Anthony lee Rogers

LET’S BEGIN HERE:

Anthony Rogers (hereinafter “I, Me, My”) is My birth name; I started boxing in My hometown of Fort Wayne, Indiana when I was twelve years old; I started with a few losses but eventually went on to win numerous matches and even some tournaments.

I then spent two years at Indiana University (Bloomington) earning an Associate’s Degree in General Studies before entering the U.S. Army and going to My first Duty Station at Boeblingen, Germany (Panzer Kaserne); with very little time to train and get into “fighting shape”, I managed to win a silver medal in the USAREUR Boxing Tournament in 1987 (I suppose they won’t mind Me mentioning that this is where I first met the man who won the gold medal for Boxing as a heavyweight in the 1988 Olympics and went on to become “Merciless” Ray Mercer as a professional boxer and winning a World Championship; he kept us laughing at the All-Army Boxing camps). I also spent six (6) years as a teammate on the number one-rated amateur team in the nation with Al “Ice” Cole, who had a part in the movie “ALI” (with Will Smith), and “Fast” Eddie Cook, the hardest-hitting 112-pound southpaw I’ve ever met in my life! Cook turned pro and won two world championships during his career. As I look back on my own amateur boxing career, I actually beat several fighters who won championships as professionals [but this is not my message; it’s just something I thought I’d drop off as I pass by].

As a soldier, I participated in Operation Desert Shield/Storm (Saudi Arabia); Operation Restore Hope (Somalia, Africa), 1988 Western Olympic Trials – Boxing (Houston, TX); and was a Drill Sergeant at Fort Knox, KY as a U.S. Army Reservist.

During the time that I was a Drill Sergeant, I also became a member of a very influential and popular fraternity; I excelled quickly in that fraternity and became good friends with a particular member who is a 33^rd degree out of Chicago, IL.

I went to visit this member at his home one particular Saturday and he had company so I didn’t stay long. As I was about to exit his front door, he asked Me, “Brother Rogers, do you have your gun license on you? (Both of us possessed an “Indiana Permit To Carry”); I answered, “Yes”. To which he responded, “Will you pick-up a (specific gun) for Me at (a specific gun store)?

I asked, “Why can’t you get it?”

He responded, “Because I misplaced My permit, and today is the last day of the sale. Since you got yours on you, it won’t take long.” Knowing that it is not unlawful to buy a gun for another person (fathers buy guns for their children all the time) I said, “Okay” and received the exact amount of money from him for the gun.

At the gun store, I bought the gun he asked for and I also bought an additional one for Myself.

I took the new gun that I bought for My-self, along with a .38 that I already owned, to My girlfriend’s apartment so she’d feel safe whenever I’m not there; she also possessed an Indiana Permit To Carry.

Later that same day outside of a fraternity meeting, I gave the gun to My fraternity brother and I never thought about that weapon again…. Until….

Several years later, My stepdad -who had been staying in My apartment     since I was spending so much time with My girlfriend- called Me to say some detectives stopped by to talk with Me and left a business card for Me.

I picked-up the business card that same weekend and called the ATF agent identified on the card early Monday morning after I got off work (3^rd shift at a factory in Fort Wayne, IN).

The agent identified himself as an ATF agent out of Chicago, IL, and said he has something important he wants to talk about with Me but would not discuss it over the phone; he suggested that I get some rest since I’d just gotten off work and stated they’d meet Me at My girlfriend’s apartment that afternoon.

Three agents showed-up at My girlfriend’s apartment and -as I let them into the apartment- agent #2 asked “Are there any guns in this house?”; I responded, “Yes, we have two weapons in the back”; agent #2 then said, “We need to bring those guns out here before we talk”. I escorted agent #2 to the back rooms where he took control of each weapon before carrying them to the dining room table where the three agents and I took a seat.

Agent #2 started by saying, “We are not here to talk about these particular guns. We want to know about a gun that was used in a crime in Chicago. We’re not charging you with that crime because we caught the man in the process of that crime. We just want to know how a gun that YOU bought here in Fort Wayne, Indiana, turned-up being used in a crime in Chicago, Illinois?”

We spoke for approximately forty-five minutes, during which time I explained that I’d only ever bought ONE gun that is not currently in My possession, and I bought that gun for a fraternity brother of mine and never thought about that gun again…. Until now.

I was asked several more questions to tie-up some loose ends before the agents thanked Me for My candor and told Me they’d have to take My two guns with them; I later learned from  the ‘professional criminals’ I met in jail that they had no right to take My guns without a warrant; but I figured they wanted to check to see if My guns had been used in any crimes. I asked the agents, “How do I get My weapons back?” and they told Me to talk to the Assistant U.S. Attorney downtown; And they left.

