This story was first posted to my sovereignandfree.wordpress blog on Sep 16, 2011 @ 20:11.
It was written after I suffered some extreme hardships at the hands of
my former landlord/employer, RCMP, Vancouver Police, Canadian Border
Services Agency and Genesis Security. It has been relocated to this new
blog so I can focus my attention on specifically related issues
regarding the security and prosperity of North American sovereign
citizens, as well as to maintain a current log of events related to my
pursuit of justice. I will also focus on the outrageous and vile
attempts by bankers, corporations, and governments to suppress the
unalienable and fundamental rights of all human beings, regardless of
nationality, race, color or creed. I'm piecing together many different
personal memories and events and trying to organize it into the proper
sequence and context. My brain is occasionally a little foggy due to a
recent head injury and lack of sleep, but my mind is still completely
there. This chain of events in my life are laid out below, with only
minor adjustments being occasionally made to add appropriate links or
correct minor and/or accidental discrepancies.
My
name is Kevin Patrick Wright (47 years old). I'm writing to you mostly
to let someone know I am still alive, but still very much in danger. I
am trying to get some media exposure (and/or legal representation), but
preferably some serious investigative journalist to do a story on me
because I am in real danger. I realize this will be a lot to read and
absorb in one sitting, but it is very important that someone reads this
in its entirety ASAP. In spite of how crazy it may seem, I want to
assure you that what I am about to tell you is 100% accurate and
truthful. It may read like one, but this is NOT a novel. Also, I may
be eccentric, but I am definitely not mentally unstable or depressed (never
have been and never will be because I love life, in spite of its
hardships). This will likely take well over an hour to read, but the
length is necessary to be in the proper context.
Welcome to my nightmare:
For
years, I spent most of my spare time in libraries doing research (long
before there was an Internet). Since a child, I was fascinated with
ancient mysteries, cryptic puzzles, and the untold true history of the
world. I researched a lot of government, military, and police
corruption, including their relationship with "private security" firms.
This research also led to an in-depth study of Freemasonry,
which easily led me into its inextricable relationship with
governments, religions, bankers, doctors, pharmaceuticals, lawyers,
major corporations, and more - a VERY wicked web, indeed. My brain was
blessed with an amazing ability to automatically organize and categorize
this gathered knowledge for almost instant recall when it related to a
specific incident or new event. I started investigating it, writing
about it on Web Forums, calling radio talk shows, etc. I joined the
military to "serve my country" and to get an "insiders" perspective as
to how it operated at all tiers. I also acquired some handy skills and
useful trades. While exploring a new tool (the Internet) and using my
computer skills, I assumed a wide variety of on-line persona's with
various characteristics, backgrounds, etc. I did this to acquire
knowledge and to blend in to specific groups, "befriending" some very
strange and creepy individuals. The information that was shared with me
was astonishing and I was shocked at how easy it was to get these
people to talk once they thought that I was "one of them." ;-)
Something
always seemed to be leading me to different locations around the U.S.
After my divorce in 1988, I bounced around the country looking for a
new place to call home and to just get away from my past. On December
3rd of 1996, I packed up my apartment in Indianapolis, Indiana and
headed off to Orlando, Florida for a brief few months while I looked for
work and a more permanent home. Shortly thereafter, I moved to
southeastern Florida and eventually ended up in Boca Raton, Florida
where I kept a really luxurious 2-bedroom apartment (for my home
office) just next to Florida Atlantic University. Just prior to 2000, I
decided to "head for the hills" and found myself drawn to Asheville, North Carolina.
On my way to North Carolina, (driving a Ryder truck and towing my
little black car), I had an 18-wheeler semi-truck swerve in front of me
and he locked up all 18 wheels; an amazingly fast stop. It was late at
night and raining extremely hard, just north of West Palm Beach.
Unable to stop my fully loaded truck while towing my car, I slammed
into his bumper, nearly putting me through the windshield (and hurting
my two cats). I laid on my horn and flashed my brights and eventually
he stopped. A big burly looking guy walked back to my vehicle and I
starting yelling at him, asking him why the hell he cut me off like
that. He claimed someone pulled in front of him, forcing him to brake
suddenly. Bullshit!!! He told me to get out of the truck and he would
set me straight. I advised him that if I get out of the truck I would
be bringing my little friend with me and let him know that I was armed.
I suggested he get back in his truck and wait for the police. He drove
off. I drove to the next exit and called the state troopers. I told
them what happened and that, fearing for my life, I advised the truck
driver that I had a handgun. I never displayed it or pointed it at the
guy and fortunately he told the police the same. The state trooper
accused me of being a conspiracy nut and said that he would believe a
trucker before anyone else. I moved on and had to pay Ryder for the
Insurance fees. The lady from Ryder was a real jerk about it and kept
looking at me with disgust (I was a clean-cut nicely dressed guy back
then, she was a rude redneck). Interesting side note: The truck and
driver were from Oklahoma City and I was driving a yellow Ryder truck (reminding me of the whole Timothy McVeigh ordeal).
While in Asheville, I designed homes and taught AutoCAD classes at the local prestigious Technical College (A-B Tech) on the old Vanderbilt property.
