Professional Documents
Culture Documents
By
Alexander Otis Matthews
On August 27th, 2010, the author Alexander Otis Matthews was arrested
by the FBI and charged with wire fraud in connection to a luxury home project
that he had undertaken in an exclusive neighborhood of Fairfax, VA in the fall of
2007. Mr. Matthews was later convicted and sentenced to a term of 120 months
in federal prison.
In this memoir, he narrates for the reader the full story of his journey,
beginning with his personal and family history, through his academic and spiritual
undertakings, and the inner-workings of his federal investigation and prosecution.
He tells a story that reveals what few American citizens are aware of regarding
the inner workings of the U.S. federal legal system and how many of our most
basic assumptions about how our current system works are inaccurate.
A trained clinical therapist, husband, and father of five, the author
discusses his love for America and its people and for the system that so many of
its citizens have fought for and continue to fight and die for every day around the
world, yet most of those people unaware that many of the ideals they believe in
are willing to die for are not being extended to our own citizens. He doesnt find
the source of the problem in our laws, which he found to be spirited and awe-
inspiring in their wisdom, especially the U.S. Constitution, but rather finds the
problem in those tasked with applying the law to have grown corrupted over time
by their own unchallenged power.
The founders of the American Republic knew the dangers inherent in
unchecked power and designed a system of law to keep it in check which we have
slowly eroded in critical areas that are in desperate need of change and reform.
The author seeks to make public his very personal ordeal so that others will learn,
and to bring attention to the areas that need to be addressed. The author addresses
his subject with a relaxed writing style, candor, and detail that makes this book
entertaining and a must read for those interested in the inner workings of our
nations federal legal system.
To Kawthar,
My Life Itself
THIS IS A TRUE STORYONLY SOME OF THE
NAMES HAVE BEEN CHANGED FOR PRIVACY
REASONS.
www.my-america.org
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My America: A Memoir on Justice and Race in the U.S. Federal Legal System
pockets. One of the male FBI agents cautiously approached me, while
the other agents maintained their stance. He patted my pockets, leg,
shirt, and finally did a thorough pat down, including emptying my
pockets. One of the female agents entered my home to speak to my
wife, and was told that I would have to submit to a DNA test, to which
I replied that I would be happy to once we get to where I am being taken
to. The agent countered that it would have to be done now, on the spot,
whereupon she produced a DNA swab in my mouth. I calmly protested,
but was told this is new FBI policy, and the agent then stuck a DNA
swab in my mouth in a manner similar to how Saddam Husseins DNA
was initially taken after his arrest by US forces. My two stunned
neighbors watched all this happening, and suddenly my wife appeared
at the door, shaken, but still composed.
For some reason, I smiled at her, and gave her a knowing
wink, surprising both of us. She would vividly remember that smile
and wink in the days, weeks, months, and years to come. We would
need and draw upon such memories in the ordeal to come, which
was only the beginning.
Somehow, in the midst of all the cacophony of booms,
screams, and shouts, my two daughters had mercifully slept through
it all, providing my heart at least that solace. Nonetheless, my life
and my familys lives were about to be forever altered, for I was
under throes of being prosecuted by the United States Government.
As I was placed in an unmarked car, which drove off and made a U-
turn at the end of the cul de sac, I never bothered to look at my home
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I was born in the Columbia Hospital for Women in the
Georgetown area of Washington, DC. I am the product of my dad, a
southerner from Farmville, Virginia, and my mom, a native
Washingtonian. My mom is one of nine children born to Elton and
Beatrice Pinkney, my dad one of 9 children born to his parents Otis
Matthews and Cornelia Matthews. My dad was the first member of
his family to attend college, boldly leaving the family farm to attend
college at the University of Maryland, Eastern Shore. My mom
graduated from the District of Columbia Teachers College before
getting a masters degree from Georgetown University and a PH. D
from Ohio State University.
Both of my parents became teachers, and met while teaching
at Evans Jr. High School in rough neighborhood in Southeast
Washington DC. My dad is handsome, fair skinned black man with
grey eyes and fine features, always driving a pick-up truck of some
sorts, and not much into fashion or external extravagances. My mom
is a brown skinned woman with dark brown eyes, very pretty, and
always very stylish and fashionable as long as I can remember. My
parents were opposites in many ways, maybe due to their
backgrounds, but they fell deeply in love while teaching, married,
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and produced me, their only child. Their marriage would not last
long despite the strong love they shared, and they divorced while I
was still very young, jointly raising me in a very civil manner despite
their differences. Neither of them ever put me between their issues,
and I believe I ended up benefitting from growing up in two
households, essentially two different worlds. My mom would never
remarry, but my dad did twice, marrying his third wife, Peggy after
his second wife Alice succumbed to breast cancer. Though my dad
remained in the Washington DC Metro area after divorcing my
mom, he never had cut off ties to his family farm in Farmville
Virginia, and would return most weekends and all summer to
maintain the farm. How he was able to operate a farm all those years
while still maintaining a job and family in Washington is something
I never could fathom, but he did, and is a testament to his character
and drive. It was also a great benefit to me because he never failed
to take me along, wanting me to learn and experience the type of life
most Americans don't have an opportunity to in later generations. I
thus grew up very close to my dad, on a functioning farm, often just
he and I and our hunting dogs for long stretches as a time. His mom
still lived on the farm and his oldest sister, my Aunt Nellie, also lived
on the farm on a section she and her husband had purchased many
years ago, from her parents. My Aunt Nellie was the town head
nurse, and her husband Burnell owned and operated the local mom
and pop grocery store on main street. My father's other sister
Dorothy lived in "town" with her husband John Baker, one of the
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the early 20th century, Vernon John was not only fearless but highly
educated and vocal about the social inequality so fiendishly plaguing
the nation. He obtained a divinity degree and became an ordained
minister, but his sermons were not your typical ones aiming to
bemoan and commiserate white bigotry and hatred, designed to
sooth the black community's pain and suffering. With a booming
voice and a masterful vocabulary, reverend and violence, and its
failures to demand the equality that the Bible clearly told them was
all men's inheritance.
Johns instead also berated the black community for its
passivity and fear in the face of white terror. He didn't just blame
whites for their part in America's racial madness, he also berated
black men, as the putative protectors of their wives and children, for
their cowardice in the face such treatment by whites. He spoke
strongly to his own community for its failings in the calculus of
America's racial ills, and demanded blacks to overcome their
paralysis of fear and act to demand their lawful and God given rights,
and to stop blaming white America for all its problems.
He would often ask his audience how whites could claim
Jesus as their savior on Sundays, that Jesus who preached love and
tolerance for all men, after they had just lynched and terrorized black
people on Saturday night. His vocabulary and bearing was such that
many whites, while concerned by him at the time, couldn't quite
make sense of many of his sermons, and many whites and blacks
found him to be enigmatic. A man far, far ahead of his time, his
teachings and preaching would have a lasting effect on many people
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AIPAC. I hope and pray for its disappearance one day, but for now,
we as a nation who lived collectively under racial apartheid for 400
years cannot expect it to disappear from our individual and
collective subconscious that easily. We work against it, but lets give
each other some praise, an opportunity to make things improve, and
lets thank each other for what have done to improve it. White
America's consecutive election of President Obama is, for me, clear
evidence of the objective gains we have made in race relations, and
an action for which I have nothing but praise for white Americans,
they having put action to our nation's grandiose words about all men
being created equal, and in doing so altered the course of history.
***
***
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follow that formula, we must always be mindful that the world and
its citizens owe us nothing more than it owes the rest of humanity,
and that only we are responsible and liable for our failures.
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Drawing upon the strength of my childhood experiences and
the two solid and responsible parents I was blessed with having, I
became a confident and somewhat rebellious teenager. I eventually
graduated from a private Catholic school in northwest Washington
DC named Archbishop John Carroll, and eventually ended up with
a B.A. in psychology from N.C. State University and a Master's
degree in Clinical Psychology and Community Psychology from
The University of The District of Columbia. The loving support,
guidance, and education that my parents gave me, as well as the
power of their own example of hard work and sacrifice, is a debt to
them for which I will never be able to repay.
As I said earlier I benefitted from the experience of growing
up in two households, and while my dad's family provided the rural
values that were so invaluable in my life, my mother's family
provided the urban values and the great emphasis on education and
intellectual development. While I spent weekends, holidays, and
summers with my dad on the family farm, my school days were
spent with my mom and her family, most whom resided in various
parts of southeast Washington. My mom and I also resided in
southeast Washington, only moving to northeast Washington DC in
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instincts, and those instincts after college led me from an early career
as a clinical therapist at a Washington DC human services firm
known as the Progressive Life Center to starting my own real estate
investment company which purchased and resold distressed homes
in the Washington Metro Area. My parent's example provided the
initial encouragement for my real estate venture, both of them
having taken their excess capital to purchase single family home and
tracts of land for investments- From there I went on to become a
licensed real estate broker in Wash DC, Maryland, and Virginia, and
then to also become a licensed Class A builder in all three states as
well. Real estate became my passion, and I eventually left the
psychology arena for good. Over the next twenty years I would
eventually complete many projects ranging from simple rehabs to
the renovation and construction of multi-million dollar homes and
buildings, including condo-conversions and commercial
renovations and additions.
The business of real estate investing and construction is a
demanding and all-consuming endeavor. It all comes down to
matters of market cycles and timing, and there is not much room for
error. I was so passionate about my business that I spent far too much
time working on it, and didn't realize the time it was taking away
from my other responsibilities. Its the price many entrepreneurs
pay, for without a bi-weekly or monthly paycheck, I had no income
unless I was able to close one of my simultaneous deals that I had
pending. It is not easy, and it is not for the faint of heart, and those
people accustomed to the security of a paycheck will find it hard to
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can prove capable. I was solidly attached to my children, and did not
look forward to seeing them only on specified days, which society
somehow relegates. One of the other problems in a separation and
divorce is that while children are made much more resilient than we
imagine tend to look at their mindset during such a time based on
what we are feeling rather than what they are feeling. I am not
implying that divorce is not very difficult for all parties, especially
kids, but if both parents work together and remain civil and maintain
their commitments it makes it a lot easier, and is much less turbulent
for the kids. My biggest problem was in not wanting my kids to feel
that, because I was no longer around as before, such as waking them
in the morning and putting them to bed at night, that I had abandoned
them and didnt love them as before. There is no way to explain that
to a four-year-old or six-year-old who sees you as superman, but that
is not necessarily what they felt, its what my guilt and conscience
had me feeling. It was my issue, and seemed to bring sadness to each
and everyone one of my transactions with them. It was eating me up,
because I knew how much I did love them, and still wanted to be
there with them as before. Despite the problems my wife and I faced,
I had stayed committed to working through things, but my then wife
couldnt deal with the pressures and difficulties, and after a
particularly bad argument and several visits from the local police
department, I was one day ordered to leave at the behest of the court
via a protective order obtained by my wife who saw it as a way
surefire to way end the marriage since I had steadfastly refused to
leave. The kids didnt know this and may have never been told the
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true story, all that they knew was that I had left and in her anger my
ex-wife would unfortunately tell the kids that I had "left" them and
abandoned them, which is far from the truth.
I vigorously sought to preserve my family, and felt my ex-
wife was making a bid mistake to end our marriage with young kids
and all the blessings we had in the larger scheme of things. Years
later my ex would admit just that, but at the time the drama and
inertia pushed her anger and for us to separate, and I would move
into my coop in Rosslyn, Virginia. For me, being forced to leave my
family was like taking my very heart out of my chest and leaving it
on the kitchen table. To me a family is a priceless and delicate gift
and blessing, one that should always be kept together if possible. I
had tried all I could and had refused to leave my home, finally given
no legal option but to leave. Sometimes in life we give our very best
and all that we have, and its not enough. At such a time, we must
learn to submit to our fate in this regard, not necessarily submitting
to defeat, for there is always a new day, and a tomorrow. But the
family I would die to protect and keep was together no more, and I
had to deal with it.
The entire ordeal matured me and slowed me down. One of the
factors in our divorce was my constant working and activity, not stopping
enough and slowing down to make my wife feel loved and needed. My
business was unbelievably tough, and in my mind, I had worked so hard
for her, rather than in spite of her, but she didnt feel that way, and a
woman's feelings are usually her guide. As her husband, I had a duty to
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My America: A Memoir on Justice and Race in the U.S. Federal Legal System
understand that and to do more to assuage her feelings. Caught in the life
and death struggle of entrepreneurship, I had failed in that duty as a
husband. For whatever her reasons at that time, my ex-wife was not open
to further discussion or reasoning...she had her mind made up.
This entire ordeal was my first hard lesson on the utter
fragility of this life that we think, and sometimes pretend, is constant
.0ne day you can be a family unit in a nice home in suburbia, the
next day that family and its days together is just a memory floating
and echoing wistfully around in your mind. It seemed to me at that
point that all that I had worked so hard for, all my dreams and
sacrifices, were gone. And it seemed to me wicked that my kids
mental and emotional security, reinforced by our family unit and
home, would be taken from them by the separation, like a thief takes
things from a home in the middle of the night. And it seemed
perverse-that all the memories my ex-wife and I had, and our
promises to never part or abandon each other in this lifetime, now
seemed like cruel jokes and falsehoods, making me now feel silly,
when I had at the time meant each word. I learned that this life has
its own directions, and in many situations, we are powerless to
change the things that we seek most to change.
It found it odd that after I had experienced in almost 10 years
of marriage, I was now single again, and forced to re-adopt single
life. I had worked hard and been fortunate enough to realize the
satisfaction of a successful material life, and a full and active
personal regimen being a daily jogger and a vegetarian. I had many
accomplishments under my belt also, but what I did not have at that
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tight and revealing clothing , but Islam holds that intimate parts of a
person's body are private, and thats its demeaning to present such
an appearance publicly, and detrimental to a society's morals and
values. Islam teaches that God himself has covered up and hidden
that which is most valuable and precious, those things having to be
dug up or extracted to be obtained, such as oil, and precious stones
such as diamonds and gold. Likewise, for example, a woman's body
and sexual organs, considered precious and sacred in Islam, are not
be shared with the entire world, but only with herself, and her
husband. On the other hand, in America's not too far off past, the act
of sexual intercourse itself was often seen as shameful or somehow
impure, while in Islam sexual intercourse itself, between husband
and wife, is not in any way seen as shameful and in fact is highly
encouraged and promoted as one of mankind's natural most natural
and essential activities. I would have to learn to pray in Arabic, and
I would have to familiarize myself with various religious and
cultural practices in the Arabic and Muslim world, related to basic
greetings and social interactions. I would come to learn that contrary
to what most non-muslims understand and are taught, Muslims,
Christians and Jews all essentially share the same religious
patriarchs, prophets, and tenets, differing mostly on interpretations.
We all hold Adam, Noah, and Abraham as prophets, Islam deriving
from Abraham's sons Ishmael and Judaism deriving from Abraham's
son Isaac. We all share monotheism, and we all trace our religious
roots back to the same God, in fact in middle eastern countries
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whether Arab or not, are no different from people of any other faith,
they are human beings with the same faults, weaknesses, desires,
and problems as everyone else... Islam provides us a comprehensive
roadmap to navigate those issues that we share with everyone else,
and rules and limits to avoid mistakes and transgressions. Muslims
are comprised of non-practicing, the lackadaisical, moderate,
extreme, and ultra-extreme elements. Islam teaches respect for one's
self and family, and that a Muslim has an obligation to defend his
home, nation, and religion, just as I was always taught while
growing up by my family. Having had the opportunity to travel to
different parts of the Muslim world, and being married to an Arab
Muslim woman, I can report that Muslims are not the dull and angry
people the way TV and the Media sometimes portray them to be.
Muslims societies have their problems, but the people are generally
highly social, intriguing, intelligent, and gregarious. Their cuisine is
excellent and healthy, the women are beautiful and enjoy making
themselves beautiful just as American women do, and they have a
vibrant and close-knit family structure that we Americans could
learn a lot from. I hope for and desire greater genuine dialogue
between America and the Muslim world, for our mutual benefit, for
America has so much to gain by building stronger ties and
relationships with the 1.5 billion people of the Muslim faith on the
planet.
In my opinion, American involvement in Iraq and
Afghanistan has been disastrous for both sides. Our legacy of our
occupation in Iraq can be seen daily in the instability and void we
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invested into this conflict, and isn't there a more intelligent and
efficient way to defend ourselves against this threat? With all the
incredibly bright minds among us, why does it seem that often the
least informed and sagacious options are exercised in regards to
these matters, and that this realization often comes to us only after
insanely large amounts of money and unnecessary human lives are
wasted? Many of us fail to realize the true depth of America's
economy, wealth, and power, which remains unchallenged by any
other nation, and in light of that depth it seems to me that we owe to
ourselves and our kids a more efficient approach to our war against
radical Islam.
As a proud American who also happens to be both a black
man and a Muslim, and who is married to an Arab Muslim, I have
in some ways been granted a unique perspective on many issues
relating to the current dialogue on our nation's issues with radical
Islam, and Islam in general. I think it is unfortunate that the tenor of
our current political dialogue often gets reduced to such a shallow
perspective that if a person criticizes or challenges the actions taken
by our government, that person's patriotism stands to be questioned.
That current practice, far too common these days, to me is itself un-
American and an attempt to stifle the very transparency and freedom
of expression that we claim as our creed. It stifles the idea of
representative government and a political process powered by
vigorous differences of perspective and ideology. Part of loving
one's country, or any love relationship, is the need to have honest
criticism and an honest exchange of opinion when the need arises
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much more need of professional help for himself and to repair his
marriage than he needed to be mayor of Gotham.
If a man came into my home, or any man's home in America,
he would do so at his mortal peril. I would defend my wife and
children, and myself, with my life. No one would be allowed to take
away my most fundamental rights and self-respect.
