district was a Catholic private school.
My brother was in said Catholic private school (let’s just say he took a different scholastic route), and after running the numbers it didn’t make sense to have two kids enrolled - for them it made more sense to move.
The school system in West Hartford (at the time) was ranked one of the best in the country.
Coincidentally, my grandparents had a home in West Hartford that they were also looking to sell.
The timing was kismet even if the generational relationship was not.
Considering this my “reboot,” I was determined to “be cool.”
After all, no one knew about my “awkward stages,” prolonged teachers pet-ness, and penchant for perfection.
I can … be new … I can be … COOL! I thought unsure of strategy or how to accomplish said goal.
I then took that perfectionism and parleyed that into running for student council (unopposed).
I tried to be cool, but as anyone knows with kids the second you ever try to fit in - they pull back even more. You can't try to be cool in school, you just have to be cool.
“Non cool kids” must like secrete a specific hormone that the “cool kids” in school are allergic to. It's like, oh, you try? Ewe.
The biggest difference between Bristol and West Hartford was that in Bristol the slackers were the cool kids and they were cool because they were failing, or one degree above.
In West Hartford, the cool kids had all of the fancy tutors, and yes "slacked" but by slacking it meant they were only doing one extra curricular sport in addition to all of their college credits they were already accumulating.
It was SUCH a socio-economic/ culture shock moving to West Hartford.
My first year in West Hartford was so so rough.
I didn't have a social life - I talked to people in class, but our relationship began and ended with a bell.
Although, I did have one of the coolest houses in town. It was built by a student of Frank Lloyd Wright, and unique to say the least.
Our house was featured in Architectural Digest after it was built. To the left is a REALLLYYYY long hallway, with postage stamp size bedrooms (that face the great rooms and an entire wall of closets. To the right is the library and front and center is the kitchen that led to the formal dining, and a great room with a 30 ft stone wall. I used to climb it regularly. :) Not something you see every day … but very pleasing to my sensory seeking self.
My depression began to affect my grades as one semester, I got my very first C.
I was used to not having friends? But not having my GRADES?!?!?!?!
<tangent> When we moved in, kids asked what it was like “living in the witch’s house?” I’d ask who the witch was? Apparently my grandmother didn’t fully grasp the concept of Halloween (as she was from Ireland).
So when kids would come to the door, she may or may not have had her wig on … so she’d run to put it on and run outside (however it ended up being placed). She would then shout “children, children, “COMMEEE GETTT THE CANDDYYYY” in her extremely thick Irish Broqué (which is a fancy word for “accent").
My peers on the bus thought she was a witch. I laughed but never corrected them. </tangent>
I recognized that I was hitting a funk.
The ONNNEEEE thing in my life, my grades, that I relied on SO strongly - were slipping.
Kids were UNBELIEVABLY competitive, and honestly downright cruel.
Boys teased me relentlessly (and not in the cutesey sort of way of “secretly liking me,”…. this was more in the “please go home and die kinda way”).
::Jazz hands:: FORESHADOWING!!!
I finished up middle school and looked forward to high school.
Yes, HIGH SCHOOL!!! I dreamt my entire life of being Kelly Kapowski from Saved by the Bell. To hell if I was going to let that slip!!!
"I'm so excited ... I'm so excited
::jesse breaks down:: I'm so ... scared"
I love that a vast majority of you read that and heard it in Jesse Spano’s voice.
I was DETERMINED to do something with my life when it came to high school.
At the time all of the narratives in media were that “these were going to be the best four years of my life!!!”
I was going to have that DREAM life promised to me by the kids at Bayside High.
This is going to be the greatest year EVER I would repeat to myself over and over.
I don't remember my first day of high school - I just remember feeling incredibly overwhelmed; everything looked so big.
I remember going into English class that first week and seeing a shockingly beautiful new girl.
Not to say that people in my school weren’t attractve, but her level of attraction would disrupt a grading curve.
I don't remember if the teacher put us next to each other or if I just sat next to her ... but either way, I struck up a conversation.
Hey, I really like your nails - I whispered, commenting on her french tipped acrylics.
“Thank you,” she said with an accent that wasn’t considered a broqué.
Let’s call her … Amber.
Amber breathed coolness. She was effortless. Well, not like entirely effortless as she did wear a lot of makeup, but she was so composed, and her clothes were SOOOOO cool looking - night and day from my white knit Old Navy cardigan.
Yep, totally just had my first girl boner; I targeted her for her friendship.
Especially after the year I just had, the success of my Freshman year felt like it depended on it.
Class ended, and I asked her if she was new to the area.
Yes, she replied with her thick accent.
Where from?
