FIJA Demonstration of 5/25/10
I arrived at the U. S. District Court at 500 Pearl Street in Manhattan, NY at 11:40 am on Tuesday, May 25, 2010. It was a warm and sunny day. Immediately a Homeland Security officer approached me and told me to leave. He was joined by officer Valenti, who told the first officer that I would be arrested. I continued to pass out the American Jury Institute pamphlet entitled “A Primer for Prospective Jurors” along with my handout which reads:
The judge will instruct the jury that it must uphold the law as he gives it.
He will be lying.
The jury must judge the law as well as the facts.
Juries were instituted to protect the citizens from the tyranny of their government.
It is not the duty of the jury to uphold the law.
The jury’s duty is to see that justice is done.
At 12:00 noon Officer Barnes and a sergeant approached. Officer Barnes asked me to put down my sign, so that I would not hit him on the head with it. I declined saying that: “I am not going to hit you. It is not my style.” Officer Barnes stood 5 feet in front of me and glowered. The sergeant stood 5 feet behind me.
I passed out literature, and Barnes kept staring at me. I said to Barnes, “Nice day isn’t it.” He replied “Don’t try to be friendly with me. I am not your friend.” I apologized for offending him.
At 12:25 pm, I moved about 20 feet into the shade so that I could see the face of my cell phone better. Barnes yelled that I could not move there, but I ignored him. He placed me under arrest. Immediately I fell to the ground, as I always do when placed under arrest.
I was handcuffed behind my back. He had my arrest warrant from 3 years ago. He searched my clothes and took everything in my pockets. He said that the citation and a receipt for the confiscated property was in my tote bag. Another federal marshal said that if my fines were not paid within 10 days, he would issue another arrest warrant.
I was carried into the U. S. Courthouse and searched again. Then I was dragged to the isolation cell, which had only a bench and toilet. I urinated. The handcuffs were removed. A number of capillaries had been broken in my wrists. My hands turned blue.
A short time later, I was handcuffed again and dragged down to a NY City police car. I was taken to the police holding cells in the aptly named Criminal Court of Manhattan building.
NY City Police Custody 5/25/10
At the police station my picture and thumb prints were taken. My belt and shoelaces were removed and kept by the police.
The police could not decide if I should go before a magistrate or be sent to Bellevue Hospital psychiatric ward. I was dragged upstairs to the courtroom and downstairs to the street level for transfer to Bellevue several times as they kept changing their minds. As a result, I was physically and verbally abused during these drags. My upper arms were crushed in their hands, and blood vessels broken. This was painful. My upper arms turned blue. My sneakers had no shoelaces, so my toes kept smashing into the front of the sneakers breaking blood vessels in my toes. This was unpleasant to say the least . My toes turned blue, and did not return to normal for two weeks.
While being dragged, my sweater, pants, and one sock fell off and were discarded in the hallways. I was given a sheer blue outfit of a top and pants to wear. The left pant leg was ripped to above the knee.
Finally I was taken before a magistrate. He was not identified, a custom of a court of inquisition. I was still handcuffed. I placed my head on the bench and never spoke to the magistrate. The magistrate gave a brief summary of events. He stated that I claimed that my commitment papers were not signed, which was true, so that I had never been committed. He said that the court copy was signed, thus admitting tampering of a legal document by the court.
The judge assigned a legal aid lawyer to talk with me outside the courtroom. I did not discuss the case with her, because I suspected that the courthouse was “bugged.” When she returned she told the judge that I was polite, intelligent, and articulate, but would not discuss my case, because I claimed the courthouse was “bugged.”
The magistrate replied that he could not tell if I was mentally competent. Obviously anyone who exercises his Fifth Amendment right to remain silent must be crazy. He ordered that I be sent to Bellevue Hospital psychiatric ward for evaluation. The hearing was recessed until June 8, 2010. I was dragged down the stairs in handcuffs, put in a police car, handcuffed to the back door, and delivered to Bellevue Hospital emergency admission.
Bellevue Hospital 5/25–5/26
In Bellevue, I was handcuffed to the bed. I was given a pair of hospital socks. I continued remaining silent. The nurses and doctors pounded on my chest and pinched my fingers, which was quite painful, but I would not utter a sound. Then they sodomized me by shoving a needle up my rectum. Presumably they were looking for drugs (or bombs).
