Subject: How Uncle Sam Stole My Daughters From: Michael Williams email@example.com Date: 28-Aug-95 03:01
IN THE UNITED STATES COURT OF APPEALS FOR THE SEVENTH CIRCUIT EASTERN DIVISION UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, ) ) Plaintiff. ) CASE NO. 94 24 83 ) v. ) JUDGE LEINENWEBER ) MICHAEL WILLIAMS, ) ) Defendant. )
AFFIDAVIT ON BEHALF OF THIRD PARTY MINOR CLAIMANT PRO SE APPELLANT
I, Defendant Michael Williams, declare that I am the Defendant in the above-entitled proceeding and state that in an attempt to protect my rights, I am preparing this affidavit without the assistance of counsel.
On 18. March 1988, while serving as president of Pioneer America Corporation and after having directed the Draft Hart Committee, whose goal was Senator Gary Hart's re-entry into the U.S. Presidential campaign, I was arrested in my home by the F.B.I., who seized all of y assets, rendering me destitute. They also seized items unrelated in any way to any pending charges, including sensitive correspondence with prominent politicians and confidential attorney-client correspondence. These unreasonable seizures were in violation of the 4th Amendment to the U.S. Constitution, and, as they had the effect of excessive fines, were in violation of the 8th Amendment. The fact that they occurred without benefit of Due Process of Law was also a violation of the 5th Amendment. The fact that the foremost motivation of these seizures was to prevent me from retaining competent counsel of my choice was a violation of the 6th Amendment. That the arrest was likely motivated by my politics was also a violation of the 1st Amendment.
On 13. December 1993, the U.S. Supreme Court ruled that people are entitled to hearings before the government can seize their homes or other property. In June 1993, the court ruled such seizures are subject to the Constitution's 8th Amendment protection against excessive fines. Justice Kennedy wrote that the Constitution's due-process clause requires property owners get notification and a chance for a hearing before seizures.
Due to my indigence, Judge Leinenweber appointed William J. Stevens to represent me. I was forced to remain in custody during the lengthy proceedings without a |standard bail hearing even though my attorney, Michael Monico, had entered into an agreement with Assistant U.S. Attorney Laurie Barsella, to surrender me if I were indicted. This violated my right to reasonable bail and subjected me to a lengthy maximum security prison term prior to any conviction, in violation of the 8th Amendment.
As a result of the F.B.I.'s seizure, my pregnant wife and two-year-old daughter were forced to vacate our home during blizzard conditions, which threatened my wife and unborn baby's lives with maternal pneumonia. Since our friends had been intimidated by the F.B.I., my wife and daughter traveled to Georgia to stay with my mother-in-law. They soon were required to accept public assistance to survive. The distance from Chicago, where I was incarcerated, although I had never been there, cruelly prevented my family from regularly visiting me, and placed immense strain on our marriage.
After nearly a year of incarceration, my attorney, William J. Stevens, falsely informed me my infant daughter was dying of spinal meningitis, and that I would only be allowed to visit her if I pleaded guilty. This false information resulted in my being coerced into entering a plea of guilty in Hon. George Marovich's court on or about 11. August 1989.
After being sentenced to two years' incarceration and five years' consecutive probation, I was transferred to Marion Federal Prison Camp, in direct violation of B.O.P. policy requiring that inmates be placed in facilities nearest their homes. In Marion, I was subjected to a wide range of physical and psychological torture. Even though I was eligible for parole at the time of sentencing, I was never allowed to apply for it. Even Senator Timothy Wirth's writing to B.O.P. director, J. Michael Quinlan, did not help. Unlike most others, I was forbidden to go on furlows. In summer, when others were engaging in outdoor leisure activities, I was forced to wash dishes for long hours in a steaming hot kitchen area. I was even denied my right to spend the final portion of my sentence in a halfway house. I was told this treatment was due to my political beliefs.
After my release from prison, I went to Rome, Georgia, to reunite with my family. Upon arrival there, U.S. Probation Officer Kenneth Harris forced me to "take the next bus out" to San Diego, California. The Soviet-style exile was responsible for the break-up of my family.
