The Persecution Continues

It has been a while since my last post. That is due to my life existing in a state of limbo. On Friday, March 19, 2010 this changed dramatically.

That morning one of my two probation officers stopped by. His name is Steve Carmichael. He wants you to know that. He told me in my house, in front of my mother and my other probation officer that I could write about him on the Internet.

Strange guy.

I was not expecting him until Monday, and his appearance on Friday was deliberate. He was there to catch me using my computer without using it in US Probation trojaned form.

I did not let him in. Steve Carmichael would not take no for an answer though. He contacted the Vineland police and had three officers break in on the pretext that I “threatened my mother”. How did I do this? Steve Carmichael overheard me through the door tell her “Don't answer the door.”

My mother is 82 years old. She was very, very upset when she found three policemen in her house. She informed them that she was in no trouble from me but was very upset at the continual phone calls and visits from the US Probation department and could not understand what the reason for any of it was.

It was about to get a whole lot worse.

Steve Carmichael checked my computer upstairs after throwing the Comcast PHONE/Internet/TV modem on the floor and breaking the battery compartment open. He then ran downstairs and asked me if I had “swapped out the hard drive”.

I told him to ask Martha Stewart.

Steve Carmichael then told me I was in violation of my probation and I told him to send me paperwork from the judge in my case with a court date and I would be there.

Steve Carmichael would not let it rest there though. He is an extremely passive aggressive individual. No one I have ever met has suffered from such a condition more than Steve Carmichael. Such people are usually explosive in temperament, and Steve Carmichael committed perjury in his petition to Federal judge Berle Schiller in his request for an arrest warrant for me, and in the process engineered a very explosive situation.

The big bang occurred later that afternoon.

Steve Carmichael returned with a contingent, an SUV-with-smoked-glass-posse of US Marshall's. They brought with them Glocks and a mini-submachine gun.

Apparently my keyboard is considered a lethal weapon. It does have laser etched back-lighting.

The jokes are now over.

My mother was in the bathroom finishing her shower when they began knocking and demanding that I open up. I assumed they would be coming upstairs to tear the place apart to find a hard drive that Steve Carmichael thought was swapped out. He had also in the past discussed with me laptops with “aircards” so I had reason to believe he would be searching for something like that as well.

Why else show up with US Marshall's when I had appeared for a probation hearing in the past without incident?

My mother came out after a while and she began talking to them from the bedroom window informing them she was not dressed. The Marshall's ordered me to open up rather than respond civilly to her. I told them I needed to use the bathroom and I would open the door.

Before I had finished washing my hands they had broken in the front door ($500 to fix) and were pointing all their aforementioned guns at me. I put my hands on my head and walked down the steps. As I did so the cap worn by one of the Marshall's in front of the pack came into focus. He was wired like a meth-head. The cap was for the Phillies baseball team.

I took two more steps and then the Phillies cap was buried in my mid-section. I could have fought this off without removing my hands from my head but I was not trying to resist arrest. I exclaimed 'What are you doing?”

Then the others dropped their guns and piled on, punching me and grabbing me. I was flipped over on my stomach and handcuffed high and hard, one third of the way to a “Palestinian Hanging” position.

Quickly they jerked me up and dragged me through the doorway into the family room, then flung me face down in front of the TV. I did not even have time to protest before the kicking and stomping began. At least twice I was kicked in the head, each time I saw a silver flash in the dark, like a lighter being flicked in the dark without a flame produced. Then I was kicked very hard in the left side of my rib cage. I am still feeling serious pain from this. At some point the back of my left leg was stomped or kicked as well and I have a terrible bruise and swelling behind the left knee.

When the Rodney King game stopped one of the Marshall's leaned over, grabbed me by the throat, lifted me from the floor and choked me until I could not breath at all. He shook me by the throat as well and yelled “Are you going to act like a human being!?”

Apparently US Marshall's are an ironic lot.

I was then released and fell back to the floor as I was cuffed high and hard the whole time behind my back. The Marshall then warned me that if I gave them any further trouble on the ride to Philly “This would resume.”

My adrenaline was firing through my veins and I felt a bizarre sense of triumph as the passive aggressive bullshit of Steve Carmichael had been replaced by out-and-out hatred of Allan Eric Carlson. I looked up at two Marshall's standing over me and forced a smile at them and maintained it. The choker reacted quickly. “What are you smiling at?”

Then he placed the sole of his filthy sneaker on my throat and choked me again until I turned my head toward the patio door where two Vineland police officers, one male from earlier that morning, and a female stood and watched. The sneaker remained on my throat after he released the pressure for several minutes until they figured out their next move.

I was jerked up from the carpet and led out through the patio door to a Vineland police car, which transported me to the front of my neighbors house where I was jerked out and put in the front passenger seat of a Marshall's SUV. Still cuffed in the mock Palestinian Hanging position. I remained this way until we got to the State police barracks in Bellmawr off the 42 freeway. There I was cuffed to the front with my wrists anchored to a chain put around my waist before being put in the backseat of another pair of Marshall's SUV for the ride to the Federal Detention Center in Philadelphia.

I was never taken to a hospital for the requested x-ray of my ribs. My Bureau of Prisons intake photo on the 19th shows my face swollen on both sides, my left cheekbone the size of a golf ball, a three inch abrasion across my chin.

I then lay down in my assigned cell in the Hole over the weekend in round -the-clock pain.

On Monday I was taken to court for arraignment and to my surprise released. After the beating it is hard to reconcile a release without bail even being posted. The beating and the intense pursuit by Steve Carmichael gave me a doomed feeling, as if I were a star of “America's Most Wanted” who had been captured.

And for what reason? I am still without an answer. I have bothered no one since my release. I gave up posting or even following baseball due to the acute persecution I have received.

Steve Carmichael and the Assistant US Attorney worked hard to convince the magistrate that I was an “imminent threat to the community”. The judge was very unmoved by their arguments.

The Marshall's were not done with me though. They refused to give me any clothes to wear out, forcing me onto the street in a prison jump suit and orange shoes. Of course, I was arrested before I could reach my lawyer's office on Walnut street. Five police cars and what seemed like twenty cops swarmed all over me, police cars pulled up on the sidewalk.

I was driven back to the FDC where BOP guards checked my release order quickly and then I was driven to my lawyer's office at my request “so I'm not arrested again.” My attorney let me borrow a suit and shoes for the bus ride home.

So today, later this morning in Philadelphia, I go before my sentencing judge Berle Schiller to decide my fate. I hope I will get some answers, but if past is prologue then I will find nothing but more persecution today.