On June 13, 1994 I was sentenced to 40 months in prison and ordered to pay a “Special Assessment” of $300.00. There seemed to be less media interest in my case with each court appearance. On the evening of the 13th the O.J. Simpson murders were barely a day old and only now beginning to consume stories of lesser interest. If I’d have been sentenced a day or two later I may not have even made the news at all.
         On June 20th I was put in protective custody in administrative detention (the “hole”) by the Special Investigative Agent (SIA), Lieutenant Parr, who learned of a threat on my life. When he interviewed me he asked if I was aware of any threats. I told him I heard a rumor about an inmate in another housing unit who wanted to kill me but that I wasn’t concerned because our two units do not intermix. Lt. Parr told me the inmate out to get me had the last name of Beverly. He wondered if I knew anything about him. I didn’t. I was let out of the hole three days later because Beverly was already transferred from MDC-LA and I was put back in my same housing unit on the Annex.
         A day or so later fellow inmate Doug Hoskinson (spelling unsure) called me aside to talk to me. He was a friend of Beverly’s and used to talk to him through a locked door adjoining our two housing units. (The two lived on the same unit until Doug moved over to our side.) Doug apparently went to staff about my potential safety and that’s why I was put in the hole. Doug was sorry that had to happen and felt he owed it to me to fill me in. He told me details of my involvement with 16-year-old Michael Reeves back in 1984 and his mother, Margaret, that only me and someone in the family or close to the family would know so I know it is true. Apparently Beverly is a friend or family member of Michael and/or Margaret and because of that, he wanted to kill me for what I asked Michael to do. The thing is, he never knew me at the time and he wouldn’t have known me now if I wasn’t a news item as I shouldn’t have been. In any event, I’m glad Doug filled me in. Now I know for sure that it was a real threat against me and not just some unknown person making an idle threat to a widely-known person as sometimes happens.
         I already covered how a combination of errors got me sent to USP Lompoc. Here I was, a widely known ex-sex offender, the worst looked down upon crime among prison inmates, being sent to one of the most violent prisons in the United States, where stabbings happen with considerable regularity and where a good number of the inmates will not see the streets for a long long time, if ever.
         Now as it turns out, they kept me in the dark about my designation until moments before I was loaded onto the van to leave MDC-LA. I could not believe they were sending me to USP Lompoc. First of all, because I don’t need that high of a custody level, and second, because that’s where Beverly is at. (It’s from Doug I found out that’s where he went.) Of all this time of keeping me safe from potentially harmful inmates, now they are sending me right where a known enemy is and to one of the most violent places where something is more likely to happen. Was this true? Could it be true? It was.
         As soon as I got to Lompoc I brought my concerns about Beverly forward to a Correctional Officer in Receiving & Discharge. He checked the computer and found that Beverly lives in J-Unit, which is all the way at the end of a long corridor from where I will be living in C-Unit. He did give me the option of checking myself into the hole for protection on my own, but told me that this institution has a policy of making self check-ins wait a year before they can get transferred somewhere else. Apparently, so many inmates are wanting to get out of this particular institution that they make up stories that they have an enemy out on the yard and then check themselves into the hole in order to get transferred elsewhere. When staff finally caught onto this shenanigan they made it a policy that the self check-ins will have to wait for a year before the transfer will be processed. They couldn’t force the inmate back into the general population because then they would be liable if the guy really did get attacked from an enemy, but they also wanted to dissuade the inmates from manipulating a transfer from staff. This was their way; let the guy sit it out a year in the absolute safety of the hole – 24 hours a day locked in a tiny (with emphasis on tiny) 2-man cell other than 5 hours a week in a small exercise cage and showers 3 times a week. The officer suggested I stay in the general population and work on a transfer with my “Unit Team,” the staff members in charge of the housing unit I’ll be living on. By not leaving the housing unit other than for chow there was no chance of running into Beverly. Because C- and J-Units are widely separated, I didn’t figure I’d run into him even in the dining room. Unfortunately I figured wrong. Even though his unit was long done eating, he apparently lingered to visit with friends as is often done.
         Him seeing me in the dining room that night was all it took. He got word to some of his “road dogs,” friends in more normal speaking terms, and I was viciously attacked on July 2, 1994 (my second day there) by three inmates from C-Unit who made it clear what their reason was. Although they never mentioned Beverly by name, one of the them mentioned that they heard from someone in the dining room that I was a child molester and they wouldn’t stand for that. I received a small scar on my forehead (not quite as visible as the one I got back in 1974 from an attack by inmates aware of my sex offense then), a very sore jaw for several weeks, a bite that is different than before the attack, a cracked tooth which required a crown to fix, a black eye, and various other facial cuts. Then I – instead of Beverly and the 3 attackers – was put in the hole for 61/2 weeks until I got transferred to the Federal Correctional Institution (FCI) at Phoenix, Arizona and ended up having to wait twice for my property and money to be sent to me. I told them right from the start that I could identify two of my three attackers. All I needed was to see a photospread of white tattooed doper kinds of inmates that lived in C-Unit. To this day I cannot get them to get that photospread to me. I have written letters all the way from local prison staff on up to the Western Regional Director making it clear I don’t intend to drop this issue.
         I do not hide the fact that I hold staff members at MDC-LA totally responsible. The anger provoking thing – and the blameworthy thing on their part – is that if I was in such a danger to be placed in protective custody at MDC-LA when we didn’t even have physical contact with inmates in the housing unit Beverly was on (except for shared law library and chapel times) then surely I shouldn’t have been sent to a prison – one of the most violent ones at that – where we do have physical contact with inmates in all the different housing units. And the FBI and ATF should also share some of the responsibility for the attack. If they would have reported that I was merely a threatening letter sender and not an arsonist I wouldn’t have been a newsworthy person and wouldn’t have been known by all the inmates. Beverly wouldn’t have even known me by sight – I would have just been another unknown criminal/inmate in the crowd.
         I did an extra 4 months in prison back in ’89 for merely threatening to publicly expose Mrs. Reeves’ wrong behavior and am doing 6 extra months on this sentence due to an enhancement I got on it because of that prior conviction. That’s 10 months for making just a threat that involved no physical injury at all. And on top of that, this sentence was enhanced for the assault with caustic chemical conviction which, as I have already said, did not meet all of the elements which are required for guilt. Now they wanted to brush aside a vicious attack upon me as if it’s nothing. Again I spoke up, before I give up the real arsonists I want my attackers brought to justice. I’m not going to stand for being a double-standard victim again. I’m also insisting that it’s their responsibility to fix my tooth properly, which was cracked in the attack.
         (In my attempt to get justice on the attack I sent one of my April 24, 1998 inquiry letters to Mrs. Reeves. Within its 3-pages I addressed my allegations in hopes she would clear up my suspicions. Among other things I said, “On July 2, 1994 I was viciously attacked by three inmates at the United States Penitentiary at Lompoc, California. The inmate that ordered the hit was named James Beverly. From information I learned from one of his friends, Beverly is a friend of family member of yours and that’s how you come into this mess. Even though I said I could identify two of my three attackers if they would just show me a photo spread of all white inmates living in C-Unit, prison staff has dropped the ball in trying to ascertain their identity, despite my insistence that I will not rest until they are brought to justice. I got severely punished for merely threatening to expose your misbehavior back in 1989, so I’m not about to let slide by a vicious attack upon me. Because of the prison’s inactivity, it’s all up to me to get justice on this matter. Because you’re a friend [or] family member of Beverly’s, my next step is to find out if you had any part in the attack. Did you egg him on? Did you encourage it? Did you pay to have it done?” I also mentioned, “Because you are a private individual rather than a public figure, the law may not permit me to disclose your identity if you wish to remain anonymous. If this is your wish just let me know and I will grant it. Changing you name is just a few mouse clicks on my computer so it’s no big deal. If you do wish your name changed and have a preference please let me know that too. Otherwise I’ll assign you a name.” Unfortunately, as I mentioned before, the letter was returned unopened with a notation that she no longer lived at the address I got from Michael back in ’85. Because my 1988 letter to her included the draft version of Revenge, which told about our wranglings together along with her criminality, and she never objected to those details being published, nor asked for a name change, I’ll leave her real name as is. Boy, I’d sure like to know whether she was behind the attack. I tend to believe Beverly did it on his own, but I bet she cheered when she found out about it. But did she find out about it after it happened, or become aware of Beverly’s pre-designed plan before it happened and did nothing to talk him out of it? Hmmm. She still needs to be interviewed as part of the process of bringing my attackers to justice. After all, it is a first step in bringing everybody to justice and that’s one thing we’ve got to do if there’s any hope of rounding the arsonists up. Maybe somebody who really wants to bring them to justice can delve into this. Hint, hint. If so, contact me for Mrs. Reeves’ previous address which will give you a starting point to track down her new location. I’m sure internet databases could be a tremendous help in the hunt. [Maybe a private investigator would help. Here’s a couple I’ve run across during my surfing activities: http://www.pimall.com/ and http://www.kaleinvestigation.com/. And the January 1997 issue of Popular Science, page 56, had an article on snooping on the internet and getting information on others.] Once she’s interviewed we can proceed from there.)
         Now that I’m redoing my book with revised data in 2002 I see no legitimate reason to hold back her previous address. All this time has gone by and no one seems willing to bring my attackers to justice. If there’s any hope of doing so she has to at least be brought in for questioning to see what part if any she played in the attack. In 1985 she lived at: 750 27th Street, Manhattan Beach, CA  90266. Her phone number was: 545-7838. Her date of birth is 3-22-47. Now let’s get this gal in for questioning and get this issue resolved once and for all.
         One thing I preach over and over again is that I won’t stand for being treated in a double-standard kind of way ever again. If you make a big stink about my 1986 minor assault as being such a “serious” thing then make sure you make a comparable stink about a major assault when I’m the victim. And be as vigilant in finding out the identity of my attackers as you would be if it was a staff member that got attacked – as I’m sure you would be – or even if it was an inmate who wasn’t a sex offender that was attacked for some other reason.
         One of my hostile letters to staff went as such:

    I have a sneaking hunch that bringing my attackers to justice is a low priority in your book mainly because I’m a sex offender who was attacked for that very reason and you’re probably glad of it. You may hide your gladness or you may not, but I bet you’re glad anyway. I listen to talk radio. I hear all the hostility toward sex offenders and how we are at the bottom of the barrel. And I hear so many saying how they could care less if and when we are attacked in prison. Well I hope you realize how turn about can be fair play. Bringing your arsonists to justice is not a priority of mine. It’s at the bottom of my list just like I’m at the bottom of yours. And I don’t care whether you like my attitude this way. You want arsonists in custody; I want attackers in custody! Are we going to remain at a stand off forever or are you going to give an inch?

         They sure wouldn’t give up the hunt for the murderer of Julie Y. Cross, the only female Secret Service agent killed in the line of duty. I remember seeing flyers prominently displayed at various Los Angeles County Jail facilities back in the mid-1980s asking for assistance on that case, and that case alone. Now, I don’t expect that level of energy to be expended on bringing my attackers to justice; but I surely don’t expect it to be forgotten either. And I won’t let it be! You can trust me on that!!!
         I also have a sneaking hunch about something more sinister. Most times, inmates know a day or two before they transfer which institution they are going to. For those going to the higher-security United States Penitentiaries, staff often don’t give the inmate any advance notice of his pending transfer. They know inmates going to those institutions usually don’t like the idea of it and have therefore been known to misbehave in some way before the actual transfer. To stop that from happening, staff wakes them up early on the day of transfer without any advance notice and gets them on their way. That happened to me. In fact, one of the officers driving the van transporting us that morning, Officer Peltier, told me he didn’t know where I was going even though he had my central file with him. He even got mad at me for trying to sneak a look at my file over his shoulder when he was reading it.
         As I thought about all this later on, it seemed to becoming clearer that they could have conspired to purposely send me into a life-threatening situation, where they knew an enemy of mine was at, simply because I would not divulge any of the information they knew by now that I was holding onto regarding the likely identity of the real arsonists. During my entire stay at MDC-LA I was kept in 8-South Annex, a small housing unit reserved specifically for those needing protection from general population inmates for various reasons, along with those inmates having physical disabilities or mental disabilities. Three inmates housed there during my 8-month stay were former Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Deputies now charged with federal crimes, and one of them was cooperating with the government by testifying against others. Russ was not a former sheriff deputy, but he was a fellow inmate in need of protection because he too was testifying against others. Russ is a repeat offender with a current offense conviction for robbery, a “crime of violence” according to the U.S. Sentencing Guidelines. A person with his record would surely score high on the Bureau’s Security Designation Form. But instead of shipping him off to a high-security institution after he was sentenced, he was transferred instead to the unfenced Federal Prison Camp at Boron, California. I believe they figured that because he testified and helped them they would bend over backwards to be as sure as possible that he isn’t at a place where more violent-prone inmates, who could especially hate snitches, are at. With me having child molesting on my record, something hated by inmates more than being a snitch, I get sent not only to a violent-prone penitentiary level prison, but to the very penitentiary where I had a known enemy who wanted me dead. And staff seemed perfectly willing to keep me in the dark until the very minute I was unloaded off of the van. There is a rat to be smelled here. We just haven’t found it yet.
         In March 1998 I came into possession of some additional documentation I did not have before that date. Later on, we’re going to be covering how the public defender I had in my Costa Mesa vandalism case put off my speedy-trial motion hearing until she received various documents she requested from the Bureau of Prisons. While much of what they sent was of no benefit to that case, a number of pages enlightened me, not only on this attack, but on some of my later dealings with staff at the next institution I transferred to.
         Inmates are allowed to review their central file periodically, but there is a part labeled “FOI Exempt” which we could not see. FOI stands for the Freedom of Information Act, which dictates what can and cannot be disclosed to an inmate. In a July 13, 1994 4-page report rubber stamped, not only “FOI EXEMPT,” but also “DOJ [Department of Justice] SENSITIVE,” J. Schectman, the Special Investigative Agent (SIA) at USP Lompoc detailed the attack upon me. Some of what is in it is noteworthy to mention because it tends to indicate that I was refusing to disclose the identity of my attackers. It is a common practice for inmates to not snitch others off when they are in a fight so possibly those interviewing me had this mindset already established.
         Schectman said, “According to Lieutenant [P.] Bise [the Lieutenant that interviewed me right after the attack], inmate LARSEN would not provide the identity of his assailants. However, according to Lieutenant Bise, inmate LARSEN related that one inmate was white, with tattoos on his arms and with facial hair resembling a goatee.” Wouldn’t identify them is the wrong word to use. They should have used the word, couldn’t, because I didn’t know their names. I don’t recall whether I told Bise I could identify two of them if I saw photos of them or not. I was still kind of bloody during our conversation. Instead of having me escorted to his office to interview me, Schectman talked to me briefly in my cell within earshot of my cell mate and inmates in adjoining cells. In his report he quoted me as saying, “I was hit the day after I got off the bus. It was in the card room (C-Unit), but I don’t know who the inmates were. I have an idea what it was about and maybe who ordered the guys to pounce on me.” It wasn’t until I was privately interviewed by Sally Erickson, my Case Manager, and, on another day, Lieutenant R. S. Truchsess, one of the Lieutenants in the administrative detention unit, that I told them that I could identify two of my attackers if they would show me a photospread of white inmates living in C-Unit. Schectman ended his report by saying, “In conclusion, this investigator was unable to produce the identity of LARSEN’S assailant.” First off, it was assailants, in plural, not assailant. And second, of course they couldn’t “produce the identity” because they failed to get me that photospread to look at.
         I was transferred to the high level FCI in Phoenix, Arizona in mid-August 1994. Staff there knew of my knowledge of the real arsonists but paid it no mind. After several months went by some inmate showed up from Lompoc that was aware of me being an ex-sex offender. Now threats and harassment began anew just like they had in past years in prisons.
         I continued my desire to get justice by telling my Unit Manager, Mr. David L. Wisehart, during my initial “Team” meeting of my desire to prosecute the guilty culprits. He told me to hire an attorney and that’s bullshit. Victims of crime don’t hire attorneys; that’s what prosecuting attorneys are for. I bet he’d make a stink if he was a victim and someone told him to pay money out of his pocket to get justice. Well, I’m making a stink too. I want justice and I don’t intend to pay out of my pocket to get it. “Surely you could send for photographs of white inmates that were living in C-Unit back in July 1994” I told him.
         I let Wisehart know how awful it is to keep my one single day of mailed threats in the “greatest” category custody-level wise which in turn subjected me to some of the worst God awful threats imaginable on a continuing basis at such a high-security level institution, where more hardened and hostile inmates are housed, and then do nothing to alleviate or protect me from daily victimization and attack on one instance. Where are the laws that are suppose to protect me from harm? If my threatening letters warrant such a level because threats are wrong then why aren’t worse threats I’m subjected to treated seriously? Why isn’t there the same outrage at what I am subjected to as there is at what I mailed out? Why aren’t I protected from threats the same as society is protected from ones I lodged? Wisehart or anyone else declined to answer these questions and all attempts to recalculate my point score on the current offense category and on that one prior conviction failed throughout my stay in the Bureau of Prisons. I never got to go to a much safer low-custody camp or even a lower-custody FCI.
         I filed a Tort Claim in a timely manner soon after I arrived at FCI Phoenix asking for $5,000.00 in compensation for their negligence which led to the attack, plus I emphasized my desire to bring my attackers to justice. My claim was denied by Mr. Harlan W. Penn, the Regional Counsel for the Western Regional Office in Dublin, California. Not only wouldn’t he accept any responsibility for their actions by saying, “There is no evidence of negligence on the part of staff,” but they still refuse to refer the case to the United states Attorney for prosecution, or even write the culprits an incident report in which they could punish them according to prison rules. And worse than any of that, they don’t even care about knowing their identity. Penn had the nerve to say, “Investigation conducted afterwards failed to determine either the motivation for the attack or the identities of the assailants. The individual that you had expressed concern about [Beverly] was not conclusively linked to the incident.” Of course they didn’t get their identities because they never showed me a photospread of all white inmates living in C-Unit so I could pick them out. I told them I could pick out two of the three. And I bet they never interviewed Beverly. I wrote a follow-up letter to Mr. Penn stating that I had no intention of dropping the issue ever. All Penn did was refer it back down to Warden C.E. Floyd, the warden at FCI Phoenix, and he didn’t even do anything about it other than acknowledge receipt of Penn’s letter. I then wrote a letter a little more forcefully to Mr. O. Ivan White, Jr., the Western Regional Director for the Bureau of Prisons, and then to Kathleen Hawk, the Director of the Bureau of Prisons in Washington D.C. I covered some of the same ground the paragraph above does regarding attacks upon sex offenders as being a not important case to solve and how that is very anger provoking. I re-emphasized my insistence about getting justice and hinted that we need to work at solving the assault before we can work at solving the arsons. Even though they knew I only believed they did it, rather than knowing for sure, I never heard a word from them. I wonder if they would have been as unconcerned if I would have lied and said I knew for sure that they were the arsonists? We’ll never know because I’m not into lying. If anyone was going to be a beacon of honesty in this growing filthy cloud of spiked dishonesty and outright lies, it was going to be me. Anyway, I’m still asking for $5,000.00 in compensation for the attack, pain and suffering and whatever else they call it provided my attackers get punished. And that’s really a bargain. Some people have won much more than this in law suits that involved only a bit of mental anguish, a minor push maybe, or even just unnecessary aggravation caused by somebody’s improper actions.
         (As an interesting sideline, in July 1995 I asked Lieutenant B. Barton, the Special Investigative Supervisor at FCI Phoenix, why they won’t send over pictures of all white inmates that lived in Lompoc’s C-Unit. He told me that my word alone would not be enough to write the attackers an incident report. I suggested then that at least a notation could be written in their central files so staff will know about their violent nature. But they weren’t even concerned about that. I’m sure if it would have been a staff member that was attacked they would be though. And I was told something similar by Lt. Truchsess at USP Lompoc a year earlier. He refused my request to see a photospread because my ID alone would not be enough to convict if there were no other witnesses. The double-standard victimization here is overwhelming. They only need a “preponderance of the evidence” to convict an inmate of a prison rule violation. It’s not like in court where they need “beyond a reasonable doubt”; so it doesn’t take much. As far as I’m concerned, if they want the arsonists brought to justice, they best get me my attackers. What’s extra angering is that when it comes to me, I get thrown in the hole for weeks on the word of just some inmate that told staff that I was fiddling with a door as explained a little farther along in our story. Why is his word good enough for a piddly-ass thing like I did but my word isn’t good enough when it comes to identifying my aggravated assault attackers? You think you want the arsonists don’t you? Let’s talk about my attackers first! And when you approach me about the arsonists you best have news about my attackers getting their just punishment!)
         I did not realize my tooth was cracked until a minor tooth ache developed about 4 months after the attack. It was then that the dentist at FCI Phoenix, Dr. Johnston, advised me that a lower jaw tooth is cracked. He acknowledged the hit in the mouth – which happened at the same part of the jaw – could have cracked the tooth. He told me I needed a crown. They would grind the tooth down to a stub and glue a false tooth on it. Unfortunately, they use silver color metal crowns rather than the better real tooth color looking porcelain crowns. Dr. Johnston said that if it was his tooth and if the pain was not getting worse, he’d wait until after release to get a proper porcelain crown. I chose that option because I wanted it done right. It only hurt slightly when I would bite down on that side on something hard like almonds. Sweets never affected it but ice water did a little bit. I don’t drink coffee so don’t take hot drinks. It remained this way until I got released in October 1996, and that’s when I got it fixed – at my cost. Grrr!
         Part of the sentence that was imposed upon me by Judge Hupp was a $300.00 “Special Assessment.” Unlike a fine, which can be waived, the law did not permit him to waive the Special Assessment. (By law it’s $50.00 per count and I had 6 counts in my conviction.) The Bureau of Prisons has a program known as “Financial Responsibility Program” (FRP) where they collect these debts on a periodic basis from inmates as they get paid on their prison jobs or get money sent in from home.
         Before we go on any further though, let me fill you in on some of Jessner’s behavior when Judge Hupp refused to impose a fine. Even though he was fully aware of what unfairly being cost money led to over and over again in the past, he tried his darnest to get a stiff fine imposed. He even went overboard harping on it repeatedly after Judge Hupp waived the fine and all costs except the $300.00. It reminded me of Rappe’s 1978 overly harping to Judge Hauk during trial about my past sex offense. Although Jessner didn’t have the benefit of reading my Statement of Judicial Debts Receivable or the latest edition of Revenge, he surely knows how Rappe’s actions along with others he did contributed to him coming out the goat and costing the government and society big time. Surely Jessner should have known he could have easily come out the goat 10 or 100 times over with big time egg on his face. Fortunately, Judge Hupp – with the advantage of hindsight – knew my hyper-sensitivity to money violations and the problems it would cause. He knew Jessner best not be allowed to prevail and wisely waived all other fines. If anything, Jessner should have been more concerned about getting the other debtors listed within my Statement of Judicial Debts Receivable off of refusal status. After all, interest on their debts are increasing astronomically year after year as I clearly indicate.
         Unlike the state prison and parole people back in ’87-’90 who knew it was better to not try to collect the $1,000.00 fine that Judge Fratianne imposed, the Bureau of Prisons was not as enlightened. Even though they knew of my extreme hyper-sensitivity to receiving threats of any kind, they threatened me with sanctions if I wouldn’t sign my money over to them; i.e. wouldn’t “participate” in their “Financial Responsibility Program.” (The latest incarnation of a form, known as “Inmate Financial Contract,” which I was “requested” to sign even shamelessly quotes their threat in all capitals, “A STAFF MEMBER HAS PROVIDED ME WITH INFORMATION REGARDING THE POTENTIAL CONSEQUENCES OF A REFUSAL ON MY PART TO PARTICIPATE IN THE INMATE FINANCIAL RESPONSIBILITY PROGRAM.”) Even when I openly provided pages upon pages of clearly worded admonishments relating the danger of such a practice, and outlined the typical ways I’ve resolved such unfairnesses in the past, I could not get them to listen. I thought outlining specific remedies I’d ordinarily invoked would bend their ear just a bit but they just could not see the possible “predicament” they could be getting themselves into and they flat out refused to relent. They said it was a “court order” that I had to pay it. Well, it was also a court order that I be taken to my father’s funeral too, but they disregarded that and Judge Hupp didn’t as much as chastise them for their contempt. I figured that if I had to wait until I get released in order to, visit their graves, put all my property back in pre-vandalism condition, get my cracked tooth fixed right, and get my attackers brought to justice, then they can wait too. They didn’t see it that way though. To me, such threats of sanctions is much the same as when I previously told various perpetrators what would happen if they didn’t pay back what they owed me. In my case, I got charged with threatening communications or even extortion. Why isn’t the Bureau of Prisons held to the same standard? I’ll hold them to it and make them accountable. It would be my pleasure. If my threats are not excused in the slightest, then neither should anyone else’s be. Rather than being so concerned about getting 300 bucks out of me, there are higher priority things they should be more concerned about. But because of their lack of prioritizing, I grudgingly bowed to the threats knowing I’d get it back at the other end. That end is listed later on where we tally up what the selling price of my complete total story is in Chapter 20. Besides, Special Assessments are suppose to be directed to victims of crime anyway. That’s what the law says. Or don’t you think I was a victim of assault at the USP at Lompoc? (Fixing my cracked tooth alone cost more than 300 bucks!) You know I was, and you know I was sent there negligently. So fess up; it’s your fault! If anything, it owes me – NOT I owe it! Return my money!!! (But, let me emphasize; I’m making no threat to do so though. I don’t do that no more. There’s no need to.) I don’t mean your fault to mean you the independent reader. Many of these paragraphs are lifted out of my Statement of Judicial Debts Receivable which is directed primarily to those judicial folks who violated me.
         One piece of documentation I gave them was a draft copy of Revenge. (This was done through the Bureau of Prisons’ official administrative remedy process which included filling out a BP-9 form.) I asked them to wait until I was ready to publish it before they ask me for my money. I touched on this topic earlier when we were discussing the Fratianne fine but some of it bears repeating here. What’s said in the rest of this paragraph and the next was provided to them in a little different phrasing. A fine was the impetus for writing Revenge in the first place. I knew my breaking point when it comes to money violations and what such misconduct can and does lead to. I needed to make sure that if they were going to insist that I pay off that fine, that it was going to come from the profits of something that, although legal, they wouldn’t like – i.e. the teachings and preaching in my book.
         As I mentioned before; I solemnly vowed to never again be forced by way of pressure, threats, or extortion to pay for an attorney out of my pocket and never pay a fine or suffer an unnecessary or unfair judicial-caused expense without returning a punishment comparable in nature back upon them with enhancements as reoffenders get. (I will personally do nothing to bring on an attack of symptoms. And at the same time, I will not allow symptom-producing behavior to be done to me without first advising the instigator of likely side effects.) There will be no more income-funneling judicial related expenses going out of my pocket ever again! And that they can take to the bank – my bank! And that includes traffic or parking tickets. If I get one, I’ll choose to do the few days in county jail rather than pay the fine. I won’t run out on a promise to appear mind you; I just won’t pay a fine. I don’t mind doing the brief county jail time as long as it costs them and not me – after all; I do love to cost the judicial system money; to monkey wrench as I put it. That is a pet hobby of mine. Some people like cats or dogs or collecting stamps. I like monkey wrenching. (Did you catch the pun there? Pet and Hobby?) I am especially adamant about this vow today because I’ve been punished for the very same thing, (twice on one case alone); making threats. I’m not about to accept them from somebody else! Double-standard violations are one thing I don’t tolerate no more. Don’t expect me to. I’m far, far to close to the edge on this topic.
         One of the documents I included in my BP-9 was a three page Monetary Advisory. I’m including select sentences and paragraphs from it below so you can see what they had presented to them. Don’t get lost now. Their ultimate response relates to our story at hand because it is extending the fellas’ vacation.

MONETARY ADVISORY

    This open Advisory is addressed to any Bureau of Prisons staff member or any member of the judicial system in any capacity to inform them of my extremely fragile psychological make up as it relates to anyone trying to get ahold of any of MY legitimately obtained money and/or personal possessions.…I will do my very best to spell out the very touchy predicament such negligent tactics can bring to the surface.
    Nothing in this document or any others readers are referred to review are intended to be illegal threats of any kind. Rather, my strong words contain only advise on expected proper conduct to follow.
    Now let me admonish you as clearly as possible how your own laws and Guidelines emphasize that you should not try to get any of MY legitimately obtained money and/or property from me. First of all 18 U.S.C. [United States Code] § 3553 (a)(2) tells you that “in the most effective manner” you are “to protect the public from further crimes of the defendant” and “afford [an] adequate deterrence to criminal conduct.” The key word here is “in the most effective manner.” You’ve got a mountain of hindsight available to you. You know it hasn’t been too effective for either the judicial system or society when I have been squeezed out of MY money and/or property -- whether by threat or outright theft. Check the suggested reading list earlier in the last paragraph [not included here] and my rap sheet. You know this is true.
    What’s more, as if you need any more, 18 U.S.C. [§] 3614 tells you to consider “the nature of the offense and the characteristics of the person.” [I just love to quote their own laws back to them. : - )] You know the nature of my offense. You know it was judicial misconduct over MY money and property that brought it about. And surely by now you know my characteristics. You don’t want to commit another traumatic stressor again do you? Remember, the “U.S. Sentencing Guidelines,” under Probation and Supervised Release, commands you to do what’s “designed to limit further criminal conduct.” I’ve told you over and over how to do it. Can you pay attention this time? Hasn’t your mis-actions cost society enough? “Designed to limit” -- keep that in mind!
    Think relapse prevention this time; not more abuse infliction. That’s what got you in the dog house before. No matter how you stack the cards, you’re money ahead if you keep your sticky fingers out of my piggy bank. Others are probably tired of my waving scolding finger in their face when I come back later and say I tried to tell you so after they find out I laid into them pretty good. I’m tired of saying it too, but I know my weakness -- my breaking point! That’s why I’ve set aside a lot of time to prepare this Advisory and research legal documents to show you you are within the law and Guidelines if you just slack off MY money. Society will be benefited. You will be benefited. I will be benefited. And no one needs to come out the goat with big time egg on their faces again.
    Have I said enough, or shall I speak more forcefully? Do you care about society as strongly as you profess to do? If you don’t want me to be a “danger” or a nuisance to society - DON’T unfairly treat or unnecessarily aggravate me! (See the admonishments in my “Medical Advisory and Statement of Facts” [since renamed to Medical Advisory/Information: Statement of Facts] and you’ll know how to lawfully act. Think of it as your Bible and its pronouncements as rules to follow for the benefit of society.)

         And another document I provided to them was the following:

AGREEMENT BETWEEN THOMAS LEE LARSEN
AND ALL JUDICIAL SYSTEM PERSONNEL
RESPONSIBLE FOR THE TAKING OF MY MONEY
IN REGARDS TO THE “SPECIAL ASSESSMENT” FRP

    Your taking of MY money in regards to the “special assessment” you say I owe constitutes you[r] full understanding of my extreme sensitivity to money matters - especially receiving threats of unfavorable sanctions if I don’t give it up - as outlined in my “Medical Advisory and Statement of Facts” and other accompanying documents. By committing this misdeed you agree to familiarize yourself with various criminal statutes defining threats and extortion to see if any of the language and tactics you use fit within their language and, if so, you will become aware of the penalties for committing these acts. You agree to provide me with the name(s) of any individual(s) directly or indirectly responsible for the taking of MY money (especially the culprit actually signing the check sending MY money out) and any and all who insist upon receiving it. You also agree to make these names available to community members and/or media representatives should the need arise. You will be aware of past penalties handed down on account of former perpetrators and will openly stand up and proclaim your full knowledge and understanding of my medical condition to the public in this limited regard in the future if and when the needs arises. You agree to admit freely and openly your desire to still take MY money even after knowing every intimate money matter detail about me and the problems such conduct has caused in the past. By taking MY money you further agree to not hide behind a facade of “I didn’t know” if ever questioned by community residents and/or media representatives. You further agree to make this documentation available to any and all (present and future) judicial personnel attempting to grab ahold of MY money along with those who will be the actual receivers of stolen property (i.e. MY money). You further understand I consider myself a victim of extortionate threats and petty theft and will log it as such for future reference. (Remember: I keep a record of all committed misbehavior so proper disposition can be made in the future!) (A review of my words to Mrs. Reeves in 1985 and again in 1988 [see “Judicial Debt Statement” [since renamed to Statement of Judicial Debts Receivable]] clearly indicate my wording fell far shorter of the threatening category than what I’ve received both verbally and in writing regarding the taking of MY money for this “special assessment” purpose. And in my case I was severely punished. Remember – I don’t like double standards as indicated on page 1 of “Medical Advisory and Statement of Facts”!!!)

