About Charles Edward Lincoln, III: For Family, Home, and Freedom (Make it Real)

I am writing this today from West Los Angeles, California, which has been, on and off, one of my primary homes since 1972. I went to High School in Hollywood in the early 70s. I dated and married a cute UCLA student in the 1980s when we lived on Bundy. I had a couple of legal jobs here in the 1980s/1990s, passed the California Bar in 1994, was disbarred in violation of due process of law in 2004. And two years ago I came back and realized that I really do like this State and City better than just about anyplace else in the U.S.

Yes, I am VERY proud to say that (1) cracking down on student VISAs as a means of fighting crime and terrorism, (2) any extension of the Patriot Act at all, and (3) “nixing renewable loan guarantees” are not part of my platform at all.

I am neither a “Democrat” or a “Republican” in the modern sense, but a Constitutional Democratic-Republican in the tradition of Patrick Henry, Thomas Jefferson, James Madison, and James Monroe. In invite you to browse this Blog and see what I have to say about my big issues which are (1) securing Social Security forever by applying Common Law and making Social Security Constitutional and Legal AND REAL for the first time in history, (2) abolishing all kinds of Government-Corporate mergers of functions and power sharing, especially ending Corporate Welfare, and Welfare of all kinds, for that matter, except for technology sharing (“teaching men to fish” and preserve the fishing grounds instead of handing them increasingly rotten fish to eat…), (3) restoring the supremacy of the people over the government, by allowing the people the right to enforce the Constitution AGAINST the government, utilizing all constitutional means of doing so, (4) decentralizing government and the economy by every means possible, (5) restoring the integrity of the dollar as a both a substantive and formal means of exchange—this change alone will eliminate so much of the corruption in government, (6) radically limiting the power of the President, (7) abolishing all forms of official and governmental immunities not directly provided by the Constitution, including both executive and judicial immunity, and all Congressional immunity relating to taxation and debt.


The most important thing anybody should ever need to know about me personally is that I dream the impossible dream and reach for unreachable stars, and sometimes I make these things happen. When I was 11 I decided I was bored in school and wanted to finish high school by the time I was 14, and I did. My grandparents felt I was too young to start college, so I waited until I was fifteen, and spent part of that “sabbatical” year with my grandfather between Anchorage and the North Shore of Alaska, an experience I’ll never forget. When I was in college, I decided I wanted to intensively study Anthropology, History, and Cultural Evolution, as well as Classics and Biology, and I ended up with a double major and a strong “minor”, and graduated at age 20 with enough credits in each subject to qualify for an M.A. if I had been in graduate school. Then I decided I wanted to go to Harvard for Graduate School and I went there with a National Science Foundation Graduate Fellowship (full tuition and fees plus a stipend). While in graduate school, I decided I wanted to rewrite the history of the most famous archaeological site in the Maya Lowlands of Yucatan, the site of Chichen Itza (the name means “the mouth of the well of magic life-water).

I was told unequivocally that NO “gringo” would never receive a permit from the Mexican National Institute of Anthropology and History to work at Chichen Itza again, and that no “gringo from Harvard” in particular would ever be allowed. The reasons were that Harvard was famous for having “looted” the Sacred Cenote (large karstic sinkhole) of all its treasures in the early 20th Century, and more recently from having run a catastrophic archaeological field school on the Island of Cozumel in the early 1970s.

Challenged by the assertion that it was impossible, I prepared and presented a proposal for detailed archaeological mapping followed by excavation of a small “study area” of Chichen Itza and at age 22 I received a permit from the Consejo Nacional (“National Counsel”) del Instituto Nacional de Antropologia e Historia, as well as a small grant from the National Geographic Society, to begin my project. I continued that project along with subsidiary explorations at other sites (most notably Izamal halfway between Mérida and Chichen and Xkichmook in the Puuc Hills to the Southwest. By the time I finished my Ph.D. in 1990, there were a dozen other “gringo” archaeological projects going on in Yucatan where there had been exactly one in 1980 (directed by my undergraduate Honors Thesis Advisor E. Wyllys Andrews V), and none at all in 1981-1984 when I was first starting my work at Chichen Itza.

