Free on the 4th of July.

Happy 4th of July to everyone!

This is my very first official blog report at WasObamaBornInKenya.com/blog.   I want to thank Bruce Steadman of Georgia for making this blog possible.

I’m immensely grateful to be free on the 4th of July, 2011.   As many of you may now I was picked up, arrested, in Tucson, Arizona, on the 20th day of May, 2011, shortly before I was to board an airplane to the land of paradise.

I was picked up for an outstanding arrest warrant from Cedar Rapids, Iowa.  The charge: 2nd Degree Theft, which is a class D felony in Iowa and carries a 5 year, a nickel, prison sentence in that state of Iowa.   Prisoners serving 5 years in Iowa are eligible are for parole after 8 months.   However, the last time that I served a 5 year prison sentence in Iowa I served about 3 years (January 27, 2000 thru December 25, 2002) and was then discharged from any and all state custody, i.e., no parole, no halfway house, no supervision of any sort.

Now more than 10 years later (never been back to prison) I am now accused of allegedly making an illegal banking transaction in the amount of approximately $3000.00 between my Bank of America account and my US Bank account.   Said alleged transaction allegedly occurred in August of 2010.   I’m innocent and this criminal case in an attempt to punitively silence me and quash, suppress, reject as invalid and put an end to my account of having personally obtained a 2009 certified copy of Barack Hussein Obama II’s 1961 British Protectorate of Kenya, Mombasa, Coast Province General Hospital (CPGH) orginal birth record.   The federal government has been meddling in my affairs as far back as April or May 2010.   The federal government is instructing and orchestrating the city and state police in Iowa in an attempt to silence Lucas Daniel Smith.

After being picked up in Tucson, Arizona I was held in the Pima County Jail as a fugitive from justice for not only an outstanding 2010 felony warrant from Iowa for larceny (theft) but also an outstanding 2010 warrant from the state of Florida which popped up sometime withing 24 hours of me being booked into the Pima County Jail.

About a week later, on the 26th day of May, I attended an extradition hearing for the warrant from Florida.   I had the choice of picking which state, Iowa or Florida, that I would like to deal with first.  I chose Florida.  At the hearing I immediately waived my right to challenge extradition.  Within 5 minutes the county attorney literally ripped the signed waiver into 4 separate pieces, in the courtroom, and informed the Court that the state of Florida will not extradite.

Another 5 days passed and I was brought before the Court again, on the 31st day of May, this time for the warrant from Iowa.   Again I signed a waiver of my right to challenge extradition.  The Judge stated that the state of Iowa had 30 days to come for me or to send an authorized agent for me.  The Judge set another hearing for the 28th day of June.   If I was still around for that hearing I was then, supposedly, to be released.  I didn’t believe that for a moment.  The Courts have all sorts of ‘exceptions’ to the rules and I’m confident that the state of Iowa would have asked for a time extension and that the state of Arizona would have granted the extension.

Jail in Tucson, Arizona is a nice place.  Or at least the unit that I was housed in was very nice.   I was housed in the 2 F & G unit.  That unit held 200 inmates.  Most were Mexicans.  Many from Mexico and some born in the USA.   I got along with everyone very well.   The unit was a huge and wide open, two tiers and segmented into 8 sub-units which each held 25 inmates.   The day-room was gimongous for a county jail and the ceilings were perhaps 100 or so feet in height.  The on-roof yard with open air ceiling was accessible nearly all day as was the day-room.  The food was great and the canteen/commissary was was even better.

As with most jails, prison and penitentiaries there was at least one tremendously beautiful, and relatively young, female corrections officer that worked one of the 8 hour shifts.  In the Pima County Jail it was a 25 years old Hawaiian girl with the last name of Jenkins.  She worked the night shift, 10:00 PM thru 6:00 AM, and if you wanted to talk with her you had to wait up until midnight for her to start making her rounds which occurred every 15 minutes.  It was worth waiting up for.

As I have often noticed in jails and prison, the more beautiful of the female corrections officers all tend to enjoy talking with some types of prisoners.  Its often the physically ugly female corrections officers that have unpleasant attitudes and reckless eyeballing could garner yourself a ticket for some sexual violation.  In truth, the physically ugly female corrections officers wear (not literally) those disciplinary tickets as badges or strips in an attempt to build self esteem and to let others know that, yes, even though they are hideous cows, that yes, some poor retched and sexually deprived sole who was/is languishing away in jail, prison or penitentiary was/is eyeballing her with sexual lust in his eyes.

At any rate, the 2 F & G unit jail in Tucson, Arizona was a very nice jail.   I almost didn’t want to leave. (joking).  The jail even had email.

