Mossberg M590, parkerized, ghost-ring sights, speedfeed stock, M7 bayonet, #P463244
Reproduction 1851 Colt percussion revolver - no serial number recorded
Reproduction 1861 Colt percussion revolver - no serial number recorded
Reproduction Remington New Army percussion revolver, #E44229
Reproduction Colt 3rd Dragoon percussion revolver, #A37194 (recovered incomplete and damaged 22 March 2006)
Russian SKS, w/(4) 30rnd & (1) 10rnd "long-nose" or "duckbill" magazines, #CN1495K/9918976
I left at about 4:30 this morning for work, and Mr. Troublesome's car was still here. It's gone now. I did a little shopping after depositing my paycheck and got back around a quarter past 5. The screen on the front window was displaced and the kitchen light was on... and the door was unlocked.
Inside, stuff was strewn everywhere.
Known missing so far are:
Ruger GP100, 4" stainless, adjustable sights, #173-68107
Mossberg M590, parkerized, ghost-ring sights, speedfeed stock, M7 bayonet, #P463244
Reproduction 1851 Colt percussion revolver - no serial number recorded
Reproduction 1861 Colt percussion revolver - no serial number recorded
Reproduction Remington New Army percussion revolver, #E44229
Reproduction Colt 3rd Dragoon percussion revolver, #A37194
Previously-unregistered Russian SKS, w/(4) 30-round & (1) 10-round "long-nose" or "duckbill" magazines, #CN1495K/9918976
A clock fell from its precarious perch on the defunct thermostat dial, and stopped at about 7:07. Checking with Veteran neighbor, he left at his usual time of 6:30am and got back before 4pm.
Fuji's all right. They left the computer (obviously), the crummy old TV, the low-end DVD and VCR, the Dremel kit, most if not all the ammunition, apparently all the reloading stuff, and, fortunately, sis' birthday gift to me, the digital camera, which I put right to work. (No, I'm not going to ‘blog the pictures. The place was a mess before this.) The ignorant doofus or doofi also left the Hungarian M44 carbine (still in its sock from the last range trip), the MojoVZ, the FR8, the flintlock pistol, the percussion derringer, the sabre, and, fortunately, they missed the P35, so I have something to keep at bedside. Full boxes of factory ammunition also left.
Looks like they got in through the front window, breaking its latch, did their business, and left through the door. Phone blueshirt non-emergency number. About half an hour later officer Mako arrives and takes initial report; by this time I've gone through receipts and original boxes and such and gathered all the serial numbers I had; whipped up a printout. He leaves, saying that a forensics team is "on the way."
Looks like they tried and failed to get into the cheesy Homak cabinets. One of the big paddle latches is popped right off, but the vertical bar on the bottom of the door held. Nothing appears to be missing from either of those, though the remaining lock on the most-damaged one is defunct and I can't get it open.
I guess I'll make copies of the printout with the descriptions & serial numbers and spread them around gun stores and pawn shops.
7pm, phone in to expedite the forensics team, "the call has been taken off the log so they should be en route." Hmph.
And the dumpster's still in the way, which no doubt provided cover for the operation by blocking the view from the street. Also looks like the work crew didn't touch a thing all day.
Around 7:45 officers G. Smith and Singh arrive, and find no fingerprints. They also express puzzlement as to how the window was breached. The window latch is now broken; I've made a blocking stick for the sill (sliding type window) from scrap. I am advised to contact East Precinct detectives on Monday. Provided printout of stolen firearms - nothing else of significance appears to be missing. Officer Smith, perhaps a smidgen sympathetic (Singh didn't say much), says that with serial numbers, I have a better chance of getting the pieces back.
I suspect Mr. Troublesome, and gave the property owner's contact information to the officer.
I am, of course, in a killing mood.
Ah, now I notice a pink paper taped to Troublesome's door, a court order having to do with restitution or suchlike, and now I have his name, Willie Johnson. Black male, maybe 5'8 or 9", I'm guessing about 160lbs. Close-cropped hair, thin mustache, no beard, no glasses. Drove a gray-green Ford Taurus sedan, '90something I guess, and I think the license plate was 542ABT. One of the rear door windows broken out. Of course I'll be passing that information along when my case percolates through the Portland Police Bureau-cracy.
1027 - Friday, 16 December 2005: And then I got out of bed at 4am and went back to work. At least the shower pipes didn't freeze overnight, though I had the garden hose, sink-faucet adapter, and duct tape ready.
Phone property owner from work, got office-lady, got disconnected, sigh. Back to hovel, no messages waiting. (Monday? Call the detectives Monday? Riiight, crimes never happen on weekends, and nobody ever has anything else to do during the week. Snarl.) Phone again - recording.
