"...she's a flight risk."
memoirs of a post-adolescent, international fugitive...
| [:archive:] |
|---|
| [:take flight:] |
| :: lost [>] |
| :: found [>] |
| :: keep your secrets [>] |
| :: snort the ether [>] |
| :: track war trackers [>] |
| :: dream of flying [>] |
| :: portable wealth [>] |
| :: time slips [>] | [:where?:] |
| :: isabella v. is currently not in: Cupertino, CA :: | [:on the run for:] |
|
|
| [:note:] |
| :: the names, dates and places on this website may have been changed for
isabella's protection :: (c) 2003 "isabella v"  |
:: Thursday, July 31, 2003 ::
Moved...What's it all about?
Finally, because the archives are a mess and things are getting really long here, I've moved the blog.
http://shes.aflightrisk.org is it's new home.
:: isabella 10:49 PM (CET) [+] ::
These memoirs begin "On March 2, 2003 at 4:12 pm, I disappeared. My name is isabella v., but it's not. I'm twentysomething and I am an international fugitive." I suppose that this could be seen to imply that my departure from "my life before" was something other than voluntary. I may have many regrets in life, and perhaps- on occasion- I even regret the decision I made in March of 2003 to flee. Despite this I would do it all over again.
Because my ramblings have gotten so long I thought it might be helpful- particularly to a new reader- to provide a "catch-up" mechanism. It is not my intent to replace the bulk of my writings with this section but I do hope it will give new readers a quick summary so they can decide for themselves if delving deeper is worth their time. It very well may not be. I can't decide that for you. I will ask you, however, that before you fire off a question (or five), at least take a look here. It's safe to assume that it has been asked before- probably a few times. If you do think it might be interesting to continue, I encourage you to do so. Start here. It is indeed a lot of reading, but perhaps the trip will be worth the toll.
-isa
Who?
For obvious reasons I can't be too specific on this point but I can tell you a little bit. It always interests me that "who?" actually means "what?" in these contexts. "Who" is just a name. "Who" means nothing. "What?" is a credential. "What" seems to mean something. I was born in Europe, but raised primarily in the United States. I am the youngest. My family is ancient. This is very important to them. I, by contrast, am only in my 20s. When I was younger this was constantly pointed out to me in support of the argument that loyalty to my family was critical. It's interests, being far older, were much more important than mine. I am a redhead. This is probably inconsequential to the uninformed eye, but to the careful observer- or one familiar with redheads- this is important. It is the Samsonesque source of the spark in me, my attitude, my "liquid courage." It's the part of me that's always getting in trouble. It is the part of me that got teased in school. I am many other things but I am the consummate redhead. I have a deep love of books, libraries and all things paper. I am my father's daughter. This is important. Much about me is shaped by my father. He is, at once, my idol, my mentor, my father, my teacher, my role model and my nemesis. I am overly-well traveled. Even before this little indiscretion I had occasion to travel quite a bit. First because my parents insisted, but eventually because I enjoyed it. I was always finding excuses to visit a country I had not been to before.
How?
I fled.
Why?
Readers often ask me why I left. It is true that from a certain point of view my life appears quite comfortable. I was admittedly born into privilege and to a family with considerably power and influence in the world. My memoirs don't describe any physical or sexual abuse. I was generally safe and protected. I have reached the age of majority. I was quite rich. Asking "Why throw all that away?" seems reasonable question. I can't really answer it completely for you- for personal reasons. I can say that though the arranged marriage had something to do with it, it was merely the last straw. There were far more sinister forces at work that I just did not want to be the subject of, thank you. My blood ran cold when I heard the phrase that is the title of these memoirs. "...she's a flight risk." That was it. It was time to go- before it was too late. That is as much as I am going to say about that.
How much?
It's true. I left with quite a bit of money. Some readers seem fond of accusing me of being in it "for the money." You bet. Aren't we all? I'm hardly going to move to a third world country and live off of U.N. assistance. Neither would many of the readers who point their crooked fingers at me. Am I greedy? Probably. We all are. This is why you aren't sending every dime you have to Africa where children are dying every day. How callous of you! Your PC could save hundreds of people from starvation you know. Of course, that's a simplistic argument. All I can say is that when I started considering leaving I never thought about taking much money with me. Enough to get where I was going (not that I had any idea where that was) and that was about it. I knew that my family would go to great lengths to uncover my whereabouts but I figured that if I were on a beach in Mexico or something leading a somewhat simple life they would never find me. That's how it works in the movies, right? As soon as I actually spoke to someone(s) who knew what they were talking about, however, it was pretty clear that this was complete fantasy. Running is VERY expensive if someone with even moderate resources is following you. My family has made it pretty clear that they are going to be expending more than "moderate" resources to come after me and anyone who helps me. I'm not going to apologize for bringing with me that which I need to protect myself and to retain the best professionals in the world to help me do it.