One of my students was a quiet Arab Muslim (named Adel). I had never
met a Muslim before and knew nothing of them. He knew a girl in the
class who worked for one of my builder clients and eventually he and I
became friends. On the last day of class (spring of 2000? need to
verify), he asked me a strange question: "Can you get me a copy of
AutoCAD, my people need it. I really need it ASAP." I thought
that was really strange, but I trusted him as he was quite devout and
didn't like to hear me swear or talk about girls (sexual innuendos,
etc.). Remember, prior to 9/11,
most of us never knew what a Muslim was. Most of the time we spent
together was due to me buying an old VW off of him as a spare car.
Before that, he drove me to the DMV to get my NC license and then I rode
along to Raleigh to help him look for spare car parts and to shop for
used car deals, mostly VW's and other German cars. He knew a lot of
people in the used car business. We talked a lot about CAD,
electronics, cars, houses, etc. Sometime in the fall of 2000, he told
me he was leaving the country to visit family or some other reason. 2-3
weeks later, if I remember correctly, the U.S.S. Cole was bombed in Yemen
(October 12th, 2000). I never saw this guy again. After that, I
suddenly remembered another strange incident. An architect in downtown
Asheville had called me to install AutoCAD and set up office standards
for him (he was switching from Macintosh software because most CAD guys
use AutoCAD, which only worked on PC's back then). The building was
easy for me to find as it was near Asheville's Federal Building (home of
the National Climatic Data Center and the Air Force's Combat Climatology Center).
While there that day, another guy was there setting up the networks and
installing other software. He too was a Muslim. This is a very small
town in the mountains of North Carolina and there was a Muslim mosque
there (small sharply dressed group of guys with no shortage of cash). I
noticed that he had modified the Windows Explorer rotating logo and put
another logo in it's place. I became suspicious that he might have
"altered" other things as well, but it wasn't my company and the
architect seemed to trust him. The one thing that sticks in my memory
though is a cryptic comment he made, which at the time, meant nothing
to me. He asked me if I had ever heard of the "Mujaheddin"?
I smirkingly said no. He said "you will soon, trust me." I scoffed
and brushed it off, thinking this guy was just an arrogant jerk or a
whack-job.
After the U.S.S. Cole bombing, I contacted the local FBI office in Charlotte
and talked to an agent about what I knew and my suspicions. I told him
that I had no reason to think anything bad would happen and so I showed
this first Muslim guy how he could get a free copy of AutoCAD.
I told the FBI agent that AutoCAD was the software used to design
pretty much EVERYTHING known to man - vehicles, ships, buildings,
textiles, b.o.m.b.s., etc. He told me not to feel guilty because I
could not have known what might be done with the software. He didn't
seem further interested, blew it off, and said if I didn't have evidence
that a crime had been committed, there was nothing he could do. I was
shocked, but then again, not. It was SOP for a bureaucrat. I now know
that the government was VERY well aware of what was about to happen.
This particular agent may not have been in the loop, but few were. They
had their patsies,
fake passports, planted explosives, and much (MUCH) more already in
place. This was the ultimate cat and mouse charade that had so many
different levels of confusion that most people today just don't want to
hear about because it is too confusing and doesn't seem plausible.
Those damn "conspiracy nuts." "Deception" is the key word here. Always remember that.
Almost one full year to the day passed, and on September 11th, 2001 the three (3) WTC towers in NY fell. The economy and our personal freedoms followed like dominoes. When will the madness end and the healing begin? How many more must die?
Interesting side note: Based on stories from my Grandmother, some of
my family members have been New York firefighters dating back to
mid-20th century. My great grandfather, George Patrick Foley (origin of
my middle name) was a firefighter/chief of Newburgh, NY F.D. until he
retired. I remember him clearly as a child as they often visited on the
holidays. I also remember he had severe back problems. When I was 15
years old, I had a strange dream about him. I awoke around 2 or 3 a.m.
and went into my little sisters room to tell her about my strange dream
(vivid details) and that I felt something was wrong with
"great-grandpa." The phone rang almost immediately after telling my
story to my sister. My mother rushed to the phone. It was my
grandmother, his daughter, informing my mother that he had just passed.
We heard our mother burst into tears - they were close. As strange as
that may seem, he had somehow reached out to me for some reason and on
9/11, I got a chill down my spine thinking about him. 9/11 soon became
the primary focus of my ongoing research.
I
believe it was in October of 2001 that the FBI agent called me back. I
laughed and said "I was wondering when you would get around to calling
me." He was not amused by that comment and asked me if I had ever heard
back from my old Muslim friend (Adel). I told him no and I don't think
the conversation lasted too long. Never heard back from either one.
Eventually, as I should have foreseen, I believe I became "flagged" as a
"person of interest" and was systematically followed, monitored, and
harassed. I brushed it off at first, thinking that it was all in my
head (ironic). With all of my research into ancient and modern
history, over time I began to realize that I was the ideal candidate for
being set up as a "patsy". I fit the profile........... loner,
recluse, broken home, poor, intelligent, creative, eccentric, military
training, etc., etc., ad nauseam. And of course, thanks to them,
somewhat paranoid. How fitting.
Shortly
after, I believe around November of 2001, I was about to default on my
home loan (owner financing). The economy was in shock because people
were holding off on building homes around Asheville until the panic
calmed down. I decided to cut my losses and move back to Florida, where
things were a little more economically stable. I had everything I
owned packed in a Ryder truck (more irony) with my Ford Bronco in tow.