At least there appear to have been no further violations. Willie probably hit the road with the loot.
1028 - Saturday, 17 December 2005: Zzzz. With the P35 cocked-and-locked where the GP100 is supposed to be.
Can't afford replacement gun cabinets now, or a proper safe, with rent coming due and all the usual daily expenses (like a mound of quarters for a semi-ritual post-violation huge load at the laundromat, and I'll need new shoes again any day now). One of the Homaks is still mostly functional, the other I might be able to repair if I had replacement lock guts and beat on it with a hammer for a couple hours.
And then drive all over town distributing STOLEN GUNS printouts. -One pawn shop counter-creature said, "Whaddaya want me to do about it?" They won't be getting my business again. However, both the most sympathetic and most helpful reception was found at Silver Lining on NE Sandy Blvd., the same pawn shop where I found the double, the Remington percussion, and the P35, where I missed the Marlin M39M .22 lever-action, and where I liquidated a couple bolt-actions during past bouts of unemployment. The counter-guy there pointed out that if the police have the information already, it goes into a database and comes up when any licenced shop receives the items; and if it's missed that time it also comes up under NICS, the government's illegal and otherwise-reprehensible firearm-registration scheme; which gave me an excuse to not have to go downtown to visit the big pawn shop there. And then he looked up the Remington's serial number in the shop's records (E44229) so I can add that information. So that shop is still on my list of places to do business.
1029 - Sunday, 18 December 2005:
In email, this report on police procedures from another burglary victim:
We lost a few tools last Fall, due to local pilfering. We found most of our things [and neighbors' things] strewn around the neighboring yards. In the process of getting the ones back that had been turned over to the Portland Police, we discovered that the Police Property Dept. has recently changed its rules in two ways vital to those who want to recover items.
Firstly, you now have only 30 DAYS to recover your items, once the police get them. This used to be at least 60 days. And they do NOT call you when they recover something. [In most cases, of course, they would not know who to call... but evidently even if your stuff is properly marked or has serial numbers, the rule remains the same.] :-(
Secondly, and acting very poorly in concert with the first, you now have to get the ORIGINAL reporting officer down to the Property room, physically, while you are also there, to sign off the release of your property once everyone has agreed it's been identified. It is no longer allowed for people to initial things separately as they have time.
This sounds simpler than it is. In our case, we spoke with the officer who interviewed us, assuming he was the correct one. As it turned out, the original officer investigated over on the neighboring street and we'd never even seen her. [I only knew she existed because I had spent more time gabbing with the neighbors.] "Our" officer did not know who made the original report, either!
[Name] identified his stuff ASAP, the Property Room clerk agreed it had to be ours [over the phone, it was so obvious]. [Name] called the Police Bureau. Bureaucracy ensued.... By the time we had identified the correct officer, by giving a physical description gotten from a neighbor, and she had failed to return our calls several times, [they are kept very busy] there was less than a week left. If we hadn't known of the short time we had, and had, say, gone away over the weekend, we would not have been returned those items.
The time was reduced because the Property Room is always bulging at the seams, and unless you have stuff to recover, it seems a perfectly good solution. If you do, good luck!
If you have anything stolen, it will be your responsibility to keep calling Property, to identify the original reporting officer, which may be more difficult then you expect, and to arrange a timely visit to Property to coincide with said officer if anything is recovered.
No wonder so little stuff is returned. :-(
Everyone was very polite, and the officers we met and the Property clerk were all very nice and sympathetic, but they will not bend the rules.
Also, other departments will have other rules and it pays to find them out beforehand!
8:15pm and "Vicky" from the Portland Police Records Division calls for more details on the stolen firearms. And, like most police, she's disturbingly ignorant regarding firearms. "About the Colt Dragoon, is that an automatic?" "Oh, you have a serial number for the Remington rifle?"
Argh. Anyway got phone numbers for the detectives and learned that I "should" be notified if the items are recovered. Also got case number.
1030 - Monday, 19 December 2005: Back to work.
9am, break time, phone police - switchboard incompetence. Finally get the number for a Detective Sergeant Dave Anderson - voice mail. Of course. Left message. Phone property owner - recording, didn't bother leaving message. Phone again at lunch and second break - recordings.
Roads mostly clear by quitting time, "normal" (-ly frustrating) drive back to hovel. Dumpster still, no progress still. No messages. Phone Anderson again - voicemail again. Phone property office, reach office-lady, sympathetic (also didn't like Willie), work order in process to fix damaged window, complained about dumpster and lack of work by remodellers, discussed suspects (Willie, Willie, maybe someone on the reconstruction crew, and Willie).
Out to hardware store for 3/4" dowels for window sticks.
