Home: December 23, 2007 to March 8, 2008 - Typed 55 pgs
769-984 mixed prison journal and auto bio pages | |Note 985 to 1523 all prison pages
The 2008 Political Prison Journal of Dr John WorldPeace JD
NEW MATERIAL ADDED AS EDITING TAKES PLACE
December 23, 2007 to March 8, 2008
I was incarcerated on December 23, 2007. I was picked up by the US Federal Marshalls and taken to first to the Harris County hospital and then to the Harris County Jail in downtown Houston by existing protocols between the US Marshals and the Harris County Sheriff’s office. I did not begin to write this journal until February 11, 2008. On July 3, 2008, I was moved to the Federal contract prison, Brooks County, Falfurius, Texas. It took about 3 weeks. I did not write in my prison journal between July 8, 2008 to August 13, 2013 when I settled into Brooks Federal Detention Center. I exited jail on December 21, 2008. I made entries daily in my prison journal until December 19, 2008.
This prison journal includes entries for daily prison activities and events. It also includes thoughts on my life to date, working out all kinds of things regarding my cosmology, my goals after getting out of jail, my abuse and denial of my rights by the Federal Courts, and many other issues. It provides insights to everything I have written since 1970 to date; all of which is on the SiteMap on www.johnworldpeace.com.
So this is much more than just a journal about prison issues, acts and events.
The prison journal is about 280,000 words. Of which 53,000 have been typed and roughly edited once and are on my website.
Overall, in prison, I wrote about 700,000 words. These words were written on 8.5 x 11 inch tablets with 250 words on each page. This came to about 2800 pages. But the majority of the writing covered both sides of the tablet pages and so about 50 of these 50 page tablets.
I also read 55 novels while in prison.
February 11, 2008. After The Morning Count
The jailers entered the 24 unit cell block and announced that this morning they were looking for hooch; home made booze made out of fruit and bread and a bit of sugar. You learn quickly in jail that the community knowledge of so many inmates from so many experiences can take what little is available and make free world substitutes; pencil graphite twisted in toilet paper to arc out a electrical sockets to make fire to light a contraband cigarette, broken disposable razor blades affixed to a comb to make a hair cutting tool.
My name is John WorldPeace and I have at the age of 59 managed to confront enough judges in the great state of Texas and the fascist county of Harris to find myself held in contempt of court by these judges. For me, a now disbarred attorney, I was denied my legal rights. Anyone who has spent 20 years practicing law as I have understands a judge’s ability to rule on evidence that is to be heard and has the ability to rule contrary to the black letter law. It is a common matter of course. Almost any judgment can be contorted out of the law. The real legal system is only a façade of justice.
I live in a 6’x 8’ cell made of cement cinder block walls with cement floors. I have a bed and desk made of heavy 1/8” steel painted a rich green. This goes well with my orange jump suit provided by the county. The effect is one of perpetual Halloween. But only myself has noticed I think.
My sink and toilet are one stainless steel unit with hot and cold buttons for water and a larger button for flushing the toilet. The metal always gives you a wake up if you have to take a seat. Toilet paper is valued because the system regularly brings 3 to 5 rolls less than the number of inmates in residence at any time. As one of the guards yelled at an inmate the other day, “You’re in jail fellow.” In so many ways even when you are in the best cell block of a 9600 inmate facility, you never forget you are in jail. Nothing can be taken for granted.
My two level cement and steel habitat is always cold, probably 68° on the average. Most of my fellow residents walk around with their drab gray-green county issued blankets around them like capes to keep warm. There are no windows and no clocks, the TV provides the time when it is on, another clock the delivery of food and medication for the sick. Lights are turned on at around 4:30 am and off around 10:30 am and also gives a general idea of the time.
Mostly in this cell clock the perpetual cold prays upon your body and mind.
My cell block shares a glass enclosed station where the guards watch their charges and control panels and video screens, except when they sleep out of boredom. I often think about whether we inmates or they the guards are the real prisoners here. The prisoners come and go but the career guards, even though they exit into the free world for a time after their shift is over, must report to their little glass prison five days a week.
The cell block adjoining mine can be seen through the glass enclosed guard post. My cell block houses ex-cop offenders and children and parents of cops. The adjoining cell block is a mirror image on the other side of the common wall and houses murderous teenagers. Young boys whose crimes are so violent they will not see freedom for many decades.
Unlike my cell block where we are seldom locked in by our solid steel doors with a horizontal slot for food and a small vertical window so I can see out and the guards can see in. Those boys are locked down 23 hours a day. They get to exit an hour a day to use the phone, shower and roam the 30’ x 50’ split level common area. It is impossible to imagine what it would be like to live their reality of no future. But who can imagine a teenage kid killing an innocent couple in a random act of violent man hood or taking apart your mothers head with a hammer.
For me, I am Jonah in the body of the whale. I am here for contempt, a six month sentence. For those who understand the dynamics of life, I have been disengaged from my hectic world to ponder and reflect on my past and my future. The nature of my crimes are minor and deliberate. I knew what I was doing. But from these insignificant acts I am being forced to prepare for a new direction in my life. I feel the foundation of that new direction is peace.
I have been a man of great anger at the injustice of individuals and their exclusive and corrupt organizations and most especially at the kind of religious bureaucracies and justice systems not to mention the political bureaucracies of a myriad governmental units. It is time for me to forgive the evil acts of one human being to another. The raw generic prejudice based on race, religion, nationality and gender. But more so at the level of human to human, where all too often when a person is given a choice of doing the right thing or the wrong thing, with no consequences of either decision, the inclination to do the wrong thing. There is nothing so tragic as to know right and not do it.
I feel I will not leave the belly of this jail until I have a change of heart and that means in part the ability to forgive.
In his letters to the Philippines, Paul states, “Brothers, I do not feel that I have fully understood or embraced what Christ is teaching me but one thing I have learned to do and that is to forget what is behind and past me and reaching toward what is ahead of me, my destiny. I cannot be what I must be to proceed as an advocate of peace unless, and until, I acknowledge that I must forgive or at least let go of the wrongs that I perceive have been forced on me. I know that this is critical to my spiritual well being but it is the one area that is the most difficult to release. Yet I feel deep inside that I will not be coughed up from this cold hell back into the free world of light until I embrace it.”
February 11, 2008 After Commissary
On Monday morning the cart enters the cell block. Men who the night before perfectly filled out their computerized forms, lest they be rejected and the weekly mini Christmas be lost, stand anxiously along the wall as their names are called by the always irritated deputies.
The brown paper grocery sacks sit on the 3 tiered stainless steel cart with the cases of ice cream on top; 2 or 3 flavors, never the same. But it is the Blue Bell brand which is the best Texas has to offer. It has to be eaten immediately because even the 68° environment will not prevent it from melting.
Your name is called, you breathe a sign of relief that your form went through and you are about to get a weekly taste of the free world. Your provisions are dumped on the stainless steel picnic bench and the brown paper bag is given to you. As each item is called you grab it and put it in your bag. Of course each week a new deputy has his or her own rules about touching your goods before being authorized. Best not to try to help, speak when spoken to, act when authorized, is the best plan.
Once you have taken all your weekly Christmas packages you must sign the form and then ink and place your thumb print next to your signature. Next you quickly go to your cell like a mouse with a prized piece of cheese, back to your little hole in the wall, your home in the whale’s belly.
Of course there are those who have no one to fund their account so commissary Monday brings the pain of remembering just how alone you really are; completely cut off from the free world. No matter, these people were alone in the free world before they came to the zoo to be cared for by their unpredictable keepers.
At these times I always think of my father’s story about his mother always crying at Christmas or she was shunned by her sisters at the family Christmas gatherings. They made sure she received no present.
One thing about jail that one needs to never forget is that both the guards and the inmates are psychotic and unpredictable.
February 11, 2008 After Lunch
The main cell block entrance is one door to the main hallway, one of many in the maze. In the morning, breakfast is delivered in a plastic bag consisting of a fruit, boiled egg or cereal, energy bar or small sweet roll in addition to a pint of 1% low fat white milk. Very seldom chocolate milk is available but in a controlled environment choices always tend to create conflict. So it is best not to introduce a selection.
Sometimes the breakfast trustees bring in the bags and place them on the stainless steel tables and sometimes hand them through the door to the main entrance. Sometime they are delivered through the slot in the cell doors. Each deputy has the authority to do as he or she pleases.
We are awakened at 4:30 am by way of the bright fluorescent lights being turned on in our cells and the loud electronic unlocking of the doors. Even if the doors are not locked the electronic unlocking wakes you up.
We then go from our rooms in a half sleep to the table and take a plastic breakfast bag and milk. That is usually followed by a short trading of eggs for fruit and energy bars for cereal or just simply giving away part or all of one’s breakfast. Some inmates do not eat breakfast and have designated some other inmate to get their breakfast every morning.
The problem with the self serve method is that sometime an inmate will take two breakfasts and someone does without. Another problem is that someone takes a warm milk they had from the prior day and drops it into the plastic basket containing breakfast and takes out two cold milks leaving someone to get sick potentially from the old milk.
One such fellow we called Bullet Head, a 22 year old Hispanic on strong mind control medication made a habit of the above practices. Bullet Head got is name from the fact that he had been caught inside a house burglarizing it. The owner confronted him, and even though Bullet Head begged not to be shot, the home owner could not resist.
He fired and Bullet Head took a slug right below of his jaw bone and it lodged in his upper spine in an inoperable position. Of course this does not keep him from fighting with the potential of becoming paralyzed by the shifting slug.
I asked Bullet Head how it felt to be shot with a 44 caliber bullet. He said he did not feel anything. It knocked him to the floor but he jumped right back up facing the homeowner. Blood was squirting from the wound in his neck. The homeowner decided to put his finger in the leak as opposed to shooting him again and thus preventing Bullet Head from bleeding out. He said the wife went screaming and freaking from the scene and called 911.
Some people would have taken the incident as a God given miracle and changed their ways, but alas, Bullet Head tended to ignore that enlightenment and instead considered himself bullet proof. It is hard for me to imagine a more dramatic way for God to get someone’s attention. The lesson is to never assume that others process information and events the way you do.
Within a few weeks all the guys who laughed at Bullet Head and his antics got bored and several ‘old schools’ (old men) filed complaints against him. He was taken out of the cell block and put in general population and was immediately beat up.
Lunch and dinner come in white Styrofoam take out trays. They are handed through the main door to the cell block (tank). The food is balanced but bland. If you want condiments you have to buy them, if you have someone to put money into your commissary account that is.
I saw the same thing in boot camp when I was in the Army in 1970. Some people just have so social skills and in a place like this they suffer a bit more than most.
February 11, 2008 After Supper
Supper was the usual bland food, filling and adequate but tasteless. The TV loudly echoes off the concrete walls as per usual and the inmates settle into their routine of TV, visiting and playing chess. I played a game of chess trying to concentrate but as per usual I lost interest as other real life things occupied my mind. I made several foolish moves, mindless moves and lost. So it has always been with me and games.
Later in the evening an inmate named Mark held a prayer service. As he did a few nights ago, he kept it to about 10 minutes. I had been asked by several inmates to begin a nightly prayer meeting but I did not feel that I was the one to do this and declined. A week later Mark came to the cell block and immediately began to minister to those who were looking to me for guidance.
I thought about the scriptures which state that all people have to do is to ask in order to receive. God sent Mark to these men. I participated in the prayer meeting even as other Christian inmates criticized Marks small ministry.
After the meeting I asked Mark to see his Bible. I found that it had been read often. It was marked on every sentence of every page. I have no doubt he had read it cover to cover several times and was thoroughly familiar with all of it.
Mark is a murderer. He allegedly killed his neighbor. He was a police officer. He was tried and found guilty and sentenced. But his case was overturned on appeal. I first met him several weeks ago in a holding tank on the way back from court. He said then that a jury was being selected.
When he arrived in the tank I asked him how the trail went and he said after selecting and dismissing the separate juries his new trail was put off until June. He said the Lord was taking care of him.
You never know the truth about any of the inmates. They tell you only what they want you to know. It is best not to ask. If someone wants to tell you their story they will.
Criminals are an interesting group of people. I know burglars from the time I was practicing law who were perfect fathers and husbands and attended church each Sunday and did not curse or drink. But they would break in a house and steal. It is hard for me to discount an entire life under these circumstances. The world is full of good Christians who are lesser men than criminals I have known. There are no easy answers when it comes to human beings. The truth is often paradoxical.
February 13, 2008 3 AM
The guard in the picket announced someone’s name. I had been asleep for more then a few hours so it awakened me. Normally, after about 2 ½ hours of sleep I am ready to get up but I usually sleep 4 hours if not disturbed.