Finally Dr. Goldberg, who was in charge of the emergency room, came and pleaded with me to talk to him. I stated that I was exercising my Fifth Amendment right to remain silent, and that I would talk to no-one while under arrest. These were the first words that I spoke to anyone since I was placed under arrest at the U. S. District Courthouse.
Exercising my Fifth Amendment right to remain silent was clear proof that I was insane. Dr. Goldberg stopped the medical exam and ordered that I be taken to the psychiatric ward. I was placed on a gurney and wheeled away to the psychiatric ward.
I was placed in the sleep deprivation cell and the handcuffs removed. This room is a 20 by 6 feet room, 10 feet high. Except for the iron bar entrance gate, it had concrete block walls with no window, toilet, or sink. The only item in the room was a stuffed chairs fixed directly below a bank of fluorescent lights. Since there was no toilet, I urinated on the floor.
After several hours, a doctor and four strong male attendants entered the room. The doctor said that he would give me a shot to put me to sleep and take x-rays. I objected vociferously, but the attendants pinned me to the floor while the doctor gave me an injection in my buttocks. Presumably this was a thorazine shot.
I passed out. The next thing I knew was that I woke up in another cell, and it was morning. I was lying on a wall bench. I was not informed nor have any idea what was done to my body while I was asleep. The cell had a toilet and sink. I was let out of the cell and entered the common room in the psychiatric ward. I was given breakfast. This was the first food, liquid, or water that I had since leaving home at 9:00 am on the previous day.
Then I played an interesting and somewhat wild game of chess with the grandson of Rocky Graziano. We were equally matched, so it was an interesting game. While this was going on, a Mr. Miguel from Bellevue Hospital called my wife and asked if I had any psychiatric problems. My faithful wife lied and said that I was not crazy. She also failed to mention that I was a carrier of insanity. That was the psychiatric exam. I never saw a psychiatrist. It also was the first notice my wife had that I was arrested.
Then I and several others were handcuffed chain gang style to two other inmates, one to my right hand and one to my left hand in groups of about 6 people. We were taken in a paddy wagon back to the police station. I was dragged around some more.
Again, I was taken in a chain gang to a paddy wagon, and we were off to the Riker’s Island prison. I still had not been given a receipt for any of my property. The paddy wagon consisted of several steel cages. The largest housed about 20 inmates. The smaller ones had one or two seats. I was alone in a two-seater still handcuffed. The leg room was less than in an economy seat in an airplane.
Apparently the smaller cells were for the more dangerous prisoners. Since I was incarcerated for holding signs on a public sidewalk at a demonstration across the street from the United Nations building, I was considered very dangerous. Probably I was considered to be engaging in treason, or at least espionage.
During the ride to Riker’s Island the radio played very loud chain gang music. I guess that this was to drown out any talk of a breakout.
Riker’s Island Receiving 5/26–5/28
We arrived at Riker’s Island Prison Receiving late Wednesday, May 26, 2010, uncuffed, and 29 of us placed in a holding pen. It was a cement block cell with an iron gate and a two windows, which barely opened. It was 20 feet by 15 feet by 10 feet high. It contained one bench 8 feet long by 8 inches wide. There was a toilet and a sink. The toilet had overflowed, so there was urine and feces on the floor. The sink could not be used for washing hands, because it was used as a garbage pail, since no garbage pail was present. Sleeping was done by lying on the floor or sitting with your back on a wall. I got very little sleep in these pens, because I did not have room to lie down and my old body would ache in the sitting position. I had no dinner on Wednesday night. We were given individual identity badges. I was known to everyone as “Pops.” This name stuck throughout my incarceration.
Soon we were moved to another holding pen which was larger: 20 x 20 x10 feet high. There were 40 of us in this pen. The toilet did not flush, so feces and urine accumulated in the toilet. After a while we were given a towel to place over the toilet to reduce the stench.
We were moved around from 3 holding pens, one 20 x 15 x 10 feet and two 20 x 20 x 10 feet. Apparently this was done, so that the pen that was empty could be cleaned. In the third pen, the toilet flushed, but there was still no useable water for washing hands. None of the pens had soap, towels or toilet paper. When the sinks became full of garbage, additional garbage was thrown on the floor.
