Judiciary Standing Committee:


The story I'm about to tell is unbelievable but unequivocally true. For a period more than twenty years I've been purposely harassed and virtually tortured by the United States Government, the Christian community, and complying states for God to return to my ex-wife and her two children (which I believe because of my ex-wife's infidelity may not be mine and are now well over the ages of eighteen.) The Commonwealth of Massachusetts child-support enforcement agency says that because my name appears on the birth certificate that I'm therefore the legal guardian, and legally responsible for the child-support whether or not I'm the natural father -with no exceptions! My contention is this: "I was deceived by my ex-wife, Jeanne, and I just had learned of the possibility that the children may not be mine (after-the-fact) as a result of her lubricious infidelity through an argument with her via a serendipitous discovery on my part. I don't want to go through the rest of my life paying for her misconduct."

Shortly after that, in 1989, the Bush administration took power and the implementation became more austere. The State of North Carolina began harassing my new wife, Diane, for child-support payments for the two children I contend may not be mine. Diane began coming home from her job in tears stating that: "This is not of God" but she would never tell me why because I believed that she was being threatened, denigrated, and harassed by her constituents at her place of employment for God. It had gotten to the point whereas to collect it: They threatened my life. Then tried to run my car from the road. I even had I believe to be an enforcement agent to saw the bottom of my scaffold plank at work as to have it collapse and cause me serious injury in retaliation for my noncompliance. The end result was that I herniated two discs and cracked a vertebrate in my back. I then was not able to work for two years. Even today I still have an arduous time holding a job for long because of my injury. I'm always in great discomfort. Well, they became the nexus of our divorce. This led to the turning point that the implementation of the sanctions to now focus on my return to the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, to my ex-wife for God, as opposed to the payments of child-support.

Shortly after my injury I obtained an attorney by the name of Johnny Morgan who at the time had a law practice in Benson, North Carolina. I explained to Mr. Morgan that I was being threatened and harassed at my place of employment, and I was certain that the State of North Carolina was the culprit. Mr. Morgan stated that if I for any reason mentioned this to the Court or the insurance company involved that I would live to regret it, so I didn't in fear of retaliation from the State of North Carolina. I subsequently learned that Johnny Morgan was a former state employee (a highway patrolman).

I loved Diane but my conscience wouldn't allow me to compromise my principles. I knew what the Government and the Christian community were doing to me was wrong, very wrong. After our separation I wandered from state to state in hopes of finding a sanctuary where I could collect my thoughts and correct this insane injustice. It was at this point that I had come to the cognizance: "I could not acquiesce to this contorted machination, and there was no turning back now."

What the Government and the Christian community were doing to me was a gross violation of people's constitutional rights which our forefathers fought and died for so we could enjoy the good life that they never had. Once the Christians got away with one violation, they'd want more, then even more. Our Congress has proved this time and time again. Ultimately, the only people who are going to be left with constitutional rights are going to be the lawmakers because they make themselves exempt from the contorted laws we as a people are forced to comply with. I've hypothesized that the implementation of God's law is a milestone to totalitarianism implemented by a fascist plutocracy comprised of hidebound, reclusive, reactionaries who are mad, inebriated with power, and are capable of doing anything to anybody.

At this point in time the setting was now in Washington State and I was trying to cross the Canadian border; however, the Canadians sent me back to the United States as they stated that I was a wanted felon and not allowed to enter Canada in accordance with Canadian law. I couldn't understand this: "I committed no crime!"

The next day I was arrested by the Everitt Police Department for jaywalking and relegated to the city jail there. While in jail I was pushed into a small cell with about six correctional officers in tow as the first officer sprayed pepper spray in my face while I was handcuffed. Almost simultaneously they pushed and punched me to the floor then they proceeded to kick me in the face and ribs. About an hour later I was premonished that upon my extrication from jail I better return to Massachusetts or otherwise I would be arrested and beaten more severely the next time. Soon after I noticed I had two slightly blackened eyes and bruses on my ribbs. And about a month later I drove back to New Mexico.

