The Evidence

Here, we’re going to be examining evidence and testimony that the jury never saw due to my incompetent attorney/current judge Henry E. Davis, as well as my prosecutor/current judge Lance M. Day, and due to the fact that my trial judge David C. Wiggins held up an evidentiary hearing for over a decade until Harry P. Brody finally sabotaged the evidence you’re about to see.  He tried to procedurally bar it. Welcome to the corrupt United States justice system.

Please view Exhibit (A), the July 19, 1990 FDLE lab report.  View exhibits 35 through 39.  This is the clothing that Hatch (my co-defendant) and I were wearing the night the murder took place.  The prosecutor, Lance M. Day, concealed this clothing from the jury and my attorney; Henry E. David failed to examine it.

Please see Exhibit (B) and (C) pages 57 and 70 of Judge Henry E. Davis’ testimony at the February 26, 2007 evidentiary hearing.  Questions (Q) by Mr. Brody, answers (A) by Judge Davis:

Page 57 lines 17 through 24

17.  Q: Did you have any other people working with

18.  you on the case?

19.  A: Other than the witnesses who were the experts

20.  who were appointed I did not hire….did not

21.  retain a private investigator on the case cause I didn’t

22.  really want a private investigator on the case.

23.  Q: You didn’t want one?

24.  A: No, sir.

Let’s now look at Exhibit (C) page 70 of Judge Davis’ testimony. 70 lines 8 through 18:

8. Q: Do you recall if you ever went to the
9. sheriff’s office to examine the things that they had
10. gathered in their investigation?
11. A: I have no independent recollection of that,
12. but typically any criminal case whether it’s first
13. degree murder or stealing a car or something, you
14. would – I would ask to see all of the states evidence
15. before trial, the actual physical evidence, and I would
16. get that from the state’s attorney’s office.  I wouldn’t go
17. to the sheriff’s office.  I would look at what the state
18. represented it had.

This is why the prosecutor was able to keep the clothing out of the court evidence.  This is why he didn’t track down any witnesses, so we lost the testimony of the clerk in the country store15 to 20 minutes before the murder who could have identified the clothing.  We lost the testimony of the clerk in the Little Champ store at Imason Park, the waitress at Jackie’s Seafood and at the Huddle House on I-16 in Georgia.  Mr. Brody helped protect the honor and integrity of Judge Davis by not bringing this evidence out at the evidentiary hearing.  So neither the jury nor the court has ever seen the blood-soaked clothing of John David Hatch.  Never seen the testimony of Mecca Ann Bailey, of Officers Sares and Hodges, or any of these witnesses, which you’re about to see.

Before we get into that, I want to show you the testimony of Joseph Lee Strickland and show you how then prosecutor now judge Lance M. Day had this witness lie and mislead the jury.

Please view Exhibit (D), which is Joseph Strickland’s sworn testimony taken the night of the incident of January 13, 1990 and view page 10 and 11.

Strickland is Hatch’s friend, and he has no idea of who I am, so he’s referring to me as the blonde-headed boy. See page 10, lines 7-9

7. The blonde-headed boy, he was walking around

8. like he was on, you know, something besides

9. life.

When asked again about our intoxication see page 11 lines 1 and 2 and lines 9-11

1. The boy, he was falling-down drunkness, the
2. blonde-headed boy. 

9. From what I understood, yeah from what I seen
10. and understood, they-the blonde-headed boy, he was- I
11. don’t know, he acted like he was on something.

This is Joseph Lee Strickland’s testimony before it’s tampered with.  As you can see, he’s testifying that I’m out of it.  I had been popping pills and drinking for over 24 hours straight.  I passed out for about an hour early that morning. The prosecutor was holding over Strickland’s head 1) sales and distribution of an illegal drug and 2) perjury for lying in this sworn statement about not selling the drugs or firing the gun.  3) possession of stolen property 4) convicted felon in possession of a firearm and 5) child endangerment for leaving his infant son in that truck with a loaded gun.  This is why Joseph changed his testimony and lied to the jury.  So let’s look at the lie by viewing Exhibit (E) pages 426 and 427 from my January 20, 1991 trial transcripts, starting at line 23:

23.  Q: Did you ever work as a bartender?

24.  A: Yes

25.  Q: And how long ago was that?

Page 427 lines 1-12

1. A: In ’85 and ’86
2. Q: All right, and did you have occasion to see a lot of people
3. Under the influence of alcohol?
4. A: Yes
5. Q: Let me ask you this, how would you describe the mannerisms
6. of the defendant as you saw him that day; did you ever see him
7. staggering?
8. A: No
9. Q: Did you ever see him talking with his speech slurred?
10. A: No
11. Q: Did he appear to know what was going on around him?
12. A: Yes.

That’s the lying testimony that then prosecutor/current judge Lance M. Day used to mislead the jury.  And my attorney Henry E. Davis failed to impeach Strickland on.  And then Harry P. Brody would not present during my 3,850 evidentiary hearing. We’re now going to look at the other available evidence that Mr. Brody should have presented during the evidentiary hearing to prove an ineffective assistance of counsel claim on Henry E. Davis.

The three key witnesses in this case that solidified the prosecutor’s conviction were Mary Hatch who puts me in possession of the gun 15 to 20 minutes before the murder, John David Hatch, who testifies that I’m the shooter, and Billy Jo Beeman, John David Hatch’s sister-in-law, who testifies that I’m in possession of the gun 30 minutes after the murder.  So we’re going to examine the testimony of Hatch, his mother and sister-in-law, and the testimony and evidence that should have been brought out at trial, as well as brought out in my evidentiary hearing.

Please view Exhibit (F) pages 28 and 29 of John David Hatch’s June 27, 1990 sworn statement.  On page 28, line 13, Hatch states we spoke two weeks ago and he and I were in Nassau County Jail, when I allegedly told him this story about what we should have done.  And Hatch testifies to this story at trial.  See Exhibit (G) pages 475 and 476 of trial transcripts.  Now please view Exhibit (H), which is a General Incident Report written by Officer Sares, witnessed by Officer Hodges dated May 5, 1990, over one month before Hatch alleges this conversation took place.  And he has threatened to kill me.  Which shows that we’re not on speaking terms.  And it also shows that precautions were being taken to keep Hatch and I separated.  He was in pod one and I was in pod three.  The prosecutor was supposed to turn this document over to my trial attorney and didn’t.  But had Mr. Davis hired an investigator, he would have discovered this document on his own.  Mr. Brody was also supposed to produce this document at the February 26, 2007 evidentiary hearing and produce Officer Sares, Hodges, and their OIC (Officer In Charge) who signed off on this document to prove that Hatch and I were not ever in a situation where we could have had this conversation.  The testimony of these officers would have carried greater weight than that of Hatch, who was lying in order to get a plea bargain. 