The speakers are difficult to hear because of the concrete walls which create a multiple echo effect. As it turns out he was calling Ronnie Gin. Ronnie and I had become friends. He is light skinned black guy and close to my age. He also is an intelligent man with whom I discussed religious matter and life in prison. Ronnie had been convicted of conspiracy in what was allegedly the largest Ecstasy bust in the world, millions of pills. But at trial Ronnie was only tied to the selling of 10 pills of some other drug. The judge refused a special verdict to the jury. A special verdict would have asked the jury whether Ronnie was guilty of association with 2 specific drugs as opposed to the 6 listed on the indictment.
Due to the judge’s refusal, the case law ruled that he could only be sentenced to the crime with the lowest minimum, and with Ronnie’s clean history he would have been sentenced to 5 years under the Federal guidelines as opposed to the 15 years he actually received.
Ronnie’s lawyer was appealing the case but since Ronnie had already been in jail 5 years he had the option to file a writ of Habeas Corpus for immediate release. He did not have to wait for over a year to get a ruling on the same issue in his appeal. We had been working on getting his documents together.
As is typical, he had done a lot of case law research and had stumbled on a case that was right on point. He had given it to his lawyer but the lawyer as is typical never sent a copy of his appellate brief to Ronnie so he did not know if the lawyer had included his cases or not.
Now Ronnie was being transferred from the Harris Country Jail back to the Federal Prison where he had been. In the Federal Prison he would have a lot more access to the law library. In county we had an hour a week, which after the lecture comes to about 15 minutes. He would also be a __ as apposed to a low, medium, or high facility so he would have plenty of time to pursue his case and call his lawyer which is not possible in county. The 9600 inmates County Jail is set up for short term, less than six month sentences and the transfer and holding of inmates for many different purposes. The reality is that the system is somewhat fascinating, the managing of all the inmates coming and going to various courts and being transferred to and from prisons all over the US.
I will miss our conversations, chess playing and exercise periods, mostly just walking the first level, then up the stairs, around the smaller landing on level 2 and back down the stairs. Often we would include various kinds of push ups and pull ups on the stainless steel benches and underneath the metal stairs.
I have his SPN number but inmates in prison are not allowed to communicate with other inmates in other prisons. So to communicate with other inmates you have to mail your letter to a relative or friend outside the system and have them forward it. It makes the staying in touch complicated. Friends and family are well intentioned but they have their own lives to deal with. So a letter may take three weeks to be delivered.
My life has been very busy and I have had little time for socializing in the traditional sense. My clients provide that socializing through our business relationships and family fills in my free time. Most people who see the same dozen or so people at work each day seem to need more traditional socializing with friends outside of work. Having even casual non business friends has not been something I have experienced. Even though Ronnie and I became friends it was more in the nature of Army friendship where you connect with someone at a duty station and then say goodbye as you are reassigned never to connect again.
Death of a friend or family member is different. With death you know that you will never see that person again. Death means that the memories that only you and the friend or family member experienced will not be discussed again because the only person you could re-live the memory with has left the planet.
February 13, 2008 After Count
Every morning and every night we have to be counted. All the inmates must gather downstairs. Sometimes on the weekends the guards will count from the picket window. The majority of the time one of the guards comes down and personally counts. In the morning the guard usually brings his index cards and calls each name. You are required to answer with the last 3 digit of your SPN number. 02335115 is my number.
Tonight we were told to lock our doors. Usually if we are not told specifically to do so I don’t lock my door by slamming it shut until it clicks into position. I close my door leaving a 1/2” inch crack. I prefer not to feel locked up like a criminal.
There was a time that being locked in a cement cage would have caused me anxiety. For some reason I do not have that experience now. I always have food and water or some kind of drink and my own personal laboratory. One thing is certain, with a locked door no can enter your room at night unless the guard flips the switch on your cell. The magnet like sound of the releasing steel door is very loud bouncing off the walls and can not help but awaken you.
When I first arrived here, several inmates would gather in one cell and then they would chat all night. The TV is off at night and the noise in this cell block is much reduced. The inmates tell me that when they stay up all night, they sleep until lunch which is served at about 11:00 am. They say it makes time go faster. Most of these guys sleep 8 – 10 hours a day. I sleep about 4 so I feel I am actually serving a longer sentence because I am conscience more than they are.
Last night for some reason, after everyone locked themselves in, about 5 inmates started yelling at each other through the feeding slot in their door. The effect was that of the monkey cage at the zoo. Just random hoots and hollers and calls between human monkeys. At times like these I wonder if there was something in the food or some show on TV that hyped them up. The guard became irritated and slammed his fist on the window because his voice over the speakers was not being heard and since he was alone he could not come down and make a threatening appearance.
It occurred to me that he began to lock everyone in at night so that he could sleep in the picket. With the cell doors open, he would have to monitor the traffic between cells.
A few of the inmates who are religious in here or have found Jesus on entering the system and have stayed for a significant time have read and studied their bibles extensively. Many can tell you the location of most any verse or story. And each seems to have a verse or two which they claim has changed their lives.
When I say changed their lives, I use that phrase with reservation. It is easy to find and follow Jesus in a cage where the temptations of the free world do not impact on your daily routine. Choices are extremely limited here and the temptations of your home environment do not exist.
Too many of these fellows lose Jesus on exiting confinement. They can still talk the talk outside but they can’t walk the walk in a totally free world when choices of doing wrong or right exist at every moment.
The religion of the cell block is basic Jesus Christianity. Simple teaching, basic lessons and examples that are easy to understand. I have found no religious philosophies in here. No discussions of the nature of God. No abstracts. Just Jesus said or the Bible says.
God is an abstract concept. The Infinite Immortal spirit which resides in the human body is limited by that body. Hearing, sight, taste, touch, smell are all limited. We can’t hear or smell like a dog or see like an eagle. Our bodies are only conscious to a limited degree as well. There is an infinite amount of reality of which the human being is unconscious of. And the human soul’s greater awareness cannot come to consciousness in the limited capacity of the human mind.
Buddha became awakened. He was able to expand his consciousness and consequently saw more of the nature of things but by no means all. Jesus achieved the same. He told his disciples and followers that they could not fully grasp this reality so they had no chance of understanding the kingdom of God. Buddha in fact refused to discuss it. His focus was on living right and the eight fold path.
The Tao Ching opens with the concept that the God that can be described or defined is not the real God. And human logical linear attempt to describe God is immediately limiting. God is all inclusive.
Westerners understand that God is all inclusive but still tend to visualize God as an old man in the Old and New Testaments and the Koran. There is only One God, there’s only one all inclusive essence but the West has only one name for God. In the East there is Brahma which is this all inclusive essence and any concept of God in human form is a manifestation of this all inclusive presence.
Hindu’s are accused of having many God’s. This is not really true. There is only one Brahma but Brahma is abstract and not really defined. The many Gods of Hinduism are prophets, saviors, avatars. So there is one God but many Jesus figures. Hinduism is not one religion but many, each centered around its own Jesus incarnation.
In the Old Testament in the Christian Bible which are the five books of Moses in Judaism, God refers to himself to Moses as “I am that I am.” In other parts he describes himself as “Beyond understanding.” This comes back to the Tao pronouncement that the real God can’t be defined or described.
Essentially there is no where that God is not. All things are manifestations of what I call the Infinite Potential. From this Infinite Oneness all things manifest and back into this Infinite Oneness all things in time disintegrate. The Infinite Potential is all inclusive indescribable unknowable infinite immortal concept of God. This is as expansive a definition of this aspect of God that the human mind can create.
God is described in anthropomorphic terms in order to make it easier for human beings to relate to God and this spiritual Oneness within the Infinite Potential all inclusiveness which it refers to. The Infinite Potential still falls short of relating what God is. It is just a term I use for communicating no different then “I am that I am” and beyond understanding.
February 13, 2008 After Lunch
After 8 weeks here the bland food is becoming too repetitive. I have eaten everything they have on the menu. I am drinking milk which I have not done for thirty years and I am eating more fruit that I have in my life. The fruit keeps a high level of Vitamin C in my system and prevents colds. I had a very bad cold about three weeks after I arrived and I don’t want to repeat it. The cell is cold and visits to the doctor usually come after you are well, if at all. The cure all is Motrin, 500 mg tablets.
Each day my self imposed routine expands. Today I decided that instead of washing all my socks, underwear and such when I showered, I would wash one thing each day. I can do that in my lavatory sink. I have also learned to take an empty peanut butter jar and place 2 or 3 bars of soap in it and fill it with water. Over a few days it creates a liquid soap detergent. That can be poured on the clothes instead of soaping them with the bar of soap. It is a lot easier.
February 14, 2008 Pre-dinner
The cold has returned to the cell block. Everyone is again wrapped in their pseudo wool blankets and those old guys like me with little hair have towels on their heads. I remember my father’s father wearing wool long underwear in the middle of summer. He weighed 135 pounds. I weigh about 190 now. My feet are my thermostat, if they are cold, I am cold.
At night, every night, I wear two pairs of socks and a head piece made from the elastic tops of two socks. I carved a needle with the blades of a disposable razor out of a plastic spoon that comes with every meal. I carefully pulled a thread from my torn sheet to sew the socks together. All sheets are torn and dingy. I don’t know if the sheets were ever white.
The only experience I have to compare this incarceration to is my tour of duty in Italy from September 1971 to May 1972 while in the US army. I was stationed in Vicenza, Italy and Sandra and I lived on the economy. We had a small apartment on the fourth floor of a five story building. The walls were cement and stucco and the floor was marble. The radiant heaters never raised the temperature to more than 68° the same as this cell.
I was only twenty-three back then but I did not get warm until I returned to Houston after my discharge in my 1972.
February 15, 2008 1 AM
I went to sleep at about 10 PM and so I had to wake up for count at 10:30. I could not go back to sleep. There is no noise right now. No yelling from the other cell blocks near or far. No sound at all. The quiet is so wonderful.
[ASIDE: As I often do, I stepped back from this 18” x 28” desk and observed it from my bed a few feet away. I look at my tiny desk with my condiments, shampoo and other hygiene items, oranges and my tumbler which I use to keep things cool for a few hours. I may get an orange juice that I want to drink later and so I keep it cool in the tumbler. My underwear is hanging off the end of the desk drying. I look at these things and I wonder about other peace advocates writing their epistles. I have a sense of this experience now. I mostly think about the Apostle Paul. I read Acts in the New Testament over and over. I read his letters as well. But I also think of Gandhi who is closer in time to me.]
February 15, 2008 After Breakfast
After eating my peanut butter and jelly on graham cracker energy bar I went back to sleep. I was awakened about 30 minutes later due to my heart beating rapidly. I got up and began to walk off the gas in my stomach which was putting pressure in my heart making me feel like I was going to have another heart attack. Since my 1997 heart attack I have found that I am adversely affected by hot spices and peppers if I eat them in the late evening.
My friend Robbie gave me a flour tortilla with some spiced up Ramen noodles inside. Eight hours later I woke with the unusual gas problem. I have found that once those spices get into my lower intestine they create gas in my stomach. It makes no sense to me but that is the reality. After I got out of jail someone told me I had erratic bowel syndrome. The only problem was that we were locked in last night and I only had my 6 x 8 cell to walk off the gas. Had the door been open, I would have walked it off in the common area. For me, asking the guard for anything is to be avoided. In 30 minutes the feeling had passed and I began to wash my T shirts in my sink.
February 16, 2008 After Supper
For the last several days I had begun to consider shaving my head. The hair on the top of my head is so thin that it could not be seen except close up and the baldness was extending down the back of my head.
When I was a young boy in the 50’s I remember going to church and seeing all the old men with hair just like mine has become. I never liked that look. I also have always had an aversion to personally wearing a toupee.
In addition, my life is definitely in transformation and it seemed appropriate to do something to my physical appearance to remind me of that change.
February 17, 2008 After Lunch
Lunch today was meatballs and macaroni, one of the better meals they have here. I have decided to change my eating habits a bit. I am not going to drink the milk any longer because of the cholesterol but I am also not going to take food from the other inmates except boiled eggs which I will eat after removing the cholesterol containing yoke. I am also going to eat the entire meal and not break it up into smaller meals during the day. The reason is that I had lost about ten pounds since coming in here but when I weighed a few days ago, when I went to get my heart medicine, I had gained four pounds back. I had already lost about thirty pounds since Kay left in January 2007 and I needed to loose another twenty to get down to one hundred seventy-five, a good weight for me.
This morning, as every morning, I wrote with event after event coming to me that needed to be included in the book. I have about thirteen pages of two hundred items to write about. I still believe the book with be about eight hundred pages.
February 18, 2008 After Breakfast
I am a person who has been blessed or cursed with a very active, creative, disciplined mind. I also am fearless in that I do not restrict my thoughts or my actions. I obviously misjudged somewhat or I would not be in jail right now but then had I did not misjudge the law, I doubt that I would be writing this book. I feel this book is a critical part of my destiny. I have been in the Army, raised a family, acquired an education, learned to write poetry and now I am writing a book about jail. Funny I enjoyed books like Pappion The __ __ and Cool _ __ and __ of ___ and Shawshank Redemption and Green Mile.