During my stay, I met about 150 inmates, of whom 6 were Caucasian. The others were black or Latinos. The food was unedible. I had no dinner on Tuesday or Wednesday night. Thursday night there was chicken, which was OK and unedible vegetables. Friday night dinner was two cold fish between two whole wheat bread slices plus some vegetables.
At Receiving, there was no telephone for inmates. None of us were allowed to make a phone call. At one time we had 60 people in the pen occupying 400 square feet of floor space. On Wednesday, May 26, or Thursday, May 27, (I forgot which night) at about 6:00 pm Rabbi Herbert Richtman, the Jewish chaplain visited me. The 5-minute interview was public and conducted through the prison bars. He checked to see if I was all right and notified my wife.
In the Receiving pens, marijuana was smoked openly. A few inmates would sit on the floor and roll joints. The guards knew this was taking place, but did not care. One inmate told me that the guards smoke pot also while on duty, though I never witnessed this.
One day, the word was passed in the pen that the Cripps gang had been arrested and was in the adjoining pen. Soon word was passed that the turtles had arrive. The turtles were the riot squad, who wore face shields and body protective gear. They looked like turtles. They went into the pen with the Cripps. I could see nothing, but heard yelling and screaming. Then the turtles left.
Twice during my stay, I was taken to the medical area for evaluation by medical personnel. I told them that I had some old man problems and needed four prescription medicines and an aspirin every day. I was never given any medicine while in Receiving. There were two mens’ bathrooms in medical, but neither had running water, soap, toilet paper, or towels. Inmates could not wash their hands in a medical area.
On one of my visits to medical, while waiting in the reception area, another inmate had a grand mal seizure, fell to the floor, and was rolling around. The other inmates screamed for help. It took about 10 minutes before two staff people showed up with a board. They rolled the inmate onto the board and strapped him to it. They lifted him to a gurney, wheeled him into the hall outside the reception area and left him there. No medical person attended to him, though they were within 30 feet of him.
On my second visit to medical, the nurse asked if I would rather go to general population or the hospital. I asked what the difference was. She told me that in the hospital, I would get a bed, so I chose the hospital. It turned out that there were beds in general population, but there were more inmates than beds.
On Friday, I again missed my supper, because I was handcuffed and driven to the NCI annex (the hospital). When we got there at 6:10 pm, I was refused entrance. We returned to the Receiving area. Much later that evening, I again was taken in cuffs to the hospital and was admitted at 1:20 am early Saturday morning, May 29, 2010.
While I was in the Receiving area, my identification badge was taken from me. When we left for the hospital, I asked for it, but my request was refused. I arrived at the Hospital (NCI annex dorm 2B) without it, but was admitted. Without an ID badge, one does not exist and cannot receive medicine or go to any activity. Fortunately, I still had my wristlet ID from Bellevue, and that was accepted for purposes of medicine, law library, and outside recreation (one hour per day).
The linguistic skills of the NY City Police and the Receiving guards at Riker’s Island are somewhat limited. They only use two words when they talk. One of these is” fuck,” which is used both as a noun and verb. The other word is “fucking,” which is used as an adjective. However the NY City police officer who had to drag me up and down stairs in the courthouse was more articulate. Every few minutes, he would say: “You worthless piece of shit,” apparently directed at me.
Riker’s Island NCI Hospital 5/28–6/8 (Psychiatric interview)
At the dorm room in the hospital, there were 27 inmates including me, 26 hospital beds with springs under the mattresses, and one cot with a metal slab under the mattress. I got the cot. The hospital population in that room varied from 24–27 while I was there.
I was given 2 sheets, a pillow case, a blanket, a towel, tee shirts, undershorts, an inmate handbook, an inmate rule book, and a large box for personal belongings. The linen and clothes were changed once a week. In between, we washed our own laundry. I did not have any pants, so an inmate loaned me a pair of his. My sneakers were removed and kept in property control. I was given a receipt for the sneakers and a pair of disposable orange slippers, called Patakis. Except for the sneakers, I was never given a receipt for any of my confiscated property.
There were two telephones in the dorm. We were allowed some free calls and some paid calls each day. I made my first call on Saturday evening, May 29, 2010, to my wife. These call were collect long distance calls, because I live in NJ. Thus I did not get to make a telephone call until 4 days after my arrest.
