Going to federal prison for something you didn’t do does something to you.
Psychologically. Mentally. Physically.
I was not only wrongfully convicted, but I was also drugged. I am still dealing with the mental and emotional effects of what happened, including treatment and medication, on top of the consequences that come with having a federal conviction attached to my name.
It is not easy finding opportunities when your background reads:
“Conspiracy to Defraud the United States of America.”
Maybe it would feel different if I had knowingly and voluntarily done the things I was accused of doing.
But I didn’t.
One moment I was living my life, and the next I was in federal prison trying to understand what had happened to me and how I was supposed to survive it.
There are things in life that we may never fully understand. I cannot control what other people do, what they believe, or the decisions they make about me.
I can only control what I do next.
And there are things I believe deeply about my case.
I believe my race played a role in how my family and I were treated. I believe our lawsuit against the IRS was connected to the scrutiny and investigation that followed. And after everything that has happened, I continue to maintain that I am innocent of the conduct for which I was convicted.
Maintaining my innocence has never been difficult for me, even when other people tried to convince me otherwise.
“You must have done something.”
I heard that a lot.
But I didn’t.
“You must have smoked something. Something made you trip out.”
I don’t do drugs. My medical history documents that.
For a long time, I kept asking myself why all of this happened to me.
I still don’t have every answer.
What I do understand is that when something goes wrong, somebody often ends up carrying the consequences.
In my story, that person became me.
I cannot go backward and control what happened.
But I can control what I do with it.
I can speak.
I can document.
I can question.
I can tell my story.
I can put the things that happened in the light instead of allowing them to remain buried in silence.
And that is what this website is about.
Shaking things down.
Looking beneath the surface.
Questioning what happened.
Telling the truth as I experienced it.
And refusing to stay silent.