In my doctoral dissertation, I took on several tasks: (1) revising the ceramic chronology of Yucatan and the correlation with written history (hieroglyphic and “ethnohistoric” reconstructions of the gap between Classic Hieroglyphic and Colonial Spanish History) , (2) revising the socio-cultural and political theories of how the Northern Lowland Maya governed themselves before the Conquest, and (3) comparing and correlating Maya, Aztec, and Indo-European Mythology, Political, and Religious Structures. I must have done OK, because my advisor Gordon Randolf Willey slated my Dissertation for Publication as Peabody Memoir 20—and Doris Zemurray Stone of New Orleans had granted us $25,000.00 to the Peabody Museum to Publish it, and here was one of my greatest failures in life: I never finished rewriting the thing to publish it. Gordon had wanted to publish it “as was” but I wouldn’t let him—and I totally should have. I learned in 2008 that he had been pricing out the costs of printing, getting competitive bids. But by that time it was all too late. What had intervened were the troubles in my life which ultimately made me who I am today and have led me to the place where I feel that all I can do is to stand forward and fight to the restoration of Constitutional Government and Freedom in the United States of America: and all that had to do with my experience with three American Institutions: (1) state-licensed marriage, (2) state-licensed law, (3) state-sponsored credit, mortgage, foreclosure, and eviction statutes.

My best friend is my now 19 1/4 year old son, Charles Edward Andrew Lincoln, IV, whom I love dearly and for whom I would give my life, and after that , my right hand man for the past five and a half years, with whom I fight constantly and with whom I am constantly at odds about everything. We took these pictures at LACMA around Thanksgiving year before last (November 2009). This year Charlie is a Sophomore in college now at St. John’s in Maryland…When I found myself updating this mini-bio in August 2010, we were all traveling and working together in Pasadena, California, at the Bissell House, a marvelous 19th century mansion converted to a Bed & Breakfast, just before Charlie starts his Freshman year at St. John’s College in Annapolis, and after two and a half years in which we have traveled together all over the United States, from Kennebunkport, Maine to Palm Beach, Florida, and out here to the West Coast now several times, with briefer excursions to Idaho and Montana, almost making a square.

Right after his 18th Birthday, Charlie took off for Annapolis and started college. Since then he’s been thrilling to the marvels of studying Ancient Greek, Geometry, and history. Growing up speaking Modern Greek as his second/ sometimes primary home language, Ancient Greek I think has been a shock to him, but a very pleasant shock along with Euclid, Herodotus, Thucydides, Plato, and so many others among the “Great Gone Greeks” (as my late Aunt Mildred used to say so cheerily about what one studied in college). St. John’s is almost alone now in preserving that great Mediaeval, Renaissance, Enlightenment and Nineteenth Century tradition of learning that used to be called the most basic elements of good education. I am unspeakably happy that Charlie has found that world and is thriving in it. One of my favorite places in the whole world is the Getty Villa in Malibu, and Charlie and I have spent many wonderful afternoons there.

Nearly 3/4 Relief shows Selene’s Bust Encircled as the Moon

Since November 2010, oddly enough, I’m still right back by UCLA in Westwood. This year, I’m getting ready for the Campaign, but I’ll probably go East to see Charlie before Christmas. Poor old Robert J. Ponte has for the past couple of years and still in trouble in Connecticut and for all the scraps I’ve had with him—they are petty and I intend to stand by him as well as I can. His worst crime is being a blowhard, and if that were a felony, well, every U.S. Senator and Representative and Governor and Lieutenant Governor would be behind bars (except for Ron Paul of Texas and Rand Paul of Kentucky), along with most recent presidents and vice-presidents and aspirants to those posts…

