The write-up below by Mark Holt details his claimed personal experiences with booze and a woman, and the related actions of individuals who work for Fairfax County Police, Virginia Beach Police, Norfolk City Police, Norfolk JDC, Virginia Beach JDC, Fairfax County JDC, who he claims knowingly violated his rights.

I’d suggest to Holt to, if possible, name the names of those who acted rather than cast blame across an entire outfit. Also, to buttress claims made with any objective documentation. If on-the-ground help is needed consider reaching-out to Virgina Cop Block: [email protected] / website / Facebook.

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To Whom It May Concern:

I am going to tell a story, a brutal short story about my past, crooked law enforcement officers and even more crooked judicial system workers that convicted me years ago, with no evidence and put me down on paper as a “violent wife beater,” when I had never raised my hands once to any woman or man. I am going to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth because I was not given a voice, ever, by the Commonwealth of Virginia.

In 2001 my life was at an all time low. I was extremely addicted to drugs and alcohol, was homeless and living in my truck. After being in and out of local bands, going on tour, and being kicked around the music “scene” in Northern Virginia, I hit an all time bottom when I was pulled over for a DUI in Alexandria Virginia. I was guilty, very guilty and to this day will NEVER deny all of my DUI’s were factual and legit. I was a drunk, and I was drunk driving. As a deterrent to a strict sentence, I checked myself into a 28 day rehabilitation center, where I was introduced to the future mother of my two children, and my future reason why I speak out so strongly about the Commonwealth of Virginia’s judicial system. I was 19, very vulnerable, and very stupid. I should have known a 35 year old woman paying “extra” attention to me was wrong, and a little psychotic. She left her four kids and husband to be with me, a 19 year old loser, that had nothing to offer, other than a rich physician father who would end up paying her way against his better judgment in the name of his two grandkids.

Fast Forward to 2003, December. After securing a “job” at the local pet store, I got into the nasty habit of staying out late, drinking, and coming home intoxicated. I am assuming after speaking with her “co conspirators” this is where the idea came from. I came home to a pregnant mess, threatening to commit suicide via insulin overdose. (she was gestational diabetic and had the insulin and syringes at the ready) Scared, and drunk, I picked up the phone, not knowing what to do, and called 911, and stated to the operator that my pregnant girlfriend was suicidal, please send help.

I grabbed the box of syringes and insulin and waited on the front porch. I didn’t know what else to do. I could hear her screaming upstairs as a residual of an argument we had been in about me returning her two girls to their father because of her mental state, but what really scared me was how irrational she was. The Fairfax County police show up, I hand over the insulin and box of syringes (which I was later told was empty) and waited downstairs for a solution to the problem. I was hoping they would escort her to the psychiatric hospital where maybe she could get some decent help, boy was I wrong.

The next thing I knew, three officers came downstairs, told me to stand up and arrested me for “domestic violence.” I was speechless; I asked how I could be arrested for that? They stated that during the 911 calls I had supposedly pushed this woman onto the bed according to her. I couldn’t believe my ears, I had done NO SUCH THING. I did not even make the 911 call in front of her, I was downstairs. Needless to say, there was no evidence. The judge and commonwealth attorney more than happy to get a conviction, did just that.

I represented myself, because I really thought there was no case, no evidence, and in my heart I knew it hadn’t happened. I even asked the Fairfax County JDC judge, in court, after the conviction, “so any woman can just make up a false allegation of abuse and you will find the defendant guilty with no evidence?!” She responded, “I guess so Mr. *****” This woman played the victim card to the HILT. Involving people from my church in her lie, my own parents, and my pastor. I was restricted from coming to the house which MY PARENTS PAID FOR via a restraining order. I was at a loss.

Back on the street and convicted of a crime I had never done, all I could think of was my daughter, and unborn son and how crooked this whole situation was.
She demanded, close to my sons’ delivery , that I move back into the house. Her reasoning was because she couldn’t find child care for the kids. Mind you, this was against a restraining order, and me, being an idiot, wanted nothing more than to be with my kids, given I was the primary caretaker. Against everyone’s better judgment, I moved back in.

Before I knew it, I was in a moving van, against my better judgment, and heading to Virginia Beach. I was torn away from my family, my friends, and my support network. There is more to the story, like, I attempted to join the military and was turned down due to an excess of tattoos, but I’ll spare the details because it is a story best left for later. So there I am, in Virginia Beach, hating life, and wanting to go home every day. I was told before the move, that if I didn’t go with her, I wouldn’t see my kids and would be a horrible father. The guilt card was her weapon of choice. Not to mention she would lie about the past continuously until I agreed it happened exactly like she stated.

