- Oct 25, 2018
- 18
- 2
- 3
Although it has been ten years since this incident occurred, I've come to the conclusion that I absolutely can not protect these people any longer. I will not lie or cover for them. I will not pretend like nothing happened. I will not be silent. I have nothing to gain from telling this story, except knowing that none of my old friends, new friends, or anyone else for that matter, unwittingly seats their wives or girlfriends, maybe even daughters, next to these slime bags. I just want to tell my story so that their friends and family know exactly the type of betrayal these false “friends” are capable of.
Roberto Lizarraga (aka Rotoplas MetalStorm, of Infinitum Obscure) was what I considered a trusted friend of many, many years. He was present at my wedding, and was supposedly my ex husband's best friend. So when he asked me to play drums for a project he was allegedly starting with his buddy Noel Bello (of Infernal Conjuration), it seemed like fun. I found the idea behind the project a bit boring, but I've always found performing music to be inspirational, and it gave me some time to be productive. Someone came along with me to Tijuana the first two times we rehearsed, but when they called me the third time to set up a quick rehearsal, I did not hesitate to go alone. I thought I could trust Roberto. He was a guest at my home many times, and always assured me of his integrity and intent. I thought that if anything happened, then he'd have my back; that he would be the one to step up and protect a friend. But that's not what happened.
We were taking a break from rehearsing, and sat down for a moment to relax. In what seemed like an instant, and before I knew what was happening, someone tried to pull my sweater off, effectively trapping me in it. As I tried to get free, Roberto Lizarraga and Noel Bello coordinated to remove my hiking boots and pants, leaving my mismatched socks on my feet. No matter how much I complained, they would not stop. At one point Noel Bello actually told me to shut the fuck up because his family was sleeping next door. He was worried that his Mom might wake up because he and his buddy were raping a girl in her house, in the room next door.
Since they were both revolting with their roasted chicken shaped bodies, it seems they suddenly grossed out on each other and lost interest. This was a fucking gods-send, but they had already managed to defile me. After it was finally over, they went out for celebration tacos, and I had to watch them stuff their fat faces with food before they finally dropped me off at the border, visibly upset, my hair disheveled. When I pulled Roberto aside to ask him “What the fuck was that? That was not OK!” I can not forget his infuriating response. “Did Bello use a condom?”
For almost a year following this incident they held my handmade antelope skin drums hostage. They wouldn't return my equipment, no matter how many times I asked, lying over and over as to the location of my gear. When Roberto finally returned my drums, he showed up with some goon, as if he needed a bodyguard to protect him from me. Maybe he was trying to be intimidating, maybe he was scared, but it just looked pitiful, bringing a bodyguard to protect him from a girl who's equipment he had stolen, from the girl he had raped. Then the cheap bastard had the nerve to ask for gas money!
It's been many years now, and I have moved on with my life, but it makes me physically sick with anger knowing that these two chickens have gone on to live their lives as if nothing ever happened. Furthermore, I worry that they have done this to someone else, and may do it again. I will no longer stand idly by as other women sit next to these degenerates, not knowing their character, or what they are capable of. I've had to live with the consequences of what they did to me for a decade, and I don't want anyone else to suffer the same. Losing the trust of a friend in this way is betrayal like no other; it's something you can never really get over. Meanwhile, they have been free to live their lives without consequences, to make new friendships, perhaps to rape more of their friends at their leisure.
No more. I will not protect them any more. Take care.
Roberto Lizarraga (aka Rotoplas MetalStorm, of Infinitum Obscure) was what I considered a trusted friend of many, many years. He was present at my wedding, and was supposedly my ex husband's best friend. So when he asked me to play drums for a project he was allegedly starting with his buddy Noel Bello (of Infernal Conjuration), it seemed like fun. I found the idea behind the project a bit boring, but I've always found performing music to be inspirational, and it gave me some time to be productive. Someone came along with me to Tijuana the first two times we rehearsed, but when they called me the third time to set up a quick rehearsal, I did not hesitate to go alone. I thought I could trust Roberto. He was a guest at my home many times, and always assured me of his integrity and intent. I thought that if anything happened, then he'd have my back; that he would be the one to step up and protect a friend. But that's not what happened.
We were taking a break from rehearsing, and sat down for a moment to relax. In what seemed like an instant, and before I knew what was happening, someone tried to pull my sweater off, effectively trapping me in it. As I tried to get free, Roberto Lizarraga and Noel Bello coordinated to remove my hiking boots and pants, leaving my mismatched socks on my feet. No matter how much I complained, they would not stop. At one point Noel Bello actually told me to shut the fuck up because his family was sleeping next door. He was worried that his Mom might wake up because he and his buddy were raping a girl in her house, in the room next door.
Since they were both revolting with their roasted chicken shaped bodies, it seems they suddenly grossed out on each other and lost interest. This was a fucking gods-send, but they had already managed to defile me. After it was finally over, they went out for celebration tacos, and I had to watch them stuff their fat faces with food before they finally dropped me off at the border, visibly upset, my hair disheveled. When I pulled Roberto aside to ask him “What the fuck was that? That was not OK!” I can not forget his infuriating response. “Did Bello use a condom?”
For almost a year following this incident they held my handmade antelope skin drums hostage. They wouldn't return my equipment, no matter how many times I asked, lying over and over as to the location of my gear. When Roberto finally returned my drums, he showed up with some goon, as if he needed a bodyguard to protect him from me. Maybe he was trying to be intimidating, maybe he was scared, but it just looked pitiful, bringing a bodyguard to protect him from a girl who's equipment he had stolen, from the girl he had raped. Then the cheap bastard had the nerve to ask for gas money!
It's been many years now, and I have moved on with my life, but it makes me physically sick with anger knowing that these two chickens have gone on to live their lives as if nothing ever happened. Furthermore, I worry that they have done this to someone else, and may do it again. I will no longer stand idly by as other women sit next to these degenerates, not knowing their character, or what they are capable of. I've had to live with the consequences of what they did to me for a decade, and I don't want anyone else to suffer the same. Losing the trust of a friend in this way is betrayal like no other; it's something you can never really get over. Meanwhile, they have been free to live their lives without consequences, to make new friendships, perhaps to rape more of their friends at their leisure.
No more. I will not protect them any more. Take care.
