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| Picture of Obama family received along with Michelle Obama's letter |
It was my 9th year of continuous incarceration, without having been sentenced yet by any U.S. court, when in May 2011 I received an unsolicited letter from President Barack Obama.
Back then I was in the midst of a legal battle (which is not an easy task to conduct if one is locked in jail and fighting single-handedly against such a resourceful and soulless entity as the American government), while for years without any success having been trying to receive dental and medical care from my jailers: The Federal Bureau of Prisons. Therefore, I didn't have time nor desire to answer Barack Obama’s letter, which at the time slapped me as a very bad joke.
Was it not a joke? After almost a decade of being locked up inside, without having been sentenced and being fortunate enough to witness all imaginable kinds of the U.S. government's injustices: lies, forgeries, shenanigans, intimidations by the agents and prosecutors, with the joy of invulnerability in their eyes; after more than enough encounters with the true methods of the U.S. government (which is hidden from public view), it is then that I received a letter from this country's President, in which he informed me that he had decided to go to reelection and that he was seeking my help by counting on my money. Barack Obama wrote in his letter: "We've come a long way together... Roman,... I am writing to tell you personally that I am running for reelection... Roman, this is that moment. This is the time to be in with me... Roman, I need you to be part of that movement. I know you've already answered that call. Now I need you to be in..."
I'm very much "in" already, so thanks, but no. In fact, I've been "in" for far too long.
And so, Mr. President goes on: "I'm asking you to join me ... and to make an early commitment to Obama for America with a contribution of $100, $50, $25 or whatever you can afford today... I need you to stand with me. I hope you will with a generous contribution..."
Recently I stumbled upon a new book by David Maraniss named "Obama: The Story". David Maraniss reports that in high school, the future president was a leader of a group of potheads called "The Choom Gang" and frequently bogarted a joint. Perhaps that is a partial explanation as to why the President deems it fit and quite normal to beg money from prisoners.
Meanwhile – as a result of some outside provocation – I had been placed into the segregation (Special Housing Unit) for a few months. During the course of my segregated confinement, my legal papers as well as Obama's letter were separated from me. When an officer found Obama's letter among my paperwork, I was told that I was definitely prohibited to have such a thing in my possession, and that it is up to higher authority to decide on whether I, a Federal Bureau of Prisons inmate and non-U.S. citizen, would be permitted to keep their President's letter that had been clearly addressed to me.
The officer's statements didn't phase me much, as Obama's letter was the last of my worries. I almost completely forgot about the whole business while juggling with many other more important things: defending myself in my New York case pro se (as one's own lawyer) within segregation – without access to law books and legal papers, and with only one short telephone call allowed per month; and just trying to get out of segregation or at least to obtain access to some of my legal papers.
This country's "justice" makes Franz Kafka's "Trial" look like a work of inane apprentice. I marvel all these years on the perversed beauty of its internal clockwork.
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Barack Obama and Nicolas Sarkozy turn their heads towards
Brazil's Mayara Tavares at the G8 summit in L'Aquila, Italy.
Photograph: Jason Reed/Reuters
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I forgot about Obama but seemingly he didn't forget about me. Shortly after I emerged from segregation in February 2012, I received the second letter from him, which had slightly different wording but carried the very same message as the first: "Roman, please send some money."
Additionally, the message was reinforced by one more letter, now written by Michelle Obama. She was so kind that she sent a family picture together with her letter. In particular, she wrote: "The further you go, the further you have to reach back, and make sure you're pulling other people along the way... Roman, history proves we have an even stronger force on our side. We have you... I hope we can count on you - to get involved in this campaign, to volunteer your time and talk to your friends and to send a generous contribution of $50, $100, $250 or whatever you can afford..."
Such marvelous persistency and determination of the Obama family I simply could not ignore any longer. It deserved to be awarded. Therefore, I signed a Power of Attorney – to give Barack Obama the rights to my suitcase of belongings, which is the only property I still own (theoretically, because that suitcase has been stowed somewhere in the U.S. Secret Service's hands - the same hands that guard the President himself).
May that suitcase help Barack Obama in his so desired reelection. "Not that I for a moment believe in such nonsense," – as James Branch Cabell wrote, – "but it will be amusing to see what comes of this business, and it is unjust to deny even nonsense a fair trial." Thus, a few days ago I sent to Barack Obama the abovementioned Power of Attorney along with my reply to his two letters:
October 28, 2012
Metropolitan Detention Center
Brooklyn, New York
Dear Barack,
Thanks for all your letters. I would be grateful if you could pass my thanks to your wife – I've received her letter as well.