Then, about 3 1/2 weeks after being booked into the Pima County Jail, the inevitable occurred.  My name was called and I was told to pack-up.   It was time to go, again after years away, to that scum-bucket of jail back in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, the ‘Linn County Correctional Center’.   The Linn County Correctional Center (a jail) is located on an island in the middle of the beautiful Cedar River which is located in the ever expanding, growing and residential-neighborhood-eating downtown Cedar Rapids, Iowa.

At any rate, back in Tucson, Arizona, the dreadful day had arrived.  Sometime around 9:00 AM on the 13 day of June, 2o11.   The hired ‘gumps’ (hired by the state of Iowa) from the North Atlantic Extradition Service (based in Columbus, Mississippi) had arrived to transport me from Tucson, Arizona to Cedar Rapids, Iowa.

The North Atlantic Extradition Service sent two white gumps (forgive me and believe me at the same time that there is not a more accurate word) of Mississippi origin.  One was a skinny gump and the other was a slightly chubby gump.   They drove a not new Ford Expedition SUV.   When they put me in the SUV I note that there was another prisoner inside that they’d just picked of from the federal Tucson United States Penitentiary.   He was a Mexican, from Mexico.   I learned, from him, that he’d just served 5 years flat, the whole 5 years, and that he was now being extradited to Amarillo, Texas for some small minor law violation (60 day sentence that had to be served) before he could be deported back to Mexico via I.C.E.

At that point I felt fairly optimistic in that Texas was in the general direction to get to Iowa.  I also liked having another Spanish speaker around, especially one that wasn’t born in the USA.

However, I soon began to learn that there was nothing to feel optimistic about regarding this trip.   We set out for some unknown destination.   The gumps were not allowed to tell us where we were going because, of course, we prisoners that couldn’t even afford to pay bond might just have enough money and connections to send out telepathic messages to our grand criminal empires and from there set up elaborate prison-break schemes which would undoubtedly occur on some stretch of lonely and desolate US Highway.

At any rate, we arrived in North Las Vegas police department jail (not the county jail) sometime before sundown on the same day of Monday the 13th day of June.   The Mexican from Mexico and I got lucky and we were able to relieve ourselves, i.e., urinate, in the a police-jail bathroom facility.   The two white gumps that could barely speak a language that sounded like English (even the Korean cop at the North Las Vegas jail was laughing, blatantly, at way that the gumps were talking) proceeded to take into custody an approximately 45 year old, very tall, black American male that was to be extradited to Little Rock, Arkansas.

I’ve been around enough prisoners in my life time to size most of them up very quickly.  I could tell that guy was a drug addict who usually might not get too much respect from other black prisoners.  However, faced with two white gumps,  a Mexican from Mexico, and a strange white guy named Lucas Daniel Smith, I was pretty sure that he’d think we were all dummies and he’d try to pretend to be a cool and tough black American guy.

Then we were off to a place that I later ascertained, after we arrived there, to be San Bernadino county, California.  We it was about 10:30 at night on the same day.   We picked up a short white male that was one year younger than I (he was 30 and born in 1981).  His names was Johnny Wagner.  He was headed for the state of Kentucky on a parole violation.   This short white male was tattooed from the waist up, all the way to the top of his head.   He stated that he’d been in prison in both California and Kentucky for most of his adult life.   He appeared to have Spanish language prison gang tattoos on him.   I checked too see if he spoke Spanish and found that he did not.   He talked a lot about prison, parole and prison politics and race relations in prison and of the prison law library.  He also talked a lot of about his girlfriend.   Note:  I, Lucas D. Smith, learned, at a very young age, to never talk or think about girlfriends/fiance/wife while in jail/prison.  There is no point.  You can’t control a woman’s actions while you are behind the walls of jail and prison.  The best thing that you can do is set them free.  You can find them, any everyone else, still on the earth, when you are released and then you can take things from there.   No crying in jail.  At any rate, I came to like this Johnny Wagner guy.  Perhaps he and I can bring some sort of litigation against the North Atlantic Extradition Service.