I was eventually forced to seek permission from the Court to relocate to Switzerland due to constant harassment from the probation department. I relocated on or about 12. June 1991. Immediately after arriving, William J. Stevens relayed a message to me that if I were to return to the United States, I would be placing my "life and freedom in the greatest possible jeopardy".
On 24. February 1992, four years after the seizure of my property, I suddenly received a letter from the Chicago F.B.I. advising me I could pick up my Macintosh computer. This was the first time they had admitted to seizing anything.
On 2. March 1994, six years after the seizure, after Senator Dianne Feinstein had made some inquiries into my case, I suddenly received a Notice of Motion from Chicago U.S. Attorney, Carol Davilo, advising me that on 10. March 1994, a Motion to Authorize Sale of Coins and to Disburse Proceeds of Restitution would be heard. In an obvious attempt to secure a default judgment, the motion was sent to me via sea. I only received it by chance. I have been legally advised that this is improper service.
After receiving the motion, I rushed to find an attorney to represent me, since William J. Stevens had refused to represent me for over two years. I was referred to Robert Clarke by his former colleague, John Lanahan. Mr. Clarke agreed to ask to be appointed as my attorney if I would send him an initial retainer. After receiving the retainer, he filed a response based on Rule 41(e) and then abandoned me. I received nothing at all from him until after the motion was denied, apparently without any legal argument. He did not answer my letters or telegrams. Registered letters to him were returned unclaimed. Mr. Lanahan and others said they suspect he intentionally lost the case.
The F.B.I. seized a significant amount of property from me, although they are only presently admitting to some $30,000 in Canadian Maple Leaf one-ounce gold coins.
On 18. March 1988, several agents of the F.B.I. burst into the residence of Erin R. Williams and arrested her father,Defendant Michael Williams. They immediately placed Defendant under arrest and handcuffed him in the presence of his then 2-year-old daughter.
You are at home sitting at your dining room table with your wife, who is six months pregnant, and your two-year-old baby daughter. Your baby daughter is sitting in her high chair, which you have pulled up very close to the table to make her feel a little more like part of the family. It is a cold winter night and your fireplace is roaring. You had a long day at the office and drove several hours through a blizzard in order to get home in time for dinner. You're all so glad to be together in your comfortable home.
Suddenly, your front door bursts open. Several strangers, wearing business suits, who resemble stereotypical Chicago gangsters come rushing in towards you, aiming guns at you and your family. Your tiny daughter, whom you have gone to great lengths to shelter from any violent television programs, and who has never even seen a picture of a gun before, becomes hysterical: screaming, crying, her little face turning bright red, tears streaming down her terrified face, which is smeared with her mashed peas.
Some of these men grab your pregnant wife and baby daughter out of their chairs and drag them across the room. Some of them grab you and handcuff your hands behind your back as tight as possible, until you can feel your blood circulation being cut off. Then, they proceed to rough you up in front of your horrified wife and baby daughter.
Several of these thugs begin to search your home, aimlessly throwing your precious belongings all over as they aggressively hunt for what you can only logically assume to be your valuables. You watch as they take the last existing photos of your cherished mother, who has been deceased since you were a child. Your wife sobs as they take her treasured teenage love letters sent to her from other boyfriends and begin to read them aloud in front of you.
Finally, these violent mobsters identify themselves as being agents of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. The F.B.I. . You ask them what's going on. They say you're under arrest. You ask for what. They refuse to answer. You ask them if they have a warrant for your arrest. They say they don't, and add that they don't need one, arrogantly pointing out that they can get one any time they like. They ask you to waive your rights, beginning with your right to silence. When you intelligently refuse to give up your precious rights, they become combative and bully you more in front of your family. So much for sheltering your innocent little daughter from violent television programs.
You are told that they are going to take away everything you have in the world: your house, your bank accounts, your business, your cars, your private correspondence, your family photos, everything. Then, they take you away, out into the dark night, into the blizzard you were so glad to come in from just a few moments earlier. Away from the most precious thing in the world to you: your family.
You are eventually taken to a military air force base, where, with hands cuffed, legs shackled, and waist chained, you are forced at gun point to board an aircraft which is in such a state of disrepair that you wonder if it will really get off the ground.
