Chris is Headed to WA!

I got this exciting note from Chris' parents this morning!


Dear Family and friends,

This initial e-mail goes out to you as we heard from Chris finally last night (it had been 2 weeks). He called from Nevada where he is in transit and he says he has been told he is heading to Federal Detention Center in Seatac, WA on Tues! I will let you know when he confirms that he is actually there! We spoke to sister Casey and she is hoping to come home and visit during her Spring break at the beginning of April!

the address is:

Chris Spicer 94642-020

Federal Detention Center in Seatac
2425 So 200th St

Seattle, WA 98198

Dave and Marti

A response that makes sense

So after I posted "Don't Hold Your Breath" and raised some questions about why the prison doesn't communicate the transport of prisoners ahead of time, I got an enlightening response from someone in our community who used to work in the prison system. Check it out:

Hello--

Having worked in the prison system, transportation is always an issue. They can't notify as to when a person will be moved due to security issues (somebody could and probably has intercepted their transportation before and sprung a prisoner). Also, basically when someone is moving depends on when a van is available and may happen overnight. So be prepared not to know that Chris has been moved when it does happen. One day he might be in one facility and the next another.

We actually had to wait for months for transportation to come in some instances. The prison system is so ridiculously upside down. . .and the people that survive there don't do so because they are nice. There is inherently an us vs. them mentality fostered by every rule in prison society. I gave up trying to make change from within because the pressure is so insane. The men definitely need mental health services and other services but they are often attended by people who have the same characterisics of criminals and lack in humanity themselves.

Hope this helps.

Moving Letter From Chris

Dear (Mom and Dad) Anne,

“My soul is among lions and I lie even among them that are set
on fire; even the sons of men whose teeth are spears an arrows
and their tongue a sharp sword.” Ps 57:4

8:09 Tues morning; its all wrong. Today at 7:30 I expected the guard to get me for transit. (The door opens: enter Glen. Disappointment.) Had just dozed briefly after the spike of syrup from the pancakes for breakfast. Discreetly I held myself, miserable, disconsolate, as the conclusion of (playwright) Athol Fugard’s “Statements after an Arrest Under the Immorality Act” told me in whispers this was the course I chose, that separation had some good purpose and that it would be okay not to say goodbye to Clyde. We each have hidden in our texts knowing how ideas matter. I whispered to myself that the new strangers would become familiar. Then Jackson swept the floor and said to somebody “Just as long as you keep your mind right, you’ll be fine.”

9 February, 2011
Dear Mom and Dad,
Your unfathomable support signifies God’s ever bounding deepening love.
Please, please type the writing to Anne at her e-mail. Thanks


A Poem by Alan Seeger Found pg 225-226

I have a rendezvous with Death
At some disputed barricade
When Spring comes back with rustling shade
I have a rendezvous with Death
When Spring brings back blue dogs and fair.

It may be that he will take me by the hand
And lead me to his dark land and close my eyes to his dark land
And close my eyes and quench my breath-
I may pass him still.
I have a rendezvous with Death
On some scarred slope of battered hill
When Spring comes round again this year
And first meadow-flowers appear.

God knows ‘twere better to be deep a
Pillowed in silk and scented down
Where love throbs out in blissful sleep.
Pulse nigh to pulse, and breath to breath.

Where hushed awakenings are dear…
But I’ve a rendezvous with Death
At Midnight in some flaming town
When Spring trips north again this year
And I to my pledged word am true,/
I shall not fail that rendezvous.

Go see Fr. Roy Bourgeois in Seattle!

FR. Roy is the founder of SOA Watch and champion of the cause to
close down the School of Americas. If you want to
learn more about this important cause,
check him out at the following events in Seattle.


Confronting Militarism in the Americas
The Truth behind the School of the Americas & U.S Foreign Policy
Fr. Roy Bourgeois

Thursday, March 10th, 2011
7 P.M.
Wallingford United Methodist Church
2115 N 42nd St. Seattle

For more info visit www.soaw.org!