Just as I was ready to drive off, I noticed a plain white van parked
just down the hill from my house, about 200-300 feet in front of my
truck, facing me. A young guy (probably early twenties) was walking
uphill toward my truck. He seemed VERY nervous and kept looking
around. He cautiously approached my truck like a lost puppy. He
mentioned that he was trying to raise money to get back home and wanted
to know if I was interested in buying any of his little trinkets (misc.
costume jewelry, nic-nacs, can't remember too much specifically). I
will never forget one thing - I noticed the plates on the van were from
NY and noticed that he had an Israeli/Russian accent. I inquired if he
was Russian, not to arouse other suspicions. He quickly said yes and
produced one of those famous Russian "Nesting Dolls"; a figurine inside
of another, inside of another, etc., similar to this one:
 |
Где Natasha?
|
He
kept nervously looking around and was growing impatient that I wasn't
interested in buying anything. I started the truck ignition and wished
him luck. What he didn't realize was that I had a 9mm pressed against
my right thigh, locked and loaded. Lucky for him he didn't try anything
stupid with me! I proceeded to drive to Florida without incident.
(BTW, I don't believe ANY of the political/corporate HYPE about
"terrorists" or other "bogey men" peering around every corner wanting to
kill Americans for their "freedoms". What "freedoms"??? Our first
black President has actually stripped us of our Civil and Constitutional
Rights..... Go Figure!!! Corporations are the REAL terrorists and
FASCISM now rules the USSA and Canada. Most Arabs love life and freedom
and are also victims of media propaganda. The U.S. and it's "allies"
created the false "War on Terror" for WAR PROFITEERING !!!
I
wasn't too thrilled with abandoning my house and mortgage in
Asheville. It was a great little ranch-style house with a full walk-out
unfinished basement. I was slowly fixing the place up and had big
plans to finish the downstairs, enclose the huge covered side
deck-porch/addition, add a rear deck and hot tub, etc. I had a large
wooded rear yard that sloped to a small stream and great views from the
porch deck. Nevertheless, the economy was hurting and I knew Florida
was still going strong. Once I re-established my Architectural Design Services
business in Florida, I started looking for cheap real estate
investments. I wanted to start "flipping" real estate properties (buy
cheap, fix, sell high). I didn't have much money, but I used to be a
Realtor and knew how to do creative financing deals. That's how I
bought all of my previous investments. Lots of business for me and also
lots of investigative journalism stories for me to sink my
teeth into (my favorite past-time). Most of the topics I researched
seem to fall into my lap. I often felt like I had been led to each
specific town as there was always some major connection to my primary
topic of interest (government corruption/tyranny, corporate welfare, the IMF/FED/IRS/Banksters, 9/11, "terrorism", the bogus "Drug War", weather modification, private prisons, etc., etc.). It wasn't long before I found the cheapest property I could in Boca Raton, a very wealthy town with a rich history. The property was an old mobile home on its own lot, land included.
I already had a nice apartment and hoped to spend my weekends fixing up
the mobile so I could keep it, rent it out for a positive cash flow,
and keep looking for other properties as well to add to my portfolio.
It wasn't long before I realized this was a hassle, as the mobile home
was way across town and all of the potential renters were... well, to be
nice, not so clean, trustworthy, or reliable. I bit the bullet and
moved in myself - not my first choice, but I was saving rent and fixing
the place up much faster. My next door neighbors were decent people and
took pride in maintaining their lawns, etc. For some reason (the bad
economy), the neighborhood started getting filled up with really bad
renters. The absentee owners needed the rent money, so they lowered
their standards and the neighborhood went to hell fast. My next-door
neighbors, an older couple, bought a farm and moved on to greener
pastures, literally. That house was bought by a young couple with a
questionable/shady past. They did some extensive repairs to the place,
including remodeling the interior (more bedrooms, if I remember right?).
Soon
after, they rented it out to a young Mexican family (I think they had
two very young kids and a toddler girl). I also believe they may have
been harboring an illegal alien (male cousin - very early 20's, new Wackenhut employee). They had other family that lived nearby, including an uncle who was a security guard with Wackenhut.
They were definitely dealing drugs from the house and I was concerned
that the male cousin was molesting the toddler girl in his car. One
evening, during a loud party, a morbidly obese white woman left the
party. She staggered into my yard, stood next to a tree, pulled up her
long 'dress', and defecated. Another evening, a young couple parked in
my front yard and walked next door to buy dope. The girl got out of the
vehicle, went behind it and peed on my grass. Much more trouble, so I
eventually set up cameras all around the exterior walls looking outside
to monitor my yard and vehicles. This was very helpful because it
eventually caught lots of crime, including marked unmarked cop cars,
Bell South and other Vans in my drive when not at home (long after I
cancelled my account), etc. I called Wackenhut
once to report that the uncle had just left a weekend party (had a
couple of beers in uniform) and got into a company vehicle to go to
work. The man on the phone knew the guy just by description and thanked
me for the tip, but didn't really sound believably concerned, just
appeasing me. This wasn't the first time I had dealt with cops and
private security corporations and their illegal activities and it
wouldn't be the last.
One
of the other things that made me nervous about moving back to Florida
was part of the reason why I left: I had been threatened by a Boca Raton Police officer
after his underage drunk girlfriend (19) wrecked into my car and tried
to flee (1999). She was drunk, uninsured, unlicensed, and arrogant.
