Desperate

I'm really, really, worried, afraid and seriously desperate. I don't know what or if you or anyone can do anything. There is nothing I can do, nobody I can contact, I don't know what to ask you, other then a "do something" in a childish manner. I must go now cause ears are flowing and that's a big no no in this place

I'm really dead-alive

Nothing new here, only counting the days. My life is on pause. I'm really dead-alive, it feels like being nothing, like there is no reason to exist. A few future thoughts keep me going, trying to never think about my past and present.

Probation service wants my blood

hey,
ani dey meyuash. the gzardin is in 10 days. the PSI recommends prison time of 51 to 72 months. it relates to me as if I'm the leader-criminal that smuggled hundreds of parts. it ignores many details that stand in my favor. it ignores  my cooperation.
it is like the probation service wants to ruin my life or make me kill myself.

No one contacted me. why do you still believe someone care? almost 8 months gone and I can't even get full medical care.

where is the lawyer that suppose to meet me? she talked to you 3 weeks ago, I'm going to gzardin in 8 days, with no legal-help, with probation service that wants my blood. do I miss anything?

New years

great holiday, I barely get food, two hot meals since friday, today lunch was 40 grams of peanut butter two slices of bread, 20 grams of jelly and 50 grams of taputsips.

Real trouble

on 10.9 I received the PSI from probation. It is totally different of what it was supposed to be. It sets my points at 25 instead of 12 as agreed.

I really need your help,this is a really, really, really serious matter.
Please try to do something, anything, this is real trouble, I'm serious.
.

My life is on pause

Wish I could be there and advise you how to get along with this occupation; as much as I dislike dealing with people, I do know how to maneuver between the drops. My only friend here claim that I "sugar coat" everything.
Nothing new here, only counting the days.My life is on pause. I'm really dead-alive, it feels like being nothing, like there is no reason to exist. A few future thoughts keep me going, trying to never think about my past and present.

Gathering my life back

Most probably 2016 will be dedicated to gather my life back, collecting and mending all the shreds, bits and pieces. I'm not on vacation here, I'm going under extreme pressures, and it will take me a while to recover. I can't believe it will be a 100% recovery. After being through some stuff, I believe it changed me forever. I've been telling you how hard it is to me for 7 months now; you can imagine some wounds will leave scars, I just can't guess how and what.

It is more than you can imagine

My PSI was supposed to be available to me on Aug.7th. No one talked, replied or anything. You remember it's a gzar-din, not a trial, right? Therefore it doesn't really matter to them, if I get updated or not at all. They never even finished to show me the evidence, that's how it goes. Please remind yourself I'm less than nothing, here.
The only thing on  my mind these days is the day after. I'm planning to go and tell about sexual assault, physical, blackmail, everything. It's not me who needs to be ashamed of what happened to me here.Trust me, ,

Zombies do really exist

First I lost weight, then I gained some back, now I'm back as I was before getting in this jehenom. It's really, really tough here, you probably get updates from Y, yet, you guys are the only ones who I can complain to, the only ones who really care.
I try not to think about the future and about going back, I do my best to discard any thought about my life there, it hurts too much. Zombies do really exist. In captivity. I now understand things like never before, too damn shame I had to get in this ugly place for that.

Doing my best to survive, but trust me, being "strong" here is impossible for people like us; it's a different world here, without anything kindness, compassion or dignity. Or anything like it. People here range between opportunists to pure evil.

Sorry for the pessimistic tone, I'm just really tired of this.

I am tired,

I want to go home. It's been too much already. In the movies it ends like after 8-12 episodes or a full-length movie. It's different, even funny. nothing like that in this jehenom. ani sone et hamedina hzo, everything about it. Just want to go back home.

Yestarday, again, beating

Fighting... what's wrong with these people, with their violence saturated mentality? How come the system fails to understand, fails to see that locking the wolves with the sheep, only does bad? I really can't get the idea behind that.
Anyway, one 165cm from Mexico, with lots of nerve, threw a glass of water in the face of a 190cm giant, his fists so fast, it looks like fast-forward. During dinner. I was about to finish my food. Knew what's going to happen next. Managed to eat 6 full spoons in two bites. 7 Prison guards rushing in. Shouts. Huge mess. 2 are going to the SHU. everyone else in lock-down.
This place makes good people become better ones; it is a real diamond on earth.
The eighth world's wonder. Humanity, love, compassion.

"cute" is a big no-no..

It's hard to describe or explain how wrong this place is; maybe just try to imagine a cube made of steel and stone, filled with people ranging from opportunists at best, to pure evil psychopaths on the worst case.
Try to imagine a place where everything is abnormal; everything crooked or wrong, there is nothing, absolutely nothing good here. I can count less than 5 people who might be considered as "fair", and maybe one who is trustworthy. That count is of 120, most of them come and go every day, faces changing faster than one can realize.
Now take that info, try to remember this is one of the easiest units in this relatively easy detention facility, it's nothing like a real jail, most definitely not like a high-risk facility.
It's a level 3 on the scale of jehenom, going 1 to 10, where 1 is a Low-risk facility "a camp", and 10 is the high-risk .
Know that there is no way to keep your sanity; no way to stay calm, no option to be nice.
A point to end with:
Yesterday I said  "cute" about something. 3 people other than me almost chocked. After regaining their facade, they patiently explained that using that term is a big no-no.

Could you see and understand I am in in a another existence?

Don't want to be in for even one more minute.

I look forward and can't believe I will survive, but there is no choice. I look back and cry for my lost time.
This place is terrible, not in a physical aspect, but for the sole and mind. Wish there was kind of magic solution, but there isn't. There is no force in the whole universe that can get me out of here.
Every day I need to confront people and reality that I don't care about, and don't want to be in for even one more minute.

The sole goes through so much here

I suffered hard days. This place, like hell in real life. "Good people" here, each and every one is a true diamond.
I am tired of this place. it's bad and dangerous. no picnic.thanks for your support, I read everything you write to me, two-three times, it's encouraging. I never expected 2015 to be such a terrible year., It does something I can't put in words yet.

Had a few bad days here

I am O,K; had a few bad days here.This place is not a party. It's hard, filed with very different people then   what we all know.
Every single thing is different. behavior, intentions, words. Even when you think you understand something right, most likely you have a big mistake.
I  am tired

Ghost boy by Martin Pistorius

I read that book, you should read it too. Check it out:
They all thought he was gone. But he was alive and trapped inside his own body for ten years. In January 1988 Martin Pistorius, age twelve, fell inexplicably sick. First he lost his voice and stopped eating. Then he slept constantly and shunned human contact. Doctors were mystified. Within eighteen months he was mute and wheelchair bound. Martin's parents were told an unknown degenerative disease left him with the mind of a baby and less than two years to live. Martin was moved to care centers for severely disabled children. The stress and heartache shook his parents' marriage and their family to the core. Their boy was gone. Or so they thought. Ghost Boy is the heart-wrenching story of one boy's return to life through the power of love and faith. In these pages, readers see a parent's resilience, the consequences of misdiagnosis, abuse at the hands of cruel caretakers, and the unthinkable duration of Martin's mental alertness betrayed by his lifeless body. We also see a life reclaimed, a business created, a new love kindled - all from a wheelchair. Martin's emergence from his own darkness invites us to celebrate our own lives and fight for a better life for others.


Ghost Boy: The Miraculous Escape of a Misdiagnosed Boy Trapped Inside His Own Body

The closest place to jahanom.