It took me many years to discover an art form that I was happy with. Now that I have that process refined, I have the tools to visually express what is in my thoughts. I have also developed a poetic style to relate what I see in another format. And now I am in the first steps of refining a method of narrative communication.
I have also found a way to produce income on a rather high level. The problem now is a limited amount of time. I cannot be a master poet, writer, artist, business man, spiritual leader, fortune teller for the human society. I have been truly blessed with many talents and I have been blessed with a great deal of energy but like all humans I have been given only so much time to live in this reality. During this stay in jail, I feel I must decide how I will allocate my time when I get out. I must decide what I will prioritize. In truth, I will try to do what I feel will most benefit the human society and plant the seeds of peace for individual as well as social peace.
My life really means little in the sense of typical pleasures and creative comforts. The amount of living space I have or the car I drive and other material pleasures mean nothing to me. My thoughts and visions are so rich and dynamic that I don’t need those other things. I do need female company to complete me. I need a normal woman who has little interest in deep philosophical discussions.
February 18, 2008 Before Chow
The deputies came in unannounced as per usual to perform a shake down. This happens about once every three weeks. We take our blanket, towel, sheet and move to the common area to the stainless steel picnic tables. There we put our heads down on our blanket, towel and sheet and put our hands behind our head with our fingers crossed. No talking, no looking up until they get through tossing each room. The blanket, towel and sheet and our orange uniforms are the only things we are allowed to have in our room other than things we bought from the commissary. I can have legal files and books too.
This was the second time they threw away my prescriptions from the prior month. I will know next time I get my refills to combine the medicine in the newest battle. They left everything else of mine scattered all over my room. All I cared about was my pens. I have about 45 of them because I get the other inmates to order them for me and I order commissary for them. I am limited to ten pens per week and a pen writes on about four 8.5 x11 sheets of paper. They left them alone but I can’t be sure they didn’t see them and may take them next time. My ability to write is my sanity.
When I first got here I made a Trojan helmet out of twisted newspaper and strips of plastic bags we get our breakfast in each morning. Everyone liked it but it was trashed in the first shake down. I had also made a pillow out of newspaper wrapped in the plastic bags and that was taken. My little empty milk cartons I used to organize my razors, soap, salt and so on was also trashed. I had bought a diet drink which comes in a plastic bottle so I could easily mix my cool-aid and that was trashed. One guy mixed his regular and dandruff shampoos and that was trashed. It was the wrong color.
One of the inmates started yelling the other day because of the noise. He was having a bad day. When he would not shut up the deputy came out of the picket into the cell block. He was a very tall black man and in a deep loud voice he simply told the inmate that he is in jail. In other words, I don’t care fellow. You’re in jail so shut up and deal with it. If you can’t I have ways to deal with you. That is the bottom line. I am in jail.
February 18, 2008 After Supper
I have noticed for some reason that since I shaved my head my cell looks lighter and less cluttered. I don’t know why. I have not changed anything. There is just a feeling that somehow a load has been lifted from me. Each day brings me more peace. Things are becoming clearer. It just seems strange that the room seems to reflect what I am feeling mentally.
Taking a break, my fellow inmate laughed as I excited my cell. They have begun to refer to me as the Emperor from the movie Star Wars. I wear my deep orange county issued clothes. On my shoulders is my cream colored sheet folded like a shoulder cape for warmth. On my head is my bright blue towel that they say makes me look like the Emperor looking under the blue towel. I am the oldest guy in the tank but I have more energy than all of them put together. There are no jerks in this tank. We mostly laugh, b.s. and tell lies to pass the time. They call me WorldPeace. It seems like the Army but we have no work or mission. Just monkeys in a cage, isolated in the penalty box of life. I keep thinking about Gandhi and what he laughed about for all those years in prison. And what about the Apostle Paul, in and out of jail two thousand years ago. Paul was a saint and Gandhi was a great soul but in prison their humanity kept them grounded and humbled by the injustice foisted on God’s chosen.
February 19, 2008 Prior to Supper
Last night I visited with an inmate named Mark whose Bible was so marked up and understand that I would not have been surprised to find that he had memorized large numbers of passages and verses. I have been reading a book titled “The Purpose Driven Life.” The theme of the book is that we should completely surrender to God. I had thought the book was about how to find my destiny and then pursue it. The reality is that the book was teaching the reader how to be totally in sync with God. The book has many scriptures to bolster its message.
I thought it would be interesting to study this book with Mark because it seemed to be in total sync with his philosophy. So I gave it to him to read last night and to tell me if he wanted to carry on a discussion group. Early this morning I thought if we did begin to study it we could include other inmates in the discussion.
Just before supper Mark came into my cell with the book and commented that the first line of the Table of Contents “What On Earth Am I here For?” was in fact what he had said the first night he was here as he began a prayer session. For me, that would have caused me to immediately read the book. So much of what I have read so far is right in my line with what he has been communicating with me and others since he has been here.
After Mark made a few comments and we had a short discussion he gently laid the book down on my desk. It was an act of saying he was not interested in an on going discussion. I immediately understood that Mark like other inmates in here essentially believe that and Bible commentary is evil and from a false prophet. In other words he felt that to read anyone else’s opinion would be to give one’s self over to Satan. I find it hard to understand how someone can believe that anyone commenting on the Bible is a false prophet. So much for Mark. I reached out to him to find we have very little outside of the Bible in common. The word is that Mark murdered his neighbor. But the truth is hard to come by in jail. When directly asked, Mark told me that he did not want to discuss what he had done.
[Note: In taking on any kind of serious endeavor like this book you have to understand that there is no instruction book. You have to begin on faith, you must begin with some act or nothing will happen. As you proceed you begin to understand how to best proceed. Since I began the endeavor I have been making lists of things I wanted to discuss. But my life is so long now that I have monumental job just organizing the list to determine how best to integrate all the ideas. What I realized works is as I get these ideas (actually remember past thought, events and people) I just need to go ahead and write them down at that time. Let God organize the book. What I am thinking about is what needs to be next written. With my poems I just let things flow but those poems are only twenty line creations. My feeling is that this book will be 1600 hand written pages that will be reduced to an eight hundred page printed book.]
February 20, 2008 After Breakfast
Unlike yesterday, the breakfast packs were delivered in a plastic milk carton and we reached in and retrieved our bag and our milk. Yesterday they just dumped the packs on the floor between the double exit doors. To exit the cell block you are required to go through door one which enters into a 8 x 10 room. The door closes behind you and then the door to the main hall opens. I felt like a dog having my food dumped on the floor not to mention the dirt.
Like in the movie the Green Mile, we have a little brown mouse that visits often. He comes under the entrance door, turns to his right and enters the first cell on the right. He was last seen yesterday morning. Corey, the inmate occupant of that room, has a lot of commissary (food). I think Fred, (that is what he has been named) goes in there and has breakfast each morning. If he is not killed, I am sure he will be bringing a family soon. It is interesting how a mouse can get into an all concrete building. I wonder if he has an exit to the outside or if he lives in here somewhere. He has to move down the hallway and there is no way he could not be seen. I have to say he is smarter then some of the inmates.
Dennis, a newhouse (the generic name for a new guy to the cell), is about 21. He is the second youngest kid that has come in here that takes heavy medication. He is small and very thin. Looks like he has been sleeping in the streets. These guys act like they take their meds but don’t unless the nurse crushes the pill and they have to swallow it. They sell the pill to someone for commissary. The meds essentially make you sleep. And since time goes faster when you can sleep it away, the pills are in demand. I guess other pills give a little buzz. The bad news it that when these mental cases don’t take their pills, they do stupid things. Last night Dennis dumped his supper in his toilet and apparently jammed his baked potato in the drain hole and flushed the toilet until it over flowed. He was in a cell on the top floor. The guys moved him down to level one where it was colder. These guys need to be with others like them who need to stay medicated. I guess life in here is not as boring as it seems.
One thing interesting is that these guys were watching a show called Jail on TV last night. I guess it is a weekly TV show about bad boys in jail. IT would seem that they would rather watch a show that did not remind them of the fact that they are in jail. But I guess it is fun to watch how some of the bad boys act in other jails. Also you get to see how they live. The cell block I saw last night was a lot nicer than this one. If I had not seen some of these things for real, I would wonder if the show was scripted. They tell me that some of the cell blocks here continuous fights and the guards just let it happen. I am told that the tanks that have the most violent offenders are very quiet and everyone is very polite. I guess all those guys have a hair trigger and try to manage their anger. They tell me prison is really hard if you don’t follow the code. Borrowing a candy bar and not paying it back the next week when commissary comes can get you stabbed. Lying will get you stabbed. Associating outside your race can cause major problems. I am fortunate to be in a cell block with cops where I don’t have to worry about that nonsense. They tell me if you can’t cope you can ask to be locked down and then protect yourself. Some of these cells have three beds and a shower in a room just a bit larger then y 8 x 10 room.
Often at night I will hear what sounds like heavenly choirs echoing through the halls. I have 90% hearing loss in my left ear and this whole concrete structure causes echoes all over. My hearing does play tricks on me but I swear I hear choir music frequently when it is very quiet between 10:30 PM and 6 AM.
Robby is getting out in twelve days due to a new law reducing the sentencing guidelines for crack cocaine to be in line with powder cocaine. He is thirty-two and has been in jail eight of the ten last years. He was not due to get out until September 5, 2008, so he got lucky and now he is out on March 3, 2008, the first day his judge can reduce his sentence. He has begun to write rap songs. He was written ten in three days and even though I don’t like rap I think what he has written is pretty good. He has a lot of talent. Too bad it has been subordinated to his cursing. He is in that place I often visit where the creativity just flows. When that happens you have to stay working until it leaves. If not, you will lose whatever the universe (spirit world, God) was sending you. From twenty-two to thirty-eight I kept my creative connection by writing short poems. During that time I fine tuned my ability to recognize and receive my inspiration. At thirty-eight after finishing law school, I began to paint and that creative was changed to receive paintings more than poems.
This morning is the first time I have seen a painting in a long time. I do not see them unless I am very much at peace, and I don’t see them unless I am going to be in a position to paint. I see these paintings in a dream or a vision during the day. I see them as finished works and unlike the poems, which have to be immediately written or lost, the paintings stay with me for years.
When I was in the seventh grade I was put into a special art class taught by the art teacher in his off period, Henry Gadbois was his name. I remained in the class until he went to another school when I began ninth grade. In ninth grade I took art from another teacher who gave me a “D” because I would not finish moronic projects. With Mr. Gadbois the nine of us did whatever we wanted for a long as it took. I refused to take art my last semester of Junior High. I tried again the first semester of High School but even though I made a B as I tried to conform, I never took another art class in school.
While I was with Mr. Gadbois I determined that I was not going to paint traditional paintings. I wanted to paint something unique, out of my head. Much later I realized that my art would be very symbolic and metaphysical using primary and secondary colors to make them bright and uplifting, and to take some of the edge of the intellectual hard line form. I only use oil on canvas which I build and stretch. I finally found my technique in 1986 with a little painting I titled “Running Man.” My son Davis said he liked it and that somehow drew my attention to the fact that tinting colors was going to be part of my style. I have tried to paint two or three paintings a year since then. The demands on my time have not allowed much more. The larger paintings take up to one hundred and fifty hours. I draw them out like paint by numbers and then color them in by mixing a color and dabbing that color in the areas I want and then painting that space. Kay for a couple of years did the fill in. She liked it after she quit worrying about “messing up” my art. She loved to do ceramics and so painting was easy for her.
My intention is to return to my art as soon as I get out of jail. I hope to find a couple of high school or college girls who like art and let them do the coloring. I will mix the colors and dab the spaces. I feel I can have them work near me so I can do other things as I….
…supervise their work. I tend to work an hour then look at the art to finish it in my mind for a hour. I do this until the work is finished. I may see the painting with bright reds but when I begin to actually create it, I see that colors of red will not work. That is why I spend as much time painting in my head as I actually paint with my hands.
Right now I have these legal matters associated with my incarnation. I may be free in a week or four months. I don’t know if I will continue to live in Houston or move. I don’t know if I will restart my web design business or not. I don’t know how this book may effect my future. I only feel that I will finish it before I exit the jail. I feel it is the reason I am in jail. All I can do right now is to proceed to write. There is nothing I can do about what is going on outside this jail. My son John, Kay, and to some degree my mother are taking care of things. I know that all things are as they should be. I feel I have significant work to do that relates to advocating peace because that has been my life focus. I can see where I have been, but my potential future and purpose are several. All my life has been cleared. I would be blind to not see that the only reason to clear my entire life would be to engage in something that will take all my energy. But what that path will be is still unknown and unclear. Each day I write my past and my philosophy and my spirituality and I contemplate my future. In some ways, I feel like Christmas is coming and with it a path of life that will be dynamic. That is all I feel certain about.
