Hello every One and welcome to the Thursday Thing King Edition of the Good News Journal, thank King or Queen You for being here, Your moral Highness elevates the Spirit of My House. We’re going to get right into the Fifth and what I believe Will be the final Part of this fabulous mini Series. The mini Series Will be something of a prequel to everything else I do to hold these fraudsters to account for their egregious breach of the public Trust.
To catch up, find quick links to the previous Parts in this Series below.
… I rode ‘shotgun’ alone while they filled up the rest of the back of the paddy wagon with whoever else was going.
It’s a pretty short ride to the Court before they march Us all out again. I was first in a second group of People who had been transported from the previous facility and I couldn’t tell You if it was intentional or not, but You know how I feel about coincidences; I never really got a good look at any other prisoner the entire time I was unlawfully detained. I was last out of the paddy wagon and didn’t see any of the other prisoners going in because I was in the front cab alone. There was just enough of a break between the two groups that I didn’t see any of the People in the first group leave, either. And I mean like a ten second difference, maybe – but it’s enough for every One in the first group to be well out of sight. First in My group to leave, last to come out, never saw any One except when I passed cells to see counsel (or vice versa).
I think the wing I was in had four cells and I was placed in the second cell in the row of three that were occupied, I believe the last cell at the end of the hall remained empty. I thought the Court would at least have cleaner, more sanitary looking cells, but they were arguably worse! Hard to believe they are lawfully allowed to let them get that dirty and still put People in them. No rights to property standards for innocent People charged with a crime, that’s for sure!
At this point I have not spoken a Word unless spoken to, I have not asked a single question of any officer outside of what I said when checking in and getting printed. Haven’t spoken to any other prisoners, either.
The first thing I Wish to say when trying to recount the experience is to say that the day was long. Every minute of the day is long because there is absolutely nothing to do but sit with Your thoughts and this was even more torturous than the night before because now there is the continuous anxiety of what Will come next. And yet You still Wish to look as cool, calm, collected an unfazed by the experience as One possibly can. The more effectively One can master this, the better off One Will be when they finally have their moment in Court.
When they delivered lunch, I finally asked the officer what time it was for the first time. I don’t even remember what he said now, but I think it was 12:30. That means I’ve been sitting there almost like the Buddha for a little over four hours now and Court runs until 5:00 (but I think these Courts might have to run late if necessary to accommodate every One because of the right to Present to a Judge within reasonable time, though I’m not really sure).
I honestly don’t think I had the opportunity to speak to counsel for the first time until somewhere around two o’clock and I’m absolutely guessing because that was the only time I asked a question the entire time I was in. There’s nothing wrong with talking to the cops if One Wishes to ask the time, or when the next meal will be or whatever, but in My Mind, it isn’t going to change anything and they know time deprivation is a form of torture so I don’t like letting them know it’s getting to Me.
When they come to get You to speak to counsel, they cuff You again just to demoralize and degrade You for the meeting. I really did try to get the names of every One I spoke to, but I would rather say nothing than get the name wrong. As great as My memory for names might be, it’s not so great when the name is spoken. I need to see the name before I can visually remember it, and I need to Write the name before it is imprinted in My Mind almost indefinitely. But the first counsel I met was a well dressed, sharp looking Man and Our conversation was very encouraging, but brief.
He looked professional enough that he might be there on behalf of Michael Spratt, so that was the first thing I asked him and he told Me that he was not, he was public defender for Duty Counsel. He asked if Michael Spratt was My lawyer and I told him no, but I had spoken to him about getting Me out and would like to hire him – he said he would ‘leave his instructions’ with Duty Counsel. I asked him if there been any instructions from Michael yet.
At that point he rummaged through some notes (he was a very optimistic, cheerful natured Man, too) and said, “Oh, I’m sorry, I do see there are notes on this file that say You called Michael Spratt”, he paused for a moment, continuing to check notes, “but no, I don’t see anything here yet.”
And again, to summarize without attempting to paraphrase from memory, he told Me that he didn’t foresee any problems getting Me out, I just needed some One for him to contact that can act as surety for My bail – some One to make sure I go where I say I’m going to go and return to Court, yada, yada.
