MY LAST DAYS IN HELL
October 2003 - November 2003 - December 2003 - January 2004
On the evening of October 18 1982 the Fates decided to send me on an odyssey to Hell. Now after 21 years my odyssey finally draws near its conclusion. As it does, I would like to believe the Fates have given me back the power to control my own destiny. As such, I now seek my bearings in order to make the exodus one of dignity and pride.
I have always been a spiritual being, with an uneasy knowledge that I am different than most. On a whole it was a curse to me. Being different marked me as an outsider and for the longest left me feeling as is I were something evil. Simply because I did not seem to fit into this world's code of morality. Now I am under the belief that my spirituality is a blessing. As I have walked through the gates of Hell, and been privileged to judge my own heart. The world can me as it will, but it cannot lay claim to my soul, for I am not of this world.
For whoever may read this journal, I want to make it clear from the start that I am not a religious man. Nor am I a saint. I consider myself a spirit, sojourning upon Mother Earth as my ancestors done before me. I have chosen to find the good in the lessons I have learned upon this sojourn – so I may grow in peace and harmony through the wisdom, knowledge and understanding of my spirituality.
Let's see, day two of the journal. I'm sitting here wondering what to write about. Life has become so mundane living in this solitary cell. About the only thing I have to look forward to is the mail and nowadays I rarely receive any. I have grown so tired writing about my case, life here, and dealing with the uncertainties of ever having a life beyond death row, which is why I have begun this journal. I fully expect to have a life beyond death row and hope to make it an abundant life. Yet, the possibility of never having a life outside of this man-made hell does exist. A reality I wake up to, and go to sleep to daily. So, as I learn to control my destiny writing this journal. It will serve to be my relief from the body that remains cages, while my spirit soars free. For me it is a means of controlling my destiny by opening doors to dispose of the trash that others have created in the false picture they have painted of me. A stigma that has allowed their abuse to go unpunished. Due to the fact they have held me silent.
Over the years, I have tried all sorts of ideas to overcome the odds against me vindicating myself. In a legal system that is not designed to correct itself. In 1988, I put together a collection of my poetry in hopes of publishing it and drawing attention to my plight. My death warrant was signed in September of 1987 and I was in a major panic that not many years would pass before my second death warrant would be signed. Now after living in duress for 21 years, I have sought as recently as June 10 th of this year for the governor to sign my death warrant. As a means of speeding the legal process up, which also happens to be the second such letter, with the first being wrote June 10 th 1999 .
I received a letter from my friend John Pollex in England informing me my website has been updated with a copy of the Prose Status Report I sent to the federal judge now overseeing my case. John has been a very good friend to me and helped me set up my website. We have been corresponding for well over a decade now and have yet to meet in person, which I believe will happen once my last days in this hell end.
As I wrote that last line, thoughts of my son and daughter entered my mind. I haven't seen either of them since this farce and mockery began. I do receive correspondence sporadically from my daughter, but have never heard from my son. They were 7 and 10 in 1982. My daughter now has two beautiful children and my son, the last I heard, was going to graduate school. I get emotional when I think about my children, and know I wasn't anywhere near a good father. Due to my involvement with drugs and the street life. Even so, we were able to spend a lot of time together in the early years of their lives. As I sought to condition them to the importance of education. I was able to show them all the love I knew how to give, yet at the same time didn't know how to love myself. As I struggled with my own identity and in many ways still do.
Their mother and I were divorced in 1981, shortly before I was released from prison in Illinois , after serving 27 months for battery. I also had 3 years' parole to serve, which I jumped to come to Florida to be with my children and hopefully rekindle the fires with their mother. In hindsight I realise it was a bad idea to persuade my now ex-wife to move to Florida , while I served my time in Illinois . It was even a worse idea to jump parole. Stating my intentions were good doesn't help. Yet knowing in my heart they were, does…
Which brings me back to being a spiritual entity. Even as a youngster I sought answers from God, as to why I always seemed different. I tried all of the religions and have read three or four different translations of the Bible as well as hundreds of theological books throughout the years. Through it all, I have found solace in the belief the Bible is a spiritual guidebook. For those who follow its instructions in rightly dividing the word of truth, which it also says many profess to have done, but have only followed the corrupt interpretation that satisfies this world's conception of morality. I know I'm not quoting verbatim from the bible and never intended to expound on the subject. I know I am leaving myself open to the world's judgement. That is the purpose of this journal. I am who I am…
What I am not is a murderer and the worst feeling in the world is to be innocent, yet judged unredeemable and sentenced to death. My life has been dissected based on being judged guilty of murder. Now all I want is the same dissection done on the facts that allowed the travesty of justice that brought about my false conviction. I have maintained my innocence of 21 years. Exculpatory evidence was withheld from me that discredit every shred of evidence used to convict me. The facts are not being recognised through the appellate process. So, here I sit in the early morning of October 10 th writing this journal in hopes it will stimulate the influence I seek to retake control of my life from those responsible of falsely convicting me and deeming me unworthy of life.
The day went by fairly fast. They brought our laundry bags, passed out supplies (toothpaste, toilet paper and cleanser) plus took our canteen orders. I spent the last of my money and don't know when I will be able to draw again When I first came to death row in July of 1983, it was at Florida State Prison in Starke. If I had begun a journal at that time I would have thousands of haunting stories just about Florida State Prison. My life was in a real turmoil. I had just been railroaded and didn't know if I would ever be able to prove it. I had no family support and the only person helping me was the victim's mother Barbara Richardson. I knew our relationship wasn't going to last long under these conditions. I have to give Barbara all the credit in the world for sticking by me for nearly two years after my conviction and sentence. We met shortly after I arrived in Florida in February of 1981.
I left Chicago , Illinois , hitchhiking in a snowstorm. Shortly after having met the man that is listed on my birth certificate as my father. Our meeting did not go very well and we have not had any contact since. I had seven dollars, my guitar, and a duffle bag with clothes. I had only been released from prison a few short weeks before and been living with aunt and uncle, before heading to Florida .
As I sit here reflecting on my past, I could easily get sidetracked rambling about all sorts of things. I worked putting the plumbing in on Illinois death row, where I met the infamous serial killer John Wayne Gacy. I even stood a few short feet from the electric chair there. Never did it cross my mind that one day I would end up on death row myself. The last thing in the world I wanted was to end up back in prison.
My stepfather, Edward Rose Sr, once told me not to come to Florida . I wasn't smart enough to listen. I should clarify a few things here. I am Cherokee Indian, or at least that is what my mother told me at an early age. I am of dark complexion with black hair and brown eyes. My stepfather, whose name I was given at an early age, is white. My mother was also of a dark complexion with black hair and brown eyes. My half-brother and sister are fair skinned, with brown hair and eyes. I grew up in white communities for the most part and always stood out like a sore thumb. My parents were both alcoholics and fought both verbally and physically on a daily basis. My mother was both verbally and physically abusive to me, while my father was only verbally abusive. I grew up in bars and taverns. Yet, for the most part I always had clean clothes and food on the table. Even though my parents weren't the best role models. They did remain together for over 40 years, until my mother passed away. My stepfather and I have in our own way reconciled our differences about a year and a half ago. After a twenty year absence of communications. I don't harbour any ill feelings towards my parents and have long ago accepted things of the past as things I need to find good in. Since I cannot change the past I have sought to learn from it, in order to help myself grow into a better man.
I went to bed last night thinking about how at the sentencing phase of my trial I was called a psychopath - which is hard for me to defend against, since I lived a violent lifestyle. I was a drug addict hooked on heroin, lost a plumbing apprenticeship, a home and family. I estimate I have been on over 200 fights and have done some really crazy things throughout my life. Although nothing that warrants death. I tried turning to religion, and even studied mental health, psychology, as well as read all sorts of self-help books. Trying to bring myself out of the hell I was creating. Only I had a knack for putting myself in danger and called it my prosperity curse. It would usually come when I felt relaxed and would let my guard down. Here's an example...
While in prison in Illinois , I developed an interest in computers. So when I met Barbara, who happened to be 16 years my senior, I saw it as an opportunity to start over and all I had to do was stay out of trouble. I told Barbara about my past and things were going well for us. Barbara was getting out of a bad marriage of 25 years. She was intelligent and we got along well. She also didn't look her age due to plastic surgery and was able to keep up with me. The only thing that haunted me from the start was Barbara's address on Clearwater Beach , which happened to be 666 Mandalay . Later on there would be another encounter with that number when I brought a 1950 Chevy School bus. It had the license plate number 666 on it before I purchased it. I'm getting ahead of myself. The story I want to relay was after Barbara and I returned from our trip to California . We had her duplex up for sale and asking $150,000 for it - money we planned to use to relocate and to give me the opportunity to begin working with a word processor, as I wanted to become a writer. When we returned to Florida we had to give notice to the person renting the top floor of the duplex. We also needed a place to stay until we could move back into the duplex. We ended up staying with my brother, Dave, and his girlfriend, which brings me back to the example I started with.
While staying with my brother, one of his friends came over and wanted us to go party with him in Tampa . I wasn't expecting any trouble because my brother's friend was a good guy. So I felt fairly comfortable going with them. On our way to Tampa , this car comes out of nowhere almost striking us as it pulled in front of us. Traffic was moving slow from what we assumed to be an accident up ahead of us. The next thing I know is the guy that almost hit us now backing into us as he tries to go around the car in front of him. My brother's friend begins shouting, "Hey, this is my mother's car”, and asks my brother to see it the guy done any damage to it. I wasn't concerned because I didn't believe the guy had backed into us all that hard. My brother got out of the car to look anyway. I then see my brother bend down to say something to the driver of the other car, when the guy grabs him by his hair and begins to hit him. I immediately get out of the back seat and start yelling at the guy to stop. The guy isn't stopping so I open the passenger side door of his car to go after him. When he lets my brother go I see another guy hit him with a hatchet. By the time I run around the car the guy is about to hit my brother again. I reached and grabbed the hatchet out of his hand. When I did, he turned and cut me across the chest with a razor knife, then took off running.
Now I am standing there with a hatchet in my hand, looking at my chest wondering what in the hell is going on. When I see my brother running after the guy, I began yelling for him to stop. Meanwhile the guy that started all of this has made a u-turn and is driving away. Then the guy my brother is chasing reaches into a car and pulls out a long metal t-square and begins swinging it at my brother. By now my brother's friend is giving chase too. When the guy with the t-square sees there are now 3 of us, he takes off running again. When I reach his car, I reached in and got his keys which I threw in the ditch beside the road. I didn't want this guy driving away too. Next thing I know my brother and his friend are standing beside me. I told them we better drive down to where the accident was and report what just happened. So we did, only to find my brother and I being arrested for assault. I didn't' see what happened, but my brother later told me when he caught up to the guy he pushed him down. When he did the guy dropped the t-square and my brother picked it up and hit him with it.
The next day when Barbara bailed us out, I found out this guy was being heralded as a Good Samaritan. As he got his arm broke trying to help another motorist being attacked by two men. I was now once more trapped in the legal system. I had already lied to the police about never having been in trouble and feared they would discover I had jumped parole in Illinois when I got my Florida drivers license I had changed my first name from Michael to Milo. My original name is Milo Andrew Trussel. After my arrest everything Barbara and I had planned began to go downhill from there.
All right, picking up the story. My brother and I were both assigned a public defender. He was charged with battery, which carries a 15-year sentence. The states attorneys were in a bad situation due to the fact that the guy that started everything had driven off. So the story that my brother and I just decided to attack another motorist on a busy and congested street in front of everyone there for no apparent reason, was going to be a hard sale, and they also had the problem of the media turning the guy that interfered into a Good Samaritan. So the state continued the case twice past my speedy trial rights.
