Hello Carl,
Thanks for the letter and the copy of the draft you're preparing to file. I've never
filed a 28 U.S.C. 2255. I prepared one long ago which I still have. I didn't really
cite any case law, but I did outline my grievances pretty well. I mailed it and
the damned thing was returned to me unopened. Later, when the set the one year time
limit for filing 2255s, I purposely let the time elapse because I reviewed dozens
of motions that I considered worthy of some type of action, yet they were scoffed
at by the courts and sloughed off like offensive flatulence. I'm glad I didn't file
just to be filing. Not that it will make any difference because of the devious ploy
restricting the filing time to one year. I'm time barred. True justice, of course,
could never have a time limit.
Those two pages of transcript from my trial that I sent to you defining the actual
moment when the judicial thespians made a show of determining not to present a religious
argument that would have made clearer my relationship with the herb seemed very
familiar to you. You commented that you thought you may have seen it before. Actually,
you were there! Immediately following that theatrical ruse, you were called to the
stand. My attorney was, and probably remains, a Machiavellian stooge for the court
and the prosecutors. Sour grapes? Perhaps, yet also true. Hey, they tricked me.
I sensed what was happening, but my unreal hope for justice overshadowed my perception
of the obvious. So it goes. Sin is a very real bumba-hole. That devil Vereen, bad
breath and all, though as amateurish in his devilment as Rudy Cazutti on a bad day,
led me to the the precipice and I stepped off. God bless America! The whole time
I knew him, and whenever we spoke either on the phone of in person, the main premise
of our defense strategy was that I would testify before the court as final witness
for the defense, then rest the case. After the third day of my trial, on a Wednesday
night, Vereen came to the county jail and summoned Brian, Churchill, and me to a
conference room where he awaited. That filthy bastard had concocted some improbably
tale for Brian to present when he would testify the next day. After wasting precious
time rehearsing that horseshit, which made Brian very uncomfortable, I rejected
his dirty scheme and told Brian to simply tell the truth without implicating anyone.
This is what he intended to do before Vereen's antics anyway. Vereen, a sworn officer
of the court attempted to rationalize his actions by stating, "The truth is of no
consequence, only winning is important." But he had no intention of winning at that
point. He was trying to set us up to look ridiculous. I can't say when he determined
that I would not take the stand, perhaps from the very beginning. But I do know
that my first inkling of his double-cross came after Brian had testified admirably
on Thursday. I was to follow. Instead of calling me officially, Vereen squeezed
my left thigh above the knee and whispered that he had decided not to call me to
the stand because he felt we had the case won at that point and he didn't want to
jeopardize our position. I was stunned. I had previously interrupted the proceedings
twice during witness testimony because of lies. Judge Collier threatened to confine
me to a cell outside the courtroom. Confusion swallowed me like a carp devouring
a worm. I wanted to believe him. What a dupe I was. The rest of the story is history.
Even you commented to me later on the phone how disappointed you were that I hadn't
testified. This is perhaps my greatest regret in life. I had a chance to speak of
significant matters affecting my life, and I was outwitted by a turd-rate shyster.
No excuse. Just sad fact. The stench of his breath remains with me. I can only hope
it doesn't follow me into the grave.
My direct appeal was based on newly discovered evidence and perjured testimony.
Even though the argument was valid and backed by indisputable evidence, the Appeal
Court swatted it away like an annoying gnat, rebuffing my claim by stating that
drug dealers often get their family members to carry out their instructions. Thus,
Western Union records contradicting sworn perjured testimony about the sole overt
act linking me to the conspiracy were meaningless. They're good. The best I've ever
seen.
I'm not sure how the subject of Dougie keeps coming up. I guess I started it with
Nathan sometime back. I bought the automobile that became Samson's first. Keith
and I got it from Mr. Karim in Kingston way back in March, 1971. Keith's pickup
went on the blink. The cops and immigration officers raided Papine and scattered
everyone to bush. Not George. Tommy and Apple, leaking from leg afflictions, went
to Shine's. Herbie and I went with Keith and Kootman. We needed transportation,
so we bought a serviceable junker. Keith got his pickup back after a time, and the
car became Dougie's. After Ivy's death, there arose a dispute over the vehicle's
rightful owner among some of the Jamaican brothers and who remained at Papine. When
I came down, I had to verify that the car was Samson's. I really intended for it
to somehow help to improve their poverty, but they couldn't help themselves. It's
just part of a story.