DISCLAIMER: None of my wording regarding the taking of money from me or costing me money in any way should be regarded as a threat of any kind. Rather, my wording is just advise on proper conduct that should be adhered to. References to past retaliation for misconduct should not automatically be construed to mean a threat is being made that retaliation will happen again after my release should a misdeed be re-committed. Rather, prospective perpetrators are merely advised of my higher than average sensitivity regarding this topic and are ardently advised to act cautiously and work within the framework of my well known and documented maladies.

         And one of the documents I provided even included the following paragraph:

Snake, the writer of “Fedbuster,” was a particularly fire prone individual as I look back on him in hindsight. When the feds were pressing me pretty hard with their “facts” that I was an arsonist they escorted me into another room where I was shown a chronological chart of all the recent fires. When I saw that a white van was seen at one fire and a motorcycle at another I thought of disclosing that Snake owned a motorcycle and Mondo an old white van. [My typo in that document. Danny owned the van.] Before I was going to disclose this and probable take them to the park they were hanging out in back when I knew them I wanted to call home to see if things were being respected. When I found out the crime they were committing with my stuff I clamed up and they had nothing coming from me. Their over-zealousness to violate me resulted in maybe the real arsonists going scot free. Whether they were or not we’ll never know. But that’s what they get when they try to lie their way into a confession and phony up a polygraph test. I kind of hope they were and that my silence brings the FBI & ATF a lot of crap over how they botched the case. I wish I could run into Snake, Mondo, Danny, Tim, Chuck, Dave, Crystal, Doug, and Scott some day and get the whole story.

         This BP-9, by the way, was submitted up the chain of command after it left the warden’s desk on through the regional director (BP-10), and then to the General Counsel of National Inmate Appeals in Washington D.C. (BP-11). (All levels denied me and I was stuck with paying. Grrr : - ( ) And this isn’t the only appeal Washington D.C. received from me where I claim knowledge about the arsonists that I was hiding. Later on, you’ll read excerpts from another one addressing their denial to send me to a half-way house. To this day it puzzles me how little the judicial system cared about bringing the real culprits to justice once I was sentenced and shuffled on off to prison. Me not caring is very understandable – but them? Shouldn’t those who lost their homes expect more? Hmmm.
         I’ve spoken about my Medical Advisory more than once so far, so I guess I should show you a peek at it. Being a computer generated document though, it has advanced somewhat from the version prison staff members were given. For one thing, a number of Endnotes have been added as you will see:

MEDICAL ADVISORY/INFORMATION
STATEMENT OF FACTS

         BE AWARE, I, Thomas Lee Larsen have been diagnosed with a medical condition of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD) and Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD).¹ These ailments manifest themselves as a higher than average degree of sensitivity to always expecting fair and just treatment from those individuals or organizations, particularly the judicial system & personnel, with whom I interact. During times of unfair or unnecessary aggravating experiences – sometimes even minor ones – my symptoms, similar to a severe allergic reaction, have been known to flare up; and, as past history indicates, when they do I do not respond very well. (This is especially true when the same offense is committed a second or more times.) This hyper-sensitivity – not possessed by many, but in fact intensified in me by a series of judicial system misdeeds – is more understandable when you realize how some victims of crime are severely traumatized by the experience while others of a similar crime are barely affected at all. And reacting in an ardent manner is easier to comprehend when viewed from the perspective of a victim who has been repeatedly violated or emotionally battered over and over again by some wrong doing. Victims usually reach a point where they say they won’t take it any more, no matter what! Battered Wife Syndrome is now a recognized condition affecting some continually abused wives who have reached their limits. Thanks to several perpetrators, I am now in a similar position – my abusers being misbehaving judicial personnel, and my condition more correctly being called Abused Defendant Syndrome (ADS) – a condition equally worthy of attention and consideration.²
         Combining OCD, BPD, ADS, a mild form of Intermittent Explosive Disorder (IED), Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD),³ with my other less intense malady, Adjustment Disorder with Disturbance of Conduct, more than once, my behavior and desires to even the score have materialized into something that tends to – depending upon the degree of inappropriate actions – considerably cost, inconvenience, embarrass, and/or aggravate the perpetrator, or organization he, she, or they represents, who has victimized me in some way. These reactions, while at times quite extreme but always intentionally non-violent, have sometimes been channeled into actions not even illegal; and most of the time there is no defense against them. When I have chosen a method of response I knew could not lead to legal problems, I experience considerable satisfaction & pleasure when I can publicly make somebody look bad & then have a chance to get the last word by saying, “I tried to tell you so.” Three areas I am extremely sensitive about and that must not happen are: Don’t unfairly treat, discriminate against, belittle, taunt, or unnecessarily aggravate me in any way; don’t cheat, cost, or make me – by way of pressure, threats, or extortion – spend MY money (or even time) on things I don’t want to – especially to correct damage you caused, did, or allowed to happen!!! (I can give numerous examples where even a small unfair cost resulted in a great expense to others⁴); and one of the most important of all, don’t ever, ever again mess with – or worse yet, take – MY legitimately obtained personal property. Since I was seriously violated on January 11th, 1980 by the Secret Service I now put much more emphasis on MY material possessions than people with a spouse and kids put on their family members, and I protect & cherish these possessions and punish violators as fiercely – possibly more, depending upon the level of violation. You know how you’d feel if someone touched your kid’s private parts without permission. I am that same way with MY material possessions. I don’t have a spouse, kids, or friends and I’m not looking for any. I’m a loner – a disgruntled loner. I’ve got MY personal property – don’t mess with it (or put me in a position where others are able to)!!! Or even touch it! Trust me; you don’t want to commit this offense again! That’s a dark tunnel you don’t want to explore. This is the one I worry the most would trigger me off the worst. This is a major hot-button issue – my Achilles’ heel. My fuse is far far too short to withstand any violation. Just respect my personal property as you want others to respect your kid’s private parts – i.e. notouching! It’s as simple as that. A child could understand it. Can you? Despite what some may think, I do not resent authority figures – only those who abuse their authority, and today, abuse it in even minor ways.⁵
         Recently, due to additional judicial system misconduct, my tolerance level and resilience to withstand any of the above violations – plus being lied to or about (or having my statements misquoted), having the wrong thing nit-picked on or exaggerated in any way (don’t blame me for something I didn’t do [see threats example below], or equally bad, amplify what I did do beyond proper bounds [don’t make a mountain out of a molehill and keep your concerns and priorities on the right thing⁶]), having a hypocritical double standard imposed upon me in any way (don’t persecute me, or punish me more, on something others are allowed to do to me or others, especially law enforcement personnel [the Manhattan Beach Police Department and Torrance courts are already in the dog house for committing this offense]), or various other wrongs; especially threats of any kind which is sure to aggravate the situation (I got prosecuted and punished for mere words improperly understood as being a threat in 1989 and am very touchy about receiving them from judicial personnel who think they can throw them around at will and then have the nerve to actually expect me to simply accept them. In two cases [1986 & 1989] I was threatened under fraudulent pretenses to plead guilty or no contest to higher offense level charges the DA and judge knew I didn’t do; my behavior only matched Penal Code requirements for guilt of lesser charges. Receiving threats is a very volatile issue to me. Don’t commit this one! I cannot make it any clearer.)⁷ – has gone even lower and I am less able to forgive, forget, or accept them. This intrinsic quality is something you have to be cognizant of and attempt to work around. In fact, knowing this tendency, you have more of a responsibility, as professionals, to modify your expectations and act in ways that will not promote an escalation of symptoms, bring on certain kinds of unfavorable behavior, or open a pandora’s box. Just as you work within the framework of any differently-abled (handicapped) person’s lesser capabilities, medical weaknesses, or greater sensitivities, that same methodology must be followed here. This way I won’t have an opportunity to resolve matters in a way I’m typically accustomed to doing and you’ll have to respect that.
         In order to avoid one of the above mentioned reactions, and while working within the structure of my innate nature, I now admonish a prospective perpetrator of my limit(s) and encourage him, her, or them to please choose an alternate course of action, slack off, or otherwise correct the situation when I am nearing my capacity. (And since the 1985 & 1989 Torrance travesties that capacity is reached with barely⁸ any misconduct whatsoever.)⁹ This way, if the offending party doesn’t refrain, he, she, or they must be accountable and accept some of the responsibility and criticism for the possible outcome that may transpire if I suffer a relapse. If they choose to play by less than the rules of the road, then they dare not have a right to complain if I respond in a like fashion.
         Everyone has their limits – mine just happen to be lower than many peoples. Past behavior suggests that; I accept it; and work around it. I am no longer in a state of denial about it. I will no longer hide my true nature in the closet, nor will I lie about it or get bogged down worrying about it. If I’m treated not right, I will respond to some degree – period! This is now a feature of my intolerant personality, and a part of the landscape of my life, thanks to past judicial improprieties, and you have to accept it and work around it. And I will not make excuses, apologize, or feel remorse in the slightest for my intentional non-violent reactions when perpetrators knew of their wrong behavior but proceeded anyway.¹⁰
         If my alternate personality is to remain safely in remission without exacerbated reactions (if I am to avoid falling off the wagon, not backslide, or whatever you wish to call it) as I wish, your conduct must factor my lower¹¹ threshold into the equation also. In fact, limits are important factors to take into consideration when interacting with anyone like this, whether they have OCD-BPD-ADS-IED-NPD¹² or not, and should not be brushed over lightly. As hindsight demonstrates, and professionals have predicted, when they are, unfavorable conduct can and has happened – the exact opposite effect of what you’re trying to accomplish. To persist is literally a penny wise and pound foolish situation. For all concerned, please adjust your actions toward me accordingly.
         Sir Isaac Newton’s third law of motion, “for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction” applies forcefully in various areas of our lives, even beyond the realm of the typical physicist in the laboratory – and in my case, the reaction has exceeded the action in many instances (much like has been done to me). Like a dog eventually bites back if he’s kicked too many times, in a similar analogy, guilty culprits should not continue their misbehavior and not expect to get bitten eventually.
         With the advantage of hindsight of past tragedies, and extensive knowledge of my unfairness/aggravation intolerant nature, most possessing wisdom and desiring to keep reactions within less invasive and acceptable levels, appreciate the opportunity to alter their course when prompted. It’s better to eliminate a problem rather than compound one – to enhance benefits rather than side effects. An ounce of prevention is surely worth a pound of cure. In 1991 I successfully made it off of state parole without any relapse due, in large part, to parole authorities properly minding their P’s & Q’s. Let’s continue following that same format. They almost faltered once, but an earlier version of this Advisory helped get them back on track within an acceptable “comfort” zone of behavior and a relapse was adverted. I don’t need the extra aggravation in my life at this time and those who act inappropriately don’t need repercussions and/or bad media coverage. I’m an easy dog to hunt with – my needs are simple. Just don’t violate any of the above and/or get on my shit list, which is very tough to get off – especially for re-offenders. Just like judicial personnel never forget defendants’ past misbehavior, even years ago (I still suffer adverse treatment because of an offense I committed in 1959 at age 9), I too never forget violations committed against me! I too keep a record – a “rap sheet” if you will. I too am an injustice collector. (The San Fernando Juvenile Court and Van Nuys Probation Department remain on that list to this day for a 1967 costly to me misdeed.) More caution needs to be shown so that a person not otherwise “dangerous” – or just merely a nuisance like me – is not actually made dangerous. If you want to be treated fairly, you must first treat others (me) fairly. Only then is everyone benefited.
         Please excuse my sternly worded admonishments (which are not intended to be illegal threats, but rather merely words of advice on expected proper conduct to follow), but critical situations – brought on by your own past misdoings – require strong words. I am only expressing how my anger level is extremely high (thanks in extra special part to Torrance buffoons committing offenses against me on two separate occasions [the second time after knowing full well the results of their first misbehavior])¹³ and I do not again want to reach a point where a violation of even minor severity is the straw that breaks the camel’s back. Several times in the past both I and professional evaluators – including psychiatrists – advised judicial personnel of not only a proper course they should take, but also that neglecting it may result in unfavorable behavior. (I have never hidden the fact that my “comfort zone” of behavioral activities that I’ll accept from judicial personnel grows increasingly narrower with each new or recurring violation.) Every time this advise was neglected predictions of poorer responses regrettably came true. You wouldn’t give a recovering alcoholic a drink knowing he or she may suffer a steep fall after even just one drink. I ask the same courtesy. You know the side effects and impact of your misactions. Put your emphasis on smoothing my ruffled feathers rather than ruffling them to a point beyond any hope of smoothing them over again. I’m currently fairly well composed with my attitude with the judicial system at the present time.¹⁴ My writing, speaking, and teaching on judicial abuse matters trickles off any lingering misgivings I still have and profits from these activities helps make up improper financial losses I shouldn’t have suffered. Let’s help keep me in a tranquil state. I haven’t backslid in an illegal way since being released from prison in August 1990, but that continuing status is very dependent upon further ongoing proper behavior of judicial personnel. Heed the lessons of your past mistakes, acknowledge and learn by them, and use the advantage of hindsight – don’t screw up again. Don’t stir up a hornet’s nest – again. Don’t throw gasoline on a smoldering fire. Don’t light my short fuse. Don’t push me over the edge. Just don’t cross the conduct/misconduct line – again! Remember, you are on very thin ice.¹⁵ Think relapse prevention; not abuse infliction. Do not for one second even think of sidestepping the Fairness Doctrine. And never forget my number one cardinal rule; keep your money grubbing little fingers outa’ my piggy bank, (i.e. wallet) – and off of my personal property.¹⁶ I’m a perfectionist with it. I sure can’t make it any clearer than that. Remember, that’s what got you in the dog house more than once before. Enough said? Or shall I speak more forcefully? LEAVE ME AND MY POSSESSIONS ALONE; I’m a bottom-line oriented (if you want anything from me you’ve gotta’ “show me the money” first ’cause I ain’t doin’ nothin’ that doesn’t make financial sense for my bottom line – you got that?), narcissistic, materialistic, loner kind of guy (I’ve become increasingly more like this with each new judicial violation) and MY possessions are MINE; don’t bother us!!! All I care about is my happiness and my health. The rest of it – I can give a shit. And my money and possessions fall in the “my happiness” category. Let us get along with our lives with as minimal of aggravations as possible. Trust me; all will be benefited by it. Now shooo...... Get out of our faces; leave us alone and at peace unmolested!!!¹⁷

AGREEMENT BETWEEN THOMAS LEE LARSEN
AND ANY PERSON, OFFICIAL OR OTHERWISE,
GIVEN OR HAVING HAD MADE AVAILABLE TO THEM
A COPY OF MY
"MEDICAL ADVISORY/INFORMATION: STATEMENT OF FACTS"

         A pocket version of these two documents, along with my OATH – similar to a medical bracelet – are carried in my wallet at all times just in case I’m “ambushed” in some fashion by a careless judicial-system person unaware of the lingering effects his or her misbehavior could cause.
         You may be wondering, being I wasn’t out on bail, how did I get ahold of one of my draft copies of Revenge to bring into prison. Jessner gave it to me – well not me personally. He gave it to my attorney, who gave it to me. You see, Jessner filed his own set of Position papers to the court to contest my attorney’s Position which presented me in the most favorable light at sentencing. In order to make me look as bad as possible, Jessner included things that had nothing to do with this case. Things like one of my letters to Mrs. Reeves, Revenge, and even one of the letters that claimed responsibility for the recent vandalisms to car dealerships up and down the state. And being I got a copy of whatever he filed with the court, I now had what I needed in order to make copies so I could distribute Revenge on to others. It makes me chuckle a bit – his complaint at what I distributed to inmates years earlier (even though it was perfectly legal to do so), now provided me the opportunity to distribute it all anew to a whole new group of inmates. Sort of one of those opposites of what they’re trying to accomplish that I love so much doing. And no one could do anything about it because I stood tall upon the shoulders of our Founding Fathers who wrote our First Amendment. Is this a great country or what? : - ) Loving when one’s own plan comes together is one thing – turning someone else’s plan back on top of them and crushing them with it is ___________. I’m lost for words here; the feeling is so good. Can you believe that; loquacious me; lost for words? Surely for an avenger, it approaches the pleasure of a great sexual encounter. Does that mean Jessner made me cum? Bite your tongue. He is a handsome man though. If he were gay and it was a few years earlier, when he would have been within the age range that I’m attracted to, and I saw him at the Silver Mountain, I sure wouldn’t pass him by without a friendly, “hey guy, how ya doin’?” (If he’d have been there that fateful night I met Snake I would have never been approached, ’cause Jessner would have caught his eye first. Just think, if that would have happened you wouldn’t have this book to read. Then again, your houses wouldn’t have been burnt down either. Hmmm.)
         The first time they shoved that form under my nose to sign my money over to them was at my initial “Team” meeting held in the “Admissions & Orientation” (A&O) housing unit known as “Yuma” within days after I got to FCI Phoenix in August 1994. Chairing this meeting was Mr. Wisehart, my Unit Manager, (and prominent character in extending the fellas’ vacation as you’ll be seeing later. Like I say, all this stuff ties in.) The minimum amount they require the inmate to sign over is $25.00 per quarter. While that isn’t much, you need to realize we don’t get paid much on our inmate jobs. For months I was earning only $5.25 per month, known as “maintenance pay,” which is the minimum we all get. Many jobs pay more, but there is a waiting list to get them. I could have gotten a better paying job in one of the maintenance shops rather soon if I wanted, but as it turns out, a higher percentage of the kinds of inmates hostile to ex-sex offenders just happen to work in those shops, and they have access to all kinds of tools – tools that could be used to stab someone. I worked in the education department as an orderly (janitor). They only had funds to pay some orderlies more than maintenance pay, so until April 1995 that’s all I got. (My April pay was $16.80 per month, May and June was $19.80, and July was $19.32.)
         Fortunately, I got some spending money from home. My cousin was watching after my affairs after my parents died and he would send me money when I needed it. My spending habits were a lot less than many other inmates in prison so it’s not like I was a big spender.
         I moved to the B side of “Mojave,” one of the other housing units, after I was done with the A&O program. In January 1995 Mr. Wisehart just happened to transfer over to Mojave, and one of the things he did was review the FRP payment schedules of all of his inmates to see what they were paying in relation to what they were getting in pay from their jobs or from home. Even though I was still only making maintenance pay, he wanted me to pay $50.00 per quarter (beginning at the June payment) simply because I got enough from my cousin to afford it. These bloodsuckers just wanted to grab whatever money they could. They didn’t care that an innocent person not responsible for the debt is getting stuck paying what the inmate owes. I had already complained informally to the business office about the $25.00 per quarter right after I got there. This $50.00 deal is when I hit the roof and submitted the documentation mentioned earlier on their formal BP-9 form. Because I didn’t want to risk losing the room I shared with a very compatible cell partner I “agreed” to the higher payments, but not without adding, “(see my recent BP-9 regarding your predicament detailing the taking of MY money)” right next to my signature. Didn’t want ’em to snivel later that they weren’t told.
         I referred them to their own “Program Statement” # 5380.02 which permits them to put an inmate on “temporary exempt status” if the inmate has various physical or psychological problems. I thought by this, they could save face in that their own policy has provisions where people like me could get a waiver in a way where it won’t seem like they’re granting me a special favor that they aren’t granting to anybody else. Heck, I just had my mental weaknesses to wave in their face to show how I clearly fit within the policy’s provisions. Once again I tried to play that “psych card” and my “dangerous” nature by emphasizing how I’ve responded to money violations in the past, in hopes they’d grant my request. I figured they surely “would see – considering all the factors involved – that as the most prudent and beneficial choice – financial wise – for all concerned.” This, of course, would have only been a temporary waiver. I’d still owe them the 300 bucks after I got released from prison, but by then, I could crank out as many copies of Revenge to my customers until I’d made enough to cover it. After all, it was written specifically to cover judicially-imposed costs I shouldn’t be stuck with. But no, they wouldn’t do it. Warden Floyd responded to my BP-9 and this is part of what he said. “Such a raise was clearly warranted in you r case. Further, Bureau of Prisons’ policy states that an offender may be considered ‘Temporarily Exempt’ from the Financial Responsibility Program for Psychological reasons. However, this policy does not apply in your case due to the fact that your mental state has not precluded you from gaining employment while incarcerated.” Ya, but that employment didn’t pay me enough to even make the $25.00 per quarter payment plan. If I wasn’t getting outside money I wouldn’t even be paying that.
         It was right around this time that I got my first raise above maintenance pay. Wonder if there’s a connection? Hmmm. You see, now they took my excuse away that I didn’t earn enough money at my prison job in order to pay $50.00 per quarter. But still, without outside money from my cousin, I would have had very little left over for tooth paste, soap, shampoo and stuff like that which we could get at the commissary. Sure, the government supplies those necessities to indigent inmates, but the free stuff is crap quality.
         As “dangerous” appearing as all my documentation to them was, I already vowed to never again break the law (or at least not until I’m old and feeble and have nothing to lose), and that included my methods of revenge. Pushing Revenge to an abused clientele could easily help me recoup losses I’ve suffered, and at the same time, throw a monkey wrench or two into the wheels of the judicial system in order to make them squeak. Of course, my activities with VOCAL goes without saying. Before Wisehart’s enhanced money-grabbing tendencies came onto the scene, my extra-curricular monkey wrenching activities were rather inactive. For one thing, I was preparing to start a college-level computer technology course and was heavily involved in independent studies on my own so my time was rather filled up. I was also typing up this book.
         As you know, I was working in the education department as an orderly (janitor) at the time. When our work assignments were done we could go to any part of the education department we wanted to as long as we didn’t leave the area without permission. My little sweeping and moping job took me no longer than half an hour to do on most days. Much of this book was already written out in long hand at the time and my next project was to type it up so it would be mostly ready to publish soon after I got home. I needed to have it in that form so I could quickly scan it into my computer, do my final editing and formatting, and get it out the door in a timely manner. This case was long overdue and with its publication we could hopefully bring it to a conclusion – and, of course, get my attackers the punishment they had been escaping for far, far too long. (At the time, I had no idea so many other situations would enter the equation to contribute to the delay we’ve ended up having in getting it published. Thanks to Orange County and Bakersfield for that. But all that story will be coming folks; trust me!) On July 26, 1995 I was typing up the part where I was showing Snake and his minions the OATH. One problem though. Unlike having a copy of Revenge fall into my lap, courtesy Jessner, they never had the OATH to give me, so I was outa’ luck there. I typed it up the best as I remembered it, and when missing parts come to me throughout the morning I jotted them down. Of course, since Wisehart and the bunch started their money-grabbing routine, I became active real quick in my promotion of VOCAL. And that was obviously going to include getting new members who would be taking the OATH, so I clearly needed a current and complete version ready to administer anyway.
         Every 10 or 20 inmates leaving the dining room after meals gets searched to see if they are taking any food out with them. We were only permitted to take one piece of fresh fruit back to our cells, but inmates often hid other leftovers under their clothing. When I was coming out of the dining room after lunch on this particular day Senior Officer Specialist M. Amaro motioned me aside so he could conduct a routine pat down search. Unlike most officers, usually just concentrating on food items, Amaro read some of the papers I had with me, paying specific attention to my OATH.
         Amaro turned it in to Lt. Barton. A short time later he called me into his office and after talking to me for a few minutes he placed me in the hole. Officer Amaro wrote me an incident report, also known as a “shot,” accusing me of violating rule 299, “Conduct disruptive to security or orderly running of BOP [Bureau of Prisons] facility Most Like: Engaging in or encouraging group demonstration.” After being heard by the Unit Disciplinary Committee, consisting of Mr. Wisehart and I believe our Case Manager, Mr. Hall (with Amaro also in attendance), the shot was next scheduled to be heard by the Disciplinary Hearing Officer (DHO), Mr. Michael Strahl. His finding was, “The DHO in reviewing the charge finds there is insufficient evidence to support the charge, and therefore expunges the incident report.” Then under a veiled threat of a transfer he made me “agree not to pass any copies of the oath around or to administer any oath’s.” Oddly, they never objected to my Revenge book despite the fact I previously expressed my openness of it’s content to other inmates. Strahl said I would be getting out of the hole that day, Friday, but because no open bunks were available I had to wait until after the weekend, 3 days away.
         On Monday, after 6 days in the hole (and 4 days missed from my computer technology class), I was released to Yuma where I spent a week while waiting for room to open up in Mojave-B. The day I was scheduled to leave Yuma, Lt. Barton called me into his office again to accuse me ripping up nearly 100 pieces of inmate clothing. He based his suspicions on the fact that I had been seen “loitering” around the clothing bins, plus ripped up clothing was piled up in the hallway near my cell. Of course, he also knew I was a proud revenger who speaks favorably about such actions. Fortunately, he did not know that I had engaged in that very same score-settlement activity in the state prison system some years earlier. He could have put me in the hole for “investigation” but didn’t. Possibly he knew I was the wrong person to screw over a second time and that the prison system would be better off if they just backed off and didn’t commit another offense against me. I was surprised at his wisdom, but glad of it. I had been very open to prison staff in my views about how extra caution should be shown toward those of us who are extra sensitive to always expecting fairness. No one had paid it any attention – at a great cost to them – but it was nice to see someone heading the admonishment. “Now I’m not going to see any more clothing ripped up in Yuma am I?” Lt. Barton inquired. Without admitting to that score-settlement process, I told him I promised I would not. And with that, I was on my way back to my computer class. The thing is, my promise was limited to Yuma and I was scheduled to move out of there later that afternoon which I already knew. Therefore, if I did it back over at Mojave, I wouldn’t have been breaking a promise. In reality, I had vented enough and brought enough suspicion upon myself so it was time to back off. (Besides I didn’t want to risk missing any more of my computer class.) At least he got some idea that I’m the wrong person to fuck over and I looked on that as a “win” of sorts.
         When I expressed my extreme anger over the inconvenience and aggravation one is subjected to just by going to the hole and how punishing it is even when the person is not guilty of anything and not handed down a punishment, Barton promptly responded back by saying that rather than punishment it is really, “just a part of the process.” “But it’s still punishing though,” I said. What I didn’t say though is the philosophy I teach in Revenge – if something isn’t considered as part of the official punishment, it should not be accepted and should be returned back upon the perpetrator. I’m glad I settled that injustice; except for my stolen property though (which is discussed below) – that’s still outstanding. Although I honored my promise to not administer my OATH until after I left FCI Phoenix, I stepped up my teaching activities as outlined in Revenge – which they never objected to before or since – to correspond with them stepping up my FRP payments from 25 to 50 bucks.
         When an inmate goes to the hole the Correctional Officer on duty in his housing unit gets all of his personal property together and lists everything on an inventory form. After that, it is sent over to the hole where it is stored until the inmate gets released back into the general population. That evening, after I got settled in my cell, I checked over my stuff and noticed that some things were missing. After making a list I went over to Mojave to speak with the officer to see where the rest of my stuff was. Of the two officers on duty in Mojave, only one, Correctional Officer T.D. Hibbard, was on duty there the day I went to the hole. He said Correctional Officer L. Schmidt, who was working days, got my property from my cell and put it in the office. Because it was near her time to go home she did not inventory it. When Officer Hibbard got on duty and settled in he and the other officer assigned to Mojave that night, Correctional Officer Rule, inventoried my property and sent it over to the hole for storage.
         When I questioned Hibbard about the missing items he remembered some of them and even had a half-ass excuse as to why I didn’t get them. I had 2 boxes of Tide laundry detergent which I purchased in the commissary. One was open and nearly full and the other one was still sealed. I got the sealed box back but not the open box. Hibbard remembered spilling some of it so that places him in possession of that particular box because the other one obviously can’t spill. He remembered my bag of almonds, bag of pecans, and bag of walnuts. (He remembered 2 for sure but questioned a total of 3.) All 3 were in their original factory bags but then placed inside of tennis ball containers so they can be sealed for freshness. He said he remembered the tennis ball containers. His reason for taking them was because they were outside of their original containers. Commissary items are subject to seizure if they are not in their original factory containers. Knowing that some staff are extra picky about this particular rule violation I left the nuts in their original plastic bags, but then put the bags inside transparent plastic tennis ball containers which could be sealed with a lid in order to help keep them fresh longer. When I reminded Hibbard of that fact he then said he also had a concern for their freshness. Now that’s a real lame excuse. They do not spoil and if that was a valid reason then why did someone who got out of the hole the same day I got out not have his fresh fruit taken? That is a spoilage problem item, not nuts. Three other sealed bags of the 3 kinds of nuts I got back O.K. Some other missing items he didn’t remember are: 2 small shampoo and conditioner bottles, 2 commissary purchased pens (he gave me some out of his desk to replace them so those are made up), a new tube of Aquafresh tooth paste (I got 2 of my other tubes of tooth paste back O.K.), a full sealed bottle of Tussex cough syrup, a nearly full bottle of allergy tablets with antihistamine, a nearly full bottle of Pseudoval allergy tablets without antihistamine, about 6 used AA batteries (I’m letting them slide because I’m not sure how much life they had left), 1/3 box of graham crackers, 1/4 left in a bottle of Quinsana foot powder, 1 dictionary, and 2 computer books (1 of them, a dBase IV operator’s manual, was borrowed from another inmate). Hibbard said he remembered the books but stated the reason he took them was because they didn’t have my name in them. The thing is, one of them I borrowed from another inmate in Mojave-B and his name was in it but it was not given back to him either. A near empty container of hi-protein was also missing which I’m letting slide by. That adds up to $3.50 for Tide, $2.60 for almonds, $3.10 for pecans, $2.30 for walnuts, $4.35 for Aquafresh, $2.15 for Tussex, $0.75 for allergy tablets, $1.50 for Pseudoval, $0.90 (1/3 of $2.70) for 1/3 box of graham crackers, $0.81 (1/4 of $3.25) for Quinsana, $3.45 for dictionary, $25.00 for the computer book that belonged to the other inmate (this is the amount I reimbursed to him), and $20.00 for the other computer book (it was given to me by another inmate so this price is an estimate but it is still owed to me because the book had a lot of valuable information which I now can’t have unless I buy another book) for a total of: $70.41. (In Chapter 20 we’ll be tallying up all that I’m owed for this case so you’ll be seeing this figure at that time once again.)
         In talking to other inmates who have been to the hole before, I found that it is standard operating procedure that you will lose something when you go to the hole. Either it will be because of carelessness with your property by the staff member who is inventorying it or it will be because they will look for the slightest reason to confiscate something. One inmate lost the headset to his walkman radio because he had repaired them with tape. They therefore became “altered” and we are not allowed to have anything altered even if it is our own property. Basically what you have is a staff member who is pissed off that some inmate went to the hole and caused him to do all this extra work taking care of his property. His thought is to mess with him, or in this case, his property, in return. And the staff in the hole are noticeably less gracious to inmates in there for rule violations than they are to those in there for their own protection unrelated to some misbehavior they did. For instance, a couple inmates were housed in the hole while they were testifying against some other defendants in federal court in downtown Phoenix. For their “cooperation” with law enforcement they had an extra easy stay in the hole. In exchange for mopping some floors they were seldom locked in their cells throughout the day. The rest of us couldn’t even begin to get that amount of freedom.
         Clearly, revenge runs both ways; inmates to staff, and staff back to inmates. They sure don’t like the inmate to staff variety, but when it is directed back to us – like in messing with our personal property – the higher mucky-mucks let it slide by. I complained about the theft to higher-level staff at FCI Phoenix and even up to the Western Regional Office. No one seemed to be concerned at all. They suggested filing a Tort claim which is basically a big joke. I did that after being attacked at Lompoc and even with evidence of the assault they refused to accept responsibility. They had the nerve to say there was, “no evidence of mistreatment.” Besides, a Tort is a civil action. That wouldn’t get Hibbard held accountable. He was the actual thief; he even admitted it to me. And he had no shame about it. That’s what really pissed me off. It’s like, I’m just an inmate and he has staff backing him up – as if to mean that I’m shit out of luck. Well first of all, he didn’t realize he picked the wrong person to rip off; and second, my OATH, which got me in the hole to begin with, was, and is, very solemn to me. I honor it always!
         For one thing, I used the money that I was saving toward my next FRP payment to repurchase the stolen merchandise and repay the inmate for his computer book. (I was only paid around $20.00 per month on my prison job.) I pay legitimate debts I have in a timely manner, unlike those-so-many judicial system people who refuse to do likewise to me. I then went on what they call “refusal status,” meaning I was refusing to make any more FRP payments. They said I owe them money, I said they owe me money. As far as I was concerned, my debt’s paid in full if they’re letting Hibbard slide by unscathed. The thing is, when one is on refusal status one of the sanctions he faces is not being allowed to get a cell when one becomes available. I would be stuck sleeping in the overcrowded TV room for the duration, or until I resumed payments. And when I moved from Yuma back to Mojave-B that’s where I lived. (Other sanctions include: never getting paid above the $5.25 maintenance pay no matter what job you have, being denied working in Federal Prison Industries, being denied participation in various prison programs, being denied a half-way house placement for the last few months of your sentence, being denied the around $100.00 the government gives to released inmates, and possibly denial of some phone privileges.)
         Before I got ahold of those above mentioned FOI Exempt papers I had Barton pegged as the primary culprit for putting me in the hole repeatedly and setting my transfer in motion. After reading a number of memorandums from Wisehart, I now know he is the instigator. As our story progresses I will be quoting from those memorandums.
         On November 2, 1995 Lt. Barton put me in the hole once again, this time for, “investigation into your possible involvement in damaging government property.” On October 20, 1995 a nation-wide lock down was ordered for all federal prisons after riots broke out at several institutions across the country. The uprisings were set off when Congress refused to correct the sentencing disparity in the amounts of powder and crack cocaine required to receive a given sentence. According to the U.S. Sentencing Guidelines, one could receive the same sentence if caught with 100 grams of powder cocaine as he would receive if caught with just 1 gram of crack cocaine. Crack cocaine is just a cooked down version from the powder. This 100 to 1 disparity is particularly angering to black inmates who were more apt to deal in the crack version of cocaine out on the streets than powder. If a white person got busted with cocaine it was more than likely the powder variety he was dealing in. As a result, whites get much less time for getting busted with the same amount that the black person got busted with. Congress in letting that law stand set off the riots.
         Since I got out of the hole last time for my “OATH incident,” as I term it, I’d been living in the Mojave-B TV room (called also the cot room). Due to overcrowding, each housing unit converted one of their TV rooms into a small dormitory and the one I was assigned to had room for 12 inmates. (The TV from that room was then placed in a common area for viewing. Sort of like the living room of the housing unit.) One nearby cell that would normally house 2 inmates was left vacant so the 12 of us could have a toilet and sink to share. All other inmates living in 2-man cells had their own private toilet and sink. At night they were locked in their cells. Because those of us living in the TV room had to have access to the bathroom throughout the night our door was never locked. In fact, it couldn’t be locked. It was defective. All of a sudden when the nation-wide lock down was ordered, panicky staff members realized they have to hurry up and get that door fixed so they can lock us in. Within an hour or so staff members from the (Central Mechanical Services) CMS department had a used door installed and in operating order – sort of. They did get a door installed, and they were able to lock it; but they installed it so haphazardly in their rushed manner that it was left sticking at the top and had to be slammed to shut it all the way. At the time they didn’t care about that though, so long as they could lock it. This is the first time in U.S. history that there’s ever been a nation-wide lockdown of all federal prisons. Staff was rather panicky, and in turn, a bit more careless than they should have been. While we were on this full lock down, staff came up semi-regularly to unlock it so we could use the bathroom. After a few days we were off of full lock down status and were in the process of getting back to normal. We were still confined to our housing units, we just weren’t locked in our cells throughout the day, as we never are. During this time I took it on my own to try to fix the sticking door by wedging something by the bottom hinge as I closed it in hopes that it would spring the top hinge into place. Unfortunately, I made it stick more so I quit before I made it even more worse.
         I had previously argued with a heavily-smoking Cuban inmate – who went by the name “Cuba” to his friends – with a bunk next to mine who always wanted the door shut in order to keep the noise from the common area out of our TV room. Several other Mexican inmates, who were also smokers living in the TV room, originally didn’t care one way or the other about the door, but rallied around their Cuban “comrade” because he was their friend.
         This particular TV room is the only one that has no fresh air inlet vent. It has only an exhaust vent, as weak as it was. All the other TV rooms in both Mojave A and B, which are used for TV viewing only, have both kinds of vents for proper air flow even when the door is shut. None had windows that could be opened. I asked the smokers, which was nearly every single inmate in there, to leave the door open a little while smoking as there is a flow that enters from the blowers out in the common area but they complained about noise and wanted to keep it shut. I admit that noise is a problem too, but still I asked to leave it open at least while they’re smoking. They can always close it later after the air clears out. I suffer from chronic sinusitis, a condition which gives me a constant post-nasal drip and the nuisance of clearing my throat often. Besides second-hand smoke being a health hazard to everyone in general, it is particularly bothersome to those of us with this condition.
         There are 3 TVs in Mojave-B. The inmates have designated one for white inmates, another for blacks, and the other one for Mexicans or Hispanics in general. Mojave-A has the same set up for their 3 TVs and the other housing units also follow the same procedure. In fact, other federal and state prisons I’ve been in throughout the years had similar procedures. This segregation is set up by the inmates, staff knows about it but accepts it. Although different races can view any TV they want to, some racially-motivated inmates let their feelings be known very clearly to the “intruder” that he is not a welcome “visitor” and make him as uncomfortable as possible.
         Blacks often were watching either shows with predominately black actors (often the cable Black Entertainment Television channel, one of many cable channels we had access to) or sports, neither of which interested me. Whites smoked heavily in their TV room. Despite the fact that the TV rooms were suppose to be non-smoking areas, staff never seemed to enforce their policy. (Mr. Wisehart did try to enforce it when he first moved from Yuma to Mojave back in January 1995 but gave up the battle in short order as a lost cause.) While Hispanics often watched spanish-speaking programs, they also happened to watch shows that I liked. Before my squabbles with the Cuban and his buddies I was welcomed in the Mexican TV room as much as anybody else in the unit. The problem really surfaced one day when I was discussing the smoking problem with a friend of mine. Some Mexican overheard me saying that the Cuban isn’t even a citizen so he shouldn’t even have any say in the matter. Once word of that got around I was on the Mexicans’ shit list. (It also didn’t help when I voiced my opinion that I didn’t need to learn how to speak spanish because this is the United States of America where the primary language of our country is English.) The Mexican TV room was right next door to my sleeping quarters. That meant congregating in that whole general area were the majority of Mexicans living in the B side of Mojave, and they all had me pegged as anti-Mexican.
         Now I’ve never been a prejudice person before, or now. I didn’t like that particular Cuban, not because he was a Cuban; but because he was an inconsiderate heavy smoker who didn’t care at all about my feelings or my health. Unfortunately, my overheard remark (along with saying that “smokers’ rights end where my nose begins” and openly proclaiming smoking as “a filthy disgusting habit”) branded me as being prejudice against them. Absent that, they probably would have cared less when they saw me messing with the door. But now, they saw an opportunity to get me out of there. By several of them snitching on me they could be assured that staff would take action, and take action they did.
         From a memorandum dated November 2, 1995 from Wisehart to Barton, I was able to confirm all of my suspicions mentioned in the above several paragraphs which were written beforehand. One mexican inmate, whose name was blacked out on the memo, but who I know by the last name of Orta, who happens to be a good friend of the Cuban, was one of two snitches. Orta was one of the inmates assigned to clean up the area outside of our living quarters and he and I had exchanged words over my brushing my teeth in the drinking fountain already by this time. Our arguments become more intense weeks later and are covered farther along in the story. But until I got those exempt papers, I did not know I was put in the hole this particular time for anything more than tampering with the door. A couple quotes from page 2 of Wisehart’s memo are quite revealing and infuriating. “It is also suspicious that he has requested to remain in the cot room, which is highly unusual. When asked why he desires to remain there, he refuses to answer.…Most inmates move in and out, except the FRP refusal inmates.” He knew damn well I refused to pay on account of the Hibbard thefts and that my previously-scheduled September FRP payment went to repurchase the commissary items Hibbard stole. But does he mention that? No – all he says is, “Larson also refuses to pay his FRP obligation, although he has much money. He will not pay the government, as part of his resentment.” (Throughout the memo he misspells my name, despite hating to have his own name misspelled as we’ll be seeing an example of later on. That, to him, is apparently more important than bringing the arsonists to justice so you can see where this guy’s priorities are at.) I bet he’d be a little resentful if somebody stole from him – and even more so if he couldn’t get anybody to hold the thief accountable and make restitution. He ends the memo by asking Barton to put me in the hole. I’ll continue my story now with the below paragraphs that were previously written, and make additions learned from the memos where necessary.
         Lt. Barton, already mad at me over the views I’d expressed in my OATH, slammed me in the hole without even talking to me first. I guess one’s got to expect a few arrows in the back whenever they accept the role of “pioneer,” but the fact that they screw with inmates more than average once they learn of your “standing” is deplorable. One of those things I actively denounce in the strongest of terms in Revenge. Once you appropriately respond back though, they’ll surely know they picked the wrong person to treat in such a way and, if they’re smart, they’ll mind their P’s and Q’s a little better from that point forward – or wish they had. Unfortunately for all of us, they weren’t too smart. It took me several days just to get the paperwork addressing the reason why I was even in the hole, and that only said it was for, “investigation into your possible involvement in damaging government property.” I kept asking officers what property were they talking about. The door didn’t even occur to me. Surely it wouldn’t have been the clothing in Yuma back in July would it? When my request to see Lt. Barton went unanswered I refused to eat for a couple days. That brought the staff psychologist to see me and with his help, Lt. Barton finally saw me. When he explained to me what it was about I promptly admitted my culpability in the door-“tampering” fiasco and what led up to it. I also agreed to leave all future repairs up to staff or to the inmates assigned to make such repairs. Barton said he would write me a shot and at that point I expected to get out of the hole very shortly once the paperwork was processed. I figured they would give me some extra duty or some such punishment like that. A shot never come. Days; weeks went by. Then on December 5th I was released back to my housing unit into the same TV room dormitory. (They changed their policy so inmates no longer had to go through Yuma.) No shot or nothing. I believe that Lt. Barton realized that if he would write me a shot that it would get expunged by the Disciplinary Hearing Officer once it got in front of him to determine guilt. By just keeping me in the hole under “investigation” status he could drag it out for weeks. By doing that, just being in the hole all that time turns out to be the punishment. He may not have a conviction of a prison rule violation on my record but he still got me punished, and that’s what his whole plan apparently was. The thing is, that amount of time was way out of line for what I did. Bear in mind, the door did stick worse after I tried to fix it. But they could still lock it if they wanted to. (We were off of full lock down status by then so they weren’t doing that any more.) I had stopped before I make it worse. I’m firmly convinced that Barton still had anger over the opinions I expressed in my OATH and that this was his way to stick it to me more than would happen to any other inmate that was never a trouble maker to staff. Staff has a way of screwing with someone – even in minor ways – if they don’t like him, and it’s not just this institution. I’ve seen such misbehavior committed quite regularly by sheriff deputies in both the Los Angeles and Orange County Jail system, and to a lesser extent by staff members in the California prison system.
         By being in the hole, I missed the triple conjunction of Venus, Jupiter, and Mars along with the interactions the three were having throughout November. And on the 23rd the thin crescent Moon joined the trio to make a very beautiful naked-eye sight that I missed. According to Astronomy magazine, November 1995, page 79, these three planets “won’t cluster as closely…for more than a century.” I missed a biggie and I’m really pissed. On top of that, I missed the Thanksgiving festivities the institution had for us.
         It is extra angering to be put in the hole for a piddly-ass thing when a serious attack was committed against me and no one cares about bringing my attackers to justice. Or to be held accountable for a minor, not on purpose, door mishap – which wouldn’t have happened if staff would have installed it properly – when they aren’t holding Hibbard accountable for the shameless, and purposeful, theft of my property. That is a double-standard violation about as bad as it gets. Don’t you dare put over emphasis on your property while at the same time you totally disregard mine. I’ll be returning to this violation in Chapter 20 where I tally up what this will cost them.
         While I was still in the hole for this incident I put my formal request in to my Unit Team for a half-way house, officially now called a Community Correctional Center or CCC. Inmates can get placed in a half-way house 6 months before their release dates if they have “programmed” satisfactorily and kept out of trouble while in prison. I would be 6-months short to release in April 1996, so putting in at this scheduled Team meeting was the proper time to do so considering the amount of lag time they needed to process the paper work. I had completed a 3-month half-way house placement back in 1979 without breaking any of the rules or getting in any trouble so I expected no problem in getting a referral to one this time. Both the psychiatrist and a psychologist who examined me for the court before sentencing back in 1994 even recommended a community-type of placement instead of prison. Even though my criminal record is longer this time, there are no intentional acts of violence on it. And even if there were, that shouldn’t matter that much. I see other inmates with robberies or burglaries on their record go to half-way houses and all robberies and residential burglaries are considered “crimes of violence,” even if no gun was present or no one was home.
         Mr. Wisehart chaired my Unit Team meeting that November day in 1995. (I just couldn’t shake loose of this culprit.) Also present were my Case Manager, Ms. G. Tunder, and my Correctional Counselor, Mr. Davenport. I was flat out turned down by Mr. Wisehart strictly because of my 1971 child molesting conviction. “But it was on my record back in 1979 and you guys let me go to a half-way house then,” I told him. Without shame he admitted there’s politics behind half-way house denials for molesters. He told me, “the political climate has changed since then. They don’t want people like you out on the streets now.” With thoughts of Willie Horton or Richard Allen Davis surely on his mind, Mr. Wisehart then said “if we let you out early [to a half-way house] and you re-offended it would look bad on us as to why we let you out early.” I guess he figures their ass is covered in that if I re-offended after my “mandatory” release date, they wouldn’t look bad to the news media because they didn’t let me out early before they legally had to. They had no empathy for me. They never cared about my feelings or the extra trauma I had suffered beyond what a “normal” inmate suffers in a prison setting. They were out just for #1; themselves. Cover their asses – be damned about any damage it causes to me. That’s their way it seems.
         “Well, you should be wanting me out there as soon as possible” I told him. “Need I remind you that I’ve been holding back who I believe set the fires ’cause I wanna’ make sure I got all my stuff back first that the feds took. By holding me back an extra 6 months that gives the real culprits and extra 6 months to disappear into the framework of society forever. And that could bring you guys bad media coverage once my other book [meaning this one] covering the fires hits the streets and explains how you contributed to a delay in bringing the likely culprits to justice.” I should have added, “Now are you after just screwing me over even if it brings you bad publicity or would you rather avoid such media attention?” but didn’t. I wonder how they’ll deal with it once the shit hits the fan. At least they can’t come back and snivel that I didn’t try to tell them so.
         Like I did with a previous appeal, I filed an administrative remedy with the warden (a BP-9) and continued on up the line through the regional director (BP-10) and then to the General Counsel of National Inmate Appeals in Washington D.C. (BP-11). I begged them to put their priorities on the right things for a change – things that were a more pressing issue – rather than continuing to revert back to an ancient out-of-date sex offense that was buried in my past a long time ago. I was denied at all levels of the appeal strictly because of my sexual history. They claimed that Bureau policy prohibits sending sex offenders to half-way houses yet that is in error. Program Statement 7310.01 (which they quoted from) says that sex offenders “whether in current offense or history…will not ordinarily” be permitted to participate in a half-way house program. Will not ordinarily is different from are prohibited from. These last three words are not there which I brought to their attention as I appealed up the line. Some weeks earlier I had spoken to Mr. Leonard Lipsutz, the Community Corrections Manager from Phoenix, during a pre-release class I attended about my case in particular and was told my 1971 felony conviction does not disqualify me from participation. Those I appealed to tried to throw their own interpretation into the Program Statement. “Although the policy does say ‘ordinarily’, the intent of the policy is to clearly prohibit sex offenders from such placement.” I would sure like to hear from the authors of the Program Statement what their interpretation was. If they intended to prohibit all sex offenders from participating in a half-way house program it would have been the simplest thing in the world to merely word it as such.
         It’s interesting to note that in my administrative remedies I said:

    On a totally separate issue regarding avoiding bad publicity I should mention that in another book I’m writing about the Southern California wildfires of 1993. Because FBI & ATF agents had me under surveillance since before the first fire ever started they know I set none of the fires the letters I mailed 2 months earlier threatened. In my book I plan to disclose & detail how deceit & misconduct by FBI & ATF agents possibly lost them their best chance at more than likely solving many, if not all, of those arson fires. Because they resorted to behavior they knew by past experience I don’t stand for I shut down & wouldn’t tell them who I think set all the fires & what set off the crime spree. I planned to disclose names, details, & motives for the first time in my book figuring that because I had to wait so many months to get out (longer than a proper guideline sentence should have been) then they can wait to find out who the culprits might be. After all, turn about is fair play. Whether they are the real arsonists I don’t know for sure as I never saw them after I mailed the letters but I do know that the longer it takes to track them down the less chance they still live at the same places I know about. Surely anyone who delays my release, which delays my book publication & disclosure, would receive bad press if the culprits were missed by just that time frame when I could have gotten out earlier but was denied. Their (FBI & ATF) botched activities may not bring the level of embarrassment as Ruby Ridge or Waco has done to them, but I’m estimating it will be #3 once all the details are out there. Surely someone will say, “knowing he was holding onto information why did you resort to the misconduct & deceit you did knowing he was hyper-sensitive about it?” The main misconduct was tearing up the house in a very vandalous search after strong admonishments not to. Being I wasn’t allowed out on bail I have to wait until I get out to put it in pre-vandalism condition &, in return, so can they wait for my information. Surely anyone delaying that release & resultant information outflow could receive bad press right along with the original guilty culprits; the FBI & ATF. Enough said?

         Further on I told them:

    You may want to review the case of an inmate I heard about from [USP] Atlanta that got over a million dollars after he was attacked because he was a child molester. Didn’t sound like he had as strong of a case of negligence than I do. And you should be aware how much more determined I am to get justice for that attack after being put in the hole for trying to fix a door that was improperly installed by CMS staff to begin with. What is so especially angering is that I am put in the hole on just the word of an inmate who turned me in yet when I offer to ID my attackers I’m told my word alone isn’t good enough to write an incident report. Yet they could surely put them in the hole for weeks for “investigation” without a shot as you guys are prone to doing. But no, you just want them to slide by because they didn’t damage anything of yours. Well I’m bound & determined to not let Lompoc get away with it!

