Category Archives: true crime

Do As I Say

Today the Pentagon announced that it was dropping war crimes charges against five detainees at Guantanamo Bay after the prosecutor who was to try them resigned, and accused the military of withholding evidence that could clear the men. Of course, because our government is making up the rules for the war on terror as it goes along, with little regard for the human rights we supposedly esteem, new trial teams have been appointed for the men while, according to published reports, the military reassert their case. It is likely that the men will be charged later and forced to face the kangaroo court that the current administration refers to as a military tribunal.

Jose Padilla is an American citizen who was declared an enemy combatant after being arrested on U. S. soil. He was held without any charges being brought against him for over three years. After being convicted by a Florida jury he was given a seventeen year prison sentence. When he was eventually charged in a civilian court, none of the accusations leveled against him were related to the alleged, domestic dirty bomb plot he had initially been detained for.

When I visited Gitmo many years ago before the first Gulf War I looked beyond the wire fence that surrounds the U.S. Naval Air Station, and I saw a barren panorama spread out before me. Today there is prison where I stood and looked out through the wire, and the men held captive there are predetermined as enemies of the state.  Like the naked land that stretches out beyond that fence, the future for those being held there is as bleak as the landscape.

In the directive issued March 28th, 2003, that details the Standard Operating Procedures for Camp Delta at Guantanamo Bay, it specifies that captors should “not relate terrorism to Islam”, and that “it is inappropriate to equate any religion to such heinous activity”. After the Abu Ghraib abuses in Iraq that came after it, the directive has the appearance of being mere lip service despite the fact that Cuba is a long way from the Middle East.

At Republican rallies, back here in the United States; the Democratic rival is announced derisively as Barack Hussein Obama, his middle name making the implicit connection to TERROR. In television ads that are running infrequently due to the McCain campaign’s depleted war chest, republicans continue to infer a link between Senator Obama and domestic insecurity, sticking with dogged determinism to the strategy that got them into such a mess. I guess you dance with the one that brought you.

Believe it or not, all human’s are created equal and are entitled to a speedy and fair trial, and we are all still welcome to exist regardless of what we believe is God. These things aren’t solely an American birthright though, everyone who lives should share these entitlements, and more, simply because we are human. America cannot hold the World up to a standard that values human rights if we think that our citizens have more of a right than people in other countries. Either all men are created equal or not, and if we cannot match our actions with our words then maybe we should be saying something different.

Dark days are ahead if we do not get a handle on the systemic hypocrisy that plagues us after the last eight years of Bush. We could wind up with even more troubles than we already have. No one wants to live in a world where government employees eavesdrop on private phone conversations, and then joke about the strangers personal lives while on a coffee break.

Joe Biden said something I agree with, that growing up in his neighborhood; if you had a problem with someone you said it to their face. I would go the Vice Presidential nominee one further and say, don’t feed me a line of crap and glad hand me to my face, if you know that you are going to turn around and do the exact opposite. Because of America’s diminished standing and influence around the world after the last few years, I hope that everyone feels exactly like me on November 4th when they go out and vote.

Peace.

Down For The Keebler Kind

When I turned the T.V. on at six a.m. last Monday morning the screen was filled with the dramatic live images of a multi home fire that transcended spectacular. Three homes on the so called “Street of Dreams” had been completely consumed by the magnificent flames that roared into the sky, a fourth was nearly gutted and the fifth failed to ignite, leaving a wealth of evidence for the ATF and FBI boys to cull through. Immediately I knew that the Northwest’s #1 homegrown eco-terror group the Earth Liberation Front had struck again.

Their name is a misnomer. Really they should call themselves the Arson Liberation Front, because the only thing set free by their actions are some wicked flames. Fires that are rivaled only by the ones that supposedly burn down in Hell’s incendiary pit. If in fact these guys really want to liberate the Earth from human oppression they need to take up arms and start killing people. No joke, ELF should grow a pair and make it happen for real. There are many whose actions and decisions, Nature herself might consider as a personal effrontery. Get with it ELF.

Arson is a passive aggressive crime. Arsonists sneak in during the night to avoid confrontation and any rational challenge to their flawed reasoning. Setting a home gloriously ablaze makes for great television, but is hardly the way to rally the public behind a cause. Of course overly zealous cops/prosecutors/judges, along with Patriot Act style lawmaking is really all of the reason needed to avoid getting snatched up by the mechanical claw of the Federal Judiciary System.

ELF members are even more illogical and self righteous than the typical, run of the mill, granola types who clutter up the Northwest. Unlike many who believe that their worldview is morally superior and who aggressively push their ideology, ELF members have determined that the path to societal change is not by challenging the status quo with logic and reason, instead they create stupendous burning effigies of the culture that they revile.

