Case of relentless stalker illustrates how haphazard life can be
Ah, the joys of romance. Glancing across a crowded room and recognizing your soul mate. Feeling a love that's lasted nearly 600 years. But what might work in a romantic novel is horrifying in real life to a Las Vegas woman stalked over 15 years.
Benjiman Feldman spied Ana Maria Rydell standing in line at a local bank and was thunderstruck.
"Our eyes met. I went blind and dumb, and I was frozen to the concrete," he said. "I saw a brilliant flame of sunburst."
He was positive she felt the same. Surely she recognized him from one of their past lives together in the 1400s. They were the modern-day reincarnations of a married Indian couple -- Little Canoe and Little White Feather.
Or so he said during his stalking trial in April.
The petite, attractive brunette, then in her late 20s, didn't notice him that day in 1992. She didn't notice that when she went to her car, he wrote down her personalized license plate. She didn't notice when he began stalking her, driving by her home, lurking at the Starbucks on Rancho Drive where she routinely stopped for coffee.
But she did notice in December 1993, when he sent a 166-page movie script to her husband. She noticed in 1995, when he sent a video to her home in which his face was painted half white and half black, and on it he said, "All infidels must die, just like you." He talked about cutting her in half, so that half could stay with her husband and half could go with him. Later, when he sent her 156 roses, she noticed.
Feldman was arrested and pleaded guilty to aggravated stalking in 1997. He was given probation. When the stalking resumed, his six-year sentence was reinstated and he went to prison. When he got out, the stalking started again in 2002. He left more roses for her at Starbucks. And he kept writing her.
After the second indictment, he insisted on a trial. When his victim was testifying in the courtroom, he began making kissing noises to show how happy he was to see her. I can only imagine how she felt. She couldn't be reached for comment.
His trial took two days, and the jury verdict of guilty was reached in 10 minutes. After all, the jury had heard Feldman testify in his own behalf. They heard him explain why he changed his name to Michael Ben Michael in 1992.
"I was sitting at the computer minding my own business and Michael the Archangel emphatically told me to change my name," he said
Naturally, he did as told.
He went to Starbucks every day "to write as I'm inspired. My higher power communicates with me that way."
He saw Rydell there 30 or 40 times. She didn't notice him.
And that's what's so scary. A guy sees you in a bank, finds out where you live, begins stalking you and watching you in Starbucks, and he's a complete stranger, not to mention completely strange.
Yet Feldman doesn't look fearsome. He was in his late 50s when he first saw her, and even today at 70, he's an average-looking man with a pleasant countenance. During this time, he had a job that could have brought him to your home. He worked at repairing broken garage doors, visiting about 10 homes a week. He could have been your worst nightmare, if he had fixated on you as his beloved Little White Feather.
At sentencing, District Judge Stewart Bell said he "hopes the Parole Board never gives this defendant any consideration, as this victim will be terrorized the day he gets out of prison."
Bell gave Feldman the maximum sentence of six to 15 years.
Assistant District Attorney Carrie Morton said that while this wasn't the typical stalking case, Rydell did exactly what she was supposed to do. She obtained temporary restraining orders. She pressed charges. She testified.
"Now she'll have some peace, at least for six to 15 years," Morton said.
Rydell did nothing to deserve this and could have done nothing to prevent it. All she did was stand in line at a bank. Wrong place, wrong time, noticed by the wrong man.
Jane Ann Morrison's column appears Monday, Thursday and Saturday. E-mail her at Jane@reviewjournal.com or call (702) 383-0275.
