New Writing from Eric McDavid

Dear friends,

Eric asked us to share this piece with you about his experiences. It's
covers a lot of ground - from the time of his arrest, through his time at
Sacramento County Main Jail and past his sentencing. You can also view the
piece at: http://supporteric.org/writings.htm#nov2011

There is a lot we could say... But we'll let the piece speak for itself.

Yours,
SPS


P.S.
Eric always loves to hear feedback from folks about his writings. Perhaps
you could write him a letter and let him know what you think once he gets
to where he's going? We still don't know where Eric is or where he'll end
up (he's being transferred) - but we'll let you know as soon as we hear
anything.

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Putting this critique out of my head & dn on paper comes w/the kind of
sigh that loosens your shoulders & unravels your stomach, catching you off
guard w/the guttural vocalization coming out w/that flow of Wind... the
delusion that fed my waiting was the possibility of my writings making an
already shitty situation of prosecution even worse... Hind-sight always
comes w/a sting = my charges topped out at 2 decades – only 5 more months
than i received... naiveté came N2 play elsewhere = despite stay'n true 2
my understanding of entrapment (where a govn't agent uses coercion &
manipulation, while providing all the materials, 2 direct & manifest an
act deemed illegal by the state), had i done more research there would've
been no way N western culture i would've utilized that defense... it's on
the verge of ludicrous 2 think the system would impede a mechanism
bringing N such vast amounts of $, fueling the bureaucratic fascism that
defines govn't 2day (remember the bonds we can post 2 get bailed out?
ever wonder what happens 2 them if we remain imprisoned? not 2 many
others do either – where R the majority of bonds w/N the financial system?
yep, bound & traded on the market; this B'n 1 scheme amongst numerous
others)... don't get me wrong – i harbor no regrets about my choice of
go'n 2 trial; part of me is curious of what difference a necessity defense
would've made... here we go... woken long B4 U're rested, it's cold
w/concrete everywhere, called out by the speaker above the steel door,
patted dn & escorted 2 the elevator, never know'n where or why, the door
opens 2 the chaotic jingle of chains, shouting cops, waiting 4 others – a
marshal's list 2 fill, patted dn, the pinch that only comes from shackles
& cuffs attached 2 a waist chain, Ur jingle adds 2 the cacophony,
processed & packed, 12 N2 the 10 bk seats of a van... the outsd world
through the windows holds every1's tongue, despite B'n early the goings on
R enough 2B a sensory overload = people walking, driving, riding bikes,
eating breakfast on the run, smoking, drink'n coffee, talking 2 each other
on phones – the marshals have the radio on some corporate station still
play'n the same songs when I stopped listening over 5 yrs ago... parked
behind N the secured garage, moved, stored, caged & still bound 2 Urself,
some1 asks “got the time, marshal?” “6:30ish,” hearings B4 10am R rare,
most = much later... coming from the concrete grayness, steel metal bars,
placid white walls, 2 step out N2 mahogany everywhere, deep reds, soft
blues, business attire & hairdos, stenograph, briefcase, pens &
notepads... chained 2 Ur own body N oversized shirt, pants, paper shoes =
neon orange... eyes immediately turn 2 the bk of the room & R flooded by
the benches behind the defense – friends & family bringing a rush of
nutrients that cannot B put 2 words; i could barely keep still know'n that
i was sharing the same air & only w/N arms reach of their embraces... it
was such a contrast 2 what lay B4 me on this SD of the Bar... standing B4
that 1st black robe, the separation was disorienting, the language &
process was that of another world... bail denied – flight risk = knowledge
of standing on the SD of the road w/thumb out, knowledge of boarding
locomotives when they slow or stop = flight risk; no family ties =
traveling w/out a cellphone & unable 2B contacted by family = no family
ties... after the sardine-van ride bk 2 the gulag, it's bk ↑ 2 the cell &