Don't Hold Your Breath

Well, folks, as it turns out, our main man Chris was never moved last week. It's been frustrating: the prison told him over 2 weeks ago to expect to be moved "any day now." So, he's been thinking he's going to be moved, and he's been telling his parents and advocates he's going to be moved, and I've been telling you he's going to be moved, BUT in fact... no dice. So, we have come to realize quite clearly that we simply cannot trust what the Irwin County Detention Center staff says because frankly they just don't keep their word. When someone or an organization doesn't keep their word, it becomes impossible to deal with them. You never know what to expect, you are left in the dark, unsure of what move to make next. I don't think this is a coincidence.

What's even worse though is that no one knows where Chris will be going either. No when, and not where. And not Chris, his parents, or even his legal advocate. Basically the prison will decide to transfer him out of the holding facility to a federal prison at some point. That's all we know. He could end up staying in Georgia where he actually practiced civil disobedience, or in Illinois where he lived right before the civil disobedience, or in Washington State where his last official residence is. Or maybe even somewhere else if none of those locations have room. It's frightening really: at some point Chris will be transferred and NO ONE in his family or support network will know where he is. They will simply have to wait who knows how long before they find out.

So, again, I just have to raise the question: is this really fair? Is it ethical? Why isn't the federal prison system -- private or not -- required by law to notify the prisoner and his family before he is moved? Is this just another aspect of human dignity we strip away from prisoners when they commit a crime, that is, the right to even be told where they are being taken?

You tell me because I don't know. What I do know is that Chris is still in Irwin County so please continue to write him there. When he is moved I'll be sure to let you know, but until then, don't hold your breath.

Check in from our friend Fr. Bob

Dear Friends of our SOAW Prisoners of Conscience:

Monday, Feb 7, 2011

I wanted to report on my visits last week with our dear friends Nancy Smith and Chris Spicer at the Irwin County Detention Center in Ocilla, GA. We were blessed to have around 90 minutes of visiting time both with Chris on Thursday morning Feb 3 and Nancy on Friday afternoon, Feb 4. Both expected to have been moved and were surprised to be there still. Maybe it was the winter storms around the country that slowed down their transfer, but who knows? Both visits were full and satisfying, and we suspect it will be the last time we will see each other for awhile, with the strong likelihood of their being moved most imminent.

Chris looked relaxed and content. Maybe it was the cotton long johns he had on underneath the prison jumpsuit or maybe it was my imagination, but he looked like there was more weight on him than the last time I saw him. My mental memory images are usually pretty good. We reviewed many of the usual topics which we spoke of before. I understood more clearly that he has been receiving mail more consistently with "mail call" as an event that only happens 2-4 days a week anyway. I was chagrined that Captain Paulk [at the prison] had NOT given him the Catholic Missalette which he had promised, and that Chris had missed keeping up with his Catholic roots through the readings.

We spoke about letter writing and how he likes to write down what's happening just a fast as he can to gather perspective. He desires more confidentiality for his prison companions out of respect for their privacy so that might require some editing, which we strategized about. We spoke of favorite poems and books, what inspires and sustains us. Chris is still pleased to be able to focus his ministry of presence with his fellow inmates. He feels greatly supported by the mail he gets and the solidarity of the White Rose CW Community in Chicago, his parents, and the network/blog that Anne is working for him.

Although disappointed that there is no opportunity for Catholic Eucharist, he feels content with the prayer and bible study group that he participates in with his dorm-mates. Teaching English as a second language, writing complaint letters for others, and serving in many "interpretive services" keep him busy. He mentioned that he tried to keep his personal profile uncomplicated and out of sight in many ways so that he could focus on serving others. So it wasn't until just the day before we spoke that he disclosed to some of them the real reasons for his being there in prison and what was going on at SOA in Columbus. His conclusion was that this was not at all problematic but rather helpful, so it seems that a new level of personal sharing was opening for him with the other inmates there. This is a good development, he feels, because he would like to focus more on what is happening at places like Ft. Benning and was wondering how to get around to it.