So that case was on continuance when I found myself charged with murder. So I was assigned another public defender and together these two public defenders would defend me on the assault charge. While I was being held in the Pinellas County Jail, without bond on the murder charge. These two same public defenders were also assigned to represent me on the murder charge. Now this is important because I would be found guilty of the assault charge and use that to get them off my case for the murder. The point being they allowed me to be found guilty of the assault charge without putting up much of any defence. My brother and his friend weren't called as witnesses. The fact that I was cut across the chest wasn't expounded on. The shirt I was wearing that showed the razor cut wasn't presented as evidence. Nor was the exact that the person that started everything and drove off expounded on. All I could do was sit there and watch as a farce and mockery took place. I would be found guilty and sentenced to 5 years. These aren't empty words as any attorney can examine the records and see what transpired.
Okay, now to the murder case. I instantly knew I didn't want either of these two representing me, so I immediately filed complaints to the Florida Bar and a motion to the court to have them dismissed from the murder case. What happened shortly afterwards would highly taint my case as these tow public defenders broke all moral and ethical codes of conduct as they set out taking depositions from a list of witnesses the state turned over on demand for discovery. Only after my death warrant had been signed would I learn two key Clearwater Police officers who took exculpatory evidence that was never turned over on demand for discovery. Tape recorded statements by 3 of the eyewitnesses, a composite drawing done by another eyewitness, the blood test results, along with the fact that two people who initially denied any knowledge of the crime would later change their statements in exchange for deals they made with the state to testify against me. So the depositions the two public defenders took without benefit of any exculpatory evidence would prejudice me with whomever the court would assign to represent me. Since I was adamant about my innocence in light of what was being presented as overwhelming evidence as t guilt, there was an immediate conflict on how to proceed.
There is so more I haven't even begun to touch on. For example, I wore my hair long in a ponytail and a full beard, because I felt it would easily distinguish me from everyone else. I wanted to stand out and be noticed. I wasn't looking for trouble and didn't want trouble to find me. So when I was told four people positively identified me as the person they saw kill butch, all I could do was deny it was me. I wasn't able to explain how four eyewitnesses identified me. I was placed under tremendous stress to the point of beginning to question my own sanity and innocence. I was being told four people positively identified me, that I had the victim's blood all over my person and clothing, that two people were saying I told them I killed Butch and asked them for an alibi. All I could do was to say none of it was true. That it wasn't me. I didn't do it. Help me!
I hate to admit it, but I was a perfect patsy, an easy mark to be railroaded. As an ex-con nobody, who would care? As the chances of me ever being able to prove I was railroaded in a court of court would prove near impossible....The odds have really been stacked against me, and being held silent doesn't help. I need attention drawn to the fact of there being two sets of facts in my case. The set the state used to bring about this farce and mockery of justice, by withholding the set of facts that totally discredits those they presented as overwhelming as t guilt. A fact when viewed cumulatively makes it blatantly clear the state's attorneys set out to achieve a conviction by any means possible.
In 1987, while on deathwatch, I was elated to learn my attorneys were finally able to discredit the eyewitness and blood evidence. Only the Trial Court Judge, Susan Schaefer, would rule that the testimony of the two alleged confession / alibi witnesses standing by itself was enough to achieve a conviction. Therefore I was not entitled to an evidentiary hearing on the guilt / innocence issues. It was only an act of fate that in 1996 did I finally discover the evidence that helps me discredit these two alleged confession/alibi witnesses. The sad reality of this is that if I had not found this evidence, the federal courts would have been free to rule against my appeals, leaving my execution imminent. That fact chills me to the bone.
What makes matters worse is when this evidence was presented to the Trial Judge. She flip-flopped on her earlier ruling by stating even if she threw out the testimony of the two alleged confession/alibi witnesses, there was still the eyewitness and blood evidence, which she reasoned was enough to achieve a conviction - allowing her to once more deny me a hearing on the guilt / innocence issues of my case.
I am now back in the feral court with a new attorney the state has provided me. I have made the federal judge overseeing this case aware that I want my attorney to take depositions of the two former prosecuting attorneys who tried my case, explaining how doing this will quickly resolve whether I received a fair trial or not. The judge ordered that my attorney be prepared to proceed by March 2004, allowing 6 months for my attorney to familiarise himself with the issues.
I met with my new attorney, Bjorn Brunvond, for a brief period on October 1st. I explained my reason behind wanting to depose the two former attorneys and what I expected the results of deposing them would bring about, which would be my immediate release, due to the fact they would not be able to condone the withholding of exculpatory evidence. Thus causing them to have to admit I did not receive a fair and impartial trial.
I have had a bad history with state provided attorneys from day one. All I can do now is hope Bjorn Brunvond proves to be the exception. I hope writing this journal helps bring that desired effect about. The way I see it, I have nothing to lose and everything to gain. As I seek to re-establish control of my life. I cannot afford to sit silent and allow others to tell my story...
Living with the uncertainty of having any future beyond this cell each day is by far the most depressing aspect I have to deal with daily. I have known just about everyone that gotten out over the past 20 years, and I keep wondering when my turn will come. As I ask myself how they got media attention and an attorney to press the issues in their cases, and I can't. Instead I keep getting attorneys that keep selling me out. For example when I discovered the evidence that discredits the two alleged confession/ alibi witnesses in 1996, it should have taken a short time before I was set free. But my state mandated attorneys slow walked my case and then argued before the Florida Supreme Court in Oral Arguments that my case wasn't one of first degree murder, but instead one of second degree murder, because I was drinking. I couldn't believe what that attorney had done, and neither could the Florida Supreme Court. Here was my attorney arguing a diminished capacity defence, instead of arguing my innocence and the lower courts ruling to be wrong.
Trial Judge Susan Schaeffer also reasoned in her ruling, to deny me an evidentiary hearing, that the two alleged confession/alibi witnesses gave truthful information throughout. So even if they had made a deal for their testimony and that information wasn't revealed, it would not have mattered. My argument at that time and still is: How could these two witnesses have given truthful information throughout when they both initially denied having any knowledge of the crime? That is what I wanted and expected my attorney to argue before the Florida Supreme Court. Along with the fact that under cumulative review it can be reasoned these two people are most likely the killers, giving them reason to lie and place the blame on me.
I can now show ho the withholding of the exculpatory evidence prejudiced the entire case against me. The jury only heard evidence that 3 of the eyewitnesses were positive of their identification of me as the man they saw kill Butch. While the prosecuting attorneys argued that the jurors never once heard the eyewitnesses waiver of vary from their identification. Yet, when the exculpatory evidence that was withheld from me comes to light, it clearly shows that not only did the eyewitnesses waiver and vary in their description, but that their initial description fit the male of the two alleged confession/alibi witnesses exactly - which is 180 degrees from what I looked like.
This evidence also shows that the detective that tape-recorded his interview with 3 of the eyewitnesses withheld their statements from the prosecution, since the prosecuting attorneys never once corrected his of the eyewitness's testimony. That totally differed from the tape-recorded statements they initially gave. Because of this the states attorneys now have the moral and ethical duty to admit that the exculpatory evidence that was withheld from them, prevented me from receiving a fair and impartial trial.
There is something wrong with the electrical system. For the last few days the power has been going out for short periods of a time. Now they can't shut the power off, so the cell lights have power and the hall lights are still on too. I didn't get any mail tonight, but did get the USA Today newspaper. My neighbour and I knocked out the crossword puzzle in about two hours. Then I watched the Chicago Cubs lose game six of the best of seven championship series. Game seven is to be played later tonight.
I'll be 54 years old come January 25th, and will have spent 22 birthdays incarcerated for something I didn't do. Butch was a monster and I never understood why. The guy came from a well-to-do family, yet he chose to live a street life and be involved with drugs. I tried talking to him but it didn't do any good. I actually felt sorry for him, because he didn't know what he was missing. His younger brother was driving a brand new Mustang convertible and living a good life. I would tell Butch that his mother and I were trying to live a good life too. That I had lived the life he was living and that it led to nowhere but trouble. That I didn't need any more trouble in my life since I had already experienced enough to know it wasn't good.
Whenever Barbara and I argued it was mainly over Butch. Butch was trouble and always carried a weapon. Either a pistol or a knife. I would never know when Butch would show up of who would be with him. I also never knew how long he planned on staying. I had left Barbara a number of times because she allowed Butch to continue being a disruptive force between us. Each time she would convince me to return and for a while things would be good for us again. Had I any indication the last time I returned that Butch was going to get himself killed, I never would have put myself in that position. Even though I worried about Barbara's safety. Plus we were close to selling duplex and being able to create our own little world.
I'm not sure about the time frames or sequence of events leading up to the night Butch was killed. All I know is that it got crazy and had I any sense I would not have stuck around for any reason. I do know after I was told Butch had been killed and I was being charged with his murder. I began to question my sanity, as never before, especially since I was only able to say it wasn't me. In light of being told the evidence was overwhelming as to my guilt, I don't know how many times I told them: none of what they were saying happened was true and that it wasn't me. As I found myself getting frantic that no one believed me and that I was beginning to question my own sanity.
Another night without mail – just the USA Today crossword puzzle to work. Later today I should be going out for a Pipe Ceremony, which is relatively new for death row. Grey Cloud yelled into me from the yard and said they have lifted his stay of execution, so he expects to be sent back to Florida State Prison soon, which means he will be back on deathwatch. They fixed the electrical problem and the lights are back to normal. I have my TV sitting on a couple books at eh foot of my bed with the brightness turned up so I can write at night. I pull my locker over and put my towel down on it for a cushion so I can use my bed as a desk. My TV has been messing up now for about 3 or 4 months. It will change channels or just lose the station, so I am constantly jumping up to adjust and readjust the tuner. I would describe my cell but all of that information can be found on the DOL website. They even have photos of everyone posted. These cells are much cleaner than the ones at FSP. Over there it was roach-infested, rat-infested, ant-infested, and before they put the new window in shortly before moving death row over here the place was also mosquito-infested. Over at FSP I had to wash my clothes in the toilet. They wash our clothes over here for us three times a week to change our oranges, which is the color of our state issued pants and shirts. They also come around once a week to change our sheets and pillowcase. We didn't have hot water in our sinks at FSP, but do here. We also didn't have heat in our cells, but do here. It's still hot in the summer in our cells and cold in the winter, but not as bad as it was at FSP. The yards are smaller here and positioned between the cell houses. I'm on the first floor and there is a yard outside the window in front of my cell, so I get all the noise from other floors when they are on the yard. The yard is a concrete slab that eats tennis shoes. It is triangular in shape with the volleyball net at the wide end and the basketball net at the narrow point. I'm thankful my cell is at eh wide end of the yard because they make a lost more noise playing basketball. There is a cyclone fence with razor wire across the top around the yard. The razor wire eats volleyballs and is the reason we always have a shortage to play with. There is about a three and a half foot walkway around the yard where the guards sit and keep an eye on us while on the yard. There is a drinking fountain over by the volleyball court. When I say there is a window in front of my cell, I mean about 12 feet in front of my cell, with another set of bars dividing the floor in front of my cell into two separate walkways. The walkway by the window is called the catwalk. There are 14 cells on each floor with a window in front of each cell. Right now all the windows are open, but will probably get closed once it begins getting colder. They bring all of our meals in trays already made up in the kitchen somewhere on the prison compound that houses maximum-security prisoner. By the time we get the food it is cold and usually a jumbled mess from all the handling. The food isn't all that good most of the time. There are a few good meals. I get to take a shower 3 nights a week: Monday, Wednesday and Friday. There are two one-man showers at the front of the cell house. A guard will come on the floor and yell showers ‘front to back' or ‘back to front', depending on which way they ran the last shower night. Then two or three guards will come down the hallway and run the first two guys to the shower. They will unlock the bean flap, which is a slot in our cell doors where they slide our food trays into us. We will back up to the door so the guard can handcuff our hands behind our backs. Then the cell door will be opened so we can walk down to the shower cell where we are locked in and the cuffs removed. The guards will then leave to begin the process on another floor. We get on average about ten minutes to shower. They also pass out disposable razors on shower nights. We are expected to be clean-shaven, with no long hair, beards or moustaches. Mail usually comes around 6:30pm depending on who is passing it out. The showers are usually still running when the email gets delivered. They begin showers shortly after they serve chow and we get about 15 minutes to eat before they pick up the trays. They pick up outgoing mail five nights a week – Sunday through Friday. They come around yesterday giving out flu shots. I got one. They aren't mandatory. Getting sick here is its own little hell and I try not to get sick or hurt, which isn't easy since once someone gets sick it spreads fairly fast. If you get hurt on the yard, twist an ankle, wrist or whatever, it is Tylenol city. All right, it is 1:30am and a bit chilly in here. So I'm going to wrap it up for the night. Later today will be only the second time in over two years that I won't be able to draw canteen and I'm a bit depressed about that..