Really crushing depression hovering just beyond my flimsy curtain of denial. Feeling some cartilage and/or vertebrae squishing and popping beneath my fingers would be highly therapeutic about now.
Several readers sending their sympathies and helpful tips, thank you all.
1031 - Tuesday, 20 December 2005: "We're not going to investigate your case because you're not paying enough taxes."
Not in so many words of course, but that's what I heard. Too disgusted to ‘blog.
Well okay, I did get some more information. The name of the woman Willie was living with was Alice Walters. Willie's record includes disorderly conduct, family disturbance, shoplifting, a burglary at age 12, and he's a suspected drug dealer with a warrant for his arrest in downtown's "Drug Free Zone". Police have another suspect, a vagrant wanted for several area burglaries - I may have seen him but couldn't describe him. Veteran neighbor has seen him too.
Detective Anderson ("I just now got your message" - and where the hell were you when I left that message twenty-four hours ago? I MADE IT INTO WORK YESTERDAY SO I COULD EARN INCOME TO BE TAXED TO PAY YOUR SALARY!) was neither sympathetic nor apologetic and seemed more interested in talking about himself than my case - "I've been on the force 21 years... 2,430 burglaries in this city this year and only four detectives... not enough funding for public safety... Mayor... city council... 21 years I've been on this force...." He would not give a straight answer as to whether I would be notified if my property was recovered and I don't think he bothered to record the additional information I gave him on Willie.
1033 - Thursday, 22 December 2005: Got paycheck and blew about half of it on a Sentry C1212 cabinet, up late transferring stuff around.
And on the way back from the laundromat, about 9pm, I'm pretty sure I saw Willie's car. Now, he's been evicted. This is a dead-end street. There is no reason for him to be here unless he's casing the place for another hit. Alerted Veteran, contacted property owner office-lady, and left angry voicemail (crime never sleeps, but detectives sure do) with Detective Sergeant Dave Anderson, Portland Police Bureau East Precinct, who didn't think there was sufficient evidence to investigate my case at all, much less Willie specifically.
Emailed sis - I will delay departure until Saturday morning at least, if I go at all at this point. Considering skipping work tomorrow - the last break-in was a half-hour after Veteran and I usually leave.
Oh, Willie's license plate number is 542ABT (I previously said 342, which I've gone back and changed), and it's the left-rear door window that's broken.
1034 - Friday, 23 December 2005: After last night's Willie sighting, I called in to work (and the temp service) explaining the situation and telling them I would be late. Just before this, I got up at the usual time and did the usual morning routine and drove away in my car... and parked at the hardware store seven blocks away and walked back, where I settled down to wait, with the P35 and the digital camera, until daylight. Also described this plan to Veteran.
No message from Detective Anderson of course. He's probably already on vacation.
1037 - Thursday, 29 December 2005: Failure analysis on the Homaks: the shaft, which connects the cylinder lock to the big galvanized steel paddle, which in turn is connected to the vertical bar, is the break point. With new locks both cabinets would be back in service, though some pressure would have to be applied to get the bent doors shut. The bottom vertical bar held in both cases, as gravity held it in place against the body of the cabinet and through its slot in the door, even though the lock itself was broken; a brighter thief would have flexed the door outward far enough to reach in and pluck the bar assembly out of its slot, thus opening the door, as I did to transfer the contents to the new cabinet.
1043 - Thursday, 5 January 2006: A little before 7pm, Portland Police officers Passadore and DeLong knock on my door to follow up on the burglary from three weeks ago. I guess Detective Anderson finally got back from vacation and checked the voicemail I left him on December 22nd about the Willie sighting. To their credit, these two officers were very professional and sympathetic and perhaps even a bit encouraging as to the possibility of recovering my property. However, I was disturbed that I had to go over nearly the whole story again and that they did not even know what type of firearms were stolen, despite my providing both the original responding officer (Mako) and the forensics officers (Smith & Singh) with a printed list. Left hand, right hand?
1055 - Saturday, 21 January 2006: New Shotgun News.... The Knox Report, the Firearms Coalition's agenda for 2006 includes: Stolen Property - In many jurisdictions, firearms that are stolen are often destroyed, or go to police evidence rooms where they are kept in perpetuity - or sometimes fall off the shelves into the pockets of those with access to the storage facilities. Firearms owners are victimized twice - once by the original criminal, and once by the government. Gun owners' property needs to be returned. Not expecting the blueshirts to give my property back, ever, even if they do find it, and even if they deign to tell me they did. Will work toward replacement.
