Last night I got an email from Carlanime, a long time reader and commenter here at Tent Moot Crash. She has started a new journal under a new name and has asked that that pristine LJ be kept out of this, but she said to go ahead and share this under her former fandom name.
This is from her other journal, posted on May 18, 2011. I've added some explanations in brackets .
... I found myself in the mood to read DAYD ["Dumbledore's Army and the Year of Darkness, a fanfiction novel written by Amy Player under the name "Andy Blake," LJ name "Thanfiction"]--try to charitably assume I was doing so for nice reasons, okay? LOL--only there is no way I could spend that much time staring at fanfiction on the computer screen. And then I had a brilliant idea: I would ask for a kindle version!
And the DAYDians are, I have to say, a lovely bunch of people. [The same can be said about Bit of Earth--Amy likes to target lovely people] They immediately came up with kindle-able versions of the fic, offers to convert the other fics, and links to sites that would convert any fanfiction I wanted. I found myself really, really liking these people. They're just nice.
...then I backread a few posts to see what the comm was like, and I'm fairly sure their niceness is being epically taken advantage of.
There's this one post where he proposes a trip to NZ. Someone else screencapped it here.
Then there's a post entitled "For the Fallen." In which he announces that one of the people going on the NZ trip has been shot and killed and they need to take the NZ trip in her honour....yeah, I know. I'm just going to c&p this whole post: [For those of you who would prefer to read the original, it was posted on Facebook here.]
Daydian Friends and Family:
I'm sorry that I haven't been on in a while, and that I haven't been able to get this out sooner, but my life, which I am currently very grateful to have, has rather been turned upside down recently, and not in the usual ways of work and errands and random bad luck parking tickets.
Last Saturday, May 7, there was a shooting in Fairfield, California*, at the house I shared with [info]m_oquinn . I was fortunate to survive having merely taken a bullet to the ankle. [info]m_oquinn was not so fortunate. She was killed instantly.
[This has been reported in several newspapers and TV news shows. For once, Amy is telling the truth: there was a real double murder and suicide, and Amy was apparently shot in the ankle No wank here... this is the real thing].
For those of you who only knew her on the comm, she was [info]m_oquinn . She read DAYD back in 2008 when it had just been written, and lurked first at my personal LJ and then on the comm. In the summer of 2009, she gathered the courage to leave her abusive relationship and became active with us for the first time, coming to my attention when she sunk her teeth into the rather mammoth project of reviewing every single sketch I then had up on DeviantArt.
[Read that again. This woman, Brittany Quinn, had befriended Amy for the past 3 years. Brittany chose to accept and defend the lies that "Andy Blake" told--including that the Real Problem was "Andy's" Evil Twin Sister, Amy Player--and she has just been murdered in cold blood, IN AMY's PRESENCE. Do you see grief? Do you see shock and horror? Do you see Amy bragging offhandedly about what a prolific artist she is? That's what I see here.]
I should have known then that she had my own taste for shooting high. [Indeed, that's a tasteful remark] We started corresponding, and she was instrumental in making Daydcon '09 happen; running the auction, helping coordinate things, and even putting in almost $2000 of her own money towards Daydian tickets. She and I drove cross-country in a blizzard, spent a summer helping [info]magikcat112 and [info]dn_solis get on their newly-married feet, and walked 1100 miles up the Pacific coast with [info]deadskyblacksun . She was always willing to help fellow Daydians and host gatherings, and gave everything she had to others.
[Reminds me of Shireling Sue, who withdrew from college and used her tuition money to help Amy move to LA. Amy is an expert con artist--she doesn't steal money, she talks people into GIVING her their money.]
For those who knew her in person, however, she was a lot more. To them, she was Brittany Quinn, or as a particularly irrepressible two year old dubbed her, M'Bidney.
[Just like the (fictitious) Filipino makeup artist who dubbed Orlando Bloom "Li-Li-O Boom," no doubt. Amy loves to create a sense of intimacy with phony endearing nicknames.]
She was twenty-seven years old, born two days after St. Pats to bright blue eyes, a cinnamon spatter of freckles, and a pile of corkscrew curls the envy of every '80s curling rod, the oldest of nine children in the Napa Valley of California. She raised her siblings almost single-handedly, despite poverty that had eight children in a two-bedroom cinder-block house, homeschooling all of them through high school while teaching herself. There is a picture of her making dinner at the stove, experience clear in her confident handling of the pan and tools, stretching the meat with oatmeal, directing her younger siblings to cut the onions and set the table...when she was five.
