If you are on the outside looking in, you might think that I’ve got it made. While I do have a good life — things are not as easy as they seem. For the last 14 years, I have had some kind of fucked up shit holding me down in one form or another. As soon as I think one hurdle out of the way, another comes to replace it.

For better or worse, here it goes…

It all started, 9/11/1997.

I was driving outside of Atlanta, to join the band The Spoits to tour the East Coast. I had a quarter of weed and 2 hits of acid on me. All clearly for personal use.

On a barren stretch of I16 (town of Soperton, Treutlen County, GA), I get pulled over by this redneck cop. I crotched the drugs, but this faggot cop actually put his hand down my pants to retrieve the drugs because (as he would later admit in court) “I had an obvious budge in my parts.”

They take me to jail, charge me with felony possession of LSD, possession on marijuana, speeding, and DUI (?).

The sheriff introduces me to his bondsman buddy (Wesley Wadley), who is more than happy to get me out of jail if I would raise the cash ($4000 on a $6000 bail – the max allowed by law is 10% of bail). I called a buddy in Atlanta and he brought the money down. I spent the night in jail, they confiscate my truck, took the 4k, gave me no paperwork, and let me out the next day. At the time, I only wanted to get the fuck out of there, so I paid the bond and left the truck.

1997 goes by and I never heard anything from them. Almost another year goes by and still nothing. I start thinking: Was this just a payoff and I’ll never hear from them again? I so, I’m fine with that.

Wrong!

Late at night in March 1998, I get a call from Wesley Wadley asking if I would be in court the next day. I tell him this is the first I’ve heard of this in 2 years, he says he’ll check on it, and then calls me back 10 minutes later to say it was a mistake. I needed to come in to sign some “continuance forms” in the next few days! Keep in mind, they had my correct address. If they had sent a summons, I would have gotten it.

So I went down a few days later to sign the “continuance forms”, I stepped behind the counter, they locked me up for failure to appear, took my 4k bail money, and took my truck.I would spend the next month in the county jail.

I hire some lawyer down there from jail, he goes to the post office and finds the letters they supposedly sent summoning me to court and they were stamped “not deliverable to this address” even though they HAD THE CORRECT ADDRESS ON IT! That was the scam the Sherriff Wayne Hooks had running down there for years: They would arrest people, charge outrageous bail bonds, their cousin at the post office would tamper with the letters, you’d miss court, they’d keep the money, and THEN run you through their meat grinder justice system! My lawyer showed the envelope to the judge and the let me free on bail till my trail.

The DA offered me a plea “bargain” of 10 years probation and 7000 dollars in fines just for the LSD. My lawyer advised me to plea “not guilty” because so much fucked up shit had happened, that I might be able to get off on a technicality.

While I was awaiting my next court date, my lawyer sends a letter to the bondsman reminding him of what the maximum GA state bond fee are. My truck and my money (less the 10%) are returned not long after.

After some legal wrangling, it’s time to go back to court and I’ve realized that there is no way to do anything to defend yourself in Soperton’s “Good Ole Boy Network”, so I ought to accept the 10 year plea.

Strangely enough, in the wake of getting our money back, all of a sudden the prosecutor has changed and (according to them) the plea deal next existed. The new prosecutor wants to “give me 5 years” – I wind up taking a new deal, that is 10 years of probation, $8,000 in fines, and 6 months in prison.

I plea guilty. I am now a felon.

In February 1999 I went in to begin my 6-month stint in the joint. During that time I broke my foot while working on the chain gang, was almost sentenced to 5 more years for an arson attempt, and generally had come to realize that prison life wasn’t for me.

In July of 1999, I got out of prison and was picked up by my fiancée. I returned to ATL life as normal, selling drugs, playing with my band, only now under the looming threat of probation – which meant: no drinking, no drugs, no leaving the state, no arrests, no fights, no bars, keep a normal job, and show up every month – none of which I was willing to do. So that made life pretty complicated.

In the weeks that passed, a strain in my relationship with my girl seemed to develop. We weren’t getting along. When one of my best friends came over to tell me that he’d fucking her the whole time I’d been locked up, I realized why.

I was absolutely livid. I couldn’t seem to get past the hatred I had for the world, Atlanta in particular. By my own admission, I had turned into a raging psychopath. Even my friends were scared of me, but I couldn’t believe my “friends” would stab me in the back. So, now here I was living in this town I now hated, but unable to move because of 10 years of probation.

I was fucked.

The only one good thing that did happen during that time is I started to get more involved with the adult Internet. When I went to jail, I had placed 2 links to porn sites on www.dickdelcious.com and had a check for $140 when I got out. I figured if you can make money when you are locked up, imagine what I could do if I applied myself!