Of course, I get people asking how I transferred the money without tipping my hand as well. I can't really talk about that for a variety of reasons. There is enough literature out there about laundering to satisfy the curiosity of even the most detail oriented accountants. Keeping matters somewhat simple, it's not hard. Going on how my advisors have explained suchlike to me: Move the assets out of a jurisdiction that does not have strong financial privacy laws into one that does in a single lump (or as quickly as possible). Then move them from there to other similarly ultra-private jurisdictions before sending them where you want them to be, with your "new self" as the beneficiary. Anyone who wants to follow them has to deal with two or three sets of very privacy intensive jurisdictions before they can find (much less freeze) your assets. Doing that where no criminal charges have been filed is near impossible. No one will cooperate. If you break them up to multiple jurisdictions you're almost sure to get warning that some was found in time to move the rest.
"Can You Hear Me Now?"
It is often commented that web logging while "on the run" is rather stupid. Aren't I just some kind of attention whore? Certainly, it's going to just help me get caught. How could I possibly have the time to write a web log anyhow? And why does a "rich girl" have in depth knowledge of things like "Airsnort." It's true, writing this is reckless. I don't know exactly why I do it. It's a catharsis of course. That's part of it. Keeping my story a little (but not totally) public is helpful. It reminds my family that it's harder than it used to be to just make me vanish into some reprogramming center somewhere. It helps me to stay in touch with the world as well. Flight is isolating. I was told right from the beginning that I would have to cut all ties with my old friends. They would be used against me. (And indeed this advice proved accurate- my friends have been harassed I'm told). Add to that that it is impossible to make new friends for me right now. It is hard to connect with anyone. Trust is out of the question for me for some time. Add all that up and really, at first, I think I started writing for the company. I never expected this site to be popular or interesting. For awhile the site counter was broken and it didn't look like anyone at all was reading it. I wrote anyhow. One lawyer threatened to quit if I kept writing. I wrote anyhow. He quit. I found other counsel. It's important that I write. I don't know why it is, but it is. That's about as much sense on the topic as I am going to make probably.
As for the time? People seem to have this impression that I don't get a moment's peace. In fact this has been an exercise in VERY intense boredom. I spent time on trains doing nothing but sitting. On planes doing nothing but sitting. In airports doing nothing but sitting. In hotels. Everywhere, doing nothing but sitting. I can't work. I can't really go out on the town and live it up- though I do treat myself occasionally. I spend a lot of time waiting for things to develop. Looking for a safe place to settle down. Making sure that I am safe before I go. Believe me. I have nothing but time.
As for being a geek? Slightly. But I hardly discovered all this technology on my own. I barely knew HTML a month ago. (Not that I know it very well now) but I have people much smarter about such things than I to learn from. I learned as much as I could because I knew this sort of thing was going to be my only contact with the world. What amuses me about this particular bit of finger pointing is the only barely latent sexism it doesn't quite conceal. Is it the "rich" part or the "girl" part that convinces these readers- and they are always men- that somehow I am totally technically helpless and, even given instruction on how such things function, couldn't possibly keep in my head all the details and still be able to wait for my nails to dry? To the people who pose this question every "rich girl" is a character out of "Clueless" or something. It would be insulting if it were not so pathetic. No one looks at you sideways if you claim to be a rich guy who knows HTML or somesuch. Perhaps they just haven't met a "rich girl" before.
No Tabloid Tell-All?
No. I have no desire to hurt my family. I have no desire to drag their names through the mud. They exist in the world that they are comfortable with. I don't want to hurt them. I just don't want to be a part of that. I won't be doing the tell-all tabloid TV interview because I have no interest in exposing them to that kind of scrutiny unless they force my hand. I just want to be left alone really. That's all.
Now How Much Would You Pay?
Everyone is waiting for the other shoe to drop. For the big publicity stunt to be revealed. What product is it that this elaborate hoax is generating publicity for? I have no idea. I'm not selling anything. No, I'm not about to put a pay pal account up and beg for help from the public. No, I haven't written a book I'm about to sell. No, I am not a writer. I took one creative writing class in high school my senior year because I wanted to skip it and enjoy the last semester. I went to that class like twice and got a C or something. I have no idea what my accounts here would be any good at selling? Deodorant? Legal services? You tell me.