But we Americans allow it to happen to Palestinians, and we
don't call it for what it is. Israelis know what genocide is and know
firsthand man's inhumanity towards his fellow man, so there is no
excuse for their allowing their government to practice upon
Palestinians the savagery that goes on daily. The world is not stupid,
Arabs are highly intelligent people...to argue the obvious for half a
decade at Oslo, and Camp David, and for the obvious to still be
obfuscated means that there is something far out of line. Its too
much senselessness with no result, and nothing takes fifty years to
talk through. Its a moral disgrace and outrage on the earth, what we
allow Israel to get away with against Palestinians. My sentiment is
not against the Jewish people, I count many of them among my best
friends and many of them speak out against and fight the injustice
carried out in their names.
The Jewish people, themselves subjected recently to evil
beyond description, cannot now be blind or passive to what is
occurring right in front of them to Palestinians. But to the extent that
America and Israel deny what is clear for all to see, Arabs and
Palestinian's hatred and resentment will only simmer and deepen.
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***
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don't need to live under the constant threat of attack in our homeland
and the accompanying hundreds of billions of dollars we pay as
increased security as a part of that threat.
For the actions that we must take against those radical
Islamists that have declared war against us, America has done much
better in using surgical strikes, raids, and drones than in the
conventional army missions since 9-11 that have costs us billions of
dollars. It seems that we should do more of the same, at less than
even a fraction of the costs of our army missions and that we must
begin engaging other local and regional players and allies in these
efforts and stop allowing them to sit on the bench, although the
current use of drones entails a basic violation of fundamental due
process which is in violation of our system's essential legal
guaranties. America should not have to do it all alone, and we are
providing a defense against those extremist forces which also plague
the surrounding regional players. But more importantly America
must come to realize that we cannot fight endless trillion dollar wars
against a ghost- like enemy who never seems to stop appearing
...world history has shown that, as first the British and then the
Russians had to learn in Afghanistan, Muslim's ideology will not
ever permit a foreign force to occupy and dominate their lands, just
as we Americans will never permit a foreign force to occupy and
dominate our land. Its basically that simple at its core, but
something that we need to find a diplomatic way to resolve to the
satisfaction of both sides, and the fact remains that a war can never
achieve a solution to the conflict at hand.
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The fact of the matter is that all these issues are not lost on
the Islamic world, and we Americans would ourselves take up arms
against many of the policies we enforce and support against the
people of these regions. It seems that with, our immense power and
resources there is a much more economical and judicious way for us
to use our power and influence, in a way that is less alienating to the
people themselves and the most radical elements among them who
use our policies to then justify their actions.
In the age of the internet, twitter, and Facebook , and the
accompanying global and instant nature of information and news,
our seeming and continuing belief that we can topple a leader of a
foreign and sovereign nation , and that the people of that sovereign
nation will all be waiting for us with roses in hand , is delusional. In
To Kill A Mockingbird , Harper Lee said that you can never really
understand a person until "you consider things from his point of
view... until you climb into his skin and walk around in it." As the
most powerful nation on earth, we must recognize change and the
need to adapt our policies to a changing world, and in our frequent
tendency towards bluster and saber- rattling must always be mindful
that discretion is the greater part of valor. Providing hundreds of
billions of dollars of aid to almost every nation on earth, and
maintaining conventional wars in two nations of the other side other
planet geographically, while we face municipal bankruptcies and a
collapsing road and bridge infrastructure, is not patriotic, but foolish
and suicidal. Caught up in our own hubris we are forgetting the
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basics when we act to subsidize the rest of the world and can't meet
our own financial obligations. The world has changed and we must
adapt to it. The main reason why the Republican Party has fared so
poorly of late lies in its refusal to adapt to reality and its
determination to maintain the privilege, wealth, and power of this
country all for itself and those who look like they do. It is unviable
and self- defeating, and to adapt to change does not mean you
abandon all your core principles, but if your core principles involve
excluding those who don't have your skin color than maybe you do
need to re-evaluate what you represent and are all about.
We need to take an honest look in the mirror and consider
that much of the resentment of the Islamic world has for us is the
result of our own misguided policies. We are often hated and
despised by the peoples of those regions, but we never ask ourselves
why the people feel that way. What is causing it? Are Muslim people
just full of hatred in general, and if so why haven't they also declared
war against China or India, or Sweden? We have pushed a mostly
impoverished group of men and women to do ungodly and often
ineffective acts of violence which usually result in suicide, reduced
to using their own bodies as a part of the act, which runs counter to
our most basic primal instinct as a species of self -preservation.
What would we do as Americans if India decided it didn't like our
current president and invaded us to topple him, against our obvious
wishes? What would Europe's reaction be? Wouldn't we declare war
on India with virtually any tool at our disposal, with the nations of
Europe standing firmly beside us against the outrage, with all of us
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***
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CHAPTER FOUR
After marrying my second wife and purchasing a home in
the Tysons Corner area of Northern Virginia in 2005, I set my real
estate brokerage up on the first floor of a prime office building on
Leesburg Pike, Tysons' major thoroughfare. Things were going very
well for my business and only looking to get better with more new
realtors signing up and more projects making themselves apparent.
The real estate market was incredible and there didn't seem to be an
end in sight to the market's exuberance.
One lovely morning in early fall, a friend of mine who was
also a real estate investor called me on my cell phone.
He told me to go and look at a 18,000-square foot luxury
home in Great Falls, Virginia, that had just been foreclosed on by
Aurora Loan Services. The home sat less than five minutes from
Tysons Corner Mall, and was being offered for 2.95 million dollars,
despite having a county tax value of more than 5 million dollars. It
sounded like a great deal by the numbers, although the 2.95-million-
dollar price tag was far more than I usually ventured near while
investing in real estate. A home of that value would carry a large
monthly payment, so if I took the deal on I would have to quickly
find a buyer or else face having my equity spread eaten up by the
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counted on. I have always been pretty level headed under pressure,
and I didn't panic...l stuck to my plan of action and kept aggressively
marketing and showing the property. Before I had realized it the six-
month initial term on the note had passed, and my friendly private
lender was calling me to see how I was coming along on the project,
which really meant how I was coming along with repaying his
money.
This time my friendly lender was not his normal friendly
self, and matter of factly informed me that he had given me my six-
month opportunity and was not at all interested in giving me the six-
month extension. He then explained that since I had been unable to
find a buyer he would now take over my project, and that he already
had a "friend" ready to buy the property from me, which somehow
all seemed very "convenient" to me. He said the friend would pay
me 50k-100k for my time, but that I would have to lose my 400k
down payment and equity as a part of the risk of doing business.
I told him that I very much took exception to his assumption
that I would be willing to just walk away from my money and profit,
and reminded him of the 6-month extension clause. He replied that
he was not honoring it, and that in fact he was proceeding to auction
the property soon. I crisply countered that he must be crazy if he
thought he could just auction my property, and refuse to honor the
plain language of our agreement.
At that stage in my life I still had a lot to learn about the
cutthroat nature of business, and frankly I am still learning about the
dangers of human intrigue and avarice, and its really a lifetime
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education. Most business deals start out well with the possibilities
being boundless, but somehow overtime usually tend to get
complicated. Sometimes it doesnt take long at all for things to take
a serious turn for the worse. I had much to learn, but I am generally
a quick study, and I have never been amenable to being taken
advantage of. In a portent of was to follow over the next eight years,
I decided to take on this lender. I called him back a few day later,
and I informed him that I would not abandon my project and money
under any circumstances, and that if necessary I could file
bankruptcy for the corporation I had the property under. He initially
by trying to convince me not to avoid what he called " the
inevitable", but then he suddenly flew into a rage and told me that I
didn't know who the f--- I was messing with and that he would bring
this fight to my door in a manner that I didnt yet understand.
That next week I was in a meeting when a friend called me
talking about an ad he had seen in a local newspaper advertising my
property for sale in an upcoming foreclosure sale occurring in the
next few days. I was dumbfounded, and thought that there was no
way what he was telling me be true. I located the publication he had
referred to, and sure enough what he told me was there before me in
black and white. I didnt know at the time that the Commonwealth
of Virginia offers lenders a "fast track" foreclosure option, and this
lender had clearly exercised that option and had my property ready
to go on the auction block. He had accelerated the note and deed of
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trust, and it didn't seem real. I hadn't even been served legal notice
of what was corning.
It may not have seemed real, but it very much was real, and
I needed to take quick action to take the wind out of the lender's
sails.
That Monday, I went to the U.S. Bankruptcy Courthouse for
my area, and read as about the process of filing a bankruptcy petition
for a corporation as I could find. After reading for a few hours, 1
began to fill the actual forms out that had to be filed, and though I
had never prepared such an application, I managed to complete the
essential documents and stood in the line so that it could be filed.
However, as I stood in line I felt some type of urge to go outside the
courthouse and to call the lender one last time just to feel that I had
made every effort to resolve this without having to take the step I
was standing in line for. I felt somewhat naive still allowing myself
to think I could avert all-out war with this lender, but I believe at
such moments we should step back from our emotion and passion
and always give diplomacy as much of an effort as we can. I left the
courthouse and sat in my car to make the call... he answered his cell
phone on the first ring as always, and to my surprise and relief we
were able work out a temporary deal that have me more time to sell
the property, an additional two months. I worked as hard as I could
those two months, but the market only became worse with further
predictions about the great slump approaching. In such a market
selling a house of the size and price of mine just made it more
difficult, such homes only appealing to the tastes of a small and
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select buyer pool. With the doom being forecasted, my homes size
and price became a liability. I was not successful in selling the home
within the two month period, and the lender me on the last day to
remind me that I couldn't file bankruptcy this time to stop the
auction. He had already cranked up the auction process under the
fast track option, and rebuffed my suggestion that we should re-
negotiate our agreement. He was adamant that we were on avoidable
collision course at this point, this time there was no small talk, and
he was all business. I had no choice but to file the initial petition for
bankruptcy I still possessed, so when I filed that bankruptcy petition
that I had almost previously, I called the lender to inform him of the
filing and to give him the case number so that his attorney could
verify it. All that I heard after relaying the filing information to him
was a volley of loud obscenities followed by a very even dial tone.
I had saved the property from auction for the time being. At
that point I didn't appreciate having an aggressive lawyer
representing me in such an encounter. I was caught off guard the
following day when one of the most reputable bankruptcy lawyers
in Virginia from one of the most prominent law firms called me to
say that he would be personally taking my deposition in regards to
the property and my loan with his client. I had to scramble to find a
bankruptcy lawyer able to go with me on such short notice, and I
had to rush through getting my new bankruptcy attorney up to speed
on all that had transpired. The following week my attorney and I
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walked into the office of attorney Brian Wolfson and sat down for
turned out to be an all-day grilling session.
Attorney Wolfson was very good at what he did, which was
forcefully interrogating his client's opponents in looking for a legal
victory concerning the matter being contested. After initially
softening me up with a few general questions, that shark of an
attorney bore down on me with a restrained ferocity in asking me all
manner of questions about my business and personal life. He was
unrelenting, mercifully only breaking once for lunch. I had to loosen
my tie and fasten my seat belt as I to answer as carefully as possible
while being as accurate as possible, because under such a deposition
I can be charged with perjury for not answering truthfully. You don't
realize how full a life youve lived until its all put on the table before
you, but I had to mask my astonishment because this was no friendly
stroll on memory lane the aptly named Wolfson wouldn't hesitate
to take my information and use it against me in any way possible to
assist his client. Finally, after eight hours of pain in which I managed
to avoid Wolfson's sleights of hand and other maneuvers, it was
over, and that night I not only slept early for a change, I slept
soundly. The deposition had drained me and had taxed my nerves,
but at least it was over.
Wolfson, however, was just warming up. Just when I thought
I had recovered from his grilling, I received notice that he had set an
emergency hearing at the by him asking the court to lift the
automatic stay preventing me from being sold at Wolfsons auction.
He was already asking the court to remove the property from
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know, but I will let you the reader draw your own conclusions from
the full context of this memoir.
I was left temporarily asking myself what in the heck I had
gotten myself into by purchasing this home. But I didn't need self-
doubt at this time, I needed a calm and deliberate resolve to get me
through this hearing with Wolfson successfully. What I really felt
like I needed was a stiff martini, I mean under the original contract
I had with the lender he was contractually bound to extend the loan
an additional sixteen months upon my request...the bottom line to all
this drama was that he was in effect abridging the loan period on his
own whim. His acceleration and enforcement action was violating
our contract, but all of that had somehow gotten lost in the madness.
How could he take such action against me when I was solidly within
rights contractually and legally?
The answer is that such disputes in business where one party
attempts to deprive the other's rights or take advantage of the other
are common, and thats why we have courts of law and equity. Also,
considering the complexity of our nation's state and federal laws,
notions of who is right and who is wrong also can be can be difficult
to ascertain and need some interpretation, and can be greatly
influenced by who you are in society, your prominence and wealth,
and who your attorney is. A litigants personal understanding of the
law as it applies to his or her case is also important. In today's world,
a person shouldn't be in fear or in awe of the courtroom, because for
better or worse it is the only arena where you are given an
opportunity to confront and influence some of the most important
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appear much less attractive in court, and due to the fact that I didn't
at the time have the liquid cash to pay my then wife half of the
estimated equity that I had in the homes. I followed my attorney's
advice, and that bankruptcy filing had ruined my then perfect credit
score, a casualty of one of life's unplanned for events.
A fellow real estate investor and friend happened to call me
during this period and spoke to me about a group of private equity
investors that he had assembled who were looking to offer credit
enhancement services. Credit enhancement typically involves
individuals lending their borrowing strength for a fee - things like
credit facilities, or assets such as cash, real estate, or even security
instruments. These are added to the balance sheet of another person
or entity to make that person or entity more creditworthy.
I told my friend that I was interested in talking with one of
his investors, and after speaking with several he arranged a meeting
between myself and the persons most interested in my project. The
investor and I met and got along well, and he turned out to be very
enthused about offering his services to me in exchange for a fee and
a partnership agreement between us. We were eventually able to
come to agreeable terms and a partnership agreement was prepared
which memorialized those terms. The investor's name was Tariq
Hamdi, and he was a Pakistani commercial pilot that flew for United
Airlines. Under our agreement, Tariq basically offered to lend me
his credit score only, with me being responsible for all other aspects
of the project such as the marketing and sale of the home, and of
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6.5 million by three different appraisers, his 2.5 million dollars first
trust loan was safe and that if need be he would always get his money
back to him if the home was sold. For me as well, despite the lender's
3.3-million-dollar payoff, I still had roughly 3.2 million dollars in
profit left, which was respectable, and thus had to appreciate that the
lender's loan had made my project possible and I couldnt be petty
or selfish and worry about what he stood to make off me. We both
stood to do well when the project sold.
I would need a loan of 4-5 million dollars to pay off the
existing debt, to create a reserve to make further improvements to
the property, and to receive a small portion of my equity in cash to
pay whatever other bills I could. Tariq and I began to look for local
mortgage brokers who could facilitate such a loan. Tariq clearly had
the credit and reserves to qualify for such a loan, but one issue that
arose was how he could justify or prove for qualifying purposes the
rental income that he received from his investment homes. To
qualify for a loan of 4.5 million dollars based on interest rates at the
time, Tariq would need to show roughly 40,000.00 dollars a month
in income. At that time in 2006 almost everyone in America was
obtaining what is known as "stated income" loans, whereby if you
had a high enough score and seasoned assets a bank would give you
a mortgage loan without you having to prove your income through
traditional means such as providing tax returns, W-2s, and paystubs.
A stated income loan would allow a borrower to "state" the
income that he or she made, and the bank would accept it without
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corporation, not Tariq. Hampton and his team would not let such a
hurdle derail their biggest loan of the year, and what they did was
find a way around the hurdle, a way which required Hampton and
his underwriter and quality control people to look the other way.
Hampton's solution, which was sent to Tariq and via his company
email, was for a deed to be prepared in advance of the loan closing,
a deed which conveyed title from my corporation to Tariq's personal
name. This deed would be prepared by the settlement company, and
it would be sent to Hampton's office for their prior approval. Then,
on the day of settlement, the deed would be signed and notarized
giving Tariq the ownership needed to obtain a refinance loan, since
the property would be in his name as required under the loan
guidelines.
There was nothing illegal about my company deeding into
Tariq s name via a quitclaim deed, it is done routinely in real estate
matters. What was illegal was what Hampton and his team did on
the loan application itself. Namely, Tariq was getting approved for
a refinance loan, but he wouldn't own the property until it was
deeded into his name right before settlement. However, because the
loan was being approved as a refinance, it had to be approved prior
to the settlement, and that approval would necessarily require the
home to be shown as a current asset of his, when in fact it was an
asset of my corporation. What Hampton and his team did was to
prepare the loan application to show Tariq owning the property
many months prior to the settlement, which was not only materially
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false but a clear fraud committed by the loan officer himself and his
back office, done willfully and driven by their willingness to bend
their own guidelines to obtain so large a loan commission. In their
investigation, the FBI team would overlook this obvious fraud
committed by Hampton and his team, and again would only
investigate and prosecute me in this matter, even though Tariq
applied and personally signed the loan papers at settlement.
Hampton in effect made the transaction appear if Tariq had owned
the property all along, and this cleared the way for the transaction to
be consummated.
Anyone in the loan industry, and certainly the FBI's white
collar mortgage fraud division, would have seen what occurred from
even a casual perusal of the loan documents, but in my case, they
either somehow missed the obvious or sought to downplay it
because they were only interested in prosecuting me alone and not
any of the other participants. Hampton was never investigated or
charged, and in fact was held by the government only to be a
potential witness against me if necessary. We now had Tariq,
Hampton and his company, and the settlement company all on the
same page and ready to close the refinance. Three separate and
independent real estate appraisal firms had all come back with
appraisal figures of at least 6.5 million dollars for the property,
which gave Hampton's company the comfort they needed that they
could always sell the home and recoup their loan if the loan was not
paid as called for under its terms.