Today, and for much of the last fifteen years, my chief concern in life is that Judges, especially State Court Judges are not doing their job in America, but are transforming this country into a nightmare of bias and unfairness. Recently, I have realized that the common law of this country has become twisted beyond recognition with legislative sanction, especially in California and the Western States. I see the epidemic of foreclosure and eviction sweeping the United States, but California in particular, and I do not see how the Judges can tolerate it. Judges have a well-defined role in society: Judges are meant to moderate disputes and peacefully to resolve conflicts in ways that reaffirm the people’s faith in their neighbors and their government. A good judge is a good listener and a good talker, is attentive to individual details, and has no predetermined resolution for any case. An epidemic of judicially approved foreclosures and evictions which renders a significant proportion of the population homeless or transitory is inconceivable in a society in which Judges are attentive to the needs of the neighbors and their relatives’ kinfolk.

Only a real corruption of the judicial mission would permit judges to become arbiters of the destruction of the society over which they preside, yet Judges in America today are in fact a major causative factor in the obliteration of private property rights, guaranteed by the Fifth and Ninth Amendments, contractual rights and integrity, protected from Governmental Impairment by Article I, Section 9. But most shockingly, Judges all over America are presiding over the destruction or serious infringement of the rights to freedom of speech, expression of every kind, the right to petition for redress of grievances, and the right to peaceably assemble.

State Judges in State Family Courts, in every state, are likewise, engaged in (and they appear as a group to be systematically committed to) the systematic destruction of Families, and the transfer of parental power and responsibility for the education, raising, and welfare of children to the state.

In short, American Judges, especially the State Court Judges I have seen in action (mostly) in Texas, Florida, and California, appear to be committed to the destruction or abrogation of private property and the Family, on the one hand, and the consequent annihilation of each State, and of the Federal Democratic-Republican structure of the Government of the United States of America on the other.

So you see, my name is Charles Edward Lincoln, III. I am a native Texan, fifth generation of my family in Texas. Like so many American children I was the product of a dysfunctional family, raised and cared for largely by my maternal grandparents, Helen Eugenie and Alphonse Bernhard Meyer. My parents (Alice Eugenie and Charles Edward II) were both academics with Ph.D.s who had attended fine universities, where they had met. My mother’s family was richer and more urban, my father’s family poorer and more rural (and the two sides of the family never got along or spoke to each other very much, apparently…any my parents separated before I started First Grade and were divorced sometime thereafter).

Whether as a consequence, or by coincidence, I was born in April 1960 during Eisenhower’s last year as President in a little town in the piny woods of East Texas, where my father grew up a corn and cotton farmer during the dust bowl, and grew up to be a printer, a small-time publisher, and a professor at a small university.

I grew up from age 6 months in London, England, but attended elementary school in Highland Park, Dallas, Texas, and then went to High School in Los Angeles, California, followed by college at Tulane University in New Orleans and Graduate School in Cambridge, Massachusetts 02138.

I received my Juris Doctor (law degree) from the University of Chicago Law School in 1992 from the future Seventh Circuit Judge Diane Pamela Wood, under whom I had studied Antitrust, one of my favorite legal subjects. Before that I received a Ph.D. from Harvard in Anthropology (concentrating in Central American, Mexican, and Near Eastern Archaeology & History). In my doctoral dissertation “Ethnicity & Social Organization” I elaborated a natural law theory of social structure based on the work of Sir James G. Frazer and Georges Dumezil. Within this theory, the separation of powers of the U.S. Constitution evolved historically from a specifically Indo-European heritage of “natural law”—meaning perhaps inherent psychological tendencies combined with practical necessities.

Based on the comparative study of ancient civilizations and cultural evolution (comparing Mexican, Central America, Near Eastern, and Indo-European Civilizations), I believe that the United States Constitution can be seen as both the culmination of political evolution and the most perfect statement of practical ideology.

I have worked in the chambers of two Federal Judges, first as a judicial extern for the Honorable Stephen Reinhardt in Los Angeles (1988-1989) while I was still in Law School, and then for the Honorable Kenneth L. Ryskamp in Miami & West Palm Beach, Florida, 1991-1993. I have studied under half a dozen or so more present and (at the time of my studies) future judges (including Richard Posner, Diane Pamela Wood and Michael W. McConnell).