Of course, Nancy Smith had taken the opposite approach in her ministry of presence with her fellow inmates. She was aware that their attention span was limited, as to how much information they could hold about the SOA, so she would focus on stories that they would remember, e.g. about the massacres in El Salvador of families and the killing of the innocent babies: "Wow!" they would say and they would be more apt to remember. But because their literacy, education, and world view were so undeveloped she would have to do often what Chris was doing, just trying to accompany them in their own world conflicts and dramas.

Nancy said: "How tiny their lives are! Such a little village that they live in, of guns, pills and drugs. But it is all they know! Overwhelmingly poor, black and white. Mothers and daughters are in it together, whole families (in this little way of war making). They have huge screaming fights and then someone will tone it down and pray with the individual who is so upset. They are so VERY religious! The strong fundamentalist Baptist style of prayer in their prayer circle, loquacious and ever-so articulate about their needs and emotions to God. On the one hand so very abstemious in one minute and then guilty of petty theft in the next. Their emotional hair-triggers can go off at any time. ... "

When I told Nancy that she looked noticeable more tired this time, with the darkness around her eyes, she smiled humbly and acknowledged that when the word came around midnight that 5 of them would be leaving in two hours' time, there was a great deal of screaming and shouting as they emotionally were sorting themselves out in preparation for the move. And there was little way to get any rest while all that was going on. Until long after they departed, there was still quite a rumble. Nancy continues her disciplined manner of ministry of presence, her "open bowl" Buddhist approach of chosen "indigent status" so that she can be more simple and supple in attending to the needs of others. She practices a rare mindfulness which is a well-integrated presence, balancing her own vegetarian diet, inner-prayer, disciplined body exercise ("to get my heart rate up and sustained for a while"), quick wit and joyful self-knowledge in being "an oddity here." She was glad to hear that I gave her Quaker booklet manual and copy of the Sutras [which her granddaughter, Kirsten, had sent me] to Captain Paulk so that she might enjoy them, but immediately plotted with me as how to get them "out" when she left because "We can take nothing with us."
She was stunned at how little concern her fellow inmates could muster for the situation in Egypt. We shared about our travels in the middle east and her former work with Oxfam and other agencies there. She had made the pilgrimage of Santijago de Compostella and shared about the magnificent old churches she had visited, as well as the dying religious communities. How difficult to sustain faith without a true on-going encounter with the world and the need for justice everywhere! We shared a common hunger for the Eucharist that would go beyond the bounds of denominationalism. She hopes that "Kavita" is on her e-mail list [can someone follow up on this?]. Then we enjoyed "gasho" [bowing 3 times with palms together in reverence for the other] and departed.

So that's the report about Ocilla. Hopefully I can get through the lack of hospitality at McRae and tell you something next week about Michael David Ormondi. Blessings of peace to all in our network of support for these beloved prisoners of conscience.

Fr. Bob

The beauty of friendship

When I write to Chris, I always include an updated list of all of your names. In response one day, Chris started going down the list sharing about you. Check it out...
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Hey Prayer Community,

Greetings to you all from C-2 housing unit! I’ve just had some fun conjuring you each to mind as I did laps. What if I wrote a blurb about each of you just so you have a starting point. My hope is this can prime the pump by creating a more comfortable space to share with one another.

Amy Nee is the gal I recently fell for while living in Chicago. I hope this gives her a hard time. She’s a gem, originally from Florida, raised by two rad parents. They took the Bible to heart having their babies at home and rearing them home schooled. She does an angelic version of Hallelujah singing/playing guitar and makes the best brussel spouts ever. Her writing voice is soft, delicate and she has a bookshelf to drool over. Some say they see Dorothy in her-I disagree- I’ve never heard a crass word from her. But if you have the Long Loneliness, look at the photo of young author Ms. Day.

