This book is 33,617 words and takes about three and a half hours for the average native English speaker to read.

Version 2

Might we never forget

those who died in the Holocaust,

or the physical, mental and emotional scars

of those who survived.

Selah

Section One – Broken Spine

            This is the true story of what the United States of America did to Johnny Marlowe and his family, and is still doing. It is a true story told like a novel.

             The screaming, yelling and ruckus of the isolation cell block I was housed in had faded away hours before. I laid in my prison bunk listening to the deadness of the night as I replayed the vicious accusations that had landed me in a maximum-security prison. The pain of those lies still wrenched my soul and brought me to tears. I recalled telling my first wife, “I love you!” She responded, “I hate you!” My mind grappled with her words as I asked, “Why do you hate me?” Then the memory that forever burned into my soul as she said, “Because you love me!” How could I reply to that answer. She had said that it was my love for her that caused her to hate me. Life seemed hopeless. I could understand how God felt about all His children who hated Him for no real reason, except that He loved them.

             Suddenly a slamming sound stole me from my memories, from my pain. It was the opening of the door that led into the cell block. I heard multiple footsteps coming down the stairs. They stopped in front of my cell. I lifted my head and looked towards the door as I wondered why guards would be coming into the cell block in the middle of the night. I shuddered as I recalled the extra attention I had been given by the guards for years. Extra attention was never good. Never. The guard spoke, “Come here.” I got up and went to the door. “Give me your clothes” he commanded as he opened the small trap door contained within the larger cell door. I moaned! I knew this routine! The prison guards took prisoner’s clothing, blanket and mattress as a form of punishment. They called it ‘suicide watch’, but it was not. It was torture. Being left naked in a cement and steel cell was beyond difficult. They had done it to me dozens of times. I was well acquainted with this form of punishment.

             I took off my clothes and passed them out the trap to the guards. “Give me your glasses” he said firmly. I took a deep breath then removed the glasses from my face. I am legally blind. That means I cannot see my hand in front of my face without my glasses. Being without my glasses was immeasurable mental torture that only a blind person can comprehend. I passed the glasses to the guard. “Back up” he commanded. I stepped back away from the door expecting him to eye my naked body, saying it was to ensure I had nothing hidden on me. He did not. He waved his hand in the air and the guard in the control booth opened my cell door. I froze. I was on Maximum Custody. The guards were not supposed to open my cell door without first handcuffing me behind my back through the small trap door. Uh oh!

             Two guards stepped into my cell as a third waited by the door. The first guard pushed me backwards as the second guard entered the cell dragging a rather tall, skinny sawhorse. My mind raced. What could this possibly be? I was terrorized and confused. I recalled the numerous times the guards had beaten me with their fists, boots and clubs. The first guard pushed me back against my bunk. The sawhorse was pushed in front of me. There was nowhere for me to run and no way to escape! My heart raced violently! The first guard grabbed me behind my head and pulled me forward, shoving me down onto the sawhorse. Fear struck! Were they going to rape me? The third guard threw some shackles to the second guard. The two guards put a set of handcuffs on my wrists then connected the shackles to my ankles wrapping them around the handcuffs so I was bound hand and foot bent over the sawhorse. I began to pray to God for mercy. I knew I was about to be raped. I was wrong.

             The third guard stepped into the cell and handed a metal pole to the first guard. I squinted as I tried to see what was happening. Everything was blurry, like my understanding of the situation. There was a moment of silence. The calm before the storm. I will never forget those few seconds of silence. That was the last few seconds of my life before years of endless pain.

             The first blow landed on my pelvis and spine area, as did the next and the next. My screams broke the air as the pipe broke my bone. I gasped for air as the pain tore through my body! “Stop!” I screamed, but the brutality continued. Then the blows stopped. I felt the tears run down my forehead. It was the worst pain I had felt in my life. Then he struck me again multiple times in my mid-spine. There are no words to describe the pain. I felt like my head would explode as my blood pressure soared. It felt like a sword was stabbing into my spine. A ring of fire encircled my chest and spine. I vomited and the convulsing caused the pain to spike. I saw red. I felt dizzy. I vomited again. God help me!

             The guard said, “Now I am going to kill you or paralyze you one!” I pulled myself together and managed to say, “If you kill me the autopsy will show I was beaten to death!” A chorus of laughter from the three North Carolina, USA prison guards. The blow struck the base of my neck. There are no words to describe that moment. My ears rang violently as my neck flashed piercing pain that shot through my entire body. Each breath was unspeakable pain. I vomited again and the lunging made me black out only to awaken to piercing pain and more vomiting. I sneezed and couldn’t stop the scream that erupted from my soul! More pain, vomiting and agony. Each tiny movement was magnified into excruciating pain! God help me! What a terrible moment to sneeze, but it was not random...

             All three guards left my cell. I hung there in immeasurable pain as I tried to breathe shallow so as not to move my spine. Even the tiniest breath was magnified into unimaginable, excruciating torture. I could tell there was something terribly wrong with my neck. My soul cried out to God! Inside my soul I screamed, begging God to just let me die as I breathed as shallow and softly as possible. I couldn’t think clearly. Why God, why?

             It felt like hours as I hung there suffering, vomiting, blacking out, awakening to immeasurable pain. My cell door opened and a guard came back inside. He told me, “You’ve completed your week.” I knew he was lying. It had been hours, not days. My attempts to not move, so as to avoid as much pain as possible, were ruined when he lifted up the end of the sawhorse and dumped me onto the floor. The pain, dizziness, vomiting and fire engulfed me! I felt like I had been dumped into hell itself. Every time I thought the pain could get no worse, somehow it did! The guard took the handcuffs and shackles off of me and left. I begged God for death. 

Section Two – Child Abuse

             Hour after hour dragged by. Every second was enormous agony, pain and suffering. My mind couldn’t stop replaying the events that had landed me in prison. I had come home from work to find my first wife waiting for me at the front door. She was wearing make-up and smiling. I was shocked and realized I was smiling. She had quit wearing make-up or dressing pretty the day we got married. She had hooked me then quit trying to look good. Suddenly I saw a tear trickle down her cheek. “What is wrong?” I asked. She began wailing incoherently as she ran inside the house and collapsed at the dining room table. I walked up to her and asked what was wrong again as she sat in a chair with her arms folded on the table and her head buried in her arms. She only wailed. I kept asking what was wrong until I saw my oldest child, Kay Marie, standing in the doorway to the kid’s playroom. Kay was starting to cry. I asked Kay what was wrong as I began walking towards her. Suddenly my wife, Amber Michele, yelled, “Johnny Junior” I asked what was wrong with Johnny. Amber began wailing again. I went towards Kay as I asked my daughter where Johnny was. She pointed to the corner of the playroom.

             My son was curled up in the fetal position in the corner. I rushed to him and he lifted his head to look at me. I died inside. My son’s face was bruised and swollen. I sat down beside him and took him into my arms. I talked calmly to him to help calm him as well. After a long time of holding him, he began to calm down. Kay sat beside us and patted Johnny on the arm. We talked about what had happened. My five-year-old son told me he was walking through the hall. His mother was coming the other direction. Suddenly she reached out, grabbed his shirt with one hand and began hitting him in the face with her other hand. I encouraged him that he had done nothing wrong. I told him his mother did wrong, not him. After much encouragement he began to feel better. We sat in the playroom for hours building a house from building blocks.

             I felt like my neck was broken. The smallest movement made me see black or red or even vomit. Vomiting was the worst because that caused more movement and more vomiting. I laid there on the cement prison floor and cried as I remembered my son’s bruised face. Later that day Amber had agreed to leave the house. She said she was moving to her grandmother’s house and she would be gone within two weeks. I told her if she ever touched my children again, I would put her in prison. I saw the fire flash in her eyes. I wanted to call the police but I knew if I did, they would take all my kids away. That is what the USA does. They do not look for a solution, they simply destroy the family.

             I heard some guards come into the cell block to deliver breakfast. They did not even open my trap door. They simply passed by and left me on the floor. No compassion. No mercy. A little later I heard the voice of a guard. He spoke calmly as if everything was normal, but his words carried deep emotion, “We broke your spine in three places because you circumcised three of your sons.” I was shocked at first, then realized that made sense. I had been charged with circumcising my sons as a crime in North Carolina, USA, so breaking my spine for what they perceived as a crime was normal to them. The prison guards were always beating and breaking prisoners. They broke the arm of the prisoner in the cell beside me. I had heard his screams but was unable to do anything. It was nothing special to the North Carolina Prison Guards, just another day at work. I wondered how many prisoners had laid silently in their bunks listening to my screams. Just another night at Central Prison in Raleigh, North Carolina.

             I recalled the first time I had heard the ‘voice’. I was in Gaston County jail. A voice came out of the speaker on the wall near the door. I noticed when the guards wanted me to get ready for court or some other jail related task, the voice from the speaker always made a squealing sound in the background. But times when the voice spoke of harming me or my children, there was no squealing sound in the background. At first, I thought it was due to the voice coming from a different control panel somewhere in the jail. Then one day as the voice was mocking and berating me, I ignored it and knelt to pray. Then the voice taunted me that there was no God to hear my prayers. I stopped instantly! How could they see me? I got up and searched the cell completely multiple times but there was no camera anywhere. I was baffled.

             Then I had been shipped off to prison where I was housed in a dormitory. There was no speaker on the wall and no mysterious voice to taunt me. But when I was sent to Caldwell County jail, the voices began again. They appeared to come from the speaker in the wall near the door. I would hear the voice of the guard working in the control booth come from the speaker when my cellmate was in the cell with me. But when my cellmate left our cell, I would hear different voices. They were voices of men I had never seen or heard in the jail. They were voices of other men besides the guards working in the jail. Those voices would threaten me and tell me exactly how they would harm my children if I defended myself in court. There were two prisoners in each cell, and every time the other prisoner left our cell the harassing voices began. I knew they didn’t want the other prisoner to hear their threats against me. They were cowards.

             Then one day as I was lying in my bunk and the other prisoner was in his bunk, I heard one of those intimidating voices I had heard many times before. But this time the voice was in my left ear! It was not coming from the speaker, but being broadcast directly into my left ear! I was amazed! I have always been interested in electronics and instantly knew the guards were using some type of electronic device to broadcast sound directly into my ear.

             Then things got really weird. The voice began mocking me and saying, “Oh, is baby’s nose running?” Then my nose began to run. I immediately recalled how my nose had begun running each and every time I ate my food. I had actually wondered if the guards were putting something in my food to cause the reaction. Now I understood it was caused by some type of electronic device! Days and years went by as the guards continued using their electronic device to torture me as they watched me. I heard hundreds of voices over the fourteen years I spent in prison. Many of the voices were proud and arrogant, boasting about their device. They called it the EMT, which stands for Electronic Monitoring and Torturing system. Yes, that is what the North Carolina prison system calls their weapon. They taunted me that when they use the EMT on a person, the person needs an EMT. That means when they use the Electronic Monitoring and Torturing system on a person, the person needs an Emergency Medical Transport which is an ambulance.

             As years went by many times North Carolina prison guards would stop at my cell and say something like, “Your back hurts!” and instantly my back would hurt so bad I couldn’t stand. The amount of pain they inflicted upon me is beyond words. I wrote a grievance that was answered by the North Carolina Director of Prison’s secretary. I complained about the Electronic Monitoring and Torturing system being used to harm me. I said that was blatantly illegal according to United States laws. She answered that I was not being treated any different than other prisoners. She didn’t even deny it. I attempted to contact a lawyer to show the grievance reply, so the guards watching me sent some guards who worked in the prison to my cell. They stole the grievance and everything else I owned. I never saw any of my belongings again. 

Section Three – Worthless Jew

             After that I began asking other prisoners if they were also being tortured. Most of them said they had a lot of mysterious pain, but knew nothing of the EMT. But some prisoners did know about the EMT. Jeffery Allen Cox told me he thought he was the first prisoner they used it on. I asked why him and he said he didn’t know. He said the guards had some electronic device they used to bombard his brain and give extreme anxiety among other things. And that is correct. They bombard a person’s mind with a certain wavelength aimed at a certain area of the brain to induce the terrible feeling.

             I am a very logical person. I often put pieces together that other people overlook. Think about this: How did Yasar Arafat die? He had holes burnt into his digestive tract. The USA guards used the EMT to lacerate my lungs for years. I coughed up blood as the voices mocked me. There are two options: First, Israel has this same device or is allowed to use it by the USA and Israel killed Yasar. This is possible but not probable. Second, the USA saw Yasar as a reoccurring problem that could eventually take away their strangle hold on Israel so the USA killed him to eliminate that possibility. This is most probable.

 The USA has too much power! Why do most of the nations on earth agree to allow this? It is dangerous. You cannot trust a nation that tortures its own citizens and prisoners. Yes, they torture citizens who have never been in jail or prison. Please ask my wife who I have been married to for three years. The last four years that I have known my wife she has been tortured by North Carolina prison guards even though she lives in Florida. Yes, ask her. She will give her testimony about this near the end of this book.

             There are other prisoners who know about the EMT device. An Israeli man I met in North Carolina prison was trying to expose the corruption. His name is Brendan Cardoza. He changed his name from something else to Brendan Cardoza so I haven’t been able to locate him in prison records. He thought they were using ELF technology to torture us. I believe they are using a stream of quantum entangled electrons because they have the ability to reach through your skin and into your organs without damaging the skin or anything else they are reaching through.

             The North Carolina prison guards watching me told me that the CIA has instructed their various divisions of watchers to do things related to an action. This means, if you stub your toe, they make your entire foot hurt so bad you can’t walk on it. This is their way of torturing people. They almost always use something you do to choose the pain they inflict. If your brother dies, they bombard your mind with sadness and anxiety. If you bend over to pick a flower, your back feels like you threw it out. This is what they do to all their victims to hide their existence. That is what the NC prison guards told me. World leaders, think about this: Have you and your family members been experiencing higher levels of sexuality since your appointment? Yes, the watchers are bored sitting there watching you all day so they constantly give men erections and excite women. Ask my wife, they have raped her more times than I can count as they have me. When you give trash this much power, what do you think they will do? Obviously, they will do what excites them. They are disgusting!

             Back to my story:

             I laid there on the floor of my prison cell and thought about the charges they had used to arrest me. First, they said that I had misspelled my name to the police officer. That was the arresting charge. But I had not spelled my name at all. I had handed my driver’s license to the officer. When I was in the jail, there was a television playing the news. The same officer who had arrested me, Dallas, North Carolina police officer Flick, had told the reporter that I was beating my wife and she had called the police for help. That was a complete lie! In reality, I was home on a sabbath day, relaxing. My kids came to me and told me there was a man in the backyard. As I went out the front door to see who was at our house, the man got in his car and left. I wondered who he was. A few minutes later there was a knock on the door. My wife Amber answered and I heard Officer Flick ask her if there was a man there. Amber said ‘no’ just as I stepped out the door. Officer Flick complained that she had lied. I told him Amber thought he was asking if the trespasser was still at our house. Officer Flick arrested Amber for ‘Lying to an Officer’. I went to the jail to get Amber out and Officer Flick arrested me and said that I had misspelled my name. Who is actually the liar?

             I tried to turn my head because I had been laying in the same position so long that the cement was hurting me immensely. That was a bad idea. The movement caused me to black out and wake up vomiting. That caused more movement, repeating the ordeal. After several minutes I was able to turn my head to the other side. I wondered how bad the injury was. Would it heal or would it paralyze me? I didn’t know. I laid there and wondered how God could allow people to hurt each other so ruthlessly. I prayed and prayed but got no answer. No sound. No guidance. I felt abandoned.

             After I had been in jail for a couple days, Officer Flick came and charged me with more violations. He said I had hit Amber and that I had left my children home alone and that I didn’t have my children in public school. As I stood there in the magistrate’s cubicle, I asked Flick, “Why are you doing this?” His reply stunned me, “Worthless Jew!” Suddenly I realized what had happened. When Flick came to our house he had seen the Hebrew writing around our door. That is how he knew we were Jewish and why he had done what he had done. Then Flick cracked a half smile as he told me that when he was in college, he had written a paper on how the judicial system could be misused to harm people. I said nothing else to him. There is no way to deal with someone who hates you because of your ancestry.

            I felt my stomach rumbling. The guards had passed by my cell without even trying to give me any food. Nightshift had left rules for dayshift. This was common practice in prison. If one guard didn’t like you, he would tell the captain who would ensure every guard gave you special treatment. I had seen it happen not only to myself, but to many others as well. My mind went back to Amber. It was only a couple days until she was supposed to move to her grandmother’s house. I came home to find her laying on her bed with an empty bottle of medicine beside her. She screamed at me, “If you leave me, I will kill myself.” I was disgusted. She had beaten an innocent five-year-old simply because he looked similar to his father. I knew why she had hit him, even though she wouldn’t say. She had put me out of the bedroom leaving me to sleep on the couch for months before that. Amber was always mad for no real reason. One time I gave her a dozen red roses. She snarled up her face as I handed them to her. “What is wrong?” I asked. “I don’t like roses!” her reply. I could never do anything correctly or good enough. When there was nothing happening, she would storm off to her room and slam the door. Whenever I asked what was wrong, only silence. Never any explanation. Never, not once, ever.