My day went from good to bad. I'll start out with the bad. I dropped the transformer that plugs into my TV and now don't have any power to the TV, so I am writing by the security light shining in form the catwalk. I can see well enough to write, but won't have a TV for a while. No mail tonight either. The good news is I went out to the Pipe Ceremony today and was able to say a prayer for Grey Cloud. I also still have my walkman radio, so I'll still be able to block out some of the noise during the day.
I live in an insane asylum and about the only time I find any solace begins around 12:00am each night. There is one guy who hums constantly. His screeching voice can be heard by me now over the music playing through my headphones. Another guy will flush his toilet 10 to 20 times in a row, whenever he needs to release whatever is bother him. The noise never stops during the say and into the night. Guys yelling and screaming to each other when they are only a few cells away from each other. Nothing is normal here and I struggle daily to try to maintain what sanity I have.
Has it been a long day! I worked a crossword puzzle and tried to repair the transformer. I didn't have much success with either. My mind is shot. I'm listening to Classic Country right now. I use to play country western songs on the guitar and sing as well. I used to do a lot of things I haven't been able to do here. I use to do a lot of things here that I can no longer do because we no longer have hobby crafts. I look forward to doing a lot of things in the future. I need to find a book or two to read. I also need to fill out a request slip to get put on the list for replacement TVs. Not having a TV is going to be rough. Tomorrow will be an exceptionally loud day due to it being Sunday and football games on the TV. I'm going to see if I can get me a chess game. We call our moves out to each other and for the most part have few problems getting the moves right.
With the journal I don't know who I am writing for, except myself. I guess I imagine I'm writing to a large group and feel a bit self-conscious. Plus, I don't know if I'll be able to get this published. Maintaining any kind of self-esteem has been hard for me, as things seem to build up to the point of my wanting to explode. Developing any type of relationship under these types of conditions that is meaningful is a hard task. It takes the effect of two people and we have on death row become vulnerable to all sorts of rejection. Even though this is a madhouse, there are some very intelligent beings here that have lost control of their fates due to mistakes in judgement. For the most part most have come to accept their loss as they deal with spending the rest of their lives behind bars. Whether waiting for their number to up in the form of execution of natural causes. I have to remind myself daily that I don't belong here. Writing this journal leaves me vulnerable. But, I can't worry it what I write can of will be used against me. I've been enduring the duress of being wrongfully executed for 21 years, and at this point in time even death will be a relief. That may sound crazy but I am not suicidal. It's just that I've reached a point where I feel it is in my best interest to do all I can to force the issues and not to wait while others continue to control my fate. Too many attorneys have made a living off of me and I'm at a point where I have a say in how to proceed. Writing this journal can't hurt me. Not writing it will! Getting the journal published online so anyone can read it can't hurt me. Not doing anything to advance my cause will. I can't sit here worrying what I have to say. I have to be optimistic. It has taken me21 years to reach this point and I am grateful to be able to write my thoughts down. As I look forward to having a future beyond this manmade hell.
I had finally decided I had enough and needed to press the issues in my case. So no attorney would be able to sell me out again without me being present to correct their false representation. It was at this time I wrote the Governor a second letter requesting he sign my death warrant in order to speed the legal process up. Only shortly after I wrote to him he done away with the group of state paid attorneys representing me known as CCRC North. While keeping CCRC Middle and Southern regions to continue representing those form those areas. The state had set up a registry attorney list of private attorneys they could fund for less than CCRC. I was glad to get CCRC off of my case. Only TW had gotten to know Linda McDermott, who was lead attorney on my case. But when she was second chair attorney when it was argued my case was not a first-degree murder case, but second degree, Linda sought to condone these actions. Because of that I filed complaints against her and the lead attorney to the Florida Bar. I had tried a number of times to get Linda McDermott off of my case. Especially since during the same time span I was being sold out, Linda helped two other men to get vindicated.
8:55pm No mail again tonight. I did come up with an idea I hope will change that. I'll be sending out the following message and requesting it to be placed or posted on websites, newsletters and the such.
The Native American Brothers on Florida 's Death Row have made major advances in getting our spiritual rights recognised by the prison. We are now able to receive authorised headbands, medicine bags and prayer feathers. As well as being able to participate in a pipe ceremony every third Friday of even numbered months. We would now like help to achieve further advancements through setting up a website and newsletter. If you are interested in offering us assistance, please contact me at the following address.
I see this as a way to help myself in that I'll be able to send my URL to my website out and even possible find help to get this journal published. Besides helping to occupy my time in a constructive manner. Back in 1993, three of us brought suit to get our native American rights recognised. Since then one of us had been executed – Daniel Remeta, spiritual name “Diahneisha”. We did win approval to have headbands, and I stayed active seeking support for us. I was also painting medicine shields in watercolors, finger weaving belts and even crocheted Native American Teddy Bears with loincloths, headbands and feather. We were receiving books, newspapers and everything we could dealing with our ancestry. Once we got split up it was hard for us to keep the momentum going. We no longer have access to hobby crafts and I lost that source of support and income, as well as losing interest in keeping up the movement. Now I hope to renew the interest.
I don't expect anything to come from the Native American website until December, it at all. By then I should have doubled the size of the journal and at the rate I have been writing, be out of ink and paper. I'm looking forward to when I'll be free to use the internet. Although as I thought about last night before being able to go to sleep, when I get out of here I won't have anything or anywhere to live. What I need is a rich, petite, independent lady, who likes adventure and wiling to love me for me. I'm not asking a lot…romance, good sex, food and a bed. I'm done with married women though and would prefer someone looking for a lifetime commitment. If I truly believe in controlling my own destiny, I should find what I am looking for. I'd really like to leave the country, too. Maybe live on an island in the Caribbean , and travel the world. That's what I want to see happen and hopefully before the year 2004 is out.
It was a long, loud day and it is still going strong. I was able to accomplish a few things. I finished my letter to John, and included something else to be added to my website concerning this journal. Since I also wrote my attorney informing him of my plans of using the journal to hopefully further my case. I'll include a copy of the letter I wrote to him:
I hope you will not be offended by the following, but I am serious about getting the issues in my case resolved. As I seek to protect my back. The following will be posted on my website:
I have begun writing a journal entitled “My Last Days in Hell”. I would like to begin to publish it now on a separate one linked to this one. I have been appointed a new attorney and I am afraid he may find it beneficial not to step on the toes of his constituents. This may just be my paranoia of having dealt with attorneys appointed to represent me who have sold me out. So, I am writing the journal as a means of hopefully gathering support to put the legal system on notice. That having an innocent man on death row for 21 years is beyond heinous, cruel and atrocious, which needs to be rectified expeditiously I see the journal as a means to bring this about. Even though the odds of me achieving this objective seem heavily stacked against me. I have faith someone will step forward to help me achieve this goal. Write to me soon, as time is of the essence. Thank you.
Milo RoseBjorn, I would like your opinion. I will get the journal published and achieve major attention to my case. If I have to step on toes along the way so be it. I hope you will support my efforts. I look forward to hearing what news you have for me.
Respectfully,
Milo RosePS A copy of this letter will be added to the journal.
All right, I'm doing all I can to achieve my goals. Now I have to be patient to see if my efforts pay off. I may just be overly optimistic. What matters is that I continue trying. I don't know what purpose my life has now except to get out of here by correcting the injustice that brought all of this about. Doing that will lead to whatever life I can create myself. As I hope Ms Right finds me to give my life purpose again. Why shouldn't I be choosey? There are billions of women out there and just because I wasn't the cream of the crop to fall in love with, doesn't make me insane. It only means I have set my standards high as I expect the best. If I am going to devote my life to someone I want it to be mutual. That doesn't make me an idealist, as I expect for they're to be bumps in the road for us to overcome. As a team, a couple, lovers, soul mates, friends and in oneness. That may sound idealistic, except it takes two for it to become a reality and I consider myself a realist.
Another week of waiting on the mail begins. Within a matter of months I'll be looking for responses to the Native American project and hopefully something on the journal. I wish I had lived a better life. I didn't and I am who I am. A man falsely convicted of murder and trying to present myself in as favourable light as possible. Because my lifestyle wasn't of the norm, doesn't make me a killer. Because Butch was dangerous, doesn't mean I killed him. I don't know who killed Butch because I wasn't there. But I can put the pieces together based on the facts in my case and build a good case against Poole and Barton, which I wasn't allowed to do 21 years ago. The point of all this soul searching on my part is to say my character had nothing to do with Butch's death. I was entitled to a fair and impartial trial and wasn't given one. Now I'm left defending my character, which can only be done when everything is weighed cumulatively. Am I a madman? That is debatable. Am I a killer? That answer sadly becomes debatable too. Which has brought an undue hardship on me, which prejudiced me and shows why the withholding of the exculpatory evidence tainted the entire trial irreparably. I shouldn't have to defend my character. I think most people are just too wrapped up in their own lives to care. But I ‘m not seeking their help of understanding. I need help from those who recognise something isn't right, and will speak their minds. I need help to get the facts heard. Even if my character gets dragged over the coals.
I received a letter from my younger brother, Ed, jr, last night. He is at a work release facility in Tarpon Springs , Florida . I don't know what he done to get there. This is our first contact in over 21 years. His is now a Jesus freak, and says his is sorry for not having stayed in touch. Yeah! He expects to be released in six months and we can prepare for our new journey as brothers. I wish the guy all the best. I know growing up with two alcoholic parents and an infamous brother wasn't easy on him either. I think there are about 13 years separating us in age. I'll write him later today and wish him all the best. I got a good night's sleep in. today is just another day. The toilet flusher has been hard at work and I've already got a headache. I just hope it doesn't get any worse. Here's what I wrote my brother:
It was good to hear from you and wish you all the best on your sojourn with Jesus. I've known Jesus as my Lord and Saviour since the age of five. That may sound strange when you look at my background, but we are judged through the spirit and not the flesh. The flesh remains sinful. Just remember that all things come together of r the good for those that love God. You can't pick a better role model than Jesus. He is our brother. Over the years of studying the bible, which I believe to be a spiritual guidebook, I've come to accept that the anti-Christ has his hand in the accepted interpretation, which places me at odds with most of the Christian world. I won't go into a profound thesis, except to ask you to ask Jesus forgiveness for His death upon the cross. Jesus was killed, Ed, by the world we are born into, which is Satan's domain, ands as such, God holds the world in condemnation. To simply profess Jesus as your Lord and Saviour doesn't cut it, Ed. To follow some religious path laid out for you by those who consider themselves the morally just of this world, doesn't cut it either, Ed. Knowing Jesus as your brother is going to mark you as an enemy to the world. It's not an easy road, so keep your faith and know you are judged through the spirit. I know you feel jealous and all gung ho, but until you ask Jesus forgiveness for His death upon that cross, my belief is you have only sold your soul to the Devil. As he struggles to retain control of the world. All I can do is ask you to trust me on this, as I am a scholar on the subject. You know how good a fighter I am? Well, I'm an even better soldier when it comes to Jesus. No matter what path you find yourself on, His will being done. So don't beat yourself up if you backslide, just look for the lesson that allows you to find the good in your situation, as you serve God's will. Okay, I could go on and on, but for now I'll curb my zeal. Hey, make some money, Bro, because I'm broke right now and can use some help. I'll include a few money slips for you. I'm doing all I can to get things corrected in my case. But, they don't want to admit to any wrong doing, which happens to be why you weren't taught to accept blame for Jesus' death upon the cross. The world only puts on the façade of morality. All right I don't mean to confuse you, but I have a good chance of forcing the courts to recognise I did not receive a fair trial. I may never be able to prove I did not kill Butch, but can raise enough doubt that they will have to release me. Only that takes support and that doesn't come easily. So I am hard at work seeking that suppose, the knowledge that you may soon be at my side is good news. All right, Bro, you take care and try to stay out of trouble. I love you and look forward to sharing in your sojourn in the world that is not of our world. I'll write more when I hear form you.