While in Albuquerque my perpetual nightmare continued with a vengeance: I was harassed on my jobs again and threatened by complete strangers. I believe that the Albuquerque Police Department fired a machinegun just outside my motor home on Nine Mile Hill and cut my tires. I became very upset about everything that was taking place and I decided to call Congressman Steve Schiff's office for help. Little did I know that was the beginning of what was soon to be a real nightmare.

I explained to the liaison, or the boss of the office, as nicely as I could that my human rights were being grossly violated and that I was being beaten and harassed by law enforcement agents to return to Massachusetts. After I explained to him what was happening to me he stated, "Tell me where you're at and I'll have the police come pick you up!" Well, I finally reached the satiation point and I went off! I just couldn't take anymore! I call them a few more times vociferating my disapproval and anger for what the Government and the Christians were doing to me. You know what? They didn't like it, because a few days later I was arrested for telephone harassment. (Please note that all of the conversations I had with the Congressman's office had nothing to do with the Congressman. I wasn't mad at the Congressman. I didn't even know the Congressman at all. I became angry at the way I was being treated by whoever was in charge of the office -the boss or liaison; however, at the time I was being charged with telephone harassment).

This time I was relegated to B.C.D.C. in Albuquerque. While I was immured there I was treated with all the asperity of a Nazi concentration camp. While in segregation I had broken glass placed in my food twice -once in my spaghetti- in an effort to cause me serious harm. I was given sour milk on a regular basis for breakfast while the guards would laugh. The guards would encourage the other inmates to vociferate cadaverous paroxysms of my demise in order to terrorize me. They even went as far as to remove the P.C. lock from my door to give the other inmates who fawned the correctional officers a way of torturing me by trying to impale me with broom handles through the opening left from the removal of the lock from my door. I was even sprayed with urine on several occasions through the same opening. All this took place on a daily basis, all day long, for my eleven month sojourn. The guards would take me on elevator rides so they could bang my head on the walls and shout threats so there were no witnesses. I even had my tooth broken by inmates while Officer Marty Martinez encouraged it and a woman officer watched vicariously and did nothing to stop it. But the most horrible thing they did to me was the stabbing. However, before I bring myself to the point of remembrance of that terrible day I'd like to point out something very germane.

These attacks to attrite me continued through my almost six years of incarceration. During this time I was also being inundated with a contorted Christianity. For example: While inmates under the guard's direction would shout death threats, and attempt to assault me (as to the point they'd elicit an effusion from me) a chaplain would appear to inform me that God loves me and that Jesus is the answer to all my problems. Also, that he -referring to himself- would help me find my first wife, my true family (the licentious, lubricious, vixen, and her children) so I'd have a family to go home to and get away from all this adversity.

All the while these unscrupulous messengers of God would preach to me I'd think in the back of my mind: "What kind of man are you? Moreover, what kind of god implements torture and suffering to force someone to return to a lubricious vamp I now hate with all my heart and soul for what was done to me! You're a very mentally ill man!" But I'd just say, "No! I just want to be left alone!" This became the nascence of my apostasy. I've learned the hard way how demented Christianity and its followers really are. I've now learned to abhor religion. Back to the stabbing at B.C.D.C..

One day while I was coming back from the courthouse I was informed that I had a severe mental illness because I would not return to my first wife, Jeanne. An Albuquerque Police Officer then premonished me that I need to try to get out of jail, no matter what the cost, or something very bad was likely to happen to me. Then shortly afterwards a guard informed me that inmates as a rule, when assaulting someone, one inmate would hold the assaulted to the floor while the other inmate would stab the assaulted. Shortly after that an attorney purporting to represent me for my commitment hearing to a mental hospital -of which I knew nothing about stated to me during a symposium- that I could in-fact go free. All I'd have to do was return to my quondam family in Massachusetts, or otherwise I'd be committed to a mental institution. I said to her, "WHAT DID YOU SAY?" as I rose from my chair in disbelief that she'd say such a thing. She did not reply. She just got up from her chair and left. I was then taken back to my cell for more torture and punishment by the inmates and guards alike.