             After Amber told me she was leaving, I went to see Sarah. I had known her for years and thought she was a good person. I explained what had happened with Amber and told her Amber was leaving. I apologized to Sarah for the situation, but told her if she would marry me, I would always love her and treat her well. To my surprise, Sarah did not wait. She said ‘Yes’ enthusiastically then told me she had secretly admired me for years. I was so happy! I was getting rid of Amber and her constant animosity and getting a much better wife who promised me she would love my children as her own. What I didn’t know was that Sarah was a sex addict who would cheat on me and leave me. When it rains, it pours. 

Section Four – Attempted Murder

             While I was working at Southeast Builder Supply in Charlotte, North Carolina, I was sent out of town to install window units in Belk Hall at High Point University. When I got back to the warehouse, the warehouse supervisor approached me. Dan told me that while I was gone Sarah had been spending a lot of time in John Ramirez’s office with the door closed and had been going to lunch with him. I thanked Dan and kept unloading my van. Then a lady who worked there came to me and looked around. When no one was near she told me the same things Dan had said. I thanked her and finished unloading the van.

             I laid on the floor until lunch time. I kept wondering how I was going to get my lunch tray from the cell door. I knew I couldn’t move that far without debilitating pain. My worries were in vain. Lunch came and went and the guards didn’t even open my trap or set a tray there. They didn’t care if I died. They had beaten me with a metal pipe and anything else was pale in comparison. I remembered the lunch I had with the company owner, Mike Law, along with John Ramirez and Sarah. As the four of us were looking at our menus, John Ramirez said he would pay for Sarah’s food. I looked at Sarah and saw her smiling and batting her eyes at Ramirez. Mike Law saw what was happening so he told John Ramirez he had to pay for everyone’s food. I laughed as Ramirez fumed. Later that day I asked Sarah about Ramirez and she said they were only friends. I had seen her response at the restaurant and knew there was more to it than that, as had Mike.

             When Amber had threatened to kill herself, I went to Sarah and asked her what I should do. Sarah told me not to throw Amber out, because if she did kill herself my children would hold me accountable for their mother’s death. So, I lived in a house with one woman I loathed and another I loved. It was a very tough situation, but not as tough as the situation I was in laying on that cold, cement prison floor with a broken spine and no food. I encouraged myself, telling myself that I had come through some very hard times in my life. I remembered being put out on the streets of Charlotte when I was fifteen years old. My mother threw me out because I had read the Bible that my grandmother had given me for my birthday. I told my mother that God disapproved of her sleeping with all the various men she was. She threw me out. My fifteen-year-old mind was just trying to help my mother since I had read God’s laws.

             Drip. Drip. Drip. I could hear the sound of water outside my window. I tried to get up off the floor, but the pain quickly ended that idea. My body was unmovable but my mind was racing. I thought about the day I came home from Southeast Builder Supply. Sarah met me at the back door and told me she had fixed my favorite meal. She said she had fixed spaghetti. That was not my favorite meal, but I did like it. I told her I would eat after I took a shower. I wondered why she was asking me to eat first. She knew I always took a shower as soon as I got home so my kids could sit on my lap and eat with me. Sarah kept asking me to eat first. She said the kids had already eaten. She pressed me so much that I finally gave in and sat down at the table. She gave me a full plate of spaghetti and mashed potatoes and a full glass of milk. When I had eaten about half of it, she refilled my plate and my glass. Then she did it again. I told her I couldn’t eat anymore so she began crying. She complained that she had fixed my favorite meal just for me and I wouldn’t eat it. She had never acted like that before. I felt bad so I tried to eat it all, but I could not. I finally told her, “I love you, but I simply cannot eat another bite.” She looked satisfied and let me go take my shower. I passed Amber who had been standing in the doorway watching everything as she held my kids back. I thought it was because I was dirty from my job. I was wrong.

             I got my clothes and went to the shower. While I was bathing, I kept getting more and more tired. I quickly dried off and put my clothes on. I collapsed onto my bed. Everything went dark. I awoke fifteen hours later feeling groggy and medicated. I slowly pulled myself up and onto the side of the bed. I felt bad but I got up and went to check on my children. I was scared that my wife might have harmed them too. All my kids were fine. I looked at Sarah. She was sitting on the couch with a scared look on her face. Her attempt to drug me to death had failed leaving her worried about what would happen next. The sight of her sickened me. I told her, “You are just like Amber.” She glared. I guessed that she was planning on leaving me for Ramirez but she didn’t want me to find someone else. I didn’t know what to do so I simply loaded my kids into the van and went to see my grandmother three hours away. I needed time to pray about what to do.

             After visiting my grandmother, I returned home. I was still unsure about what to do. When I got home, Sarah was gone. She had packed a bag and left. I was amazed that she had left her sons, but I guess when a person is running for their life, nothing else matters. She was afraid of going to prison for attempted murder. The worst part was that when I got home, Amber was still there. I simply couldn’t get that gum off my shoe. For the life of me, I couldn’t understand why Amber stayed. She hated me and I loathed her. All I could guess was that she liked the easy life I provided. She did nothing. She didn’t work a job and she didn’t do housework. She was one of those people who could sleep all day and watch television all night.

             Sarah had three reasons for leaving. First, she was scared of going to prison for what she had done. Second, she didn’t love me. Third, she was restless. That was the fourth time Sarah had left. She had come back the other three times but I knew she wouldn’t return that time. The threat of prison was sure to increase her desire to stay gone. I felt relief that she was gone. I recalled the day I came out into the Southeast Builder Supply warehouse and heard Sarah telling a group of guys to laugh at my thinning hair. Then the situation with Ramirez unfolded. I breathed a sigh of relief that I had one less problem in my life, but I was heartbroken that Sarah had left pregnant. I didn’t know if the child was mine or Ramirez’s, but I was totally devastated by the possibility that I had lost a child. As hard a woman as Sarah was, I knew she wouldn’t let me see the child even if it was mine.

             I felt very sad as I recalled what Sarah and Amber had done to me. My grandmother had taught me that when you get married it is for life. You do not divorce for any reason. I had listened to my grandmother because she was the only good person in my life. I respected her and obeyed her. But her guidance was wrong. After Amber hit our son, I finally gave up on her. I had learned that a person could waste their entire life trying to help someone who doesn’t want to be helped. If I had not listened to my grandmother, I would have left Amber the first year. Sad.

             My mind couldn’t help but wander off onto a distant possibility. Was there a girl out there somewhere who would love me? I felt a tear trickle as I longed for that to be true. Someday, somewhere, I hoped I would meet a girl who knew what love was. I longed to be loved. Why was it so hard to attain? There had to be a girl out there who would love me! Someone to hold hands as we walked along the beach. My mind fixated on that. I could almost see myself strolling down the beach holding the hand of a woman. I couldn’t see her face but I felt her smiling at me. I felt her happiness.

             A couple days had passed as I laid there on the cold cement prison floor. I was in a puddle of vomit and urine. The smell was putrid. I was enduring one endless stream of pain and suffering. My neck was the largest problem. The other two areas they had broken hurt extremely bad, but the neck injury was much worse. I felt a dull throbbing in my pelvis and a ring of fire radiating from the mid-spine but the smallest movement of my neck caused me to vomit. If I held my neck completely motionless, it just felt like a sharp pain cutting into my spine, but the smallest movement erupted uncontrollable pain, vomiting and agony. And of course, the guards kept using the USA Electronic Monitoring and Torturing system to produce more pain. They kept tickling my nose and causing me to sneeze. The pain that exploded from my body with every sneeze caused me to beg God for death. I will never forget the voices in my ear asking how I liked all the special attention. One asked if I still believed in God, then told me he was God and would prove it by making me scream. Then I sneezed and subsequently screamed. 

Section Five – After the Beating

             I heard the sounds of the cell block door dragging open. Then the footsteps of guards in the block followed by the clanging of the steel trap doors they used to feed us falling open. To my surprise, my trap door was opened. My heart began to race uncontrollably. Was I going to be fed? A few moments later I heard a guard at my cell door. He barked like a dog then I heard him throw something into my cell. I will never forget the thud as it hit the floor. I knew it was my food. Everything inside me froze. There was food in my cell! Could I get to it? Was it possible? I prayed to God then raised my body up off the floor. As the pain overwhelmed me, I determined not to fall. I slowly crawled towards the door on my hands and knees. It took what seemed like an eternity of pain, blacking out and suffering to travel the six feet to the door.

             I found a kosher tray laying upside down on the floor. When I picked it up, I discovered that the top had been cut open before it was thrown into my cell. My ‘kosher’ food was lying in a pile on the cement floor. I didn’t care. I determined to eat it. There was no way I was going to refuse the help God had sent me. I saw a pile of something beside the door. It looked like clothing but I couldn’t be sure without my glasses. I forced myself to move closer with hope growing in my heart. Yes, it was my clothing and my glasses! The guards had left them just inside the door. I had clothes, food and my glasses! I praised God like I never had before in my life!

             I recalled the first time the guards had stripped me naked. I was in Gaston County jail a few days after my arrest. A guard came to my cell and took me to the medical unit. It was late so the nurses were not there. He put me in a cell and took my clothes and glasses. I thought he was going to search them then give them back to me but when he kept them, I asked him, “Am I on suicide watch?” He said, “Yes.” I said, “But I am not suicidal.” He said, “Good, then you won’t be on it long.” They left me on suicide watch, cold and naked, for over a week. When I was finally taken to a doctor, he told me I was on suicide watch because I was ‘un-American’. That is when I learned that suicide watch was a form of punishment.

             I put on my glasses then moved my clothing closer to the bunk. I backed up slowly until I could reach the bunk and laid my clothes on it. I had determined in my heart, mind and soul that I was going to survive. The guard had threatened to paralyze me or kill me. I was neither. I felt a smile in my soul. I knew I would survive. I had laid on that cold, cement floor for two days partly because of the pain, but mostly because I feared moving would sever my spinal cord. Fear was my largest enemy. I ate my kosher food off the prison floor. Each swallow caused extreme pain, but I felt as if God was holding my hand every second. No longer did I feel alone. I felt God was with me.

             After I ate, came the moment of truth. I had to get up. I knew I couldn’t stay on the floor forever. I sat up onto my knees then used the sink to help me stand. The dizziness, flashes of black and red, and indescribable pain couldn’t stop me. My determination was much greater than their hatred. With much effort I rose to my feet. I felt like a giant standing there covered in vomit and urine. I felt unstoppable! I wanted to scream at them! I wanted to tell them I had won! Little did I know, they were not done breaking my bones yet.

             Slowly and painfully, second after second, minute after minute, I cleaned myself at the sink. I filled a cup with water and drank it. Water had never tasted so good! I shuffled over to my bunk and softly sat down. I managed to pull my clothes on which was a large comfort since the cell was so cold. I laid down on my prison bunk flat on my back. Although I usually laid on my side, I couldn’t do that due to the neck injury. As I laid there motionless, the memory of what had happened kept replaying in my mind. How many times had I been struck in my mid-spine? How many times had I been struck in the pelvis? I wasn’t even sure if I had been struck more than once in my neck. The pain was so intense and overwhelming that my mind couldn’t comprehend what was happening to me as it happened. I felt the tears run down my cheeks. I felt alone again. The moment of victory had passed and I realized I was lying in a prison cell, beaten, broken and hopeless.

             A loud clang woke me from my broken, painful sleep. The guard threw my kosher tray on the floor then slammed the trap shut again. I slowly got up and made my way to the door. I got my tray and returned to the bed, sat it down then went to the sink and washed my hands. I laughed inside as I thought how silly it was to eat a tray off the floor after washing my hands. Still, I reduced the number of germs as much as possible. Several days had passed since I had gotten up off the floor. My injuries were extremely bad, but I was not paralyzed. I had moments that I felt victorious, and others that I felt totally overwhelmed. My prayers were very intense. From much suffering comes much love.

             Each moment was true agony. The worst part was that I had to breathe. I couldn’t stop breathing even though each breath caused terrible pain, nauseousness or vomiting. I took short, shallow breaths so my lungs wouldn’t expand as much. But no matter how shallow I tried to breathe my lungs still expanded and shifted the break in my mid-spine creating endless suffering. After several shallow breaths, I would be air starved and have to breathe deeper causing unbearable pain. And the guards using the Electronic Monitoring and Torturing system constantly watched me and tortured me. They poured immense pain into my body every moment of every day as they constantly taunted me with their hateful words. Many times, I wondered why they hurt me so much, why they spent so much time on me. Then one day a voice said, “Don’t these people ever take a break?” I realized they had made a plan to wear me down and break me. I knew their intention was to break me but I didn’t know why. The pain was more than I could bear. I begged God to die.

             Slowly, as each day passed, I began moving more and more. After several months I began ‘shuffle’ walking in my cell. Months of walking brought about a better range of motion. I began holding my arms out and slowly moving them in circles. I kept increasing my exercise routine with each passing month. Little by little I grew stronger. I did movements that concentrated on the injured areas. I endured the pain it caused because the result was fantastic. After a year I was able to begin a true exercise routine. No longer was I doing simple motion, I actually exerted myself. I remember the day I did my first push up. I leaned with my hands on my bunk and feet against the wall. I counted each one in my mind. I can’t remember how many I did. It wasn’t very many, but those few push-ups seemed like a gold medal to me. I had run the race, and I had won.

             I was sitting on my prison bunk one day when an argument erupted in the cell block. A couple prisoners were yelling racial slurs at each other. My mind went back to Caldwell County jail. I had been in jail there several months when a white prisoner was let out for his ‘free time’. That is what the guards called the prisoners’ thirty minutes out of their cells. The prisoner began chanting ‘white power’. Soon, many other prisoners were chanting ‘white power’ also. It got very loud. Then, during the lag between speaking, the spot where the motley crew were taking a breath, a solitary black man cried out ‘black power’! Then several more chimed in. I noticed that the white guys began waiting a little longer in between speaking to give the blacks time to yell also. It wasn’t a competition, somehow it was a brotherhood. The whites were proud to be white and the blacks were proud to be black, and they accepted each other the way they were and made room for each other. As I deeply pondered what was happening, a solitary voice cried out ‘Mexican power’! There was only one Mexican in our cell block so he kept yelling out alone, but space was made for him also. White power, black power and Mexican power kept ringing out in the block. I walked to my cell door, waited for a space and screamed ‘Jewish power’!

             One day a tray came that was empty. They gave me a tray, but there wasn’t any food on it. I said nothing. There was nothing I could do except wait for a future when I could expose their hatred. I sat on my prison bunk and thought about North Carolina law. There is actually a law saying prisoners must be provided a religious diet. The law also says prisoners must be provided condiments with their meal. I scoffed as I thought about them giving me an empty tray. The North Carolina prison staff cared nothing about those laws. They had complete control over me so they chose to hurt me. I understood why. I had learned that lesson when I was young. 

Section Six – Broken Jaw

             My mother left my father and married another man named Francis. My step-father was a con-artist. He was always running up bills then moving the day before the eviction was scheduled to happen. He did that many times during my childhood. Because of that, we moved constantly. We never spent an entire year in a house. By the time I was old enough to use my social security number, I discovered that he had used it to get a phone and power turned on, then didn’t pay the bill. He ruined my older sister’s credit also.

             One time we left Virginia and moved further south. We settled in a house in Blowing Rock, North Carolina. There was a bully at the school named Michael. Michael hit me and called me queer a lot, as he did other boys who were smaller than he was. I watched him and learned. He would start out talking loudly at a boy and if the boy didn’t argue back, Michael would get physically aggressive. He always used his words to test his victim before starting the physical violence.

             We moved again. I found myself in a very large school in Charlotte, North Carolina. There were many bullies there. I noticed they always spoke aggressive before attacking physically. I also noticed if they yelled at another boy and he yelled back, there usually wasn’t any hitting. They were put on notice that the boy they were yelling at would also hit.

             Isn’t that what is happening in the USA today? Those same bullies have worked hard to gain positions of power where they can harm other people. Every prison guard that has ever used the Electronic Monitoring and Torturing system to watch me has also tortured me. None have only watched. They all enjoy hurting other people. I know this clearly because as they torture me, they taunt me about how powerful they are and how weak I am. They are very arrogant and evil.

             When I was attending the school in Charlotte, I had several black friends. The school was a mixture of various races so I also had a Vietnamese friend, a Chinese friend, an Asian Indian friend and many others. One day I was at recess playing ball with one of my black friends. Some of his older cousins cornered us both. They verbally insulted him for having a white friend, then pushed, shoved and kicked him as they tossed him out of the circle. Then, with him gone, they set their sights on me. The verbal abuse began. They used racial profanity. I thought about all I had learned about bullies in my short life. I decided that being loud myself couldn’t save me since there were so many of them. Instead, I spoke calmy and showed no fear. Every time they assailed me with slurs, I simply nodded and said I understood their anger. And I did understand their anger. Their ancestors had been brought to this land by people they thought I came from. They thought my ancestors had enslaved their ancestors. I had no way of disproving it, so I simply told them I understood their situation. After about five minutes, they got bored and left. Sometimes the best answer, is the soft answer. Like Solomon said, “A soft answer turns away wrath.”