Harry P. Brody told me the judge no longer wanted to hear this issue, but not to worry we would get it before the Florida Supreme Court.  Well, this was untrue.  This issue was supposed to be heard, and the evidence and testimony should have been presented.

Let’s look at this lie, where Hatch is lying about where he steals the gun from Mrs. Bailey’s house.  See Exhibit (I) page 479 of trial transcripts where Hatch testifies that he stole the gun off Mrs. Bailey’s headboard on her bed in her bedroom.  Mrs. Mecca Ann Bailey was never called to testify.  Please see Exhibit (J) Mecca Ann Bailey’s June 6, 1990 deposition page 9.  Mrs. Bailey would have testified that there was no headboard on the bed.  It’s not made for one.  Which would have shown the judge and jury that Hatch was once again lying to the court.  Mr. Davis should have taken photos of the bed and had Mrs. Bailey testify.  And Mr. Brody should have brought this forward at the evidentiary hearing, to show that an investigation was needed and would have turned up this witness and established a pattern of Hatch lying.

Let’s view another lie Hatch told the jury and court using his own testimony.  Please see Exhibit (K) page 463 of trial transcripts line 19.  Hatch says, “Me and Ronald Clark left and paid for the beer.” That was a lie.  Please see attached Exhibit (L) pages 18 and 19 of John David Hatch’s sworn statement page 19 lines 19 through 21:  “So we left out of the back of Jackie’s Seafood, we left the hitchhiker in there to pay for the bill or whatever he done.”  These are small lies, but what they do is establish a pattern for the jury to see.  Since Hatch and I are the only two witnesses, we need to establish credibility.  Please view Exhibit (M), which is my February 7, 1990 written statement that Det. Jerry Jesonek took.  View page 1 lines 18 through 21 where I state that I’m located at the time of the shooting “And I, Ronald Clark, walked towards the back end of the truck and that’s when I, Ronald Clark, heard at least 6 (six) shots.”  This was also my testimony at trial. 

Now let’s look at Hatch’s statement and testimony.  Please view Exhibit (N), John David Hatch’s written statement taken January 21, 1990, see page 1 lines 16 through 19.  “I told the driver that we wanted to get out.  Mr. Willis stopped the truck on the west shoulder of the road and I got out.  As I, John David Hatch, was taking a leak, I heard 7 or 8 gun shots.”

Now let’s view Exhibit (O) page 7 of John David Hatch’s June 27, 1990 sworn statement.  See lines 15-17 quoting Hatch, “And after I got out I started walking down toward, you know, toward off to the side of the road.”  Let’s now examine Exhibit (P) page 448 trial transcript of Hatch’s trial testimony lines 14-16 “I got out and started walking back towards the back of the truck and that is when I heard the gun go off.  As you see, Hatch has now adopted my testimony and location.  Why lie about this?  Well, the only possible reason to lie about your real location at that very moment is if you’re trying to cover something up and the only thing to cover up at that moment is who is in possession of the gun pulling the trigger actually committing the murder!  And Mr. Hatch’s testimony is inconsistent at the moment of the trigger being pulled because he wants to be taking a leak, walking down towards the ditch or back to the truck.  Any place other than the place he was and that was standing at the passenger door pulling the trigger on the 3.80 semiautomatic pistol that he stole from Mecca Ann Bailey’s closet and murdered Ronald Willis with.

We also saw in Exhibit (N) page 1 line 16 that it’s Hatch who tells Mr. Willis to stop and that’s substantiated in Hatch’s September 4, 1990 Deposition on page 31 line 7 so it’s Hatch who picks this dark isolated area at the exact moment when no traffic is coming which is confirmed in the trial transcripts page 504 lines 6-11 luring Mr. Willis to his death.  And why does Hatch want to stop?  Allegedly to walk back to the Little Champ store and buy cold beer to drink in 40-degree weather and finish hitchhiking the 6.2 miles to Dunn Avenue where Mr. Willis was going.  It’s completely illogical to even think about accepting.  Hatch could not have taken Mr. Willis’ truck on Dunn Avenue, which was a highly populated area.  There was a Little Champ store maybe 20 yards in front of the bowling alley which is maybe 100 yards from the Admiral Inn, Mr. Willis’ destination.  A good competent attorney who had investigated the matter would have destroyed Hatch on the stand and exposed the perjured testimony Hatch gave to the jury.  Mr. Davis was incompetent not to do so and Brody had no intention of making Judge Henry E. Davis look like some bumbling incompetent fool.  But I have no problem doing so and I’m not done yet.  An investigation of the clothing would have revealed the following:  Hatch states that I’m in control the whole time, that I run around, open the driver’s door and push Mr. Willis’s lifeless body out of the way, taking Mr. Willis’ place behind the wheel of the truck and I drive down Bird Road.  Photos of the crime scene (truck) showed that Mr. Willis bled heavily onto the driver’s door panel and the driver’s seat, so whoever immediately takes Mr. Willis’ spot would have sat in blood.  When we view Exhibit (A) the July 19, 1990 FDLE Report and view exhibit marked Sheriff’s exhibit 37 the hand drawn diagram of the pants, the area marked #3 is the left buttock.  The owner of these pants is clearly the person that drove the truck away.  We know these pants belong to Hatch because he’s the shorter of the two, and exhibit 38 show that these are the longer of the two.  So 37 are Hatch’s pants.  The jury should have seen the pants and Hatch should have been cross-examined on this for the jury to see.  Now I have informed Mr. Brody of all this and yet Mr. Brody failed to examine the clothing and bring it into the evidentiary hearing. 

I want you to view Exhibit (Q) pages 42-44 of Det. Jerry Jesoneck’s My 16 1990 Deposition.  As you can see, he’s testifying that Hatch indicated to him that I made the alleged statement before Ronald Willis stops.  See page 43 lines 4-6.  Det. Jesonek indicated what Hatch has told him: “he indicated to me that there had been a statement made by Mr. Clark that they were going to kill the first son of a bitch that they saw.” This was never brought out at trial.  Hatch testified at trial that no such statement was made before getting into the truck.  Please see Exhibit (R) page 498 of trial transcripts lines 7-13 Questions by Mr. Davis, answers by Hatch.

7. Q: When you stated that Clark said something
8. to you at some point, what was that?
9. A: That he was going to take the man’s truck
10. as soon as he stopped to let us out.
11. Q: Had there been any discussion of that
12. before you got in the truck
13. A: No sir.