From there we were off to Bakersfield, California.   We arrived after 2:00 AM the next day which was Tuesday the 14th of June.  We picked up a very young, very short, and very talkative black (actually bi-racial) man that was heading to Detroit.  We also took aboard a slow-minded young white guy that appeared to have burnt more than half of his brain cells away on various narcotics.   I started to call him ‘Wikipedia’ because he appeared to be one of those guys that had an answer to everything and had done everything that anyone brought up in conversation.  He’d even cut in and correct you about things that you already had a complete understanding of.  He even liked to tell me all about jail and the prison penal system in Iowa, in great detail, because he’d once been picked up in a stolen car in some small town in Iowa and went onto spend several days in the little 10 man jail.   It seemed that every other town we passed he’d already been there and knew data such as the population and the main food staple in that area.   The young and short black kid from Detroit was a loud talker but I soon ascertained that this young man that was playing the wannabe gangster role was really a deep thinker and might be termed as eccentric.   At some point I started calling him Wikipedia just like the other young guy.  However, I soon realized that this young man from Detroit was not like the other Wikepedia kid.   This little black bi-racial kid, named Justin, (I think 20 years old) was an young intellectual black kid that was fighting against two selves of himself on the inside.   It’s like the sort of black person that feels an obligation to be hood or black.   Yet on the inside they know that they are more of an intellectual and that some of the actions that they feel compelled to act out really are not wise yet they feel compelled to do so.   I’ve known some other people like that.  Although most of them didn’t reach that stage until late 20s or early 30s after they’d had a chance to go back to school and move away to better areas of living.   At any rate, the young Detroit black kid was being extradited back to Detroit for a 3 different armed robbery charges and also a gun case.   Each time he told the story it would change.  And later, much later, when we arrived in Mississippi, it changed a whole lot more.   I’m confident that those were his real charges but I believe that it wasn’t a well thought out crime.  What I would term as a gutter crime which the Courts will, and with justification, send you away for many years even if its your first offense and even if you are only 18 years old.   I guess one thing that hes got going for him is that his case(s) is/are in Detroit and with such cities, Chicago included, you can sometimes get lost in the Court system while sitting in jail for one, two and sometimes more years fighting those sort of serious robbery and homicide cases and by the time you get to Court the witnesses are long gone or cant be tracked down, evidence is misplaced in the police property room and can’t be found, and eventually you are set free.   I’ve seen it happen before, even for murder.

Before we left the jail in Bakersfield, California we all took turns urinating in a jail cell there.

We set off again and were back on the road before 4:00 AM.   To my shock we were now heading BACK TO TUCSON!   I’m a guy that considers himself to be very in control of his physical actions as well as mental and emotional states.   Inside I felt a tremendous disgust for the two gumps that tried to pass themselves off as human beings.   Why did they drag me on this unnecessary road trip?  I’d been holding my urine and brown-bowl movements throughout the day and chocking half-to-death on the second hand smoke that these two barely human figures sucked down like vacuums throughout the day, night and morning.   Why did they pick me up from Tucson when they were going back to Tucson?   They still had another two weeks (the 30 days to come get me didn’t start counting down until May 31st when I signed the extradition waiver) to come to get me so there wasn’t an imperative time demand.

We drove, or really I ‘road’, through the remainder of the dark night/morning and into the sunny and burning morning in desolate southwest America.   To my near disbelief I overheard, as everyone else did, the two gumps talk about breaking, and also literally breaking, a slew of laws.   We passed a car in which the driver smoking appeared to be marijuana.   The chubby gump then stated that he driver should pass him that marijuana so that he could smoke it himself.   Every car that we passed that contained young women that were at least not ugly enough to make your private parts shrink we found that both of the gumps were drooling at the mouth and talking very sexually about these young women.   I was shocked when I heard the chubby gump elaborate about what he would do with the young blond ‘jail bait’ (she appeared to under the legal age) that we passed on the highway.   The gumps also violated, flagrantly, the speed limits.   The Ford Expedition was topping out at speeds of near 100 miles per hours.   All the while I was choking half to death on their grotesco (sic) second hand cigarette smoke and holding back my urine.