             As I sat on my prison bunk, I remembered many of the bullies I had encountered during my life and knew the prison guards were no different. They were full of hatred and had worked to achieve a position of power so they could hurt other men. There are only three reasons a person takes a job as a prison guard in the USA. First, they want a position that allows them to hurt others without consequences. That is the most common. Second, they are desperate for a job and a guard position is the only job available. Third, they are out of touch with reality. Prison guards get hurt or killed a lot, so anyone with sense would avoid that risky job. But truthfully, most of the guards who get attacked are the ones who are hurting prisoners.

             Whenever the guards came into the cell block to deliver the trays, I had to get up and wait at the door. Seeing me standing there usually caused them to give me a tray. If I wasn’t at the door, they often skipped me. Another reason I stood at the door was to catch my food. They loved to throw my Kosher tray on the floor. But they never threw my tray on the floor when I was standing there watching them. They were not as tough as they pretended to be. They always ganged up in groups to beat me, but when they were alone, they didn’t have anywhere near as much attitude.

             A fight erupted in the block! All the prisoners were locked in our cells, so only words were exchanged. But the words were very loud and aggressive. Threats to kill each other flew back and forth between the two angry prisoners. Apparently, they knew each other, because one of them callously reminded the other that he knew where the man’s mother lived. That was too much, several other prisoners chimed in. They told the man who had made the threat to calm down or he would be dealt with by the brothers. The man mouthed off a little bit, but quickly pulled his tongue under control. Having men, who were a higher rank in the gang than he was, telling him to calm down got the point across. If it were not for the gangs in prison, there would be total chaos. Their governmental system keeps the soldiers below them in line and their numbers creates power that keeps those not in the gang in line also.

             I heard an unfamiliar voice in the cell block. I looked out the half-inch hole in the steel plate that covered my window and saw a guard I had never seen before. As he passed by my cell, I asked him for a grievance and a pen. He went and got them from the shelf and gave them to me. Then he completed his rounds and left. A grievance is the form a prisoner can use to complain about something in the North Carolina prison system. I had asked several guards for one previously, but they had scoffed or ignored me completely. I was a marked man.

             I filled out the grievance. I wrote exactly what had happened the night the three guards had broken my spine. I also complained that even after asking multiple guards for grievances, sick call forms and to see a nurse, I was ignored and refused. I ended the complaint by stating that one of the guards had said they had broken my spine in three places because I circumcised three of my sons. I waited by the door. Over an hour passed, maybe two. Finally, a guard entered the block. I was happy to see it was the new guard who had given me the grievance. I slid the grievance out the crack in the door and moved it up and down to get his attention as he passed by. I felt the paper pulled from my fingers and I smiled inside. Maybe something would finally be done about this insanity.

             I heard the door that led into our cell block open late that night. I didn’t pay attention because I thought it was a guard making his rounds. Feet stopped at my cell door. I felt fear race through my soul as the guard told me to stand up. I slowly got up and looked at the door. It opened. It shouldn’t have opened. The guards were supposed to handcuff me through the small trap door before they opened the cell door. I felt the pounding of my heart as two guards entered my cell with batons in their hands. I wasn’t healed. I was nowhere near completely healed. I knew I couldn’t resist. I was trapped. The guard in front told me to get on my knees. I knelt down as I looked straight ahead. My neck injury didn’t permit me to look up very much. The blow landed on the side of my head. Everything went black. When I woke up, I was laying on my stomach with my head turned to the left. The guard was stomping on my face. I turned my head the other direction, trying to use the toilet as a shield. I heard both guards curse me, then leave. As soon as my cell door shut, I climbed up off the floor. I had a hard time thinking. Everything seemed surreal. I went to my bunk and laid down. Only then did I realize my jaw was broken. Later I would realize they had busted my skull also. At that moment I was in so much pain that I didn’t know exactly what was wrong. I wondered how long he had stomped on me before I awoke.

             I couldn’t open my mouth which made it impossible to chew my food. I used the plastic spoon to crush all my food into paste, mixed it with water and drank it the best I could. This continued for months, but slowly, one week at a time, I was able to move my jaw more and more until finally I could open my mouth again. The pain in my jaw was much less severe than the pain in my spine. By the time my jaw no longer hurt constantly, my spine still made me nauseous constantly. The guard had broken the socket. Now, my jaw simply falls out of socket on the left side when I open it. I knew I had been through worse. My broken jaw and fractured skull paled in comparison to my broken spine. I knew I wouldn’t complain to the prison system again. I prayed a lot and decided I would contact a lawyer when I finally got out of prison, if I survived.

             The watchers spoke in my ear, “Did you really think we would allow you to get any help? Are you so stupid you don’t understand who we are?” I said, “I assume you work for the Central Intelligence Agency.” Then they began bragging about their special CIA clearances that allowed them to watch and torture anybody on earth, even my children. That hurt, but I tried not to let it show. I knew if they knew that bothered me, they would do it more. What kind of person or nation makes a game of torturing innocent people, especially children!

             I sat in my prison cell and recalled the day I went on trial. Amber showed up, as did Sarah, but none of my friends or family showed up to testify for me. I had been on all the news channels so everyone knew when and where my trial was happening. I felt all alone. No one had cared enough to stand up for me. I recalled all the people I had helped. I realized that I had wasted a lot of my life helping people who were not worth my effort. I had never passed by a stranded car or person walking who I didn’t stop to help. I had put roofs on people’s houses for free. I had fixed more cars than I could recall. One man had told me that I had the gift of helping people. No one came to help me. Years later, I would find out that two of my friends, Prakash and Valab, had come to my trial but were sent away by the police working at the court house. The police told Prakash they were not having my trial that day. They had lied leaving me with no one to counter Amber and Sarah’s lies. Is it true justice to deprive a defendant of witnesses and encourage false witnesses to lie. I recalled when Amber was in the holding cell beside me in Gaston County jail. Her lawyer told her if she would say I hit her the police would let her out of jail. Freedom in exchange for lies. That is very corrupt! Justice is mocked in the USA. 

Section Seven – Mace Abuse

            Ants invaded my cell. A steady stream of ants came through a crack in the wall and poured onto my floor. Terrible! I used a soapy cloth to scrub away the ant trail in an attempt to get rid of them. As I was scrubbing the crack in the wall, the prisoner in the cell beside me asked what I was doing. I told him about the ants. He said he had an ant problem also. We talked for a little and I asked him if the guards would give him paper and envelopes. He said they would and asked me if I needed some. I told him I did and a few seconds later paper and envelopes came through the crack in the wall. I knew what I was going to do. I smiled inside.

             I wrote letters to my family and ‘friends’. In the letters I explained what was happening to me at Central Prison in Raleigh, North Carolina. I got the needed address from the prisoner beside me and also wrote a letter to North Carolina Prisoner Legal Services. That is the law firm that is supposed to handle all prisoner complaints against the State. According to prison rules, if prisoners had no money in their accounts, they were allowed five indigent letters per month. I wrote five letters and wrote the letters ‘Ind’ in the top corner where the stamp was supposed to be placed. That was required to let the mailroom staff know I had no money and the letters were to be sent out free of charge. I waited for months, then years. Not one reply.

             Another year passed as I struggled through each day in isolation. I noticed that my right hand would draw up when I wasn’t using it. When I tried to move it, it would work properly. I could grasp a pen and write clearly, but when the hand was not in use it curled up. I knew it was some type of spinal damage. I also had a hard time turning my head very far. I could not touch my chin to my chest, look up very far or turn completely right or left. The range of motion in my neck had been reduced. Overall, I was in fairly good shape. I began doing jumping jacks in an attempt to get in better shape. A few weeks after starting the jumping jacks, I began to cough up blood. I kept coughing up blood for years after that. Every time I would cough up blood, the guards watching me would laugh and taunt me about how they were killing me slowly.

             Two guards came to my cell. They opened my trap door, handcuffed me, then opened the cell door. They put shackles on me then took me to a meeting room. A man there said I was being considered for release from isolation. He said if I was approved, I would be put in a standard cell block. I was shocked. The man asked me a lot of questions, then sent me back to my cell. I was very excited. I was very hopeful that I would be released from the isolation I had been in for years. Later that evening, when night shift came on duty, a guard walked by my cell and laughed. I heard him say they had taken me for a ride today. Then the words that burned into my soul, “You’re not going anywhere.” He was right. I never heard anything else about that meeting. I wondered if it was just a way to see if I would complain about the abuse. Were they having a laugh at my expense?

             A few days later I heard the door open that led into our cell block. I looked out to see two guards pushing a cart. They stopped at the bottom of the stairs. One guard lifted a large bag of fluid off the cart and carried it upstairs. I heard the access door above my cell open. There was a little bit of noise then the access panel was shut and locked. The guards left the block. I knelt down to pray. I was happy that I could kneel to pray again. It had been a long, painful process from the night of my attack until the point where I could function almost normally again. I knew that God had allowed what had happened to me. I also knew that suffering produces a beautiful soul. My communion with God was much deeper and I felt much closer to God due to my ordeal. Many people say that the end does not justify the means, but to God, the end does justify the means. My faith in God was solid. I knew a freight train couldn’t pull me away from God.

             That night I began to cough and my skin began to burn. I was surprised! I felt like I had mace all over me. I remembered the bag of fluid the guards had carried to the access panel above my cell. Was it a bag of mace? Did they have some device set up to pump mace into prisoner’s cells? Central Prison never ceased to amaze me. I recalled what God said through the prophet, “They are wise at doing evil, but they don’t know how to do good.” My life experience was driving God’s teachings deep into my soul. The bag of mace lasted more than a month. When it finally ran out, I had peace for a while until they refilled it. This happened several times, but I didn’t complain. I knew what happened when I complained. After about six months of the mace being pumped into my cell, I found that I had grown immune to it. I no longer burned or coughed. I could smell it in the air, but it did not bother me very much.

             One evening the doors to our cell block opened and I heard numerous feet march into the block. I quickly went to the door and looked out. My ears had not deceived me, there were more guards entering the block than I could count! It was an invasion. I knew what was about to happen. It was a shake down.

             A guard came to my door, opened my trap, then ordered me to take off my clothes and pass them through the trap to him. I did. Then he ordered me to back up, turn around, squat and cough. This degrading routine was normal in prison. Then he threw my boxer shorts back through the trap and told me to submit to cuffs. I quickly put on my boxer shorts then backed up to the trap and stuck my hands out. He handcuffed me. Then my cell door opened. I was taken out into the hall and walked slowly through a metal detector. It didn’t beep, but one of the guards yelled, “Hey! Make him take his glasses off!” So, the guard escorting me pulled my glasses off and walked me back through the metal detector. Still no beep. Two guards began looking intensely at my glasses. They couldn’t understand why the metal detector had not beeped when my glasses were made of metal. I heard one ask the other, “They are metal, aren’t they?” I spoke up, “They are titanium, so they don’t set off the metal detector.” The two guards seemed satisfied with that. One of them shoved the glasses into my hand then marched me back into the block. He sat me on the floor outside my cell. My glasses were in my hands that were handcuffed behind my back. I tried to pull my hands close enough to put my glasses back on, but that was impossible, so I sat there blind. Various items were thrown out of my cell onto the block floor. I smiled inside. It was nothing I needed.

             I recalled the first jail I was put in. I was in a cell with a man named Mark. He told me the secret to escaping a shake down was to have something for the guards to find. He always kept a cup of salt and pepper. Any salt and pepper he didn’t use went into the cup. Keeping extra salt and pepper in our cells was against jail policy. Then when the guards came to search, they would find Mark’s cup of salt and pepper and think they were hurting him by taking it. Mark always acted upset as the guards dumped his salt and pepper onto the floor and stomped on it. In reality, he didn’t even need it. It only existed to give them satisfaction so they would leave the stuff that was important to him. He was a genius!

             I used all the salt and pepper I received, so I came up with another idea. We were only allowed one washcloth. I would keep an extra washcloth each time they did clothes exchange. I would place the extra washcloth under my mattress so it looked like I was trying to hide it. That worked every time! The guards would search my cell until they found the ‘hidden’ washcloth, then they would throw it out on the floor and yell at me, “You are only allowed one washcloth!” I would always make wide eyes like I was horrified. Then they would leave my cell and move to the next since they felt they had harmed me. They got their satisfaction, and I got to keep the stuff that was truly important to me.

             As I sat there blind on that Central Prison floor, I smiled inside. They had thrown out all the Styrofoam trays that my food came in, but they had left my pillow! My greatest fear was losing my pillow. I desperately needed it to lay on my side. My neck injury required it. I only kept the Styrofoam trays for them to find! The plan had worked!

             I was pulled up onto my feet and pushed back into my cell. The door shut, my handcuffs were removed and the trap door was closed. I was alone again. I put my glasses on and surveyed the damage. Everything was on the floor with boot prints on my sheets. They were very calloused. They always throw the prisoner’s stuff on the floor and then stomp on it. It shows their hateful attitude towards prisoners. I dug through the pile and found my pillow! Only after it was in my hands, was I satisfied. I hadn’t seen them throw it out, but the fear of that possibility still gripped me until I held it safely in my hands. Thank God!

             Each moment in my isolation cell was extreme agony. The Electronic Monitoring and Torturing system has the ability to set times for various actions. The guards watching me set up a routine. I was kept awake for over five months! Yes, I went over five months without an hour of sleep. My brain learned to shut down half at a time. So, half my brain would sleep as I was actually awake. I felt like I was in hell on earth. I was so tired I couldn’t function as the rigorous routine of painful torture never stopped.

             The days in my isolation prison cell were filled with prayer. The guards didn’t allow me to get the two library books a week the regular prisoners were allowed. I asked the guard who brought the library books to the prisoners for books each time he entered the cell block, but he ignored me. I had an idea! I asked the prisoner in the cell beside me to pass me the form used to order library books. He did and I filled it out, putting my name and cell number on the top. I checked the box for westerns. I thought that would be a nice escape from reality. The guard picked up the book request sheets, including mine. I waited to see if I would be allowed books. I couldn’t understand why the guards treated me worse than murderers, child molesters and rapists. It was baffling!

             When the library books came, the guard stopped at my cell. I was shocked as he opened my trap door. I heard him chuckle as he slid the books through. I grabbed them before they could hit the floor. I sat down on my bunk and looked at what they had given me. There were two books. Neither was a western. The first book was an educational book about Russian pud prices. Pud was some kind of Russian measurement. The book spoke of different pricing through the years for various metals and agricultural items. The guards had done their job well. The book only contained data so it was very hard to read. But the second book made me smile. The guards had failed miserably. They had sent me a full-sized dictionary. It was enormous. I was in love. Obviously, they didn’t know that when I was a child I used to sit and read the dictionary at my grandmother’s house. It was one of my favorite pastimes! I read the pud book then returned it, but I kept the dictionary. Those were the only two books I ever received at Central Prison. I filled out more forms, but they never brought me any other books. Thank God I had the dictionary! Years of good reading, pictures and maps!

             My cell was very dimly lit. It had a night light that stayed on all the time, but the main light that was supposed to turn on during the day did not work. I lived in darkness. It was hard to read my dictionary. I had to get very close to the pages. I would lay the dictionary on my bunk, then get on my hands and knees with my face close to the pages and read. It made reading tiring, but it helped me pace myself so I didn’t go too fast. I noticed that the pud book had a place where the book was checked out of the library and when it had to be returned by, but the dictionary didn’t have a return slip area. I wondered where they had gotten the dictionary from. Wherever they had acquired it, I was glad!

             One day the sink in my cell broke. There were no knobs to turn the water on, instead there were buttons. I would press the button in and then let go. The water would start running and continue running for about thirty seconds. If I needed more water, I would press the button again, and again. But that day the water didn’t shut off. I waited as it ran for two minutes, two hours, then days. I got used to the sound of the water hitting the sink. It actually seemed soothing! No longer was the abject silence of the cell weighing on me, the background noise truly helped. It was also much easier to wash my hands! A broken sink was a blessing. I wondered how many times people had been blessed by something broken and didn’t recognize it as such? Maybe a flat tire that made them late, not realizing it had caused them to avoid a wreck. Amazing how God works!

             My spine was doing much better. Years had passed since that terrible night and I felt almost joyful. Even with the prison life I was living, I knew God was doing it for a reason. He was preparing me for the future. I trusted in that. It was right when I was starting to feel joy that the next problem arose. 

Section Eight – Down South Divas

             A guard opened my trap door and laid a letter on it. When I reached out to pick up the letter, the guard shot mace in my face. The months of mace abuse had made me mostly immune, so I simply rinsed my eyes in the sink and changed my shirt. Thank God the sink ran continuously because it made rinsing my eyes much easier! A few more guards came to my cell. I was handcuffed and then taken out of the cell. I was brought out of the cell block and into the hall. A sergeant told them to take me to the nurse. I was surprised! I hadn’t been allowed to see a nurse before. Sometimes nurses walked through the block, but they usually refused to stop. The nurse looked me over quickly and said I was fine. As we left the nurse’s station at the end of the hall, we came to the spot where the hall turned and no cameras could see. The beating began. I was punched, kicked and thrown onto the floor then stomped on. The entire time, I thanked God that I had done so many exercises. I knew the exercises I had done were helping my spine avoid shifting again. When the guards felt accomplished, they pulled me up off the floor onto my feet. Two of them grabbed my arms and slammed me face first into the wall. My hands were already handcuffed behind my back and the handcuffs were in the black box. The black box is a device that turns flexible handcuffs into unflexible stocks. Having a prisoner’s hands locked in unmovable stocks makes it easy for the guards to inflict excruciating pain. A third guard grabbed one of my hands and began to turn it in the handcuff stocks. I felt the metal slice deep into my skin as my wrist popped and turned in the cuff. Blood poured from my wrist.