Andrew Rodriguez hails from the California Province. His most sincere affection before departing still moves my heart. He also just shared a clear exposition of Kierkiegaardian study on the near sacrifice of Isaac by Abraham. Much like his gentle manner, his thesis is that the dilemma is resolved by an image of a loving God who does not ask sacrifice. I would go with he and Francis Nugyven to get bubble tea as a scholastic at Loyola University of Chicago or as a group with Sean Salai or to a film like The Visitor.

Ann Kukak serves Gonzaga Prep as a counselor and we worked closely to best meet the GPrep standards of excellent learning and teaching. With her gift to mediate and speak a tongue any party can hear, I made discoveries of my strengths and weaknesses without feeling I sat with an adversary but with a team player. She is a picture of wisdom with her shock white hair, crows peak, high forehead smooth of wrinkles, clear frame glasses, blue eyes with smile creases and pearly teeth. She could speak a prophet’s correction with a smile.

Ben Gaven nearly got hitched our freshman year at Santa Clara to a feisty dentist’s daughter who, like him, was quite a cherub in spite of all the bluster. When we first ran together in anticipation of joining the Bronco XC squad, he demanded an average of 6:00 miles pace for the easy runs. No wonder he went on to be an inspiration and captain of the squad. He’ll never let me forget Sunriti’s jungle, nor will “slick Rick” Ricky Bracket or “Balls” Michael Wall. To them I’m a man of many names; Slider, Slide F, Slide FFN, and Snort F. Ben, I’m wearing Asics 1140. By the way, he and I once had a snowball fight on Monserrat, scampered a top an Elephant-shaped peak for lunch, and took looksies at ancient hermitage sites. I think fondly of this now even as I make my own Ignatian pilgrimage of sorts, laying down my privilege & having a Manresa-esque schooling in prayer.

Bernie Herberholt is my best friend. Consider a famous painting of the apostle John and Peter. See how the painter has focused the frame to the head and shoulders to portray the intense emotion of the men as they race to the tomb upon hearing Magdalene give testimony of Jesus' resurrection appearance. Peter has eyes of amazement and worry, his brow furrowed in concern. On the other hand, John is ahead with wide, joyful surprise radiating. When Bernie last wrote me, just before my trial he said "I hope you get what's coming to you." We've been friends since first grade and we need only eight words to express a lifetime shared.

Bob Graf and I share a common experience of leaving the Jesuits. In a letter he assured me that I can trust in the skill of discernment, that such is the wealth my Jesuit formation has given me. For decades Bob's activism to resist militarism has complemented a lifestyle centered in loving family and in performing simple acts of mercy with great love. While a claim to fame is his part in the 1968 "Milwaukee-14" draft card burning, I know his role as father is the one he most cherished. I continue to grieve the loss of his son. From Bob's ceaseless hounding of ROTC programs to his ministry as taxi man for the poor - I recognize in him an ardent love of Christ whom he has devoted himself to take down from the cross.

Bonnie Masiello is hands down the most amazing gal I ever kissed, but that's a secret. It was on an air-conditioned deluxe bus ride returning to San Salvador after a week of language study in Antigua. After the kiss she said (you slobber) "That didn't feel quite right. Let's not talk about this." So began a course of self restraint, a necessary pre-req for a life of celibacy. To know Bonnie you have to remember she's the eldest of three daughters born and raised in a well-off Boston family. Hell, she's worked for the CIA, quit, returned to work in El Salvador, and now pursues an MA in Education from Columbia. If she keeps up her French and Yoga they will be further assets for when she is the future President or wife of, but then Stephanie Valencia or Rahima Kamela Laird may beat her to the post. I would say Bonnie is like God's scalpel but I'll never forget she and Emily Chesterton singing, "I'll walk 5,000 miles", their heads sticking out of a makeshift table on talent night at the Gsa, voices high like cabbage patch kids babies.

