Another Late-Night Rant: Ho Hums, Ho Hos, Hoes, and Cheats
Back to work for me.
The last eight days were a blur of endless poker playing in Vegas.
The purpose of the trip was originally to visit my son, Buddy, who lived there. Last time I saw him was nine months earlier. That was supposed to be an intervention, to encourage him to check into a hospital’s behavioral health facility, or at least stay with me 24/7, eating right, getting massages, self-care, and poker playing.
Buddy was brilliant as a child. But corrupt court officials and his evil family destroyed his life. They went so far as to sever all communication between mother and child from the time Buddy was 13 until he was 18. (No, I did not use illegal drugs, rarely prescription drugs, have no criminal record, never was reported for abusing a child, except by the paternal family and DCFS closed that case without any finding of wrongdoing by me. I didn’t even play poker yet, and didn’t gamble in any way – unless you count turning to courts for help to enforce one’s rights as a gamble.)
Buddy, as a child under the sole custody of James and Helen Lynn, his grandparents, and Tim Lynn, his father, had a 0.4 GPA. Yes, zero point four. A procession of judges acted like that was perfectly ok; (Judge Elizabeth Feffer (doing arbitrations, last I checked), Judge Marjorie Steinberg (who retired in 2011), and Judge Thomas Trent Lewis (retired in 2019).)
Buddy told me he started smoking weed young.
When he lived with me after he turned 18, he voluntarily went to rehab for drugs and alcohol abuse. Sadly, he never recovered from the addictions.
Buddy stopped speaking to me after the unsuccessful April-May intervention. We had a big blow-up. Buddy was as good at poker as I am, when he was sober. He could have gone pro. It was a perfect job for him, if he stayed sober. (Most pros don’t get drunk while at the table. If they did, they wouldn’t win.) We were at SouthPoint. He busted out of a tournament before I did and started drinking at a cash table.
Two of the last three accounts I have about Buddy included substance abuse. He was drunk at the Lynn Christmas gathering and then he took some of a housemate’s prescription methadone and died of drug toxicity.
I had a trip planned to visit Vegas with my older son. I was going to reach out to Buddy again. I wanted to surprise him. Because recently, I was with my older son in Tunica, Tim Lynn found out and he came to the casino as a detour on a trip from California to Georgia. I didn’t want the same kind of drama during the Vegas trip.
Buddy died on January 27, 2025. I decided to use the February trip as a memorial, to try to find closure.
This past week was enlightening.
To be continued…
(I am crying and exhausted, at three in the morning, the winds are kicking up and I think I can fall back asleep now.)
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Wow. My phone was off and I slept right through a doctor’s appointment. Woke at 10:48 a.m. I must have needed the sleep. My last dream was about food insecurity. Is that a reflection of my current economic status or because of observing so much homelessness in Las Vegas?
There was one man walking that looked like he had serious mental health issues, but he was not frightening. I handed him a pack of pretzels I got from Southwest Airlines. (I have to eat gluten free.) He thanked me like I gave him a hundred-dollar bill and tore the package open. He gobbled them down.
I was going into Ross Dress for Less to find some food for dinner that didn’t cost two or three times what restaurant food costs outside casinos. I had used up my comps and it was the last night of my trip. I found six individually wrapped bags of Skinny Pop popcorn for $3.49.
Then I was walking from the Aria to catch a free tram to the Mandalay. I saw the same hungry man sitting on a wall. There was a younger black man sitting next to him. The younger man didn’t look so rough. He got up as I approached with a couple bags of popcorn in my hand. I extended one to the younger man. “No thank you” in a kind voice. “But” he indicated the older man with a sweep of his hand. I gave the older man the popcorn. The younger man thanked me and I realized he was trying to counsel the older man. Maybe he was a Christian. Maybe an ethical atheist. I hope he brought some comfort to the one in need.
Later, after winning $300 at the Mandalay, I took a bus to the Encore. During the short walk from the bus, there was another man lying on the sidewalk, wrapped in a sleeping bag. I offered him the last bag of popcorn. “A dollar. Do you have a dollar? Can you give me a dollar?” “No, but you can have this popcorn.” “I am full. I’ve been here all day. Give me a dollar.” I walked past. I had won $900 that day, playing poker. The other seven days of the trip, I was up a grand total of $20. $920 wouldn’t even cover my travel expenses.