I got a pathetic job at a farm as an actor for a haunted hayride. I began drinking after 6 months of sobriety, which started at home, in northern Virginia on this farm job. I wanted to check out, I was miserable and hated tidewater Virginia. I have no one to blame for that but myself. Then came Halloween night of 2004. I came home, intoxicated after an “end of season party” at work, and was met at the door by her, livid and belligerent. I attempted to call several people to come get me, but no one would scoop me up. I tried to leave the apartment on my bike, but the chain was broken. I tried everything I could to get away.

Finally I figured I would eat crow and go home to bed. A verbal argument started the minute I walked through the door. I was slapped across the chest, which left a handprint and bruise where the contact had been made. My stepdaughters were roused by their mother in hysterics saying that I was going to kill them called the police. I heard this and realized, without any provocation or reason this woman was going to lock me up again and throw away the key. I had said NOTHING about harming her or her kids, and they ended up calling the police.

The Virginia Beach police come through the door, see the handprint on my chest and laughed at me saying, “wow, she really got you good didn’t she?” I didn’t know how to react to this. The police then took her to a separate room and questioned her while I held my newborn son. Seeing how this literally had to be considered a “quarrel” I was pretty sure they would leave me be.

They emerged from the room and demanded I hand my son over to her. I asked why, and I immediately, after handing my son to her was told to put my hands behind my back. After a split second, not realizing what was happening, I put my hands on the wall in front of me. I’m still not sure why I did this, but I guess I assumed they wanted to search me. The next thing I knew, I was thrown to the ground and beaten repeatedly by both officers with their batons. I had no idea what was going on.

I wasn’t resisting but for some reason they kept screaming “STOP RESISTING STOP RESISTING.” I had no clue what they were talking about. I went limp and began to black out with every pound. They cuffed me and pulled me to my feet. One of the cuffs was not secured, I pulled my hands forward after stating “one of my cuffs is loose” and they threw me to the ground again and began beating me violently. I was hauled off to jail with the charges of “domestic violence, resisting arrest, and escape from police custody.”

I was given bail, but no one would bail me out. I stayed in jail for over 25 days. She took out another restraining order on me, and a new man was moved into the house. I really didn’t care, I just wanted out of jail, I wanted my kids, and I wanted to go home, back to Northern Virginia.

Finally when this fling she was in didn’t work out, she bailed me out of jail with my paycheck from the farm. Mind you, she was going against a restraining order by even talking to me, and picking me up. Then the whole “childcare” card got thrown at me, again and she said I needed to stay in the house to take care of the kids since I didn’t have a job or a place to live. I was already in hysterics about where my life had gone, so I could have cared less. “ I get to be with my kids”, is all I could think about.

Once again, the Virginia Beach Commonwealth attorneys drank up every last lie the Virginia Beach Police spilled out, they, of course left out the part where they beat me mercilessly in front of my kids. I ended up being found guilty of resisting arrest, which was not true, and guilty of domestic violence, which again, DID NOT HAPPEN. Remember the handprint on MY CHEST? Well apparently during the “candid” conversation, she decided to lie, once again, and say I pulled on her nightgown and ripped it. The rip was preexisting, however the cops could have cared less, they were out for blood, and I was the perfect target. White trash, tattooed loser.

Well, you’d think it would end there, but it didn’t. Fast-forward a year or two. Still in Virginia Beach, I got another job at a grocery store as a front -end supervisor. This time I was fed up with the arguments, being stuck on child care duty well beyond what I should have been expected to do, and I just didn’t want to be with this woman anymore. Every fiber in my being wanted to leave, but I felt trapped. She had screwed me over, ruined my record and cheated on me, and abused me mentally to the point that I did not even know who I was anymore, or what was true and what was a lie.

I, of course, started drinking again to numb the feelings of emotional distress, depression and unease. I began seeing someone else, and was open about it, hoping she would get the hint. One night after being out and breaking it off with the individual, I came home. I was tipsy, but barely drunk. The next thing I knew, she wanted me, wanted to be with me. I was disgusted.

Of course I said no, and an argument broke out. Soon after, I left the house, told her I needed to clear my mind. Like an idiot, I got in the van, and drove away. I had no business behind the wheel however a DUI sounded a lot better than another false domestic violence charge. I was pulled over quite suddenly by a Virginia Beach Officer, without even being on the road for ten minutes. I thought “here we go.”

The police officer that approached the vehicle asked if I had been drinking. I didn’t lie, I admitted it, “yes sir, I have, don’t even bother with the sobriety test, I am legally drunk and know you have to arrest me.” He cuffed me, I got in the back of the cruiser. Another officer came to the scene and said, “you are also being charged with DOMESTIC ASSAULT.” WHAT IN THE WORLD??!!!!

