Darrel Carter would have these gatherings at the Rio Grande; these sessions where apart of the
confidence operation. One night they choked my mother at the Rio Grande in Nitro; they fed her some
pepper or concentrated spice. The people he was with sat around the room and looked at me while she
choked; I was stunned and didn’t know what to do; I was surrounded by the police, national guard, and
Rio employees all staring at me in the center of the room while they exposed my mother to a choking
agent. Darrel Carter would take us to the Rio Grande on Thursday evenings so that his friends could
play spy kids; pretend not to know each other, talk out the side of their faces , taking photos of us,
documenting, practicing sub verbal communication, subterfuge and entrapment. The evenings at the
Rio Grande where just “family nights” to my mother and to the kids; however, to Darrel Carter these
Thursday nights where some kind of huge charade, a masquerade, he would play the big guy at the
table. These same tables where he would call my nephew a little girl because he has a head full of hair;
these tables where he would belittle my niece over grades while there is no one more charming in the
world; the same tables where he would laugh at my brother and joke saying that he got his wife from
Dollar General. The same tables where this “big guy”, this human trafficker, was able to parade us in
front of his white nationalist allies; the tables of the Rio Grande in Nitro, West Virginia.