I was walking through a little used entrance to the Encore. The Encore is one of the most expensive hotels in Vegas. There was a poorly dressed, frightening looking man in the shadows. He was counting out a wad of bills. I think the one I saw was a $1 bill. He glared at me. He was twice my weight and half my age. I could not have posed much of a threat to him, even without the look. I was considering alerting the security to the dangerous looking man. Then I saw him bringing his wad of money to a slot machine.
My guess is that he begs all day, then tries to parlay the money into a fortune at the slot machines. Fool! The only one who wins from any game but poker is the casino owners. And only the top poker players will be able to come out ahead overall in that game.
I am a rare person who is able to play poker and break even. I wrote a book with my older son titled “Balls of Crystal and Steel: What it takes to play poker without losing your assets”. I am still barely breaking even. The real problem is that the government tells us we are not allowed to hold games for profit in Arkansas without a license and gave a license to only one entity that offers a poker room. Saracen acts like a true monopoly. They charge too high a rake, have dealers who talk about how lousy the tips are, and serve unhealthful food for outrageous prices. Unlike the Vegas casinos, Saracen won’t allow players to bring in outside food or drinks. So, even though I think I can start playing at a profit, I would need to be away from my husband and my peaceful home, living in hotel rooms or air bnbs, and paying the extra travel expense.
A big bummer is that some of the casinos don’t even stop the cheating. At the Encore, for example, there was a young tomboyish woman playing PLO. On her right was an older Mideastern looking man. Both of them were in a hand with a third player. The third player blurted out “Hey, she showed her hand to that man!” The Mideasterner said, “I was going to fold my hand anyhow.” So, does tomboy have secret powers and know that before he folded? The dealer got the floor manager over, which is the right thing to do. The manager decided to “kill” the Mideasterner’s hand, but not the hand of the person who showed her cards. She and her victim chopped the pot. (They had hands of equal strength.) Had she not showed her hand to her admitted “friend” on her right, he might have added to or even raised the pot. The Mideasterner tried to further excuse their conduct by saying, “she is just learning to play.” I call bullshit. No one is playing Pot Limit Omaha for hundreds of dollars per hand without practicing at home until proficient.
Why does the government regulate our ability to offer places to play poker, even though the places that are sanctioned allow cheating, and then allows big corporations to sell us food that is killing us?
On the bus ride to the Encore, there was a frail woman sitting on a scooter. She had on a face mask and medical gloves. She had leery eyes. She had the wary, closed-off demeanor of someone unwilling to engage with the world around her. It looked like she might have an autoimmune disease. I can relate. If I eat cow dairy or gluten, or many chemicals, or too much coffee, I get so ill I can’t get out of bed. So I try not to consume those foods. In the sad woman’s basket on the front of the scooter was a bottle of soda and a bag of weirdly flavored chips. She did not seem receptive to human contact, or I would have testified about my healthful habits and implored her to change her diet.
Vegas is a sad place in general. Women are encouraged to sell their bodies or the illusion of sex. The housekeepers and restaurant hostesses I spoke with had two jobs and unattainable dreams of ending their poverty. Buddy never had a girlfriend in Vegas. Of course not. He had no economic benefit to offer the women. Besides that, he drank too much.
On the airplane home, I sat between two women. One old lady looked like a librarian. She watched a movie on an I-pad the entire time, with earplugs in. The younger woman in the window seat did the same. She was obese, and her fat encroached quite a bit into my seat area. With no one to talk to, even though there were humans literally pressing against me, I looked out the airplane window. It was a gorgeous day. The clouds below us looked like whipped frosting. In between patches, the landscape changed from the rugged golden canyons of Nevada to flats, and finally to the beauty of the lush greens and bodies of water of Arkansas.
It perplexes me that the two women beside me seemed unimpressed that we were traveling halfway across the country, flying above the clouds in under three hours. A hundred years ago the journey would take months, and likely end in death.
All our lives pre-rapture end in death.
What will I do with mine? It will include writing. It always has. Hopefully, my writing is as helpful to others as it is to myself. Hopefully I help expose cheating in our courtrooms as well as in our card rooms. Maybe, someday, it will give me an economic profit, to help feed my body, as much as it heals my soul.
Write, Don’t Ruminate: Musings About the Motives of Corrupt Judges
I should be asleep.
Instead, I am wondering what makes Judge Susan K. Weaver in Arkansas make decisions that appear both irrational and cruel.
