Robert’s story part 1

Robert’s Story, Part I

When Taylor County Sheriff’s Department Detective Harlan Schwartz knocked on the door of Robert’s apartment early on the morning of September 20, 1999, Robert wasn’t concerned. He had a good job, he was back together with his childhood sweetheart, and his life seemed to be moving in exactly the right direction. He was confident that he hadn’t done anything that would get him into trouble with the law.

It may have been that confidence that led Robert to talk to Detective Schwartz on the spot, without consulting an attorney or even taking time to think the situation through or talk to a friend. Maybe not, though—by all accounts, Robert had always been open, friendly, and social. He might have made the same decision under any circumstances.

When the detective started asking about a girl he’d dated months earlier, Robert thought he knew what was going on. A week or so earlier, his ex-girlfriend, J., had called him out of the blue. Back when he’d been dating J., her mother had loaned him some money, and she wanted it back. Robert hadn’t had the money on hand to pay her immediately, and he’d heard her raise her voice in anger in the background as he talked to J.

Now, a police detective was in his apartment, asking questions about his long-past relationship with her daughter.

Robert wasn’t shy about admitting to the sexual relationship. In fact, he says now that he embellished a bit. Like many teens and young adults, Robert didn’t fully understand the law regarding age of consent in his home state. J. had been 15 when they were together, but he’d only been 17—a minor himself. He was sure that meant that their sexual relationship had been 100% legal. He may have been gloating a bit while he was hanging himself, thinking that J.’s mother would be in for a surprise when she realized that he’d been underage the whole time.

Whatever he expected to come from that conversation, it wasn’t a felony sex crime conviction that would ultimately send him to prison for four years of an eight-year sentence, haunt him for years to come, and require him to register and appear on the public registry for life. Even if he had known enough to expect criminal charges, he could never have imagined that in his mid-thirties, as a successful business man with a family, he would still be struggling to manage the fallout from that brief relationship.
Perhaps the saddest and most ironic thing about Robert’s story is that he had a rough childhood and adolescence. He wasn’t always a good kid. By the time he was fourteen, he’d had several encounters with local law enforcement.

But, when he met J. in the fall of 1998, that was all behind him. He was 17, working steadily, and just months from renting his first apartment. He hadn’t had a brush with the law in a couple of years, and he had started to forge his own path. On that day, he was just a typical teenaged boy, hanging out with friends when a pretty girl drove up with a friend and caught his attention. If anything set him apart at that point, it was that he was a bit more self-sufficient than most kids his age. He’d started working at 15, taking on short-term jobs at two fast food restaurants before moving into roofing and drywall work.

Robert says that he initially thought J. was 16–just one year younger than he was–because she’d driven up to the house. Under Wisconsin law, what happened next would have been a crime regardless, though a less serious one.

What followed is a familiar story for most of us, one that plays out among teenagers all over the country every single day. J. gave Robert her phone number, and a few days later, he called her. They dated, met each other’s friends, and got to know each other’s families. Like many romantic relationships among teenagers, though, this one didn’t last long.

While J. was still in school and living with her parents, Robert was working full time in construction. In the spring of 1999, he had an opportunity to work in the Elkhorn area, more than three hours from the town where J. lived and went to school. Unsurprisingly, the relatively new relationship couldn’t weather the separation. The two parted ways near the end of the school year, just six or seven months after they’d met.

It was the kind of relationship that both Robert and J. might both have relegated to a vague memory if just one small thing had gone differently: if J.’s mother hadn’t loaned Robert money, if he’d had the money to give her on the day J. called, if she’d filed a small claims suit instead of calling the police, if he’d politely declined to talk to the detective who knocked on his door. If any one of those things had played out differently, both Robert and J. would likely have carried on with their lives and rarely, if ever, looked back.

Reviews of his business are consistently excellent, and use terms like “passionate,” “knowledgeable,” “perfectionist,” and “best quality.”

He owns a beautiful home, the building where his business operates, and investment property.

But, this success is clouded and expansion of his business limited because 20 years ago, Robert did something that hundreds of thousands of American teenagers do every year–engaged in a sexual relationship with his teenage girlfriend.

In many ways, Robert’s story is one of success and inspiration, especially for those who face similar problems and despair for the future. He built that successful business, many of the relationships in his life today, and his family after spending four years in prison. He established himself as a valuable member of the community despite his status as a person required to register as having an historical conviction for violating a sex law.

