Note from the CTH:  This post is independently authored by an anonymous guest of the Treehouse. This is part two in a series of independently submitted guest posts.   We are unable to determine or validate if the content discussed is indeed the substantive content of an upcoming book, we are the conduit host and present for informational purposes of discussion:

George Zimmerman was not involved in the collaboration of this book and makes no guarantee of its accuracy or content.  The comments added here to the known text of the Osterman book were not made by George Zimmerman, and should not be construed as the only comments that George Zimmerman may have regarding the publishing of this book.

As previously presented by the guest author:  Upon initial review there appear to be numerous “mistakes” in [an upcoming] book, and even several specific items that we feel are outright fabrications. These aspects may be intended to help the book sell well, but they also present some serious factual concerns.

The areas of concern will be highlighted, and honestly rebutted, during the course of a number of guest posts here at the Treehouse over the next several days.

These areas to be addressed could potentially be damaging to George Zimmerman, and I feel it is important to address each of them individually.

In the next several days the excerpts, responses and summaries you will read are my “Guest Posted” words and my opinion. While I will share the content of the upcoming book, as I know it, the rebuttal or challenge to the book will be mine alone.

The intent of rebuttal is meant to bring these fabrications, falsehoods and concerns to light, and such retort is provided for the benefit of those who will ultimately read the published book and have questions about its accuracy.

I am, quite simply, trying to get out ahead of what “could be” a well intended attempt at public support, which simultaneously creates a significant and potentially damaging series of unintended consequences.

Chapter One – That’s What Friends Are For

(excerpt)  Mark Osterman Writes ~  […]  Then, Shellie and I flanked George as we walked to my car in the [police] station parking lot. I mentioned to George that we thought it wise for them both to stay in our spare bedroom for the night. I then, added, “And, we probably need to stop by the hospital and get you checked out.”

He [George Zimmerman] immediately declined the hospital stop, “I just want to go to your house and try to get some sleep. For some reason, I am bone weary and almost have to sleep right now.” I understood.

For the next fifteen minutes, or however long it took to make the drive to our home in Lake Mary, George recounted what he knew of the deadly encounter with the young black man; we did not know his name at this point.

It was a story he would repeat for my wife, then his family, other friends again and again.

Each time he repeated the events of that night it would literally drain him, almost as if it taxed his very soul to remember those brief few frantic moments. I had always been a mentor for George, but actually learned as much from his as he did from me.

While he spoke, he was in the back seat with his wife because her main priority was to look at his wounds and make sure he did not need immediate attention. I saw him as my best friend, my brother. I hoped and prayed I could guide him through the tragic experience that had shaken him to his core.

I listened closely to George as I drove […]

(snip) Mark Osterman then claims the following series of statements are made by George Zimmerman as George describes events to him on their drive home from the police station.   However, it is in these first-hand accounts by Mark, within the book, that multiple issues arrise:

“I left home on Sunday night to go do my shopping at Target. […] I got into the car and started driving when I noticed this tall man, ¹looking into a window of a residence.

¹George never stated he saw Trayvon Martin “looking into a window”. This is the first of a series of factually false statements attributed by Mark Osterman to *his friend* George Zimmerman.

I was pretty sure he didn’t live there, because I seemed to recall a shorter guy living there. Anyway, it is raining and it’s dark ¹and the guy is looking in the window.

¹Again, the claim by Mark Osterman, of George Zimmerman stating he saw a guy “looking in the window” is factually false.

So, I stop under a street light to watch him for a moment. Then, I think I should probably call the police and have them check the guy out. Well, the tall man sees me from about seventy feet away and starts toward me and he can see me under the light and knows I’m talking on my cell phone. I’m talking to 911 and the guy, who I now can see is a young black guy, is watching me make the call. He walks to the passenger side window and stands there a moment, then goes to the front of the car, comes around to my window on the driver’s side, then toward the rear of my car, then walks away.

“I couldn’t see him at that point. I didn’t know exactly where he went. I am on the phone and the officer asked me, “Do you still see him?” I said, “No, I don’t see him.” Then the officer says, ²“If you can’t see him, do you still need us to send an officer? We need you to get to a place where you can see him …”

²Again, absolutely not, repeat – NOT, a statement ever given by George Zimmerman to anyone.  Total fabrication. 

(This is one of those points that will be important later: The policeman’s direction to George can be interpreted different ways. Did George feel the officer was asking him to follow him in his car, or get out of his vehicle to see if he could see where the young man went? George chose the latter.)

I’m walking outside in the rain still on the phone with 911 when the officer says, ‘Are you following him?’

I answered, ‘Yes, I’m following him’ … but I didn’t see him, I am just going in the general direction of where I saw him last.