1058 - Tuesday, 24 January 2006: Well crap! Willie is still stopping by to pick up his mail at the apartment he was evicted from! Sorely tempted to Go After Him but the blueshirts have cowed me - if I held him at P35-point they'd probably shoot me dead the moment they arrived, and even if I avoided that they'd throw a plethora of persecution at me and I'd likely lose what gun rights I have left - and then they'd pat themselves on the back for "getting more guns off the street" while I rotted in a cell (which they'd miraculously find funding and space for by releasing some serial rapist). Left another angry message at the landlord's office (no response from previous messages), then left particularly nasty email with the Portland Police Bureau. Not that I expect either to do any good. Meanwhile Veteran reports that a derelict moped, a hovelplex fixture for years, and a car fender from U-Pull-It intended for his wagon after the collision he had last year, were stolen today, probably for scrap metal.
1059 - Wednesday, 25 January 2006: Argh. Sigh.
No reply from blueshirts.
1084 - Saturday, 25 February 2006: Thursday, Detective Anderson sent:
1091 - Wednesday, 8 March 2006: ...Well shucks. An officer Zylawi (that's, like, the sixth or seventh name I've heard from, none more than once except the detective's email) leaves a message saying the Portland Police may have found one of my stolen weapons if I can identify it. Dial the indicated number... hold... hold... hooollld.... And he's "out on patrol", message sent to his car.
That's at 4:15pm.
Okay, about 4:35 Zylawi calls back... it's the Dragoon, reportedly found in a dumpster by a drunk in... the part of town where Willie likely has relations. Drunk takes weapon into house or yard, waves it drunkenly around, drunk's cousin relieves drunk of weapon and calls police, and somehow the right hand and the left in the Portland Police Bureau were sufficiently acquainted to take action. Got number for evidence room - they closed at 4pm, don't open ‘til 10am, will play phone tag from work.
I almost let myself get excited that it might be the GP100.
Probably a rusted mess.
1092 - Thursday, 9 March 2006: Phone- and bureau-tag from work, no progress. Back to hovel, no messages. Call evidence room again before they close, finally got a receipt number for the Dragoon; called the other number, sent third message of the day to Zylawi.
Started building a separate page to detail the progress (or lack) of my burglary case, to keep it all in one place for my own convenience and to possibly be of use to fellow gunfolk who may have to go through the same thing. Not ready yet.
Keeping the phone line open in case Zylawi calls. Just after 5pm, just as I'm about to either go online or go out for gasoline (ARCO now $2.15), he does, asking me to repeat the property receipt number that he should have received in the last message I left. Anyway he says he'll write the release and I should be able to contact the evidence room tomorrow and arrange to claim it.
1093 - Friday, 10 March 2006: The release for the Dragoon has not come through yet and, O surprise, the officer in question has today off and naturally the evidence room is closed over the weekend. Not that I could've reached it (wherever it is) before closing in Friday traffic anyway.
1096 - Monday, 13 March 2006: Phone evidence room - no release. Phone officer - message.
1098 - Wednesday, 15 March 2006: Still no release, haven't heard from Zylawi since Thursday.
~4:20pm, Zylawi calls, says he wrote the release Thursday at the end of his shift and left it on his superior's desk, then found it in his own mailbox Monday morning, then sent it back to the evidence room yesterday. Ohhh yeah, these are the only people smart and professional enough to be trusted with weapons. Hsss.
1099 - Thursday, 16 March 2006: Guess what! The release for the Dragoon still hasn't come through! What a *#^% surprise!
1102 - Monday, 20 March 2006: Spring.
And still no release on the Dragoon. Getting ticked. Left another message for Zylawi, who according to the evidence room clerk ("Jacob") claims to have given the release to his supervisor. If I ever do hear from Zylawi again I'll get the supervisor's name and number.
1103 - Tuesday, 21 March 2006: Still no release.
The extra-hours thing is for next week and the consensus is that everyone come in an hour early Monday through Thursday, then start the regular time (6:30) Friday and leave at 10:30.
Message waiting from officer Zylawi who reports having gone into his supervisor's office, found the signed release form on her desk and hand-delivered it to the evidence room. I'll find out tomorrow.
1104 - Wednesday, 22 March 2006: I have recovered what's left of the Dragoon. It was disassembled, probably the wrong way, reportedly by officer Zylawi, as a "safety measure," then placed, in pieces without padding, in a paper sack. The wedge and it's retaining screw are missing and the hammer is jammed. Left another message for Zylawi for the missing parts.
More dents and scratches of course:
Including evidence of very clumsy attempts to release the wedge:
I have also long heard of an unwritten and widespread policy among law enforcement to disable, or outright break, any firearm that enters their custody under whatever circumstances (examples appreciated, please send). There is also evidence of rough handling of the grip frame screws, which would give access to the mainspring and other inner workings. Disassembling - frontstrap is loose relative to the frame, as though disassembled and not fully reassembled.