February 23, 2008 After Breakfast
Things here in jail have become more and more routine. I am becoming more a part of the landscape in here. I get along with everyone and talk to everyone and that irritates some people. There is a definite hierarchy of criminals in here. The ones that have been to prison and survived that much harsher environment tell stories about that experience that assure me that I do not want to go there. It is a place where you are hassled at every moment and you have to be prepared to fight or live in hell. I feel like these ex-cons who have survived four or five more years in the main prison system are as hardcore as soldiers who have been to war. In war, it seems there is a lot of time between battles but in prison you have to watch everyone around you all the time. Sometimes you have to just make sure you are not close to someone who is about to get seriously hurt. Another thing that these ex-cons say is that in prison it is all about respect and telling the truth. If you run into someone accidentally you need to say excuse me. If you say you are going to do something you had better do it.
The other thing is that there is little tolerance for child molesters on any level, even flashing ones genitals. I feel sure that the child molesters in here would have been already been harmed if it were not for the fact that no one wants to deal with the possibility of being put in the general population. I was asked last night why I was in the pervert tank. Actually it was a cell where three sex crime inmates were kept.
I don’t really judge any of these people. There are a lot of unindicted criminals running free in society and like I tell all these guys, they know how unjust and corrupt the legal system is, you can never really get at the truth. I tell them that I give my input based on the facts that I am given. I always assume I am not getting all the truth. But for me the way people present their case is interesting. And how they deal with their alleged criminal acts is interesting. Every human being on the earth has stories to tell about their life experiences. I find there all interesting. I have no intention of ever returning to this environment and so I am making the most of it. As with everything I do, it is important for me to come away with some degree of knowledge or enlightenment. I may one day find myself in prison. I want all the knowledge about that environment that I can get. You can get killed in prison if you are stupid.
Another reality of this environment is racism. There is a certain number of Whites and Hispanics who talk about the Blacks in a racist way. I believe that America has a chance of taking a great leap forward toward a more equal and just society if Barak Obama becomes president and Hillary becomes Vice President. Both blacks and women will gain significantly in all aspects of society.
We live in a masculine society that is too eager to go to war. When the Senate and the Legislature are 50/50 male and female that war mentality edge is going to be significantly dulled. When America becomes truly color blind it will take a giant leap towards realizing its destiny to lead the world into a true democracy where all men (and women) truly have equal opportunities regardless of skin color.
I spent many years wondering why racism so dominated the old south in the United Sates. Then one day I was reading something about WWI veterans. It was a story about how they were dying off and with them the first hand memories of that war. In fact, just a few days ago there was a newspaper outside about the last surviving American WWI veteran. He was 107.
I then realized that when my grandmother was born in 1905(?) there were a lot of old Confederate veterans around. And there can be no doubt that these old men had not changed their attitudes about the blacks that they fought to keep enslaved. The KKK was a viable organization, a terrorist organization, by today’s definition.
So these old men passed on their prejudices to my grandmother’s generation and that generation passed it on to my parents and my parents tried to pass it on to me. The reason that racism continued to dominate the South is because even though the Civil War had been over for one hundred years when I graduated high school in 1966. The very last confederate veteran did not die until the late 1950’s. The dark side is society cast a long shadow. I often watch a nine part series on the Civil War by Ken Burns. I am mystified about that war and American dying for a cause that was so un-American: slavery.
February 23, 2008 After lunch
Lunch did not settle well in my stomach I think. The food is starting to get to my system. I have not recovered completely since getting sick last week. That is the problem here in jail. It is hard to recover from any sickness. Medical attention is slow if even existent. My stomach problems feel like minor heart problems and that tends to keep me a bit on edge. My father has had stomach problems all his life as did my mother’s father. So I have to be careful what I eat and stay with a bland diet. That is not a problem because my sense of taste and smell seems to be about 20 % of normal. I doubt that it was ever more than 40%.
I also learned when I had my heart attack that I have a very high tolerance for pain. I also know my hearing has always been off in some way because I could never hear the words to songs that were not slow and clear. In addition, I had a bad cold at the end of 2006 and my left ear was marginally closed. I have had problems with that ear for decades. Hearing in it would come and go. On December 30, 2006 my granddaughter Sarah had come to visit with Kay and I, along with Kay’s granddaughter. When Sarah went home she told a lie about me. The alleged event took place at the dinner table with Kay and Emily present. Steph called me up and started screaming in the phone about what Sarah told her had happened. She screamed so loud I pulled the phone away from my ear and Kay could hear her from ten feet away. Shortly after that, a few hours, the hearing in my left ear was down to about 10 %. It has not returned to normal.
I told Stephanie that Sarah was lying which did not surprise me. The snake is a very deceitful person and Stephanie is a natural born liar. I was not surprised to verify that that trait was passed to Sarah. I told Stephanie that Emily and Kay were witnesses and that she needed to have a talk with Sarah. Stephanie hung up, talked with Sarah, and called me back stating that Sarah admitted to lying. Sarah is ten. Stephanie did not apologize she just said that Sarah admitted lying. My hearing is gone in my left ear and I can never trust Sarah again.
February 25, 2008 After Breakfast
I woke up this morning when someone slammed my door shut. I did not lock up last night. I guess from now on I will do it continuously just to avoid any hassle from the guards. The next time I woke I found that my breakfast was on the floor inside my cell. So apparently when they delivered the breakfast door to door, that is when they slammed my door. I picked up the breakfast and put it on my desk and tried to go back to sleep but could not.
I began to receive information in my mind regarding this book and another book that will really be a very small pamphlet in book form. This information comes to me the way my poems and art come to me. The information just begins to flow. I think most creative people experience this. The problem is that after this information comes, when I am in a semi-awake state, if I do not immediately write it down, if I try to hold it in my head, I lose it. When a person becomes inspired it is important to immediately act on that inspiration or record it to think about later. I keep a pen and paper by my bed and I write down these little revelations. Unfortunately in a half awake state my wring is bad and when I read it later when I am fully awake I can’t always read what I have written.
In this in-between sleep and wake consciousness many complex relations and thoughts become perfectly clear. But when fully conscious they are not clear. It is like in this state I have expanded consciousness and I can see how specific things fit in the global picture.
Due to being in this cell block, and due to the fact that I have few distractions, and the fact that I am spending all my waking hours meditating, praying and writing, the information that comes to me in the morning is increasing in volume and importance. I know that I will write a lot in here and I will not leave until I am finished or I can see the end of the project.
Ms. Williams, the mean black female guard, came into the cell block this morning raising cane. She had some sargents with her and she was inspecting each room. What she should have done is just have a short meeting with everyone and then give us thirty minutes to get our cells in order per her specifications. Instead she just went room to room and in each room focusing as one problem and ignoring others. It creates a lot of inconsistency when things are done this way. It is obvious she has never been in the military. All she really did was create a lot of unnecessary tension.
She delayed the commissary delivery and I am sure that made these guards mad. Her actions have sent a negative ripple effect throughout the entire jail now. Most people do not realize how significant the smallest act is in the whole of society. Every action of every individual ripples through the entire human society. That is why we should try not to create any negativity with other people. A negative act creates the same chaos as does a cue ball breaking into a rack of balls.
I hate these kinds of mornings because after getting my morning revelations, I am in a very peaceful even blissful state of mind. Even the slightest negativity sounds like a fire alarm going off in my head. This is the reason I stopped meditating before going to court. If you walk into a court room in peace you will be abruptly awakened by some judge, attorney or –client. The experience is not pleasant so it is best to go to court in full armor and ready to fight.
When Ms. Williams came in my room she threw away my origami peace cranes. I had taken them down from my mirror and put them on my desk hoping that they would not be thrown away. But I was wrong. I had found colorful pictures in the newspaper and then made origami cranes from them. I then put them on a string and hung them from my mirror. It gave some color and emotion to my cell. The slow turning also gave me peace watching them. I had also made some very small ones from the foil wrappers of some energy bars. She threw them away too. She is not spiritual. She has been trained to destroy anything that looks like art. I will make more but I will keep them folded and in one of my Bible’s. No problem. I remember the deputy yelling the other day, “You are in jail! You are in jail! You’re in jail! You’re in jail!”
One interesting thing is that I associated with everyone in here. But in so doing I have more than a few people telling me that I should stay away from the accused and convicted perverts (sex offenders). Others tell me to stay away from the blacks. Others tell me to stay away from the dope offenders. All these inmates feel they are better then the other inmates. I tell them we are all in this cell block. We all wear orange. We all have been accused of some antisocial illegal behavior. Not only that there are times you need a favor and you don’t know who might be able to help you. Like a child molester is selling me a free world pen. I need a pen to write this book. It is back up. This morning Henry did not get any toilet paper because they constantly give us only half as many rolls as there are inmates in the cell block. I always keep a few rolls and partial rolls on hand. Henry was out so I gave him a roll as well as another inmate.
February 26, 2008 After Lunch
The commissary cart came with one of the nasty female guards. She goes out of her way to create tension when handing out everyone’s purchases. Things went somewhat OK, but I did not get a writing tablet I ordered because it was not worth confronting her. The last inmate that had a real problem with her was Corey who had ordered five pens for me. She claimed she could not read his wrist band and was not interested in having the picket verify who he was. It is nonsense to think he was not Corey Evans. She left with his commissary.
The first time I saw her I thought she was just strict but fair. After the incident with Corey I realized that she knew that I was short one tablet and that I did not realize it. She deliberately let me get ripped off. It was a $1.25 tablet. It was not worth $1.25 to confront her. One thing you learn in the jail is that they can do whatever they want to you. I could have gotten the tablet but I would have to deal with her retaliation. It was not worth it. I just considered how many others she ripped off during the days
Ms. Williams is loud and likes to scream a lot but after her morning inspection she will go out of her way to take care of problems in her control. Part of that is due to her not wanting to stay in the picket. I would say she spends, on average, less then 2 hours per shift at her part in the picket. The other six she is gone. I always think about the fact that I will be leaving here but she will have to report here everyday until she gets to retirement.
I also wonder about the nasty guards. I wonder if they are nasty and mean at home because they are just unpleasant people or if they are super nice at home because they have released all of their aggression at work. Like the deputy said, “You’re in jail!”
Ms. Williams returned to the cell block with some bathroom chemicals which she poured into the toilets and sprayed on the outside on the wall and the door. My door had a lot of toothpaste on it that was used as glue. A piece of plastic was used by the inmates to cover the open food slot to cut down on the draft created by the AC. Toothpaste is used to glue the plastic around the slot. The net effect is that the cell stays several degrees warmer when we are allowed to close the door. My cell is directly across from the picket and so they can easily see the plastic. I was told to take it off six weeks ago. I did and did not replace it because I did not want the hassle. Like everything else in here, unlike the Army, the rules are not daily enforced. So usually the day after someone is told to take down the plastic, it goes back up right after shift change.
The TV is not on but the inmates are very loud this morning. Corey has a loud mouth that never closes. Right now he is making a lot of noise. Just being his normal self. I understand that in the general population the chatter never stops. The inmate density is four times what it is in this cell block and there are no cells. Just open areas with a cage inside for the bunks stacked three high. The noise would be intolerable for me. Even in here God is watching over me.
One day the cloning of human beings will be possible. The question will be whether a clone has a soul and is therefore enlightened to have citizenship rights as natural born human beings. Without a soul it is just a clone. Who knows if a soulless clone can exist. I doubt it. When a human vehicle comes into existence a soul of light or darkness will inhabit it.
For now it is important to understand that we must always remember that our life on this earth is temporary. And when I say our, I mean our spirit not our bodies. Our bodies do not return to heaven, our souls return to heaven when our bodies die and rot.
The problem comes when we become confused in the manifestations of this reality such that we believe that this finite reality is the true reality. This reality is finite and mortal and the spiritual reality is infinite and immortal.
When we remember God, and do not become attached to this reality, then we do not become confused in the pleasures of this reality by believing that we can hold on to anything in this reality.
If we are going to find peace and remain in the light, we must stay vigilant moment to moment and not lose sight of the fact that we are just temporarily residing in this reality. We must remember we came here for a purpose. We must never in the pursuit of our destiny forget that one day all we have accumulated will be taken away when our bodies die. At that time we will return to the spiritual reality with only our memory of this experience. And that memory will be what determines whether we lived a life that uplifted the human society or one in which we simply indulged in the pleasure of this materialistic world, became attached to it so that in death we long for it, and have doomed ourselves to returning. And upon returning potentially further spiral down by increasing our attachment to the slavery that is the dark side of the Infinite Potential. What the Christians call sin and evil.
