After a rape that ends her idyllic childhood in St. Petersburg, young and talented Sharon embarks on a journey in and out of mental institutions, hospitals, and jail, trying to come to terms with the demons that plague her.
In December 2017, I was officially diagnosed with post traumatic stress disorder 2nd to multiple traumas in my life, all the result of my family’s doing. I was born in St. Petersburg, Florida in 1964. I had a happy relatively uneventful childhood. I started college at the same time as attending high school at age 16. After nine years of college and three degrees: nursing, psychology and interior design, I was a self-made MILLIONAIRE by the age of 40. As a psychologist I have learned the most important rule of human behavior: JEALOUSY is the underlying root cause of almost all evil behavior.
As part of my “trauma therapy” from Suncoast Mental Health Services, my assignment was to write an autobiography. The odd part of that was I had already written an autobiography in 2005 titled “STALKED IN ST. PETERSBURG,” which I turned in to the Pinellas County Courthouse before my traumas began. The first trauma started in 2006 when I was kidnapped and tortured by my family. The traumas escalated each time the perpetrators were not punished. To this date, May 4, 2019, I have been falsely imprisoned in mental hospitals seven times and gone to jail seven times. So I had to change the title of the book to: “STALKED AND LOCKED IN ST. PETERSBURG.”
Now I find myself at a crossroads. I want to point out the goodness in mankind, but I find that can only be done when one compares it to evil. It goes back to biblical and pre-biblical doctrines of the contrast between good and evil, the yin and the yang, negative and positive forces. Does one have to experience the bad to appreciate the good? I don’t believe that for a minute—it is a cop out, an excuse to use excessive force to no good end. I believe one can learn from another’s experiences without having to suffer themselves. I now open up my life’s story, the ebb and flow of experiences which are the driving force behind my trilogy of books, using my own family members as the players again, as in my first novel: “JACK THE RIPPER MY GREAT GRANDFATHER ROYAL ASSASSIN.” I wrote it as fiction, not Faction. I changed some of the actual names to protect the innocent and the guilty, some of whom are still living. In the first novel of the trilogy, “THE MALTHOUSE CHRONICALS,” all of the characters are deceased; therefore, I did not change any factual names. I hope you can learn very tough lessons through my eyes.
WE’RE ALL IN THE SAME BOAT
It was August, the summer of 1982. Both girls had finally turned eighteen years old and were now legally adults. The setting was the pink elephant in the room; the well-renowned Don-CeSar Hotel, where Al Capone was once rumored busted, in Saint Petersburg Beach, Florida.
It was a hot blue-sky day. The pink Mediterranean hotel attracted tourists from all over the world, so there was no telling where the men came from. The sandy white beach was packed with sunbathers, and the sparkling turquoise water was filled with swimmers and boats.
The girls were unable to afford the Don, so they parked their 1970s mustard colored V8 Ford Maverick muscle car (the car that Sharon’s father made her sell her horse for $600 to buy) at the free Pass-a-Grill Beach and headed north up the beach. They entered the water behind the hotel.
Sharon and Tina had rocking hot bodies, and they were both athletes. They worked together at the Bay Pines Veterans Hospital in medical sterilization and central supply. But this was Saturday, no work, all play—so they thought.
Five handsome men in a speedboat quickly noticed the girls and tempted them over by offering each a beer. The girls came over, and the smooth-talking Captain Tony began chatting up Sharon. He was very muscular with dark brown hair. The men initially all sat on the side of their boat in about four feet of water. After about twenty minutes, the girls joined them to sit on the side of the boat, and suddenly the boat began to back up. Both girls jumped off. As they backed up, Captain Tony explained they were merely backing off the sandbar. The boat stopped again and was set to idle, and the girls boarded it again. After another beer, thirty minutes or so later, Tony said he had to back off the sandbar again.
To the girls’ horror, this time the other four men covered their mouths while they pulled them into the boat, then they quickly sped off from the crowded beach out into the Gulf of Mexico. Once far enough away that the beach was barely in sight, Tony stopped the boat. He sent Tina and the other four men into the water. Then he turned to Sharon with the voice of a predator and said, “I want to eat you.”
Sharon knew he wasn’t a cannibal; he didn’t want her for lunch. Although Sharon was a virgin and had never even had oral sex, she knew that’s what he meant.