The hammer face is peened on one side so that it will not clear the frame:
That's probably the result of out-of-battery dry-firing (note also the battering of the hammer face - I rarely dry-fired the Dragoon, which may be the third new-in-box firearm I ever purchased), probably by an ignorant dumpster-diving drunk, as the hammer face strikes the edge of the nipple recess on the rear of the cylinder. Two of the pin safeties between the chambers, which the notch in the hammer face rests over, are nearly flattened, and a third also damaged (these may be repaired by drilling & tapping, then driving in an appropriately-modified screw shaft, or simply drilling and silver-soldering a regular pin - past time to get that drill press). None of the internals appear to be damaged and a little careful file or Dremel work should release the hammer (later, done). So a replacement wedge and screw should put the Dragoon back in service.
Zylawi calls and claims no parts were removed when the weapon was disassembled by officer Panter, but the wedge is what holds Colt percussion revolvers together and if it was found without the wedge it probably would have been found without the barrel and cylinder. When I get the correct spelling for Panter's name, Zylawi asks if I'll criticize that officer in this journal as well, then declares ‘you have issues' and ‘there is no conspiracy to deprive you of your gun.'"
(For the complete rant which resulted, please view the original journal entry for this date.)
Hm, pins on Dragoon frame, which engage and align the barrel extension, also battered, as though someone couldn't figure out how to get it back together. Also some dents and one rather deep gouge in the cylinder, aligned with the dents on the frame in the first picture above:
Anyway it looks like the wedge & screw will make it run again.
1106 - Friday, 24 March 2006: 8:10pm and detective Anderson calls to report that Willie Johnson has been arrested and charged with burglarizing my apartment! Arrested about a week ago on another charge, and for some reason (probably a plea bargain) he confessed to the buglary. Reportedly he was upset with me for hitting the stroller with my car (after the uncivilized creatures left it in my way for weeks at a time (deliberately - see Larry Elder's The Ten Things You Can't Say in America, the chapter titled "Blacks are More Racist than Whites")), and for breaking his car window (which some other lowlife did). I was told to expect a subpoena to a grand jury in about five days. Nothing firm about recovering my property (hints that one is in the hands of a gang member) but I'd already given up on that.
A pessimist can only be pleasantly surprised. And I am. ...There are... things... I could say at this point, taking into account the history of the case thus far... but I'll refrain.
1107 - Sunday, 26 March 2006: For paranoia's sake, will email OFF for advice about the grand jury subpoena. By exercising my First Amendment rights I may have ticked off the blueshirts enough to make them want to entrap me. Wouldn't be the first time that's happened, do a search for what BATF tried to do to John Ross over his novel Unintended Consequences. I'm just sayin', cops have been jerking around, if not outright murdering, gunfolk, since long before Kenyon Ballew. It's not paranoia if they really are out to get you.
1108 - Monday, 27 March 2006: Activated [this] page, emailed OFF for advice.
1109 - Tuesday, 28 March 2006: Mail: "In the name of the State of Oregon you are commanded to appear as a witness on behalf of the State of Oregon in Multnomah County Circuit Court... Regarding: State of Oregon v. Willie Lee Johnson... Charge: BURGLARY IN THE FIRST DEGREE." Downtown (yech), 11am this Friday the 31st. Well, it doesn't look like entrapment....
Email, OFF responds with the advice that the state is probably more interested in bagging Willie than in bagging me. I'll send OFF another check, on principle (a bigger one this time, on principle), as soon as income resumes.
1112 - Friday, 31 March 2006: Gaah, enemy territory. Parking away from downtown, hiking in. Decent weather at least. Subpoena, ‘blog printout, notebook, tape recorder (says so right on the back of the subpoena, "You may want to take notes of the conversation or have it recorded"). Book to read (the Williamson still; I wonder if they'll let me in with that title?). Umbrella (this is Oregon, and maybe I can use it as a baton, since all my other tools have to be left behind - anything is a weapon if you hold it right). Therapeutically killing time before departure by processing .357 brass.
And it's over with. Arrived about 10:30, kept fangs in during security screening, found designated room a few minutes later. Read Victims' Rights Guide, read book, guesstimate value of stolen property at ~$2,000. Shortly after 11, Deputy District Attorney meets, briefs me on what to expect, warns of another subpoena for trial in about a month and of probable shifts in court dates. Inside - about 8 people seated around the witness chair. No fangs, no entrapment (though the detective (a different one) also called to this grand jury may have been giving off a Vibe over this journal) - they want Willie, and want my help getting him. Questions on the basics of the case, some backstory, details. Sketched them a map of the hovelplex even. Gave DDA the copy of the STOLEN GUNS printout I brought for that purpose, annotated with estimated values and that the Dragoon was (mostly) recovered. Left about 11:30 without further incident.