February 26, 2008 After Dinner
The food is getting harder and harder to eat, this morning breakfast including a boiled egg. On these mornings I usually get about five other eggs from inmates who do not like them. I then take out the yellow yoke and hold the whites to see what we have for dinner and supper. If there is something I do not like, I eat the eggs. The yokes have all the cholesterol which is bad for my heart. Today we had some potatoes that were not that bad when I added salt but they were cold and that made them unpalatable to me.
I am using my free world pen and it is so high tech and smooth writing that I am having trouble using it. I have to use it as much as I can hoping to use it up before is gets confiscated.
The inmate that did not get his commissary yesterday was told that he would not get it this week. It was simply due to the deputy delivering the commissary yesterday. It was her call. But the real underlying reason is that the main guards have refused for a month to get Corey a new ID. He did get one yesterday. Now we will see what happens next week. He owes me six pens. If he would have gathered his commissary yesterday he could have ordered ten more next week. So I would have increased my inventory by twenty. But now I will only be able to increase it by fourteen. Four from yesterday and ten next week if they do not rip him off again. It is ridiculous that four pens, sixteen pages of ink becomes a big thing. But I cannot write without ink. Pencils are not allowed.
It is like toilet paper. I had 2 ½ rolls yesterday but I gave a half role and a new roll to two guys that got none yesterday. So now I am down to less than ½ a roll and I have to sit by the door in the morning so that I can be sure to get another roll. I am sure they will follow their rule of giving half as many rolls as there are inmates. It got so bad a month ago, Ms. Williams had to step in and demanded a second delivery with a roll for everyone. Again it is ridiculous that we have to deal with toilet paper as a big issue.
We had laundry today. It is Tuesday. We also have another laundry day on Saturday. We have to have our orange top and bottom and towel and sheet or we don’t exchange what he have. The kid who did not think to get his towel and sheet a week ago was again denied clean clothes. No guard will deal with it so on Saturday we will rip a towel and sheet in half and fold it like it is a full one. The guards don’t look that close. Just more stupid games between guards and inmates. Truth is that most free world not people would even consider using these sheets. They look dirty, smell bad even after being washed, and most are torn.
We got another newhouse (new guy) tonight. He is an older black guy with AIDS trying to hustle the rest of us for a phone call. The last kid that came in, the one without a sheet and towel has made it clear he is gay and who he would like to be with. He is not a threat but the showers are open and I and others don’t want to deal with two gay guys. They would normally be in another cell block but since they have a law enforcement background or have been police that classification overrides the gay classification. The AIDS guy was picked up on a Galveston County misdemeanor so he should be on the bus to Galveston in a few days.
Everyone knows I am writing a book now. It is hard to miss anything like that in here. I am just concerned that some guards want to look at it before I can pass it off to my son, hopefully next week. I have hidden the two hundred pages among my legal pleading. I have in under a current letter from the court and a letter from my federal public defender. I feel they are safe for now. Again I do not have a high profile and they have no agenda to teach me a lesson. I could recreate all I have written of this but it would be a lot of work. You have to be paranoid about everything in here. I cant imaging what it would be like in the general population. I am not curious to find out.
It is about 9:00 pm and about one third of the inmates are making their nightly spread (dinner). It is a big meal they just set out at 5:30 pm but now they make this second meal from commissary. Mostly it consists of Ramen noodles, some kind of summer sausage or tuna, or both and maybe some eggs. They heat their water and pour it over the noodles in a big plastic bowl they bought from the commissary. They have another hot pot where they put the purchased meat to heat it. They mix it all together and eat it on saltine crackers or wrap it up in a tortilla. They eat about a quart plus of this spread. Almost all of them put on weight from all those calories which they have no way to burn off.
I can’t eat the noodles because of the seasoning and the hot sauce and even the meat. There is too much spice and it effects my heart. Also I cannot go to bed with that much in my stomach and not get sick. I tried a taco from the spread about a week ago and was sick for a week. In essence eating is just a relief from boredom. When I first got here there was only about four of them participating in the spread, now there are about ten. They remind me of a bunch of old women.
February 27, 2008 After Count
This morning was uneventful in the tank except for one stupid 19 year old. He refused to get out of bed and disrespected Ms. Williams. He is a robber. He got yelled at. I doubt it phased him. I fished a couple of oranges and a banana out of the trash. Some of these guys feel like oranges go bad in a few days or an apple with a cut on it renders the whole apple bad. A broken peel on a banana means it’s spoiled. I wonder where these inmates grew up.
February 27, 2008 After Lunch
One of the reasons that I am in jail is because of my mother’s bankruptcy. In October 2006, I helped her file bankruptcy because the house I was living n was in the process of being foreclosed in by two companies. Bankruptcy was filed because the state or Federal district court or the bankruptcy court, the bankruptcy court seemed to be the best forum. My mother owned the house she was living in and had no other significant assets or creditors. We needed to find out who actually owned the Texas Home Equity Note on the Heights property. I believe that the original note holder illegally sold the note to two different companies.
In June 2007 the bankruptcy Trustee declared in his pleadings that GMAC, not Deutsche Bank owed the note. The truth is that even now we still so no know who owns the note. We have been trying to get this information for 18 months.
After the Trustee declared that GMAC owed the note, my mother was no longer functionally bankrupt because the Heights property was worth more then one note but not two. In fact she filed eight motions to dismiss the bankruptcy all of which were denied.
The trustee decided he would sell the house in order to get a $17,000 fee. The house had been sold in March 2007 with a April 2 closing but the title problems stopped the sale. The sale was for $450,000. The trustee told the realtor to accept a contract for $420,000. Se he was selling the property for $30,000 less then value and taking a $17,000 fee as well. At that point I aggressively went after the trustee by sending emails to his law firm to point out his illegal acts against a senior citizen. With no creditors and my mother not being functionally bankrupt his acts were illegal. In addition, there are very specific rules for foreclosure on a Texas Home Equity Note and the trustee sale under the circumstances would circumvent the foreclosure laws.
The trustee in retaliation turned the bankruptcy into a WorldPeace circus by attacking me. He ran up $9000 in fees in the process. He has yet to obtains a clear change if title to the property.
The trustee attempted to get the court to approve the sale when my mother changed her homestead exemption and stopped it.
The judge then issued a bench warrant for my arrest for not attending a show cause hearing. The problem was that I was never personally served and so the bench warrant was illegal.
The warrant was crucial in nature which meant that the US Marshall’s could not break down my doors and come into my house and get me. They had to catch my outside of my home or gates. I put myself under house arrest because it was obvious that the court was going to illegally sell the property. The bench warrant was issued on August 8, 2007.
On November 13, 2007 a US Marshall pulled into my driveway as I was about to enter the gate. I had my hand on the security door when I turned to look at him. He was in an unmarked car with blue and white lights. He just sat there looking at me talking on his cell phone. They he saw I was about to enter the gate and his eyes got big and he opened his car door and I stepped through the gate.
The gate was a six foot chain link gate with a cane screen on the outside which prevented someone from putting their finger on the chain links. At night it limited the ability to see through the gate to the driveway. The Deputy Marshall screamed the word MF over and over as he charged the gate in an attempt to approach me. When he got to the gate he had no way to gain and leverage to open it except to grab the center vertical end of the right side. The gate consisted of two panels, 6’ high and the one on the left anchored into the driveway. He grabbed the gate and pulled it open with all his might however there was a third chain between the panels and as he pulled the gate that chain caught and he fell to the ground. He then got up, again yelling his MF word, and fell again.
He got to the gate but was as he would push I would pull and as he would pull I would pull I would pull. I had all the leverage. After a minute of this he gave up. I had told him over and over that he could not come in. I latched the gate and jogged around the back of the house. He got in his car and drove off. I was surprised he did not call for backup to come and get me. I thought it was because it was a civil warrant and I was behind a locked gate.
The deputy went back to his office and filled out a report that I had resisted and impeded his attempt to arrest me. He also said that he had grabbed e and I had turned, knocked him down and kicked him and then entered the gate. This was a lie. I was charged with violating Title 18 USCA. The max penalty is 20 years in Federal prison.
I have never been arrested and never had a fight in my life. Further, I have a heart condition and I would not embarrass my song who is a police officer and I would not avoid two hours in my mother’s bankruptcy case as a witness by gambling on a 20 year prison sentence. The deputy lied.
On November 20, 2001, the bankruptcy judge signed an order for the US Marshall to kick down my door and approach me. They did not okay her order because she was out of line. They only kick in the door when they are after criminals. The police do not kick in doors on a civil matter.
The problem was that I had a Federal criminal complaint for resisting arrest. I continued to work and live at the property and prepared to turn myself in. I work at home.
On December 22, 2007, I orchestrated my arrest by having a girlfriend pick me up in front of my house in plain view of the surveillance team so they could see her driver license. We went to her house in Dickinson. I did not want the cops in my house or office because the deputy who tried to arrest me had threatened my mother with the destruction of her house, not the one I was living in. I also had to turn myself in because the arrest warrant for resisting arrest was a criminal matter and so was the NCIC database and would be seen by any officer stopping me for a traffic ticket. I had seen the deputy complaint a few days after it was filed because it was sent to my son. I know the deputy had lied and the charges were serious.
I decided to let them arrest me just before the holidays because I would not have to work for several weeks.
Pat picked me up at about 7 PM and we arrived at her home about 8:00. We visited and went to bed. About 2 AM in the morning she got a call from the local police that she needed to some down to the police station on some matter she filed months earlier. I knew it was a play to get her out of the house. I got dresses and went into the living room before she left.
When she left I called my son to tell him I expected the sops to some in and get me shortly.
About 10 minutes after she left I was standing in the living room when the front door was opened and the deputies came in with mini 16’s pointed at me. Just like you see on TV. I was told to lie down on the floor which I did and they came right up to me with their guns with about 18” from my head. They rolled me over and hand cuffed me. I told them I was having chest pains and I needed to go to the hospital, they laughed.
Right after Pat left I turned in a digital recorder I had with me and put it on a bookcase by her front door. So I have the entire incident recorded. They did not see the recorder and Pat found it the next day and gave it to my son.
The deputies refused to give me my nitroglycerin for my heart for about 30 minutes. They made all kinds of obscene jokes about me and Pat and laughed at my chest pains. I had on a medic alert bracelet.
They finally called the ambulance. Then they demanded that I get up and walk to the ambulance. I refused to move because4 of the pain. I was on my stomach. Two men then grabbed my arms which were cuffed behind my back and dragged me outside. When I did not stand up two more men grabbed my feet and then threw me into the ambulance gurney. They refused to give me my nitroglycerin.
The ambulance drivers also laughed at my pain. They took me to the county hospital in Houston. It took over an hour and a half to get there. I could have died. A deputy road with me.
At the hospital a female intern joined the fun. The doctors said I was OK. The intern said I was fine. Then I told her to look at the EKG monitor and pointed out how my heart was misfiring. She laughed and said it was nothing. She was wrong.
Because I was taken to the county hospital I was sent to the county jail instead of the federal detention center. The deputies had laughed because they said they Federal detention center was like the Hilton and the county jail was the worst case scenario.
As it turned out, because of a being an attorney and because my son is a police officer I was out in protective custody in the Harris County Jail. I have my own cell and are not locked in. I am in the best cell block in the county and it is better the then Federal Detention Center. It is still jail but God was looking out for me and I have done the best possible back up.
I did not resist arrest. I had not had a single problem with any deputy or inmate in the 68 days I have been in jail. The only person who has claimed that I assaulted him in 60 years of my life is the deputy that tried to arrest me. And he is lying. My father instilled in me to turn the other check and I have a lifetime of doing that. Have no doubt I have waged war on the internet and in court pleadings but I have never had a physical fight in my life.
Due to my son being a police officer, the deputies processed me immediately after I arrived here from the hospital. I remember being rolled out into the cell in a wheel chair and I thought I would freeze to death. The deputy saw me shaking and brought me back in until his partner got the van.
I was processed in and as the deputy left he called back and wished me a Merry Christmas. It was a sarcastic good bye.
The courts were mostly closed for the holidays and I was not taken to the federal building to see a magistrate until the 26th of December. The magistrate asked me is I was going to hire a lawyer and I said I did not know so she reset me for the 28th.
When I arrived at the Federal building they processed me in to federal database. The deputies tried to harass me and see if they could make me strike out at them because of the lie that Deputy David Pyka has told about me knocking him down and kicking him. I only told them it did not happen.
I was in handcuffs with a chain around my waist to hold my hands close to my body. They also had a leg chain on me. I felt like I was in a movie or something. No one can get a reaction out of me. I felt like I was in a movie or something. No one can get a reaction out of me in high tension situations and cutting words from silly people never affects me. Lies are what effect me. But even still if I am lied to my reaction is not to hit someone. I will deal with their lies in the internet or in legal pleadings if it is a lawsuit. Or I may just do nothing more than make a note about the worthlessness of the person who lied.