Approximately a week has passed now since my meeting with the strange attorney. While in segregation I proceeded with my daily routine: I'd take a shower out in the pod. I'd get a razor from the correctional officer. Then I'd go back to my cell to shave. All of a sudden while I was standing in front of my mirror shaving two inmates came running into my cell. One inmate tackled me like a football player while the other inmate stabbed me in the face and head while I was falling to my bunk. I kept putting up my hands to protect myself; however, being caught off guard made my trying to fight the two inmates off prove to be futile. I was stabbed all over my head and face and bleeding everywhere at this point. These were the same two inmates who for weeks shouted death threats and attempted to impale me with broom handles through the hole in my cell door. I also kept telling the guards about the death threats daily and nothing was done about it because I believe that this is what the Government and the Christian community intended for me for my noncompliance. I couldn't believe that the guards were letting them do this! (One of the guards I kept premonishing was named John. He was an average height middle aged black man, and he seemed very concerned about what was going on, but you could see in his eyes that he had a terrible consternation). After they were through I couldn't stand up in my cell. I kept slipping and falling in my own blood, and it was everywhere. I could hardly stay awake. I remember very little about the trip to U.N.M. Hospital except that the medic kept trying to keep me awake.

When I came back from the hospital I was placed in the infirmary at the jail. The first thing I said was, "Where's the mirror?" The guard said that they removed it. I retorted, "Why did you remove it?" The guard said, "Martin you don't need to see yourself right now!" I again retorted, "I want to! I want a mirror! Please!" So the guard let me out of my cell and into the bathroom used by the staff that worked there. When I looked into the mirror I could not believe it! One eye was almost completely shut, and the other was half open. My face was black and blue all over -even my neck and shoulders too. I was stabbed all over my face and forehead. Even my lip was ripped completely down, then sewn back into place. You wouldn't believe it; I looked like a victim in a horror movie! I received approximately twenty-five stitches in my face.

I endeavored to make countless attempts to contact an attorney to assist me with my dilemma, and every time I made an attempt to call on my recreation time out in the pod the phone would go dead, or inmates would shout death threats to prevent my obtaining assistance by anyone. This made carrying on a conversation with a reputable attorney hopeless. Dennis Montoya informed me that a lawsuit, or any recourse from jail was not feasible. Also, that I had to wait until my extrication from prison, so I didn't pursue it any further. Dennis Montoya lied to me. Now I've learned upon my extrication that it's too late.

Shortly after my attack I went on a five day hunger strike with no food or water. During this time a psychiatrist came to see me because I was not eating my food. I was giving my food to some of the other inmates who were also hungry. I explained to her what was going on as best I could. She became livid and began shouting: I want this man out of this jail now! Shortly after that I was brought to the infirmary. The State of New Mexico decided to drop the charges against me after holding me for almost 11 months and released me to federal custody. The State of New Mexico grossly violated my rights to a speedy trial. There were many pictures taken of my stabbing, both by the jail and the police department, but I wasn't allowed to obtain any of them for evidence. Sometime after I had my gallbladder removed -I had 32 gallstones. I believe that the hunger strike may have played a role in the removal of my gallbladder.

While in federal custody I was relegated to a federal holding facility in Estancia called C.C.A.. Not much had changed: I still had correctional officers, such as Officer Gillette, parading inmates past my cell shouting death threats and spitting on my cell window. The guards stole all my property such as: two watches, a radio, dominoes, and even my shoes too as to cause added anxiety in efforts to attrite me into accepting a contorted doctrine and get me to return to my ex-wife in Massachusetts. They did anything they could think of to me to cause anxiety, stress, and fear. I believe Officer Garcia was a big part of that. I was even beaten up by the guards in front of my attorney, Jacquelyn Robins. The officer in charge that day was Officer Rinfro. Estancia was a terrible place run by very obdurate people. I also got speared in the leg by inmate Eric Smith and cut with a razor blade by another inmate while the guards did nothing but encourage it. The guards even let another inmate open my cell door in the middle of the night to orate, "See how easy it is to kill you Martin!" When I got up to defend myself he quickly slammed my cell door and returned to his own cell.