Meals were at 4:30 am, 10:30 am, and 4:30 pm each day. The food was plentiful, wholesome, nutritious, and tasteless. Since this was a hospital, there were no condiments including salt or pepper. I was told that the food in general population was tastier. However the fruit, particularly the oranges and canned peaches, were excellent.
Lights out occurred at midnight. They went on again at 4:30 am for breakfast. After breakfast, there was a two hour lights out period. The breakfast room had a TV, which was controlled by the alpha male.
Medicine was distributed 4 times a day. I got mine at 10:00 am and 9:00 pm. Also my blood pressure and temperature were taken 3 times a day.
The medicines that I received daily were my 4 prescription medicines and an aspirin , but that did not start until Tuesday, June 1, 2010
The other inmates were helpful to me and each other. Everyone seemed to get along. The hospital was run well. The male guards were pleasant and helpful. Some of the female guards were bitches, but they were just trying to let us know who was boss. The only real problem was getting anything fast. It took me seven days before I was getting all of my medicines. My wife sent me two packages. The first was given to me the day after it arrived at the prison. The second contained my legal material, was refused by the prison, and returned to my home. In addition I received a letter from someone that I did not know who offered his help in the FIJA activities.
I called my wife almost every day at about 6:00 pm starting on Sunday, May 30, 2010.
Soon after I arrived, it was learned that I tried my own legal cases and had tried about 50 cases. Everyone came to me for advice and help in preparing grievances and legal papers. I became the jailhouse lawyer.
There was a Gideon bible in the dorm. I read the whole book of all 150 psalms. The other inmates noticed this and made me their spiritual advisor. Also there was book lying around (“Life Expectancy” by Dean Koontz) which I read, and it was hilarious. As a result, I woke up one morning to find that every book in the place was under my bed. Now I was the dorm librarian. This did not occupy much time, since few of the inmates read anything or, in many cases, were unable to read at all. For those that could read, they were limited to words of less than 4 syllables. When these long words came along they came to me to pronounce them and tell them what they meant. Thus I became a reading counselor. I also went into the pants pressing business. Since mine was the only bed with a flat metal slab to support the mattress, the inmates would lay their pants on the slab and then return the mattress on top of the pants. While I was sleeping at night, I was pressing pants.
I also provided some entertainment for the prisoners. I have a large number of jokes that I like to tell. Unfortunately, most people will not listen. However here I had a captive audience with essentially nothing else to do, so I regaled them with my sick humor.
During my stay in prison everyone referred to me as, and called me, “Pops.”
The TV was controlled by the alpha male. Lots of sports events and trash TV shows, mostly of young girls who had sex with six guys and did not know which one was the father of their fetus.
Early in my visit blood samples were drawn for testing to check if my medicines could be given to me.
The daily routine consisted of:
- 4:30 am: lights on and breakfast
- 6:00–8:00 am lights out
- Medical calls 7:00 am, 10 am, 1:00 pm 3:00 pm, 5:00 pm, and 9:30 pm
- Individual medical calls throughout the day
- 10:30 lunch
- 1:00 recreation for 1 hour in the yard
- 5:00 law library for 2 hours
- Blood pressure and temperature 3 times per day.
- Bed count 2 times a day.
Next to my bed on one side was an inmate named Saint Julian Mack. He was a mixed breed of several Native American tribes. He was extremely helpful and kind to me. He saw that I received proper care.
On Sunday, May 30, 2010, at 10:30 am, I had my first bowel movement since I left my home at 9:00 am on Tuesday, May 25. I took a shower, put on fresh prison clothes and borrowed pants from an inmate. I discarded my blue tissue prison garments.
My blood pressure varied from 132/85 to 98/62 and temperature from 96.1 to 98.4 during my stay.
I also was the communications person. I let several of the inmates use my allotted telephone calls, since I did not need them, because I had to call my wife collect.
On Sunday at 6:00 am some guy got a razor and cut up my face pretty severely. That guy was me. It was my first shave since I left home the previous Tuesday morning. There was no shaving cream or after shave lotion. One soaped his face and started cutting. The wall mirrors were defective and essentially worthless.
