|Posted by Roland R. Hansen on June 14, 2020 at 1:10 AM||comments ()|
This testimony was found on another blog
I really want to save kids' lives, the humiliation, the inhumanity, the conditions and treatment. If I suffer just a little more, It's a small price to pay.
I loved my life that I had going for me. I was a sophomore with decent grades, a really cute boyfriend who treated me like a princess and some really awesome friends, I was always at the parties, I had made a name for myself, everyone knew Jennifer.
I was born and raised in a small town not from from Seattle, called Poulsbo, Washington. I was raised by my mother and had very little contact with my Father. They had been divorced for quite some time now. I attended school there and was considered part of the popular crowd. Life was good. I came down with a mental illness called PMDD (premenstrual dysphoric disorder) on top of being bi-polar, and having depression. and started smoking marijuana all when I was 14 years old. It wasn't documented until over a year later when my doctor told my mother that I was a good kid, I just had some issues that could be taken care of with the right dosage of medication. My mother and I were fine for awhile but soon things were back to the way they had been before. Her and I started fighting more, and I was losing the good reputation I had worked so hard to achieve. I was slumping into average and since I had always been an "A"student with all the popular friends, my mother got worried, and when she worried, I suffered the consequences of her fears. The fighting went off and on for 2 more years. I continued to use, and looked for comfort in the back seats of cars. I didn't know how to communicate with my mother anymore. Maybe it was me finding my own path, maybe it was the fact that I was jealous of my little sister, maybe my medication dosage wasn't high enough, I don't know where it all went wrong. But it did.
Soon, we couldn't stand in the same room as each other and I told her I was going to live with my father again. Something we had tried a few years prior, but was an unsuccessful attempt. My Father being more of a child than I was at that time. My mother and I had our final fight, and I left in the middle of the night to my fathers house. When I arrived at my Dad's house, he said understood what had happened. but he didn't want my Mom to worry so he called her and told her where I was. She wanted to talk to me but I refused. She told my father the cops would be there soon to pick me up, and not to tell me. So I left, I went to my boyfriends house who lived within walking distance from my cousin who was also my best friend. I went back and fourth between their houses for a little over a week. I quit my job so the cops wouldn't be able to find me there and I worried what I was going to do when summer was over and I had to return to school. I had no where to go, little time and no money to devise a plan. I went back to my cousins house one morning to talk to her about my options. I later found out that my mother had manipulated her into telling her where I was. Her and I were sitting down watching "The Never Ending Story" when there was a loud knock at the door. My Aunt went to get the door and she slowly walked to the living room. "Jenny, it's for you." she said in a dis-hearted tone and she looked at the floor, her eyes refusing to meet mine. I think at that moment my heart stopped beating as I looked upon the officer that stood in the doorway. I couldn't move, I couldn't think, I couldn't breathe. All time just stood still and I knew my life was about to change drastically. I wish I hadn't been so right.
The officer talked to me for awhile and I just got more and more angry the more I heard. In Washington State a child can legally run away from home at the age of 16. If a parent wants that child arrested, they have to have an imagination. As they took me out of the house to the police car waiting in the driveway, my Aunt pleaded with me how much my mother loved me and how she was just trying to help me. I turned and looked my mother in the face, who had been parked just down the street, and without and remorse, told her that I hated her. That was the first time I had ever told my mother that. I was taken from my cousins house to the nearest juvenile facility, and held in CRC, a place for apprehended runaways When they realized they had no reason to hold me, that I never tried to kill my family, the reason I was arrested in the first place. I sat in CRC and stewed ways to get back at my Mother. I refused her phone calls and sat quietly.