When I met Dennis Montoya he seemed very genial; however, at the time I didn't feel very magnanimous or conciliatory towards government appointed attorneys. Judge Burce Black appointed him, and I knew I was stuck with him. It didn't take me long to find out that I was correct in my conjecture. Mr. Montoya informed me that he was going to take an insanity defense in my behalf, regardless of my unwillingness, which he said was ordered by Judge Black.

I was then sent to Springfield, Missouri Medical Center for Federal Prisoners for an evaluation. Doctors Mrad and Wolfson, again ordered by Judge Black, found me to be noncomposmentis. They stated to me that I was delusional and my story about the harassment was a fallacy regardless of my ability to produce tangible evidence. They also went on to say that I would face a 42-46 commitment hearing which is a lifetime commitment in a federal mental hospital for the criminally insane. They also kept me going back and forth from the Court to Springfield for more than three years without being able to go to trial trying to convince me that I was crazy and a danger to my-self and others.

My three and one-half years of a vacillating sojourn to and from Springfield was a horrible one: I was repeatedly told that I was delusional and forced to take medication against my will which caused me great discomfort. Officers' Tom Anderson and Carr even punched me in the face twice, and my food tray was also spit in by one of Officer Anderson's confederates. Once I wasn't fed for three days, and I informed the warden -a very corpulent, gruff, and obdurate man- what was going on and he stated that he'd look into it and walked away from my cell laughing. I knew at that point that nothing was going to be done about it. One time I was held down by correctional officers and injected by a nurse with a morbid medication while I pleaded with them not to do it. I became very sick from the medication and my eyesight became abated. I use to believe that I was having anxiety attacks because I would develop a very strong vertigo often accompanied with numbness in my extremities; however, I don't have to be under stress to incur one of these attacks. I can be totally calm and have an attack. These symptoms began after my encounter with Springfield, Missouri. Most often it is just my eyesight, but I believe I have some sort of brain damage from the medication that is causing this problem. They knew that there was nothing wrong with me and they drugged me anyway. This was all ordered by Judge Bruce Black. Doctors Mrad and Wolfson said that my eyesight would return shortly, but it never did. I still have difficulty seeing even today; however, this was the only facility where other inmates were treated with the same asperity as I was. I've witnessed another inmate get assaulted and injected with an insalubrious medication just as I was as he begged them not to do it. Also, one inmate was killed as an end result of being forced to take a dangerous medication. He was a very quiet man named Walker and he appeared to be very friendly despite the adversity he was forced to ameliorate. (Walker repeatedly complained of discomfort that the medication caused him and didn't want to take it. I repeatedly told the nurses and correctional officers that Walker was very sick and I was threatened to mind my own business or I would be relegated to the hole. I believe Walker was killed due to negligence and/or incompetence because in this prison black people are especially treated with disregard and are often used in cruel drug experiments such as Walker was.) The best depiction I can give of Springfield, Missouri is that it is a modern day torture chamber where people are relegated for torture, punishment, and death. I wish I could view it in another light, but I just can't after what I experienced there.

I am not a perfect person. I've made more than my fair share of mistakes; but, when it comes to human rights there is no color or race. Every American is guaranteed protection under the Bill of Rights. I believe that Walker was cheated of his rights as I was. What went on in Springfield, Missouri needs to be investigated by a fair and just authority, and the people that did this to him need to be brought to justice and punished. In my opinion this is as close as a person can get to murder without actually pulling the trigger. Walker was cheated out of his life.

The Most SHOCKING Psychiatry Documentary EVER

I believe that drug reform is becoming banal in this facility to combat dissidence. The Government via the Christian community has found a new method of reform by drugging people into conformity. Springfield is a very terrible place and run by wicked people with an imperious, contorted, implementation of cruelty to people who are relegated there for experiment. You'd have to see it to believe it. Although most people were sick and did need medication some did not and were forced against their will to undergo experimentation with an unsalutary implementation of dangerous drugs. Springfield, Missouri is truly a horror movie in the making. I've even written the B.O.P. and in response they said I was delusional, mentally sick, and that everything I said was a fallacy in a very crude way.