Sharon said, “Oh thanks anyway but no.”
Tony said while pointing out to sea, “Looks to me like you don’t have a choice.”
Sharon knew he was right; either way, she knew she stood a good chance of dying. He ripped her bikini bottoms off. Then he flipped her down on her back. Sharon was brilliant and pretty much figured the men had done this routine before and probably oral sex was the way to make sure she was a virgin. He had to check for a cherry or a hymen. Sharon was also in nursing school at St. Petersburg Junior College and couldn’t help but notice a bandage on his buttock in the exact spot one would give an injection such as an antibiotic for gonorrhea, common in the 1980s.
Sharon knew she had no intact hymen either from tampons or horseback riding. So when he was finished with the oral sex, and she knew she was going to get fucked, she said, “Do it in my ass.”
Boy, saying this was a mistake because Tony misinterpreted it and instead went back and forth. The pain was intolerable, but she didn’t make a sound, just stared at the other men who were watching. Sharon didn’t see Tina, though. Then, all of a sudden, the boat started taking on water. The so-called “rape” ended. Tony yelled for everyone to get on board and began to speed, to push the water out the bilge pump. The bow of the boat started tipping up to a point it would soon be perpendicular, so Tony sent two of his men onto the bow. More and more water was coming on board. The water pumps were starting to smoke gray.
Tina grabbed Sharon’s ripped bottoms in all the confusion and dove overboard, yelling for Sharon to dive in also. Once out in the open water, the men turned their smoking, sinking boat around in an attempt to run the girls over. Both girls dove down deep while the boat ran over the water above them. When the girls surfaced, Tony was completing a figure eight to try to run them over again.
As it worked before, both girls dove down deep. This time the boat headed off. Sharon remembered Tony saying they’d launched the boat at Clearwater and were probably going to go back and hope the girls would drown or be lunch for sharks.
Sharon and Tina could barely make out the jetty at Pass-a-Grille Beach on the horizon. That’s where they had parked their car. So they swam and swam and swam while Tina confessed she had pulled the drain plug on the boat to save their lives. Before getting out of the water, Sharon got her ripped bathing suit bottoms from Tina. She merely tied them back on, and the girls exited the beach without saying a word. They got in the car and started driving north up the beach to look for the boat. Finally, at Sunset Beach, they spotted the smoking, sinking boat in the horizon. The smoke had turned to black. Then, all of a sudden, a big mushroom cloud went up.
The smoke dissipated, then nothing more. Nothing was left; the men were all dead. After the appropriate amount of time passed, Sharon got checked at the free clinic for a pap smear, reporting to the doctor she had been “raped,” but the results were negative. The girls made some reference to the situation with the other men that worked in the central supply and sterilization at the veteran’s hospital, but there was nothing really to report other than, “We were all in the same boat.”
Mum was the word. Sharon acted like nothing had ever happened. However, she had to break up with her 22- year old Italian boyfriend Joseph of four years; she would not have wanted to keep such a secret from him. They had met at the Double J Ranch where Sharon kept her thoroughbred when she was 14. Joseph was a black belt from Kresky’s Urechy-Ru Martial Arts and once had a fight against three men in a gas station that were making derogatory gestures toward Sharon. Joseph beat them all badly enough they had to go home licking their wounds. Joseph and Sharon watched “Kung Fu” on TV every Sunday, as this was Joseph’s way of teaching Sharon Taoism, a religion that is peaceful but uses force when necessary to defend yourself. Sharon felt very safe with Joseph, as the couple had shared the last four years doing everything together. They were best friends.