Love to you and for you
One EagleNo mail tonight except form TV Guide wanting me to renew my subscription. The USA today had an article on the death penalty and the US Supreme Court's reviewing less death warrant cases. I found it interesting reading. They spoke of one case, Banks, who the court gave a stay, stating mainly because he had noted attorneys his case was receiving attention. Okay, I am on the right road seeking attention.
My brother's letter came as a blessing and that is a good sign. I am a theologian as it's a subject I've most studied. I was going to get on the subject more profoundly somehow while writing this journal. I know I have been forcing a lot of things while writing, so I've decided to just let things flow as they pop up. Like the letter to my brother, It just popped out and I'm thankful that I did, because it is part of my character few people know about. I'm not trying to justify who I am. I am who I am, and right now I am a man that needs attention to help correct the injustice I've suffered for over 21 years. I never sought to be a man of notoriety or t become infamous. Yet right now I see having notoriety and being infamous as a good thing. It is the only way I have to draw attention to myself.
The only way I'll win my vindication and have life again is to press the issues in my case. If I remain silent the odds seem greater to me that I will either die of natural causes or be executed. So what choice do I have but to seek to get noticed and noticed big time? Right now all I have is this pen and my wits to work with. I'm smiling because I know it isn't much and it is better for me to smile at myself than to sit here crying to myself. So I have to increase the odds of my getting noticed.
I'd love to believe I'll find my true dream woman. I don't feel I'm deluding myself by having high expectations and seeking to fill them. I've overcome tremendous odds already by still being alive to write my thoughts out. I truly believe if I had not found that deposition given by Borton, which she gave in 1985, and wasn't discovered until 1996, I would have been executed years ago. Because I would not have been able to overcome their testimony, which Judge Schaeffer ruled was enough by itself to achieve a conviction. The sad fact of the matter is that this evidence was hidden from me before I even went to trial in 1983. I can only imagine what else is out there. Also is it just a coincidence that another none of their roommates gets killed and they are there to point their fingers at someone else? Who is on death row claiming to be innocent. The state attorneys painted a false picture of me killing Butch. I am now able to show how they did it by withholding evidence that discredits the picture they painted. They had the burden of proof to present all the facts and only the facts. They failed to do that because all the evidence they produced is now highly tainted by the evidence that wasn't produced. Wam Bam – I am exonerated due to the irreparable damage and prejudice of their having painted a false picture. The irony o it all is that it has taken me over 21 years to get this out, when it should have never even gone to trial. Once I am exonerated they will say how the system works and never apologise for robbing me of a life. What compensation can replace over 21 years of my life? So why should I sit here silent and also not seek a mate who can help me live out the rest of my life in luxury?
I don't know where I would be without John Pollex, who is a Zen Buddhist, a tai chi instruction, potter, a volunteer at a drug treatment centre, and an avid Arsenal fan, which is a soccer tea. I named him Buffalo Messenger, as his spirit provided me with substance and empathy, unconditionally. That's what I can write about – my Native American beliefs. The Medicine Ways are basically simple and apply to all aspects of life. If one does not know self-love, one can never know the love of another. If one is not honest with oneself, one will never be honest with another. It all centres around oneness and in finding harmony with oneself. For if one is not in harmony with oneself, one will not be in harmony with others. These are tribal principals that kept the tribe functioning as one unit and in harmony with one another.
At one time I felt my calling was that of a medicine man, able to cure the spirit. Only to find my spirit in constant torment. For if I am not able to cure my spirit, what makes me believe I would be able to cure others? I have been at one with my spirit for some time now. Yet I still hesitate to help others with spiritual problems, which is most I have met along my journey. If one knows self-love, one will recognise the love of another. John and I recognised each other as spiritual entities and we are in harmony with one another. How can one trust another that doesn't know honesty? One can't! Because the one who doesn't know honesty can never know trust.
As I sit here writing in hopes of correcting the injustice that I suffer, I am also wondering what the future holds for me. I do know if Ms Right shows her face, I'm in for the adventure of my life and will die a happy man. But for now I'm stuck in hell experiencing the worst nightmare imaginable. Let's see, I did write an ad for a pen-pal service. It's on Friends Beyond The Walls Inc website. It started on 7/1/2002 . Since it has been online I only received a few responses, which I didn't follow up on. Now, all I can do is hope the real Ms Right will read these words and find her way into my heart. Filling the blank pages waiting on here. Here's the ad:
I have loved and lost all of my life. Call me optimistic, but I still believe Ms Right will enter my life. She will have to be one unique lady, able to appreciate the profound circumstances of developing a lasting relationship with an innocent man condemned to death, with the traumatic experience of surviving on death row for 20 years.
I need a strong-willed, tough-minded woman able to deal with possibility of my being executed, and willing to fight hand and nail to prevent that from happening. While scheduling time around us, as we seek our balance and harmony in being one under the restraints of physical separation.
I need a friend, a partner, a lover and soul mate to share the rest of our lives together. To mutually devote and commit ourselves to overcoming all obstacles along the path of oneness. I expect to win my vindication as the facts do speak for themselves, that I did not receive a fair trial. Please visit my website at:
My case is presently in the federal district court of Tampa, Florida , as I seek an evidentiary hearing on the trail issues. Something the state of Florida refused to give me. When the courts finally give me an evidentiary hearing, they will have to give me a new trial. If you feel we can begin building a life together, I'd love to hear from you. We will know if connection is there.
Sincerely,
Milo
I have started to re-read the book The Wrong Man by Michael Mello, who was a state mandated attorney employed by CCRC. When he left CCRC he retained Crazy Joe's case and that is what the book is about. How he bucked the system here in Florida like a true defence attorney is supposed to do. Helping Joe Spaziano in every way he could, including using the media. Mello says his book should be mandatory reading for everyone within the legal and political fields. But I believe they already know they have the power to abuse the system and don't need people like Mello telling everyone about the hypocrisy that takes place. The books Mello authored on Crazy Joe should be mandatory reading in grade schools, so that society on a whole understands how fundamental rights are trampled on. But then they wouldn't be ignorant anymore, so that isn't going to happen. The same attorney that tried to condone me being sold out before the Florida Supreme Court by arguing my case wasn't a first-degree murder case. How am I expected to trust that attorney? The same attorney I wrote a Florida Bar complaint on and tried several times to dismiss from my case. How would I look writing this attorney and asking her to remain on my case? An attorney that sat in front of me and agreed with everything I said about my case and hadn't done anything to press the issues, while she was with CCRC. If my present attorney does happen to sell me out. I would like to think Linda McDermott would help me bring charges against him to the Florida Bar. But I don't believe that is part of her moral make up. Mello says in his book that every attorney that represents an innocent person on death row would love to have someone else to point the finger at. I tried to get Linda McDermott to do just that. I tried to get the attorney that sold me out to do just that, and the attorney before him, who as I understand is now partners with LM. Why wouldn't these attorneys press the fact that Mark Poole fit the initial eyewitness description as shown in a police mug shot of him taken only a few short weeks before the crime? The fact that Poole was in the area and initially denied any knowledge of the crime. The fact he sought to make a deal with the state attorneys for his testimony against me so his probation would not be violated.
Suggest that the former prosecuting attorney Bruce Young sought to bolster Poole 's credibility by any means possible through withholding exculpatory evidence. Poole was presented to the jury as someone having no reason to lie and I had no way to show differently because the truth wasn't being revealed. Makes my case ideal to show I was in fact railroaded and in no way received a fair trial. But since I am an indignant nobody on death row, no one wants t step on toes and pull the covers off of the vigilantes that railroaded me, because it would disrupt the legal system with an overload of appeals from people using my case to argue the issues in theirs that suggest they too were railroaded or forced to plea bargain due to duress. I am mad. I have given the state every opportunity to correct the injustice they forced on me. Now I want to bankrupt them.
The sad part of all of this is that there is evidence my state mandated attorneys have been helping the state to conceal the fact I was railroaded. And even intentionally slow walking me through the legal process so that they federal courts aren't able to rule. Here is an example: I have always wanted the blood on my clothing tested, because my clothing was waved before the jury inferring the victim's blood was on the clothing, which highly prejudiced me since I wasn't able to argue differently. So when I finally got Linda to file to have DNA testing on my clothes, the state admitted to having tested the clothing in 1987 and to having found one blood type (mine) and thus arguing DNA testing didn't need to be done, as it would only prove to be redundant. So instead of my attorneys saying okay you are right we have already won this issue – they want to press it and in effect prolong what the state has already conceded to. Judge Schaeffer would not allow me to be present at these hearings or I would have dropped the DNA issue and continued on in the federal courts. I know this may seem confusing and that is because it is. The state benefits by slow waling my case as the chances of my dying of natural causes increases. The state can now drag the DNA issue out for many more years while never having to admit they railroaded me. Anyway, I am doing all I can at this point to speed things up and not slow it down. That's what I like about Mello's message as he explains how the odds are stacked against me and other individuals that are innocent.
I've tried all the anti-death penalty groups and innocent projects, only to get the run around. So this journal becomes my last resort. If it fails, it means the fates have played a cruel joke on me and my chances of ever controlling my own destiny was only an illusion, brought about by the delusion of there being some morally just people in this world.
As I sit here this early morning thinking about how close I am to vindicating myself, I am worried about my newly appointed attorney Bjorn. Since it is too early to tell what he is about. I am hoping he is not going to sell me out. I feel if I can get this message online soon enough, it would be difficult for him or the state to abuse the system further. I feel pretty good about that only because I believe people will read what I have t say and make the correct judgement.
For 21 years now I have been protesting there is no way the state's evidence that brought about my conviction is truthful or credible. Since I did now kill Butch, or anyone else for that matter. It doesn't take a genius to weigh the issues in my case and figure out I was indeed railroaded due to the withholding of exculpatory evidence. My character has been wrung through the wringer for over 21 years. Now I want to run some characters through the wringer to see how they fair. Because anyone seeking to condone what has happened to me will be showing their ignorance, bigotry or criminal intent. I can't sit here not trying to get heard because then I am only protecting my abusers. Am I an angry man? Yes, I am as angry as they come. Only I cannot allow my anger to overwhelm me, or my abusers will go unpunished. As a child I didn't know how to ask for help. Nor did I even know I was suffering abuse. Now I am a grown man soon to be 54 years old and I am asking for help to overcome my abusers. Who of moral conscience can turn away from me? Where are the people that came forward for others?
This is me, good and bad. I am the same man that jumped up in court over 20 years ago and shouted I was being railroaded. I am a man seeking help to end the abuse. I'm a man that has to remain optimistic that I'll find the help I seek.
I now have a TV again to help occupy my time.
I went on a TV binge yesterday and will probably do it again today.
“The fact that Linda did not know/care about the relevance of the Skalnik motion is maddeningly inept on her part. The Skalnik motion is potentially explosive, threatening to expose the tactics of the ADAs, with repercussions for all cases involving the prosecutors named in the affidavit within the period during which Palu Skalnik was used by the county to testify about all those, who apparently had the irresistible urge to confess to him. Furthermore the possibility of those tactics being shown as little more than business as usual, as well as an established pattern of conduct even prior to that period, should have any defence attorney positively breathless with anticipation. Linda, as a public defender should be all over this case. For her to say that she doesn't see how it potentially applies to your case is disingenuous at best. I can't believe she cut her visit short and I even have a grin on my face imagining how you challenged her. I'm worried at the same time because I simply don't see that there's much evidence of her being interested – either personally or professionally in being your advocate…”
All right I'll include the Skalnik motion so everyone can see the cover up that has been going on in order to protect a corrupt systems that achieved convictions by any means. The fact that the two former prosecutors in my case were named by Skalnik as using his services of being a jailhouse snitch goes toward the credibility of Poole/Borton offering the same service for their testimony against me.