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The loan documents were prepared and signed off on, and
Tariq was called to come to the settlement company's office and to
sign all documents as needed. The original first trust lender, when
sent word that I had successfully obtained the refinance loan to pay
him back, sent the settlement company a very padded and inflated
payoff after seeing all the money that was on the table. He wanted
to increase his stake, and thus had Wolfson prepare a bill for his
attorney's fees that was far outside of any reasonable figure for the
work that had actually been done. But Wolfson was an old pro at
this game, and he knew how and when to play it to maximize his
client's profits. Seeing what I stood to make, Wolfson went for the
kill as he is paid to do, and I really couldn't complain after it was all
said and done because my company had done well also and
accomplished its mission be keeping its main asset. It had not been
an easy battle, and this victory enabled me to again refocus my
efforts on marketing and selling the property. This time I had taken
some of the money made from the cash out refinance and I had
placed it aside to make the mortgage payments while waiting for a
buyer. After paying off the loans, paying Tariq his 100 000.00, and
escrowing a few hundred thousand dollars to make the monthly
payment of 21,000, my company had still had nearly 1 million
dollars left over to improve the property and to pursue other deals.
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CHAPTER FIVE
Not long after closing on the refinance done my Hampton on
1036 Leigh Mill Road, I hired Zak Breyer to sell the property,
thinking it prudent to hire and pay another well-known realtor who
dealt with prune and high end homes to handle the sale. Breyer was
an older gentleman with a very pleasant inner and engaging
personality, and he had tons of experience with moving high end
homes. I was eager to sell 1036 Leigh Mill Road, and very worried
about the prospects of it still failing to sell considering the difficulty
that I had just endured. I told myself to keep my focus and eyes on
my goal, and that I would somehow get through this to see the home
sell, make a nice profit, and to pay back the refinance loan and move
on. One afternoon, I received a mildly urgent call from Mr. Breyer,
saying that he wanted to meet with me as soon as possible. He said
he had some business to discuss with me, and suggested that I meet
him at 1036 Leigh Mill Road.
The business that he had so insistently pulled me from my
midday meeting for involved me buying another project like 1036
Leigh Mill Road, except this project was larger and even more
expensive. A very wealthy client of Mr. Breyer's had been violently
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robbed in his home more than a decade ago. This wealthy client had
opened the door to his home to a group of young men purporting to
be salesman. Once the young men were inside his home the
gentleman became alarmed by their movements and comments and
realized that they were not who said they were. Realizing he was in
danger, the man went for the pistol he had, but one of the young men
wrestled the gun from him and in the struggle the man ended up
being shot point blank in the head with his om pistol. The wealthy
client, whose name is John Crowe, was shot directly in the part of
the brain that controls speech and motor skills. His assailants didn't
get much cash, and left Crowe for dead. Miraculously, Mr. Crowe
managed not once, but twice, to call 911, the operator initially taking
his garbled voice for a prank. An ambulance was dispatched, and
despite literally having half of his head blown off Mr. Crowe would
valiantly fight to recover his ability to speak and to walk, though in
an impaired manner. Mr. Crowe's recovery over many years and the
outlook with he carries his impairments is a testament to his
willpower and faith, and he has returned to being a motivational
business speaker around the world.
Years after his recovery, Mr. Crowe decided to build a
special home wherein he and his family would never again be faced
with such a mortal threat in their home. He began research of what
he envisioned, and in the end his plans called for a 25,000-square
foot state of the art home, built with all steel and concrete, on five
private acres in a gated cul-de-sac community in Clifton, Virginia.
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the other hand, two hands are better than one, and this new 12995
Wyckland project had an appraisal with a completed value of over
ten million dollars, the appraisal having been done for Mr. Crowe
by the conservative insurance company which insured the project. If
I could get 12995 Wyckland built and sold I could take that profit
and make a full or partial payoff on the 1036 High Mill Road project.
It was a confusing predicament for me, but this dilemma offered me
another means of substantive income in a slowing market and a way
to relieve my 1036 Leigh Mill Road problem. Having two such
projects for sale also doubled my chance of getting a sale for either
of them, and the profit made on either sale would be enough to pay
all my outstanding bills and debts and to shore me up enough to
survive the market slump. Of course, having two such properties
also doubled my chances of further financial turmoil if both projects
failed to move.
I brought in some of my most competent builder friends to
look at 12995 Wyckland, and to a man they all told me that it was
unlike anything they had ever seen, and that it would be a sure sell
if I could build it, which wasn't going to be easy. It called for the
largest concrete pour of any home in the history of Fairfax County.
Of course, realtor Zak Breyer did his job well and pumped my brain
and ego full of visions of grandeur and success at the prospect of
building and selling such a project.
My best friend at the time had worked for the United States
in various positions, and had personal connections to people of
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CHAPTER SIX
Over the past 6-month period during that time, I had been on
the receiving end of a rather unusual amount of phone calls from
Tariq Hamdi. After completing the 1036 Leigh Mill Road refinance
deal, Tariq and I had become casual friends.
He had been over to my home and met my family, and as
fellow Muslims we exchanged holiday and cultural pleasantries. He
had a very pleasant and level headed manner, as one would expect
of a commercial pilot. Yet, lately his calls had been sounding
anxious, and he had been seeking my reassurances that 1036 Leigh
Mill Rd would sell and wouldn't take us to the proverbial poor house.
I would reliably and professionally answer each of his calls, no
matter what I happened to be doing. I was obligated to the man
had trusted me enough to back me on a 4.5-million-dollar loan.
His calls had begun to sound tense and measured, yet there
was no adversarial tone, it just seemed that he was driven regularly
to call me and invite me to meet him at Starbucks for coffee, our
preferred meeting place. One Friday in particular we had an
agreement to meet, and as is my habit, I was running late from
another appointment after having to fight my way through Tyson
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CHAPTER SEVEN
The following week my regular real estate settlement agent,
John Nguyen, called me to tell me that a few of my smaller deals
were ready to close. I really liked John, who was a savvy Vietnamese
man with sharp business mind and a lot of personal style in clothing
and cars. He and I had occasionally enjoyed social time also, eating
out at nice restaurants while going over our pending business
matters. He had been the settlement agent for both 1036 Leigh Mill
Road and 12995 Wyckland Drive, and those closings had been the
largest residential settlements in his firm's career. Title companies
make money not on the $300 settlement fee they charge, but rather
on the interest earned on the "float" of the money held in their
escrow accounts, and on the hefty commissions they earn on the title
insurance policies which are pretty much guaranteed on each
transaction. John had earned almost 100k on from my business just
on those two deals, not counting my other smaller projects, so he
treated me as a valuable client.
Today, halfway through our conversation, he asked me about
Tariq. "How well do you know this guy?, he asked. I basically trust
him, I mean he hasn't given me a reason not to". Are you sure
Alex? What do u mean? Is there something I need to be aware of?
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''I don't know Tariq, I'm just asking, a friend of ours thought
he saw you there. "
Who, Alex, I have no business with the FBI, and I 'm a little
surprised you would ask me something like that.
I don't mean any harm Tariq, it's probably just a mix up,
forget about it man. Hey, what time does your flight arrive in Dulles
tonight man?
I should get in around 8:45 pm, if we don't have taken off
or weather delays.
Well Tariq, drive that plane safely, and Ill catch up with
you over the weekend.
Ok Alex, have a good evening.
Ok Tariq, you too, catch you later.
At 8:30 pm I was already inside the terminal, just in case his
plane happened to arrive early. Very calmly, I waited in the section
of the airport where the pilots come through with their rolling
suitcases. By education and training I am a social scientist, trained
at the basic human art of listening, observing, and communicating. I
had no idea what to expect when Tariq and I came face to face, but
I knew him to be a man of refinement, which I also have always
sought to be, so I didn't think this matter would descend into some
type of physical altercation. I just wanted to know the truth, I wanted
to know if the Feds had their sights on me through him, and if so
what was it all about. Unexpectedly, my task took no effort. Tariq's
body language as our eyes met told me all that I needed.
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writing which says you will also keep the U.S. Attorney out of this
matter, and make sure you sign it, and that will give the assurance
that this matter will only be between the two of us.
Agent Hinton didn't like that comment at all.
Mr. Matthews, we need to get together, get back to me once
you have secured a time to bring your attorney, and make sure it's in
the next few days.
''Ok Agent Henton, give me your number and I'll call you to
make the appointment.
A week later my attorney Steven Lisi and I were at the
Tysons FBI Field Office in the lobby, waiting to be escorted upstairs.
This had the potential to be quite a meeting.
After waiting in a mini-lobby for 20 minutes, a secretary
came to retrieve us, and used her electronic card to lead us through
several sets of secured doors leading to Agent Henton' s office.
Agent Henton was sitting at his desk waiting for us,
accompanied by a short, heavy set young man he appeared to be
mentoring.
Agent Henton was an older white male, sixty-ish, with a cleft
upper lip. His face seemed to be one large scowl without any trace
of pleasantness. He didn't stand or extend his hand to Lisi or myself,
and he started right in without any preface.
So, Matthews and Mr. Lisi, I have a series of questions I
want to ask Mr. Matthews in relation to 1036 Leigh Mill Road.
Neither Lisi nor I responded, and the rom grew palpably
tense. I sat calmly facing agent Henton, close enough to Lisi he
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could kick me with his foot without it being obvious should I began
to say anything to my disadvantage.
Matthews, where were you born", said Agent Henton.
Washington DC", I replied.
What high school and college did you attend?"
Archbishop John Carroll High School, undergrad at N.C.
State University, and grad school at the University of the District of
Columbia.
Mr. Matthews, what... began Hinton before Lisa erupted
without warning.
What in the fuck is happening here, Lisi demanded.
Excuse me, replied Hinton.
"You dragged my client and I here to ask a bunch of
questions that you already how the answer to? What is this, a joke?",
Lisi replied.
Mr. Matthews I hear you are attempting to lease 1036 Leigh
Mill Road to an offshoot of the Catholic Church. Gearing up to
defraud the church now, are you, Agent Henton snarled.
Confused by what Agent Henton had said, and rather
insulted, I was just about to answer the provocation when Lisi kicked
me gently, saving me from helping Henton to provoke and agitate
me into saying something both unnecessary and irrelevant to my
cause.
Lets go Alex, we didn't come here to play games, said
Lisa, and we stood up together as if on cue.
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In this arena, the one who ends up talking the most is the one
who normally ends up losing. Henton was skillfully playing his
game, trying to get under my skin and simply to shake me up so that
I started to open up. I had insisted on bringing my attorney with me
to meet him, which had greatly increased my chances of not getting
tricked into giving up unneeded information which Hinton was in
search of. Most defendants are simply ignorant of this dynamic, and
law enforcement uses it to play defendants like a tune and take
advantage of them through needless talking all the time. Henton had
dreamed I would have naively accepted his initial entreaty to have a
little private talk with him, under which I would have probably
solidly sold myself down the river without even knowing it.
Continuing with his ploy, Henton added, Mr. Matthews, is
Will Kaufman still doing your bogus appraisals? "
I had never before been face to face with someone that
showed me such clear hostility and antagonism. Henton was a
festering pustule of animus towards me. FBI agents are trained to be
and usually are very professional in bearing, and are usually well
dressed and spoken. Agent Henton seemed a miserable and rabid
man who obviously had a very large weed up his rear for me, as Lisi
later commented.
Just as Lisi and I were walking through the door without
having made any comment, Hinton stood up and tried to soften his
demeanor. He requested that we sit down and try this again for a
second time. Less than a minute after we reluctantly sat back down,
Henton flared up again snarling about some matter , and Lisi this
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time said enough is enough. We walked out, and I never saw Henton
again.
Before we walked for the second time, Lisi decided to get
one dig of his in. The U.S. Supreme Court has ruled that it is
perfectly okay for the FBI, or any police, to lie to a criminal
defendant during the course of an investigation. In fact, lies, false
threats, and deceit are the stock in trade of law enforcement, tools
that lubricate the engine which propels ignorant criminal defendants
into waiting traps. On the other hand, attorneys are held to be agents
of the court, and as an agent of the court an FBI agent or police is
not allowed to lie to a defendant's attorney. So then Lisi inquired as
to whether or not I was a target of this investigation, Henton had to
answer truthfully that I was. Then Lisi asked Henson if Tariq had
been wired for sound during several of my seemingly innocuous
Starbucks meetings, Henton smiled very stiffly, refusing to answer
in the negative knowing that he was not permitted to do so. Lisi had
obtained the information we needed , which translated that Henton
was going very hard in this investigation with me as one of the
targets, and that Tariq had already folded like a lawn chair and was
singing operatically to save himself.
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Back on the 12995 Wyck1and Drive front, that project was
coming along well and was on time with its construction draw
schedule. Lisa had brought in a fellow Italian as a builder he said
would work as my subcontractor, since the bank's rules prohibited
me as an owner from being the builder of record. The Italian builder
and I worked as a team, but the complexity of the building plans and
the materials chosen still made for a very difficult task. Together,
we made it through the worse challenges, and ended up as friends in
the process.
During the three-month period prior to closing on 12995
Wyckland Drive, Zak Breyer began informing me that Bob Brown,
Mr. Crowe's attorney, was expressing vehement opposition to Mr.
Crowe about him going through on completing the sale to me. I
didn't know Bob Brown, and he didn't know me, and we had never
even met. At first I didn't give it much attention or thought, which
turned out to be a major error, as in this life we live sometimes you
must nip certain matters in the bud before it blossoms and grows.
The comments and sentiments from Mr. Brown only became more
vehement and hateful, and Mr. Crowe began calling me to express
concern and to distance himself from Mr. Brown 's actions. Mr.
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While I was building 12995 Wyckland Drive and my search
continued for a buyer for 1036 Leigh Mill, I also looked for other
avenues to make money. The market had cooled so much that I
began to look for an avenue to simply pay both homes off outright
to rid myself of the pressure to sell . I was paying large amounts of
money monthly on the mortgages of 1036 Leigh Mill and 12995
WyckLand, and it was really taxing my resources. The 1036 Leigh
Mill mortgage was $21,700.00 monthly and the 12995 Wyckland
mortgage was $17,000.00 monthly. I had recently purchased a pool
of one hundred and ten foreclosed homes in Detroit, hoping to resell
than, but as with the two large homes the market had not yet
responded favorably to my product and I had gotten stuck sitting on
the entire pool of foreclosed homes as well. Things were getting
really tight.
A close Jewish friend of mine, Jeff Zuckerberg, had been
talking to me about going into the business of brokering the same of
what are known as medium term notes in the financial world. The
term notes are bonds, and are debt instruments issued by banks for a
fixed payment in the form of a coupon. Medium Term notes are
issued in various world currencies, primarily the U.S. dollar and the
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***
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message sent from the Brazilian bank, and which was indisputably
confirmed by SWIFT's emailed code which had sent to us our
Brazilian bank very confidentially and only for confirming the
transaction had been completed. Due to the role SWIFT plays for
banks and financial entities worldwide, its system is one of the most
secure in the world, meaning that a person cannot sit down and make
up a fraudulent SWIFT message confirmation, it is not that simple,
and a fraudulent message can be easily revealed by a by that bank
calling SWIFT to confirm the message. And only banks can be
members of SWIFT, so private citizens have no means of even being
a member of SWIFT to get messages sent, only banks can.
We didn't know at the time that Centrum bank had
inexplicably held the
SWIFT message instead of forwarding it, we had been told
by the Los Angeles law firm that the transaction was successful and
we assumed it was. Only days later when
Mr. Sackey began emailing us that Volksbank in Hungary
hadn't received notice of the message hitting their account did we
start to feel uneasy. When the Swiss securities house that had the
Volksbank account where the SWIFT was supposed to end up at also
started making unpleasant threats, we knew there was a serious
problem somewhere in the transaction. We asked the Brazilian bank
to ask SWIFT to conduct an immediate inquiry into the whereabouts
of our SWIFT guarantee, they assured us over and over that it wasn't
necessary, that it would surely show up in the account at Volksbank
very shortly. Only after Buck and I had to raise our voices one day
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did the SWIFT inquiry get ordered, and by the time SWIFT
concluded its inquiry and told us Centrum hadn't forwarded the
message almost 35 days had passed since we had initially been told
the transaction was successful. Centrum immediately forwarded the
message after SWIFT identified their delay, but they had sat on our
wire for almost 5 weeks, and they had totally failed in their duty and
had ruined our transaction because by then the Swiss securities
house' confidence in Buck and I and the transaction had been eroded.
Any little flaw in these deals is cause for worry or to suspect
something unsavory is afoot.
A five-week delay had caused the deal to look suspicious to
our seller, and they refused at that point to talk about still delivering
the security to our account despite our very strenuous efforts to
repair the damage done. When they refused to reconsider the deal,
both sides of the transaction began posturing, our side not wanting
to believe that we had put all of that hard work together only to not
get paid in the end. Lawyers were engaged and a complex set of
allegations were made by both sides of bad faith and breach of
contract. Buck and I also looked for an international lawyer could
file suit on our behalf against Centrum for causing this disaster by
its failure to forward the message for reasons still unknown.
Technically, the SWIFT guarantee sent the Brazilian bank
on behalf of Buck and I was a "live" instrument, which means that a
bank guarantee can be leveraged or hypothecated in any number of
ways. In fact, even without than having the SWIFT hit their account
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at Volksbank, the seller could take the SIIFT conformation itself and
use it to obtain a line of credit against it or use it as average to do
other transactions. It could be that Buck and I were taken for a ride
the seller who simply used our bank guarantee for their own
purposes which had nothing to do with our transaction. Buck and I
at the time were uncertain as to what had happened that caused our
transaction to fail, and it was a very difficult matter to try and sort
out with the participants located all over Europe, America, India,
and Asia.
