Quickly secreting the Picasso and other works of modern art that my mother favored away so they would not be discovered–that’s Mark and Gabrielle Ritter’s M.O. after our mother’s passing.
It was small potatoes in comparison to Putin’s stash, but I know the type. I really and truly do.
Getting to the truth of what they’ve done with my inheritance may never come in my lifetime but my burning desire is to see an accounting–just because I am curious.
I am driven, actually.
Because they could work for Mr. Putin in his psy ops division. They could. Of course those are fighting words and I invite them to sue me for defamation so I can see them in court. I do have defensive counsel through LegalShield and my trust is paying their attorney and will continue to do so to defend them against their financial abuse of me. It’s quite Byzantine, but then welcome to my world.
Mark Henry Ritter as a child was taught how to play chess by Vadim, the then head of Radio Moscow. So he was top level KGB. I declined.
I don’t know how to play chess. He does.
And I am a special needs trust recipient who is psychiatrically disabled. Think it’s a fair match?
It’s not. He’s holds all the cards because undoubtedly he plays poker too. I cannot stand card games. So I don’t even remember how to play checkers.
It’s only recently that I figured out how to get online with the computer I bought as lease to own. My brain doesn’t want to deal with it. I have lived in terror of what he’ll pull next and this blog he won’t use my trust money to fund. Why?
Maybe this basket case has his number…