One day I was taken from the room and put in a conference room with my Mother, Father, and Step-Father, and a few mediators. I pleaded to go live with my father because the relationship between my mother and I was not healthy and I felt like I couldn't forgive her for what she had put me through the past few days. She said, "I haven't decided what I am going to do with you yet, but you living with your Father is not an option." My Father and I both pleated again. Again with no prevail. I was escorted back to my room in CRC. where I spent the rest of the day. The following morning I awoke and thought to myself, whats the worst she can do? That was the LAST TIME I ever even thought that about my mother. I got a phone call later that day from my Mom. She had made special arrangements for me to stay in CRC for a few extra days while she got the "details" set up. I asked her what she was talking about and she hesitated... "I'm sending you to a boot camp in Montana." I asked her what she was talking about and she began to explain, but every word she spoke made my blood boil hotter and hotter until The sound of her voice made me sick. I hung up on her and thought about my life and how it was going to change. I wasn't too upset because I thought it would give my body that edge I was looking for, I thought of it as a 24 hour live-in gym. And I wasn't too angry with the idea. I still thought it was unfair of my mother to do that to me. I felt like she was just tossing me out like a dirty diaper. My life was none of her business, but she was determined to make it hers.
The next day the phone was for me again. It was my Mom, and the CRC staff recommended that I hear her out. I obliged. She told me she changed her mind and a smile swept over my face. But before I could say anything she quickly added, I'm sending you to a behavioral program in Mexico. I threw the phone off the desk and it hit the floor. I screamed a few choice words and ran up the stairs to my assigned room. I had heard about these places, the places that really bad kids go. I kept thinking, all I want to do is live with my Dad. She came by to talk to me and I recommended to the staff that they NOT place us in the same room because they didn't want to deal with an assault charge on my record. I knew I wouldn't be able to control myself. So she dropped off the pamphlets and left. I read all about how "wonderful" Casa by the Sea was, In A beautiful part of Mexico, I can have the best schooling, meet life long friends, and be a happier person. I eased up on the idea. Okay, so my boyfriend and I would have to spend some time apart but I could still call him every night and write him and my friends. I was told "It's just like college, but your not supposed to leave" I thought, cool, college? sounds alright, a few parties, maybe a little drinking, some cute boys for eye candy, catch a nice tan. And above all else, I didn't have to see my Mom. I was wrong. I wish I would have known how wrong I was.
But still in a defiant mind frame I told my mother they'd have to drag my dead body there, because I wasn't going. She said that she had already arranged the transportation. I was extremal confuse when she said she had hired Rudy and Maria for $2,000 + expenses to escort me there.
Early one of the following mornings, August 11th 2001 my room was unlocked and one of the staff members called my name to come get ready. It was about 4:30am, but I hadn't slept. I quickly showered, got ready, and waited until 6:00am for Rudy and Maria to show up. Rudy talked to me calmly and told me I could make this as easy or as hard as I wanted. I told him I would comply and he held my belt loop on my pants and I was told to put my hands in my pockets. I did as I was told and walked to the car, my mother was behind me crying and saying, " I love you Jennifer, I only do this because I love you." I shot her one last dirty look and got into the car.
"So are we driving all the way there?" I asked. They laughed from the front seat. "No silly were flying." Maria replied. She was a very pretty Mexican who in the next 10 hours, I would really enjoy spending my time with. I was excited, I had never been out of the state, let alone out of the country, never been on an airplane, I was like a kid in a candy store, they kept saying all day long that they had never had an escort they liked as well as me. During our layover we went to In-and-Out Burger, and Krispy Kreme doughnut's. I had a blast that day, until we crossed the boarder and began the journey into Mexico. All around me was poverty, naked children, and boxes made into homes. I began to appreciate what I had left in the states.
"Were here!" Maria said. I looked at the gates in disbelief. "Your joking right?" No. I wish they had been. We drove in and I was taken immediately and stripped of my belongings.My clothes were taken down to my underwear, in front of another student and a staff member. Everything was taken from me, and I was put into a uniform and placed into a classroom. everyone looked at me but everyone looked the same. The student introduced me to the staff member in charge, but I didn't understand her. "Does everyone speak Spanish?" I asked. The student laughed and said you do too. Good luck kid, this is Ginger, your new buddy, you'll do fine here, just allow yourself to change. Ginger asked the woman in charge something in Spanish and was given permission. She looked at me and said, "Okay we have permission to talk. This is the rule book" she pulled out a collection of about 20 papers that were in a folder, "you can have mine I've memorized it, and I don't need it anymore. She began to try to explain the rules to me. I was very confused. Soon I began to catch on though. She explained that Levels are gained by attitude the level of change that has taken place within that person. It felt like a cross between a perfection contest and a cult. The prize? Everything you have ever known and loved.