[Getting piled pretty deep here. I just received an email from a friend of the Quinn family. There are some elements of truth in this story--Amy usually has something to base her wild tales upon. Kind of like Keizer Sose in "The Usual Suspects." To wit, according to this friend of the Quinn's, Brittany does have 8 sibs and does know how to cook. However, she states that Brittany's mother was an attentive and loving parent and did not force her to raise her sibs.
Recall that Amy's first scam was to accuse her own parents of selling her into the same Sex Slavery ring that murdered JonBenet Ramesey--and how some of the older child prostitutes helped Li'l Amy and other young ones learn how to read and what not. She's applying that same theme here, to Ms. Quinn. Amy has a habit of repeating stories that work.]
By the age of twelve, she had done logging, horse-breaking and cattle-wrangling, been a mother and teacher to eight, and could run a household to the envy of any 19th century homesteader, canning and baking, gardening, making herbal remedies, and making clothes. But she was also fascinated with geology and medicine, science, sociology, and most of all, the wide and varied world of people and their diverse cultures. She was equally comfortable making tortillas as wheat rolls as blinis as steam buns, and she always wanted to meet you, learn from you, talk to you, help you. It didn't matter who you were. You were a human being in Brittany's eyes, and that made you her friend and valuable to her.
She taught English in China, bringing home a t-shirt covered in carefully penned messages from her students, most of them begging her to come back for another semester. When the tsunami hit Indonesia, she traveled to the hardest-hit province, tucking her exuberant curls under a hijab in the only fundamentalist Muslim area and learning the prayers and verses from the Koran to offer comfort on their terms as she helped them dig out their homes and fed the hungry. She was active in multiple churches and aid organizations, and volunteered with the Queen of the Valley hospital as well as donating her skills as a certified massage therapist to several elder hospices and her skills as a licensed California Tax Preparer for abused women at a local shelter.
[The friend of Ms. Quinn confirmed that she went abroad with her church. She says that "Andrew Blake" was barred from services in that church. Apparently they could smell a rat.]
She had her right foot crushed not once, but twice and her nose broken as a teacher of equestrian therapy for autistic children, and sometimes her convictions and generosity meant sleeping on the street, but she laughed off those prices as incidental fees of an active life.
[No idea if this is true. Given that Amy's mother Cyd is a horse thief, having stolen and then negligently killed a pedigreed Arabian mare, I'm guessing this tale is mostly some kind of sick transference on Amy's part].
For four years, she was also trapped in a relationship with an abusive man who also employed her under slavery conditions in his business, where she learned the trade of advertising and audio-video production and determinedly built a network of contacts across the East Bay area. At first, she was wrapped up in how she could use his business to help others and attain more skills that could be useful for the less fortunate, not to mention that she was more than accustomed to a harsh life of brutally hard work. Eventually, however, she realized that being beaten and screamed at, locked out and forced to sleep in storage sheds and closets, and worked 16-20 hours a day to ever-changing standards was unacceptable, and backed by her friends at the shelter, she got out.
[Ms. Quinn's friend states, "I'm almost certain he never touched her in any violent way...jason had a video business and she did help him ..also when jason and brittney first move in together they worked on their house together side by side not like she was his slave."
Recall that when Amy and Abbey Stone got together and formed Bit of Earth (the fake charity that they used to swindle people worldwide), the two of them claimed that Abbey was the victim of horrible abuse--including being tied up and kept locked in the basement--by Abbey's husband Mike. Despite Abbey initiating the divorce, she and Amy ended up getting the jointly owned house, which they trashed. I saw the house--they painted screwy murals in it and left it unsellable. They also abandoned Mike's car, equally trashed, on a street in Salem (I have the police report of that somewhere). Amy also confessed, in her Fake Suicide Letter To Her Parents, that she and Abbey stole money from the Joint Checking Account and then pinned the theft on Mike--even going after him in court to "get the money back!" The point being: Bear in mind that Amy embellished/exaggerated/made up such stories about Mike, and not only got away with it, she profited from it. She is undoubtedly doing the same thing to Jason Eisenburg.]