To be honest, during this who period my chief source of income was DRUGS. If you needed weed, coke, and sometimes ecstasy – I was your man. Over time, the money from online porn started to rise, so I stopped selling coke. At one point, I even tried to quit selling weed but was talked out of it by my suppliers.

After 2 years of completing the “administrative” part of my probation I stay out of trouble, ao I’m released to “unsupervised”. Unsupervised means: no more visits, no leaving the state, no fines, or drug tests – just don’t get arrested.

That was all fine until July of 2002.

During this whole period, I had kept my story of Treutlen County posted on the Internet, hoping that maybe one day, somebody with power would read it and finally bring some heat down on these corrupt rednecks. That never happened, but someone was reading it: Sheriff Wayne Hooks himself. Now I realize, you may you have free speech, but as long as someone has power over you, you don’t really have it.

Unbeknownst to me, Sheriff Hooks had recently got Federal violation of civil rights charges and it now suited his needs to get anything off the Internet that would make his case look bad in court.

One July day in 2002, I get a summons from Treutlen County in the mail telling me I need to be down there in 3 days (it’s 300 miles away). I had no idea why they would want to fuck with me after this much time. I knew one thing I couldn’t do in 3 days: Pass A Drug Test!

I tried to see if I could postpone the meeting or even find out what it is about, to no avail. If I couldn’t get it postponed, I wanted to at least get my lawyer to accompany me, as I already know these cretins in South Georgia don’t play fair!

My South, GA attorney was in Europe and couldn’t go, so I sought the advice of an Atlanta lawyer. He told me it would be better not to show up, if the piss test would be dirty, which makes sense to me.

The day I was supposed to go down there, I gave myself a drug test, which came back clean (surprisingly) and I went on the lam. I spent the next 6 weeks sleeping in my van, stripper’s apartments, bars, and offices while I was waiting to see how this situation would sort out.

I finally hear back from my lawyer. He tells me that he spoke with the judge and that it was fine to reschedule to probation visit. I go back to my apartment for the first time in weeks. That night, I get picked up by the Atlanta police on a probation violation. The Judge had even lied to my lawyer.

They haul me off to the Dekalb County jail. The next morning, Sheriff Hooks himself picks me up to take me on the 300 mile drive back to Soperton. He was facing his own trial that next week. Needless to say, that 4-hour drive was damn near surreal. I was preparing to for him to pull the cruiser to the side of the road and beat me to death at any moment. As soon as I get to the Treutlen County jail, the probation cunt piss tests me, but by now weeks have passed and I am clean.

On August 22nd, the sheriff is convicted on federal depravation of human rights changes, gets house arrest and has to resign from law enforcement.

On October, 3rd I have to go to court for probation violation, after sitting in jail for 6 weeks. They charged me with failing a drug test, refusal to submit to a drug test, and failure to report. My lawyers ask why Treutlen probation felt compelled to call me down after all of this time. They produce a printed page containing what I had written about the corrupt sheriff and a picture of the “Bigger Than Ron Jeremy” CD (which depicts me doing a line {of sugar} off our drummers head). The dirty drug test charge gets dropped, the refusal to take a drug test gets dropped, but they stick me on the failure to report. I sentenced me to a year of supervised probation out of Atlanta.

In big city Atlanta, the probation officers have better things to do. When I first met with my new probation officer, she couldn’t believe that I had been given 10 years to start with, never mind all of the harassment of the last few weeks to coming out of Treuntlen County. I explained my position, what I had written on the Internet to pissed them off, and how the sheriff was now a felon. She seemed sympathetic and placed me on write-in probation immediately, meaning I’d only have to send in a letter once a month.

By this time, my Internet porn selling career was really flourishing. I was making more money than I knew what to do with. The band had broken up, I wasn’t selling drugs anymore, and didn’t have a girlfriend. Other than probation; there wasn’t anything tying me to Atlanta.

I needed to go.

I don’t know what had taken me so long to realize it, but The South sucks balls and really needs to catch up with the rest of the country.

Durning those next few months, I get the offer to buy into OCCash.com, so I fly out to California in the spring. I decide to do it and fly back to pack up and leave. Now keep in mind, I still have 5 years left on probation and I’m not supposed to be leaving the state!

In my last few weeks in Atlanta, I set up a very elaborate series of fake voicemail boxes, bogus addresses, fake IDs, and phony employers — juts in case probation ever comes to call.

Spring, 2003 I am out in California fulltime. I first lived in Huntington Beach, but didn’t really like it, so I moved up to LA. I really love LA; people who talk trash about it need to get a clue.