At that point I did express My surprise that they were as King for bail and told him that the entire thing is fraud. He asked Me what I was tall King about and I told him to go log into his service Ontario account and look up these charges in the system – he’ll notice they don’t exist. I don’t match the identity of the accused, that was actually confirmed by the police officers when printing Me last night, this is all Registry fraud because I’m a freelance journalist exposing corruption in government – this is politically motivated.
He basically deflected after that but he did so by as King who I could use for surety and I told him that the only person I know that I would Trust, I couldn’t remember their phone number. Stress affects Your memory in a serious Way – that’s also why I didn’t focus too much on trying to remember every One’s name because it would be impossible and the important names Will be on the information when all is said and done. I kept providing the middle digits ‘297’ and the number I wanted was ‘296’.
I gave the last name of My Friend and told him where he could acquire the phone number if I was incorrect. He said he would take care of it and get back to Me in a bit. Then I went back to My cell for about another hour and a half (absolutely guessing).
The next time I went to speak to counsel I was very optimistic, expecting to hear some Good News and it was the polar opposite. It was some One completely different, a short, stalky Man who looks a lot like the nerd from the original Ghostbusters film with slightly worse hair. I’d heard him giving counsel to the Man in the cell beside Me while I was waiting to leave the booth last time and thought he was a lawyer and giving reasonably Good counsel, so I greeted him with enthusiasm,
“Oh, You’re the lawyer of the guy in the cell beside Me.”
“No, I’m not a lawyer, I’m from the John Howard Society, I’m going to be Your surety so You can get out of here.”
“Oh. Well, thank You. I guess You were not able to reach My Friend?”
“I don’t know anything about that except that You don’t have a Friend or I wouldn’t be here. I’m getting You out – if I decide You should get out after We do a short interview.”
My blood immediately starts boiling. “Oh, really? Well, go ahead, then. Interview away.”
He pulls out a little clip board with a very formal looking questionnaire on it and starts with the basics, repeating basically everything a police officer would be as King. I tell him he can skip all the questions related to drug addiction, criminality, alcohol abuse, whatever and check the appropriate box to save time – there is absolutely no reason this Court should detain Me for even one second longer and I Will be charging the Crown for every second I’m here.
He looks at Me with these big, wide eyes (and he’s wearing glasses which just emphasizes the expression more) like he’s getting really angry with Me.
“Listen, I don’t have to let You out of here.”
“Oh, really? Is that a threat? Sounds like a threat. Why don’t You go and ask Dan Powers how kindly I take to threats.”
“You know Dan Powers.”
“Yeah, You can say ‘hi’ to Wendy, too.”
“Oh, were You a client of the John Howard Society? No, I sued You for refusing Me subsidy because I don’t use government issued identification.”
He just kind of stares at Me for a second before turning back to his little clipboard, “highest level of education completed?”
“I’m an idiosyncratic autodidact.”
He raises his eyebrows, eyes still wide, “What the hell is that?”
“Triple Masters equivalent in Law, Commerce and Spirituality.”
“Oh. Do You have anywhere else You can stay other than 320 Via Chianti?”
“You mean like a timeshare in Cancun?”
“Is that a no?”
“Yes, that’s a no. I only have the one apartment.”
“Okay. Are You willing to stay at a shelter until the Matter is concluded?”
“Are You fucking with Me right now?”
Now I can tell he’s really not pleased with Me.
“No, I can tell You right now the Judge is not going to let You go back to an apartment that is less than fifty meters away from the victims.”
“You want to fucking bet!? You don’t get Me out of here or threaten Me with anymore of that bullshit, I Will sue Your ass, understand? If You don’t believe Me, go ask Dan and Wendy.”
“This entire thing is FRAUD You moron! The prosecutor should be getting arrested, so should the arresting officer. You find these charges on a public Record and I won’t believe that You are colluding with the City of Ottawa and My landlord, MHI. Look at the information, I have NO criminal record, they are trying SO hard to make Me look like a bad guy, they used My Young Offender Record which they are not allowed to do.”
“Oh, well, I can’t see any of that, I’ve just got this information in front of Me here.” (One sheet of paper.) But really, if You’re going to behave like this, why should I get You out? Because it’s Your fucking job, asshole – whether You like Me or not and if You don’t get Me out You are an incompetent fuck and I Wil sue You. Period. And I just spent time in cruel and inhumane living conditions, so it won’t be a small amount. Either get Me the fuck out of here, or get Me My fucking lawyer.”