Texas.
Wow, quite the change!
Yeah. It's deffinntteelllyyy different here.
I told her that I had also just moved here the year prior, albeit just a few towns over, but equally felt like a fish out of water.
She and I became fast friends; I absolutely idolized this girl.
The way guys responded to her, her attitude, her clothing - she walked into a room and just owned it.
It wasn't long until we were both practically living at each other's houses. We talked at great lengths about our dreams, and life - but let's keep it real, conversations revolved around mostly boys, and which ones we had crushes on and how we were going to get them.
She was hilarious, and for the first time in my life I got it - I finally. finally. had a friend. A best friend that ACTUALLY felt like a best friend.
As the months went on, my parents grew more and more concerned on her influence over me.
We spent hours on the phone every night, that is if we weren't IMing each other back and forth, or hanging out together at Bishops Corner and Westfarms mall.
My attitude which was once very sweet after perpetually living the life of a goody two shoes, was growing more and more distant and curt.
Amber gave me an identity in a new town that I had desperately been seeking.
I had spent my ENTIRE scholastic life wanting so badly to fit in somewhere - and with her, things just made sense to me.
Gone were the cardigans, and the length on my skirts. I was a full four inches away from the height I am now, but made up for that in extremely chunky Y2K Mary Janes.
Knock offS because obviously, my parents were smart about money and fleeting teenage trends.
There I was … the “hot girl’s sidekick” who didn’t put out … but looked like she could … and may or may not be considered smart … but either way, I was someone to someone.
Our relationship was tumultuous at best.
She and I fought like cats and dogs. Her parents were on the brink of a divorce, and my parents took her in like a daughter. They had no choice, they weren't pleased with her influence on me, but they knew if they didn't allow me to see her I would only want to hang out with her more.
We would have the WORRRSSTTT knock down, drag out fights (never physical)- and then, somehow made up becoming friends again.
It was definitely the best of times, and the worst of times.
Not knowing I’m autistic meant my emotional regulation was all over the place.
A lot of very very highs and even lower lows.
There I was, so happy to have finally found an "in" with someone in school, but at the same time my parents cringed wondering what happened to the daughter they knew, as I was wondering if I had ever lived life “as myself.”
Fortunately, I maintained a solid A/B (single C) average, which kept me on honor roll throughout that year.
I had started to get in the “swing” of how much work I had to do in West Hartford.
High honors was out of the question, but regular honors would suffice.
I got on Amber about her grades, and offered to help her anyway I could. She was incredibly smart to begin with, but just not motivated and certainly didn't have the support from her parents that I did. As mad as my parents were at me for changing so much, they still got on my butt making sure I consistently did my homework.
Freshman turned to Sophmore year, and while the jury was out if it was “the best first year of the best years of my life” … I did start shedding my skin, (just not literally) and it pissed Amber off ... a lot.
I took acting classes and discovered I was quite good.
Perk of being AN undiagnosed autistic, the masks I wore on a regular basis were actually now rewarded!!!!
I got bit parts in a couple of plays, and boys were definitely starting to take notice … the spotlight was shifting, and I was a natural light seeker.
She used to say to me, I created you.
You only look this way because of ME!
And she was right to a certain degree.
I did take my make up, hair, and clothing tips from her - but there was also genuinely something inside of me that I decided to unleash for the first time.
Something inside of me that I let shine.
Something inside of me that I let ... free.
At the beginning of junior year, my guidance counselor sat me down and realized that I had “too many credits” to be a junior.
Wait, what? I said.
Yeah - way to be such a proud nerd that even school takes notice and calls you out on it.
She asked me, what would you think about graduating early? If you take summer school english, and do a quarter of an independent study in gym - you can be done before senior year.
I was such a curious student that I took so many classes due to my interest in extra electives and passionate desire to avoid the lunch room.
I didn’t intend to finish high school at 16 (I also started a year early so I was always a year younger than everyone else) … it just happened.
I was obviously SUPPERRRR stoked at hearing this news.
Getting out of school an entire year early? I wanted to work in entertainment and tech, and both industries favor the bold and the young.
I knew I wanted to go to NYC, but it never occurred to me that it might be sooner than I planned.
Yes. Yes. Yes. I said. Sign me up! I said enthusiastically and not even confirming with my parents.
I remember running into my class so excited at the news I had just received, and equally excited to tell Amber.
I don't remember exactly where I told her, but I do know she wasn't pleased.
You can't leave me.
I'm not gonna leave you! Well, kinda - but not really like that, and in that way, I said naively.
She then started to criticize me. Again, I don't remember what she said exactly - but it was more a matter of, you're going to miss out on so much - who leaves their senior year? You have prom, senior skip day, graduation!