But, there’s a dark shadow over all this success, and obstacles that sometimes seem never-ending. One of the houses Robert owns is off-limits to him: he’d need a special exemption from the city to move in. His business is poised for a growth spurt, but he’s not eligible for Small Business Administration (SBA) loans or many other types of funding because he has a felony conviction.

This website, and an upcoming book, will chronicle Robert’s journey from typical American teenager to convicted felon to successful businessman and beyond–to the day when we hope he and others in his situation will be free of the misleading label that attempts to define their lives.

But, Robert did owe J.’s mother money. He didn’t have it to give her when she called. She called the police. Robert answered their questions when they arrived. And, their short-lived teenage relationship took center stage in both of their lives. The prosecutor filed felony charges, and Robert is still living with the fallout more than 20 years after their break-up. He hasn’t seen or talked to J. since he went to prison in 2000, but he doesn’t blame her for his ordeal. It seems safe to assume that the experience took a significant toll on her, as well.

Yes, J made lies against Robert and if he would have had the opportunity to cross examine that she would have changed her story of their relationship. If she doesn’t tell the truth, he will, one day get his opportunity to cross examine her as we all will see that no jury would ever believe her lies and the truth to her past and what really happened?

September 20, 1999
Being questioned by the police is rarely a straightforward affair, and Detective Schwartz’s initial interrogation was no exception. He casually questioned Robert about the couple’s sexual interactions. He raised specific questions about an incident involving oral sex in a car. Robert admitted to everything, not expecting legal fallout. He was still under the impression that consensual sex between minors was legal. But, the detective had a couple of surprises in store for him. First, he waited until after Robert had admitted to sexual interactions with J. to add that she’d claimed at least one of those encounters was forced. Even then, Robert wasn’t concerned.

The blow job Schwartz asked about had taken place in an SUV. Robert and J. had been sharing the backseat, while a friend of his drove and a friend of J.’s rode shotgun. Once again, Robert was confident that the truth would set him free. He didn’t know why J. might have claimed that encounter had happened by force. He wasn’t even sure whether she’d really made that claim. But, he knew it would be a simple matter to demonstrate that it wasn’t true. He was right about that much. The precise details vary slightly, but in the investigation that followed, Robert, the driver, and the other female passenger told very similar stories—stories in which the two girls initiate the act after joking about it and counting down. In fact, the other girl said that she felt somewhat pressured by J., who she said had a way of “having things her way.” But then, the interrogation took a strange turn. Schwartz began questioning Robert about a citation he’d received the year before, on a trip to Illinois.

At Christmastime in 1998, Robert, and his cousin had traveled to visit relatives, and J. had accompanied them. 17 years old and traveling out of state for the first time, with only his 18-year-old cousin and 15-year-old girlfriend, Robert didn’t know what to expect. So, he took a gun belonging to his uncle Terry from a drawer in his parents’ house and tucked it in the door frame of the van. Two decades later, asked why he felt like he needed a gun on that trip, Robert turns up his hands. “I don’t know. I’d never been on a trip like that before. You hear things about Rockford, Chicago…” He shakes his head. Presumably, Rockford and Chicago don’t seem so daunting today, after four years in prison. But to the 17-year-old embarking on his first road trip, feeling responsible for his girlfriend, Illinois seemed like alien territory. It was better to be prepared. Of course, he had no occasion to use the gun. The weapon itself stayed tucked in the door frame and the clip in the glove compartment. It wouldn’t have been readily accessible or usable if they had needed it. It would have languished there quietly and caused no one any trouble, had the group not gotten lost. In a snowstorm near the Wisconsin border, they flagged down a passing police car to ask for directions. Faced with a van filled with teenagers and a fishy story—it was late at night and they couldn’t provide the relative’s address—deputies asked for permission to search the van. In another example of the naivete that would later have him confessing to a crime he didn’t know existed, Robert agreed. The Sheriff’s-department also contacted J.’s mother to make sure that her parents knew where she was and that she’d had permission to make the trip with Robert and his cousin. They confirmed that she did. During the search, the gun was discovered and confiscated. Robert was issued a citation, and he was advised that the owner of the gun would have to pick it up. Robert provided his uncle’s name and a family member’s telephone number, but a clerical error apparently prevented the department from reaching his family. The number he provided was in the Wisconsin area code 715, but the person taking his information wrote down 815 instead—the area code for northern Illinois. It would be nearly a year before Robert would see that report and realize that the number was wrong, and that the department had never reached his family. At some point after the trip, Robert’s father and his uncle Terry had discovered that the gun was missing from the drawer and made a police report. The police took a report, Robert did tell Terry about the rock county citation, terry even called into the sheriff’s department and reported that Paul’s kids had returned the gun, knowing that the gun was in Rock County. Nobody thought to mention the missing gun to Robert, who was no longer living with his parents at that point. The report would likely have languished forever had J. or her mother not mentioned the Illinois trip and the citation to the police nearly a year later. But, one of them did. The Taylor County Sheriff’s Department looked into the incident and discovered that the gun confiscated by the Rock County deputy matched the serial number of uncle Terry’s missing gun. Detective Schwartz had all of this information when he talked to Robert on the morning of September 20, but Robert didn’t know the gun had been reported missing. He didn’t even know that the Rock County Sheriff’s Department had never made contact with Terry or his family, or that the gun was still gathering dust in their evidence locker. That’s when Robert started to sweat a bit, but he wasn’t worried about the gun charge. He fully expected that could be cleared up when he talked to his family. If they’d reported the gun stolen, it was because they’d discovered it missing and didn’t know what had happened to it. But, he knew that in combination, without knowing him or the other parties involved or the circumstances, the story was starting to sound bad. An hour earlier, all had been right with his world. Now, it seemed that he was being questioned about two crimes, both in what felt like the distant past, and neither what the detective seemed to believe they’d been.