To add to difficulties, I was indicted shortly thereafter, which
meant that I was considered a flat tire in the universe, and I had to
withdraw in any personal capacity from the deal or face having even
more issues and concerns arise. After my indictment, another
possible explanation for my deal 's failure came into focus. I been
working on this MTN project from the end of 2008 until almost the
end of 2010, but after my indictment I found out that I had been
under investigation by the Feds since the end of 2006. After my
arrest, and long before my actual indictment, Assistant United States
Attorney (AUSA) Walter Pince had called my attorney at the time
Bill O'Reilly and made a very odd series of statements with him
referencing what he had called a "fraudulent SWIFT wire that I had
tried to pass off someone. At the time AUSA Pince had managed
to use false allegations he coerced Sharbanoo into making against
me as a basis for his motioning the trial court to revoke my
conditions of pretrial release. After successfully revoking my
pretrial release or bail conditions, AUSA Pince seemed to deliver
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the coup de grace and called attorney Reilly to ask if I was ready to
plead guilty so that I could spare myself and U.S. Government the
expense and burden of a trial.
Sometime during that conversation AUSA Pince had out of
the blue made reference to a "fraudulent" SWIFT wire that he told
attorney O'Reilly I had tried to negotiate unsuccessfully. The first
thought of mine was taking exception to his having called my very
real and legitimate SWIFT wire fraudulent, but my mind quickly
realized that he had just revealed the fact that he and his team had in
fact known of and been closely monitoring my project. Did AUSA
Pince use his considerable power to sabotage my project by a having
Centrum somehow agree to hold my SWIFT until they killed my
deal very subtly? Later AUSA Pince would prove to seemingly
harbor a considerable amount of hostility for me and my business.
In fact, he would later charge me with having falsely schemed to
defraud my investors of the funds they invested with me which I
used partially to fund my project costs and expenses. In a painful
and perverse turn of events for my efforts to finance my sincere
MTN project, that project ultimately was unsuccessful largely
because of my indictment. Essentially, I couldn't pay my investors
back because the timing of my indictment foreclosed me from
returning to that project in any meaningful way.
The government made it appear as I if had schemed against
my investors and never had any intention of paying them back the
money we had agreed to, but that is not only true, it's the very
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CHAPTER TEN
Going back to the day of my arrest on August 27th, 2010, the
ride to the United States Courthouse on Route 495 was delayed by
the congestion caused by early morning suburban commuters trying
to make it on time to their Washington DC offices.
The two FBI agents who were transporting briefly to engage
me in small talk, which was their way of trying to relax and disarm
me so that I would get comfortable enough to say something that
could possibly be used against me, but my one word replies quickly
let than know that nothing was coming their way, and the talk died
for good until we reached the US Courthouse.
I am not a small man and the combination of the tight
handcuffs with my arms behind my back and the unmarked economy
car's dimensions was giving my arms painful cramps, my blood
circulation being restricted. After I had twice requested my
handcuffs to be properly cuffed so that my circulation wasn't
restricted and that they be cuffed with my arms in front of me
because the backseat was so small, the male FBI agent mercifully
agreed to loosen the cuffs and placed my arms in front of me rather
than behind my back.
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completely away from their life and family without being able to get
any of his or her affairs in order, or to say goodbye to their loved
ones.
Being removed like that from your life and family is for me
only explained adequately using the analogy of being kidnapped by
an alien race of beings and delivered to an entirely new and strange
foreign planet. That foreign planet is called prison.
Being a businessman and accused of a white-collar offense,
the Magistrate granted me bail, although he made me put the home
I lived in up as collateral, and since he knew I was a real estate
professional he required me to go the county court where I lived and
record his lien against my home myself. He added that he trusted me
to do as he had instructed, and that he required me to bring the
receipt from the county court back to him within 3 days.
I was charged with wire fraud, which basically means I was
accused of using a false artifice to obtain money or credit over some
type of wire, the term wire being used to imply use by phone, bank
wire, or even the US Postal Service. It's a catch all phrase that the
government prosecutes many white-collar defendants under.
The US Magistrate seemed a firm yet reasonable man, and
he slowly read me the terms of the bail package he was releasing me
under. The US Probation Office had called my wife and instructed
her to come and retrieve me from the court and take me back home,
and midway through the hearing I looked back and was pleasantly
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all the documents without asking any questions, and that I was a
flight risk because I owned 18 homes in 18 different nations around
the world, which while flattering was something not even something
achieved by many of the worlds wealthiest men, much less me.
With Sharbanoos false allegations AUSA Pince had what he
needed to make his case against me. She either forgot or feigned to
forget her private email to me just a few months prior where she says
in plain English that neither she nor I had any knowledge of the false
documents inserted into the package, but under the direction of
AUSA Pince and FBI agents Bonds and Rozette she now says that
she believes that I am in fact the person who created the false
documents. For dramatic effect, she also now claims to have been in
fear of me, and that she was a victim of the force of envy personality
and my powers of persuasion. It all sounded great, and AUSA Pince
doubled down on his case against me with such statements made by
his chief witness. AUSA Pinee was so happy about Sharbanoos
story that he also offered her services to AUSA Sam Kiplinger over
in Virginia, who along with FBI agent Dirk Henton had been trying
to build a case against me on the 1036 Leigh Mill Road project. The
two investigations became one and were both consolidated in
Eastern District of Virginia with Sharbanoo as the star witness in
both cases.
I am not a snoop nor do I advocate electronic snooping but I
do retain and organize many of my important emails and other
messages for many reasons, mostly to help my memory which
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had nonetheless signed so that settlement would not be held up. Her
comments in that email contradicted her story to the FBI that she had
never seen the false income documents used in the loan, because
based on her words in the email she had in fact noticed those false
documents and had signed them in the midst of the Wyckland
closing itself. This email by her was consistent with her previous
email to me that I had no knowledge of the false documents being
placed in the package, but it did prove that she had in fact seen the
documents. Sharbanoo and I would come face to face with these
false documents later when attorney Lisi would show a copy of some
of them to us after his first meeting with the investigators about the
case. Loan officer Femi Achebe had created and inserted those false
documents after selling the loan to Sharbanoo and I as a stated
income deal and then apparently not getting approved, thus he went
back and made it a full income verification loan without disclosing
the change to us. At a later date, I was able to get another client of
Mr. Achebe to explore his electronic history with Mr. Achebe and
to send me the name, address, and phone number the accounting firm
Mr. Achebe used to manufacture and professionally create the false
documents used to get his loans approved.
Further relying on electronic communications I also
retrieved a series of emails sent to me over a three-year period which
documented attorney Bob Browns obsession and racist animus
towards me for my having purchased 12995 Wyckland
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CHAPTER ELEVEN
The situation quickly became interesting at that pretrial
hearing. Lisi was waiting for me outside the courtroom and as usual
scolded me for not showing up at the time we had agreed to.
As we walked in to take our seats, Lisi informed me that he
was withdrawing from the case as my lawyer.
The and weight of Lisi announcing his withdrawal to me as
we walked into to take our seats for a hearing where I faced being
imprisoned is hard to put into words, and my brain had a hard time
registering what he had said. He had failed to give me notice of his
withdrawal as required under local law,
Maryland District Court Rule 101.2, and he knew very well
how critical this hearing was to me and to my overall ability to
successfully defend myself in this case. I momentarily flushed with
anger after the initial shock wore off, but I quickly recomposed
myself because that anger would serve no purpose in the
predicament I was facing. If Lisi didn't want to represent me I
certainly didnt want to force him to, and furthermore I didn't want
to be further represented by an attorney at such a critical hearing
who didn't want to represent me.
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Before I had time to think, the clerk called all rise", and in
came Knight to open the proceeding.
The events leading up to Lisis surprise withdrawal were
largely unknown to me at that time, and would only reveal itself in
detail after my personal research and from information disclosed as
a result of a later investigation . I had overheard Lisi and AUSA
Pince discussing the conflict of interest created in the case created
by Lisi's prior representation of Sharbanoo, but the real problems
created by that conflict, and its concealment from the court by both
Lisa and AUSA Pince, had grown far beyond anything I had
imagined.
Conflicts of interest are dealt with very seriously in federal
courts, as even a potential conflict can undermine the basic
assumption of fairness in a proceeding. Also, defense lawyers and
US Prosecutors have a clear ethical duty to disclose and conflict or
material conflict to the court so that the court can fulfill its
requirements to the defendant under federal law, specifically Federal
Rule of Criminal Procedure 44.
In my case, it was not a potential conflict, it was an actual
and irreconcilable conflict where Lisi had represented me and the
governments chief witness against me in the same case, and one in
which that conflict had caused an adverse effect on my defense by
the actions Lisi was forced to forego or choose between based upon
his loyalties to me and his continuing loyalties to Sharbanoo as his
former client.
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to two more additional hearing dates, the second in the trio held on
12/23/2010 and the final hearing held on 12/29/2010.
After incredibly allowing Lisi to continue representing me
even after AUSA Pinces disclosure, at the 12/23/2010 hearing the
court granted Lisis motion to withdraw and Lisi literally walked cut
and left me standing at the podium with the new CJA court
appointed next to me, an attorney named Bill OReilly. With Lisi
out of the picture, I was left with O'Reilly who had no grasp of the
case and really didn't have any zeal for getting a grasp of the
circumstances. He just wanted me to go along with things and not
make any waves, and made no effort to suggest methods of
defending myself under the present circumstances. Despite AUSA
Pince having failed to present any evidence that I had violated my
bail, including his subpoena of my Blackberry phone account which
came back not showing the alleged contact, O'Reilly advised me to
not press the matter and to not move forward with putting Sharbanoo
on the stand. He told me to lay low and that in a few months he could
get my bail terms back to normal, based upon his past experience
with Magistrate Knight. O'Reilly's assurances were patently false,
and months later I would have to raise hell just to get him to file a
motion to revert my bail back to its normal terms. He didnt know
that I had a Pacer account which allows me to view filings in federal
court proceedings and I caught him a bold faced lie because first
of all he hadn't filed the motion on the date he represented to me,
and second he filed a greatly watered down version of what he and
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I had agreed upon. I called his office and confronted him with his
lies and he blew up on the phone in a cloud of bluster, and I made
him file an amended motion which accurately reflected what he and
I had agreed on rather than the nonsense motion he had filed on his
own. It didnt matter anyway, Magistrate Knight denied the motion
instantly without even providing any detail, and I had learned my
next real life lesson in trusting your attorney's solemn assurances.
OReilly, as my attorney in the case, never interviewed any
witnesses or made any effort to make use of the evidence I had
compiled which challenged AUSA Pince's case, and I would later
file a malpractice suits against O'Reilly for his unprofessional
performance and ineffectiveness largely out of the confusion
wrought upon my defense by Lisis surprise withdrawal and
O'Reilly's non-assertive representation and seeming complicity with
AUSA Pince. I lost the hearing and had my bail changed to keep me
home until trial on lockdown. As for O'Reilly, he was shortly
thereafter appointed to be, and remains, a US Magistrate in that same
federal courthouse. Magistrate Knight himself, after observing
AUSA Pinces machinations during this trickery of hearings, would
comment himself in open court on the 12/29/2010 hearing as to
whether AUSA Pince had in fact baited me in this hole bail
revocation matter. My efforts to obtain the transcript of him making
that comment during the last hearing would be deflected and
obstructed by trial Judge Lesser for months on end, and I would
finally have to file suit in federal court against his clerks office in
furtherance of my efforts to obtain that transcript. The issue remains
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in a pending case in federal court, but Judge Merritt was able to deny
me from receiving it during the pendency of my appeal when I really
needed it in support of my appeal claims, pure delay often being one
of the governments and the courts strongest weapons in denying
defendants fairness during their criminal proceedings.
The silver lining in all of this for me was that the brazen
misconduct of AUSA Pince, coupled with the court's errors around
the conflict of interest in my case, would end up giving me my
strongest claims in my efforts to overturn my conviction and
sentence. This turn of events was in line with my lifelong belief that
with great perseverance we can often find ways to turn our greatest
difficulties into our greatest opportunities. This would be one heck
of a difficulty to transform into an opportunity, and I would have to
transform it from behind bars where every task becomes even more
difficult often to the point of seeming surreal.
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When the hearings concluded on 12/29/2010, I was left stuck
in my house unable to work or to prepare for my defense in the
manner I needed to. I was allowed to meet with O'Reilly only on
preplanned and approved meetings, but as I said he was more
concerned with going along with AUSA Pince's program than
challenging it and our meetings were short, unproductive, and rare.
Because I had refused to lay down and enter a guilty plea,
despite all AUSA
Pince had tried and hoped to achieve, my January 2011 trial
with Pince was delayed indefinitely. It was also delayed because of
the weakness of their case and their trepidation with taking what they
had on me to trial. Pulling another tactic out of their usual and
standard arsenal, they decided to ratchet up the heat on me and to
also indict me on the 1036 Leigh Mill Road transaction involving
over in the Eastern District of Virginia/Alexandria.
Before my very eyes, without me fully realizing it, my entire
life had been turned inside out. I couldn't work, I couldn't leave my
house, and I couldn't even properly prepare for trial. I Could no
longer walk my daughters to the park or take them to and pick them
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up from school. I now had not one but two federal indictments over
me, and I was loath to continue in my business for fear of it all falling
apart when one of the parties got wind of my rather severe current
legal predicament. My mother kept wondering why I consistently
refused to visit and avoided dinner invitations, and I didn't know
how long I could maintain normal appearances.
I had to keep my balance and poise in the face of all this, as
billions of people can this planet faced difficulties far greater than
what stood before me. I didn't then know how but I knew that would
survive this crisis. Just one look at my daughters angelic faces gave
me all the reason I needed to be willing to stand firmly and resolutely
in this matter.
Just one look at my wife's beautiful face and smile, and there
was no room for anything less than all-out war for me.
This may sound extreme, but I would literally give my life
before I would let AUSA Pince ruin me, my family, my business,
and thus effectively my life. I would stand my ground and endure
the best of what he could hit me with, with the victory going to him
for now, but one day when he had counted me out and assumed me
spent I would get back up from the ring and dispose of his
contemptible ease against me. Timing was everything, and this was
a war of endurance, not of speed. I would draw upon many lessons
from my dad, from my country, and from my people's history to
sustain me in this matter.
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I would refuse to lose until the only option left for me was
victory. That may sound a bit fanciful to a person whose never had
all that they are and stand for challenged, but some people find
themselves willing to endure the unendurable to stand up for
themselves and who they are as a person and human being. The
government seeks to break you and to make you disgraced and
neutralized. For me in this life, I will never let anyone disgrace me,
destroy my sense of worth, or selfconfidence.
I know who I am, and certainly know what I have done and
havent done in my interactions with other people. The government
will try and reduce a person to absurd labels such as convicted felons
or convicts. The fact is no human is a label, or a designation, we are
unique and far greater than any human designed term meant to
control and to limit.
We are built in our creator's image and must always be wary
of attempts to label and stigmatize.... only America has this
obsession with so called convicted felons and their exclusion from
various areas of public life and office. Nelson Mandela, Vaclav
Havel, Aung San Suu Kyi, and Mohammed Morsi were never
excluded from public office for past convictions or time spent in
prison, and while the role of prisons are beyond dispute the emphasis
we place on stigmatizing those in prison or those who have been in
prison is out of balance and extreme.
We Americans seem to have a somewhat morbid obsession
with incarceration and a selective view of own national and religious
historical traditions.
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Drawing upon my sixth sense, and not wanting my kids to
be around should the FBI decide to pay me another visit, I packed
up my wife and kids and sent them to Morocco until I could sort this
matter out. By this time, I had informed my wife of legal
developments, and she would have known anyway by my being
restricted to my house 24 hours a day. My kid's school year was not
quite finished for the spring 2011 term, so to compensate I told my
wife to enroll our two girls in a private French school in Morocco to
properly finish their spring term, and so my legal dilemma would
have as little an impact upon their studies as could be expected under
the circumstances.
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play out at our home. They had left, my home was eerily quiet, but
at least I was finally able to lay out all of my evidence and papers all
over the house which would help me to be prepared for all to come.
While I was hoping for the best, I also had to be prepared for the
worst, and I was more free alone to prepare.
At this point the District of Maryland trial had been
postponed indefinitely, but in the Eastern District of Virginia case
the trial had been set for July of 2011.
I set about each day under the same daily routine, which
always started with a morning workout, a coffee flavored with
hazelnut flavored coffee creamer, reading the Wall Street Journal,
NY Times, and Washington Post, and concluded by a very hot
shower. Depending on the time of year, Morocco is three to four
hours ahead of USA eastern standard time, and so most mornings
my wife and daughters would be calling me on Skype at three or
four AM my time without fail. They would also be firmly insisting
that I get out of bed and start my day, despite my defense of it only
being three or four AM. The weeks passed quickly, and each day I
would manage to quietly spend seven to eight hours researching my
case on my own as best as I could. When my then attorney Bill
O'Reilly wanted to meet me, which was rare, I would have to first
call my probation officer assigned to my case, and get his permission
several days in advance to leave my home for a few hours to meet
attorney OReilly. I would have to wait for him to call or email me
back with his approval, and only then was I allowed a short and
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How did AUSA Pince even know about my MTN deal, and
what was the government's actual involvement in my MTN deal? It
was all very confusing, and If I hadn't called
OReilly he would have just sat on this very critical
information, something I found very troubling and puzzling. OReilly
topped it all off by suggesting that I enter a guilty plea and lay down
my defense in both cases, telling me that both cases would in fact soon
both be consolidated into one case in the Eastern District of Virginia
court.