Initially I had no pillow. I used my towel as a pillow. Later I got another blanket and put that inside my pillowcase to make a pillow.
On Tuesday, 6-1–10, I got a thorough medical exam, After lunch I went to the yard, chain ganged to 3 other inmates. We were handcuffed to another inmate by one hand, leaving one hand free. Then the 2 pairs were chained together one pair in front and one behind. We were unchained in the yard. There were 17 of us in the yard. Four officers were outside eating lunch.
The yard was a 42 x 60 feet asphalt surface open to the sky. The fences were 12 feet high topped by 5 more feet of barbed wire. There was a basketball backboard and basket. Four of us, including me, shot buckets for awhile. Then I rested. It was warm and sunny day. Five inmates were working out with weights. One inmate was practicing a dance routine. A few inmates just sat and soaked up the sun. After an hour we were chained together again and returned to the hospital dorm.
I was interviewed by Benjamin Campbell, a psychiatrist.
On Wednesday, 6–2–10, I was told that I had a visitor and to collect my stuff. I returned the pants that I had borrowed and proceeded to leave in my under shorts. A guard found a pair of brown pants. There were two large rips in the pants.
Joe McNichols, a retired firefighter from Queens, visited me for 1 hour. I had never met Joe, but we have had some e-mail correspondence. We told jokes and had a good time. Even the guards laughed, probably a violation of discipline. Joe smuggled in a pocket constitution so that I could start sedition. After he left, he called my wife, which she greatly appreciated. I was strip searched, handcuffed, and returned to the dorm.
The other inmates started teaching me ghetto talk. I learned two phrases:
“Whas up homi” (homi means homeboy, which is a bit of a putdown.) “Ho down, Pimp up.” What this is supposed to mean, I do not know, but I suspect it is sexist in some manner. It is also not clear when to use this phrase with my orthodox Jewish neighbor matrons.
I had a blood test for HIV, and found out that I was leading a dull life, since I tested negative. I filled out a grievance form for another inmate. I noticed that the one guard in our dorm was sound asleep and apparently in a catatonic state. The inmates could have chopped him up easily, and he would never have recovered. Apparently he forgot the primary rule for guards to be always alert for trouble. At midnight I was notified that I was going to court tomorrow. Be ready to leave at 6:00 am.
The law library had many legal books. It also had three computers which only had access to lexus nexus, the online legal library. There also was a copying machine in the library.
On Friday, June 4, 2010, I left the dorm at 6:10 am and walked to a holding pen, where I stripped to my underpants, blue socks, and orange Patakis. I was given a tee shirt and a pair of brown pants with two large rips. Over them, I donned an orange jump suit.
At 8:30 am, I tried to talk to a guard, but he ignored me. At 8:45 am the other cellmates were removed, and I was alone in the cell. Then other inmates joined me . The cell was cleaned at 9:45 am.
At 10:00, I was loaded into a bus with cages. It had a 20 seat cage section, and five 1 or 2 seaters with less leg room than an economy airplane seat. I was alone, handcuffed in a 2 seater.
At 11:20, we reached the aptly named Criminal Courthouse of Manhattan. I was put in a cage with 5 other guys. The handcuffs were removed. The cage was 20’ x 20’ x 10’ high. It had a toilet and sink, but no running water. There were no towels or toilet paper.
At 11:30, I was taken uncuffed to another holding cell where I got a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and tea.
At 12:30, I was taken to a room with a psychiatrist and his assistant. They did not introduce themselves. The assistant asked the questions, and the psychiatrist wrote the answers. They interviewed me from 12:30 to 1:30 pm. At the end of the interview I asked for their names, but they did not give them. They said that they would be on the written report, which I have not yet received, and probably never will (see below).
They asked trick questions like “Are steam and ice different substances?” Since I am a professor of chemistry, I got that one. I used the same question on some exams that I gave. They also asked me to count down by sevens from 100 (answer: 100, 93, 86, 79, etc).
They also wanted to know what my legal defense would be, so they could tell the judge. I refused to answer that question. They wanted to know if I would post bail. I said absolutely not. They asked even if it was $1.00. I said that I would not even post $1.00 as a matter of principle. They asked if I knew what my maximum sentence could be. I responded 1year, but that would be an unusually severe sentence.