After the airplane crash-lands in a distant state, you are taken to a maximum-security prison, where your business suit is exchanged for a ragged prison jumpsuit. The guards happily divide up your fine clothes and jewelry amongst themselves. You are put into a tiny, filthy cell with a grisly, foul-smelling, garlic-chewing man, a Spanish-speaking murderer from Cuba who has been imprisoned for many years in your country. You spend every minute of the day defending your life and your manhood from this maniac. You know you can't take a chance on sleeping.
For the next several weeks, you are transported on other equally unsafe planes to several other terrible, overcrowded prisons all around the country.
Finally, you land at a military air force base near Chicago, and are driven to a high-rise prison in the middle of the city and taken to the twentieth floor. Most of the prisoners are Mafia hit men, Colombian cocaine kingpins, and big-time drug dealers. Murder, violence, perversion and disease is everywhere.
Even though you have a serious back problem, for which you have been under doctor's care for many years, you are assigned a top bunk called a "rack," which is really nothing more than a metal slab with a filthy two-inch plastic mat on it.
You finally get the use of a telephone, and discover that your pregnant wife and child were thrown out of your home during the blizzard, causing them to contract pneumonia. The F.B.I. took everything of value you and your wife had. Having nowhere to go and no money, they traveled all the way to Georgia to live with your mother-in-law. The F.B.I. has visited everyone you know, terrorizing them and warning them not to assist you in any way, even suggesting that they change their telephone numbers to avoid your calls and refuse to answer any letters they receive from you. You try to find an attorney to represent you, but, without any money, none will accept your case. They're all too afraid to seek the return of your assets, even though they admit they were unlawfully seized.
The F.B.I. visits you and terrifies you, telling you that your pregnant wife will soon be arrested and your unborn child will be born in a prison and taken away from you. You will never see her. Your white daughter will soon be given to a black foster home. Her whereabouts will not be made known to you. You will spend the rest of your life in this terrible prison...unless you are willing to "cooperate" by telling everything they want to know about your friends. Some of the things they want to hear they already have written down. They just want you to say that you said them, even though you really didn't. You refuse, and confidently wait to be freed. But you aren't.
Days turn into weeks, and weeks turn into months. You are starving. Your thick brown hair quickly turns entirely grey, and most of it falls out. Wrinkles and lines emerge on your youthful face. You develop pneumonia and are refused medical care. You miss your wife and daughter. You worry about them constantly.
Having no money, you are forced to accept the services of a court-appointed attorney who immediately begins trying to terrify you into pleading guilty to crimes you couldn't possibly have committed. He tells you nothing but lies and uses every trick in the book to try to break you down. Every day you see more and more of your fellow inmates receiving lengthy prison sentences for refusing to "cooperate," for refusing to plead guilty to crimes they often aren't guilty of. You begin to realize that your attorney is working against you, with the same people who brought you to this place. You realize that this man is your enemy; that his only job is to get you to plead guilty. You can never get justice with him. This causes you to sink into the greatest depression.
You grow weaker by the day. The food you are given is unfit for a pig: moldy, green "hashed brown potatoes" which resemble spinach; "hamburgers" with maggots crawling in them; coffee with cigarette butts in it. Your family's mail is withheld from you. You are told that no one is writing to you because they don't care about you, that you're completely forgotten, that your wife is sleeping with other men, that soon your wife and daughter will be taken away, as you were told when you were first taken away. You have to fight for your life and manhood constantly, at all hours of the day and night. You dare not sleep deeply. You can only sleep lightly for a few minutes at a time. You cannot believe that you are in the United States of America. You feel like a foreigner in a Third World prison.
Then, your second daughter is born. But you can't see her. The F.B.I. won't let you visit her. Your attorney refuses to even ask the judge to release you on bail. Time passes. Nothing develops, except more depression and worsening health. As anyone would, you begin to feel forgotten, alienated, despondent. There seems to be no solution.
Then, one day, your attorney comes to you to explain that your infant daughter, whom you have never even seen, is dying of spinal meningitis. She only has a few days to live. The F.B.I. and U.S. Attorney have agreed to let you visit her on her dying bed. You'll be taken to court in a few minutes to get the judge's formal approval. You are torn to pieces. You can feel your heart bleeding with sorrow and grief.