We ate 3 times a day, always McDonald’s (a fast food place that I despise).  The morning was a sausage biscuit (no egg) with a free small ice water.  Lunch was a dollar menu hamburger with a small fry and a free small ice water.  When the other prisoners complained about the meager rations they were told, by the gumps, that it was a government calorie law.   Right at the point I knew right away that anything that these gumps told us from here on out was going to be bull-crap.   It was the tired and same old line that prisoners have heard for years.  It’s either company policy or government regulation.   In truth, those are just two lines that a correctional officer will use when they have no idea what the answer to the question really is.   I felt like asking about they government regulation regarding second hand smoke in a van full of state prisoners, talk of sex with underage women, talk of smoking marijuana, transporting prisoners on federal roads at nearly 100 miles per hour and making and telling us that if they want they can make us hold our urine for 24 hours or pee in a McDonald’s small free water cup.   I also note here for the record that only one of the gump carried a side arm.   I also note that these two gumps stated, when asked, that they didn’t make very much money.  Something about $60 per day plus $75 perdiem per day.   They stated they went on the road for 10 day at a time and only got 3 days in between trips when back in Mississippi.   They both stated that the had wives.   I thought to myself that either there aren’t many jobs in Mississippi or that these two gumps were about number 299,999,998 on list of the top most intelligent human like people in the United State of America.    They also stated that when they take a night off on the road that they pool their money together for a motel room.    I also noticed that everywhere we stopped for gas that the chubby gump would invariably buy a memento state key-chain for his wife.  (She’s hard to please).   And the other gump, the skinny gump, would buy items like truck-stop hunting knives with price tags of $15 to $20 dollars.   It was at the point that that I really and truly knew that either that movie starring Nicole Kidman, The Invasion, was really possible but this time with an alien species that was not as intelligent as humans or that these two guys were each really and truly the epitome of a gump.   Buy all the truck-stop hunting knives you can get you hands on but just make sure to share a motel room with your gay (no disrespect to the rainbow community) gump extradition partner and wash his back in the shower that you share in the morning, if you really do take showers at all.

The two gumps booked me (and the others) back into the Pima County Jail in Tucson, Arizona.   The gumps told us that they would be back the next day at about noon to 1 PM.  I already knew that they were lying but I didn’t waste my breath to say anything.    This time I didn’t get the cool 2 F & G unit at the jail.   No cute female Hawaiian corrections officers to tuck me into my bunk and whisper sweet words in my ear.  Nope, this time I was booked in as a dangerous prisoner transport and I had to got to the ‘hole’ (solitary?,  two inmates in a cell 24 hours a day doesn’t fit the definition of ‘solitary’ to me).   So, they stick me in the hole with none other than the approximately 45 year old black American drug addict from Little Rock, Arkansas.   Turned out that this guy was semi-somewhat, of an intellectual and I got the opportunity to discuss politics (which is never a good idea anywhere) and soon we were talking about Obama and his eligibility/ineligibility.   I noticed that, compared to other areas of politics that we discussed, that he took anything about Barack Obama more to heart.   I stated to him that he was taking points about Obama in a personal way as if it were an attack on black Americans.   He then stated that he wasn’t.    As is common with certain people there was no way of winning any debate with this guy.   Not because he’s good but rather he’ll just say anything.  One favorable aspect of our debate and talks was that this guy possessed the ability to not get too emotional.   In other word, we didn’t have to physically fight each other.

So we all sat in the ‘hole’ for two more days until Thursday the 16th day of June 2011.   It was maybe 2:00 PM when the word came that we were to pack-up and that the NAES (North Atlantic Extradition Service) was here for us.

This time we found two relatively young black Americans male extradition employees from Mississippi waiting for us downstairs in the sally port.   One was named Bishop and the other I’m not exactly sure but I refer to him as gold teeth skinny version of rapper Rick Ross look alike.    They drove a large van with three rows of back seats.  Just as before we prisoners were handcuffed and the cuffs were connected to a chain that was padlock round our waist and then we were  leg shackled.  Then we were chained to each other in groups of three.

To my utter delight (not!) I ascertained, somewhat against ‘company policy’, that we were headed back to…California!    I was so very happy to make another out-of-the-way trip!   The only thing that I could imagine topping such a valued road-trip would be the possibility of then, after this trip, driving back Tucson, Arizona and then being booked into the same jail for a third time.   But then I thought to myself, no, that would never happen because that doesn’t make sense…

So we were off again.  I didn’t even get to see the beautiful corrections officer Jenkins before I left!   But then I thought to myself, don’t worry, you can just look her up on Facebook in 5 years when you get of prison!  But then I remembered that I never use Facebook because I’m not into online social networks!

This time, after a long never ending and urine holding ride, we ended up in Riverside, California or maybe it was Riverside County.  Somewhere in California.  We picked up another guy, middle-aged, that was heading to Amarillo, Texas.   We now had two guys that were going to Amarillo.

These two black American extradition officers were in someways better than the two white American gumps that we had before.   These two black Americans turned on the radio to urban music station, which I enjoyed.   The two white gumps wouldn’t even turn the radio on and said it was something about company policy.   The gold tooth skinny version of rapper Rick Ross look alike even feed us cheeseburgers as opposed the company policy or government regulation calorie diet of regular hamburger.

I soon ascertained that extradition officer gold tooth was quite the speeder on the highway.  We often heard, and felt, the ‘governor’ kicking in as we did a steady 94,95,96,97,94,95,96, 97, et cetera down the US and State Highways.

