Monthly Archives: May 2012

A Country that Kidnaps Children is Sick Indeed

I used to wonder how people could be locked up in concentration camps. I used to drop my jaw in awe at the idea that friends and neighbors would turn someone in to a corrupt government for nothing but abiding by their conscience or their religious belief. I used to think with disbelief about how a person could look into securing false paperwork to escape a country headed down a dark path.

I no longer wonder.

My own trials aside, I am heartbroken for an even greater injustice.

I have friends who had their children kidnapped from them by the faceless “state.” Their six children were taken for no reason but being “different.” They keep kosher, observe the sabbath and birth and school their kids at home. They have no criminal record and the charges brought against them by the state did not stick.

I knew this family before their drama with the state. Their children are beautiful, loved and cared for. Even the state agrees they are.

But the public doesn’t believe it. It is apparently too hard to wrap your head around the idea that the state has the power to remove children from their parents for no good reason. It is too painful to consider that children might be traumatized for profit. It is too difficult to entertain the thought that OUR state… the one that we all grew up thinking was so “good” and “free” would do something so evil we can’t even acknowledge it exists.

How do you console a mother who weeps for her babies? How do you fight for her in such an odd battle where nobody wants to join in the difficult task for taking on these bullies?

What kind of country do we live in that we turn a blind eye when a good mother is begging to have her babies returned and is denied access to them for no reason, despite a court order to have them returned?

I used to wonder how the German people could say they didn’t know about the concentration camps. I now wonder how United States citizens can sit idly by and allow CPS to have the kind of unchecked and corrupt power it does. Only our children are the ones to suffer. What kind of future will they champion, being ripped from the families who love them, adopted out so a local CPS office can gain 4 grand for their sale?

Will we sit idly by while the state drives mothers insane by murdering the most sacred space of their hearts and then declares her insanity as the very reason her children were ripped from her?

Will you turn a deaf ear to her cry? All it takes for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing.

Stand for liberty now in peacetime. I don’t care that our government isn’t as corrupt as some… I want the kind of freedom NOW that I will wish I had during the deep tyranny that may come.


It’s All About the Tar and Feathers

It’s been a little while. I’m on to trial number two. (for those unfamiliar with trial one, please visit:

Yes, you read that right.

A few days ago, my attorney and I headed into court again. This time it was a new venue: The Administrative Law Court in downtown Los Angeles. The Medical Board is now beginning its’ action against my license.

I knew the proceedings were going to be wonky when the judge told my attorney (in attempt to help him understand how the court works… it’s a far cry from the Federal Criminal Court), “Ok, look… set aside your intuition and what you know of right and wrong for a minute…”

The Deputy Attorney General representing the Medical Board, Vladimir Shalkevich, has apparently been with my case since its’ inception. It’s nice to finally meet a face that has been so intimately involved, rather than being a peon in a cubicle somewhere. This man has MET the witnesses and apparently believes strongly enough in my case to make it his bread and butter all these years.

During the proceedings, he told Stephen (my attorney), “Your client does know that she is liable to pay all of the expenses of these proceedings and the attorney’s fees (his own) associated with this, right?”

I almost died laughing. Seriously, dude, get in line.

Stephen explained that if the Medical Board doesn’t allow me to work, how do they expect me to pay. He went on to tell both him and the judge that he thought the whole thing was financially motivated. Duh.

But “Vlad” said that he believed the Medical Board was not motivated by money, but by the desire to “get their license back that they accidentally gave to Ms. McCall.”

“It’s as if,” he said, “your client found the neighbor’s puppy and needs to return it.”

The Medical Board offered to continue the case until after my appeal IF I would stipulate to a suspension of my license… something I cannot do. If I stipulate to suspension and then win at appeal, the suspension will always remain with me and is looked at unfavorably by most other states if I were to move (might have to after all this bullying!).

Of course, “Vlad” went on and on about the unsafe position I have put the medical board in as I might just “go and practice” even on probation. You know, cus I’m such a lawbreaker.

After court, Stephen called his bluff and asked if he would be willing to bend the rules (stating that I can’t surrender my own license during investigations or discipline) in exchange for not owing the Medical Board any money… I mean, honestly, I can think of nothing I’d like better than to NEVER have to deal with the crazy Medical Board again!

Of course Vlad declined the offer.

So… we’re off to trial number two on June 6th. I am TRULY hoping that people will come and support me at this trial more than any other. From what we know of the way the Medical Board works, the trial itself doesn’t even matter. The judge could rule against the Medical Board and tell them to quit their bullying, but the Medical Board is under no obligation to even listen to the judge. They will still do whatever they like.

And “Vlad” let us know several times, in no uncertain terms, that they want to revoke my license. They are not willing to even bend.