Please explain to me sir how this is?! He continued to tell me that the mother of my children had called the police a few minutes ago and said I had hit her upside the back of the head, so “hard” that it made her see stars. I was floored, I explained to them she was lying, the whole reason I had left the house was to avoid this situation. They didn’t care; away to jail I went, with my third domestic violence charge and third DUI. Only one of which I was actually guilty for. (the DUI)

As sure as the sun rises in the east, sitting in a jail cell with a bond that wouldn’t be paid for by anyone, I was given ANOTHER charge, “violation of a protective order” which, well, I should have never had in the first place. I was charged with three different things, only one of which I was guilty of and FOUND GUILTY OF ALL THREE CHARGES WITH ZERO EVIDENCE FOR TWO. My lawyer, who’s name was Brice, insisted that if I did not plea guilty I would not see my kids again for a long time, and since I had no more money, he couldn’t fight my case. It didn’t matter who I told, who I spoke with, it ALL fell of deaf ears. There was no help for me, I plead out.

Mind you, this entire time, she moved another guy in she had met, who turned out to be a child molester in the end. But like I said, my concern was MY TWO KIDS. Typing this now I cannot believe how stupid and thoughtless I was. How naïve! I spend three plus months in jail.

I was released and SHE was waiting outside, brought me back to the house, and I gave up. I was a slave to this woman no matter what I did, said or decided, there was absolutely NOTHING I could do to escape without compromising my position as my kids’ father, so I thought. I was in the house again, the primary care taker of my kids, against a restraining order she had taken out on me.

So there I was, again. Spending 24/7 taking care of my kids to the best of my ability. We were evicted from our VA beach apartment because of the child molester she had moved in while I was in jail and then evicted a year or so later from a Virginia Beach condo we rented, mostly because the land lord could not stand how rude, inconsiderate and demanding she was.

Things were getting really bad. I took up drinking again, of course, started a band and tried to not be at home as much as possible. She ended up finding a house to rent in Norfolk, off of Granby Street. I was hesitant to go along, however after an argument she pulled the “horrible father if you don’t come” card. I was broken down, and reluctantly agreed to move.

The summer of 2006, I stopped drinking for a year, secured a job at Dairy Queen of all places, and set my sites on my music career and some how getting out of tidewater and getting help for the situation I had put myself in. I played shows constantly, practiced, wrote music, worked, and raised my children the best I could.

In the meantime, my kid’s mother was a nurse on several Labor and delivery wards, and was stealing and abusing narcotics, both at home, and at work. I did not want to be with her, I did everything I could to tell her, show her, and even attempted to find my own place to live. But it would always come down to her throwing the guilt card at me, and for some reason, I believed her. I believed I was a “piece of sh*t father, a retard and a drunk.” All things, which I would be reminded of, by her, on a daily basis.

I ended up losing my job, is the long short of it and once again was unemployed and told I would be staying home while she worked to raise the kids. What she won’t tell you, but is on HER record, is she was a nurse, and was caught three times over a 7-year period stealing narcotics and using them off of her nursing unit. So I wasn’t the only one with issues in the dependency area. I am, however, attempting to clean my side of the street here.

January 2007. I came home from a bar, not too drunk, but once again; ready to go to bed to say the least. She met me at the door again. Immediately I was torn into, about being out, having to take care of the kids, and what a worthless retarded drunk I was, and how I would never amount to anything. What ended up happening is even more horrible.

I took a handful of pills to try and pass out, to prove a point to her, I shut myself into my office, and handcuffed myself to my office chair so I wouldn’t go anywhere, or leave the office. I was on a love seat, and just wanted to sleep, but she stood at the door and continued to scream through the door. I began crying, she tore into me even more, telling me what a “p*ssy” I was and less of a man, then she began pretending she was me, mocking my subtle but audible sobs.

I heard a loud bang come from the kitchen, I grabbed my cuff key, un-cuffed myself from the office chair and ran to the kitchen to see her sitting on the ground holding her head. By that time my medication and alcohol combination had really began taking a toll. I picked up the phone and called 911.

I can’t remember after that point what I said. However I knew I had one handcuff on my wrist, and she was bleeding from her forehead. It turns out later, a beer I had spilled on the floor in the kitchen had caused her to slip and slam her head on the corner of the counter. If I hadn’t been drunk and medicated, I would have known better than to call 911. I should have run.

The Norfolk City police came, and so did an ambulance. I was arrested, this time, for FELONY assault and battery. There goes my life. I tried to explain what I heard from my office but the cops wouldn’t listen to me, at all. And honestly, I most likely wasn’t making any sense. What came out later would not only assault my spirit, but also destroy me from the inside out.

She told the police, that I had come into the bedroom, with a knife and began stabbing the bed close to her with a knife screaming I was going to kill her. Then she continued to say I slammed her head into a kitchen cabinet nearly killing her.

When the ambulance came, she denied medical service, when I called 911 and told her, I’m getting help hang in there, she looked at me, and smirked saying, “maybe I can finally get rid of you.” It didn’t register until all was said and done.