Approximately three weeks later, I called the Assistant U.S. Attorneys’ office downtown and asked about getting My weapons returned; someone at that office told Me that I had to call the Assistant U.S. Attorney’s office at Hammond, IN; someone at the Hammond office told Me to call the Assistant U.S. Attorney’s office at Cincinnati, OH; someone at that office told Me to call the Indianapolis office. At this point, I finally realized what they were doing to Me so I decided to hire an attorney.

When I hired Mr. Harry Foster, I explained to him that I am not charged with breaking any law, I simply want him to return My two guns to Me; he understood the assignment….or so I thought.

Approximately a month after I hired him, Mr. Harry Foster called Me to ask Me to meet him at his office at a particular day/time; I showed-up promptly and Mr. Foster said he has two papers for Me to sign. He handed Me the first paper which was a Total Immunity Agreement; it turns out that the Assistant U.S. Attorney wants Me to testify in front of a federal Grand Jury about buying the weapon that was used in a crime in Chicago; I signed that, no questions asked.

He then presented another paper to Me before saying, “The feds want you to sign your guns over to the government.” I never took that paper from him. I said, “I’m not signing that. Are you gonna return the money I paid you?” He quickly said “No” he’s not returning the money.

He made sure I knew the date/time to be at the federal building and I left his office.

On the prescribed day, I showed-up at the federal building and met Mr. Foster in the hallway of the 1^st floor with his youngest son (approximately 8 yrs. old) who absolutely adored Me.

The Assistant U.S. Attorney, Ms. Tina Nommay, soon came downstairs and escorted Me upstairs to the Grand Jury room; in the Ante-room, immediately prior to entering the Grand Jury room, Ms. Tina Nommay asked Me, “Did your attorney give you the paper signing over your guns to the government?”

“Yes, he did.”

“Did you sign it?”

“I have NO intentions of signing that paper.”

I suppose that response prompted Ms. Tina Nommay to want to teach Me a lesson because I noticed an immediate change in her demeanor; we entered the Grand Jury room and took our seats.

The Grand Jurors fired question after question at Me; I answered each question honestly; at the end, even Ms. Tina Nommay asked a few questions before I was released.

Approximately one month later, Mr. Harry Foster called Me to give Me a date/time to meet him at the federal courthouse; This time, he met Me outside of Judge Theresa Springmann’s courtroom.

He gave Me a pep talk stating the judge wants to ask Me a few questions about the guns before they release the weapons back to Me.

In Judge Springmann’s courtroom, I’m standing at the front of the courtroom with My attorney, Mr. Harry Foster, and A.U.S.A. Tina Nommay, all facing Judge Theresa Springmann.

Judge Theresa Springmann begins by asking questions related to Me pleading guilty to a charge of being a “Felon in possession of a handgun”. (Several years prior, in Texas, I pled guilty to some charges involving Me, unknowingly, handing cocaine to someone in front of an FBI informant; the judge in that case tried the case as a State case and sealed My conviction after successfully completing the terms of probation. I explained all of this to the ATF agents when they questioned Me at My girlfriend’s apartment and they, undoubtedly, told this to A.U.S.A. Tina Nommay who, in her evil desire to teach Me a lesson, made some calls to Texas to get that case unsealed so she could use it against Me.)

(Remember, after returning home to Fort Wayne, IN, and successfully completing probation, My Texas charge became sealed and I was able to re-join the military and become a Drill Sergeant in a Reserve unit at Fort Knox, KY.)

Nonetheless, I was obviously perplexed and befuddled at Judge Springmann’s questioning Me about pleading guilty to A.U.S.A. Tina Nommay’s fabricated charges against Me, to the point that she was not able to accept a plea at that time.

Please keep in mind that, academically, I’m a nerd; I’d never been in legal trouble before; so, I don’t know what actually happens inside a courtroom; My attorney knows this and is working with the A.U.S.A. to use My ignorance against Me.

My attorney informs Me that, now that I am facing federal charges, I have to report to the Probation and Pre-Trial Services office in the federal building.

The first PTS officer I was reporting-to was a cold piece of work; she’s a Black woman, and I remember her first name being “Rhonda”.

I just had a natural dis-like for her; that happens to Me sometimes, when the spirit(s) that rest(s) on Me do not really mix well with the spirit(s) that rest(s) on other people.

My girlfriend and I were planning a trip to the Bahamas, and we told Rhonda about it; we told her the dates of the trip and all pertinent information; we even told Rhonda that we were planning to get married in the Bahamas. Rhonda told us we’d need to bring back documentation that we actually did get married; (that marriage didn’t happen because just prior to us going to the Bahamas, My girlfriend had an ectopic pregnancy.)