“There Must be More to the Story”

When Robert and others in his situation explain why they’re on the public registry, many respond with suspicion. The idea that a young man could be forced to register for life because he had sex with his girlfriend when they were teenagers is difficult for many people to accept—perhaps especially those who are realizing for the first time that they themselves committed felonies in high school, or who are suddenly filled with fear for their own teenage children. In the most important sense, there is not more to the story: Robert spent four years in prison after being convicted of 2nd Degree Sexual Assault of a child, and the “child” in question was his 15-year-old girlfriend. He was 17 years old at the time of the offense. However, in another sense, there is more to the story. Robert didn’t get arrested for the teen sex charge, thrown in jail, tried for a felony, and sentenced to prison without some intervening and complicating events. In this website we’ll tell the story in detail.

 

First, Robert not only talked about but exaggerated his sexual relationship with J. when he initially talked to Detective Schwartz, because he was angry with J.’s mother and didn’t understand the law.

Second, Robert was charged with theft of the gun he took to Illinois the Christmas he and J. were dating. Those charges were not as easy to clear up as Robert had anticipated, because his uncle Terry had committed suicide shortly before Detective Schwartz’s visit, leaving another relative with no knowledge of the situation to stand in for the “victim” as administrator of his estate.

Third, Robert accepted some questionable legal advice in connection with his Deferred Prosecution Agreement. Under the terms of the original agreement, Robert would have pled guilty to the gun theft charge, and prosecution of the sex charge would have been deferred. If he had successfully completed probation, the sex charge would have been dismissed. If he had violated probation, a judgment of conviction would have been entered, but to a misdemeanor charge. Given that Robert had confessed to sexual contact with J. and that was all that was required for a conviction, this initial offer was a good deal. However, at the last minute, the prosecution insisted on a significant change: rather than dismissing the sex charge if Robert successfully completed probation and entering a misdemeanor conviction if he did not, the court would enter a misdemeanor conviction if he successfully completed probation and a felony if he violated the terms of his probation. Despite the critical change, Robert says his attorney advised him to sign the revised agreement in the courtroom, without time for meaningful consultation. He did, ensuring that no matter what happened next, he would be convicted of a sex crime.

Fourth, Robert’s 4th out of 5 P.O.s (parole officer) filed revocation two months before successfully completing two years of his agreement for rules signed with prior 3rd P.O. where his prior P.O. had been relaxed. His probation officer had determined that it was not necessary to enforce several of the written rules and had advised him of the changes. Later, she would confirm this in the courtroom. He completed the program for people with an historical sex related conviction and she signed documents of lowering Robert’s high risk rules with a reclassification checklist. And two months after that his agent let Robert’s roommate’s 17 year old girlfriend move in with him after talking to her parents and had no place to go and let her younger sister stay overnights.

