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Part 2: March 1999 – July 1999 – Prison Boot Camp

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You might remember my last article “The Good Ole’ Boy Network” before you read this one – where I went through an unbelievable amount of bullshit in a Truetlen County (a crooked corrupt county in South Georgia). Where I left you last I had just been sentenced to 6 months in a prison boot camp for a 1/4 oz. of when and 2 hits of LSD – first offense…

On February 15, 1999 I was sentenced to 120-180 days in a Probation Detention Center (a PDC – Emanuel Probation Detention Center in Twin City, GA- near Swainsboro). I was allowed to stay free until I had to turn myself in to the Sheriffs Office at 8:30 AM in Soperton, GA. I stayed awake all night the night before and my friend Johny “Cold Beer” and my girlfriend started the 3.5 hour drive to South Georgia at 4AM.

I arrived at the Sheriffs Office at 8AM and sat saying my last goodbyes to my girlfriend until 8:30 when this inbred Deputy Sheriff told me it was time to go and put me in the back of a cop car. I wasn’t handcuffed and I rode in the front seat of the deputy’s car with a police dog in the back. On the way he stopped at a county garage and went inside to get oil and left me in the car with it running, upon arrival to the center this moron left me outside (again with the car running) for another 20 minutes. Either time I could have just gotten behind the wheel and driver the fuck out of there – this is the kind of idiots we are dealing with here.

When he came back he drove the car around to the intake area, where I was greeted by a Department of Corrections Sargent who looked like he was the mutated offspring of the banjo boy from “Deliverance”. Before I even stepped out of the car the verbal abuse began – he began insulting me, degrading me, threatening me, and giving me orders military style (“sir yes sir” and all that BS) that was just the beginning of a hazing process that would make a drunken frat hazing look like an etiquette class.

I was stripped searched, de-loused and went through just about every kind of physical humiliation you could imagine, then they made me stand in a room at attention for about 4 hours with several other inmates staring at a wall with a sign on it that had the 12 “General Orders” and read it over and over again. I stood at attention the whole first day as they went through the intake process, and then I was admitted to the general population. The whole first week we had to sit in a room with the other new inmates while staff member after staff member came in and explained the “program” and continued the cycle of abuse.

My only contact with the outside world consisted of letters and one 10 minute phone call on Monday night once a week. Summer was coming, it was South Georgia, there was no air conditioning, and we had to spend all day dressed in hot jumpsuits at all times. The staff was on your ass 24/7 over one thing or another – punishment was swift and severe. You had to shave every whisker off your face each morning with a shitty disposable razor that was only replaced once a week. Every day at 6AM, 8AM, 10AM, 11:30AM, 2PM, 5PM, 6:30 PM, and 9:30PM the entire inmate population would have to stand at attention silently by their bunks while the staff took about 20 minutes to walk around the center and do a count of the inmates. Each Friday there was major inspections – sometimes you would have to stand at attention for 2-3 hours.

After the first week I began work on the “chain gang” – doing various shitty jobs no slack jawed yokel would do around there even for money (Twin Cities is not exactly an employment mecca) – cleaning up around the dump, dumpster diving, and clearing land. The inmate labor is contracted out to the surrounding counties for less money then they would have to pay than if they actually gave some redneck a job. Then, at the end of an 8 or nine hour shift, we would return to the center, get strip searched to make sure you didn’t bring anything back in (anyone who would take a job where you have to look up other guy’s asses every day is definently a butt pirate) , would be forced to go on a 4.5 mile forced run, endured more abuse from the staff (locker searches, inspections, drills), eat dinner (yum!! – I lost about 20 pounds), do more miliary drills, get about 30 minutes of free time – then lights out – they got you up at 5:30 AM each day.

One thing I never understood about the concept of the chaingang is how it serves the interest of public safety sending 12 pissed off felons out in the community with axes with one unarmed correction officer. At several points during my incarceration I thought about just cutting his head off and going home.

On my fourth week there I broke my right foot while jogging on Sunday night. The pain was so serious I could barley walk and other inmates helped carry me inside. I reported my injury to medical first thing the next morning. After a very brief examination of my injury the nurse told me that “I was faking it and if I was getting paid 10 dollars and hour to go out and work that I wouldn’t be coming to her with this crap” and sent me off to work on the chaingang again that day.