I have appeared as an attorney and litigant before at least 40 more judges I can recall since 1994. I have been well-received by some and sharply criticized by others, but until 2006 I had never spent a night in jail. At least some of the Judges of the Southern District of Texas, including Judge Lynn N. Hughes and Janis Graham Jack seem to believe they have the power to order people to appear for any reason or no reason at all, without procedural formalities nor jurisdiction of any kind.

And even in August, 2006, when I had my first run-in with a Southern District Judge (Lynn N. Hughes) he assured me that he had not accused me of any wrongdoing, that he just “wanted to talk to me.” And after holding me for a week in Florida, he did. So what is it about the Judges of the Southern District of Texas? Is there a local custom, practice, and policy in force in Houston that requires Judges to abuse their power by issuing illegal arrest warrants.

My life had, in 1997-2000, already taken a nose dive when the Judges of the Western District of Texas trumped up a ridiculously false indictment (“Felony conviction for one time misstatement of two digits of my social security number on an non-interest bearing checking account at Wells Fargo Bank in November 1996, for no apparent or even rationally articulable reason, which is nonetheless a felony without proof of criminal intent under 42 USC 408(a)(7)(B)”), and took away first my Western District Federal (Judges Sam Sparks and James R. Nowlin) and then my Texas state law license (by resignation in lieu of discipline for the Felony Indictment & Conviction-by-Plea).

But neither these judges nor Judge Walter S. Smith—of Branch Davidian/Mount Carmel/Waco April 1993 and aftermath infamy—ever locked me up or had me handcuffed, not even for a split second (I suppose they thought that ruining my life was enough). Judge Walter S. Smith in Waco did have the distinction of imposing a preposterous penalty on me which prevented me even from litigating pro se in Texas: namely a “sanction” of $150,000.00 which had to be paid prior to my ever filing another lawsuit in Texas.

Of these Judges, Sam Sparks made the really interesting comment about my work, saying that Atwater v. Lago Vista was the most frivolous civil rights suit he had ever seen that was not written by a pro se prisoner writing from prison (Sparks is known for his poetry). James R. Nowlin had merely instructed the U.S. Attorney and FBI to investigate me and “find a way to disbar” me so that I wouldn’t cause any more trouble (they obliged–but it was really hard work—to find a non-interest-bearing checking account at Wells Fargo Bank opened in November 1996 with a social security number mis-stated by two digits took a lot of work—especially since the remainder of the application was picture perfect and the bank itself had never noticed).

But in August 2006, in a case to which I was neither a party nor a witness (Jaikaran v. U.S. Bank, USDC Houston 06-1479) Judge Lynn N. Hughes of Houston first ordered me to appear as counsel for Jacques Jaikaran (I’m not kidding—and Jerry O’Neil said I should have accepted the order and agreed to appear), and then ordered my arrest so that we could have a conversation about securitized mortgage notes, agency, and other lending practices (and it was a fairly interesting conversation we had, in all fairness). Now, the interesting side of this story has been that, in the two years since I finally appeared before Judge Hughes in September of 2006 is that, while he confirmed that I had done nothing wrong, and he accused me neither of contempt of court nor any other offense, Judge Hughes has continued up until the present time (February-March 2008) to play games of cat and mouse with Jacques Jaikaran, and has kept Jaikaran incarcerated (held by the U.S. Marshals) for civil contempt—-for months (only “furloughing” him on February 20, 2008, to get a job and a psychiatric evaluation at his own cost, so long as he paid 50% of his salary into the registry of the court—NO I’m not making this up).