Yet we know that he told Det. Jesonek that there had been. And Det. Jesonek would have testified to that, had Henry E. David been competent enough to read over the deposition and properly examined and cross-examined witnesses.

Furthermore, please view Exhibit (S) page 526 and 527 of the trial transcripts, questions by Lance Day, answers by Mary Hatch, starting on page 526 lines 20-23

19. Q: Who had the gun?
20. A: Well they were both handling it in the
21. trailer but whenever they left the trailer, Ronald
22. Clark had it in his pocket

That’s the testimony the jury saw.  If you view [ages 527 lines 14 and 15 by Mr. Davis:

14. Mr. Davis:  I don’t have any questions,
15. Your Honor

So there was no cross-examination.  The witness was allowed to take the stand and place the gun in my hand.  Now let’s look at what Mr. Davis should have cross-examined Mary Hatch with.  See Exhibit (T) pages 20 and 21of Mary Hatch’s September 7, 1990 deposition. Questions by Mr. Davis, answers by Mary Hatch.  Page 20 lines 24 and 25

24. Q: Did either one of them have a firearm when they

25.  left?  Did either one have a gun when they left?

Page 21 lines 1-4

1      A: Now I don’t know whether they took it with them

2      Or not.  I know that Ronnie was holding the—the kind of

3      pistol I just told you about with the clip in it.  And

4      that’s all I know.

The jury never got to hear that.  When Mary Hatch gave the deposition she had me in possession of the gun in her trailer, not realizing her son David had already admitted to loading the gun there in the trailer.  A good attorney would have not only cross-examined her, but would also have destroyed her credibility, showing she was perjuring herself in order to protect her son.  Mr. Brody was supposed to bring this out in the evidentiary hearing, but he refused to do so.  Let me show you some more proof of ineffective assistance of counsel and evidence and testimony that Brody failed to bring to the attention of the court.

Please see Exhibit (U) pages 432-435 of Mr. Davis’ cross-examination of Joseph Strickland.  And as you will see, Mr. Davis doesn’t even use Joseph Strickland’s January 13, 1990 sworn statement to bring out the fact that Strickland had testified that Clark the blonde headed boy was falling down drunk see Exhibit (D) pages 10 and 11 and compare it to Exhibit (U) page 435 of the trial transcripts.  Mr. Davis did nothing to bring out the intoxication level.  Let me show you what Davis could and should have brought out.  And what Mr. Brody should have brought out at the evidentiary hearing in order to support an IAC (Ineffective Assistance of Counsel) claim.  Hatch testified at trial that he split a 12 pack of beer with his boss, Don Lee, before arriving home on page 484 lines 10-14 of the trial transcripts.  Hatch testified on page 491 line 18 that he had only consumed 6 to 8 that night leading up to the shooting.  The following is testimony from Hatch’s September 4, 1990 deposition starting on page 15 line 5. Questions by Mr. Davis, answers by Hatch. 

Q:  Had you seen Ronald Clark consume any alcoholic beverages before the homicide?

A: Yeah.

Q: How much had he consumed prior to the homicide to your knowledge?

A: He was drinking when I come home. Me and him drunk a 12 pack before we left.

Q: After you got home?

A: Right.

Q: When you got home… from work, you mean?

A: Right

Q: After you got home from work, you consumed another 12 pack each?

A: No. A 12 pack between us.

Q: So the Busch was consumed before you got home, I assume?

A: Yes sir.

Q: And the 12 pack of Budweiser was consumed after you got home?

A: Yes.

Had Mr. Davis got the receipt from the country store for the Busch beer and the Budweiser with Hatch’s testimony above and cross examining Hatch’s mother, who would have testified that I was sitting outside drinking for two hours while waiting on Hatch to get home, this would have shown the jury that at the time of the murder I had consumed a confirmed 19 beers that’s on the record.

I showed up at Hatch’s at approximately 5 pm to split the 12 pack of Busch with him.  Due to the delay in Don Lee and Hatch getting their pay checks I had consumed the 12 pack of Busch confirmed in the trial transcripts page 440 lines 10-19 Hatch testifies that I consumed the 12 pack of Busch before he arrives home.  Testifies that he splits a 12 pack with Don Lee and that he and I go to the country store and get a 12 pack that we consume before leaving.  We know that’s true because had there been any more beer left there would have been no need to stop at the country store to buy a beer a piece.  Now that Hatch is showering and cleaning up, getting ready to go out, so I’m drinking while he’s doing this, which shows that it’s highly likely that I consumed more beer than Hatch.  And Hatch’s testimony at trial page 491, line 18 is that he only drank between 6 and 8 beers and remember that he had already split a 12 pack with Don Lee.  The record supports that I’ve already had a minimum of 19 beers in this 4 to 5 hour period leading up to the murder.  The jury never heard this.  The shooter hits Mr. Willis without shooting out any windows or putting any bullet holes in the truck.  Again, none of this is brought to the attention of the jury.  Why?  Because Mr. Davis was an ineffective attorney who failed to conduct an investigation and failed to properly cross-examine witnesses.  Mr. Brody did not bring this to light because he was more concerned about protecting Judge Henry E. Davis. 

Now Exhibit (V) is Billy Jo Beeman’s deposition.  You see the prosecutor showing her a single picture of the gun, asking her, “Is this the gun you saw Mr. Clark with?” She states it is.  This was always improper identification.  See now Exhibit (W) pages 529-532 of Trial Transcripts, where the state put Billy Jo Beeman on the stand and had her place the gun in my hand after the murder, and on page 532, lines 10-12 you see my lawyer Henry E. Davis doesn’t cross-examine the witness.  Any good lawyer will tell you that the testimony should have been thrown out for the improper identification procedure seen in Exhibit (V).  Furthermore Mr. Brody should have brought this out at the evidentiary hearing to prove the Ineffective Assistance of Counsel claim against Mr. Davis.

Let me show you other issues that Mr. Brody failed to bring to light at the February 26, 2007 evidentiary hearing.  See Exhibit (X) page 56 from the February 26, 2007 evidentiary hearing, lines 7-9. Question by Mr. Brody:

7. Q: Was there any negotiations at any time any
8. Kind of plea negotiations or anything.  Did you get
9. anyway? 

Now the answer by Mr. Davis lines 10-13

10. A: No sir, that’s where you start in a criminal
11. defense case, what can we do to avoid the death penalty
12. at a minimum.  But the state was adamant they were going
13. to seek the death penalty in the Nassau and Duval.