The following 5 months would consist of me being raped in jail, beaten and degraded. I was mailed by her, saying how she had a “wonderful man” moving into the house, and she further degraded me any chance she got. Now, this was AFTER she pulled ANOTHER restraining order out on me. I really did not think any woman could ever be this evil. Who would do this? Well, she did.

I was advised, once again, by a public defender that given there were pictures of the damages I “inflicted” that I had no option but to plea guilty to something I had not done. Her reasoning was “you won’t be able to fight this with no money, and you really need to think about your kids.” Like I wasn’t thinking about my children on a daily basis? They were all I thought about.

My father drove down to see me in jail, and then to my trial. I had made arrangements to leave Virginia all together and Move to New Jersey to live with a friend. That never happened. The day I was released from the jail, my father picked me up and brought me to see my children. Low and behold, she was there. I ignored her completely; I wanted nothing to do with this evil, evil, horrible person.

I advised her, however, that I was staying with a friend until I could get myself to New Jersey. I kid you not, the first words that came out of her mouth were, “who is going to take care of the kids?” Then she suddenly had “concern” for me and my sobriety. I’m sorry, I had not agreed to be sober with anyone. I wanted nothing more than to drink, to forget what happened to me in jail, and move on with my life. “ And how could you leave your kids here with no father?” She asked.

Finally, it sunk in, I would just have to fake it, stay sober, and maybe, just maybe, one day, I could get away. My insanity set in quick. THAT NIGHT I was back in the same house that just five months previous I was being hauled off to jail from on false charges.

I found out later that the police left her at the house alone for at least an hour before they returned to take pictures. By the time they got back, she had two black eyes and still, the small cut on her forehead. When I left, there was only a small cut on her forehead, it was bleeding mildly, but hardly at all. Where had the two black eyes come from? I would find out later that the hour they left her she did “something” to herself to make the injuries appear worse. Also, she immediately posted the photos on her Myspace page saying, “Look what he did.” Her, “friends” later contacted me and said it was very bizarre that being an abuse victim, she would wave pictures like that on the internet bragging about throwing me in jail.

This next decision that was made for me, confounds me to this day, and was completely insane. She demanded we get married, for the kid’s sake. Two months after I am out of jail for supposedly abusing her, she wants to marry me. I had pretty much made up my mind that the first chance I had to kill myself I was going to do it. My life was over anyways, so screw it. We got married, and within six months I moved out, and demanded a divorce. She was caught one last time after I left, stealing drugs with no one to blame but herself. I was not around to bully and gaslight anymore.

I met my now wife in 2009 and surprise surprise; I have been out of jail ever since 2007, after the fateful night on Granby Street. My, ex, arranged a meeting with my, now wife, and came clean about lying to the police to get me out of the house.

I, now, am the happiest man in the world, my now, wife, she is my everything. I want so badly to close the door on this , but I can’t. It was a group effort of four separate occasions, to destroy my life. My dreams were stolen from me. I am a “violent felon” on paper and have never raised a finger to anyone. My side of the story was never considered, never heard, and until now, never told. Why? I had to get through the 8+ years of mental abuse. I was terrified to fight, terrified to stand up for myself. Now I am not. I was judged unfairly and unjustly. I am the first to admit, I did some messed up things, like driving drunk, and NOT LEAVING WHEN I SHOULD HAVE. Being violent, is not, and has never been in my nature.

So what should I do? I have a strong dislike for the judicial system in America, and yes, I do dislike America as a whole because of the judges, police officers, and citizens that have destroyed my life but hate is a very strong word. I hate how I have tried, since the age of 18 to be a police officer, however, that obviously is a dream, that America the beautiful has taken from me.

I have cleaned my side of the street. I am sober, and have been for a long time now. I am a process server for the court system, however my dreams of being in law enforcement are gone, due to contempt prior to investigation by the Commonwealth Attorneys, the various police officers and jurisdictions, and the lawyers. I was never defended, I was force fed to the system.

I would like to see the Commonwealth of Virginia clean up their side of the street and make this right. This letter will be sent to EVERY news station, newspaper, legal division and political figure not just in Virginia, but the United States as a whole.

I want ALL FOUR OF MY DOMESTIC ASSAULT CHARGES WIPED FROM MY RECORD. I am not asking for my record to be wiped clean, I am not asking for much, considering what the judicial system has done to me. I have been stripped of my constitutional rights on one too many occasions. Don’t you see? The world we live in? When my now, wife, confronted the issue with my ex, she admitted to her that she HAD LIED TO GET ME OUT OF THE HOUSE ON ALL ACCOUNTS. Not to mention the abuse the police and the injustice of the judges put me through.

I still, to this day have neck pain from the beatings I received. I have PTSD due to not only the abuse this woman put me through, but the assaults during the jail time I unjustly served. The Ball is in your court Virginia. Now you know the truth.