I learned that the other black American, Bishop, was a respectful guy that didn’t let his job, and the many insults from prisoners, get to him.  I really liked that.   Its sort of like myslef, I don’t care what a prison or jail correctional officer says to me; they could make the most cruel and vile remark about me or my family and I wouldn’t even blink.  Whats the point?  I cant touch (unless I want to spend many years in prison) so whats the point of any sort of a reaction?  I let stuff like that enter my brain like I let my radio signals enter my brain, i.e., without even noticing or caring.   At any rate Bishop was reserved, somewhat quite and never disrespectful.  Please don’t misconstrue those depictions and descriptions as implying weakness or timidness.  Nothing of the sort.   He was also a guy that didn’t like to drive fast.  I think his average speed was maybe 54 to 59 miles per hours.   His only problem was that he, like all the Mississippi extradition employees, was always smoking and helping cut down my lifespan with second hand cancer causing cigarette smoke.

Friday the 17th day of June 2011.   We make a stop in I believe Ely, Nevada.  We pick up a white make, age 22.   He said he was heading to Philadelphia although later it comes out that he’s heading for a county jail that it just outside of the county limits in which Philadelphia is located.  He also said that he’d been to prison in Pennsylvania for a misdemeanor and served 11.5 months but later is comes out that he served the 11.5 months in the county jail which, again, is not the same county that the city of Philadelphia is located in.

Somehow and at some point, I believe it was Saturday, we reached the state Colorado.   We passed through the town of Aspen.  I remember we stopped at some random jail so that we could all relive ourselves of urine and brown bowl movement.   The thing about this jail that stood out to me was that there was a big sign in the jail that said something about it being a felony if any arrestee enters into the jail with concealed weapons or drugs.  The sign itself was somewhat typical but it was the spelling of marijuana that caught my attention.   They spelled it marihauana.   I’ve never been into drugs so I don’t know, maybe that’s another Americanized spelling of a Spanish word.  It struck me as odd though.  It sort of made me feel that state of Colorado was saying, hey, this is America and were not going to have any of that Mexican language stuff here.  Not that I really care.   It caught my attention is all.

After a bathroom break we drove on and sometime later, much later, with a lot of urine in me, we started to ascend or climb a mountain.   This was sometime long after almost running out gas and barely coasting into a gas station.   We found ourselves on an old gravel mining road.   As we climbed higher the road became dangerously pot-hole filed and narrow and the edge of the road was a precipice that drops steeply down to what appears to be 500 to 800 feet, and sometimes more, deeping on what curve or ledge that we were on.   The enitre time I was choking on the cigarette smoke from gold toothed and thick bearded and always sunglassed Rick Ross look alike as he drove with one hand.   At this point I felt somewhat confident that my life was in serious jeopardy.  If the vans tires slid on the gravel or if old gold tooth dropped his cigarette or his sunglasses fogged up or if he reached up to scratch his Rick Ross beard we are all surely become dead men.

Finally we encounter some people driving rented jeeps which display some marking about touring old mine ruins (shantytowns, strange structures, narrow errie roads and the mountain view).

I forget to mention the many, many signs posted along the road states DANGER. NATURAL GAS.  NO SMOKING!     Those warnings didn’t deter old (actually young) gold toothed Rick Ross and his partner Bishop. They continued to shed minutes and hours off of my life via their second hand smoke as I read and reread the many danger warning signs and thought to myself that I wished I was back in the Tucson Pima County jail waiting with my blankey and pillow at the very front of my bunk (along with 5 other Mexicans from Mexico and 3 Mexicans from the USA) for the beautiful Hawaiian CO (corrections officer) Jenkins to start her rounds for the night.

After more than an hour of harrowing mountain climbing and narrowly escaping death several times we arrive in at an old/new town, high in or somewhere in the mountains, named Central City, Colorado.   It was a mix of really old and neat looking structures with adjacent casinos and even a semi-highrise building which consisted of a single Casino.   Unfortunately, we had to keep climbling the mountain to a jail in ‘Blackhawk’ or ‘Black Hawk’.    The jail turned out to be very nice.

I’m going to truncate the story a bit now.   I didn’t foresee this blog report strecthing out to such the great length that it already has.

We stayed overnight in Black Hawk or Central City or whatever it is really called.  The two black American extradition employees came back for us around noon the next day.

Mysteriously we didn’t have to take the crazy dangerous mining road to leave.   We risked death the day before because gold tooth beard face with sunglasses and Bishop went up the deathly road probably by mistake.

