" From Pillar To Post "      by Anna Lucille

My aunt use to say she didn't want to go from 'pillar to post'. That was her way of saying she only
wanted to deal with one man. True to her word, she was with the same man for over 30 years.

Although he didn't abuse her or cheat with other women, her kids didn't like him and neither did I.
Something wasn't quite right about him. I saw him many times while growing up, yet I can't  remember
him ever uttering a single word. I didn't know what his voice sounded like until many years later.

His name was Freddie Mitchell.

When I bought my first home, I decided to let my cousin, my aunt's son, come live with me. He was
grown and needed to get out of the boon docks. My aunt took care of foster kids, so the extra room
would come in handy.  Her own daughter had died of diabetes, so she took care of little girls who
were in  foster care. She was very loving and kind to them.

A week before my cousin was suppose to move in with me, he called.  He was extremely upset
and ready to kill. When he got off work, he did
n't see his mom, so he went to her room to see if she
needed anything from the store. The door wasn't completely closed as it should have been.

Instead of his mom, Freddie was in there. But something didn't seem right, so he opened the door
a little more. 

His 7 year old foster sister was lying on the bed, naked and crying softly. Mitchell was molesting her.
My cousin almost lost his mind with rage. He got the little girl out of there and helped her get dressed.
He told her to wait in the bathroom while he dealt with Freddie.

My cousin pulled him off the bed, punching him and screaming for him to get out. As Mitchell quickly
grabbed some clothes, Cuz called me and told me what was going on. He was still yelling for Freddie
to get out as he talked to me.

I insisted he call the police, but he wanted to tell his mom first. She didn't call the police, so Mitchell
got away with it. I honestly believe she would have let him come back there if I hadn't known about it.
Some women are crazy like that.

My cousin came to live with me in the city. His mom continued taking care of her foster daughter and
had a grown niece come live with her. She had plenty of family and company, but I know she was lonely.
She had been with the same man, day and night for over 30 years. She had only been with one other man
before Freddie and that was the 
father of her kids. She married him when she was around 17, had
3 kids by him and then left him. I didn't know the details of that break up, but I knew the details of this one.

I called her and saw her when I brought her son to visit. About a year later, I had a feeling she would die
soon, but naturally I couldn't tell her son that. Instead I just urged him to go home for a couple weeks to be
with his mom. He did go back, but didn't spend the night.

Sure enough, a few days later, his brother called and said my aunt had passed away in her sleep. Her sons
were devastated and so was I. We blamed Freddie Mitchell for her early demise. I truly believe she died of a broken heart. To think that the man she loved all those years, was a child molester! It was too much for her to bear.

At her funeral, I had to look at the back of Mitchell's head since he sat in front of me. I wanted to punch him
in the head so bad...But that was not the time or place.

After his mom died, my cousin changed. He got involved in criminal activities and stopped working. I tried
to talk to him, to get  him grief counseling, but he wouldn't listen. When I came home one night and my house was filled with men, I put him out the very next day. I couldn't have that kind of hell around me. I  rented him a room for a few days, while I found him an apartment of his own.

Soon afterwards, I rented out my house and traveled for a while. A few years later when I returned to that city, I called around to find out how he was doing. Cuz had moved back to his hometown, but continued doing wrong, got busted and had already done 3 years in prison!

By the time I got that news, it was too late. He had violated parole and was back in prison. Like his
sister, he had diabetes and was suffering from kidney failure. My cousin died in prison at the age of 32.

I was angry. I also attributed his death to Freddie Mitchell. I couldn't bring back my aunt or cousin but I
could go after the one that ruined their life. I did some investigating and learned that Mitchell had a history
of raping little girls. Yet no one ever reported him. That was about to change.  I called the police for that
area, child services and foster care. I also called lots of people to let them know he was a pedophile,
was under investigation and to spread the word.

Then I started calling Mitchell. In fact, I called him all hours of the night. He didn't know it was me, so I
did all kinds of things to disrupt his life. I'd bark his name, call him a child rapist,  pretend to be one of his victims out to get him. When he didn't pick up, I'd leave long messages on his machine, saying how I
was going to kill him.  

In the meantime, the police were having a hard time filing charges against Mitchell. They contacted the
victims, but they were too scared to talk. Mitchell had threaten to kill them if they ever told on him. Most
were grown by then and the foster kids were teenagers, still living in that area and still afraid of him.
The man who never uttered a word, sure said a lot of terrible things to the kids he raped!

When I moved out of state again, I still couldn't let it go. I continued calling Mitchell.  Continued  threatening
him. A relative told me that Mitchell had cancer and wasn't expected to live much longer. I let the cancer
seek justice before calling him one last time. 

A younger man answered the phone and sadly said, "Freddie died last month."

My response was jubilant.

"Thank GAWD! Thank GAWD! That monster won't rape anymore little girls!"

I heard the young man gasp, but I hung up before he could respond. If he didn't know about Mitchell,
now he did.