             I heard the sergeant cuss the guard who had cut my wrist. He let go as the sergeant told the other two to take me back to the nurse. We walked back to the nurse’s station. She looked at me then told the sergeant I needed stitches. He cussed again. I was marched all the way up to medical. It took about fifteen minutes due to all the long hallways and various doors. I was placed in a holding cell. After several hours had passed, a doctor came to the cell and asked what was wrong with me. A guard told him I cut myself. The doctor told a nurse to bandage me and send me back to my cell. A few minutes later, the nurse came and had the guard loosen the cuff so she could push it up higher on the injured arm. She taped gauze over the wound and sent me back to my cell. They never gave me any other treatment. I was glad it didn’t get infected.

             I was amazed at how almost everyone working in the jail and prison system were so calloused. Even the doctors and nurses were evil. They were there for a paycheck and didn’t actually care about helping the prisoners. I often heard various members of the prison staff, from guards to nurses to administrators, say that if a prisoner didn’t like the treatment, they shouldn’t have broken the law. I heard that numerous times, and each time I couldn’t help but think of how they had lied about me to put me in prison then inflicted me with cruel and unusual punishment. They were truly guilty of breaking their own laws. That also reminded me of one of the guard’s favorite sayings, “I am just like you, but I haven’t been caught.”

             When I went to court for my trial, the police had ensured that I had no witnesses to counter their lies. They had coached Amber and Sarah about what to say, but they had not spent enough time doing that because Amber had botched it completely. Amber said I had beat her with a wooden chair leg, as hard as I could, for thirty minutes. I looked at the jury and saw female faces fuming. They had missed the logic and had picked up on the emotion. If Amber had been beaten by a full-grown man, as hard as he could, for thirty minutes, she would not have been alive to testify against him. But the most ridiculous part was when the District Attorney asked her, “And what injuries did you receive?” She replied, “I had some bruises and I was sore for a couple weeks.” I looked at the jury and saw fire flaring in female eyes. They were not concerned that her story was impossible, they were pushed to fury by her words.

             Amber also said that she had been held hostage for thirteen years. Once again, female faces flushed with anger. To support her story, she said that I had chained her neck to a toilet so she couldn’t leave the house. A toilet in the USA only has two small bolts holding it in place. They are easy to break loose from the floor. Another completely illogical aspect of her testimony. Someone who builds houses, such as myself, would know that toilets are dainty. Her words were silly, but the emotions they caused in the jury was violent. Amber said there was no phone in the house. She covered all the bases like the police and district attorney had coached, but in reality, it was not true. Amber had her own car. I know, because I bought it for her. It was a Buick Park Avenue. It was gray. It had leather seats. She drove where she wanted, when she wanted. It was true that we didn’t have a phone in the house, but the full truth was that we all had cell phones. Amber called who she wanted, when she wanted. I recall a lady on the jury giving me the middle finger. When it came time to deliberate, she was elected jury foreman.

             There were hundreds of people who should have showed up to testify on my behalf, but the police had scared them away using two tactics. First, slandering me in the news causing people to fear being slandered also. Second, to send away the witnesses who did show up. I was left with no one to counter Amber’s story, but Amber had help. Sarah showed up and testified briefly. She said that I also beat her with the wooden chair leg and pushed her head into a wall. Her testimony wasn’t as crazy as Amber’s, but it served its purpose: Two witnesses against one. I recalled the Israeli man whom Jezebel had killed. She had paid two people to lie about him so he would be stoned to death. Jezebel’s lies worked. The good man was stoned to death and Jezebel’s husband, King Ahab, stole the dead man’s property. As I sat there at the defense table, I already knew the two liars, and everyone who helped them lie, would suffer similar fates as Jezebel. God sent Jehu to kill her. She died beneath horses’ hooves. What a painful, meaningless death. But that is what happens to evil people. Oh, and the State of North Carolina actually paid Amber and Sarah to come to court to lie about me. That is how badly they wanted a conviction against a descendant of Israel.

             I was found guilty of all the charges. No surprise there. Logic didn’t matter, only emotion. They had painted me as a crazy polygamist who harmed his ‘slave’ wives. With no one to testify for me, I was condemned to over twenty years in prison. If you know me, I ask you: Where were you? The trial was covered by all the news stations. Where were you?

             I had a second trial for circumcising two of my sons. I had circumcised three, but one was circumcised in Mecklenburg County and that District Attorney had declined to prosecute because of religious freedom. But I circumcised two of my sons in Caldwell County, North Carolina. Yes, the antisemitic county. When I was in Caldwell County jail, several of the black prisoners told me, “You don’t want to be black in this county, but dear God you don’t want to be Jewish!” Even the prisoners could see I was treated differently.

             In the circumcision trial, Sarah said I circumcised our son against her will. Her testimony was brief and stale. When I asked her a question, she refused to answer. I asked the judge to direct the witness to answer the question. The judge replied, “I think she is doing fine.” How could I defend myself against false witnesses who didn’t have to answer cross-examination questions. The corruption was ridiculous.

             But Amber’s testimony was crazy like before. She said that I circumcised our son against her will. She said that our son wouldn’t stop bleeding from the circumcision. She said he kept bleeding until his eyes sunk in his head and never came back out. Yes, seriously. Then she said that I attempted to cauterize the wound with a hot screwdriver since it wouldn’t stop bleeding. I recalled being married to Amber. She was a compulsive liar, and once she said something she stuck to it forever, no matter how silly it was. I had a saying, “When her hands are flying, you know she’s lying.” I said this because of the way she made exaggerated hand gestures to reinforce her lies. Same old Amber, nothing had changed.

             But at this trial, I had hope. During jury selection, I asked each perspective juror what religion they were. To my dismay, there were no Jews or Muslims, but there was one lady who said she was a Latter Day Saint. I laughed inside when the ignorant District Attorney didn’t remove her from the jury. He could have, but he didn’t know what a Latter Day Saint was! When it came time for jury deliberation, the foreman came back and reported there was one hold out who said no amount of deliberation would change her mind. I knew who the hold out was. They had painted me as a crazy polygamist, but the Latter Day Saints are a branch of the Mormon church back when it split after their leader, Joseph Smith, the polygamist, died. I knew a Latter Day Saint wouldn’t hold polygamy against me, even if she did believe it. And a Latter Day Saint would feel offended by a group of Christians calling someone a crazy polygamist, since that is what the Christians said about their leader.

             I had been charged with two counts of Felony Child Abuse for circumcising two of my sons. The judge gave the jury the option of finding me guilty of the Felonies or of the lesser charge of Misdemeanor Child Abuse. The verdict was returned. I was found guilty of Misdemeanor Child Abuse for circumcising Sarah and my son, but there was a hung jury on Amber and my son’s circumcision. Eleven jurors wanted it to be a Felony, but one holdout said Misdemeanor. I was sentenced to four months in prison for circumcising one of my sons. That was much less than the eighteen years the district attorney had threatened the felonies would bring. The moment I heard the guilty verdict I felt the tears in my eyes. I didn’t cry for myself; I cried for the USA. They had insulted God, and I know where that leads.

             Back in my cell, I put a cloth over the bandage on my cut wrist because the blood had soaked through the gauze and was dripping on the floor. The handcuffs had torn it open again. More Central Prison hospitality. I picked up the letter the guard had brought me to see who had written it. It was addressed to me. It was the first letter I had received in my Central Prison isolation cell. The return address said ‘Down South Divas’. I thought that was strange. I opened the letter and read it, then threw it in the trash. It was some kind of homosexual letter the guards had written. They were offering to be my pen-pal to discuss sodomite sex. The North Carolina Prison System never ceased to amaze me. Every time I thought they could stoop no lower, they did. They often called themselves ‘Amber’ and ‘Sarah’ as they abused me. They knew the truth and enjoyed helping torture an innocent man.

             Why do people lie? Some people lie to make others think highly of them. They may say they served in the war and received a medal. That is a lie of pride. Some people lie to harm others. They may say they were beaten with a wooden chair leg for thirty minutes in an effort to send someone to prison. That is a lie of hate. Some people lie to cover up what they have done. They may say they were working late to explain why they didn’t come home after work when they were having an affair. That is a lie of evasion. All three types of lies raised their ugly heads at my trial. The doctor lied proudly. Amber and Sarah lied hatefully. The police detective lied to avoid telling people the illegal things she had done in my investigation.

             How can a nation say ‘no cruel or unusual punishment of prisoners’ then strip prisoners naked and leave them that way for days as they deceitfully call it suicide watch. This is common abuse across the entire United States. And how can a nation use the Electronic Monitoring and Torturing system to torture and murder their own prisoners and even regular citizens? What they have done to me is not new. Many other prisoners were beaten and had broken bones at Central Prison and only God knows how many American citizens the government is torturing and murdering each day in the USA! 

Section Nine - Muslim

             I grew up without my father. I couldn’t even remember him. My mother always talked badly about him, but her story changed many times. She told the same incident many different ways. Her words were always crafted to make me hate him. She would tell me, “When you see your father, you are going to kill him for me, right?” My mother was very violent and I feared her, but I often wondered about my father. When I was a teenager, I had questions about my father. My mother was the only source of information, so I waited until she was in one of her good moods then asked her about him and his family. She told me his grandmother, Susi Rosenbaum, was Jewish. From that moment on, I knew I had to obey the laws God gave to the descendants of Israel, and I did, including circumcising my sons. That is the reason I circumcised my sons, but the North Carolina prison guards watching me using the Electronic Monitoring and Torturing system threatened that if I defended myself in court, they would rape my children to death. Many times, the guards would tell me exactly what each of my children were doing that exact moment and viciously describe exactly how they would rape each of my daughters and sons. The sound of their voices let me know how much they enjoyed talking about that wickedness and how much they truly wanted to do it. I prayed a lot and came to this conclusion: If the possible outcome is too bad to suffer, then do not take the risk. I did not know if the guards would truly rape my children to death as they had threatened, but that possibility was too great to suffer so I did not defend myself in the first trial. After the first trial all the news reporters were talking about how I did not say anything in my defense. It looked very suspicious because it was. So, before the second trial the guards told me I had to defend myself but I could not say I was Jewish or that I circumcised my sons because I was Jewish. They handicapped me as they made it look like I was defending myself. Like before, they threatened to rape all my children to death if I disobeyed their commands. That is United States justice, making things look fair as they secretly do evil.

             As the years went by, I adjusted to my life in prison. The suffering became normal. The pain in my spine never stopped and the Electronic Monitoring and Torturing system never stopped. I never received any pain medication. I learned to endure. Sometimes I would sit and contemplate my life. It always amazed me how ‘normal’ the insanity seemed. I didn’t want it to seem normal, but years of it had seared my soul. Tears were hard to find. Since the night they had broken my spine, I had been changed drastically. I feared I would become ‘hard’ like other prisoners who did many years in prison. Honestly, my greatest fear was becoming hardened. When my time in prison finally came to an end, would I still be able to love?

             Late one night a guard opened my trap door, then shut it again. He had said nothing. I laid in my bunk and wondered why he had done that. I didn’t hear anything hit the floor, but my curiosity got the better of me so I got up and went to check. I found a small bottle of Muslim prayer oil sitting on the trap ledge. I was confused. Why would the guards put Muslim prayer oil in my cell? I laid back down and contemplated the situation. Maybe it was tainted with something? But surely it couldn’t be strong enough that the smell would affect me. I got up and opened the lid and smelt it. It smelled wonderful! I didn’t get dizzy or vomit, so I assured myself it was untainted. I laid back down and as I was trying to go to sleep, a guard came through making his rounds. As he passed my cell he said, “Allah Akbar!” I got the point. They felt that since I was Jewish, anything ‘Muslim’ would be offensive to me. They actually thought giving me Muslim prayer oil would bother me. They were very wrong.

             My mind thought back to my time in Caldwell County jail. The county in North Carolina that had charged me with circumcising my sons as a crime. When I arrived at the jail, I asked for a Kosher diet. The jail staff said I couldn’t have a religious diet. As I complained, a nurse came and got me. When she had me in her exam room, she looked to make sure none of the guards were near then whispered to me, “Tell me what you can and can’t eat and I will place you on a medical diet.” I felt overwhelmed with joy that this woman cared so much about me that she would risk her job to help me. It reminded me of all the people that had hid Jews during World War Two. I asked her if I could be placed on a vegetarian diet. She smiled and said, “Of course.” She filled out some paperwork then asked me about any ailments. I was nicely surprised. The medical staff at Gaston County Jail, the previous jail I was at, had treated me very badly. This nurse was a ray of light in a very dark world.

             I was processed into the jail and placed in a cell with a man who said his name was Kim Soonsick Kelly. I wondered if that was his real name especially when I got sick immediately. His middle name sounded like the English words that meant ‘get sick quickly’. He told me we were in the worst block in the jail. He said our block was reserved for the worst offenders: the murderers, rapist and child molesters. I wondered why I was in that block. I didn’t have to wait long to find out. A little later a guard walked past our cell and said, ‘two child molesters’ then kept walking. I went to the door and looked out the small ten-inch by ten-inch window. I saw the name tag on the guard. It said ‘Reed’. He was an older man with gray hair and slightly overweight. He glared at me as he passed back by my cell. In the coming months, I would find that all the guards at Caldwell County jail were proud and arrogant. They felt they were much better than the people in jail. But the truth is pride comes before a fall. Those proud, arrogant guards called me a child molester constantly. They said that circumcising my sons was child molestation. Idiots. I remember one time that Officer Smith told me I was a child molester because I circumcised my sons. I asked him if doctors who circumcised baby boys were also child molesters. Another prisoner in the cell block yelled at Smith as he tried to retreat from the block and the stupidity he had trapped himself in. The prisoner taunted him that the police department needed to go arrest all the doctors who had done circumcisions in Caldwell County. Smith rushed out of the cell block as several prisoners laughed at him and his stupidity.

             When my first tray came, it had a piece of paper taped to it. The paper said, “Johnny Marlowe – Vegetarian.” But to my surprise there was pork on the tray. As the guard passed back by my cell, I stopped him and complained about the tray. He said he would fix it. He never did. When he came to pick up the trays, I asked him about my tray and he said to pass it back out and they would bring me another tray. I gave him the tray but a new tray never came. This continued my entire stay at Caldwell County jail. No bacon was served in the jail. No prisoners got bacon on their trays, except for me. When I received a tray without pork on it, I would eat it then get sick. I was sick every day. Some days it was dizziness, other days nauseousness, but every day was something. When I could get a guard to stop and listen to my complaint, they always said they would tell the kitchen staff or some other diverting words. They were not bold-faced confrontational; they were sneaky and wicked.

             Kim was moved out of my cell and a few different guys were moved in, went to court, then moved out. They put a guy named Gary in my cell. He didn’t like me. He had a problem with my ancestry and with me circumcising my sons. When a guard passed by, Gary stopped her and started a conversation. They had grown up together and knew each other. Gary convinced her to move him downstairs and to move the Muslim to my cell. She said she would. It was an attempt to cause a fight between a Jew and a Muslim. As we waited for Gary to be moved, another prisoner was let out of his cell for his thirty minutes. We were only allowed out of our cells for thirty minutes, three times a week. So, one and a half hours out of our cells per week. The prisoner came to my cell. He knew Gary. Gary and the prisoner talked about Gary being moved and the Muslim who was going to be put in the cell with me. The prisoner looked at me and said, “You are going to get raped by a big Muslim.” I ignored him.

             A little later the Muslim, John, was placed in my cell. He was extremely large. I am six foot tall, but he made me look small. He told me his name was John Anthony Thompson, but everyone called him ‘Big John’. He was from New York City. I liked him. We became good friends! He and I would sit for hours each day and discuss the similarities between the Jewish Tanach and the Muslim Quran. We also wrote poetry. Big John wrote one poem about the guards mistreating prisoners then ending up in prison themselves. My Muslim friend understood God clearly. He wrote his mother, who sent him a lunar calendar so we would know when our holidays were. Life with Big John in the cell with me was much easier than the other prisoners. He always made room for me to kneel and pray, and I did the same for him. The guards wouldn’t allow me to have an Old Testament. Officer Reed told me I needed to read the New Testament. Big John waited for night shift to come on duty, then stopped a female guard. He asked for a complete Bible. I wondered if she would give it to him since he was in the cell with me, but she did! Big John handed me the Bible that contained the ‘Old Testament’, which is the Jewish Tanach. He said, “Here are your scriptures that God gave to your people.” I felt the tears fill my eyes.