She bragged that her boyfriend was a cop. I didn't believe her and
demanded her I.D. She said she didn't have any and tried to prevent me
from writing down her plate number. I told her I was going to have her
arrested for multiple felonies if she didn't I.D. herself. I told her
she had no choice but to pay for the damage to my car (around $600).
I even offered to get 3 estimates and go with the cheapest. She then
actually asked me if I "wanted to go someplace and ummm, you know,
talk?" This girl was drop-dead gorgeous and I would have loved to spend
some time with her, but I wasn't that stupid (I knew she was trying to
bait me and then later tell her cop boyfriend that I had raped her...
not going to happen, sweety!). Eventually she complied and wrote down a
phone number and her first name, Elaina (no last name). It turned out
to be a "pager" number. I got the estimates and called her the
following Monday or Tuesday (she hit my car on Friday). I left a
number on her pager service and she called me back, confused as to who I
was. I told her about the accident and she was real quiet for about
5-10 seconds, then joyously said "Oh, yea, um hi." I told her it would
cost her about $600 for the repairs. She started panicking and said her
father would kill her because this was his car and that she was still
in college and broke. Blah Blah blah. Frustrated, I said I would get
one more estimate, but that was it. I hung up.
About
5 minutes or so later my phone rang again and I checked the caller
i.d. It was the same number/name (a mans name - John Gelato). The guy
calling said that if I knew what was best for me, that I would leave
this girl alone. How dare I, he said, scare this poor girl. He said I
should have filed a police report at the time of the accident and that
because I hadn't, I was S.O.L.!! I reminded him, in not so flattering
words, that if I had done as he advised, his little girlfriend would be
in prison for a felony hit and run, d.u.i., uninsured vehicle, revoked
license, etc. He repeated his threats to do me harm, so I told him
where to shove it and hung up the phone. I called the Boca Raton police
department and reported the threat. I spoke with an officer and
repeated the details of the incident. I gave him the name and number of
the caller. He put me on hold for 5 minutes or more. When he
returned he told me he had spoken to his superior and that, by law, he
was required to inform me that the person who was "alleged" to have
threatened me was an officer with the Boca Raton P.D. The attending
officer then notified me that I also had a legal right to file a formal
complaint with Internal Affairs and asked if I would like to do so. I
told him that I did, indeed. Six months went by and I finally became
angry enough that I called Internal Affairs to complain and stated that I
was ready to pursue legal action and speak to the media if I didn't get
a response to my formal complaint soon. Shortly thereafter, I received
a letter in the mail from I.A. stating that although Officer Gelato and
"Elaina" admit to a confrontation over an "alleged" accident, that
Officer Gelato denies making any threats and since I.A. has no evidence
to contradict the officers statements, the accusation is therefore
"unsubstantiated."
That's
when my life rapidly went to hell in a hand-basket. I started getting
followed by marked and unmarked police cars. I received a speeding
ticket from Officer John Gelato. A "coincidence" according to the
judge, after accusing me of being a "conspiracy nut." My apartment was
broken into and a video on my Camcorder was deleted (video of someone
stalking me). I was drugged in a Boca Raton bar and apparently run off
the road. I regained consciousness around 4 a.m., while running down
the middle of a road in a residential neighborhood (in Davie, Florida).
I have no idea how I got there or where my car was. I later found it
in a Davie impound, smashed to pieces and my handgun was missing. There
was white paint smeared across my rear bumper. My friend who drove me
there stated that most cop cars in Florida have white painted bumpers.
After contacting the highway patrol, I eventually spoke to a female
officer who stated that she found the car abandoned in the middle of a
road and pushed it to the side before calling a tow truck. I never went
back to that bar, especially after finding out that it was a favorite
for off-duty officers.
After
not going out to any bars, restaurants, or social events for a while, I
finally decided it wasn't right for me to live in fear. I decided to go
to a very popular local high-end restaurant/bar with many billiard
tables and a large crowd with dancing, etc. I had one beer and was
waiting for a pool table to become available when a group of
well-dressed guys and girls invited me to play pool with them. I love
to play pool and happily accepted. These people all looked like rich,
fit models so I felt like they were safe. Besides, I had seen them pull
in to the parking lot shortly after me, driving a new yellow Hummer
II. One of the guys (possibly the driver) asked everyone what they
wanted to drink, including me, and went to the bar to order. The next
thing I remember is standing in front of my old Jaguar (restoration
project), doing the two-step disco dance for a cop (light show and
all). My first D.U.I. Go figure!!! Being truly naive about D.U.I.'s, I foolishly took my cheap jackass lawyers advice and plead "no contest" with the understanding
that I would receive the minimum punishment. BIG MISTAKE!!! Little
did I know that this is a HUGE trap!!! They put you on probation and
just sit back and wait till you do anything, even jaywalking, so they
can charge you with a V.O.P. (Violation Of Probation), and that gets you
mandatory jail time. To top it off, one of the cops stole at least
$100 from my wad of cash (I had just cashed a $5,000 check from part of
the proceeds of selling my old Mobile Home). The judge wanted no part
of my "conspiracy theories." I was now on probation for 6 months, had a
"business only" driving "privilege" for 90 days (??) and a serious mark
on my criminal record, not to mention increased insurance costs.