1118 - Thursday, 6 April 2006: Mail, Willie has pled Not Guilty - I thought he confessed? More plea bargaining ahead it seems. "If this case should go to trial, you will receive a subpoena... indicating the tentative trial date." Request for Restitution form, getting estimated current retail values from net (Cabela's, Dixie, AuctionArms, GunBroker (the auction sites often list NIB pieces being sold by regular FFLs supplementing their brick-and-mortar sales)) - about $450 for a NIB Ruger #KGP141, maybe a little more for a NIB Mossberg #50668; counting shipping from Cabela's or Dixie, $180 for the 1851 Colt, $250 for the 1861, $200 for the Remington, and about $300 for the 3rd Model Dragoon; and crowding $400 for the original Russian SKS-45, plus another $90-odd for the magazines, for an estimated total of $2,350 (which took me years to earn and to spend - when I got the Simonov in the early '90s I paid $125; now you can hardly get a beat-up Yugo M59 for that much). Printing sheet to attach to form. Declining being present at sentencing.
1124 - Wednesday, 12 April 2006: Mail, subpoena as witness, 8:15am Monday 1 May. "To avoid unnecessary appearances, please call again the day before the trial date to confirm that the trial is still scheduled."
1143 - Monday, 1 May 2006: And they've got the metal detector turned all the way up and it trips on everyone, like on the fillings in their teeth. I state this with confidence ‘cause they then wand-rape everyone and find nothing. This time I had my stuff in a bag and it went through x-ray and I'm just imagining how much Useful Stuff I could get past "security" that way. (Didn't (hardcore libertarians) Penn & Teller do an act on that?)
Phooey. Wyoming. Hermit.
So I get in, early, and I sit in the Victim's Lounge watching Fox News Channel (which, for a wonder, was actually on when I entered). And, with assorted procedural hijinks, I never got called. So now I have to return tomorrow at 9am. Which means I have to do laundry tonight (‘cause I only have three Nice Shirts that still fit and all the jeans are now covered in cat fur (as soon as I returned to the hovel (awwww...))). After some ice cream dammit.
Released about 4pm....
1144 - Tuesday, 2 May 2006: Bleah, back again to the Unarmed Victim Zone and the Temple of the Almighty State. At least the rally's over. And it's early so most of the street-loons haven't crawled out of their cardboard boxes yet. (Except this one guy who was standing on the sidewalk zoning out as I hiked toward the courthouse before 9am, and was still there when I hiked back toward my car after 10.)
Well that's over, for now. As expected, the defense attorney cherry-picked this journal for race-baiting statements - but I stand by everything I've said, and I've heard hotter from Michael Savage and he's got his fourth best-selling book out of it, so whose opinion is mainstream, really? And of course the attorney didn't cherry-pick the part where I was begging Condi to run for President (which coincidentally was one paragraph after I ranted on Willie & co. shortly after they moved in). Or the bits from Larry Elder and Walter Williams and Thomas Sowell.
As I departed I actually found myself briefly chatting with certain Portland Police officers who implied that they were Conservatives. I hereby take back... some... of the things I've said about them. -But I still have an instinctive, arguably Sioux/Cherokee genetic, distrust of government and authority. Wyoming for me. And if they secede they can count on my rifle.
1151 - Tuesday, 9 May 2006: Willie's prosecutor phones with disappointing and frustrating news - he was found guilty of the burglary but not of stealing my property, and sentenced to only 3 years probation, the one month he's already spent in jail (he remains in custody on other charges), and to pay $850 restitution, which is barely a third of the value he stole from me and which I doubt I'll ever see. I feel... sicker. One of the statements used by the defense was this, from 1 November 2005, before the burglary: In the current social climate, certain minorities are presumed innocent even after proven guilty - and whitey is guilty after proven innocent, of course. And didn't our system of so-called justice just prove me right?
1160 - Thursday, 18 May 2006: A Portland police detective phones again, asking details on my stolen property - the magazines for the Simonov may have been recovered.
1269 - Friday, 15 September 2006: Subpoena for the 26th as a witness in two cases of "robbery in the first degree with a firearm". Neither of the names is of the parasite but one is the same surname. Phone tag Monday no doubt.
1272 - Monday, 18 September 2006: Phone deputy district attorney from work - told by her to disregard these subpoenas, I'll be getting a triplet, including the original parasite, for a tentative trial date in November. As usual government's left and right hands are unaware of each other's existence.
Apparently my GP100 has been used, by Parasite A and/or his brother, in some armed robberies. This does not fill be with guilt and dread; a tool is not responsible for how it is used, there are no "eee-vil gun rays." (Though if I ever get it back I expect I'd change the grip for sanitary reasons.) But according to the DDA my property still has not been recovered, though she did say it would be returned to me if it were. And you can guess how much of that I believe. A pessimist can only be pleasantly surprised, and I ain't been surprised much lately.