She probably didn’t wake up one morning and think, “It will be fun to take a sixty-year-old woman’s retirement away from her.”
But what happens when old connections come calling, reminding her of past favors, shared history, or mutual interests? In small legal circles, old friendships, old debts, and old ambitions tend to resurface at just the right time. Maybe it wasn’t a direct call from an old friend—maybe it was a favor for a friend of a friend, the kind of unspoken arrangement that keeps the system running smoothly.
And why would a court reporter, Jana Perry, risk her reputation and possible criminal charges by falsifying transcriptions of hearings, like she did on the Pietrczak case? Court reporters hold an extraordinary power—recording, preserving, and, at times, shaping history. When a transcript deviates from reality, one has to wonder: was it a mistake, or was there a reason for the alteration? It’s curious, to say the least, that Jana Perry’s name intersects with legal controversies involving Judge Weaver. Coincidence? Maybe. But in the world of law, coincidences are often just patterns we haven’t fully unraveled yet.
Most people don’t think they’re evil. Even the worst villains rationalize their choices. Corruption isn’t always about greed or malice—it’s often about convenience. It’s easier to go along with the system than to stand against it. It’s easier to help a friend than to do what’s right. And once that first compromise is made, the next one comes easier.
Until one day, you wake up and find yourself as Judge Susan Weaver.
So maybe that’s how it happens. It’s not one big choice, but a series of small ones. A favor here, a shortcut there. A whisper instead of a wager. And before long, you’re not just playing the game—you own the game.
And people like Judge Susan Weaver get to keep playing, while the rest of us pay the price.
Should I Sue the Clerk of the United States Supreme Court?
Love Advocate Lucinda!
Here is the comment I left on her YouTube channel:
Thank you. I have brought 1983 cases against clerks and court reporters. They all end in the “trash can” so to speak. My latest issue is with the Clerk of the Supreme Court of the United States. The clerk did not post a copy (link) of a 10-page motion to file sealed documents and immediately unseal them. The motion was docketed as a motion to seal only. The docket said, “Motion Granted”. I posted the sealed documents on my blog. 11 days later, the opposing party asked to “take down” my blog and sanction me and order me to pay their attorney fees. I had to write and paper file my response on Christmas week. The District Court Judge said he read my blog and recused himself. The fresh judge only took my blog down for about a week and there were no other sanctions or attorney fees. It seems like the judge reading my blog without notifying me first and giving me an opportunity to object is evidence of embroilment in the case. Judge Lee P. Rudofsky said reading my blog was the cause of his recusal not evidence that I was right about his bias against pro se litigants. SCOTUS is discussing my petition for writ of certiorari, 24-6113 and hopefully will address the docket issues with motion 24M44 also, tomorrow, February 21, 2025. Hopefully I will not need to sue the Clerk of the Supreme Court.
What to Watch for When Portfolio Recovery Associates Forces You to Litigate
A viewer on my YouTube channel, @LauraLynnHammett, said he was getting sued by Portfolio Recovery Associates and didn’t know what to do yet.
Here is my reply:
Look at my blog www.court-corruption.com. There are many stories about the CFPB orders against Portfolio Recovery Associates and free downloadable documents.
The key is that they win by default 90% of the time. Show up to court. Respond timely to their complaint. If you are allowed discovery, ask them to produce old account level documentation from the time your account was at zero until the present balance. Inspect their affidavits to determine if the person who is swearing has actual first-hand knowledge about whatever they are testifying about. Ask for a copy of the original credit contract. They could not produce a contract in my case and Judge Lee P. Rudofsky gave them a pass, but I hope the US Supreme Court looks at my case and overrules Judge Rudofsky and the Eighth. I AM NOT AN ATTORNEY. THIS IS NOT LEGAL ADVICE. I am sharing my own experience, and I did score a 162 on the LSAT, a low ivy league score, so I am confident I understand what I read and have good reasoning.
Will the Supreme Court Grant Petition for Writ of Cert to this Pro Se Plaintiff?
This petition gets discussed on February 21, 2025.
Over a decade ago, I petitioned the Supreme Court for writ of cert to discuss the inhumane custody orders that destroyed my children’s childhoods. My plea fell on deaf ears.
The reason I even bother to incur the expense in time and money to ask to be the rare pro se litigant to be heard is because it is a requirement in the process of reaching the United Nations Human Rights Office of the High Commissioner.