Then,
AGAIN, I had my car broken into and my new handgun stolen. Each time,
the police refused to take my report of a stolen handgun. The officer
who answered the phone even swore and I heard her mention something
about crime statistics numbers to a fellow officer. She told me to call
another city's P.D. because of where I was when I left that night. I
did that and they said "no, call the P.D. for the city where you ended
up". I finally threatened to go to the media before the female
officer/clerk agreed to take my info and weapons serial number. I have
no proof that she actually filed it. Later, I was researching the
corrupt Broward County Sheriff Jennings and, big surprise, he eventually
went to prison for falsifying criminal statistics, among many other
corrupt activities. In fear for my life, I applied for a CCW/CWP
(Concealed Weapons Permit) and purchased two handguns, one for home and
one to carry. Now I could legally keep a handgun on me wherever I went,
without fear of it being stolen. Now that I was regularly armed and
apparently "dangerous" to the police, they changed their tactics. The
next time I went to a bar, very very close to my home, two young, cute,
petite girls began to flirt with me at the bar - should have been my
first clue that something wasn't right (one even admitted to being a
dispatcher with the Hollywood, Florida P.D.). When I went to the
bathroom, one of them drugged my drink. Fortunately, I was getting
suspicious before I blacked out and wisely pretended to be naive and
asked the girls to show me how to use my new phone camera. They were
eager to help, and also tipsy which helped me trick them. I managed to
take a great picture of them together as well as a short video of their
much older female friend hiding across the bar (probably a cop as well,
or their "handler" as they are often called).
Somehow,
I got in my truck and started the short drive home. I made it to my
condo parking lot, parked my truck, locked my door, and started walking
toward my building. Apparently whatever they put in my drink wore off,
or kicked in, because I felt perfectly sober after exiting my vehicle.
Suddenly 3 cop cars pulled in front of me in the parking lot. I was
asked how much I had to drink. Realizing that I had been set up, and
feeling sober, I told him I hadn't been drinking. He said he smelled
alcohol and told me to turn around. I was cuffed VERY tightly, taken to
jail, put in a tiny holding tank with 5 other guys pressed against each
other and left there in agony for over 6 hours without water, sleep
deprived (ice cold room with bright lights), and no bathroom break
(human rights violations?). The other guys, who were really drunk,
managed to sleep upright and cuffed. I was in excruciating pain and
wide awake. No way to lay down. I eventually stood up and started
kicking the door, demanding my cuffs be removed, demanding water, and
demanding a bathroom break. I was threatened by my arresting officer
(Cohen, I believe?) and told if I didn't shut up he was going to come in
there and "shove his foot up my ass". I looked him straight in the
face and said "I'd love to see you try." Other officers laughed and
taunted me. He let everyone else out and waited about 15 minutes before
releasing me so I could relieve my nearly ruptured bladder. He hid
behind the electronic door because he said I was acting violent. After
posting my own $500 cash bail (a really nice black female clerk looked
at my case, looked around, and said "I can do that." She seemed to be
breaking protocol for me), I went back to the bar the next day to talk
to the bartender, who knew me. I showed him the photos of the girls and
he said he had never seen those girls before and that he was shocked at
how drunk I seemed when I left because he had never seen me drunk
before. I had been going to this place in Deerfield Beach for dinner
every Friday night for years and never left drunk. Also, I took
pictures of my grossly swollen and bruised wrists. My neighbor told me
my truck was unlocked all night and my papers (with my SSN and other
personal info) was sitting on the front seat, unsecured. My keys were
missing (apartment, truck, jaguar, gas tank, storage locker, etc. - all
gone). The cop never processed them and never returned them even after I
filed a complaint. I had my truck locks re-keyed. According to a
Traffic School instructor, the Florida Constitution states that if no
keys are found on you or processed, there is no case of DUI. I'm not
sure if that is true, but if it is, I was unlawfully prosecuted.
Prior
to my next court date, I went back to work and eventually started
making serious money (nearly $100,000 per year). On my last day at one
contract job (I quit because my employer shortchanged my contract check
by over $2,000), I went out for a drink with a co-worker (an Iranian guy
named Hamid). We had two beers and talked a lot about work. He left
and I stuck around for one more drink. I ran into a friend of my now
ex-employer (Douglas Root) who had some harsh words for me. The next
thing I remember is calling my co-worker on my cell phone telling him I
was being pulled over by the police. I could hear my own speech quickly
starting to slur. Strange. The bar was in Boca Raton along Dixie Hwy,
but I was pulled over in Delray Beach, on my way back to my hotel on
I-95. I was staying there when the big hurricane hit. I was taken to
Palm Beach County Jail and held for 2 weeks before being transferred to
Broward County for VOP (violation of probation from the previous
D.U.I.). I got the same judge (psycho Judge Wren who
looks like a slightly younger Ruth Ginsberg) for DUI #2, but she had a
much different attitude than from the first trial. When she read that I
now had TWO D.U.I.'s within 6 months (total b.s.), she was livid.
Thankfully, she wasn't informed of the 3rd one before my sentencing.
She snapped her neck sideways and read me the riot act.
Because of my family name (Wright), I was one of the last alphabetical
cases that day. I sat through hours of cases listening to guys with the
longest laundry list of criminal records.