I learned later that, after we left for the Bahamas, Rhonda told the court that I was trying to escape this federal case.

On the flight back, I sensed that something was peculiar about the flight crew; after landing at Chicago’s O’Hare airport, federal agents met Me as I departed the plane and took Me to MCC-Chicago; I was there for approximately fifteen days.

Obviously, I lost My job.

I was eventually transported to the Fort Wayne, Allen County Jail; while in the Allen County Jail, I wrote a letter to the judge explaining everything that I’d told Rhonda.

The next thing I knew, Rhonda was no longer working for the feds; I love to think that My letters to the judge were the reason for her dismissal. In court, the judge said she does not believe I was trying to escape but placed Me on Home Detention at My girlfriend’s apartment.

On or about 25 August 2007 My girlfriend and I got into a very heated argument and the police were called; seeing that I’m already on federal Home Detention, the officer took Me to jail for Domestic Battery.

After a week or so, the Domestic Battery charge was dropped but I was not released from jail.

Eventually, I learned that A.U.S.A. Tina Nommay placed a No Bond Hold on Me (which is unconstitutional within Indiana).

As time passed-by, I accepted the fact that Harry Foster is absolutely working against Me by allowing A.U.S.A. Tina Nommay to enforce bogus charges on Me and allow it to proceed to trial (because I most definitely am not accepting a Plea Agreement) so, I filed a grievance in the Supreme Court of Indiana against My paid attorney, Mr. Harry Foster, which effectively terminated our relationship; I was then assigned to be represented by Mr. Thomas O’Malley, the “Federal Community Defender” for Allen County.

From here on out, a federal agent – A.U.S.A. Tina Nommay – is prosecuting Me, and a federal agent – Mr. Thomas O’Malley, the Federal Community Defender – is defending Me! HOW IS THIS FAIR? HER office is on the third floor in the federal courthouse at Fort Wayne, Allen County, Indiana, and HIS office is on the first floor in the same federal courthouse!

Mr. O’Malley spared no devious tactic whenever he spoke to Me by trying to get Me to sign various Plea Agreements; even lying to My face more than a few times.

I asked many of the professional criminals incarcerated with Me, “even if I did what they “claim, what makes this a federal offense?”

They all gave Me the same answer: “The feds can do whatever they want to do.”

I asked My Defense Attorney the same question and even he gave Me the exact same answer.

Ultimately, My federal trial was held on or about 7 April 2005; only three individuals testified against Me, all three of them ATF agents: the two junior agents who interviewed Me at My girlfriend’s apartment, and a female agent whom I’d never seen before or since. [The third, senior agent who was at My girlfriend’s apartment was the lone Black person on the jury – I KID YOU NOT!!!!]

The first ATF agent to testify, the female, only testified about the procedures of various gun issues.

During Cross-Examination, Mr. Thomas O’Malley stood-up and asked a few perfunctory questions before he asked the court for time, and then came over to our table, leaned over in such a way that allowed the judge a full view of whatever I might say, and asked Me, “Can you think of any other questions I should ask her?”

“She didn’t really testify about anything pertaining to Me so No, I can’t think of anything you need to ask her.”

Mr. O’Malley immediately stood-up and said, “No more questions.”

The second agent to testify was the primary agent who asked all the questions at My girlfriend’s apartment.

After A.U.S.A. Tina Nommay asked his name, damn near EVERYTHING he said on the stand was a lie!

He claimed that he stepped into the front door of the apartment and noticed clothes and trash strewn all throughout the apartment, and he immediately noticed one of the guns, for which he was looking, amongst the mess.

It took everything in Me to keep My composure while he regurgitated the well-rehearsed LIES that A.U.S.A. Tina Nommay and Thomas O’Malley OBVIOUSLY trained him to say.

During Cross-Examination, Thomas O’Malley again stood-up and asked a few perfunctory questions before he -once again- asked the court for time and then came over to our table, leaned over in such a way that allowed the judge a full view of whatever I might say, and asked Me, “Can you think of any other questions I should ask him?”

I felt My-self damn near stand on top of the table and tear him a new ass-hole; My Drill Sergeant training made Me want to get right in his face and scream at the top of My lungs just like Bugs Bunny would do to Wile E. Coyote;

Instead….

I turned My head to see Judge Theresa Springmann staring intently at Me; I turned back to face Thomas O’Malley and I placed My fingers in front of My mouth before I quietly answered, “Yes, since he testified that he was looking for the weapons that I had, and he claims he saw them laying on the floor, WHY DIDN’T HE ARREST ME?”

Thomas O’Malley immediately stood straight-up and pondered My response before stating rather loudly, “That’s a good question!”

He then stepped toward the witness and asked, “Agent [#2], have you ever effected an arrest?”