wait 4 the visit i knew was coming... 'never knew if it would B my
Partner & family or my attorney who would B 1st... the attorney visits
were N closed booths w/little stainless steel stools & table top w/a slot
under the plexi-glass window sized 4 paperwork... i could feel the
presence of microphones N the false ceiling above us – seemed ridiculous 2
believe they weren't there... Mark's communication skills w/N the court
room were pretty damn good – but N any other circumstance = extremely
lacking... i got 2 the point of having 2 put him through grounding
techniques at the beginning w/reminders throughout “Mark, what did U hear
me ask? R both Ur feet on the ground? can U feel them?”... i needed 2
make a list of questions just so i wouldn't get wrapped ↑ N his whirlwind
of energy... the handshakes through that slot N the table top was the
extent of humyne humyn contact during the 28 mo of confinement N that
jail... now, visits w/my Partner & family were a bit different... next 2
the attorney booths was a continuous stainless steel tabletop w/the
plexi-glass window running all the way dn the middle... each booth was
separated by a partition of plexi-glass, & 2 communicate w/your visitor a
phone receiver is used... 2 deter visitors by causing frustration & raise
stress levels, the volume was lowered or a static background noise made
hearing the other persyn near impossible at times & perfectly clear the
next... knowing each word & sentence were 2B scrutinized by any # of
'intelligence' agencies wasn't 2 big of a step – but i've never acclimated
2 not B'n able 2 touch those i love... have'n those visits kept me alive
as much as the oxygen i was breathing, & getting others perspectives on
the proceedings N court helped 2 make sure i wasn't the only 1 baffled by
what was go'n on... the courts i experienced eviscerated any ideas
regarding a jury trial B'n the last oasis of justice w/N the system; where
a jury is provided all the facts & info., & B'n free 2 their
interpretation w/justice as the intent & end... if that were the case, i
wouldn't B N this cell, nor hearing time and again stories from folx N
here reflecting my own... throughout trial i was dumbfounded by the
blatant ways (2 me) the jury was held N contempt by the judge & lawyers –
at the same time regarding them as some porcelain doll the lawyers and
judge didn't want 2 tip over... throughout the proceedings my eyes would
wander over 2 those folx sat off 2 the SD, occupying that space of
audience, the passive observer... 1 or 2 dozing, most w/the impartial
looks of random thoughts= bills-work-family-etc., 'reminded me when i was
a kid at church with the pastor speaking of famine, drought, floods, the
starving of children & elders N economically colonized lands = there was
this blanket of something over or behind people's expressions = “a higher
power is at work here”... i remember get'n called 2 jury duty & duck'n it
like the plague; forced 2 accept pennies on the dollar after drive'n at
least an hour through bumper 2 bumper each morn'n & night, 9-3 sit'n N
uncomfortable chairs, "we're all stuck here, so the smoother we make this
= the faster we can all go home,” "follow the lead of the professionals,
they've been do'n this a long time & know what they're do'n; after all,
justice is their business"… by the time the jury instructions were handed
dn, they were so deluded, confused, & malleable – it took hardly a nudge 2
direct them dn the prescribed path... i'm at a loss of words due 2 a
couple of reasons = 1) the jury didn't C it & didn't do anything about
it; 2) i saw it & didn't do anything about it... this is a jumble of
curiosities= how can truth & justice B found w/out open understanding of
all parties & honest, authentic communication? R they even meant 2B there
N the 1st place? how would a political prisoner go about getting a jury
of their peers? how could a jury B impartial if they're confined 2
perceive & relate 2 censored info only from a deliberate perspective
chosen by a person paid by the state whose superiors maintain their status
& the status quo?... 'hear that N the middle of my trial the judge won
the judge of the yr award? weird, eh?... the day of the verdict i can