But then in September 2007, another Judge of the U.S. District Court for the Southern District of Texas, Janis Graham Jack, in essential sum and substance, orders me arrested for failure to appear in closed civil case over which she herself had already ruled that she had no subject matter jurisdiction whatsoever. Unlike Judge Hughes, Judge Jack ordered me arrested and issued a warrant (Judge Hughes had just signed a constitutionally unknown document, namely an “Order to Arrest”). Judge Jack’s warrant neither contained criminal charges nor was supported by an affidavit of any kind, and when she finally did “talk to me” in Court she made sure that I took the oath even before giving an informal statement (which she quoted in her final order) but she instructed her own Courtroom deputy Sondra Scotch and other court personnel NOT to take the oath—which specific instruction to her close associates I for my part found very telling.

But in order for Janis Graham Jack to get me back to Texas to that hearing in Corpus Christi—the U.S. Marshals held me for 54 days in Federal Custody—Consequentially, Judge Janis Graham Jack now has a very special place in my heart and life… the motto of the state of Virginia comes to mind as the only possible way of expressing that sentiment…. Sic Semper Tyrannis…. or as a noted Virginian once put it in slightly different words, “Resistance to Tyrants is Obedience to God”-Thomas Jefferson.

So yes, indeed, between December 9, 2007 and February 2, 2008, I was privileged to see the inside of seven prisons (from the comparatively happy position of an illegal arrestee, not even falsely charged with any genuine crime, nor correctly but sincerely charged with any fake crime. I knew my time in the custody of the Marshals was finite, no matter how long it seemed.

For the benefit of any who might doubt where we’re headed in this Country, I just want to share what I have learned: (1) we are no longer free in this Country; (2) the Federal Prisons are the template for a future well-ordered society based on Maoist Chinese principles upgraded to technological perfection; (3) the State and Private Prisons are the product of an earlier, technologically imperfected version or cruder adaptation of Mao’s cultural revolution; (4) there are few if any genuine “criminals” in prison (at least not in the Federal system)—in my 54 days behind bars, during which I met or had conversational contact probably with over 500 fellow-inmates, I met at most one or two people of whom I was even mildly apprehensive, never mind afraid—and I met no genuine criminals, no threats to society, no “bad guys” at all, and (5) the values that are taught in prison are entirely communistic “All Good Flows from the State to the People at the State’s sole, arbitrary and capricious whim” and “Private Property and Private Identity are Forbidden, now and forever.”

Los Angeles Metropolitan Detention Center (“LAMDC”) was my first and most “pleasant” stop in this journey, and this was good because I was held there for 31 days, December 9, 2007-January 10, 2008, my longest stay anywhere. The reason for the long delay was simple: the U.S. Marshals and the Judicial Prison and Alien Transportation Services (“JPATS”) were taking their holiday vacation, and prisoner transfers were not part of the Christmas or New Year’s schedule. Prisons are without doubt a major form of Governmental Welfare, in every way: especially with regard to the employment opportunities provided to otherwise unemployable, truly pathetic, old men (e.g. the JPATS) who delight in ridiculing and physically abusing prisoners. That prisoners don’t matter is the first lesson you learn in prison. Prisoners are the justification for the existence of prisons, and prisons are big business, but beyond that, prisoners are merely an unpleasant detail in the life of prison officials, who exist merely to collect their salaries on very cushy government jobs which require very little work—if any. The corollary to this first lesson is that “Prisoners’ rights” don’t really exist—they are a myth. There is no presumption of innocence. This was best illustrated at the two private prisons where I was housed (Geo Correctional Services Karnes County in Karnes City, Texas, and Louisiana Correctional Services’ Brooks County Detention Center in Falfurrias, Texas, inmates are referred to as “offenders” in all the prison-life and instructional handbooks). A couple of old U.S. Supreme Court cases used to say that a prisoner “does not check his rights at the jail-house door,” but that was in the 1960s or ‘70s and this is now.

Prisoners who have been in a long time are brainwashed into believing that the system is good for them. That was perhaps the saddest lesson, and one of the aspects of the experience which convinced me of the “real educational” purpose of incarceration. Prisoners come to believe that they were a threat to themselves and society (no matter how “innocent” the facts are in their cases) and that there is no such thing as “real” innocence in any event—they are all guilty of something, so they might as well be convicted and sentenced for things that they did as well as things that they didn’t, and they have all benefited from the prison experience. For my part, I reviewed over a hundred cases and found none that contained evidence of crimes that were anywhere as appalling as the conditions in jail.