“What?”

“Have you ever effected an arrest?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Have you ever made an arrest as an ATF agent?”

“OH! Yes, I’ve made several arrests.”

“Well, why didn’t you arrest Anthony Rogers?”

Agent [#2] immediately closed his eyes and threw his head back (perhaps in shame that they had not prepared for that question).

Mr. O’Malley then went on to ask several more legitimate questions that completely destroyed the A.U.S.A.’s fabricated case against Me (such as, “Since you claim to be searching for the guns in Mr. Rogers’ possession, did you have a warrant for either of those guns?”).

“No!”

I was so moved that I leaned over and whispered to his assistant sitting next to Me, “Right now, I could kiss him”; she simply flashed a weird-looking smile.

At 9:10 pm, we assembled in the courtroom to hear the verdict.

Prior to the judge entering the courtroom, Thomas O’Malley pulled Me aside to remind Me that I was a Drill Sergeant in the Army and to remain strong and steadfast; he told Me to show no signs of disappointment at any time when the verdict is read.

Hmm. He knows something!

He then told Me to My face, “Unless I see a juror crying or otherwise very distraught, I never poll the jury.”

I remember thinking, “These M*****F****** did something dirty!”

Judge Theresa Springmann asked the jury-foreperson to stand-up; I recall a white woman standing before Judge Springmann asked to receive the verdict.

It struck Me as very weird that Judge Springmann barely even observed the paper before saying, “Mr. Rogers, the court finds you guilty on all counts.”

She then asked A.U.S.A. Nommay if she “would like to poll the jury?”

“No.”

“Mr. O’Malley, would you like to poll the jury?”

I turned to look at him and I could see him studying Me from the corner of his eyes; after a long pregnant pause, he finally said, “NO.”

Judge Springmann immediately released the jury before reading some court rules or something, and ordering Me to be brought back to court for sentencing in three months.

I can never prove this, but…. I believe in My heart that the jury was told I signed a last-minute Plea Agreement!

Judge Springmann had Me brought into her courtroom every three months for over a year before she finally actually sentenced Me; in fact, it was 2 October 2006 (a full 538 days after My trial) before she finally sentenced Me to 46 months confinement with a $200 special assessment fee and imposing a term of three (3) years Supervised Release.

It was about a week before Thanksgiving Day when I finally left the Fort Wayne, Allen County Jail and was driven to southern Indiana and put on a jet dedicated to moving federal inmates.

(I spent twenty-seven consecutive months in the Allen County Jail, which -I think- is a record for that jail.)

From there, we flew to Detroit, then to Chicago, then finally to FTC-Oklahoma; I spent one night in Oklahoma before being flown to Pittsburgh, PA where I was driven to FCI Elkton at Lisbon, OH.

At FCI Elkton, I spent every moment I could in that facility’s Law Library.

All of the white inmates in there were looking-up court rules and such fighting their specific case; I spent My time researching federal jurisdiction versus State jurisdiction.

One other white inmate, “Andy”, believed like Me, and he and I spoke often; one day Andy and I were talking about constitutions when I mentioned something about Me being from Indiana and needing to somehow get a copy of the Indiana Constitution.

Just then another white inmate with a heavy German accent interrupted by saying he heard us talking about constitutions and needing a copy of the Indiana Constitution. He volunteered to call his girlfriend in New York and have her mail a copy of the Indiana Constitution to him.

Within two weeks he presented to Me a copy of the Indiana Constitution; I had never before known anything about the Indiana Constitution, much less read it.

Armed with this new information, I was able to put together an argument which I present against the U.S. Federal Government without fear of successful contradiction; In fact, I was released from federal custody on 10 December 2007 and I filed My first lawsuit against the feds on 12 December 2007; to which they have never responded.

The federal government actually pays the States to NOT teach their own constitution but to teach the federal government’s constitution as if it were the single Constitution for the entire United States (hence the name change from “federal” to “U.S.”); Article 1, Section 8, Clause 17 of the Federal Constitution limits the jurisdiction of the federal government to extend ONLY upon certain federal properties!

The Indiana Constitution so undoubtedly demonstrates this same principle when illuminating the boundaries/limits for the State of Indiana at Article 14, Sections 1 and 2 of the Indiana Constitution.

The Greatest Lie Ever Told started with Prohibition; you see, the federal government was still broke after fighting the war against the southern States; in fact, Abraham Lincoln tried three separate times to institute a National tax upon Americans and all persons living and working within the States, but the U.S. Supreme court (correctly) shut him down every time because the federal government has NO authority to institute rules/laws/edicts etc., upon persons within the jurisdiction of any of these fifty American States.