I was too overwhelmed and confused by his revelations to
answer him or to even consider what he was proposing in any proper
way, and he quickly said that he would call me back in a few days
to discuss what he had said , which he never did. I was left to
decipher what had happened of Pacer myself, OReilly never sharing
with me the full story of what he had vaguely indicated was coming.
That weekend passed quietly and without incident. That
Monday morning I was out on my deck, drinking coffee while
watching a squirrel play in the top branches of an old oak tree in my
back yard. I was about to open my Washington Post when suddenly
a loud boom pounded against my front door. The booms were
unceasing and only growing louder, and I was strangely comforted
by the fact that I had followed my gut and sent my family overseas.
Yes indeed, the FBI was back at my door again with less than thirty
days to trial, this time not with as many armed agents as before but
still enough to scare the stuffing out of my poor neighbors again. I
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the slot in the heavy metal door which kept us from leaving that cell.
Adrenaline caused me to stand up faster than I had intended and
faster than necessary, startling my bemused cellmates. I put my ear
to the slot and the guard informed me that my lawyers were here to
see me, and before I could respond another guard was coming
towards me leading three of my attorneys towards the cell I had been
in four days.
My lead attorney, Todd Mason, was a very pleasant and
efficient young attorney who had been the prosecutor for Stafford
County Virginia before becoming a criminal defense attorney with
the US Public Defender's Office. He was sharp, he had a calm
bearing, and he and I got along well . When we met we usually shook
hands and exchanged pleasantries or jokes to lighten the air. I
respected and liked Todd, as well as his associate on the case, Rema
Ahmed. This time as I approached Todd in the jail corridor he
returned my smile with his own, but his hand never left his briefcase.
That day he had no intention of shaking my hand, and it was obvious.
I had failed to realize how I must have looked and maybe smelled to
this well-kept and well-dressed man, I who hadn't showered or
shaved, or brushed my teeth for four days. His reaction to me that
day was a valuable early lesson at the reality of how 1 stood to be
perceived in other's eyes while I was a prisoner. I would have to be
mindful of my new perception in the eyes of others, and of the new
dimensions and boundaries of my interactions, even with my own
lawyers.
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For a moment, it even looked like Todd had turned the tide
in my favor and was edging close to prevailing at the hearing. Judge
O'Connell had set up straight in his chair and seemed momentarily
torn between the conflicting versions of the truth before him.
However, after Todd had finished his very well put together rebuttal,
the federal court rules also permitted the government to have the last
word. Given the last word and an opportunity to try and undo some
of the damage Todd had done to his argument, Kiplinger played it
safe and honed in on the flight risk argument, thinking it was most
likely to way on Judge OConnells decision. Kiplinger railed and
railed about that topic, sticking to it with his molar teeth as the
expression goes, and managed to make a strong closing statement.
At the conclusion of Kiplingers argument, Judge O'Connell made a
few sentences about the action of removing me from society right
before trial being a drastic step, but that because he felt the
government had clearly met its burden he was left with no alternative
short of taking that drastic step and completely revoking my pre
trial release. Judge O' Connell then casually remanded me back to
the custody of the US Marshall, and I was returned to the Alexandria
County Detention Center to reside their until my trial.
As I left the courtroom and waited in the US Marshalls
holding cell to be returned to the Alexandria County jail, the bad
feeling that had overcame me in the courtroom persisted. There was
also something about the look in Judge O'Grady's eyes as he
remanded me to the Marshall's custody. I believe that if we can quiet
our minds and listen to our bodies we can perceive many things
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under plea agreement is the path I have chosen to take and the path
in the best interests of my wife and kids.
You really should take the weekend and mull all of this over,
its very normal for you to have such a reaction after losing your
freedom", he said.
Todd, please respect my decision. I know you don't work
on weekends, but given the time factor in light of us being so close
to trial, email Kiplinger this weekend for me please and firmly
propose a deal to him and tell him that I would like to have that draft
plea in my hands by Monday to review.
I'm really serious about this, and I'm not going to change
my mind.
Ok Alex, I think you are overreacting somewhat but if you
insist I will call or email Kiplinger and see what I can work out for
you... look for a call from me Monday on the attorney phone at the
jail.
That Monday morning I was pleasantly surprised to get not
a call but a visit from
Todd and Rema concerning the plea deal I had asked for.
Getting Kiplinger to consider a plea deal had obviously not been as
difficult as Todd had envisioned. However, after Todd and Rema
reviewed the initial plea agreement terms with me it seemed that
AUSA Kiplinger had forgotten about the bargain" part of the phrase
"plea bargain". The deal offered by Kiplinger was very stiff and
called for a guideline range sentence as well as for five additional
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plea agreement the wisest decision I could have made at that time.
The dirty tricks, lies, and false witnesses used by the Feds leads them
to a conviction rate of almost 97 percent, another factor I had to
weigh in deciding whether or not to go to trial. With a young family
I could not afford to roll such expensive dice, and would be better
knowing roughly what my fate would be as opposed to getting hit
upside the head with a two by four" and face not being with my
family for twenty years or more.
Under Kiplinger's deal he was asking the Judge to give me
9-12 years, which was itself a period of time I could not conceive of
surviving away from my wife and kids. Attorneys felt that due to my
case being a white collar matter it was quite possible that the judge
would depart from the guidelines and give me a lower sentence than
what the guidelines called for, but given O'Connell's record it was
an unlikely outcome.
There were many errors in the plea agreement that had to be
corrected, and the government's basic charges and conclusions were
not based on what had actually occurred, but in such a predicament
with a federal case you either to agree to their version of the case
and your role or roll the dice and go to trial and risk getting a
sentence that will certainly hit you upside your head. There is not
much room in between, because the US prosecutor wants things to
be wrapped up as neatly and as cohesively as possible, even if that
neat package is far from the reality of what happened. The US
prosecutor wants to look as heroic as possible and when they give
you a plea deal they want you to basically just agree to what they
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want you to accept as your role and responsibility and it's a package
deal where you can't normally pick and choose what you want to cop
to. You basically have to agree to a blanket confession that the
prosecutor has spun as the narrative of the case. The reality is of
course that most cases or things life generally are not that simple or
neat, but the deal is supposed to be that in exchange for you sparing
the prosecutor a trial and a lot of hard work, they grant you leniency.
In my case, there were over 18 professional people involved
including mortgage loan officers, title company agents, lawyers,
appraisers, and bankers. The case also involved two of the most
expensive and technologically advanced homes in Fairfax County.
Even if I had sought to, there is no way that I could have
singularly committed all or even most of the actions Kiplinger was
holding me accountable for, and there is no way that all of the 18
other professionals involved could not be in some way culpable for
I what I alone was charged and convicted of doing. I was not the
actual mortgage loan borrower on either the 1036 Leigh Mill Road
loan or the 12995 Wyckland Drive loan. Nonetheless, AUSA Pince
and Kiplinger and their teams decided that I was the only person to
be prosecuted and convicted.
For several weeks, my attorneys went back and forth with
Kiplinger to try and reduce the charges I was being asked to plead
guilty to, as well as to try and reduce the number of enhancements.
Kiplinger made little effort to negotiate any of this feeling and
knowing that he had me in a vulnerable position. In fact, he made it
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clear to Todd that he sought to punish me for this matter and for
other matters that he felt I had been let off the hook for previously.
It made no sense to me, but this was the idea motivating Kiplinger
by his own admission, and that is what we were up against in our
negotiations. In his sentencing memo to Judge O'Connell Kiplinger
spoke of his belief that 1 had been given a pass by law enforcement
all my adult life and that it was time in this case to punish me for all
present and pass wrongdoings. This invented case narrative was
false and absurd, but it was effective because it gave his already
farfetched theory of the case an added sense of purpose and
meaning, as well as drama.
I need to be clear that I by no means write this book under
the premise that I had not ever taken shortcuts in my business
dealings, those shortcuts having been in some cases in violation of
the law. It is also no excuse to say that almost everyone else in my
business routinely took the same shortcuts that I did, for that does
not excuse my actions. The problem is that I was not in fact guilty
of the actions that the government had charged me with in this case...
and AUSA Kiplinger and Pince were steadfastly uninterested in
reliable evidence that other participants had committed the actions
for which I was charged. In our current legal system, this happens
far too often, where instead of engaging in a fair and objective
investigation the government begins with a conclusion and works
backwards to make the facts comport with the already reached
conclusion. AUSA Pince and Kiplinger didn't want to be confused
by the facts, and they were not.
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one person not even the actual borrower on any of the loans in
question. It flies in the face of the reality of how real estate
transactions are carried out.
Lisi had always told me that FBI Agent Dirk Hentort and
attorney Bob Brown had it in for me in a way he had never seen, and
that attorney Browns animus had managed to seriously infect my
image and character in the mind of AUSA Pince and Kiplinger.
All this notwithstanding, the deal in the form of the plea was
what it was, and there was no way for me to make it conform to the
truth. The government had the upper hand, they were not interested
in the truth, they were only interested in getting a conviction against
me in as neat a package as possible. My alternative, which was to
close my eyes and roll the dice, was not an option for me. Like in
many things in life, I had to choose the seeming lesser of two evils,
and I had to take it on the chin like a man. It wasnt perfect, but I
knew the truth, and I would have an opportunity to reveal that truth
in later appeal and collateral attack proceedings, as well as in civil
suits and bar complaints.
I accepted Kiplinger's plea deal, and three weeks later I went
before Judge O'Connell to formally enter my guilty plea in open
court, in a proceeding called a plea hearing. It was at times akin to
an out of body experience, standing there accepting the blame for
each and every action Judge O'Connell alleged, but I had to do what
I had to do. Judge O'Connell set my sentencing hearing for
September 30, 2011, now that I had formally entered a guilty plea
and there was no need for a trial, and at my sentencing hearing I
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September 30, 2011, was a memorable day in my life. I was
awakening at 4:30 am to take a shower and have breakfast so that I
could be transported to the courtroom several hours in advance of
the hearing set for 9 am. After arriving to the court early, I sat in the
US Marshall's holding cell for hours reviewing the case in my mind
and rehearsing what I would say to the judge when he allowed me
an opportunity to address both he and the court and its attendees.
After many hours of silence in that cell I was startled by the heavy
metal clinks of the cell door opening, and a pleasant and smiling US
Marshall told me that the judge was ready for me now and that it
was time to make my appearance.
After pleading guilty I had fired all of my attorneys because
there was no need for them now that there wouldn't be a trial. I had
decided to hire just one attorney to represent me at sentencing,
attorney Pam Martin. My mom had told me that many of my family
members would be in attendance, but none of them had summoned
the courage to make a statement on my behalf, which I found
disappointing, but I decided not to press the issue. I had invited some
of my business colleagues to attend and make statements on my
behalf, and they had all promised to attend and support me with
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statements, but a day or two before the hearing they had all cancelled
due to one reason or another. The old saying is that we come into
this world alone and leave here alone, and I would add to that, that
we also face many of life's most greatest challenges alone also,
because at the end of the day I had no one to speak on my behalf
except myself. All the people I had helped financially and otherwise,
all the people who had enjoyed my generosity and largesse, the
many people who had been as close to me as my own family, no one
was there at that moment to speak on my behalf.
As I entered the courtroom I was temporarily blinded by the
bright lights, but also surprised to come out right in front of a rather
packed courtroom, most of the people being members of my family
and other friends who had at least supported me by showing up. My
entrance happened so quickly that I could only catch fleeting glances
of the people but I did manage to register the face of my mom and
dad.
The court clerk quickly called the court to order, and Judge
Connell motioned Kiplinger to commence his argument for what he
thought my sentence should be.
Kiplinger did not beat around the bush on that day, and went
straight for the kill. He began by giving the court a history of my
case from his point of view, and he then proceeded to recount a
laundry list of my alleged crimes in the case. Without any warning
to my lawyer, and in spite of the terms of our signed plea agreement,
he dispatched with the agreed upon guideline range sentence of 9-
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did an excellent job. Yet despite the moderation of her tone, Judge
O'Connell seemed to feel that even such mildly adversarial remarks
in my defense were too much, and he sternly warned her against
further pursuing her line of reasoning.
I was bewildered that Judge OConnell had allowed
Kiplinger free rein in his harangue, yet had forcefully restrained my
attorney's mild argument in rebuttal when it seemed she was being
most effective. Such is the practice of many judges in federal
courtrooms, and it is neither fair nor judicial that federal prosecutors
are given such latitude while defense attorneys are scrutinized by the
court itself in shaping their own arguments. If it was not outright
bias, it certainly gave the appearance of bias, which is forbidden
under the applicable rules for conduct of federal judges and
proceedings before them.
It allows for unfair and non-adversarial confrontations
between the two sides but it is exactly what went before me in my
sentencing hearing.
After being halted by Judge 0Connell, my attorney was
reluctant in her argument, and ended up on a much weaker level than
she would have had she been allowed to complete her well put
together presentation. Kiplinger was allowed the last word under the
rules, but apparently was satisfied with his previous remarks and
saw no need to speak for a second time. One of the cornerstones of
Kiplinger's argument was that I had committed a prior very serious
offense for which I had escaped justice, that offense he referenced
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What made the entire matter even more odd was that the
hearsay itself at the center of Kiplingers comments didnt make
reference to allegations by exwife that I had had sexual
intercourse with her. Her statement was that she had allegedly seen
me somehow ejaculate into a condom while sitting on top of her
during an argument. If that statement makes no sense to you, you
aren't alone because the Judge couldn't make any sense of it either
during that proceeding. My ex-wife and I had a very heated and
contentious divorce which lasted over a period of several years.
During such proceedings and accusations flare and both sides often
say things in an attempt to hurt the other side, those things often
regretted later. Those statements were not allowed by the previous
judge, and I was never charged for what Kiplinger tried to find me
convicted of. While still in shock from Kiplinger's falsehoods made
in front of my parents and entire gathered family, I also couldn't see
how it was possible that a federal judge had the power to summarily
interrupt a criminal defense lawyer when that lawyer is squarely
during doing her job to defend me by asserting mitigating factors to
my actions and other factors which counterbalanced the
governments allegations. Yet right before my eyes I saw it happen.
Although I had heard the stories of federal judges being openly
hostile, belligerent, and overbearing, it is quite an experience to
witness in person. It is an amazing and disturbing spectacle to
behold, more so when you are the criminal defendant whose life is
on the line, and it is a common occurrence in federal courtrooms
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which greatly demeans the search for truth and adversarial testing
process our system is built upon.
In his interruption of attorney Martin, Judge O'Connell made
reference to the Dodd Frank Act of 2010, which is a stricter
sentencing code for securities and financial crimes enacted by
Congress after the 2007-2008 financial crises.
His reference had no logical application to attorney Martin's
argument, other than to in effect say that she should forget about
trying to make your client look reasonable in any manner and that
I'm going to give him what I want to give him and no one will be
allowed to argue anything to the contrary. Both the Dodd Frank Act
of 2010 and the Sarbanes Oxley Act of 2002 had greatly increased
the statutory maximums and minimums for while collar crimes such
as the one I had been convicted of. Ms. Martin's line of argument
bore no connection to Dodd Frank, this was simply another example
of a judge stifling a proceeding when it veered in a direction he didn't
like, but as a matter of law Ms. Martin had every legal and
constitutional right to defend my position in the manner that she had.
We have seemingly conferred dictatorial powers on federal judges,
when in reality they are our trusted servants and arbiters and defense
lawyers shouldn't be cowered before federal judges in the manner
they are. The US Supreme Court passed in Imbler v. Pachtman the
law which effectively grants prosecutors absolute immunity from
suits for monetary damages and for immunity from prosecution,
even when they violate our laws and the Constitution. Judges
already have that same absolute immunity, under the theory that
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soulless, and devoid of reason and logic, but despite knowing this
we all tend to go along with it and accommodate it, even as it
inwardly abhors many lawyers, social workers, prosecutors, and
judges. This is the beast we have created, our own federal version of
Frankenstein. When I had finished, Judge OConnell leaned forward
in his chair and made sure I had no further comments. Without
warning, he suddenly glared at me and squinted his eyes, erupting in
anger. He told me that I had been lying the whole time, and that I
had acted with concern for only myself. He told me that I had
absolutely no regard for the good people who had invested in my
ventures. He spoke to me in a manner which confirmed the
correctness of my decision a few months prior to plead guilty and
not risk going to trial before this man. Despite all the positive letters
of support that had been sent in on my behalf, he never mentioned
any of them and only spoke fleetingly of efforts I had made in the
1990s as a clinical therapist to help at- risk young men. He had
nothing good or encouraging to say about me, he spoke of nothing
redeeming about me, I who all my life had tried to help others and
to be there for my wife and kids.
Judge O'Connell didnt know me, and AUSA Pince and
Kiplinger were largely to blame for the picture they had painted of
me, including the exaggerations, willful failures to follow the facts,
and outright falsehoods they made against me. But beyond the
machinations of Pince and Kiplinger, there was something else in
Judge O' Connell 's tone and manners, something which we African
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it was all just a blur in the end. Off I went into the great ether, into
the inner bowels of the system. Right out of the script of how black
men have historically been viewed by the American legal system,
all of the boxes had been checked by both judge O'Connell and
AUSA Kiplinger; Kiplinger had argued at sentencing that I had
somehow managed to ''escape" being brought to justice all of my
life, that I had committed some type of sexual assault on my first
wife, and that I was an out of control criminal mastermind that
needed to be brought under control.
Doing his part, Judge O' Connell made sure at sentencing to
tell me that he looked at the entire record of my life and could see
no redeeming qualities of actions with the sole exception of some
work I had done early in my career as a therapist working with at-
risk kids, that my statement to him was but a series of lies, that I had
no regard for my fellow citizens and only thought of myself, and that
he would of course need to make an example out of me to show
others what can happen to black men in his court who run afoul of
the law. Judge O'Connell looked at my entire life, and all the letters
of support from my family and friends stating what kind of a man,
father, and human I was, and could find nothing good or redeemable,
he even taking the time in his remarks to tell me that he actually
worked hard to find anything, but couldnt.