I’m going to get to skip an entire year, I said declaratively. I'm still going to walk with the class, and I can still go to prom and all of the activities since I'll technically be enrolled, I just don't have to go to actual classes.
That's weird, she said. Who does that?
I half smiled, still confident in my decision and still eager to pursue my dreams of moving to the big city despite the blatant resentment of my best friend.
Shortly into my junior year, Amber’s need for control became obsessive.
One night, I had gone to a dinner with my family at my (other) grandparents’ house. We had been in constant communication at the time thanks to our bright blue pagers that we only used to page each other 411 (meaning I have to tell you something) or 911 (it’s an emergency, although there never really was a “true” emergency).
I had also just gotten a Nokia cell phone, and was still at dinner when my cell started blowing up.
I let the calls go to voicemail.
Then my pager joined in the symphony of tones - BEEP BEEP BEEP: 911. 911. 911.
Caller ID at the house had indicated she called multiple times there as well.
When I got home, I finally checked my voicemail.
You have two new messages:
Message one ... I've been calling you, and you're not answering. Where are YOU!?!?!
Message two ... I just called XXX and found out where you were. I don't know why you didn't tell me you were just at a dinner. Bye.
I remember hearing those messages, and knowing what I had to do - I needed to get new friends.
I loved Amber. I loved her a lot. My parents even called her their adopted daughter.
It wasn't an easy decision to make, but one that I felt in my gut I had to do. It made me sad, but I started to recognize my own needs and boundaries and how important they were.
I didn't know what my next doable action was in weaning off a friendship. I didn't want to stop being friends with her, but I knew this “hold” she thought she had over me had to come to an end.
I did the only thing I knew how to do - I drowned myself in school work, and school related activities.
That spring I had a big part in the school play - quite scandalous that my role included walking on stage in lingerie and a towel … but talk about a fast way to increase visible popularity.
Fresh off an upswing, I then took the opportunity to ask out a guy I had a crush on since Freshman year.
He was a grade above me, and we had no mutual friends, but “made eyes with each other in the hall.”
He was so hot, but like me, “attainable.”
Like a lioness beaming with her pride, I went in for the kill, and got what I wanted.
Junior year ended, and so did my daily conversations with Amber. She was in a pretty serious relationship throughout all of high school, so she kept plenty busy as well.
I was looking forward to summer school so I could just put all of this behind me and look forward to my future living in New York City!!!
On the first day of summer school, I noticed a familiar face in the class - it was someone that I had math with junior year that was super quiet, but seemed super sweet.
I intentionally sat down next to her.
Hi, I'm Jen! I know we had math last year, but I just wanted to say hi since we didn't really get to talk.
Hi, I'm Sarah.
Nice to meet you, Sarah!
Sarah and I instantly became new besties. Mostly I'm sure in part because after that first day, she saw me drive away from school in my white convertible with cow seats, a furry steering wheel and handcuffs hanging from the rear view mirror.
We used to kick it almost every day after school. I was so excited to have a friend outside of Amber, and so excited that we had so much in common!
The way she dressed, the way she talked - we were so much alike. I didn't look up to Sarah in the same way that I did to Amber, but we just had so much fun that I didn't have to. It was different, my confidence was already high.
Summer school was a breeze. I graduated with a score of 110, a literal A plus. I took the opportunity to grab ALL the extra credit I could to move the needle from just shy of honors to … “I graduated high school with honors.”
Taking English in summer school was like shooting fish in a barrel.
Which I thought was hilarious because being a big fish in a small pond was how I ended up in West Hartford in the first place.
Sarah had introduced me to a bunch of her friends, and finally I felt like I had a safe way to wean off Amber and not be weird or disrespectful about it.
People are naturally supposed to outgrow each other, right?
Yeah. Wrong.
I still say this … teenage girls … I’m not saying all of them are the “worst” but there’s a reason why Mean Girls is STILL relevant.
Summer school was the fantasy I thought all of high school would be. I felt like Kelly Kapowski AND Jesse Spano. I was respected for being smart. I was respected for being attractive. I was respected because I had a cool car, and I was respected because I had other fellow attractive friends in said car at closing bell.
Summer turned to fall, and it was time for everyone to go back to school. Again though, because I didn't walk with the class in 2001, I was still technically enrolled with my class of 2002, and could attend all senior activities and my own graduation the following June.
I busied myself that fall working full time saving money to move to NYC. Well, not full time exactly - two part time jobs ... one was working as a barista at Starbucks in Bishops Corner in the morning, and at night teaching classes and working reception at the local modeling agency - which btw, Amber introduced me to.