I had never seen so many kids behave in such a fashion before. It was like they were programed. It was very scary. The first week I was there, they couldn't find me a water bottle, so I didn't get any water until 9 days later when I was finally given one, It was Mexico in August and I was denied water! But that was just the beginning.
The night I arrived happened to be uniform night, where we turn in out dirty uniforms and get new ones. I was in line to get a new uniform when the girl in front of me was not paying attention and fell behind in line. I whispered loudly, "Run!" so she would not get in trouble. Little did I know that the staff would interpret that was a Category 4 rule violation, run away plans. Before I could understand what was happening,I was sent to "R and R" more commonly known as "room restriction" I was there for 2 days until I was dismissed by the headmaster.
In R and R you are to sit with your nose one inch from the wall, with your legs folded under the weight of your body, your arms are to be held behind your back, they cannot touch the floor, your back or your other each other your back and neck must remain rigid and straight. Sooner than you might think, your arms fall asleep, your legs fall asleep, there is no blood going to them. They ache so badly it puts you into tears. They throb and just when you think you are going to collapse and endure the consequences, you get a bathroom break. 3 bathroom breaks. 3 meal breaks. Many people say, If I were you I would have just told them to screw themselves, but I've heard the screaming that comes for R and R sometimes. I never found out what happened that made the girls scream like that but I never wanted to find out.
You are supervised by 3 staff members who socialize in Spanish all day long. They do not talk to you, nor are you aloud to talk to them. You may not request permission to do anything. If you have to use the restroom you wait until it is offered. Besides, these 3 particular staff members didn't understand English anyways so it would have done me no good.
When I finally got out, people looked at me like I was a trouble maker, like I didn't fit in. I felt like an outcast. Everyone seemed like they were perfect. I didn't understand the rules, the society, or the language. I hated my life. Every day I would daydream about another suicidal fantasy but one in particular still etches itself in my brain. My favorite of all my horrible mental illusions was getting as close to the window as I could quickly grabbing a chair and breaking the window to dive face first through the window onto the the cement 2 stories below. It seemed to be the only thought that made me happy for months. I knew I could do it. But I wanted so badly to come home and be with my best friend and my boyfriend again that I never did. I regretted my decision every night when I layed down in my bed and a staff member monitored me while I cried myself to sleep. I honestly can't tell you why I never did it. I heard of a girl that killed herself in Tranquility Bay, Jamaica, another one of the W.W.A.S.P. (World Wide Association of Specialty Programs) and I closed my eyes and watched her face become mine as I lived out my dream again in my head. I found out later. Thats exactly how she died. Apparently I wasn't alone.
I could tell you hundreds of stories of how, when it would rain maggots would cover the ground and it was impossible to take a step without squishing them under your feet as you walked to the commodore to eat your meal's of mystery meat, rice and beans. The malnutrition and stress either made you lose incredible amounts of weight, or gain obscene amounts. I went from about 115 to 168 in 8 months. (I gained more than twice as much weight in the 8 months that I was there, then the 9 months I was pregnant) Or how you were to undress in front of 30 girls, and be monitored while you were given 5 minutes to shower under a steady drip of cold water. If you drank the water you were to be given a category 5 (the highest consequence) and put in R and R for drinking the water, because it was considered a self inflicted injury. The toilet paper was not to be flushed it sat in a bucket next to the toilet where it ofter spilled over onto the floor.
The sleeping quarters had huge amounts of mold behind the beds and made many girls sick. The fungus grew so rampid, girls constantly got diseases on their feet. I got one. I asked numerous times for medical treatment and was given none, still to this day I don't know what I had, but it ate away at the skin on my feet until they cracked and bled. I was switched from a top bunk to a bottom bunk because I was unable to get in and out of bed anymore and walking and exercising was difficult but expected none the less. Nothing was done and it just got worse until I got home and was able to properly bandage my feet with sports tape and neosporin. A few weeks and a daily foot bath later. It was gone.