The officer says, ‘We don’t need you to do that.’

And I say, “Okay.”

The officer on the phone asked me where I wanted the officer to meet me and tells me a responding officer is almost on the scene, about 45 seconds away. I don’t know the exact address inside the complex where I am walking so I just tell them to direct the officer to the club house and I would meet him there. I put the phone in my pocket, turn around to head back to the car, when the guy is right there, fifteen feet away and walking toward me.

He says, “Do you have a problem?”

I say, “No, I don’t have a problem.”

“Well, you do now,” he says, and he’s coming at me.

I look down to get my phone and that’s when he decks me. I saw stars. The punch knocked me to the ground on my back. The guy jumps on top of me, straddles me with his knees up against my ribs and begins to punch me in the face while my head was hitting the concrete sidewalk. When I tried to sit up, he begins to grab my head and smash it on to the concrete again and again and I’m really afraid that I’m going to pass out.

“I notice that I’m about eight inches away from the grass and I try to maneuver my body just enough to get my head onto the grass. About that time a man has come out of his house and I start shouting, ‘Help me, help me!’ ³ The resident says he’s ‘not going to get involved’ but that he would call the cops.

³This is not a quote from George Zimmerman.

I see another man and again shout, ‘Help me, God, help me!” This man says nothing – just runs back into his house and I assume he made a call to the police as well. Two other men saw us out there and did nothing. I finally squirmed onto the grass, but then the guy on top of me takes one of his hands and puts it over my nose and pinches it closed while his other hand goes over my mouth. Afraid I was going to pass out, I desperately got both of my hands around the guy’s wrists and took his hand off my mouth long enough for me to shout again for help.

“For a brief moment I had control of the guy’s wrists, but I knew when he felt the sidearm at my waist. He took his hands off my mouth and nose and went for the gun saying, ‘You’re gonna die now motherfucker.’

“Somehow, I broke his grip on the gun and grabbed it between where the site and hammer is. I got it in my hand, raised it toward the guy’s chest and pulled the trigger.

“The guy sat up and I heard him say, ‘You got it, okay – you got it.’ I am not sure what he meant, but then he pivoted ninety degrees and fell face forward onto the grass and I scooted out from under him.

“I didn’t know I shot him. I actually thought my shot went wide. In fact, I thought he might try to get up again, so after putting my gun back in the holster, I jumped on top of him and pinned his wrist over his head to the ground. A man approached out of the darkness, ‘Are you the police?’ I asked.

‘No,’ the man answered. Then I could see another man emerging from the shadows.

‘Are you the police?’ I called.

‘Yes, I’m an officer.’

I think I said something like, ‘Okay, good,’ and I’m on my knees when the officer told me to put my hands on top of my head. He walked over and pulled my firearm out of my holster and then several officers showed up. I think I realized I had shot the young man when emergency vehicles began to show up. Several officers were bent over the young black man who had not moved.

Then, someone directed an emergency tech to look at my face and head while I was seated on a curb nearby. Another joined him and they cleaned up the cuts, applying some gel to help stop the bleeding on my head. They inserted some gauze tubes into my bleeding nose, and taped some gauze pads to the back of my head.

“They finally told me I had shot the young black man on the grass and that he was dead.

They were already talking to people on the scene about what they saw. I overheard one of the officers tell the medics, ‘Clean him up good if I’m going to take him to the station. I don’t want him bleeding on the inside of the car.’

The last comment was probably not meant for George to hear. When he was telling us the story of the events that night, I understood what the officer was saying. After every shift, officers have to turn their assigned car over to the next officer on duty. It was his responsibility to make sure he handed over a clean and ready car. If it wasn’t clean, the officer would have to take time to clean it himself.  George continued:

“While they walked me to the car for the ride over to the station, one of the officers said, ‘We think we have a pretty good idea of what happened here, but the detective is going to talk to you at the station.’

George spoke about the hours he had spent being interviewed by the violent crimes investigator who focused on the same questions again and again. I looked at my friend and saw the weariness in his eyes, also the pain, and the confusion.

From the moment I heard George speak about the shooting, I never once doubted that my friend was trying to survive that night just to make it back to his wife. He felt his life threatened and it was either him or the other guy; a young Trayvon Martin, a name everyone would come to recognize over the next few weeks.

George Zimmerman would also come to own a fame he did not seek or relish in any way. In fact, in short order, everything dug up about George would be spoken of, written about, and discussed in every newspaper, talk show, and major news network from coast to coast.

All I felt for my friend was absolute heartbreak. I wanted him to know I would be there for the long haul, and said so before he and Shellie shut the door to our guest room that night; a night none of us will ever forget.

{ END }

To Be Continued……