Sharon thought back on their wonderful time together. Horses—Sharon’s thoroughbred, Big Red, who was a barrel racer and used to win 1st place in shows. Sharon had towed Joseph bareback around the neighborhood for years. Movies—at the Mustang Drive-in all the scary thrillers; Dawn of the Dead, Friday the Thirteenth. Concerts—at the Lakeland civic center; Jimmy Buffet, The Moody Blues, Yes, REO Speed-wagon, ELO, Eric Clapton. Fishing—always cast netting from the railroad trussel over the bay on the way to Bay Pines, catching, cooking, and eating delicious fresh fish at least weekly. Camping, canoeing & swimming—at Rainbow Springs in Dunnellon. Chess—3 times per week at Sharon’s parents’ house in front of the fireplace. Ping-pong, badminton & billiards—at Sharon’s house. Bowling—at the lanes on 54th Ave in Kenneth City. Musicians—piano and guitar usually playing: Bob Dylon, The Beatles, Led Zeppelin, Lynard Skynard, The Doors, and more. Adjusting the mixing board of Joseph’s best friend’s garage band. Joseph had helped culture Sharon in a way, as she continued to think back. He also taught her how to gamble at the horse races in Oldsmar—win, place and show. And at the greyhound races at Derby Lane on Gandy. They would attend the jai-alai games in Tampa and wrestling matches at the Bayfront Arena in St. Pete. Joseph was a gentleman and always treated Sharon like a young lady. Although Sharon’s mother insisted her sister chaperone their dates until Sharon was sixteen, it wasn’t necessary.
Life would now be very different for Joseph and Sharon. Joseph would move to Texas to work for Ross Perot at EDS. Sharon then became a bookkeeper for Jones Chemical Company while she continued to put herself through St. Petersburg Jr. College.
STONE COLD KILLERS
Sharon and Tina drifted apart; Tina quickly got married, converted to a Baptist born-again Christian, and had a baby. While Sharon trudged ahead, a “stone cold killer,” she completed nursing school without a hiccup, and passed her RN at age 19. Then when Sharon couldn’t even get an interview for a position as a nurse after applying to all the area hospitals (probably because she was too young and inexperienced), she moved on, bought and restored a 1965 Ford Mustang convertible, and sold it for a large profit. Then, using the profit paired with her wages as a bookkeeper, she attended the University of Tampa while working as a school nurse to pay for the expensive schooling. Unlike Sharon’s older sister, who was being financially supported by their parents, Sharon was determined not to accept any handouts, so no strings attached.
The University of Tampa was home to a lot of Jewish-American princesses (JAPs) from NYC. Sharon quickly made friends with one from her dorm, Pam. Sharon and Pam became inseparable “Siamese twins.” They were given the nicknames by the campus police of “Frick and Frack.” Nights at the campus bar, The Rathskeller, were enjoyed by many. The fun included pitchers of beer, games, dancing, and arm-wrestling. On one occasion making it back from the “Rat” to the Delo dorm, the sprinklers on the main lawn were on. Sharon was so drunk she decided to slither under them soldier-style like in basic training and made it successfully without getting wet. Frick and Frack worked out at the gym every day. Their bodies were sculpted statues. They each went through multiple one-night stands and boyfriends. Everything was consensual, no regrets for either. The men there at the university did not only have romantic relations with Sharon. She was also coined the “Phi Delta Frat Mom” since she would play poker with them off campus at Mike’s from time to time. (Sharon’s father had played once a month with the same group of his colleague’s since she was little. At a young age he taught her pair, two pair, three of a kind, poker face, etc.) Sharon would also coach them on life’s little problems while they sat back playing cards, drinking beer, and smoking cigars. Occasionally she would have to sub-in as basketball referee for their intermural games. She never dreamed that one day she would be playing basketball solo while locked up in a mental hospital when she wasn’t even captured wearing a tinfoil pirate’s hat to avoid the penetrating rays from aliens.
During the Gasparilla Pirate Invasion of Tampa reenacted yearly in January, the two bikini-clad girls were received on board a submarine stationed in the port on the Hillsborough River from her sister’s boyfriend’s forty-four foot Chris-Craft wooden boat. The marines and sailors played along with the girls and acted like it was an emergency. They weaponed up again and were given first-class treatment to refuel their water balloons. Other times the girls would crash fashion shows and have one pretend to be the model and the other the agent. They were both spontaneous and could play along with practically any venue.
But Pam never knew Sharon had killed five men. Spring Break called for multiple trips to Fort Lauderdale, where they would occasionally drive to Key Biscayne, Miami and stay in Pam’s father’s penthouse condo. Or they would just sleep in the Maverick and shower on the beach. The years of 1984-85 were truly paradise.
It was a lifestyle that Sharon had never experienced before. She equated it with attaining “Nirvana.” There was never a frat party unattended by the two. The boat rape was a secret Sharon would keep to herself for the majority of her life; gang-raped, eighteen-year-old virgin turned swinger.