That day I mowed a field (probably 200 yards x 200 yards) with a heavy push lawn mower for 8 hours and a broken foot, all while this sadistic corrections officers sat in the shade, chewed tobacco, laughed at me, and threatened me with disciplinary action if I didn’t pick up the pace. The next day my foot had swollen up so much I couldn’t barley put on my shoe. Again I went to medical, only to be told that there was nothing wrong with me, and I was sent back into slavery for the day. This went on day after day for a week until I finally convinced them that something was wrong and I was excused from the chain gang, but for some stupid reason I still had to go on the 4.5 mile run each afternoon, stand at attention 8 times a day, and do the military drills. While the rest of the inmates went out to work they made me sit in a room facing a wall for nine hours a day in a chair – no reading, no sleeping – nothing – just sitting there.

Finally two and a half weeks later I finally convinced them to get me an X-Ray. They transported me to Riedsville Maximum Security Prison, and the x-ray confirmed what I had been saying all along – my foot was fractured. So for the last 14 days I had been marching, doing 4.5 mile runs, and standing at attention on a broken foot. My leg was put in a cast and I walked with the aid of crutches. For the next 6 weeks every day while the other inmates went out to work I sat like a vegetable in the room 9 or 10 hours a day – after a while I was looking forward to returning to life as a slave.

After six weeks they removed my cast and sent me straight back on the chain gang, no period of recovery – I still could barley walk because my foot was so stiff, but I was glad not to be sitting in that god damned room while time ebbed.

After a few more weeks I had about a month or so of my sentence to complete and disaster struck again. The inmates are housed in four dorms (60 prisoners to a dorm) and one day the trash can in the dorm caught on fire because someone left a burning cigarette in the trash (it was forbidden to smoke in the dorms). I was the first to spot it and took the cover off in an attempt to extinguish it. I put the fire out, but the room still was blue with smoke – a guard came in and asked what the hell was going on. There was no way out of it so I explained what had happened. The guard got really pissed off and made the whole dorm line up. Everyone in the dorm was to be punished, unless someone came forward and turned in the person who started the fire. Some of the other inmates tried to blame me for starting the fire because I had explained the obvious to the guard, and they said I was a “snitch”. These same inmates all made written statements saying they saw me put the cigarette in the trash, even though I don’t smoke. I was the scapegoat for the fire.

After the warden read the statements, I was sent to the hole (24 hour a day solitary lockdown) for starting the fire. While in the hole, the warden came in and explained that he was planning on revoking the remainder of my probation (10 years) and sending my to prison for destruction of state property. I was terrified…here I was with no contact with anyone who could exonerate me and a bunch of stupid happy cons happy that they aren’t the ones going down for it laying around in the dorms.

Other than the fear of going up the river for 10 years, in a kind of sick way – in liked the hole. It gave me a chance to catch up on my masturbation, I didn’t have to deal with anyone else, and the staff stayed out of your face. After about a week of being in the hole you begin to forget if it’s night or day. You are in a room with a steel bed, a toilet, a sink, and an intercom that would go to the main control room. Every once in a while I would get on the intercom, in what I thought was the middle of the night and fuck with the corrections officers, saying something like:

“Good evening and thanks for listening to W-HOLE Radio being broadcast from lovely segregation unit #2 here in scenic Twin Cities, GA…Today in news: well, we have no idea what happened. Today in sports: we have no idea who played. Today’s weather: we have no idea, we haven’t been outside. The weather in the hole is a balmy 80 degrees and will remain that way through the rest of today, next week, and next year…and now for a brief selection from Kenny G doing ‘Just the Two of Us’.”

Then a voice would blare back at me to shut the fuck up…but what the hell are they gonna do – throw me in the hole?

After a week and a half some other inmates finally came forward and signed statements that I wasn’t the one who started the fire and I was let out of the hole. I spent the last month or so of my sentence just dealing with the usual day to day bullshit and slavery until Friday, July 16th when I was released. At 8:30 AM they let me walk out the front door where I was met by my useless piece of shit ex-girlfriend (who had been fucking my even more useless piece of shit best friend the whole time I was in), and I was a free man again…YAY!! I’ll tell you one thing the Georgia Department of Corrections left me feeling anything but correct…oh well…life sucks then you die, go to hell, and get screwed again…

The Good Old Boy Network

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So what’s this all about then? This is about an incedent that sucked nearly 13 years from my life. It’s about (Planet) Soperton – a.k.a. Treutlen County, GA.