             One day, Big John and I heard commotion out in the block. We gathered at the door and saw a young black man being pushed and shoved by several guards. The prisoner was placed in a restraint chair and strapped down. We heard a lot of other prisoners kicking their doors and screaming at the guards. They were complaining that the prisoner hadn’t done anything and they were hurting him. One of the guards looked up at all the prisoners in our cells complaining and drew his Taser. He pulled the end off, exposing the electric prods. A smile crossed his face as he shoved the Taser into the young, black man’s arm. The prisoner began to convulse. All the prisoners in the block began screaming in protest. I recall hearing one say he was going to kill that guard.

             The next day, a black prisoner stopped at our cell door during his thirty minutes. We discussed what had happened the day before. I will never forget the prisoner’s words. He told me, “You don’t want to be black in Caldwell County jail, but by God you don’t want to be Jewish!” I had heard things similar to that before. After he left, I asked Big John if the other prisoners knew what was happening to me. Big John told me to look at myself. He said everyone could see I was being starved. “How much do you think I weigh?” I asked Big John. He said, “Maybe one hundred and twenty pounds.” I was shocked. I didn’t realize I had lost so much weight due to the tray abuse. I normally weighed one hundred and eighty pounds.

             The guards at Caldwell County Jail had thought they were going to cause a problem when they put Big John, the Muslim, in the cell with me, but they were very wrong. I felt extremely sad the day Big John was shipped off to prison. I missed my Muslim brother. I had to laugh at the Central Prison guards attempts to anger me with a bottle of Muslim prayer oil. I used the oil each time I prayed. One single religion does not have a monopoly on God. When I was fifteen years old, I began ending my prayers with a simple sentence. I would always say, “Oh God, to understand truth and not be deceived!” I believe God has answered those prayers. I believe God is still answering those prayers. 

Section Ten – FBI Imposter

             I recall taking my kids to the park in North Little Rock, Arkansas. There was a small section of train track with a caboose sitting on it. My six-year-old son climbed up onto the caboose and tried to open the door. When he couldn’t get it open, he called for me. I explained that the door was welded shut, that it couldn’t be opened. He said that was silly and climbed down. I sat on the park bench and thought about my son’s evaluation of the situation. Sometimes things that seem correct to one person, seem wrong to a person in a different position. People who are raised in one religion have a hard time understanding things from a different religion. It may seem silly to them. Wisdom sees past our training and into God’s truth.

             My trap door opened. I walked to the door and retrieved my Kosher tray. The Kosher diet in North Carolina prison was made up of two pieces. The small tray that held the meal and a paper bag that held some bread, fruit and a drink. Sometimes the guards would pass by my cell without even giving me a tray. If I asked why, they would say it wasn’t on the food cart. I missed many meals. But even when they did give me the tray, the vast majority of the time they did not give me the paper bag that contained much of my food. It was rare to get both pieces.

             Many days I sat in my prison cell and thought about the man they had put in prison. They said he was extremely violent. They said he imprisoned people for years. They said he beat people with a wooden chair leg. They said he didn’t have his children in public school. They said he left his children home alone. They said he hit people. But their largest accusation, was that he circumcised his sons. There were many men in prison with me who had beaten and raped women. Some had even killed the woman, but the man who circumcised his sons was treated the worst. To the mind with wisdom, it is easy to see what truly fueled their hatred. I always took great comfort in the thought that if I was such a bad person, why did they have to lie about me to put me in prison? What happened to me is not new. How many Jews were murdered in the Holocaust? How many Christians were murdered in Rome? Across the entire world, from its inception until today, one group attacks another group because they have a different belief about God. It is called religious persecution. It is common.

             Often, we hear the United States news speaking badly about other countries. They publicize lists of other countries they say are Human Rights violators, but those lists are always filled with names of countries the USA is in some type of conflict with either physically or concerning policies. But when prisoners in the USA complain about being harmed in United States prisons, they are called crazy liars. Surely ‘the land of the free’ doesn’t hurt prisoners. The people of the USA are wearing rose-colored glasses if they believe their government. That means they can’t see something for what it truly is. Whenever you give a group of people absolute control over another group of people, they will misuse their power. There is even a common saying about it: Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. Do you really think United States prison guards are more honorable than everyone else? They are no different, and they also abuse their power.

             My cell at Central Prison was not made of steel bars as some people imagine. It had cement walls and a solid steel door. There was a small window in the door that had a steel plate covering it. The steel plate had a few small holes in it, about the size of my smallest finger. To see out into the cell block, I had to put my eye up against one of the holes and shut my other eye. There was also a thin window in the outside wall, but it had two steel plates over it. One of the plates was similar to the door window plate. It had small holes in it, but the other plate had tiny pin-holes in it. It was impossible to see outside. When the sun was shining brightly, the window area glowed dimly. The cell was very dreary. During the years I was kept in that isolation block, many of the prisoners went crazy. They couldn’t take being locked inside their blind cell for months or years. Every month or two a prisoner was taken to the psychiatric ward.

             When I was arrested at the very beginning of this ordeal, I was in Gaston County jail. I had been in the jail for a few days when my cousin found out I had been arrested. She began sending me letters. A few days later, my grandmother began sending me letters. My cousin, Violet, always sent words of encouragement. She told me not to give up hope. She told me our entire family always talked about how good I treated Amber and my children. She said God would bring the truth out eventually. She was like a sister to me. We had grown up together, spending summers together at our grandmother’s house. She had never spoken one bad word to me my entire life. I loved her dearly. She died before I could ever see her again.

             From the time I was arrested until I was placed in North Carolina Prison isolation years later, my grandmother had sent me two letters a month. Two letters a month, every month, without fail. But shortly after I was placed in isolation, all my mail stopped. I was used to my family not getting the letters I tried to send out, but I often received letters they sent me. After months, and then years, without a single letter from my grandmother, I knew the prison was intercepting my mail. I complained about it before the spinal catastrophe, but never after they broke me. I had been silenced. Part was fear, but part was that I knew it was useless. The North Carolina prison system did whatever they wanted. They had the support of a corrupt government backing them. They were fearless.

             I remember when I was in Tabor City prison immediately after my trial. I wrote my friend Prakash and he sent me many addresses. I wrote everyone I could think of who might help stop the abuse of power by the state of North Carolina. I wrote the North Carolina State Bureau of Investigation, the Federal Bureau of Investigation, the governor of North Carolina, every North Carolina senator, the President of the United States of America and even the United Nations Human Rights Council. I only received one reply. It was from the Federal Bureau of Investigation. The letter said to write down exactly what had happened, including names and dates, and return it to the FBI.

             I meticulously wrote down exactly what had happened from the day Dallas, North Carolina police officer Flick had arrested Amber up to that same day. I included the part where I received the trial transcript with an affidavit attached by the court reporter that said Amber and Sarah’s testimonies had been corrupted and were therefore not included. But, when I had asked the judge for a copy of the transcript, the district attorney already had it laying open on his table. It was opened to Amber’s testimony that the court reporter said did not exist! The corruption was disgusting. Amber and Sarah’s testimony would not have stood up before a panel of appellate judges, so the county refused to give it to me. The testimony that had put me in prison at a jury trial would have set me free at an appellate hearing. The elements of the crime were not met and the judge had broken state law by protecting witnesses so they did not have to answer cross-examination questions. The State of North Carolina knew this, so they hid the part of the transcript that would have set me free. That is United States justice.

             I mailed the letter out with the other mail. Later that evening, an officer with a tag that read ‘Bocat’ stopped at my cell. He said that I was an idiot. He said that the unit manager had sent the letter, not the FBI! I was shocked because it all looked official. It even had the Department of Justice logo on the envelope and letterhead. But that was before I had learned how corrupt the North Carolina prison system really was. At that point, I was still learning. I never heard anything else from the ‘FBI’. That figures. 

Section Eleven - Mishneh משנה

             Back in the Central Prison isolation block there was some commotion. I looked out one of the small holes in the steel plate that covered the window in my door. I closed the other eye and saw two guards at the cell on the other side of me. Not the side that had passed me the papers, but the other side. It was Billie Riddle’s cell. I had heard talk that his family had complained so much about the Central Prison guards breaking his arm, that he was being moved. As he was being taken out, I heard a prisoner yell out, “Don’t let the door hit you in the butt on the way out!” There were many prisoners who helped the guards in return for extra time out of their cells and extra food trays. I called them ‘inmate accomplices’ but everyone else called them ‘snitches’. The guards had told one of their accomplices to belittle Billie on his way out the door. I smiled as I realized he had escaped the insanity.

             The guards have a system. They restrict your mail when they want to isolate you. This is usually done to keep a prisoner from asking witnesses to come to court. If none of your family complains when they don’t get mail from you for weeks, then months, the guards know you are alone and helpless. I heard a guard bragging one time that the North Carolina prison system kept a lot of psychologists on staff to help them outsmart the prisoners. There is a mentality in the prison system that the law stands in the way of administering true punishment on the guilty, and they must set things right.

             I sat in my prison cell and thought how nice it would be if my family or friends would help me. I knew that wouldn’t happen. They hadn’t even shown up for my trial. How can people be so selfish? They were scared of being shown on the news as a friend or relative of that crazy man who circumcised his children. One of Jesus’ disciples said, “If you know you should do something good, but don’t do it, you have sinned.” How can people be so selfish?

             I recalled the time that I had been taken to the Central Prison psychiatric unit. They had stripped me naked and left me in an isolation cell. I, once again, told them I was not suicidal, but they didn’t care. It was punishment, not help. After a few days, a psychologist came to see me. He was not happy. He told me that my complaints had gotten me sent to ‘CP’ as he called it. ‘CP’ means Central Prison. He said they were going to fix my complaining rear end. A few hours later a nurse came to my cell and said she had medication for me to take. I told her I didn’t take any medication. She said the doctor had ordered it. I was surprised because I hadn’t seen a doctor, only the psychologist. A psychologist is a person without a medical degree who can only talk to you about your mental health. A psychiatrist is a medical doctor who can prescribe medications. That’s when I learned the psychologists at Central Prison, who are not doctors, can order ‘punishment medications’.

             I refused to take the medication, so guards were called to my cell. They opened the door and wrestled me onto the metal bed frame and held me down. The nurse came in and gave me a shot of something. I asked what she was giving me and she said, “Haldol.” I became very upset. “Why are you giving me psychiatric medication?” I demanded. “Because the doctor ordered it” her curt reply. The next few hours I felt sick and dizzy. Everything seemed distant and surreal as I fought the constant urge to vomit. When the nurse came back that evening, she asked me if I wanted my medication. I asked her what it was and she said, “Cogentin.” I took it because I knew it would lessen the problems caused by the Haldol.

             A few days later, two guards came to my isolation cell. I was already naked and without my glasses due to being on suicide watch. Suicide watch is used as punishment in prison. The two guards took me to the metal bed frame, laid me down, and used handcuffs to chain my arms above my head. Then they used shackles to chain down my legs. I was naked and spread eagle on the rusted, metal bed frame. Then a chair was brought in. One of the guards sat down in the chair beside me. I didn’t have my glasses, so it was hard for me to see what was happening. The guard had a black stick. They carried black batons, so I thought he was going to beat me. He shoved the stick into my side, and I was shocked! In two ways! It took me a moment to figure out what had just happened. Slowly my mind realized I had just been shocked with a Taser. “What are you doing?” I cried out. He was direct and to the point. “Why did you circumcise your sons?” he asked. I was confused. I wondered why he would be asking that question. “I am representing myself in court so I will not be answering that question” my reply. He pushed the Taser into my side again and repeated his question. I refused to answer him a single word, so he shocked me again and again. I kept silent as I gasped for air.

             After many failed attempts, he changed the question. “What is your name?” he asked. I declined to answer. Instead, I spit on him. He cursed me and moved away from my side. There was an exchange between the two guards then one left. He came back shortly and put a spit bag over my head. It was a cloth bag with tiny holes in it that allowed me to breathe but prevented me from spitting on them again. The guard sat back down and began his questioning again. “What is your name?” he asked. No reply from the naked guy. Electricity raced through my body over and over until I urinated on myself. They both laughed. The amount of time he was holding the electricity on me had grown very long. It was hard to breathe. I felt like I would cry, but I refused to give in to the two monsters. They kept sending jolts of electricity through my body. In my mind, I begged God for mercy! I remembered Moses on the hill with his hands over his head. These men wanted me to speak so speak I did! “Hashem Nissi!” I screamed as loud as I could. They stopped. “What does that mean?” one asked. “Hashem Nissi!” I screamed again. They started shocking me again. When each shock ended, I would gather my breath and scream ‘Hashem Nissi’ as loud as I could. I heard some other prisoners yelling to shut up. They couldn’t see what was happening.

             After this had continued for quite a while a third man in a blue shirt entered the room. I recognized his voice. It was the psychologist. He came close to me and asked me why I had circumcised my sons. I ignored him. The psychologist came up with a plan. He sent one of the guards to get something. When the guard returned, the psychologist had them remove one of my handcuffs. They stretched my arm out away from the bed and pulled down on it hard. The metal sticking up cut into my arm and made me cry out in pain. “You don’t have to scream like a girl!” the psychologist said. Suddenly I felt something on my arm as I heard a motor running. I thought they were taking my blood pressure. The guards using the Electronic Monitoring and Torturing system were inflicting my body with so much pain that I could not understand what was happening to my arm. The psychologist and the guards complained then moved my arm into a different position. It was hard to tell what was happening with the guard wrapped around my arm pulling down to the point of extreme pain. I tried to hold still so the blood pressure cuff wouldn’t reset. Finally, they finished. They put my hand back above my head and into the handcuff.

             I looked over and saw something on my forearm. I couldn’t see clearly without my glasses, so I pulled my head closer to my arm. The rusted bed frame cut into my backside which hurt very bad and could cause infection, so I stopped moving. The three men realized I couldn’t see what they had done without my glasses, so one of them climbed onto my chest with one knee on each side of my chest. He took something and crossed it in front of my face. I still didn’t understand so he placed it up against my shoulder and it began to hum. It was the motor I had heard. Suddenly I realized what it was! It was a homemade tattoo gun they had taken from one of the prisoners! I began to scream at them! “Hashem Nissi!” I shouted. “Yes, Hashem whatever” the psychologist said then turned and left. The other two guards took their chair and left also.

             The watchers had been inflicting my entire body with so much pain using the Electronic Monitoring and Torturing system that I had not been able to understand I was being tattooed! After they were gone, I pulled my head and arm close enough to see what they had written. It was the Hebrew word ‘Mishneh.’ (משנה) I began to cry. The psychologist had done what the pain could not, he had broken me. Second shift came on duty and seemed surprised to find me chained down. They asked me if I was suicidal or felt like hurting myself. I said no, so they took the handcuffs and shackles off me. I sat there and stared at the tattoo on my arm. The psychologist had put a lot of effort into finding the right Hebrew word to inscribe on me. The pain cut deeply. ‘Mishneh’ means ‘repetition’. The best I could figure, they were saying I was going through a repetition of the holocaust. I cried.

             I used my teeth to tear off the ends of some of my fingernails. They were very long since I had no way to cut them in prison. Then I sharpened the nails using the cement floor as a file. Then I used the sharpened fingernails to slowly cut the word Mishneh out of my arm. It took weeks, but that was all I had to do in my isolation cell. For years after that, whenever I would be moved to a new prison, the intake guards would ask me if I had any tattoos. That is a standard question. But when I responded ‘no’ they always acted shocked. It became a running gag.

             I sat in my Central Prison isolation cell and thought about everything the guards had done to me. It had been years since my spine was broken and even longer since I had been shocked with a Taser and tattooed. The scars from the Taser were still in my side and my arm carried the reminder of their hatred. I was in mental and physical pain every day. Before I had experienced it, if someone had told me how corrupt the North Carolina prison system was, I would have had a hard time believing them. As I sat there, I had a hard time believing it had actually happened to me. It made me understand how people across the world heard rumors about what was happening to Jews during World War Two, but didn’t believe it. When people do things that are so brazenly evil, it is hard for a normal person to believe it is possible.

             I remembered the story of the woman who was raped to death by a group of Israeli men. Her husband knew the story would be hard for people to believe, so he cut her body into pieces and sent a piece to each Israeli tribe. That was terrible, but he had to get their attention. All I can do is write this book and let you see my body. My arm and side carry the scars and my spine is mangled. Like the Israeli man, I present my body as evidence of what happened in North Carolina prison. I know that antisemitism is still very much alive in this world. I have felt its cruel hatred. 

Section Twelve - Starvation

             My mind thought back to what had happened to me in Caldwell County jail. The guards had put pork and drugs in my food the entire time I was there. For nine and a half months I was systematically starved. But the last thirty days were the hardest. Every time I recall those last thirty days in Caldwell County Jail in Lenoir, North Carolina, I struggle to understand how people can be so wicked.

             After Big John was shipped off to prison, a guard named Bailey came to my cell. He opened the door a crack as I walked towards him to see what he wanted. He told me to step back. I did. He told me to step back again. I did. He told me to step back a third time. I did. Then suddenly he pushed the door open as he pointed the taser in his hand at me. I ducked and blocked my face with my arm as he shot me with the taser. One prod stuck deep in my right elbow, but the second prod missed me completely. It stuck in my sandal that was empty on the floor behind me. I stood up and yelled at him, “Why did you shoot me?” He didn’t answer. I kept demanding for him to tell me why he shot me, but he just radioed for another taser to be brought to my cell. Then he told me to give him the prod that was stuck in my sandal. I told him to get it himself. He didn’t dare enter the cell. He was a coward.

