I dreamt about troubleshooting my stereo equipment. Someone had twisted speaker wires together that must have been inadvertently disconnected. Then they had rebalanced the sound through the equalizer to compensate. I awoke when I found the wires but I am sure my unconscious self got it fixed.
I got the reply from "CPS Tom" from asking him to remove any restriction on my communicating with my daughter. He said I need to address it with her mom who I cannot speak to per court order. A government who violates your rights effectively nullifies your rights. I don't get enough legal access to compose any argument. And, as a prisoner I am required to "exhaust all remedies" which don't exist when you cannot present legal arguments in the first place. I also got back a letter to my brother. The guard said I failed to write his address on both the left AND right side of the disbursement form, so it was incomplete. AND they require inmates use envelopes that are "embossed" (stamped) which allows them to take extra funds and overcharge for postage. I have been wondering why five pages is too many when I could mail 6 or 7 from jail without needing more postage. I just cannot prove it with so limited resources. I sent the envelope and the form to my brother. Every little petty harassment and wrong they can come up with! It seems to me that I could have ten attorneys and it wouldn't be enough. Any resolution is six months away, at least, if not years of being delayed by various "due process." The newspaper was circulated that had reported my arrest before I was transferred from Kenosha County Jail to Kenosha County Detention Center. KCJ to KCDC. I was in a dormitory housing unit with over thirty double bunks on each side of the large room. When I complained about being wrongfully accused the guard had laughed at me and went around both sides of the room mocking me asking other guys who was innocent. Fairly paralyzing moment, really. Before I left KCJ, a plain-clothes detective and uniformed officer pulled me into a conference room and demanded my DNA. I told them to call my lawyer. They said they don't need to and dropped a warrant printed on yellow paper that said Homicide on it. I said "Oh. Well, what do you need me to do?" They swabbed my mouth. I figured it would be a couple days for them to clear my name. From about week 2 until, perhaps week 20, I stayed in a dorm at KCDC. One of the guys who had read the newspaper had begun calling me another nickname. I still didn't understand until another guy got ahold of the newspaper, after everyone else got to read about the article, and gave it to me. Reading the newspaper and being made fun of were so bizarre but really nothing compared to everything that followed. The evening news for SouthEast Wisconsin had me on one night. There was probably 120 other guys in the room and it erupted in yelling, staring, and finger pointing until I boomed for everyone to shut up. Then it was quiet. I was thinking how could this be? I gave them my DNA! And from there it just got worse and worse. No one called me Houdini. But I was dubbed with nicknames from all sorts of people trying to be clever. Covid was the perfect excuse for them to deny inmates haircuts. I would wet my hair and go outside to walk laps and do push ups for rec. My hair would curl at the front and I was called more nicknames because of the silly curl on my forehead. I doubt it would do it very well now, so much has fallen out, but I do not have X-ray vision, cannot fly, or turn back time, and do not have super human strength. I do not understand why mouthwash is so fanatically restricted for me. The inmate in cell 132 is issued the same stuff but keeps the bottle in his cell. I am visited during evening mediation pass to apportion my daily use, which some guards won't even let me pour. I don't know why I am treated different. I suspect that whatever it is is what compelled them to make up that major violation while I was at Dodge. The sudden requirement to write the name and address on the disbursement request to pay postage on outgoing mail, and now I am required to write it on the same form not two inches away, or they will refuse to send the mail. It sounds crazy and absurd but I am not making this up. The guard smiled when I questioned why envelopes without being pre-stamped (embossed) were even sold to inmates if we could not use them for mail. She said to submit confidential requests to medical. I guess their medical forms should be sealable so inmates shouldn't need to buy black envelopes? Just more money tricked out of the pockets of the people that care for me. All Hallows Eve. I am a spiritual guy who tends the graves of family a few miles from my old house. I have always asked people for prayers before any other sort of support, although I know not everyone gives it much credit. I have never been good about religion, however. All of the rituals and practices never took on that comfortable normalcy. Confession to a priest who repeatedly asks with some tone of skepticism if you have shared everything after you already told him twice that was it just struck me oddly. Calling another man Father already had me juxtapose and displaced simultaneously. Being confined in segregation so much in jail really waged war on my mustard seed. I read the only book I was allowed, the Bible, numerous times. Maybe I should have read less case law? All the elaborate design to be able to take advantage of other people materialized by the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth of testimony that was so obviously not. An oath for the comfort of the jurors and convenient denials for much need appeals issues. I haven't opened the Bible since I got to prison. Not because of any particular crisis of faith but because I feel like my prayers aren't even heard. Everything about this experience is somehow wrong. I mean everything that invokes human discretion. It just doesn't ever get at doing good or doing what's right, but about who has the privilege to get away with mistreating someone else for their own satisfaction or gain. Corrections or Department of Corrections is the biggest misnomer and from what I have seen, almost complete fraud of an institution. Yes, I write this about a system used to deprive me of access to my kids. But it also paints itself in this similar or parallel scheme that allows the people who believe or have faith in it to be preyed upon. Prayed upon? Preyed upon? God must exist for a lot of reason and I feel like one of the strongest pieces of evidence that is true is the bargaining stage of grief. I don't want to get into religious philosophy or theology but I don't feel as though my prayers are heard and I appreciate everyone who has prayed for my family and I. I appreciate the messages, letters, books, and other things as well, but, you know; Happy Halloween! :)
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aboutThese are the journal entries of Zachariah Anderson. All entries are originally handwritten by Zach and then transcribed on his behalf. Please note that occasional misspellings and grammar errors may be fixed during transcription for the sake of making the entries easier to read and sensitive information may be redacted. Archives
July 2024
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