No plants. No wind. No sky. No animals. No grass. No colors. No emotions. No bottles. No naturally running water. No moon. No bugs. No dirt. No rain. No sun. No human affections. No birds. No women. No silence. No stars. No music (other than radio). No glass. No utensils. No rights. No electric appliances. No choice. No outside air. No privacy. No internet. No cellphones.
---------
24/7 constant defense mode. concrete. anger. bad food. steel. plastic. frustrated men. steel made "beds".
thin mattresses. brown clothes, sheets, blankets. open showers. constant noise. locks. careless, mean or ignorant soharim. handcuffs. rules. chains. steel bars. leg-cuffs. shouts. neon lights. control. laws. strip searches. surveillance cameras.

The closest place to jahanom.

The eyes of a murderer

It is hard to fully understand the place I am in. So I'll just tell you about one afternoon chat, took place minutes ago, with two other inmates.
It was a fully detailed chat about murder related to gangs. By "detailed" I mean details about how exactly the tong and eyes where cut. How blood was flowing. Every detail fully described. At a low voice, with a hint of a smile.

 

You never looked in the eyes of a real murderer. I already did, more than I can count. There is death in them, it's not like in the films. You look in them and you see something different.
They could be really nice and quiet, talking with a nice smile. Low voice. Graphic details. As if reading a story out of a book. No feelings.

 

There is no chance of going through this place and stay as before. You can never erase the feeling of being with, hugging, talking to someone who is capable of killing like you go shopping.
And that's just the tip of the ice. Just one man. one story. Half an hour in one day's afternoon.

 

People think there is too much violence on TV and movies. It's nothing but a joke. Reality is much more than what you can expect.

"Gang of one"

One friend here, 190cm black Moslem pimp, recommended a great book "Gang of one" by Gary Mulgrew (or Malgrew).

The author was one of "Enron" accountants, British, he was extradited by the UK to USA and has been sentenced to 3 years in "Big Springs" Texas prison.
The book he wrote is about his experience, culture shock and life before and during his imprisonment.
If you find any interest about how it's like being a foreigner prisoner here, this book is the real deal.
According to one of the guards here, this guy been through this facility as well.

 

One man's journey from a Glasgow orphanage to a notorious gang-infested prison in Texas 

The teardrop tattoo

It's pretty easy to know and tell if and who relates to any knufiya; they have tattoos, they tell about their memberships... once you eat a few meals with them... you get to hear all the stories, including the ones I can not write about...
The vast majority has some tattoos; only a few have all their body, only one here have his face. Some carry a "tear drop" tat at the corner of their eye(Wikipedia: "The teardrop tattoo or tear tattoo is a symbolic tattoo that is placed underneath the eye. The tattoo can have several meanings, including signifying the number of years spent in prison, the loss of a loved one or fellow gang member,^[1] or the fact that the wearer has killed someone.
The tattoo can have several meanings. In the United States, it can signify that the wearer has killed someone.^[2] Alternatively in Mexico, the number of teardrops may indicate the number of times the wearer was raped while in prison.^[3] It may also indicate the wearer has been imprisoned or indicate the loss of a loved one or fellow gang member.^[1]
According to The Devil's Front Porch, a book written by Lester Douglas Johnson about serving 1927 to 1957 in Kansas State Penitentiary, the tattoo denoted a member of "The Old Fraternity", referring to the Biblical Cain who slew his brother.^[1][4]
It is sometimes worn by the female companions of prisoners in solidarity with their loved ones.^[5]
")

I stand alone... only trouble could go with relating to any group or gang.

7 Most Notorious Prison Tattoos & What They Mean:

Bingo for "Memorial Day"

"Memorial Day" here; kind of like in our country, but with lots of commercials and shopping. They like to celebrate their memorial, we rather grief.
So imagine how amazed I've been, sitting today's early morning in the main hall, at the pc, when suddenly, a guard comes in pushing one of those steel-prison-carts, carrying a ***bingo*** setup, cards, balls ("golden"), raffle machine, the whole setup!

I stared at him like he's a man from the moon, and he looked at me and said: "bingo"

OK, so I got up and got two bingo cards, together with like, at least, half of this block habitants. Yes, that's how exciting it was!
For the next 10 minutes, he kept reading the numbers, way too quickly, so my celli helped my sleep-overwhelmed eyes to check the cards.

Bottom line: no one won a damn thing; the whole thing started and ended in like 10-15 minutes, and was meragesh as sheleg de'eshta'kad. I went back to sleep till they woke up for a sfira. Must love ha'makom haze, it's a real diamond.

It's 12:30 pm now, I have another whole day to waste. For those of you who still wonder why not "reading something" or "studying", I'll just say, come, come over with your books and all your stuff; sit here with me for 3 hours, then we'll see what you have to say ;-)))
If you spend 3 hours in the Kofiya and still want to (or actually can) read, I'll then be convinced you're much better, & sophisticated then I am; by far. ("by far" rights registered to Vered, I'll pay tamlugim).

That's all for today's report, my beloved free humans; I still owe you the tale about "Alabama", another unique habitant.

...

Boker Shabat

In the Kofiya. Woke up at 6, after sleeping 1-2 hours on/off for the whole night; I wake up 3-5 times each night.
So I woke up at 6, they don't wake you (me) up in here; instead there is a loud click of the door lock. Since I sleep (like everyone else), in my clothes, all I need is to get down for a continental breakfast. So I had my usual carton-pieces-style-bran-flakes, mixed with one (almost) cooked packet of quaker (no boiling water, just hot). Delicious.

Now I'm going back to sleep, I have no work on shabat, try to keep it that way, don't like my boss emailing me all the time.

Remember Chucky?

I told you about that crazy doll of the horror movies, actually living here. If you recall, he actually looks like the doll named after him, same look, same eyes... the same. He's got Chucky tattoo on his leg, and one of his girlfriends tattooed his portrait on her thigh... BTW, she works as a stripper. Anyways, about a week ago he went to court for his sentence. He's affiliated with one of the most notorious knufiyut exist: MS-13(Mara Salvatrucha (commonly abbreviated as MS-13) is a transnational criminal gang that originated in Los Angeles and has spread to other parts of the United States, Canada, Mexico, and Central America.Members of MS distinguish themselves by tattoos covering the body and also often the face, as well as the use of their own sign language. They are notorious for their use of violence and a subcultural moral code that predominantly consists of merciless revenge and cruel retributions.) .
In here for murder (what else, he has that name to keep), he's one of the most sympathetic guys around, for real. He also find lots of interest in Jerusalem, he's a great torah believer, and I already invited him to visit. Don't worry, it won't happen anytime soon... as I was saying he went to court for sentencing... the guy is ben 23. gzar-din: 20 shana. He is going to appeal, but even then, it will take years before you can meet the real, living, breathing Chucky.

What's the point then? Oh, there is one: when the judge (BTW, it's also my judge, The Honored District Judge Ms. Melinda Harmon), read his gzar-din, she already been furious cause the guy just before Chucky, answered back to her and wouldn't agree to leave the stand. The Marshals could barely remove him from court. So, Chucky takes the stand in front of an angry judge, believing nothing he will say will matter (probably true)... the judge asks him if he's got anything to say before gzar-dino, and he, in a loud, confident voice answers back:
LET IT BE KNOWN THEN!
Everybody in the court room went quiet...

Do you smell this?