Carolyn Quartier could conduct lessons in hosting to new executive wives, and has. She puts her charm to the service of a pair of non-profits, one I volunteered for in Portland called Northwest Children's Outreach, the other to serve survivors of human sex trafficking, called Grace Ministries. In my many relationships, there are those like mine with Carollyn in which I feel the consolation of having another mother to look after me. Yet she let me be a faith sharing friend. What's more, she's a mentor. "What you need to do" she says, "is write a book". I laugh. "Seriously, then you can go around giving talks and sell the book." We all need conspirators like Carolyn.

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Chris loves and needs you all. Thank you for your support of him.

anne

Purging the Demon

So, last Friday I spoke with Fr. Bob. In the process of telling me about an experience he had, he said, "We have to avoid demonizing the system because we're peacemakers." As soon as he said it, I felt my stomach lurch: I have indeed been demonizing the system... and of course you can hear it in the sarcastic tone of my reflections.

Why am I demonizing the prison system? On an intellectual level I do understand why the system is the way it is, how it developed the way it did. As Fr. Bob says, "The system is designed to isolate, and on top of it, it dysfunctions." Yet, still, I find myself getting angry when I am listening to Chris' experiences, the trials of the other inmates, what his parents and advocates go through to support Chris. All the energy and time and emotion and money...and for what? To just put up with a system that could instead be far better designed and actually WORK to rehabilitate people and improve communities?

See, there I go again, getting ticked. Forgive me! I need to pray for God's grace to have compassion, patience, and love for the leadership who are making the decisions that create and perpetuate this system -- and for all of us who deal with its consequences. Only coming from this place of peace can God shine through us to transform darkness into light.

*Exhale*

Okay, so, you'll have to stay on me about this. Call me out when I am demonizing, and call up the Holy Spirit to give me grace. That's the only way I stand a chance folks.

Battle for Sanity

Here too, you can see how the guards keep control by wearing out the prisoners. How much does a prisoner deserve? Think of yourself...how much do you desire or dread routine? How much do you want people to do what they say they will do when they say they will do it? How much of this does a prisoner deserved to be stripped of? What is truly just in treating a prisoner? You can feel Chris' frustration not just for himself but for all of the men he is with.

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28 January 2011

Dear Anne: "God who comforteth us in all our tribulation." 2 Cor 1:4
"We had the sentence of death in ourselves." 2 Cor 1: 9
"Our rejoicing is testimony of our conscience." 2 Cor 1: 12

Green (constructive) a thought experiment based on learnings

1) The television set attracts viewers regardless of the language using rapid cutting, sexy physical appeal and the themes of competition revenge and covetous desire. Alternatively - through beauty and the pursuit of excellence, achievement, acceptance.

2) Guards receive ire for inconsistency only. Inmates with expectation fulfillment have gratification in predicting their future.But fake-out announcements such as "prepare for chow", then it taking 45 minutes before "chow call" - this upsets us. The exception to this is "the unexpected gift at an unexpected time." Thus some change that promises or fulfills an expectation, and this too is the corollary, namely that the inconsistency still meet the pattern. For example, by bringing the commissary orders to us at 8:15 AM. We expected commissary today but not until the late morning or early afternoon.

We expected it to require us to go to another room, where we must cope with the tedious count, the waiting for our turn and waiting for others - with constant bothering to keep quiet. Instead, we could stay in our comfort zone and be called one at a time. It helped to have an on deck "stand by" call.

Battle for Food

This letter from Chris disturbs me. You can see how the guards continue to jerk the inmates around, holding power over them to break them down. Chris sounds really tried at this point in his writing. Pray for him, please.

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January 28, 2011

Dear Anne:

“I was naked and you clothed me. I was in prison and you came unto me.” Matthew 25:36

It seems that only by writing can I expire, only by waiting can I transform this place for naught into something for good. Back from chow hall where the staff had no special tray for me. I get a vegetarian diet per the medical profile. I have long wrangled for the staff tried to serve me a regular tray of grits (1 cup), I sausage patty – which they removed and gave to someone else, and two biscuits with jelly packet. My pleading went ignored and my religious belief scorned. The officer in charge would not call the kitchen to have prepared the special tray which would have a substitute protein/caloric equivalent (such as two eggs). He sent me back to the dorm haunting me that I didn’t accept what they gave me – literal to the fact there was no meat on the tray. The orderlies were spiteful to me under the auspices.