1275 - Thursday, 21 September 2006: Subpoena as witness against the parasite for 10 October. And this will do what for me? Besides give a defense attorney a chance to spit in my face for being a white male gunowner who works for a living? "Justice." Insert rude noise.
1283 - Friday, 29 September 2006: Another subpoena, same date, different defendant.
1289 - Thursday, 5 October 2006: Phone district attorney - bureaucratic fumbling, courtroom maneuvering, and the usual whiff of condescension. Theoretically the trial will be delayed or even not take place, but the forms must be followed. Gave the DDA an earful anyway, even made her admit I get "nothing" from the process in this instance.
1293 - Monday, Columbus Day, 9 October 2006: 2pm, when even bureaucrats should be back from lunch, phone courthouse - recording, listing cases only scheduled for today, not the ones I'm subpoenaed for tomorrow. Phone again later - trial set over to 31 October. So there's half a load off. I may still have to be variously violated at that date, or there may be a plea bargain.
1296 - Thursday, 12 October 2006: Subpoenas for the 31st.
1301 - Tuesday, 17 October 2006: Another subpoena, same date, different defendant.
1312 - Monday, 30 October 2006: Trial held over to the 28th.
1333 - Sunday, 26 November 2006: I was all set to ‘blog the fun weekend I had with my sister, scouring the entire Seattle metro sprawl for arms shops. Spent too much money.
But as soon as I got back and checked snailmail, I was in a bad mood.
‘Cause the arrogant elitist wretches in city and county government have subpoenaed me again for the trial on the 28th. With one business day's notice. (Postmarked the 24th and I'm keeping the envelope to prove it.) And you know what? I'm gonna tell those authoritarian totalitarian freaks that it's not enough notice to get the day off from work (the income from which is taxed to pay their excessive salaries), and furthermore I'm sick of being jerked around by their bureaucratic incompetence and of being a stepping stone for the DDA's career (who wants a nice juicy armed robbery conviction and doesn't care how many of the Little People she crushes to get it). Shove it you lying thieving government filth!
1334 - Monday, 27 November 2006: Trial set back to 8 January.
Gave the clerk an earful, with instructions to pass it on to the DDA. Later, message waiting from DDA, pro forma apology for the late subpoena. Lacking sincerity methinks - those government people don't see us as human beings with lives of our own, but as cardboard cutouts or video-game characters or domestic animals or suchlike - but I'll claim one point in the contest. Also I now have an allegedly-direct phone number for the DDA should I ever have the stomach to use it. (Gobbling antacid since last night. Every time I interact with that filthy system....) "Settlement hearing" 8 December, possible plea bargain and the trial may go away, DDA says she'll inform me (and based on her record thus far, including BOTCHING the initial prosecution for burglary, I'll believe that when it happens - hey! My Taxes Pay Her Salary and as an employer I'm very dissatisfied with her job performance!).
You know, she never once asked for my testimony. Just commanded it (that's the word the subpoena uses) like I was chattel. -Right now she's probably dismissing me as some Right-Wing Nut JobTM, the default stereotype for anyone who doesn't march in lockstep with an Important Government Official's worldview.
1342 - Friday, 8 December 2006: As expected, no word from the arrogant elitist DDA on the results of the settlement hearing. So much for that "created equal... unalienable rights" stuff. We retain the illusion that we are free and sovereign citizens, but increasingly it just ain't so. A couple more legislative sessions and we'll be right back at 1775.
Except with metallic-cartridge repeaters....
1345 - Monday, 11 December 2006: And hey! The DDA still hasn't called (as she promised to) regarding the settlement hearing on Friday! What a shocker! She'd probably rather be prosecuting me. "Evil Right-Wing Militia Gun-Nut, and Did We Mention He's White, Convicted of Exercising Constitutional Rights!" I'm sure that's the kind of thing her kind wants on her prosecutorial scorecard.
1347 - Thursday, 14 December 2006: Ahh, that's better:
A year minus a day after it was stolen and just in time for Christmas, I acquired in private sale (which is still legal in Oregon) a replacement GP100! Since it was a private sale I wouldn't otherwise speak of it, on principle, but I'm very happy to have one of my most prized possessions replaced, and I intend to win things with it in competition so I can't very well hide it.
1352 - Wednesday, 20 December 2006:
Subpoenas for the 8th. At least they managed more than one business day this time, but I begin to wonder if they even care about prosecuting Willie Johnson anymore and are just jerking around the subject who thinks he's a citizen. Eyuh, I feel like I should wash my hands after opening the envelopes.
