In 1992, my racist brother, Mark Presco, made a rare call to his brother, and told me this;
“I don’t know if I should tell you this, but, Vic raped Shannon, and Christine is blackmailing him in order to put her in therapy!”
After expressing shock, Mark said this;
“Don’t be such a prude. I’ve considered becoming a pedophile myself.”
Now I was in complete shock because I had just entered hypnotherapy, and was due to be put in trance by Dr. Martin Schaefer in two days. After getting sober, I began to recall things I wanted to forget. After our first session, Martin asked me this;
“John, tell me what children your father has accessed to.Tell me their names and age.”
I looked at Martin and saw a Detective. I saw Law enforcement. I began to give him the names of the children Vic introduced me to, children that were his neighbors, and children of business people and friends.
“I love these children as if they are my own!” Vic would tell me, and then talk about how loyal they were to him. I had just told Dr. Schaefer that Vic Presco had raped me when I was about three and a half years old. Martin interupts me.
“John. You are naming children that are now adults. I want to know what children your father has access to.”
The boy next door came to mind, and the time I caught him coming out of the house with a paper bag. Vic was not home.
“What’s in the bag?” I asked. “Let me see.”
“It’s candy. Vic always give me and my sister, candy.”
I called up Christine, we not talking for years after our falling out over the Rick Partlow, Rosemary’s bartender who she introduced to her daughter. I told her what Mark told me.
“Stay out of this. It’snone of your business.”
Your wrong. Vic is my father, too.”
There was a long silence. The call was over. Two years later I beheld my beautiful sister captured in a coffin. Drew was none when her mother died. Her father died three months ago. She was like an orphan in the world. Vicki and i put aside our differences so we could be like a mother and father to her.
After Bill Cornwell tried to convince me I was a parasite who made my grandson un-happy, and thus deserved to lose him, I called up Heather and asked her if she too believed I was a parasite.
“You are a parasite Dad. You live off the government.”
My brother Mark did all he could to make sure my story of Rosamond was to his linking. He asked me to include parts of his misogynist and racist blog. He did all he could to make sure someone else told our family story. He blessed, and read the fake recovery book the Tom Snyder authored, anything but the testimony of REAL VICTIMS.
If a famous movie producer would buy the lying script Julie Lynch authrored, who will pay for THE TRUTH? I need to sell my autbiogrpahy so I wil own money power and fame so I can get my grandson back. But, this is no guarantee, because Christine Rosamond Betnon was a wealthy world famous artist,and she could not stop the parasites from coming into her life, and take! take! take! Julie Lyanch and I do not share the same father.
Next to Mark, my daughter has done much to stop me from telling my story, getting my book on the shelf so many will be freed by the truth.
Last week Vicki told me Drew is working on a comic book while living in her home. She renders works of art about ten hours a day. I write about ten hours a day. Though we are hundred of miles apart, we work side by side like her parents did. We artists need to know we are not alone.
“All’s well, that ends well!”
“My biopic on the artist Rosamond was optioned by Oscar-winning producer Ronald Schwary and my courtroom drama placed second out of three thousand scripts in the 2007 IndieProducer Screenplay Contest.
Though Christine had stopped the meditations, Garth continued to encourage her to dig into her subconscious. He believed that there was unexamined trauma that needed her attention. As if on cue, the universe cooperated and Christine’s father, Vic, who had left the family when Christine was eleven years old, returned to reacquaint himself with his daughter. Within months, Vic molested a teenage girl. The moment that Christine heard of the attack, she knew that this was not the first time Vic had transgressed. Childhood memories of being violated came flooding back to her.