         I then offered a gracious out. “I am open to discussion if an offer of a 6-month half-way house…was placed on the table in exchange for: my clearing any & all BOP staff of accountability of any kind for the vicious attack upon me,” along with “my agreement to not settle the matter either in court or out.” I also let it be known that I was, “open to discussion” on the Hibbard theft “with no punishment on the culprit other than a reprimand.”
         With all that – with that amount of graciousness and amnesty, they still wouldn’t let me go to a half-way house. The only conclusion that can foreseeably be reached is that all levels on up through Washington D.C. accept accountability for all the violations I was willing to pardon them on here. Well, I have no problem with that; not a bit. It’s cool with me. And I also have no problem whatsoever justifying to myself allowing the real arsonists, my former friends, an extra 6 months of freedom to make up for the extra 6 months of freedom I got cheated out of. And if anybody’s got a problem with my attitude; well tough shit. I tried to tell them so!!! (And no one can snivel that they weren’t told.)
         On December 14, 1995 Lt. Barton put me in the hole for talking to another inmate’s wife on the phone. Now this time he had a legitimate right to punish me. I did break a prison rule; minor as it was. A day or two into the nation-wide lock down the previous October, staff were in the process of taking selected black inmates out of the general population and putting them in the hole if they had any suspicion they would be apt to cause trouble. Bear in mind, none of them had done so; we didn’t have any troubles at our institution over the crack/powder cocaine disparity issue. They just wanted to make sure there would be no trouble when we get released off of lockdown. “Cricket,” a black inmate locked in the TV room dormitory with me was telling us that he knew that they would be coming to take him to the hole. In fact, he was looking forward to it. I believe he wanted to transfer from this institution. In recent days before the lock down he had been having some rather close-friendship-like talks with our counselor, Mr. Davenport. In remembering back to conversations I heard between Cricket and friends of his, I believe he had been asking Davenport for help on something and I think it was to get a transfer. Before the lock down come about, Cricket had borrowed some personal property from other friends of his and was now in the process of leaving it with a couple of the black inmates in the TV room with instructions as to who gets what. He previously asked me if he could borrow 2 AAA batteries for his radio when he saw me opening a new 4-pack in order to get 2 out for my radio. I usually don’t make a habit of loaning things out but, not wanting any hard feelings with someone living in the same room with me, I gave him 2 batteries and he said he would pay me back when he goes to the store. The very night of the lockdown staff, in an attempt to placate us, let us fill out requests to purchase items from the commissary. Our purchases were delivered to us the next day and although Cricket got goodies for himself and his friends to eat, he made no attempt to get me my batteries; nor did he offer an excuse or apology. (Even before the lock down went into effect, he neglected to pay me back when he shopped twice at the store that I know of.) Because we were locked down I kept my feelings of disgust to myself, after all they were only worth about a dollar. Still, tight with money me didn’t like it; and besides, it was the principle of it. A day or so later Cricket was taken to the hole and I assumed that any chance of him paying off his debt was over.
         When I was in the hole for the above-mentioned door-tampering incident I overheard Cricket speaking loudly to a friend in an adjoining general population housing unit and asking him to call his wife to let her know his situation about the hole and pending transfer. General population inmates have access to telephones most of the time, whereas those of us in the hole get to use it once a week for one brief call. I heard Cricket yelling out his Phone Access Code, a PIN like number each inmate is assigned, and his wife’s phone number. The thought occurred to me that by taking down the number I could call her and make a little waves in their relationship as sort of a return for him refusing to make good on his debt when he fully had the chance to do so. After I got out of the hole last time I anonymously called her and told her that Cricket was regularly corresponding with another woman. And I didn’t even have to exaggerate the events. Cricket openly spoke of the letters he was exchanging with her when he was talking with his friends in the TV room. It may have only been a little over a dollar that he gypped me out of, but it was the principle of it. Money is a hot-button issue to me when it’s unfairly taken from me. Despite what some thought, it had absolutely nothing to do with him being black. It sure felt good to throw a monkey wrench into their relationship – as it always does when non-violently avenging wrongs (within the Guidelines of VOCAL) – knowing he’d feel some emotional upset just as I felt over what he did to me. Being a firm believer in turn about is fair play, I was especially joyous that evening as I took my evening walk in the yard while listening to my usual talk-radio shows. I made the mistake though of telling her that the reason I was calling was because Cricket owed me money and refused to pay me back. At the time I said it I didn’t think Cricket would tie it to me because he owed other inmates money on gambling debts he often had. He regularly bet on sporting events in some of the pools run by inmates but he was known to make good on those bets he lost.
         Apparently, Cricket gave my name to Lt. Barton as the likely “suspect” calling his wife. Barton called me in and I stupidly admitted it and explained the reason why. Technically, it’s a violation of prison rules to call a person not on one’s approved phone list, but it’s hardly ever enforced. Often inmates will tell a friend right out in plain view of staff to call such and such and give out the phone number without hesitation. In fact, Cricket was out in the hole’s exercise yard and under direct supervision by an officer when he yelled out his wife’s phone number and his Phone Access Code number to a general population inmate on the other side of a wall. And this happens daily. The window of my cell in the hole overlooked the small exercise yard we used. When inmates are out in the yard there is always an officer present supervising. Very seldom did an officer tell an inmate to stop communicating with one of the inmates on the other side of the wall. Quite often, an inmate in the hole asked someone to make a call for them because using the phone in the hole was very limited. So if staff regularly disregards the rule why then is Barton being so nit-picky when I broke it? Could he be holding a grudge against me because he doesn’t like my attitude about the judicial system? In another memo to staff I said, “Don’t you dare selectively enforce a rule on day for 1 person & then disregard it for a multitude of others. That’s a double standard I won’t stand for!!!” And I won’t.
         Lt. Barton was debating among some other staff members present in the room whether to lock me in the hole for my misdeed or not. What clinched it though was when I reminded him of Officer Hibbard’s theft of my property and that if they are going to be extra picky about a minor rule I broke then why don’t they be just as picky about a prison violation committed against me by one of their own. I think I also threw in the fact that I’m still waiting to ID my attackers from Lompoc. With that I was handcuffed and led off to the hole. Surprisingly, he didn’t give me a shot though. It would have even been a valid one. I was let back out on December 22nd, just in time for Christmas. In view of the fact that my offense was less serious than Hibbard’s, I shouldn’t be held accountable if he isn’t. If he was going to get by with it and me not I would charge Barton for these days in the hole, but as mentioned above, Hibbard and the Bureau are being held accountable and they are paying for their thefts. Therefore, I’ll accept punishment of the hole on my “phone crime” as long as Hibbard is being held accountable for his misbehavior which I am doing as indicated in Chapter 20. No fees are charged on this double-standard violation; and that’s damn generous of me seeing that I was held accountable when a multitude of others commit the very same offense daily from the hole under staff supervision with no objections, and it’s damn generous of me seeing that I missed 9 more days from my computer class plus two special Christmas programs put on by performers who had come in from the outside. (In reality, I should at least make them pay my way to two Christmas presentations now to make up for those two missed. It wouldn’t take much to add that requirement. A grumble out of them in the wrong way would do it real quick!)
         Officially it was Lt. G. Jacquez who signed the Detention Order, but Barton was the culprit behind the misdeed. This is goin’ on his “rap sheet.” Jacquez was merely one of the staff members in the room at the time I was talking to Barton. And officially I was locked up, “for his own safety since a threat against him is perceived.” Lt. Barton’s reasoning apparently being that Cricket would be mad at me and want to get me. Well first of all, Cricket didn’t know for a fact that it was me. And second, he was in the hole and up for transfer so he couldn’t get me anyway. And if Barton was concerned Cricket would get word to an inmate on the yard to get me then that’s on them for letting inmates in the hole yell over to general population inmates against prison rules. So basically, that reason for locking me up was a big farce. They should pay big time for this hole injustice but, as I said above, as long as Hibbard is being held accountable – as I’m seeing to it that he will be – I’ll accept accountability for my “phone crime,” even though others who commit the offense can slither off scot-free with no reprimand whatsoever. Don’t ask me why I’m being this generous – they truly don’t deserve it. But if it gets Hibbard the proper punishment I guess it’s worth it! He mustn’t remain an unpunished thief forever.
         As 1995 turned into 1996 I was hoping Lt. Barton would stay out of my face unless I actually did something wrong. Unfortunately for all of us, that was not the case. Becoming like a turd that wouldn’t flush, he did it yet again. I guess once that OATH incident come to the surface he was bound and determined to get me one way or another. They just don’t like it when inmates express views that are unpopular with prison officials.
         The above paragraph was written before I got those exempt memos. Now I see Wisehart is the turd that wouldn’t flush. Barton was just a little shit that was just clinging on. If his name was Worf, would that make him a Klingon? Oh, that’s bad – really bad! Sorry ’bout that folks, I just couldn’t pass it up. A Wisehart to Barton memo (which got my name spelled correctly this time) dated January 15, 1996 really confirms the problems I had been having with the Hispanic inmates which is covered in the paragraphs below. I never seen it in writing before how they wanted me out of the unit so bad, but now I know. And you have to know that the blood trail leads right back to Hibbard’s doorstep – it was his thefts that were responsible for me being in the cot/TV room for all this time. Besides the below-listed “offenses” I was accused of doing, Wisehart addresses another one I was unaware of; “The microwave [oven] cord in that area has been spliced down and is bald.” He also mentioned, “There have been reports that the mops kept in the cot room rest room has been cut and flushed down the toilet.” Despite improper English, he told me they were thrown out the window. After telling Barton of my “offenses” he then says, “Several inmates have become upset with this action. At 3:00 PM inmate [whose name and number is blacked out] entered my office to inform me that there is going to be trouble if something isn’t done.” Wisehart then continues his single page by again mentioning that I, “continue to refuse to pay his financial responsibility” without mentioning Hibbard as the responsible party. They just want to hush that up don’t they? And the last paragraph is the nail in my coffin, “We need him removed from the unit and need to take a serious look at moving him to an institution where closer supervision is possible.” He’s the one that comes out the big goat in all this mess about cheating me out of my computer class – and, in return, keeping the arsonists out among us free people a while longer. Keep all this stuff in mind when we figure up his “goat level” in Chapter 21. You’re going to see real shortly how that tactic to solve the problem was akin to calling the fire department to put out a small camp fire.
         On January 16, 1996 Barton put me in the hole, this time for; spitting in the water faucet, kicking the water faucet, cutting a power cord, flushing cleaning supplies down the toilet, and throwing things out a window. (The Detention Order was officially signed by Lt. G. Germaine and the lock up reason stated I was, “pending further investigation and review of the inmate’s CIM assignment.” CIM stands for Central Inmate Monitoring, a status I was on since being attacked at USP Lompoc. Before staff transfers a CIM inmate they need to make sure the place he goes to does not have a known enemy which would also be on CIM status. But in my case, they don’t know my attackers. Maybe Beverly is on the status so we’re not housed together, but that’s it. [From those FOI Exempt papers we got I know Beverly is on it. His name, along with other selected parts on some pages, were blacked out, but I could still make out his last name, and even his first name, James, which I never knew before this.] The CIM form stated, “You[r] require separation from individual(s) currently confined in the Federal Prison System for the mutual protection of all concerned.”) Although they never wrote me a shot for these things, they apparently come to the conclusion that I wore out my welcome. They put me in for a transfer using the official excuse that my life was in danger. As indicated above, I had exchanged words with some of the Hispanic inmates living in Mojave-B’s TV room regarding excess smoke and wanting to leave the door open so we could get some fresh air while they are smoking.
         Friends of some of those who I’d had disputes with told staff that I did those particular deeds mentioned above. I told staff I did not do those things and provided them with a more likely scenario as to what did happen. Someone cut the power cord on the TV in the Mexican TV room. Although no one saw the culprit, they suggested I was him. (In another Wisehart to Barton 1-page memo dated January 16, 1996 it says I was seen cutting the TV cord. It ends by saying, “he [the inmate snitch whose name is blacked out] indicated it is common knowledge amongst all the Hispanic population that Larsen has cut cords, kicked coolers, flushed cleaning supplies down the toilet and damaged other property.” All the Hispanics huh? Remember that when I talk a bit later about sharing a cell in the hole with a Hispanic who lived in Mojave-B that didn’t know me at all, other than seeing me around. And if I’m supposedly guilty of all these things, then why is it only the Hispanics that are snitching? Wouldn’t it anger whites and blacks too? Could the Hispanics all be conspiring together to get me out of the unit? Hmmm. I believed so before, and even more so since I saw all these exempt memos.) In reality, I believe the Mexicans themselves cut their cord so they could get a new TV. The channel changing and sound level push buttons were no longer working due to long-time overuse and carelessness on that particular set. The only way to change them was with the remote control so staff let one of the Mexican inmates keep the remote in his cell for that purpose. The blacks were in the same boat with their TV and, like the Mexicans, they were also allowed to retain one of the remotes on a permanent basis. When their set went out totally the recreation department brought them a brand new TV right out of the box rather than fixing the old one. I believe the Mexicans thought they could get a new TV too if theirs was to become defective. They had already complained about the broken buttons but as long as it was usable staff did nothing about it. With it totally out, staff would be there right away with another set while theirs was in the shop. Either they’d get a brand new one or they’d get theirs fixed right. As it turned out, they did get a brand new set.
         As far as flushing cleaning supplies down the toilet here’s the scoop on that. A 5-gallon container of floor wax or stripper, along with other janitorial supplies, is often stored in that cell which is left vacant so those of us sleeping in the converted TV room can use as a restroom. Inmates that are into drinking alcoholic beverages will, on occasion, cook up their own brew. This concoction, known as “pruno,” is made by mixing fresh fruit, sugar, and (if they can steal it from the kitchen) yeast together in a plastic trash bag. (I understand the kitchen no longer bakes with yeast for that reason.) After mixing it all together they tie the bag into a knot in order to seal it and then set it aside in a dark place so it can ferment for a few days and turn into alcohol or “wine” as they call it. Most cleaning supplies are stored behind locked doors, but small quantities are left out so we can get to them when needed. When I was living in a cell I would often go to that container of wax to get some so I could wax our floor. Sometimes, instead of finding liquid wax, I’d run into a sealed up plastic bag containing pruno hidden inside with the lid snapped back on so staff will not suspect anything is amiss. Whoever makes this stuff doesn’t hide it in their own cell just in case staff conducts one of their random searches. If it is found in this room open to everyone all they lose is the pruno; no one gets caught and no one goes to the hole. If in fact someone did dump 5 gallons of wax or stripper down the toilet I believe they did so in order to have a place to hide their pruno.
         As far as spitting in the water faucet, here’s the story on that one. That particular water faucet is a refrigerated unit. Mounted above it is a hot water faucet valve. One thing inmates can purchase in the commissary is dehydrated soups and dinners. They merely add water and then heat them up in one of the microwave ovens which are provided for our use. Somehow, the guys got to the water heater supplying that particular faucet valve and set the temperature so hot that when they add this water to their soups they don’t have to use the microwave. Often in the bottom of the drinking fountain’s basin one will find food items left behind which apparently spilled over from somebody carelessly filling their container with water.
         The particular cell bathroom the 12 of us living in the converted TV room used had one toilet and one sink with no partition between the two. Therefore, both could not be used at the same time. If inmates are late for work they are subject to going to the hole. Inmates are released to chow on a rotation schedule based on how well the housing unit scored on its weekly cleanliness inspection. If we scored farther down the line and ate breakfast later, as has happened, there was not too much time between breakfast and 7:30 a.m. work call. Time how long it takes you to wash up, brush your teeth, and shit and then multiply that by 12 and you can see that we were on a tight schedule. (In reality, not all inmates had to be at work at that time so the load was lessened. But still, many got up anyway to go out to the recreation yard.) Now add another complication. Because some inmates weren’t working, and were in fact sleeping at the time, some people that lived in cells didn’t want to wake up their cell partner by flushing the toilet so they would use our bathroom to shit. So now, we were sharing the bathroom not only among ourselves, but among some inconsiderate inmates that had their own cell’s bathroom to use. I had already been late for work once and warned. I was also very fussy about brushing my teeth after meals, especially since I had a cracked tooth I didn’t want to get food trapped in.
         I would use that particular drinking fountain to brush my teeth in if the bathroom was in use. And sometimes I would use it even if the bathroom wasn’t in use if I knew several inmates were in need of the toilet. One day, Orta, the Mexican inmate assigned to clean that particular faucet, who’s also a buddy of that heavy-smoking Cuban alien, got on my case about brushing my teeth in it and warned me not to. It just so happens that on that day there was part of a jalapeño and a few noodles in the bottom of the basin. I showed them to my argumentative “friend” and he acknowledged what they were. Then I said, “it was a Mexican who left that behind ’cause whites and blacks don’t eat those things [referring to the jalapeños]. If you’re gonna’ get on my case, why don’t you jack up some of your buddies about making a mess first. I don’t leave anything behind in the sink when I’m done. I always see food in here and I’ve never heard you saying anything to anybody else.” I never bought those particular foods so I never left any food particles behind – and you can verify that from the records kept of all the commissary purchases I made.
         From the exempt memos I learned they complained about my water-faucet “crime” way back in November. It’s a fact, I had been having words with inmate Orta for some time about brushing my teeth in “his” water fountain that he cleans and he had warned me to stop. Well I didn’t, and the fact that he sniveled more about me than he did about others who actually did leave food particles behind, clearly shows it was a personal vendetta against me. How else to explain his lack of anger for the ones who really dirty up “his” faucet? Hmmm.
         The only thing I changed after that day was limiting my teeth brushing in the faucet to if the bathroom was already full. If it was empty I used it, even if I knew others would be needing it soon. If the hot water temperature was set too high for hand washing, as it usually was, I would unplug the refrigeration unit and let the cold water run while I brushed my teeth so it would be room temperature by the time I was ready to rinse my mouth out. I avoided cold water mainly on account of the minor pain it caused to my cracked tooth. One particular day I was walking to the bathroom to brush my teeth when another inmate who lives in a cell rushed ahead of me so he could beat me to it. I was pissed. I went over to my old standby water faucet, but instead of reaching down and unplugging the unit like I normally did, I wrapped my foot around its short cord and yanked it out of the wall socket. In the process, the cord partially come lose from the plug and sparked with a loud sound which sort of sounded like a kick. Troublesome Orta, along with some of his buddies, just happened to be there to see it and said, “what did you do, break it?” As it turned out, I did. But all one had to do was refasten the plug. In any event, that was one of the things I was accused of. In Wisehart’s January 16th memo an inmate whose name is blacked out, but was clearly Orta, gave him the broken plug.
         As far as throwing things out a window, I have no explanation for that. More than likely that was a total fabrication just to add to the other things they were reporting. I am convinced the Mexicans conspired to get me removed from the housing unit, or in the very least, the TV room. (Needless to say, even more so after seeing the memos.)
         Before continuing on, let me fill you in on another of Wisehart’s infamous memos, this two pager dated January 19, 1996 to S.H. Houston, the Associate Warden of Programs. Once again, my name is misspelled. Boy, for a guy more concerned about spelling his name correctly (you’ll see what I’m talking about shortly) than resolving the arson cases, he sure can’t get others’ right. After filling Houston in on my past history he continues, “However, on January 16, 1996, an excited, Hispanic inmate entered my office and told me that he had just seen Larson remove the false ceiling and attempt to cut the cable wire to the Hispanic television. [That’s one I never heard before.] The inmate reported that within the past few days, Larson was seen spitting in their drinking fountain [notice how they claim it as theirs, even though it is for everyone’s use and how they neglect to add that I was brushing my teeth or that their own people leave food particles behind], flushing wax and stripper down the cot room bathroom toilet, slicing the electrical cord to the Hispanic television and kicking the water fountain cord with enough force to break it. This inmate stated that he did not want to get involved in any problems, but that the Hispanic population of Mojave B had taken all they were going to take and if Larson continued to damage what they considered theirs, somebody was going to get hurt.” After telling Houston how he notified Barton, who then put me in the hole, he went on to add, “It is common knowledge in the unit that Larson has consistently destroyed their [there’s that word their again, never is it the whites’ property, or the blacks’ property, I’m only a vandal to the Hispanics’ property. Do you smell the Hispanic conspiracy here folks?] property and there is going to be trouble if Larson returns to the unit. Recognizing the fact that Larson is ten months from release, the Unit Team feels that it is in the best interest of the security of this institution that Larson not return to this compound. We are convinced that if he does, an incident will occurr. [His misspelling here] We are therefore recommending that he be transferred to another medium security facility.” What is especially angering also is that Wisehart told Houston I admitted that I “had sprung the door” but he didn’t finish the story that it was accidental after their own staff installed it improperly. Here, all this time I had been holding Barton culpable for cheating me out of my computer class when it’s all Wisehart’s doing. Well, at least I know the truth. He alone has the responsibility for making the arrangements that are necessary so I can complete it.
         Staff’s solution to all this was to transfer me out of the institution for my own “safety.” Was this the same Bureau of Prisons that only a year and a half earlier sent me to one of the most violent prisons there is where I had a known enemy that now all of a sudden is so concerned about my safety after I exchanged a few words with some inmates? If they really were concerned, they could have just moved me to the non-smoking “Pima” housing unit and that would have solved everything. But no, they needed a reason to get me out of the place and this was their pass key. I could have moved to Pima a year ago when Mojave-B changed from a non-smoking unit to a smoking unit, but chose to stay because I had a very compatible non-smoking cell mate (who was Hispanic, by the way) who wanted to stay in this unit where his friends were. Now that I was in a smoke-filled TV room, the idea of moving to Pima was the most logical choice. Both A and B sides of Pima house only non-smoking inmates. No one over there was mad at me. On the contrary, they would have fully understood my disgust with living in a poorly-ventilated smoke-filled room. And the inmates in smoke-infested Mojave-B surely wouldn’t be out to get me on the yard for merely exchanging some angry words with them. (They just wanted me away from them.) Although sometimes inmates do have a serious grudge with somebody where it is necessary to get that person out of the general population for good, that was not the case here. Saying my life was in danger over those particular exchanges of words was just a phony excuse to get me out of the institution because I had become a nuisance to them with all my complaining and filing administrative remedies. These things were over; FRP payments, the attack upon me and why my attackers weren’t being brought to justice, a box of property lost by MDC-LA, stolen magazines, the infamous OATH, stolen personal property by Officer Hibbard, my routine and open reference about him as Criminal Officer Hibbard rather than by his prison-given title of Correctional Officer Hibbard, and even a request to allow inmates to have personal pocket TVs.
         Staff has a way of transferring inmates away, it’s not just this institution. It’s commonly known that they will transfer trouble making or even merely nuisance inmates around and won’t hesitate to exaggerate a reason in order to get the powers that be to authorize the transfer if they don’t have a reason that is legitimately strong enough. (They call it “diesel therapy” – Putting you on a bus and sending you elsewhere. After my OATH incident, covered above, Strahl used the word “diesel” as part of his veiled threat to entice me to agree to not pass around or administer my OATH to others.) And that’s basically what they did here. This was confirmed by Mr. Crawford, the Correctional Counselor I had at FCI Sheridan, Oregon, the institution I got sent to. I reviewed my Central File before I went home in hopes of ascertaining the real reason I was sent off. Because of the exempt part of my file that I wasn’t allowed to see, I asked Mr. Crawford to review it and confirm my suspicions that they basically just wanted to get rid of me. Although he wasn’t allowed to disclose the contents of this exempt part, he did confirm my suspicions. (Of course, now that I saw those parts myself it just confirms it even more.)
         And here’s another thing. Shortly before my transfer from FCI Phoenix, I shared a cell in the hole with a Mexican inmate from Mojave-B. Although we were only together for a few hours – possibly staff realized it would look bad for them seeing I was getting along with a Mexican from my own housing unit when, according to staff, they are all suppose to be mad at me – we spoke about my reason for being in the hole. He didn’t even know me, other than previously seeing me in the housing unit, and didn’t know why I was in the hole. If I was on all the Mexicans’ shit list, as staff alleges, I would have been talked about widely among them and this cell mate surely would have known about me. Moving me to Pima would have satisfied everything. But no; staff wanted me out of the institution – and now they have to pay for that!
         On January 28, 1996 I wrote a letter to Mr. Wisehart and Lt. Barton offering them certain information and asking if it, “is worth letting me out of the hole very soon.” I told them how, “I stumbled onto several inmates preparing 2 devices in order to wire-tap staff in order to overhear something in hopes of blackmailing someone to bring in drugs.” I explained further how I later overheard, “they had someone in mind,” and that someone was apparently, “a woman.” I offered to provide them with more details but neither asked for any. It’s really not part of Mr. Wisehart’s job description to ask for any, but Lt. Barton is another matter. As the institution’s Special Investigative Supervisor, this is his territory but he apparently decided to remain silent on the matter.
         What the inmates had was one of the FM transmitters which are used in the TVs that are located in the common areas. Due to overcrowding, each housing unit converted one of their TV rooms into a dormitory and the one I was assigned to had room for 12 inmates. To make up for the loss of a TV room, staff mounted a TV in the common area. This area is used for playing cards, dominoes, table games, pool, and even letter writing or having conversations. In order to keep noise levels down, this particular TV had its speaker disabled and a low-power FM transmitter installed. Inmates are allowed to have only walk-man style radios that don’t have speakers. They tune their radios to the FM frequency transmitting the TV sound and hear it in their earphones.
         The wire-tapping inmates got either a new transmitter out of the electronic communications shop or a used one out of a broken TV. Inmates work in this shop along with adjoining shops so getting such items is no problem. They rigged it up to be battery powered and pick up and transmit the sound from a microphone. They planned to overhear some kind of dirt on a staff member and then blackmail that person to bring drugs into the institution or they would divulge the dirt.
         Drugs have been problems in every prison I’ve ever been in, and I’m sure they’re probably in all the others too. They’ll go as far as have someone who comes to visit them bring drugs wrapped up in balloons. They will swallow these balloons and shit them out days later thereby retrieving their “stash.” If an inmate is suspected of doing this he is locked in a cell with just a bucket – and no toilet so he can’t flush the evidence – and stays there until he takes a dump. This is unofficially called putting the inmate on “potty watch.” Shoving things up their ass is another way to get things into the institution. To “keester (pronounced keys tur, as in the first syllable to the word turkey) it” is what they call it. One cell mate I had in state prison referred to his ass as “the vault” because that’s where he hid things in a hurry when staff was coming to search the cell.
         When I was the institution’s yard photographer at FCI Terminal Island back in the early ’80s, one of the perks of the job was getting two free pictures for myself for each 35mm roll of film I turned in for staff to get developed. I could also get two extra shots per roll by using the leader at the beginning and end of each roll (frame 0 and 37 on a 36-exposure roll). At $1.50 per shot I’d make six bucks a roll and usually go through three or four rolls a week. We were allowed to have up to $20.00 in coins in our possession for spending in the vending machines located on the yard and in the visiting room. Some inmates wanted more money to spend than they were permitted to withdraw from their accounts so they would smuggle paper money (referred to as “green” by us inmates) in during visits. They then looked for inmates with excess coins that were willing to trade. After I got too much with all the pictures I was taking, I’d trade it off for green and give that to my parents when they’d come to visit me. Every time I’d get a twenty from someone it would be damp and smell a bit like shit. That’s because it had been washed after being up the guy’s ass so he could pass by the strip search coming in off of his visit. I didn’t need to do that though when I was taking money back out to my parents because we weren’t stripped searched going out to a visit.
         The point of all this being, that inmates have inventive ways of getting things into institutions, so when an opportunity presents itself to get staff to bring something in, that is a valued thing to possess. Obviously, it was a lot better to have a staff member bring drugs or whatever in, and that was these inmates’ plan. Thanks to Lt. Barton’s decision to keep me in the hole rather than find out the identity of these culprits, they may still be doing it. Chalk it up to another one of those “misplaced priorities” or “penny wise, pound foolish” situations.
         And if drugs aren’t a concern, what about weapons? A few years before I was there some inmates arranged to get a piece of equipment sent out to a certain place to get fixed. A person at that place put guns inside and when it reentered the institution no one opened it to inspect it. The inmates attempted to shoot their way out of the institution and were killed in the process. I’m sure steps have been taken to prevent a repeat of something like that. But staff aren’t searched coming into the institution. Can you see the danger here? It seems Barton didn’t!
         In my letter of January 28th I also advised them of a breach of security with the computers inmates have access to. The computers in the class I was in had a program called WatchDog that kept us out of DOS or files other than the ones we were permitted to access for classroom work. Some inmates use computers as a part of their work assignments. I advised Wisehart and Barton that, “some inmate accessible computers do not have WatchDog set up to the same tight level of security as the ones in our computer class have.” I then went on to tell him about what the inmates who work in the Federal Prison Industries section of the prison are able to do. Supervising staff members can override WatchDog with a password if they need to get to the DOS prompt to fix a problem with a computer an inmate is using. “In a moment of distraction, possibly planned, the inmate then types in, or maybe had a pre-written macro do it, C:\ATTRIB -H AUTOEXEC.BAT <enter>.” This makes the Autoexec file, which runs at start up and launches WatchDog, no longer a hidden file. This step is necessary before the next one. The inmate then types, or lets a macro type, C:\ATTRIB -R AUTOEXEC.BAT <enter>. This takes off the read-only status of the Autoexec file so the inmate can write to it and save his changes. When the staff member is done he or she reactivates WatchDog unaware of the breach of security. One program the inmate has legitimate access to is a word processor called WordPerfect. With this he can go in and REM out the WatchDog Logon line in the Autoexec file, thereby deactivating it, save his changes and on reboot the computer will be a regular computer without security features present leaving the inmate with access at the DOS level and to any files he wants or any on the network that computer is attached to. When he’s done he can take out the REM statement, save the change, and on reboot WatchDog launches normally leaving staff unaware of the breach of security. And it is my understanding that there are some very sensitive areas he can really get into.
         One separate housing unit of the prison known as “Mesa” housed high-level snitches who testified in some big-time criminal cases. Those of us in the general population never associated with or even saw these inmates, nor did we even know their names; except… Before I ever learned about the above mentioned breach of computer security, one inmate told me how his supervisor inadvertently left his computer at the DOS prompt. This particular inmate worked on the payroll files for inmates who worked in the Federal Prison Industries. Mesa has their own smaller industries set up where some of the inmates housed over there worked. He, of course, saw the names of those general-population inmates who worked for industries, but when he came to those workers who were housed in the witness security Mesa all he saw was a coded prison number. For a short time before he reactivated WatchDog he went nosing around on his own to see what he could see. Somewhere along the line he saw the actual names for these inmates he once only saw numbers for. Now I wonder what such information would be worth to a big time mobster who lost millions on account of a snitch? And to think, it was more important to get me out of the institution than it was to find out what I knew about breaches of security. Are you thinking misplaced priorities like I am? Hmmm.
         I also told them how inmates would work on their own personal work, which they weren’t suppose to do, and then hide their files as a macro which they would then embed within another macro. Another way to hide something is to reset the system clock in the CMOS setting temporarily to a date near the time many of the system files were saved. One could then save a personal file into the DOS directory with a cryptic system-looking name and no one would suspect it. These two hiding techniques didn’t even require bypassing WatchDog, but if you have defeated it you can then type, C:\ATTRIB +H <filename> <enter> to make it invisible. These things aren’t really a breach of security, but I was doing whatever I could do to stay there so I could complete my computer class.
         I let them know how I had been in the class since May 2, 1995 and had put a lot of work in it to earn a certificate from Central Texas College. This course contained 5 terms with each term teaching us how to use a new computer program or about something relative to computer technology. The last term’s study contained Office Accounting and Automated Office Management. I was part way through my last term and would have graduated in about 3 weeks. As I’ve said before, astronomy and bird watching are 2 serious hobbies I’ve had for years. Computers is a more recent hobby, but it is just as serious of an interest. I told you earlier how I corrected the mistake they made on my release date back at FCI Terminal Island so I could complete a computer class I was in. Even though it was nowhere near as advanced as this one, it was still important enough to me that I was willing to do another 50 some days in prison which made me miss my parents’ 40th wedding anniversary and my birthday. And now they want to cheat me out of the rest of my class I’m almost done with and cared less that it was so important to me. Obviously I am extremely mad.
         I wrote a letter to Associate Warden of Programs Houston addressing much of what I have here and said the same thing in an administrative remedy which was answered by Associate Warden of Operations Cannon who was acting warden at the time. (Floyd was apparently out of town.) I even said I would resume my FRP payments so I could get a cell in order to be out of the TV room, which was the center of all this problem. I would have preferred resolving the stolen-property issue first, seeing that it was legitimate property to have, but I was going out of my way to resolve everything in a way we could all live with. I wanted to complete my computer class and that was too important to miss. Letting Hibbard slide by unpunished was a concession I was willing to accept at the time.
         And to show you even further just how important my computer class was to me, I told the associate wardens, “I have harped repeatedly about wanting to see a photo spread so I could ID the 2 attackers I saw but no one seems to care. Now I’m willing to drop the issue if I could just get out of the hole & return to the yard. I would be willing to sign a statement I will not hold the BOP [Bureau of Prisons] responsible for transferring me to where a known enemy was & I will not pursue the case in court by way of a suit as I planned. I’m trying to make a peace offering, a compromise, where we each give something in return. Please let me stay & return to the yard. I’ll be sure I will remain out of trouble for the rest of my stay here. Thank you.” I had previously reminded them that an inmate at a prison in Atlanta, Georgia got over a million dollars after being attacked because he was a child molester. (See also the United States Supreme Court case: Farmer v. Brennan (1994) 128 L Ed 2d 811, regarding prison staff responsibility for a homosexual who got attacked.) And I previously wrote letter after letter and memo after memo – including mentioning it in several of my anger-venting administrative remedy appeals – to various Bureau of Prisons’ people proclaiming I had no intention of letting my attackers slither by unpunished. So this was a damn, damn generous offer – all because my computer class was so important to me. But would they accept my “out” and still save face? No; they wouldn’t even consider it. So obviously they will be held accountable for the attack upon me, along with the theft of my property as is indicated within these pages. But my resolution offer is still real cheap.
         One thing that was particularly angering was when I offered to purchase my accounting class textbook so I could finish the course from right in the hole. For this term’s study we didn’t even need the computer. We basically used a spreadsheet program just as a calculator to add our columns of numbers which were a part of our accounting homework. I could have added up everything the old fashioned way – manually – and completed the course if I could have just gotten my book. The hard-cover textbook in question was just loaned to us until we finished with the class. We each got a soft-cover workbook to enter our class assignments in and this one we would be allowed to keep. Inmates aren’t allowed to have hard-cover books in the hole. Staff thinks they are a security risk, although I’m not sure what their concern is. There was no problem having soft-cover books though. I asked if I could purchase the hard-cover book and then let them cut the covers off so it would have no hard covers. I figured that’s a reasonable request. It would then be a soft-cover book and I could have it with no problem to finish my class. But “no,” they said, “having ‘altered’ property is against prison rules.” “But that doesn’t stop you from breaking them if it fits your needs; like stealing an inmate’s property, if you know what I mean.” And I know they did.
         They say they were so concerned about my safety that they wouldn’t let me out on the yard. But the thing is, the disputes I was having were centering around living in the TV room, a room I wouldn’t have been in if I didn’t use the money I was saving for FRP payments to repurchase the things Officer Hibbard stole. Seeing that it was their fault, they should have given somewhat. With my books I could have completed my class in the hole and if they would have done that I would have quietly accepted the transfer. But not now! I even asked Captain M. Sandels and Warden Floyd to help me out when they would pass by my cell on their periodic rounds but they wouldn’t even lift a finger.
         So now I’m charging them whatever Central Texas College charges for the class, the cost for an apartment in Killeen, Texas for one month (where Central Texas College is located), any other living expenses which I would incur above whatever I would be dishing out if I was at home, airline costs to and from the nearest airport to Killeen, Texas weekly so I can take care of things at home when I’m out of school on weekends, and the costs of a rental car needed to get around. (I won’t pad the bill with a luxury car either; an economy model is O.K.) I won’t accept taking an accounting class in some local college either. I was in Central Texas College, I was working toward their certificate, and I want to complete their course. I should make them pay for a trip to FCI Phoenix when they have their next graduation ceremonies in the inmate visiting room because I should have been a part of that too – but I’ll let them slide on that one. If they don’t want to do the right thing and make the arrangements for me to complete my class I’ll charge them a flat fee somewhat above what their actual expenses would be if they arranged my stay in Killeen, Texas. This fee reflects a punishment added to whatever the actual costs would be. Assuming they’ll take the easy but more expensive route I’ll reflect their flat fee here. This fee includes our soft-cover workbook that we would have been allowed to keep. When I went to the hole the officer bagging my property up thought it was a school book and sent it back to them so I never got it. Written requests to the education department for it went unanswered. I set that flat fee at $5,000.00 which you’ll see tallied up again in Chapter 20 where all costs are compiled.
         (While the above figure is not an actual out-of-pocket expense, readers must know that Wisehart, Barton, and their cohorts are not getting off the hook that easy. There’s too much anger over this issue. I was purposely cheated out of completing my course and they must not prevail on that. The very last time I saw Wisehart was when he come to my cell in the hole and told me that I had been designated to another institution, but he refused to tell me which one. Right after that I asked, “you know, I’m the only one in the entire world who knows the identity of the real arsonists. I was planning to disclose that information in my book. Do you have any objection to me naming you as the reason it is being delayed because I won’t let it out until you arrange for me to complete my computer class you’re cheating me out of?” In a big pompous attitude he responded back, “as long as you spell my name correctly, I hate it when people misspell my name.” O.K., that’s David L. Wisehart, W-I-S-E-H-A-R-T, Wisehart. There I got it right Dave ol’ buddy. And that’s where we’re at right now. We’re waiting for Mr. Wisehart and his co-conspirator, SIS Lt. B. Barton, to make arrangements with Central Texas College so I can complete my last semester and get my graduation certificate. [After seeing the exempt memos, I gotta’ remove Barton from the requirement. He was merely one of Wisehart’s many tools in this transfer fiasco. While Wisehart is welcome to use any of his available tools to get me enrolled, the buck really stops at him. Be rest assured though – I will always spell your name correctly. Don’t wanna’ get ya mad. I see how you treat people you’re mad at.] [Wisehart got an 18-page letter detailing all of the FCI Phoenix shenanigans I had to put up with and not only did he decline to answer any of my accusations, but he has yet to make the necessary arrangements with Central Texas College so I can complete my computer class. I guess he needs some prompting. Hint, hint. (If you care to do that you can contact him, or his wife Terry, at home at: 2908 W. Evans Dr., Phoenix, AZ  85053-7708, (602) 863-9343.)] Barring that, the above figure remains in effect, and a part of the selling price. Would you like me to get you a Kleenex so you can snivel? Actually, there is a fairly easy and inexpensive out. That accounting text book we had was very good and explained everything very well. The class I was in only went through the first part of the book anyway and it wasn’t all that hard. I could easily complete the course requirements right here at home without any teacher assistance. Just get me the hard-cover text book, its soft-cover workbook, and the other automated office management text book used in that final semester and I’ll do it all right here. Surely the teacher could let me send assignments and periodic tests in the mail for grading. All you’ll be out then is book costs, my course fees, postage, and my standard hourly rate, $5.11 [later on I explain how I arrive at the very low figure], for study time. [That’s because I have to spend my more valuable time now to do it when it should have all been done when I was in prison on a less valuable-time schedule.]. That’s not bad considering what you stand to gain in the end. See, you didn’t need a Kleenex after all. : - ) )
         Two more exempt memos are interesting to bring up in this transfer conspiracy. And I say conspiracy with the utmost confidence, because there is no way anybody could arrive at any other conclusion. You see what you think at the end of this. Wisehart told me ahead of time that the Western Regional Office may decline to transfer me because my release date is so near. There was another inmate in the hole because he had an enemy in the general population, and he ended up doing all of his last several months right there because the Region declined his transfer him strictly because he was getting out so soon. While my release date was a little farther off than his, staff had to “sell” a good reason to the Region so they could get rid of me.
         Back when I was attacked at USP Lompoc, their request to the Region was “Transfer Code 323,” a “Close Supervision” transfer. The warden there filled the Region in on the extensive publicity my arrest made, along with the fact that the media exposed my child molesting conviction. They even amplified it by saying I had six prior convictions of child molesting. It also mentioned James Beverly as knowing a 16-year-old girl I molested, when, in fact, it was a 16-year-old boy, Michael Reeves, and I only solicited him. Anyway, staff had discussed it with me ahead of time that they thought it would be better to transfer me back east, where there had been less media coverage about me, which would mean there was less of a chance that I would be known by the other inmates. I completely agreed with that. With my parents dead, I wasn’t going to be getting visits from anyone, so being close to home didn’t matter at all. The warden said, “Based on this information, we believe that Larsen’s life would be in jeopardy if he were in general population at any facility in the Western Region. Therefore, we are recommending that he receive a close supervision transfer to another Bureau of Prisons facility commensurate with his security needs.” Knowing that the Region doesn’t like sending inmates outside of their home region, they tried to sell the move even further by saying, “Subject indicates that he cannot return to Los Angeles, California. He will relocate to another area….” Where they got that I have no idea, but the bottom line was that they recommended I go to FCI Allenwood in Pennsylvania. With all that, including mentioning my concurrence to go outside of the region, the powers-that-be declined and sent me to FCI Phoenix, which is in the Western Region.
         Now fast forward ahead to a memo dated January 25, 1996 from FCI Phoenix Warden Floyd to Mr. White, the Western Regional Director, and to the attention of R. English, the Regional Designator. If my life was really in danger from other inmates, and if those allegations the Hispanics made about me were true, another 323 close supervision transfer would have been an appropriate request to the Region. But for whatever reason, maybe because they knew it was all a bunch of bull shit, they tried to sell the Region on a transfer another way. I say above how USP Lompoc embellished things in order to sell a transfer out of the region. Now here, FCI Phoenix tries the goody-good approach. I’m someone “deserving” of a transfer to a prison near home, which is something inmates far from home actively try to get – and something the Bureau tries to grant. (And that’s probably why they thought they could sell it.) First off, they recommend that I be sent to FCI Terminal Island, which is only an hour drive from my home, and then they had the nerve to tell the Region that I, “AGREE WITH THE PLACEMENT OR TRANSFER.” (This exempt memo, unlike all the others, was computer generated on a dot-matrix printer and is in all capitals.) Oh, and by the way, this is a “TRANSFER CODE 313,” a “NEARER RELEASE” transfer. Continuing on in their line of deception, they play it off by mentioning twice that I have received no “INCIDENT REPORTS AT THIS FACILITY,” while conveniently leaving out that I got a minor one back at MDC-LA in 1994. While they mention that I’m refusing to pay my $300.00 Special Assessment, they proudly say, “HE HAS MADE PROGRESS TOWARD COMPLETING THIS OBLIGATION” and, “HAS A BALANCE OF $175.00 REMAINING.” And their “RATIONALE FOR REFERRAL”? “HE HAS INDICATED TO HIS UNIT TEAM THAT HE WILL BE RELEASING TO VAN NUYS, CALIFORNIA. A REDESIGNATION TO A FACILITY IN CENTRAL CALIFORNIA WOULD ALLOW MR. LARSEN [they’re getting my name spelled right again] TO BETTER PREPARE FOR HIS RELEASE.” Excuse me here people, wasn’t it just a few months earlier that another institution thought my life would be in such a danger locally, where I made the most publicity, that they thought getting me clear across the country was the best thing to do? Now here, staff who is supposedly – at least according to all those Wisehart to Barton memos – concerned my life is in too much of a danger from Hispanic inmates to stay any longer, wants to move me to a more dangerous institution where undoubtedly I would be endangered by inmates who heard so much publicity about me on the local news. Pause a moment while we all scratch our heads in puzzlement here. Scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch…. You’ll recall how the various Wisehart to Barton memos put all the emphasis on my Hispanic-inmate problem and even quoted other inmates as saying, “somebody was going to get hurt.” So how do they address these concerns that took such prominence in the memos? “IN ADDITION [as if it was just another little thing to add in], SEVERAL HISPANIC INMATES SUSPECT MR. LARSEN OF CUTTING THE CORD TO THE HISPANIC TELEVISION. [Now get this.] ALTHOUGH HE HAS NOT RECEIVED ANY DIRECT THREATS FROM OTHER INMATES, TENSION EXISTS IN THE HOUSING UNIT TOWARD MR. LARSEN. THE UNIT TEAM FEELS A NEARER RELEASE IS APPROPRIATE AND NEEDED AT THIS TIME.”
         (And keeping things hidden from those higher up on the judicial totem pole is not limited to this institution mind you. Because officials like to abide by judges’ recommendations, along with the fact that Judge Hupp recommended Lompoc at the time of sentencing, Lompoc’s warden, Mr. P.W. Keohane, wrote to Judge Hupp to advise him that I would be unable to remain at Lompoc. Surely one would expect Keohane to explain the vicious attack upon me wouldn’t one? Well here’s what he said. “Due to the extensive media coverage that Mr. Larsen received in Southern California which exposed Mr. Larsen’s criminal history as a pedophile, he is not able to function in the general population at this facility. He has requested that he be transferred to another Bureau of Prisons facility away from this region. Subsequently, for Mr. Larsen’s safety, he is being referred for a close supervision transfer to another federal facility commensurate with his security needs.” Do you think they wanted to keep it hidden that they sent me to a place where they knew I had a known enemy? Hmmm. Seems the Bureau is rife with deception. Do you have a picture of people trampling all over the Constitution like I do here?)
         One day after I’d already been told that staff decided to put me in for a transfer, Wisehart asked me, “Other than Terminal Island, which isn’t accepting any inmates, where would you like to go?” In hindsight, it seems clear this question was asked after their Terminal Island request was denied. I never even knew they put me in for it, but was aware, from hearing other inmates talk, that Terminal Island was too crowded to accept any new inmates. I told Wisehart my choice was FCI Tucson, Arizona, remembering that they have an astronomy club there.
         In another Floyd to White memo, this one dated February 20, 1996, but this time to the attention of the Correctional Services Administrator (who is not named), their “RATIONALE FOR REDESIGNATION” is no longer in the context of a “good-guy” transfer. Right off the bat they start off, “Inmate Larsen was placed in the Special Housing Unit on January 16, 1996, after several inmates reported to the Unit Manager that Larsen had been involved in an argument with several Hispanic inmates. According to the Hispanic inmates, Larsen was seen vandalizing their television and water fountain. Although Larsen denies such allegations, Unit Staff feels it is in the best interest of all inmates’ safety that Larsen be transferred.”
         “This is not the first time Larsen has been placed into the Special Housing Unit due to disputes with inmates housed in the Mojave B cot room. There has been ongoing problems for six months and the Unit Staff feels the problem has escalated to the point where Larsen must be removed from the institution. Although he is not seen as a serious danger to others, his continued presence in the unit may cause the problem to escalate from a verbal altercation to a physical one.”
         “The Unit Team feels a Closer Supervision transfer is needed at this time. Larsen’s presence at FCI, Phoenix would be disruptive to staff, inmates, and the orderly running of this institution.” Quite a different sales approach than the previous Floyd to White memo isn’t it? Do you now smell a deceitful rat among the bunch? And what do you suppose the “TRANSFER CODE” was? Why 323, of course. They also made a point this time of mentioning my “CIM ASSIGNMENT” in that I need “Separation” from another inmate (although they didn’t mention James Beverly by name or relate details of that incident) and that I needed “Special Supervision.” But I do have to hand it to Wisehart, he did recommend FCI Tucson to the Region. The Region sent me to FCI Sheridan, Oregon instead, but he still did honor my choice. As mad as he was at me, I would have expected anything but my choice, so there was one tiny pleasant surprise out of him. Seeing that he asked for my choice ahead of time and then honored it, I found it surprising when I saw it mentioned in the memo, “DOES THE INMATE CONCUR WITH TRANSFER:” and the response was, “Due to the nature of this transfer, the inmate was not consulted.” Now when you rewind to the previous Floyd to White memo it said I “AGREED WITH THE PLACEMENT OR TRANSFER” to FCI Terminal Island when they never asked me ahead of time. So go figure.
         Before I saw all these exempt memos I had envisioned a vast conspiracy to get me out of the institution at all cost. While there’s no doubt they wanted me gone no matter what, the conspiracy has shrunk to the point where the majority of conspirators were given biased or deceptive information about me. Floyd, Houston, Canon, Sandels, and every other high-ranking prison official against me staying were being fed by the prejudice tongue of Wisehart. While Barton would score second in the culpability factor, he was quite a bit farther down the line from Wisehart than I previously believed. Wisehart was the only one I expressed my intent to remain silent until they made arrangements for me to complete my computer class, and as I know now, that’s as it should be – the blood trail leads back to him, and nowhere else.
         In any event, I was sent to FCI Sheridan, Oregon in March. Much of the taunting of me being a molester died down at FCI Phoenix as time progressed (an inmate who knew me from USP Lompoc recognized me when he got to Phoenix and spread it around). But now at a new prison, thanks to an inmate whose first name is Ray (who was transferred to Sheridan after he attacked an inmate at Phoenix in the spring of 1995), who knew of me, it started all over again worse than ever. I suffered more of it as the “new kid in town” so to speak. I had to put up with that for 6 months until I went home. That’s 6 months I should have been at a half-way house. But no, they didn’t want to put people like me out on the streets any sooner than they legally had to. O.K. fine, I didn’t want to put people like arsonists in off the streets any sooner than I logically had to either. Now if you don’t like that statement, imagine how I feel about the previous one. Hmmm. And hmmm again, because it’s worth a second thought – or even a third; hmmm!
         On December 3, 1996, after I’d been home for two months, a psychiatrist (who, by the way, for reference, was given the draft version of Revenge, my Statement of Judicial Debts Receivable in the version it was in at that time, and many of the documents I gave to the Bureau of Prisons as part of my administrative remedy appeals) interviewed me regarding participation in a court-ordered therapy program (which I didn’t want). He happened to ask if I had any empathy for the innocent people I had previously victimized. Before I address that further I want to refresh your memory as to some of the things I said back in Chapter 9:

         After suffering so many unfair, improper, and unnecessary abuses and monetary loses over the years by various members of the judicial system – especially how the Secret Service very maliciously ransacked and vandalized our house, and particularly my bedroom on January 11, 1980 – this action [making me pay the $48.00 cost of the public defender] by [Judge] Willett was the straw that broke the camel’s back [and led to the car vandalisms listed in Chapter 9]. I was mad about losing MY money I, as an innocent victim, shouldn’t have lost, and I wanted it back. [For that I am not sorry at all even though I said so at the time to appease judicial personnel and possibly lower the punishment I could receive.]
         [The thing I am] very sorry for [though is] the minor injuries that happened to a few people when some of the overspray mist blew onto their skin. My MO is one of a non-violent property offender (revenge tactics that merely cost, inconvenience, embarrass, and/or aggravate others as a response to violations committed against me as outlined in my OATH), not someone to injure others – that is not my way, despite the fact that the district attorney put more emphasis on this part of my behavior.
         And just so the record is straight; no, it wasn’t just a $48.00 fee that led to the estimated half a million dollars in vandalism. That was just the final straw. Every other impropriety about this case which I’ve already addressed along with the anger over vandalizing Secret Service agents back on vandalism day 1980 was already brewing. Being pressured out of this 48 bucks just raised the flame a notch higher and the tea kettle burst. Let that be a lesson to those prone to misbehaving against some aggravation-intolerant defendants – keep the flame low.

