Enough stalling......... What really happened---->
I was released on July 7th from Federal Prison.
Yeah... you read right.
A recipient of 3 diagnosis of TBI (Traumatic Brain Injury)... I have not accessed these memory banks prior to the last four months of imprisonment.
During this period of time, I was reminded... and educated on an entire slice of history and my life that was buried in my subsconscious.
Even following a stay in an amnesia center, and work with 3 memory loss groups, things remained buried, until the school of hard knocks beat the shit out of me, and I was told of my past life in glorious (and spine chilling) detail..... forced to relive traumas and face demons already slaughtered.
What happened to Uncle Vito 4 months ago
On March 8th, I finished an online Therapy session with my Psychologist. Sessions that help me face the buried details of 2 comas.... one a very prolonged sleep that left me disabled physically and mentally. A previous coma lasted only 4 days and only affected my mind, leaving me with amnesia, and attending a memory loss group for years.
A second accident in 2003 left me in a coma for 5.5 weeks.... with every bone in my body broken except skull, right arm and right leg. OPh yeah... and a new TBI diagnosis and another battle with amnesia and memory loss.
I healed, and used Second Life, the virtual world to learn to communicate, and I became Vitolo the Vaporist.
I paid my huge debt to the Universe by doing what you all know me for..... helping Terminally Ill, Low Income, MMJ Patients to feel as well as I do.
Back to the original premise:
I left the therapy session,and went to see the Doctor..... March 8th.... whew... what a fucking day that was.
I left the Doctor's office, and Dusty and I went to the Post Office to collect the mail.
DUSTY: a true hero, that deserves all of the respect that my Forum Family will feel for him shortly.
Car left running as I went in to check the mail... (nobody would willingly open the car door with a 110 pound Dusty on duty!)
I walked out of the Post Office in my typical way... eyes to the ground to secure proper placement of my cane's tip and to avoid obstacles that my double vision might compromise.
A car screeched to a stop within an inch of my shins.
Mortified, I lifted my eyes to evaluate the danger.
As my eyes lifted, I saw bright red dots of light, moving about in tight circles on my chest and mid-section... never a good sign, I looked around to see 2 dozen U.S. Marshals dressed in Camouflage, Bullet-Proof armor, Floppy Desert Storm hats and Balaclavas (ski masks)... all pointing Assault Rifles at me. The driver of the car held a pistol trained on my chest, shouting for me to drop "the weapon" (they had been studying my online profile, and had learned of my "cane defense lessons" for disabled seniors of low income status).
Within seconds, I was battered by a number of Marshals... chained... and thrown on the hood of my running vehicle (car runs all day, to keep Dusty comfortable).
Dusty went into attack mode, as his Daddy was beaten by a dozen men.
they had me eventually on the ground... hands chained behind my back with ankles in leg chains, as I looked up at them trying unsuccessfully to enter the car.
They tried one Marshall at each of the 4 doors to trick Dusty... but Dusty was too fast.... he was everywhere that a U.S. Marshall's hand was at the same time.
Feds are allowed to kill an animal that hampers the "take-down" of a suspect..... but a technicality saved Dusty's life.
A Fed cannot shoot into a car with the motor running with civilians standing around nearby.
I offered to talk to Dusty, promising that I had the voice and words to calm him... but I was not trusted to do so.
They never got to look at my cell phone or wallet, which was guarded by a 110 pound German Shepherd.
I told them my best buddy's phone number, and they called him to drive my car and dog to the dog pound.
Bitten 4 times, Juan had the balls to save Dusty and drive him while escorted by a half dozen Federal cars, where Dusty was scheduled for termination... as a dangerous beast. ( He had just watched a dozen men beat up his Daddy.... not dangerous... loyal!)
Later on Dusty was rescued from Euthanasia by a kind soul.. and he will be with me in a week.
I was without ever being told my charge, delivered to a U.S. Marshal Detention Center in Florence, Arizona , where I was placed into Covid Quarantine for 2 weeks.
Later I was moved to Federal Prison in Tucson, still without a charge.
What I did to enrage the Authorities
I finally was told why I was in this spot.
This was all buried in unseen memories buried after two comatose experiences... and was foreign to me.
In
1979, I lived in a duplex, and would get Marijuana from my neighbor.
One day, Federal Agents approached me, asking questions about this neighbor.
When I told them I did not know what they were asking about, they told me their story.... and offered me compensation to corroborate and acknowledge/authenticate their wild tale of how this neighbor drove Marijuana across State lines.
Enraged at the dishonesty and approach of the Govt.'s representatives, I went straight to my neighbor and told him all that had been said.
I did not know that his wife was a Federal Informant.... married to him for 5 years to gather info for the Feds.
She went straight to the Feds, to tell them that Uncle Vito had "tipped off" her husband.... who in turn told his employers what was going on.
I was later indicted, and arrested for violation of the Federal Racketeering Laws under the R.I.C.O. Statute, for Obstruction of Justice..... by tipping off a criminal that he and his "group" were under investigation.
Sentenced to 9 years in Federal Prison, I did not see freedom again for a time, although a couple of comas had allowed me the forgetfulness to erase the trauma, at least for 35 years! I served some time, and was released to serve 3 years of Parole.
2 years and 8 months into a successful "supervision" experience, I was placed into a brief coma that did not disable my body, but left me in a Memory Loss center for Amnesiacs for a few months. A second Coma years later left me physically and mentally disabled, and I forgot the omitted 4 months entirely... in fact I never remembered the entire ordeal until recently.
Long Story Short:
The Feds wanted their 4 months.
I fell due to the year etc, under what was called "Old Law".
The Parole system no longer exists, and the Parole Commission has been disbanded.
Federal Offenders are now placed on Probation and Supervised Release.
There is "Old Law".... 1997 Law.... and New Law.
All treated separately.
I was not the property of U.S District Court.... and not even Property of the B.O.P. (Bureau of Prisons).
I was the property of the U.S. Parole Commission, which no longer exists.
I was asked to sign "agree" or "Deny" to 3 charges.
1-Failure to report a change of address
2- Failure to report for Supervision for 4 months
3-Failure to sign a monthly Supervision Report 4 times
The Attorney I was assigned said that if I denied, I could stay locked up for 3 years.
If I agreed with these 3 charges I would be given 8 months or less, which was what they advised as the course of least resistance.
I signed.
They assigned a Parole Person, who investigated my story and circumstance... and upon finding me truthful, they said that I would only have to serve the 4 months that I missed... in Federal Prison.
I was released on July 7th (the day of San Fermin- thje Saint associated with the city in Spain called Pamplona... the day of the "Corrida" ... the running of the Bulls.
I also am forced to start the Parole from 35 years ago over again. Since Parole no longer exists in the Federal System, I am on "Supervised Release" for 3 years.
New Law allows that Federal Supervised Release can let me go in 18 months if I have no violations during that year and a half.
I will do what is required of me, without violation of any nature. The time away from Dusty, and mixed with young prisoners was way too intense.
Due to my age, and the Racketeering label, I was treated with great respect inside.
I was called "Tio".... Uncle Vito.... "O.G." (Old Gangster) and "Old School".... and I was deferred to in all situations.
This respect, and deference did not sooth my heart with no Patient to heal, and with no Dog to hug.