My earlier petitions were denied by SCOTUS, but years later the U.N. asked people to write letters about injustice against abused women and children in the “family courts”. (I am an outspoken advocate of equal time co-parenting and hate when women like Crystal Lynn Strelioff cry wolf, as it makes it easier for bad judges to allow for actual abuse.)
Here is the letter I wrote. I will add that my younger son’s life ended three weeks ago. The autopsy is not complete, but it appeared Buddy did not intend to die from the use of a housemate’s prescription drugs. My husband consoles me by saying Buddy finally has peace.
שְׁמַע יִשְׂרָאֵל יְהוָה אֱלֹהֵינוּ יְהוָה אֶחָד
Hear, O Israel: The LORD our God, the LORD is one.
This is the English translation of one of the most honored prayers taken directly from the Bible. (Deuteronomy 6:4)
The line that follows:
You shall love the LORD your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your strength.
Jesus confirmed that this law is meant for all humanity.
The King James Version (KJV) of Mark 12:29-30 reads:
Mark 12:29
“And Jesus answered him, The first of all the commandments is, Hear, O Israel; The Lord our God is one Lord:”
Mark 12:30
“And thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind, and with all thy strength: this is the first commandment.”
My beloved son died. He was 30 years old. His life was tragic.
Dishonorable judges, most who identified as Christian or Jews, failed to hear. Meetings in court where people speak to the judge are called “hearings”. Hearing is more than having vibrations or sounds deciphered by one’s brain.
Hearing is with a heart and a mind, not just ears.
I filed for divorce against my son’s father, Tim Lynn. During our time together, Tim and I often argued about the courts. Tim said judges were tyrants who could order anything they wanted. I naively insisted that there were checks against misconduct, the appellate courts up to the Supreme Court of the United States.
Tim was apparently right.
Especially in the “family law” courts, the wild west of the legal system, judges are allowed to trample on the important right to a familial relationship.
My son was denied a relationship with his mother, me, from the time he was 13 until he was 18. There was no reason given. There was no reason. It’s in the best interest of the child, said minor’s counsel Ken Sherman of Carlson, De Klerk, Sherman and Rale and then E. Scott Clark. Because I said so, said Commissioner Alan Friedenthal.
I never abused drugs. I rarely used prescription drugs. I am a faithful Christian. I am well educated, have taken great care of my body and led others to practice healthful habits. I have no criminal record. Yet, Buddy and I were denied any contact for five years.
When we were reunited, Buddy had been using cannabis the entire time, basically. He was an alcoholic. He was taken out of high-school early and was not in college. His brilliant mind was wasted.
My sons told me about their treatment by their paternal family. Their cousins were abducted by their aunt, Crystal Lynn Strelioff, and hidden. There were threats of chopping my sons’ bodies up and distributing the parts in the hills of Castaic if they discussed their cousins.
My older son, who recovered from his drug abuse problem, was left to care for Buddy while their father stayed out late at night.
There were reports of physical abuse by Tim. One was prosecuted, but it took so long for my older son and I to convince law enforcement to take action, that the key witnesses could not be found. Tim was found not guilty.
When Buddy was 15 or 16 he met a sweet girl who lived in Beverly Hills. Each weekend, he would take three buses from Castaic to Beverly Hills and stay with his girlfriend and her mother. The mother, an heiress and drug addict, smoked weed with the kids. She was probably better than Tim and his girlfriends, but not mother of the year.
Buddy’s forced separation from me was not in his best interest.
Are you a victim of an abusive judge? Have you been stripped of your rights by the very ones who are paid (handsomely) to protect them? What can you do to try to turn things around?
Hopefully you find some words of wisdom in this blog. You are invited to share your story with me at bohemian_books@yahoo.com. If you have court documents you want to share with the world, send files to me and I may post them.
Remember that there are things you cannot change. And things you can.
You cannot make corrupt judges do the right thing. You can publicize their bad conduct. You can keep knocking.
You can be kind, loving and fierce.
Love the LORD your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your strength.
If you are a judge, remember Buddy.
Addition to Cert Petition on Conference of Feb. 21st
Sent overnight.
Four orders relevant to this Petition for Writ of Certiorari were issued after briefing. The final one, Doc. 318, was entered on January 21, 2025, with related motion practice concluding on January 29, 2025. (Appendix AA)
Hammett intended to introduce the documents discussed below earlier. However, her 30-year-old son passed away on January 27, 2025. Combined with other personal challenges, this tragic loss made it difficult for the pro se petitioner to focus on her public service efforts—her fight for justice to be done and to appear to be done.
