Sad stories …
In fact, I was not the only victim of the unscrupulous realtor who sold me the motel. I visited several of her other clients. One was a merchant from Taipei known for his business acumen. He bought a hotel quite a distance from the city and overpaid more than a hundred thousand dollars for the property. I could not figure out how such a smart person could be cheated by a realtor. He shrugged helplessly and blamed jet lag.
An engineer retired from Los Angeles city hall also bought a hotel through same realtor. The location turned out to be unsafe, and he had to buy his home in a safer neighborhood. Like me, he too trusted someone who could not be trusted. Last but not the least was a business person who bought a property from her. She put her attorney’s name on the title instead of his. He got his money back with the help of gang members. Her ranking as a $10-million realtor was built on clients’ blood and tears.
What happened to Charles …
All the attorneys who represented the defendants did not want to contact Charles, the Dixie Mafioso. However, we had no choice but to take his deposition. Charles had moved to Austin to avoid investigation by Dallas law enforcement. My attorney went to see a psychiatrist to buck up his courage before we went to see him. Charles began the interview by asking how my husband was doing. I told him I could pray; then I gave him three gospel tracts. Strangely, he opened his jacket and carefully put them in the pocket above his heart. He died of three cancers half a year later. When I heard of his death, I could still picture how sincere he was as he accepted those tracts. Maybe he was anxious to receive salvation from God.
Goddess of justice …
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lady_Justice
Before leaving the court building, I passed by a statue depicting the Goddess of Justice. She carries three symbols: A sword symbolizes the punishment of evil. A set of balance scales symbolizes the weighing of evidence. A blindfold symbolizes how justice must be objective, without showing fear or favor, regardless of power, money, wealth, status or position.
I felt justice had indeed been blindfolded, but not in the way intended in the depiction of the goddess. I could not help crying, for there was no justice in my case. I was neither a natural-born American nor a native of Dallas. I had neither power nor money to pursue my case. The judge did not allow much of my evidence to be presented to the jurors. My evidence was not properly weighed on the scales. How could we get justice under these circumstances?
The judge is an incarnation of the Goddess of Justice …
In English, justice means “righteousness and fairness.” The word can also refer to a judge. It is right and proper for a judge to bring justice about. He represents an incarnation of the Goddess of Justice! I was unlucky to have as a judge a person who not only disregarded our evidence but belittled me. He told my attorney that he would overturn the verdict if I won the case. And that is what he did, in effect, by wielding his power to rule out evidence that would have vindicated me.
I won the lottery …
As for me, it seemed as if I had won the lottery – the lottery of bad luck! It is unbelievable that I could encounter so many bad people – the Dixie Mafia, the heartless realtor, a real estate lawyer without ethics and an unjust judge. But it added a lot of color to my life story. The fire happened many years ago, and my memory should be blurred, but it came back clearly, and I could recall all the details. It seemed as if the fire happened just yesterday.
Song of Life …
Nonetheless I had a hard time writing about the fire. While writing, I listened to a song by Yanni, “With An Orchid,” in the background. Its sense of sorrow and helplessness seemed to reflect my feeling about the writing I was doing. How I wished I could climb to the mountaintop and yell: “Oh, God! Do you see my grievance? Do you see my frustration? Do you feel my pain? Do you see how helpless I am? Is there no justice?”
I can’t let go …
I can’t put it away. I can’t let go. I can’t forgive them. Many times, tears filled my eyes and I had to stop writing. I remembered a Chinese saying: “The officials are free to burn down houses while the common people are forbidden even to light a lamp.” Is there no justice in this world?
When I think of what resulted from the conspiracy of Charles and the people involved … My brothers lost their jobs, my husband and I both fell ill, and I lost my children’s education fund. I endured endless pain and sorrow. How could I let go?
Pain …
At this moment, not only did I feel heartbroken, I also felt pain in my right big toe. I awoke at 3:30 a.m. Unable to go back to sleep, I studied the Bible. I saw the verses: Jesus prayed for those who put him on the cross, mocked him, despised him, spat on him. He said, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” (Luke 23-24) But I shook my head and told myself that I could not follow His example because I was a mere mortal.
Continuing my reading, I was amazed by the story of Joseph. He had had four different types of garments – a coat of many colors, slave clothing, prison clothing and garments of honor. Four different types of garments reflected his status in life from a 17-year-old to 30-year-old. In such a short span, he experienced being hurt, betrayed and saved. He had fallen to the bottom, and then climbed to the top as prime minister of Egypt. He saved his family and an entire nation. He became someone who could provide for others.
This story shook me, especially the word provide. I have more than 4200 subscribers to my blog. I was so downhearted and depressed. How could I lift and inspire others? I was filled with hatred. How could I write anything in my loveneverending blog, which emphasizes “love,” not “hate.” Oh, God! What should I do?”
Image is from http://www.christianfreedom.org/prayer-2/
Miracle …
When I arrived home, I started looking for David’s story. Unexpectedly, I found the movie “Windtalkers,” directed by John Woo and starring Nicholas Cage. It is a good story about how Navajo Indians used an encoded version of their native language in radio transmissions to help the American troops and keep the enemy from understanding their messages during World War II. I liked the story, but I was particularly moved by the Indians’ state of mind. They let go of their feelings of oppression and the pain of being forced out of their homes by the same government for which they were now fighting. Instead, they helped the country win the war. Was it thanks to their culture that they could do this? Were they closer to nature? Or did they put country before tribe and home? Maybe their thinking is far superior to ours! Sure enough, watching the video of David the Navajo brought me an unexpected miracle …
To be continued…
