Page 1
Letters
Letter 1 An email from barrister David Bates regarding the NZ police response to his request to pay costs regarding two cases brought against me and dropped in 2012 and 2013.
Letters 4 Hon Michael Woodhouse, Minister of Police 15th October 2014
Editor,
Malcolm Baker
Baker Publishing,
44 Spencer Avenue,
Maketu 3189,
NEW ZEALAND.
https://maps.google.co.nz/
Church Road & School Road, Maketu 3189
42 Spencer Avenue Maketu 3189
Niven Rae's house is the first on the left past the Church Road, School Road intersection. The drive way to Mr Alter's house runs west past Niven's house.
Church Road & School Road, Maketu 3189
42 Spencer Avenue Maketu 3189
Niven Rae's house is the first on the left past the Church Road, School Road intersection. The drive way to Mr Alter's house runs west past Niven's house.
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
Pedophilia or paedophilia is a psychiatric disorder in which an adult or older adolescent experiences a primary or exclusive sexual attraction to prepubescent children, generally age 11 years or younger; as a medical diagnosis, specific criteria for the disorder extends the cut-off point for prepubescence to age 13.[1][2][3][4] A person who is diagnosed with pedophilia must be at least 16 years of age, but adolescents who are 16 years of age or older must be at least five years older than the prepubescent child before the attraction can be diagnosed as pedophilia.[1][2]
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On the 11th October 2012 I was coming home from town in my car and I stopped to visit a person who lives about a mile from my house. As I drove up, and parked my car and locked it, there was a small group of children sitting not far from the road in the grass, who looked as though they could be having a pretend tea party. Because they were having fun, and obviously wanted to talk to me, I walked a metre or two toward them. I was about to ask them what they were doing, when an adult, their mother came out of a nearby house, and ran up to us. She was quickly followed by her brother. One of teh children was her own daughter, and I had seen them often before, sometimes when she was pushing a pushchair along the footpath, and some years previously I had talked to their father in his house, which was nearby, and the house the mother had come from, and the house I had to walk past to go and see Mr Walters about some carvings which was the purpose of my visit. The woman asked me to leave and ran back to the house. The brother also asked me to leave, and I told him I was leaving but asked him why. Did he mean leave his property, or leave the area, because I had to walk past their house down a drive way. He said, just leave, just leave. So I did. Returning to my car, about five metres away, I started it, turned around and drove back down the one way street, past their driveway.
Twenty metres further on a man ran out from teh opposite side of the road, with something which he was trying to hide behind his back. As he was standing in teh middle of the road, I had to slow to avoid him, but he stood aside and threw a rock at my windscreen, smashing it, or rather he caught a glancing blow on my bonnet because he was in danger of getting run over, and then he smacked my in the side of the face with his fist as I drove past. I'd tried to put my window up, but put it down instead. My windscreen was cracked, but not broken, and I was past him, so I drove away rapidly.
Honestly, I couldn't remember the details exactly later. The things I do remember are seeing the children as I drove up, locking the door of my car, finding an empty can of beer in my hand as I left the car, presumably having picked it up off the road. My recollection of the group is vague, specifically the number of children in it, whether the adults were in the group, or came from the house. Who ran from the house, and to the house and so on. I do remember being asked to leave, wondering why, and asking why, and saying I was leaving, because I knew the trespasslaw, and even though I was standing virtuall on the footpath or within a metre or two of it, and because I was on my legal purpose to visit a person, by walking down their drive way. The reason I didn't drive down the drive way between Mr Niven Rae's house is because I had had words with him on two previous occasions, once when I was on another street, talking to the owner over the fence, and he had come out of the house and told me to piss off. It wasn't my intention for Mr Rae to drive his car, if he was home, onto the shared drive way, and block my vehicle from leaving, but I didn't suspect he would physically assault me if he saw me, even though he had told me he would do so in the past. That would have been assault.
It was only a short drive from Church Road to Spencer Avenue, so I parked in my drive way, and started unpacking my car. There were my weekly groceries, and in the boot some bags of cow manure I had picked up an hour or two earlier. I'd planned to have a frozen pizza for lunch, a rare luxury for me, and I'd had a blood test in teh morning, so I'd been fasting and was hungry. My hands were still shaking from teh shock of the assault, so I was trying just to understand what had happened, and why, and I was going to phone the police just as soon as I had put the groceries in the freezer, and cooked my pizza. I'd bought two bottles of wine, and planned to have a glass of Merlot with my pizza. So I opened one of the bottles, and poured a glass. It was cheap and horrible, so I finished it in a swallow, and opened the other bottle. Then I phoned 111. I told the police I had bee assaulted on Church road, and my windscreen broken by a man weilding a rock. They said the police were already on the scene, and to wait until they arrived, which I did, drinking another glass of wine, and having some of my pizza.