remember sitt'n N the cage on the 10th floor... the court room & attached
juror room were ↑ on the 14th & i sat there imagining positive energy
flowing N2 the latter... when a marshal showed ↑ 2 take me ↑ the elevator
i knew it was 2 early... as every 1 was settling N & waiting on the
judge, a juror caught my eye & gave a small shake of their head – i had 2
give my self a small smile 4 perceiving the outcome... it didn't surprise
me any more than the sentence handed dn by the judge... he'd made his
intent known throughout the trial; at 1 point turning 2 Mark & i 2 give us
a small nod & smile when a juror asked the precise question which would
lead them all 2 perceive the confidential informant as not B'n a govn't
agent when i 1st met her... this was actually the pivotal point during
the deliberations as stated by a couple of the jurors N letters they wrote
2 my attorney... at sentencing the presentencing officer recommended 13
yrs, the prosecution 20, & the judge mentioned someth'n like wish'n that
he wasn't bound by the limit put on him bc it was a conspiracy case &
couldn't give me the 293 months the charge carried otherwise. the impact
on loved ones racked me harder than the time handed dn, & somehow i had
more confidence N the appellate courts (social programming is a pain N the
ass)... i was way 2 excited know'n i'd B out of that county jail &
solitary confinement... so far as my experience w/the sacramento county
gulag, we'll have 2 start at the beginning... 1 more time = bright Winter
mountain morning, sit'n on the trunk of the car soaking N the brisk blue
Sky, “did i seriously leave my pouch of tabac at the house?,” here come
the other 2, 'click,' screeching wheels N all directions, i fixate on the
suburban B4 me, less than a bus length away, both SD doors open B4 it
stops, out come 2 shouting ninja turtles w/the nozzles of their AR15s
leading the way, a quick pan @ soaks N the other vehicles, shouts, guns, &
stop on her eyes staring at me N the rear view mirror, that 'click' B4 the
screeching tires registers as the auto-lock 4 the doors of the car she's
sitting N... dominoes tumble btx my ears as i slowly raise my hands & get
dn 2 knees, stomach, arms out-reached, the asphalt doesn't exist under my
cheek, nor the 2 knees N my back, i'm bk by the time i'm cuffed & stood ↑,
hands leaping N2 my pockets looking 4 a key that isn't there... shock has
set N & the contradiction of B'n me rides the torrent of adrenaline N2 a
state of calmness & clarity; there is no tremor N my breath, nor shaking N
my hands; i can feel the embrace of cool morning air moving @ me, the
warmth of the Sun on my skin, N my eyes the full green of Trees & deep
blue of Sky sinks N, “this is go'n 2B the last time my eyes hold them 4 a
while,” i give out a silent thanks w/a sigh... a small crowd has gathered
2 watch, i'm taken N2 the bk of a durango rental, the other 2 R N separate
cars, JTTF driver (c.h.p. or sheriff's dep.), fibby hops N beside me,
short ride dn the hill 2 a suburb satellite compound N citrus heights i
never knew was there (lived w/N 5 miles of it since jr. high), during
their attempt 2 debrief my property was logged & headlamp stolen by the
fibby “i'll take this as evidence,” yes i'm still pissed, “U got anything
2 say?” “U got an attorney 4 me?,” bk N the durango & headed dn town, just
B4 we pull N2 the underground garage of the gulag = “We always go easy on
the 1 that turns 1st” “U're fuck'n kid'n me,” sit'n on a concrete bench
under the gulag, paper wk B'n processed, i'm soak'n everything ↑ while
look'n bored as fuck = there's double doors on every exit, scrubbed
concrete i can tell has been spattered from countless struggles coming 2
late – once U're N the bowels surviving digestion is the only viable
possibility i can C... there R no windows, ultra-violet lights at
measured distances break ↑ the heavy doors – be they steel or bullet proof
plexi-glass, feels like i'm wait'n N line 4 some twisted roller-coaster
ride... a young look'n agent w/an ATF windbreaker sits next 2 me,
“recognize me?” “not really” “U know how hard it was 2 keep up w/U?” “no”
“we'll have 2 have a beer when U get out” “U're buy'n,” behind the sliding