Now please turn to Exhibit (Y) where you see the phonogram dated September 21, 1990 to Mr. Davis from prosecutor Lance M. Day stating that I had until September 25, 1990 to take the life sentence they offered me.  Mr. Brody failed to produce Exhibit (Y) at the evidentiary hearing and failed to bring out the fact that Mr. Davis’ memory is not as good as he thought it was, and bring this to the attention of the court.  Mr. Brody therefore allowed more inaccurate statements into an already flawed record.  See pages 59-61 of the evidentiary hearing as Exhibit (Z). Questions are still by Mr. Brody and answers by Mr. Davis.

On page 59 line 5 we see when Davis was asked if he hired any experts that he didn’t.  We see lines 12-16 Brody ask Davis about finding witnesses and Davis responds on lines 17-18 yes that would be something that he would want to do.  Yet we know that he didn’t.  Now view page 60 lines 18-25 and page 61 lines 1-25.  We see that Davis didn’t hire blood splatter experts and didn’t investigate the clothing or properly prepare for this case.  But furthermore Brody should have produced the FDLE Report Exhibit (A) at the evidentiary hearing and he clearly does not do so.

Let’s look further at how the jury is mislead.  Pages 455 and 456 of the trial transcripts which we will mark as Exhibit (Z-1).  We see Hatch’s testimony line 8 and 9.  David Hatch tells the jury that I pulled the gun out at the Rosemont Apartments and pointed the gun at his best friend Chris Swaeringer.  The Jury heard that.  Now look at page 456 lines 4-6.  We see the other prosecutor Howard Maltz saying that, placing the gun in my hand at that point is very much relevant.  Mr. Davis doesn’t contest it.  Please view Exhibit (Z-2) which consists of pages 705, 706, 713 and 716 of the trial transcripts page 705 lines 2-9 we see the prosecutor making it a point to the jury that Mary Hatch testified that I left with the gun and Billy Jo Beeman sees me after with murder with the gun which the prosecutor reiterates again on page 713 lines 5-8 and again on page 718 lines 14-17.  Mr. Davis failed to cross-examine Mary Hatch and Billy Jo Beeman.  Mr. Davis failed to investigate this case, failed to interview witnesses, failed to hire blood splatter experts, failed to call relevant witnesses to show John David Hatch was lying.

Mr. Davis was an inexperienced and incompetent attorney who is now a Fourth Judicial Circuit Court Judge that Mr. Brody has gone above and beyond to protect and that, my friend, is evident. If you know of anyone who Mr. Brody is currently representing, I encourage you to download this material and provide him or her with a copy. 

Pen Pals

Florida prisoners are not prohibited from writing pen pals.  In fact, anyone can go over to the FDOC web site select and write to anyone that he or she wishes to correspond with.

There is however a Chapter 33 – Florida Administrative Code (FAC) rule, “not a law” that forbids prisoners from running personal ads seeking pen pals, money, goods or services.  This 33-210.101 (9) is an unconstitutional “Rule” that is currently being challenged in the courts.  No doubt it will eventually get overturned.

This is just something that I wanted to inform the public of because I've heard that some people are being misinformed by inaccurate information.  Section (9) of this rule specifically states and I quote “Inmates are not prohibited from corresponding with pen pals, but shall not place ads soliciting pen pals.”

We are however allowed to write Life Lines, Human Rights, Death Row Support Project among others and ask for their assistance in finding someone to correspond with.  So, how moronic is that?  But look what we are dealing with here.

Most of us guys don't have a lot of family and friends and we are already deprived of human contact.  This rule is set up to further isolate us to our world within these walls which most of you could never comprehend.

Thank you for allowing me to explain this rule to you that has kept us from placing ads asking for pen pals.

Sincerely,
Ronald W. Clark, Jr.

My Haunted Past

This is the devastating tale about the deaths of two individuals and the guilt I’ve had to live with.

It was August 27, 1987, a Friday evening around 5 pm.  I was 19 years old.  I was on the north side of Jacksonville in an area called Ocean Way, just off the side of US 17.  I was working for Royal Lawn Care.  As we finished putting the equipment up for the day, I told the other guys, “I’ll see you Monday.” They said, “Come on, smoke a joint with us.  Have a beer!”  I said, “No, man.  I’m done with that stuff.” I had just met Linda Ann Castle a few weeks earlier.  She was 16 years old, sweet, beautiful and a Christian.  I was trying to turn my life around and get away from drugs and alcohol.  And I just knew I was going to marry her and spend my life with her.  So I jumped in my blue 1979 Buick Regal and told the guys, “Later!”  I pulled out onto US 17 heading north to Yulee Florida, about 15 miles up the road.  I was looking forward to spending the weekend with Ann.  I was cruising down US 17 doing the speed limit, when at Pecan Park Road a wrecker pulling a pick up truck pulled out in front of me.  I had to brake hard to keep from hitting him.  For the next couple of miles he was poking around about 40 mph.  Traffic was building up behind us.  We made the last corner where there was a straight away to Charlie’s Fish Camp and a bridge that was the Nassau Duval County line.  I pulled out to peek around the wrecker.  I saw my opening and I pulled out all the way pushing the accelerator to the floor.  I watched as the speedometer climbed 40, 45, 50, 55, 60, and 65.  I wasn’t pulling ahead of the wrecker because the driver sped up. I finally got around him at just over 65 mph.  I looked up and a big blue tractor-trailer world moving semi is backing out into my lane.  I swerve into the oncoming lane.  There’s a yellow 1980 or 81 Chevy caprice, I believe, with an older man and woman, and everything slowed down.  I screamed.  As the cars hit I could see the horror and terror on their faces.  I held on to the steering wheel with all my mite as the cars impacted head on at 60-65 mph.  The metal just folded over.  The caprice spun out into the ditch.  As the wrecker hit me from behind, an 80’s El Camino hit me from the front. I was trying to come out the window but I was hit two more times from behind, by the truck the wrecker was pulling and a 280Z.  The steering column had broken and was lying over near the passenger seat. The dashboard was on my knees.  I squeezed from under it and climbed out the window falling onto the asphalt.  My nose was broken and blood was pouring onto my shirt.  I stood up and looked at the twisted mangles mess that was my 79 Buick Regal.  The front tie on the driver’s side was pushed back under the floorboard.  The motor was pushed up under the passenger seat. The roof, trunk and quarter panels were buckled.  I glanced around at the other cars and twisted metal.  I looked down at the west side of US 17 at the woods, knowing the railroad tracks were maybe 100 yards on the other side.  Knowing that a mile trek down the railroad tracks would put me at home, I started up the ditch.  I hit the edge of the woods and stopped.  I looked back and thought, “No, I can’t run.” I knew there were some trailers on the east side of US 17, down the road the semi was turning on to.  So I ran back up the embankment, across 17 and down that road.  I saw a trailer and ran up and knocked on the door.  A woman answered and I could see the shocked look on her face, as she looked at me covered in blood.  I said, “I just got in a wreck. I need to call my dad.” She handed me the receiver as I gave her the number in my wallet. My dad’s voice came over the phone, “Hello?”  I said, “Dad, I’ve been in an bad wreck on 17 about a half mile from Charlie’s Fish Camp.  Hurry up and come up here!”  I heard the phone go dead.  I handed the woman the receiver back, saying, “Thank you very much.”  As I headed back to US 17 I stopped to look at my car, which had come to rest right in the middle of 17.  Moments later the police pulled up, Florida Highway Patrol.  My dad arrived right behind them.  He let down the tailgate of the Bronco and I sat down on it.  He said, looking at my car, “You said wreck, I thought you meant fender bender.  I don’t know how you walked away from this.”  The ambulances pulled up on the scene.  I told them I was okay.  I wasn’t going to the hospital.  The state trooper was asking who was driving the Buick Regal.  People pointed over at me.  He came over, pointed at my car and asked, “You were driving that?”  He sounded surprised.  I responded, “Yes.” He said, “I don’t know how you’re alive, much less walking around.” He brought the paramedics over.  I said, “Look, I’m fine.”  They told me I could have internal bleeding.  I said, “I’m fine.  Leave me alone.”

