by Brian A. Wilkins
5/14/2009
This day corresponds with Sunday, August 31, 2008. For those of you who this is the first “55 Days in Maricopa County jail” blog entry you’re coming across, I kept a journal during my 55(-ish) days of being held hostage there. Click here to read them all in order (scroll to the bottom for Day 1). I doubt I will live to see New Year’s Eve 2009-2010, as either I’ll be murdered by Maricopa County Sheriff’s goons or Tempe Police goons; or I’ll have a stroke or heart attack; or these people will try and abduct me again, which will likely result in death. I will publish the remaining days in the “55 Days” series now in case I’m dead by the end of the year. I was sentenced to “probation” for all this bullshit on March 30, 2009, after I was denied a trial by Maricopa County. I’ve since filed a federal writ of habeas corpus and a federal civil claim vs.Tempe Police. Being I’m no lawyer, and I did not stay at a Holiday Inn Express last night, I probably will screw these things up on some sort of technicality and they will get dismissed in federal court. But whatever…I’ll die trying.
I’m not sure what is worse? The sight of this emu meat or the smell that comes from big groups of these guys when they walk past? I mean, they all know you get a clean shirt only once a week, so you’d think they’d shower everyday to keep the shirt you have only smelling simply “bad” and not straight up foul.
I forced myself to fall asleep at about 630 p.m. last night. I woke up at 8 a.m. when that Charlie Brown’s teacher voice yelled over that intercom “line up for chow,” got the ladmo bag, gave it to Freddie, and went back to sleep. It’s such a crazy double-edged sword sleeping in here. Time obviously goes by much faster. But now I have dreams about anything other than this place, then wake up, and realize where I am again. I was dreaming about being in Iowa City, IA tailgating with a bunch of friends before a Hawkeyes game. I was eating one of those giant turkey legs and having a Blue Moon, when I was awakened by Rodney at about 130 p.m. He knew I was mad too.
“You were having a good dream huh?” he said. For someone I had only known for a little over a month, he knew me pretty well. But I guess when you spend hour after hour, day after day in a tiny cell talking to someone for weeks at a time, you will grow an inevitable friendship. Rodney was having a really bad day. This girl he was apparently kind of seeing is one of the major reasons he is in here. She wanted both a “bad guy” and a “good guy”; Rodney being the latter. And now, even after her “bad guy” punched her in the face, she wants him back, since she is either afraid or too stupid to tell the police that bad guy has been threatening her since Rodney became a victim of the U.S. Justice System.
Rodney’s case is so simple. The Confederate Arizona Justice System let the three guys who broke his jaw back in December of 2007 off with probation. Rodney was forced to defend himself when they attacked him again; plain and simple. Hell, if Rodney was “white” and shot at three attacking “niggers” to protect himself, he would now be considered a hero and not even sitting in here. But then again if he were “white,” those guys would have been sentenced to at least 10 years in prison for breaking his jaw last December.
The only thing keeping me alive right now is a chance to somehow help Rodney fight the Confederate Arizona government against these charges. Funny…in my whole situation, a white guy, who is on probation, assaulted me and extorted me for money and didn’t even get arrested. But here I sit. In Rodney’s situation, three “black” guys assault and seriously injure another “black” guy, but don’t get arrested until months later, never spend a day in jail, and get probation. Gotta love the United States. Too bad I likely won’t be around much longer to “enjoy” it further.
NOTE: A good friend of mine who I met in Maricopa County Jail, Luis Alberto Marquez, aka “The Rev,” was sentenced to 6 years in prison last week. With 416 days already served, and all the early kick-out rigamarole, he will serve about 3.7 years. Hang in there Rev. Your daughter is going to need you when you get out. And if I’m still alive, you’ll have a friend waiting for you too.