Down in Portland right now there is a 34 year old ELF member named Tre Arrow who is facing life in prison for torching a bunch of cement mixers. Such heavy handed prosecution could only come about in the post 9/11 world. This guy foolishly placed himself in the crosshairs of an overly zealous legal system with his stupid, stupid actions. Now any opportunity that he might have had to make the world a better place is slipping away, along with his freedom.

Burn down hundred’s of homes with sleeping families in them in a suburb somewhere and then I will begin to think about being impressed by the beautiful flames that the ELF creates. That day will never arrive, because The Earth Liberation Front is the kind of faux terrorist group would never be willing to stage an actual legitimate attack against the American culture. ELF members need to remind themselves that making war against people is how you quash ideas that are unacceptable, and that if you make war by burning empty, model homes, it seems to indicate displeasure with some aspect of real estate, perhaps a hatred for the actual homes themselves.

Just think what could actually be accomplished if America wakes to the headline “Thousands Gone In Overnight Fire Bombings, L.A. Suburbs On High Alert”. Crawls on CNN and MSNBC would announce: “President To Address Nation About Fire Bombings” and “Country On High Alert Against Eco Terror Threat”. If things went really well the cause might get its own special eco terror, color coded, threat level thermometer. It is up to ELF members, the so called renegades against the American dreams and ideals to really jiggle America’s Fear/Change Throttle. So much can be accomplished when people think you are as serious as a murder and if they know that you are as serious as a mass murder it could really help change their minds about respecting the environment.

Worst Opening Move Ever

 “Anything to make you smile. You are the ever living ghost of what once was.”

From the song No One’s Gonna Love You by Band of Horses. 

The postmark says February 16th.

The return address is stamped on the upper left hand corner of the envelope, with the name and booking number filled in with a pencil, and it reads;

Name  Frank Kent – AKA Felix

Bkg. # 207002656 

King County Correctional Facility

500 Fifth Ave.

Seattle, WA 98104- 2332

And it is also addressed in pencil;

To The Gurl With Black Hair & 1 Blond StreekWho Works At:

City Market 1722 Bellevue

Seattle, WA 98122

Underneath the return address, also written in pencil, is a message for the mail carrier;

Dear, Mister Postman if This letter Gets lost Please Send it 2 Heaven Because it Belongs To A Angel

Inside are two notes written with red ink on wide rule notebook paper. 

This is what the first note says;

“Happy Valentine’s Beautiful”

To: The Very Pretty Gurl Who Works (Most Of The Time) The Cash Register Closest To The Candy Bars and lighter pully Things. you Have Black Beautiful Hair with 1 Blond Streek and A smile so sexy I Could Not Bring Myself To Speek To you. So Now all I Do is Dream and Think about you and Ask myself Why DiDNT I speak To her MABey i WOULDN’T BE WHEARE im AT NOW!

From: im Bout 6 Feet light Brown skin! Dreadlocks To About my MiD-Back I always came To you with A Big smile and you may Remember me by 1 or Two of These Incidents (1) I ASKED you for HOT Apple CIDeR mix anD you TOOK me to the Apple Juice lane & I SaiD Not This STUFF!  “THE only wAy I can GeT This HOT is The microwave AT your HOUSE”. I Belive you SAID IN RETUrN “U Can COME TO MY HOUSE BUT I may have been Dreaming AGAiN” If you DON’T  remember  me by that you sHould Remember me By (2) one Time I came IN with Apple CiDer “HOT” anD I HAD 2 lil NUGS on my cup and you came and smelled ‘em THAT was SO SUPER HOT! So yea all of THiS SHOULD RiNG A Bell if NOT YOU NOT THE GURL iN Witch I seek. i mean No DiS-RESPECT only Respect BUT My Heart is Broken Untill I FiND This BeAUTiFuL Gurl!!!!!!!

And this is what the second note says;

HELLO,

Im Going To KEEp THiS SHorT and Sweet To let you know I felt you every TiMe you looked aT me. If you Recive This PlEASE Take a Step To FUTHER THiS By WRiTiNG me I Go By Felix BuT My ReaL Name IS BELOW “0” By THE way im in JaIL FoR oNly Having A STolen cAR I STOLE a CAR BUT Please DON’T let THaT come BEETWEEN a possiABle FReiND SHIP. THeiRS so MUCH I Want To Tell you and let you know please contact me!

Frank Kent #207002656

500 5th Ave.

SeaTTle, WA 98104

WRitE me TODAY. i could NOT allow a woman oF your GRACE & BeAUTy Slip my GRIPS. So I TOOK a SHOT IN The Dark . A Hell of a SHOT . pleaseWRITE me I Have poems and all kind of stuff I Drew and wrote aBouT you. p/s im No WeirDO JUST a lil BiT IN love with BeAuty & Style

Really, we are all just little bit in love with beauty and style. Thanks Felix.  