So, PLEASE plan to join us on June 6th at the Administrative Law Court. The address is: Offfice of Administrative Hearings, 320 West Fourth Street, sixth floor, Los Angeles, CA 90013. The room itself can only hold so many people, so we may need to alternate viewers.

It’s going to be a doozy of a tar and feather show. I’m just going to be openly and publicly paraded as the convict I am. I’d really love to know there are people there who know a convict isn’t ALL I am.

Also, if you’re into holding signs/protesting whatever, this is the day to do it. We have nothing to lose… I mean, what are they gunna do to me, take my license away???

Also… PLEASE consider writing letters to the following people to voice your opinion, either by snail mail or email. If you already wrote a letter for trial, you can just amend that and send a copy to each person below. You are also free to call these people… they are being funded by your tax dollars after all. Distribute far and wide. Thank you!!!!

After calling or sending your letter/email, make a complaint about the Medical Board of CA here:

Vladimir ShalkevichDeputy Attorney General (assigned to my case)
Health Quality Enforcement
300 S Spring St Fl 5
Los Angeles, California 90013 897-2148

Office of the Attorney General
P.O. Box 944255
Sacramento, CA 94244-2550
Phone: (916) 445-9555

Renee Threadgill, Chief of Enforcement ( and Laura Sweet, Deputy Chief of Enforcement (
Medical Board of CA
2005 Evergreen Street, Suite 1200
Sacramento, CA  95815
(916) 263-2389 phone
(916) 263-2387 fax
and cc enforcement staff: Susan Cady (, Ramona Carrasco (, Kurt Heppler (, Natalie Lowe (, Kelly Maldanado (, Ian McGlone (, Valerie Moore (, Paulette Romero (

Governor Jerry Brown (who appoints the Medical Board members)
c/o State Capitol, Suite 1173
Sacramento, CA 95814
Phone: (916) 445-2841
Fax: (916) 558-3160

Or send an email through the following link:

Barbara Yaraslovski, President
Medical Board of California
2005 Evergreen Street, Suite 1200
Sacramento, CA  95815
(916) 263-2389 phone
(916) 263-2387 fax

Reginald Low, M.D., Chair
Medical Board of California
2005 Evergreen Street, Suite 1200
Sacramento, CA  95815
(916) 263-2389 phone
(916) 263-2387 fax

Hedy Chang, Vice Chair
Medical Board of California
2005 Evergreen Street, Suite 1200
Sacramento, CA  95815
(916) 263-2389 phone
(916) 263-2387 fax

Susan Morrish
Midwifery Program Analyst
Medical Board of California
Phone: 916-263-2393
Fax: Ph:  916-263-8936

Other Medical Board Members:
Clarence H. Braddock, M.D.,
Neal Cohen, M.D.,
Daniel Giang, M.D.,
F. Allan Hubbell, M.D., M.S.P.H.,
James Nuovo, M.D.,
Neil Parker, M.D.,
Andrew Ries, M.D.,
Frank R. Sinatra, M.D.,
c/o Medical Board of California
2005 Evergreen Street, Suite 1200
Sacramento, CA  95815
(916) 263-2389 phone
(916) 263-2387 fax

Medical Board Execute Staff:
Linda Whitney, Executive Director,
Kimberly Kirchmeyer, Deputy Director,
Dan Wood, Public Information Officer,
Curt Worden, Chief of Licensing,
Jennifer Simoes, Chief of Legislation,
Susan Morrish, Licensing,
c/o Medical Board of California
2005 Evergreen Street, Suite 1200
Sacramento, CA  95815
(916) 263-2389 phone
(916) 263-2387 fax

The Probation Office

I realized just today that I’ve failed to talk about the joys of probation in a while. I plan to remedy that today.

Once a month I am ordered to appear at one of about fifteen offices in Los Angeles county. I never was transferred to Orange County like they said and when I moved to LA county two months ago, they were happy to tell me I now can’t leave. Not even to visit family in Orange County. “I’m just trying to keep you safe” my probation officer told me.

I’ve only met my probation officer once. He was not assigned to me until months after my sentence, so the first (and only) time we laid eyes on each other, he was looking down at a paper that said that all of my probation requirements (save three days of CalTrans) were already completed. I’m assuming this is the reason they assigned me to an officer in Pasadena even though I live in Anaheim at the time.

“Don’t come see me unless I ask you to, y’hear?” he sternly warned me.

So, my monthly visits are with a machine, not a person.I try not to time it with my PMS. Not that the machine would really care.

The first day I appeared in the probation office I went to the central office on the corner of Crenshaw and Exposition. I waited an hour and a half to be seen and then was told I needed to repent.