Unfortunately, walking out the door didn't end the legal battle to separate herself from this man, and after she had given everything she had to the Alberigis, she was left with no other choice but to move back in to one of the jointly-owned properties.
[This would be the same woman who can afford to fly off to China and Indonesia... things do not quite add up here. This is a bad sign actually--Amy usually prides herself on weaving a plausible story. When she lets her stories get flimsy, that means she's aware that people are catching onto her, and she's getting ready to bolt.]
I went with her, trying to help keep her safe, and we almost made it. We had been careful and thorough, managing to stay away from him and utilize all the proper legal and police protections to hold on while the courts did their job. He stalled, he forged, he threw fits, but we kept our heads down and worked steadily.
[Amy always accuses the other party of doing the very things SHE is doing.]
Illustration. Catering. Waiting tables. Murals. Massage. Digging gardens. Running errands. Doing taxes. Slowly but surely, we dug ourselves out from having given everything away the summer of '10.
[Bear in mind that Amy has also claimed that some time in 2010, she and Ms. Quinn and some other "DAYDians" were taking a wonderful hike from (I believe) the Bay Area to Vancouver BC. I think she claimed to be walking the Pacific Crest Trail. Frankly, I doubt she has walked as far as Portland, Oregon to Vancouver, Washington, but who knows, maybe this happened. The point being that we have a number of conflicting reports from "Andy Blake" about this time period--was "he" working "his" fingers to the bone, or frolicking in the wilderness?]
On the morning of the 7th, we ran the numbers, and the news was good. We'd be able to get out again by the first of June, then head off to New Zealand for the cross-country trek, come back to our own room in the Napa Valley, work the grape harvest and bottling, and have an apartment in the Bay Area from which we could finish off the court proceedings. It was all going to be okay after all.
[Work the grape harvest... Shall I point out here that Amy spent the entire Project Elanor event "supervising," to the point that Sean Astin pulled she and Abbey aside and chewed them out for being lousy leaders and terrible examples? I don't see her raising one finger to do the hard physical labor of picking grapes.]
She enrolled for pre-med classes, happydancing around the room that she was going to be finally able to pursue her childhood dream of becoming a pediatrician for Doctors Without Borders.
[This is almost the exact same description Amy used to describe Cherie Deuvall, upon finding out that she would be meeting Sean Bean at Tentmoot. It's amazing to me, to see the same old stuff--same exact words, even--coming up again.]
I said only if I could get my nursing certificate alongside my marketing degree
[Amy is a college dropout, having left Christopher Newport University because she realized it was no fun to do homework and take tests. I went out to Virginia and met with some of her former friends and classmates, to get the truth about the college thing.]
so that I could come help sometimes. It was a deal. I had a client; Bonita the Fruit Bat Counts from One to Ten, a children's book to benefit the Costa Rican Rainforest. She offered to make tea and then give me a foot rub while I worked, because she was too excited and keyed up to focus on her grant applications just yet. I laughed, and said this seemed like a great deal to me, did we have any of that Chinese jasmine stuff from New Year left, and she left the room to wash out the tea kettle.
Footsteps on the stairs.
Looking down the barrel of a 9mm six inches from my face.
[Amy has written many tall tales of her military exploits, as "Jordan Wood," young man on the run from the Irish Republican Army, as a Genuine JRR Tolkien First Age Elf (reincarnated, of course) and other fictional identities. I believe "Andy Blake" was portrayed as some sort of soldier-of-fortune at one point, if I recall correctly. I seem to recall something about fighting for one side in the Balkans or Afghanistan or someplace, then returning and fighting for the opposite side, just to gain a deeper understanding of the ethnic conflict. Anyone remember that one? Of course, "Andy" also has a heart condition that was supposed to kill him sometime before June of 2010. That would probably preclude any military exploits. I just don't know anymore which lie is current.
Either way, this story reads like all of Amy's fiction, with the dramatic pauses and what not. Bear in mind that THIS REALLY HAPPENED; Ms. Quinn and another person were murdered in this apartment. Again, do you see horror? Do you see shock and PTSD? All I see is "ooh, here's an opportunity for me to show off my flair for dramatic writing."