With everything that happen for the last few months, I completely forgot to tell about something crazy happened to me:
I lost my sense of smell, since I've been imprisoned. Lost as in, I can barely smell anything. I don't know if it's kind of defense mechanism or if it's something else; I just can't smell. It is so sever that people already told me something is wrong. It is, however, kind of a good thing when your (my) cell mate is sitting on the toilet located just 2 meter from where you sleep (where I sleep, that is). I can smell if it's really an intense kind of smell, like on early morning, the ventilation spread kitchen smells; or if I nose-touch a bar of soap. Other than that, nothing.

Just another of this makom nifla miracles.

When you find yourself sitting in jail

When you find yourself sitting in jail, surrounded by Mexicans, gang-members, white criminals and black ones(many of them look frightening), watching an animation movie on TV ("The Guardians"), and communicating with criminals during the commercials.
You know that you are at your worst (al-hapanim) when you're emailing your friends, and have no clue when you'll ever see them or when you we will be back home.

That which does not kill us makes us stronger

Being closed here.. it's not really open for discussion; it's something we must survive, and giving up is for those who don't appreciate their life.

I still can't figure out how people here (that I know, in person), deal with being at their 30', sentenced to 25-35 years; this kind of crazy, the system turns them to a have-nothing-to-loose animals. Too many people in this country, makes life worth much, much less. We should be thankful, grateful for living in a small country where human lives matter.

People living free, outside of this bizarre place simply cannot get the meaning how it's like; we all try to imagine all kinds of existence situations, it is never like in reality. The same as the blind cannot imagine the concept of color.

It will take time, but I'm sure it will end. And, like Nietzsche, said, "That which does not kill us makes us stronger."

Please write more... it keeps me alive.

I miss home so much it actually hurt

Rabbi Traxler came to visit me yesterday. As always, I got the attention of the whole cellblock, when they see me greeting / hugging an older outside person, dressed up funny, that go in a room with me for like 90 min.

 

Traxler, sympathetic as always, asked how I'm doing, about my case, and we discussed for a while. Then he taught me about Hag-Shavu'ot.
I'm going to spend another holiday in the Kofiya.

 

I miss home so much it actually hurt; I miss the air, the warm nights, the sun, neighborhood sounds, smells, everything.
Being locked in a way that my entire world, my whole existence comes down to 400 sq/meters, makes the soul hard, tough, even kind of full of hatred. I'm absolutely sure that putting people in prison, makes them even more nasty and more hating than what they were like beforehand.
There are no plants here; no colors. No domestic animals, not even bugs; nothing lives here but men that share the exact same feelings about being in this place. The exact feelings.

 

It's funny-sad that bad attitude, human disrespect and dehumanizing, generates in one direction here, from jailors to prisoners. The prisoners, respect each other or ignore (at the worst case); the jailors, ignore prisoners at the best scenario, or bother and offend them on the worst scenario case. Nice, right?

 

Let's end with a joke:
What do fat-women and bricks have in common?

 

Both being laid by Mexicans...

I made lots of mistakes, in the name of greed and thrill. Now I get to pay the bill.

The fdrl system works according to guidelines, rules and "criminal offense level". All of that sets me at level of 14 points, less 2 for accepting responsibility, 12. Meaning, sentencing guidelines range 10-16 months, less time served.
Once a defendant cooperated with the government, comes clean and tells the true info they want to know, it's something they don't mess with.  They seek a swift, easy conviction and discovering more criminal activity.
Before I saw the discovery, that is the evidence, I believed it's nothing, After I got the discovery, my jaw dropped, I realized the full meaning of my position. I did, in-fact, make mistakes and done wrong; it's just that over 4-5 years, it looks like nothing much.
It was X that batrade me. The you-know-who "only" turned his back on me. Why did the first dig me a hole, made it deeper and push me in? I can only guess, and it's lots of speculations. He got paid for cooperating with me doing those nevey'le, while reporting me to the rashuyut.
Just the evidence can make a story telling evening; they followed me to almost everywhere.
I made lots of mistakes, in the name of greed and thrill. Now I get to pay the bill.

Never imagined my home-town will get so popular here

Friday is coming to end in the Kofiya. Everything was as it has been yesterday, and the day before, and before... you get the idea. This place is about nothing. And no, thank you but I can't read nor study here; it's nearly impossible, even for those who *know* their sentence or have been sentenced.
I never imagined my home-town will get so popular here; especially among the Mexicans, most of them true believers with lots of genuine faith, they have tons of questions about Jerusalem, about Jesus, elohim, everything. They also suffer of inferior feelings, so I've been asked if "they" (Israelis AKA Ibreus), hate Mexicans too (like most of the US).
Americans on the other hand, have troubles of their own; I wrote in previous emails about the blacks against the whites the spanish, and vice versa.
The Americans truly believe (they been brained washed), that foreign countries all over the world, yes, in Europe too, are dangerous. The common belief is that foreigners are most likely to get kidnapped and murdered there. When I researched the reason for this belief, they mentioned movies like "Hostel" and "Taken". Yes, seriously. 

So I'll get going now, check if there is anything to mess with. Make sure you're writing back during this weekend...

When was the last time a convicted murderer cleaned your room

When was the last time a convicted murderer cleaned your room for four soup packets ($1)?
No need to answer this. Actually, I found that murderers, robbers and drug dealers often look way less intimidating then how they appear in the movies. That and more, the only people around here that often behave like shit are the jailers. Those ass howls read all emails.

Another funny-sad anecdote: one of the mentioned above asked me if any of my friends was surprised upon my situation; if any of them always believed that if anyone he knows find himself behind bars, it will be me. I didn't have to answer that, my face expression gave the answer.

Yes, my dear friends, I made my way to top of the food chain here. I'm one of the mekubalim. I don't know if to laugh, cry or both. I try not to think about what yal told me, that maybe it was ought to happen.

With that note, I have to go, they rack-us-up for counting and supper, yes, it's at five o'clock.

The way back is so far

Saturday morning

Good Saturday morning to ya'll; another fun-tastic day in the Kofiya. Hey, what'cha say to a girl feelin' herself too much? "hey gal, you're pretty... pretty UGLY!" ahh.. lol, kore'a, right?

So instead of getting back to sleep, I just waited 10 minutes in-line for this stupid email; 10 min to find that no one but bz emailed me...  :-(((  listen, it is wrong! your beloved friend is rotting in jail, and ya'll too busy with all kinds of stuff :-); what am I supposed to do in this rat hole, read a book? If no weekend newspaper, then I insist on getting my Saturday morning emails, right?

Well then, think I'll just get back now to my orthopedic bed (actually it's more like "bad" then a "bed", funny, right?), and try to fantasize about being back to my life, 10K km away from here, and about holiday.

Write back, will you? Love you all, for real.

Slowly loosing my mind

and obviously, I'm loosing my mind here. It's no way to spend day after day after day without knowing when it will fckn going to end. Doing nothing each and every day, letting time to just pass by, expecting tomorrow to be just as boring, dull, pointless, meaningless, is just what a human (that has a life), needs to go crazy.
To top all that, I also need to worry about the FBI to actually give me something in return to what I'm going to share with them. It might seem simple, just tell them and they will help you, but it's not the way it goes here; unless I get a guarantee, I might easily find myself in a situation where they just walk away with everything I had, and give nothing in return. Now you tell me, how can I sleep, knowing that? How can I spend my days, maintain all basic routines and needs, knowing what *could* happen, hoping what *should* happen, doing all that WITHOUT loosing my mind?
So do you have any idea? I won't be surprised in case you have no clue, but I must ask.
I miss my life so much, I would do just about anything to get it back. I should have taken the shula-zaken way, weeks before.
Oh, it wouldn't make a difference, cause they would have not let me just go unpunished. So again, you can see, there is more than one truth, more than one way. Could you keep your sanity being in this situation?
Anyways, other then trying to "read", or "learn" (that's not going to happen in this place), or "pray to god", "have a belief", "trust the lord", or "meditate", "find something to put your mind to", other than all this crap, any ideas how to bear this total waste of living?