They asked if I had or needed a lawyer. I responded that I do not do business with the criminal class, and that a lawyer does not represent the interests of his client, but is an officer of the court. I gave my speech about the corruption of lawyers and elected legislators. I said the I would represent myself since I could do and say things in court that a lawyer never would (unless he wanted to be disbarred).
They asked why I am doing the actions that get me arrested. I responded because we live in a totalitarian country with a judicial system like those of Hitler and Stalin and the largest prison population in the world. I wanted my children and grandchildren to live in a free country, but it probably is too late for my children. I cried.
After the interview, I was returned to the holding cell with a toilet and sink, but no running water, toilet paper, or towels. At 3:50 pm, I was moved to another cell. While on the elevators, the inmates, who are handcuffed, are required to look at the back of the elevator.
At 4:30, I was given milk and a cheese sandwich
At 7:00 pm, I was handcuffed in front, taken out of the cell. Nine of us were put into the van with cells and returned to Riker’s Island. I was in a single seater, still handcuffed. We arrived back at Riker’s Island prison at 8:10 pm. I was given my medicines, and my blood pressure was taken. My bedding was gone, so I slept in my cot with one blanket, but no linen.
I received a letter from someone in Virginia who had heard of me, but whom I did not know, asking how he could help. I was touched by his concern.
I met a new inmate who was a 16 year old boy with his mouth wired shut. Imagine putting a 16 year old boy, who could not talk, in a room full of sex-starved, adult, male criminals!
That evening I filed a grievance stating that I had been in the medical dorm for 6 days and never received cocoa and graham crackers at bedtime. I put in a request for these items, but never received a reply. At the rate things happened there, I suppose they are still mulling over that grievance deciding what to do. Undoubtedly this was the first grievance of that nature that they had to deal with.
At 10:05 pm, I called home and spoke with my wife, daughter, and 3-year old granddaughter.
On Sunday, June 6, 2010, lights and breakfast did not commence until 5:00 am. Apparently, Sunday is a day of rest. By now I had developed a bad cough which occurs when I get insufficient sleep. I had no top sheet and only one blanket, so I was cold continuously. My arm bruises were almost gone. The pain in my toenails was gone, but my toenails were still discolored.
There was laundry change. I received two fresh bedsheets, a pillow case and a towel. At 12:30 pm, my identification badge was taken away, and I was moved from Dorm 2B, which was a low violence dorm, to Dorm 1, which was a no violence dorm and had 40 beds. I was given two buckets for keeping my belongings. Also I had a real hospital bed with a spring base. There were 4 other Caucasians; the other inmates were blacks and Latinos.
At 5:40 pm, I called my wife and explained that I was moved from a low violence dorm to a no violence dorm. While on the phone a loud shouting match broke out. Two prisoners were after each other. The guards moved in, ordered everyone to their beds, and broke up the scuffle. My wife heard all of this. I am sure she was comforted to know that now I was in a no violence dorm.
After the scuffle was calmed down, I entertained the inmates with my collection of jokes. It was nice to have a captive audience.
Tuesday, June 12, 2010
At 4:45 am, I awoke, showered, shaved, dressed, and left for the Criminal Court of Manhattan at 5:50 am. I went through the same process as the previous Friday. This time I did not see a psychiatrist, but had a court appearance. I was the last inmate to have an appearance. At 5:20 pm, I was handcuffed and brought to the courtroom by a guard. The court had been emptied and closed. The only people present were a judge, a court reporter, a young lady from the district attorney’s office, the guard, and me.
The young assistant district attorney announced that “In the case of the people of the State of New York versus Julian Heicklen, the state moves that the case be dismissed in the interest of justice. The handcuffs were removed and I was free to go.
I had no money and no way to go home. I was directed to the cashier’s window. The cashier was away for dinner. When he returned at 6:30 pm, he gave me $16.32, which what was left of the $20.10 confiscated by Homeland Security on May 25, 2010. Some of my money had been used by other inmates that I let make calls off of my account. I bought a metro card, took the subway to the Port authority, caught a bus for Teaneck, NJ. I borrowed a bus rider’s cell phone to call my wife, who met me at the bus stop.
