"Diesel Therapy" - Letter From Bill White, March 4th 2015
[This letter was received from Chickasaw, Oklahoma. Apparently nobody in the BOP bothered to tell the local honchos in Bill's "rented" jail cell that he was supposed to be incommunicado, and he was able to get pencil and paper and bum a few stamps. He was also able to send me a couple of hastily-scribbled articles. - HAC]
I have just for the first time in five days had a full half-night's sleep and a complete meal. I have also, for the first time in two and a half months, reached an operational telephone. Ironically, I have done this in Grady County, Oklahoma, the filthiest jail I have ever been in other than Seminole County, Florida where I am allegedly being taken. (There seems to be some doubt in my captors' minds on that.)
Since leaving Seminole County the last time I have been several times sent to the wrong institution, SHU'd pending further transit, and now I am on the road again, supposedly heading for Florida and then Chicago on my habeas corpus writ, although no one will tell me which one first. I'm not sure they know; they seem to be making this up as they go along.
I arrived at USP Canaan where I was housed in what was essentially a walk-in freezer. They call Canaan the "Meat Locker." When I was there the place was on lockdown and so instead of feeding us they gave us what are called "box rations", four ounces of dried food per box, for each meal. This was my daily ration for four days. The day I left I was awakened at 5 a.m. EST, sat on a bus waiting for an airplane until 6 p.m. EST, boarded the airplane and arrived in Oklahoma at around 9:30 p.m. CST, and was bused out here to a remote part of the state, arriving at around 2 a.m. CST, a 22-hour trip.
Oh, and I have a beard again. Someone at Canaan couldn't take shivering under blankets at minus-35 degrees and swallowed a razor blade in a suicide attempt, so they took away everybody's razor blades. Here I have asked for a razor blade and also to be issued sheets and a towel so I can shower. I have so far been ignored. The only good news is that my arms weren't broken in a black box this time.
[Part of letter redacted because it names another person]. I can confirm that the manuscript of Serpent's Blood and my laboriously constructed geneaology chart has been stolen from my possessions in Seminole County, which I was not allowed to take with me, and is presumably sitting in some FBI storage locker in Washington, D.C. I will file suit for its return if and when I ever get settled anywhere and may succeed in recovering it after some years of litigation. I've got time to pursue these little hobbies.
[Some more comments on Serpent's Blood redacted; the deputies in Oklahoma may not have photocopied this letter and forwarded it to the FBI like they were supposed to, and so there is no point in letting them know anything they don't need to. - HAC]
Don't write to this address. I won't be here that long, although I have no idea where I'll be sent next. I'm supposed to end up in Florida by March 23rd, but who the hell knows with these people?
Thanks for all you do, Harold.