My Dad Brandished a Knife at Me Today

I had just visited Facebook's home page on my smartphone and seen the top post from The Wall Street Journal. My eyes fixated on the attached image of a dog at a desk with a C.R.T. monitor showing a primitive-looking website on pets. "The World Wide Web Turns 30: A History of the Internet Technology," the headline proclaimed. This was news to me. It reminded me of a similar article posted to Facebook in 2016—shortly before I began attending the University of Minnesota—about how UMN almost ruled the internet with their Gopher protocol, instead of Tim Berners-Lee's World Wide Web at CERN.

Shortly thereafter, I walked upstairs and calmly asked my dad why it sounded like he was dropping heavy weights on the floor while I was in the basement. This set him off, and he started screaming wildly at me. I then went up to my room to get my headphones and jacket for a walk. And soon my dad was trying to start a verbal fight with me again. Within minutes, my dad started brandishing a steak knife while slowly rotating it so the blade would catch the light.

"You just brandished a knife at me," I told my dad.

"I am brandishing a knife at you," he replied with excitement. "I am, I am, I really, really am!"

At this point, all I could think of was getting outside and calling the non-emergency number for Carver County. After calling dispatch and receiving a call from a deputy, I met up with this deputy, Josh Smith (of the Carver County Sheriff's Office), 1.3 miles away—only because he seemed to promise me he would arrest my dad for the terroristic threats.

But, after questioning me, he said he would need to hear my parents' side of the story first before making an arrest. This lie is typical of the Carver County Sheriff's Office. I told him my parents just lie to the police and that my version of events is 100 percent true (and it is). Additionally, I told him that within the past week my dad said he could call Carver County Sheriff Jason Kamerud any time he wants and make up a crime, so he can have the sheriff "haul [my] ass out of [his] house." (I did also report this threat to the police after it happened.) For what it's worth, deputies with the Carver County Sheriff's Office have told me that kicking someone out of his or her house is a civil matter, not a criminal one.

I have talked to Deputy Smith numerous times on the phone tonight, and all he can do is lie. It seems the Carver County Sheriff's Office is nothing more than the private security force for the cult-like religion Eckankar—of which I have never been a member but am reasonably certain my parents, brother, and fellow citizens of Chanhassen are.

My dad says he can do whatever he wants in our house, and so far that is the case. I have reported my family's crimes against me hundreds of times, I'm sure, to the police over the years. If I ever have a suspicious death in Chanhassen, you can be reasonably certain it was my family murdering me and Carver County attempting to cover it up. My brother, Marcus Lee "Marc" Scribner, attempted to murder me in an ambush and strangulation on the night of my dad's birthday in 2012; my mom said on Good Friday this year, for the first time, that my brother was, in fact, trying to murder me.

Yet I remain hopeful that my life will improve soon. My previous psychiatrist, whom I saw for five years, said I should tell myself "I am a good person" when I feel stressed. Sometimes it's all I can think about.

Article ID: 17