The state trooper took me and put me in the back of his car.  He shut the door and returned a few minutes later and said, “You have two choices.  You either let them take you to the hospital or I’m taking you to jail.”  He was bluffing but I didn’t know it.  So I agreed to go to the hospital.  The paramedics put me on a stretcher, strapped me down, placed me in the back of the ambulance and headed for University Hospital.

When we arrived at University hospital, I was taken into the emergency room.  Curtains were closed on certain patients.  I could hear chaos going on as the medical staff was working on one patient who was flat lining.  As that was taking place on one side of the curtain, I reached up, took the neck brace off, and threw it on the floor and said, “I’m getting out of here.”  The nurse held me down as she yelled for more medical staff.  I said, “Look, I’m okay and I’m getting gout of here.”  The doctor stood over me and said, “You may have internal bleeding and if so, it could kill you.”  And he went on to explain how two cars traveling at 60mph hitting head on can jar the internal organs, causing damage.  I kept repeating that there was nothing wrong with me. 

He said, “Fine.  You can get up and walk out of here and leave.”  I went to rise up and discovered that I couldn’t.  My back had tightened up.  I was like, “Oh s#@*!”  The doctor said, “See, you don’t realize what the impact did.” I said, “I was walking around fine 30 minutes ago.”  He said, “You were running on adrenaline.”  I said, “Fine.  I’ll sign the paper.”  I signed it and was laying there listening to the doctor call the lady’s death and I could hear the medical staff talking about me, saying we were in the same car wreck.  My heart sank.  I could see the faces of her and husband upon impact.  I still have flashbacks of that car wreck and the impact to this very day.  I went through surgery, and woke up with tubes in my nose, in a hole they cut right below my belly button, and in my penis.  I was a bad patient.  As soon as I came to, I pulled the hose out of my nose and was trying to remove the other two when a nurse came in and stopped me.  I said, “I’m getting out of here right now!”  She said, “You need to see the doctor first.”  I said, “Get him cause I’m leaving.” The doctor showed up and again, I agreed to stay and let them observe me.  The two hoses stayed in so they could monitor internal bleeding.  My stepmother, Frances, and Ann came to see me on Sunday.  On Monday I signed myself out against the doctor’s orders.  I had had enough of that hospital.  I lay in bed at the house for about a week, popping pain pills and muscle relaxants.  I started smoking weed and drinking again.  I was trying to dull the pain and the guilt I felt over those people dying.  I went up to the Lit’l Champ store several weeks after I got out of the hospital.  As I was leaving, two rough looking guys (mustaches, beards, denim vests) were walking toward me.  I was 19 years old, 6’4” 180 lbs, skinny and one guy’s name I later learned was Lee said, “Hey! You’re the guy who was in that car wreck!” I looked at him in surprise.  I said, “Yeah, that was me, “ and I continued to walk. He said, “How does it feel to have killed two people?” He partner pulled him, saying, “Leave that alone!” I screamed “M_____ F_____!  I don’t give a f___ about them and I don’t give a f____ about you!”  Lee backed up when he saw me go from non-threatening baby faced to rage!  I can still taste the rage I felt at that moment.  I ended up leaving Ann, to avoid involving her in my drug and alcohol use.  

Two years later, at that same Lit’l Champ store, I pulled in next to a white pickup truck.  I was driving my girlfriend, Tracey’s black 1988 RS Camaro.  As Tracey and I walked into the store, I looked over at the driver of the truck, and recognized Lee.  That flash of rage immediately returned and I started walking towards his truck.  I was mad and he could see it and he threw his truck in reverse and backed out.  I knew I couldn’t catch him on foot so I turned to go back to the store.  Lee pulled back in, toying with me, so I turned back towards him and again, he pulled out.  I walked back to the store and I was cussing.   Tracey said, “Alright, Badass, that’s enough.”  I yelled at her to get in the car, and I jumped in and started the car.  Lee took off and I could see where he was headed.  We were staying at my dad’s house at 716 Trinity Circle, just a block away from the store.  I pulled into the driveway and threw the car into park.  I ran into the front room of the trailer, grabbed my gun from the bedroom and ran out the back door, jumping into my 1982 Z28.  I sped out to chase Lee down.  I caught up with him.  We were on a dirt road when I lost control of my car and put it in a ditch.  I was mad as hell.  He was playing with fire and didn’t know it. 

The day of the accident, Friday, August 27, 1987, still haunts me to this very day.  I have lived and relived that moment for 23 years.  Should have….  Would have….  Could have…. I should have put that car in a ditch or hit the semi.  What if I had stayed and gotten high and had a beer with the guys?  If only I could do it over again. But, instead I’m haunted by my past.

It Is What It Is

The following article by Jacqui Lang is from an Australian magazine.  The entire story is a lie, and had anyone investigated, they would have discovered it was lie.  If anyone knows what magazine it came from, I encourage you to send an email informing Jacqui Lang about it.  Please view the article that was written in 2008.  Kryssy tells Jacqui that she flew to America in 2005 and visited me on December 2, 2010.  Obviously Jacqui didn’t investigate this at all.  Kryssy’s passport would have substantiated that she didn’t come to the U.S. in 2005.  A call to the prison would have verified that Kryssy didn’t visit the institution in 2005 and in face she didn’t even get on my visiting list until October 2006.

