Hello Detectives,
Writing this worries me, trying to report what happened when I was a child was always met with severe consequences for me. But it has crossed generations and I cant live with it.
I live in Bloomington now, so I am writing you, because those who hurt me as a child really aren’t that far away. This is really hard to write.
I have been reporting a lot of noise disturbances at night. As a child, I used to get up to investigate noise without waking up fully. When my step father realized that I often could not remember the events that occurred in the night when I would get up, he took advantage of the situation sexually. But I would sometimes remember a few days later and think it was a dream.
I have been trying to get you to investigate a phenomenon that where ever I move, people move near by in surrounding apartments to make the same types of noises that Bill Oeding used to use to cause me to get up at night so that he could take advantage of my semi dreaming state. On a number of occasions he has spoken with some of these individuals and I have significant reason to believe that I have witnessed transactions that verify my belief that the people engaged in making noise like pounding on counter tops or slamming doors 10-20 times in a short succession after 12am are given some incentive to do this, But I remember only parts of it a few days later, so I don’t know the right way to talk about it.
When I began to trust in what I saw walking at night, I had not been able to remember point specific incidents of abuse but now I remember atleast three that involved actual sexual penetration that occurred between me and Bill Oeding in the years of 79-82, my birth certificate attesting I was born late in 72.
With the number of cases of adults remembering abuse coming to court over the last 10 years has sort of changed the rules of the game a bit. It is always hard for abusers to let go of their victims, but with jeopardy involved the stakes are raised.
Saturday, I may have seen Bill Oeding’s sister Peggy Slater driving in town. She lives near Farmersburg, but I don’t know why she would be in Bloomington. This triggered me to sleep walk and I feel I may have tried to talk to one of my neighbors.
What I think is happening is that the Oedings are paying people to do things to wake me at night in an attempt to keep me too unsettled to make any kind of case about them. They may also tell them any kind of lies, like that I am a racist or a child molester, or that I am psychotic.
Becky Bush, who claims to be my mother, met Bill Oeding through his sister Cindy when they were both stripping in Indianapolis in 1979. I was encouraged to go to a hotel with Bill, I think this hotel was in Bloomington. A few months later they married.
I think Bill’s relationship with my nephew Sean unsettles me a lot and is a source of agitation for me.
Bill and Becky claim I am violent sometimes. I am not. What I am is unable to ever prove my own innocence when I am accused of outrageous things because of an anxiety disorder that makes it hard for me to speak when I am really freaked out by what is going on. I wont own a gun, not because I think I would use it foolishly, I know I wouldn’t, but because owning one would be an extreme liability in the world I live in.
Before Becky met Bill I was encouraged to play with two boys, one year younger and one three years older than me in a sexual way. Their names were Adam and Brian Brainard, and they lived on Lynn Lane in a housing complex that was Hud subsidized in the same building as me in Indianapolis off of Molar road. We moved there in 1977 and we moved out in 1980 when Becky married Bill. My name was Holly Bush when I lived there. The boys mother’s name was Candy Brainard, she drank a lot. Brian was diabetic and had to get shots. I think there are movies in circulation about this time. Below is a picture of me around the age of that time.
A picture paints a thousand words, see if you can count the number of things wrong with this one.
This picture was actually taken in 1976, there was a snow storm around Easter in 77 and we went to a party at the farm of the man who owned this “horse” . Piecing the images I remember from that time together with the comprehension of an adult tell me something really wrong happened there that night.
I have a bullet sized lump in my right shoulder that seems to correspond with some of those images in a really disturbing way. Was there a murder in Johnson co (the J county just south of Indy) in a two story white farm house on a state two lane road?
Any way, one of my French English students told me recently I need to live in the present. In the past saying anything about any thing was only a way of asking to be hurt terribly.
Has anything changed since then?
Please let me know.
By the by, I have a lot to lose. I have an English teaching business and Im grossing nearly $300 a week at this point. I have to balance the trouble of telling vs not telling and allowing the Oedings to continue to refuse to let me just get away from them.
So if I’ve told the wrong people again I guess you have a lot you can do, eh?
Anyway.
Best Regards
Holly Oeding