At the “LAMDC”, I was very fortunate to be housed in Unit 7N, which was presided over by one long-term prisoner named Moshe Leichner (a native of Israel), who was the closest thing to a “Kindly Jewish Godfather” that anyone could imagine (especially in the grim confines of federal steel and cement). This kind, wonderful fellow worked as an MDC “orderly” (what’s called a “Trustee” in the Texas State System). He took a personal interest in every inmate in Unit 7N, and did everything he could to make everyone feel “at home”—since after a couple of years, prison IS home to many people, and most of the inmates in 7N, although housed in this “temporary holding” facility, had in fact been locked up for years—awaiting trial or appeal or to serve as witnesses for others.

Moshe (whose case was already on the last stages of post-appeal collateral attack) and his closest friend and associate Clarence (a black fellow from Belize, who was locked up waiting, waiting, waiting for trial) were together the most “senior” inmates and all I can say is that I would have been honored to have made their acquaintance anywhere in the world, outside jail, but I felt especially honored and privileged to make their acquaintance “inside.”

Moshe’s case, in particular, I studied with relish, because it concerned the field of securities fraud, in which I have quite a bit of background since law school, and I came to the conclusion that he was absolutely, positively innocent of any of the crimes charged, which was very sad because his 20 year sentence had been upheld and his initial collateral attack been denied by the judge who sentenced him, despite ample grounds for reversal. I have promised Moshe I will do everything in my power to procure his exoneration and release, no matter how long it takes.

From Los Angeles Metropolitan Detention Center, I was transferred by “Con Air” in chains to the Oklahoma City Transfer Center, where I spent a week. The “Con Air” guards, called “JPATS” (Judicial Prison & Alien Transfer Service Guards) are further conclusive evidence that the criminal justice system in the United States is all about “make work” and “work-fare/welfare” for some people, even a LOT of people. The JPATS guards just stand around and watched prisoners who are brutally chained and immobilized hand and foot in an extremely uncomfortable aircraft. They stand and glare and joke and eat take out lunches or dinners from Arby’s or Quiznos while the prisoners can’t eat anything, and can’t even go to the bathroom because that would be a breach of security. I’m still just 47 years old as I write this, so I’m probably too young, and even though I’m overweight, too slim and too fit to get a job with JPATs-it is truly a job for all utterly unemployable senior or near senior citizens who have no manners and no compassion for their fellow human beings.

The most memorable event from conair was one grotesquely fat walrus-mustachioed troglodyte screaming at a poor unfortunate fellow who wanted to go to the ConAir flight bathroom “You Ain’t Gonna Shit, you scumbag Shit, you Ain’t Gonna Shit.” Like Madame Defarge, I knitted his face and nametag into my memory and I hope that I will have the opportunity, someday, to deliver him and his kind to a Revolutionary Committee on Public Security….such as ran the French Revolution. Heads would role. Heads SHOULD role. Only the lowest form of dreg-like humanity want to be prison guards to begin with, and only those unqualified to become prison guards would ever become JPATs on ConAir Flights…

The OKC Transfer Center was the coldest, most plainly Maoist, and therefore most frightening place of all. Prisoners were “chained in” and “chained out” and so there was not even the possibility of a fragile community which existed at LAMDC. Los Angeles and Oklahoma City were not just architecturally cold and sterile, they were physically cold. I complained bitterly but it was explained to me several times (with a completely straight face) that it was necessary to make the jails extra cold to calm the hot blood and tempers of the inhabitants, and to make sure that they stayed under cover and slept especially at night and during the repetitive lockdowns and count, which in all Federal Detention Centers apparently happens 3-4 times daily.