The true story is that we didn’t start writing until 2005, around September.  And she immediately was saying she loved me.  She had read my poetry and essays on a web site.  I told her she was in love with an idea, not me. Because she didn’t know me.  I also didn’t know she was married.  Yes, I cared about her because she’s a woman and I love women.  But I kept telling her, “Look, you need to focus on your kids, not on me.  My life is a hellish existence, and trust me you don’t want to be a part of it.  You’re better off with the life you have.” In fact at this point in 2005, I was still trying to get over a woman I had fallen in love with.  That is another story in and of itself.  But in late 2006 I gave in and said, “You want a relationship?  Fine. But I can’t make any promises.”

I only spoke with Kryssy one time and it was because I was back at the Duval County Jail at a hearing in February 2007.  She got the Chaplin there to allow us to talk.  The call lasted maybe 5 minutes.  I told her again that this wasn’t a life she wanted. But she insisted that she loved me and wanted a life with me.  If nothing else I wanted her to know what she was getting into.  I want someone to love and love me, but I feel so guilty about pulling a woman into my hell. So I always end up trying to talk them out of it.  I did have feelings for Kryssy.  I got mad at her for lying in her letters.  And I compared her to my second wife Josie who lied to me all the time.  She got mad and stopped writing for a few weeks.  She was driving my mother crazy calling her all the time.  I actually heard about this article before I saw it.  A friend of mine who’s a priest, Father Ron Peters, wrote me a letter and said, “I can’t believe you didn’t share your engagement with me, etc…”I asked for a copy of the story and you see what he sent me.

When I read it I was pissed because now she’s got me in a lie involving millions of people.  I wrote to her and told he about it and I haven’t heard back from her since.  It just amazes me that someone would write a story without investigating or contacting the other party – me!  I would have told Jacqui Lang that the story was false.  But because no one bothered to contact me, this untrue story was published and shared with thousands or maybe millions of people.

Like I said, if you know what magazine this came from, please let me know and/or send Jacqui Lang the web address to this story.  Maybe bringing this to their attention will assist in them doing better investigations into their stories.  I know, I have more drama going on in 6 square foot cage than most people in the free world I don’t know what to ay about that, except, hey, it is what it is. Thank you for your time

Legal Update

On November 18, 2010, I sat down with Linda McDermott and we had a talk.  I tried to make her understand where I’m coming from in lacking trust in lawyers because of what Harry P. Brody did to me.  Lying to me and then attempting to procedurally bar all the evidence in my case.  And she says she does understand.  I looked her in the eyes and I listened to her.  And I think I can trust her.  She seems to be a very honest and trustworthy individual.  I know she’s got a good reputation around here.  But the fact that I’m starting to trust her scares me. 

For I trusted Brody and look what he did to me.  I never would have believed in a million years that Brody would have done this to me. 

But I know I’ve got to trust, and so I’m going to try to be patient and give her the chance to do her job.  Although just writing that scares the living hell out of me because I don’t trust myself sometimes, much less anyone else.

Anyway, I’m currently working on an essay dealing with the murder of Ronald Willis, for which I’m sentenced to death.  I’m going to be including exhibits, depositions, sworn statements, FDLE Reports, etc…. So you can witness a miscarriage of justice for yourself.

Thank you again to all those following my site.  Please take care.  

Vindictive DOC Rules

I want to share a rule here in the Florida Department of Corrections (FDOC) that doesn’t restrict inmates from writing or receiving letters from pen pals, but restricts the inmates from advertising for pen pals.  The rule is under chapter 33-210:101 section (9).  If you violate this rule, not only will you do 30 days in Disciplinary Confinement (DC), but the prison administration will give you a six month mail suspension.  Cut you off from your family, friends and all loved ones, you can’t receive any cards or letters, nor can you send a card to your mother, father, daughter, son, grandparent, etc… to wish them a merry Christmas or happy birthday.  And this is not done in the name of security, because an inmate violated a law, but over an FDOC rule that is going to eventually fall in the court. Several companies are challenging this right now. 

I got caught up in this rule in 2005.  I had an ad up that had been up since 2002, over a year before they passed this moronic rule.  And in December 2005, with no warning, I received a Disciplinary Report (DR) for mail violation.  And I got 30 days DC time and 180 days mail suspension.  I immediately started a hunger strike, which lasted 3 weeks.  I managed to get them to drop the mail suspension to 60 days, and I’m still not happy about that.  It’s been 5 years and I’m still mad when I think about it.  Some of the people within these prison administrations have no compassion whatsoever for the families of the inmates.  They intentionally sever family ties.  The FDOC is notorious for this, not just for cutting off the mail.  No, some idiot rule maker decided not only will we give the prison administration the arbitrary and capricious right to suspend and sever family ties through the mail suspension, but we will allow them to sever family ties through visits also.  And not for violating a law, or even for violating a visiting rule.  You simply get two DR’s in a year and they can suspend your visitation for 6 months or a year.  So now your family is suffering because your lines of communication have been shut down.

Family ties and bonds should be encouraged because when those ties are completely severed and you have a prisoner who has absolutely no one to care, love or show compassion, then what you have done is created an animal.  For it’s not normal to cut a person off from complete and total human contact.  It’s unnatural.  And when you take away any and all hope, then what do you have left?  Now there are those who say, “You’re under the sentence of death, you deserve to be treated like an animal.” Well, not everyone who gets convicted of murder is actually guilty.  Florida has released (I believe) 24 men from death row since the death penalty was reinstated in 1974.  Secondly, inmates in general population are being subjected to this rule as well, inmates who will eventually make it back into society, so you should care.

Back in 2002 through 2004 I spent some time in Q-wing at Florida State Prison.  The prison administration was abusing the hell out of men.  They were confining us to a cell where we had nothing.  No TV, no radio, no newspapers, magazines, or books.  The only reading material was a bible.  You got recreation once every 30 days if you were lucky.  This was your worst nightmare.  And you could spend 6 months or 6 years there, it’s up to them.  I organized a hunger strike in February 2004 that brought attention to the abuse and got half of us move off of Q-wing.  We should have never been under those conditions to begin with.  I was over there because someone said I had a handcuff key.  It was a lie. 

Over there I witnessed the misuse of mace, guys being sprayed for amusement, and these were men who were doing prison sentences, who would be going back to the street.  Some were being released from Q-wing directly back to the street.  This took stupidity to a whole nother level.  There’s no way I’d want my loved ones living next door to someone who’d been abused and mistreated like that.  You have dehumanized these men, treated them in a manner worse than you would treat an animal, and then you throw them out of the cage into society.  Can someone explain this rampant stupidity?  It just boggles the mind!