         In asking about empathy for those I’d victimized, the psychiatrist particularly made note of those who were chosen totally at random, those who were not personally guilty of any wrong doing against me. People who were passed a counterfeit $20.00 bill or who had their cars sprayed with battery acid. I boldly answered, “nope, not at all.” No one to this day feels empathy for the victimization (detailed within these pages) that I’ve suffered. No one is attempting to make amends – yet – or even offer apologies; as I keep reminding them of. And as I said before, no judge, except U.S. District Judge Robert J. Kelleher, for my second counterfeiting case, ever considered past injustices I suffered and took them into consideration to hand down a lesser-than-average sentence. (All the others enhanced my sentences.) Rather than being so concerned that I victimized innocent people in non-violent ways, you all should be more concerned that our own government is killing and maiming innocent people, including children, when they do things like send a missile into a milk factory in Iraq or bomb a city block in Panama. I’d say those are bigger priorities to be concerned about.
         And what about all the emotional (and three times physical) abuse I’ve suffered at the hands of inmates who were aware I’d sexually interacted with or merely solicited boys. This became known to others at county, state, and federal institutions I’ve been in more often than not due to either hostile staff telling other inmates or merely “letting it slip”, carelessness of staff with my records left out in open view, nosy inmate clerks with access to records, or news media coverage blabbing it around. It’s hard to put into words the trauma one feels about being constantly belittled, berated, threatened, and hated all because you’re considered a “baby raper.” Even for those of us who never used physical force in the sexual activity, being labeled one of “them people” carries with it the stigma that physical force and physical injury is always an element as far as fellow inmates see it. I mentioned before how it’s kind of ironic that the worst offenders are white, muscular, loud, tattooed, doper/biker kinds of guys who watch old reruns of Married With Children and lust over Kelly Bundy, played by Christina Applegate who was under 18-years-old until part way through their 4th season.
         And prison staff are as uncaring as anyone else about people like me. After I got to FCI Sheridan I again put in a request for a half-way house and once again was denied because of my 1971 child molesting conviction. When I told Karen Angus, the Case Manager I had at Sheridan, that turning me down for a half-way house places me in danger that much longer from inmates aware of me her response was, “I’m surprised you don’t get jumped on more often than you do.” Well nothing happened there, but, as I said before, I did suffer more taunting as the “new kid in town” so to speak. (As you already know, I shouldn’t have even been sent there to begin with, so this is just another anger-intensifying part of the story covered within these pages.) Just like with Wisehart’s denial of a half-way house, the Unit Team at FCI Sheridan had no empathy for me at all. They never cared about my feelings or the extra trauma I was suffering beyond what a “normal” inmate suffers in a prison setting. They were out just for #1; themselves. Cover their asses – be damned about any emotional, and up at Sheridan, potential physical damages it causes to me. That’s their way it seems. It meant nothing that inmates who had sold drugs got approved for half-way houses, even though their crime could have done more harm to kids’ lives than my non-violent offense ever did. Because my time was getting so short it would have been a moot issue to file an administrative remedy. Even if I had won it, I would have been due for release on my regular release date by then so it wasn’t even worth bothering with. I did suggest that Ms. Angus familiarize herself with the side effects of such a denial as addressed in my previous administrative remedy because she is as culpable as the Wisehart team. We’ll just see where those effects lead to.
         (I should have asked Ms. Angus why an inmate with the words “NO REMORSE” and a Satanic pentagram tattooed on his back got a half-way house when I couldn’t get one. And also, the inmate with a tattoo prominently visible on his neck saying, “211 – for the love of it” got to go to one. 211 is the Penal Code for robbery in California. Oh well, I guess I’ll never know her response. But it just angers me more and more why I was denied just because of that ancient non-violent misdeed I did way back in 1971. At least I had a chance to give the arsonists an extra 6 months of freedom to replace the 6 months I lost. And that lowered my anger a tad bit.)
         And it’s the same way with the denial of bail. They were looking out for themselves. How to make themselves look good. On all my other crimes when I actually did something against someone, rather than merely benignly threaten to do something, I was let out on bail. But now, all because of the media publicity (which shouldn’t have been there if they’d have reported it properly that they knew I wasn’t an arsonist) I was considered too “dangerous” to let out on bail. As if keeping me in – where I couldn’t: be with my parents for their 50th (and final) wedding anniversary; be with them for our last Christmas together; attend their funerals; get my personal affairs together before going to prison; and couldn’t secure the house up properly (so I wouldn’t be ripped off by family members with access to it as detailed in Chapter 20) and hire someone reputable to look after it during my incarceration – would somehow “magically” make me a less “dangerous” or nuisance-provoking person later down the line.
         If they were really concerned about making me less “dangerous,” as they should have been, they wouldn’t have tore up our house again in their search on November 7th. They would have showed proper respect for my property as they were strongly admonished to do. I’ve widely said and written, “more caution needs to be shown so that a person not otherwise ‘dangerous’ – or just merely a nuisance like me – is not actually made so.”
         I don’t hide the fact that I’m much angrier today than I was before November 7, 1993; the true day of my arrest, despite their papers saying the 8th. The interviewing psych seemed surprised when I claimed to have empathy in years past but no longer have it. He appeared to be under the belief that if someone had it in the beginning, they always will, and if they never had it, they never will. I disagree with that. I believe people can gain or lose the quality. It’s too bad I don’t have it any longer; it’s a nice quality to have. But I don’t, and I accept it and work around it. And so must those others who are responsible for its loss. All I can add is, after repeatedly being emotionally beaten down more and more so I’ve become more narcissistic, more looking out for #1, and less caring if someone is cost, inconvenienced, embarrassed, and/or aggravated in a non-physical injury kind of way. I agree, it’s better to return the violation directly upon a guilty culprit’s doorstep, and nowhere else, but if some other innocent bystander is cost, inconvenienced, embarrassed, and/or aggravated in a non-physical injury kind of way I’m not going to lose any sleep over it.
         People will boldly speak out on talk radio and TV shows for leniency for those who injure and sometimes kill child molesters. (Ellie Nessler is just one example.) They will speak favorably for “throwing away the key” in order to keep even the non-forcible offender locked away forever. They will applaud when hearing how a molester was attacked by other inmates. They will express joy when hearing that molesters are treated badly by other inmates. And when he gets out of prison they themselves will be right there to harass him at his residence and run him out of town. They fail to differentiate a forcible act where injury was involved (which does deserve a severe sentence) from an encounter involving a sexually active younger person who desired to interact with someone older. (35-year-old Mary Kay Letourneau, who had a planned baby with her 13-year-old lover, who made it clear on television and in print that he was not a victim of sexual abuse in any way, was one of the fortunate few to get a light sentence in the beginning. She ended up getting sentenced to prison later on though when the two of them, going by the premise that true love should have no chronological boundaries, were not careful enough in keeping their ongoing relationship a secret.) I’ll never forget how easily an inmate was accepted among others even though he was in jail for bruises he put on his 2-year-old daughter, while I was being harassed. He did more injury to that one kid than I did to all seven or so of those I interacted with. Yet I was the “scum,” worthy of disrespect and whatever else, and he was just another inmate – a tattooed/doper/biker kind of inmate; but still, just an inmate. Not one to be treated like plankton in the sea of abuse to be fed upon at their will as all the other child abusers are. And in the free world, I’d bet there are a lot of neighbors who know of a father that overly slapped his child around and wouldn’t even consider running him out of town or even harassing him for what he did.
         And you can imagine my outrage when I saw the February 1, 1998 edition of 60 Minutes which reported on the beliefs and teachings of the Faith Tabernacle Church, a church with 2000 members in the United States and thousands more worldwide. On that episode Ed Bradley began his report: “For most parents it is unthinkable not to take a sick child to a doctor or to deny that child medicine. But each year, thousands of parents do just that – don’t seek medical attention for their children because their religion forbids it. They believe that God, and only God, has the power to heal. They claim the Constitution guarantees them the right to practice their religion as they see fit. One such group is the Faith Tabernacle Church which is practicing its religion as it sees fit, and so far, because of what they believe, 14 children have died – children who almost certainly would be alive today if they had seen a doctor.” The story focused on one particular Pennsylvania family who first let their 8-year-old son die rather than take him to a doctor, and then a few years later, let their 16-year-old daughter also die in a similar fashion. Ed Bradley continued on in his report, “Under the law in nearly every state…parents like [those reported on in this story] do have the right to withhold medical care for their children on the basis of their religious beliefs, but only up to a point. If a child becomes seriously ill and dies then the parents, regardless of their religious beliefs, can be charged with involuntary manslaughter.” And that’s what happened to the family here. They ended up pleading no contest to involuntary manslaughter on the death of their first child and received no time in prison – the judge citing “because of their religion.” After the death of their daughter they were convicted of involuntary manslaughter and received only a 5-year prison sentence. At the time the story was televised they were out on bail while appealing that conviction. The thing is, there was no public outrage about the much more serious child abuse they committed – twice! And why were they only charged with involuntary manslaughter; even after the second death? Where are the priorities of prosecutors here? Or even of the general public? One of us will piddle around with a child in a sexual way a little bit and they’re all ready to send us away forever and a day. And then do nothing to protect us from the much worse abuse we’re subjected to from prison inmates – and later, to a lesser extent from irate neighbors. But go and let your child die of an illness you refused to treat – just because you believe that sickness is caused by the devil and that only God, meaning no medical doctors, has the power to heal – and you can ride off into the sunset practically unpunished, if at all. And you have the nerve to ask about my lack of empathy. Don’t even think about it.
         But if you do, go ahead – ask. My lack of empathy? You bet – a thousand times you bet!!! And I hope you don’t like it! But I don’t really care if you do or not. As far as I’m concerned, nobody’s got anything comin’ from me until they stop making excuses for those who attack molesters and stop giving these attackers lenient treatment just because the victim was a molester. That’s for starters! If you can be so damn concerned about a teenage criminal receiving a legal caning in Singapore in May 1994, then ya best be as concerned about the illegal actions we’re forced to put up with.
         And, by the way, I do know that it’s (non-violently avenging judicial system misbehavior) not the right thing to do. And I also know that two wrongs don’t make a right. But I don’t care! Nor do I care what you think about my beliefs. I’m not trying to justify that what I do or speak favorably about is right. I know it ain’t! (Morally that is. Legally it’s permitted. The First Amendment of our U.S. Constitution’s Bill of Rights guarantees me that.) I just don’t care. (And I don’t care who knows my true feelings. I’m not trying to beat my way out of a prison sentence by playing the “therapy” card like I did several times before, unsuccessfully. I don’t need to put a best foot forward as someone deserving of leniency. I’m already out of prison, I’ve done my time – 13 years of it! I’m not trying to get anything out of you, except just to be left alone and at peace unmolested.) No one cared about me or what was right. They looked out for #1. They covered their asses. The thing I do know is what I said in Revenge, “Two wrongs may not make a right, but it can sure make some people feel better. Non-violent revenge sure helps clean out the cobwebs – it considerably lowers the anger level, it levels the playing field, it puts us all on a more even keel. Seemingly powerless people are not so powerless any more. And I speak from personal experience on this. Revenge lets you sneak in the back door when the welcome mat is not out on justice’s front porch. We all need to confront those who profess injustice and I’ll proclaim that until the day I die.”
         And I’ll go a little further on my narcissistic attitude on this subject. It doesn’t bother me that families are struggling to put food on the table when I’m sitting financially secure with a guaranteed comfortable income for the rest of my life. They got nothing coming from me, especially those that keep plopping babies out over and over again when they can’t afford the ones they’ve already got and then expect taxpayers – like me – to pay for them; and believe me, being a single person, I pay my share of taxes. It’s too bad they’re hungry, but I’m not going to lose any sleep over it. And going even further down my narcissistic lane of thought processes, it doesn’t bother me that hundreds of people lost their homes in arson-set fires. It’s too bad they lost them. But their losses don’t affect me (unless insurance companies raise my rates to make up for the claims they had to pay out). After all, I didn’t lose a house in a fire. Bringing the arsonists to justice brings me no personal satisfaction – other than a chance to get my scanner back which I loaned to the fellas. But it’s probably all beat up by now anyway. I’m a bottom-line oriented kind of guy and helping law enforcement does nothing for my bottom line. I’m more concerned about what I lost over this case and how that’s going to be resolved. Getting my house tore up in a search; getting badly embarrassed in the news media; being denied bail; missing my parents’ 50th final wedding anniversary; not spending a last Christmas together; not being able to attend their funerals; not being allowed to get my personal affairs together before going to prison or secure the house up properly so no one would rip it off; getting attacked and then experiencing lack of empathy – there’s that word again – or concern to bring my attackers to justice; missing the once in a lifetime opportunity to see the impact of comet Shoemaker-Levy 9 on Jupiter in July 1994; being shuffled against my will out of FCI Phoenix so I couldn’t finish the last few weeks of my computer class or see Hyakutake, the brightest comet of my entire life as a serious amateur astronomer; having my personal property negligently lost, and in some cases stolen, by Bureau of Prisons’ staff members; getting cheated out of a half-way house which I should have been able to go to; and last but not least, coming home and finding out my own family members stole things out of my house when I was in prison. These are the things I care about. The things I was a victim of. Be damned about all the hundreds who lost their homes in the fires. That didn’t impact me! My priorities are on ME. Now chew on that awhile. Besides, the fellas never did me any wrong – not in the slightest. While I could never do such a horrendous thing, I’m not about to help an organization who did violate me in the worst possible of ways.
         (You’ll recall, I covered earlier how extra angering it was to be made to miss a Christmas I shouldn’t have missed because this was the second time a judge made me miss one that he didn’t need to. Judge Rosenthal did it the first time. And it was also extra angering to be made to miss a 50th anniversary I shouldn’t have missed because this was the second time a judge made me miss one he didn’t need to. Judge Hughes wouldn’t let me attend the 50th anniversary celebration of my astronomical society.)
         You want to know about my empathy? Here’s my final example. If I knew with absolute certainty – and I’m not “certain” mind you – the identity and whereabouts of the real arsonists and I was the only person in the entire world who could bring them to justice I could neglect doing anything about it just as easily as those judicial personnel who are neglecting: to see about the return all of my stolen property (both by family members and prison staff), to see I get my missed computer class made up, to see my attackers are brought to justice, and to see that some other provisions are made to alleviate the anger over all the other improprieties in this particular case. (And that doesn’t even include all past ones.) That’s where my empathy is at – for me. Now chew on that awhile. Narcissistic? Damn right; you bet! Nobody cared about me being victimized so I don’t care. And I care less whether you like my attitude. Helping you doesn’t float my boat. (Just a pun folks. I don’t really have a boat.) Now chew on that some more!!!
         Assume for a minute that Snake and his minions are really responsible for the fires. If I were asked whether I’m sorry they did it, my answer – when you consider all the thefts and vandalisms that have been committed against me and my property over the years by law-enforcement personnel who have always gotten off scot-free with not as much as a slap on the wrist – is a loud resounding NOT IN THE LEAST. If you ask me, it’s high time somebody slammed them to the ground with no cushion. They were all put on notice what was required of them so they got no reason to bitch and bellyache they weren’t told the corrective measures to follow. Although I could never do something like that myself (nor even speak favorably about it); I’m not going to lose sleep that somebody else did. Just remember – they drew first blood first! They provided that first opening. They knew I was the wrong person to screw over. O.K. now, go chew some more.
         Now, if you want to do something really worthwhile for me why don’t you go out and see about getting me those amends and apologies I keep reminding everyone of? My Statement of Judicial Debts Receivable puts everyone on notice as to what their offense is and what it will take to make it up so no one’s got no excuse to say “I didn’t know.” (They’re welcome to request a copy of it free of charge. I’ll even mail it at my expense.) If the IRS could apologize in September 1997 for the improprieties they committed against taxpayers in earlier years and if former Secretary of Defense, Robert S. McNamara, in his book, In Retrospect: The Tragedy and Lessons of Vietnam, could admit that Vietnam was wrong, then so can you admit your wrongs. That’s the answer – GO FOR IT!!!

         At the time I was with Snake, Mondo, and Danny I didn’t know what the attraction was to them. I had never associated with these kinds of low-lifes before. In fact, I had always despised them. Now it had become clear. The kinds of inmates most hostile to those of us with sex offenses are the white, muscular, loud, tattooed, doper/biker kinds of guys. Those just like Snake and many of his friends. (Now I know that Mondo was a black and mexican mix but he was a white mixed man, if you know what I mean. One inmates referred to as an “Oreo”; black on the outside, but white on the inside. Ya, ya, I know it’s not politically correct to make that reference but that’s how some inmates refer to ones like that.) Only these guys were extra friendly. Somewhere in my dying state of mind I had an overpowering need to be accepted by those kinds who had most harassed me over the years. Plus, I guess being around a bunch like this was a way to validate to myself that I had been violated. Psychologically, I needed to hang with somebody who finally acknowledged the abuse I had suffered. That’s the best explanation I can have for it. There was a lot of residue over the past poisonings of taunting inmates. It seemed my friendships with those kinds of people gave me a much needed look at another side of those of this ilk. Then as I descended into their world of death and destruction I found their pull combined with the effects of drugs almost too strong to resist. I lost a lot because of my brief foray into the world of drugs and drug addicts. Life sends us on many journeys and for a brief time I was on this one. These guys and the events surrounding them blew into my life like a tornado. It was a fierce wind I never want to see again…

[Return to Table of Contents]

         I went home on Thursday, October 3, 1996 to a cold, empty, and lonely house – but at least I was home. After attending my computer user group meeting that night and visiting my parents at the cemetery the next day, I set about the task of surveying all the damage done by the agents 35 months earlier. Before this time, I only had the crime scene described to me on the phone by my parents, so I had a pretty good idea of what I’d find. The only bit of comfort I had at this point was that for every day I had to wait to do this surveying, the fellas were getting an extra day of freedom. Now I know that may be cold to say, but they knew full well my hyper-sensitivity to such a violation. Plus, they knew they were invited in to search without a warrant provided they minded their manners. When that cop was taking pictures of our house way back in September or October of 1993 I told him he was welcome to come in and look around as long as he didn’t make a mess – which I explained had angered me in the past. While the vandalism was extensive, everything the feds took seems to have been given back. What I wasn’t ready for though, was finding that my own family members ripped me off while I was gone. All this is explained in detail in Chapter 20 which tallies up all the damages.
         At this point in time, my plans were to have this book ready to sell by January 3rd, three months after I got home. That took into account one extra month of freedom for the fellas for each of the two Rappe violations that Jessner committed (two exaggerated comments about my child molesting when I was being sentenced) and one month for having to wait one extra month to attend my first-Wednesday-of-the-month computer user group meeting because they refused to give me credit for the day I was taken in for questioning. Meeting that timeline was no problem because I already had the manuscript all typed up. It was just a matter of purchasing a scanner along with optical character recognition software so I could scan all the pages in. I also needed to get a new computer though because the one I had (the one I still got that’s doing this book) wasn’t powerful enough to handle a scanner.
         All plans went out the window on December 11, 1996. On this date at 2:35 p.m. Pacific Standard Time I was arrested by two detectives from the Costa Mesa Police Department with assistance from the Los Angeles Police Department as backup. You’ll recall that when federal agents raided our house on November 7, 1993, the Bakersfield Police Department also served a search warrant to look for evidence that could implicate me in the vandalisms of a number of car dealerships in Kern County which happened in August 1993. Detective Roger D. Ott, along with Detective Steve Griffith and Detective Adair were the three who came from Bakersfield to participate in the search. Because they found copies of the letters the fellas had mailed, along with a nearly full 5-gallon container of battery electrolyte (acid), which I purchased in 1986 when I was vandalizing cars back then, warrants were issued out of Bakersfield on December 2, 1993 and Costa Mesa on March 24, 1994. The thing is though, they didn’t act upon them, nor did they even tell me about them until this date, over two months after I got released from federal prison. (Not knowing whether I’d be going to prison again, I didn’t buy a new computer or scanner. Instead, I typed my entire manuscript in by hand. Boy was that a pain. : - ( )
         From what I learned from the Discovery and from the testimony that was given at the various court appearances I attended, every indication sure seems to be present that they conspired to keep me in the dark about these charges until after my federal time was over with so they could then give me consecutive time. I also suspect that Assistant U. S. Attorney Jessner was involved in the cover-up. (Of course, that’s one thing I inquired about in my letter to him. It was also included in letters to Bakersfield Detective Roger Ott, Bakersfield Detective Arnold (Ray) Kennemer, and Costa Mesa Detective Timothy John Schennum. Their letters were each 6-pages long and none of them answered me back.)
         These cases originated when the Costa Mesa Police Department sent me a letter as a sting in order to get me to come down there. It was postmarked May 7, 1996 but I didn’t read it until about a month after I got out of federal prison when I was going through all the back mail that was saved for me. The return address on the envelope is: Southern Cal, Department of Lottery/Lotto, P.O. Box 11771, Costa Mesa, CA  92627, and is printed in black. In the lower left-hand corner of the envelope there is a logo consisting of the outline of California in red with the word Lotto written within it in green. To its right, along the bottom, the words: IMPORTANT: Winning Contestant Information, appear in black with the first word in bold. A rubber stamp appears at top center in red saying: IMPORTANT: READ, AND RESPOND, IMMEDIATELY. My name and address is typed on a stick on label and in bold is typed: VALIDATION# 01917641. Below that is a postal bar code. The red postmark indicates Presorted First Class where they paid only 27.4 cents in postage so apparently they sent a bunch of these hoax letters out to unsuspecting victims they had warrants out on.
         The letter has a double-line green border 3/4- to 1-inch inside each edge of the paper. All printing on the letter is inside this border. The upper left contains the same logo as is on the envelope. The upper right contains the same return address as is on the envelope except that it is printed in red and adds a telephone number: (714) 754-5357. The body of the letter is as such:

Dear Winning Lottery/Lotto Contestant:

  CONGRATULATIONS-- from the Marketing and Advertising Services of the Southern Cal Department of Lottery and Lotto!

  To promote interest in our newest LOTTERY contest (California Adventures), you, along with only 75 other Southern Cal area residents have been randomly chosen by computer as automatic WINNERS! Your guaranteed prize includes 100 free Lottery Scratch-Off tickets. This, of course, means $$ CASH $$ for you and a possible trip to the Big Spin. Your guaranteed prize also includes your choice of a year’s worth of season tickets for two, to either the L.A. Dodgers or the Anaheim Ducks!

  Again, both of these are already guaranteed you! No sales person and no secret strings attached whatsoever! Last year over 400 million dollars were given away to lucky California Lottery and Lotto winners. Additionally, 34% of this was made available to our public schools. To keep Lotto/Lottery interest at its peak and for the continued benefit of our schools this random give-away has been planned.

  Your immediate response, upon receiving this notification, is required to avoid expiration of limited designated prizes. Simply call our Lottery/Lotto Hotline number at (714) 754-5357 as-soon-as possible for confirmation of your scratchers and season tickets. After your call, immediate arrangements shall be made for you to receive your winnings.

  These tickets are being held in your name ONLY and valid identification must be presented so that you can claim them. Again, CALL (714) 754-5357 Monday through Friday, 8:00 a.m. to 4:00 p.m. to confirm your tickets.

Congratulations!!



J.A. Smith
State Marketing Director
1035 Indiana Avenue, Suite F
Sacramento, CA  95877

         J.A. Smith’s signature is printed on the page – not actually signed – in green ink.
         On November 4, 1996 at 8:39 a.m. (according to my phone bill) I made my first call to the above listed phone number (which, according to my phone bill, was in Santa Ana) and was asked my name and validation number. The lady that answered the phone criticized me for waiting so long to call them, but then asked if I could come down to Costa Mesa to claim my scratchers and Dodger or Ducks tickets. When I said I could, she gave me the name of the person I would be dealing with, a Mr. Craig Stevens, and then took my phone number and said that he would get back to me. She mentioned that at this late date, probably only the Ducks tickets are available. Knowing now the kind of sting operation it was, I’m guessing they had a phony office set up as the location where us victims were suppose to go to claim our “prizes.” If I would have called them back in May, when everything was operational, they probably would have had me go down there to be arrested.
         After hearing nothing from them, I called them again on December 6th at 9:54 a.m. Memory has faded as to who I talked to or even if it was a man or woman. I believe they told me that the person I needed to talk to wasn’t available but that they would get back to me.
         I was contacted on the morning of December 11th and asked if I would be at home that day because someone is going to deliver my prizes to me. On either this day or on my last phone call to them I found out that Dodger tickets, which is what I wanted, are available. At exactly 2:35 p.m. (I know because I was working on my computer at the time and this is the time indicated that I quickly saved the file I was working on) a Costa Mesa police officer called me on his cell phone to tell me to come to the front door because they had a warrant for me. And so this mess began.
         I was in jail from that moment until I was released on bail on the evening of December 18th. On December 12th I made one court appearance in front of Newport Beach Municipal Court Judge Christopher W. Strople. (Newport Beach handles Costa Mesa arrests.) He appointed a public defender to represent me and also lowered Newport Beach’s bail to $10,000.00. (It was originally set at $25,000.00 back in ’94.) Unfortunately, he had no jurisdiction to lower Kern County’s $50,000.00 though. I had Craig (who was hired to watch after my house when I was in prison) post $60,000.00 to bail me out.
         A number of court appearances that were just postponements are getting skipped over here. But fear not, they’re all listed in Chapter 20 where we get to tallying up all the expenses in this case.
         I had my first court appearance in Bakersfield on January 15, 1997. My bail was lowered to $40,000.00 but I was also turned down for a public defender. It didn’t matter to them that I was indigent at the time of the crime. They go by what I have now and that makes me mad – and you know how I am when I’m mad! So here I was, the guy who vowed years ago to never be forced – by way of pressure, threats, or extortion – to pay for an attorney out of my pocket, once again being stuck with footing the bill for one. Fortunately, this time I have a book and saleable information I can use to reimburse myself for those costs once this mess is over with so I won’t have to settle up in a way I’m typically inclined to do.
         I hired Nancy S. Blanton of the law firm, Blanton and Blanton, who I was referred to from a toll-free lawyer referral telephone number. Our strategy was to file a Motion for dismissal because my speedy-trial rights were violated. They lodged these warrants against me and then just sat on them the whole time even though they knew right where I was at all along.
         I had a court appearance in Bakersfield on February 19th in front of Municipal Court Judge Charles P. McNutt. He heard our first speedy-trial motion and ultimately denied our request for dismissal. On the 20th I had a court appearance in Shafter, a Kern County city located about 10 miles north of Bakersfield. Ms. Blanton had found another warrant on me up there and was able to get it consolidated with Bakersfield’s charges.
         At my preliminary hearing in Bakersfield on April 1st I was bound over to Superior Court by Municipal Court Commissioner Louie L. Vega. The Deputy District Attorney, Ms. Cynthia Zimmer, failed in her request to get my $40,000.00 bail either revoked, or in the very least, raised, because I was considered to be such a “danger” to the community. There’s that damn word again, just keeps creeping in there when you least expect it. They’ll sure use it against me to their advantage, but when I tried to use it to my advantage a time or two, they totally neglected it. Just another double-standard violation to add to their “rap sheet.”
         To tag me with that designation they kept referring to my Revenge publication and emphasized the part where I explain how someone can follow a judge or DA home from work in order to find out where they lived. Doing such actions fall well within VOCAL’s Guidelines of non-violence because no harm is being done to the offending judge or DA, nor is any encouraged. Just letting the offender know one has such information is the revengeful part, because it gives them some worry that someone knows where they live. Considering the extreme uneasiness I’m made to feel when my past is known by inmates, I consider it just a tad comforting that those who offended me can feel a bit in return.
         With the availability of internet databases now, one can find out such information without staking out an offender’s work location. When I was in the hole at FCI Phoenix, on account of the conspiracy Wisehart and Barton cooked up, I got ahold of somebody on the outside to get me their home addresses from an internet site I learned about from a computer talk show I listened to regularly on the radio. Sure enough, in the entire state of Arizona their were only two David L. Wisehart’s listed, and a quick clandestine phone call confirmed the one I wanted. From right in the hole, due to the laxity of staff, I got word back on out to general-population inmates where Dave ol’ buddy lived. And didn’t even try to hide that I had done so from staff because, despite them not wanting such information out there, it was not illegal to have what is in the public domain for all to see. After all, I abstained from suggesting that someone could go out and do something at his place. I’m sure you would ask now whether I should be held accountable if someone else with a grudge against him goes and does something to him on their own. That’s another one of those “If history” situations. If I hadn’t of handed them his home address on a platter would they have gone to the extent of tracking him down and doing something to him or his property? Who knows? But, like the judicial system teaches us though, we’re each responsible for our own behavior. Even though the blood trail leads right back to Maginnis’ doorstep, I doubt if anyone’s going to hold him responsible for burning Malibu down. Some may try to pin it on me for seemingly setting the wheels in motion, but, in the end, it’s the sole responsibility of the one or ones who struck the match.
         You may wonder how I was able to make such a request to someone on the outside when our mail – especially that from inmates in the hole – is read coming and going. Why I used invisible ink, of course. Invisible ink? How did you get invisible ink? They fed it to us. Huh? Let me pluck a paragraph out of Revenge and it’ll explain everything:

     When first reported, Det. S. Griffith and Det. Ott told me because of their department’s resources they would conduct their investigation and keep us (SPD) [Shafter Police Department] informed of their progress. On 11-29-93 Det. Ott told me based on specific evidence that they found on Larsen, they were filing charges on him with their D.A.’s office. For further information regarding their findings, refer to their attached report. It is S.P.D.’s intention to also file charges of PC 594(b)(2) against Larsen. Case closed per arrest via B.P.D [Bakersfield Police Department].