Literally gray reality

Sitting here, looking around, thinking about my friendmily (that is all of you), for a second I wish you could meet people from here... that could be so funny... I can only imagine how amazed you could get by realizing these "national geographic" place do, actually, exist.

Already told N before, that some of this place characters, have they came walking up your direction, on the street... not at night, just during plain daylight, but no-one around... you would go the other direction or other side, LOL, go? you would RUN.

It's a real Koffeville here, kind of Israeli tironut mixed with soft to hardcore criminals and a bunch (like 80%) of illegal Latin (South America) aliens, waiting deportation.
Unlike I hoped or planned, I'm already in my third month here, have seen people come and leave, feeling like it's my reality, my life. It's so hard to keep in mind that the end for this si'yut will eventually come; so hard to wake up in the morning to the same, literally gray reality.

Being locked in a prison is nothing more than existing. There is no point in living like that for years; I fail to understand how people make it through years of imprisonment. Most probably they hope, or truly believe, or they are just too tipshim to understand how pathetic this existence is.

Some of the Latinos here, came from a living so poor, that warm water, three meals a day (of ochel mag'yil), and no bills to pay, actually makes them happy. Ani nishba, I saw many here smiling and laughing, actually happy, without alcohol or drugs.

I'll now go get ready to lights out time, hoping to get here tomorrows morning and see like 5 or more emails from all of you...

Call God

it has been more than two days that email (the whole system), was off. The mental issues I go thorugh being here... sometimes I wonder if it's a test god puts me to, then I forget about it. One guy, hozer b'tshuva, very into it, told me that once I'll be in real distress, then I'll call god. Well, it probably ain't gonna happen.

Try and kill the rest of today

Just wanted to let you know I managed to go through another day. I'm checking the calendar obsessively, looking the days gone by and trying to guess how many will go being here. I try to hold up to the idea that if I'll do like shula did, then it will speed things up, but I have no straight forward promise about that, so I'm anxious and scared.
The hardest part is about spending those days without a clue about when something will happen, when to expect the beginning of an end. It's exhausting.
It's hol-hamo'ed now, I remember, and only a couple of days since my lawyer met me, but trust me, the days here stretch and feel like it has been forever.
Last night I had another dream about being in my home, playing with my cat; waking up, coming to awareness was the most terrible feeling, it completely sets the mood down, like below zero down.
Hope you're all good and well. I'll go now to try and kill the rest of today

Pesach

Yesterday food was of good quality.
 I was sitting with all other kofim of my floor, no exception regarding that, no celebrations or nothing, just good quality food, it seems they really put efforts in, trying to provide yehudim with better food. There was beef, kind of a cooked small steak, tasty gefilte-fish, much better than it looks, sweet carrots, and other stuff. Also got plenty of matza, quality matza shmura, small pesach cakes and grape-juice in 200ml carton boxes.

It really comforts me to learn that I'm remembered that much. Being here is mentally hard.
If you get a chance, please thank Rabbi Traxler in my name and tell him I really appreciate everything they do for Jewish prisoners stuck in this country, and that he and all the others involved are doing great job.

Visit

Well, I met my Lawyer. Didn't have enough time to go through everything. No big news, just that I will stay here for a while, not too long, but longer than I was hoping for.

Wish I could discuss that over the phone with you; it's too much for email, and I'm exhausted and drained of energy right now. I asked her to deposit my money to my account here, so I'll have enough to make calls.
I did manage to smooth things up with my lawyer.

I'll email more details later, just want to underline how much I need you to take care of getting my bank account running; it really stresses me out to think I'll run out of credit there; please let me know you're dealing with this?

Consul visit

Bottom line first: it was a good visit.

 

Daniel Agranov gave full attention and explained what he can or cannot do / interfere with. He promised to take care of me medical matters, and gave me his business card, promised to approve my emails to him, so I can keep in contact.

 

As for my case, I showed him all the relevant legal information, he listened carefully, understood the problem , and promised to check options for getting the procedure move on.
I believe he's convinced that I'm stuck for long enough with no reason. I hope he can set things in motion, and I recommend you talk to him, ask for his opinion, thoughts, or if there is anything he can do.
Although not familiar with federal law, I showed him and he understood all about my indictment and the law.

 

Hope to hear some news soon...

 

Boded kan

I know you remember me and that if you don't write it's because you're tied up; don't worry about it. It's only that I'm so boded kan, and it kicks in every day a few times a day.
Sometimes I just check for emails even at irrelevant hours, it's crazy.
I'm making an email /statement to customs, to print and take there, it might help getting my stuff. If you got any other idea, let me know.
I don't know if and what's going to be tomorrow, not sure the pre-trial will take place. If so, I'll let you know asap.

Emails

Something funny-sad dnt wrote, "all your emails read by us". At first I went sad; it took me a few minutes to laugh, cause it suddenly strike me: you, there, in the free world, have no idea about emailing and never know if the chazir actually let them go through... all you need is hit "send", and it's there, right? So... in Koffeeville, when I hit "send", a few fantastic things happen. First, my email gets the co's pc. He reads it. He decides if to delete some or all of it. Then, whenever he decides, he sends it to censorship. They read it, etc. Then, after who-knows-how-many read it, considering they didn't delete it, only then, it gets to you.
Bottom line my dear free friends that live in a free, democratic country with freedom of speech: I have no way of telling if my email actually got to you. No way. Unless you confirm "ok". That's also why I title the subject, so I can know if a specific gone through or not.
If it's not too much of trouble, please confirm receipt. Sometimes I write long emails, the ones which I'm telling you about this place take some effort and even cost money.

This Koffeeville is a diamond

So one of the blacks had an issue with another guy or two; something about watching the TV. So a day or two after that, four or five co's are "watching" all the inmates during launch time, sending "severe" looks, walking around slowly, occasionally calling "no talking". One of them, gulemino (?) is the "gang activity" "investigator". That is the guy who humiliated me, interrogating me about my sex life, orientation and experience. He's really sweet, walking around like he owns everyone. After launch, they took a few guys for questioning about what supposedly happened, and about the fight (which never happened). To make a long story short, this facility, this institution, this place, is so pathetic, miserable, dark hole on earth; it is a disgrace to homo-sapience. Disgrace to culture. I'm ashamed to be here, not because I've done anything wrong, but because I'm locked up by corrupt, racist, unjustified low-lives and their senders. I will have to scrub my body in Lysol when I get back home. 

Reporting from the "country of the brave and free", your humble, locked-up Jew-boy.
p.s.
Please call usa on the phone, tell them to leave me the f*** alone

Chucky

Do you know Chucky, the killer doll of the movies? Well, he's real and he's here. He looks like the figure that plays him in those movies, he has a self portrait tattooed on his calve, and one of his (many) girlfriends, got his portrait tattooed on her thigh (I saw a clear picture). I hope to tell you more about him in the near future, cause it's time to get back in cell now.

I try to remind myself it's all brain chemistry

Every day I spend here makes me scared about loosing my hair due to tension and stress; then no one would want to have kids for me, right? ;-)

My mood changes rapidly, bounces from one scale end to another. Sometimes I feel really strong and that I can fight; other times I get really down and upset. I try to remind myself it's all brain chemistry, and in my head. Yet, it is hard.
I still can't call collect, I have no way of finding out if it's a system error and will reverse, or a new restriction. I checked other country's numbers, all blocked.