You are rushed to court. The judge asks your attorney why you are there. He answers: "To enter a plea, your honor." In other words, to plead guilty. You ask your attorney what is going on. He says that the F.B.I. and U.S. Attorney told him at the last minute that they had changed their mind; that the only way they would permit you to visit your dying daughter was if you pleaded guilty. He tells you that he just spoke to your good California attorney friend on the telephone and that he wanted to relay the message to you that you should do as you're told and plead guilty; that if you refused, you'd spend the rest of your life in prison and feel guilty about not seeing your daughter before she died.
You look around. The F.B.I. agent, U.S. Attorney and your attorney are smiling at each other like the closest of friends who are about to receive something they've worked very hard together for. It is obvious that you will never get any justice in this court. You simply cannot stand any more pressure. You are so worn down. You have no strength left. No energy. No hope. You're in the worst health. The prison doctors have told you you're dying. You could cry right there in the court room, but you have no tears left. You have cried until there are no more. You tremble. Your hands are shaking so much you have to hold them behind you.
What would you do? If you think about that for a few minutes, I think your answer will be that you would see no choice but to plead guilty. Exactly as I did.
But I wasn't guilty. And my newborn daughter wasn't dying. And I didn't get to visit her. In return for my "cooperation," I was transferred to the worst prison on earth: Marion. None of my assets, nor my innocent spouse's were ever returned. I was never even provided with a receipt indicating they had been seized. Not only was I refused early release on parole, I was even refused my right to apply for parole. I was also refused my right to serve the final portion of my sentence in a halfway house, my right to furloughs to visit my family, and my right to be transferred to the prison nearest my family.
After my release, I was on five years' probation. Probation was used as an instrument to harass, intimidate, control and further punish me, with the intention of eventually returning me to prison for an even longer sentence on a technical violation.
I was unlawfully exiled three thousand miles away from my family, whom I had dreamed of reuniting with. I was unlawfully forbidden to travel anywhere outside of San Diego County, even to visit my family. I was prevented from accepting gainful employment. Things got so bad that I was finally forced to move all the way to Switzerland in order to prevent losing my freedom again, or even my life.
There is a term to describe what happened to me. It's used all over the world: "Yankee Justice". It refers to an evil, unfair system of injustice developed in the United States which allows the guilty to go free while the innocent suffer. How many men do you think would refuse to plead guilty if they were in the same position, under the same set of circumstances that I was? An attorney friend told me that any man with the slightest intelligence, love for his family, or survival instinct would have done the same thing that I did. What would you do? You should think about this, for someday you just might find yourself in the same position I was in. It can happen to anyone.
On 23. January 1993, my aunt, who raised me after my mother died, suffered a massive, near-fatal stroke, which left her entire right side permanently paralyzed, and her speech abilities seriously impaired. When I called my court-appointed attorney to tell him I intended to visit her in the hospital, he warned me, as he had the day I arrived in Switzerland, that the F.B.I. and U.S. Attorney's Office had relayed a message to me through him that for me to return to my home in the United States, even for a visit, would place my "life and freedom in the greatest possible jeopardy." Since then, I've written thousands of letters to politicians, organizations, and anyone else capable of helping me. They've all fallen on deaf ears.
After my aunt suffered her stroke, my ex-wife called her up to try to extort six-thousand dollars from me, threatening to disappear and go "underground" with our two small daughters if I didn't pay the ransom. Even if I had wanted to pay it, I didn't have the money. She made good on her threat and disappeared with our children. After I located her, she changed her telephone number to a non-published number and began refusing my gifts and correspondence to my children. Unlike me, she has gone totally unpunished for her many crimes, and I haven't seen or spoken to my children in years. As with my other problems, no one in the United States is willing to help me.
On 2. March 1994, six full years after the unlawful seizure of all of my earthly possessions, I received a letter here in Switzerland, where I remain in exile, from the U.S. Attorney's Office, indicating that in just eight days, on 10. March 1994, at 9:30 a.m., a motion would be heard in the same Chicago courtroom where I had already suffered so much injustice, in which the U.S. Attorney, (pressured by the F.B.I. after Senator Dianne Feinstein made some inquiries into my case), would attempt to "legalize" the unlawful seizure of my property, by asking Judge Harry Leinenweber to essentially award it to the U.S. Attorney's Office. The letter was not sent registered or certified, as such important documents are supposed to be sent, but by surface mail, in an attempt to prevent me from receiving it in time to act. By chance, I received it at the last minute, but I had no attorney to represent me, even though the Constitution and the Criminal Justice Act demand that I be provided with one, since I have remained indigent after the unlawful seizure of my assets. With no attorney to represent me, yet another injustice was perpetrated on me.