When I have court they tell me when breakfast is served. Breakfast is served about 4:30 am and do around 5 am I am taken with all the other inmates to a central check place.
There are usually about 200 plus inmates going to court on any given day. Sometimes after you are taken from your cell you are taken to a gym which is always cold because the vents are open to the outside. There we have to strip, shake out our clothes on command and then puts the items on. It is sort of useless because if someone wanted to bring a make shift knife into court they could. They don’t check us that clearly.
You can make a shive out of a toothbrush with a razor blade you take out of a disposable razor. In here it is like the free world. If someone is determined to do a thing, they can usually find a way to do it.
On the 28th the judge decided to assign me a standby Federal Public Offender because I have never had a case other then bankruptcy in the Federal courts. I had two holds at that time. One, for the civil bench warrant in Judge Karen Brown’s court and the other the criminal resisting arrest complaints. Up intil that day I had been told that I was charged with a misdemeanor but at that hearing the prosecutor Bert Isaacs told the magistrate that it was a felony with a range of punishment of 0-20 years. I was a bit taken aback but I did not believe it. The judge talked down to the prosecutor and humiliated him. I did not know what was going on about the 0-20 years did not seem real.
[Note: It is about 11 pm and we have been locked in our cells for about 30 minutes. Two deputies are let into the cell block and they began a cell by cell shake down. They just locked around my cell, looked under the mattress and left. It was not like a regular shake down where then open all storage containers and dump those out on the floor and the bed. They checked all the cells within 10 minutes and they were gone. I hid my pen in my sock. I have used about 40% of it since Monday. I want to use it up before they find it. The pen not only writes a lot more but I can write faster with it because I do not have to press down hard to make it write. One of the inmates told me I could take the ink from the authorized pens and refill the tube in this free world pen. I don’t think I want to bother with that. I will try to get another free world pen and in the meantime go back to using the authorized pens and not this contraband pen. I can hear things in the next cell block slamming the cell doors short after they inspect like they did in here. Every time one of these events take place I wonder what sort of things Gandhi and the Apostle Paul had to endure while they were in jail. Baha u llah was in jail for 45 years in Iran.]
After count I was taken back to the holding cell and then to see my lawyer Margaret Ling. In court the judge made the deputies take off the hand cuffs and the leg chain. No other judge has done that for me. Margaret and her investigators were very excited. They said that Bert Isaacs had agreed to a misdemeanor if I agreed to plead out. A misdemeanor topped the sentence at one year if I agreed. And they left to accept the offer, the deal was that I would plead guilty and I would be given a PR band next time I come to court. Then a PS (pre-sentence investigation) would take place and I would have a sentencing hearing in about two or three months. The Federal sentencing guidelines for a plead out dictated that I get 0-6 months probation since I have no criminal record.
I would get a year in jail with 54 days off for good time if I went to trial and lost. Going to trial was not an option. I had practiced criminal law for a time in the 1980’s and all those who went to trial were foolish. The system is stacked against you. Your best route is to lead guilty and hey the lesser sentence. An inmate in here who was a probation officer said he believed the 25-33% of all people who pled guilty were in fact innocent.
My court date was reset to January 10th for the plead out and the PR band. On the 10th Bert Isaacs was not present and the prosecutor who was would not take the plea because it was not his case. I waived my right to a preliminary hearing in which I could have argued why the charges should be dropped. Since I had the bankruptcy hold the PR band would not get me out of jail so I waived the band hearing as well. The plead out was reset for January 23rd.
When I arrived in court I was told that I had been indicted for a felony resisting arrest. But Bert Isaacs had done this and again he was not in court. My attorney, now Richard Ely, told me that the Supreme Court of the US had ruled over and over that a plea agreement was like a contract and they would not be able to break it. But in mind they had already broken it because I now had a felony indictment on my record. Now my record is marked and when a cop stops me for a minor traffic offense he will see my record and the indictment for resisting arrest and may pull his gun on me or search my car. In a word the felony indictment puts my life in jeopardy any time I get stopped.
Since Bert Isaacs was not in court the judge reset the case again. The next time I went to court I had to plead to the felony indictment before the case would be assigned to a judge by the magistrate. I reluctantly did so after questioning my lawyer in detail.
I was assigned to a US Federal District Judge Lynn Hughes who had presided over a lawsuit I filed against Telemundo TV when I ran for Governor of Texas in 2002 in the Democratic primary. I did not like or trust Judge Lynn Hughes and he did not like me because I know that he knew that I knew he had screwed me. Judge Hughes is an old white super conservative judge and I am a flaming liberal wild man in his opinion. The good news is that he hated me but Issacs more than he hated me. But Issacs had lied to judge Hughes in the past and the judge panned him from ever appearing in his court again. So it would seem that the misdemeanor plea was going to hold. But the length of the sentence was not in question. You can’t make a Federal Judge who is appointed for life do anything he does not want to do.
Tomorrow my son John is supposed to meet with the prosecutor and my attorney and finalize the misdemeanor plea. If everything goes alright I should be able to finalize that matter next week. Bit is has taken two months to get to this point.
February 28, 2008 After Count
Breakfast was delivered on time this morning. Every time I wake up I wonder if I have missed it. As a result I decided last night to start locking my door shut. Normally I close it but don’t lock it all the way shut. If I lock the door shut they have to unlock is so I can go downstairs to get my breakfast. So if I wake up and my door is still locked than I know that I have not missed breakfast. Sometime the trustees come around and put the food in the clot. When they do this they do not unlock the doors. That is fine because I will have my breakfast.
Ms. Williams was not supposed to work today. She is usually off in Thursday and Friday. At about 6 am when they get us up I heard a voice on the speaker. I can’t understand a word that comes over the speaker because I have a hearing problem in my left ear and the words come out of the speaker in a range that is hard for me to understand. I did hear Ms. Williams say my name. As it turns out she thought that because my door was still closed and not locked in the open position that I was laying in bed. I was not. I always get up is I am not already up and make my bed and clean up with the door shut because it keeps the room warm. A few degrees make a lot of difference. And last night was cold because the temperature dropped to the low forties outside in the free world.
The rule book says that an inmate must not keep any left over food. You are supposed to eat everything at each meal. So Ms. Williams tells everyone to get rid of their food. For me that was two oranges that are necessary to keep from getting colds in here, an apple and two containers of cereal. I usually eat one at 10 pm. I went ahead and ate them this morning to keep from throwing them away. Since Ms. Williams had already singled me out and I could not afford to push things and take the chance on keeping the food.
As I exited my room she began to tell me something else over the speaker that I could not understand. So I asked her to speak through my cell speaker. She refused and told the inmates in the room next to me to repeat what she said. What she had said was that I needed to get rid of the peanut butter jar that I had cleaned and was using to hold my candy and cough drops. They want you to buy a tumbler and use that for storage. Just more nonsense.
I took my free world pen and put it in my container of skin lotion. I did not want it found. I also gave 10 of my convict pens to another inmate to hold. I have 50 of those pens and I was concerned that they would see I had too many. I have the commissary sheet to show I have bought 80 but I am sure that would not matter. “I am in jail.”
The cell block is very quiet. We are supposed to be waiting on a sergeant to come and inspect our cells. He will do a mini shake down. I guess this is why they come in and did a courtesy shake down last night. In the meantime everyone is in their cells sleeping. I guess some are asleep because they had to eat up their food or throw it out. They over ate and not they are asleep.
My biggest concern is for this book. I have it hidden in my legal papers and no they should not mess with it but who knows. I have hand written over 240 pages now and there is only the original. It would be depressing to have to start over again. I have the tablets I am using under the letters and enveloped from my Federal Public Defender. So they should not look at it. All my legal papers are in the plastic bags they serve brealfast in. We can’t have paper clips or rubber bands etc. and the bags are the best was to organize those papers. I have a stack about 17’ high. All legal pleadings except three of these tablets which I am writing this book.
I have worked hard in my life to be able to work for myself and avoid anyone having control of my life. But now I am in a place where I have no choice. I have to stay completely under the radar. I keep in line because as it stands now I have been here 10 weeks and I should have been free in two weeks at the most. It looks like I could be here several more weeks. My business is almost completely shut down. My personal things are in a house subject to vandalism. I am a burden on my son who is trying to get all these judges to proceed with my various cases. That is why this book is important. I hop it gets published. I am accomplishing something I have wanted to do for 21 years. This book and its potential is what keeps my attitude positive in this dungeon and around these guards and their harassment. You can never forget they are like snakes. No matter how friendly they are some of them are capable of turning and biting you for no reason. The best thing is to stay away from them and not to talk to them unless you have to. All we can do now is to hope this bid inspection in over sooner than later. In the short run I find peace in the fact that Ms. Williams should be off for a few days and there will be no inspection on the weekend.
February 28, 2008 After Supper
I called John from the cell block phone. You must set up an account with one of the phone company affiliates in order to be able to receive collect calls from the county jail. My son john set up an account and I speak with him every night. Were it not for him I would be almost completely isolated from the outside world and at the mercy of business associates, the courts, my attorney, my parents.
When I was first arrived here I was calling my mother every night as I have been since her companion died in December 2005. After a few weeks she decided that she did not want to pay the $3.60 per call so she did not put any money in an account that would allow me to call her. The bankruptcy that is causing so much grief is her problem. I have written four letters to her since she quit taking calls. She has not responded to any of them by writing me. My son John is working with her after he and I discuss her problems.
When I called John to see how things went with the4 prosecution and my court appointed Federal Public Defender attorney Richard Ely, he said things went OK and that he had talked to the head prosecutor who he also said was a very good friend of my attorney. He said that they realized that John was an almost perfect witness. He served 6 years in the Marines, is working in this PHD, and in the seven years at the Houston Police Department he has risen to the rank of sergeants as soon as he was eligible, was on the elite SWAT tem and is currently a personal liaison to one of the Deputy Chiefs. He has an almost perfect record and over a dozen commendations.
The prosecutor also has my first Public Defender attorney and her investigators who along with my son agreed to let me plead out to a misdemeanor. The law is clear that the prosecutors must honor that commitment. But the nature of prosecutors is to not be reasonable. You real stories all the time how convicted people are later cleared by the DNA evidence and yet the prosecutor want to keep them in jail. It is just a flaw of these people to be more concerned about this conviction rate then justice. But justice is hard to some by in the courts. And hardly ever seen in Harris County, Texas home of daddy George Bush and Dubya Bush, our current war managing president.
John assured me that there would be a resolution to the matter nest week. I hope so. It is very hard for me not to go on the attach when a legal issue that is so black and white is deemed gray by another attorney, especially a prosecutor.
In the gospels, Jesus advises people not to go to court. He says is you go to court no matter how good your case is you may be the one who goes to jail. So he advises to settle your case is at all possible. This is really a profound remark. It is something that someone outside the court system would not understand. I refused to believe how corrupt the judicial system is until I was disbarred after a long history of fighting the State __ of Texas. (All justice systems are corrupt, as in all.)
Before I lost my law license, which I am still fighting, I told my lawyer and judges that if I was disbarred, my license was not worth the value I put on it. The laws of legislation is generally sound but it is implemented by judges is often skewed. And it is skewed due to monetary and power influences. I do not think Jesus would have made such a statement had he not been closely and first hand associated with the justice system of his day. I have always suspected that Jesus had more education than the gospels reveal. Human marks of that history is gone because after Jerome organized the official Christian Bible for the sake of Christianity and control on the members of the Catholic Church, the Christian soldiers began a book burning campaign that included the library in Alexandria, Egypt where one million ancient manuscripts were kept. They burned in the name of Jesus. The Dead Sea Scrolls have given us a glimpse of some of what was burned. I am sure in time more information will some to light. I am sure the Catholic Church has the truth in its archives. The truth about Jesus.
In the end, Jesus was crucified by the corrupt lawyer of the Jewish bureaucracy with the help of Pilate. And the law persuaded Paul and the other apostles virtually everywhere they went. The fear of new ideas by society is as old as history. I have no fear. And neither did Jesus, Paul, Gandhi, MLK Jr., Nelson Mandela and many others throughout history. But to take on global social change is to put ones life at risk. This is undeniable. I have had death threats. The CIA and FBI have watched me. I have been careful to not start an organization to encourage followers or disciples or use any words in my emails or writings that could be considered as terrorist. Advocating peace and WorldPeace is not for pacifists. The truth us often paradoxical.
