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Once the handcuffs were shackled to a chain around my waist, and my ankles are tethered, all thoughts of freedom are gone,
and now despair settles in. Now, I'm ready to travel, to the courthouse to realize my sentence, for the crimes they say were
committed. In my mind, the sentence was already pronounced, "Life" Life without my wife; Life without my children,
my dogs and all the joys and happiness of being free.
There are six Marshall's assigned to escort us, as I'm led out to the awaiting van. I have two Marshall's at my side,
two in front and a pair to the rear carrying M-16 automatic weapons and "sawed off" shotguns. They were there to
insure that this "public enemy", a biker, would get the punishment deserved, punishment for the crimes that had
been induced by them, the ATF. This responsible, yet carefree biker had become a player in a game, where they make and break
all rules.
We travel to the Federal Courthouse, in Columbus, Ohio with Marshal Cars in front and to the rear of the cortage, which
was led all the way by various County Sheriff's that changed as each county ended and another began. With passing scenery,
ones that I have held close to my heart, for they brought much happiness and meaning to me, and my loved ones. Roadside fruit
stands and other familiar intersecting roads all hold thoughts, back in time, are now finally understood by me to be beyond
my reach.
My appearance at the courthouse encompassed being transported thru the dark vaulted parking lot in the basement of
the courthouse. The Marshall's, still is heavily armed, why I do not know. It was truly unnecessary. Four Marshall's stood
fast as the van backed into it's assigned parking space, to get ready to unload it's notorious cargo; an "outlaw biker".
When the stairway from the basement to the first floor had been secured, I'm handled up the steps. Thinking the blamable
ones, the ATF agents should be walking the same steps, leading the way, begrudging I pay full price for the induced crimes.
Stopping at the doorway, the Marshall's then clear the hallways, and place into position, barricades blocking all views
by any bystanders, as I enter my cell for preparation of my judgment and commitment. Knowing all along, that the deceptive
judgment had been prearranged, by a double-dealing prosecutor, agents, and a judge.
Upset and muttering to herself, my Attorney approached my cell, aggravated and exhausted with what was to be the prosecutor's
last effort to strike a deal, one that would benefit them, and only them. "Renegade", she said, "They what
to offer you a reduced sentence if you will cooperate". "Snitch and give in to their crafty plot". "No",
I exclaimed, "I will fight all the way", to prove that ATF agents are not above the law.
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