Your first letter was handed to me by our jail's guard on May 5, 2011, in the Metropolitan
Detention Center, where, after a slew of other jails, your government has been
keeping me pretrial, without sentencing, for soon-to-be a decade now.
I beg your
pardon for the delay in my reply. Your first letter reached me when, as a
Federal Bureau of Prisons' inmate who is acting pro se (as a lawyer for
myself), I had to complete some case-related legal paperwork before certain
deadlines, besides the usual chore of having to make an effort to survive
within the pandemonium of jail life. When, in November 2012 I was in the midst
of sort of a temporary "legal doldrums" and was able, eventually, to
give my full attention to your letter. I was placed into the SHU (segregation
housing unit) for a few months and, in the process, was also stripped out of
all my papers. It is interesting that when I asked the jail's officer for your
letter, I was told that I am not permitted to have a letter from this country's
President, and that it is up to the jail's lieutenant to decide whether I am
eligible to have your letter, addressed to me, or not. So here we have an
authority higher than the President. Fortunately, knowing from my decade-long
jail experience that anything may happen, beforehand I sent a copy of your
letter outside, so it did not disappear.
Shortly thereafter I received a second letter from you, and afterwards a letter from your wife Michelle with a picture of your family.
You wrote in your first letter, "Roman, ... I am writing to tell you personally that
I am running for reelection for the President of the United States..."
Thank you, Barack, for letting me know personally.
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| United States Postal Service letter receipt confirmation |
Initially I
entertained the thought that your letter was sent to me by mistake, but after
rereading it thoroughly one more time and assuming that the President of the
United States obviously must be aware of the documents and letters he signed
and mailed out, and especially after I got your second letter, and the letter
from your wife, such a thought of it being a mistake dissipated. Furthermore,
the addresses on the envelope as well as on the letter clearly indicate that
you addressed this letter to me at my current jail: Roman Vega, MDC Brooklyn,
PO Box 329002, Brooklyn, NY 11232, and all throughout the letter you address me
by my name: "Dear Mr. Vega, we've come a long way together";
"You see, Roman, the truly great moments of progress in America have never
begun at the top. They begin with people like you."; "Roman, this is
that moment. This is the time to be in with me."
Naturally,
if someone receives a letter that is unambiguously signed by the President of
the United States of America, he must assume that the President knows very well
of what he is doing and to whom he has chosen to write. So, let me assume that
this is the case here, so allow me to thank you for your letters one more time.
It truly made my day. Actually, it didn't just cheer me up a bit, but also
elevated the mood of the other 119 prisoners in my jail's housing unit – who
come from all over the world and are locked in together with me.
We – you and I – have never personally met each other. But, so far as you obviously feel
free to address me in your letter by my first name "Roman", it would
only be fair if I would be able to do the same, right? So, Barack, you wrote:
"Roman, I need you to be part of that movement. I know you've already
answered that call. Now I need you to be in." In a way, I am very much
"in", indeed. Unwillingly. Thus, your wish is granted, in a sense.
In your
first letter you went on to write that "we all believe in the rights
enshrined in our Constitution." Sorry, Barack, but here where I am (even
if it is on actual American soil and not in scalding Guantanamo or in one of
the numerous CIA-operating secret prisons worldwide), we do not believe in such
things as the abovementioned Constitution or "rights". Instead, we,
incarcerated ones that make up more than two million nationwide, as well as our
families, we know from our very own personal experience that today, the U.S.
Constitution dwells on only as a figment of imagination in the political
speeches, but not in everyday reality where it has morphed into nothing more
than a desert illusion of an oasis - a mere dream which one may show to the
bewildered and docile people and perhaps even make them believe in its
existence. But they would never be able to approach it and drink from a
glimmering brook in that luring, lambent oasis. So, Barack, these words about
the "rights enshrined in our Constitution" sound to us as a mocking joke.
Two and half million of us, as well as our families, harbor no illusions and see that
in this country the word "constitution" became as empty from its
original meaning as the other vogue doublespeak words which nowadays so many
politicians and officials in the United States are prone to brandish
enthusiastically, such as "freedom", "justice",
"liberty", "democracy", "law", and "human
rights". It doesn't' matter which of these words comes out of the mouths
of today's American politicians, for invariably, we hear these words' real and
only meaning as being "hypocrisy". "If truth-telling were a sin,
they would be the very virtuous giants."