During my evaluation hearing for my 42-46 commitment I was found to be sane. Doctor Russ Carter said, after many months of confabulating with me, that he had come to the cognizance my going back to Massachusetts, to my ex-wife, would be a great mistake. He also went on to say that I was going back to Albuquerque for my trial; however, if I ever mentioned what had happened to me and others in Springfield I would receive a 42-46 commitment for sure. Also, that they would not accept me back to Springfield again regardless of what Judge Black had to say.

When I returned to the federal holding facility in Estancia I met with Dennis Montoya in a symposium pertaining to my acceptance to a plea-agreement for a fictitious or exaggerated crime. I then said that I would not accept it. He said that if I didn't accept it I would be sent back to Springfield, Missouri again for a 42-46 commitment. Remembering what Doctor Russ Carter said that I would not be accepted back to Springfield again, I told him to kiss-off! Boy, did that feel good! I also said, I'm getting a new lawyer and you're not worth your weight in...! And I did. I obtained Jacquelyn Robins again appointed by Judge Bruce Black.

I was also called in to see Doctor Landou, the psychiatrist for the Estancia federal holding facility. He made the exact same threats as Dennis Montoya did; however, I just ignored him. He then tried to see me a few more times, but I wouldn't receive him.

As time progressed so did the possible time increase for my sentence that could be imposed for my noncompliance to return to Massachusetts. For example: My initial charge carried a maximum sentence of one year. When I completed that year it got raised to three years. When I completed the three years it got raised to five years. When I almost completed the five years it got raise to ten years. Then it got dropped back down to four years with three years' supervised release. I was released the day the sentence was imposed by Judge Black with eight months credit to be applied to my supervised release violation I would soon obtain for refusing to take medication for a fictitious illness. I ended up doing all my supervised release time in prison for a crime that was committed against me by the Government and the Christian community. At the end of the four and one-half years I was being charged with attempting to murder a congressman, which was a fallacy.

My trial was a big joke. Judge Bruce Black was the arbitrator and Jacquelyn Robins was my defense attorney. At this point Judge Bruce Black abdicated himself for violating my Constitutional rights to a speedy trial and my case was thrown out of court. At the same time I was being re-indicted for the same crime and Judge Black also re-appointed him-self as my judge again -I was right back where I left off. Judge Black also stated that I could not tell the jury anything about what happened that led up to my arrest. If I did I would be charged with contempt of court and face more charges. How Judge Black could do the things he did to me is beyond my comprehension. On a number of occasions I told Judge Black, the U.S. Marshal's office, and Jacquelyn Robins that I was being assaulted, but nothing was done about it because I believe that these were their intentions. Judge Bruce Black is a very mentally ill man to be so obdurate to do the things that he did to me. He is a perfect example of how corrupt our government has become. He had to convict me because I was held in prison for about four and one-half years without a trial among other things and that would not look good for a federal judge to do or be involved in.

(On August 10, 1995, Black was nominated by President Bill Clinton to a seat on the United States District Court for the District of New Mexico vacated by Juan Guerrero Burciaga. Bill Clinton may have been connected to Barry Seals. Mr. Seal began operating at Mena Intermountain Regional Airport in 1981. At the height of his career, according to Mr. Welch, Mr. Seal was importing as much as 1,000 pounds of cocaine a month. A memo, from Mr. Duncan to several high-ranking members of the attorney general's staff in March 1992, notes that Mr. Duncan was instructed "to remove all files concerning the Mena investigation from the attorney general's office." At the time, several Arkansas newspapers were known to be preparing Freedom of Information Act requests aimed at Gov. Clinton's administration.) The murder of Vincent Foster and the presidential blind trust should say it all. Do you think a member of a criminal organization would appoint a honest law biding person to his criminal organization? Think about it. I know first hand that Judge Bruce Black is a monster. I can prove it.