I've got one splitting headache that has been with me all day. Since it is Veterans Day, I thought I would write about my attempt to join the army in 1967. I had just turned 17, and had to bring my mother with me to the recruiting office. When I went for my physical downtown Chicago , I had no idea that I would be rejected because at birth one of my testicles hadn't dropped into place. I knew it made me feel different as I grew up, but I never consider it as something bad, until the army rejected me because of it. I don't know if the Fates were looking out for me or not, but I went and had corrective surgery. Then before I could file for a medical waiver, I was arrested for robbing a drug store and would spend the next 3 years of my life in prison instead of going to Vietnam . Prison felt like Vietnam to me. It was a real war zone and I felt fortunate to have escaped with my life. I did complete my high school education and felt certain I had learned my lesson that crime did not pay…
When I got out of prison things went well for about four years. I got married, was working my way through a plumbing apprenticeship, had two beautiful children, a two-bedroom home and was looking at a bright future. I had a few ups and downs due to bar fights, but nothing serious. Then I broke my arm in a motorcycle accident and got hooked on heroin as I sought ways to alleviate the pain. Once I realised what the heroin addiction was dong to me I sought treatment and would remain on methadone for over two years while fighting the heroin addiction. This allowed me to spend a lot of time with my children as I went to junior college full time and worked for the university of Chicago , doing field research on heroin addicts I knew, for the epidemiologists department. I kept track of about 15 addicts I had come to know during the short period heroin had a hold on me.
My son had a library card at 5 years old. We used to walk to the library together and I'd let him loose in the children's section. I was proud that he enjoyed reading. I got him books on tape and a cassette player. I would sit and watch all the educational children's programmes with him and his little sister on TV. As a family we would go to museums, the zoo, movies, swimming, parks, Kiddyland, fishing, walks and all sorts of other things. I had the dogs trained to watch the children and keep them from harm. I would play the guitar and sing them songs like ‘Puff the Magic Dragon', or whatever else they wanted to hear. I loved to fish for big carp and we would camp out overnight fishing.
I wanted more than anything to live a good life, and be a good father and husband. I would work hard and give a full day. After work I would want to unwind so would stop to drink a couple beers before coming home. I'd be tired, yet still pumped up from working hard as I learned the plumbing trade from the ground up. There were days when I would dig all day, carry two five-gallon buckets full of gravel on foundation walls to hand down to be dumped on drain tile, or stand in front of a pipe machine cutting and threading pipe. I'd work with four and two-inch cast iron pipe, chalking joints and pouring hot lead into them. I was doing it all and it was hard dirty work. When I would get home the children would want to greet me with hugs, but that would have to wait until I had cleaned up. I enjoyed being a family man.
We had a couple good married friends with families we would spend time with. But whenever I would go out alone I'd somehow find myself in trouble. Someone would wan to pick a fight with me. It wouldn't matter what kind of place I was in – high class or low class, someone would decide I didn't belong there and start a fight with me. I didn't look like a tough guy and people would be surprised to learn who I was when I'd meet them. I'd hear ‘You're Mike Rose – the guy who beat up so and so. You don't look tough'. I was sort of an infamous person that didn't look the part. I was always smiling and respectful to everyone. But as soon as I walked into a bar of club, I instantly became a target. In retrospect, I can see I needed to stay out of those types of places. I tried to…
Since being here and having time to reflect on everything, I believe I found the root to my instant reaction to aggression. When I was 5 years old, two older boys beat me up down the street from where we lived in Chicago . When I came home crying my mother, all 5'2” and 100 lbs of her, asked me what happened. I told her and the next thing I knew I was sitting on the floor with my against the wall, looking up at my mother standing there above me with her fist doubled up. Shouting at me “did they hit you that hard?” All I would say was No! She then told me to get up and go kick their asses. I never did find those boys, but from that day forward no one ever hit me without getting hit back. As a matter of fact that was my trademark – never hit first. And no one ever hit me harder than my mother did that day.
Something else that was ingrained in me at an early age and I know of was my use of hysteria to escape my parents late night drunken brawls. Which was every night occurrence. I was aware of that trait when I was told Butch had been killed. Even though I knew I didn't kill him. I had to question myself if it were possible he struck me and went hysterical on him and just couldn't remember doing it. Because I wasn't able to explain the overwhelming evidence against me and just saying it wasn't me wasn't good enough. Saying it wasn't my character didn't help either, because of having a violent past.
Who I am as a person has never come out. At the time I believed if the jury saw me for who I am, they would have understood that I would never do what was being said I did. Since it didn't make sense, that I would tell anyone in front of witnesses, go home and pretend nothing happened as I waited for the police to come arrest me. Then swear up and down it wasn't me and that I was being railroaded. Duh! I may be retarded in a lot of ways, but I am not stupid, nor have I ever been stupid enough to believe that type of defence would work. As I write all of this, it is debatable on whether I am helping myself or hurting myself. Hopefully I will find out, as I believe things can only get better.
I saw on TV that a man in Florida won his release after 21 years for rape, after DNA was performed to reveal it wasn't him. I wish my case were so simple to solve. All DNA in my case is going to do is shed some doubt that I was the one who threw a concrete block down on Butch's head, which isn't any different than they already know. Since there was only one blood type found on my clothing and it mine. I just have to be patient and see how things play out from here. I'm not feeling very good that I haven't heard from my attorney. I guess the guy doesn't feel like he had to respond to me, which isn't a good sign. Making it all the more urgent for me to get this online as soon as possible. I expect it will also take a while before people begin reading it. All I can do now is pray for the best. It doesn't do me any good to find fault with what I have written.
As I'm trying t do my humble best and be me. That is the key, as I hope to convey the long hard struggle I have faced over the years, without sounding like a broken record. I know this may also sound like I am playing a victim, although I know that isn't so. I accept blame for not being smart enough to keep myself out of stupid situations. The real victims in this are my children. I'm proud their mother raised them well. I can sit here now and say I shouldn't have helped my brother Dave when that guy was attacking him. Save is now dead – he died of alcohol poisoning about 5 or 6 years ago. I didn't have to help Butch the night he got himself killed. I didn't have to break that guy's jaw just because he hit me in the head with a beer bottle. I didn't' have to get hooked on heroin or go into bars. The truth is I did all of these things and more and no matter how I wish I hadn't, the truth is it doesn't change anything. It is who I am and these things will always be a part of me. I'm not proud of any of the negatives in my life and I have tried to be as truthful as possible, because even though my past doesn't speak of me being a good citizen, I shouldn't be judged a killer because of that. My character had nothing to do with Butch being killed. I would have fought to the death trying to defend him and that is the truth about my character.
I spent the day watching football. I'll watch Coyote Wait at 9pm tonight on PBS. It's a Native American mystery. I'm sitting here wondering what i can write about. It will get easier when this goes online and I begin to get some feedback. I'd love to answer all of your questions and begin to feel like I'm gathering the support I have needed all of these years. There is still an outside chance I can be vindicated before the year is out. But that would mean my attorney takes the depositions I want taken. Only I'm doubtful he will do that until this goes online and he looks bad for not taking the deposition any advocate worth a grain of salt would have already taken. All I'm doing is getting myself worked up. So, I don't want to write about my attorney, my case, or anything else that will bring me down. I've been feeling really optimistic about everything and want to keep it that way.
I'm hoping I'll get some mail tonight. They ran yard this morning and I stayed in. I just don't feel like going out in the morning anymore. There usually aren't enough guys to play volleyball and my shoes are wearing thin. So, I stayed in and enjoyed the solitude for a few hours.
I received a card from my brother Ed. He hasn't started working yet. He did mention Scott in the card. He is the one Dave and I were going to Tampa with to party when the guy backed his car into us. I'm going to send Ed the URL to my website and ask him t give it to Scott. Maybe Scott will be of some help.
I have dental call out this morning. I'm third on the list so I'll probably be going about 9:30 .
I've been to the dentist and had 12 x-rays taken I'll be going back next week sometime. He has to have consultation done on whether I need to be premedicated with an antibiotic before he cleans my teeth. Since I had pneumatic fever when I was a child. Before I was in a car accident and got my jaw broke in 1981, I had perfect teeth. Since being incarcerated I have had all but 12 of them pulled. Now I have an upper plate that hooks no the four teeth I have on top, but I seldom use it.
They just ran the yard. I'm the only one on the floor and it's quiet. I have my headphones on and it feels good to be using them without the volume turned up to as to block out the noise. I received a message form Gray Cloud. It seems it had something to do with FDRAG and the native American ad I sent out. He had sent me a kite, which is a note, but it got intercepted by an officer. Now his mail is being ‘red tagged' for 90 days. I can't imagine what it is all about but hope to find out. Once I succeed in getting this online, I imagine I'll get red tagged too. That's the chance I'm willing to take.
I need to write my brother Ed. I just don't know wheat to say to him. I'm not into the Jesus loves you scene at this pint in my life. Although I understand his zeal. I just feel he is in for a major let down. All I can do is wish him the best as most people do me. I'm going to write him now and hope tonight's mail will bring me some good news.
Dear Ed
Received your card with note. I hope you have found employment. Hey, find out what kind of programs that are offered for furthering your education. You should be able to get paid for attending a trade school or something. And how about attending AA too? Going to AA meetings will be good for you. Since you now believe in a higher power, it will also give you a bit more freedom. Make your conversion work for you Ed. You are looking for a better life and only you can accomplish that. So begin to improve your life now little by little. It takes time to grow mature in the spirit of our Lord. You are just an infant in the Lord now. So, take your time. You want to start a business with Scott. Okay, once you decide what you want to do, study it and learn all you can about it. Learn to use the internet. Since it is the greatest source of information there is. You will only get what you put into something. Go at it half-heartedly and you are doomed to failure. You have a great opportunity to improve your life. Take advantage of it and educate yourself. If you are only playing games you will only hurt yourself. But, if you are real, you will find your way and not allow anything to stop you. All right, I've written a short note I want you to give to Scott for me. Take care of it, I am counting on you. Ed, remember if you are going to make something of yourself, nobody else can do it but you.
Take care.
Love to you and for you
Milo
Here's the note to Scott:
Dear Scott,
I hope this finds you and yours well. I know you and I never got to be very good friends. I'm sorry about that because I always considered you to be a good guy. I've enclosed the URL to my website, which I assume you will be able to access. I need some help as I press the issues in my case. I didn't kill Butch and it has taken me a while to put all the pieces together. I was just an easy target for the system due to my violent past. I can use some help to draw attention to my case. I'd like to hear from you and to discuss things with you in person. Things are growing urgent for me and I need someone I can count on. Okay Scott, hope to hear from you. Take care.
Milo
No mail for the second night in a row. They ran yard this afternoon, due to next week being Thanksgiving and making it a short week. I went out even though my shoes can't take much wear before there are holes in them. We played 8 games of volleyball. The canteen man came around, but it's another week without canteen for me. It bothers me that I am being so judgemental. I hope I am wrong. I can't allow anything from getting this journal online. I just don't have anything else going for myself. The fact that my attorney hasn't written to me isn't a good sign either. The only chance I see myself having is to get this online and getting people to read it. Especially legal minds that can chime in. I'd love to begin a chat line around this journal. All I can do is to continue writing with a positive attitude as I seek to get noticed. I also have to keep reminding myself that I have everything to gain and nothing to lose I am making advances and have to remain patient.