What the fuck is a Soberton? You might ask. Its the most fucked up place west of Afghanistan; nestled at the crossroads of Deliverance and Midnight Express, where the clocks have been rolled back in time at least a half a century, while boasting a civil rights record that would make China blush. It’s a shit town with no industry, other than snagging speeders off three mile long stretch of interstate they’ve conveniently annexed, then financially / spiritually torturing them and eventually putting them to work on the county roads in prison chain gangs.

This story features a corrupt sheriff, cruel and unusual punishment, Ben Affleck, a haunted jail, crooked bondsman, the LSD, the FBI, mail fraud, corruption, corruption, and more corruption.

If nothing else, maybe some of you can learn something from my misfortune and take faith that life can land you a tough blow but you can still rise above. Though you may reside in the United States, if you are on the right stretch of interstate, in the wrong county — you are only one traffic stop away from a legal twilight zone.

September 11, 1997 – Happy Birthday Dude…You’re fucked!!
On September 11, 1997 I was traveling east on I-16 around 4 PM en route to Savahana to meet up with a band I played with (the Spo-its) we were going to dup to New York to record and on the way back I was stopping in Myrtle Beach to do some surfing. I was about and hour and half away from Savahna in the middle of nowhere. I looked in my rear view mirror to see a police car with hidden flashing lights mounted in the grill signaling me to pull over. I started to think to myself, “this is going to be one short vacation.”

I pulled to the side of the road, stopped the car, and stepped out to speak with the officer in a co-operative and non-threatening manner. Without even telling me why I was being stopped, the officer asked me to step to the rear of the vehicle. He promptly began to frisk me – patting me down, telling me a had a “big lump in my shorts (where the drugs were hidden), and eventually sticking his hands directly in my pants where he retrieved about a half an ounce of marijuana, a 2 hits of LSD and some Xanax — all in one plastic bag. The amount of time that had elapsed between the actual stop and the discovery of the drugs was no more than two minutes. The reason given for the search of my person was the “my fly was unzipped”. I was never read my rights at any point. I then was left in the back of his car, which was turned off, handcuffed for approximately two hours while the Sheriff arrived and they tore through my vehicle. I sat in back of the car in the blazing afternoon sun the entire time and the heat rose to the point where I nearly passed out. Following the search of by vehicle the Deputy returned to his cruiser and informed me that I was being charged with possession of LSD, possession of marijuana, speeding and DUI even though no sobriety tests were ever performed. At that point I was transported to the Truetlen County jail and booked. I was not given a phone call or an opportunity to seek council. I submitted to a urine test and answered questions under what I felt was pressure to the effect that things would get worse or I could get hurt if I didn’t co-operate.

September 12, 1997 – The Bondsman
After spending one night in jail I was taken out of my cell and brought back into the Sheriff’s office and was informed that by bail was $6,000. Sheriff Hooks introduced me to the local bondsman named Wesley Wadley. I did not make any calls asking for a bondsman, nor was I offered a choice of who I could use. Mr. Wadley explained that I could be released right if: 1. He could hold my 86 Ford F150 as a property bond, to be kept at the Sheriff’s Department. 2. He would take the $450 dollars I had in my wallet at the jail. 3. Upon My return home I would have to send his and additional $1,200. He explained that I needed to put up at least $3,000 of money and property to get released. I’m not sure where this corrupt bastard learned his math, but last time I checked 10% of $6,000 is $600. Wanting to get out of jail, I agreed to what I believed to be his rather ridiculous conditions to get let out and upon my return home I sent the $1,200. All of the staff in the Sheriff’s Department were fully aware of Mr. Wadley’s activities. My initial thoughts were that they were that they were just taking my money, and that I may never see a court date – it was just a payoff. I didn’t hire a lawyer, although the whole situation did seem odd at the time.

November 1997 – Recovering My Vehicle
I stayed in touch with Mr. Wadley and in November and asked to make arrangements to recover my truck because I needed it to get back and forth to work. In order to recover my truck Mr. Wadley asked that I bring an additional $1,600. I agreed and met him at the jail where my truck was and I paid him what he asked. Again, the Sheriff’s Department was fully aware of this. At that time I asked about when my court date would be. They said they did not know, and I would be notified via mail. I have found out since that they do know when I would a least be scheduled for calender call, seeing as they only have Superior Court once every six months and the calender is set well in advance.