Some of the worst experiences I have ever had to endure took place in that facility but I think the worst ones were when our bathroom privileges were taken away, because either we were "abusing our privileges" by using the restroom too often or we were on code silence (where the whole facility is not to talk at all, for no reason what so ever) Since talking was our only means of communicating, with permission mind you, because ANY form of non-verbal communicating, from nodding your head to smiling was NOT PERMITTED. So when we went on code silence how were we to communicate that we had to use the bathroom? We didn't. We sat there until we were asked if we had to go. Many girls wet themselves. Myself included, on 2 separate occasions. When we were denied our right as human beings to use the bathroom. It's humiliating to be a teenager and have to wet yourself in front of all of your peers.
Seminars were held every month and a half. From watching videos, and reading about cults, looking back I firmly believe thats what it was. A very intense 3 day brainwashing. They fish for what they want to hear and convince you of things that you have never thought of before. Some of it makes since I guess but most of it is completely crazy, and I feel so naive for falling for it. It makes me feel completely ignorant looking back on it.
In my opinion, Casa by the Sea is a brainwashing facility and a mirror image of a cult. I could write for days about the horrors going on in those facility's but if you haven't lived it you will never know. You'll never know whats it's like to be taken from your life against your will. To be brainwashed, stripped of your personality only to be replaced by someone that somebody created and placed in your head. To be abused mentally, emotionally, and in many cases physically. To be publicly humiliated and broken.
The horror doesn't stop there. I was pulled from the program when I was 17. When I turned 18. I knew my Mother could never send me back and I was like a loose tiger escaped from the circus. I went crazy. I dropped out of school, got in the worst fights of my life with my mother and with random people. I lived on the streets, did more drugs than ever before, and became a dancer to support my new habits. I self destructed and destroyed everything. I know everything I did was my choice. But I believe that it was a direct result of what I had gone through.
These Programs are bad for the children, in the long run, bad for the parents, and awful on society. I still don't understand why someone would pay a facility to abuse and neglect their children?
It's hard to tell you all of this. It brings up nightmares for me even now, More than 2 years later. I have a family of my own, I'm married with a beautiful baby girl. On the outside, I look fine. But I still cry in my sleep. I know that this will always haunt my life and my dreams.
However, W.W.A.S.P on the other hand thank you. You taught me many things, I appreciate you opening my eyes to the horrors that children endure, thank you for teaching me that I can trust no one. That everyone is out for themselves, and that everyone will stab you in the back sooner or later. But above all else thank you for teaching me that I can do ANYTHING if I fight hard enough. Cliche isn't it?
Casa by the sea was closed by the authorities in Mexico due to suspicion of child abuse. (source)
|Posted by Roland R. Hansen on June 6, 2020 at 5:25 AM||comments ()|
This testmony was found on Google
PLP has been bribing and begging us parents to endorse and review their program. In good conscience I cannot and refuse to lie for these scoundrels. My child who was once bright, full of positivity, and optimism we enrolled for help with grades has come out a completely different student. He no longer cares for success like he once had, they broke his spirit down and treat the students worse than animals. My child is kind and known for this and that made him a target to the awful people at this program. They used unnecessary force on students for no given reason and scared them and told them they deserved it since they were enrolled at such a program for being bad. They often would take photos of the students and instruct them to make them appear happy for parents and their websites.
First of all I did not enroll my child to be treated this way. What the dishonest people promised me was much different and they knew exactly what to say to seem trustworthy. The experience for students is enough to break me and I did not get the impression PLP would be this way. They deceived us on purpose. They also primed us to turn a blind eye to complaints our children had and told us the students would say anything to manipulate us. I can assure you my child is honest to the bone and not a liar, he was there for personal reasons but PLP was very manipulative about him. I can see how parents who do not know or truly respect their own children could be easily manipulated.
His experience is real, he has been in treatment for CPTSD with real psychological professionals in the US and evaluated, and his account and what he saw other students experience is serious and caused lasting damages. I find the licensing of the staff at this program highly suspicious and there is info available indicating public records they are not actually licensed or qualified.
I am heart broken for my child who has depression and trauma he did not suffer prior to us enrolling him here. I thought we were doing what was best for him but the results show that they damaged my perfectly healthy and compassionate child I want my child back. I cannot get my money, his time, or our son back. PLP tried to force me to pay an extra month tuition for taking my son out to which I refused to engage with their scam further. They then refused to release his high school credits and transcript which holds him back a year academically. Our family is broken and financially ruined because of PLP. Damn these rotten good for nothing money grabbers.