“If I say no, who’s going to be Your surety, You need a surety.”
“I have the fucking right be My own surety! I’ll swear a fucking affidavit, I don’t care, just get Me out of here!”
And that is paraphrasing totally but I think it covers the ‘gist’ of Our conversation with reasonable accuracy before he more or less stormed off and I was left knocking on the door for the police to take Me back.
I go back to My cell for what seems like another eternity. Some One yells that the bus is leaving for jail now and initially, I’m terrified. The officers come and start letting out the Man in the cell beside Me. A few seconds later another officer comes and removes the Man in the other cell beside Me. I hear more and more distant clanging sounds as more and more People leave before it becomes eerily silent. No One comes for Me.
The John Howard Society is the organization that facilitates the relationship between Home for Good and the homeless person they are assisting with housing. The ‘goal’ was to get Me to consent to being released to a shelter so I would lose My apartment – that’s exactly what that fuck was trying to do and why I lost My shit with him. Stupid as fuck, too. He asks Me for My email and I tell him gnostic wisdom thrirty-seven at gmail dot com.
“Spell that for Me.”
“Gnostic, like the Word.” He just continues to stare at Me blankly, writing nothing. “G-N-O…”
You get the idea. Same thing with ‘wisdom’ when We got to Word two.
When I hear every One leaving and the Court quiet down, I’m finally feeling relieved and certain I am getting out for the first time since My talk with John Howard. I’m hopeful that Michael Spratt has heard about all of this and is doing something about it. Roughly fifteen minutes after every One else leaves, I’m called to see My counsel again.
This time, it’s a young looking blonde lady who was probably much older than she actually looks. She’s all smiles and very well presented in a nice, dark suit with red accents. The first thing she says to Me,
“Wow, no offense, but You are kind of old looking for a young offender?”
I laugh, “Oh, You caught that, did You?! Yeah, should NEVER have been used against Me.”
“So, I bet You are aching to get back to those cats?”
“I am!” I can feel emotions stirring inside Me and I have been like a ROCK the entire time I’ve been in here.
“Good, cause You are going home right now to see them, I’ve worked out a deal with the Judge.”
I can’t even describe the relief in that moment. She goes on to tell Me that the deal she has arranged is very Good, don’t let anything the Judge might say bother Me, and don’t speak at all. My first phone call Will be on Thursday, and if there is anything about the conditions I don’t like, We can talk about them after I get out and see about getting them changed. She concludes with,
“Again, just don’t say a Word, the deal is already done, We’re just waiting for Your signature, so bite Your tongue if prosecution says anything You don’t like.”
“Absolutely understood. I’ll file paperwork to deal with him later.”
“Exactly.”
I did have to go back to My cell and wait for the hearing about another ten minutes (which may only have been five) before a very friendly female officer came to release Me and escorted Me to the Court. It was an awkward walk with shackles on My feet but she was very Good natured about it when I kept tripping over My Self and just a very positive, friendly, optimistic demeanor that is not typical of police officers. She never acted like she was afraid of Me. She took off My cuffs before I entered the Court but not the shackles. I’m standing behind a little balcony like thing and the police officer sits down on a chair just beside but outside of the little cubical I’m in. I’m basically positioned at the side of the Court where defense counsel would be inside the court.
I recognize the Judge immediately but I can’t place him. I know I’ve been before him before and I’m searching My brain’s database to see if I can remember what it was about as he starts speaking. He is a little condescending when he reads off the conditions, as if he’s trying to make Me sound dangerous but the only conditions are ones I’m honouring anyway with the exception of a phone call to the John Howard Society. The other dude told Me at minimum I would have to have an ‘in person’ meeting with the surety and then as directed by him depending on how the first meeting goes. Once he’s done, he asks Me if I understand the conditions and agree to Honour them.
“Yes, I do. And I only have one question, may I know Your name, I’m not sure it was announced and I don’t see it on Your desk.”
He told Me but I couldn’t make out what he said and I didn’t Wish to ask again! He was sitting beside another Man in a suit and his disposition was actually pretty friendly with Me – he smiled briefly and it seemed sincere, I remember that. Finally, he concluded with to not come within five hundred meters of the victims.