March 18, 1998 – The Phone Call with Mr. Wadley
I was at home on the night of March 18th when my phone rang about 11:00 PM. It was Mr. Wadley on the phone calling asking if I was ready to be in court the next morning at 8 AM. Keep in mind I live in Atlanta which is 3 hours from Soperton. At that time I had not received any notice from the court to appear. My address had not changed since my arrest and I get all of my other mail without difficulty. I told him I had not received notice, but I would come anyway. He was very understanding and explained that there must have been some kind of mistake. I told him I would be there, but he told me just to go to work and that he would see that I would get a continuance. He asked that I phone him the next day just to confirm. After ending the phone call, I called him again just to make sure that was OK. He assured me it was.

March 19, 1998 – Phone Call with Mr. Wadley 2
The next day I contacted Mr. Wadley and he said everything was fine, and that I just needed to come in and sign some “continuance forms”. I told him I would be in over the weekend, he said that would be fine.

March 22, 1998 – The Scam
I arrived at the Sheriff’s Department on March 22 to sign the “papers”. They asked me to step inside and proceeded to lock me up for failure to appear. I told them that I was told a continuance was filed. I asked to speak with Mr. Wadley and he explained that he had nothing to say to me. It was at that point that I realized I had been scammed. The reason my bail was so high was that they never planned on sending the court notice, so that my money would be forfeited when I did not appear. The Sheriff is the only one who can decide who can do bonds in a town and I am quite sure that he gets a cut of the action from Mr. Wadley. I’m sure the clerk or someone at the post office is also involved to make sure that the notices to not reach the proper destination. They decided to hold me on no bond and they took my money from the bond.

March 23 thru March April 3, 1998 – County Jail Once again I was not given a phone call until Tuesday, March 24th at 8:30 PM. Two phone calls a week were only allowed on Tuesday and Thursday nights. I would seem that would make that almost impossible to get representation. That is what they want. They want you to lose hope and just take what they have to give. I was lucky enough to get a friend in Atlanta to hire a lawyer, Tommy Smith, from the area. He had to drive down and pay him, then the lawyer had to call the jail in order for me to speak with him, I still was not allowed to call anyone. During my two week stay in jail I was never given a toothbrush and we were fed only two meals a day which at times consisted of wild game. It’s clear that the jail makes money by taking money from the state per inmate and profiting by giving inmates as little as possible. I have later come to find to find this is a common practice with the Georgia Department of Corrections. My first conversation with Mr. Smith was over the phone when I explained to him I felt I had been robbed by the bondsman and his associates and I was stuck in jail with no bail. He agreed to come down to the jail and meet me the next day. Several hours later one of the jailers (a guy named Jason about 18 years old and so inbred that he was related to himself) took me aside and began to yell at me about how that Mr. Wadley was an honest man and that he would never rip me off, and threatened me with violence if I didn’t keep my mouth shut. It was then that I realized that they had listened in or taped my conversation with my lawyer. I am sure if this was investigated, one would find proof of this. On April 3 Mr. Smith got me a bond hearing with Judge H. Gibbs Flanders. Mr. Smith had gone to the clerks office where my notice to appear was still sitting there in my file. It was addressed to the correct address where I had been living for years, but was stamped with an “undeliverable to the address” stamp on it. Upon further investigation of the letter, we saw that it had never even been postmarked in Atlanta. There was no Atlanta post mark. Mr. Smith, Sheriff Wayne “Gator” Hooks, the DA, and myself all stood before the judge. Mr. Smith presented the Judge with the envelope and showed how it matched the address on my drivers license which they were holding. He said the fact that I hadn’t received it was inexplicable. Sheriff Hooks acting as sort of a second prosecutor started interjecting that Mr. Wadley had called me and that I knew to be there. Mr. Wadley was not in the courtroom. This became the pattern for all future appearances; the Sheriff prosecuted me alongside the DA. For a The Judge agreed to let me go again on $10,000 bond after Mr. Hooks had a fit when he thought I might go free. It was then I realized Sheriff Hooks is Judge, Jury, and Executioner in Truetlen County. Everyone bows to his whims. Everyone is afraid of him. As a plea bargain the DA offered me 10 years probation and a fine on the LSD charge. I had just hired Mr. Smith he said to plead not guilty for the time being till he had a chance to look into the facts. If he didn’t think we had a case, he agreed to accept the DA’s offer. The DA did not oppose this. I was released when my bond was posted. When I returned home I had lost my job.