Hopefully I'll hear from John tonight or from somebody. Otherwise it's going to be a long weekend. I've stretched my tobacco to last until Monday night. Maybe even Tuesday. It should prove interesting after that. I've tried to quit smoking a hundred times over the years. Maybe this will be the time I make it. Although I have to admit my drug of choice is marijuana, and I doubt if I'll ever give that up, which will get me back t smoking. It is also another reason why I need to leave this country. I don't want to be involved with the thug drug culture and have to worry about going to jail for smoking a joint. I'd love to have some good smoke right now. I'd even love a cold beer. I also doubt I'd ever stop drinking beer too. I have vices and always will. If that makes me a bad person, so be it. I won't be drinking or smoking pot because I am looking for trouble. I can't ever remember intentionally going out looking for trouble. I just never learned to run from it when it found me. Sadly, this may still be a problem for me. Dealing with fools I've met here over the years and I'm not just talking about the inmates, has left me with a sense of vulnerability that I'll have to develop and fine tune when dealing with people that don't know any better. My first instinct is to protect myself and loved ones from harm. So I will need to get myself out of harm's way as quickly and safely as possible, without creating problems for myself, which means I have to call an elephant an elephant and not deceive myself into believing it will go away if I ignore it. I sit here and wonder what would have happened if I had told Butch I wasn't going to get involved in his problems. Since I already had enough of my own. Who knows what would have happened had I just said ‘I'm not getting involved'. Would that have prevented Butch from getting killed? I don't know and will never know. Would it have kept me from getting singled out as his killer? I can't answer that either. The question now is: who is going to get involved in my life? Am I tempting fate by pressing the issues of my innocence? If so, why should I expect anyone to help me? I guess because I‘m not looking to create problems for myself. The problem I've had to deal with is of other people's creation and I'm trying to correct the injustice of their creation. Hopefully I'll find out soon what kind of help I'll receive.
It has already been a long noisy day that only promise to get louder.
I started reading the book ‘New Jack' today. I haven't found it all that interesting so far. Maybe because I have lived from the opposite perspective. I like the fact that he really hasn't white washed anything so far. Especially pointing out that the US is basically a police state, profiting from the institutionalisation of minorities. Of course, I'm paraphrasing and haven't wanted to play the race card in my case. But it is strange how the eyewitnesses could freely change their description to a dark complexed guy with a full beard, without being asked at trial how they could be so highly certain of their first description of a white guy with a possible thin moustache and then decide they were wrong and change their description to fit me? One of the witnesses was truthful. I give her credit for that. The other three, I feel nothing but contempt for. I feel al three should be incarcerated for obstruction of justice in a murder case. And they knowingly withheld the fact of having given two totally opposite descriptions of the person they saw. I don't know if I'm wording it right. The initial eyewitnesses descriptions given to three different officers was withheld form the defence, while everyone pretended they didn't exist. To me that is obstruction of justice. Two of the three officers were never deposed and the third is guilty of constructing a highly suggestive photo array shortly after the eyewitnesses gave him their statements on tape and the person they describe isn't represented in the photo spread what makes matters worse their description fits Mark Poole perfectly. While he initially denied having any knowledge of the crime and then changed his story two or three times, to one of I told him I killed Butch and asked him for an alibi. So by withholding the initial eyewitnesses statements, I was not only not able to discredit the highly suggestive photo spread and their change of description, but also wasn't able to show Mark Poole fit their initial eyewitnesses description to a tee.. which would explain why he would have reason to lie and then point his finger at me. With the help of an over zealous police detective – peter Fire, who had already decided I was guilty. The very same detective that would decide Tom Saywer was guilty too and coerce a confession from him. Let's not forget the waving of my blood stained clothing in front of the jury as it was inferred there was too much blood to just be mine. Which they knew I had no way to discredit it because the test results were never turned over to the defence. If the prosecuting attorneys knew there was only one blood type found they are guilty of misconduct, because it was their job to know. So why doesn't the court want to recognise these blatant disparities created by the withholding of exculpatory evidence? Could it be because I'm indigent? A minority? Or because once the truth is revealed that I in fact was railroaded others will be able to use my case? Along with Tom Saywer and Skalnik – creating the question of whether Pinellas County was and is run through vigilante justice!
They called yard for us today. We went out with four right. We had six on six volleyball games. My shoes are really getting bad. I didn't get any mail. I read more of the book New Jack and been reflecting on past experiences I have had while incarcerated. I have a hard time dealing with over 21 years of abuse.
It's been a long day. I was called out around 9 to see the dentist. I got premedicated for about an hour. I missed lunch. I am now officially $7 in debt for the dental appointment, so the next time I get some money that will be deducted from my account. I read more the book and am enjoying it more and more. I caught about an hour's sleep until one to the loud mouths woke me calling down the hallway over some bullshit. Right now everyone is waiting on the mail which promises to be late. Canteen passed me by again today. I sat and listened to the guys talking about all the new stuff on it and on how the prices have gone up. It is now $1.49 for a pack of Top, plus tax. I now have a pack and a quarter of Top left. I'm not looking forward to doing without, but it is the hand dealt me, so I'll live with it. I received a Thanksgiving day card form Gray Cloud's girlfriend. That was it for the mail and there was no return address on the card, which is good, because I'm about out of stamps. Also there is an unwritten law that guys don't write to other guy's women.
I received a Thanksgiving Day greeting from all the members of FDRAG. It was so impersonal that all it has done is upset me. I'm on page 232 of the book and I'm beginning to like the author Ted Conover more and more. I don't have any problem with the officers here. I have always tried to show them due respect. There are a few arseholes but that works both ways, since there are more than enough assholes here to go around. I probably won't be doing much writing over the weekend. Holidays and this time of year have always been rough on me. I hope to receive a Christmas card from my daughter. If things continue the way they have been I might not have a stamp to respond. I really want to write the governor again requesting eh sign my death warrant. This nightmare has to end soon or I'm totally going to lose it. Each day feels like an eternity to me. An eternity of Hell…
I finished the book New Jack and watched some TV. It seems pitiful and if I hadn't already wrote out a copy in the journal, I'd probably write something different or not at all. I'd love a cigarette right now. I've chain smoked for as long as I can remember while writing. I've done good so far fighting off the urge to light up.
I gave my lighter away after smoking two cigarettes. I'm going to be in sad shape soon. I traded 3 stamps for another ink pen, so I don't have to worry about running out of ink soon. I keep reaching for a cigarette. It will take a while to get over that habit. I'll be glad when I make it through a whole day without giving into the temptation. Then the test will come when I get some money in my account and can reorder some tobacco.
It's Saturday, also my day to receive visits. I think I may have received 30 visits in over 21 years and that is probably a high estimate. Let's see – 52 weeks in a year, times 21 years. That's 1,092 weeks. So out of that I've received 30 visits. Hmm!
It has been a long day. The outgoing mail was picked up off of my door. I will be interested to see what the mail brings this week. For that matter for the month of December. I really do hope to get this online by January, in order to beat the March deadline to reopen my case in the federal court. 2004 will be a great year for me. I feel confident of that. I don't expect society on the whole to like me. The stigma of having lived a violent lifestyle and of having been falsely convicted for murder will always be there. I'll have to live with that challenge as I do now. Yet, unless I can vindicate myself and begin to prove myself to be a productive member of society, controlling my destiny will only have been an illusion of a rambling madman on death row. I don't see myself in that light. To me it is just me poking fun at myself in the grim reality that I may just be a rambling madman. The verdict will be out on that until enough of you, on my jury of peers, pronounce your verdict. Which has me operating under the presumption that more than a handful will read these words. I'm not trying to win some popularity contest by writing this journal. My character only comes into play because I have been falsely convicted of murder and sentenced to death. This is about whether I received a fair and impartial trial. It is about drawing as much attention to the fact that for over 21 years I have maintained my innocence. Therefore that being true I could not have received a fair trial. Which I maintain the facts reveal. As such I need t draw attention to my plight or be executed by a legal system that finds it more profitable to execute innocent people than to admit their mistakes. Which in fact makes my case and cases like mine political choices and not matters of law. It makes my case a matter of economics and not one of justice. For example my case will directly and indirectly effect Richard Rhodes' case. Is it a coincidence that the same two people who decided to point their fingers at me for the death of their roommate, on their hands and have Rhodes to point their fingers at in exchange for leniency for having violated their probations. It is more than just a coincidence to me. I've been saying Poole and Barton had to be the killers in my case all along. I've just been prevented from presenting the evidence that supports that through an evidentiary hearing. So now the journal becomes my hearing before the public. I hope will come forward to support me.
I got a pack of Top form one of the guys earlier today. I chain smoked about 10 and feel pretty good right now. But don't have anything I feel like writing about so will watch TV…No mail.
They ran yard this morning. The guys are still out there. I had a doctor's call out. I weighed 168 pounds, fully dressed and with the black box and chain on. So I really only weigh about 163. I've lost a good 20 pounds over the last 3 months. My back has been acting up so I got some ibuprofen. Other than that I'm doing fine. Hopefully I'll get some mail tonight. The Native American as should be out there, if John placed the ads on my website. They just popped the cell doors of the guys on the yard, so they will be coming in soon. It's been peaceful in here. The LT came around checking on the heat, with the windows closed and the big vent turned off, it has been comfortable. If it were up to me I'd keep the big vents off year round.
No mail. Just a balance sheet telling me I owe $4.
Waiting on mail, especially from loved ones, creates its own pains of hell when the guard delivering mail walks by your cell. Receiving mail from a loved one is a blessing. It helps relieve the stress and to cope with everyday life here. It helps to know someone cares about you. That they are thinking of you and showing you are a major part of their lives. When days go by it becomes torture. As you begin to feel betrayed, cheated on and uncared for. It begins to feel like a punishment imposed on you for not being able to give more of yourself. For not having access to a telephone, computer or other means of communication, other than pen and paper. It serves to remind you how dependent you are on your loved ones understanding. Yet, your understanding begins to wane as the letters begin to slack off. You begin to blame yourself and hell begins t become unbearable. You realise you placed all of your eggs in one basket and start t ask yourself why. As the person you love withdraws and shuts down on you. Now maybe it isn't' so bad if you have family or other means of support. I didn't and don't. So now I have t create avenues to help me achieve support.
I no longer feel heartbreak when the guard pass me by with the mail. Yet, as I seek out the good, this journal could prove to be the thing that tips back the scales of justice to being level again. So I am thankful for that and hope I can take advantage of this opportunity to get myself heard. Besides the thought that Mrs Right will read these words and begin t fill the blank pages of my heart. Makes writing this worth every word as my freedom looms near.
I am smiling with the knowledge that I am not stressed out over the mail by counting the minutes until it arrives.
I received one piece of mail. A note from John Pollex. It reads, “Siyu One Eagle, it's all I can afford at the moment” Love Buffalo Messenger
With a photo copy of an international money order for $41.51, with a postscript “Sent on same day as this to Inmate Bank.”
It's John's busy season for his pottery. I'll write to him tomorrow. I'm a bit let down that there was no mention as to placing the ads on the website. Oh well, it may prove harder than I thought to get this online.
I just finished my letter to John and have added it to the journal.
Siyu BM
Wado, for your money and note. I'm sorry for having t hit you up like that. I placed my trust in TW not to do what she has done and I learned another sad lesson about putting al of my eggs in one basket. I hope this finds you well and getting plenty of work completed. I'm doing all right and on page 196 of my journal. I haven't had any luck stimulating interest in it yet, nor with the Native American website. But I'm not going to allow that to deter me. It only makes my resolve stronger. I don't feel like I have any other option. I started the ball rolling and I'm going to stick with it. If I fail it wont be because I dint try. I don't plan on failing although times are rough at the moment, when I succeed my world will be a better place. I'll no longer be an obscure figure seeking attention. Which will make things more interesting. I hope to be online by January with the journal. By the time my case gets reopened in March, I hope to have a good sized following from around the world. And very possibly have found Ms Right who wont duck out on me when times get rough. I'm sweating that goal as the days pass by. But now I have done all I can to achieve it and if I have t extend the time restraints until I do achieve the desired results, so be it. These are my last days in hell. I can only grow stronger and will as my voice gets heard. You yourself told me the pen is mightier than the sword. I'm out to prove you right. I am who I am, as I seek to correct the injustice that has robbed me of the freedom of 21 years to be more. Now I am taking back the freedom and refuse to allow anyone to rob me the freedom of being me. The journal is who I am and what I am experiencing in the hell others created for me to endure. They have succeeded in confining the body but nothing else. My spirit, mind, soul and heart belong to me. I no longer feel the duress of being executed by my abusers if I refuse to remain silent. I stood and shouted I was being railroaded in June of 1983. Nothing has changed except now I am able to show how I was railroaded. But only if I can get myself heard. Otherwise the abuse will go unabated. My abusers are serious about killing me. It is in their best interest that I be executed for it will cover their abuse. That is what they hope for and have already pre-destined. They never figured I'd be able to reveal their abuse. The odds of that have always been greatly against me. But now thanks to technology, I can publish the facts of their abuse on the internet for all the world to read in personal way that reveal my character in as many words as I need to do that. What is good about it is that I can give it away t anyone that wants to download it and read it as a continuing saga. I will also be able to respond to anyone interested in asking questions and add to the saga until I spend my last day in hell.
