Fresh Batch of Crying Today

I've been writing to Tom every day.  The very first day was a Wednesday and I just dashed off a short handwritten letter just to let him know I love him.  After that, I've typed and sent a letter and put it in the mail every day except on Sunday.  Many other people have written to him as well. I didn't know if he was receiving the mail because I haven't had any communication with him since the Tuesday that he went in.  But I was hoping that he was receiving his mail so that he would know that we're all thinking of him.

Each day that I check the mail and receive nothing is like a punch in the gut.  So today when I checked the mail, I saw that my first typed letter to him was returned to me unopened.  On the front of the envelope was stamped "no labels allowed".  The only label on it was my return address label.  I called the prison in tears and asked about it, the man said that, yes, no return address labels are allowed.  So that means my husband has been sitting in that prison, isolated from everyone because of the ridiculous COVID quarantine, and he hasn't even received my letters and possibly several others who used return labels.

Seriously?  Who thinks up these kinds of rules.  What's the difference between using a return address label and a stamp? We have to put a stamp on the envelope, don't we?

Do they have a department full of people just sitting around saying, "Hmm, how can we make things even harder?"?

There just seems to be one horrible thing after another.

How Do You Mend a Broken Heart?

 I alternate between grief, anger, fear, and just being plain overwhelmed.  I'm sure I'm not feeling anything that any other woman hasn't been through when she loses her husband in some way.  But that doesn't make it any less painful or stop me from crying about it.  I think of all the women throughout history who's husbands were in the military and were sent away for months or years at a time.  They had even less opportunities for communication than I do (although, I haven't heard a word from Tom since he entered the prison and I'm assuming that it's because the prison staff won't let him write or call). They had to live in fear for their husband's life.  And, indeed, many of those husband never came back.  What a horrible thing to live with.

When I was a toddler, my father, who was a marine, was sent to Japan for 16 months.  My mother had three children under the age of five and the military didn't pay enough to cover our expenses.  So my mother had to move to Arkansas to be near her family so that her sisters could care for us children while she got a job for the first time in her life.

I remember bits and pieces of that.  My mother says I used to go up to different men and ask, "Are you my daddy?"  And, I do remember when he actually came home and he reached out to me and I pulled away, saying, "You're not my daddy."

He had another nine-month tour when my younger sister was a toddler.  And then he died when I was 12.  So I know my mother had a really rough time.

After Tom gets out of quarantine, he's supposed to have access to email.  So that's something to look forward to.  But it just seems unnecessarily cruel to keep him from any and all communication.  I mean, what is the point?  A show of power?  Just a way to cause misery?  I know that prison is not supposed to be pleasant.  But it's very hard to take when you know an innocent man (and his family) is suffering.  Also, the prison website goes on about how important it is for the inmates to maintain their family relationships and contacts.  Well, apparently, those are just words on the website.

So how did we get on this track with the IRS?

I've already mentioned that the IRS started in on us the first year we were married and that we suffered through several audits throughout the years.  Then came a time when Tom hit is big with a company that he helped go public.

I say "hit it big", but really it wasn't just a windfall that fell in our laps.  Tom was a workaholic.  He worked HARD for years.  We, his family, sacrificed time with him.  I think some people see others "hitting it big" as if they won the lottery or something.  No, years of hard work, sleepless days and nights, skipped vacations, weekend work, etc. goes into bringing a fledgling company to the point where you can actually see a return.  And many of those companies never even get to that point.  I rode that entrepreneurial roller coaster with my husband for years.

Then, finally, back in the 90's, the company went public and we were able to sell some stocks.  So when you are in that kind of position, that changes your status with the IRS.  Because we were selling some stock off during the year, we had to report and pay taxes quarterly.  We couldn't wait until April 15th of the following year.  So each quarter we wrote these huge checks to the IRS, trying to comply with their rules, trying to do the "right" thing and obey the law.  Then came the end of the tax season.  We received a notice that appeared to us to be saying that we overpaid and that we have to pay penalties and interest on overpayment.  Sounds outrageous, right?  Well, we WERE outraged.  After years of being harassed by the IRS, that was the letter that broke the camel's back.  Tom said, "There is something WRONG with our tax system."  And he set out to find out what it was.

If you know Tom, you know that he doesn't do anything by half measures.  When he wants to learn something, he learns it inside out.  He studied and researched until he became an expert on the tax system, tax laws, and by extension, the U.S. monetary system.  

That was the beginning.

To start at the beginning of the telling of this saga, click here.

On a lighter note, I've introduced Clodagh the Border Collie and if you want to follow along with her training, you can follow me on Instagram at mos8ics.  I try to keep it light and fun, so I'm not doing a lot of training at the moment because of my grief.  But hopefully, I'll get back into updating it soon.