             I reached down and pulled the prod out of my elbow. I was surprised as blood shot over two foot and hit the door posts. I quickly covered the bleeding area with a cloth. Sergeant Day arrived at my cell with another taser. When I asked why I had been shot, he refused to answer. I recalled the young, black prisoner they had shocked with a taser for no reason. Sergeant Day said my canteen privilege was suspended. He told me I could eat the trays they provided or nothing at all. At that point in time, I had been in Caldwell County Jail for eight and a half months. I spent the next thirty days in my cell refusing the pork and drugged trays they were trying to force me to eat. I went thirty days without a single bite of food.

             As those thirty days progressed, I became weaker and weaker. I felt nauseous all the time. I had a sink in my cell, so I would force myself to get out of bed once a day and shuffle my way to my source of water. I had to stand up and wait until the dizziness subsided before I could begin my journey. I would fill a bottle with water then shuffle back to my bed and lay down. I would sip on that water, drinking as much as I could keep down, each day. I had to lay on my back because my side hurt extremely bad when I sat up. I made it to twenty-two days then I began vomiting the water when I tried to drink it. I fought myself and struggled to keep the water down. I knew I would die without it. Often, I considered eating the drugged trays, but always decided against it. Why should I be forced to eat unclean food simply because I am a descendant of Israel?

             Another prisoner was moved into my cell. I was too weak to stand. After several days of him complaining to the guards that they were killing me, he called his family and complained to them. His family called the jail, so the guards came and removed me from my cell. They took me to a different cell. A nurse came and stabbed a needle straight down into my arm three times as she said, “Well, anatomically there should have been a vein there.” I was too weak to fight or even care about her hatred. When she couldn’t make me mad, she turned the needle the correct direction and slid it into my vein. She found it on the first true attempt. She hooked up an intravenous line then a man who said he was a doctor came to see me. He asked me, “What is different about this day than all others?” I didn’t say anything. He said, “If you were truly Jewish, you would know it is Passover.”

             I was put in the back of a police car with my intravenous line hanging from the clothes rack. I was driven over two hours away to Central Prison in Raleigh, North Carolina. They put me in the mental health ward. They said I was suicidal because I wouldn’t eat the pork or drugged food Caldwell County was offering me.

             I sat in my isolation cell and remembered the first time I had arrived at Central Prison. From the moment I entered that place I was mistreated. They were very evil people who chose to hate for no reason. I laid back on my prison bunk and stared up into the darkness. I felt close to God. Somehow, I knew everything was in God’s control. I felt that I would survive the insanity.

             A guard arrived at my cell before daylight and told me to pack my stuff. I was taken to intake and left in a holding cell. A few hours later I was put on a bus. As I saw Central Prison from the outside I felt great emotion, emotion that could not be formed into words. I had survived.

             As the bus pulled out of Central Prison in Raleigh, North Carolina, the watchers increased the pain in my body and mind. I heard a vicious voice in my left ear that taunted me and assured me I could not escape their hatred. He was correct, I couldn’t.

             I arrived at Alexander Prison in Taylorsville, North Carolina a few hours later. I was placed in an isolation cell. The next day a guard came by and asked me if I wanted rec. Rec means recreation. I was surprised. Central Prison had not allowed me out of my cell. I said, “Yes.” A few hours later I was taken out of my cell and placed in one of two cages in the cell block. Another prisoner was placed in the other rec cage. He said everyone called him the ‘Governor’. As we were talking, he asked me if I had a radio. I said I didn’t. He told me Alexander was one of the few prisons that actually followed the prison rules. He said if I filled out a canteen form asking for a radio and batteries, the canteen operator would see I had no money and give me one for free. I was doubtful, but when a guard came by with canteen sheets, I filled one out like the Governor had said. Later that day a guard brought me a radio and batteries. I was extremely surprised! I quickly learned the guards at Alexander didn’t beat the prisoners or even talk badly to them. The guards at Alexander Prison simply did their jobs correctly. What a nice breath of fresh air! But the guards using the EMT to torture me were my constant enemy! They didn’t let me go a single moment without some type of pain, suffering and torment.

             I noticed that the voices of the watchers had changed, as had their schedules. I realized that the North Carolina prison system was divided into two regions, an eastern region and a western region. Central Prison was in the eastern region but I had been moved to Alexander Prison in the western region. So, I was being tortured by a completely different set of watchers who somehow knew exactly what had been done to me for years by the other watchers. I am a computer programmer, so I easily figured out that the EMT has a log section and the ability to search the logs so the current watcher knows what has been done to their victim and what they are supposed to continue doing. As the prophet said, “They are wise to do evil, but they don’t know how to do good.” 

Section Thirteen – Tanach ♥ תנך

             After three months at Alexander, I was taken before a review panel. They said I had not broken any rules during my time at Alexander so they were promoting me to I-Con. I had been on M-Con. M-Con was Maximum Control and I-Con was Intensive Control. Both require the prisoner to be held in isolation. So basically, nothing changed. I was put back in my isolation cell. Three more months passed then I was taken before the review board again. They promoted me to regular population. I was moved to a different cell. After that, I was let out of my cell several times a day along with other prisoners. They also allowed us to go down the hallway to the chapel for church services. I asked other prisoners and learned the only religious person who came from outside the prison was a Catholic Priest. The other two chaplains were prison employees. I waited for several days and finally heard an announcement over the loudspeaker for the Catholic service.

             I sat and waited until the end of the service then approached the priest while the other prisoners were leaving. I told him I had been beaten in Central Prison and that I needed his help. He knew I had not taken communion, so he asked what religion I was. I told him I was Jewish. He asked why I didn’t talk to a rabbi. I told him none came to the prison. He said he couldn’t help me. As I was begging him to reconsider, the prison chaplain came in and told me to leave. I tried to speak to the chaplain, but he said if I had a problem, I needed to write it on a grievance. I remembered what had happened the last time I filled out a grievance. I still couldn’t chew my food without pain. I turned and left as the chaplain glared at me. I spent six years at Alexander Prison and during that time I learned that the chaplain was the meanest person working at that prison.

             Most of the prisoners took their showers at night, so there was always a line and confusion at the showers in the evening. Because of that, I took my shower first thing in the morning. One morning I got up and gathered my clothes for a shower. As I walked to the shower, I noticed two men sitting in the block watching television and talking. I went in the shower and pulled the curtain closed. I walked to the end and laid my clothes on a shelf then went and started pushing the button to make the water come out. I pressed it several times, letting it run to heat it up. There were no cold or hot knobs, only one push button. I heard a noise behind me and turned to see the two prisoners I had seen earlier coming through the shower curtain towards me! I tried to kick the first one in the face, but he was so close that I fell back and hit the wall behind me. My foot was high enough to reach his chin, but I had no force on it. He basically ran into my foot rather than being kicked. The wall behind me firmed me up so the force was enough to stun him. As the man behind him went to my right, I twisted to my left, using the slightly stunned man as a shield. I ran out of the shower and went to my cell and quickly shut the door. I didn’t come back out until I saw a lot of prisoners were out of their cells watching television. After that I made sure to have another prisoner I trusted stand watch when I went to the shower. I had almost been raped!

             After years in isolation at Central Prison, I couldn’t remember my family’s addresses. I began having memory issues after they had stomped my head and fractured my skull. I was invited to a class at Alexander. The lady who taught the class was very friendly. I asked her if she could look up my contact information. She got on her computer and found my sister’s address. After much prayer, I decided instead of asking my family for help, I would contact the lawyers who dealt with the prison system. I got the address of North Carolina Prisoner Legal Services. I wrote them and told them what had happened. A lawyer named Laura came to see me. She said she was Jewish! I was extremely happy because I knew she would help me! After many letters and an in person visit, the verdict came in. There was a three-year statute of limitations on prisoner abuse complaints, and even though I had been locked in isolation with no mail past the limit, the courts would not hear my case. I told her, “So, the prison system can beat me, break me and hold me in isolation without mail until the statute of limitations has passed ensuring they will never have to answer for their actions?” She apologized but said there was nothing else she could do. I wasn’t mad, I was horrified. I knew if no one else could stop the United States, God would.

             I didn’t give up. As I was telling other prisoners about what had happened to me at Central Prison, a prisoner said he had the name of a federal lawyer who might help. He said the lawyer handled prisoner cases pro-bono, meaning it wouldn’t cost me any money. I took the address and wrote the lawyer. He asked for exact details, dates, times, names and every single detail I could remember. I wrote him back and waited. Many days went by as I hung in suspense. Finally, his letter returned. There was nothing he could do. He said the United States Federal Courts would never hear the case because they always have a single judge check any prisoner complaints for being ‘delusional’ or ‘fantastic’ before they are allowed to be filed. I was shocked! Why are prisoners’ complaints treated different than other people’s complaints? If a prisoner files a complaint, a single, solitary judge reads it and can throw it out as ‘Fantastic’ without ever hearing testimony. What a high level of corruption! So, all the prison system has to do is make sure they do something extreme so they can never be charged! Insane! Now I was furious! I knew the guards knew about the law before they had harmed me. They knew they would never have to answer for anything they did, as long as it was crazy enough and they kept me in isolation without any mail long enough! And if I had died, they would have said I fell off the sink in my cell and injured myself. They had threatened that many times. They were untouchable!

             Many years went by as I studied and prayed at Alexander prison. One day, a prisoner approached me and asked if I was Jewish. I said I was so he pointed to another prisoner and said he had a Tanach for sell. I had gotten a job at Alexander so I had some money in my account. I went to the prisoner and he showed me the Tanach. It was a parallel English and Hebrew ‘Stone Edition’ Tanach. I loved it! “How much?” I asked. He said fifteen dollars. I told him to make out a canteen list and I would buy him fifteen dollars’ worth of canteen the same day. He handed me the Tanach. I felt the tears in my eyes as my heart pounded! The emotion was overwhelming! As I walked away, I heard him and the other prisoner laughing. They said I had paid way too much for the Tanach. I gripped the Tanach tightly in my hands and knew I hadn’t paid anywhere near enough!

             I still remember the day I was sitting on the floor of my cell. It was October fifth. I used my fingers to count the years and realized that I had turned forty years old that day. I was thirty-two years old when I had been arrested. It had been eight years! I felt sick knowing I was only about half-way through my time in prison, but I knew I was closer to God than I had ever been in my life. What is nearness to God worth? Is it worth more than a decade in prison? It is to me.

             When I was young, a man came by my house and invited me to a Christian church activity they were calling ‘The War’. It was a youth revival. I accepted the invitation and spent the next few nights at a Christian church playing games and listening to preaching along with a lot of other kids. Those few nights really changed my soul. It was the first time I had ever been told about God. My grandmother would mention God, but she never actually explained God to me. As I sat and listened to the preacher, I determined in my soul that I would pray and study until I knew the truth.

             After ‘The War’ ended, the man who had invited me offered to pick me up on the church bus each Sunday and bring me to church. I accepted again and began going to the Christian church each week. I was only fifteen years old, but I was very observant. I watched everyone and weighed out their actions intricately. I noticed the women always sat silent as the men talked a lot. Then one day I heard the preacher, James Phillips, say from the pulpit, where the entire church could hear, “We know there will be no women in heaven. The Bible tells us that when it says there will be silence in heaven for half an hour.” I was horrified at his lie. I looked around as the women sat silent and the men laughed. I was disgusted. Years later, I learned that he had previously been thrown out of a church by women who disapproved of his teachings. Only then did I understand why he made the bad joke: He was intentionally offending strong willed women so they wouldn’t come back to ‘his’ church. That lesson stuck with me my entire life. Now when someone is offensive, I look to see who they are trying to offend.

             Every time I think about what was done to me by the Americans, I know that they were trying to offend the God of Israel. Since they couldn’t get ahold of my God, they hurt His servant. My entire life I have heard United States citizens brag that their god is the ‘Almighty Dollar’. Sad. 

Section Fourteen - Pride

             A new prisoner was moved into our cell block. He was put in the cell beside me. When the doors opened to let us out into the block, I stopped by his cell to say hello. He told me he was in prison for life. “For life” I asked as I wondered what he had done. He didn’t make me wonder long. He told me when he married his wife, he told her if she ever cheated on him, he would kill her. I thought that wasn’t a loving relationship, but I kept my mouth closed. He said he found her in a hotel room with another man so he shot them both with a gun then used an ax to cut her head off. I was horrified. It took me a moment to pull myself together then I asked him, “Was it worth doing the rest of your life in prison?” “Yes!” he replied. Later that evening, as I lay in my prison bunk, I contemplated the matter. What could be so important to a person that they are willing to spend the rest of their life in prison. Pride.

             I met another man in prison who was very friendly and polite. He seemed out of place. As I was talking to him one day, I asked why he was in prison. He told me he killed his wife. I asked why. He said, “Because she tried to divorce me.” I was shocked! I recovered and asked him, “Why didn’t you just let her go?” His answer cut deep into my soul, “Because she disgraced our family.” Also pride.

             America sings a song that says, “I’m proud to be an American.” America is a very proud and arrogant nation. If you are American, I ask you: Why do you think your country is better than Iran? What is it about America that makes it ‘the best country in the world’ as you say. Iran teaches their children to love and obey God, while America bans God from public education and mocks people who obey God calling them stupid and crazy. Is your vision impaired from those rose-colored glasses you were born with? Or is it just pride. Iran was the second Muslim country to recognize modern Israel as a sovereign country. Iran’s dislike for Israel is rooted in Israel’s confederacy with the United States because the USA has repeatedly meddled in Iranian politics as they tried to steal Iranian wealth. I am not saying Iran is perfect, but I am saying any country that stands with the United States is gripping wickedness as a friend.

             There was a library at Alexander prison that I was allowed to go to every week. They had a couple books on quantum mechanics that I borrowed and really enjoyed. Most of the other books were fiction that didn’t appeal to me very much. When I was in isolation, I would have read fiction, but after I was out of isolation, I didn’t waste my time on it. I spent almost all day, every day studying the Tanach and the Quran. The similarities were astounding. I compiled a list with hundreds of cross references between the Tanach and the Quran. The more I studied and prayed about the two books, the more I knew that the same God had inspired both of them. When you look at something without preconceived notions or prejudice, you can see much clearer.

             I remember the first holding cell I was placed in at the county jail. It was filthy. There were spilt food trays and rubbish all over the table, benches and the floor. There was ketchup and mustard squirted everywhere. It looked like it had been done intentionally to prevent anyone from using the benches. They were so dirty that I had to stand. I didn’t have anything to use to clean them. After several hours of standing in the holding cell, I was so thirsty that I broke down and went to use the water fountain in the corner. As I walked up to it, I became horrified! I got closer thinking, surely, I was mistaken, but I was not. There in the water fountain was a pile of human feces. The prisoners who had been there previously had intentionally made it harder on those who would follow them. I wondered how many days the holding cell had been like that. Hatred against prisoners by the other prisoners who had made the mess and by the guards who didn’t have it cleaned. Disgusting, like their souls!

             There are many people who intentionally ruin religion for those who will follow them. Some people, who truly hate God, pretend to be religious, even pretending God reveals things to them, so they can defile the religion they claim to believe in. They only join a religion to destroy it. These wolves in sheep’s clothing have defiled many religions. Many have lies added to them. We can see that clearly when we read all the revelations from all the prophets. The great deceit is to keep you away from other religions. If you are only taught one religion, it appears to make sense, but when you study what prophets from other religions said, you can see the truth much clearer.

             I was given a job at Alexander prison. I pushed a guy in a wheelchair wherever he needed to go. I was paid one dollar a day and my sentence was reduced each month for doing the job. I saved the money and was able to buy a pair of shoes. The prison gave us free shoes, but they were very cheap and hurt my feet. The shoes I bought were much better quality and didn’t hurt my feet. I saved more money and bought a good pair of headphones, so I had good shoes, a good radio and good headphones. By prison standards, I was doing great. My constant problem was the guards using the EMT to torture me. They wouldn’t let me go one moment without intense pain. I wished I was treated like a regular prisoner. Often I wondered why the watchers tortured me so much more than the other prisoners? One day, the answer came. The guard watching me spoke in my ear. He taunted me that I was so stupid I didn’t even understand why they gave me special attention. Then he told me that when I had refused to eat the pork or drugged food at Caldwell County jail for thirty days I had grown very weak and almost died. Caldwell County was paying the State of North Carolina to watch the prisoners in their county jail. The watchers never told anybody I was dying, so the guards kept passing by my cell and doing nothing. The jail guards were trusting that the watchers would notify them before the situation became dangerous, but they did not. They were too busy giving prisoners erections and watching the result. They are sodomites. When my cell mate complained to his family and the guards finally discovered I was almost dead, accusations flew. The county had to send me to State Prison since they didn’t have a proper medical unit capable of handling my situation. The county was scared that I would be allowed to contact a lawyer or my family from prison since I was out of their control, so they initiated an investigation to cover themselves in case that happened. The captain who ran the jail was fired and the watchers got in trouble also! Finally, I understood why the watchers had singled me out for such massive amounts of abuse. They got in trouble for not doing their jobs and took out their anger on me since they saw me as the reason they got in trouble. The guards watching me never considered they were the problem.