Again & again & again. Thank God for support from my dorm. Jackson has filed a grievance form also, witnessing in his own way, he accepted the offered dish, receiving a second helping of grits & biscuit. His approach is not to get on the officer’s bad side. And yet it’s Jackson’s example that taught me to make no compromises, to wait until they bring the special tray.

“I was hungry and ye gave me meat.” Matthew 25:35

7:08 AM Officer Gentry reports that he has received confirmation from the kitchen that they are preparing something for me.

Dearly Beloved

A note from our own Chris

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Dearly Beloved friends, SOA watchers,

Your dedication pierces through these gray cement walls, and in the delivery of letters I bathe with such a remedy for the confinement, you protect me from melancholic, that malady for which St Thomas Aquinas recommended a good cleanse. Oh the news you bring startles me out of self consciousness; that filth washes down the drain as I soak in the message. “It is not about you!” I rub my skin pink with the news of the Ohio death row inmates on hunger strike since Jan 3^rd. When you attend to me this way, I experience not the host of a single body, but the blessed guest of suffering humanity. Now my soul arises. No stone can suffocate my inspiration from your fasting in solidarity with Guantanamo detainees. Here I too render a-piece the fear that birds, turn from images of prison, the stereotypes of a prisoner, and encounter myself surrounded by whole men. I admire the ceaseless echo of laughter in this dorm chamber. Truly spoke the reverend Dr King when he spoke of judging by the content of one’s character, not by the color of his skin or whether he wears the get up of a gulag class. I want you to meet these men, to come tell jokes with us, share a baloney sandwich or play chess, dominoes or cards; cheer with us the victory of the Seahawks to victory over the former champs; hop to your feet at a Hassleback touchdown pass, bellow with joy, clap hands & slap back with us; know the camaraderie of a company of men grateful to be alive, together whose every laugh mocks the mercilessness of our prosecutors. Would that you could attend Tuesday night church with us, just to hear the honey pop voices stand out for solo after solo with simple refrains like “Thank you Lord” crooning after God with every note of praise. –Behold listen to the earnest questions of these men who gather nightly for prayer call. Their affection for God sparkles, polished by assiduous reading of the work of God. Take your place in our circle, link, and make chorus the prayer Jesus taught us. “forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.” In the strident soldierly intones, hear the militant conviction of hearts emblazoned in hope. Taste our fortified spirits and become one in the body of Christ. We are 56 meek men prodding to the mess hall in our Jackie eher slippers. Lest we forget a guard reminds us “Hands behind your backs, Shoulders flush to the wall.” Laughter, muttering we march in single file with heads bent but not bowed. One restores our dignity by holding open the door, thereby reclaiming his own. Another will share his biscuit with his neighbor. A third will surreptitiously slip hot dog into a baggy and wedge it into his underwear, while a fourth has surrendered his right to a meal, remaining in bed. He dreams of his three year old. My neighbor voluntarily offers me his watered down PowerAde and I am deeply satisfied that my fast allows so many an extra portion. I have sat with these men purposefully. ICE immigration and customs enforcement detainees, transfer from another dorm, their hygiene & food stocks that they had purchased on commissary were stolen. Argument ensued the discovery; none confessed, the guards who offered no protection were blamed. They laughed through the night unbowed.

I sat beside Roberto who now serves three years for a repeated attempt to immigrate clandestinely. He previously lived in the US for eight years. After he serves the time, then the government will deport him once more to Honduras. He describes the repression he witnessed in the summer of 2009. In the wake of a military coup, the acting President criminalized anyone with a tattoo. In the draconian commanders all with visible tattoo were lined up and subject to his fusillade. Roberto lifted his shirt sleeve to reveal his brush with death; since it all took place without trial he knew many innocents had perished. Oddly he expressed relief not just for himself but for the circumstances in jail.