What Does Terror Feel Like?

July 21, 2018 

When Tom first began being harassed by the IRS years and years ago, it was very scary.  They always managed to send threatening notices right before holidays like Thanksgiving or Christmas.  It would pretty much ruin the holiday for both of us because Tom would go into full on defensive mode and start going through all of his papers to make sure everything was in order and to decide how best to respond.  It was truly awful.

Back then, each time I would panic and start fearing that at any moment someone in law enforcement would come pound down our door and drag us away in handcuffs and seize all of our belongings.  I'm convinced that this was their plan.  They rule by terror and intimidation and I'm quite sure it works most of the time.

After years and years of those tactics and nothing really happening, I became kind of immune to the terror.  I just went on with my day like nothing happened and Tom didn't panic and rush to respond.  He knew what to do, he was prepared.  He did what was necessary and that was the end of it.

I thought I knew what fear was back then.   Let me tell you, now that I've experienced it, I know what I didn't know back then.  And that is, I didn't know what terror was.

I couldn't have imagined what it feels like to be indicted for a crime.  Maybe if I had actually done something illegal, I would have been expecting it and wouldn't be all that shocked that I now had to pay the piper.  Or, maybe not.  Maybe guilty people don't expect to be caught.  Anyway, I'm quite sure that I have never experienced this level of stress in my life.  And, I've had some stress, let me tell you, not the least of which was having my father die of electrocution in the crawlspace under my bedroom at the age of 12.

The minute my husband uttered the words and I incredulously asked for confirmation, "me?  they indicted ME?" my stomach started roiling and heaving.  The stress, the adrenaline, or whatever it was just hit me like a mac truck and it stayed that way for a full 24 hours, except for some stretches of time that I was able to distract myself with work around the house.  Even though I was still thinking about it, something about being up and doing kept the monster at bay just enough so that I could function.

Things I don't know about prison:  do they provide gluten free meals (for when I'm able to eat without heaving)?  is it cold (when I'm cold at night, my hips hurt and I can't sleep)?  can I get a naproxen when my hips hurt?  can I have my pillow that supports my neck when I sleep?  are there prison pajamas or do you just wear the same prison garb day and night?  is there any privacy, or is the toilet really right there in the cell on display for anybody walking by or your cell mate?  what about showers?  can I have my can of dry shampoo in my cell?  can I have my makeup in my cell?  will someone steal my things if I have anything?

How in the world did Martha Stewart survive?

July 25, 2021

These things, when viewed from a criminal's point of view, or that of people in third world countries or worn torn countries who don't even have comfort and things like make-up, special pillows, and special (life-saving) diets may seem trivial, silly, even.  But from the point of view of a law abiding American who has grown up enjoying America's special brand of freedom and comfort, contemplating having that freedom forcibly taken away is no small thing.

And, yes, the make-up and pillows ARE trivial in the scheme of things.  There are many more important things at stake.  Not the least of which, why is our government doing things like this? Why are they terrorizing citizens?  What do they have to hide?  How can one human being do this to another human being?  Because these are human beings perpetrating this evil.

Trying Not to Cry on THIS Day

Yeah, isn't that a pathetic goal? Trying to make it through one day without crying.  It's noon on the fourth day that my husband has been a political prisoner and I've managed to make it through the morning without crying my eyes out.  I've welled up and started to go all self-pity on myself, but choked it back.  I'm tired of puffy, bloodshot eyes. I am not a dainty, pretty cryer.

Yesterday, the second day since my husband became a political prisoner, the A/C in the barn apartment stopped working properly. I called the A/C guy and he came out to check it.  Thankfully, it was only a little low on freon, so that's off my anxiety list.  So far today, everything is running smoothly.

I found this long snakeskin in the coop yesterday morning.  I expect to meet it's former inhabitant sometime soon.  Snake removal was Tom's job.

On July 20, 2018, I wrote:

I'm still sick and shaky, but was able to finally get some sleep last night.  I can hardly eat anything, but I wanted to lose weight anyway, so I guess that's a silver lining (BTW, I never lost that weight despite three years of terror.  So, I guess there wasn't a silver lining after all).

We received a little more information yesterday from Tom's attorney, Mike Gibson.  Still nobody can understand why the indictment was obtained in Fort Worth and moved to Dallas.  I think normally, the indictment is obtained in the district where the accused lives.  Anyway, it's a two count indictment and at the moment I don't really understand what that means, but I'm sure it will become clearer to me as time passes, even though I'd be happy to never know what a two count indictment is.  They are charging us under 18 USC 371 for evasion of payment of taxes and a Klein Conspiracy.