All right my friend, I know you are busy. Write when you can. Take care and Wado again. I was four dollars in debt due to a dental call out.
Love to you
One Eagle
Ps I'm adding this to the journal. Also I won't be sending out season greetings other than my best wishes for a joyous holiday season.
All I received tonight was a form letter from Audrey Rivers of kindred Spirits with 5 stamps enclosed. I heard the Christmas Ordeal would be on the 12 th . It sure doesn't feel like Christmas to me. I've lost all sense of the holidays. It's just one more day in hell for me. Maybe I'll receive some encouraging mail soon. It really pisses off that I haven't heard from my attorney. I wrote to him on October 27 th . That is not a good sign, which makes getting this online all the more important. Once he realise's everyone, including his peers in the legal community, are reading this and my website, I'll feel I will have shown him I wasn't joking about stepping on toes.
I spent the day watching TV. The canteen man came around and took orders. I got 12 packs of top-a coke and a lighter form someone. I'm going to see how far I can stretch 12 packs of top. I wanted to get a bag of coffee too but we were the last floor and they were out of everything. I'm going to have to get some batteries for my radio too. I don't have any food. It's a bad time to be broke. Since they changed suppliers for the canteen, they have added a lot of stuff.
It turned into another lackadaisical day. No mail. Canteen did show up. I got my top and coke. It came to $20.74, including what I owed the canteen man, leaving me $16.72.
It sounds as if this is going to be a shakedown. Just to make sure our cells are presentable come Friday for the Christmas ordeal, which I'm a bit conflicted writing about since there are people that don't feel we should have any benefits back here. The guards are here and it will only be a few minutes before they are down here. I've got my lighter in my sock and hope they don't strip-search us first. I'll find out soon as they are moving fast.
They went into a few cells, but mostly wanted us to get our cells in compliance. Which means everything has to be in our lockers.
I just watched the Montel Williams show. It was about a new off Broadway Play The Exonerated . He had the three people on stage the play is about. Innocent people falsely convicted and sentenced to death. One day I'll be on that show. As I watched the show the same old questions kept popping up in my mind. When am I going to be exonerated? Why is it taking so long? What do I have to do to get the help others received? It only serves to depress me all the more that I haven't been able to answer these questions. I always get depressed after watching shows were innocent people get exonerated. Of course I'm happy for them. Except for the ones that say they don't have any ill feelings. I'm mad as ever and I might be able to forgive them for causing me major trauma. But I'll always be mad over this and want it known that they abused me. I don't see why they shouldn't be punished. They not only abused me, my children, Butch's mother and family, but also the jury they duped into convicting me. Along with every one that believes in the legal system. I'm also upset with the media. Especially ABC. They could run a story about Tom Sawyer, wrongly convicted of murder by the same renegade police detective Peter Fire and vigilante legal system that railroaded me, but do nothing about my case. What made him more important than me? Why should he get his trial issues heard while mine are suppressed? If my trial issues had been heard, it is possible I could have discovered the information given by Borton, in the Rhodes case. And I would have been exonerated along with Sawyer. While a renegade cop and a vigilante system would have been caught in 1987. How many people have suffered since then? How many Skalnik are there that they used to achieve a conviction by any means? By his own admission they used him in over one hundred cases. Why isn't that headline news? Good people wont be hurt by the truth. Only those who abused the system for their own advancements will feel pains of their actions. They are the creators of this painting that show them to be outlaws administering vigilant justice. I am just a sad character crying foul. Look at me, hear me, see me, listen to me, and see if I am wrong. I'm not making any of this up. I was railroaded and I continue to suffer because of it. Am I mad? Yes…most definitely I am mad.
Everyone is on the yard so it is peaceful in here. I'd like to believe I'm not depressed but I am. The loneliness and hopelessness hits me hard at this time of year. Last year wasn't much better. It really doesn't fell like Christmas. I'll be glad when this month is over. It's not looking good for getting this nine next month. Let's see what the mail brings tonight. I expect to heat from all the anti-death neatly groups wishing me a joyous season. The group from Gainesville will be here in a few days to gawk at us while wishing us a merry Christmas. I will get a couple photos taken and receive a couple bags with food. I'll talk to whoever stops in front of my cell and tell them about me website etc..Only to be asked for the URL and never hear from them again.
I received 5 blank cards from a group called FLOW – Friends of Florida Death Row. That was nice of them. We had some excitement earlier with a small field mouse. I heard my neighbour say he seen a mouse and I got up to look. As I stepped to the cell door the mouse ran in on me, causing me to give out a yell. I have to admit it scared me and the guys had with that. Right now, the mouse is down at Opie's cell, the last cell on the floor. Opie is throwing chips to see if he can entice it out from between the cell bars and wall. I've begun reading The Education of Little Tree by Forrest Carter. It's about a young boy that is orphaned and goes t live with his Cherokee grandparents in the Appalachian mountains of Tennessee during the great depression. I'm going to put my pen up for now and read until the lights go out.
I have finished reading the book and enjoyed it immensely. Being an assimilated Cherokee myself it brought back a lot of memories from when I was young I don't remember the year when we moved to Sauk Village , Illinois . A suburb of Chicago . I know I loved it as it was mostly country. We could look out the kitchen window and watch cows grazing right across the street. I would later bale hay with the farmer in that same field. There was creek called Plum Creek, that I would spend a lot of time exploring. I explored all over the area. There was any old farmhouse and barn that I'd play in before they were torn down. There was a wooded area that I would walk miles to get to. I'd spend full days just hiking through the woods, finding things like strawberry patches and other berries. I never had anyone to educate me to what I was doing or finding, although I'd bring things home to my mother and she would tell me what they were. I remember I once found a good-sized nugget of iron pyrite (fool's gold) and ran about two miles home yelling I had found gold. Only to be told I wasn't rich. Those were the good days. I had a dog called Peanuts. I still don't know what kind of dog she was, but I loved her and we spend a lot of time together. I was always pretty much a loner, but met a lot of people and mead a lot friends. I had three friends that owned horses, so I got to ride a lot and learn a lot about taking care of the horses. I once rode in a snow blizzard. Where the drifts were as high as horses. I was forever picking things up and hardly ever knew what I was looking at. I had a special mulberry tree that I would sit in a competition with the birds to eat as many berries as I could. We had a quarry nearby too which we would swim in and later turn into a party area at night. I had a pretty steady schedule and knew I had to be home at 5pm for supper. Even though I never wore a watch I was always home on time. I enjoyed running and won third place in a 9/10's of a mile run against another school. I always felt I would have won if only I were coached better and hadn't allowed the two bigger guys from the other school to separated themselves from the pack. If the race would have been just a bit longer, I would have caught and passed them. I won most outstanding athlete in our grade school track competitions. I look back now and see why I enjoyed spending so much time alone. I didn't' have to worry about anyone calling me names or wanting to fight because I was different. It also helped me to forget about my parents drinking and fighting. I don't know how many times the neighbours called the police to break them up. Then I would get punished because I didn't do well in school. The good days were the days I would be off by myself. I don't like remembering the bad times. I tried running away a few times, but really didn't have anywhere to go and was too young to make it on my own. Even though I know my parents loved me in their own ways. Their continued fighting hurt me more than they ever know. I couldn't wait to get away from it, but in reality I suppose I never did, as the education of One Eagle was misspent.
Everyone has been up since breakfast, which was around 6am . We all have our cells in compliance as we wait on the good Christmas people to come. I lay in bed thinking about what I wrote yesterday. My parents weren't monsters, but had their problems. They had to have some love for one another as they stayed together for over 40 years. I really believe they knew or understood what kind of effect they were having on me. Also, I'm not looking for mitigating factors in order to try and save my live. I have no interest in the sentencing issues of my case. I should have never been arrested or charged with Butch's death. That is the point of this journal. Nothing more, nothing less. I don't want to be on display and I never wanted to be infamous. I just want the degradation and abuse to stop.
Soon some good people will come around from cell to cell wishing us a Merry Christmas. Each year that I have been on death row I would tell whoever spoke to me that I am innocent and need help. I am speaking to people who oppose the death penalty and who I feel should be appalled that they are speaking to an innocent man. Yet, year after year good meaning people turn a deaf ear to me, leaving me despondent.
The Christmas ordeal is over. I had a lady names Eve stop in front of my cell just as I predicted the short conversation we had went to my case. I told her I was innocent and about my website, which she said she would look up. I also mentioned the journal. I liked Eve and wish we could have had more time to get to know one another. We may have had 15 minutes and I wasn't able to learn anything about her. She seemed interested. I'd like t believe she looked my website up. I'd even like to believe she would correspond with me. But the odds are I'll never see of hear from her.
They caught Saddam Hussein yesterday and it is all over the news today.
I'm just too depressed to write.
The noise began early today and I had a restless night. I hope they run yard this afternoon. I won't be going but it would give me some quiet time while the others do go. They are running upstairs for yard. It appears it will be another drawn out day.
I really am depressed.
They signed Johnny Robinson's death warrant today. He was just on the yard with us last week and we spoke. I think he was expecting for his death warrant to be signed. I should get called out for a pipe ceremony tomorrow. I'm hoping to see Gray Cloud as he is expecting to go back on deathwatch.
I went out for pipe ceremony around 1pm . I received my medicine bag and headband. It is a shame we are only allowed to be on the yard with our spiritual leader, one man at a time. The pipe ceremony is meant to be performed in a circle. The state is also refusing to pay our spiritual leaders gas money. He visits 17 prisons here in Florida . I asked if the Seminoles support us and received a No for an answer. It's not good I haven't received any response to help with the Native American website yet.
No mail last night. The Christians came around this afternoon, passing out a small bag of homemade cookies and a coke. Wishing us all a Merry Christmas. That was nice since they didn't stop to talk.
We had a little excitement last night. Someone decided to burn plastic and had the whole cell house smelling, which is an example how one moron can screw things up for everyone. I guess it was too warm in here for someone. So they decided by burning plastic and holding it up to the small vent so it would circulate throughout the cell house. Plus no one would know where it was coming from. It got so bad the guards called up front and got the commanding officers back here. They decided to air the cell house out by opening all the windows and turning the exhaust fans on. So it got cold fairly fast. Once it cooled off and the burning stopped, they closed the windows again.
I received 3 Christmas cards last night. One from my father telling me about his new girlfriend. One from his ex-girlfriend telling me about his new girlfriend. And one from a former CCR attorney that represented me, Ken Driggs. He said he is learning how to use the internet and had looked at my website. He said he would write more later.
Only a Christmas card from a former investigator for CCR, Paul Harvell. I'm really disappointed I didn't hear form my daughter. I'm going to see if I can hook my walkman radio to the TV power source. I can no longer afford batteries.
I was able to hook the radio to the TV and no longer have to worry about batteries. Merry Christmas One Eagle.
Really depressed and don't feel like writing…
It was a surprise that they ran mail last night. I received an unauthorised mail return receipt. It seems brother James Van Koolbergen sent me a $25 money order then he wrote. Only his card and the money order were returned, due that money orders have to be sent directly to the inmate bank accompanied by an inmate deposit slip. I'm going to borrow a couple stamps and send Bro Jim a few deposit slips. Brother Jim is an administrator of a Catholic school. He has purchase one of my paintings about 4 or 5 years ago from Audrey Rivers. It was entitled Prayer to Fill an Empty Basket. We began to correspond shortly after that. Now with Brother Jim sending me a money order prayers are being answered once again. He lives in Ocala , Florida . I'm going to send him a visitation form.