I was arrested in 1985.  I had a serious drug and alcohol problem.  I was 17 years old.  I’d violated probation several times.  I was sent to a drug center in the summer of 1986, which I ran from.  All I wanted to do was get high.  I saw guys popping in and out of the jail house, and I was told,”You can go to prison and you will be out in less than a year with no probation.” So I asked for prison time.  I’d serve less than a year at Appalachee Correctional Institution (ACI). Going into the FDOC, they knew I had a drug problem, yet no treatment was administered.  In fact the whole time I was at ACI, I was stoned or drunk.  I was making prison wine called “buck,” and smoking weed like I was on the street.  I was still a druggie. There as no real effort made to rehabilitate.  So when I returned to the street I was still a druggie.  Would I have succeeded, had there been?  Well, that’ a question we’ll never know the answer to.  I hear all this talk about how we cut programs because they’re too expensive and that’s why we’ve given up on rehabilitation.  Here in the FDOC, we have over 100,000 inmates.  You have 100,000 able bodies available for slave labor, yet everything’s being contracted out rather than making the prison system be self-sufficient.  For instance, raising and growing their own food, the excess of which could be given to homeless shelters. Prison canteen.  Keefe Commissary Network is making millions of dollars off a prison canteen, which could be run by FDOC.  This would allow the money to be placed back into the FDOC to cut the budget back.  This is free labor!  If this place was run like a company, it could generate millions of dollars a year in profit.  Something is definitely wrong here.  I don’t know whether these contracts are allowing people to steal or what the deal is.  But if the FDOC were a real corporation it would be out of business.  Keefe Commissary Network was involved in illegal contracts with former secretary/current inmate James V. Crosby Jr. back in 2003-4.  One such contract sent Crosby to prison.  Why FDOC did not ban Keefe from any further contract bids is a mystery.  Keefe should have been banned from any further bidding for at least a decade.  Yet people turned a blind eye to Keefe’s corruption and allowed them back into the game.  Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?  There’s a lot of corruption and abuse inside these prison walls.

Hopefully, in the near future you will see Florida inmates back on pan pal web sites and this unconstitutional rule will be lifted.  Most guys I know are anxiously awaiting the ruling so we can get out there.  The rule doesn’t prohibit us from writing to pen pals, just from soliciting them through ads.  And I know most guys aren’t getting much mail these days.  At least, I don’t. 

Thank you very much for allowing me to share this with you.

Fear

I grew up in a very violent drug and alcohol polluted family.  Both of my grandfathers were alcoholics, as was my maternal grandmother.  I called her Big Ma.  Since my mother and father still had their desire to party and hang out, Big Ma and Granddaddy raised me during my early childhood.  Big Ma had served prison time in the Georgia State Penitentiary back in the 1930’s for killing a man.  This was common knowledge and most people feared her.  She had cut my granddaddy Herman Carver up with a butcher knife on several occasions, as well as beat him with a baseball bat.  She had her flaws, as we all do, but she was the love of my life. We lived on 3^rd and Iona in Jacksonville, Florida in a predominantly black neighborhood.  They owned several houses that they rented out. 

On May 7, 1973 I was 5 years old and I was sitting on my granddaddy’s lap as he was sitting on the couch there in the living room.  To the left of us was the bathroom door.  Big Ma had just gone in and closed the door.  Granddaddy said, “When I die, I want you to have the shot gun.” It was an old 12 gauge shot gun…. Seconds later, he made a loud noise that startled me.  I looked up into his eyes and knew something was terribly wrong.  I jumped out of his lap, screaming for Big Ma.  She came running out of the bathroom.  My memory is cloudy at this point….

Fire and Rescue showed up but it was too late.  Herman Carver died on May 7, 1973.  We attended his funeral at a little church up in Georgia, which he was buried behind.  After his death, I clung to Big Ma even harder.  I skipped kindergarten just so I could stay home and be close to her.  Over the next few years she would have several heart attacks.  One night as we were getting ready for bed, she pulled the blankets back and collapsed on the floor.  I ran to the front house screaming for help.  Her tenants came running, and the night was full of chaos with ambulances, and fire and rescue.  She survived and that’s all that mattered in my small world. 

My mother and father divorced in 1973, so I shuffled back and forth between my mom, Dad and Big Ma.  My mom began a lesbian relationship.  My dad remarried.  But he and my mom would still have some brutal fights, mostly due to alcohol.  Which causes more death, violence and misery than any other drug.  Because my mother was gay, I had a father who worried about me being gay, and therefore took a little boy who had nothing but love and compassion in his heart and tried to make that little boy as mean and tough as possible. 

I believe Big Ma had the same concerns.  But her remedy was to supply 6,7,8 year old boy with pornography.  Not just Playboy, but hard-core porn such as Hustler.  Mom would constantly take them away from me and tell Big Ma, “You shouldn’t be giving those to him.”  Big Ma would say, “He’s a boy, it’s natural.”  She would rent rooms to winos and that’s where most of the magazines came from. 

In the summer of 1976 I was 8 years old.  I spent the week with Big Ma.  I was sitting on the front porch of the front house.  One of the winos named Register was sitting out there.  I was playing with his can of Prince Albert smoking tobacco, when I accidentally spilled it.  He began yelling, “You little bastard,” and began chasing me towards the rear house that Big Ma lived in.  I screamed out for Big Ma and out the door she came.  She picked up a metal pipe and began chasing Register back up the sidewalk, cussing him and beating him all in the head.  He had knots and cuts all over his head and was bleeding like a stuck pig.  The poor old drunk let alcohol dilute his senses.  But Big Ma knocked the sense back into him.  She was no joke, tough as nails, mean as hell.  But she was my Big Ma, my love, my life, my world, my rock, yes, my everything!