door, uncuffed, patted dn, handkerchief and hoodie taken, cuffed, wait, 2
jug heads escort me 2 a room the size of a phonebooth & uncuff me, “strip
& put clothes outSD,” they step away, i notice the small window of a box
housing a camera has a yellow post-it 4 a cover & i quickly remove it -
if they come at me it's go'n 2B on film... i can't say i was ready 4 this
form of psy-op.s (can U ever B ready 2 experience something U've only read
about?) but i did know it 4 what it was= an attempt 2 make the oppressed
feel like they R participating N a demoralizing act - having seen a wrong
is bad, having a wrong done 2 U is worse, doing a wrong 2 Urself is the
worst ever, knowledge B4 hand dissolves the power dynamic necessary 4 them
2 oppress... they return, quickly glancing at the camera, 1 goes through
my clothes while the other spits directions w/cold concrete under my feet
= show hands, under armpits, behind ears, SDs of mouth, under tongue, lift
balls, turn @, lift rt foot, left foot, bend over, spread cheeks, cough,
get dressed, no laces N my boots; then the shuffle begins – continuous
displacement from 1 tank to another (more psy. ops.) , this 1 so full
there's only standing room, the next it's just me & the camera, always a
camera & a phone, a toilet & thick boarded benches against the walls,
this 1 fills & empties, moved B4 this 1 fills all the way, time vanishes,
only wondering, is there an undercover N here, a plant, an informant,
dominoes tumble once again = solitary will B the only escape from violent
coercion – abuse could only come from those who have the keys... not
wanting 2 provide the fibbies w/any tools 2 sway my decision 2 go 2 trial
– i could easily picture myself during trial w/a face marred by a fight,
while my attorney layed out my non-violent past & non-existent criminal
record 2 a jury full of raised eye-brows & smirks – i requested solitary
confinement... i was persynally prepared 4 what came w/isolation, having
done the necessary wk on myself = the internal exploring, healing &
nourishing needed 2 survive & dance w/the trauma of B'n raised N this
culture; w/the effects from the shock & continuous trauma of B'n caged all
i would've had 2 fall bk on would B those culturally programmed traits
we're all raised with, such as identification w/the oppressor, mob
mentality, & submission 2 authority... my receiving those weekly stacks
of mail did wonders which i'm perpetually grateful 4, but w/out the anchor
of knowing, loving, & B'n aware of who i am – how could i've stayed true 2
the intentions of my Heart?... through the Spring and Summer a once dear
friend of mine survived iso. & continuous harassment – his folding just B4
Fall was like my Heart breaking N my hands... i tried 2 do all i could 2
aid him N maintaining some semblance of a foundation that he could utilize
– of course (here's that familiar sting), it's not something which can B
given, only found... he was released as soon as he signed his plea deal;
2 prep him 4 the stand it took 3 consecutive days of 9-5... while on the
stand they used something like 'rehabilitated' 2 describe him = now
working 35-40 hrs/week, helping his dad w/the rent, & having a
girlfriend... when he flipped i didn't think the pain could've gotten
worse... what i saw & heard were the scared responses of some1 B'n led
along on a tight leash... lauren was almost the inverse = ze turned rt
away & when i found out over the Summer i was devastated... btx the time
of our arrest & the trial ze'd apparently recovered some – despite the
influences @ hir & the meds they put hir on... it was subtle, but
lauren's words ended ↑ aiding my defense more than the prosecution... the
c.i., 'anna,' wore business attire, mimicking the professionalism exuded
by her fibby handlers... it twisted me ↑ & ↓ 2 hear the distance N her
voice i recognized as always B'n there... at the end of 'anna's' testimony
the govn't resorted 2 character assassination by way of a blatant lie,
pitting their authority vs. my word... their story was that on the last
night i walked out N2 the living room 2 wave an 8 inch knife over 'anna's'
sleeping face (a knife i never possessed, nor did they remember 2 plant N
the evidence), which woke her & her calmly saying “go bk 2 bed”...