Fifth, Robert’s attorney advised him to waive a revocation hearing, said that this whole revocation was a big misunderstanding and since there was a hearing date set to revoke the differed prosecution, which essentially admitting to violating his probation. This decision is mysterious because there appears to have been a strong legal argument that Robert had not, in fact, knowingly violated the terms of his probation—his previous probation officer confirmed that she had relaxed the rules. Waiving revocation made entry of conviction on the felony sex crime a near certainty.

Sixth, Robert hit walls and is unable to pursue all of his possible post-conviction options, such as an appeal. You’ll see he spent over $24,000 on appeals attorney where his lawyer prematurely filed a motion and that the route taken wasn’t going to give him the relief he needed which was the way Genarlow did for cruel-harsh and unusual punishment.

And because he’s not “in custody” in prison or on parole/ supervision, that it’s very difficult to be able to appeal his case.

The story isn’t as simple as, “This teenage boy had a sexual relationship with his teenage girlfriend, got arrested, got convicted of a felony, went to prison for four years, and is now on the public registry for life.” It’s not that simple because the road to conviction wasn’t short and straight, because the legislation and the gun charge allowed the prosecution to structure an unusual deal, and because he sealed his own fate when he waived the probation revocation hearing. And in the illegal agreement is states If the defendant engages in behavior which subjects him to revocation proceedings, the state would make a motion to revoke the deferred prosecution agreement and enter judgment based upon the defendant guilty plea to second-degree sexual assault of a child. The state would be permitted to do this even if probation wasn’t ultimately revoked. Another point of unfairness.

But, in the way that matters most, the story is that simple. The consensual sexual contact 17-year-old Robert had with his 15-year-old girlfriend was a felony, and a registry offense. He was guilty…just like millions of other high school students have been. He admitted it. Then he got arrested, got convicted of a felony, went to prison for four years, and is now listed on the Wisconsin public registry, with “2nd Degree Sexual Assault of a Child” under his name.

 

Prison

Robert was 17 years old when he and J. broke up.  Because the investigation began several months after their relationship ended, and then he successfully completed 20 of the 24 months of probation required under his deferred prosecution agreement, he was 21when he was sentenced to prison. In the intervening three years he had established a solid work record and purchased a four-bedroom house with his then-girlfriend. Robert’s can-do outlook on life likely played an important role in saving him at this point and later. Around the U.S., many young men facing similar circumstances have ended their own lives rather than face the lifelong stigma and limitations associated with conviction of a sex crime and the obligation to register for life.  Others have spiraled downward in other ways. For example, homelessness among people required to register has been a significant problem since residency restrictions became commonplace. In California, residency requirements resulted in a more than 2000% increase in homelessness among people paroled for an historical sex related conviction. In Florida, a tent city was created to house people required to register who were legally prohibited from living anywhere in Miami-Dade County except for the airport and the Everglades. Robert approached prison the same way he had approached wrestling in school, working construction, and later working the line in a factory and operating a forklift–determined to do what needed to be done, and to get it done well and quickly. Unfortunately, the prison system had other plans for him. Or, rather, had failed to make adequate plans for him. Getting tough on crime was a popular political position in the 1990s, and Wisconsin was no exception. With the state government hard at work increasing sentences and ensuring that those convicted served more of their sentences, Wisconsin’s prison population exploded. In 1990, there were 6,967 inmates in Wisconsin state prisons. By 2002, when Robert entered the prison system, there were 17,976, with an additional 3,481 prisoners housed at private out-of-state facilities. Though the in-state prison population had increased by more than 11,000, the state had added just 4,145 beds. The 750-bed Red granite Correctional Institution opened in 2001, and within a year housed nearly 1,000 inmates. In short, the Wisconsin prison system was bursting at the seams, meaning that it was often difficult or impossible to make an appropriate assignment for a new prisoner. The options for assigning a prisoner who had an historical sex related conviction were even more limited. Dodge Correctional Institution in Weupon, Wisconsin serves primarily as the central reception center for newly-sentenced inmates. At Dodge, prisoners are assessed for placement, undergo medical and dental screening, and are provided with orientation to the correctional system. Then, in theory, they are transferred to facilities that are appropriate based on a variety of factors, such as the required security level, need for medical or psychological services, and other programming. In Robert’s case, the assessment and orientation process took about two months. Then, he spent nearly two additional years at Dodge, without access to any of the classes and therapy that he was required to complete before being released, or that he would have liked to complete to put him in a better position to successfully reintegrate into society. In his two years at Dodge, Robert says he performed just about every job in the facility, including working in the kitchen, on the loading dock, and in maintenance. He received good to excellent ratings from his supervisors, and he stayed out of trouble. During those two years, he wrote repeatedly to correctional authorities, asking to be transferred so that he could complete his mandated therapy and work toward obtaining his high school equivalency diploma. Consistent support from friends and family helped Robert stay positive during those two very long years. More than a decade after his release, he still treasures a large collection of cards and letters that he received while he was incarcerated. When finally he was transferred to Jackson Correctional Institution in Black River Falls, Robert entered the mandated therapy—five years after his short-lived relationship with J. had ended. Though he’d been fighting for access to this program for two years, he was unprepared for what lay ahead. In therapy, he learned for the first time that the correctional system required him to “admit” that he had forcibly raped J., though he had not been convicted of forcible rape and no evidence had been presented that force had been an element in their relationship. Initially, his protests fell on deaf ears. The prison psychologist announced that he was in denial, and repeated requests that the psychologist and others involved review his file were ignored.

