Would You Believe Me If I Told You…

[Yeah, Feel Free and Run Tell This.]

Looking back at multiple things one of the first times I recall being placed in solitary confinement was when I was being housed at the Wayne County Youth Home. I, was approximately nine or ten years young then. Comparing some of the current problems in my life with similar troubles of my childhood I have an overwhelming feeling and consistently conclude that I was - and may probably still be - a targeted individual. Groups of my peers would vocalize or act our their discontent and frustrations in ways that far outstood my won. Yet, when I engaged in some of the most trivial of misdeeds I would be punished severely, like being placed in solitary confinement up on the Wayne County Youth Home’s “6th Floor.” This floor was notorious for housing the country’s most incorrigible and violent youth, and the oldest. Some of whom were 18, 19, or even 20 years young.

Being locked in a cement box like that at such a young, innocent, and vulnerable age was psychologically tormenting. The mental anguish of trying to identify and cope with various aspects of my being that I could not image at this pre or early pubescent stage, combined with the onslaught of the older youth’s psychological shenanigans was unbearable. I almost always asked to be relieved of such punishment. Screaming and yelling, pounding and kicking on the door in expression and rebellion to the mental agony was my regular and at times only recourse.

For the past eight or nine years, the MDOC (Department of Corrections) have been engaged in a relentless campaign of harassment and violence against me. Tonight, I again find myself locked in a cement box in the St. Louis Correctional Facility’s Unit 7 segregation housing. Based on a fraudulent, retaliatory threatening behavior misconduct report, I have been here since September 08, 2020. Locked in this cement box practically 24 hours everyday. I have no reasonable access to the facility’s law library’s ELL (electronic law library) computer system, so that I can conduct legal research adequately, my religious meals are continuously being descretated in one way or another, despite someone or group earnestly trying to curb the problems. On a daily basis I suffer from hunger pangs, yet however, the most traumatic feature of these abusive conditions and treatment is the psychological and emotional distress I am suffering from, due to being labelled a rat, snitch, bold, and other derogatory names because I exercise First Amendment rights by openly addressing these problems.

With practically no prisoner peers to discuss this element of detainment with, and no professionals to trust with these issues or seek advise and consultation from, due to enormous fear of having my questions and concerns unreasonably magnified and exploited to my detriment, refer Spearman v. State of Michigan, Gretchen Whitmer Governor, et al. 2:20.cv.00,185.PL11.11V;Spearman v. Parson, et al. 2.18.cv.10673.NGE.DRG; see also, the attached “Mental Health Report File Number: 18.454.01.LR7,” I can only sulk in mental anguish and torture, while attempting to rectify the complained of irreparable horrors by way of some constructive and productive means, such as these brief chronicles.

As a coup de grace it appears organized crime has comprised the MDOC and might possible be “shopping” judges if not the courts in an effort to suppress these issues I have taken to the federal courts.

Despite all that, I continue to dream and execute the necessary work to manifest my dreams into a reality. I dream of being compensated to my satisfaction, exonerated, and enjoying life and learning. Bless our minds… bless our bodies … bless our spirits … bless our souls. End.