As It Was In The Beginning

There are five miles of tunnels underneath the city of Portland Oregon that were used long ago to surreptitiously move drugged and drunken men who wouldn’t be missed, out of town and onto ships headed east. They all end up at the waterfront and the tunnels interconnect under the city to form a spider’s web that had ensnared many unsuspecting drunks when the slave trade was a booming economy in the Pacific Northwest.   

Bartenders would target their customers doping them with opium “knock out” drops, and as the victim began to stagger around the bar they would inevitably stumble over a strategically placed trap door that would be activated by a lever behind the bar. Counter weights made the trap door snap shut after dumping the foggy and surprised mark into tunnel below where they would be bound and transported to the port not to awaken until long after the ship was out to sea. 

Innkeepers also worked with the smugglers tipping them off when travelers returned from a night of getting shit canned. With their guard utterly diminished the inebriates would become chattel to the slave traders who provided a ready supply of able bodied men that could work on the ships that were continually leaving the port for far off lands.  

Crystal is someone that I know who had to endure years of rape and abuse at the hands of her drunken father before she ran away and became swept up in the modern slave trade that operates out of sight, generally ignored in America today. One day her mother gave her a small bottle of some sort of poison with instructions to pour it in to her father’s whiskey bottle, and when he went to the park that day to get loaded, he never came home to rape his daughter again.  

Upon arrival in Seattle she was convinced, like many young runaways, that her options were non existent so she took the “help” of a couple of pimps who tritely convinced her that they would take care of her. For years she and two other girls were forced, through violence and intimidation, to have sex with men who had contacted the escort website that her captors had set up.   

One of the girls who had been there longer than the others got to the point that she could not face the abuse that was continually being directed her way, and she refused to continue being victimized. As an example for the other two captive women, the girl was beaten and told at gunpoint that she would continue to do what the men told her. Beyond the end of her proverbial rope, the young woman refused to continue on and as a result was shot dead in front of the other two, who found that their will to resist was extinguished along with the life of the stalwart young woman who would no longer submit to further degradation.  

Eventually Crystal escaped the second stop on her houses of rape tour, only to return to life on the streets of Seattle, which can be as mean as the streets of any other major city when you are young, alone, and without options. Life on the fringes of society is one struggle after another; where to sleep, what to eat, and the continual threat of assault from the rest of the flotsam that aimlessly roam the streets like living dead.  

One night in Pioneer Square, Crystal was grabbed by an assailant who dragged her, kicking and screaming down a darkened alley intending to inflict the same redundant fate upon her that she had, seemingly, spent a lifetime enduring. This time, hardened by the experiences that she had survived, Crystal was ready for her attacker, who she stopped cold by producing a knife that she repeatedly plunged into the guy’s chest. She ran blindly into the darkness, narrowly escaping fate’s cruel grasp leaving the would-be rapist to unceremoniously bleed out on the filthy pavement.  

It is my understanding that the global slave trade is more widespread today than at any other time in human history. As Crystal’s stories reveal, we in the United States are not immune to the type of callousness that cynically allows life to be bought and sold as merely a commodity. Within the borders of this very country, humans are bought and sold like property everyday, and even though many of us have not been misfortunate enough to have been subjected to such nefariousness, the practice continues today, like it did in Portland long ago.  

Five miles of tunnels were dug under a city, to facilitate an immoral slave trade that implicated an entire community as responsible for the people who mysteriously disappeared from its taverns and boardinghouses. To this day those tunnels remind us of how we are all guilty when no one is willing to step up and take a stand against something that is so entirely wrong.   

Though lives continue to be bartered and traded for within our society, one that proclaims the equity of all, the practice is not as systemically approved of as the tunnels under Portland are indicative of. These days the slave trade is repudiated by much of the civilized world, but until it is completely eradicated, we are all to blame for allowing it to exist within our midst. There are none who are innocent so long as any others are forced to endure a lifetime of indentured servitude or rape.  

Free will is something that all humans share, and when personal freedom is usurped by force or violence, we are all to blame for the lives that are negated as a result.There is absolutely no reason that humans should be passed around as unwilling objects to be used for another’s pleasure or gain. Only when society cumulatively takes a legitimate and unified stand against human trafficking, will the slave trade cease to be profitable. Until then, the fact that human trafficking exists at all makes every single one of us guilty by association, because of our shared humanity.  

From Among Us

Hell yes! They caught the guy who stabbed Shannon Harps to death on New Years Eve just a few blocks from my apartment. It has been a little disconcerting to know that any of the derelicts who solicit change around the neighborhood could easily have been the killer. Apparently they have a positive DNA match for some guy who is already locked up in King County Jail for an unrelated charge. Hopefully this dude will enjoy the ass raping that awaits him upon arrival at prison. They say that violence begets violence and based on what this particular dirtbag has put forth I expect that for the next twenty or so years he will experience an unhealthy diet of isolation and unceremonious rape.