May 1998 – Recovering Stolen Money
Mr. Smith investigated Georgia bond laws and saw that Mr. Wadley had violated laws concerning bonds. A bondsman can not ask for more than 10% by law. He sent a letter to Mr. Wadley reminding him of the regulations and treating legal action if the money was not returned. Mr. Wadley, knowing he had been caught, sent Mr. Smith $2500 and the money was returned to me, minus my lawyers cut.

June 1998 – The DA Shuffle
Mr. Smith advised me to take the DA’s offer. I said that was fine. Upon contacting the Truetlen DA’s office they told my lawyer that that offer had never been made, and any plea would have to include jail time. I am quite sure the Sheriff was pulling the DA’s strings and using the legal system to get back at me because he had to had back his cut of the money. I have never been convicted of any serious crime, and the best they DA could offer is 10 years probation, a stiff fine, and 120-180 in a detention center. I find it suspicious that the DA raised the ante after my confrontation with the bondsman. Once again, they are a tight group – the “good ‘ol boy” network was in effect and I was fucked. July 1998 – Motion to Suppress Because no reasonable ground could be reached Mr. Smith filed a motion to suppress with the court. We wanted to plea out. The terms were just too unreasonable, and Mr. Smith (or any other lawyer) had actually heard of a plea agreement getting worse. Mr. Smith tried to question the validity of the stop. Officer Corban took the stand and his testimony did not match the actual events of the stop. In Mr. Corbans words “Mr. Quinlan stepped out of the vehicle, when asked what was in his pocket, he explained he has LSD and pot in his pocket and proceeded to reach for it himself and hand it over”. He just recited to procedure for a proper “Terry Stop” verbatim. He lied. Knowing that if I was put on the stand it would be my word against his, and with no witnesses or cameras I did not take the stand and we lost the motion.

August, 1998 – More Tricks
In August of 1998 we were set for trial. Tommy had filed a leave of absence with the clerk for the entire month of August, as he would be in Europe. In August the court sent me a notice to appear for trial, even though my lawyer could not attend. I called Mr. Smith’s law firm and they had my case continued.

January, 1999 – The Sheriff Strikes Back
When my trial neared in January I knew that we had to work out a deal with the DA. Through Mr. Smith we presented the DA and the Judge with a virtual mountain of evidence to show how much I had done for myself. By this time it was almost a year and a half after my initial arrest and I had stayed out of trouble. I presented the courts with 30+ page presentations filled with character references from clients and family, a letter of explanation, proof that I owned my own business, lists a AA/NA meeting I had attended, a professional drug evaluation, tax records, and results from clean drug tests. I also included contact information, so that everything in my package could be verified. I doubt anyone has brought so much to the table seeking a plea agreement in that county. Mr. Smith met with both the DA and the Judge, personally delivering the materials I had prepared. He negotiated with the DA to get the jail time dropped. Every time the two parties would almost reach a reasonable agreement the DA would call the Sheriff and the Sheriff would reject it and would insist that I serve 5 years in prison. All of my materials were never even presented to him, I’ve barley spoken 5 words to him, however, I did throw a wrench is his nice little money making scam and now he’s using the courts as a vehicle to exact revenge.

February 12, 1999 – My Day in Court
When speaking with my lawyer before my court date he said I had three choices:

1. Take the case to trial. I was informed that the sheriff will get angry with juries that don’t deliver guilty verdicts. The town is small and corrupt – I wouldn’t stand a chance. If we lost I would get my five years.

2. I could plea “straight up” to the charges and throw myself at the mercy of the Judge who is also probably fears the Sheriff, and it could yield unpredictable results.

3. I could accept the “plea bargain” though it was unfair, excessive, and biased. At least then I would know the worst case scenario.

Weighing my options I took the “plea bargain”, seeing it as the less of three evils. I got 6 months in a boot camp, over $4,000 in fines, 10 years of probation, and a double suspension of my drivers license. Aftermath I began serving my time in boot camp in March. It was the most humiliating experience of my entire life…I broke my foot during my incarceration and was denied medical attention for weeks, among other horror stories of being locked up is South Georgia, the scope of which could be another full article. I was released in late July and was forced to start my whole life over again. Since then it has been nothing but an uphill battle, and I still am struggling to put the pieces of my life back together. The end result of my little run in with the Department of Corrections did not leave me feeling correct at all; the years of stress has given me a pretty negative outlook on life and a system system riddled with corruption. The advice I would have to give to anyone is: if you’re driving to Savahana down I16 – don’t let this happen to you…the railroad goes on, and on, and on…

Have your own story about anyone in this article?