We drive on to Colorado Springs and pick up a Mexican that was born in Texas 5 miles from the Mexican border that has served, in the US Army, two tours in Iraq that is now wanted for a warrant in San Antonio, Texas.   He speaks good Spanish and I like him.

We drove on through lots and lots of places and states as I held my piss and tried not to smell all the pee-filled McDonald cups that were wedged into wedgable spots in the human crago resepticle of the van.

After driving nights and days around in strange paterns we reached Amarillo, Texas.   We dropped off the two prisoners that were going to Amarillo.  One of the prisoners was the Mexican from Mexico who was the first man on the first vehicle from day one when I first started this strange roadtrip.   Cuidate mi hermano y buena suerte con todo!

I forgot to mention that for sometime now that the old gold toothed Rick Ross look alike extradition officer had been taking his job way too personally lately.  Some of the prisoners were upset about the mining road, the smoking, the speeding and a slew of other crazy and dangerous atributes of the road-trip such as almost running out of gas more than once, texting while driving, listening to iPod-like device with headphones (both ears) while driving, passing in no passing zones, almost falling asleep several times at night while driving, near accidents and so on.

Gold tooth beard face Rick Ross has cut back our cheesebuger ration to plain hambugers (meat and bun only) and free water cup.  Gold tooth started some ramble about how he’s not going top take anymore of the disrespectful talk and that, in other words, he is really one bad gangster killer from the deep south, i.e., Mississippi, and that he would be handling this situation in a more gangster like way if this wasn’t his job.   I was thinking then to myself that this guy needs to get a different job.  You can’t work a job such as this one if you can’t check you emotions when you put on your uniform.    This sort of job is not abouting caring what transport prisoners think of you personally.   The job is about transporting human cargo, keeping them safe and making sure that they don’t escape.

After we dropped off the two prisoners in Amarillo, Texas and we all drained our bladders, emptied our colons and checked each other prostates (not!).  We came back out to the sally port to board the Mississippi bird van and found that old (young) gold tooth was having a mental breakdown and he started chaining a prisoner (appoximately 45 year old black guy going to Little Rock) to the floor of the van so that he can’t move at all.   Gold tooth then said that from here on out some of us are only eating bread.  He showed us a loaf of smashed white bread in the back of the van.

Gold tooth loaded us in the Mississippi bird van, turned the ignition and just barely got out of the gates of the sally port before the van engine died.   The van wouldn’t start again now.   It appeared that there was a fuel pump or filter problem.   Gold tooth decided that he can fix things by checking the oil.   That didn’t work.

We sat in the bird van for an hour or so.  It was nice because there was refreshing and vitalizing breeze and officer Bishop opened all the doors for us  so we could take it all in.   Gold tooth finally said that we have to check into the jail for a few hours while a mechanic comes out to fix the bird wagon.  I already knew whats was coming.  A couple of days locked down in the Texas jail.

The jail accepted us.   They didn’t want to at all but they reluctantly did so.   They hated, not disliked, but rather hated, us.  They decide to rename me Luke as opposed to Lucas.   They gave me a birthdate of 1982 rather than 1980.  They turn the 45 year old black guy into a white guy.  Et cetera.   Not making this stuff up.   Call they jail if you want to verify.

The jail then stuck us in the medical until.    We satthere in a cell, all together, for two days and two nights.   The nurse that maked her rounds and told us that we don’t exsist so don’t even dare try to comminucate with her.

Two days later old (young) officer gold tooth and officer Bishop come for us.   We were are all happy to get back on the road.

Gold teeth started feeding us cheeseburgers again.   We still risked death everyday on the road though.

We drove and drove and drove.  Nights and days.  We made a lot of wrong turns and drove in the wrong directions.

Then the near revolt occured!   The gump extradition (NAES) headquarters called up officer gold tooth and instructed him that we must turn around and go back to Califonia to pick up more prisoners.   Sensing a revolt old gold teeth Rick Ross beard face with sunglasses told his boss HELL NO!    Gold tooth scored a point with the prisoners for that one!

We drove on.   Finally, 50 pee-cups later we reached Little Rock.   The county jail looked like a prison.  The city looked like a bunch of farm houses in a city.   Its was like four in the morning and I was a little upset that we aren’t driving through in the daytime because I’d really like to see all the pretty girls with nice bottoms walking around showing them off but, unfortunately, at 4:00 in the morning we didn’t see none of that.  As a matter of fact, 4:00 AM is thetime, in the whole country, that cops like to arrest people in extremely dangerous neighborhoods because its the only time that they feel safe walking into extremely dangerous neighborhoods.  So I noticed some cops, thats about it.   Diablo!  Maybe next time.