There is some possibility though, that you and some of your coterie are sincere in your
speeches. But you must know well that, as Oscar Wilde said, "The value of
an idea has nothing whatsoever to do with the sincerity of the man who
expresses it."
Let's not
forget that convicted Americans are very conveniently stripped of their voting
rights, so why worry about them at all, right? It would be more promising to
please the huge prison-workers' unions by sending more and more people to serve
time in jails and prisons. For those of us who are locked inside the American
prisons and jails, foreigners and Americans, for those of us who are placed in
a position which makes it possible to behold not only window-dressed rosy
facades of the Potemkin's village of contemporary US society, but its backstage
as well, with all its unsavory machinery: its constantly hungry and
forever-gulping law-enforcement/court/prison conglomerate's well-greased
conveyor belt; its systematic and ongoing nefarious injustice which is
ubiquitous in the system and veiled by institutional secrecy, – for us it
remains crystal clear that in the United States nowadays justice has replaced
law, law has been replaced by profit, slavery exists (yes, you read it right),
constitution is not, and that, paraphrasing I.F. Stone's famous saying,
"The government lies about everything." Such a sad but, alas, true story.
In your first letter to me, you state that you are running for reelection as President
of the United States, and that you are asking me help you, and to join you
"and to make an early commitment to Obama for America with a contribution
of $100, $50, $25 or whatever [I] can afford today". What can I afford
today... Hmm... Let me think what I can afford...
My latest
jail job did not pay very well, as the Federal Bureau of Prisons is not very
generous to its slaves. I had been paid the usual B.O.P. inmate salary of $6
(six US dollars) and some change per month. Yes, you read that right –
"per month". My responsibility was to run the law-library at the
Federal Detention Center in Dublin, California. By the way, did you know how
much an inmate has to pay if he wants to make an international telephone call
from entrails of the Federal Bureau of Prisons? Let's say, to Kenya or
Indonesia. Almost a dollar per minute: 99 (ninety-nine) cents. Yeah. There are
no alternatives, as keeping such a super-lucrative profit margin requires an
absolute monopoly. You may think I'm writing about Zimbabwe some 20 years ago?
No – I'm writing about what is happening today in the United States of America.
Thus, my monthly salary was only suffice for one 6-minute telephone call home,
that is, if in that particular month I didn't need to buy toothpaste, soap, or
postage stamps, let alone have any other ideas about shampoo or food. This is
why, dear Barack, I do not have any savings of which I may part with for your behalf.
My 70-year
old mother in Crimea ekes out her existence on a mere pittance, and by
planting a few pails-worth of potatoes on a small strip of land every spring –
in hopes that the weather will be auspicious enough for autumn to yield some
crop. If it does, then she will survive through another winter. If not, then
she will be in the total mercy of friends, who I hope will help her. Thus,
there is no money for you in Crimea either, Barack. I might be able to ask my
mother to part with a pail or two of potatoes on your behalf, but she has no
money to mail it from the Simferopol to Washington, D.C. So, regretfully, my
family is unable to help you even with that. Sorry.
The United
States took away my freedom, sunlight, fresh air, justice, as well as the
possibility to see my mother who I haven't seen for years (due to the US
Embassy's denial of her entry visa). Your country has deprived me of my health
and even my teeth. The United States District Court holds six of them now, so
what would it matter if on top of all that I choose to give to the President of
the United States the remainder of my scarce personal possessions? It wouldn't
be difficult for you to access them, for your own Secret Service holds all of
what I own, all of what they found during the course of their rigorous 9-year
worldwide investigation: a Samsonite suitcase with some personal belongings
inside: a wristwatch of an obscure brand; undergarments, some casual clothing
articles, a toothbrush, and a few books in Russian.
Along with
this letter I've enclosed a Power of Attorney which grants you the rights to
all of these items held with the Secret Service. They are now yours – to either
keep or sell on eBay or elsewhere, which would probably help you fetch the
amount you and your wife have asked me for. Perhaps the items within my (which
is now your) suitcase have become a bit stale after many years of having been
stowed away somewhere in the U.S. Secret Service warehouse. But, it's all I
have now, Barack, so take it all. I've never denied my help to those in need
who've asked for it.
For instance, back in 1991, as the U.S.S.R. crumbled, I was asked to help the then
up-and-coming first Russian President Boris Yeltsin. I did what I could,
Yeltsin eventually became a President. However, I never even received a
"thanks" from him. But, strangely enough, I was awarded – amongst
other unsolicited kudos – "for heroic defense of the Russian
democracy" by none other than the American organization "The National
Society of the Sons of the American Revolution".