         Per arrest via B.P.D.? Looks like they were leaving everything up to Bakersfield who did all the original footwork. They just filed their complaint in hopes of tolling all statute of limitation time limits and apparently let it sit silently in the background while I did my federal time. Did Costa Mesa do this too? Hmmm. (If so, they didn’t have the guts to admit it.)
         While the answer to that question isn’t known with certainty, we do know that on September 23, 1993 – more than a month before my arrest by the feds – Sergeant Ellen D. Rhodes of the California Institution for Men at Chino faxed Detective Schennum information about me. Included in that information was a handwritten note with my former state parole officer’s name and phone number suggesting that he could be called “for a profile on” me. Schennum apparently never followed up which was confirmed at my March 20, 1998 speedy-trial motion hearing. With the DA filing no rebuttal to our motion, both sides went into chambers with Superior Court Judge James K. Turner for about 10 minutes and after that the extent of the hearing was that both sides submitted the case with no testimony from anyone. Back on the record, the DA admitted Schennum never followed through with anything, even though he knew I was in federal prison. All the DA added in open court, as far as an objection, was his concern as to what my father could have added as far as an alibi if he would have been questioned about my whereabouts on the dates in which the vandalisms happened in Orange County, along with stating that receiving concurrent time with my federal sentence would have been an optional thing. Judge Turner ruled that there was not due diligence and that I had been prejudiced. He then thanked the DA for his candor and dismissed the case. And with that, it opened the way to finally bring this book to publication. (Boy, it’s been a long time coming hasn’t it?)
         One closing thought. While I’ve been very critical of Detective Ott, he does have one redeeming quality – honesty. He may try to hide certain things from you if it’s to their advantage, but when asked directly about something, he seems to tell the truth. When he interviewed my father on August 25, 1993 he asked him “If he could account for [my] whereabouts…In the evening hours of August 20, 1993, to the early morning hours of August 21, 1993,” the days of the vandalisms in Kern County. He testified that my father told him that I was at home when he went to bed at between eight and nine o’clock on the night of the 20th and again when he arose at seven or eight o’clock on the morning of the 21st. Our whole angle here was to show that by delaying prosecution until after my father died, I no longer had an alibi witness to testify that I was not at the scenes of the crimes during the times they were happening. As it turns out, my dad’s memory failure, rather than intentionally lying, caused him to vouch for my presence at home. (I was, in reality, with Snake and his minions at the time as indicated in our story earlier.) After Ott and Buckles left I confronted him about his statement and he promptly remembered that I had been gone. But, like they say, you can’t unring the bell. Once it was said and put on the record I was going to use it to the max. If Ott would have “conveniently” not remembered all of the conversation he had with my father so long ago and left out these important details – as I’m sure some law-enforcement people who I’ve known throughout my travails within the judicial system would do – I possibly would be putting off this book for a while longer until after I finished a state prison sentence. For Ott’s honesty here, he gets my thanks and appreciation. He’s not without a lot of faults in this case – but he is partially redeemed. Actually, his honesty helps society as much as it helped me. With me not going to prison again, law enforcement has a chance to bring the real arsonists to justice all that much sooner. There’s nothing left to hold up this book any longer – once the bail is all returned that is.
         And then, we have Mr. Perry’s taking of handwriting samples from me and, more importantly, acknowledging the conversation we had about me asking if they were going to file charges against me and to let me know if they are. That was quite instrumental in Judge Felice’s decision to grant our motion for dismissal. A less honorable person could have easily said that they had no recollection of that conversation ever taking place. And in the beginning, they even questioned my claim that handwriting samples were ever taken from me. They possibly could have continued to deny their existence for some time. But I’m sure that once we scoured visiting records from MDC-LA of anyone who visited me, that at least would have come to the surface. Still, Perry’s truthfulness was the key I needed and he come through. Much thanks there.
         Of course, I need to thank Ms. Allyn Jaffrey, the Public Defender assigned to handle my speedy-trial motion in Orange County. Like Ms. Blanton did up in Bakersfield (who I thank later on), she put together one hell of a motion. It’s nice to have the law on your side and win for a change.
         Detective Schennum deserves some thanks for his honesty too. Although it would have been hard to do, he could have covered his ass somewhat rather than admit openly that he failed to follow through with the information he had in a timely manner.
         The Newport Beach deputy district attorney handling the speedy-trial motion, whose name I didn’t get, also needs thanks for his candor. He got it from Judge Turner, now me.
         If some law-enforcement people I’d dealt with in past years had been as honest and forthright with me, a lot of grief being returned upon society could have been avoided. Let that be a lesson to those who interact with those of us who break the law. Treat us with fairness and honesty and everyone will be benefited; you, society, and the offender. That’s the ultimate lesson of Revenge. Heed it! Need prompting? Then think of the liabilities you may be setting up for yourselves and society if you slip up. Nuff said? Cool! Let’s get on to the next chapter…

[Return to Table of Contents]

         Whew! That was a long story folks. Are you glad it’s over? Well don’t unfasten your seat belts just yet – it’s not quite. Now I’m sure you’re all wondering by now – what’s the bottom line? Well yawl come to the right place, ’cause this is the chapter that deals with that. It all boils down to this – money. Did you ever doubt that? I don’t think so!
         When I was still in prison, the only amounts I anticipated tallying up here (assuming no property was being held back as happened on vandalism day 1980) were the costs involved in putting all my property back in pre-vandalism condition, along with punitive damages for the property-abusing agents’ misbehavior. Needless to say, I lost a lot more than I ever would have imagined – and much of it all because I couldn’t be out on bail so I could get my affairs in order properly before going into custody.
         You’ll recall from the Author’s Note at the beginning I said, “In the interest of protecting the privacy of certain identities, some names and/or places may have been changed in several instances.” Now this is where I have to tread very cautiously over the keyboard as I enter into and out of C Y A mode. Earlier within these pages, I proclaimed my specific intent to not break the law ever again. Therefore, anything I say here are conditional statements. Conditional on the assumption that they are legal to say without breaking any laws. If I slip up, meaning the condition has not been met, consider them not stated. Got it? Cool.
         When I discussed with inmates the scenario of not divulging certain tidbits that are necessary in order to bring the fellas to justice until I recouped all I lost in this mess, I was warned to mind my tongue very carefully. If saying, “I’m going to do X if you don’t do Y” can fall under extortion laws, as I learned very well from my experiences with Mrs. Reeves, then saying, “I won’t do X until you do Y” could also fall under those provisions. Therefore, I dare not say, I won’t tell my tidbits until I get my money back, dare I? Nope; you won’t hear it outa’ me. And if you thought you heard it earlier – and if it is an illegal statement to make – well, ya heard wrong!
         Then, is it legal to merely offer the full and complete story to the first person who shoves a cashier’s check or postal money order into my hand for the total debt listed in bold at the end of this chapter? (Actually in Appendix IV due to one final unexpected fly in the ointment getting shoveled into the mix at the last moment right before publication.) (O.K., I’ll pause while you sneak a peek.)........................ There, are you happy now? If that is a legal transaction to enter into, I would prefer the purchaser be a member of the news media or a private individual, rather than someone involved with the judicial system. I have no objections to them tagging along though as secondary participants, with emphasis on secondary, because as far as I’m concerned, they’ve got nothing coming from me. I would be willing to field questions from them though as I take the buyer around to various locations that are pertinent to our story here just as long as they know their place. That place being the back of the bus (no racial reference intended – that’s just where those of their ilk belong).
         Many of the paragraphs below, and some earlier in this work, tend to proclaim rather sternly that I will not give the fellas up until such things happen like, my attackers are brought to justice, or my Aunts Myrtle and Florence return a box of old family photos they stole from the house, or Wisehart and Barton make arrangements for me to complete my computer class they cheated me out of etc. etc. Once again, I need to emphasize; these are conditional statements. If it is illegal to hold back information on people I do not even know with absolute certainty did the dirty deed or deeds, then consider them unsaid because the condition has not been met. Is that clear?
         Then again, they offer rewards for information on culprits when they believe private citizens know something but aren’t saying. I’ve never heard about someone being prosecuted for holding back until a reward was offered. Have you? Speaking of reward – if we’re successful in rounding the bunch up, you will remember who gave you the information when you’re cutting that reward check won’t you? I trust you will; sort of. Just let it be known – I expect it too.
         So then, if it’s not even legal to sell the hidden facts to my story, how do we go about getting them out to the right people so justice can be served? Do I just give them up for free? Bite your tongue! Do I take them to my grave? Ah – I can live with that without a second thought. (Actually die with that without a second thought would be the proper phrase here, wouldn’t it be?) Not a bit of problem there folks. What if they would threaten me in some way – maybe a Rappe/Davidson threat – to try to get them out of me? Now I know they’re not the brightest bulbs on the tree, but they’re not stupid either. Surely they would know that a man of my finesse could easily dress up fraudulent information in authentic-looking attire leaving them chasing ghosts (as in peek-a-boo) and figuring they didn’t get their men – or men and woman (can’t leave Crystal out) – because too much time had simply passed. What me lie? Me, who proclaimed some pages ago that I won’t stoop to FBI/ATF levels? Well I also proclaimed to abide by my OATH, and one of its promises is “to protect, first myself, and then other deserving individuals against all judicial system enemies, foreign and domestic, to the best of my abilities.” Any ability will be used, and that’s as it should be. C Y A comes first. Besides, having been punished for making threats on more than one occasion, you gotta’ know that I’m not about to tolerate receiving them from anybody else in any way, shape, or form. Doesn’t that go without saying? Duh! And besides that, the fellas are more deserving in my book than the judicial system is, despite what horrendous things they did. After all, they didn’t do them to me, whereas the judicial system did.
         Of course, I could always fall back on my previous statement; Snake and the fellas are fictional characters. Ya, right! And then, we also come to the situation, provided all hurdles are overcome, there’s still no guarantee that the fellas could be found. With so much time on their side, that is a possibility. One prison staff member once asked me about making them wait so long in order to get my information, seeming to imply that the fellas could disappear into the fabric of society forever – which they could. I just come back at him with an exaggerated so – in such a way with outstretched arms that I needed say no more to relay my feelings that I didn’t give a flying fuck, pardon my French. He then asked me how I could be so petty and cruel. I just said, “it’s a gift” in an arrogant tone of voice as I was walking away thinking to myself, how could they be so petty and cruel to inflict me with the emotional damage they have done over the years? Let ’em chew on that awhile. Shit happens both ways – and that’s as it should be.
         After a first bout with unfairness I think anybody is left in a somewhat damaged and weakened state. For some of us, we never completely recover to our previous level of tolerance, especially in an environment where so many around us condone the actions we’re expected to accept. What we are seeing, increasingly, is that several bouts of unfairness are resulting in a permanently weakened and damaged state. This impaired person then becomes much more susceptible to additional inflictions of unfairness, whether from a minor offender or any other more serious perpetrator.
         So then, back to the question at hand. If it’s not legal to trade my information now for a lump sum of money, what do we do? I could sell this book one at a time for years and include those final details in a new edition once net profits reach that magical debt I’m owed – plus interest which will be accumulating as time goes by of course. (In that scenario each book sold brings us one step closer to rounding ’em up and every buyer can pat themselves on the back that they lent a helping hand in our mutual crime-fighting activities.) Someone could donate money to me, just out of the kindness of their heart, with no thought of buying something in return. And then, little ol’ kind-hearted me (yes, that is one of my qualities to the right people) could feel a bit more generous than I am right about now and spill the beans for “free.” Assuming the transactions we’ve been talking about are not quite on the up and up, we’ll assume that if someone does shove a check into my hand for the full amount, then they are doing so just as a gesture of kindness to help ease the pain I’ve been going through these past few years.
         We’ll just leave things at that. But do remember though, it really doesn’t matter to me if your arsonists are ever brought to justice. I didn’t lose a house in a fire. I’m worried about what I lost in all this mess. My priorities are on me. But you know all that stuff already.
         I can imagine all you people grumbling real heavily right now. Now you know how I feel over some of the victimization I’ve suffered. And that’s one of the goals of this book. Some of you may also be wondering, isn’t it illegal for criminals to profit off of the telling of their stories? Maybe, but that’s not an issue here. Why? Because I’m not profiting one penny. Paragraphs below clearly itemize in great detail the costs of stolen things I had to repurchase, money I lost or had to spend that I shouldn’t have, time I put in getting everything back to pre-November 7, 1993 levels, and time I expended for things I shouldn’t have had to. The figure at the end of this chapter is only the break even point. No profit is being made here folks.
         As you’ll see, you’re getting a damn good break on time because I’m only charging what my hourly take home pay (after taxes) was back in 1986 at the last full-time job I had. Yes, after taxes. All those figures listed below are not income, in the sense that they are subject to income taxes. They’re make up, just the same as if someone stole your car and later reimbursed you for it or if somebody plows their car through your wooden picket fence and then gave you money in compensation for your materials (like lumber, nails, and paint) and time to fix it. None of that’s income any more than my listed figures below are income. (Now if you’re hired out by someone else to fix their fence, well that would be income.) If anyone has other thoughts about all this, speak up now or forever hold your peace. If it is income – taxable income that is – I’ll adjust the total debt amount upward to reflect the amount that will go for taxes so I still end up with full reimbursement. I call it JRP – “Judicial Reimbursement Program.” The counterpart to the Bureau of Prisons’ FRP – “Financial Responsibility Program.” Sounds cool to me. : - )
         Now as I get back out of C Y A mode, let’s begin the tallying-up process. Paragraphs below, lifted right out of my Statement of Judicial Debts Receivable, speak under the assumption that it is legal to sell these tidbits – that haven’t been spoken outside of prison walls – to the first person to shove a cashier’s check or postal money order into my hand for the total amount listed at the end of this chapter. (Actually Appendix IV.)

         Both these cases are tallied up separately in my Statement of Judicial Debts Receivable and that is why there are two separate totals here. Actually there’ll be a third. That’s because my Statement at the time of publication only calculates interest through December 31, 1997. Once these two cases with interest are added together, I’ll figure the interest from January 1, 1998 through publication day of this book. Assuming a buyer comes forward rather quickly, no more interest additions will need to be made.

Law Offices of Xxxxx Xxxxxxx
XXXX Xxxxxx Xxxxxxx Xxx, Suite XXX
Xxxx Xxxxx, CA 90XXX
(XXX) XXX-XXXX

STATEMENT

THOMAS L. LARSEN
XXXXX Xxxxxxxxx
Van Nuys, CA 91XXX

ARRANGE BAIL  12/18/96 and 7/15/97

Paralegal Time billed at $85.00 per hour.  Attorney Time billed at $175.00 per hour.

Craig Xxxxx, Paralegal
(7) Seven hours.
(includes:  telephone conferences with client and banks, travel time to banks and
County Jail, notarizing documents,)

Jolene Xxxx, Paralegal
(4) Four hours.
(includes:  telephone conferences with client and banks, travel time and expenses to
banks to obtain cashiers check)

Danielle Xxxxxx, Attorney
(3) hours
(includes:  travel time and being present at client signing documents at Orange County
Jail,)


     $595.00     Craig
     $340.00     Jolene
     $525.00     Danielle
   ________
   $1460.00
   <$730.00>  Family Discount

     $730.00  Total hours.
     $300.00  Attorney Service Messenger ($150.00 each delivery to County Jail)
         $6.00  Service Charge (Cashiers Check)
   ________

   $1036.00 TOTAL DUE

_____________________________________________________________

         Adding up everything that leaves a grand total of: $65,793.71. Like I told Rappe, Davidson, and McNitt so many, many years ago when they were pressuring me to give up MY press and paper, “It’s for sale, you can buy it.” (And we all know what its cost them throughout the years for getting it in the dirty underhanded way they did – which I’ve never hidden.) Well, I’ve got something for sale again. “It’s for sale, you can buy it.” Any takers? Back in the November 11, 1993 edition of the Los Angeles Times (page B8) Governor Pete Wilson was quoted during an October 30th tour of fire-burned portions of Ventura County, “I wish I could get my hands on the bastard,…I’d like to strangle him.” Let’s see if we can give him that opportunity. Anybody want any tidbits? This is provided, of course, that such a transaction is legal to enter into. I’m keeping my vow to not break the law. (Surely accepting donations doesn’t break it – hint, hint. Although I’m not actively soliciting any, seeing that doing so may require a permit of some kind.) Obviously, if I haven’t covered my ass enough, we could always revert back to my statement in Chapter 17 – “Snake and the fellas are fictional characters.” So go ahead; take your pick. I’m sure you’ll do the right thing.
         But hold on –$65,793.71 may not be the total selling price. Earlier in this chapter I said, “As you’ll see, you’re getting a damn good break on time because I’m only charging what my hourly take home pay (after taxes) was back in 1986 at the last full-time job I had. Yes, after taxes. All those figures listed below are not income, in the sense that they are subject to income taxes. They’re make up, just the same as if someone stole your car and later reimbursed you for it or if somebody plows their car through your wooden picket fence and then gave you money in compensation for your materials and time to fix it. None of that’s income any more than my listed figures below are income. If anyone has other thoughts about that, speak up now or forever hold your peace. If it is income, taxable income that is, I’ll adjust the total debt amount upward to reflect the amount that will go for taxes so I still end up with full reimbursement.” In order to get an idea what that amount would be I calculated my 1997 taxes as if I would have made $65,793.71 more than I actually did. I paid $3,915.00 in federal income tax on the taxable income I made. It would have been $23,283.00 if the 65 thousand was figured in. That’s $19,368 more going to the feds. I paid $1,124.00 in state income tax on the taxable income I made. It would have been $7,196.45 if the 65 thousand was figured in. That’s $6,072.45 more going to the state. That means if the 65 thousand is taxable income I’d pay $25,440.45 more in state and federal taxes – according to 1997 figures that is. If a buyer comes forward to purchase my complete story for $65,793.71 it is with the understanding that he, she, or they will pay the extra income tax I get stuck with if it is determined that it is taxable income. I lost $65,793.71 on this mess and that’s all I want made up – nothing more, nothing less. (Any excess received will be applied to other debts listed in my Statement of Judicial Debts Receivable.) Oh, and also I’m throwing in a reasonable number of court appearances free of charge. : - ) (That’s reasonable, not unlimited folks!) Now that’s a heck of a lot more than other experts who testify in court do. These jokers get hundreds, if not thousands, of dollars for each day they spend in court. Because so much time has passed – meaning the fellas obviously no longer have the incriminating things in their possession that they did back on day one – my testimony will be more important than ever. (And seeing they’re depending on my word, I bet no U.S. Attorney will impeach my credibility as Rappe did back in ’78 [see Chapter 6]. Well then, aren’t I tolerating a double standard then? Well ya, sort of. Oh well, I’ll let this one slide by, but it is dirty to discredit us when we testify on our own behalf and then accept our word as Gospel when we help the government. Grrr.)
         And one closing statement to those readers out there who don’t like my arrogant tone as I belittle our criminal-justice system. First off, I’m only reporting what they did. Don’t stone the messenger. Besides, freedom of speech protects not only that which the majority agrees, but also the minority. Our country was built upon many ideas, one of which was freedom of speech. While laws and morals vary among countries and, indeed, among people living within those countries, most people ultimately want the same thing. The ability to live their lives as best they can, without hurting others in the process or being hurt in return. Keep that in mind as you live your own life. God bless the First Amendment! : - )

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         Well, that’s about it – much longer than I expected; and certainly much more personal information about myself than I ever dreamed I’d be telling the world. About the only chore we got left now is to figure out who come out the biggest goat in all this mess. Most of the inmates, who before this time were the only ones to hear the complete story, voted for Maginnis as their choice – after all, the blood trail does lead right back to his doorstep. But there are a number of other goat candidates, each worthy of their own level of culpability. In the order they first entered my life lets briefly reexamine each one.
         First off, we have Bakersfield Detective Roger D. Ott. Before he come to my house to interview me I had departed from Snake and the fellas for what I believed to be the last time. Ott’s suspecting me of the vandalisms the fellas had committed sent me into C Y A mode real quick and back to the group to develop a plan to keep me in the clear. Out of that return visit came the birth of all the letters and, if my assumptions are correct, the fires. On the goat scale of 1 to 10, with Maginnis being 10, how would Ott rate? Remember to take into account his redeeming quality, honesty. Surely that contributed to me getting charges dropped in Bakersfield – and therefore getting this story out to the public just that much sooner when I didn’t need to go to prison again – whereby the fellas may be able to be rounded up that much sooner. On the other hand, don’t forget the alleged cover up to keep me in the dark about the charges I was facing. He loses points there. Ya think a level 5 is fair? Oops. Don’t forget he was a co-conspirator in tearing up the house. Surely a level 7 then. Ya, that works for me. Any thoughts?
         Next we get to Special Agents Richard G. Palacios and Michael P. Gleysteen of the FBI and ATF respectively. Now I really didn’t have any dealings personally with Gleysteen, other than seeing him in court a few times. Palacios is the one who confronted me at the house and conducted the initial interview on the day I “voluntarily” went to their office. Both hold equal culpability for tearing up the house though, because they were each instrumental in committing that act and worked in cahoots to do so. They had a wide variety of documentation available to them detailing my extreme hyper-sensitivity to such an abhorrent practice that it’s amazing they would even consider such a risk. (After all, their own agents “profiled” me as a person who would commit such arsons. Of course, they didn’t know of the OATH at the time.) Then on top of that, surely they knew they were invited in when they talked to the cop who took pictures of the house a few weeks earlier. If it wasn’t for neglecting my strong admonishments I would have sung like a Canary back on day one and the fellas would surely be well into lengthy prison terms by now. My score? A tad under Maginnis. 8? Tweet, tweet. (Get it? Canary, tweet! Alright already, I’ll move on.)
         Next in line is United States District Judge Harry L. Hupp and Assistant United States Attorney Gregory W. Jessner. Now I don’t like the idea of disrespecting the court, and that is not my intent here, but the facts are the facts. The chips have to fall where they may. I’m merely reporting the facts folks – I’m not inventing them. Judge Hupp’s gravest sin was denying me bail. Jessner shares that of course, but his culpability goes much deeper. He sunk into the sewer of deception. While I’m quick to point out that this denial of bail extended my self-imposed silence until my release from prison, at the very soonest; in their favor is the fact that they were unaware of what their denial was costing society. They honestly believed that keeping me in was saver for society. They just had no idea it had the exact opposite effect. (I may not have had too many choices at that point-in-time, but I did have the power to see they didn’t get it both ways, i.e. safety at both ends of the candle.) They say that ignorance of the law is no excuse to break it – not that they broke a law that would be prosecuted – but they had enough documentation at hand to show that I was the wrong person to treat unfairly. Even Mr. R. William Crovella II, the U.S. Probation Officer doing a probation report for the court before sentencing said such things as, “the undersigned Probation Officer would not be surprised if his conviction in the instant offense further aggravates his anger and obsession with his concept of ‘justice.’…this Officer remains unconvinced that the defendant’s spite will not surface again in the future.…[and] the Probation Officer sees no interruption of this pattern.” They knew there would be liabilities for their misbehavior. They’re probably flabbergasted they’re all law-abiding liabilities whereby they can’t do anything to stop them. See, I’ve “progressed” in my methods of evening scores. : - ) – or : - ( depending on which side of the fence you just happen to fall on. My score? Judge Hupp; 6 (Gotta’ give him credit for letting me see my mother at the funeral home. That was a biggie. And also for not fining me. That’s the thing that really saved him from topping Maginnis’ score.) Jessner? Easily equal to Palacios and Gleysteen on different grounds; 8 (And that doesn’t count extra points for bellyachin’ when Judge Hupp refused to fine me. It’s hard to comprehend what Jessner was thinking there. I mean, the guy’s suppose to protect society. That’s his job description. Let’s just hope he doesn’t become a judge like Rappe did. And if he does, just pray he’s learned to look at the big picture before he makes a decision undesirable to a defendant. Like – is society going to be safer years down the line for it? Judge Jessner? Hmmm. There may be hope with the right training and acceptance of responsibility for past mistakes. Take what you’ve learned from this book Greg and go with it. Ya might even get my vote – NOT!) (While I’m at a point where I mention Crovella, I’ve got to wonder why he only said, “He indicated that he initially seriously considered buying a gun to ‘even the score,’” in the probation report when I told him someone showed me a gun and offered to sell it to me. [I only mentioned the hand gun. I didn’t disclose the trunk load.] Why fail to mention the other participants? Was there a pre-designed plan to make me the only scapegoat in this mess? Darn it, I failed to send him an inquiry letter to ask him. Oh well, maybe some news-media hound can pursue that with him.)
         I guess last on our list for the “Fedbuster” case will be two staff members from FCI Phoenix – Lieutenant B. Barton, the Special Investigative Supervisor, and Mr. David L. Wisehart, my Unit Manager, who was more interested in getting his name spelled correctly than bringing the arsonists to justice. Well, he’s got a new name to add to himself now, and it’s spelled G-O-A-T. Both conspired together to cheat me out of finishing my computer technology course, even though I could have easily finished it from right in the hole. Wisehart, along with other Bureau of Prisons’ staff members, including some as far away as Washington D.C. (who read my administrative remedies), conspired to cheat me out of a half-way house despite knowing that it would lengthen the freedom time of the only arson suspects we had. For thinking that was more important than letting a non-violent ex-sex offender with an ancient conviction go to a half-way house they gotta’ score damn high on the goat scale. Barton had no part in the half-way house fiasco or in placing any obstacles along my path to freedom. Wisehart was the primary instigator of my transfer, so therefore I’d say; Barton; level 6, Wisehart; 8, and unnamed cohorts involved in the half-way house fiasco; 6 (they didn’t have as much documentation in front of them as Wisehart did to know better, plus they were fed fraudulent information from the poisoned pen of Wisehart).
         Now it’s on to my two vandalism cases, people I had no dealings with until I got out of federal prison. We already scored Ott, so I guess next on the list is Bakersfield Detective Arnold (Ray) Kennemer. He’s the one that allegedly sent a teletype to MDC-LA to notify them a warrant had been filed on me. There are indications that he and Ott were working in cahoots to keep me in the dark so they could get me right when I was getting out of federal prison and eventually consecutive time. And on the Costa Mesa side of the fence we have Detective Timothy John Schennum. He too put a warrant out on me but never come a looking. I’ll give ’em a 4. They’re less culpable than Ott and they had no part in tearing up the house.
         Although a few paragraphs above I said that, “I don’t like the idea of disrespecting the court,” when it comes to Municipal Court Judge Susanne S. Shaw I have no problem with it. Not in the least! She has that coming after helping the county pocket interest by banking my 25 thousand bucks in their bank for nine months, and that’s plenty of time to give birth (pun intended, got it? 9 months; birth) to a lot of intensified anger feelings. She had no business yanking my OR release, which was given to me by one of her colleagues right across the hall without us even asking for it – or the DA objecting for that matter. For nine God damn months they had MY $25,000.00 to make interest upon just because that cunt – strike that word, I don’t want to say that about a judge (although I don’t know why not) – that whatever (I can’t even think of a polite word to say in its place I’m so angry), got a wild hair up her ass and stuck an excessive bail on me totally ignoring that I had made all of my court appearances on time and had gotten in no trouble at all in the slightest, and totally ignoring the documentation she had a mountain of in front of her that I was the wrong person to treat unfairly. As you can see from Chapter 20, her sin adds to my story’s selling price by an amount equal to the interest I would have earned if my money was invested where it should have been, plus the extra fees Craig charged me to bail me out a second time. On the goat scale of 1 to 10, with 10 being the biggest goat, I’d clearly equate her to Jessner. On second thought (that was my anger speaking there folks), back her down two notches; 6. While she extended the fellas’ vacation time by the same number of days that it took to get my $25,000.00 back after the case was dismissed, which should account for one extra goat point alone, (if I had to wait, then everyone else was going to wait to get this out in the open), it nowhere equated to the three-year wait caused by Jessner – or his greater number of severe sins for that matter.

So what do you think? What’s your score? E-mail me at tlarsen@fedbuster.com and I’ll post your results in a future edition. Just kidding folks. I don’t have my own Domain name yet. I get the freebee over at Hotmail: tlarsen2@hotmail.com. Actually fedbuster would be my pick if I ever decide to get one I think, especially if this book takes off like wildfire. Ops, sorry for that pun. Takes off like gangbusters. Is that a better analogy? I would like to hear how you rate our candidates though. And as I do new printings of this book in the weeks, months, and maybe years ahead, I’ll be sure to include your results for future readers to see.
         If there’s any lesson to be learned in all this mess it’s that, despite what crime we may have done, if you want us to treat society fairly once we’re released from custody, then you’ve got to take that first pro-active step beginning on day one and continuing right on through the offender’s last day on probation or parole supervision. I’ve said it before, but it bears repeating, “If they choose to play by less than the rules of the road, then they dare not have a right to complain if we respond in a like fashion.” Sir Isaac Newton’s third law of motion, “for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction” applies forcefully in various areas of our lives, even beyond the realm of the typical physicist in the laboratory – and in some cases, the reaction has exceeded the action. Like a dog eventually bites back if he’s kicked too many times, in a similar analogy, guilty culprits should not continue their misbehavior and not expect to get bitten eventually. Tread lightly folks! Do that and my job is done. And lay off the ex-sex offenders so much. You’ll find that is the best way to protect your kids. Now go take on the day!

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         As I mentioned back in Chapter 4, Snake and his bag of misfits devoured every word of Revenge much like a devout Christian would do with the Word of God. To give readers (not wishing to invest the $10.00 necessary in order to acquire their own copy) a chance to see some of its teachings, I’ve copied selected paragraphs from the tome and pasted them here into this Appendix. When reading it, bear in mind that other material goes between those paragraphs that are double spaced. Also bear in mind that some things have been added since Snake set his eyes upon it back in the summer of ’93. Enjoy. : - )

Never underestimate a genius with a chip on his shoulder.
–in the movie Malice

         If you have ever been treated unfairly, lied to or about, victimized, cheated, and/or somehow abused or unnecessarily harassed, threatened (to admit or plead guilty to something you didn’t do), or aggravated, no matter to what extent, by anyone connected in any way with the judicial system – whether while in custody or not – this handy book is for you.
         The term abuse, as used throughout this book includes, but is not limited to, any forms of unfair, unpleasant, and/or unnecessary; physical, mental, emotional, psychological, financial, or even harassing, distress inducing, or mildly aggravating actions, to any degree, which leads to unwarranted uneasiness – whether committed accidentally or on purpose.
         I also consider it abuse for them to act with a double standard and treat a poorer or less-prominent person less favorably, in any way, than a more prominent, respected, or politically-powerful person who is going through the system for a similar judicial matter. Likewise, it is also double-standard abuse to be treated different in any other way due to prejudice or bias (because of race, color, religion, financial condition, sex, sexual orientation, age, position of status in the community, or personal differences or interests) than someone else is.
         This manual contains a collection of costly dirty tricks and underhanded stunts, some with skewed humor (but sometimes such humor is the best medicine to deal with the abuses we suffer), that some people could be, and/or have been, inclined to use in order to even the score with anyone, or any judicial organization, who has earned their heartfelt contempt. It was written for the sole purpose of informing those of facts or methods used or thought of being used. Obviously the events, examples, and descriptions listed could be based upon actual happenings and real people. If in fact there is any similarity between any events that actually happen, it is probably because they did, otherwise any events reported are purely coincidental or accidental.