They would always get
probation, case dismissed for cop error, etc. The guy before me had
multiple assaults on police officers, multiple hardcore drug arrests,
etc. and the judge was calm and nice and understanding. I think he got
probation. Not me, I was the REAL dangerous one, apparently. She went
on to lecture me about her years working with MADD and other related
groups (ummm, conflict of interest???).
I
was literally in chains (hands and feet), sitting in an orange
jumpsuit, cuffed at the right wrist to a HUGE black guy (he said he felt
bad for me - I was visibly upset about going to jail). The female
(oriental) "Public Defender" walked over to me and rudely told me to "get it through your head" that I was "going to jail for at least a year"
unless I plead guilty. I had been sleep deprived, temporarily bunked
with a 7 foot tall drunk, black transvestite with diarrhea (and possibly
HIV+), and shackled like an animal. I was pissed and I told her "No
thanks, b**ch, I'll hire a REAL lawyer." (unusual for me, but I was in
hell) Later, from jail, I called Bill Ring (Corporate real estate atty.
and partner at my old place of employment), and asked if he could find
me a good lawyer. He said he would find me a lawyer that would get me
out of jail. That did not turn out well. He (the hired $2,000 lawyer)
sold me out from day one. He didn't lift a finger to help me and even
pissed off the judge. She threw the book at me and sentenced me to 60 days in jail, no bond (Stockade Facility, slave labor for CCA and Ken Jenne). Interesting
notes: On July 20th of 2011, I emailed Marty and Bill an earlier
version of the first portion of this email. It was the first contact I
had with them since fleeing the USA. I was desperate for rent and food
money and inquired about getting some contract work from them. No
response until the 4th or 5th email when Marty emailed me back with a
short message "Kevin - best communicate with Bill." Bill never
responded to my emails. For clarity, I was the staff
architect/technician at Commerce Group, Inc.
in Deerfield Beach, Florida – owned by eccentric billionaire Martin
O'Boyle – who has homes in Atlantic City, NJ and Gulf Stream, Florida
and owns a two million dollar 2009 Cessna Grand Caravan. Interesting
name and date of Incorporation: Airline Highway, LLC - September 11th, 2001)
While
in jail, my ex co-worker (Hamid, the Iranian guy) and his Jewish
girlfriend (a cocaine addict and alcoholic) managed to get an Iranian
Delray Beach cop to let them into my hotel room and put all of my
personal belongings into my new apartment (hadn't even moved in yet
after signing the lease the day I was arrested). While in jail, Hamid,
regularly visited and his girlfriend (a paralegal or legal assistant, I
believe) tried to get me to give them "Power of Attorney" to handle my
affairs. They also practically demanded my password to my laptop. I
refused both offers. When speaking to Hamid from jail, he informed me
that my male cat had suddenly died. I was heart-broken since he was my
buddy for 15 years. I did figure out that I could safely give Hamid a
"partial" or "specific" POA only for my truck to get it out of impound.
I even allowed him to borrow it "to help a friend move." Later, I
discovered the odometer had been disconnected. Who knows where they
took that vehicle, what they transported, or what else may have been
done with it. Hamid later begged me to borrow it again but I told him
it was already packed full of my stuff for my upcoming "escape". He was
pissed, I believe because he wanted to fix the odometer before I
discovered it, which I hadn't yet at that time.
After
getting out of jail, my court instructions were absolutely insane.
Apparently the judge thinks she has the authority to determine a persons
psychological state and so she ordered me to pay and attend weekly
group therapy sessions, 90 days straight of AA meetings, regular drug
tests, random home checks for any alcohol, paid monthly probation,
expensive driver training classes (Room 101 "re-education" at the National Safety Council), and to not own any guns
- all in writing. By the way, at my second DUI driver safety course
(Level II) at NSC, I was asked by the female instructor as to why I was
there. I told her she didn't want to know and that I was set up for a
bogus DUI. I was calm and not rude at all. After telling the whole
class about all of the bad men in her life, she said I was likely there
“because I was an asshole” in front of the whole class and said that if I
didn't cooperate that she would immediately call my probation officer
and have me put back in jail for a year or more. She then went on to
brag about having all of the power to destroy my life. During my
"evaluation" there, a large black effeminate homosexual man did my
interview and demanded extremely personal information about me and my
family. He wanted to know about my father who had passed away. I told
him I didn't feel comfortable telling him that. He aggressively said
that if I didn't talk he would call my probation officer. I was facing
serious trouble already and eventually told him that my father had died
from the side effects of long-term alcoholism. This was so morbidly
abusive/invasive and I was continuously forced, under duress, to jump
through endless and stress-inducing bureaucratic hoops to "comply" with
the judges orders. Every day, from sunrise to sunset for 90 days was a
stressful nightmare. I was being drained of all of my finances, all of
my time, and all of my dignity. I lost my new $75,000 job when I went
to jail, lost one cat, and eventually had to put the other one down
shortly after because of skin cancer and because of the stress of losing
her brother. I couldn't deal with her suffering any longer.