I really hope for a change, soon. Already two months of my life for nothing. For an ugly, racist, corrupt federal government, of a disgusting country. It's not anger, only the truth. I failed to find ONE person here that has something nice to say about this fckd up country. Everyone here hates this place, the government, and the feds. You can be sure some of them is innocent.

Please send my regards to anyone that cares about me, and is standing by my side. Please ask nom to write me something, anything.

I'm tired of spending my life in this shit hole

I'm tired of spending my life in this shit hole while she's doing nothing for me; she's not preparing for a trial... all she's planning on doing is "hand me over" to the prosecutor at the last minute, thinking I'll be so desperate to sign anything.
I'm desperate, only to go back home. I won't give up if I'm wasting my life here either way.
So I wanted to shake her, at least some? Why let her enjoy the quiet when I pay the same price either way? Why not making some noise?
If it won't change a thing, at least make her uneasy?
Please think about this, either way I can't even call her cause the legal phone sometimes locked, and asking to unlock it is the same as talking to a wall.
Maybe what I wrote might get her to something? If I'll get to the last second, and for example, the judge will ask me what kind of effort I did to make things go differently, I will have nothing to say.
I also think everything has to do with her no-doings; it's this and that and this, all builds up to a level I just can't ignore anymore.
I'm wasting my life here, while she's doing whatever, I'm not even on her desktop.
Take a minute to think, let me know. Either way I can't contact her. Even if the phone accessible, I won't resist telling her what I think.
I feel like we need to shake her, at least some.

Missing

FREE time

Suddenly it struck me: I have more free time in prison than anywhere else; in fact, all my time is FREE, an awkward concept cause I'm actually locked with limited communication to the other world. My worlds concludes to a 10sq/m cell, inside a 400 sq/m hall, and yet, I have nothing to do, no chores, no errands, no noting, senior!
Yes, I know, that's because my dear, precious, beloved friend turned their life over for me, dealing all my stuff and some. I'm sorry about that, really am. I wish it never happened. I wish your standing by me could always remain theoretically speaking.
Yet, that weird concept still remains; I'm free of anything and everything.
That perception actually came to my mind when I suddenly noticed I'm doing everything I can to make ordinary tasks, like, taking a shower, time consuming. Only here I came to spend 90 minutes, undressing, going to shower, and dressing back. Yep, 90 minutes. With sooo much free time and NOTING to do, even fixing a burrito gets to half an hour.
What reminds me that I now find the black HEV'RE to be the cool ones. They kind of like the MIZRAHIM in Israel. Many of them got banged up by the system; they suffer of pure racism; they are more open and warm and welcoming than gringos (gringo is how Mexicans nickname white americans, and no, it's not a complement).
So I'm hanging out (out? seriously?), with them. It gets surreal to have late diner sitting with a bunch of them; one Jerusalem white boy (YELED TOV YERUSHLAYIM), with a bunch of those guys, all in for robbery, assault charges, drugs, etc.
All that said, it's not like they are ALL that nice; many of them are indeed nice. Others... I'm keeping my (long) distance.

Please write me something nice, about anything. I miss you all and I really need your words. D believes her "about nothing" emails are boring, but they are not, every email makes me feel more alive in Koffeeville.

Missing you all

My inmate - Nader Ali Sabouri Haghighi, 41.

"An Iranian man was sentenced by a Texas court Monday to more than two years in prison for stealing the identity of a US pilot in order to obtain federal aviation credentials.

Nader Ali Sabouri Haghighi, 41, pleaded guilty in November to four counts of identity theft related to his attempt to obtain an Airline Transport Pilot (ATP) and flight instructor certificate.

The Justice Department statement said there was no evidence Haghighi had sought the flying permits for “terrorism-related” activity.

Haghighi’s fraud came to light after he crashed a plane in Bornholm, Denmark in September 2012 while in possession of his victim’s ATP, the highest level of aircraft pilot license issued by the Federal Aviation Administration.

He later returned to Iran before resurfacing in Indonesia. He was eventually arrested in Panama, where he waived extradition to the United States in August 2014."

Nothing but 2 choices

they told me it's hard to believe it's my 1st time in prison. That I've adapted so fast and naturally, it's like I've been locked up before. One told me, "I saw you sitting in one cell with a guy known to murder at least two people, fooling around, laughing with him, eating together, no way you're new to this". What can I say? Every time the subject came up, I told them, that I quickly realized I have : slit my wrists or bear my burden. The 1st is not really an option, as I owe so much to those who stand by me at this time, I just cannot let them down (that's one reason, there are more, naturally).
So I'm stuck with going through this.
The day before yesterday brought here two new black guys. Armed robbery and stuff. Both around 30 years old. One got sentenced 30 years. The other... 160 years. No parole. Think he will walk out some day?
Final note for now: google NADER. It's a guy in the other unit, I got friendly with, a really nice person, for real. He's a pilot from Panama, I believe you'll find his story interesting. I have more to come...

Walking and talking

An anecdote to begin with: on my second court session, the us marshals attempted delivering me to another facility named "joe corley". Only by chance I managed to explain my religious needs won't be met there. They were upset, for the "extra hard tedious work" I caused, but they aren't allowed to play with religion affairs. So I've been delivered back to fdc.
The corley BE'YUV is a fantastic place to host in: 12 inmates each cell, one toilet, one shower. Feed in cell. 23 hours locked. 1 hour out. No email. Phone calls by a special written request. Violent, anti Semitic population (I met a Jewish guy got beaten there by muslims).
Where is that ignorant, zero, less than a worm embassy guy said I should be thankful it's not Thailand?

Well, the Kofiya consists of one big open space hall, about 40 by 10 meters, divided in two floors, the upper floor ("tier") has an open walkway-balcony running round the perimeter, where the cells, showers and other rooms are located. In the main lower space, there are two fixed long tables with fixed "chairs" (just a small round plate). Public phones and computers are also there, and 5 TV sets, showing a few preset channels.Oh, there is an "outside recreation" area, partially open to the out side, so you can get a look of two high office buildings (it is in downtown area) and some sky.

Most inmates here are Mexican and other South America Latinos. Almost all of them arrested for illegal entry. In many cases, all they wanted is a decent job, away from poor Mexico beaten with cartels, drugs and violence. The other inmates.. well, each carries his own burden.

A couple of days ago I won a free (random) alcohol and drug test. Taken to a room with a desk, big fat guy in uniform and a toilet, I had to breath in a YANSHUF, then pee in a cup. After 10 minutes of standing in the hallway facing the wall, the big whale called me back in the room and asked what I've been smoking. That's his way of fooling around during his boring job. So I cooperated, and we both laughed; it was really soooo funny. Then he instructed me to pour my pee in the toilet and throw the cup. Sweet.
Arriving back in the unit, guys asked me if I got a prostate exam. Again, didn't want to let them down, so I told them I requested for that check, only there was no female nurse to perform it. They found my answer hilarious.
Yes, many inmates here are bored to a level of making stuff like tapping one's shoulder, then quickly move the other side. Or sticking written "funny" notes to other's back. Lots of KITA GIMEL jokes. Just imagine how they react when there is a bikini girl on TV.