Recovery of Property
On Tuesday, June 15, 2010, I went to Manhattan to recover my property. At 12:30 pm, I was at NY City Police headquarters at 1 Plaza Place where the property recovery center is situated. I was denied entry, because I did not have a case number or voucher. I was directed to go to 1 White Street, about 3 blocks away, to obtain these documents. When I arrived there, I was informed that I was at a jail that had nothing to do with property reclamation. I was sent across the street to property control. There I was advised that only property in the possession of corrections, and not the police, could be recovered. I was instructed to call 311 to make an appointment to get my prison property at Riker’s Island. Further I was told to return to police headquarters at 1 Plaza Place.
I returned to police headquarters, but refused entry again. I was directed to go to Room 732, Criminal Court of Manhattan at 100 Centre Street to get the appropriate documentation. When I got there, I was asked who made the arrest, and I told them the Department of Homeland Security. Then I was informed that I had to go to them to arrange to get my property.
Since I was in the Criminal Court of Manhattan, I decided to get copies of the court order dismissing the case, the psychiatric evaluation of June 4, 2010, and the $210.00 the court was “holding” (actually stealing) for me. I never did find out how to get the money. I went to the Clerk of Court ’s office, Room 150, and obtained a copy of the court order and the names of the presiding judges involved in my case. The Clerk had signed the court order. The judge’s name did not appear on the Order, which seemed strange to me.
The Clerk sent me back to room 732 to get the voucher. When I got there, I was told that I would have to call Patrol Boro Manhattan South for the voucher. The Clerk also said to go to room 500 to get the psychiatric report. When I got there, the person said that I could not have it, because it was the court’s property. (I was always under the impression that medical records could not be denied to the patient.) She said that she would not release it unless the judge issued a subpoena.
I returned to the Clerk of Court’s office to get a subpoena form. He did not have then, but directed me to the Clerk of Court in the NY State Supreme Court at Room 109B, 60 Centre Street. When I got there, the Clerk told me to go to room 141B. While I was looking for room 141B, which is tucked in some alcove somewhere, I ran into a court official and asked him how to get there. He was puzzled by this request and asked me for what reason. When I told him, he said that I should go to room 116.
When I got to room 116, the clerk gave me several pages of instructions for filing a subpoena, but said that the court could not provide the subpoena forms, because they were copyrighted, and that I would have to buy one from a bookseller. He also suggested that instead, I just write a motion to the judge to order Room 500 to give me a copy of my medical record. However, when I told him that my case had been dismissed and was closed, he thought the judge could no longer issue any orders, but it was worth a try. To file a subpoena, I would have to open a new case with the court and pay a filing fee of $210.00.
It was now 5:00 pm, and the courts were closing for the day. I will try the court order route, but it is a long shot. I still have not had any property returned. I will have to contact Homeland Security for a voucher that I can present at 1 PLaza Place to get my property, if it is even there. I do not hold out much hope of getting a voucher from Homeland security, because probably it will tell me that all of my property has been transferred to the NY City police, which I believe has happened. I still do not know how to reclaim the $210.00.
THIS IS YOUR GOVERNMENT IN ACTION
I was never informed of my Fifth Amendment right to remain silent by the Homeland Security police, the federal marshals, the NY City police, any court officials, the legal defense lawyer, any Bellevue Hospital personal, Department of Corrections officials, the psychiatrist who interviewed me in the Criminal Court of Manhattan, or anyone else. On the contrary, I was verbally and physically abused for remaining silent.
I should have been allowed to make a telephone call within 24 hours, but it was 3–1/3 days before I could make a call.
I did not receive my medicines until I was in the infirmary, 5 days after my arrest, except for one dose of milk of magnesia on Thursday, May 27, 2010. Even then I did not get my daily dose of metamucil until several days later.
Except for the visit by Rabbi Herbert Richtman, the prison chaplain, through the bars of the receiving pen, I was not permitted to see a Jewish chaplain. There was a Catholic nun that came into the ward three times during my stay, and I talked with her each time. These were mostly social calls.
I also was not permitted to see social services or legal aid. I did go to the yard one day and to the legal library on two occasions.
I was sent to Bellevue Hospital for a psychiatric exam, but had no exam and did not even see a psychiatrist.
Both Joe McNichols and bile contacted my wife to keep her informed of my situation while I was away. This was of great solace to her. Thanks guys.
Yours in freedom–Julian