             The guy I pushed in the wheelchair couldn’t walk very well due to his legs and feet being burned. I asked him how it happened and was shocked when he told me that he had rolled toilet paper into a wick. He used a battery and foil from a coffee pack to set the wick on fire. Then he used the wick to light some drugs he was smoking. The drugs caused him to pass out, so he dropped the burning wick onto the blanket that was covering his legs. As he laid there unconscious from the drugs, the blanket caught fire and burned the skin off his legs and feet. He had gone through many months of surgery and endless agony as they grafted skin back onto his legs, feet and toes. How horrible!

             One day as I was pushing him down the hall, he stopped another prisoner and bought some drugs. I asked him, “Surely you aren’t going to do more drugs after what happened to you?” He replied that without the drugs he couldn’t make it through a day in prison. Then he looked up at me and asked if I did any drugs. I told him I didn’t. He asked how I made it through a day. I thought for a second, then said, “God helps me.”

             After that I started paying more attention to who was doing drugs in our cell block. I noticed that the guys who seemed quiet or sad did the most drugs. I realized they were struggling to get through each day. I applied that knowledge and realized that a lot of people who do drugs are simply trying to get through life. Life can be hard, but drinking and drugs are not the answer. They just make the problem worse.

             One day a prisoner walked up to me and started a conversation. As we were talking, he asked me if I had ever drunk or done drugs. I told him I had never done either. He smiled at me and said, “John, never drink and never do any drugs. Those two are what put me in here.” I smiled inside. Not only because I had gotten good advice from a prisoner, but because this man who was suffering himself had cared enough about me to warn me of the dangers of drinking and using drugs. In the darkest places shines the brightest light. 

Section Fifteen – Radio Thief

             More times than I can remember, I sat on my prison bunk and recalled what had happened to me at Central Prison in Raleigh, North Carolina. The guards had constantly beat and broken me and other prisoners, but at Alexander Prison the guards didn’t hit the prisoners at all. I was amazed at the humongous difference in the way the guards behaved. It is often said that everything rises and falls on leadership. I knew the leadership at Central Prison was corrupt and encouraged the abuse happening there, while the leadership at Alexander Prison was dedicated to obeying the law. That truth showed itself clearly in how the guards acted towards the prisoners. The soldiers obey their Captain.

             The watchers kept using the EMT on me even though I had been moved to a different prison. I tried to stop the insanity by writing every USA congress member, the United Nations Human Rights Council, the USA president, the governor of North Carolina and many others. In retaliation, the watchers increased the torture. I was tortured so badly that I couldn’t think or even breathe. After weeks of indescribable abuse, I cracked. I used my fingernail clippers to cut open a battery case then sharpened the case using the cement floor as a file. I then asked God to forgive me, telling Him I could not endure the pain anymore. I felt like I was being shredded from the inside. I felt like I had been dropped in boiling oil but couldn’t die. It must stop! It had to stop! I couldn’t endure it any longer. I sliced into my arm. I couldn’t cut through the vein so I turned the homemade knife the other direction and sliced again. Blood flowed but the vein was stubborn. I hooked a jagged edge of the homemade knife on the vein and tried to tear it open to no avail. The homemade knife was not sharp enough to cut the stubborn vein.

             One day I was sitting in the cell block when a prisoner asked me what the blue dot was on my arm. I told him I didn’t know there was a blue dot on my arm. He twisted my arm and pointed to a small dot. I am partially color blind, so I had thought it was a freckle. I asked him if it looked like a tattoo. He said it did. My mind recalled the day at Central Prison when the psychologist had tattooed my arm. I recalled them pulling on my arm and complaining about not holding steady. They had rotated my arm and the humming sound began again. I realized they had begun tattooing my arm in one place, then twisted my arm and actually put the tattoo in a different place. I still had part of the tattoo on my arm! I felt my anger flare up! I would not wear that tattoo!

             I went to my cell and got my finger nail clippers. I positioned them above the dot and closed the clippers. I pulled them away and saw blood flow. I wiped the blood off and looked at the spot. To my horror, I had missed the dot completely! I felt tears in my eyes, not from pain but from anger. As I sat there trying to stop the bleeding, I reasoned with myself. I told myself not to be upset. I still had the blue dot on my shoulder from the same incident. It wasn’t actually a word. It was only a little, insignificant dot. I began to pray. After several minutes in prayer, I felt better. The two dots didn’t matter. I had escaped Central Prison and their renewed Holocaust. That realization brought joy to my soul. The blood had stopped flowing. I walked out of my cell with my head held high. They had not destroyed me. I still loved God, so I had won!

             I was assigned to push a different man in a wheelchair. He had severe breathing issues. He was one of those guys who always had a story to tell. Sometimes, I would just sit and listen to his crazy stories. I don’t know how many were true, if any, but it was a needed break from the more than a decade of suffering I had endured. One day he told me that the guards were charging prisoners with a crime if they had one of the older style radios. I asked if he was joking because I had one of the older radios. He pointed to a prisoner and told me to ask him if it was true. I went to the prisoner and asked and he told me he was given an escape charge and put in isolation because of his older radio. I was shocked! I went back to the guy I pushed and asked him why the guards were giving people escape charges for the old radios. He said that the old radios can pick up the guards’ two-way radios so they can be used to help prisoners escape. He said some prisoners at a different prison had used an old radio to intercept the guards’ communications and used the information in an attempt to escape. I was horrified! I used my radio every day and the new radios were very cheap, didn’t pick up radio stations very good and used a lot more batteries. The prisoner told me he would trade me his cheap radio for my good radio. He said he was getting out of prison soon, so he wasn’t worried about the charge. I asked to see his radio and took it to my cell. I laid down on my prison bunk and turned the radio on and tuned in the station I usually listened to. It picked up good. This was important to me because I laid in my bunk and listened to the radio all night long. I went back to the prisoner and agreed to the exchange. I gave him my high quality, old radio and received his new, cheap radio. A few days later the prisoner was shipped to a different prison near his house to be released.

             After he was gone, another prisoner approached me. He asked, “Did you trade your good radio for a cheap radio?” I told him I did because of the escape charges the guards were giving prisoners who had the old radios. He laughed and said I had been tricked. He told me the guards only gave escape charges if the electronic circuits had been altered inside the radio. I fumed as I realized that the prisoner had lied and deceived me.

             Years later, I saw the prisoner who had deceived me sitting in the prison intake area. He had been released from prison but was back again. He and I were put in the same cell block. I asked him what had happened. He told me he had been arrested again for having stolen stereo equipment. I had to laugh inside! The man who had deceived me and stole my radio was back in prison for possession of stolen radios! God has a sense of humor! God always judges fairly.

             When we read about God drowning the Egyptian army in the water, do we ever take the time to consider why God killed them that way? If you recall the story, you know that the Egyptians were throwing Israeli babies into the water and drowning them. That is why God drowned the Egyptians. God always judges fairly. Often, God uses the exact same punishment on you as you misused on others. Think about this, which Egyptians were pulling babies out of their mother’s arms and throwing them into the river? It obviously wasn’t Egyptian women or regular men. It was the Egyptian men with bad attitudes. The aggressive, proud Egyptian men. The same men who served in the army. Yes, the exact same men who threw those Israeli babies into the water were drowned by God in water. God has pin-point precision in His judgment. Those in the United States need to stop and pray about what their nation has done to others. The American CIA put a leader in Iran. This is not conspiracy theory, but fact. Look it up. Then they had ‘their man’ sell them Iranian oil at a cut rate. So, America tried to steal Iranian oil. The people of Iran refused to go along with that, so they expelled the CIA’s man. Now America puts sanctions on Iranian oil. There is pretext and there is truth, choose truth.

             Then 9-11 happened. None of the hijackers were Iraqi, but the United States attacked Iraq. Why? Because the CIA funded Saddam Hussein, armed him and helped him gain power. After Saddam, the CIA’s man, was in power, America wanted Iraqi oil at a discounted price. Saddam thumbed his nose at America and charged them full price. America attacked Iraq, not because of 9-11, but because of pride. They couldn’t allow someone they put in power to disobey them. But how many people died in Iraq because of America’s lust for oil? How many men? How many women? How many children? Do you know? God does. 

Section Sixteen – True Love

             Years had passed by slowly. The pain in my spine was worse some days, not as bad others but the EMT pain has never ended. The watchers come to work each day and each night to do their mischief. They live in the USA and have those high USA bills to pay so they never miss work. And of course, they love the feeling of power using the EMT gives them. They say they are gods on earth. Over the years, many of them have called themselves ‘god’ or ‘angels’ or ‘demons’. Their pride stinks to heaven.

             I went from a thin, muscular man to an older out-of-shape convict. I couldn’t recognize myself in the mirror. But as my body had aged, my soul had also. I cherished my Tanach greatly. I knew the pain those men and women had endured to write those words and I truly appreciated them. Prayer was my purpose each day.

             On December third, 2021 I was released from North Carolina prison. I had done fourteen years, one month and fourteen days. My time had been reduced for good behavior.

             March of 2022, I went on my first date since my release from prison. As I walked down the beach holding the hand of my future wife, I recalled the time in prison when I had thought of that very moment. As Bridgett smiled up at me, I could finally see her face clearly. I was not alone. Three years into our relationship, I am amazed at how wonderful it feels to be loved. Bridgett tells me she loves me all the time. I always return an ‘I love you’, and I truly mean it. It never ceases to amaze me how wonderful life is with someone who loves you, who truly loves you.

             I know that God allowed me to suffer through two selfish women who tried to end my life, so I would truly appreciate my wife. I know God allowed everything to happen to me so my judgment will not be clouded. No rose-colored glasses for me. I see people for what they truly are. God has taught me the evil and the good so I will know to choose the good.

             Bridgett and I are both afflicted by the North Carolina prison guards using the United States Electronic Monitoring and Torturing system to watch us every day. They love to hurt my wife because it makes them feel powerful. That is common male arrogance. They also torture our daughter, my step-daughter. As she works at McDonalds, she complains about her back hurting extremely bad at the same time. Why the same time? Because the watchers have set a timer to start pain in her back at the same time each evening. Why would North Carolina prison guards torture a teenage girl in Florida who doesn’t even know they exist? It is amusement to them. They are demons ruling this earth, just ask them. Some call themselves ‘god’, some call themselves ‘angels’, but many call themselves ‘demons’.

             As I wrote this original draft, I was staying at my wife’s parents’ house. We moved in to help care for her step-father who was dying of COPD. My wife and I took turns getting up at night to help and comfort her dad. It is a twenty-four hour a day job. As I look at my wife’s matching brown hair and brown eyes, I feel joy. I love her beautiful smile, but that is not why I married her. After two very wicked women, I have learned a lot. I asked her to marry me because of her wonderful soul. As I type this, she is compassionately caring for her step-father. What great love she shows by caring for a man who isn’t even her father. Her love is true and genuine. She never complains or gets upset. She just treats him the way she would like to be treated if she were suffering like he is. I have found that one in a million girl, and I truly appreciate her. Flowers, flowers, in your hair, will make the people stop and stare. But true beauty lives in you, and shows itself by what you do.

             When I was released from prison, I was required to complete nine months of parole. As soon as my parole was finished, I boarded a jet to Poland. In Warsaw I met my tour guide who took me around the city. Upon finding out I was part Jewish, she altered the tour to include many historically Jewish areas. We visited what was left of the ghetto and upon seeing the places where so many of my family were killed, I felt my heart grow heavy as my eyes grew wet.

             We left the ghetto area and went to a Jewish synagogue. I walked up to the door and looked inside. Here, in this place, people from a branch of my ancestry worship the God of Israel. I felt great joy that there, in Warsaw, my family still survived in spite of the great catastrophe they had suffered. I wanted to go inside, to look around, to worship with my brothers and sisters, but I hesitated. Would I be accepted? Would I be shunned? Would I be ‘Jewish enough’?

             I boarded a train from Warsaw to Kiev. The war was raging in Ukraine. I met one of my friends in Kiev and we took another train to Odessa, then a small van to Artziz where I met one of my closest friends. Later, as I sat in my dear friend Dmitriy’s house in Mirnapolia, I knew what had happened to me must be exposed. I opened my computer and began to type.

             My personal reason for going to Ukraine was to see if I could escape the Electronic Monitoring and Torturing system. I chose Ukraine because I knew people there. I could not escape the United States greatest weapon. The watchers kept taunting me my entire stay in Ukraine. One day as my Ukrainian friend and I were working in his garden, the watchers increased the pain in my back to an extremely painful level. I looked over and saw my Ukrainian friend holding his back. I asked and he said his back was hurting very badly. The guard watching us spoke in my ear. He insulted the Ukrainian man as he mocked us and our suffering. Why would a United States prison guard hurt a Ukrainian man who didn’t even know he existed? What would be the purpose? There is no purpose to what the United States is doing. This is a game to them. It is entertainment. Torturing world leaders and anyone else they come across is simply amusement to them. A thief will steal an apple off the back of a truck. If you educate the thief, he will steal the entire truck full of apples. Giving bad people power doesn’t make them decent, it makes them powerful trash.

             I sent a message to the Ukrainian government, telling them about what the United States was doing to me and my family as well as other people across the world. I warned them this device was also being used against them. I warned them about friendship with the wicked United States. I was ignored.

             When I was first arrested in Gaston County, North Carolina I only had a few fake misdemeanor charges. The total amount of time I had to do in prison, if convicted, was only five months but the judge set my bail at half a million dollars. The first judge I saw was a black man who was not part of the antisemitism, so he ordered me released on my own signature. He required absolutely no money. The jail administrator, Kim Johnson, did not like that so she told the guards to put me in shackles and take me through the tunnel into the courthouse. I had spoken with the first judge through a television camera set up in the jail. It is what the Americans call ‘First Appearance’. I was taken to a judge whom I think was named Sherman. She overrode the first judge. She set my bail at two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Yes, a quarter of a million dollars. A few days later, I wrote a letter to my family asking them to post the bail. I gave the letter to the guard like all the other prisoners did their mail. The next day I was taken back to the courthouse and Judge Greenlee raised my already excessive bail even higher! He set my bail at five hundred thousand dollars for a handful of misdemeanors that carried a maximum sentence of five months in prison if I was convicted. Yes, half a million dollars for a few misdemeanors! Check the court records, I am telling the truth. I told the judge that violated the law against unreasonable bail as laid out in the eighth amendment to the United States Constitution. The judge ignored me as he broke Federal law. Then Dallas Police Officer Flick told me, “We are going to invent some felonies.” There was not a single person or group who did this. It was a collective effort of multiple law enforcement agencies, prison staff, judges and lawyers who hated me because of my ancestry.

             If a man had survived this abuse in some other country America disagrees with, and fled to America to tell his story, he would be accepted with open arms. Why? Because America wants to believe bad things about people they do not like. Most people want an ‘enemy’ so they create one, but seldom do people see they are their own worst enemy. As I end this story, I know one thing clearly: Many Americans will call me a liar. They will mock and laugh at the ‘crazy prisoner’. When I was young, I determined to pray each day to understand truth and not be deceived. You should do that also. 

Section Seventeen – Righteous Judgment

             I was in prison for fourteen years, one month, and fourteen days. If we ask why I was in prison that long, the simple answer is that I was persecuted because of my belief in God. But that is not the correct answer. It is better to phrase the question, “Why did God allow me to be imprisoned for over fourteen years?” The answer is very difficult for most people to comprehend. Let me tell you a couple true stories to help you understand why God does what He does.

             While I was in prison, each of my mother’s five children received a check for five thousand dollars from my mother’s life insurance. My sister, Angela (deBeaubien) Jennings, kept my five thousand dollars. She must have forged my name on the check to be able to deposit it into her account. The neediest people in the world are orphans, widows and prisoners. So, was it acceptable to keep a prisoner’s money he desperately needed? Of course not! And when I was released from prison, she did not give me the money. And while I was in prison, I constantly wrote her letters telling her I needed money to buy food from the jail store because the guards were tainting my food trays on purpose. I begged her to help me without knowing she had five thousand dollars of my money. She never told me about the money. I found out from another sibling after I was released from prison. Angela has never mentioned the money she stole from me. But while I was in prison, she did send me a total of eight hundred dollars. She sent a little at a time over fourteen years. When I was released from prison, she spent four hundred dollars to buy me a computer. So, my sister Angela returned one thousand two hundred dollars of my money, but kept three thousand eight hundred dollars for herself. After I was released from prison, my oldest sister, Leslie, bought me a truck. The truck costed three thousand eight hundred dollars. The exact amount that Angela stole from me.

             Although Angela stole the money, God gave it back to me through Leslie. This seems wrong to most people, but not to God. God made sure I received the proper amount of money as He rewarded Leslie and punished Angela. This is the reason most people do not understand God’s rewards and punishments. When God does something to reward you, it often doesn’t come from the place you think it should. And when bad things happen to people, they don’t understand that God is punishing them for something else they did. Often the good action and reward or the crime and punishment don’t seem connected, even though they are in God’s eyes.