http://www.idfiles.com/menacoverup.htm

Bill’s Connection to Mena

Jacquelyn Robins tried to talk me into just pleading guilty and not going to trial. She even tried to get me to return to my first wife in Massachusetts and said that was my only possible way out of jail and the adversity I had to ameliorate diurnally. During my trial she tried to get the witness to say I threatened to murder Congressman Steve Schiff, and she didn't appear to try to defend me at all. Also, like a fool I let her talk me into not having a jury trial. Immediately after I agreed I came to my senses and I requested a jury trial but Jacquelyn Robins said it was too late and I could not change my mind. "Judge Black decided my, what I knew was the inevitable outcome of guilty. I was a fool to ever trust Jacquelyn Robins. When I think of her duplicity and unctuous efforts to deceive me I don't know how she could do it. No question about it: "I was deceived!" Despite my losses I've since requested an appeal and I'm waiting for a response from the Court. One more thing that disturbs me greatly about Jacquelyn Robins is this: I wrote her some very disturbing letters with blood all over them because I couldn't stop bleeding while I was writing about my assaults at the federal holding facility in Estancia. It appeared that she just regarded them as nominal by ignoring them as I was still repeatedly assaulted. I wasn't allowed to see a doctor in Estancia during most of my assaults as in efforts to not have a record of the assaults on me by the facility. My approximate six month stay at Santa Fe was also horrific, but somewhat unique as in respects to Blanco.

Blanco's real name is Byron Crumbuck, and he posed as an inmate and lived amongst the population. What makes this scene so unique is instead of the guards being in control Blanco was. He became the nexus to the implementation of my adversity. Byron also had a confederate by the name of Richard Roybal who assisted him.

At Santa Fe not only did the inmates shout death threats, but they would also call me a child molester and accuse me of sexually assaulting my ex-wife's children which was a lie. I was being charged with telephone haressment while they endeavored to murder me. How anyone could be so mentally ill to use such crude tactics I'll never understand. Meanwhile, Blanco who lived directly above me would dump liquefied excrement and urine down through the electrical conduit for it to spill out on my table and disseminate throughout my cell. Officer Martinez was on duty during most of that time. The guards in the meantime shut my water off so I couldn't clean up my cell. I lived like that for almost two weeks and as an end result I obtained some sort of a bacteriological infection on my feet combined with athlete's foot purported by the facility's physician. Even my portions of food were exiguous during the beginning of my sojourn there -and at the Estancia facility also. I became emaciated during that time. One time I lost almost eighty pounds in little over a month's time in Estancia, and I also suffered greatly from inanition.

In Santa Fe there were many times when I wasn't fed. I even had my food thrown on me in my cell on a number of occasions by Officer Archletta and others. During that time I was handcuffed and shackled then a dog leash was hooked to my handcuffs and I was dragged down the corridors by Officer Martin. I was put in a padded cell with no clothes with my window unblocked for everyone to see as denigration. I still have some of the scars from the excoriations as a result of some of those episodes. That particular day I received: seven cuts, eight bruises, a broken toe nail -for the second time, and it eventually fell off- a broken thumbnail, and a fractured finger. Both my ankles and wrists were very excoriated and dripping blood. The participants were a woman captain, Lieutenant Martin, Major Martinez, and the Warden. They had a great time while they laughed up a storm as they implemented their cruelty and torture. They are clearly very sick people and capable of doing anything to anyone!

Officer Archletta would taunt me by throwing my food on me to elicit an effusion, and then his constituents would assault me almost diurnally. I could not go to the medical department for my X-rays when I received the fractured finger because of the threats the inmates and the guards made; but there was a doctor who saw me much later on and confirmed the assault. No pictures were taken immediately after the assault, but later on pictures were taken in Oklahoma City of the scars.