I watched the first part of the two-part movie Dream keeper tonight. The second part comes on tomorrow night. I wrote Bro Jim and sent him a couple deposit slips as well as a visitation form. Three more days in this year and two months until I hope my case comes out of abeyance. Hopefully I'll hear from my attorney soon.
Hopefully I'll find someone to help me with the journal soon. It's like I wrote to Bro Jim, when the depositions of the two former prosecuting attorneys are taken, they will be forced t admit the withholding of exculpatory evidence prevented me from receiving a fair trial. These depositions should be taken before March. If they aren't it will mean my attorney is selling me out and will milk my case as long as he can. The next few months are going to be interesting to see if my attorney is on the up and up or not. It will be in his best interest if he is, since it will reflect bad upon him otherwise.
I watched the second part of the film and it brought tears to my eyes. It was a great movie.
I have a new address to write, which is a good way to end the old year. It's to the New Abolitionist based in Chicago . I'm going to write them and see if they will publish an announcement about my case on their website and news letter.
I just finished the piece I hope the New Abolitionist will publish for me:
To whom it may concern,
It is my hope, prayer, desire and need as an innocent man on Florida 's death row, that you print the following plea for assistance in the New Abolitionist, and on your website. Thank you for your time and consideration.
Asiya (Hello)
My name is Milo Rose. I give thanks to everyone at the New Abolitionist. Along with all others active in the campaign to end the death penalty. Knowing you are active in opposition to the corrupt policies of the death penalty. It's a true blessing to individual such as myself. I am an innocent individual on Florida 's death row. That has been fighting for over 21 years to correct the injustice that keeps me falsely imprisoned. My plight can be found on my website.
As you will read on my site, the legal system has shown no desire to correct the blatant injustice I suffer. Because of this I am in desperate need of publicity to draw attention to my case. Vigilante justice is not just myth of the old west. It exists and continues to flourish as the legal system turns a blind eye to it out of necessity. Thus, corrupting the entire legal process by placing economics above justice. Since it would bankrupt the legal system if it ever were revealed how deeply rooted it truly is. My case is a sad example of the lengths a corrupt system will go to keep the truth of their misconduct quiet. To protect the economy of their system, I have been deemed expendable under economic law. While giving the illusion of justice.
I now humbly request assistance to publicise my case. After 21 years of abuse I am at wits' end. Please help me to end this nightmare from hell
Milo Rose
I really don't feel like writing.
I heard from Bro Jim last night. He sent the visiting form in. he should get approved right away. I'm really looking forward to visiting with him. I figured out my canteen order and with that I owe it comes to $23.97. That $25 Bro Jim sent me will go fast. This being poor is for the birds.
The canteen man came to take orders. The money Bro Jim sent wasn't on my account yet. That's a bummer. I woke up still feeling pathetic and depressed.
We received new laundry bags yesterday. Bigger ones that will accommodate two sheets and a pillowcase. They picked up our sheets this morning. 10: 11pm I heard from Ken Driggs. He sent me a download on the first few pages of my website. I don't know if he read the October 2003 update or not. I also received the receipt for the money Bro Jim sent. Ken also sent me a download on his book “Evil Among Us”. The Texas Mormon Missionary Murders. Ken is a Mormon and the piece he sent sounds really self-righteous. I'm going t write out the paragraph that has my goal.
“In recounting the events of that Autumn night, author Ken Driggs contemplates the human cost: innocent lives and the collective pain of their families and extend communities, as well as the tragedy of Kleasen's own troubled life. Released from death row on a technicality after serving two years, Kleasen was sentenced in June 2000 to three years in Britain on separate charges, and was facing extradition to Texas . For Driggs this raises legal and moral issues about what should be done with such individuals, and what the rest of us should do to protect ourselves from them.”
That paragraph leaves me sitting here wondering what should be done about people like Ken Driggs, and how we should protect ourselves from him. His guy has represented indigent death row inmates in Florida , and Georgia , that I know of. I'm going to ask him how many he was able to exonerate. I've begged him t represent me in the past out of friendship, which was long before I discovered the evidence that discredits Poole/Barton. He thinks I am guilty. That moral judgement on his part tells me he has no business defending indigent death row inmates, as he sounds more like a deluded man that believes be is the Mormon avenging angel, insuring people convicted of murder never beat the legal system on technicalities, and turn a blind eye to vigilantism. Since he seems t defend such practice, I don't know how many times I told Ken I did not kill Butch and that I was railroaded. I bet he kept all my long letters I wrote to him over the years. He knows my case, but apparently he has morally adjudicated me unworthy to re-enter society. Because he reasons I probably killed Butch and society is safer with me in prison. It doesn't matter that vigilante justice railroaded me. For which any true defence attorney would be appalled. Ken will hide behind the ignorance of his own vanity of a morally just person.
I just re-read the letter I wrote to Ken. Maybe I shouldn't write when I'm tired and depressed. I don't know if what I wrote makes sense or not, but do know I cannot afford to waste time corresponding with anyone that does not have my best interest at heart. Here's what I wrote:
Ken
Thank you for the card and enclosed information. Reading the advert for your book proved interesting. Being your opinion that I am probably guilty, Ken, I don't know if you read the October update on my website. There is one question I want to ask you as a moral legal scholar. Is it a technicality when someone gets railroaded through the withholding of exculpatory evidence?
It's a question of ethics and morality that I'd like to know if you condone the practice of! For over 21 years I have maintained my innocence under extreme duress, which has to be seen as an act of an innocent man or of a mad man living out a delusion. For you to tell someone that I'm probably guilty brings your morality and ethics, that were designed to protect the innocent, into question. In which light suggests the support of vigilante justice to remove those deemed unfit to live within society, by any means. I know I have asked you countless times for help while maintaining my innocence. Simply due to the fact that I believed you to be a moral and just person. A person that called himself my friend. Now I'm going to bring your morality and immorality into question. In 1987, when my initial motion was filed under a death warrant, it lacked one crucial piece of evidence. That being the evidence to discredit the two alleged witnesses. Of which Susan Schaeffer played on to deny me an evidentiary hearing on guilt/innocence issues. Stating their testimony alone was enough to achieve a conviction. Strangely anyone with the resources and ability to investigate these two people would have found that in 1985 these two people were involved in another murder case, in which another of their roommates is killed any they are once more in the forefront willing to point their fingers at someone claiming to be innocent. Duh, upon further review of this case, it comes to light in a deposition one of them gave, that their credibility as truthful witnesses becomes tarnished to the point of being poison fruit. Yet, to my knowledge no state mandated attorney or investigator assigned to my case ever found this evidence. As it sat dormant for 11 years until by chance or divine intervention, I found it. Which under cumulative review of all the withheld exculpatory evidence prevented me from developing them as the true perpetrators of this crime. To the point of overwhelming reasonable doubt need to vindicate myself. Ken, I don't know where you stand today, which I why I have asked you. Since I want to know moral obligation to me. I don't need help and moral support from someone that believes I'm probably guilty. That wont cut it. I'm going to get my journal published online, which will include a copy of this letter t you. I'm remaining positive. I'd like to see you author a success story
Take care
Respectfully, Milo
PS If you reply, I can use some stamps.
Ken and I have always had a rocky relationship as I questioned his sincerity as a defence attorney.
We had some excitement this morning. We got word they were shaking down 4 left and 4 right. So we figured we were next. The forewarning allowed us to get our house in order. I disconnected the radio wires that hood up to TV power source. I then lit a cigarette, just as they were coming in on us, which left me feeling foolish, I have been through the process so many times that it is all second nature. All I had to do was stick the lighter in my sock. But instead I dropped it in my top pack and thought it would be alright. Anyway they handcuffed me along with everyone else in the last six cells and took us down to the showers, while they tore our cells up. When I got back to my cell it was a mess. Sheets and everything were all a jumbled heap on the floor. The first thing I noticed missing was my lighter. I now got my cell back in order. Speaking of which, the canteen man is on the floor now taking orders. I should be all right on tobacco for a while.
No mail tonight. Today is my son's birthday. It's hard to believe I have a 32-year-old son. It's a shame he won't respond to me, but I have to respect his reasoning even if I don't understand it. Hopefully one day we will meet and he can air his grievances against me. Anyway Happy Birthday Mikie…I can't change the past, but I can try to make for a better future.
All right, Ms Right, I don't know where you are right now. I will be ready when you show yourself. The wonders of the world are ours to explore and appreciate together. I know you are out there because your vision has been given to me. We will bask in the beauty of our own creation. Yet know the humility of those less fortunate. We will have balance and harmony about ourselves so the seeds of vanity will never be able to take root. Our light will shine in all ways and burn eternal in our spirits' heart, with a oneness that only comes from being blessed with an everlasting love. We will not deceive ourselves with pious ness, or present ourselves as an example of righteousness. We will only be ourselves enjoying the pleasures of our oneness. Holding fast to the wisdom, knowledge and understanding that the only thing able to come between us is ourselves. Promising to never allow that to happen as we seek to live out our ideals in the spirit of love for which we will find ourselves joined. Knowing that the path will not always be smooth and sharing in the endurance to overcome whatever obstacles the world throws our way. Ms Right, these things are in your heart as we have shared the same vision. Smile, my Love, our time and union is here for our taking as we take control of our destiny together…
I've been reviewing what I have written in the journal so far. I don't know what to think. It's never to receive rave reviews and I'm smiling. I'm not looking for rave reviews. I'm just trying to put my thoughts down on paper and hopefully make some sense out of it all. Why won't anyone listen to me and see what is going on? I've had my character dragged through Hell for 21 years while I have maintained my innocence. The State of Florida has provided me with attorneys to challenge the conviction and sentence. Yet, these attorneys file ineffectiveness claims on themselves in both the post conviction motions and Florida Supreme Court appellate briefs. Which all got denied. It is so obvious that the attorneys appointed to represent me, haven't been true advocates, but have only served to give the façade of justice being served. As they collect their pay checks from the State. Which in and of itself is a major conflict of interest that everyone seems to overlook. The State paid puppets that are assigned to represent us has all the control. They even have power of control through the use of our loved ones. If one of us bucks the system, these attorneys are quick to scare our loved ones into believing if we continue to buck the system we will only succeed in getting killed by having a death warrant signed.
The state paid puppets are quick to use fear through the threat of being executed as a means of control. Loved ones buy into that fear out of love and helplessness. As it is a real threat and concern. The problem though for individual like me is that if I lose the support of loved ones, the state paid puppets keep total control over my case. I don't know how to explain it. The odds are stacked against me because the legal system does not want to admit it has convicted an innocent man, because when or if it does admit its error, especially in my case, a pattern of abuse will emerge, and when that happens it becomes a scandal that creates an economic disaster for the system as more and more abuse begins to be revealed. THIS I THE MOST IMPORTANT MESSAGE I AM SEEKING TO CONVEY THROUGH THE WRITING OF THIS JOURNAL.
I'm hoping they run yard this afternoon. They ran six top and four bottom this morning. Mixing them on the yard in front of me. Gray Cloud was out there, but he didn't' yell into me. I'm upset with him to. When he needed help I was there for him and he knows I'm doing bad right now. The last word I received from him came through GW, who spoke to Gray Cloud in the visiting park. He told me that Grey Cloud wanted to get an order for me, but the canteen man wanted $5 to deliver it to me. Any way Gray Cloud is on my shit list right now.
The canteen man just came by taking orders. I spoke to him about Gray Cloud and him wanting t charge him five dollars to get an order for me. As much as I looked out for the canteen man when I had money in my account, I let him know he owed me and what he was doing wasn't right. Hopefully I got his head right.
No mail. I must be one sorry excuse for a human being. First I get convicted for a murder I did not commit or never would have committed. Then a jury of my peers vote 9 to 3 to sentence me to death, which the judge uses to sentence me to death and when evidence surfaces that when I jumped up in her court room to shout I was being railroaded shows that