Low and behold, sometime during their senior year - Amber and Sarah became friends. My definition of my worst nightmare. Sarah was supposed to be my ticket to be able to escape Amber's hold, the fact that these two were becoming friends was just ... devastating.
See, Sarah became a cheerleader either that year, or the year before, ANNDD one of Amber's friends, let's call her, Mandy, was a cheerleader as well (captain I believe). So, not only did Amber and Sarah have me as a mutual friend, they also had Mandy. I knew Mandy as well having been a cheerleader myself for .25 seconds.
Prior to Sarah and Mandy hanging out, Amber, Mandy and I used to hang.
Here I made graphics …
We never really got along, and never ever hung out just the two of us … our personalities were just very different.
The fact that Amber, Mandy, AND Sarah were all becoming besties created a trifecta that crafted my worst nightmare.
I had confided in Sarah about my hesitations about my friendship with Amber.
I explained to her that I thought it was borderline obsessive and that I recognized I played a major role in it as well - but I was ready to break it off. I HAD to develop my own identity, I just didn't know what that meant or how to do it.
She said she had no idea as well, but was a welcomed shoulder to all of my frustration.
How can you love someone but recognize at the same time that the friendship has grown in an unhealthy manner?
What do you do?
I felt so lost. My parents didn't know what to do - Sarah was literally the only person in the world that I thought could understand. She knew that Amber was a great person too, but offered as much guidance as she could to my problem.
I thanked her profusely, and we continued to bond more over the coming months.
Flash forward to October 2001.
No it wasn’t, it was October 6th.
I got a call from Sarah asking for a ride from this party.
See, even if I didn't go to a party (I had undiagnosed sensory issues) … I always offered for my friends to call me at any hour for a ride just so they wouldn't have to drive drunk. I had the car, and the understanding parents who offered to do the same for me. They had never offered to take me up on it, until that night.
Sarah and Mandy had been at a party with a bunch of the cheerleaders and had been drinking.
Sarah called from a house phone number I didn’t recognize.
She started to grill me about how I felt about Amber.
Naively, I told her that I was looking forward to working and keeping my distance from her as much as possible.
Oh really, Sarah replied.
Is it really that bad?
You have no idea, I lamented.
I hung up the phone, prepared to get in my car to pick up Sarah - and seconds later the same unrecognized house phone rang back - only this time it was Mandy.
Hey, we don't need the ride, we're cool, just gonna crash here.
Okay, I thought. Whatevs. I'm super tired so I'm grateful ... just promise me you're not going to drive?
Promise.
I hung up the phone and went to sleep.
THAT WAS THE LAST GOOD NIGHT SLEEP I HAD FOR ALMOST TWO YEARS.
October 8, 2001: I had the day off from both jobs, and thanks to divine intervention, my mom happened to be home from work that day too.
Working from home, but at least … home.
Sometime in the afternoon (presumably after school), the house phone rang.
::ring ring::
I look down at caller ID, and see it's Amber.
AHHHH fml. I'm too tired - I'll talk to her later.
I let it go to the answering machine.
My pager started beeping. 911. 911. 911.
911? Ah fuck, alrite.
I picked up the house phone and called Amber back.
Sorry, I was in the bathroom, what's up?
How dare you.
How dare me?
I heard what you said, you fucking bitch.
Wait, what?
I HEARD WHAT YOU SAID TO SARAH!! I WAS LISTENING ON THE PHONE!! She screamed into my ear.
Part of me wondered why she waited two days … but the other part of me felt my heart being to pound rhythmically.
I sat up from the couch … shocked and feeling brutally betrayed.
Amber, it's not what you think, I said in an attempt to deflect.
WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT'S NOT WHAT I THINK? WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE? I CREATED YOU! YOU ARE SUCH A FUCKING BITCH AND I AM GOING TO FUCK YOUR SHIT UP!
I slammed down the cordless phone fearing that somehow her anger could reach through it.
I still to this day have never heard someone so angry.
She calls back.
::ring ring::
I race out of the library and RUNNNNN down the bedroom wing screaming into my mom's office - DO NOT ANSWER THE PHONE!!
DO NOT ANSWER THE PHONE!!
The machine picks up.
Hi, you have reached the Friel residence ...
She calls back.
::ring ring::
Mom, whatever you do, do NOT answer the phone.
My mom starts to panic, what is going on Jennifer? What did you do?
I told my mom not to worry, that Amber and I were “finally having it out,” but I had to let her calm down.
The machine picks up.
Hi, you have reached the Friel residence ...
She calls back.
::ring ring::
This went on for about 15 minutes.