It turns out that in October of 2009 he suffered an imprisonment far worse than I could possibly imagine. In order to reenter the states members of the Zetas kidnapped he and three companions including a mother, a friend and female cousin. I was familiar with the nefarious reputation of the gang from accounts of warfare in Northern Mexico. The tales of indiscriminate murder of civilians in street side cafes, or the delivery to a doorstep of a severed head decapitated or a threat forced into a forehead. How had he survived? By ransom. Fortunately, another brother ransomed the four by salvaging $22,000 from savings and rushed sale of property. Meanwhile, the waiting for rescue was made less likely than the five of those who were stampeded to a riverside for execution. To the Zetas all were chattel, either to make profit with or else exercise the psychological terror techniques many Zetas acquired while serving with the military in training from United States facilities including SOA/WHINSEL. Roberto recounted what they would do with rats, pulverizing the kidnapped to the brink of extinction. His was a grizzly tale of fetid cramped quarters not the size of our dorm. It was through the garage he and others were herded into a two story house trap for 120 held for ransom. To have heard his story is to know he would not let the terror deter him.

I am proud to know in him the gumption that the poet William E. Henley called Invictus His unconquerable soul, the fell clutch of circumstances and “Horror of the shade, He the master of his fate, the captain of his soul; for him have I been called to witness the glorious compassion of God, in this time in this place."

Thankfully yours

Christopher

Oh, I had thought to write you of my trial but as yet I have had none to speak of. Even my legal team expressed surprise when the US Marshalls at first would not allow reading material into the court, never mind it was the Bible. My testimony before the Judge could have careened into the harangue of two words, but light shone in the darkness, and the Word became flesh. I listened to the prosecutor Captain Gladding with pity and with self restraint thought along the lines of St Augustine who meditated on the mystery of Christ’s birth: “Unspeakably wise, he is wisely speechless.” My advocate made a motion that the government had failed to give evidence of my guilt and the judge ignored him. Still it was self-evident that my case was allowing the judge not to protect the military interests. I therefore kept my inflammatory thoughts to myself and uttered not a word of solidarity. Not surprisingly, I received the maximum sentence. Yet the judge convicted me of an enigmatic charge for which I seek appeal and a precedent!

Keep the Vigil, dear SOA Watch

Sincerely in Admiration

Below is a beautiful letter to Chris from his friend Jim McAteer. (posted with permission)

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January 12, 2011

Dear Chris,

You are my hero. Life is full of opportunities to do what is right. But too often people like me do not have the guts to cross the line. “Follow me”. I remember when I was at Ft Benning for 12 weeks of officer training at the infantry school during the Korean war aftermath (1955) commanding troops in combat required leadership. I wasn’t a good soldier -- in fact one of my efficiency reports went something like this:

“Lt. McAteer is a reluctant officer who performs his duty in a marginal manner.” But I was a pretty good lawyer having won several acquittals in court martial cases at Ft. Lewis.

The School for the Americas is a hellhole that trains Latin American soldiers to be the enemy of the people. Another of my heroes is Archbishop Romero. After returning to Seattle in 1997 after being a delegate on the visitation to Arcatao I purchased through Amazon a collection of Romero’s pastoral letters and other writings. Wow!! What a great man and saint. Last Sunday after the 9AM Mass Fr John W. gave a slide show of his trip to El Salvador, Arcatao, and UCA. He showed pictures of the rose garden where the 6 Jesuits were martyred and the church where Romero was slain. It brought back all my memories of the very memorable trip.

At our Friday 7AM prayer meeting, all present prayed for you and for your mom and dad. To me your courage is a great inspiration. May God bless you.

Sincerely in admiration, Peace

Jim McAteer