The cellblock is an extremely cheerful place, painted white, grey and black. The lights are kind of dim, I guess that's for maintaining a low, calm atmosphere. It is really, very clean here. The floors swept three times a day, inmates required to clean the cells, or "buy" cleaning service from another poor inmate for 4 packages of soup purchased at the KANTINA. That's one us dollar, and they clean the cell really good. Those "soups", small packets of dry pasta, kind of P'TITIM, with a small bag of seasoning, sell for .25 each, and used as currency here. You can buy anything the inmates sell with those soups.   

Well, I have to go for now, time for my daily workout routine, walking in endless circles round the upper level, each round is about 100 meter. Almost everybody do that here, walking and talking about their life in Koffeeville.

Stronger and have got off the edge

I really hope we could sit and laugh about this really soon. I don't see the light yet, but at least I'm stronger and have got off the edge. I think I didn't cry for more than two consecutive days. What a fckn mess.

I apologize

I did suddenly find that instead of emailing nice stuff, all I'm doing is stressing more the stressed enough; so I apologize, it was a build up of frustration and anger, I know perfectly well that nm and u doing the outmost anything for me, and I'm grateful. being here has it's toll and I have to actually fight it to hold from going out.

Food parties

So I'm making jokes here with people that could make you move to the other side of the street. They make food parties, with burritos and cakes and drinks. I'm invited of course. Hey, I'm one of the popular kids here. my Spanish is getting better, I catch more new words every day; actually I hear more Spanish then English here. The English is NOT easy to get; when they talk fast... all I can get is F*** or SH** every other sentence. The Gangs here are like zofim for grown-ups. Everything is about respect. Inmates will actually fight and go to the SHU, just for *respect*. I can tell you it's like in the movies, a hundred times won't be enough to describe how much of a movie that is. This place IS another planet. The KOFIYA planet.
Don't get it wrong, I'm dying to get out of here, I hate waking up and I hate the sound of the door bolted. Yet, it's more than amazing how people just go on here, for months and YEARS, they keep hanging on, they have social life, they watch TV, eat together, laugh together, it's a whole small-locked-up world. Some people here told me that when I first arrived I looked lost. I can even remember two guards asking me if I'm "ok". I looked soooo bad, even they cared. Now, I've been told, I look like it's my natural habitat. Well, it's not, but in here, it's all about respect and phasade. I'm actually hanging with the hardcore, the "tough" boys, and I'm helping others, that helped me when I arrived. If you could only take a minute to think about it, it's crazy. Today I wrote a "request to staff" for another inmate who only speak Spanish; yes, your Jerusalem friend is well respected here, and respect others, naturally. It's time to get back in our cells, "home" they call them here. My cell partner my "celli", speaks only Spanish and a few words in English. So when he only talks Spanish to me, I answer in Hebrew.
Another night, another day in KOFFEEVILLE, monkey-town, the KOFIYA. BTW, I tell others here my theory, how the government tries to make all of us more animal like and less humans. They find it funny, and actually agree with me.
Just help me get back home, I promise you'll hear so many jokes and stories, it may come to the point you all be happy I've been here. Not.

I need a miracle

I need a miracle, not a lawyer. As I said, even if I could afford one, I can not contact one. I do not know who to contact. I do not know how to choose. I can not physically contact any person other than you and the others.

I had a one, 10 minutes meeting with a lawyer. I don't know anything about my case, about my options, about how to help myself, who to talk or what to do.

Even if I had the 20K-50K for a lawyer, that's what they *start* at over here, I cannot, de-facto, technically, practically "get" a lawyer. I have no access to the outside world. Emails I sent to you, phone calls are restricted to specific pre-set phone numbers, at limited times, limited minutes, limited budget, limited phone access hours.

That's also why I can only rely on you, my friends. Without your help, there is nothing I can do.

Anti-teeth-grinding fixture

I just returned from the medic; they took blood tests. The lab guy said I should have the results in a week. I was hoping to not be here another week. That won't happen, ha?

Now I still have to fight for getting the dental anti-teeth-grinding fixture, and dental floss. I asked for some at the medic, they "won't issue that there" only through CANTINA, which run out-of-stock, as if *everybody* here floss daily. No one does, I checked with everyone, no one has it. What's up with this KOFIYA?

I need to get home. No one "important" cares yet?

Upon release

Upon release, whenever that might be, there is a transfer to another facility named CCA.
It's a private prison, all deportations go through there.

I heard, that deportation to Israel might take as long as 14 days, unless, the deported willing to buy the ticket off his own money. So I rather have that ready. I had $1900 with the lawyer, $50 stolen, $250 deposited to commissary, less shipping my baggage, there should be enough. Please make her give you a full balance report including the stolen money and how much was each shipment.

I just saw my name set for tomorrow's medic-call, under "LAB". It should be the blood tests.

ZEDEK?

I'll always remember how N and you helped me at this time. It's about 30 meters and 16 stairs to my cell; I got there just in time to collapse on the "bed" after reading about him taking my cat's pics for me.
This place totally crippled me, I can't stand for myself, I can't protest, I have no freedom of speech (not to mention freedom at all), all that, w/o a trial. Where is ZEDEK? Oh, right, sometimes ZEDEK just a name of a star. When will it all end?

I didn't get the dental fixture for my Bruxism (how does it spells correctly?). I didn't even get a dental check yet, although asked for it three times and notified I suffer of night time teeth grinding. Actually I also asked the lawyer, so it comes to four times.
i have no dental floss either; since the KANTINA offer one kind only (the cheapest for the highest price), and they're currently out-of-stock (no one here use floss, how can they run out-of-stock?), then I have none, meaning, I might get gums inflammation. Yes, I asked for dental floss too. Same outcome as above.
The ugly KOFIYA is first class compare to Thailand; tell the consul I agree and wish him to find himself in my position one day. That could happen since the USA is madly in-love with it's prisons. I have more to write about it, if the blog is relevant, let me know.

To finish with a nicer note, let N know I'm thankful, appreciate and thinking of his efforts almost all day long and at night. I have two thinking modes here: past and future, so you're on my mind all the time. The present must not come to mind.

Night

Hey,
I'm really scared they will try to make a study case of me; I'm terrified they're going to just lock me up for months or more. Please try to do something, I know you're trying, I'm just saying, I'm scared. Please don't let them just lock me up. Someone has to care enough at some point, right? Let me know what you think. It's going to be another sleepless night for me, I hope to hear from you tomorrow's morning

Missing

Morning

The most awful time is waking up in here; like going from numb to a stinking reality, so bad it makes me close my eyes and just want to feel nothing. But it doesn't help, I look at the white break walls and the gray depressing hall again and again, trying to  and I'm can't go out and can't breath air and I'm locked like a sub-human that makes a threat and is danger to society. It's unreal. It's not the way to treat people who didn't hurt others. And there is nothing I can do; unless I had friends outside, I would just be here, as long as the infamous federal "justice" system like. And they *really* don't care; they actually make money, for every day, for every inmate. They build more prisons and hire more workers, more contractors, they make their best to keep, to lockup people, deny them freedom and rights, for making money. Welcome to the USA and F*** you.

FDC Houston

10 questions to address whomever:

10 questions to address whomever:

1. Searched, arrested, no warrants shown to me. Is that ok?
2. Forced interrogation, under direct threats and lies.
3. Have not been informed about the indictment filled to court on Jan.22nd. Only received it on Jan.27th.
4. Detained for over 5 weeks. No routine blood tests to a reported chronic disease. Partial and questionable medicine dosage.
5. No dental care to a known problem I've reported.
6. US Marshals took cash off my money. never got a receipt. Never got the money.
7. Over 5 weeks detention. One, 10 minutes meeting with a lawyer.
8. I know nothing about my case. Don't know my options or what to expect.
9. All my baggage, portable electronic devices, personal documents and credentials, allegedly shipped two weeks ago via standard and express airmail. No tracking numbers, nothing arrived yet.
10. I have no cash balance of my money kept by my lawyer.