 Many of my friends are young women who live alone and the thought that any of them could meet such a sudden and brutal end as what befell Ms. Harps infuriates me. There is no love here for the perpetrators of such heinousness. For the last three weeks a killer has walked among us and the neighborhood has remained on edge as a result. It is my hope that the vile individual who took an undeserving life will experience the uneasiness that he inflicted here.

 Now the more sensitive among you might feel that my hostility toward this asshole crosses the line and if that is the case, too fucking bad you panty waist bleeding heart motherfuckers. If ever there was a dude whose actions denied him the benefit of any sort of sympathy, this is that guy. The judge in the case apparently agrees with my line of reasoning as the killer’s bail is set at, an out of reach, one million dollars. I don’t want him to get the death penalty as that would be too easy an out, instead I prefer that he endure a life that requires him to be vicimized redundantly. I do not absolve this so called human from his responsibility to pay for what he has taken and I will not forgive him for what he has done, that is Jesus’ job.  All of the rest of us can sleep a little bit easier now that such retardation has been removed from amongst us. RIP SH.

Errant Parent And The Day Hell Came To Visit

I heard an 18 year old porn star interviewed this morning on the Stern Show. Generally this is the kind of guest who is par for the course on Howard’s Show, but Summer Verona was not only introduced to the porn game by her step father, he also serves as her manager, and in this capacity, the step father is on set to supervise her escapades. We also learned that her step father is the one who takes it upon himself to make sure that her mons pubis is appropriately shorn for action and that he does the waxing himself. Now I am about as open minded as it gets and have very little problem with things that many would cringe at, but a step daddy shopping his wife’s barely grown daughter around to porn producers seems just a little inappropriate. Surely a step father grooming the genitalia of his wife’s daughter is over the invisible line that seperates icky from o.k..

This weekend in the New York Times there was an article about  how some of the soldiers that left for Iraq and Afghanistan confident, capable, and mentally stable are returning rattled, broken, and in some cases, as a menace to society. Of course when individuals are forced to confront the horror and devastation that a war machine and it’s weapons can inflict, it can wreak havoc inside a persons mind and things that were formerly considered reasonable can distort, and become entirely new perceptions and sensations.  It starts when you enlist, and the concepts of diplomacy and tolerance are forsaken on behalf of force and power. We teach our children not to raise their fists to one another, yet as adults we solve our most vexing problems through strength and violence, bending others to our agenda or else, as Reagan joked about The USSR, the bombing will begin in five minutes. The maxim is simple; a knife beats a club, a gun beats a knife, a bomb beats a gun, and a nuclear bomb is the trump card. You can check out the entire article at this link: http://www.nytimes.com/2008/01/13/us/13vets.html?scp=1&sq=veteran+%2B+murder

Back in 1989 when I was serving onboard the U.S.S. IOWA (BB-61), I was primerman for the center gun  in turret number one on the day that Brian Gendron, the Primerman for center gun in turret number two was obliterated along with 46 other guys. Some of the victims that day were blown apart into tiny unrecognizable bits, and others who could surely could see their demise coming by the position of their lifeless bodies, were only strangled to death by the thick, acrid smoke, that accompanied the fire. Like myself, Brian Gendron had joined the Navy to earn college money,  and to say he eagerly awaited his discharge is an understatement of the highest order because he loathed the Navy, and as it turns out, rightfully so.

 The eleven hours that I spent in that hell retrieving the bodies of those guys, completely changed my life, and I can honestly say that I have never thought about anything the same way ever since. They offered us counseling and made psychiatrists available to anyone who wanted to talk to them, but the culture in the military is big on machismo and rugged individualism, so most of us chose not to speak with someone who might have helped us to make sense of the whole goddamned mess. When all of this happened I wasn’t even twenty years old yet and frankly I really had no idea how important it could be to talk about something so traumatic. The bottom line is the military had a responsibility to force treatment upon me and everyone else who was there that day, especially those of us who went into that turret to retrieve the fallen. To this day I have never sat down with anyone to sort through the dark cloud of emotions that were aroused by the events of that day and I wonder how my life might have been diferent had I not been there that day at all. At least I remain to consider such thoughts, of the four of us that sat together at breakfast on the morning of April 19, 1989, I was the only one left alive by dinner time that night.

 After I was finished with The Navy I asked my Dad why he did not talk me out of enlisting and his answer was that he did not talk me into it. Sometimes, what seems like the right decision turns out to be not so much, while at other times, choices may seem entirely appropriate to an individual while society at large looks on with disdain. Life can be tricky, and it’s truths will always be elusive, but there are two certainties generally accepted by most people; Veterans deserve treatment for PTSD, and parents should never take up the cause of hair removal on their childrens genetalia. Have a great day everyone. Oh yeah, one more thing; Rest In Peace Brian.