Judy and I stayed at Dougie's and Elma's house at Nine Mile several times when we
were smuggling herb through the airports in '72 and '73. The police had raided Keith's
place on Barbican Road and imprisoned Phylis, so he was on the lam. We left Brian
with them for weeks at a time when he was a small child while we conducted the business
at hand. Elma was Dougie's mate at that time, prior to Janet. I remember returning
from America with money from the ganja and they didn't even have enough cash to
buy a pack of Craven A to cut up for the pipe. No big thing. Just a story.
One time, Dougie requested that I obtain a nice bible for him on one of my trips
to America because he didn't have a good one at his home. This would have been in
'72. Tommy, Jacob, and I happened to be passing through Washington, D.C. while returning
from the Boston area where we had been trying to raise money. We learned via a phone
conversation with brethren in Florida that three Iowa sisters, Anna Danneman, Sarah
Savage, and forgive-me-for-not-recalling-the-third, were in jail in New Orleans
after being discovered with herb at U.S. Customs while returning from Jamaica. We
decided to seek audience with then U.S. Senator Harold Hughes, hoping to convince
him to intervene because of the sacramental claim of his constituents. That episode
is a separate and compellingly interesting tale in itself. After he'd spent a little
over an hour with us the first day, he cleared his schedule for the next afternoon
to afford us several hours. We had briefly touched on Garvey and we wanted to give
him a copy of "Philosphy and Opinions". We had very little money. I went into a
huge bookstore in the Georgetown section of D.C. I easily convinced the manager
that I was a graduate student from the School of Divinity at Georgetown University.
The department required Amy Jacques' green book and a fine, leather bound King James
Bible. He graciously presented me with the books of my choice, I signed the invoice
which was billed to the University in the name Marcus M. Garvey, and we wished each
other the very best. Later that day, I gave Senator Hughes the Garvey collection
and the three of us poured on a good helping of "divine reasoning." I actually tried
to present the legislator with a nice plug of fine macavah, but he cautiously declined.
The next time I went to Jamaica, I gave the bible to Dougie and we shared a long,
heart-felt laugh, praising Rastafari. Though it was purloined, it seemed at the
time a very spiritual acquisition. The bible served him for many, many years and
I would be very surprised if he didn't still possess it when he passed on. Simply
another story.
Believe me or not, I have plenty of close and memorable experiences with Dougie
and Keith before the "Coptic," as we came to know it, arose in my consciousness.
Before Wally came among us permanently to live in Trewlany almost two years after
Ivy dies, Keith and Dougie were going to name the church "Faithful Village Golden
Farms." It seems surreal even to me, but I was there. I loved those guys and I was
willing to sacrifice anything, literally, to advance their vision and my concept
of the spirituality Ivy left to us. I still have countless fond memories of my experiences
with them. On one of the internet pages you sent me under the heading "Ethiopian
Zion Coptic Church," I saw a reference to a letter I wrote you on August 8, 1994.
It describes me as a former Coptic meditating on my prison sentence and my departure
from the Coptics and their "malicious hierarchy." Now, there has been plenty of
maliciousness over the years and Coptic has been besmirched often and thoroughly.
I'll accept my share, and more, for disgraceful performance. And really, I don't
define the consciousness bequeathed to me by Ivy as Coptic. I'm not against the
name, but I'm aware of far more than just that. And I've never departed from my
faith in the gift we've been given, no matter what manner of sty I may have wallowed
in. All of my statments regarding these matters have been my sincerest perceptions
of what I consider to be true. I've never consciously fabricated anything about
what has happened. I can be wrong, but I'm not lying. Most of my estrangement from
those former compatriots is due to others' repulsion of me, not my departure from
anything. Oh, well.