To me it looks like everything is wrong. Even if it's only part of the above, it's way too much and is unfair and unjustified.

Is there anything to do at all?

Human Packets - continue

It is a true cultural, mental shock, which has a physical effect of illness. And there were more shocks to follow, one after the other: the sounds, the counts, the food. For the first few days I had no KOSHER food, so I only ate oranges, apples and some bread. Luckily I didn't have much appetite anyway.

Staying in prison forces an extremely steep learning curve. It's all about survival, gangs and respect. inmates have their own culture, rules and set of codes. Everything is based on respect or disrespect; that's the only thing that matters and will make imprisonment bearable or a living hell.

Feels like hell. It really does

The federal prison system is made for processing humans just like an industrial line processes whole tomatoes to ketchup.
When I've been dropped off at detention center R&D (Receive & Delivery of human packets), CO's processes me from an independent, thinking, self efficated person, to no more than a monkey in monkeyville (AKA the KOFIYA or KOFFEVILLE).
Walk. Stop. Go in tank (temp. holding cell). Out. Walk. Face the wall. Stop. Go in room. Take all your clothes off. Put them in the "donation" cart, those are no longer yours. open your mouth. Show your tongue. Raise your hand, show armpits. Grab and lift your testicles. Turn over. Spread your ass cheeks. Lift one foot up. The other. Wear those Khaki-Brown KOF uniforms. Those cheapest China made slippers are now your shoes, instead of the ones you "donated". Your prescribed medications sent to extermination. You'll be issued as needed when you'll see a doctor. Walk out. Face the wall. In tank.

Taken to the unit, I recalled prison movies showing "fresh meat" pass by rows of scary, mocking, laughing inmates. It wasn't like that at all.
The only scary people I met were of the prison personal; for example, the officer interrogated me about gang affiliation, and more later about my sexual preferences, my sex lifestyle and experience, was *the* most abusive person I've ever Met. A true EVED KI YI'MLOCH.

Detention units consists of wings and cell-blocks. Each cell-block is a stand alone home for 100+ inmates (due to email restrictions, I can't get into details). I can only say it's ok, kind of like in TIRONOOT. The true hard part is about being locked up, stripped of any civil rights and with zero communication to the world outside the cell-clock.

For the first few days, I had no phone calls, no email, not even my own watch, nothing. being locked up with many strangers, much of them seem to be kind of dangerous, and w/o any sort of outside communication, feels like hell. It really does.

It's a true, cultural, mental  

theyre calling my name

I'm totally out here

I'm trying to man-up and take the suffering as-is thats why I am not calling. Every time I call it ends up with me choking up. At least with emails I don't need to talk, only the screen blurs away for a few minutes.
I'm having the most irregular dreams here, and a really nasty feeling when I wake up and find myself here. It's weird, surreal and intimidating.
That's the main course after all the paranoid and awful thoughts I'm having when at night when locked in the cell. I don't have the English to describe even part of it.
 I'm totally out here; unfocused, can't arrange my thoughts, like a piece of dysfunctional KOF.
I'm consider asking psych evaluation.

I'm so out-of-focus here, it's really hard to catch up on things, I go back on emails and find things you wrote which slipped off my conciseness.
Thank you again for taking care of my home.

Do you think there's a chance in finding some kind of Jewish community help in funds or legal representation for me? I don't have an idea where to start from, maybe through HABAD or jewishprisoner dot com. Or maybe in Brooklyn or through Rabbi Traxler. I don't have any other idea. 

Soon I'll need more funds in my KANTINA account. Through the lawyer it will take more time than by "Moneygram" transfer.
Another reason to check about the delivery of my backpack and baggage.

Wish I could afford a "pay lawyer"

Thank you, thank you, for the good news. my cat's well-being is one of the major things I'm worried (less, now, thanks to N and you), about here.

Wish I could afford a "pay lawyer" as they call it here; they cost a fortune, 20K-50K and beyond. Only way possible is through funds exist at the Jewish community. I heard that they do have special organizations or funds for that cause. That needs some search, I guess.

I had a visit by Rabbi Traxler. Really nice person. He's forbidden to initiate contact people related to inmates.
I guess people could contact him. He's from Houston. He had no voice, due to a season illness, but I'm sure there is someone that helps him communicate over the phone. 
Yesterday was KANTINA, so I had my nails trimmed after 5 weeks. I don't know how it sounds, but it was a relief.

How did I get here?

How did I get here? That question was running over and over through my head during the first two weeks of my imprisonment. The right to follow answer have always been the same: by airplane and by car.

It makes me sad to realize I actually paid for flying here. Sure I couldn't expect to get arrested only two days before my scheduled flight back, yet, I paid for getting here and now I'm locked in a federal detention facility.

My arrest was so much like a movie, that for days after I imagined all kind of surreal stuff: like maybe I purchased an extreme prison-like vacation; like every time the phone rang at the CO's office, is to inform of my immediate release; almost every buzz at the cellblock door made my mind jump in anticipation - maybe they came to fix the mistake and set me free!

The hardest part is being locked up. I'm now sure not only it has a long time effect, but also can make the mind go crazy, literally. As for myself, I did feel my mind, conciseness and soul, melting away, turning to liquid, washing out of my entire body, off my head. It gets so intense that I felt my will power and mind slowly draining away. At times, I cared about nothing no more. I was ready to give up and end it all.


The HMI agents arrested me, were nothing like in the movies. They were NOT bold and fearless, and couldn't make a role model to about nothing. They were extremely polite and quiet. They threatened me in a low, respectful tone. They looked right in my eyes when they lied to me. They manipulated me, abused me with smooth talking and well mannered behavior. They were a lot like the psychopath Dr. at the mental health institution, that when he smiles, it's the worst sign.

They had an easy one with me: 42 years old, no criminal record, pulled out of the hotel room bed in  a foreign country, having the flu and dead tired. I would have confessed about having a sister or anything else. And they violated my other rights as well.

Problem is, that in the country of "Freedom and justice for all", the biggest democracy in the world, there are rules for the rules, all set by the federal government system. Once that system begins to chew someone up, he's doomed. one way or another he will never just come out clean. Never.

I try to remember you're with me

 I try to remember you're with me, only feelings here get in contrast, becuase it's lonely and communications is so limited. I try to remember it's only hours and days, just at night everything tends to look much more bad and hard. my mind go here from ok to worse thoughts and paranoid thoughts get me too.

The problem I have with the officials comes to the bottom line they are doing less than zero: not only I didn't even had a courtesy visit, but they limit your steps in helping me, and laughing in my face as if I'm supposed to be thankful it's not thailand. Well, it's not Thailand, and their responsibility for helping an Israeli citizent in troubles is the same everywhere. Even if he's locked up before or after a trial.

My dear friends: Today you really helped me

My dear friends:

Today you really helped me over the phone; don't know how exactly, but you somehow made me feel that everything *will* be all right.
I want to thank you for being the true family I never had; well, at least not blood-related. You proved that already;
only now, in my toughest, hardest time ever, you're helping me like a a true friend; for that I'm and always be grateful in a way I cannot fully express.