Every lawyer in America knows this but will never speak of it with an UN-initiated person.  IF YOU’VE READ THIS FAR, PLEASE CONTINUE ON TO UNLOCK THE TRUTH WHICH DEBUNKS THE GREATEST LIE EVER TOLD.

After spending damn-near every possible moment in Elkton FCI’s Law Library and putting together a COMPLAINT FOR DAMAGES that I feel is at least 83% impenetrable, I was released from federal custody on Saturday, 10 December 2007 and returned, by bus, to Fort Wayne, Allen County, Indiana.

I went straight to the Allen County Halfway House and checked-in. Persons released from State prisons are obligated to find employment as immediately as possible and pay a portion of their earnings to that facility, but federal inmates don’t have that obligation because the feds pay the facility a set amount for each body sent there; so, that first Monday morning I woke-up, got cleaned-up, grabbed My paperwork and caught the bus going downtown and entered the Allen County Courthouse.

I navigated My way to the Clerk of Courts office and nervously handed My papers to the attendant and paid the required fee before that attendant stamped My papers “02D01-0712-CT-548”; My first lawsuit…filed in the Allen Superior Court against the U.S. Federal government for their “Lack Of Jurisdiction” when they prosecuted Me and sent Me to federal prison for a crime they absolutely knew I did not commit!

I have to admit, that first filing did not look professional at all; in fact, it was sloppy!

The lines were not justified, some paragraphs just did not look good at all, but – nonetheless – I was proud of My “argument”.

After that, I walked to the federal courthouse and entered the Probation and Pre-Trial Services office to be introduced to My Probation Officer, Mr. Ned Eddington; he was not overly stern at all, he was clear that he would be fair with Me as long as I obeyed the rules, and that was fine by Me.

My time with Mr. Eddington was actually UNeventful, I am a boring nerd: I’ve never tasted any sort of alcoholic beverage and the  only time I ever tried to smoke a cigarette was when I was fourteen years old and found one of My mom’s half-smoked cigarettes in an ash-tray; I lit that thing in the bathroom and before I could put it in My mouth both of My brothers bum-rushed the bathroom and threatened “I’mma tell mom” (I hope I never forget that).

Approximately four weeks after I filed that lawsuit, I received a notice in the mail from the federal courthouse stating My claim had been removed from the county courthouse and is now in the federal court as “1:08-CV-30”.

I raced downtown as early as I could to find out which judge is assigned to My case; I then raced to that judge’s office and happened to catch him just as he was walking out.

I asked that judge, “Sir, My name is Anthony Rogers and I have a Cause that has been assigned to you, and subsequently was unlawfully removed to the federal courts”.

“Yes. And….”

“Well, how can they take control of a case that I filed here in the Allen County courts and just move it to their court?”

“You’ll have to deal with them about any questions you have with that Cause; that matter is now in their court.”

“But, sir, that court has no ability to….”

“Sir, that matter is out of my hands now, any questions you have will have to be addressed in that court;” and he walked off.

Damn, they’re not even trying to help Me; I’m a citizen of Indiana…Born and Raised; don’t they read the Indiana Constitution? Or, do they just presume that WE (the people) don’t?

Indiana Constitution, Article 1, Section 12: All courts shall be open; and every person, for injury done to him in his person, property, or reputation, shall have remedy by due course of law. Justice shall be administered freely, and without purchase; completely, and without denial; speedily, and without delay.

Let’s examine this: I’m suing the federal courts for their lack of authority to operate as a court of law within the boundaries of the Indiana Territory. Their own, U.S. Constitution, gives them the authority to make certain rules by which the member States must abide, but does NOT grant them any physical authority within ANY of the sovereign member States; in fact,

U.S. Constitution, Article 1, Section 8, Clause 17: To exercise exclusive Legislation in all Cases whatsoever, over such District (not exceeding ten Miles square) as may, by Cession of particular States, and the Acceptance of Congress, become the Seat of Government of the United States, and to exercise like Authority over all Places purchased by the Consent of the Legislature of the State in which the Same shall be, for the Erection of Forts, Magazines, Arsenals, dock-Yards, and other needful Buildings;

So, I wait….

The federal court sends Me paperwork stating they have assumed authority over My Cause and have renamed it: 1:08-CV-30.

I wait….

After three months, I receive another letter from the federal authorities telling Me what I expected: “Cause No. 1:08-CV-30 has been dismissed for LACK OF JURISDICTION”

THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT I’M SUING THEM FOR….AND THEY’RE ADMITTING IT!!!!

But I’m suing them in the County Courthouse, the federal lawyers/judges assume control which allows the county lawyers/judges to say it’s out of their hands now, then the feds dismiss it for “Lack of Jurisdiction” and -supposedly- they all keep Me from ever having My day in court.