Finally I note that Amy was shot in the foot, through a locked door. I am quite certain that she ran like a cowardly dog when she first heard shots, locked her housemates outside with the shooter, and was probably cowering behind a piece of furniture when Mr. Eisenburg shot at her.]
Trying to talk him down.
A bullet in my ankle and two in his head.
[Excuse me, but does this imply that "Andy" somehow wrestled the gun away from Eisenburg, getting shot in the process, and "put him down?" I'm sorry, Amy, but you're no Jack Reacher. Or Jack Bauer. Or Jack Shit, when you get right down to it.]
Twelve minutes, fourteen seconds between the first shots and me in the back of an ambulance begging to know if Brittany was alive and getting my answers in the evasive looks of the medics and the overheard chatter of the scanner in the front cab. It was not okay any more.
For me, it will be okay again.
[Of that we have no doubt, Amy.]
For Brittany, it won't. That bright, beautiful, vibrant life is over. It ended too soon, too fast, too brutally, but that doesn't mean its influence on the world has to be snuffed off as quickly, or that it has to end with a handful of sweat-rumpled flower petals tossed on before the first shovel of rich Napa soil hits the casket lid with a hollow patter of false finality.
[ummm, wtf? False finality? A young woman has been murdered. What's the false part? More of Amy's overdone prose, devoid of grief or horror.]
Officially, there will be services for her at the Cornerstone Church in Napa, California, at 2pm on Saturday, May 21, 2011. When we discussed what-ifs, she always said that the Daydians were her friends and family without question, and if you can read this post, you're more than welcome by Brittany's account to attend her memorial. [Gee, thanks for giving us permission.] There is also a request by the family that in lieu of flowers, you consider a donation to NEWS, the local Napa shelter for battered women and children.
[That was probably a legitimate Ask--and it provides the perfect segue into a less legitimate Ask:]
For myself, however, I cannot be content with that. She was worth so much more than a donation card, an afternoon in a starched collar, and where should we have dinner tonight before I take you back to the airport thank you so much for coming.
Brittany had her heart set on the New Zealand trek. Taking primarily the Te Araroa from the top of the North Island to the bottom of the South Island in what she was damned determined would be record-breaking time, there wasn't a day that went by that she wasn't talking about it, and she had pulled in every connection that she'd ever made to try and get her portion of the to-do list done, insisting on taking the bulk of the gear collection because of her wide network and fervent work ethic. She used to say without really joking at all that she'd do it over her own dead body if need be.
And so I will. [info]deadskyblacksun , [info]martimus_prime , and [info]dave_agnew have also renewed their commitment to this trek, and we are going to walk it in her name. [info]kate_lb is also trying to get the time off work to take Brittany's place on the team. Yes, I will walk all 1,864miles with the bullet still in my ankle if I have to.
[Never gonna happen. This is my prediction of the Great NZ Trek:
1) "Andy" sponges up money from the DAYD people for "his" heroic symbolic trek and manages to get a flight to NZ.
2) Soon after landing, however, "Andy" will be "hospitalized" for an infection in the wounded ankle. This leads to a new Big Ask, as "he" appeals online for money for medical bills since "he" is in grave danger of losing "his" leg. This is straight from one of Amy's early scams: as "Victoria Bitter," Amy claimed to be hospitalized with an eye infection (completely false). For this she received gifts, letters of encouragement, and even an autographed picture of one of the LOTR actors (a gift from the Bit of Earth message board on Yahoo).
3) In reality, "Andy" is spending "his" days attempting to sneak onto the set of "The Hobbit," since that has always been Amy's dream: to rub shoulders with Peter Jackson and the LOTR cast.
Personally, I don't know how, in the era of Homeland Security, Amy will manage to get a passport in the name of Andrew Blake. I know she got a fraudulent driver's license for "Andy" in Virginia, but I would HOPE that a phony passport will not be a piece of cake.
On the other hand, I do know how desperately Amy wants to be part of the Hobbit movie. I'm sure she's putting her best efforts into this.]
We will do it for Brittany, we will do it for domestic violence awareness, and to raise money for victims of domestic violence rather than the original plan of the Christchurch Earthquake.