Mr. Gibson also told us that they have arranged for us to "self surrender" on August 7 or 8.  And, also that no bail would be required, and after "processing" - mugshots and fingerprints, people.  This kind of humiliation should not be perpetrated upon innocent law-abiding citizens - we will be released on our own recognizance and allowed to return home.  Isn't it ironic that they know that we are honorable, honest people that pose no threat to anyone and will keep our word that we'll be around for trial.

As a woman, it's hard for me to keep perspective on this and my mind automatically goes to worse case scenario, to minutiae and unimportant things like "will they allow me to have my make-up in prison?"  I'm blessed to be surrounded by friends and family that snatch me back from the edge and help me to get some perspective. (Now that I know more, the answer is "No, they do not let you take your makeup into prison with you.")

First of all, I have the truth on my side.  The problem is, I've seen that often the truth does not matter to the courts and sometimes they won't even let the truth be heard because they disallow evidence and the one and only thing the courts are concerned with is ADMINISTRATIVE PROCEDURE.  But, still, I do have the truth and innocence, so there's that.

Secondly, I know that God is in control.  I don't know the reasons for this and I can't see the end result, but there is a reason this is happening and all things work together for good for those that love the Lord. (Let me tell you, it is a difficult thing to remember during such a trial.)

Thirdly, I'm not going to prison tomorrow.  Each day I can tell myself that.  There will be motions and briefs and hearings and all kinds of possibilities for a good outcome before the actual trial.

My best friend from high school has worked for federal judges, first in Dallas, then in OKC, for years and knows the system.  When Mr. Gibson told Tom that I would need my own lawyer, she recommended a lawyer she knows that used to be a prosecutor and never lost a case.  (I have to wonder if, as a prosecutor, he ever prosecuted an innocent person).  She called him for me as a head's up and I called his office this morning and will be meeting with him next week.

Start at the beginning of this saga.

One Day at a Time.

Yesterday was my first entire day with Tom gone.  I'm trying to focus on THIS day and not the 500+ days and nights left. I become overwhelmed at the thought. Of course, I've been here by myself for times when Tom has traveled without me.  A few days here and there, sometimes a week. That has never been a problem for me.  Except that, without fail, something always breaks or stops working or goes wrong when he's gone.

True to form, the keypad on the entry gate stopped working yesterday. No surprise there.  I'm sure that won't be the last of it.

So, here's how we landed at this place in our lives.  July 18, 2018:

I had the most terrifying news of my life on this day.  That night, I wrote, "It's 11:30 at night and I know I'm not going to sleep, so I may as well write.  I've already tried praying, cleaning house (it's a family trait of ours to clean when we're upset) and playing on-line games to take my mind off of what's to come.  But my stomach won't stop roiling and my eyes won't stay closed."

That roiling stomach has become my constant companion.

So, here it is.  My husband and I, along with an attorney/friend were indicted that day.

Wow.  That's a shocker, isn't it?  I can't decide if it's worse to see it in black and white, or if it helps me feel better to type it out.

We knew very little at that point and the waiting to find out was difficult.  My husband and I were out to dinner with friends when he got a call from his attorney in Dallas, Mike Gibson, who told him that we had been indicted for "conspiracy to defraud the US government".  We didn't really know why or what they were basing the indictment on.  What we did know is that they lied to get an indictment because there is no truth to it.  We never defrauded anybody, much less the US government.  The attorney told us that we were going to be "allowed" to "self surrender" so there wouldn't be marshalls knocking down our door and taking us away in handcuffs.  Thank the Lord for small favors.  

The why?  Well, since we didn't know what this "conspiracy" was, we could only guess that it had to do with taxes and the IRS.  It's a long story.  I don't remember half of it, but it started many years ago.  Maybe as long as 20 years.  Those readers who know us personally know that we've had a long, long battle with the IRS.  Fear not.  We have paid all of our taxes.  But, anyone who has had a run-in with the IRS knows that they don't take kindly to anyone fighting back.  The first year we were married, we were audited and it ended up that the IRS owed us a refund. Since then, we've had several audits (each time with the result of the IRS owing us) and legal battles with the IRS and found them to be, well, evil to the core.  They lie and cheat and do everything in their power to ruin lives.  They are not subject to the same rules that the common man is.  This huge, all-powerful agency decided that they are going to squash us and that is exactly what they tried to do all of these years.

In addition to our fights with the IRS, Tom and our attorney/friend were politically active and the government does not like what they are saying.  I'll say more on that in another post.

For at least the last 10 years, up until about 2016, the Dallas prosecutors office had been trying to indict Tom.  He had been represented by attorney Mike Gibson, and each time this indictment business cropped up, usually around the same time of year, the attorney was given notice and the effort was unsuccessful.  I don't know if they just hadn't come up with enough manufactured evidence that they thought they could make stick, or if the grand jury just never would take the bait. It had become routine for us, so their threats had lost their bite.  They finally had told Mr. Gibson that they were done trying to indict Tom and we breathed a sigh of relief and thought we could get on with our lives.

Then in 2018, they took the case they had pulled together to a Fort Worth grand jury with no warning to any of us, including Mr. Gibson.  So, when he received an email about the indictment, he was completely gobsmacked and so were we.  Not only had they indicted Tom, they also indicted ME (and our attorney friend) as co-conspirators.  We knew right away that indicting me was a way to get to Tom.

Three items:  (1) they got the indictment in Fort Worth and immediately had the case moved to Dallas. I'm not sure how that works or how they could get it done in one day; (2) if you don't know how indictments work, here's a simplified version:  the prosecutor tells a story to the grand jury and presents "evidence" to convince them that there might be something to that story.  Only the prosecutor gets to present evidence.  Even if we knew about this, they would not allow us to present evidence to prove the prosecutor is lying and that we are innocent.  If the GJ is convinced enough, they indict and an arrest is made; (3) An "indictment" is an accusation. We have found that, in general, people believe that if a person is indicted, he/she must have done something wrong.  It's not true, folks.  In the future, when you hear that someone has been indicted, presume innocence and realize that an indictment is only an accusation.

None of us has ever had to face something like this before, so it was new territory and so uncertain.  Government's God-given duty is to protect the good and punish the evil, but in this, and many other cases, they are doing the exact opposite.  God have mercy on us and our nation.

Romans 13:3-4, "For rulers are not a terror to good conduct, but to bad.  Would you have no fear of the one who is in authority?  Then do what is good, and you will receive his approval, for he is God's servant for your good.  But if you do wrong, be afraid, for he does not bear the sword in vain.  For his is the servant of God, an avenger who carries out God's wrath on the wrongdoer."

Start at the beginning of this saga.

Going It Alone

Wow, where to start.  My husband is now a political prisoner in a federal prison camp.  How about that?  Yes, in the United States of America.  I don't know exactly how to begin.  I hate those TV shows and movies that start out with a caption "Five days ago" or "20 years ago" and they flash from past to present day and then back again. Ugh. But I don't know how else I'm gonna tell this.

First off, I'm terrified of being the lone caretaker for the next 18 months for this 36 acres of property, 14 goats, 4 donkeys, 21 chickens, 2 cats, and 3 dogs (2 of them are puppies that need training), tons of equipment that breaks down regularly and needs maintenance, a gate opener that regularly stops working, generators that need regular maintenance and sometimes don't work.  But sometimes we don't get a choice in life.  Well, often we don't get a choice about how our life is going to turn out.  Did I ever think I might go to prison or that I might be married to a man who is sentenced to prison? I can't say that it ever crossed my mind.  I mean, I'm a law abiding citizen.  I'm a Christian and I know the importance of living a life dedicated to doing the right thing.  I married a man with the same convictions.  Yet, here we are.

It needs to be said. My husband is innocent. The government prosecuted him because he's been an outspoken advocate a of lawful, Constitutional monetary system for years. Oh, that's not what it says on the indictment or any of the transcripts.  But that's the truth of it.  They had to trump up charges and lie to get their indictment and conviction.  Even after hearing him talk about this for decades, I'm still not really qualified to convey the particulars with complete accuracy.  But, I'll tell things from my point of view and try to be a brief and accurate as possible.

So for the next few days, weeks, months - however long it takes to, I'll tell our story.  And I'll try to intersperse it with what's going on at the farm and how I'm handling things on my own.  We have WONDERFUL family and friends that have rallied around us and ALL of them have offered to help me in any and every way possible. So, with their help, and with God's help, I'll muddle through here.  There will be tears.  There already have been lots of tears on my part. In fact, just thinking about tears makes my tears start to flow.

So, I mentioned two puppies. If there are any of my original readers left, you probably remember our beloved livestock guardian dog, Harry.

We lost him back around Mother's Day. He was old and just walked away one day never to return. Since we need another LGD to work with Ginger, we just bought "Boy" a couple of weeks ago. He's in training and going through that horrible puppy stage where he tears everything up.  So far, he hasn't shown an interest in killing chickens, so that's a good thing.

And one more introduction. Back in October, I got a Border Collie in the hopes that she could some day help me with the goats.

This is Clodagh. Say "Kloh-duh" in your best Irish accent.