             Second story: There was a king of Israel named Ahab. God told Ahab to destroy another wicked king, but Ahab spared the king and made a commitment with him. Because of that, God told Ahab he would receive the punishment the wicked king was supposed to receive. When you have mercy on someone that God has sentenced to destruction, you are sentencing yourself to destruction in their place. The complete story can be read in First Kings chapter 20.

             If you have read this entire book, you know that my first wife, Amber Michele (Buck) Jordan, beat our son in the face. In America, that is a crime worthy of two years in prison. Since I didn’t send her to prison, I did two years for her crime. Sarah Elizabeth Fleming (Also called Susie Lane Marlowe in Pennsylvania records) and Amber attempted to end my life by placing a drug overdose in my food. In America that is a crime worthy of six years in prison. Since I didn’t send them to prison, I did twelve years, six for each of them. Be very careful how you judge people. I was merciful to Amber and Sarah because I didn’t want to send my children’s mothers to prison. See what God did to me?

             One of the main teachings of Islam is proper judgment. Muhammad said that the Jews first mistake was to see someone doing wrong and warn them about their evil action. But when the person kept doing wrong, the person who warned them kept sitting down and eating with them. We cannot simply warn people, we must enforce our words with righteous actions.

             Think about this Israel: The United States government is torturing and murdering their own prisoners and civilians and other people across the world. The United States government thinks it is a game to be enjoyed by those who have attained positions of power. Let me tell you another story: When I was at Alexander Prison after I tried to cut my arm open and bleed to death, the torture continued and continued. Another week and a half went by and I could not handle another moment of torture. I climbed in my bed with a trash bag and a shoelace. I put the bag over my head and tied it tightly around my neck with the shoelace. I pulled the covers over me so no one could see me dying in my cell. The air began getting thin. Breathing became difficult. Of course, I was praying constantly. I removed the shoelace then removed the bag from my head. I went to call my sister Ashley so I could tell her what was happening. I went to the phone and called my sister and explained the Electronic Monitoring and Torturing system being used to harm me. She became very upset. She called the prison and screamed at them. They told her I had mental problems, that there was no Electronic Monitoring and Torturing system. Liars. Ashley pursued the issue so the prison staff transferred her to a psychologist named Obrien. She complained to him so he called me to his office. His name is Kevin O’brien, with an ‘e’. He took one look at me and I saw the pain on his face. I could tell he was not as hard as most of the prison staff. I begged him to stop the abuse. He thought for a second then simply said, “I’m going to tell them to stop.” I cried. I went back to my cell and about two hours later the abuse died down to the point it was bearable. It didn’t stop, but it went from a hundred percent to a five percent, but five percent is enough to make breathing difficult. The next day I went back to see O’brien. He was very sick looking. I asked what was wrong and he said he had some kind of mental anxiety that was making it difficult to think. I wondered if he was tricking me, but I saw the way he was bent over and realized it was true. I told him that was one of the things the guards had been doing to me using the EMT. He stopped instantly. I saw the realization cross his face. He had not realized that the guards were hurting him in retaliation for whatever phone call he had made to help me. He quickly sent me away. I knew he had another phone call to make. These people are so brazen that they hurt another North Carolina prison employee who tried to stop them.

             When my wife and I were taking care of her step-father, the guards watching us using the EMT kept saying very bad things about her step-father, Charles Coates of Yulee, Florida. They hated him for no reason. We spent a lot of time with Chuck (Charles Coates) and learned that many of the exact same things the watchers had been doing to me for years had begun mysteriously happening to him since he met me. When he ate, his nose would run, just like me. He was having the exact type of pain in his back as I was. His nose kept mysteriously clogging up in an instant for no reason. He began getting the same type of boils on his skin as the watchers had given me for years. And the watchers kept him awake all day and all night, inflicting him with intense pain and mental anxiety beyond words as they taunted me that they were going to kill him. I came in his room one day and saw a pistol on the table beside his bed. I died inside my soul. I knew how he felt. I had been there many times. He told me he hurt so bad he wanted to die, but he didn’t have the nerve to pull the trigger. He told me he had put the barrel in his mouth, but couldn’t bring himself to leave his family with that memory. He didn’t kill himself for one reason, he loved his family more than he loved himself. He couldn’t leave them with that type of mental scar. Charles Coates is a United Staes Navy Veteran that was partially disabled during his service in Vietnam and a group of North Carolina Prison guards tortured him to death for amusement. My wife and I left our daughter to watch Chuck for a few minutes so we could handle something urgent. When we left, the watchers lacerated the area inside Chuck’s nose causing him to begin bleeding profusely. It scared our daughter immensely. When I came into the room, the North Carolina Prison guards who were murdering my Navy Veteran father-in-law said, “Hope your daughter enjoyed the show!” The cause of death was listed as COPD, but when Chuck died his oxygen reading was 95 percent. He obviously didn’t die from a lack of oxygen. I contacted the Federal Bureau of Investigation and lodged a formal complaint against the North Carolina Prison system for the murder of Charles Coates, a United States Navy Veteran, and the torture of my wife, Bridgett Marlowe, a United States Postmaster. I thought the FBI would see the need to intervene in the situation since it involved a Navy Veteran and a government employee even though they had ignored all my pleas of prisoner abuse. A few weeks after I wrote the FBI, the North Carolina prison guards began taunting me that the FBI only gave them a warning. Yes, a warning. Then they told me the warning was not to stop torturing and murdering citizens of the United States, but that the FBI didn’t want any more complaints from me! After that the watchers increased my torture and my wife’s torture as punishment and deterrent.

             When I was taken by the prison system to the Greene County, North Carolina courthouse, a watcher spoke in my ear, telling me to look at the young girl in the pink shirt. I looked out across the courtroom and saw a young girl about seven years old wiggling in her seat beside a woman I assume was her mother. The voice said he was playing with her private area. He used other words. I will use these words to convey his message as I did with the ‘worthless Jew’ statement I quoted earlier. I have removed the difficult words so more people can read this. I quickly turned my head away from the child as I knew that the watchers were raping the child as a game. And why? What could they possibly accomplish by doing that? If I had yelled out in court that the prison system was raping a child in open court, what would have happened? The only thing that would have happened would have been for the judge to tell the guards who brought me from prison to send me for a mental evaluation when I was taken back to prison. The prison system could have given me a mental evaluation any time they chose. They did not need a judge for that. So why rape the child and tell me they were doing it? To amuse themselves. No other reason. Sick and disgusting. This is what the United States government has fallen to.

             I went to visit my aunt in Virginia as soon as I completed my parole. I did not get to see my cousin while I was there because I only stopped at my aunt’s house for a few minutes. Months later, when I was at home in Yulee, Florida, a watcher spoke in my left ear. He said they had killed my cousin Violet because she was racist. I called my sister Leslie and learned that our cousin Violet had died suddenly from a heart attack! This is very hard to comprehend. This is worse than the Nazi empire! The Nazis worked hard to hide what they were doing, but the United States does it secretly without even sending soldiers! They sit in their offices and use computers to torture and murder their enemies and anyone else they choose for amusement. When I was in Maury Prison the guards watching me bragged that all they have to do is put on a pair of Virtual Reality goggles and move their hands in the air. The Virtual Reality goggles allow them to see their victims and the same device that is locked on their victims is also locked on the guard watching them. The EMT sees where the guards’ hands are in relation to the graphical representation being shown through the goggles. So, it is similar to using any Virtual Reality goggles, like an Oculus, except they do not need any controller in their hands since the EMT knows where their hands are at all times. Scary and ridiculous! The United States government through the North Carolina Prison guards empowered by the CIA murdered Violet (Totten) Watkins of Saltville, Virginia because they didn’t like her. That is what the guards watching me told me.

             Now I want you to think about this: I was tortured by the United Staes for over eighteen years and am still being tortured as I type this in Jerusalem, Israel because of my efforts to expose and stop their great wickedness. Yes, the United States of America is torturing a descendant of Israel in Jerusalem, Israel. They tortured me at the western wall while I was celebrating Hanukkah. They are beyond evil. The USA is not Israel’s friend. They are using us. They would kill every one of us in an instant if it gave them what they wanted. They have no morals and no honor. If dropping a series of nuclear bombs on Israel would somehow make the USA the solitary world power, we would all die. 

Section Eighteen – Bridgett’s Testimony

             Now I am going to hand this computer I am typing on to my wife of three years. I am going to give her the simple instruction: Explain to the readers what has been done to you and how you know it is happening.

             Bridgett Marlow’s comments follow:

             After I met my husband, I began having weird things happen to me that were unexplainable. For instance, my back would hurt out of the blue not doing anything. I would suddenly get a headache that was like a shooting pain through my head for no reason at all. I would complain and at first my husband would just say sorry and go on. Then it started happening like every day and he told me what was happening then I started doing a few things to test what he said. Nothing would be happening and I would say something like I haven’t ate all day and all of the sudden I would get severe pain in my stomach.

             I am going to speak carefully, but you need to know this. While I was working at the post office, I had to work late nights delivering mail and then I would come home and things would be right when me and I husband would be together. During the day while I was working my panties would get wet while delivering mail. The things that were happening had never happened before in my entire life. Then when I would get home my husband would think I had been out cheating. After a lot of talking and watching when the things would happen, we both realized that it was being done to me. My husband and I realized it when it happened on my holiday and I had been with him the entire time. He got very mad at the watchers, very mad. He vowed to destroy them.

             Many times, my back would be hurting in a certain, specific area and my daughter would tell me her back was hurting the exact same way in the exact same area. This happened a lot with me and my husband also. To have two or even three people’s backs hurting in the exact same spot at the exact same time is not a coincidence. Especially not when it has happened over a hundred times!

             John’s words continue now: 

Section Nineteen – EMT Abilities

             I am going to provide you a short list of things that have been done to me over the last eighteen years. This list is not all inclusive, it is just a few things I remember. They can do much more than is on this list:

 Headache

Pain anywhere / everywhere

Diarrhea

Feel the urge to urinate (From slightly to uncontrollably, depending on the watcher)

Make various sounds in my ear or to appear to come from any location they choose.

They can broadcast sounds loudly or softly from any spot they choose.

Runny nose

Boils

Vomit

Sty

‘Feel’ a certain way (sad, anger, depression, anxiety, overwhelmed, terrorized, etc.)

Heart beat fast

Heart ache

They can set any of these things to happen on a timer, as in every 30 minutes or at 3:12 each day.

Nauseousness

Sickness

Ears ringing

Small items moved (They can physically move things, like push a pen across a desk. They often make a popping sound, so they may be using sound to push small items.)

Make a person or an object hot or cold

Sweating

Freezing

Red rash

Red blotches

Clogged nose (they can instantly clog your nose. In less than a second you can’t breathe out your nose, or one side, as they choose)

Restricted windpipe making breathing difficult

Death

Sneezing

Burning eyes

Watery eyes

Hunger

Feel like you ate too much (whether or not you ate a lot or even nothing at all)

Urge to defecate

Instant stop to defecation (they can turn off your bowels)

Erection using blood but no feeling (No vibration you can feel / silent erection)

Erection due to a vibration on your body

Make women wet

Make women dry

Make women tight

Make women loose

Loosen screws in various items (They kept unscrewing my wife’s dental implant which mystified the doctors. The dentists couldn’t figure out what was happening. They said they had never seen anything like that happen before in hundreds of procedures.)

They backed a screw out of my computer, then laughed about it. Idiots.

Dry mouth

Seize throat so you can’t talk

Constipation

Sleepy (mild or pass out depending on the level of intensity the watcher chooses)

Wide awake, can’t sleep.

Eyes wide open, won’t stay closed

They often do things that are based on something you do. If you stub your toe slightly, they make the pain in your foot immense. They are trained to amplify your pain or even create new pain based on something you do. You bend over to pick up a box and you get pain in your back. They do this all the time. They told me that is what the CIA trained them to do.

             Think about how much research and testing went into using this system to do each one of these items. How long did the United States of America’s scientists spend perfecting the ‘task’ of making a woman wet. Or dry. Or tight. Or loose. Or your nose run. These people are idiots. They could be curing cancer, but instead they are messing with women’s private areas and giving men erections and runny noses. Idiots.

             World leaders, think about the various pains and sexual situations you have experienced since being put into power. Confer with other world leaders. How is it possible that these things are happening to world leaders? Now you know!

             Several of the guards watching me over the years told me the same thing. Many of them said that when the CIA needs someone to use the EMT, like a prison guard or an FBI agent, or someone to work on the EMT to develop it further, such as a quantum physicist, they put them through a test first to ensure they can handle the task. The test consists of hiring a person who has passed the basic CIA background check. Then that person is placed on a job assignment that does not matter. For a quantum physicist, it means they are put in a lab and told to work on a problem other United States physicists have already figured out. Then CIA agents pretending to be helpers talk to the new employee to get deep inside their head. When break time comes, they lead the new employee into the break room where there is a large television playing group pornography. If the new employee isn’t bothered by the orgy, then the next day it is violent gang rape on the television. If that doesn’t bother the new employee, then the next day it is a child being raped to death, then heinous torture of children, and on and on. If the new employee doesn’t get offended by the things being shown on television, they pass the CIA morality test. So, to pass a CIA morality test, you must completely fail a morality test. Sickening. The North Carolina Prison guards told me about that CIA test because they wanted to prove to me that no one in the FBI or any other branch of the United States government that is responsible for the EMT will ever help me or anyone else. Then they said everyone in leading law enforcement positions know that any complaints about the EMT are to be sent directly to the people in charge of the EMT ensuring no one ever disrupts the process by choosing to do right. If that is true, the United States is doomed.

             Nobody, anywhere on earth, decides they want their children to grow up being kind, righteous and Godly, so they move their family to the United States. How ridiculous that thought is! Everyone knows when you move your family to the USA, your children will probably become rebellious and promiscuous. Those things are what the USA is known for, not righteousness. People only move to the USA because they lust for the wealth the USA offers. A few mistakenly move to the USA fleeing some type of oppression, but the result of living in the USA is never good. It will ruin your family and your life, just like every country who makes an alliance with the USA suffers. The USA can make you wealthy as they destroy the souls of you and your children. The wickedness the USA spreads across the earth is a large warning to every righteous soul to stay far away from it. A man moved from Ukraine to the USA several years ago. He and I worked together for many years. We became good friends. He could not tolerate the wickedness done constantly in the USA, so he moved back to Ukraine. He had been tricked into moving to the USA, it had not been his choice. But, after seeing how horrible the USA is, he went home. The reason people move to the USA is to amass a lot of wealth. That is how it has always been. The USA is not a race of people. In a race there will be some good and some bad. The USA has drawn lustful people to it since its inception. So, the USA is a mixture of the lustful people from around the world. Many nations say that Americans are oversexed and that is very true. Now you know why. The USA is a giant group of the lustful people harvested from the world. This is why they accomplish so many advancements and so much evil.

             The guards who use the Electronic Monitoring and Torturing system are mostly males. If you take a group of lustful males who have failed a morality test to get the job, then give them the ability to do anything they desire to anybody they want, who will they spend all their extra time on? Obviously, they will spend any non-busy time watching the people who appeal to them the most, which is young girls. That is why they torture our teenage daughter so much every day. After I got out of prison, I began teaching my fifteen-year-old niece to drive. One day as she was driving my truck in Yulee, Florida on State Road 200 we stopped at the stoplight in front of the Circle K near Aldi. The watchers began giving me an erection, very violently. It felt like a vibration device was placed against my private area. As soon as the vibration began, the voice in my left ear said they were raping my niece. I turned quickly and saw the horror on my niece’s face. She had no idea what was happening! Poor, confused child! I told her to drive us home and then I never took her driving again. Anybody who gets near someone being watched by the USA becomes an associated target also. Then our family went from Florida to West Virginia a few months ago so we could visit my wife’s family who lives there. We saw my wife’s younger sister while we were in Salt Rock. A few weeks after we returned to Florida, my wife learned that after our visit, her younger sister had begun having very sever, mysterious medical problems. The doctors have not been able to figure out what is causing the problems. She is very dizzy, has been passing out, and her extremities are turning improper colors and feel numb as her entire body is lethargic. When I heard that I died inside! The USA prison guards did those exact same things to me in 2011. Our greatest fear is that the United States will murder my wife’s sister the same way they did my wife’s step-father and my cousin. My wife’s sister is a very sweet, kind, West Virginian who is only fourteen years old.

             Thank you, God, that you know the great wickedness being done by the United States of America! And thank you that you are going to punish those wicked ‘demons’, as they call themselves! 

Section Twenty – About Johnny

             Johnny Marlowe was born in Bristol, Tennessee USA in October of 1975 (Gregorian). He was the second of five children. He and his oldest sister, Leslie, live in the Jacksonville, Florida area. His middle sister, Angela, lives in Pineville, North Carolina. His youngest sister, Ashley, and baby brother Christopher, live in the Concord and Lake Norman area of North Carolina.

 During his pre-prison years, Johnny spent the warm seasons building houses and commercial structures and the cold seasons programming computers. He is a Microsoft VBA developer.

 Johnny’s favorite books are the complete Torah (especially Leviticus), Ruth, A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court, and the poem Break, Break, Break by Tennyson.

 Johnny married Bridgett ♥ Nichol a year after being released from prison. God saw the wickedness and pain Johnny had suffered, so God gave an eternal blessing!

 GOD bless you all!