Whether he had done so consciously or unconsciously, Judge
O'Connell's remarks and view of me confirmed to me that as hard it
seems to accept, in many ways not much has changed in our legal
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system when it comes to how black men are viewed, even educated
black men from decent family backgrounds. There would be no
consideration of my young family and their dependence on me, there
would be no benefit of the doubt, there would be no negotiation
allowed, and when my attorney even tried to put my case into
perspective as was her job judge O'Connell had sternly halted her
and warned her against attempting that line of defense in his
courtroom. And despite each of AUSA Kiplinger's arguments
mentioned above being false and without any justification, Judge
O'Connell had allowed AUSA Kiplinger to make those false
accusations and allowed them to be entered the official record of the
case. I would later have to litigate to get those falsehoods stricken
from the court's record, filing civil suits to get those corrections.
Standing there, in that moment before Judge O'Connell, faced with
the total viciousness and brutal nature of his attack upon my person,
taught me more in those few minutes than I could ever learn in years
of studying and trying to understand our country; none of us black
men are safe in terms of what could happen when we found
ourselves in a court of law. I had just been given a personal lesson
about how our system invariably demonizes us in ways wholly
unrelated to our actions. In effect, Judge O'Connell had skillfully
portrayed me as the irredeemable, incorrigible, morally degenerate,
lying, sexually immoral, untrustworthy, very smart, clever yet
calculating and scheming, dangerous other" that the American legal
system has historically seen black men as. What also hit me hard
was the obvious fact that I had been so portrayed even though I was
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my name had no idea of the love I had for humanity and my plans to
make a difference in the lives of others.
I would come to know later that Kiplinger had been even
more devious in his plan to ruin my name that I dreamed. In a
document he had sent to Judge O'Connell, in which he stated the
governments recommendation as to what my sentence should be,
he had soundly crossed the line on propriety and truth. He had
submitted a victim impact statement to Judge O'Connell at the last
day of my sentencing hearing from a middle eastern man that was of
Lebanese origins but who had changed his name to an odd Italian
name. This man had been introduced to me a few years back and we
had not seen eye to eye on an investment property he tried to get me
to buy. Kiplinger now presented this man as person that had been
involved in my business, and had gotten a statement from this person
where that person swore that I was not even an American, but rather
a foreign national of Ethiopian" origins who had been converted to
Islam by a very notorious and dangerous radical Islamic sheikh.
Kiplinger had lost his damn mind, and had brazenly used outright
lies seeking to ruin my name before Judge Connell and the world. I
certainly am not a foreign national, and I most certainly was not
converted to Islam on the hands of any radical Islamist sheikh nor
have I ever in any way, shape or form been associated with or had
sympathies with an enemy of this nation. I would later file suit
against Kiplinger for these malicious lies, and he would come to
deeply regret having attempted such false and reprehensible tactics
against me.
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are often seen as par for the course with the result of your conviction
justifying the means employed. Most people are powerless against
such a total assault upon their person, and at that moment I too was
lost in the proverbial sauce I really had no idea where to begin the
process of pushing back against what had just happened to me.
Never in life had I been in such a difficult and daunting
predicament. What I did know for sure was that there was no way in
this lifetime or the next 50 lifetimes that I would ever acquiesce to
what had just happened.
I hate injustice, both for myself and for others, and I have
been given a strong will and stamina in resisting it.
For myself and for those in my shoes but unable to express
their story in words,
I would study the law and study this federal system and the
glorious constitution it is built upon. There was no magic, and no
easy victory to what I sought, it would take patience, steadfastness,
and forbearance. It would take a tremendous amount of old
fashioned effort, and a ruthless enthusiasm to stay the course no
matter the obstacles and apparent defeats along the way to the
ultimate victory. But I didn't care about how difficult it would be,
my children and wife deserved nothing less from me.
My mission began that day, at that hearing on September
30th, 2011. Kiplinger thought he had left me on the courtroom floor
that day, but I would try to prove him wrong. Our federal system is
designed to neutralize a person and to alienate from him or her from
all that they hold dear.... but I would never be broken by this system,
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and from being physically exhausted from waiting in the cold cell
for hours before and after the hearing. When I was finally returned
to Alexandria County jail I was in a very unusual state of mind, one
in which my mind didn't know how to get itself around the fact of
just having been given a 10-year sentence.
I had no appetite when I was called to eat the meal that had
been saved for me. I called my wife and tried to assuage her fears,
but I didn't so a very good job, likely because I hadn't at that point
come anywhere near to assuaging my own. It seemed that the only
thing 1 could think to do was to try to go to my cell and put myself
to sleep as quickly as I could. However, when I tried to sleep my
mind was in no mood for it, and somehow told me to call my dad,
the one person whom I could think of to offer me solace. I didnt
admit it to myself consciously at the time, but I really needed some
words of affirmation to help me deal with my concern and anxiety
as to how I would survive this matter. When my dad answered, I led
him in the conversation and into what it was I wanted to hear him
say, asking him his frank opinion on what he thought about what he
had seen meted out to me earlier that day. As I communicated, my
dad interrupted me and said that he couldn't really give me accurate
feedback because that day his hearing aid had been malfunctioning
and it had caused him to miss hearing a lot of what had been said.
As he responded I detected another tone in my dad's voice, one
where he was letting me know that he really didn't seek to have this
conversation on this phone. My dad doesn't trust phones and other
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such types of devices as it is, and on jail and prison phones it is made
clear at the start of each call that that call is subject to recording and
monitoring. My dad continued to talk, and as he spoke it became
clearer and clearer to me that I would not get that day from him the
solace I had sought. His words and tone clashed, and told me that
what my beloved dad was really saying to me was that I must have
lost my mind if I expected him to talk adversely on that very much
recorded line about that federal judge, no matter how much my heart
needed consoling. His hearing aid was fine, and at 78 my dad
remained as mentally sharp as a razor. My dad is from the old school,
and notoriously suspicious of the government and authorities. He
had grown up in a different time and place, and had seen things most
of us only read about in the history books. Being a target of the Feds
causes all types alienation from friends and family, and I had to
smile to myself as I realized my old man wouldn't be giving me the
consolation I desired, and I couldn't hold it against him. I was on my
own, and walked myself back up the stairs and closed my cell door.
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In prison the use of the word nigga is both ubiquitous and
boundless. If any further proof is needed that we human beings are
totally screwed up in our collective minds, prison provides
conclusive truth that we are. In prison, there are "regular niggas,
mexican niggas, "dominican niggas" and even chinese niggas.
There are jive niggas, "fake niggas, real niggas, faggot
niggas, ,"sucker-ass niggas, bitch-ass niggas, and keeping it
real type niggas,. Prison is a place where the unrestrained conscious
and unconscious impulses of a society are allowed free rein in a
repository and museum for Americas often repressed 500-year
racial consciousness. That, all coupled with the influences of rap
culture and BET videos, makes prison an outlet for all things racial
and scatological. However, for my generation and upbringing, to
look another black man in the eye and call him a nigga would elicit
in me the strongest feelings of shame, embarrassment, and pain.
Knowing the sordid and hate-filled history of the word, and how it
was used in an attempt to dehumanize my race, I cannot and will not
ever refer to another black man as a ''nigga".
But maybe things are changing, and maybe rap culture has
taken the sting out of the word. Maybe everyone referring to each
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B.C. and reported that the Egyptians had black skin and wooly hair,
making the observation several times in his Histories. Herodotus
reported that Egyptians said that they believed the Colchians to be
descended from the army of Sesostris. My own conjectures were
founded, first, on the fact that they are blackskinned and have
wooly hair. Another Ancient, Diodorus of Sicily, wrote that the
Ethiopians say that the Egyptians are one of their colonies... and
that it is from them the Egyptians have learned to honor kings as
gods and bury them as such, also telling us that sculpture and
writing were invented by the Ethiopians.
***
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they can help it, and no one wants to get put in the hole for such a
disciplinary infraction if they can help it.
Prison is very organized and regimented, and due to the
cramped living quarters, men try to deal with matters with fairness
and equality. In prison, there are regular town hall meetings where
men are encouraged to offer their frank input. Being in prison
removes from a person all the comforts and belongings that they
have taken for granted their entire lives. Try to imagine having
everything you have ever loved and worked for taken away from
you all at one time, including your wife, husband, children, home,
friends, work and/or business, your cell phone, laptop, and any and
all of standing you held as a human being. Imagine being confined
to a cold prison cell and being forced to exert superhuman feats of
patience and resolve just to make a phone call to your family, that
family you have been so close with for years or decades. Imagine
your kids asking you when you are coming back home whenever
you talk to them, and your wife telling you that she walked into your
closet the other day she found your 6-year-old smelling your scarves
and sweaters to remember your cologne and scent. Imagine being a
successful father and entrepreneur with an organized life, and then
suddenly one day having not one iota of control over your home,
business, or family affairs, being helpless to protect and support the
family who depends totally on you and whom you spent years of
your life building and molding.
There is a wise saying that a persons life doesn't truly begin
until the day they come to understand how truly short life is. Being
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the way, even to actual lawyers who had practiced law but had no
familiarity with the vagaries and particularity of federal law. We had
world class chefs among us who made desserts from scant
ingredients taste like it came from a bakery, we had typists, tailors,
radio technicians to fix our portable radios and headphones, we had
wine-makers for those indulged, financial planners for those needing
financial advice, and thieves whos jobs in various units of the jail
made sure we had needed medicines, antibiotics, and pain relievers
when the prison medical building was closed. There were drugs of
all types readily available, as well all types of cell phones and even
tablets. Working together as a team, there wasn't much that we
couldnt manage to get our hands on for the right price, and what
you couldnt pay for you could usually barter for with some other
needed commodity. In prison, packages of fresh mackerel and
cigarettes are substituted for money, with each prison setting its own
exchange rate. The most learned men gave seminars and held classes
on their topics of expertise, so if you really wanted to broaden your
horizon on a topic there were always new classes being taught,
subjects ranging from physics to small business 101 and guitar.
Being in prison means being subjected to a constant dull
pain, painful in the manner spoken of by Kahlil Gibran when he
described pain as the breaking of the shell that holds one's
understanding. All that we have been taught is challenged and tested,
and the people we thought we knew so well become someone else -
their true selves minus the pretense and the outer cover. You see
nakedly and understand the capacity for betrayal and self-interest
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that lies within us all, prison being the truth serum that very neatly
and sharply exposes who the people where you lived among and
interacted with for extended periods of life. But that realization is a
double-edged sword for prison also forces the imprisoned person to
come face to face with their own deeply unappreciated blessings that
took the form of various people around us. Until we have our lives
and liberty taken from us we as human beings often fail to be amazed
by the utter beauty, magic, and frailty of this Life. Slowed down and
taken away from the hectic pace of modern life, we feel the true
depth of the love we have for many that we took too often took for
granted when we had the time to show them that love and
appreciation prior to being imprisoned. So while we see that lack of
real gratitude in many among us, we also come face to face with our
own lack of proper gratitude for many of the people in our lives... In
many ways prison is an emotional time of reckoning and coming to
terms with our deepest feelings for the people we call family and
close friends.
***
***
Giving a man 10, 20, 30 years away from his family is likely
to push him inward and upward in search of deeper meanings and
purposes to existence. I cannot say that I am happy that I came to
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prison, but I must be candid in saying that the wisdom about life and
myself and people around me that I've learned in prison is a wisdom
I wouldnt have learned in the next 30 years in life on the street.
Sometimes, to get a deeper meaning of something it takes stepping
out of it or being deprived of it. Prison makes you see and appreciate
the beauty of life and forces you to get to know others very different
from you in a deeper way than I ever did on the street. Prison
humbles you, for no matter how successful a person you were on the
outside, in prison we all suffer the same hardships and deprivations.
Prison tends to age a man's soul beyond his years, and the
violence in prison is not as gratuitous as television often portrays it
to be. There normally are clear rules for engagement, and even rules
for the posturing that precedes actual violence. Verbal altercations
are thus usually measured, often just a way of letting off steam, and
most people are wise enough to let it go before it escalates beyond
the point of no return. We as a species have a tendency to only reveal
one or limited aspects of ourselves to people we interact with, but
there's something about prison that tends to reveal a person's true
self very quickly, especially his weaknesses and vulnerabilities.
Honesty, straightforwardness, and reliability are highly valued in
prison, and a failure to be honest and straightforward will cause you
to be quickly labeled a liar and a person not to be taken seriously.
Prison is not a game, it is something to be dealt with very
seriously and with extreme caution and never be taken lightly. In a
prison situation men often try each other to establish a pecking order,
in an attempt to enhance his own "status". If a man does try you, you
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must nip it in the bud at once, or face giving the wrong impression
and allowing things to get out of hand. You have to know and
recognize who you are and try to stay in your lane" so that you are
not put in a situation that you "are not built for," as the prison lingo
expresses. I knew that all my life I was a leader amongst my peers,
and that I have a dominant male personality. Knowing this about
myself, I had to accept that aspect of who I am while trying to avoid
as much as possible letting it get me into unnecessary conflicts that
had no upside. I am also by nature often quiet and to myself, so what
I ended up doing was staying to myself and my studies as much as
possible and avoiding situations that could be problematic. I was
basically successful at my strategy, but nonetheless did cross certain
personalities that brought out the aggressive or tough aspect to my
personality. In all tilt one situation when the person came face to
face with the inner resolve that was maybe masked by my calm
exterior, things quickly dissipated and that person become friendly
towards me from then on the mantra of mutual respect, things did
get out hand and I was invited to the bathroom there was a brief
violent exchange that was quickly broken up by that man's buddies
and I began getting the better of the exchange. Besides that, I think
fortunately just have the appearance that gives off the impression
that I am not the one or the type to get on the wrong side of.
In prison, I exercise daily and read voraciously. When I first
arrived to the county jail time and space ceased to exist. Going from
my home into a cramped cell with a stranger, and being kept all day
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***
Exploring through case law one day I would meet man would
put me on the path back to all that I love in this world, and out of the
throes of my draconian sentence and oblivion. His name was Alex
Salvagno, and he was an Italian who had operated a large
environmental abatement firm with his father in New York. An
engineer by trade, the Feds had given Alex a 20 year plus sentence,
his cell mate at the time was an investment advisor from Chicago
named Timothy Sean and he had wisely given me advice to look for
Alex and to avoid the other people who purported to be able to assist
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other prisoners with their legal matters. Timothy told me that Alex
really knew what he was doing, and that it was worth dealing with
his very busy schedule to have him take a look and listen to my case.
***
The actual time I spent with Alex looking over my case was
very brief, but in that couple of hours Alex was able to give me the
right advice about what to focus on in 3 challenging my case, and
especially what not to focus on and to steer clear of. Alex was in fact
so competent at federal law that the Fort Dis authorities would end
up shipping him all the way to Texas shortly after he and met, but
before he was transferred he ended up introducing me to another
prisoner named Caonabo Vargas from the Dominican Republic had
claims almost identical to mine. Caonabo and I would grow very
close after that introduction, and it was these two men that, from the
kindness of their hearts, truly helped me to get ray legal bearings
established treated me as a true brother, and without them I would
have never been able to achieve the hard-fought successes in my
case that I would eventually come to achieve. They both freely gave
me their time, their friendship, and their knowledge, and I could find
a way to repay then for the lifeline they threw to me while I was in
the middle of the storm.
Over time I would discover, and others would tell me, that I
had some type of knack for the law and its application. Over time I
would even grow into a "jailhouse lawyer" myself, and would help
prisoners successfully in their appeals and motions. In the fall of
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the United States of America didn't oppose his petition, in fact the
United States had actually conceded in the letter that they had
advised the US Supreme Court to grant the petition, and to vacate
and remand Michael's case back to the lower Court of Appeals to re-
sentence him consistent with 8 of their findings and consistent with
the rule of law.
I was probable more shocked than Michael was when he read
the letter to me in my class. It was a victory I will always savor, and
an honor to have helped Michael achieve justice from our nation's
highest court. On that day, I knew, and all Fort Dix also knew, that
I had been blessed with some ability to understand and articulate
federal law. Those in prison, mostly 2255 motions return to their
families nascent abilities would be sorely put to the test in ways I
couldn't imagine.
Prison somehow increased my inner strength, while at the
same time teaching me how to let go of the illusion of control that
we think we have over events and people in our lives. We think we
have control over our lives, but it is an illusion that can all be taken
away in an instant. We must love our loved ones and ourselves with
all our might, nothing in this life is promised or predictable. A family
is a precious and infinitely fragile treasure, enjoy it and all that
comes with it, for being without one's family is a feeling I wouldn't
wish on any person. The men I befriended in prison gave me the
example and the wisdom to endure the unbearable. Their humor,
their steel, their discipline, and their refusal to deal in self-pity gave
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me new life out of the ruins I came to prison with. God is merciful
and always makes a way for us even in our darkest hours, and don't
ever underestimate or prejudge any person, for you never really
among men can society perceive the inner strength and beauty of a
person instantly.
Most men I met in prison looked at my willingness to litigate
with the feds with deep skepticism.
The whole experience of being in the feds was such an
overwhelming negative experience that they had adopted a doubtful
view that any victory could be obtained against the system. Even
when they asked for assistance I could sense their initial doubt that
anything would ever come of the effort. Frankly, they were correct
in many way about the difficulties face in litigating in the federal
system, especially litigating to get relief in ones criminal case.
District court judges have become agents charged with maintain
their criminal judgments upon the defendants they levied those
judgments upon; in most instances, they are hostile to appeals and
other motions and writs challenging the propriety and
constitutionality of those judgements. Because of this reality that all
federal inmates are aware of, it is considered a waste of time, energy,
and emotions to get committed to the expectation of relief under the
situation; and the reality is that most lower court US district judges
do deny relief to defendants even if the defendant has stated a
meritorious claim form relief, relief coming only from the higher US
court of Appeals when it does come.