I, also, have some perception of white man's, myself included, guilt complex for
all the ills that beset mankind. The white man has done many treacherous and evil
deeds. I've done plenty of regretable shit, mostly self-destructive to me and my
family. But white man is capable of the most ingenious and kind contributions to
the human legacy. The doctrine that I hold to be of divine origin was presented
to me by Ivy, obviously a Negro by race. His progenitor was Louva Williams, the
same. Their heritage is undeniable to me. But the ones who made the Coptic rise
above idle chatter and diminish to its present state were Keith and the white brothers
and sisters. Very few of the others could be trusted, and rarely was the courage
or fortitude exhibited that would leave a lasting impression. I won't completely
repudiate the human beauty and the force of contribution of each individual, but
most were a liability or self-serving. The white people embody definite God-given
characteristics which are both essential and unique to the advancement of mankind.
Never apologize for, nor underestimate, the source of your spirit. Ivy knew the
while people's spirit far better than we knew ourselves. I can't say what Louva
Williams' perception was, but I'm confident it was the same as Ivy's and Garvey's.
From my view, none of Louva's disciples, with the clear exception of Ivy and, later,
Keith, comprehended our fellowship. Keith and Dougie wrongfully and needlessly burnt
up a really good and conscious brother, Marvin, because he demanded equality. He
never recovered. Samson was vicious. Keith eventually realized his mistake and later,
in Trelawny, when a similar cosmic arose questioning Cliff's and Tommy's loyalty,
Keith prevailed against the accusations of Samson and Kootman. I'm not going to
dredge any further and I don't expect you to agree with or to comrehend the existence
of their deep-seated attitude toward the white brothers in particular, but it's
real. You never saw any of them around at movement time, but they expected and demanded
a disproportionately commensurate payout. Again, a subject seldom, if ever, broached.
Water long over the dam, but indicative of something.
If those old characters, and I do love each of them and I know Ivy loved them, ever
stood in Keith's shoes, they would have quickly guided a wreck, like Zimbabwe or
South Africa. Sad, yet true. I gave my best to our oath of fellowship and I didn't
seek or expect physical gain. Amost all of the white people were of similar dedication
for most of the journey. As the cancer metastasized, the purity of purpose eroded,
but there were some helluva warriors, and whatever female combatants are called,
plying their talents along the way. Enough of that for now.
Reverend Tom Brown is a real powerful spiritual brother. I'm pleased you two are
working together. My own experience and ability in the legal realm are not worth
much, but I'm willing to accept and grateful for any guidance and help. I appreciate
your offer to send a check occasionally. I'm sure your initial one has been returned
by now with an explanation of their procedure. I'll enclose a copy of the centralized
processing requirements.
Concerning your motion, I have a couple of thoughts. When the government objects
to unrestricted use because of the control problem and potential abuse, I understand.
Not everyone, in fact very few, have the knowledge we possess concerning the mystical
properties of the herb. Again, Rev. Tom is a very unique character. He is, undoubtedly,
a minister. Just as a boneheaded miscreant or mischief-maker was locked off from
the ganja for philistine behavior, so it must be even more in the spiritual consciousness
of Mt. Zion, that choice and happy place. I can only suggest that you both exercise
the priesthood principles which we have been ordained to administer. Any of the
old Order of sisters and brothers automatically step into their office along with
those you all deem to be of that same integrity. All oversight, distribution, and
governance is your right and duty. Period. You must make this claim to validate
your providence. Humanity awaits this appointment.
When the court cited the matter, "But narrow use, concededly, in not his religious
tradition," this is only true for the priests and priestesses or the Order of Melchizedek
as they deem in the ongoing adorations throughout the cultural structure of our life.
Strict adherence to principled and civilized behavior is required for a soul to
even hope for a whiff of the sweet smelling incense. All other use is determined
and meticulously prescribed by the tenets of civility and the judgment of these
sacramental executors. He or she whose right it is must have it. Without the proper
administration, this mystical substance is a serious threat to social order and
welfare. In this we agree with Congress and the DEA. They must continue to prevent
the illicit and lascivious use of the sacramental herb. Goud bless you all as you
prepare yourselves.
Louv,
James Tranmer
17547-050
Medical Center for Federal Prisoners
Post Office Box 4000
Springfield, Missouri 65801-4000