This is a MAJOR undisclosed truth, of which, the feds don’t want to lose control.

I go thru this a couple more times until, I’m guessing, they grow tired and want to get rid of Me; I hardly ever leave My house so arranging to kill Me is not a simple task.

In August 2008 I’m told that I’ll be seeing a new officer in the Probation and Pre-Trial Services office, Ms. Amanda Miller.

My mom went to high school with a man who was currently the editor of The Frost Illustrated, a weekly newspaper here in Fort Wayne, Indiana, that catered to the local Black diaspora; she mentioned My situation to Michael and he quickly assigned a writer to interview Me and they ran My story on 3 September 2008, entitled: Local man suing feds for $40 Billion

At My very first meeting, in September 2008, we casually talked about generalities until Ms. Miller asked Me about My military service; I spoke about the hazards of amateur boxing (mental illness/medications) compounded with the uncertainties of life in a war zone (Desert Shield/Storm).

She asked Me about My sleep….

“I never sleep more than three or four hours at a time.”

“Really? Why is that?”

“I don’t know. It’s been that way since I came back from the war. Sometimes I go days and nights with no sleep at all. That’s why I like playing Sudoku because it keeps My mind busy and keeps Me from thinking negative thoughts.”

“What are your negative thoughts?”

“Well, ever since they sent Me to prison for something I didn’t do, I have thoughts of seeing this federal building blow-up.”

“Wow, I don’t wanna get killed.”

“I didn’t say I was gonna do it. I just would not be upset if it happened.”

Ms. Miller didn’t ask much more after that; after that meeting I believe I walked to the downtown library and studied some more about My lawsuit before going to My mom’s house.

That same night, My brother drove Me to My girlfriend’s apartment and, after I exited his car and was walking toward My girlfriend’s door, numerous men scrambled thru the night yelling My name and others shouting “get on the ground”.

I casually turned around to see a small mob of men carrying weapons pointed at Me; M-16s with the ejection-port window open and the bolt is forward which indicates they are “locked & loaded”.

I started crying before I dropped to a front-leaning rest position and lowered My upper body to the ground; I thought of My grandparents and great-grandparents whom I’d never known but was certain these white men with military weapons would soon arrange our meeting.

The picked Me up, handcuffed Me, and placed Me in the backseat of a vehicle.

I suppose they had been briefed about My military career and mental illness because some of them were searching My girlfriend’s apartment while others were outside with Me peacefully trying to get Me to calm down and to stop crying; they even brought My girlfriend to the car and let her speak to Me to get Me to stop crying, but the longer I sat in that vehicle, the angrier I got and the harder I cried.

Eventually, we made our way to the Allen County Jail; it must have been 11:30 at night!

They placed Me in lock-up for only a couple hours before moving Me upstairs that same night to a bed.

In the morning, everybody in the cell-block was amazed at how fast I was moved out of lock-up and got a bed.

I stayed there one more night before the feds had Me moved westward to St. Joe County (South Bend, IN) where I spent just one night before being moved to the Porter County and Jasper County and Lake County jails in Indiana and even the Kankakee County jail in Illinois a couple of times.

I had no idea of the dates anymore; I was only paying attention to the changing seasons: from summer to fall to winter.

Ultimately, I was moved to 71 WEST VAN BUREN STREET; CHICAGO, IL   60605.

MCC Chicago; the federal government’s Metropolitan Correctional Center, constructed at the south-eastern edge of Chicago, Illinois, not far from the sands of Lake Michigan and with perfect views of municipalities in Northwest Indiana like: Aix, Burns Harbor, Chesterton, Crown Point, DeMotte, Dyer, East Chicago, Griffith, Highland, Hebron, Hobart, Kentland, Lake Station, La Porte, Lowell, Merrillville, Michigan City, Munster, Portage, Rensselaer, Schererville.

MCC-Chicago was a whole different animal than the county jails in which I had been previously housed.

Even though the in-mates there are not quick to approach Me, I knew they were watching Me; they want to know do I have a “pimp” in My walk, does My haircut and/or tattoos confirm any gang affiliation, if so, to which “set” do I belong.

It may seem like it should be a very quick matter but there is NO rush to judgment in this environment; even though all of us are Black, they are taking their time and feeling Me out slowly.

I was assigned to work with the chaplain’s office and, as a double bonus for Me, that was in the library! The chaplain never had much work for Me to do so I spent all of My time studying other religions and gathering case laws about federal jurisdiction. I was a beast at “shepherdizing”; I became so good at it that people were coming to Me from other tanks and even other floors!

I became so good at it that I now present My Complaint For Damages without fear of successful contradiction, it’s now 100%.

I had been there almost a week when I heard some young men laughing and talking about how much money they had “on the streets”.