The campus used to house Genesis by the Sea, which was a confirmed abusive program. However it is not know how much of the old employees who are still working there.
|Posted by Roland R. Hansen on May 16, 2020 at 4:50 PM||comments ()|
This testimony was found on another blog. Praise the author telling her story
Hi, my name is Sarah and I spent 2.5 years at the behavior modification facility that is called Casa by the Sea. My first day was Jan 3, 1999 and I didn't get to go home until the end of May 2001.
I was so upset when I first arrived that I was unable to eat for two weeks. Finally, they had one of the male staff force feed me by holding me down and shoving food down my throat, which continued even after I vomited. I started out in the "Courage Family," which consisted of a group of girls who where there for various reasons, including drugs, sex, violence, run away, etc. As far as I could tell, all I had done was smoke cigarettes, and get bad grades. I spent about the first two months of my time in the "worksheet room" because I spoke out of turn, or didn't fall to the ground and hide my face in time when the boys passed. Apparently it is considered wrong to look at a guy, which is something that it took me a year to get over when I got out.
All schooling was self study. Most of the books were ok, but the math books really sucked. It took me like 8 months to get through one chapter of Algebra because I didn't understand the teachers' attempts to tutor me.
Every family group has a "case manager" and my first one was Imelda, who stole things that my parents sent me. At least half of the books they sent were never given to me, THREE graphing calculators were stolen. Most of my items that were confiscated from me when I got there were missing when I left, the bin that my stuff was in was somehow gone and my stuff was in a laundry basket.
I remember one day when a new girl in our family ran away, and we were forced to stand in the seminar room all day facing the wall with our noses like an inch away. I never made it to level five or six, and found it almost impossible to get to levels 3 and 4. I had to stop brushing my hair because my red hair got everywhere and I was unable to get all of it out of my brush. When I had to live in a room with a girl who had scabies is when it got really bad because I got it too and was forced to be quarantined and wear an awful smelling cream that I still have nightmares about.
I still wake up in the middle of the night thinking that we have to go outside for a headcount, and I even dream in Spanish at times.
I was once sent out to the gynecologist and was told that I had Gonorrhea, which was impossible because I was a virgin, and had never come into contact with anyone who had that, but of course I had to pay a high price for that visit. I was forced to pay with my college money for all of the school's fees, which left me nothing to go to school on. I was forced to go through seminars every month, and found that if I was unwilling to comply with the program I would never get to go home.
I was once put on what they called a "challenge" where I was not allowed to speak at all, and was only allowed to non-verbally communicate with another student and was required to do everything that she told me to do. I was told that it was for my own good.
I have so many emotional scars from my time there that I will never be able to move passed. I was constantly used as an example by the administration when we had facility meetings as what not to do, and how not to act, and what was wrong with me. I still constantly think that I can't do anything right because when I was at Casa, I never could.
My parents were so convinced that they had to keep me away from my friends that when I got out, I had to go to a different school, and was not allowed to socialize until I turned 18.
I sometimes wake up hearing the tapes on the "World's 100 Greatest People" or the "World's 100 Greatest Books" that I had to listen to for hours every day until I was able to figure out how the rules worked. They finally had to send me to "PC-1" because I had been there for so long that they were sick of dealing with me. Then a month and 1/2 later I was woken by one of the "mamas" and told that I was going on a home pass, but that I could not tell anyone. Why not? Because I was a special case, and there was more to it, I just didn't know at the time.
When I was at the airport I was given paperwork and plane tickets, in it I found a letter from my parents to the administration thanking them for letting me go through the last seminar in May so that I could come home for good.
When I arrived back at Casa for the last two weeks of my stay, I was forced to write a 5000 word essay on the importance of being obedient, because I had told my friends that I was going home. I still don't understand why I should have hidden the fact that I was going home and that I was happy about it! I needed to say goodbye to my friends and prepare them for the fact that I was leaving. I still wish that I had been able to keep in contact with some of them. We all went through so much together that we should keep in touch.
If anyone was there during the times that I was, please e-mail me at (email address). I think that the only way that we will ever be able to get over the things that happened to us is for us to talk to each other about it.
Information about Casa by the Sea