Last correction: 1 May, 2015
Elise Kost — This is perpetrator #1. She is the weakest link in the entire chain of criminal violence that permeates Joshua Tree and its vicinity.
Squeeze her and whomever set her up for the crime will lead you to the takedown of the entire criminal enterprise run rampant.
In the photograph, she is advertising herself on Shutterstock as an “Enlightened goddess of divine whatever.” She is the one everyone in town protects and wants to be like.
The photograph is about ten years old.
On February 9, 2009 on the premises of the Saturday farmer’s market, and under the direction of Lori Herbel, mayor of Yucca Valley, Elise Kost lured me into a position, near to where Doug “the fruitman” has a table. That is where Stacy Moore, editor of the High Desert Star took her position.
Once I was distracted, her partner or husband in crime approached me from behind and wacked the hell out of me. It left me with crush injuries to my thorax, shoulder and neck. It should also be noted that on that day, it was the first and only time in the history of the farmer’s market that the Citizen’s Patrol were not on duty. They are accomplices.
He, the husband, is called, “The Wolf.” It is the only name he is known by. At the time of his attack, I was 62 years old, 155–60 lbs, 5’9″. He is 6’6″, 275 lbs., 35 –40 yrs. He took a 40 lb bolt, 4′ long, of factory rolled outdoor canvas and leveled a direct and crushing blow to the corner of my left shoulder and neck leaving me with among other issues, chronic nerve root damage. He then fled the scene.
Without constant medication and physical therapy, my arm and leg become a mass of physical misery that degenerates into a nightmare of throbbing uselessness. Every time I take a pill I relive the incident.
As an aside, I still remember what that first sheriff said to me when I called in the attack. He, through his laughter said, “What? A piece of canvas fell on you? Did anyone see it? Ha, Ha, Ha, Ha.” So here’s an update officer: Go fuck yourself.
After I fled the scene of my attack, made it to my vehicle and drove off…I circled back, parked my vehicle out of sight and walked back, undetected into the scene. That was the critical time of assessment. That was when I noted the editor in conference with “Doug the fruitman.” And that was the time I noted a district attorney in conference with Lori Herbel.
How do I know? Not because he is a white male, medium build, late thirties. But because about six months later, while called into report for jury duty, I recognized this same man working along side San Bernardino District Attorney, James Adams. Together, they emerged from inside the District Attorney’s office with their briefs and boxes under arms in the lobby of the Whitefeather Road courthouse.
When these men saw me watching them, they both stopped dead in their tracks, shocked expressions on their faces, scanning my body for injuries and stood frozen in time, as if for some sort of response. They both have full knowledge of the crime that had been witnessed by the one who was there.
At this time, the attempted murders that were to follow have been tracked to a juncture. But those two know about them because I listed them as persons of interest in my report to the Grand Jury and FBI. So far, I have yet to be reprimanded for filing false or frivolous complaints by any agency whatsoever.
Back at the ranch, the husband, known as “The Wolf” has only one expression. It is a locked-in and frozen shit-eating grin that reminds me of a heroin addict with a twenty-five year old monkey on his back.
They live together at 63252 Shifting Sands, Joshua Tree, CA
The title to their home has been difficult to determine since it is not recorded under their known names.