Jennifer, you have got to stop this - I have to get back to work. I apologize and offer to unplug the office phone.
I ran back into the library attempting to calm down as I physically began to shake.
I turned the TV back on and started sobbing.
"How could Sarah do something like that to me? I don't understand how she could betray my trust! Amber was listening the ENTIRE time?!?! What?!?!!?
CLASSIC TEENAGE MOVE, BUT WHEN IT HAPPENS TO YOU, IT STILL BURNS.
A couple of minutes go by, as the phone stops ringing.
Silence.
Dead silence.
... too much silence.
I start to hear the bass from a car radio.
I LEAP up to look out the window above the couch, oh no ... oh no ...
The bass and the beat gets closer and closer - I didn't even have to continue to look, I knew it was her, and I knew she was coming to kick my ass.
I RANNNNNNNNNNNN out of the library, making a mad dash through the living and dining room … SLAMMING the front door locking both of the locks (including the front “gate” which looked like a door you’d see if Fort Knox was considered posh).
I called to my mother - Mom! She's here! Amber is here! Mom - she is going to kick my ass.
What, Jennifer?! What did you do?!
Mom, we finally had it out, I screamed in a panic.
She knows that I've been trying to distance myself from her; Sarah set me up.
My mom immediately went into protective mama lion mode stopping what she was doing.
Amber’s car door opened and SLAMMED.
JENNIFER FRIEL. GET YOUR ASS OUT HERE RIGHT NOW! She screamed in a tone angrier then my parents who originated that yell could ever register.
JENNIFER FRIEL. GET YOUR ASS OUT HERE RIGHT NOW!
JENNIFER FRIEL. GET YOUR ASS OUT HERE RIGHT NOW!
Over ... and over ... and over ... walking towards the door, and then trying to peer into the windows.
My mom went to open the front door, as I crouched down on the ground (below the window) trying to stop her.
MOM! Leave her be! Please please please let's just call the police or something.
Mom, she's crazy - you should have heard her on the phone, please don't do it. Just, don't do it.
Shut up, Jennifer. I'm going to settle this. She can't keep screaming, the neighbors will complain.
To my horror, she opened the front door … fortunately the posh Fort Knox screen door remained locked.
Amber, sweetie, I need you to calm down. Jen can't see you right now because you're so upset. I need you to calm down, and when you're ready get back in your car and go home, sweetie. (GO MOM GO!)
At 16, I might as well have been 6 hiding behind my mom’s skirt.
Unlike at age 6 though, my nemesis wasn’t imaginary, there I was with a literal friend capable of what … I didn’t know … but I was scared enough to be uh, scared.
Mrs. Friel - you need to back off and let your daughter deal with her problems. You can't speak for her forever, she's going to have to grow up.
Yes, Amber, you're right - but right now, you're on our property, and I'm no longer asking you, I am telling you to calm down and leave.
Mrs. Friel ... she steps closer to the front door, BRING YOUR DAUGHTER OUT HERE NOW AND I WILL FUCKING LEAVE.
You leave me no choice Amber. I am going to have to call the police.
FINE! GO AHEAD! AT LEAST SHE'LL HAVE TO COME OUTSIDE TO TALK TO THEM. I'M GONNA FUCK HER SHIT UP!
My mom reluctantly called 911 on her adopted daughter in a protective act of her actual daughter.
To the 911 operator: Hi, I have a disturbance to report. My daughter's best friend is going through some issues right now, and the two girls are having a big fight, and now she won't leave our property. Can you please send someone over just to get her to leave? I don't want her arrested - I just want her to leave the property so she can calm down.
Operator: We'll send someone right over.
Amber meanwhile continued to scream obscenities at the top of her lungs.
“You're such a fucking slut, way to hide behind your mom you fucking dirty bitch.”
<tangent> Girls are so weird when it comes to fighting. They just don't play well with others - like at all. Really, a slut? And a dirty bitch? I was such a prude. At least go for something good. Call me a loner, call me a loser, I dunno - but slut? 0 brownie points on that one. </tangent>
A solid 20 minutes goes by before the police arrive. Two female officers approach Amber.
The screams continued - OH NICE ONE!!! Wow, Jen, you REALLY can't handle your problems can you? Just get out here and fucking face me. Let's just get this over with - she screamed her words penetrating the Fort Knox screen and front door.
The officers ask her to leave, as my mom opens the front door again standing, watching, protecting.
Ma'am, (to Amber) we are going to ask you to leave right now. You are trespassing and disturbing the peace, this is grounds for arrest if you do not leave immediately.
My mom pipes up, I don't want her arrested - I just want her gone.
Ma'am - the officer says to my mother, let us handle this please.