One man confirmed that the man sitting across from him was a “baller” and verified that he carried hundreds of thousands of dollars.

I made My way to stand behind that man and, during a break in their discussion, I quietly asked him, “Are you a multi-millionaire?”

He glanced-up at Me then shook his head, No.

I then asked, “Are you a millionaire?”

With the same blank expression on his face, he shook his head again, No.

At this point, I felt it best to just leave matters alone so I walked away and stood by myself as usual, just glancing around the room, staring at no-one but seeing everything.

I don’t recall if it was days later or the that same day, but that man that I spoke-to made his way to My room at a time when I was in there alone just lying in bed.

He walked in and sat in the chair and told Me, “Don’t get up”.

“I wasn’t going to,” I said with a smile.

He looked at Me and smiled back; all tension immediately left the room.

Over the next few months, I recall we talked several times: [Him] His name is Curt Diggs, and he is a gang-LEADER (which is NOT the same thing as a gang-member). He explained to Me that there are four different gangs in this tank (3 Black, 1 Hispanic) and everybody knows I’m a “NEUTRON” (not affiliated), he’s handled millions of dollars on the streets and has lost and re-made millions.

[Me] My name is Anthony Rogers; I’ve never been in a gang; I grew-up boxing, I attended Indiana University; I participated in the 1988 U.S. Olympic Trials; I was a Drill Sergeant in Army.

So, for the most part, My time in MCC-Chicago was UNeventful….

Until….

[I believe this next part was completely arranged by the feds because they wanted to see Me fight AND/OR get beat-up.]

My cell-mate was released and I moved My bedding down to take-over the lower bottom bunk. But then, a couple hours later, they send-in a HUGE, fat Black man who says his name is Tony Rogers and he is now My cell-mate.

I had only been on the bottom bunk for 15-20 minutes before he came in and introduced himself and then asked if he could have the bottom bunk.

I tried to be understanding, so I moved My bedding back to the top bunk.

Then, he asks Me to not spit in the sink when I brush My teeth; he wants Me to spit in the toilet; I really don’t know why I agreed to do that, but this is where the fun starts.

That night, I brush My teeth and spit into the sink; “Tony” has a fit and reminds Me that he wants Me to spit in the toilet.

“Oops. I forgot.”

The next morning, I get-up and brush My teeth; I peek behind Me and notice “Tony” faking sleep but really watching Me, I don’t feel like arguing so I spit in the toilet. That’s the first and last time I spit in the toilet.

After a week or ten days of watching Me forget to spit in the toilet, “Tony” sandwiches Me up against a wall and berates Me for spitting into the sink.

All this time and I’ve never ONCE seen him brush his teeth AT ALL!

I don’t move an inch; I let him keep Me pinned against the wall and holler to impress our fellow inmates; he finally notices I’m not moving, and he’s made his point, so he backs off of Me and immediately lays down on his bunk.

“You fat, sloppy muthafucka! Who the fukc do you think is supposed to listen to you about how to brush My teeth when YO’ fat ass don’t even brush yo’ phucken teeth! You nasty, fat, sloppy sonvabitch! Fukc you and the bleeding pussy you came thru!!!!

He remained on his bunk….just smiling. He was only going to talk shit once he had Me pinned against the wall; giving Me room to maneuver would be a costly mistake in a fight.

I don’t remember anything else about that guy; ANYWAY

On 21 July 2009, they drive Me to federal court in, I think, Hammond, IN; they’re finally holding a trial for the bogus, phony reason they arrested Me outside My girlfriend’s apartment the previous September.

Smartazz bitches! They purposely did this on My birthday.

Amanda Miller is here from Fort Wayne with an attorney; I’m sitting at a different table with a local attorney who is here to assist Me.

Judge Moody says some things to get the matter started, and then Amanda Miller takes the witness stand.

Basically, Amanda states that I told her I want to blow-up the federal building but never specified any date and/or time; she testified that I carried a backpack with Me during that visit which made her feel even more threatened.

Her attorney mentioned something about My girlfriend to which I objected by asserting, “She could’ve been here.” Of course, Judge Moody ruled against My objection.

[My turn] “Ms. Miller, I know this was our first and only meeting but didn’t Mr. Eddington inform you that I usually carry a backpack to My meetings because I spend numerous hours every day at the library?”

“He may have said something about that.”

“And I often go straight to/from the library to/from the federal building?”

“Okay;”

“I take that to mean YES.”

“When I mentioned the scenario of ‘blowing-up’ the federal building, did I actually threaten to do it, or were we talking about My dreams?”

“You said you dream about seeing the federal building blow-up.”

“Did I ever mention to you that I plan to do that?”

“No.”

