Just before 1:30pm this afternoon, while standing on Washington Avenue waiting to meet a friend for lunch, I noticed Tammy Bradley, acquitted during her husband's fraud trial, walk down the steps leading from the federal court building. (The sentencing hearing in this case began this morning, and continues through Thursday.)
As she looked up, Tammy Bradley's expression of shocked recognition clearly indicated she remembered my face, having seen me in the courtroom frequently during Steven J. Ingersoll's federal tax fraud trial held earlier this year.
Tammy Bradley quickly scuttled into her vehicle and shortly after, her son, Roy C. Bradley, Jr., came bounding across the street, holding up a pink smartphone, shouting at me and recording his unhinged confrontation.
|"mob" tattoo left side of Bradley's neck|
Having lived in New York City (and worked in advertising), I've encountered lots of assholes in my lifetime.
Although I kept my cool and advised Bradley to have his "attorney" send me a cease-and-desist letter if he'd found any of my activities objectionable, he demonstrated his poverty of language skills: "I don't need no fucking email!".
And although I gave it right back to Bradley The Younger, one phrase he uttered from his gutter chilled me: "I've followed you home...all the way to Essexville".
Yup, that did it.
I've filed a police report, and I'll update when there's any progress.
However, if this blog hadn't been carrying the water for the media pussies in Bay City, Traverse City and the rest of this state, there would likely be more targets for the motley crew of gypsies, tramps and thieves that spilled out of federal court this afternoon.
I've become a target by default...but not by my fault.