Years later
I was asked to provide some other form of assistance to the erstwhile President
of Ukraine. Again, I did what I could, and again, I didn't even get a simple
"thanks" from the President. Instead, all I got was a bunch of
problems from some of his influential frenemies.
So, as you
can see, Barack, my small experience so far tells me that such is the real
nature of presidential appreciation. An excellent but obscure American novelist
James Branch Cabell once wrote: "By every rule of tradition, the third
attempt is invariably successful". Thus – and though by now I would be
quite indifferent to it – there is a likelihood that I would at least get a
"thanks" from a President. May my meager support help towards your
reelection, in order to hold onto the reins of power, if such is your deepest
wish – as you described in two of your letters.
You have a
deepest wish; you asked for help; and I did for you what I could in my current circumstances.
From my
side, I am not going to ask you for help or anything. You wrote me about your
hopes and wishes to be reelected and to stay where you are for a second term.
Different people have different wishes. Mine are simpler albeit less realistic:
My wish is not for real, sane justice, as opposed to a prosecutorial American-style parody
on it. I perfectly understand that in these times such a wish in this country
is unreachable - even for a President.
My wish is
not for medical treatment, which I've unsuccessfully sought since 2007. With so
many prisoners and too few doctors in the Federal Bureau of Prisons how could
it be so otherwise?
My wish is
not even about peace all around the world. I know that it is impossible in our current rotten world.
My wish is
of the simplest kind: I wish my teeth to be restored to their natural state in
which they were before U.S. marshals brought me to American soil in 2004. After
years of unsuccessful attempts to get dental treatment from the Federal Bureau
of Prisons, I even mailed some of my fallen teeth to the Judge, which,
eventually, prompted a short visit with the Federal Bureau of Prisons dentists.
The dentists said that the Bureau of Prisons lacks the funds to allocate
towards such treatment. Instead, one of the dentists recommended me to sign whatever
prosecutors want and to receive the sentence, as the only way to reach my
"final destination", to prison, where I "may get some
treatment". Another dentist was in a jollier mood: instead of treatment,
she promised to pray for me. Either she reneged on her promise or her prayers
were not sincere enough, for I never woke up with a fresh set of teeth.
Barack, it
is very difficult to chew when one has only a scant few broken teeth remaining
in his mouth. I admire your smile in the picture which your wife sent to me. I
do believe that you have the best dentist which a Presidency can possibly buy.
I wish you
good luck with the reelection. However, and as you already know, for many of us
federal prisoners who have been caged for years and decades, it doesn't make
very much of a difference as to who the President is: we've seen many
Presidents step in and step out, without anything much changing for us. As
Catullus wrote two thousand years ago:
"Nil nimium studeo, Caesar, tibi velle placere,
nec scire utrum sis albus an ater homo."
Best wishes,
Roman Vega
Pre-trial (since 2004) inmate of Federal Bureau Of Prisons
P.S. I almost forgot to tell you that if – as a result of this my reply to your letters – there will be (who knows?) any kind of repressions towards me from the Federal Bureau of Prisons (as to: placing me into a Segregation/Special Housing Unit, confiscating my papers, abruptly moving me to another jail, or somehow curtailing my communication with the outside world) – on some or other fabricated pretext, but nevertheless as direct result of my reply to your solicitation, I will notify you thereof. Actually, this is going to be a very interesting test of this country's idea of freedom of speech.
There is a Chinese proverb: "He who rides a tiger is afraid to dismount." Sir Winston Churchill paraphrased it in 1936 in his "Why England Slept", so I will take the liberty to slightly paraphrase Churchill: "Presidents ride to and from upon tigers which they dare not dismount; and the tigers are getting hungry."
But most of all this whole story reminds me of the old Indian parable, as it was told by Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj:
"King Janaka once dreamt that he was a beggar. On waking up he asked his Guru – Visishta: "Am I a king dreaming of being a beggar, or a beggar dreaming of being a king?" The Guru answered: "You are neither, you are both. You are, and yet you are not what you think yourself to be. You are because you behave accordingly; you are not because it does not last. Can you be a king or a beggar for ever? All must change. You are what does not change. What are you?"
Legal nook: Ruling on Hamilton v. Hall "should be a clear sign that limiting or restricting the speech of people in jail is illegal," said Benjamin Stevenson, staff attorney for the ACLU. "It's equally important to remember that free speech rights work both ways - the government can't restrict your right to speak to others or restrict the way you receive information."
Outboard view: hurricane Sandy
Mood: another election...
