widow « POWIP

29Dec/0912

James Arthur Ray emails Widow Just in Time for the Holidays!

On Christmas Eve, I went to visit my second earthly mother, Jane, in order to drop off James and Alyssa's eldest daughter's Christmas present (James Shore's lap top - which returned from Arizona without its owner). I stayed to visit with Jane - a wonderful and loving mother - an unrelenting advocate for her children - a mother who has twice had to bury one of her sons. She was stoic, per usual... but this didn't fool me. I have known Jane for years. While I wrote down the password for the computer, Jane was looking at a photo of James and Alyssa which she had pulled from the center of the fireplace mantle. I took note and drew a deep breath... Then she said, "He can never be replaced." I replied, "I know it." I exhaled slowly and affixed the sticky note to the machine's screen and closed the lap top that was once held in the loving hands of my brother James - to send it, gift wrapped, to his eldest daughter. That I was sending forthÂ a relic - a cold, calculating-machine to his first child - in the guise of something she might want for Christmas was almost laughable. Who will embrace these children as their father?

James' youngest - his son, D, fell fast asleepÂ knowing that in the morning he would know the truth of Santa Claus... He told Alyssa that if SantaÂ was real, he would surelyÂ bring his father back (especially givenÂ how well-behaved he's been these past couple months.) He tucked himself in early, so excited was he that his fatherÂ would be returned to himÂ when he awoke. Who will give him his childhood back? Who will take him to the skate park, the movies, read to him the exploits of Frodo and Gandalf, and teach him about being a man? Who will see him off when the time comes for him to make his own way? Who will counsel him - as flesh-of-flesh, blood-of-blood?

Jane is right: heÂ can never be replaced.

From: James Arthur Ray <jamesray@jamesray.com>
Date: Mon, Dec 21, 2009 at 5:36 PM
Subject: Happy holidays
To: alyssa.gillespie@gmail.com

Â Happy holidays to all my friends and loved ones...

I just wanted to send out a quick message during this season to remind you to take time from all the typical rush to keep in mind the true value of what the holidays represent; to connect with your family; to count the many blessings you have in your life; to celebrate all your accomplishments for the year, whether great or small; to remember all the wonderful lessons you've learned, even if they came disguised as challenges; and to maybe most importantly take some time for yourself and reflect upon your dreams, intentions and values for the new year.
Happy holidays,

James Arthur Ray

President/CEO
James Ray International, Inc.
This message was sent from James Arthur Ray to alyssa.gillespie@gmail.com. It was sent from: James Ray Intl, 5927 Balfour Court, Suite 104, Carlsbad, CA 92008. You can modify/update your subscription via the link below.

What an ass... a complete charlatan, murdererÂ and horse's ass is no way to go through life.

UPDATE: when negligence becomes something much worse...

According to documents, a man who helped build the lodge told investigators he helped with the ceremonies three times, and every time people would end up in medical distress. He also said Ray ignored the problems.

James Shore, the "Heretic" - Dies on a "Good Day to Die"

During the sweat lodge, Beverley remembers hearing someone say, "I can't get her to move, I can't get her to wake up." James Ray replied, "Leave her alone, she'll be dealt with in the next round." This confirms the statements made by the Mercers. At one point, someone lifted up the side of the tent to get air. James reprimanded the person and said this was "sacrilegious". We determined through other interviews that the person lifting up the tarp to get air was one of the victims, James Shore. Beverley also stated that James Ray was saying things like, "You may think that you're going to die but you're not going to die." This further confirms the Mercer's statements.

Enoch_Root

AKA. Bobby Donn Brubaker (the most popular man in Mesa, AZ), the Umbrella of Terror, Jack Ketch.

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Tagged as: Children without Father, Deaths, James Arthur Ray, James Shore, Murder, Scumbag, sweat lodge, Tool, widow 12 Comments

17Dec/096

Where’s Papa?

James Shore's children called him "Papa."

One of the wonderful things I get to do, having been James' close friend and business partner, is to surf all of his machines at work. This is a difficult, though necessary, thing to do. For one, I shouldn't have to. James should still be alive and with us today, but for James Arthur Ray's negligence. For another thing, it feels as if I am invading James' personal space... which I am. But his widow works to assemble to the best of her ability his estate. And his children still need to be fed and clothed. So I do this in loving memory of my brother and for the sake of his young family which now finds itself without their Papa.

While I scour James' machines and thumb-drives and "outboard" drives for tax returns, bank statements, mortgage statements, and all manner of account information... as I check each and every file for information relating to this or that, as necessary for the assemblage of his estate, I invariably encounter James.

Family photos - he has tons of them. And this in no way surprises me. I cannot look at them for long. Because I know I am looking at the happy times. The children, I, A, and D, are all smiles - as they were when Papa was still in their midst. He was a doting father. And, not surprisingly, Papa is missing from most of the photos - he, being behind the camera, prompting smiles.

Videos - in particular of the children singing Christmas carols for Alyssa, wife and mother. The children captured with missing teeth and barefoot in their warm and cozy family room. And James quietly conducting behind the camera.

Emails - lots of emails. Up and beyond the date of his death. SPAM does never really stop. Some I have to forward to Alyssa and cc myself - from James' accounts. And when I find them in my own email inbox, I am still shocked to see his name on my screen. Worst though was yesterday's email from James Arthur Ray. Crass. Awful.

Writings - James and I were finishing a book on Interactive Marketing. We were damn close after a solid year. Had written the introduction and everything. Remnants remain strewn across his files.

Dreams - James and I had no fewer than 10 projects we envisioned building together. Most pertaining to web portals and new interactive products. But also I have found images of homes in Boulder and info on acreage in Panama... these the dreams of where James envisioned himself and his family in the years to come. But James also had several projects he was pursuing on behalf of his friends. From alternative health websites to medicinal marijuana sites - he envisioned using our little company to advance other people's dreams too.

Where is Papa, James Arthur Ray? Where is father? Who will take the pictures this year and catalog them? Who will take the kids to the movies? Who will teach and comfort and love? Who will leave sweet nothings around the house for Alyssa to find?

Where is Papa?