We now had a little leg room in the van and I stretched out my legs.   Previously young officer gold tooth and officer Bishop had forgotten to shackle my legs for most of Texas so I road with a little more comfort.  However, they didn’t forget this time and now the shackles were digging in and my socks is stuck to my leg because all the blood came out of my leg and now my sock was crunchy and glued to my legs.   There was a steemy pee-cup on the floor too that I was trying not to knock over but at this point I didn’t really care much about  it either way.

We drove on and risk death every hours for a lot of hours.    I note here for the record that escape from this extradition van would have been very easy.   The back window does not have metal bars over it.   The outside sliding latch (something they bought at a local hardwar store) does not have a lock on it and the window opens.   The welded ‘gate’ inside the back of the van pushed over with the weight of the back of my head.   Every aspect of ‘security’ in the van is ramshackle and I’m seriously surprised that I don’t see duck tape holding gates in place.   Officer gold tooth doesn’t carry a gun because he says he will not carry a gun.   Officer Bishop says that there is no way in the world that he would shoot anyone unless they were trying to kill him.   Every single jail we’ve been to didn’t take either of these guy seriously and I doubt that the police would take serious a report of escape if either one of them called it in.  As a matter of fact the police would probably run gold tooth’s name and make sure that he wasn’t a prisoner trying to pass as an extradition officer.

We finally reached West Point, Mississippi which is located in Clay County.   When we drove through the courtyard of the jail it made me think of the movie Nothing but Touble with Chevy Chase, Dan Ackroyd and Demi Moore.   The place looked like an actual junk yard.  County jail inmates were outside smoking cigaretts and welding pieces of metal onto the jail walls.

We all went inside and every phone that I saw was busted in half.   The wall of the first holding cell have dark mold everywhere.   The lady correctional officer that booked me in asked me medical questions and I told her that I only have one kidney.   She then spelled kidney as KINDNNEY.   She spelled more than 10 % of all the other words incorrectly and then asked me for help in spelling other words.    I then overheard the Iraq War veteran prisoner being booked in by another officer.  The prisoner said that he has Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.   The officer then asked another officer if they ‘got any Post Traumatic Stress Disorder medicine laying around here’.   He then asked the prisoner just what exactly is ‘Post Traumatic Stress Disorder’.

They gave me a jail matress and blanket and lead me down a long hallway that looked like something from the movie The Green Mile.   When I got to my cell I could barely beleive my eyes.   It looked like something that existed during slavery days.   Trash and mold was everywhere.   Heaps and heaps of trash and dirty rags.   The shower was incased in a thick goop.   There were metal ramshackle bunks, or 6 racks.  The floor was grotesco and the slime appeared to be soaked all the way through  the concrete.  There was a small phone on the wall that was broke in half with wires hanging out.  There was a makeshift clothing line tied to the  broken phone box to a bunk.  There was even garbage stuck all over on the ceiling.   There were burn marks on the walls and the bunks.  This place had been on fire before.   I then smelled cigarette smoke.  This county jail allowed inmates to have lighters and matches and cigarettes.  The jail did not give us hygeine products.  I saw an old toothbrush on the floor (along with bowl movements and other liquids and trash).   The toothbrush looked like something you’d clean metal with.  I was sort of ok with not having a toothbrush after that.   The 5 other prisoners in the room told me that they’d not been showering because of the state of disrepair of the shower.   The bunks were filthy and shank.   There was nothing that could be done about it other than to just lie down in it.  A man can only stand up so long before he falls asleep.  The other prisoners, one had been there for about a week, had been asking for cleaning supplies and hygeine products and towels from the outset.  All that the corrections officers would say is ‘ok’ and then they never return.   Officers didn’t even look through the tiny, and very dirty, window on each cell that held 6 prisoners each.   Anyone could have died and no one would have known.   The place smelled like a gaint armpit.  I’ve never experienced a jail or prison like that place in entire life.

One prisoner down the range was sceaming, for 3 days, that he was going to kill himself.   The corrections officers just kept saying, ‘ok’.

Medical needs of other prisoners were neglected.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen worse cases of elephant feet and elephant leg in my life.   It looked like some people’s feet were so cracked and dried that you could reach down and break off inch thick chunks of heal.

No phones call, no mail, no attorney contact.

A prisoner escaped by going under (not over) the fence in the jail yard.  He was gone little more than a couple days and then came back, on his own accord, to the jail.   The prisoner stated that he just wanted a couple days off.    That is not a joke.   That really happened that week.   Amonty Young, 24 years old, escaped on the 17th day of June 2011.