Ultimately, the counselor who ran the therapy program for the prison did the research, and he acknowledged in a group session that Robert did not belong there.

Robert says he even mentioned that he anticipated that Robert would one day need help dealing with his own victimization. At the time, Robert didn’t fully understand what he meant. But today, in his mid-thirties, there is no question that every aspect of his life, both personal and business, remains affected by the label applied to him. While he was in prison, Robert voluntarily attended victim impact groups, received his high school equivalency diploma, successfully completed therapy, took a literacy class and volunteered to help other inmates learn to read and write. He was granted parole after four years and returned home. But, his ordeal was far from over.

Life after Prison

The first year after Robert was released from prison went relatively smoothly. It was inconvenient for his parents to have to make accommodations such as moving their computer into an inaccessible area, and it was humiliating to have to seek permission from his parole officer to date. The environment he moved back into was far from ideal. But, the local parole officer was the same official who had written Robert’s pre-sentence investigation report. He was familiar with the details of the case, recognized that Robert wasn’t a danger to the community, and gave him the leeway he needed to get his life back underway. The standard restrictions were burdensome, particularly the eight-year ban on Internet use, but his parole officer seemed committed to helping him rebuild. Or, at least, to staying out of the way while he did the work. When he entered into a serious relationship with a woman he’d met before he’d been incarcerated, the parole officer had no objection to his girlfriend and her daughter moving in with him and his family. He even allowed Robert to start his own business, and to travel to the Elkhorn area to work as needed in his brother’s custom flooring business. However, there were pitfalls all around, from a family member smoking marijuana in the house where he was living to limited and sporadic income as he tried to get his business off the ground. Determined not to take any chances and to find a more stable source of income, he moved more than 200 miles south, to the Elkhorn area. Unfortunately, his experience with the legal system in Elkhorn was very different from what he’d become accustomed to in Medford. It wasn’t just that the parole office was stricter, but that his new parole officer opted not to take him at his word and not to look into his case. Once again, Robert found himself answering to someone who believed he’d committed forcible rape, and who flatly refused to review the records that would have corrected that impression. After more than a decade, Robert made the admission his parole officer insisted upon. He still maintains today that there was no force involved in his relationship with J., he was not convicted of a crime involving force, witness statements support his story, the counselor leading his therapy group was satisfied that his story was accurate and routed him away from “Denier” therapy, and he was granted parole. However, when a polygraphed told him he must “confess” immediately or be sent back to prison, he did as he was told. He had recently moved his girlfriend, Kerry, and her six-year-old daughter to Elkhorn. He’d assured Kerry that he could provide for them, and she knew no one else in the area. He couldn’t risk being sent back to prison. Providing for his new family turned out to be more difficult than he’d anticipated, though. The new officer refused to allow Robert to work for his brother, although he’d done so on and off while living in Medford, because the work involved going into people’s homes. She ultimately agreed to let him work for his uncle in a similar business because it was new construction and the homes were unoccupied. But, it would be two years before he would be able to rejoin his brother’s company. When he did, she required him to tell the owner of the flooring store that contracted with the company about his conviction. That disclosure would come back to haunt him later, when they stopped working with the shop. The man let it be known that if Robert bid against him on jobs, he would advise the prospective clients of his conviction. Though Kerry and her young daughter made the move with him, the new restrictions put a significant strain on his relationship with the child who was effectively his stepdaughter. Though probation rules had prevented him from engaging in or attending some of her activities in Medford, day-to-day life had been more or less normal. His family lived on several acres of land, providing plenty of opportunity to get outside and play, take her for rides on the four-wheeler, and generally