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7/19/2013
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me. Remember Judge Lesser, you swore a solemn oath to uphold the
United States Constitution and laws of the United States, and you
bore the ultimate responsibility to make sure that those laws and my
rights were upheld in that series of hearings. I was dealing with your
omission as being inadvertent, and thought you would take my
kindness not for weakness or ignorance, but in a manner of us
mutually trying to correct a past omission, that omission having real
world damage upon my defense and thus life.
Instead, you responded in a careless manner by
comprehensively and haughtily attempting to dismiss the entire
issue. Your Memorandum was made without any mention at all the
fact that the prosecutor you are so eager to defend is under a Bar
investigation for his actions in your courtroom, and in this case. As
a sitting US Judge and "Chair, Disciplinary and Admissions
Committee, you would seemingly and ethically be bound to make
further inquiry into such actions in your courtroom. Unfortunately,
Judge OConnell took the same attitude in his order which you call
comprehensive which literally devoted more time detailing the
background of my case than addressing the claims. His
comprehensive analysis of my extensive pleadings was a mere five
pages, and managed to avoid many of my claims. That matter which
you speak of with finality is currently before the 4th Circuit, and my
aim here is not to argue the law with you because you know the law.
The issue is your seeming attachment to the judgment in this case,
something all to common these days in the courtrooms of America,
that attachment still expressed in the face of the law, logic, and basic
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reason. All defendants are not ignorant Judge Lesser and as I told
you initially that while I have a great respect for our nations legal
system, I also respect myself, but sincere attempt to ask your help in
helping me with this issue was met with a supercilious
memorandum. The contemptible poverty of your memorandum and
your assertion that my issue is "devoid of any merit whatsoever",
while not saying the reasons why my correspondence is so bereft of
merit, speaks for itself. As a judge, you are obligated to safeguard
my rights in such a matter, but instead you have responded to the
issue and your failings with derision and defiance. As a judge, you
were bound under Fed.R.Crim. P. 44 to offer me certain protections
to uphold my 6th Amendment rights, but you not only failed to do
so you allowed counsel to continue to represent me at that hearing,
and then somehow allowed CJA counsel to replace that conflicted
counsel, that CJA counsel having been put in place under the
direction of my adversary, AUSA Pence.
I am neither enchanted nor enamored by your titles and your
derisive attempts to downplay my letters to you. Beneath your
judicial robes and titles, you are a man with a heart like mine, and
we put our pants on the same way each morning. You took my
trusting of you, being a judge, to do the right thing, and you have
rubbed my goodwill and my intelligence into the dirt, which you are
entitled to do even though its a perversion of your mandate as a
judge and person society relies on to fairly decide the issues which
collectively affect us. As a Judge who sits on a Disciplinary
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Prison reinforces the old truth which says we are our own
worst enemy, and that we have to worry about having our affairs in
order before worrying about other peoples affairs. The reality is that
no matter how it may sometimes appear, your fellow inmate
suffering a 20-year sentence is not really your enemy, your enemy
is always yourself and your om selfcontrol, and losing that self-
control in prison can quickly land you in the "hole", or
solitary/segregated confinement.
When I was fresh off the prison bus I kept overhearing
people tell each other that some person they mutually knew had been
"locked up. I found this very odd in light of the clear fact that we
all were very much locked up". I shortly thereafter came to
understand that being locked up while already in prison refers to that
next level of incarceration, which is being sent to solitary/segregated
confinement. Being placed in a cage 23 or even 24 hours a day, alone
or with one other person, is being imprisoned on a whole new level.
If you don't have the common sense or self-control to avoid the drugs
of all types, the homemade wine and white lightning, or the
gambling and the cell phones, you will likely eventually find
yourself locked up in the hole. Those without selfcontrol or
balance will also very easily find someone else out of balance to
meet their aggression, and will also likely end up in the hole or
transferred.
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In love and war, a fortress that embarks upon negotiation
is bound to be taken
-Cervantes
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and mirrors than he is with truth and justice, and that game of smoke
and mirrors will be dealt to the person with a disorienting contempt
and brazenness that will be shocking in its rawness. The practice of
law is a subtle, refined, and deadly art, all the more so when you give
a prosecutor almost unlimited power and non-existent oversight.
Right before your very eyes you will see arguments appear and
disappear, your strongest arguments deflated with a counter
argument devoid of all reason and logic, but blessed somehow by
the presiding judge as if its truer than the Gospel itself. That counter
argument, and the judges interpretation of it, will reframe your
argument by managing to avoid touching your underlying premise,
and the effect it all has on your case can be life altering in its
importance.
What I am describing is the honest degree of difficulty one
has in obtaining truth and justice in their current US federal Legal
proceedings. I am not saying that all proceedings are like this, or that
a person can't get a fair shake. What Im saying is how truly difficult
it is, and how corrupted our system has become. You can get justice
if you are willing to stand up to those who deny you your rights
along the way but you to be willing to go through hell to get it, and
if you are, like I was, you may get relief. To get that relief you must
engage in countermeasures that forces the government and the court
to engage in that critical matter of communication that I started out
talking about in this chapter. They will try to shut you out, and to
deny you the communication needed to get your claims heard and
addressed. This is fatal to your cause, and must be overcome if you
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are to stand any real chance of obtaining the results and justice that
you seek . This is war, and not for the weak of heart, you are dealing
with your life and those who will take your life without a blink if
you dont stand firm upon the legal rights we all have as Americans.
Dont let yours be denied, but Im here to tell you that it is much
easier said than done.
To get the communication going in my case, the vehicle I
chose was what is known as a 28 United States Code 2255 Motion,
more commonly called a 2255. In 1948, Congress created the 2255
as a version of traditional habeas corpus prisoners can challenge the
validity of the and convictions they are imprisoned under. To get
relief under a 2255 motion a federal prisoner must establish by clear
evidence that he or she has had their rights violated under federal
law or statute or the US Constitution. I realized that I had an uphill
battle before me, but I didnt have time to sit down and dwell on its
guaranteed difficulty, I had to put my petal to the metal and get my
vehicle moving on its course.
What I remembered clearly and what kept me strong was the
image of my sentencing hearing where I had been sentenced with all
family gathered in attendance. Kiplinger' s words about me been
caustic and obscene, and had been gauged to ruin my reputation and
character before those people closest to me. To this day, I still don't
think my parents have recovered from hearing their only son spoken
of in such terms, Kiplinger describing an animal that had been on
the lose all his adult life whose crime spree he had been able to bring
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and vigorous effort needed to help a person get the relief they are
due. The courts dont admit it, but the truth is that judges are human,
and like all humans they commit many errors during criminal
proceedings. That is why the founders of the Americas legal system
instituted the system of legal checks and balances and mechanisms
of review made up by courts of review. In the U.S., federal legal
system, the lowest level is the US district courts, which are followed
by the U.S. Courts of Appeals. If a person is unsuccessful at the US
Court of Appeal, which is the highest level within the US federal
legal system, his last and final legal forum is the US Supreme Court,
but the Supreme Court only chooses to hear a very tiny fraction of
the cases sent to it for review, and of the cases they do hear only a
small percentage of that number are cases sent by prisoners who are
representing themselves without an attorney.
For federal prisoners seeking legal redress from violations
and errors that occurred in their legal proceedings, direct appeals and
28 USC 2255 petitions are the primary avenues of relief available to
them. Having taken my "eight count" by pleading guilty and cleared
my head, the punch I threw this time had to be a definitive one
because you don't get many chances to land your punch after being
convicted. I came up with a 3-pronged approach for being successful
in my post-conviction efforts at relief in my case.
First, again drawing upon boxing strategies as my guide, I
sought to not lead with my best punches in an effort to make my
2255 petition look weaker than it really was. If I came on too strong
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out of the gate and let the government know all that I had they would
be alarmed and would extend more concern than I wanted them to
at my petition in the early stages of its adjudication. 1 wanted to in
some ways lull them to sleep, leaving them initially not overly
concerned about the subject matter of my 2255 petition and its
claims. My strongest argument was that my 6th amendments rights
had been violated under Lisi's egregious conflict of interest that he
labored under all the way up to 30 days from the initial trial date.
I put the conflict of interest article in my petition, but I placed
it at the end, and I spoke of it in somewhat vague terms as if I really
didn't have a full grasp of its importance and my rights under it. The
important thing was that I got it on the record. Once the government
looked at it and saw that I had made a somewhat attempt to make it
a claim, Kiplinger wouldnt bother to argue that strongly against it
and would concentrate on the other claims that I had argued hardest
for. When the right time came I would reveal to the judge the full
force and depth of that claim that I hoped the government had
somewhat overlooked.
The second part of my strategy was to make as much noise
as I could to overcome the silence and suppressive tactics federal
prisoners come up against when trying to assert their legal claims in
appeals and 2255 proceedings. As Muhammad Ali said, you can't hit
what you cant see, and to hit my target I had to get the government
to talk about what had happened in my case so that 1 could have a
target to punch at and expose its weaknesses. Accordingly, I set
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about to make sure my claims were seen and heard about through
any credible means that I could employ.
The conflict of interest and its willful concealment by AUSA
Pince was my strongest claim, and was the issue I had to make the
most noise about and get under focus. This would be an uphill task
for many reasons. In the federal legal system prosecutors ate greatly
deferred to and are accorded immunity in their capacity as an
advocate for the government. This practice makes it tremendously
difficult co both sue or prosecute a prosecutor, even when his actions
are clearly unethical or unlawful.
In my case, Lisi had violated one of the central taboos under
our system of law, which is the deference and attention we give to
conflicts of interests in criminal proceedings. As codified under
federal law under Federal Rule of Criminal Procedure 44 (known as
Rule 44), the discernment of even a potential conflict of interest
mandates a court to take a series of actions to safeguard that
defendants 6th Amendment right to conflict free counsel. Under
Rule 44, when made aware of a conflict or even a potential conflict,
that court must investigate the conflict, offer the defendant a
knowing and intelligent waiver if her or she so desires one, to
personally advise the defendant of his rights in relation to the
conflict, and finally to conduct what is known as a Rule 44 hearing.
A court's failure to follow these directives after it has been
notified of a conflict is viewed as a violation of a defendant's
constitutional due process and his 6th Amendment rights, and the
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would get attention on the conflict that had been suppressed and it
could get AUSA Pince sanctioned for his unethical actions against
me. I also knew that Bar associations would be reluctant take on a
federal prosecutor, but I had to go for it. this was my primary
mechanism and antidote to break the silence and Pince, Lisi, that
Kiplinger would build around my strongest calm.
As I expected, my Bar complaint to the Washington DC
Office of Bar Counsel where Pince was a member was met with rigid
opposition. Weeks turned into months, and every assertion was met
with a stiff counter assertion as to why the Bar didn't want to involve
itself in my 2255 petition's issues in relation to Pences misconduct.
After almost two months of back and forth, the Bar's responses
became more and more terse. I pressed on, having learned long ago
that most things in life, especially meaningful things, dont come
without a struggle.
One evening during the prisoner call I received a letter from
the DC Office of Bar Counsel. I assumed it was the good news I had
been waiting for, news that the Bar Counsel had agreed to open an
investigation into Pences misconduct. Instead it was a letter
informing me in no uncertain terms, that it would not investigate
Pince under any circumstances and my 2255 was still pending, and
that if there was a finding of misconduct against him they would be
happy to consider it once the court had first made that determination.
This was bunk, because there was no such rule, Bar Associations
clearly have the role arid the authority to investigate its members
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that this life is certainly not fair or just to any of us in many ways,
and just as we came into this world fighting and we must continue
to fight throughout this existence. I always drew strength from my
dads stoicism and courage in fixing that combine. Fathers probably
dont realize just how much their example plays in a young mans
psyche, self-confidence, and nuances later in life.
Drawing on my dads example, I shook of that rebuke from
the DC Bar Counsel and instead spent almost the entire weekend in
the law library. After being told to go away and not to come back, I
decided instead to come back with twice my previous force backed
by the strongest case law that I could find.
When I called the DC Bar Counsel office that Monday and
told them to expect new communication via the mail from me that
week, they sounded very surprised to hear from me again. When I
called that Thursday to inquire about my latest letter to them, I was
met the news that a full-scale investigation had been opened into
AUSA Pince's actions in my case, and with an admonition for me to
please dont call back and bother them further, that they would be in
touch and would send me a copy of Pinces answers to the
investigation. I gave a professional thank you, and was given the
satisfaction one gets when rewarded by sticking to one's goals and
objectives.
More importantly my investigation of Pince would later bear
valuable fruit to my overall efforts to overturn my conviction and to
overcome the government's efforts to muffle my claims with silence.
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***
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CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Despite my best efforts and my solid 2255 claims calling for
relief from my sentence and conviction, Judge OConnell denied my
2255 motion on April 17th, 2013. I had just been transferred from
the low security FCI at Fort Dix, New Jersey to the federal prison
camp in Berlin, New Hampshire when I received the news in the
mail.
In his order denying my claims, Judge O'Connell had deftly
avoided even addressing most of my claims, acting as if I hadn't
asserted the claims before him in black and white. His order denying
my 2255 motion devoted more space to the background of my case
than it did addressing the issues presented in my claims. My 2255
motion was substantive, detailed, and exhaustive, as well as being
solidly supported by case law from the district and higher courts. My
claims were properly supported by affidavits sworn under oath, yet
the government in its reply had failed to give sworn statements in
support of their brief opposing my motion. Most critically, my
defense counsel Lisi had failed to oppose the claims in any way,
including my ineffectiveness claims against him, which normally
would have been a very strong factor in my favor.
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***
conflict after making reference to it, holding that even if Lisi had
actively represented conflicting interests it was for "too short" a
period of time to have been prejudicial to my defense. His dismissal
was contrary to law and Fourth Circuit precedence, which in regards
to conflict held that a conflict of interest clearly has constitutionally
detrimental effects during the pre-trial phase because of what it tends
to prevent defense counsel from doing. In my case Lisi had
represented me for four months while under the conflict in the pre-
trial phase, but Judge OConnell saw absolutely no harm to my
defense under Lisi's pretrial conflicted representation.
He also ignored all but four of the almost thirty
ineffectiveness claims against Lisi, and the one ineffectiveness issue
he chose to defy was that Lisi had failed to disclose to me the terms
of AUSA Pince's initial plea offer to me. He denied the claim on the
ostensible basis that I had shown no proof of a formal plea offer"
ever having been made, which was the entire reason that an
evidentiary hearing was called for, to allow me to establish proof of
that plea with Lisi's testimony. The problem with this whole denial
is that I had never made this as a 2255 claim, this was a claim that
he somehow on his own managed to interpolate out of my pleadings,
something that he obviously felt he could easily deny.
Under the rules of 2255 proceedings as set by Congress, and
under federal court precedence, a district court has the obligation to
inquire into a petitioners 2255 claims which aren't patently
frivolous or belied by the record, and to actually facilitate a
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finally mailing out what would become appeal 13-6759 in the Fourth
Circuit Court of Appeals.
Staying faithful to my threepronged strategy outlined in
Chapter 19, by this time I had been able to file several suits in federal
court and in the Circuit Court of Fairfax County where I had lived.
These suits included a discrimination suit against attorney Bob
Brown, several civil rights suits against AUSA Pince and Kiplinger
and their team of FBI agents, and a defamation suit against one of
the witnesses brought by AUSA Kiplinger who gave false evidence
at my sentencing. The witness who had defamed me and submitted
false evidence was a Lebanese national named Bill Parlucci Sobh
who had changed his first name and added Parlucci to his name in
an apparent attempt to obscure his Muslim or Arab background. He
submitted a false affidavit to the court at sentencing claiming that I
was not an American, but rather a foreign national who had been
converted to Islam ''on the hands of Mohamed Aolaki", his apparent
attempt at spelling and referencing the name of Anwar Al-Awlaki,
the radical Islamic preacher and enemy of America who was killed
by the CIA in a drone strike in Yemen in 2011. Of all the people I
sued, I delighted most of all at the prospect of getting this man on
under oath and under full penalty of perjury on the witness stand in
a court of law, Mr. Sobh haven given the court false information in
an attempt to retaliate against me for a soured business deal between
us.
I had also taken my time and been able to research and file a
comprehensive tort claim pursuant to the Federal Tort Claims Act
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(FTCA). A tort suit is a suit under common state law rather than
federal law, and the most common violation in tort suits is simple or
gross negligence, the standard for proving negligence being a lower
standard than that of establishing constitutional violations. My other
civil rights suits alleged violations to my constitutional rights and
rights under federal law, but the tort suit alleged negligence and
wrongful conduct. A tort suit under the FTCA is a suit against the
United States directly, based on the negligence of its Department of
Justice employees, in my case the US Assistant Attorneys, FBI
agents, and probation officers. The United States as a sovereign
generally has 11th Amendment immunity to suits, but under the
FTCA that immunity is waived if a person properly exhausts his
claims with the appropriate US Agency prior to filing suit. In my
FTCA suit I had been able to pretty well tie in the seemingly
disparate actions taken against me into a consistent narrative, and I
had read the applicable US Code so that I had properly exhausted
my administrative remedies.
My final suit was a state tort suit against a local Virginia
prison that I had been sent to stay at on my way to Fort Dix in New
Jersey. This prison had illegally seized and lost my legal files
containing critical evidence for my 2255 motion, and had committed
other negligent actions against me during my stay. In the suit I was
able to file on the prison, I had been able under state law to sue both
individuals of the prison as well as the state of Virginia itself , which
was liable for the acts of its state employees just as the United States
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in a FTCA suit was liable for the actions of its Department of Justice
employees.