Upon my release the Albuquerque Police Department said that they had lost my motor home and tools they were holding for evidence -which I don't know why- and they would not return any of Jacquelyn Robin's phone calls to return them. The harassment to return to Massachusetts never ended; and my probation officer, David Hoffman, became privy and an element to the contorted machination being implemented by the United States Government, the Christian community, and the State of New Mexico. I even reported my precarious situation to Governor Gary Johnson's office -via a letter- and I was ignored; not to mention the Albuquerque Police and their confederates, such as Blanco, who premonished me I would be murdered if I endeavored to return to Albuquerque for my appeal and possible new trial.

The Government, the Christian community, and complying states for more than twenty years -six of these years I spent in prison- tortured me. They usurped my property, and even destroyed my second marriage. They also prevented me from earning a living by harassment at my place of employment and destroyed my family. I was also imprisoned for about six years for an exaggerated or fictitious crime. I became homeless with little possibility of my ever having any self-esteem for my ex-wife's misconduct.

Although I sometimes appear gregarious and genial I often get terrible anxiety attacks comprised of: dizziness, hyperventilation, and numbness in my extremities and face, even nausea. I trust no one and I can't be around people for long. I often feel moribund and my eyes begin to water when I think of my experiences for I know that any possibility of me ever having a normal life is over; however, I'll never capitulate for the fear of the loss of what we all hold most dear, our freedom.

As I would lie on my bunk in my darkened cell with the cognizance of twelve years of my life gone past living in adversity I would tearfully and pensively reflect on the events which took place. I often wonder how people could be so obdurate and cruel while the echoes of my past come back to haunt me. I often hear the inmates shouting death threats as the cascade of events move through my mind. I would think about Jacquelyn Robins, as she stepped in front of me at the end of our symposium and orated to Officer Rinfro, "Shouldn't I go first!" while I pleaded with her to wait until another guard came. But she left anyway for me to be assaulted by Officer Rinfro, and then by his constituents in the corridor while I was handcuffed and shackled and left defenseless. I could see by her duplicity and intonation that this was a plan. I also think of the cruelty that was implemented by Judge Black and Dennis Montoya before I was given a chance to explain the events that took place in Massachusetts. In essence I've been convicted without any possible chance to defend myself because of my ex-wife's misconduct. Moreover, when I think of the torture I suffered at the hands of the Albuquerque Police Department for the crimes that were committed against me I ask myself, "Why...? How could they do this to me? How could anybody be so sick and cruel?" I often wish that they would carry out their death threats in order to end my suffering and pain that I carry for what they have done to me. I hate my life and I wish it would end.

During my very last days of incarceration I was sent back to Springfield, Missouri to remind me that what happened to me would not be recognized, and any endeavor to seek recourse would prove to be futile. I was also reminded that I would be subjected to a 42-46 commitment if I promulgated anything that happened to me there.

Judge Black once made a statement to me in his courtroom as he said, Mr. Martin, how could you possibly endure all that you have I'll never understand. Being left in a quandary as to the nature of his statement I said nothing; but when I think back there's only one answer for that: "My conscience wouldn't allow me to compromise my principles. I knew that if I had fallen for this contorted artifice I'd be admitting that what the Government and the Christian community were doing was right, and I'd be subjecting more people to torture and denigration at the hands of these godly reprobates. I'm an avid believer in our freedoms we once all had and enjoyed. The right to live where we want and work where we choose and not being subjected to cruel and unusual punishment as stated in the eighth amendment of the Constitution."

Thomas Jefferson once wrote in the Declaration of Independence that we as a people are entitled to certain inalienable rights, and among these rights are: "The rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness." Our ancestors paid the ultimate price so we, as Americans, could enjoy the good life that they intended for us and never had, and like profligate, irresponsible children were throwing it all away. I've come to the cognizance through empirical extrapolation that people don't realize the importance of something until they no longer have it. I've also realized something else: "That there could have been no greater gift given to us with no greater love than our forefathers had given us...our freedom. I love my country; I just wish our lawmakers did."



Sincerely,
Joseph Martin



Postscript:

Please note that I've been repeatedly threatened to be murdered by the Albuquerque Police Department and total strangers as to not remain in Albuquerque for my appeal and possible new trial because they're afraid that the truth will eventually become known. I've even been shot at by who I speculate was the Albuquerque Police Department, and I often feel that they will carry out their threats.