Once
my 90 days of hell was over, I began to re-adjust a little and could
start thinking clearly. I hired a $10,000 lawyer for my final (3rd) DUI
in Palm Beach County. I did a lot of on-line research on DUI's and
attorneys and met with a few. I chose who I chose because he was cocky
and aggressive and promised me that he could wipe the courtroom floor
with these cops based on what he saw. He said he doesn't accept cases
unless he knows he can win them hands-down. I was sold and paid him
$1,000 or more every two weeks in cash until he had nearly $10,000. I
was nearly broke the whole time. I was starting to get concerned and
called him to ask how the case was progressing. He was pissed at me and
told me that every time I called him, I was interrupting his golf
game. This schmuck hadn't done a thing and the next thing I know, he
calls me at work and tells me to "get my affairs in order". I asked
what he meant by that. He said that my judge was a "hang 'em high"
judge and that when he sees THREE (3) DUI's in 6 months (all bogus
setups by cops or ???), he is going to want to put me away for at least 6
years. He didn't even show up for court, his partner did. My case had
already been delayed once because the arresting officer never showed.
Case dismissed, or so I thought.
While
standing outside of the court room, my lawyer informed me that my case
had been rescheduled for that day because of special circumstances. It
seems, that during the Iraqi Gulf war-time, some officers were allowed
to work as part-time snipers for Blackwater and similar mercenary
groups. This was an excusable event in the eyes of the judge. My brain
went into overdrive and I demanded that my attorney buy me some more
time to "get my affairs in order." I told him bluntly that he dumped
this surprise on me unexpectedly and that I could not simply abandon my
apartment, my job, etc. without proper notice. I told him I need to put
my belongings in storage, find a home for my cat, etc. He personally
approached the judge, whispered something, and the judge scolded him and
said this is the last delay. I got a 60 or 90 day court delay, I don't
recall. It was enough time for me to work a little more, save some
money and disappear. I lied to Hamid and others and gave multiple
creative stories to the few that I told about my plans.
I
carefully planned out my trip, driving a carefully selected route and
managed to make it all the way to Montana next to the Canadian border,
on expired plates. Eventually, I made it into Canada and drove all
night until I hit Vancouver. I was in survival mode. My life was on
the line and I felt like nothing mattered but staying alive. I stayed
in an off-beat hotel outside of Vancouver for a month while I hunted for
work. I immediately got a pre-paid cell-phone under a pseudonym. I
found contract work quickly and moved to a nearby small town where I
stayed for 6+ months. I moved about every six months and came to settle
in a very remote little town, where I learned all about timberframe and
log homes. It really helped my architectural portfolio because of how
popular these homes are in Canada, Hawaii, Japan, and elsewhere.
Unfortunately, I made a huge mistake. While looking for a check-cashing
store to cash a check, I got pulled over for speeding (in my landlords
car).
I
was arrested (for over-staying my visit beyond 6 months), taken to
jail, and told a Cessna 172 airplane would be flying in the next morning
to take me to Vancouver before being deported. I would be dead in no
time, I thought, but never fully gave up my Taurean stubbornness. The
plane couldn't get in for several days due to a snowstorm (I know, this
is just a crazy story, but it's all true). This bought me time to do
some thinking and make a lot of phone calls. I contacted the U.S.
Consulate General in Vancouver, who was very helpful, and decided to
claim refugee status (political asylum). You gotta love Canada - I was
told I qualified and was released, but then asked to jump through a lot
of bureaucratic hoops for another two years. It was during this time
that I discovered my true rights. Since I couldn't afford legal
counsel, for two years I researched everything I could about my rights
and the legal system. What I eventually discovered blew me away. Under
"Common Law" I could easily defend myself. As long as I had no
"contracts" with the government, they did not have my "consent" to
govern me. Well, all of my "contracts" (drivers license, library card,
etc. and anything else with my binding signature had expired). I was a
"freeman on the land", a Sovereign under common law jurisdiction. This
applies to all former British colonies, by the way (U.S.A., Canada,
Australia, New Zealand, etc.).
As
a persona-non-grata (undocumented foreign national), I was taken
advantage of by many employers and landlords, but eventually crushed
them with my newly discovered knowledge of the REAL law (Common Law).
Apparently, due to my declaration of Sovereignty and Common Law
jurisdiction with an old employers attorney, I unknowingly at the time
"notified" the entire "Law Society" of my new status. Shortly after, I
was informed by a Border Services agent (she wasn't supposed to tell me)
that my Refugee case has been "abandoned." No due process, no
notification, just like that. I was initially pissed, but then came to
realize that I no longer had any CONTRACTS with the Canadian government
either and was therefore a FREE MAN (Sovereign). I'm still organizing
my papers to secure this and, of course, still a little apprehensive of
knocks on my door. My problem now is mere SURVIVAL. The economy is
shot and work is scarce. It's hard to find work as an architect and
home builder when you are undocumented. I refuse to enter into
contracts with the government and never give consent to them or the
RCMP. I'm currently trying to do some marketing for new contract
work/barter.
