Rare in life does one get an offer like the one I’m going to make for you, Erica. It’s up to you on how you want it to play out.

You defamed me sixteen months ago, and in so doing, you put me into a dark place.

No one had written those words until you did.

Reading what you wrote led to the one and only panic attack I’ve ever suffered, the most terrifying experience of my life. The panic attack started at my throat, and I experienced the sensation of being choked the whole length of my neck, chin to sternum, as if a heavy wool blanket were being cinched tighter and tighter.

I stumbled back and sat cross-legged on my bed as I considered possibilities: Am I having a stroke? Is this what a heart attack feels like? What’s happening to me?

I closed my eyes and tried to calm myself by slowing down my breathing. Then, things got worse.

Things turned bad.

Erica, I felt evil enter my body.

The physical sensation of a malignant presence came into my body from the direction of Tophet Chasm and sat with me long enough for me to believe I was dying. Then, it retreated and resumed its trajectory, which, incidentally, pointed right toward your house less than a half mile away.

In my adulthood, I’ve gone from agnostic to atheist, atheist to apatheist. That night—in the wake of what you did—that night convinced me that I might want to reconsider my position on the matter. Since I had evidence of the existence of evil, shouldn’t I also consider the correlative?

In the wake of that visitation, I went into what felt like a seizure, with chills so violent I fractured a tooth. And for a frightening length of time during that sleepless night and well into the next day, I was convinced what you did perhaps set in motion the onset of a nerve disease because in those bleak early morning hours, I had most of that disease’s symptoms, primary of which was horrific tooth pain.

Later that afternoon, my dentist (emergency appointment) assured me that I was not suffering from trigeminal neuralgia, and the following day, the endodontist (another emergency appointment) also ruled out possible neuralgia though she did tell me I needed two root canals—from breaking my teeth, from clenching my jaw, during my very first panic attack, which you caused.

I lost five pounds in three days, resulting in this: “129.8”—a number last seen between my feet in the 1970s.

You did that, Erica, when you defamed me.

I was struck ill and thought I was going to die when I read what you wrote.

It took me many weeks to process what to do. You and Derek had Rob and me over to your house for a really nice meal that one time. Our family watched Buttercup when your family went out of town. My School. Parker. Same neighborhood.

Those are what stopped me from running off to Superior Court and filing a lawsuit sixteen months ago: those memories and your four family members. Why should they pay for what you did to me?

Well, given how the system works, that’s the remedy when someone gets hurt by the actions of someone else and turns to the court system for redress.

I don’t want to sue you, Erica—but for everyone’s sake, especially mine, when does it end?

* * *

When similar defamatory remarks were made about me in the spring of 2021, I published GINNED UP in weekly serialized form from July 19th, 2021 to April 25th, 2022.

Many, many people read it.

I think you did too, Erica.

In the event you missed it, I feel confident that the epilogue fairly well sums up what happened. “What happened” being my account, as presented in GINNED UP, of the events in the winter of 2014 right here in Littleton.

What I published in GINNED UP has gone undisputed.

Not one person involved in my ousting has gone “on the record” to say otherwise.

Not one.

So, here’s my offer to you, Erica:

First, you are going to read GINNED UP’s Epilogue—click HERE for that—and write a 100-word summary of this epilogue, which you will submit to me with the knowledge that I will post/publicize what you submit.

This first assignment will test your reading comprehension.

Second, you are going to write a 1,000-word essay where you take ownership for your wrongdoing, expound on the dangers of believing lies and the value of endorsing truth. This assignment, I hope, will lead you to offer a heartfelt apology. This second assignment will be posted/published.

Then, your work product will be graded, so to speak, by readers of my blog and my Substack.

They will assess the quality, authenticity, and credibility of your work.

They will decide what comes next for you—if you decide to take me up on my offer.

* * *

Five weeks after you defamed me, I posted (and texted you the link to) an open letter on my blog (though not at Substack) addressed to you. Click HERE to read it again.

In that open letter, I walked you through the elements of defamation. I informed you that I had a valid claim against you for publishing what you did. It’s been fifteen months.

No apology.

No call, no text, no nothing.

Here’s your chance to take action and make things right.

Your two assignments are due on July 4^th by noon.

Up to you,

Jenna

* * *

P.S. If your next thought, Erica, is to open Facebook and start deleting what you wrote in those two Facebook Groups, I would suggest that this inclination of yours is evidence of your consciousness of guilt.

Sit with that for a second.

Erasing the truth.

Re-writing history.

Moreover, in my limited experience around judges from the year I spent as a law clerk, I can confidently assert that they tend to frown upon the destruction of evidence, especially when such evidence will be the target of a subpoena.