build a relationship. In Elkhorn, he didn’t have the space for that type of activities at home, and the normal outside activities were forbidden to him. He couldn’t go to the park or an outdoor festival with the child, and he couldn’t even take her to a movie without a chaperone. She couldn’t have friends stay overnight unless he left the house for the night. These restrictions forever impacted his relationship with his stepdaughter, and with his young nieces. Despite these obstacles, Robert kept his family together and kept working over the next two years, and in 2009 was finally allowed to join his brother in his custom flooring business. Robert started handling sales, and he turned out to be very good at it. The company grew quickly, and his brother didn’t like the business aspects such as bidding and collecting. In 2010, Robert’s brother sold him the business, though he continued to work in the company for a time, and still subcontracts in the winter and on large jobs. When Robert took over the business, annual sales were about $150,000. With little overhead, that provided a good living, but it was just the first step for the growing business. Robert’s reputation spread, and business grew steadily. In 2015, revenues exceeded $700,000. In many ways, this is a success story. Despite a felony conviction and being listed on the public registry, Robert formed a relationship with a woman he loves, helped to raise her child, and later had a child of his own with her. His business continues to thrive. But, the continuing fallout from that brief teenage relationship impacts every aspect of his life. It has put a strain on his relationship, and it’s created stress in business. The company is ripe for expansion, but he can’t qualify for a small business loan because he has a felony conviction. He’s lost at least one important, long-term client when a disgruntled former employer messaged to say that she had a rapist working in her house. When she looked, of course, she saw nothing but Robert’s photograph and a conviction for 2nd Degree Sexual Assault of a Child. He was kicked off of the high-value job without notice, and it took weeks to arrange to retrieve the tools and equipment he’d left at the job site. Shortly after that incident, an investor who had pledged significant support learned of his conviction and withdrew his offer. In combination, these events temporarily destroyed Robert’s confidence and left him plagued by concerns about how other clients, contractors, investors, and others would respond. With a new awareness of just how vulnerable he, his family, his business, and his finances were to people like that unhappy former employee, Robert scaled back on both sales and hiring. He didn’t want to risk getting kicked off of another job, or being judged by people he came in contact with professionally. The incident also impacted his relationship with existing employees and his ability to manage his business optimally, as he feared angering someone who would lash out the way that terminated employee had. The introduction of Senator Kleefisch’s bill, Romeo and Juliet Bill 414 more than a year later, gave him renewed hope and allowed him to return to work full force, once again moving the business forward. But, the harsh realities driven home by the loss of a large client and a key investor in the same season remain. Despite his high energy, determination, and track record of success, Robert is vulnerable to both malice and misunderstanding. And, he’s not alone. The statutory structure and the nature of the public registry make it difficult to determine exactly how many people find themselves in the same situation as Robert, simply because they did something about half of U.S. teenagers do. For Robert, the battle goes far beyond simply clearing his name and eliminating the roadblocks he’s faced throughout his adult life. He’s also determined to keep doors open for others who have been—or will be—in the same situation. He’s working to ensure that no teenage boy ever again walks out of a meeting with a school cop and jumps off a roof because he’s been told that the fuzzy video he made with his girlfriend is going to destroy his life. He wants to make sure no young man ever again overdoses in the bedroom of his parents’ home because he lost hope after learning that he’d be required to register an historical sex related conviction for 25 years or life in the wake of a consensual relationship with a high school classmate. He understands the risk in going public at this point, but he is willing to take that chance because he wants to push for reform in the states that still put teenagers at risk. This effort is dedicated to the young people who have lost their lives and the people who loved them.

 

Source: https://www.reformforjusticecom.com/my-story

 

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