I've been taken to court

I've been taken to court twice so far. It is a tiresome ordeal. Cuffed from going out to coming back, that is leg cuffs + hand cuffs locked to a waist chain, for the whole time out. No exceptions. It is dehumanizing, not animal like but just like a package that obey orders: walk, stop, to the side, face the wall. must obey the officers like in IMA SHEL HA'TIRONOOT

During the first week I fantasized maybe I clicked "buy" by an error, on one of those bored-rich-people-extreme-vacations, and that I mistakenly purchased the "all inclusive" deal, with arrest at the hotel room and everything.

21 things that Happened to me in jail (which I never imagined will happen to me)

21 things that Happened to me in jail (which I never imagined will happen to me)

1. Legs and hands cuffed, hands to waist chain, for 10 hours straight. Eat, drink, piss like that.
2. Being locked in a small cell with 1-26 more men.
3.Eat like a starving animal, back to back with tens of other men, plastic spoon only, burning hot food in 5 minutes.
4. Open mouth and raise tongue for inspection I swallowed the pill given.
5. Strip search in a room with three more men. Lift my testicles, spread my ass, and show feet soles.
6. Full body wash in a 30cm wide sink.
7. Cough and cold, three weeks, no medications to relieve symptoms.
8. Do time math when the best time to sit on the toilet.
9. Full contact search, spread legs, hands & facing a wall.
10 Go through an aggressive questioning by three intimidating prison personal about my sexual preference, sex life, sex style and experience.
11. Sleep in a two stories steel "bed" ("bunk"), on a 5cm cheapest foam mattress.
12. Wear the same pants for weeks, w/o laundry.
13. Hide food in clothes.
14. Loose the will for living , everyday, a few times a day (less as time go by, yet, it's there on crisis moments).
15. Live in a constant fear and doubt of what will happen next.
16. Cuff marks on wrists and ankles
17. Have no idea what's the time. Completely disconnected form internet access.
19. Be subjects to medical tests and procedure w/o any ask or say.
20. Put a "Last Will" in hand writing and mail it to my friends.
21. Hate to wake up from sleep.

It's all true

I wrote this letter because it *might" help; because sometimes things need more of a push; because one can never know who might get to his help in those situations, and because that's the most I can do for myself.
it's all true, but not intended to complain, just to show the wrong things as they are, maybe things could get better and more faster. I must try, right?
Tried to call both Y and N, had no answer. I really hope things as usual and please don't hide anything, it kills me when I'm getting to thoughts and speculations.

During daytime 9-3 and 6-9 I can check emails almost once an hour; it lifts me up everytime I see a new message, so please, ask everyone to write me. N included, I hope he's not tired of dealing with me.

It is now 4 weeks

It is now 4 weeks since my arrest; I had one 10 minutes meeting and two phone calls with my appointed attorney. Also one 20 minutes meet with an investigator of that office. I don't know anything about what's going to happen.

I'm getting about half of the medical care I need. The Israel embassy and Foreign Affairs Ministry, completely ignoring me, and refuse to help my friends help me.

My life in Israel is falling apart; I'm being punished before trialed. I'm getting less than minimal legal advice.

Calling friends people who can help me is limited in minutes and costs more than 6 SHEKEL per minute. It also limited by phone usage hours, call duration and time differences.

I'm helpless, threatened by the USA Federal "justice" system. They can and they do to me what ever they decide, I have no say about my life, nothing to hold on to. I'm lost.

I beg whoever reads this, please help me before it's too late. I'm 42 years old, without any criminal record. I will share all my case details with anyone who can help.

Please help me get back Home.

Federal Detention Houston

Hi,
I was interrupted earlier when trying to write this. Anyway, I really hope someone will address that open letter and help even a bit.
The federal system here can eat me alive.

Part 3

When done at "homeland Security", I was delivered to Federal Detention Houston. Processing there included a complete body X-ray scan. I had no option to refuse that high amount of X-ray radiation.
Through the whole process I've been objectified as if I were a non-living package. All my prescribed medicine taken to "extermination". I had zero ask or say about any of that. At that point I truly believed I'm going to get a thyroid shock and will die there.

Being diagnosed as ADD + major depression since 2003, in addition to Grave's disease since 1995, I have suffered an extreme emotional stress and physical anxiety that made me feel as if I'm dead, watching myself outside my body.

The next morning I was brought in front of a judge. A lady who introduced herself as from Federal Public Defense told me what to answer in response to the judge questions, while we're standing in front of him. Being weak and frightened, I cannot remember a thing of what been said there.

Later I was taken to processing by US Marshals. Just by chance I managed to explain my religious needs and to hold my transfer to another facility which won't support my Jewish religion.
50$ were taken out of my money and shown to me as if it will be deposited to my inmate commissary account. Those 50$ never arrived in my commissary account.

For the next three weeks I had to relay on other inmates "favors" which I could not and should not refuse. As for my personal hygiene, I received 10ml of soap (or less) for each day. I couldn't wash my hair, clip my nails or clean my ears. I still have a month long nails growing.

On Jan.29th I was taken to court again. The Public Defender attorney appointed to my case met me for a 10 minutes talk. Then, in front of the judge, I answered as directed by her. After 10 hours in legs and hand-to-waist cuffs, I've been delivered back to detention center.
On re-processing, I was forced to "donate" my clothes and shoes to "charity". I had no other option.



End of part 3

A little something happened

Just a little something happened minutes ago: at the age of 42, I find myself looking down, practicly begging to staff member, in order to get my prison-issued shoes reolaced. Talking in a low, humble tone, I ask to get a new pair of shoes, for the prison-issued type tend to break apart after a few weeks of use.

Cuffed and taken

Hi,
I'm writing in a few parts due to restrictions with using email.

It's hard to use this PC for long time, plus every minute of usage costs 0.2 Shekel of my limited budget.

Part 2
For a while I answered their questions as much as I could. I did not understand all that has been said and asked, and I can't remember most of it, since I was in shock, frightened, and because English is not my native language. During all that time, other agents walked in and out of the room, searching my personal effects, opening all my packed baggage and repacking in a different order. They asked me about personal stuff I had, and exchanged remarks and smiles regarding my sex life or style.

When done with questioning me, they said I must put in writing what they consider as "main points" and sign the statement.
To my protest that I can't express myself in a clear, correct, fair way, being under so much pressure, they said that they will guide me. Again, I had no option but to write a partially dictated statement, while the agents guiding me.

At that time I still believed everything will be over soon. If only I could know at the time of my arrest that an indictment already filed to court on Jan22nd, *four days* before my actual arrest, I would have made other choices. I believe without a doubt the agents intentionally hide that fact from me.

When the agents done with questioning me, I was cuffed and taken for processing in Homeland Security building, where they took my finger prints and DNA samples. I don't know what they did with the rental car I had, and could not question any of the processing.

End part 2

Morning of Jan.26th

On the morning of Jan.26th while visiting in USA and two days before my scheduled flight back to Israel, I was arrested by "Homeland Security" agents. Very early in the morning they knocked the hotel room door, identified as "police", ordered me to stand outside the room for a search, barefoot, wearing only pants and light T-shirt. Then they searched the room for a few minutes, while I'm still standing outside, barefoot, cold & in shock. No warrant has been shown to me.

After searching the room, they ordered me back in and sat me for a "talk". They told me they "know everything" and that I must "be honest". That phrase was repeated many times. They displayed me a waive of rights document, and told me that if I sign it and answer their questions then they will help me. Otherwise, they said, if I choose to keep my rights, they will take me to prison where I'll be locked for a long time.

end part 1