June-July 97

THE BEAT GOES ON

A twist on the old adage of "If at first you don't succeed, try, try again" might be "Then quit." But one could add that "Before you quit, file a writ." Although the odds are against you, at least you leave a record of events, and you might possibly win something. I did.

In November, 1972, I mailed my first complaint alleging illegal segregation. The federal judges and magistrates kept dismissing it upon various specious grounds and I kept appealing it (Del Raine vs. Carlson, et.al. 826 F.2d 698 (7th Cir. 1987). When the U.S. Attorney filed another motion to dismiss in 1986, he attached a memorandum from my prison file. Only then did I learn why I had served 28 months in the hole. According to the memo, written by a typical Leavenworth gung-ho "Fearless Fosdick," he had observed me "talking to another con" during a partial work strike. He had then talked to someone else, who in turn later talked to another prisoner. This positive proof of guilt resulted in five of us being locked up, with three of us transferred to Marion. I then added this guard to the case as a defendant.

On February 1st, 1996, the Seventh Circuit Court of Appeals remanded the case for the fourth time, castigating the lower courts and the Bureau of Prisons for their inept procedures. The judge then assigned another attorney to represent me. After telephoning me, visiting me in Leavenworth, and corresponding with me, she had a subpoena issued directing me to be lodged in a jail near her office for pre-trial motions. It required a personal phone call from the judge to the warden before he released me from the SHU (Special Housing Unit) where I was languishing with two other jailhouse lawyers on the sixth pretextual charge in 2 1/2 years.

Although my attorney knew nothing of criminal or prison litigation, she filed full discovery motions and, expending her own funds, arranged psychiatric and medical interviews to prove damages. After the U.S. Attorney deposed me in Marion in a "Black-Box" (a plastic box clamped over one's handcuffs, which stops the limited movement of one's hands, cuts into one's wrists, impeding circulation) , she obtained a court order prohibiting this. Instead, I was to wear a 50,000-volt stun belt strapped around my waist. If the guard presses his radio transmitter button (inadvertently or otherwise), I would "(a) immediately be immobilized and fall to the ground, (b) probably defecate in my pants, and (c) probably urinate in my pants. The guard is authorized to push the button if I fail to comply with a verbal order to halt any "movement" or if there is any "loss of visual contact" or if I "tamper" with the infernal device. If this doesn't suffice, the guard is authorized to use "deadly force." It was only a matter of time--once this device was successfully used to train dogs--that convicts and certain suspects would be next. If Heinrich Himmler were still alive, he'd drool at the mouth imagining its myriad uses.

When my attorney came to Marion for our telephonic depositions of the remaining defendants, the government raised their offer to settle from the original $4,000 (later $10,000) to $20,000. Since they wouldn't agree to a bench trial, since the plutocratic/paid/puppet/prostitute press has propagandized the public into believing that all convicts are evil personified, and since I'd probably die of old age before appeals were finalized, in November, 1996--a mere 24 years after filing--I accepted the offer.

I was returned to the Leavenworth SHU where I found my two jailhouse lawyer accomplices on this latest bogus fiasco still locked down. One of them is 73 years old, an ex-attorney from Texas. Part of the
"evidence" against us is that I was enrolled in a Spanish class with the Texan. (Hmmmm, isn't Texas somewhere near Mexico? Yeah, pretty conclusive evidence that we were planning to escape and slip across the Texas border.) As for the other culprit, I jogged in the yard with him two or three times for a half-lap. (Yup, proof positive that we were planning on scaling the 30-foot wall and running away!) Of course, the fact that all three of us are jail-house lawyers is coincidental-right?

The 73-year-old and I were released into population, but then it was another round of black box transfers to Atlanta lock-up. This latest shuttle will prevent me from signing any more affidavits concerning the Leavenworth guard beating on a semi-psychotic Mexican illegal chained to the concrete bed in the SHU. The officer then wrote a false disciplinary report on Kenny Edge for protesting such actions. There is plenty of "correcting" that needs to be done in the correctional facility.

After a month I was able to obtain a BP-8 to file on the lack of medicines. Perhaps that will warrant a trip to the new Florence, Colorado supermax? But at least I'll enjoy spending a few BOP bucks as . . .the beat goes on.

--Ronald Del Raine, 85462-132, Box 1000, Leavenworth, Kansas, 66045-1000

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