Sticking to my script as strictly as I could with my promise
to my kids and God to give my best and to obtain relief from what
had happened in my prosecution, I left no slight unaddressed. When
a Maryland federal court had consistently ignored my requests for
the transcripts of the hearings I had with AUSA Pince, I was left
with no choice but to file suit against that office. Lastly, I had filed
a traditional 2241 habeas corpus suit against the New Hampshire
federal prison camp where I was being held at in Berlin, that suit
being filed in the New Hampshire US District Court per the statute
governing 28 USC 2241 petitions. This gave additional avenue of
relief should the Fourth Circuit Court of Appeals render an adverse
ruling in my pending appeal. My suits were aggressive and not for
small sums of money, and I spent as much time as I could reading
about how civil litigation is conducted so that I could hold my own
as best I could as the various stages of the suits unfolded.
While my suits were making their way through the slow
grind of the legal system, my Bar complaint to DC Office of Bar
Counsel against AUSA Pince was also ongoing, and I had went back
and added additional claims to the original complaint. Deputy Bar
Counsel Paige Anderson was not the easiest person to work with,
but I was very grateful to her for even initiating the investigation
into Pince's conduct during my prosecution. As it turned out, Pince
had retained counsel to represent him in my investigation, and had
requested a lengthy 60 day extension of the period that the DC Bar
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explain. My dad's pleasant and easy laugh, his simple and honest
mannerisms, his undeniable strength and force of will I observed up
close each day, these are things a boy never forgets and things that
will sustain him through any ordeal.
Mr. Brown could not know that I was a living testimony to
the reality of racial hate and domination in this nation, where the
farm I grew up on with my dad bordered the farm of civil rights icon
Vernon Johns, that he and my dad's dad were good friends as well
as neighbors. He couldnt know that as I sat on the porch of the old
family homestead with my dad and his mom each evening after
supper, we ate only yards away from the family burial site of the
white family which once owned by my ancestors. That each year
they would come to visit and I would be very astounded to find my
very proud grandmother transform into another person as she
greeted the little four and five year old white girls as missy and
miss", using names and inflections from a another time in the
United States when blacks openly treated whites as their masters
and bosses Mr. Brown couldn't know that my grandmother's mom
had been a slave and that I always gazed at her picture that my
grandmother kept of her working in the fields above her bedroom
dresser, sometimes finding myself as a kid standing their for minutes
at a time trying to imagine what her life had been like.
Mr. Brown could not know that my dad had raised me to love
all men and to respect all men without regards to their race, but that
my dad was one of the toughest men I had ever known, and that
somehow, I had inherited his quiet force of will. I have never in my
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life been amenable to having any one force their will on me, and that
while I am very laid back and peaceful, another side of me becomes
aroused in the face of somewhat trying to intimidate me. Its not in
my upbringing or my DNA to back clown or to be afraid, and anyone
who knows me will tell you that, whether it was in prison, in the
streets of DC, or the corporate world.
Mr. Brown could not know just how much I knew about
Virginia and its history of white men having sought to intimidate
black men who they perceived as a threat. Mr. Brown could not
imagine how much I knew about the particular brand of hate and
venom white Virginians were capable of. In Farmville, rather than
let white kids and black kids attend school together after the US
Supreme Court integrated schools in Brown v. Board of Education,
Farmville closed all schools for five years, making no secret of its
sentiments and ready to cut off its own nose to spite its face in the
face of efforts for equal schooling for blacks and whites in America.
Mr. Brown had no idea that Farmville schools were actually one of
the several actual plaintiffs in Brown v. Board Of Education, and
that Vernon Johns' sixteen year old niece in Farmville had been the
actual organizer of one of the country's first school sitins
protesting substandard conditions for black students.
Mr. Brown had no way of knowing that my dads father had
worked hard to buy our farm when few other black families had the
means to buy such a farm. And that the tract of land my dad's father
purchased was a small section of a larger plantation that was sold off
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when the white master and owner had died. My dad had always
reminded me how his father had left Farmville to work on the
railroad in West Virginia to save money, that money spent to buy
the farm we now owned.
Mr. Brown had no way of knowing the oral history of
Virginia and race matters that I was fortunate to receive certain
evenings and nights at the kitchen table of the old homestead we
lived on. He had no idea of the wisdom passed to me those nights
from those who had been on the front lines of assault from those
whites in Virginia who sought to maintain black Americans' social,
economic, educational, and cultural inferiority.
Mr. Brown had no way of understanding that I had many
white Americans as best friends, business partners, neighbors, and
even family members, but that I wasn't the man in this lifetime to
ever let a man of any race impose his will on me and subject me to
his ideas of who and what I should be and what I should own and
control.
Mr. Brown had no way of understanding that my rural
upbringing in Farmville in conjunction to my urban upbringing in
the streets of Washington DC, assisted by a master's degree in
clinical psychology and community psychology, had given me a
unique understanding of America's racial dynamics.
What Im saying is that men like Mr. Brown were not new
to me, and his fixation on me in the guise of my alleged criminality
was simply a common script out of our nations racial cinematic
history. I say all of this not out of hate or anger, and I do not hate
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Mr. Brown, in fact I bear him no ill will, but I do hate oppression,
and I hate to see a man attempt to take from another man that which
God has bestowed on him inalienably. The strength and stoicism it
took to deal with such racial abuse was not new to me, and I often
drew upon the example of my dad's mother in the face of such
tribulation. She was a person who had dealt with the pernicious
effects of racism all of her life in Farmville, yet she had remained
the epitome of dignity and had never let it harden her heart towards
the source of the hatred she lived with. The late poet Sterling A.
Brown, once poet laureate of Howard University, captured the
essence of my grandmother's spirit in his poem
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How could Mr. Brown know that the oral history of black
Virginians had been passed to me as a child, especially in relation to
those black men who had against all odds violently their
subjugation, men such as Nat Turner. Of his efforts to retrace Nat
Turners final movements Sterling Brown wrote in Remembering
Nat Turner" that:
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suit on him in Fairfax County court, that court being our areas legal
headquarters where he is a very well-known court regular. That was
where the rallying ground from which he began his crusade on me,
where he had sworn to his lawyer friends that he would bring me
down and had made me out to be a menace to society. The truth
was that I was a menace to his bigoted notions of who should be his
neighbor, but he had made his case against me there, and now here
it was that I had found a way to research and file a discrimination
suit in that very court against him. When he had begun his crusade
against me, his seller at the time was so disgusted by his openly
racist conduct that he sent me many emails attempting to apologize
for Mr. Browns behavior and clearly letting me know he had no
parts in such conduct. The seller even fired Mr. Brown for his odd
fixation and obsession with me. I had fortunately saved some of
those emails, and I had attached them to my suit in support of my
claims against Mr. Brown, discrimination normally very hard to
establish but very clearly shown through those emails from his own
client.
Caught off guard by my suit and rattled, Mr. Brown made
serious error. He had been so desperate to get the suit thrown out
that he submitted a motion to dismiss where he brazenly lied. He
didn't deny having discriminated against me, but he said he was
under no legal duty to not discriminate against me because I was not
a buyer or even a party to the sales transaction.
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into Mr. Browns conduct. They instructed Mr. Brown that he had
to provide both the Bar and myself written answers to my claims,
and gave him a very short period of time to do so. Mr. Brown feels
no obligation to answer for his conduct towards me, and pretty much
admitted as much in his answer. Claiming that my allegations were
too numerous to respond to, he avoided answering those allegations,
and instead sent the Florida Bar a letter detailing what he claimed
was proof of my additional criminal acts and telling the Bar that he
had found me to be a menace to society, and expressed satisfaction
at the role he had played in putting me behind bars.
A Bar investigation is a serious matter, and one that an
attorney is wise to take seriously, and the Florida Bar was not going
to allow Mr. Brown to engage in the deflections the local Bars and
courts had allowed. On top of him having refused their order
requiring his answer, he had furthered violated the Bars order by
trying to enlist them in his crusade against me, something the Bar
was not interested in and something unusual and bizarre under the
circumstances.
Mr. Brown had been able to avoid my efforts locally by
tapping into the sentiments of other white lawyers and jurists open
to his overtures. Many Americans are oblivious to the existence of
such racism in this day and age, but it has been well documented not
only by blacks but even by honest white jurists who have
encountered it so frequently in the course of their duties. Senior US
District Judge James C. Fox of the Fourth Circuit has written about
it, holding that Racism and all its collateral effects, is abhorrent to
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the results of his conduct. I quote Judge Fox only to reinforce the
fact that this undertow does still exist despite our nation's
tremendous gains, and it is a very cohesive and unified front. I know
it very well after feeling the brunt of its force these past eight years
in relation to my work as a local developer that crossed Mr. Browns
radar when I purchased 12995 Wyckland Drive. It exists in all the
places sworn to be objective and to police against racism, namely
the courts, the FBI and other law enforcement organizations, and the
prisons. My case with Judge O'Connell had not only fed into that
bias and racism, he also would openly defy the law to maintain my
conviction in the face of the law, reason, and the facts.
I detail all of this not to gain sympathy or to claim
victimhood because as I said in the beginning of this book, I don't
believe in victimhood and I am not a victim of anyone or anything.
I never stood idly by in the face of such conduct, as this books
illustrates, and 1 used what resources I had to assert my rights
despite what I encountered. But others may not have the resources
or the ability to apply what I could apply to these circumstances, and
it is important that the truth be told about what exists no matter how
unpleasant it is or who it may offend in the process. You are hearing
my story, but there are countless black men I have met in the entrails
of the federal system whose stories are worse and who don't have
the means to fight it or to expose it.
One example is the population of black men imprisoned for
crack cocaine violations. Many Americans are blind to the fact
despite crack cocaine being chemically the same substance as
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275
FINAL CHAPTER
As I write this final portion of the memoir I remain in the
Berlin Federal Prison Camp, and remain in the small rom outside the
law library where I have typed most of this manuscript. I sincerely
confess that while these three years passed writing this memoir, I
often agonized over what kind of proper conclusion I would be able
to present to you, my reader.
Unconsciously, I would take my time while writing, so that
I could in the end present the legal victory that I had worked so hard
for these past years.
But time, and the practical realities of writing this memoir,
have come into play. I was able to find a publisher for the memoir,
and that publisher is bound by restraints of time and resources, and
has the memoir on a schedule to be published in Spring 2017. By the
way, my efforts described in the memoir to challenge my conviction
finally paid off; on November 5th, 2015 the Fourth Circuit Court of
Appeals in Richmond vacated and remanded my case back to judge
O'Connell, putting a halt to his efforts to ignore my habeas claims.
As I write this final chapter in November of 2016, Judge O'Connell
is still silent and has wholly failed to act upon the Fourth Circuit's
11/5/2015 vacatur and remand in my case. Judge O'Connell is
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279
POST-SCRIPT
Just as I was writing the conclusion of this chapter I just
learned that America has just elected Donald J. Trump as our 45th
president. I am at a loss of words, finally, to convey the degree of
shock this result felt by myself and many other citizens of the United
States. There was no way for me to not address his election
considering my having often addressed the topic of race ill in this
memoir. This is no time to be self-congratulatory, this is a deep time
of reflection and concern for myself and many Americans who love
this nation and are concerned about the issues affecting us and its
citizens. But his election, if nothing else, is a serious reminder of the
forces of intolerance, bias, and resentment that still plague this
nation, which this book cites. Let us not mince words, or fool
ourselves about this; Donald J. Trump is about as offensive,
obnoxious, crude, and unlettered as one can find to be the leader of
this nation, yet in this election the white majority made their voice
loud and clear in voting him in. We don't know what to expect from
a person as unhinged as Mr. Trump, but as the New York Times
recently said in its editorial we do know that he has threatened to
imprison his political opponent Hillary Clinton, that he abhors the
free press and has announced plans to limit its function, and that he
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public, but Trump's election has led to over 300 post-election racist
incidents around the country. The Week, a weekly news magazine
popular in the United States, in its November 18, 2016 edition,
reported that the Trump revolution was fuelfed by overt racism,
said Jamie Bouie in Slate.com, said Trump won because he
represented a restoration of white authority. With his sneering
attacks on immigrants, Muslims, and Black Lives Matter protestors,
and his winks to white nationalists, he united the white vote:
working class and college educated, young and old, rich and poor.
After eight years of a black president, white Americans wanted
their country back.
We must never cower in the face of those who seek to
extinguish the voice and sentiments of tolerance, equality, and
respect for all people without regard to race, religion, or gender. We
are one nation, and we will not let anyone divide us. Our struggle
continues.
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Statistics Concerning Our Current Federal Legal System
And Final Comments
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mostly white youth, is being dealt with not with calls for increased
criminalization, but rather with calls for therapy, social services, and
varying treatment interventions. White youth are seen a victim of
addiction needing help, while black youth were seen as predators in
the community in need of criminal sanctioning.
1 in 9 black men between twenty and thirty-five were
incarcerated in 2006. We are, unfortunately, one of the only nations
on earth that often subjects our own children to being punished under
adult laws and then send those children to adult prisons. This means
that children as young as 12 or 13 are charged with crimes meant for
adult adjudication, and we have allowed our kids to be placed on
death row and executed, or to be sentenced to life in prison with no
parole. A child of those ages is working with a brain still developing
and maturing, and subject to all types of hormonal and neurological
fluctuations. To subject a child to such a brutal and extreme
punishment is one of the most evil things imaginable that a society
can inflict on its citizens, but for years we have carried out these
heinous practices. Only in 2010 and 2012 did a nonprofit legal aid
organization run by renowned lawyer and human rights advocate
Bryan Stevenson, known as the Equal Justice Initiative (EJI),
successfully argue before the U.S. Supreme Court to have life
without parole sentences for juveniles in cases of homicide and non-
homicide declared unconstitutional.
Our society still carries out the death penalty, something
Europe and other modern Western democratic societies long ago
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abolished. Our death row system has time and again been studied
under objective standards and found to be thoroughly biased and
racist towards black men and other minority groups, with black men
bearing almost the full brunt of the load. This death penalty system
has also been shown to be rife with errors, and many men on death
row have been found to be innocent of any crime, finding themselves
condemned to death based on ineffective legal representation, faulty
evidence, false testimony, and a racist justice system. Again, EJI has
been at the forefront of the effort to challenge inequities and errors
in our nations death penalty cases, and its efforts were well
chronicled in the NY Times best-selling memoir by Bryan
Stevenson called Just Mercy.
I shared my individual story to share the experience I had
with corrupt law enforcement officers and judges so that others can
see what really goes on, but my story is but one and there are so
many tens of thousands of men who have faced worse fates than
mine.
Something has gone very wrong in the land of the free when
most U.S. prosecutors, and many federal judges, try only to convict
you as quickly and efficiently as possible, and then maneuver to
maintain that conviction without regards for the laws that provide
for relief from that conviction when its is called for. They
conveniently forget that in America defendants are subject to the
penalties of the law when accused of violating them, but that we are
also entitled to relief from that conviction when our constitutional
rights or our rights under federal Law where violated during the
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overwork and not enough joy. The gridlock and backlog our current
federal system is under would understandably wear anyone down
over an extended period, thus my suggestions are made partly out of
empathy for federal judges.
This overburden and stress we have on federal judges with
these lifetime positons have created jurists who are simply
obnoxious, quarrelsome, perverse, callous, and sometimes sadistic.
They are well known as terrors on the bench, and it is quite a sight
to behold, having personally seen a few in action. In our democracy,
we are not supposed to be terrorized by our government and judicial
system, this is not the system our founding fathers meant for us to
live under, we have let it go far off course.
I want to end with a frank discussion on the role I feel racism
plays in the federal system. I will start by saying that the racial
injustice in the federal system is by no means and excuse or crutch
for me, or for any person reading this, I believe in living by a code
of personal accountability whereby I must first look at my own
responsibility and culpability for whatever misfortune I encounter.
Nonetheless, racism is widespread in this federal system and we
must confront it and deal with it head-on, and never allow ourselves
to use it as an excuse. In the face of any adversity, we must work
and exert ourselves that much harder, and failure can never be
accepted. We must never let anyone or anything in this life make
you feel like you are a victim. Feeling a deep sense of self-worth and
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self-respect is vital and is something no one can ever take from you
unless you give it to them, in weakness.
Treasure and respect your mind, and yourself, and strive to
educate and enrich your mind through scholastic achievement,
through reading books, and through self-study. Seek to understand
racism, not to make an excuse for it. When you have love for self,
those around you will have a difficult time mistreating you and
attempting to disabuse you of your rights.
As a social scientist, I have tried to look at racism in a
scientific manner . First of all we must recognise the fact of our
nation's racist foundation, which over time has been implanted in the
unconscious realm of our psyches. This can influence our outlooks,
generalizations, and fears, without us being consciously aware.
Although racism is presently looked upon as immoral and
uncivilized in our contemporary culture, this modern feeling is
belied by the reality of our history and the impression racial maters
left on our individual and collective psyches. The psychic conflict
created between the racial thinking in our subconscious and our
modern racial mores which holds racism to be repulsive, causes the
brain to repress and exclude racism from our conscious mind.
However, centuries of beliefs and practices in this country premised
on the idea of white superiority dont fade that easily in a culture and
from a nations soul, and it must be kept in mind that it has been less
than 50 years since de jure racial discrimination was banned in area
of sports, education, and housing, among other areas. These racial
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white officers to deny the reality of their own visual and auditory
sensory apparatus and claim that the choke hold we all witnessed
with our eyes was not the cause of his death. I will not and cannot
deny what my very eyes have shown me, and I think Mr. Garner's
death was a metaphor for all the American people whose breath and
lives are being choked to death under the injustices and cruelties of
our legal system. I end by asking that we as a nation work together
to fix this broken system, so that our young men and women can
breathe and not die before our very eyes under a sudden death, or
under the living death known as incarceration.
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