         In a preliminary sample draft of this booklet I circulated among state prison inmates and various judicial personnel between September 1988 and August 1990 I said that, “last names have been deleted in order to protect the innocent, as well as the guilty.” Because sunlight is the best disinfectant, the best way to expose these insidious abuses is to get them out in the open and available to the public. Therefore, now in the published copy, I see no reason to hide or cover up any dirty rotten scoundrels’ identities or cover up guilty culprits’ misbehaviors any longer. Such lies of omission are outmoded, dishonest, defeat true understanding, and leave an imbalance in the education of society. Any disinformation in relation to powerful people higher up on the judicial totem pole is an unworthy act of man that must be challenged.
         Besides, their actions are part of public records anyway, open to inspection by anybody; and if news organizations can publicly expose the names of misbehaving guilty individuals to national audiences, I surely can. And if private people can notify neighbors when recently-paroled child molesters are living nearby, I surely can. This is done so people can keep an eye out to make sure they don’t misbehave again. It is no different with misbehavior-prone judicial personnel. These malefactors’ behavior can lead to dangerous conduct being caused just as bad, so we should tell on their tales too. Guilty culprits included here are identified in their true identities with warts and all.

         The incidents depicted are for entertainment, amusement, and protective purposes only. They are in no way intended to be other than educational and/or instructional. They are not portrayed with the intent of helping to promote methods, actions, or devices which assist others in breaking the law. This is not a handbook to be used as a guide meant to be put into practical use. It does not encourage breaking laws. Each individual has the responsibility to make up his or her own mind as to whether or not to do so, or even how far they wish to go to even the score, if they in their own mind of their free will even choose to do so at all. Likewise, this material is not advising, recommending, inducing, counseling, commanding, cajoling, organizing, procuring, soliciting, aiding, abetting, instigating, inciting, enticing, assisting, promoting, teaching, endorsing, or advocating anyone to break any laws, produce imminent lawless action, or willfully cause the commission of any offense or crime. It is not treasonous and is against the overthrow of the government and anyone who endeavors to persuade anyone to engage in such conduct. It merely is actively against the abusive actions of certain members employed by, or working on behalf of, that government. Nothing here is intended to obstruct justice in any way. On the contrary, our goal is merely to bring real justice for all concerned. Nor is any conspiracy taking place as defined by conspiracy laws as no one is together agreeing to cooperate or engage in criminal activity together. I’m merely reporting as an author. Not encouraging, but merely “suggest” what “should” be done, and sometimes, “actively suggest” what others “should” do. “Speak favorably” is a term I like to use. The author disclaims any responsibility for all liability and/or damages. Although this book is about revenge, the author expressly disclaims responsibility for any adverse effects arising from the use of techniques described within. Neither the author nor the publisher assumes any responsibility for the use or misuse of information contained in this book or for any infringements of rights of third parties that may arise from the use of any information in this book or from the ideas portrayed in its stories. I assume no responsibility for the readers’ performance or actions or behavior towards any of the actions and/or deeds mentioned herein and shall not be held liable for any direct or indirect damages resulting from their use. Under no circumstances, including negligence, will the author or the publisher assume any liabilities, or be liable to anyone, for any incidental, special, or consequential damages of any kind that may result from the information contained herein, its use, or non-use, even if the writer has been advised of the possibly of such damages. It is sold for entertainment purposes only. Be warned.
         The publication of dirty tricks such as these should not be construed as prima facie evidence that the author supports or condemns the ideas therein, in whole or part, nor that those ideas represent the personal views of the author in all cases. Freedom of the press in this country was founded on the concept of the citizenry making informed decisions through an open marketplace of ideas. May the best ideas win.
         While it is not my intention to encourage illegal behavior, I do invite public support for the problem in hopes the judicial system will reconsider their abusive actions. In the meantime, the only authority my opinions have are the value that a growing assortment of individuals are adopting similar opinions towards judicial abuse. Truly, the judicial system is in deep doo doo! It had better police their own members’ deeds.
         Our disclosure of guilty culprits’ identities is also not meant to be slanderous within the legal definition in that it has good motives encouraging offenders to correct their behavior and therefore has justifiable ends. Our obvious intent is to advocate for changes away from abuses which will aid in preventing the tragic kinds of lashing out incidents we’ve depicted. Anything we can do to prevent these injustices benefits not only the individual victim(s), but all of society.
         There, that should make judicial personnel cringe at the thought they cannot prosecute me for a not-extensive-enough disclaimer. Just in case, I’ll add that it is not my intent – specific, general, or otherwise – to violate any laws in my writings or speakings. Every attempt has been made to avoid violating the law in all wording contained in this book. All such statements I make are to be considered conditional statements. Conditional on the assumption that they are legal to say without breaking any laws. If I slip up, meaning the condition has not been met, consider them not only inadvertent and immediately withdrawn as if they never existed in the first place – but also not stated. My specific intention is to obey the law in all behavior, words, and writings for the remainder of my life. Due to the complexities of our legal system though, I could conceivably do, say, or write something I do not know is illegal. If so, consider it inadvertent and corrected as soon as I become aware of it.
         In fact, this book is still basically in the sample stage after all these years – I am still testing the waters for its language content. After all the additions since my “silently” approved sample draft was circulated several years ago, some new questionable language bordering on illegality may have inadvertently slipped by my scrutiny. If, due to my carelessness, it has, it is purely accidental and not intentional in any way. My only intent is to obtain a Maximum Irritation Factor (MIF) of the judicial system and, of course, make up monies I should not have lost – currently up in the hundreds of thousands of dollars.
         Although it’s conceivable someone could pick up an idea or two to help themselves quell an anger, it is no different from a person watching a crime television show and picking up an idea or two on how to accomplish a crime. If that were illegal, many shows would be off the air.
         While encouraging someone to break the law is illegal, it is not illegal to have a personal belief and/or opinion about a matter and how one would like to see someone handle it, or even wish someone would handle it. There is nothing unconstitutional or illegal about expressing opinions we may have in a free enterprise democratic system. This is the United States of America where the First Amendment of our Constitution allows us to have our own opinions and beliefs. This booklet is filled with opinions and beliefs of not only the author, but of the many people confidentially interviewed in the process of research. As a consultant to the judicially abused, the author freely gives his opinions and ideas to anyone interested, whether they are a victim of abuse or not. Although I no longer intend to do some of the imaginative antics I once did, which we report on here, I honestly do believe that such things can stir up the judicial community – and it’s sure time something does! And as I have been known to say in the past, “nothing fixes a situation better than a well thought out, aggravation inducing, non-violent revenge played to the max.” : - )

Although this discourse does not suggest or recommend that any person should do any illegal methods to even the score, it strongly advocates, and one of our purposes here is to stimulate others, that something must be done in order to stop the abuses and/or unfair actions some of us have had inflicted upon us by someone who is in some way employed by or in the judicial system. This can include, but is not limited to: judges, district attorneys, U.S. attorneys, probation officers, parole officers, correctional officers, sheriffs, police officers, jailers, government peace officers such as members of the Secret Service, Drug Enforcement Administration, FBI, ATF, IRS, Coast Guard, & U.S. Customs personnel, and all the numerous support people associated with these and other organizations not mentioned. Nothing in my wording is intended to be a threat of any kind, but rather my statements are merely words of advice on expected proper conduct judicial personnel should adopt and follow.
         It should also be mentioned my 1988 sample draft included the following statement:

THIS IS A PRELIMINARY SAMPLE DRAFT FOR DISPLAY
PURPOSES ONLY, NOT FOR PUBLICATION OR SALE AT
THIS TIME. THE AUTHOR APPRECIATES FEEDBACK
FROM INDIVIDUALS AND ENCOURAGES ANYONE TO SUB-
MIT ANY CONFIDENTIAL ACCOUNTS THEY WISH TO HAVE
CONSIDERED FOR PUBLICATION. CRITICISM ON
THOROUGHNESS OF DISCLAIMER LANGUAGE IS SOLICI-
TED FROM THOSE KNOWLEDGEABLE IN THIS AREA…

         Various judicial personnel who were sent, or in some way provided with, a copy of my early booklet included: Manhattan Beach Police Department; Municipal Court Judge William G. Willett, Torrance (current location unknown); Superior Court Judge Cecil J. Mills, Torrance (as of January 1998 he was a Juvenile Court Judge at the Los Padrinos Juvenile Court, 7281 E. Quill Dr., Downey, CA  90242-2096. (562) 491-8841.); head District Attorney in 1989, Torrance Courts; Mr. W. Kitchell, Program Administrator Unit 2, California Correctional Institution, Tehachapi; Lt. J. M. Ferguson, Unit 2, California Correctional Institution, Tehachapi; Ms. Mary Figueroa, Correctional Counselor 1, California Institution for Men, Chino; Detective Roger D. Ott, Bakersfield Police Department; Special Agent Richard G. Palacios, Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI); Special Agent Michael P. Gleysteen, Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms (ATF); Mr. Gregory W. Jessner, United States Attorney, Los Angeles; United States Probation Officer R. William Crovella II; United States District Judge Harry L. Hupp; Mr. David L. Wisehart, Unit Manager, Federal Correctional Institution, Phoenix, Arizona; Municipal Court Commissioner Louie L. Vega, Bakersfield; Municipal Court Judge Susanne S. Shaw, Newport Beach; and various other state & federal prison and court officials – some higher ranking. Besides these judicial personnel, a private citizen, Mrs. Margaret A. Reeves of Manhattan Beach was also sent a copy in December 1988. It is noteworthy that even though each one had an opportunity to respond, not one of these characters, or any others for that matter, complained that my test booklet’s language violated the law. While there were grumbling complaints about its content by some of the recent examiners (only since 1993), that’s a far cry from proclaiming a law had been broken. No such proclamations, in my mind, means approval by silence – everyone remained neutral. Clearly, the legality of my wording in that sample passed with flying colors. I offer my thanks for the time they put in in reviewing my work.
         Since that time though, extensive material has been added and my disclaimer has been expanded greatly to cover my ass from all possible judicial attacks. I’m sure certain people I’ve irritated want to nit-pick my words apart to try to find a violation of law committed in these writings. To those so inclined I say you should have thought about the possibility of repercussions by me before you violated me (especially those who knew I was so inclined) and you should be more concerned about smoothing over my ruffled feathers rather than ruffling them up to a point beyond any hope of smoothing them over ever again. Get your priorities on the right thing people. You have the advantage of hindsight again. Don’t screw it up! Don’t come out goats again like too many of you have already done.
         The only major change since that first trial version, other than length, is that I have been able to strengthen the manuscript and sharpen my position (particularly in response to how much more serious of a threat they really are to us all), with the result that the book is, I believe, a much better presentation.
         While no one objected to my sample draft, it is also true that no one submitted an explanation for their misactions (or actions depending on one’s interpretation) that brought them to the forefront and worthy of inclusion herein. Because this work is on computer and can be updated frequently I leave an open invitation to anybody to explain why they did what they did, and I promise I will retype their side of the story word for word and include it in the very next reprint.
         If anyone still sees my disclaimer as not sufficient even after “approval” by the above listed illustrious reviewers speak up now or forever hold your peace and I’ll make phrasing changes where necessary.

         One of the prison chapters of VOCAL I was involved with some time ago come up with these goals, or “Statement of our Principles” as they termed it: Achievement/Aggressiveness: We set aggressive goals, and drive ourselves to achieve them. We recognize that this is a unique time, when our actions can change the way abusers conduct themselves. It’s an adventure and we’re in it together.
         To be most effective, we must devise timetables for our abuse-reduction goals, both for the short term (achievable in a year or less) and the intermediate term (1 to 10 years). Much can be accomplished by setting up practical objectives and agendas. This not only paves the way for real progress, but also keeps us from becoming discouraged when we are not victorious immediately or, worse, suffer a setback. To maximize success, however, we must thoroughly know the subject, be prepared to expend effort, always tell the truth right to the point, offer them solutions, and attack the system not people. Tackling short-term goals can lead to immediate relief or a sense of achievement. Think of how much we could accomplish if every victim and every victim’s support VOCAL like group were to resolve to undertake at least one simple project every year to help lessen the infliction of further abuse. Judicial abuse is a monumental problem that will not disappear overnight. We are convinced it can be solved, but only if a concerted effort is made by enough persons over a sufficiently long time. While it might take a number of years to conquer the widespread forms of abuse everybody seems to be committing, immediate gains are possible if we form smaller coalitions to concentrate on specific problems. If we win enough small battles we can eventually win the war – or at least give them a hell of enough reason to think twice about their actions from now on.
         Each chapter of significant size could form separate focus groups. The goal of these sub-groups would be to have open and frank discussions on the various important issues each one addresses. Possible individual focus groups could be titled: 1) Education and community outreach, 2) Membership, 3) Activism and current/emergency issues, 4) Linkage with other revenge (anti-abuse) groups, 5) Research of new abusive laws and practices as they affect our people.
         Early on in my job as a Judicial Abuse Consultant an Activist, I became aware of one thing; Revengers come in two varieties. Some push the envelope from within, squeezing out every last fairness they’ve got coming by only using non-violent means. Their insights can turn judicial misconduct into a settled debt without any physical injury to anyone. But then there are revengers who perch outside the envelope and stir up trouble. Impatient with the pace of progress, and bureaucratic red tape, they stretch into more violent tendencies, often mixing and matching ideas from various revengers dedicated to a common goal. Early on I developed the OATH and today require it as a condition of membership in VOCAL. Why what self-respecting organization would be worth its muster without an Oath? Or even a theme song? Our “fight” song as I call it. It was written by members of the Corcoran chapter of VOCAL when I was imprisoned there in 1990. It’s sung to the tune of the Christian Hymn “There Is Power in the Blood.” Sorry no musical scale accompanies it folks. Just drag out your ol’ Hymnal and you’ll find it right in there. You do have a Hymnal don’t you? Both the OATH and theme song are reproduced at the end of this book where they can be devoted to their own separate pages. As far as the motto, here it is: We’re furious, we’re fierce, we’re in your face – get used to it!
         As you can see, all this is still in the developmental stage. But even with that, always be sure to abide by the “VOCAL Way.” Never resort to violence. There’s an anti-judicial abuse movement in the air folks, and it’s growing! Jump on the bandwagon and join us. It’s going to be quite a ride. We may get a few arrows in the back for our efforts, but I guess you got to expect that whenever you accept the role of “pioneer.”
         “Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it’s the only thing that ever does.” –Margaret Mead

         Maybe we collectively can make a difference. Sometimes I stop and ponder, will this work appear in the historical records when the scholars of an age still to come recoil in contemplation of the cruel ways people were treated. If power leads men to arrogance, maybe this work will help bring them back in line; maybe these words will be the candle that lights the fire to ultimately bring about the fairness we deserve; maybe Big Brother will pause, check itself for fleas, and scratch before the next mad scramble to screw someone over. Maybe it will set new standards for itself. Something better do it before it’s too late, if it isn’t already! Corrective measures this late in the game may prove to be harsh medicine to some special-interest groups, but there’s no easy solution to satisfying those kinds of people. We’ve got to expect that and move around it. Is this too strong a stand? I don’t think so. After all – look at the alternatives and consider the consequences. All that is essential for the triumph of evil is that good people do nothing.

         Sometimes a prosecutor will go all out to win a conviction, even though he or she knows the person isn’t guilty, just so they can “earn” a conviction on their “score card” and claim a victory. They may even gain political momentum in the process of their shenanigans. This gives them “brownie points” for their supervisors to see and that’s what they really want. This is the ultimate form of abuse – the ultimate injustice committed against anyone. 60 Minutes exposed some of these practices in a March 1989 episode. They reported how known unreliable inmate snitches are used in big cases to testify on individuals they want convicted at any cost. More than a year after this exposé, the Los Angeles County Grand Jury sharply criticized the District Attorney’s office and the Sheriff’s Department for tolerating suspected perjury from snitches and rewarding them for their cooperation with leniency on charges they are facing. My question is, when they found out about this travesty, why didn’t we see all those guilty deputy district attorneys get prosecuted – and punished? This should make as much news as when a heinous serial criminal is captured. I’ll bet those guilty DAs are still on the job. Whenever they use unreliable information from an unreliable source to convict someone to “win” a conviction and make themselves look good and their job easier they need to be made to suffer in the severest way possible. They should do the same amount of time that the innocent person they tried to set up would have done in prison – and not at some easy-to-do-time minimum custody camp either. (According to 60 Minutes July 26, 1998 episode it’s still happening. Grrr!)
         The July 19, 1994 edition of USA Today even did a story on this and said how “…prosecutors – knowingly or unknowingly – relied on fabricated, mishandled or tampered evidence to convict the innocent….” (page 1A). “Faking or lying about evidence is not out of the ordinary at all,” says James Starrs, a George Washington University law professor who specializes in forensic science. “There are so many things of this kind, I’m horrified.” (page 2A). Our system of justice can’t be left in the hands of criminals like this. It demands everyone’s effort to find the truth – and we shouldn’t settle for anything less.
         These are classic examples of why we shouldn’t treat others fairly when we are not treated fairly by others, especially those in a position of power that are suppose to know better. What is so anger provoking is they will take the word of these snitches as gospel truth even though they are known criminals, but if we have a previous conviction on our record and are testifying on our own behalf for a new case our word is “impeached,” meaning we are a less reliable witness and our word is not as gospel.

         More than a few wicked malefactors will even know a person is not guilty of all the elements of a crime necessary to sustain a legitimate conviction when they prompt him or her to plead guilty anyway, sometimes under threat of some higher charges they know are even less valid.…
         I know several of the most politically-active VOCAL members in prison who had been victimized by this tactic were seeing to it there is a considerable impact on the judicial system in one way or another. “And they shall live with what they have created and they shall find no redemption in laying guilt at an innocent man’s door.” We are the violators that violators have produced. I too have been a victim of this horrendous practice and am very irate and vocal when speaking on this subject. When they threaten someone to plead guilty – or even no contest, which still “wins” them a conviction – to something statute says they are not guilty of it is nothing less than state-sanctioned extortion. Make sure they know that and are treated as extortioners are treated. Let’s turn those “brownie points” into pie on the face for our guilty culprits. This is especially needed for those scoundrels who do whatever is necessary to further their careers and make themselves look good. Things like this set a very dangerous precedent. These are the dangerous people in our society. Make sure they don’t get rewarded for their aggression. I remember when President Bush addressed the nation about the invasion of Kuwait. When he told us that, “aggression will not be rewarded” this brought applause from a majority of Americans. The thing is, stopping any form of aggression should be applauded, whether it be an invading army; or an invading prosecutor. Open the floodgates, bring the offenders to their heels, ram it down their throats. Wage a campaign against abuse of all kinds.
         A May 1990 episode of Geraldo also dealt with overly aggressive prosecutors and police who connive to convict a person they know is not guilty. Experts on judicial-system practices acknowledged incidents such as these are happening and people are being left bitter, angry, and feeling abused. They clearly say prosecutors and others should be held in the loop of accountability. Doctors are, by way of malpractice lawsuits when they screw up. They’re not immune. Why can’t we sue these wicked judicial malefactors? Why should they have the luxury of immunity? Why shouldn’t we get the defense attorneys we hired paid for by them? Why don’t we get paid for the time we did in jail when we couldn’t bail out? We cannot agree more. Unfortunately, no mention was made to the consequences their actions sometimes bring about. That is where this work picks up the ball – where they left off. Together we can depend on our own resources to hold them accountable. Just make sure they understand they can’t do these things and expect to slither off to gloat in a victory. Maybe members of a group like VOCAL could publish these unindicted criminals’ activities along with their home addresses for distribution among the county jails and courthouses for defendants attending court proceedings from the streets. Maybe they can be picketed at their homes like anti-abortion people do to doctors that perform abortions. Our goals are the same. They try to get the doctors to stop doing abortions, we try get the abusive judicial person to cease their wrong activities and straighten up. If they knew their addresses were out and about maybe they would be more careful. I sure wouldn’t want my address known to someone I screwed over.
         A November 1990 episode of 60 Minutes further addressed the issue of being illegally set up by lying police. They told of police in Oakland, California planting drugs on people to make arrests, stealing personal money, and beating people all because of a quota system to keep their jobs. Interviewed cops admitted these things and even of lying in court to back up their fellow cops. It has now been exposed and the law is dealing with it, but who knows how long it was building up to this point. The thing is though, it went on as long as it did because we victims let it happen. If the victims revenged each incident there surely would have been a public outcry to stop it or else. And public outcries do get results. The Rodney King beating cops would have never faced a second trial if there wouldn’t have been pressure on the higher ups to get some justice. Even those of us lower down on the judicial totem pole aren’t apt to face federal charges after we’re found not guilty in a state court.
         (Actually, as much as I wanted to see the cops get convicted, the second trial really wasn’t proper after they were found not guilty the first time around. But they wanted a conviction so bad they were willing to overlook that in order to make up for the wrong decision at the first trial. This was a case of where two wrongs did make a right. The not guilty in the first trial was wrong and the guilty in the second one was wrong. But being found guilty there made up for the wrong decision in the first one – two wrongs made a right. It was a dirty tactic, and something I would classify as abuse if it were to happen to me, but it shows of the over amount of power they have if they really want to get somebody at any cost. This time it worked to correct the wrong decision in the beginning, but remember, it only happened because of public outcry. That was the key. Now if our wrong monkeywrench behavior as a response to their wrong original behavior gets a wrong changed into a right is it then O.K.? Hmmm.)
         And it’s just as deceitful when police are too quick to stop looking for a more valid reason for an offense or the true guilty party when they have one in custody that seems to fit close enough to be able to convict “beyond a reasonable doubt.” As long as they can clean up the books with the person they’ve got that satisfies them. The October 23th, 1993 edition of Fox’s Front Page reported on a forensics “expert” falsifying blood samples and other evidence in rape and murder trials to link the most likely person police merely think did it. How many innocent victims have gotten stuck on something of this nature when police were too lazy and/or careless – or worse yet, purposely botched – to be sure the one they had was the real guilty party? Guilty officers who hang it on somebody and go no further should be made to do the exact same amount of time in prison – and at the same prison – that the innocent person spent before the mistake was corrected and he or she was released. And when they purposely falsify something that’s when they really need to be slammed down hard!

         The implications of this kind of acid-splashing vengeance we talk about here have ramifications far beyond this isolated case. Let’s pose a hypothetical scenario. A vandalism of this nature could conceivably make more typical people aware of our plight than many other methods of vengeance already covered. Some would say vandalizing innocent people’s nice new cars that are not connected with the judicial system is not right. Let’s look at the issue from an oppressed and abused person’s point of view. Some of them say it’s the rich people that want us to receive severe punishments and then they are the ones that don’t care how we’re treated when we get them. These are some of the people responsible for pressuring the judicial system to get tough at any cost. And what a cost it can be as we’re seeing. In this point of view, typical people aren’t so innocent after all. Their get-tough policies often result in us losing more than the value of their nice cars’ paint jobs, in paid out exorbitant attorney fees and lost income from work for a given period of time. This financial loss is not even considered as part of the punishment, either officially in writing or unofficially. And if it’s not considered as part of the punishment, one should not sit idly by and allow it to happen to themselves. As this fearful era of get-tough policies continues and the costs mount I hope this work will sharpen the perspectives of the proponents of both the get-tough school and those liberal-thinking individuals sympathetic to our cause. Something better shake them up before more damage is done.
         Some are of the opinion that if a multitude of abused people were to splash up the town so to speak and then notify judicial people in the higher echelon such as the Chief of Police, the head District or U.S. Attorney, and the Chief Judge of a particular court jurisdiction etc. it may have enough impact to force some changes. Involving the various news media in a letter-writing campaign may also help our plight to get coverage in a wider audience. And, of course, informing the individual splash victims isn’t a bad idea either.
         Imagine the easily-committed damages incurred by one vandalistically-inclined person driving slowly by just one line of parked cars splashing each one once and then multiply that by even a small percentage of abused people – say 100 – doing it all day long for just a few days and you can see the implications. The judicial system would surely feel the pressure to change wouldn’t they? There’s no question these are excessive measures, (just as are the excessive charges filed against us more serious than what we had done, just as is the excessive bail set on us to get out on, just as is the excessive punishments meted out) but as we’ve said before, sometimes you have to hit the mule between the eyes with the board to get its attention. You know how stubborn mules can be; and judicial personnel. Sometimes traditional methods of reasoning are not enough. As more and more of us gather battle scars – particularly the deep ones – more victims are adopting the attitude that we have the right to even the score.

         The September 2nd, 1993 edition of ABC-TV’s Nightline addressed the issue of arrested people being actually forced to confess a crime while their conversation is being tape recorded. Sometimes they lie and say they have more evidence on you than they really have in order to try to get you to confess. If they can’t get their convictions in the proper way and without lying & conning they best not complain when we do sneaky things back to help others avoid capture. Listening in on police radio frequencies and tipping off others under surveillance is quite satisfying to alleviate lingering angers as it pertains to these sneaky police tactics. The moral to this is when you are arrested they tell you that you have a right to remain silent. Do it! Keep your damn mouth shut! Remember, a fish gets caught by opening its mouth. Don’t give them an easier way to convict you. Don’t make their job easier. Let them bring out whatever they have on you in court and work a deal from that point. Any time earlier; shut your trap no matter how tempted you are with a lie to try to clear your ass. Trust me on this. On more than one occasion I spoke up in an effort to try to talk my way out of something and inadvertently gave them information they were able to use to get more on me and by piecing it all together I got screwed worse than if I had kept my big mouth shut. I can’t make it any clearer – shut your mouth no matter what!!! Make sure you don’t aid them in their job. That’s their job – not yours. And just because they aren’t writing all of your statements down don’t let that fool you into talking. These interview rooms are wired for recording. Always assume anything and everything you say is being recorded. If mirrors are present you can also bet it is a one way setup and that a camera is on the other side taking your picture. Actually, with such small cameras now-a-days they don’t even need to do that. A book on a shelf across the room could easily hide one of these micro cameras. One trick they may use to try to get you to talk is what is known as the “good cop, bad cop” routine. One cop will be real mean and threatening to you for awhile and then the other one will come in and question you real politely. Their con here is that you’re more apt to spill the beans to the nice guy as a reward for him getting the other one away from you. Watch out for this trick and make sure you don’t get sucked in to their web. They’ll use anything to try to get you to talk. When I refused to wave my rights I was told that from that point forward anything I say cannot be used against me. Like a fool, I let my guard down and talked more freely. It is true that if I would have had a trial, any of my statements could not be used against me. The thing is though, my recorded statements were played to the deputy district attorney handling my case and with the additional information I spilled he got a higher bail set by the court and refused to deal as well as he should have. I can’t emphasize it enough – zip it shut; no matter what!…Tragically, because DAs have immunity to purposeful lying and abuse we don’t have the option to prosecute them in legitimate court proceedings. Where does this leave us? Forget it or revenge it, that’s all we’ve got; and you know my feelings on that matter. The judicial system’s stance should be if they are going to take action against us, they should act responsibly. It’s wrong to leave them a “legal” way to commit these offenses. They need to be stopped before they’re allowed to victimize anybody else.

         This is the last seemingly accepted form of abuse our country still allows and encourages. We are the latest group, in a long list, of people who have suffered some form of oppression at the hands of governments. Apparently we’ll be the last too. I don’t believe modern society will ever again tolerate oppression of any other groups. Those of us who are at harmony with our recently acquired true inner strength wonder how otherwise good people can be so cruel. The fact of the matter is simply a lack of understanding on their part. It’s the teachings like this that place mankind out of balance. Why don’t more people see what we are doing to ourselves? When we are out of balance, humanity loses. As we have shown, judicial abuse is not an issue that only affects those that it is directed to. It is not a specialized issue affecting just us. Like all forms of prejudice and abuse, any threat to any of us is a threat to all of us – offender and non-offender alike. It’s time to stop, that’s all there is to it people! We need understanding, not aggravation.

         One wonders why this tendency to even the score should surprise them so much. After all, we keep hearing professionals warn us that when kids are victimized in some abusive way they are more apt to grow up and become an abuser in return as a way of regaining the loss of power they felt at the time. They like the feeling of power over others to alleviate the feelings of powerlessness they once had. They like the opportunity to heckle others to return heckling they once had inflicted upon them. And this, in fact, is exactly how we abused revengers feel. This is an exact analogy to our regaining lost power our victimizers took from us by their misdeeds. We want to feel we have the power to bring them to their knees. We want to heckle them back. We want to have our power back. We want some control over something. They know what previously abused and now grown kids are prone to do. So why do they continue to abuse us and then not expect us to grow into it? Why can’t they see how today’s judicially-abused person will likely become tomorrow’s judicial abuser? Can they be that stupid? Can they become smart? Hmmm. Experts agree we draw “social maps” based upon our experiences in life and tap into this storehouse which becomes a guide by which we later live. What does this map look like to a person who has been abused? Need you really ask? Remember, my dear judicial-abusing “friends,” you are suppose to be doing things that will decrease undesirable behavior in people, not increase it. Got that? For the sake of all of society – I hope so.

         Something should be done with these misbehaving culprits though. In far, far too many cases police shoot to kill when shoot to injure and stop would have accomplished their goal of taking the suspect into custody and assuring their safety just as effectively. I overheard one officer brag to a fellow officer he always goes for the kill because he knows he has the backing of LAPD “policy” and the law to back up his kill. That’s a horrible way to think. Just because you have the law on your side doesn’t mean it is morally right and proper to take a person’s life when another viable option is clearly just as effective and safe for the nearby public – like aiming for a non-vital part of the body. And they think we’re sick, vindictive, and inhumane when we seek to obtain retribution in non-violent ways? What do you call it when a person will happily go for a kill despite other alternatives just because he is doing it within approved “policy” and will garner high praise for marksmanship from his fellow workers who see it all as just a game of skill? Do you get the hint somebody’s priorities are a little out of wack? Do you begin to see why police get shot at by those who don’t respect the value of human life because they view police officers as having that same lack of respect? If police want the respect of life and safety they currently are lacking, don’t you think they had better start showing respect for our lives first? Hmmm.
         Because police get targeted at random whether they are the good guys or the bad guys, maybe the good guys – which end up suffering on account of the bad guys – who have the proper respect had better start educating those kill-happy guys that alternate behavior will be better for all concerned. Let them know that, despite training to the contrary, criminals are people too. Don’t let them de-personalize their actions of “killing” a “human being” by adopting kinder words and calling it “neutralizing” a “problem.” Face up to it, whatever glossy words are used when referring to us, we are still living breathing personal human beings. Get with it guys. There are a lot of dead people that were killed “legally;” but not morally – and surely unnecessarily. Wake up to the value of life; of all life – criminal and non-criminal alike. While actions of this nature garner praise and glory from peers in the law-enforcement community, unforeseen consequences are also bubbling to the surface. Rather than honor their actions with “outstanding achievement” awards, let’s instead put them on a list of individuals who need to be leashed and heeled. Criminals are people too. People! Get it? Not inanimate or faceless objects to be treated as chattel.


         Reminder: You know where to get your own personal copy of Revenge if you want it – the address at the beginning of this book. Cost? Just ten bucks – for all 114 pages of it plus its back cover which says:

Ever See Yourself Wanting to Throw a Monkey
Wrench into the Wheels of the Judicial System
and Really Gum up the Machinery?

Some say if the judicial system treats you unfairly or somehow screws you over you have to accept it as if it is the normal thing to do. Hogwash! Bull cocky!! WE DO NOT!!! These are the ’90s; we don’t play that game any longer! We’re not defendants or inmates from your father’s era. Although we may have to temporarily accept the unfairness when we’re in no position to stop it, that’s no reason to let them slither off and think they put one over on us.

In Revenge on the Judicial System: Don’t Get Mad, Get Even!, author Thomas Larsen, a Revenger for over three decades, enthusiastically encourages and helps you to overcome the idea that you have no option but to accept judicial unfairnesses sight unseen. By understanding various options available, cheated angry people can harmonize their feelings into ways to bring it full circle and back onto those who treated them unfairly.

If you have ever been treated unfairly, lied to or about, victimized, cheated, and/or somehow abused or unnecessarily harassed, threatened, or aggravated, no matter to what extent, by anyone connected in any way with the judicial system – whether while in custody or not – this handy book is for you.

The term abuse, as used throughout this book includes, but is not limited to, any forms of unfair, unpleasant, and/or unnecessary; physical, mental, emotional, psychological, or financial, aggravating actions, to any degree, which leads to unwarranted uneasiness – whether committed accidentally or on purpose. I also consider it abuse for them to act with a double standard and treat a poorer or less prominent person less favorably, in any way, than a more prominent, respected, or politically powerful person who is going through the system for a similar judicial matter. Likewise, it is also double standard abuse to be treated different in any other way due to prejudice or bias (because of race, color, religion, financial condition, sex, age, position of status in the community, or personal differences or interests) than someone else is.

This manual contains a collection of costly dirty tricks and underhanded stunts, some with skewed humor (but sometimes such humor is the best medicine to deal with the aggravation they cause us), that some people could be, and/or have been, inclined to use in order to even the score with anyone, or any judicial organization, who has earned their heartfelt contempt. It was written for the sole purpose of informing those of facts or methods used or thought of being used.