[The State of Oregon fined Amy Player in 2004 for operating a phony charity. Amy and Abbey, under the imprint of their fake charity, Bit of Earth, had been raising money that they claimed was earmarked for the real charity, Reading is Fundamental. They asked actor Sean Astin to host a special showing of "LOTR: The Two Towers" in Portland, which he did. Abbey stood on that stage and said to Sean and the audience, "You all just raised $3,000 for RIF!" RIF, however, never saw a dime of that money. It all went into the clove cigarettes that Abbey and Amy smoked. Amy has been forbidden from any involvement in charitable fundraising in the State of Oregon. Had she made that claim in Oregon, she could be fined $25,000. But she did it in California, so she will get away with it. Nice, huh?]
We will do it in her name, and we would like to do it with your help. In the next post, I will be putting up what was originally Brittany's part of the to-do list. I think that if one extraordinary woman could do it, an extraordinary community definitely can in her memory.
For the fallen. We have lost our first.
[Amy Player is using this woman's death as an avenue for conning money out of the DAYD group. Plain and simple. And appalling. But the very best part is yet to come. "Andy's" final comments:]
* Yes, I know this is the internet, and this seems so very hard to believe. Here is an article about the shooting. Here is Brittany's obituary. And here, if you want to see, is the x-ray of my ankle. With bullet.
[The name on the xray film is Andrew Blake, at Queen of the Valley hospital. There is some speculation about whether it's fake, but the news stories have confirmed that "Andy Blake" was shot in the ankle. Plus, I've seen plenty of bullets-in-bodies X-rays before and it looks authentic to me.
What I find ironic is that Amy has learned from the past. How many fake Internet deaths and injuries has she pulled off now? She was faster than a fecking Ferrari to follow up this claim with credible evidence--newspaper articles, obits, and her own Xray films. Almost as though she knew people might doubt her story...]
I just don't know. I HATE thinking he's lying about that, but...well, BY A STRANGE COINCIDENCE, all the expensive parts of the NZ trip (like booking plane tickets and buying gear) were the responsibility of the dead girl, and now he's asking the others to take over her tasks. Which, if it's true, is incredibly touching.
But if it's not true....
And so that's how I got involved in this chapter. In the past 24 hours, I sent emails to several of the reporters and to the Fairfield PD. I doubt that they will take any interest whatsoever. They have a nice, closed case: man goes nuts over divorce stress, goes on killing spree. Simple and concise. They don't want to know that the man was being harassed by a professional con artist, who did this at least once before with Abbey's husband and will undoubtedly do it again.
I've heard from this friend of the Quinns, who states that "I've been doing some research and saw that amy is trying to do some scam in brittneys name" and has asked me what she can do about it.
I have taken so much crap regarding Amy Player over the years. "You're just stupid and gullible. The fact that you're willing to admit you got conned just proves even further how stupid and gullible you are. You should get a life instead of obsessing over Amy." And of course, my favorite: "Why are you still picking on Amy, get over it, she's obviously changed..."
This is why. Because I could see almost 10 years ago that Amy was NOT going to stop, and that she would seriously ruin someone's life. I felt compelled to try to stop her. Because I've always believed in the adage, "If not me, then who?"
When my mom died last year, I gave up on trying. The DAYDians were so determined to support "Andy," and believe all her absurd stories (yes, the one about "Andy" being the unfortunate twin brother of the Evil Amy Player, what a whopper), and I had other fish to fry.
I knew Amy was going to get someone hurt. I knew she would eventually victimize someone who would get too angry and lash out physically. I expected HER to get her ass beat, or worse. I frankly expected it to happen on Hollywood Blvd, back when she was conning the other street people in front of the Chinese Theater.
Now three people are dead and Amy not only lives on, but she's scamming on, too.
I'm so sorry for the Quinn family, and the Eisenburg family, and the family of the other roommate, Tony. I feel guilty that I haven't done more to put a stop to Amy Player, but honestly, I don't know what else I might have done. I hope that it helps them to understand a little more about just how poisonous Amy is, and how she victimized all of these people, even the shooter, with her con artistry, her well-honed skills at agitating and harassing people with phony legal proceedings, and her vast experience at brainwashing lonely people. They were caught up in something that was beyond their control: the Cult of Amy Player, Charismatic Sociopath.
I hope that when Brittany's mom, in her grief, feels like she somehow failed her daughter, she can use this knowledge to put the blame where it really lies.