On August 5, 1976 the weekend after the incident with Register, I spent the weekend with Dad and the day at the beach.  Fernandina Beach.  We were in Dad’s supped up 1964 EL Camino traveling south down US 17 in the Yulee area, headed back to Jacksonville.  Before reaching the Nassau/Duval County line, my dad’s friend Robert was coming northbound and as he saw us he blew his horn and spun his 1969 Super Bee around.  Dad pulled over to the side of the road.  Robert pulled in behind us.  I was sitting in the El Camino with my stepmother Frances, as Dad got out.  Robert met him at the back of the El Camino.  A few minutes later Dad returned.  I knew something was terribly wrong.  I could see the tears in his eyes as he started the engine, pulling out onto the asphalt, tired squealing as he was running through the gears.  At no time we were in excess of 100 miles per hour.  I kept asking what was wrong?  What’s wrong? When he finally responded, “Big Ma’s dead!”  The entire foundation of my little world fell out from under me.  I was way beyond hurt.  I was completely and totally devastated.  I never have hurt like that before or since.  And needing to blame someone, my focus went to Register, who had upset her earlier that week.  I said through sobs, “It’s Register’s fault.  I want you to get him.”  We entered the Springfield area and came up to Big Ma’s house at 3^rd and Iona.  Register, all beat and bruised from Big Ma, was sitting on the front steps.  I pointed to Dad like you would point for an attack dog and said, “Get him!”  Dad jumped out and crossed the street heading towards Register.  I was right on his heels.  Register looked at us.  I can still se it like it was yesterday.  The old man’s eyes were sad.  What I didn’t know was that he and Big Ma were lovers.  Dad threw a punch that landed on Register’s right cheek.  The punch was thrown with such force that upon impact the whole cheek caved in and blood shot out of the corner of the old man’s eye, splattering all over the steps.  His body went limp; contorting as he lay there sprawled out in a bloody mess.  I remember thinking, “What have I done?”  I felt guilty for Big Ma’s death, for had I not dumped the tobacco out, she wouldn’t have gotten worked up beating on Register and therefore wouldn’t have had the heart attack. But now I had more guilt to contend with for here was this poor old man, lying battered in a pool of blood because of my need to blame anyone other than myself. 

My dad picked me up in his arms and walked towards Big Ma’s house, as I looked back over his shoulder, unable to take my eyes off what I had done.  We entered Big Ma’s house where everyone had gathered, and my mom held me as I cried.  My world had been shaken so badly.  I’d never find peace of mind over her death.  I dreamed about her.  I’d look out the car window thinking I’d see her.  I was lost without her. 

In 1978, my mom and her lover, Dee, enrolled me in a Christian school called Amadell.  They handled grades K-12.  One day instead of attending classes, we went to the chapel to watch a movie.  The movie starts off with a couple of guys on motorcycles, which grabs every little boy’s attention.  These two bikers pull up at a church, get off their bikes enter the church and they start harassing the preacher.  They were trying to get him to join their church.  After he refuses, they go out and get on their bikes and speed on down the road.  One biker gets way ahead of the other one, and he goes over a hill….all of the sudden you hear screeching of brakes, crushing metal, etc… As the other biker pulls up over the hill slowing down, he comes to a stop and there laying in the middle of the road is his friend’s bike, the rear tire still spinning, as was the chain, and next to that was his friend’s head, which implied that it was cut off by the spinning chain. 

The living biker eventually returns to the church where he sits down and talks to the preacher that they had harassed earlier.  The biker begins to question the preacher about his friend’s soul.  As the preacher begins to explain about eternal hell, the movie begins to show the dead biker burning in hell, skin melting off the bone, as the biker screams in horror, maggots and worms coming out of his eyes, nose and skin.  The movie made a horror film look like candy land.  And here we were 6-17 years old, watching the most detestable, deplorable forms of torture that anyone could ever imagine.  The movie was designed to scare us into submission and to accept Jesus as God.  After the movie, one of teachers got up on the pulpit and explained that those who do not believe in Jesus as their savior and accept him and live honorable Christian lives should expect this punishment.  Most people would be terrified by such a thought.  But I was enraged!!  Because my first thought was of my Big Ma, my Big Ma, being tortured in God’s torture chamber!! How dare he?  The thought that the love of my life, my everything, suffering through that kind of horrific torture!  Here it is my god wants me to love him and accept him…he who would allow this evil malicious, vindictive, disgusting act of torture on Big Ma. 

I walked out of that chapel with a hate in my heart for God.  I can recall days later standing in the middle of our neighborhood street at 10321 Westmar, looking up into the sky and cussing God like a foul mouthed sailor.  I was so mad that I hated the thought of God.  The video had the opposite effect.  For I wasn’t one of those selfish kid who only thought about me-me-me.

I would study Christianity years later, after accepting Jesus as Christ my Lord and Savior, only to reject it and Jesus after studying the Biblical text and seeing the many contradictions with the New Testament.  From Jesus’ last dying words being different from the hour he’s on the cross to the many contradictions in the resurrection.  I accept the fact that there could be a creator, but I don’t accept any organized religion.  Nor do I believe that any man is worthy of holding eternal life in is hands. For man is the ultimate puppet master and is unworthy of trust.  And anyone who says man is worthy of this is a liar or a fool.  What I went through there as a child…no child should ever have to go through.  Yet religions breed fear into the hearts of our fellow man.  A fearful heart is not a productive heart.  People say, “You’re a total f@#$ up!”  Yes, that’s true. I have more faults than any ten men combined.  I’ve made more mistakes than any one man should.  About 50% I can say were a product of my environment.  The other 50% I have to say were the result of my own stupidity.  I cannot honestly look back on life and say about anything, “That was a good choice.”  And that’s a shame when you can’t look back on life and at least find one good choice that you made.  No one can judge me harder than I judge myself.  I have more regrets than you can possibly imagine.  I have more guilt, shame, humiliation and resentment towards my own foolish stupidity.  I wish I could turn back the hands of time, relive every mistake, correcting them.  Be an all around better person.  But life doesn’t work that way.  We take our mistakes, regrets, pain and guilt to our graves.  Oh, we try to deceive ourselves.  I’m not the same person… I’m a better person now that I’ve found Jesus, Allah, etc… Yes, you may have changed to become a more honorable person, but the desire to forgive yourself and change came from within.  I can honestly say the best day of my life…will be the moment it ends.  Those who read this and say yes he’s had a hard life…what I’ve told you is child’s play.  I can describe details about being molested as a child that would mortify you.  I’ve been deceived, used, manipulated to the point where my motto is, “Trust no one! Suspect everyone! For today’s friend will be tomorrow’s enemy!”  One thing has been consistent in this life and that is nothing lasts forever.  Yes, say I’m a pessimist…I say I’m a realist.  Life is what it is, a continuous cycle of never-ending disappointment and pain.  Find escape in moments of bliss.  We find happiness and pleasure through material items, love interests, etc… But eventually the pain returns.  Memories of dead loved ones, lost loves, our failures in this life, the traumas in life that we’ve been through and live with daily.  Hey, it is what it is.  You can dilute it with legal or illegal drugs, religions, placebos or whatever works for you.  What works best for me is the knowledge that I have control. I can end this life and my pain right here right now.  That’s a piss poor excuse for comfort.  But I find comfort in that.  I don’t recommend suicide.  It’s a selfish act and yes, you can say I’m selfish for finding comfort in it.  Will I ever do it?  Hopefully, not.  But like I said, I’ve never made a good choice in life.  So why should my final act be any different?