Hopefully, the Justices of the Supreme Court will forgive Hammett’s delay and perhaps appreciate her brevity.
Post-Judgment Motion Practice and Recusal
On December 20, 2024, Portfolio Recovery Associates (PRA) filed an “emergency” motion seeking to take down Hammett’s blog, A Higher Law (www.court-corruption.com), and requesting sanctions. Notably, PRA waited nearly a week after discovering the alleged misconduct to file the motion. The Court ordered Hammett to respond by December 27, 2024, requiring her to work through Christmas.
Ultimately, a newly assigned judge denied PRA’s motion for sanctions, attorneys’ fees, and costs. (Docs. 317, 318)
Before that, however, Judge Lee P. Rudofsky conducted an ex parte review of Hammett’s blog before recusing himself. (Doc. 310) He did not recuse himself due to the appearance of bias inherent in independently seeking out evidence. Instead, he claimed that Hammett’s blog was so insulting that a reasonable person might believe reading it could cause bias. The Court thus confused cause and effect.
This post-judgment motion practice and recusal highlight how the appellant’s due process rights under the Fourteenth Amendment were violated by affording undue weight to the district court’s opinions.
PRA’s Deceptive Motion to Remove Hammett’s Work
Hammett, as a pro se litigant without electronic filing access, discovered PRA’s motion only by chance when checking her emails on December 22, 2024.
PRA’s motion sought to erase 15 years of Hammett’s work from the internet, a undue cost consistent with the CFPB’s findings that PRA often uses deceptive practices. PRA alleged that Hammett’s public disclosure of [] was malicious, even though the Supreme Court had apparently granted her motion to unseal in full. (24M44, “Motion Granted,” Dec. 9, 2024)
Hammett’s investigation required by order (TEO 317) showed PRA discovered the disclosure no later than December 12, 2024; yet PRA waited until December 20 to file its motion. Meanwhile, Hammett had already removed [] from her blog on December 10, 2024, following a discussion with SCOTUS staffer Laurie Wood. However, a technical issue allowed those with the original URL to still access []. On December 21, 2024, Hammett’s hosting provider informed PRA’s attorneys that they could assist Hammett in fully severing access. PRA withheld this information from Hammett until January 6, 2025—demonstrating that destroying Hammett’s life’s work was more important to PRA than maintaining confidentiality.
Disparate Treatment of Deadlines
The Court granted Hammett, a pro se paper filer, only seven days to respond to PRA’s post-judgment motion (TEO 300), yet gave PRA’s team of attorneys 11 days to file their reply. (TEO 306) This inequity further supports the need for Supreme Court review of the entire proceedings.
CONCLUSION
The post-judgment documents in Appendix AA, BB, and CC provide further evidence that this Court should grant certiorari.
Did Judge Susan Weaver Contribute to the Tragic Death of a 30-year-old man, Buddy Lynn? She doesn’t give a sh*t.
Susan Weaver transferred property and wrote that she would do whatever was necessary for the county recorder to carry out her order, before there was a final order in the case of Pietrczak v. Laura Lynn.
She gave the property to a man who used to get high with my son, the deceased, when he was 18.
Other corrupt judicial officers had cut off all communication between me and my son from the time he was 13 until his 18th birthday.
My ex-boyfriend, Mike Pietrczak, was sober for our first year together. I should have dumped his ass when he lost his sobriety, but I took our commitment to be “married in the eyes of God” seriously. Both Pietrczak and my son continued to abuse substances until Pietrczak lost the use of his limbs and my son lost his life. (Pietrczak might still be abusing, but you the taxpayers are paying millions for his prescription drugs and other care for the rest of his miserable life. If he was sober, he would probably abide by the agreement we had to split the property we used my capital and my labor to accumulate.)
I will always wonder if my son would have regained sobriety if he spent time at the property I called PTSD for Peace Tranquility Serenity Divinity that was taken out of the Rural Revival Living Trust.
Susan Weaver knew Mike Pietrczak and his Attorney William Zac White were committing fraud on the court when she transferred the property. Her motivation for making bad calls is the evidence that she hates truth and justice.
If there are “ghosts”, I hope Buddy’s haunts Judge Susan Weaver forever.