After my sunday school lesson, the officer took my hand and placed it in a machine. A different machine than the lifescan one or the fingerprint one (yes… I’m all up in your tax funded system). This one had metal spokes sticking out that were supposed to (uncomfortably) direct your fingers.

I was instructed to stick my hand in one of these machines every month in the lobby. Seemed simple enough.

“Please insert your card…” it tells me. I know that every time I do it says “Your card cannot be read. Please insert your card…” So I have taken to pressing the button that says “No Card” and entering my x number by hand. I find it ironic that all of us criminals have “x” numbers. Like x marks the spot?  Or generation x? And, again.. this number is not my social security number, or the number assigned to me as a booking number when I was in jail. Or the number assigned to me for my court case. You’d think these departments could streamline things…

After I enter my x number I am told to insert my hand. Here’s where it gets interesting. I’ve kept some scientific data… of the eleven times I have had to report in (three times two months ago), the machine has failed to recognize my hand all but three times.

I mention the three times two months ago because I got tired of the systems achingly slow procedure and decided to leave the building before I could speak to someone. I figured I’d just try a different office to see if my hand would work in their machine. No such luck and the only time my PO has ever called me occurred about two weeks later.

“Ms. McCall… I have three incompletes here for you. This is not good. You have to check in when you are at the office.” I explained that the machine couldn’t recognize me. “That’s no matter. You MUST tell the clerk at the window and have a seat and wait for the officer of the day to come and see you. If not, you get an incomplete.”

I have not done this in the past because I know something he seems to think isn’t a big deal. Most probationers have a probation officer in the office they can see if there’s a problem. Because I have one in Pasadena (where there are no machines), I have to see the “officer of the day.” In layman’s terms, this means I could end up waiting ALL DAY LONG.

So this month, I walked into the Crenshaw probation office. I removed my belt, deposited my wallet and keys and belt in the little tray for the security officer an walked through the metal detector. The other officer used his wand because I beeped. Damn beeps. I think it was my bra. I was cleared as non-threatening and proceeded quickly to the “kiosk” to feed it my hand.

I entered my x-number like a pro and then the dreaded response to my hand “Your identification cannot be verified. Please notify the clerk.”

After waiting in line for 20 minutes, I notified the clerk, a very sweet woman with an obvious weave, some green braids and twice as long as my nose green and silver fingernails. “Honey… you gotsa wash your hands and try it again. Don’t come back here unless it says you can’t be reco’nized three times.”

Despite the fact that I know my hands are clean, I wash them in the grimey drug testing bathroom. Rinse, repeat. Rinse, repeat.

Still, the kiosk thinks I’m a stand-in.

“Ma’am… it still won’t take my hand.”

The woman’s sighs deeply. “What’s your x number? I’ll notify the officer of the day.”

I give it to her and grab the form she hands me that reports my presence. I have a seat in the plastic connected benches next to a woman who is thinner than my pinkie and wearing nothing more than a pair of biker shorts and a bra. She’s asleep, snoring loudly. The man in front of me is sporting a healthy plumber’s crack and a tattoo on the back of his neck that says “Freak.” The man behind me is three times my size. I don’t look at him but I can hear his heavy snores.

“Have you been arrested since your past checkin?”

“List all names and ages of minor children and all children living with you.”

“If you are required to report under Megan’s Law…”

I fill everything out in dull pencil. And then I sit. And wait. Time turns into molasses. People come and go. Everyone I sat down with is seen. But I am not.

I am invisible. A woman caught in a system that doesn’t know what to do with her. I barely can comprehend I am even here still… nine months later. Is this the bastard child I’ve borne?

Two and a half hours go by. Children cry. Gangsters cuss each other out over cell phones. P.O.s come and go. Every probation pays their homage of submission.

Still, nobody comes for the midwife.

Eventually… three hours… I’m on the verge of tears like I always am in this cold world of everyone is forgotten. I’m willing to risk being brow beaten by my own probation officer. I stop one last time at the clerk’s window.

There is a new, younger, less green woman working the window. I give her my x number and tell her I’m concerned I might have been forgotten.

“I don’t even see you on the list, honey. Have a seat. We didn’t even have you listed. Someone will see you real soon.”

Reluctantly, I sit again. This time I am sitting between a mother with a small snotty nosed child that is incredibly well behaved and an old gentleman with a cane. Within 15 minutes my name is called.

“McCall!” yells the thin officer, her hair in a to tight bun. I hand her the paper I filled out. “OK, thanks. You can go.”

No ID check, no fingerprints, no hand scan. Nothing. I’ve never seen this woman in my life. I waited over three hours for her to say she… didn’t even know if I was me?