Just please don't arrest her, she repeats.
MA'AM! Get inside.
My mom closed the front door, as I remained on the ground next to it, shaking.
This isn't happening. This isn't happening. This isn't happening.
Facing the real threat of being placed under arrest, Amber got in her car.
My mom got her wish of Amber not being arrested, something she would LATER ADMIT she regretted.
I don't remember much from that evening, I just remember sobbing uncontrollably in my room. How could Sarah have done that to me? WHYYYYYY did she set me up like that?!?! Does she not understand how fragile Amber is!!! She was going through so so much with her family, this was the absolutely last thing I ever wanted to do to her.
I turned on my computer, logged onto AOL, and aimlessly plugged away playing Slingo and PoppIt.
Less than a half hour into logging in - I got an IM from Amber.
::blue font:: Ur dead.
::red font:: Amber, calm down. I didn't mean for this to happen.
::blue font:: whatever. way 2 hide behind ur mother u stupid bitch.
::red font:: I didn't hide behind my mom - you were being irrational, I couldnt talk to you.
I hear an alert ::aol door open:: it’s Sarah.
::red font:: How could you do this to me?
::red font:: I confided in you! I thought you were my friend.
No response.
The AOL door slams, showing that she logged off.
::blue font::ur dead, jen. say your fucking prayers you dumb bitch.
Then another alert pops up ::aol door open:: it's Valerie.
(Valerie was someone who I had met in summer school, and Sarah and I hung out with, but because she was living on the other side of town she was geographically undesirable.)
::blue font:: hahahahaahahahahahahahaahahahahaahwut a dumb beyotch.
::blue font:: we're all gonna come and kick your ass. How culd u do sumethin like that 2 ur friend? supposedly your best friend. how do you live wit yo self?
The IMs that evening didn't stop.
Valerie, and Amber ... back and forth. I started screaming … make them stop. MAKE THEM STOP. I didn't ask for this, I didn't want this. I was just trying to be a good friend, I just didn't know what to do.
I slid out of my computer chair hysterical and curled into the fetal position between the back of my desk and the front of my chair.
My parents were in the other room and heard my screams.
My dad hugged me - sweetie, shhhhh it's okay. We love you, it's okay. I'm sorry these girls are doing this to you.
Dad, they're so mean - you should read the things they're saying.
Turn off the computer daughter. Just get off of it, have some tea, and turn on a movie. Things like this blow over, they always do.
Dad, she waited TWO days from that phone call she listened in on. She's plotting something - I know her. She's irrational.
Daughter, take a breather, and quit the drama. You're safe, you're home - we have an alarm, and no one can hurt you. We are here to protect you.
I continued to sob, unable to be consoled.
::sobbing:: whattt didd i dooooo. I only did what I thought was the right thing to do. Why, why! I didn't ask for this.
I realized in that first AOL IM session that all of the girls had formed an alliance against me. Mandy and Sarah were cheerleaders together, so that one was a no brainer, but because Mandy and Amber were friends to begin with, her and Sarah were now besties, and even though Valerie went to school on the other side of town (summer school is held at one school instead of both), now she was involved.
These were the only close friends I had ever had, and now they all hate me.
What is WRONG WITH ME!?!?! First my extended family doesn't like me, now this is happening?! I HATE MYSELF. I HATE MYSELF. I HATE MYSELF.
I AM A FUCKING DUMB BITCH.
My parents just let me cry… and scream it out.
My mom sobbed not knowing what to do.
My dad said, you're doing everything right babe. Just let her be. Jen needs to process this.
I passed out on the floor of my bedroom.
Fortunately, a few hours later due to the uncomfortable nature of my sleeping position - I woke up.
I had failed to set an alarm, and had to open at Starbucks the next morning. And when I say morning ... I mean morning … I had to be there at 5 am.
I made it to work but was physically and emotionally in a complete haze. I wasn't thinking, I wasn't feeling, I was surprised I was breathing.
What is wrong with my life. What is wrong with me. Why don't people like me, rang through over and over in my head as I internalized all of the words but spoken and written from the night before.
I have absolutely no friends. At all. They all hate me and have turned against me.
I proceeded to ring up coffee and pastries all morning while holding back tears.
My co-workers could tell something was up, but they had no idea “what.”
I forget what happened that day, but someone had called out - and I was asked to stay on a few hours later than usual to cover the afternoon rush.
My brain was so out of it anyway, I don't even think I knew how to process the word no, let alone say it.
Fine.
The afternoon marched on. I cleaned counters, grounded up coffee, and made small talk with regulars.
At about 2:30pm, the front doors opened.