journal Thursday 10th April 2014
I'm not sure that I know much about paedophilia. When I was in primary school, aged about 8, another boy on the school bus tried to put his hands inside my pants once and fondle me, but I told my mother and he was in a lot of trouble. It wasn't paedophelia, because he was too young, but it showed me what it would be like to be a helpless victim. In 1969, in my first year high school, my best friend in the third form went away for a weekend with the deputy principal. He ended up drinking, and drunk and in his own words, "woke up face down on the bed with Mr Fargher bumming him. The deputy principal of Hamilton Boy's High was fired, but not prosecuted. My friend was changed. He was disturbed. He and his friends started breaking into shops, and in one case they told me about just threww the food around. He had been like me in the top class, 3L1, but his academic record suffered, and who can say it was not as a result. Paedophiles in some way are like children themselves. Let a child walk into an unguarded sweet shop and they will not be able to resist temtation. Some will know that stealing sweets is wrong, and won't do it, but some will not consider the risk of getting caught. They will deal with the consequences later. It is likewise with many paedophiles. The rewards for them are just too great, and they cannot resist. In a way they cannot help themselves, but society must protect itself and its children from such, because the damage they do often cannot be repaired. The least that can be offered is a conviction._________________________________________________________________________________________________________
On the 11th October 2012 I was coming home from town in my car and I stopped to visit a person who lives about a mile from my house. As I drove up, and parked my car and locked it, there was a small group of children sitting not far from the road in the grass, who looked as though they could be having a pretend tea party. Because they were having fun, and obviously wanted to talk to me, I walked a metre or two toward them. I was about to ask them what they were doing, when an adult, their mother came out of a nearby house, and ran up to us. She was quickly followed by her brother. One of teh children was her own daughter, and I had seen them often before, sometimes when she was pushing a pushchair along the footpath, and some years previously I had talked to their father in his house, which was nearby, and the house the mother had come from, and the house I had to walk past to go and see Mr Walters about some carvings which was the purpose of my visit. The woman asked me to leave and ran back to the house. The brother also asked me to leave, and I told him I was leaving but asked him why. Did he mean leave his property, or leave the area, because I had to walk past their house down a drive way. He said, just leave, just leave. So I did. Returning to my car, about five metres away, I started it, turned around and drove back down the one way street, past their driveway.
Twenty metres further on a man ran out from teh opposite side of the road, with something which he was trying to hide behind his back. As he was standing in teh middle of the road, I had to slow to avoid him, but he stood aside and threw a rock at my windscreen, smashing it, or rather he caught a glancing blow on my bonnet because he was in danger of getting run over, and then he smacked my in the side of the face with his fist as I drove past. I'd tried to put my window up, but put it down instead. My windscreen was cracked, but not broken, and I was past him, so I drove away rapidly.
Honestly, I couldn't remember the details exactly later. The things I do remember are seeing the children as I drove up, locking the door of my car, finding an empty can of beer in my hand as I left the car, presumably having picked it up off the road. My recollection of the group is vague, specifically the number of children in it, whether the adults were in the group, or came from the house. Who ran from the house, and to the house and so on. I do remember being asked to leave, wondering why, and asking why, and saying I was leaving, because I knew the trespasslaw, and even though I was standing virtuall on the footpath or within a metre or two of it, and because I was on my legal purpose to visit a person, by walking down their drive way. The reason I didn't drive down the drive way between Mr Niven Rae's house is because I had had words with him on two previous occasions, once when I was on another street, talking to the owner over the fence, and he had come out of the house and told me to piss off. It wasn't my intention for Mr Rae to drive his car, if he was home, onto the shared drive way, and block my vehicle from leaving, but I didn't suspect he would physically assault me if he saw me, even though he had told me he would do so in the past. That would have been assault.
It was only a short drive from Church Road to Spencer Avenue, so I parked in my drive way, and started unpacking my car. There were my weekly groceries, and in the boot some bags of cow manure I had picked up an hour or two earlier. I'd planned to have a frozen pizza for lunch, a rare luxury for me, and I'd had a blood test in teh morning, so I'd been fasting and was hungry. My hands were still shaking from teh shock of the assault, so I was trying just to understand what had happened, and why, and I was going to phone the police just as soon as I had put the groceries in the freezer, and cooked my pizza. I'd bought two bottles of wine, and planned to have a glass of Merlot with my pizza. So I opened one of the bottles, and poured a glass. It was cheap and horrible, so I finished it in a swallow, and opened the other bottle. Then I phoned 111. I told the police I had bee assaulted on Church road, and my windscreen broken by a man weilding a rock. They said the police were already on the scene, and to wait until they arrived, which I did, drinking another glass of wine, and having some of my pizza.