Because I have this book to distract me, I can disengage my frustration and anger as to what is personally happening to me n the three courts I am engaged in. My son John, has the ability to work with the system and he will go far because of his talents in the area. In the meantime, his father is by most observers a crazy anarchist that must be watched. I have always been paranoid with regards to all bureaucracies. When I was a child between 6 and 10 I often had dreams of cops chasing me. But they never caught me. In real life, in November 13th, I carelessly was not paying attention and now I have a criminal record. Due to my son, I will probably exit these matters unscathed and with little jail time. But I have no doubt there are many who would like to see me with a life sentence. It is not going to happen. I now have a very vivid reminder of being careless with the law. I have looked over the edge of the judicial abyss and what I saw was very dark indeed.
As I have said, I chose to go to the root causes and issues as to why there is no peace on earth. As part of that road less traveled my time in jail was on the mandatory experience list for this lifetime.
Most people do not try to keep an eye on the global impact on their lives. That is why they are only loosely connected with God. They are confused in their little closed end reality. They do understand that one day they will die. This life will end and they will have to account for what they have done. I know why I am in jail and it has just a little to do with being prosecuted for a minor infraction of the law and for defying a malicious bankruptcy judge. It has to do with being able to speak from experience. People read what the trial and tribulations of the Apostle Paul but they cant really imagine what he experienced on his path to spread the gospel of Jesus to the world. I often say, I am playing chess while me opponents are playing checkers. Mainly I understand and relate every simple act in my life to God’s will and purpose for me this lifetime. I never, as in never moment to moment discount from that global infinite immortal soul that I am.
It is about 5:30 am. I have been up since they delivered breakfast bags at about 4:15 am. It is quiet in the zoo. Then monkeys are asleep. The TV is not blaring. The silence is sacred. The writing of this book is my prayers. It is my meditation. It is my time with God and I am sharing it with the world.
February 29, 2008
On or about January 8th, I was taken to the bankruptcy court to answer questions by Judge Brown. I wanted to fight repeatedly to her questions because I thought it was all just harassment. I had legally stopped the trustee from selling the Heights property. The trustee had filed a motion to dismiss the bankruptcy. My mother had filed 8 motions to dismiss with no results. The day after the judge signed an order for the marshals to kick in my door, the trustee filed a motion to dismiss, it made no sense.
I am being held day to day illegally for no reason. I followed the directions of my son and answered all the judges’ questions. At that time much of her misconception about the case was dispelled. I answered every question. I was only a witness. At the end of the questioning the judge should have dismissed the case. There were no creditors with an interest. Both my mother and the trustee wanted it dismissed. Is should have ended that day. Instead the judge said we have a trial on the 29th and it has already been rescheduled. She kept the hold on me so that even is I got out on the other two cases, her order would keep me in jail.
Her bench warrant was illegal because it was based on my failure to appear in court per an order she had issued but had never been served to me. To hold someone in contempt you have to have personal services. But she is a Federal judge appointed for life. She does what she wants.
My son John begun to talk to the trustee and his assistant about settling the case. They came to an agreement of $9,200.00 My mother paid the money on or about the 14th and the trustee held the money in his law firms account. I hated the fact that money was paid because I felt it was just blackmail money. I had stopped the sale and saved me mother $30,000 because the trustee was selling the property for $420,000 when we had it sold for $450,000 except for the title problems. I also saved the $17,000 in fees the trustee would have received for illegally selling the property. So we were ahead by $38,000.
The trustee claimed the $9,200 in expenses which per their detailed billing was 95% getting me and 5% cleaning the title on the property. One of the main reasons I did not want to go to court was because I know the trustee would turn it into a dog and pony show about John WorldPeace and no emphasis would be put on cleaning the title which is why the bankruptcy was filed in the first place.
The trustee told my son that the judge would not sign the order of dismissal until the 29th. I told my son that he should not believe the trustee. The trustee proceeded to get my son on the chain of the title documents to show who owned the note.
As a result if the settlement I did not subpoena the real estate agent who was originally our agent and who had gotten a contract on the house for $450,000 in four days after listing it. I also did not subpoena Litton Loan Servicing to bring the title document to court. I had been trying for 16 months to find out who owned the note. My mother even hired an attorney for that specific purpose. He was unsuccessful as well. In addition, the trustee sued the attorney to harass my mother by putting pressure on his attorney.
On January 29th I was taken to court. The judge came in and acted like she was going to proceed to trial and proceed on the trustees’ 6 month old note to hold me in contempt.
I told the judge that we had a settlement and there was a motion to dismiss and what were are going to trial for. The judge acted surprised that the trustee had already been paid. Something went wrong because my mother who had been ordered to appear in court on the 29th had apparently though the trustee told my mother she did not have to some to court.
So in the say of court my witnesses, my mother, the real estate agent and the loan service had not been subpoenaed and there was no one to rebutt any lies the trustee would tell. The judge knowing there was a settlement went to trial anyway. At the trial the trustee was on the stand and I questioned him. The judge eventually stopped me from asking any more questions.
The trustee told several lies on the stand under oath. The main one was that he had not told the real estate agent to accept to offer for $420,000. That was a lie because prior to that point I was working with the trustee and the agent to sell the house. After that I did all I could to stop the sale.
I did not get as aggressive as I wanted because we had a deal and I wanted the judge to sign an order ending this matter. I would file documents in the state district court to find out who owned the title to the note.
At the end of the proceeding the judge said that she would write an order but she refused to read it to me in court personally and so she refused to release the hold on me. This is illegal. But again since I had the other matters holding me, I said nothing.
It has now been a month and there is still no order. My Public Defender in the resisting arrest case asked the judge three weeks ago if she would sign an order and she said yes but has refused to do so.
The problem is that my mother is not obligated to pay two more notes of $2500 each which will reduce the note balance by only $500. So she has lost $4500 due to the judge’s refusal to sign an order. The judge is deliberately harming my 81 year old mother.
Many people will find this unbelievable but it is true. The justice system is corrupt and full of petty judges like Judge Brown.
Yesterday my attorney told my son that he would again try to get an order from Judge Brown.
In addition, the trustee’s assistant promised my son, at the time he delivered the $9200 to her, that she would send the title documents from Litton Loan Servicing as part of the agreement. She has not done so because she says they will not send them to her.
I have said from the beginning that the assigned loan company sold the note twice. Or there is some legal problem they have. There is no reason that these documents should not be readily available. As I said, when the bankruptcy is over, I will deal with this matter in the state district court. I thought the best court to solve the issue would be the bankruptcy court but I was wrong. We should have gone to the state district court in the beginning. In the end I will be vindicated.
February 29, 2008 After night court and lights out
When we go to bed the main fluorescent light in our cells go out and the incandescent light comes on. There is still enough light to see but it is just a 60 watt bulb.
I always sleep in my clothes. It is too cold not too. I have a three inch mattress with a plastic cover. The sheets are all torn and are flat sheets that don’t stay on the mattress. We only get one. I fold it and use it as an additional cover for my chest. I also wear two pairs of socks and a cap I sewed from two socks. The bed is about 30” wide and the blanket we got in twice that width. I lay on my back, with the sheet on my chest and the blanket folded in half for more warmth. I move very little at night and I am sure I look like a corpse. I have a towel over my small pillow and another towel I fold and lay over my exposed head to block out the light above me.
The weather is supposed to turn cols on Monday so I will be chilled for several days no matter what. Exercising keeps me warm for about an hour as does a shower. When I first came here it was colder and everyone would wear their blanket all day. Then the stopped that and insisted the beds were made. They also don’t allow you to cover your head with a towel. That is hard for us with little hair. We are not trying to make a statement with a towel on our head, we are just trying to stay warm. Hey “I am in jail.” That is what the deputy said.
March 3, 2008 Night court
Last night I tried to exercise to soon after supper and I had a workout partner that increased the pace of the work out. The results is that I got sick at my stomach which always feels a lot like a heart attack about to start. I quit exercising and began to walk slowly instead. I felt better.
This morning commissary came after lunch. I only ordered pens and paper and some granola bars and I treated myself to some ice cream. I think the ice cream really helped my attitude. IT was sort of a gift to myself.
Last night I was able to finalize the organization of my notes regarding the things I need to put into this book and this morning I wrote the twenty page introduction. All I have to do now is to follow my outline and write the book. I feel like I will be finished by the middle of next week. Being able to see the final organization felt like a major burden had been lifted from me.
I have been trying to write this book for twenty years but I could never see how to put it together, all that is resolved now.
In addition, I just feel like I have crossed some threshold. Something has changed in my reality. Something is going on in the inner planes (the spirit world) that is going to have a positive impact on my life. Good things are coming, I can feel it.
More and more I see this jail as a tomb. I think of Jesus laying in his tomb for three days. I feel the cold sterile walls. I feel that my stay in this tomb in much longer than three days but I feel that I will rise from the death of my old self. I’m excited to begin the rest of my life. All the past will be left in this place. But I feel this nook will always mark my metamorphosis.
I can hear the breakfasts being delivered down the long concrete hallways. And now the lights have come on and the doors have propped open like cascading dominos.
I received my breakfast which today is an egg, an apple and cheese crackers and milk. I will eat my granola bar and save of the cheese crackers for later in the day. They are a bit too nasty for this early in the morning.
I was the first one out of my cell and I see a few guys who always seem to be awake. The one guy John Harrison, whose grandfather was the mayor of Pasadena, is always up and he is the one who usually retrieves the tray of breakfast between the door to the outside hallway. A couple of time I retrieve it.
After I get my breakfast I climb the stairs as the zombies in orange come down the stairs. It really increases the Halloween effect in this tank of green steal and orange county jail clothing.
One or two guys hang around to see is someone has not gathered their breakfast of if there may be an extra one. If you don’t get up, then you are not going to eat. I missed breakfast once. I stayed up to late writing and I was not locking my door then so I was not awakened by the unlocking. I really like that sound of 12 cells down stairs unlocking in rapid succession and then the ones upstairs. Funny how the simplest things make me smile.
We had eggs yesterday and I was given seven. Most guys can’t stand the smell of boiled eggs so they give them away. And if you don’t buy salt they don’t taste to good is at all. I take out the yokes that have all the cholesterol in them and put the halves in a tumbler. Then I supplement my lunch and supper with them. Like last night we had popcorn shrimp which is more an appetizer not a meal. I needed the extra calories. I gave Bill two eggs that I did not break apart to supplement his supper. You have to eat the eggs the same day of throw them out. The bacteria grow very fast in eggs and more than a few inmates have gotten sick eating eggs the next day. The eggs come without the shell.
I am getting a bit chilled and I have been up for several hours. The cold wakes me up. When I wake up after a hour or two hours of sleep I cant go back to sleep so I just get up and work. When I was a kid I would just lay in bed. It never occurred to me to just get up and do something until I got tired. I don’t understand taking pills to go to sleep. My body will get plenty of sleep when I am dead.
I like the milk but I will not drink it at home. Then I will drink the cholesterol free milk I buy. This is 1% milk but it takes me back 50 years when I used to drink whole milk and loved it. For a time it gave me a stomach ache. I drank chocolate milk every morning in the Army. I tried pouring my cool-aid in the milk but it was nasty. I though I could create a strawberry shake effect. I was wrong.
March 4, 2008 After Lunch
I have begun on most days to take a nap after lunch. It usually lasts an hour. It compensates for me staying up after breakfast between 4 and 4:30 am. I find that it is easy to write in the quiet that pervades the cell block at that time.
Many of these inmates have prejudice against each other and then have a hierarchy of those they don’t like. They don’t like some inmates because he was a parole officer, but they dislike someone else more who was a child molester. Most of these inmates are harmless in here because they don’t want to go back to the general population. But have no doubt some have a violent history that could manifest under the right circumstances.
I have no idea who is talking about me or why. But since I have heard conversations about almost everyone in this cell block I have to assume they are talking about me too. I am beginning to feel that I should have been locking down my door every night. I have heard enough about prison now to know that you want to lock yourself in when you go to prison. I tend to look for the good in people and forget that some people are not to be trusted, ever.
March 5, 2008 After lights out
Several days ago I got sick while exercising. It was a strange sickness. My heart was jumping a bit and I thought it was due to not waiting long enough after I ate to work out. But tonight John told me that my father had fallen Sunday morning and damaged his pelvis and cracked his femur. I think what I was feeling was his pain.
I have always been very physically close to my father yet on a logical level he has always found me hard to understand. He and I live different realities in life hut are very much in tune spiritually. These have been many times over the years, especially the last 10 years since he turned seventy when I would feel sick or bad and yet did not believe it was me. I learned to call him when I felt like this and when I did I would usually find that he had been sick or in distress. One time when I lived on Woodhorn I fell to my knees in the kitchen. I could not get up. I had to crawl between two counter tops and put my hands on them in order to get on my feet. The next day I found he had fallen.
Now when I feel strangely sick I go down the list of all of those close to me and mentally try to find out who is in trouble or in distress. I then make calls to check on everyone. Sometimes I do not find out who it was. But I know it was someone pulling my energy.
When I was fourteen years old I built a lot of model airplanes. These were flying models. Most of them were control line models that flew attached to two sixty foot wires that entered the left wing and controlled the tail elevator.