somehow the surveillance cameras weren't recording during this event,
which is weird bc they're supposed 2B N whatever room the c.i. occupies
(but of course fibbies testified 2 their witnessing the event on their
monitors), nor was there a 302 filing 4 that night (an event description
form 4 the fibbies 2 write dn a narrative of what they see on the monitors
w/the corresponding times)... 2 say i was disgusted doesn't even begin
2... … so, biased as it is, i've acquired the belief that moving w/a
political intent brings about quite a bit of predisposition from the
courts (yes, i'm B'n sarcastic, their response was more like that 2 a
deadly virus = stamp out & lock away)... it's further supported by a
recent case N sacto where some1 burnt dn a wal-mart, a good portion of an
upscale mall, & his grandma's house; & after the actions were deemed not
politically based (by the same prosecutor N my case), that persyn got
sentenced 2 10 yrs... my case was 1 more notch N the belt 4 the fibby's
cointel tactics – creating monsters 2 fuel fear, while vilifying a pattern
of social relation based upon mutual aid, authentic relation, voluntary
association, & the realization of desires... this pattern of relation was
something i'd found N every place i touched N a yr & a 1/2 of traveling
off the grid - Seatle 2 Ft. Lauderdale, NY 2 San Fran. & numerous places
Nbtx... throughout those times i moved w/an authentic intent, finding a
reciprocity, a mutual respect that accompanies the unconscious (or
conscious) recognition of some 1 sharing their true self - something deep
w/N saying = "this isn't 1 of the culturally cordonned masks"... &
everywhere i went i found others moving w/the same intent - living off the
streets, wk'n small jobs, go'n 2 school; these aspects B'n secondary 2 who
they R... it's the relation 2 themselves & 2 those N their communities
which took precedence= what nurtured them on their paths... & not 1 was
perfect, & had no intention 2B, but they were true 2 themselves N
nurturing who they wished 2 become - not some prescribed mold produced by
another... w/that - the recognition of material objects B'n non-permanent
translated N2 a free sharing or gifting of whatever i happen 2 possess N
the moment 2 fullfill a need U're experiencing rt now (eg.- i'm not going
2 have this pouch of tobacco 4ever; there R numerous ways of acquiring
more; & if U don't have any & would like some= why wouldn't i help a
member of my community?)... these folx came 2gether as long as it nurtured
each individually; communicating their persynal & social needs & wishes
w/the group - moving towards the benefit of the whole, &
there4themselves... i've seen & experienced these grps last for hrs, days,
weeks, months, yrs; when pple felt they were no longer nurtured or out
grew what the grp was providing, most left w/out animosities & usually
w/friendships lasting a lifetime... 2 me, a paramount aspect of
authenticity is B'n authentic w/myself & recognizing my shadow as a
necessary part of who i am (how can i watch out 4 my shortcomings &
negative tendencies if i don't know what they R?); it's also helped 2B
aware that others share N the wounds inflicted by B'n of this culture,
regardless of the nitches they currently find themselves w/N... ... this
same trauma some structures use 2 keep folx fearful of the unknown, afraid
of others, scared of change, worried for the future, & thereby reacting N
ways which maintain the culture... any relation that doesn't bring about
those results must B demonized - thus, the "crazy bomb throwing anarchist"
motif... what better way 2 dissuade the exploration of ideas than 2
portray those associated w/them as lunatics, dreamers out of touch w/how
the world really works... somehow i survived the indoctrination of
schooling up 2 college, worked a couple of careers until i saw what i
would become N those B4 me, then it took 1 more indoctrination bout w/the
intent of teaching 2 finally C this culture beyond the veils of comfort,
medication, & socialization... i came 2 recognize the cultural tools
provided 4 me - manipulation, coercion, chauvinism, kill or B killed, walk
on those below U, destroy all competition – as B'n socio-pathic (defined
as traits which kill healthy, nurturing communities); & after that point
of reference was acquired, there was only 1 remaining action= the
choice... ... ...