At this point I have an obligation to object because I have to be honest and let the Judge know My apartment and living space is less than five hundred meters away, I cannot Honour that condition even if I Wished to do so, though I have not spoken or had contact with any of the victims since the alleged incident, and I don’t intend to start now. He looks to prosecution.
“Well, he does have a criminal Record, Sir, though the last Record does go back to 1992.”
I’m furious, but bite My tongue. The optimistic blond scurries in at this point (there was another lady there in her place, though). The judge just kind of grunts.
“Well, I see here that he made a first appearance. Then it looks like there was JPT scheduled and he failed to appear for that. Then it looks like a discretionary warrant was issued for failure to appear, is that correct? Is that the warrant You were Acting on, then, the discretionary failure to appear?”
“That’s correct, sir.”
“Okay.” He pauses for a moment before turning his attention to Me. “Okay, so then You understand that I’m also going to be withdrawing the charge for failing to appear for prints at the request of Crown, right? Because You gave prints last night, is that correct?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Okay. Then I’m going to order that You be released on five hundred dollars bail. Don’t worry, You don’t have to pay that, I’m going to accept Your Promise to Pay as long as You show up. Okay.”
“Yes, sir. Thank You, sir.”
“You’ll get a copy of all this paperwork and You Will have to Sign for the Promise to Pay before We can release to You Your possessions, is that clear?”
“Yes, sir. Is it possible to also get a transcript of this hearing so I know exactly what took place for My Records?”
At this point, the other lady that is not the blond Duty Counsel says, “Yes, don’t worry about that, We Will get You a transcript after the hearing and pass it along to You.”
“Okay, great, thank You.”
“Any other questions?”
“No, sir.”
“You are free to go.”
Then the officer comes over and escorts Me out and this time just tells Me to try and relax as she removes My shackles, baggie of possessions in hand also clutching a little device. Then she places the little device in front of Me which has just enough space to sign and a stylus attached to sign with. I sign My name and she asks Me if I would like to put on My shoes now or when I get the rest of My stuff. I don’t really listen or understand the question, I just say ‘now’ without really thinking, then stand up feeling much better and reach for the baggie of My possessions.
“Sorry, I can’t give this to You here, jurisdictional thing. You have to accept and open this off court property.”
I can honestly tell You I have no idea what this is about except to say that it is True, she would not let Me have My stuff until she had walked Me all the Way to the entrance and literally passed the baggie over the jurisdictional line between the outside world and the Courthouse, which is the turn-style thingy at security.
I opened it up immediately and My cigarette package was gone which was a little sad because I think there was a half or quarter of a joint in the bottom that I would have loved to smoke, but no cigarettes which is what I was really craving. As I walk outside the Courthouse, the blond lady is standing there, all smiles,
“Hurry and get home to Your cats, I’m sure they miss You!”
“I Will!”, I reply, “Thank You SO much!!!”
“No problem. Do You need a cigarette.”
“Oh, dear God, yes! Thank You SO much!”
I light the smoke immediately, just as a torrential downpour opens up the sky, rain coming down in buckets! I’m dressed in a thin t-shirt and jeans. I am amazed to not only find all My possessions except the cigarettes are in the baggie including all My change, everything was washed!!! My coffee cup was cleaner than I’ve seen it in a while, I’m guessing they put it through a dishwasher and they must have cleaned up the Fitbit watch, too (which is water resistant to fifty meters so working fine). I also happened to have a bunch of change that I just ‘randomly’ decided to grab before leaving the apartment for Our walk that day. I almost never carry money of any kind around with Me unless I’m actually planning to spend it on something. Couldn’t even tell You why I did. But it was bus fare to get home.
I finished My smoke under the dry canopy of the Courthouse but it wasn’t letting up by the time I was done, so I just started marching through the downpour. Nothing in the world could have ruined My Spirit in that moment and the water felt like the perfect Hollywood ending, the Spiritual rebirth, the cleansing nature of water washing away all the grime from the deplorable night away. It felt like the most wonderful rain I could Imagine.
Next edition, I’ll tell You about the reunion with Friends and all the Blessings that Will come from this Sacrifice.
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