I look up, and see Amber, Sarah, and Mandy.
Leave. Now. I say with force.
Hi, Jen! They all start chanting.
How are you? Can we please like have some frappuccinos!
I stood my ground. I am not asking you, I am telling you to leave now, before you cause a scene.
You can't make us leave you dumb bitch.
My manager comes out.
I need you to handle this, I say as I walk into the back.
How can I help you girls? he says, calm.
We'd like some Fraps please.
Fine, how many.
Three please. Mocha.
Fine.
He makes the drinks, takes the money from the girls, and then asks them to leave.
You can't make us leave, they demand.
Oh yes I can.
I don't know what is going on, but you're causing a disturbance, and you need to go.
Yeah well your employee is a dumb fucking bitch.
Goodbye girls, I am going to call the police.
They proceed to leave.
My manager comes into the back and sees me sitting on a box of coffee sobbing.
What is going on, Jen? Who are those girls?
They were my friends. I just ... don't know what happened.
I continued to sob.
Go home. We're fine here, we'll get it covered.
I calmed myself down, wiping away as many tears as I could and got in my car.
The drive home wasn’t far a mere two miles at most - but to my surprise the girls’ didn’t leave … they were waiting in their car as they proceed to tailgate me down a major road back to my house.
BACK OFF!!! I SCREAMED INTO THE REAR VIEW MIRROR!!! YOU'RE GOING TO KILL US YOU FUCKING IDIOT!!! THERES TOO MUCH TRAFFIC.
My eyes were so filled with tears, I could barely see where I was going.
I pulled onto my street, as I could see the girls clearly driving away and flipping me off.
Our house had a carport, not a garage … so I RAANNNN into the house as fast as my legs could carry me, before I called my dad.
::shakes fist:: Damn you and your lovely impractical presentation student of Frank Lloyd Wright.
We have to do something - they're not stopping.
Have you just tried talking to them, Jen.
YES dad! They are fucking irrational, and I don't know what to do. They aren't stopping.
My dad, being a corporate lawyer, advised me that there was nothing I could do.
But dad, they're chasing me on the streets! How is this not illegal?
Daughter, just calm down. I will talk to you when I get home. ENOUGH already with this drama.
I hung up the phone in tears knowing that this wasn't just a "spat" and this wasn't just "girls being girls" - this felt different; something in my soul and something in my core could feel it ... these girls were “on another level,” and I had no idea what they were capable of.
I logged onto AOL, and the IMs continue moments later.
Amber and Valerie ... then Valerie ... then just Amber.
Sarah even chimed in laughing, and had other friends of hers IM me saying they had heard that I was a slut and they could come by for a good time.
I blocked everyone. I couldn't even believe what I was reading.
BLOCK.
BLOCK.
BLOCK. BLOCK. BLOCK
Are you sure? pops up on the screen.
YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Then, came the emails.
Email, after email. Over and over. You're dead. We're coming for you, and when you least expect it.
Their screen names, their friends screen names, straight up strangers were involved and threatening me.
I couldn't believe how many people they were able to rally against me and were hell bent on seeing me dead or at least harmed greatly.
When we're done with you your parents won't recognize you, you dumb bitch!
You've got mail.
You've got mail.
You've got mail.
Over ... and over ... and over ... and over ...
You've got hate.
You've got hate.
You've got hate.
I put my hands up to the monitor - JUST STOP IT!! JUST STOP IT!!!!
The girls all “updated” their AOL profiles (both on AOL 5.0 and AIM sub-profiles) to say really profane things about me.
FORESHADOWING FACT: This would then become a “thing” in the soon to be criminal case.
I turned off the computer while sobbing to my parents who were still at work, mom and dad - I need help.
I'm scared. I'm so scared.
The harassment didn't stop. Not knowing where harassment ended and stalking began, day after day their behavior got more brazen.
They showed up at an event I was working for my modeling agency, followed me home from simple errands I was running- these girls unfortunately had all the time in the world to devote their attention to someone due to the lack of attention they were receiving in their own home life.
The barrage of emails, IMs, and prank phone calls were never ending as well.
Over and over begging me to just die became an hourly occurrence.
These weren’t empty threats, btw. I won’t reveal new information, but these girls were unfortunately connected in a lot of ways to a type of “danger” no teenage girls should have access to.
It took seven days of relentless harassment later (WHICH FELT LIKE SEVEN WHOLE LIFETIMES IN TEENAGE YEARS) before my parents decided to take action.
My dad knew that if we tried to get a restraining order it would only take things to the next level.
All a restraining order is is a piece of paper, he explained. I would hope the police will enforce it, but I can’t guarantee it will even get granted.