In the year 2001 and 2002 (June thru June) I once spent an entire year in the ‘hole’ at the Newton Correctional Facility (medium site) in Iowa during a 5 year prison sentence and I’ve been to a couple dirty jails but never in my life have I seen anything that comes close to the human rights violations that take place in present day Clay County, West Point, Mississippi.

On Friday night, the 24th of June, a corrections officer came to cell and screamed through it asking if there was Lucas Smith in there.  The window was so beat up that she couldn’t see anything through it.   I said, ‘Yes’.   She said that I was leaving.   I was certainly ready!   I was much luckier than the other guy that was still waiting for more than 10 days for his name to be called.   Another guy in another cell I talked to had been waiting 22 days.

To my surprise it was none other than officer Gold tooth beard face rapper Rick Ross look alike that was there waiting for me (and 4 other guys and one lady)!

This time he had a different van.

One note about the vans and trucks that North Atlantic Extradition Service runs.   If you take a look at their website, http://northatlanticextradition.com/Home_Page.php , you’ll see that they advertise pictures of the inside, or interior, of some of their extradtion vehicles.  FAKE.   I saw scores and scores or their real vans pulling in and out  West Point, Mississippi eveyday and all day through my cell window.   I’ve yet to see a ‘secure van’.    Their vans are ramshackle and have all sorts of amatuer welding jobs and none of it would stop even the smallest man from pushing his way out of the van especially when the officers routinely forget to shackle prisoners and also due to the ability of a good number of prisoners being able to slip out hand cuff.   Slipping out of hand cuffs is quite common and not at all a rarity.

If you do a Google search of “North Atlantic Extradition Service escape” you’ll find lots of stories about escapes from the vans.  You’ll even find stories of prisoners attacking the drivers and forcing their way out of the van.  You’ll find stories of the drivers leaving the vans unattended and returning to a van that is ligther (i.e., short a prisoner or more) than it was when they left it.

At any rate, officer gold tooth was back!   I was happy to see him!   Because I was ready to finally get back on the road.

There was one pleasant suprise that night though.  Officer Bishop was not tagging along with officer gold tooth…this time officer gold teeth had a young female partner.   Note: neither of them carried guns either.   The female officer appeared to maybe be mid-twenties (I didn’t ask) and she was a black American.   She had a mohawk hairdo.  She was significantly beautiful and I don’t just say that through ‘jail eyes’, i.e., lack of regular day to day interaction with women.    She was beautiful and she possessed a tempting and luring southern voice.    Her mohawk was in the style of the model Keyshia Dior.  Keyshia Dior (of Miami) ushered the mohawk style in back in 2009 with her appearance in a video entitled ‘Say Something’ by Drake and Timberland.   Since then I have noticed a good number of black American women and girls wearing mohawk hairdos.

The drive from Missississippi was, suprisingly, somewhat direct.   We made some stops in the Illinois and Missouri to pick up and drop off.    Unfortunately,  the beautiful black American girl with the mohawk hairdo was a cigarette smoker just like the rest of those Mississippi extradtion people!   Lastly, though I’m sort of pleased with this, the sexy black mohawk girl was by far the fastest driver of them all!   This large maroon colored van had four rows of seats in the back.   It was the largest van I’d seen yet.   It took us a little less than 24 hours to reach the Linn County Correctional Center in Cedar Rapids, Iowa.   It was raining for a good part of the road-trip but the hottie mohawk girl was driving at speeds of over 100 miles per hour.  I assumed that this particular van did not have a governor or that the governor wasn’t working properly.

The pretty black American mohawk girl was also very nice.  She even gave us jelly for our sausage biscuts in the morning and ketchup for our fries at lunch.   As a mater of fact she gave me two strawberry jellies for my sausage biscut.  I think that I had more jelly than I did sausage biscut.  The way that she said the word ‘jelly’ was enough to hynotize any and all hetrosexual men in her persence!

You may well already know the rest of the story but here it is:

Lucas Daniel Smith arrived at the island where the Linn County Correction Center sits in Cedar Rapids, Iowa on the evening of the 25th day of June 2011.

A mere matter of hours later Lucas Daniel Smith attended the morning court hearing for first appearance and the Honorable Judge Casey Jones released Lucas Daniel Smith on his own recognizance on the morning of the 26th day of June 2011, a Sunday!

A special thanks to Bruce Steadman of Georgia and Sean Boyer of Pennslyvania who both were prepared to bond me out of jail if I had not been released on my own recognizance.

Happy Independence Day 2011!

Respectfully,

Lucas Daniel Smith