If any of this has been hard to swallow so far, and I'm sure it has, get a load of this:
After discovering I had prostate cancer back in late December of 2003, I knew I was in for a battle. It's the number one killer of men over 45. I was already struggling with a pre-diabetic condition due to over-consumption of sugar and other poor eating habits, in spite of being a serious weight-lifter (My heaviest weight was a muscular 210 lbs. at 5'-8" tall). In the summer of 2007, I was nearly out of money and had to ration food and seriously change my diet. I lost a lot of overall weight, especially belly-fat (down to 170 lbs.), which led me to discover that my untreated cancer had spread and resulted in a large tumor below my belly-button. Now I was worried and could no longer ignore this problem. Thankfully, I am an exceptionally meticulous researcher. Along with my Common Law research, I downloaded all of the best books on Molecular and Cellular biology, including the most expensive and elite college textbooks in the world - countless volumes (all found on-line). "Doctoring" only treats symptoms; Physicians are supposed to heal. I also discovered several Canadian researchers who have had their cancer cure research suppressed, even though their own clinical trials proved it tens of thousands of times more effective than "modern" medicine. Why? Because ALL of their cures were based on all-natural, plant based medicine or simple compounds that cost pennies!!! One example is Vitamin B-17 (aka 'Laetrile'). The most effective one of all ----- CANNABIS!!! Lot's of that in Canada. |:-)--~ You need about a pound of Cannabis to be extracted using 100-proof alcohol, boiled off and stirred until it forms a black tar-like liquid, but then it is pure cancer-killing gold, even the worst kind - children's brain cancer. ( See these websites for some real facts about Cannabis: Run From The Cure and Clearing the Smoke: The Science of Cannabis . I couldn't afford to buy that much, however, after almost two years, I had virtually no signs of cancer, but still have to keep up a strict all-natural diet and vitamin supplementation to counter minor prostate issues.
After discovering I had prostate cancer back in late December of 2003, I knew I was in for a battle. It's the number one killer of men over 45. I was already struggling with a pre-diabetic condition due to over-consumption of sugar and other poor eating habits, in spite of being a serious weight-lifter (My heaviest weight was a muscular 210 lbs. at 5'-8" tall). In the summer of 2007, I was nearly out of money and had to ration food and seriously change my diet. I lost a lot of overall weight, especially belly-fat (down to 170 lbs.), which led me to discover that my untreated cancer had spread and resulted in a large tumor below my belly-button. Now I was worried and could no longer ignore this problem. Thankfully, I am an exceptionally meticulous researcher. Along with my Common Law research, I downloaded all of the best books on Molecular and Cellular biology, including the most expensive and elite college textbooks in the world - countless volumes (all found on-line). "Doctoring" only treats symptoms; Physicians are supposed to heal. I also discovered several Canadian researchers who have had their cancer cure research suppressed, even though their own clinical trials proved it tens of thousands of times more effective than "modern" medicine. Why? Because ALL of their cures were based on all-natural, plant based medicine or simple compounds that cost pennies!!! One example is Vitamin B-17 (aka 'Laetrile'). The most effective one of all ----- CANNABIS!!! Lot's of that in Canada. |:-)--~ You need about a pound of Cannabis to be extracted using 100-proof alcohol, boiled off and stirred until it forms a black tar-like liquid, but then it is pure cancer-killing gold, even the worst kind - children's brain cancer. ( See these websites for some real facts about Cannabis: Run From The Cure and Clearing the Smoke: The Science of Cannabis . I couldn't afford to buy that much, however, after almost two years, I had virtually no signs of cancer, but still have to keep up a strict all-natural diet and vitamin supplementation to counter minor prostate issues.
The
first thing I did for treating my cancer was to stop eating ANYTHING
with man-made chemicals in it. No more restaurants, especially fast
food, and no more
PROCESSED SUGAR(only pure hard unpasteurized raw honey).
I also started buying and/or making all of my own personal hygiene
products and household cleaners. I try to live and eat as naturally as I
can (like our ancestors and aboriginals), other than what may be in the
air or water. I live in a small organic farming town where you can
still get free-roaming beef and chicken that are hormone, antibiotic,
and steroid free. I have become quite the chef and even had my own
garden before my old landlord got foreclosed on and I was forced to move
back closer to town. Now I go to the local farmers market for fresh
"slow" food. I feel that my life is just beginning. I am in peak
physical condition (read RIPPED!!!) and have a positive, fearless
attitude. You would not believe what being pure and natural does to
you. No more brain fog, and all of the veins in your body protrude
through your skin. I am creepy strong and fit. My bones are like
IRON. I can literally slam my fists together violently and no pain, no
bruising. It's scary, but amazing what mankind has lost to this
chemically based world. I almost don't feel human. Animals act
different around me. Horses, chickens, dogs, etc. all seem to like me.
I had a bobcat show up in my yard this past winter. He just looked at
me for about a minute and walked away. So many wild animals here.
Maybe I am one of them now. It feels that way. I hope it stays that
way. I want to find another remote cabin soon, especially before winter
sets in.
If you have made it this far, thank you for your time and patience.
Sincerely and truthfully,
Kevin Patrick: Wright, Sui juris
Flesh and Blood, Sovereign Man On The Land
Natural Law Jurisdiction
British Columbia, Canada (now back in the USSA)
Flesh and Blood, Sovereign Man On The Land
Natural Law Jurisdiction
P.S.
This
is just a tiny, tiny fraction of the whole story. For now, I'm just
trying to stay alive and stay healthy. I no longer fear anything or
anyone. Whatever happens, happens. I will fight with everything I have
to the death to defend my freedom!!! Feel free to selectively share
this with anyone you trust who might be able to help me expose these
corrupt bastards (in government, US and Canada) who are destroying a
once great nation.
Best wishes to all
______________________________________________________________
______________________________________________________________
This blog, and all relative personal
information of the author are not for sale, reuse or redistribution without the written
consent of the author:
Kevin Patrick Wright (TM) © Copyright April 28, 1964-present
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