The OKC Transfer Center was much harsher than the LAMDC, but it was also more crowded, and so after a couple of “Con Air” jets were grounded due to lack of maintenance (which delayed my departure back to Texas), I was transferred to a Federally Rented State Facility Called “Grady County Jail” in Oklahoma, which was like a bad movie in many ways: the prisoners all dressed in black and white zebra stripes, the guards illiterate, unable to count and constantly confused, and no one caring a hoot about anyone.

It was in Grady that I met one of the saddest cases—a Purple Heart Decorated Veteran of the Iraqi war who was arrested for owning a private firearm. He was a bona fide war hero (whatever you think of the war in Iraq, he was a man of obvious incredible bravery, perseverance, and fortitude, having been severely injured but continued in the line of duty…until his arrest). He was the fourth generation in his family in the U.S. armed forces, jailed because he kept his father’s and grandfather’s guns and hadn’t “registered” them properly—I wish I knew more “criminals” like him, we all do.

Another inmate whom I will never forget, and whose friendship I hope to maintain throughout my life, was named Vance and he was not only not a criminal, he was a crime-fighter, who was involved in the solution of several murders in Los Angeles. He and I were arrested on the same day and brought before the same Magistrate Judge on December 10. Like Moshe, he was a kind and generous person who did everything he could to make life in prison bearable for those less fortunate than him. He also had an incredible personality and sense of humor—and I think only the truly strongest of individuals can maintain a sense of humor in jail. I got to know Vance best in the Grady County Jail and our subsequent trip to Texas—but Vance was most notable to others by buying huge amounts of “commissary”—the overpriced luxuries which can be bought (although they must be rapidly consumed or they will be thrown away) to alleviate the evil dullness of incarcerated life. Grady County Jail was a comedy—if it weren’t so awful. There 24 men with a single toilet and shower between them at one point, but it never went lower than 16.

From Grady County we were “chained” by bus to Texas—first to a hell-hole called Montgomery County where I witnessed the first physical abuse by guards of inmates I had seen (it is apparently VERY common in Texas, although it was rumored in Grady County, Oklahoma). From Montgomery County we went to the Houston Detention Center and then to Karnes County and then finally to the Brooks County Detention Center, where I spent my last week before the 30 minute hearing which led to my release without fine or probation. Brooks County was an alien detention facility filled with the nicest, sweetest, gentlest people I met in my experience. They were all or almost all illegal aliens or “coyotes”.

I speak Spanish so I could get to know them, and I did, although there were 48 of us together in that room (6 toilets, all in full view of all 48 inmates or “offenders”). This was the final stop on my journey through “the Twilight Zone.” The Dementors are not merely the guards of Azkaban—they are the guards of every prison in the United States. I have spent the past 12 years, more-or-less continuously, fighting for civil rights in the United States.

It was after being released from Federal Custody on Groundhog Day in 2008 that my career in Texas really ended. In ANOTHER case wherein the Court had no jurisdiction, Simon v. Abbott, Judge Walter S. Smith in Waco finally took away my remaining rights in Texas. Judge James F. Clawson had banned me from litigating in Texas on Gregg Abbott’s/James Carlton Todd’s urging in January 1996, but I still had the right to litigate in Federal Court. I was neither a party to nor a witness in Simon v. Abbott but Judge Smith decided that he would close the Federal Courts to me. The evils which Judges can do… are quite interesting. But Judge Smith paid me a great compliment. He opined that I had spearheaded a movement to have the Texas Family Code declared unconstitutional, and that “crime” merited a fine of $150,000.00, which must be paid (I’m to this day not sure to whom or for what) prior to my filing any further Federal Lawsuits in Texas. It might be reversible on mandamus someday—I just don’t know. I was never served with the case or the order. So it’s just hard to say how far away is justice, and how hard a test the American constitutional system must suffer.

Those of us who thought, in the early 1970s, that contact with Communist China was more likely to infect our system than to correct the lifestyle of the imprisoned world were correct. Everything in prison is made in China, including the style and manner of oppression and “re-education.” Tierra Limpia foundation stands against all of that.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *