My boys, The Cleveland 5
|This rant I hope you’re about to read is an amalgamation of strong emotions and revelations regarding my comrades, the Cleveland 5, since this nightmare started. I would like to start by dispelling any misunderstandings folks may have of the boys. I call them boys because I’m quite a bit older than most of them. Except for Tony, most feel like sons to me. I never had the pleasure of meeting Tony but my entire family knows him well and vouches for him. Tony was going to fix my roof this summer. Tony, I’m going to just keep jamming old shirts in that hole in the roof. It will be waiting for you when you get out. Hurry.These boys are not the college educated anti-authoritarian types I’m guessing make up the fantastic groups like ALF, ELF, or what have you. They are not the highly organized ones who have carried out actions that have dumb founded the authorities for years. These boys aren’t editing any zines. The boys were raised by working class folks with all the hardship that entails. Many came to meet through Occupy, being exposed to new people, ideas, and sharing their own beliefs. They are the gritty Anarchists. They are my comrades. I’m with them until the end. Period. No exceptions.|
My son met Doug at Occupy. Both volunteered and had their responsibilities. Doug would many times stay up late and help my son. They became friends. Doug told my wife he thought of Gus as a younger brother and that he had his back. And he did. In my letters to you, Doug, I refer to you as son. And I mean it.
Skelly, you came to my house once to help my son with his bike. I know you mostly through photos and stories. Stories of your reputation to drop everything and help someone in need. My favorite story is the one where you were walking to an event and were jumped by two men. You single handedly fought off your attackers and continued on to your event. Black eye and all. Word is Skelly that you are not doing well in jail. I have no idea what you are going through. We need to get you help.
Connor, the poem writing, giggling young man who is apparently giving beards a bad name. You are an extremely talented young writer. Thank you for agreeing to attempt to write an ABC of Anarcho Primitivism with me. Though it now looks like it will be more of a Letters from Prison with a little Black and Green swirled in for good measure. It will be an entertaining read if nothing else. I will always be amazed about the time you giggled through an entire plate of salad greens. I can see giggling through a carrot or a radish. But an entire salad!? Love.
Brandon, I’ve known you the longest. I remember the first time I met you. Walking into my kitchen and seeing this giant, shirtless young man sweating all over my counter top. You immediately shook my hand and engaged me thoughtful and enlightened conversation. Brandon, you always ate my experimental casseroles without complaint. And even had seconds. You’re wonderfully extraverted, energetic, and it’s an honor to call you comrade.
Brandon, I also want to take a moment to apologize to you. I have a lot of guilt. I’m not sure of the dates but there was that period of time where I was mad at you for a reason that seems quite silly now. I pushed you away and had nothing to do with you. I know now the FBI was pulling that Security Culture in reverse shit on you, but I feel that if I would have stayed in contact with you instead of pushing you away, I could have maybe picked up on something not being right. I’m so incredibly sad and angry all the time now. Please forgive me, Brandon. You’re a good boy. You don’t deserve this shit. Leftovers in the fridge.
I strongly advise folks reading this to think hard if they know of anyone who has recently drifted away. Anyone they have lost contact with who falls into the same category of these boys. If so, touch base with them. See how they’re doing. How are they financially? See if they have made any new friends. And without being too intrusive, maybe just inform them of the thousands of provocateurs out there. That if someone pushy comes along promising them something that is too good to be true, advise them to just walk away.
The FBI and other agencies are actively entrapping the gritty ones (for now). And they are good at it. The FBI has to legitimize an 8 billion dollar a year budget. When Occupy was in full swing it was reported that the FBI sent out roughly 15,000 agents to infiltrate. There will be more Cleveland 5’s .
The State is pushing hard and fast. They will not stop. The world is quickly running out of resources and we are witnessing the final feeding frenzy of what’s left of it. Anyone or any group that is perceived as a threat to profit and or privilege will be prosecuted as a terrorist. Guaranteed.
My boys were entrapped to send a message. They were entrapped to further an agenda. That agenda includes the Final Empire’s last desperate grab of what is left of planet earth.
What do we do now? What do I do now? All I want to do is scream. Scream for my boys. Scream for vengeance.