Disclaimer: The incidents depicted are for entertainment and amusement purposes only. They are not intended to be other than educational and/or instructional. They are not portrayed with the intent of helping to promote methods, actions, or devices which assist others in breaking the law. This is not a handbook to be used as a guide meant to be put into practical use. It does not encourage nor discourage breaking laws. Each individual has the responsibility to make up his or her own mind as to whether or not to do so, or even how far they wish to go to even the score, if they in their own mind of their free will even choose to do so at all. Likewise, this material is not advising, counseling, aiding, abetting, instigating, inciting, assisting, promoting, teaching, endorsing, or advocating anyone to break any laws. Under no circumstances will the author assume any responsibility for the actual use of this information or from the ideas portrayed in its stories and shall not be held liable for any direct or indirect damages resulting from their use.

Take your power back! Find their off button. Buck the system – the judicial system! Go against the grain. Rock the status quo! Empower yourself! Don’t be passive and accommodating! Don’t be a causality. Be a nuisance, a thorn in their side, an irritant; not merely a finger tickling at their ribs. Bring it back full circle. Let the judicial system know they picked the wrong person to screw over. Rattle some cages! Read this book!

Speak out, act out, fight back, and don’t let anyone rip you off!
Monkeywrench on folks!
You’ve got the power, the power of revenge!!!

HIP, HIP HURRAY!!!

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APPENDIX II

 

         I spoke only briefly about a theme “fight” song VOCAL has. It was written by members of the Corcoran chapter of VOCAL when I was imprisoned there back in 1990. It’s sung to the tune of the Christian Hymn “There Is Power in the Blood.” Sorry no musical scale accompanies it folks. Just drag out your ol’ Hymnal and you’ll find it right in there. You do have a Hymnal don’t you? Hmmm.

         Do I hear an Amen?… No? Oh well, I didn’t really expect one. It doesn’t matter anyway, because I can care less what you think. Next to “Another One Bites The Dust,” this became one of Snakes’s favorites. Care to hazard a guess why? He often broke out in song and we all just ended up following along as we were tooling down the road.
         Anyway, VOCAL has its own logo, which is prominently displayed in Revenge, and I also failed to show it to you as promised.

Cover Design: The monkey wrench emblem is the recognized symbol for a unity of people who seek to even the score with anyone or any judicial organization who has earned their heartfelt contempt. It signifies the traditional throwing of a monkey wrench into the wheels of the judicial system in order to make them squeak.

         And how about a business card? Oh ya, here’s mine.

         I call myself the Judicial Avenger because I’ve dedicated the rest of my life to disavowing the misinformation and avenging the lies perpetrated on the American public that the judicial system’s current approach is actually making our streets safer and that the justice system is a “just” system. I believe everyone should non-violently avenge all judicial-system misconduct, no matter how minimally it raises its ugly head or in whatever manner its tentacles latch onto us. I speak about this, and I stand tall upon the shoulders of our Founding Fathers who gave me the permission to do so. God bless the United States of America. : - )
         And here is the promotional flier that is used to advertise Revenge.

Have you ever been treated unfairly, lied to or about, victimized, cheated, and/or somehow abused or unnecessarily harassed, threatened, or aggravated, by anyone connected in any way with the judicial system, either while in or out of custody? Are you mad about police making you lay flat on the ground after a simple traffic stop? Have you ever wanted to get even in such an imaginative way that it would really tickle your funny bone? Do you want to really satisfy your anger at the dirty culprit? Do you really want to bring it full circle and put the offending scoundrel in his or her place and embarrass the heck out of them?
If so this handy book is for you:
Revenge on the Judicial System:
Don’t Get Mad, Get Even!

         The term abuse, as used throughout this book includes, but is not limited to, any forms of unfair, unpleasant, and/or unnecessary; physical, mental, emotional, psychological, or financial, aggravating actions, to any degree, which leads to unwarranted uneasiness – whether committed accidentally or on purpose. I also consider it abuse for them to act with a double standard and treat a poorer or less prominent person less favorably, in any way, than a more prominent, respected, or politically powerful person who is going through the system for a similar judicial matter.
         This manual contains a collection of costly dirty tricks and underhanded stunts, some with skewed humor (but sometimes such humor is the best medicine to deal with the aggravation they cause us), that some people could be, and/or have been, inclined to use in order to even the score with anyone, or any judicial organization, who has earned their heartfelt contempt. It was written for the sole purpose of informing those of facts or methods used or thought of being used.
         Disclaimer: The incidents depicted are for entertainment and amusement purposes only. They are not intended to be other than educational and/or instructional. They are not portrayed with the intent of helping to promote methods, actions, or devices which assist others in breaking the law. This is not a handbook to be used as a guide meant to be put into practical use. It does not encourage breaking laws. Each individual has the responsibility to make up his or her own mind as to whether or not to do so, or even how far they wish to go to even the score, if they in their own mind of their free will even choose to do so at all. Likewise, this material is not advising, counseling, aiding, abetting, instigating, inciting, assisting, promoting, teaching, endorsing, or advocating anyone to break any laws. Under no circumstances will the author assume any responsibility for the actual use of this information or from the ideas portrayed in its stories and shall not be held liable for any direct or indirect damages resulting from their use.
         Take your power back! Find their off button. Buck the system – the judicial system! Go against the grain. Rock the status quo! Empower yourself! Don’t be passive and accommodating! Don’t be a causality. Be a nuisance, a thorn in their side, an irritant; not merely a finger tickling at their ribs. Bring it back full circle. Let the judicial system know they picked the wrong person to screw over. Rattle some cages!

         And how about the OATH? Oh ya, almost forgot.

OATH

 

    I____________________am a member of a growing legion of disgruntled people unwilling to ever again, under any circumstances, give up any of my rights for fair, just, and equal treatment as guaranteed by our Constitution of the United States of America and the Bill of Rights. I pledge to closely adhere to VOCALs Prime Directive in not allowing any violation of person, property, or money to go by unchecked or unpunished – no matter how minor, or regardless of the time span between offense and resolution. Nor will I allow myself to be unnecessarily aggravated or treated as a second class citizen in any double-standard kind of way.

    As a follower of VOCAL, I promise to abide by its Guidelines and goals and agree to protect, first myself, and then other deserving individuals against all judicial system enemies, foreign and domestic, to the best of my abilities.

    In responding to misdeeds, I will be ever mindful of the violator's original offense level, lest I be tempted to engage in over-behavior which I am actively protecting against. Whenever possible, I will first advise a prospective perpetrator of my zero tolerance status and suggest more benign avenues of behavior, or corrective measures if the misdeed has already been done. Under no circumstances will I purposely trick an abuse-inclined person into action if he or she is naive to possible side effects or consequences. Nor will I intentionally hide the fact that I am the wrong person to mistreat in any way. At all times, no matter what, I will continue to stand up for the things I believe in!

    While it is preferable to return the violation personally upon the guilty culprit's doorstep in a timely manner – and nowhere else – I understand that some indirect, wider-reaching, methods of response designed to cost, inconvenience, embarrass, and/or aggravate a perpetrator, or organization he or she represents, are quite acceptable; even if years pass between the offense and resolution. But I accept VOCALs firm position that any intentional response that physically hurts or injures another animal or person is not. I agree to abstain from such behavior to the best of my abilities and understand that if I falter, VOCAL will disavow any knowledge of my membership.

    I take this OATH freely without any mental reservations or purpose of evasion.

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APPENDIX III

 

All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.

–Edmund Burke

I’m including each of the letters that were sent out (along with the handwriting exemplars taken from me way back on September 27, 1977 by Secret Service Special Agent James D. Davidson) so you can compare the various handwritings for yourself. It doesn’t take an expert to tell that many different individuals put their John Henry’s on those letters and envelopes, and that none of them were me. Just why was it that no one thought to inquire about anybody else? Sorry for the poor copies though. It was copies that were sent out originally. Then the FBI made copies to give to the U.S Attorney, who made copies to give to my attorney, who made copies to give to me, which I copied to give to you all. Once you get a few generations down the line, quality’s shot all to hell. Wish I did have the originals stashed away somewhere, but – oh well. I never anticipated a book blossoming out of the ashes of destruction. But, that is what spring is all about – new beginnings; new growth. Out with the old; in with the new. With a new spring upon us, maybe we can all find the justice each of us craves in our own unique ways and bring closure to this horrible part of our lives so we can move on. Anybody want any tidbits???…
Spring, 1998	Thomas Larsen

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APPENDIX IV
One final (unexpected) fly in the ointment

 

         Well where are they? The letters that is. And why is this book getting released to the general public way in July when I just got done referring to a springtime release date? Well, that’s because another fly in the ointment got shoveled into the mix moments before I was ready to go to press at the end of May. It seems a problem I never anticipated has blossomed forth and granted Snake and his minions a stay of execution a few weeks longer. (Sorry ’bout that folks, but as you’ll see in a moment, even though a representative of the judicial system was advised how her actions are bringing on the delay she never objected.)
         You’ll recall back in Chapter 20 I mentioned that the feds never returned the road flare which they took from my van back on the day of my arrest. In order to get an accurate cost for one to add to the tally sheet I stopped at Pep Boys in the late afternoon of December 15, 1997. What I didn’t expound on then was that upon walking from the store back toward home (I walk one hour every evening for exercise and included this stop on that evening’s walk) I got a ticket for crossing in mid block in an “unsafe” manner.
         Both in Chapters 10 and 18 I stated that, “I solemnly vowed to never again be forced by way of pressure, threats, or extortion to pay for an attorney out of my pocket and never pay a fine or suffer an unnecessary or unfair judicial-caused expense without returning a punishment comparable in nature back upon them with enhancements as reoffenders get. (I will personally do nothing to bring on an attack of symptoms. And at the same time, I will not allow symptom-producing behavior to be done to me without first advising the instigator of likely side effects.) There will be no more income-funneling judicial related expenses going out of my pocket ever again! And that they can take to the bank – my bank! And that includes traffic or parking tickets. If I get one, I’ll choose to do the few days in county jail rather than pay the fine. I won’t run out on a promise to appear mind you; I just won’t pay a fine. I don’t mind doing the brief county jail time as long as it costs them and not me – after all; I do love to cost the judicial system money; to monkey wrench as I put it. That is a pet hobby of mine. Some people like cats or dogs or collecting stamps. I like monkey wrenching. (Did you catch the pun there? Pet and Hobby?) And I’m especially adamant about this vow today because I’ve been punished for the very same thing, (twice on one case alone); making threats. I’m not about to accept them from somebody else! Double-standard violations are one thing I don’t tolerate no more. Don’t expect me to. I’m far, far to close to the edge on this topic.”
         With that frame of mind firmly implanted within my psyche, I figured on going to court and asking for the day or two in jail in lieu of paying a fine if I am found guilty. Preaching my philosophy of revenge to other inmates along with knowing that I’m costing the system, rather than it costing me, would surely help vent off other tendencies that could easily bubble to the surface and once again infect society. This is the first ticket I’ve received since proclaiming that vow way back in ’87 (I may have a bad criminal record, but my driving record is good), but still, I didn’t anticipate any difficulty in selling my wishes to a judge. Boy was I wrong. Grrr : - (
         First off, it was off to the law library to look up the Vehicle Code violation I was charged with and see what it says. I sure didn’t think I was being unsafe in the manner I was crossing the street, but I didn’t want to appear in court with half my brain tied behind my back when I was arguing my case in front of the judge. Section 21954 (a) of the Vehicle Code says, “Every pedestrian upon a roadway at any point other than within a marked crosswalk or within an unmarked crosswalk at an intersection shall yield the right-of-way to all vehicles upon the roadway so near as to constitute an immediate hazard.” Well that dirty SOB Officer Charles Garcia. I was yielding the right-of-way – he had no business even giving me a ticket.
         Van Nuys Blvd. is divided with a raised curb directly across from Pep Boys (the one just north of Saticoy St.), but a short distance to the south it is divided without the curb. I was standing in the unraised divided section right next to where the raised curb ends and waiting for southbound traffic to clear – i.e. yielding “the right-of-way to all vehicles upon the roadway so near as to constitute an immediate hazard.” It was at this time that Officer Garcia approached from the north on his motorcycle and stopped to let me cross. At first, I took it as a gesture of him yielding to me and waved a thank you to him as I crossed because his was the last vehicle approaching from the north. In reality, he yielded to me so he could then motion me over in order to write me a citation.
         I didn’t dispute anything with him at the time because I didn’t know the wording of the law on such matters. I just assumed if he was ticketing me that I must be guilty and was already thinking ahead with plans to do a day or two in jail before he even got done writing the ticket. But after I read the statute I said whoa, hold it here; I’m not guilty of anything.
         I went to court on January 28, 1998 but all that was for was to pay bail to a clerk. I had already gotten a letter in the mail informing me that it was $55.00. Of course, I don’t have to remind you what an unfair $48.00 pressured out of innocent me cost society back in ’86, so obviously paying up was out of the question. (In case you’ve forgotten the $48.00 fiasco, re-read Chapter 9.) When the clerk wanted the money before he’d set a trial date I said I don’t have it and I’m not working. Now I wasn’t being deceitful either. I am unemployed, and I come there with only had a few dollars in my pocket, enough for bus fare back from downtown L.A. where the county jail is located. Without expounding on my hyper-sensitivity to money matters, I requested to be put in jail and have a trial date set. But no, he wouldn’t do that. He said I had to see a judge to request an O.R. (own recognizance) release and get that before a trial date is set in which the officer would be called in to testify. “O.K. fine, do that,” I said. He then come up with May 7th. in Division 102. “Don’t you have anything sooner,” I asked. With it being put off so long I was afraid the officer would forget the events that happened and that’s just what I didn’t want. I want him to look dumb in court when he admits that I was waiting for traffic to clear; which is just what the statute requires. In his final attempt to get me to pay up he told me he’d set a trial date right then, and only a short time away too, if I’d just fork over the 55 bucks. That’s dead, I’ll stick with the May 7th date.
         On that date I appeared in front of Municipal Court Commissioner Rebecca G. Omens, entered a plea of not guilty, and asked for an O.R. She said to see her cashier for that, who happens to be in a small room right next to the courtroom. Out there I talked to Tenice (whose name I didn’t learn until the next time I appeared back in Division 102.) Once again, I tried to play up my unemployed status and that I didn’t have $55.00 – at least not on my person. But Tenice was more pressing for details about how do I live then, and how I support myself. Then stupid me, being too honest – at least more honest than I should have been considering so much was at stake here – said I’m living off some money my deceased parents left me. “Was it more than $55.00?” she asked. “Yes,” I responded. And with that my O.R. was denied. It even meant nothing when I told her that I was out on an O.R. on a felony case (the one I had with Michael Reeves back in ’85) and made all of my court appearances on time.
         Holding firm to the precepts of my OATH – “I pledge to closely adhere to VOCAL's Prime Directive in not allowing any violation of person, property, or money to go by unchecked or unpunished – no matter how minor….” and “I will first advise a prospective perpetrator of my zero tolerance status and suggest more benign avenues of behavior, or corrective measures if the misdeed has already been done. Under no circumstances will I purposely trick an abuse-inclined person into action if he or she is naive to possible side effects or consequences. Nor will I intentionally hide the fact that I am the wrong person to mistreat in any way.” – I briefly filled Tenice in on the so called $48.00 problem and that last time when I was pressured out of money I did over a half-million-dollars in vandalism to avenge it. When I tried to play up my psychological instabilities and hinted at the possibility of such a situation bubbling to the surface once again Tenice just responded back in a snotty way, “well then, we’ll just put you in jail again.” This is one of those stupid attitudes that is far, far too prevalent within the judicial system. They’re suppose to be there to prevent crime from happening, not opening up situations where it can happen, in which case they have to come in and clean up the mess afterwards.
         I reiterated my desire to be put in jail in lieu of posting bail but Tenice told me they can’t do that with “infractions.” I can be put in jail only if I let it go to a warrant, but I’m not going to do that. I fully intend to make all my court appearances on time. I signed a promise to appear when I was issued that ticket and my word’s good. Clearly getting disgusted with me by now Tenice just put off the “pay up” date until May 14th, in which case I was to report to the downstairs clerk with my 55 bucks.
         Well May 14th came along and I marched my ass on down to the courthouse once again. Now I haven’t even been keeping track of all the time I’ve got invested in this mess. Luckily, the courthouse is nearby rather than way off miles away like was the case with my Orange County and Bakersfield fiascos. I was still planning a late May release of this book at that time without even mentioning this ticket fiasco within its pages despite the fact that it’s related to the story in that the ticket happened only because I was out pricing one of the stolen items.
         Once again, I asked the court clerk for a trial date with the officer present and an O.R. And once again, he said I have to see the judge for that. Is this just going to go round in circles or what here? At least he didn’t put it off months away. I was set for Division 102 again on May 29th.
         Sitting on the bench that day was Municipal Court Commissioner Alvin Nierenberg. Just like last time, I pled not guilty and asked for an O.R. Nierenberg referred to the fact that I had already entered a plea of not guilty and then stated that he denied an O.R. before so why would he grant one now. Well, first of all, he didn’t deny it – nor did the other judge. It was Tenice who denied it; that little________. : - ( I’ll leave it to your imagination what word I’m thinking of here, but suffice it to say it has four letters, begins with c, and ends in t. After a brief discussion about me not working, Nierenberg said he saw no reason why I shouldn’t be and then ordered the bail “forthwith,” meaning to pay it then and now. Once again, I asked for jail in lieu of it. He said something to the effect of, “not with a not guilty plea,” which tends to mean that if I would have pled guilty I could have gotten jail time rather than a fine. But I ain’t pleading guilty to something I didn’t do. I’ve played that game before and both me and society have come out big time losers for it. That road won’t be traveled no more – at least not by me. Maybe some of you people will take it, but that’s on you.
         Once again, I got shuffled off to that side room to see one of the cashiers and it happened to be Tenice I got stuck with like last time. Well right away she wanted my 55 bucks. “I don’t have it,” I said. “I’m ready to go to jail,” I told her in a rather chipper tone of voice. She informed me that if I don’t have it it’ll just go to a warrant then. “Fine,” I said, “just tell me when to come back.” “You don’t get a court date. Just wait till they pick you up.” “I’m not going to duck out on a promise to appear, when should I come back.” “Oh come back next week or so, it’ll be filed by then.” And with that I angrily said, “fine,” and left.
         The thing is, by going to a warrant it becomes a misdemeanor “failure to appear,” exposing me to, I guess, a year in the county jail as a possible sentence even if I turn myself in to them rather than let them pick me up. And then on the back of the ticket it says, “WARNING: If you fail to appear in Court as you have promised or do not resolve this matter, you will be charged with a misdemeanor (V.C. 40508a) assessed an additional $250.00 Civil Assessment (P.C. 1214.1) and referred to a collection agency which will use all possible remedies including the seizure of vehicles to satisfy this debt. The Department of Motor Vehicles will WITHHOLD the issuance or renewal of your driver’s license and may revoke or suspend your driving privilege.” Well I see that as nothing more than an extortionate threat and I’m not about to tolerate it. (And neither should anybody else. Clearly I need to address this topic in Revenge much stronger than it currently sits before it hits the streets to the general public.) Heck, my words to Mrs. Reeves back in ’88 regarding the money she owes me were nowhere as forebodingly sinister and look how I was punished for them. Do you really expect me to sit back and accept them? I don’t think so.
         Too bad I didn’t have Revenge ready to sell. I could have sold it to other disgruntled court attendees in line that day waiting to grudgingly fork over their money. Just a few copies would have recouped my 55 bucks and we wouldn’t be having these extra pages added to this book or extending the fellas’ vacation. After all, it was written specifically to pay off charges I shouldn’t be cost.
         Against the precepts of my vow and full well knowing that money pressured out of me can send me from zero to revenge in two point two seconds flat, I begrudging returned to Tenice’s desk and handed over my 55 bucks, but not without letting her know in clear and no uncertain terms the side effects of her money-grabbing behavior. At least I was abiding by my OATH to, “first advise a prospective perpetrator of my zero tolerance status and…side effects or consequences,” for such actions. First off, I asked for a trial date as soon as possible and then explained why. “After my arrest in ’93 I refused to give up the identity of the real culprits in my case when I found out the feds tore up my house. I’m writing a book that discloses who they are, but because this [ticket] case is indirectly tied in to that one I’m going to hold up on my book until this case is over with.” When she set my trial date for June 15th I asked for something sooner stating that, “these were some really bad dudes, it’s rather important that we round ’em up as soon as possible.” I didn’t go into how their vacation was being extended not just 18 days – the number of days from May 29th, money-snatch day, to June 15th, trial – but for the number of days from money-snatch day until the return of my money after the ticket is dismissed. I fully expected that once I won the case it would take another month or so for the bail to get back to me, and as far as I saw it, if I had to be without MY money, as small amount as it was, then they can be without the fellas in custody an equal amount of time. At least that fulfills the “returning a punishment comparable in nature back upon them” part of my vow. That would help vent my anger down and help keep other tendencies at bay so we don’t have a repeat of vandalism 1986 style (which began after just a $48.00 theft from me).
         I had already heard Tenice give her first name to a guy in front of me so I asked for her last name stating that, “I hope you don’t mind me mentioning you in my book as being responsible for delaying the roundup of these characters, this case made world-wide publicity and people are going to want to know all about it.” I think she took it all as a joke like I was making it all up or something because she said with a snicker in her voice, “oh, I don’t mind being in a book.” O.K. Tenice here you are, you’re in it. I hope you’re proud of yourself. She refused to give me her last name though, but if anybody wants to reach her to voice their criticism she can be reached in Division 102 at the Van Nuys Branch of the Los Angeles Municipal Court, 14400 Erwin Street Mall, Van Nuys, CA  91401, (818) 374-2653 or 374-2654.
         When will the judicial system learn to keep their grubby little fingers off of my money. They know by now that they lose every time they grab it. Oh well. I wouldn’t let up on Tenice. If she was going to receive bad press in the media for keeping one of the biggest criminal cases in Los Angeles history in the unsolved category longer than necessary I wanted her to understand how her behavior had liabilities attached to it. I referred to the fact that I had 6 felony convictions on my record with the last 5 involved in avenging judicial system misconduct regarding my money and/or property in some way. I even casually mentioned how there would have been another one but that it was dismissed when my speedy-trial rights were violated. “Are you sure you want to take MY money?” I asked one last time, knowing she now had a good deal of facts in front of her as to why it would be best for society if she didn’t. But even with that, it didn’t mean a thing. It’s unlikely that Snake and the fellas will be missed on account of Tenice’s caused short delay after all this time has passed since my original arrest back in ’93, but if they are, at least we know where the blood trail originates. Anybody want to figure up a Chapter 21 goat score for her?
         After Tenice handed me the paperwork pertaining to my June 15th trial date she wished me good luck. “Wish the arson victims luck,” I said as I was heading out the door, “they’re the ones who want ’em brought to justice as soon as possible. It really doesn’t matter to me ’cause I didn’t lose a house in a fire.” I got some funny looks from some of the people in the long line waiting to fork over their hard earned money to the cashiers. They’re probably wondering what’s this all about.
         Of all the judicial-system people since November 1993 who have helped in the delay of bringing this case to a successful conclusion (despite knowing I was holding the key to the whole damn thing), Tenice is clearly the lowest one in rank on the judicial system’s totem pole – a mere cashier to a mere commissioner in a mere Municipal Court. How low can one get within the judicial system and still violate me? Well at least she can’t come back and snivel that she didn’t know that her actions will disadvantage society. I may have broken my vow (at least as far as forking over money) : - ( (and you can believe it’ll never happen again, no matter what), but at least I honored my OATH. : - )
         Anyway, June 15th come with the worst possible of results. Sitting on the bench that day was Edward Firestone, Pro Tem (a mere attorney filling in for a judge). In front of him, Officer Garcia relayed that he didn’t recall me waiting for southbound traffic to clear or that he stopped for me to let me finish crossing the street. That’s just what I was afraid would happen; with so much time going by (6 months) his memory had faded as to what really happened. When Firestone found me guilty he made some snide comment about me having no business crossing Van Nuys Blvd. in mid block to begin with. But that’s not what the law says. (Even the 1998 California Driver Handbook, which we all get at the DMV, says on page 95, “When crossing or walking on a roadway at places which are not intersections or marked crosswalks, yield the right-of-way to vehicles.…If you ‘jaywalk’ across a street between intersections, where no pedestrian crosswalks are provided, you must yield the right-of-way to all vehicles.”) I was walking in the direction of Saticoy to begin with so I could have just as easily crossed there but when I saw no northbound traffic at all I decided to cross where I did. And when I saw southbound traffic I waited (yielded) by the raised divided section of the roadway – just what the law requires. Maybe in general it’s not wise to cross Van Nuys Blvd. in mid block, but when one yields to other cars while doing so it is legal. (If I would have known how the law is worded I would have refused to sign the ticket and let him take me to jail right then and there. At least with the jail time out of the way and all of that time counting as part of the punishment after being found guilty there would have been no money out of my pocket to pay.)
         After being found guilty I immediately asked to do jail time instead but Firestone wouldn’t allow it. (I learned only later that Pro Tems aren’t allowed to sentence people to jail.) They just want that money, and seeing they already got it they weren’t about to give it back. Even asking to do a few hours of community service was no help. Firestone let me know that there’s a fee to sign up for that so I’d still be stuck with out-of-pocket expenses. I bet if enough people cost them many times more than what they’re making they’d start letting people do the jail time if they want to. We’ll leave that topic for further discussion in Revenge.
         Well being no bail is being returned to me and because this case was concluded on June 15th you’re probably wondering why this book didn’t publish right after that. Well, that’s because I entered into a stage of fuming outrage. : - ( Seeing that summer was upon us my original plan was to give the fellas one last summer of freedom, probably the last they’ll see for the rest of their lives – at least their lives as younger-age people. (And no, it had nothing to do with allowing a final summer to make up the final Christmas I should have had with my parents back in ’93.) But after a couple weeks went by I realized that the judicial-system’s multitude of errors have granted them enough summers of freedom already. I’m sure not going to be responsible for giving them one. Heck, the last summer they should have seen from the outside was back in ’93. (And don’t let me even hear a whimper out of anyone that I’m responsible for giving them ’94 through the present. It’s well documented that I let the cat out of the bag as early as February ’94, to the U.S. Marshals, that I knew of their identity and was keeping it to myself for the time being. And then later I let it be known to various Bureau of Prisons’ staff members, both in person and in writing by way of my various administrative remedies which ended up all the way back in Washington D.C. MEOW! [Get it, cat out of the bag – meow? Alright, I’ll move on.])
         And giving them up now has nothing to do with the fact that a worse-than-average fire season is expected this year once all the El Níno-caused greenery dies out. I’m sure Snake shot his wad – firewise – back in ’93 and is onto some other abhorrent behavior by now. And I do mean a sexual overtone when I say “shot his wad” and relate it to fire. He just had a look in his eyes when he spoke of the fires he started in Vietnam and that look clearly reflected the pleasure of a great sexual encounter.
         It’s kind of ironic, of all the twists and turns this case has had regarding bringing the arsonists to justice, and of all the people within the judicial system with whom I’ve had unfavorable dealings with (which resulted in delay upon delay), from locals out here all the way back to Washington D.C. and points in between, the whole thing comes to an end with the actions of a judge mere feet from where it all began. You see, the Municipal Court building is right next door to the federal building where I was held that fateful day in November 1993 when I learned about the vandalism they committed at our house and decided to shut down and not help them a damn bit. (Even Lee Harris, the prosecutor whose misbehavior in ’86-’87 allowed Maginnis to prosper with my money is in this building – as a judge. Spooky isn’t it? I guess it’s fitting that the whole thing comes to an end in this building.) Then of course, as we’ve thoroughly covered within these pages, other flies in the ointment got shoveled into the mix to prompt me to remain in a silent state just all that much longer. Now with Firestone’s conclusion, as unfavorable as it was, the road if finally opened up and there’s no traffic in sight. (That means I can cross the street in mid block legally doesn’t it? Oops, better not. May get another clown who doesn’t interpret the law properly.)
         Now clearly the judicial system hasn’t cared too awfully much about bringing the arsonists to justice – at least those judicial-system people I’ve had dealings with haven’t. But what about the victims? How ’bout you people reading this? Does anybody want these guys and girl (Crystal) rounded up? Does anybody want my tidbits? (I know I would if I was a fire victim.) If so, come and get ’em – although the price has gone up a hair since Chapter 20’s tally which had figured on a late May/early June publication release. What, you thought I was going to eat the loss? I don’t think so!
         For one thing, interest was calculated just through the end of May. Now here we are releasing in July. But hold on folks – I’m going to give you a break here. : - ) I’m not docking you for the couple three weeks of my fuming stage. The case was over with on June 15th and that’s when publication should have happened. So with the lost interest on $65,793.71 for half of June which would be $137.07 plus the $55.00 for the ticket the total is bumped up to $65,985.78. And that’s not counting all the time I have invested in these court appearances either, which I wasn’t even tracking – why I don’t know. Oh well, we’ll just dock you the extra lost interest and ticket fee. (I’d gladly accept a day or two in jail if they want to consider me guilty of failing to yield and wouldn’t feel no need to avenge it either. As long as no money’s out of my pocket I can accept it. Of course, having an opportunity to push some of my teachings onto other inmates helps too.) See, I’m an easy dog to hunt with. Probably too easy when you consider my extreme sensitivity to money-related violations. (Added note to the May 2002 release of this book. The above figure has not been recalculated to the current date. It shows what I’m owed only through June 1998. If and when the time comes when somebody is ready to make amends I’ll calculate additional interest from June 1998 on through the pay up day.)
         Oh, one more thing – you may be wondering whether a ticket totally unrelated to the “Fedbuster” case would have delayed the fellas’ arrest like this. For instance, if I’d have crossed the street in the same way during one of my usual evening walks when not out pricing a stolen item. No it wouldn’t have, not in the least. I would have merely added the costs I suffered to my Statement of Judicial Debts Receivable.
         O.K. now onto the letters, which you should have gotten back in the last appendix. Well, better late than never. With them you now have the whole story spelled out for ya and with that you can decide whether my tidbits are worth the cost or not. The ball’s now in your court – you have an active part to play, and a decision to make. I trust you’ll do the right thing. : - )

The following xerox copies are of the following:
(For the Web version clicking on a link below will open another window.
Simply close that window to return to this page.)

         Handwriting samples taken from me by United States Secret Service Special Agent James D. Davidson on September 27, 1977. (1 page)

         My counterfeiting operation 1981 style containing the following photos (left to right, top to bottom): Homemade process camera used to photograph the bills (or anything else) onto film; Developing the resulting film in my make shift darkroom. Notice aluminum foil covering the windows of the apartment I rented specifically for this purpose. Because there were tiny pinholes in the foil which leaked in light I touched them up with black paint; Examining the resulting negatives with a magnifier on a make shift light table; Burning the negative’s image into an aluminum plate pre-sensitized to light with a carbon-arc light. The image being worked on at the time was the word TWENTY on the front of the bill. Separating if from the green seal in the background added complexities to the process requiring this extra step to isolate it. The vacuum pump shown on the right sucks air out of the vacuum frame which then places the negative and blank plate in tight contact; Developing the resulting image on the plates in the darkroom; Mixing my inks; The Multi 1250 offset press used to print the dirty deeds : - ) ; The process camera disassembled. (2 pages)

         The infamous “Fedbuster” letter and one of its addressed envelopes done by a different writer. (8 pages)

         The “Nightcrawler” letter. (9 pages)

         The Maginnis “No Justice No Peace” letter and one of its addressed envelopes. Notice all the different handwritings on just this one letter alone. (6 pages)

         The follow-up letter I mailed to Maginnis at his law firm on October 24, 1993, two days before the first fire ever started. Notice the stamp on the envelope is just scribbled over and not cancelled with the postal service’s regular cancellation machine. This is the letter that was pulled out of the mail box and “hand delivered” (using his words) to Maginnis leaving clear indications that I was under surveillance at least this far back. (2 pages)

         My C Y A letter to Harvey Levin mailed the day before my arrest when I was under surveillance. Notice its stamp is not cancelled either because it was pulled out of the mail box before going through the normal mail pick up routine. (2 pages)

         The letter leading to my Bakersfield vandalism case. (10 pages)

         The letter leading to my Costa Mesa vandalism case. (2 pages)

         Two other vandalism letters (each 2 pages long) mailed to areas that brought no charges.

         Well there you have it. As Paul Harvey would say, “Now you know, the r e s t of the story.” Closure is well within our sights. But remember – you’ve got a decision to make. Let the g a m e s begin……

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