I cried, I don't care. I don't care. Just make them stop.
Fortunately, because the majority of the harassment happened online, everything was documented.
Having started my first computer company at age 8, meant that as an 8 year tech veteran, I knew how to screen grab their AOL profiles, emails, and even IMs.
This wasn’t just my spoken word, this was tangible/ digitally written content.
My dad took the print outs and called the West Hartford police department.
Officer Schwab responded to our home.
My parents and I sat down with him, and we went over what felt like mounds of harassment, and asked what we could do.
I told him that they had also shown up to both of my places of employment, and also have followed me home from various places around town.
This isn’t a “random act.” You don’t “randomly” bump into the same people that many times in a single week.
You have to start calling the police. Every event, every time you see them - just get it on record.
But no one believes me - everyone keeps thinking this is something that is going to go away, and they're not stopping, it's only getting worse.
Well, that's why you're going to document everything, he insisted.
Every instance, every bit of the harassment. Keep a journal, keep your cell phone on you, and charged.
My family and I thanked him for his kind words and patience. He read through all of the emails the girls wrote and was floored at what he read.
He hugged me.
I sobbed into his shoulder, I didn't ask for this. She was my best friend, I loved her.
It's okay. You're doing the right thing, and you have great parents that are going to help you get through this, he said.
I went to sleep at that point, and my dad went to work contacting some of his legal buddies.
When it came to assemble a team, my father pulled out all of the stops contacting one of his oldest friends from high school - Mr. Owen Eagan.
Owen and my father talked for a bit that night, and Owen couldn't believe what he was hearing. He immediately agreed to meet with my dad and me.
The harassment continued over the next few days.
They showed up at Starbucks again, but this time, I called the police and filed a report.
Then they showed up to another event I was working for the modeling agency at the mall - and this time I called the police.
I was walked to my car, I was walked to the bathroom - I never spent a moment alone during that time, which is awkward because I had always “felt” alone, and now I physically was not allowed to be alone.
At our first meeting with Owen, he suggested we file for an injunction (which is a temporary restraining order). At that point, we had plenty of evidence of an elevated threat, and continued documentation that they were not stopping.
How many death “declarations” do you have to receive before it’s not longer just a “declaration” but an actual “threat?”
We filed for the injunction, and because of the weeks of harassment, and now numerous police reports ... (which btw are a total pain in the ass to get when you're stalked across various towns. Berlin, Farmington, and West Hartford - so many police stations!! And I had to convince each one to even TAKE a report!! THEN I would have to drive back to said police station a few days later to get copies of the report. I was in all three stations so much that I quickly made friends … unfortunately not the kind of friends I was after in the first place).
Paperwork in hand … the girls got a knock from the boys in blue.
Mandy ...
::knock knock::
Amber ...
::knock knock::
Valerie ...
::knock knock::
Sarah ...
::knock knock::
THE INJUNCTION READ:
YOU MUST STAY 350 YARDS AWAY (a little over three football fields for reference).
No contact.
Direct or indirect.
Online or in person.
Stay away from Jennifer's places of employment.
If you know Jennifer is at a location, you must immediately remove yourself from said location.
Black and white - typed out, signed by a judge.
It's one thing to be a teenager and get into trouble, whatever, parents can look the other way - it's an ENTIRELY different scenario when the police knock on your door.
The girls parents’ who were pre-occupied with their own comings and goings were now called to attention.
This is going to be the end right?!?!
Up next come the handcuffs … and not the ones that were hanging from my rear view mirror.
These were the charges:
AMBER: ARRESTED ON A WARRANT CHARGING HER WITH ONE COUNT OF SECOND-DEGREE STALKING, FIVE COUNTS OF SECOND-DEGREE HARASSMENT, ONE COUNT OF BREACH OF PEACE AND THREE COUNTS OF THREATENING.
SARAH: ARRESTED ON A WARRANT CHARGING HER WITH TWO COUNTS OF SECOND-DEGREE HARASSMENT, TWO COUNTS OF THREATENING AND ONE COUNT OF BREACH OF PEACE. POLICE SAID SHE WAS HARASSING A FELLOW STUDENT.
VALERIE: ARRESTED ON A WARRANT CHARGING HER WITH SECOND-DEGREE HARASSMENT AND THREATENING. POLICE SAID SHE SENT THREATENING E-MAILS.
This was not a cat fight, this was not “Mean Girls” … Mean Girls is a movie.
This is real (and at the time what felt like the whole book) but now is only a single chapter.
PART TWO WILL BE POSTED WITH THE NEXT REEL.
Here are the comments after from the original post I wrote back in 2012 right before my 10 year high school reunion.