Now keep in mind, this whole time in am out in California every time I go to the DMV, get a traffic ticket, or leave the country – I am waiting for the other shoe to drop, have a warrant turn up, and get dragged back to Soperton!

Yes, I know that while on probation, you aren’t supposed to be doing things like leaving the country, drinking, or smoking pot. If a mans average lifespan is 70 years, there is no way I am giving them one out of every seven days for a stupid drug charge!!

You gotta’ live! Damnit!

In spite of everything, on Feburary 7th 2009, I actually finished 10 years of probation! I couldn’t believe it. Yes, I had beat the system, but it really sucks having to live every day knowing that this all could be taken from you and you’d wind up back in prison!

In March 2008, I had my official “Off Probation” party and I was free — finally free!

Or was I?

I admit, that I did go a bit crazy drinking and partying when the whole probation deal was done, but it was nothing I hadn’t done before.

Just a month later, in April 2009 I started to wake up late at night drenched in mysterious pools of sweat. At first, I thought it was just my nerves or maybe partying. As the weeks went on, my condition worsened.

I stared to Google “night sweats” and saw hat there were three conditions commonly associated with them: menopause, tuberculosis, and AIDS. Needless to say, I freaked out because there was no way it was menopause, nobody gets tuberculosis anymore, so that left only one thing….

I went down to the AIM clinic the next day and go checked for HIV. Fortunately, I was negative. I chalked it all up to nerves, and for a while, the symptoms seemed to fade.

By the end of May, I couldn’t ignore it anymore. I was starting to feel really run down and was losing weight, but still wasn’t convinced that it was anything serious, so I went to see a doctor. He checked my breathing, my chest was badly obstructed – he thought I should go directly to the emergency room.

I was so sick that one of my lungs had actually already collapsed.

I get to the emergency room and was admitted immediately,  I still didn’t think I was that sick. They start running all kings of test on my X-rays,TB, HIV, bloodwork, immune response, and everything checked out normal, but I keep getting sicker and sicker.

X-rays show that I have a massive effusion in my pleural cavity. They drain the liquid out me by sticking some spikes in my back (I am awake for this), but the infection if still keeps coming. The doctors think it might be TB and order a second round of test that prove inconclusive.

Halfway through my stay, I have to get a major operation (a trorasostamy) to remove the infection from my lungs. The operation is a success, but the infection still keeps coming. If the source of the infection can’t be identified, it will happen again.

After being in the hospital of 18 days, they diagnose me with “valley fever” and am released. The day after I get home, a blood test used to screen for TB came back positive. To find out if I actually had TB, I would have to wait 6 weeks for the results of my biopsy to come back. To be safe, I was placed on a regimen of anti-TB meds.

In July, the results of my biopsy came back:

I had tuberculosis.

I probably had contracted TB somewhere overseas in my travels or (even more ironicly) in prison. TB an airborne disease that anyone can get, one-out-of-3 persons in the world have been exposed to it, it requires something to wear you body down (in my case it was drugs/alcohol) enough to become active. I had an atypical pleural TB, which isn’t in your lungs, so I couldn’t cough and spread it. If you hung out with me in that period of time you are fine – I wasn’t contagious.

I spent the whole summer of 2009 sober. I wasn’t even smoking weed. Honestly, once the TB meds had kicked in I felt pretty much normal, aside from the pain from the surgery.

If you have been reading this far, you probably realize: I like to drink. I can’t help it. I suffer from a form of social anxiety. I am a very quiet and shy person naturally, it takes some alcohol to bring be out of my shell. When I am sober, even the most mundane of social scenarios make me nervous and fidgety.  If you know me, that may seem ridiculous, but it’s true.

One of the cruel tricks TB meds play on you is they completely cure the disease (if taken properly) but destroy your liver at the same time. The state also sicks the health department on you. It’s a total pain in the balls and actually reminds me quite a bit of probation!

The last 6 months of 2009, I have been getting complete blood workups done once a month and as of December 17, 2009 I was completely cured and my liver survived.

So, I am free to live my life again, right?

Wrong!

On December 18 2009, while preparing for an Xmas Christmas party, I tripped walking on some steps in my backyard and re-broke the same foot I had broken in jail. I will be spending the next 6 weeks in a cast and on crutches.

Now I know a bum foot is not a big deal compared to felony convictions, backstabbing friends, corrupt sheriffs, and tuberculosis, but it is just a continuation of living the last 14 years one-crisis-to-another.

I accept responsibility for my own problems I’ve created, but this run of bad JuJu is ridiculous.

And it leaves me to wonder…

What’s next?!

Jay

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?

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