“As for My backpack, I told you that I’d been at the library prior to our meeting, didn’t I?”

“Yes.”

“And, to enter the federal building, you ARE aware that all packages must pass thru the X-ray machine on the first floor, correct?”

“Yes.”

“I’m done, Judge”

Judge Moody immediately said, “I do NOT find you guilty of (whatever fraudulent charge Amanda Miller claimed), but I do find you guilty of (some charge that he made-up in his head.)

I entered that courtroom facing only ONE charge that Amanda Miller made-up in her mind, and Judge Moody acknowledged that I was NOT GUILTY of that claim; but he made-up another claim in his own head in order to save Ms. Miller and that bogus claim of the feds winning 85% of their cases.

Well, I know for a fact that the feds lie! And they coach their witnesses to lie; that’s why they never have news reporters in their courtrooms.

I called My mom  a few days before her birthday (31 July) and My brother answered her phone; I immediately know something is wrong, VERY WRONG.

“Hello.”

“….Umm, Recee, where’s mom?”

“…She’s dead, Andy”

I drop to the ground and bawl like a child.

I finally get back to the phone….

“Recee, what happened?”

“She had a stroke, Andy. It would’ve been worse if Amaurri wasn’t here with her.”

What the fuck could be worse than DEAD?

“Amaurri (Recee’s daughter) saw that something was wrong and called 9-1-1. The firemen and medics said they think got her in time; she was still alive when they took her out of here.”

“Okay, so she’s not dead!”

“Umm, no. She’s at (some facility)”.

A couple days later I find My-self in the doctor’s office and he calls the facility  that is holding My mom.

“Hello, this is Dr. (****) calling from Chicago, IL for Anthony Rogers whose mother, Ms. Linda Rogers, is a patient at your facility.”

[After some minutes]

“Okay, I have Anthony right here and we want to know the status of his mom.”

“Okay, so his mother IS in your facility; now, is she in hospice care?”

“No! Great; I’d like to leave my name & number for any changes in her condition; Thank you, Goodbye.

Two days later, I’m summoned back to the doctor’s office where he tells Me, “Your mother has died.”

I can’t move. Everything I’m living for is gone. I am her firstborn child.

WHAT THE FUKC HAPPENED IN TWO DAYS!!!!

I start crying. The doctor invites Me to sit down. After some time, he sees that I work for the chaplain and releases Me to go there.

At this point, I’m useless to everybody. The chaplain sends Me to a Black woman who works a couple doors from him with whom he knows I have a good  relationship. She already knows that My mother has passed away and she tries to reassure Me by saying, “You’re gonna see her again.”

(That does not quell the pain that I’m feeling right now.)

I honestly wish I could see all those federal employees again; especially the man who had been there thirty-one years and told Me that Stedman Graham used to work at that MCC sometime before he met Oprah Winfrey; he’s also the man who read My Complaint For Damages and told the naysayers around Me, “Actually, he’s right! ….but lead is cheaper than gold.” [the feds would rather kill Me than pay].

I wish I could remember the exact date that I was released from Federal prison this second time, but I can’t; I recall they processed Me out then took Me downstairs and placed Me in a room that allowed Me to see the glass door that I would soon walk out.

The guard said he had to grab some papers for Me and left Me alone for a couple minutes to look out that door; I was positive that this is what they do to make us anxious to be outside and leave without ever getting any monies we may be owed; I was positive that I would not forget to ask for My money before I leave.

The guard came back about fifteen minutes later, handed Me some papers and a bus ticket, and opened the door for Me to exit federal captivity.

I was excited to be outside again; I walked to the Greyhound Bus Station and boarded a bus from Chicago to South Bend, Indiana,

DAMMIT!!!! I walked out of that prison and completely forgot to get the stipend I was due!

In South Bend, I called My cousins who live there and had them come get Me.

During My incarceration, there are a few things of which I am certain: The federal agents involved were pissed about Me filing and re-filing My “Complaint For Damages” in the Fort Wayne, Allen County, Indiana courts; AND, they were pissed about the news article that was printed about Me on 3 September 2008; and not to mention the second news article that was run about Me on 24 September 2008, entitled: Man who sued feds back in federal custody-again. It appears that the writer of those articles was trying to get in touch with Me, personally, which is why the feds had Me moved so many times so quickly.

Now that I am out of federal custody and “back on the streets”, I have already filed My Complaint For Damages numerous times in the Allen County Circuit Court (Fort Wayne, Indiana’s constitutional court) without ever receiving even one hearing in front of a judge, and at this time, I am persuaded to believe that’s because of the orders of the judge(s) on Indiana’s higher court(s): Indiana Court of Appeals and/or the Indiana Supreme Court, both have been involved at some point directly and/or indirectly with Me.