Accused of a brutal double homicide, with overwhelming evidence against him, including a lengthy history of spousal abuse and wife-beating, football legend O.J. Simpson is given the red-carpet treatment. Soon after his arrest, the same attorneys who refuse to assist me in any way, rushed to his aide. Represented by an army of the world's greatest legal minds, his court hearings appear on live international television. Everyone toils to make sure that none of his precious rights are violated. Every change in his facial expression results in a media rush to get out the latest "news".
There were no prominent lawyers rushing to represent me as my pregnant wife and baby daughter climbed down the steep mountain we lived on during a blizzard. There were no television cameras in the courtroom when I was coerced into pleading guilty in a secret hearing by an attorney who was nothing more than a court puppet. And there is no one to help me now. I am not rich or famous. I cannot buy justice like Michael Jackson or O.J. Simpson. And everyone knows you must buy justice in today's America. It is a disgrace. And everyone in the world is learning this is "Yankee Justice."
Respectfully submitted, MICHAEL WILLIAMS, in Pro Se Postfach 20 CH-3112 Allmendingen bei Bern Switzerland
Date: 28-Aug-95 03:18 MST
From: Michael Williams [100705,1252]
Subj: How the FBI Made Me a Pauper.
IN THE UNITED STATES COURT OF APPEALS FOR THE SEVENTH CIRCUIT EASTERN DIVISION
UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, ) ) Plaintiff. ) CASE NO. 94 24 83 ) v. ) JUDGE LEINENWEBER ) MICHAEL WILLIAMS, ) ) Defendant. )
PETITION FOR LEAVE TO FILE AND PROCEED ON APPEAL IN FORMA PAUPERIS PRO SE APPELLANT
I, Michael Williams, declare that I am the Defendant in the above-entitled proceeding. I am not an attorney, do not have the funds necessary to retain one, have not been appointed one despite my many persistent requests, and am thus being forced to prepare this Petition myself, without the assistance of counsel, even though I am not qualified to do so. I am preparing this Petition to the best of my ability with information obtained in a telephone conversation with the Pro Se Clerk for the United States Court of Appeals for the Seventh Circuit in Chicago, Illinois.
I, Michael Williams, Pro Se Petitioner, do hereby move this Court for leave to file the above-entitled cause in forma pauperis; said motion is supported by the attached Affidavit of Financial Status.
Respectfully submitted, MICHAEL WILLIAMS, in Pro Se Postfach 20 CH-3112 Allmendingen bei Bern Switzerland
AFFIDAVIT OF MAILING CANTON OF BERNE ) ) COUNTRY OF SWITZERLAND )
MICHAEL WILLIAMS swears that on the 9th day of May, 1995, he placed a copy of PETITION FOR LEAVE TO FILE AND PROCEED ON APPEAL IN FORMA PAUPERIS - PRO SE APPELLANT in envelopes addressed to the following named individuals and caused the envelopes to be deposited in the Swiss mail depository located at the PTT Post Office in Allmendingen bei Bern, Switzerland on said date at or before the hour of 5:00 p.m.
United States Court of Appeals Carol A. Davilo ATTN: Paula Zapaniac Assistant United States Attorney 219 S. Dearborn, 27th Fl. 219 S. Dearborn, 20th Fl. Chicago, IL 60604 Chicago, IL 60604 Mr. Thomas F. Strubbe SA Richard Loyd Clerk of the U.S. Court of Appeals FBI - Room 905 219 S. Dearborn, 20th Fl. 219 S. Dearborn Chicago, IL 60604 Chicago, IL 60604 Juleann Hornyak Mary Robinson Clerk of the Supreme Court Administrator Supreme Court Building A.R.D.C. Springfield, IL 62706 One Prudential Plaza 130 E. Randolph Drive Chicago, IL 60601-6219 Respectfully submitted, MICHAEL WILLIAMS, in Pro Se Postfach 20 CH-3112 Allmendingen bei Bern Switzerland