Date: June 9, 2019
Time: Around 5:00pm
Location: A DRC Torture Camp in Toledo, OH
Since my last blog post, my life has consisted of a series of roller coaster-like highs and lows. About the only good news I have to repeat is that my documentary was screened March 11, at Denison University and was reported on by National Public Radio affiliate WOSU 89.7 FM. Tiffany Smith of the Ohio Justice and Policy Center is also helping me now. The publicity from my documentary, however, has led to some looking-for-trouble inmates labeling me as a “hideout” prisoner, which is a term used to describe inmates who refuse to be housed in general population. As a result of this, in the interest of not wanting to get into any serious trouble, on May 12, I refused to Lock in general population and voluntarily went to the hole.
Two weeks after I went to the hole, on May 30th, I kicked on my cell door in an attempt to get somebody to contact the mailroom about some stamps that I was waiting to receive. Lt. Jordon Reichenbaugh eventually came to my cell (D3-East-5) and began arguing with me about kicking on the door. I tried to explain my issue to him, and he went on to tell me he was “going to wipe his ass with my stamps,” and then he exited the cellblock. A few moments later, he returned back to my cell with two or three officers and told me to get handcuffed.
I complied with the directive and was then escorted out of my cellblock to a holding cage in a secluded area, which was out of view of the D3/4 cellblock corridor surveillance cameras. Lt. Reichenbaugh then told me that I was being placed on suicide watch and left the area. I responded by yelling “I’m not suicidal! I’m not suicidal!” Seconds later, the miscreant authority abusing lieutenant returned back with a second officer and told me that if I refused to go on suicide watch, he was going to summon the security response extraction team to force me on watch.
Being that I never said a word about being suicidal, I told the lieutenant to do whatever he wanted to do. The officer with the lieutenant then left the area. A few moments later, Lt. Reichenbaugh jumped back in a quick motion, just enough to be captured by the surveillance camera, and began yelling that I’d spat on him, which was an outright lie! Quickly, upon realizing that I was in the midst of being set up, I turned away from the exit where the lieutenant had just staged being spit at, knowing that I was about to be sprayed with an unknown chemical agent. Sure enough, a split-second later, I was sprayed with a large amount of the chemical. I thought that it was the pig-lieutenant that had sprayed me. I later found out, though, that it was an officer with the last name Logan.
After getting set up and assaulted, I was then forced on suicide watch and made to spend the night in a freezing cold cell, which was one of the dirtiest that I ever been in. The following day, after being taken off of watch, I notified my supporters and had them call the Ohio Highway Patrol and the media to tell them what happened to me.
Instead of the Highway Patrol investigating the incident with me as the victim, they came and read me my Miranda rights. I don’t know what’s going to happen now, though. And that’s because I have absolutely zero faith in the Ohio criminal justice system. I don’t even know why I even had anybody contact them, honestly. All that ever happens is a bunch of people in authority turning their heads to injustice. It’s cool for me to suffer, let them tell it.
If I was a Labrador Retriever or a German Shepherd and got treated the way I’m being treated, it would be millions of people raising hell across the U.S. When I got assaulted and framed by six Mansfield Correctional Institution officers in 2013, nobody said a word. Their silence is the reason why I’m a modern day slave. Maybe people should just start spraying dogs in the face with chemical agents, and posting videos of it. Maybe then people will start to think about prisoners that are being tortured like me (Hey PETA, chill … I really don’t mean this.).
All of the above is nothing compared to the tragic news that I recently learned about my late friend Heather Dawn Turfley, an author, filmmaker, and entrepreneur, whom I met in 2005 and helped me put together my early drafts for my published novel, Brother of the Struggle. For a reason that I’m really unclear about, I lost contact with Heather in 2008. Several years later, however, I sought to get in contact with her to see if she was willing to be interviewed for my then-forthcoming documentary. I could not find her.
Last month, I asked my brother to see if he could locate her. He did an extensive search and forwarded me the tragic news that she had allegedly committed suicide in 2014 inside a jail in the Virgin Islands. As soon as I got the news that she had passed away, I broke down and cried like a baby.
If Heather did, in fact, commit suicide as reported, I can only wonder what led to her tragedy. The media reported that she had a history of a diagnosed mental illness, but I am skeptical of news reports that involve the deaths and assaults of prisoners. Clearly, Heather was dealing with some problems in her life. I just can’t go with the media’s story alone because the person described in the story is not the person I knew. Heather was super-intelligent, thoughtful, and caring. She was accomplished! She wrote two books, “Children of the State” and “What The #!&?: A Straight Up Guide to Life, Love, and Money,” and she self-published them under her pseudonym Nicia Aiyetoro. In addition to this, she co-owned a photography business, filmed short movies, taught film classes to at-risk youths, and was also a public speaker. She accomplished all of this after being homeless.
At the time of writing, I am attempting to get in contact with Heather’s relatives so I can learn more about her life and what led to her death. If I can ever be granted my freedom and if I survive being tormented by Ohio’s criminal (in)justice system, I want to do something to honor her and tell her story. She truly was a wonderful person and I will never, ever forget her.
My future girlfriend or wife is going to be jealous of the adorable little girl and woman in the pictures below…
Heather Dawn ‘Nicia’ Turfley, In Loving Memory
Rest in Peace
1976 – 2014
Before I could mail the above posting out for publication on the website, I found out that I’m being transferred back to the infamous Southern Ohio Correctional Facility (SOCF). This is not good news for me. I just came from SOCF in early 2018 where I had to wait months to be given my legal property and addresses. Furthermore, I’m going to be in a housing area that doesn’t allow prisoners to access their JPay accounts. This is going to be a major inconvenience to me. Major!
In addition to being cut off from communicating with the world, I’m being sent to the prison that I spoke out against in my documentary, in defense of the Lucasville Five prisoners.
Being that my life is about to be put in great, great danger — way more danger than it is now — I just want to say on my behalf that if I die, I don’t want a funeral and that I DID NOT ROB any Subway sandwich shop or doughnut shop in 1993! There is a video somewhere that proves this; but, I guess my life is not worthy enough of any of these paper tiger activist and fake wrongful conviction projects to investigate my claim. 26-fucking-years and nobody gives a fuck!
If I didn’t have these fake robberies on my record, I’d be out of prison. None of this matters, though. Maybe if I was somebody that got caught in the Middle East, plotting to blow up American buildings and planes, et cetera — maybe then I’d be getting out of prison! Oh, better yet, maybe I should just claim to be a Catholic priest, so I can just avoid the criminal (in)justice system and just be excommunicated! If I change my website to “FreeFatherGoudlock.org,” I might even get to see LeBron play!
But, then again, I don’t think my Black Life Matters to him, because he never responded to anything about my injustice, and it was publicized all over the world, with his name attached to the headlines! I guess he’s too busy trying to be like Mike. I just hope, though, that he doesn’t be like him and start investing into prisons (#DontBeLikeMike)! I wish Malcolm X was alive to call out Sellout Mike. I mean, because, Nike, Hanes, or McDonald’s surely won’t.
Well, I’m going to conclude on that note. If anybody cares about me or true justice, support my documentary and donate to my crowdfunding campaign. Plus, send me a message!