One year I made a small Biplane. I painted it red. It was a free flight planning meaning you started the engine and let it go. It would circle clockwise as it rose and when the engine ran out of gas in about two minutes it would begin to circle counter clockwise as it descended.
I finished the plan in winter and I insisted on flying it then. It was too windy. Those planes best flow when there was no wind. I finally convinced my father to take me to bellman stadium to fly the plane.
I know it was way too windy to fly the model but I was going to do it anyways. I fueled up the plane and started the engine. I should have held on to it for a minute or so to shorten the flight time but I didn’t. The plane took off but was circling and climbing at about a 10 degree incline do to the wind. It was obvious that it was going into the woods across the street.
We watched the plane as it peaked and began to descend into the half wooded field. We then got into the car and went to look for it. My father was upset about the loss. I was not. I would make another one. We could not find the airplane even though it was red and should have been easy to spot. It was Sunday night. I had not put my name on the plane so who ever found it would not know who to return it to.
After school the next day my father picked me up from school. He did not normally do this. He was in front of the school and told me to get in. He would not tell me what was going on but as we drove I thought it had something to do with that little airplane. After about ten minutes he told me that he had had a dream the night before about the airplane and that he was going to re-enact the dream. It started with picking me up from school. As we drive along he was verbally relating his dream. He would say we needed to turn here and stop there. I found nothing unusual in all of this even though we had never done anything like this before.
He drove to a feeder street by the woods and then spotted a traffic sign be recognized from the dream and pulled up over the curb and into the grass and stopped the car. Hew told me to get out. He kept relating the dream and we moved towards the woods. I guess we went about fifty yards when he spotted a group of trees. Is was obvious from the way he was talking that the dream was not an exact match because he had to look for the trees.
He told me to go to the right of this little group of trees and he went left. He then said that the plane should be right there as he pointed to the center of the trees. We both looked and there was the plane. It was in the middle of the thirty plus small pine trees in a patch of sunlight about ten feet in diameter.
I could tell he was amazed at the accuracy of the dream and relieved to find the airplane. I found the whole event interesting but not surprising. It was the first real psychic event I had been exposed to. Over the years there would be many more.
March 7, 2008 After Breakfast
I went to bed at lights out last night which is about 10:30. I am up and wide awake and bored and some of the noise that I have learned to identify echoing off the cement hallways. It is about 3:45 – 4 am. They are laying out the breakfast trays in the hall. I have not heard the outside door open yet. I just heard it.
The doors opened and I was the second one down to get breakfast. Harrison is always first. I think he sleeps less than I do. After the outside door opens and then closes, which is harder to hear, the inside door opens which is unmistakable. Then the cell doors cascade open. I am lately waiting at the door to my cell when it opens. This morning we have milk, a always, cereal, an orange and cheese cake energy bar (one of the best). The oranges are noticeably smaller (25%). These must be a bad crop and I will bet the prices in the stores are high.
There are several inmates who do not eat breakfast and have designated others to get their breakfast. But then someone else is taking on extra breakfast on his own. Fortunately, one of the designated guys gave up his second breakfast to the one who got up too late. (The guard did not turn on the main cell light before he popped the doors. That is probably why this guy didn’t get up in time.) You have about six minutes from the time the cell doors open to get you breakfast. Few go hungry because almost everyone has a commissary back up in their cells (food they bought). But we are like rats and it is frustrating to not get what is yours.
My father is supposed to have surgery their morning. He is 81 and fell and broke his femur and pulled the top of his bone out of his hip joint last Sunday morning. He has been in the UA hospital since then sedated because of the pain. The surgery is high risk because of his age and his heart but I don’t think they have any choice but to go in and fix it. He was in the hospital about a month ago for stomach problems.
I have these holds on me on these different matter all of the holds are due to corrupt judges and the justice systems reality. I am still being held going in six weeks by my bankruptcy judge. She was supposed to sign an order dismissing the bankruptcy on January 29th after trial and releasing her hold on me. She should have released me on January 9th when I was brought into her court based in her bench warrant after being arrested on December 22nd. I am just a witness in the matter. She is illegally holding me day to day until she writes her final order in the case. She says she wants to read it to me personally. In addition to illegally holding me, she has cost my mother $5000 because she has had to make two note payments on her property that she would not have had to make.
Karen Brown is like a lot of these federal judges. They get appointed for life and then they burn out on the job. They want the status of being a federal judge and they don’t want to have to go out and work for a living so they stay on the bench. Not to mention the pay and benefits. They also like the political connections. She is well liked because she brings donuts and cakes. But she does this while due to her procrastination, apathy, laziness and boredom she harms those before her court with her unnecessary delays.
I am also being held on a resisting arrest charge related to Judge Brown bench warrant. The Deputy Marshall who tried to arrest me on November 13, 2007, and was unsuccessful because I was behind my fence, he wrote in his affidavit that I knocked him down and kicked him. That is a blatant lie.
I am 59 with a heart condition. And I am not going to risk twenty years in prison to avoid two hours on a court room as a witness.
On January 4th, 2008 I was brought before the Federal Magistrate and assigned a public defender. After court she came back to my cell and said I was being offered a misdemeanor plea is I took it immediately. That would cap my sentence at a max of one year in jail. But due to the federal guidelines I would get 0-6 months probation. I have never been arrested and no history of fighting anyone. The potential max sentence was twenty years for a felony which is what I was confronted with in court that morning. I accepted the deal. I was to return on January 16, and plead guilty to the misdemeanor resisting arrest and hand out on of my personal recognizance.
When I returned on the 16th that prosecutor was on vacation and the prosecutor who was their would not stand for him. I waived my right to a preliminary hearing. The case was reset for the 29th.
Something after the 16th I was indicted for a felony resisting arrest. This was against the plea bargain. It also put the indictment on my record even if I plea to the misdemeanor or the case is dismissed the felony indictment is on my record and any officers with a modern computer will see that I resist being arrested and the situation will increase the tension. It is the way the law is. Just accusations and the feeling of suits are looked as truth on matter what the distortion. In a word I have been harmed by a lying prosecutor.
On the 29th of January the prosecutor was again on vacation and the case was reset to the 5th of February to have the prosecutor who made the deal present. The prosecutor at that time denied he made the deal.
In the Federal system, when a prosecutor makes a deal as he did in this case, they are held to it under contract law, especially when I agreed to the plea to my defendant. I waived my rights to a preliminary hearing.
Last week my son, who is a police officer, and the public defender and his investigator who cut the original deal, along with my attorney and the lead of the public defender office not with one of the chief prosecutors. At that time is was undeniable that Bert Isaacs had made the plea agreement for a misdemeanor. A decision was supposed to have been made yesterday to go forward with the misdemeanor plea.
Further this prosecutor lied to the judge whose court that I have been assigned and have banned from appearing in that court. So he is a proven liar but he is a federal prosecutor and firing him is impossible.
So I am being held on the resisting arrest matter for almost two months after I was supposed to plea out and be released.
Also, regarding the BR matter, I did not appear in Judge Brown court because she and the trustee, who also lied in court. Were going to sell my mothers property illegally for $30,000 below market and the trustee was to get $17,000in fees for his efforts. I ended up in jail but my mother settled for $9,200 which means we were $38,000 ahead. Also, every time I appear in court, it turns into a dog and pony show about John WorldPeace. The $9,200 was to pressure me. This issue in the bankruptcy is who owes the note on my mother’s property. It appears that the original lender twice sold the note. This issue is still unresolved.
My anger over these two matters is justified. It has been enhanced now that I cannot visit my father.
The third matter I am being held on is a contempt of court having to do with my disbarment. That order and the underlying judgment will be set aside as soon as I file my federal writ of Habeas Corpus. But that matter will not be considered if I am in jail anyway on the other two matters: So I am caught in a cross fire. This is just the way the system works.
The point is that I should have been out of jail the first week in January on all these matters. Two months later I am still in jail as my father has surgery from which he may not recover.
As always I acknowledge God’s plea. Were I now in jail, this nook may not have been written. Yet I am human and I am angry at the corruption. The justice system is also a focus of my WorldPeace advocacy because it is so corrupt and unjust and is an impediment to increasing the secular aspects of peace in the world human society.
March 6, 2009 After Morning Count
I want back to bed after writing and putting up my laundry. I usually choose to wash my socks and underwear in the shower which is more comfortable then using my sink which hurts my back. I usually get into the shower with my socks and under shorts and t shirts and my arm warmers which are socks with the bottoms cut out. I then use the bar soap they give you in here and rub it on the items and then remove them and hand wash them on at a time. When I finish, I bathe myself. I shave my head and beard when we have good razors. When we don’t I shave at the end of the shower so my beard has a good soak and is soft. Otherwise the razors are painful.
For the first time, this morning the deputy came to each cell asking for a name. After he finished the doors were unlocked.
I have not seen Ms. Williams for several days. I told someone I thought she had been moved but someone said she was probably off because her children, if she has any, were on spring break and she was home with them. We will see is she returns tomorrow, Saturday, or Monday. If not she is out of our life. It may be that it is her time to rotate. All I know is that it is more peaceful in here, much less tension.
March 8, 2008 After Supper
Seventy-seven days ago I orchestrated my arrest. I could have turned myself in with my son John’s help but that is not what I decided to do. I had been under self imposed house arrest for twenty-five months. I had a lot of things that had to be done before I could enter jail, seventy-seven days ago, the time was right to enter the belly of the whale.
I look back and I know that all that happened in the last two years had to happen in order to finish out the 3rd score of years in my life. I had more to endure before I could rest in this jail.
The concrete walls in this cell of cinder blocks look much like the stove wall with the arched oak doorway I saw after I was given the magic bullet injection in me IV on December 27, 1997, just five days short of ten years after that night I entered this dungeon. The metaphor is so real.
Was that door ten years ago a vision of this time in jail? Or was that deaths door and this a different death. That door is one way, this is just a resting place. I am sure over the years I will find more and more parallels to the two white walls.
Like in Italy is 1972, I have thinned the barrier between the reality and heaven (the spiritual reality). It is like hallucinating but I know this place well and I am aware of what is happening. I have no fear of losing my mind. I know this place and state of being very well. It promotes a sense of peace and well being.
My dad survived his surgery. He was given a spinal instead of being put under. They fixed his leg and hip and I feel he will recover and live into his 90’s. Several men here responded to my request for prayers. These are men I know to be touched by God regardless of their crimes.
Kay has gone to my house to pack things for me. John says she will not be able to come back for several months. I know in my heart that this will be the last act between us. I can feel that she will move into her own life. For her I think the packing is bringing closure. We will talk in the days and years to come but somehow this weekend the bad between is will be severed. It is the final act.
Her leaving also means that I will be getting out soon. I believe as soon as I finish this book or very slightly there after I will be released. Within days actually.
I took some time off last night and today and read a 500 page novel. I can see myself becoming a writer. But I can also see a very large web design business.
I will emerge a new man. I will emerge with my past reconciled and closed. I will emerge with a new mandate, a more formed mandate for the future. My body, through my exercise will be stronger and lighter. My head is shaved. I will be traveling light. I have many years, at least forty, left in this life.
There is a time warp in here, the days are all the same, divided into parts. Breakfast starts the day and a period after it until lunch, a period after lunch to dinner and diner to lights out. I eat a small snack at lights out so a meal designated the end of each watch (period).
I will emerge with my father and mother and my son John and to a limited degree, Kay.
I expect one ort more women who are designated to travel with me will emerge within days of my exit from this tomb. I expect that women, significant women will come and go, on friendly terms, for the rest of my life. I have had companies, a wife, for thirty-eight of forty-one years. I am not one to live alone. Yet I do not see a third full time wife. As I move through the next four decades, I see woman coming to fill specific needs and leaving when those goals are accomplished. I’m reading the gospels again since being in jail. I noticed passages about women following Jesus and taking care if his needs. I had never seen that before.
I can feel my soul resting on a much deeper level each week. My power is growing as my life is being purged of the past and I write in this book. I know absolutely that I came here at this time for the purpose of withdrawing from life. Jesus took forty days and I feel my time here will be eighty or one hundred and twenty days. 2x or 3x forty.
For the first two or three weeks I read the novels in this cell block, contemporary novels by John Grisham, Steve Martini, John Sanderson, Dean Kuntz. They allowed me to settle in. I read about thirteen of fourteen in succession.
The next several weeks were spent preparing my write and dealing with my legal situations.
The last three weeks, since February 11th, I have been working on this book.
I know I will finish on or before March 23, Easter Sunday. That will mark twenty years since my name change. It would be interesting to be released the day week after Easter Sunday.
I don’t know what I expected to happen while I was in here. I just know it was time to come here. I have no doubt I will emerge from this tomb cleared and renewed. I know that I will emerge transformed by the light.
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