1364 - Friday, 5 January 2007: Trial delayed to 19 March. So now the DDA has another three months to get the simple, routine plea-bargain she couldn't manage in the last six and more. Not that she'll condescend to tell me about it of course.
She could have asked for my testimony. If she did it right I might even have agreed. But that kind doesn't think that way. Send a subpoena, and if that doesn't work, send thugs. Force is the one and only tool used by that perverted cult of Authority.
1408 - Wednesday, 28 February 2007: Subpoenas for the 19th. How long will this farce go on? Corrupt and parasitical defense attorneys who paint victims as criminals, incompetent totalitarian prosecutors who threaten force if their career ambitions are not complied with, degrading and ultimately useless security procedures, the whole perverted system paid for with coercive taxation… it all makes me sick.
Any suggestions? A lawyer I can't afford.
1410 - Friday, 2 March 2007: Left message at evil government (but I repeat myself) phone number confirming receipt of subpoenas. Seethe.
1418 - Monday, 12 March 2007: Today the county DA's office called to confirm that I would be appearing to be humiliated and degraded by their perverted system next Monday. I left a message on their recorder ten days ago but I'm not surprised they're too incompetent to have it. I vented some at the clerk, toward whom I have no sympathy 'cause she's part of the system too. Thus inspired, a cartoon, altered from a Cox & Forkum piece, the original of which can be seen here:
Let's recount the offenses of the DDA:
I'll be taking some precautions, in case I don't get out of the courthouse still allegedly-free. That place makes my skin crawl and my belly churn. Advice and suggestions are welcome.
1419 - Tuesday, 13 March 2007: Now I receive a call from a Portland detective wanting me to view some pictures of a weapon used in a robbery, and saying the magazines for the Simonov may have been recovered. That's… near fifteen months now.
Return call - meet at East Precinct this afternoon. -My Injun blood cocks an eyebrow. Paranoia is a survival trait.
Done. (Property remaining in evidence.) The detective was courteous, professional, and respectful, and I endeavored to keep my fangs in accordingly. She also told me that the trial has been set back again, this time to 21 May, suggested I call the courthouse tomorrow to confirm after it percolates through their system.
1420 - Wednesday, 14 March 2007: Call courthouse - trial date setback confirmed, 21 May.
1466 - Tuesday, 1 May 2007: Subpoenas in the mail. Just in time to ruin the road trip. Those filthy elitist government scum. Can anyone recommend a (pro bono of course) curmudgeonly republitarian attorney? This is beginning to feel like harassment. The DDA and defense attorney are probably sharing a chuckle in the lunchroom, over sticking it to the peasant.
1468 - Thursday, 3 May 2007: A message on the recorder... the Portland police detective calling with more questions on my recovered property. My GP100 has been recovered, reportedly a couple days ago, and the detective expects no reason why I shouldn't get it back after the trial (though I didn't ask how thoroughly it will be vandalized under the unwritten but widely-known police policy of never returning a functional firearm to the peasants). -The detective actually used the phrase "off the street." As though the revolver were walking around under it's own power, magically loading itself and pulling its own trigger. Didn't have any idea what cartridge a Simonov fires, either. Now tell me, who, who knows anything about firearms, has not heard of the 7.62x39mm Soviet M1943 cartridge, for which production of arms has probably reached nine figures worldwide since its introduction nearly two-thirds of a century ago? (Kinda answers itself, don't it? -Well, in fairness I did once overhear a bubba at the arms counter in Bi-Mart asking the clerk for "AK-47 bullets".) Anyhow with the prospect of getting my sacred property back sometime after the trial (and possibly another trial for, reportedly, another robbery in which the GP100 was used), my fangs shrink some and I'll gobble some antacid and get the multiple indignities over with. (And then I'll bloody well look for a job in this Wyoming oil boom I've been hearing of and kiss this socialist state good-bye!) Hm, should update the burglary page. (Ah! I still have the original store receipt for the GP, with serial number and my name & address. Also for the Mossberg and the Remington revolver. The other arms stolen, I bought in private sales.)
1482 - Thursday, 17 May 2007: Returning from epic 11-hour drive from Pocatello, I find a phone message asking to confirm I will appear to be humiliated and degraded on the 21st, will answer tomorrow when the bureaucrats might actually be pretending to work. Also, in snailmail, new subpoenas for 4 June for the same case numbers, hm.
1483 - Friday, 18 May 2007: Phone evil government instutition - trial set back to 4 June, confirmed receipt of new subpoenas. It is difficult to express how disgusted I am with this system. My home was violated, my property stolen, yet it is my life being further disrupted on the whim of a career-ambitious and, I suspect, bigoted DDA.
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