Also note: I'm repeatedly arrested by the Albuquerque Police Department, then relegated to B.C.D.C., beaten by the guards, then released with all the charges dropped, but regardless of what they say or do I'll never return to Massachusetts even if it ends with my demise. I've since been denied an appeal. I'm in the most precarious situation and I'm wondering if you can help? Our government, as a result of Christian leadership, has transubstantiated into an ominous malediction and is grossly violating people's human rights in a most iniquitous way. If you have any advice I'd appreciate it.

When I was extricated from federal holding I went to some Christian organizations and no one would help me so I started camping out on the river. I found a piece of old carpet and a piece of plastic and this was my shelter from the cold, snow, and rain. I also dug a hole and got an old paint bucket and I would store my personal belongings in it then I would cover it over with dirt and leaves. I lived this way for sometime because the Albuquerque Police Department took my motor home and they said that they lost it. I was never compensated for it.

I would often eat at the homeless shelters and I would work from time to time when I could. There were many times when I did not eat because I was too young to get permanent food stamps or I was run off my jobs by Christians, but this is how I was forced to live for Jesus by Christians because I didn't believe in their God and I did not want to go back to my exwife in Massachuetts. I made an extra effort to find out who this bastard god really was. I had to know because he was destroying my life.

When I would eat at the homeless shelters my property was stolen and destroyed and I was threatened on a daily basis at places like Noon Day, The Good Shepherd, The Albuquerque Resque Mission, Project Share, Salvation Army, St. Martin's, Health Care for the Homeless, and the Store House.

While I was at St. Martin's I asked a person there: "Why are you all doing this?" His reply was, "Because we can. We out number you and no one can stop us." These people don't care if they are right or wrong they like to cause pain and suffering because they can and no one can do anything about it. These are the type of Christian people I met at Albuquerque relgious organizations.

Due to the confluence of having to ameliorate this adversity on a daily basis and the detriments I've incurred as a result it has become very arduous to make to long trek to the City of Albuquerque as in being able to hold a permanent job. As an end result it has become a perforce endeavor for me to live in penury. I'm homeless, and I've lived in a ragged tent with no heat for more than fifteen years. I was given an approbation by a homeless shelter to use their address to collect my mail. Again, I'd very much appreciate any advice or help you can give.





















To give you another example how demented the Bush administration and the Christian community really are listen to this: I'm not allowed to work anywhere so I'm forced to seek medical attention at Healthcare for the Homeless. I developed Periodontitis. I was told by the homosexual receptionist that I could not receive any medical attention unless I went to St. Martin's even though I was registered at the clinic for one year. They were using my precarious situation to get me to capitulate to their demands. These people are pretty mentally ill. I won't go to St. Martin's for anything anymore. Ultimately, it became a perforce endeavor to remove my own teeth. I cut out three of my own teeth. Two of the teeth removed were not recognizable. Talk about torture. Try cutting out your own teeth. I was also seen by a dental hygienist and a dentist several times during the course of a few years and I was never told that I had this disease. The disease is very slow in reaching its highest point or degree. So I know that I had it for years, and they did too. They hid it from me to put me under more stress and anxiety to support their ulterior motive -the contorted machination to return to Massachusetts to the pig I was once married to.

Also, the dentist stated that he was going to do a root canal which is not standard procedure at this facility. Meanwhile, a suspicious man called the doctor out in the hallway and stated that I can't sue the facility for refusing to see me for my illness. He stated that only the medical side can be sued for this. I never spoke to the doctor about any such thing and during my next appointment I was refused to be seen and directed to St. Martin's and I was told that I had to renew my status after six months. Just prior to the incident I was told that I had to renew my status every year. I had to prove that I was homeless, and I was, but there was too much trouble at St. Martin's for me and I did not go. Everyone in the waiting room, I am certain, was not homeless and they were all being seen. These people are insidious, lubricious, and had an ulterior motive, and St. Martin's was privy to this contorted machination.