Post in the comments.

Maximus Entertainment

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A number of bands have tried to expose Maximus Entertainment (aka Atlantic Pacific entertainment) in the past only to be threatened by the ex-con shady ass owner / CEO Robert Devine. The man is a complete psychopath, who threatened that if “they didn’t take the articles about how Maximus Entertainment had screwed them over” he would call the police on them / threaten to sue / have a private investigator “look into what they were doing” and call the cops and have “their door kicked in” because they probably had some marijuana in their apartment.

Now it is many years after the fact and I would like to publish one bands story, whom Maximus Entertainment (and Robert Devine) tried to “manage out of existance” and bully when they decided to speak up.

If you are solicited by a guy name Robert Divine, that works with a band booking / music management company named Maximus Entertainment (formerly Atlantic Pacific Entertainment), do not do business with this prick. The guy is a scam artist who runs a shiesty telemarketing operation that preys on hungry bands. They promise professional representation, “shopping them to music conventions”, booking tours for them, getting a record deal or about a million other bullshit stories. His Modus Operandi is to ask for $300.00 (or as much as he thinks he can get – it probably has gone up by now) and will do NOTHING for you. That’s right he will take that money and do NOTHING! The guy DOES talk a mean game on the phone, so watch out!

You may as well take your money and burn it.

The fact is, the guy is a greedy, incompetent, lying bastard and a scam artist. He is only after easy money, does not care how he does it. He has no clue about what’s going on in music today, is not afraid to waste your time, and has NO real connections in the music business.

I wouldn’t be so pissed about this, had I called him. The fact is: he came to us with a fist full of empty promises. From what I understand, he is still HEAVILY soliciting bands for this same scam. If you look on the website www.MaximusEntertainment.com you will see where it says, “Representing World Class Talent Since 1987″. Here’s a little fact you need to know Robert Divine Aka Atlantic Pacific Entertainment: This lying fuck in prison from 1989 for a felony drug dealing conviction. I guess now he is running another criminal racket. That doesn’t even matter, if they are trying to run an honest business…cool, but that is not the case here!! He makes his living booking such dinosaur bands such as Nazareth, Molly Hatchet, Rick Derringer, and Georgia Satellites that he sold drugs to in the 80s.

Many bands have contacted about them, asking what they’ve been doing for us. So, that is the whole reason I’ve spent this much time exposing this scam. I’m sure he’s pulling plenty of shit I don’t know about too!! If you are in a band don’t let these idiots waste your time and money, like they did for me. I’m not so pissed about the money, these assholes effectively killed my promising career in music just as it was starting to take off.

Now in 2009 it seems they are still pulling the same shit, only now having expanded this scam to California and Florida. Their main office is still in Austin, Teaxas, where I am sure he is not allowed to leave as a condition of his parole. He still appears to be swindling bands and leaching off dreams almost 10 years later.

Fuck Maximus Entertainment (aka Atlantic Pacific entertainment) and Robert Divine.

The man is a human parasite.

Sugar Babys Houston

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Dear Admin/Author,
One of my clients brought to my attention that this blog post from 2009 came up in a search for our store, and so I thought I would leave my own comments.

First, I assume you found us online by doing a search for Sugarbabies, Sugar Daddies or something similar considering your general topics of choice (which we will not go into), and decided to simply pick on some random business just for fun.

You obviously have never been anywhere NEAR our building, as we do indeed have wheelchair access, and there is no structural or physical way anyone could “fall head on into” the kitchen from the outside or inside the store. Had you ever actually been here, we all know you wouldn’t have found any needles, rats, excrement, maggots, and of course no mongoloid-herion-freaks with tuberculosis as you so vividly described. I also don’t carry a gun, nor do I remember receiving a copy of a police report that supposedly put you in jail for 2 weeks. What I do carry is the number in my rolodex for a great attorney (and frequent client), who would be happy to discuss the definition and legal consequences of libel with you for publishing “defamation by written or printed word.” That’s a definition for you right there…consider it a freebie.

While it might have been pure entertainment for you to post what you did, never thinking it would ever get back to us, you can’t simply go around making disgusting, malicious comments about a business you’ve never been to. You CAN kindly remove the post in question now or hear from that great attorney of mine. I was able to pull your contact info through a quick search online.

Quite sincerely-
The owner of Sugarbaby’s Cupcake Boutique in Houston