FinnMacCool
19th June 2006, 20:16
Rampage is a political prisoner being held in California on parole violation for having a multi tool on his computer desk which he was using to put his computer together. Here is a letter from him
A lot of people have been talking about the "Patriot Act", NSA, FBI
sweeps, etc. Lately, for a certain chosen few, we've faced their
realities. Of the few that have told their stories and made their
statements, I have not. So today I've decided to do so. Right now I
sit in a prison cell in AD-SEG (the hole) in a 7 x 10 space. The
wall beside my bunk is covered in photos of my wife and I in our
happiest moments in the outside world. On the rare occasions I leave
my cell I'm handcuffed through the tray slot and escorted until I'm
securely behind a door again and then my cuffs are unlocked once
again through the slot. Usually, these are the hour visits I get on
Sunday with my wife. I remember a time when we wouldn't even spend
an hour away from each other. So, how did I get here?
My name is Matthew Lamont. My family calls me Matt. My homies,
friends, and comrades call me Rampage. It's a name from a wild and
radical youth. I was imprisoned for three years for allegedly trying
to plant a "destructive device" at a gathering of neo-nazis from
Aryan Nation celebrating Hitler's birthday. The arrest stemmed from
a campaign of harassment arrests in Long Beach against activists,
anarchists, and other radicals. I was released over a year ago.
Prison life was not easy. I wasn't a CEO of Enron or Martha Stewart.
I went through maximum security California State Prisons. Life was
hell for my three years. However, I paroled in one piece. When I was
released I had lost everything. The anarchists and activists I knew
in Long Beach left the movement in fear that they would be
imprisoned, I knew nobody. I was taken in by my family. From there I
tried to piece together my life little by little and adjust to the
outside world. I searched endlessly for a job without success due to
my felony background. Finally, I found one at a cell phone booth
selling cell phone contracts and phones. Meanwhile, I found a
younger generation of activists and revolutionaries trying to make a
difference in this post 9/11 environment. I did my best to guide
them away from the pitfalls and mistakes my generation made before I
served time. Things were going alright. However, the company I
worked for decided they didn't want to pay me my commission , so
fired me on the basis that I was a felon, even though I marked on
the application and explained verbally to management that I was a
felon. I ended up taking them to Labor Board and getting a small
portion of what they owed me. I was angry, but still determined to
try to succeed in making a life for myself. I ended up taking my
G.E.D. so at least I'd have a High School diploma. I put up a resume
on the internet and hit the street in search of a job.
I was finally hired at a mortgage company in a boiler room type
telemarketing division. It was probably the last job I would ever
want to do at the time, but nobody else would hire me. While I
worked my butt off there I kept pushing the activist, revolutionary,
and anarchist movements. I was determined to bring these radical
ideas to the prisoners I left behind. Likewise I was determined to
bring to attention the injustice I had seen and felt while behind
those walls. It was for these reasons that I was identified as a
threat. In this movement I started dating a womyn relatively new to
the movement, but dedicated with her heart and soul. I ended up
getting her a job at my work as well. I did my job at work like I do
my politics. I was dedicated and persistent. Someone finally gave me
a chance, so I was damned if I let them down. I hustled on the phone
calling 200 people a day. Soon I was the top salesperson on the
floor. I started making good money in commission, and had paychecks
I never thought I'd make. At Hart Park in Orange County during an
activist friend's birthday I proposed to the womyn I was dating,
Jennifer Phillips. She accepted my proposal. On July 21st, 2005 we
were married.
From that point, to the day of my arrest, were the happiest days of
my life. I continued to work my butt off telemarketing. Jen and I
got our first new apartment. We never left each other's side. We
even worked next to each other. Soon my wife took top producer from
me and we had a friendly competition at work. Soon we even made
enough money to buy a brand new car. These are the things I never
even dreamed of accomplishing in life. To some people it waz
nothing. To some people it might even have been materialistic, but
these are people who have no clue what it's like to be a felon
scavenging for a job desperate for money. To me, I was on top of the
world. However, my wife and I didn't forget our beliefs. Nor did I
forget my past. I was inspired after reading Lorenzo K'mboa Ervin to
start study groups in prison. I gathered several names and addresses
to get these study groups going. I was determined to bring these
groups to reality. My wife, Jen, was even more determined. She went
out and raised money to get this going. Meanwhile at my workplace I
was promoted to being a loan officer. I was no longer a
telemarketer! My family was proud. Nobody could believe it. Only a
little over a year before I was in a security housing unit! However,
fortune wasn't waiting at the end of this rainbow.
February 23rd, 2006 a day after my promotion, I was asked to step
out in the hallway at my work. Two plainclothes detectives flashed
their badges and asked if I was Matthew Lamont. I stated I was. They
told me to turn around and handcuffed me. When I asked why I was
being arrested they said, "we are small fish in a big pond". I guess
I was the fish food. They took me to a white SUV outside and drove
to my car. They then went through my car with several other
unidentified people in plainclothes who met them there. They took my
wife's folder for class as evidence- "we got propaganda in the
vehicle", they said. This smoking gun was a picture of a fist inside
a feminist symbol on the front of the folder. While I sat confused
watching my world fall apart the FBI and the Special Services Unit
(a intelligence unit in the parole department that works closely
with the FBI) raided my apartment. They ransacked the place and took
anything remotely political into evidence. Anti-Bush posters, anti-
war posters, flyers, political pamphlets, a letter from a prisoner,
and a list of prisoners to be sent books. They took my computer and
my cell phone as well. I was then taken to the Police substation.
After a hour, I was given my phone calls. I still had no clue why I
was under arrest. I called my distressed wife. Jen arrived at the
apartment to find it torn to bits. She was crying and scared. She
said she didn't feel safe anymore. Of course this is what the FBI
wanted from us, fear. After a while, a special agent from the SSU
came to me. I told my wife that I'd call back. He identified himself
as Special Agent Slaten from the SSU. He told me he had some
questions for me. He questioned me first in length about my
involvement in the anarchist movement. He apparently "intercepted" a
postcard my wife sent to someone saying that we just came back from
a meeting in Big Bear. He wanted to know what group was meeting. Of
course that's none of his bizness. He then asked if I knew anyone
who wanted to blow up the Big Bear Dam. I told him that he couldn't
be serious. He said he waz serious. I told 'em I didn't. He then
shifted questions to asking if I knew certain members of the Black
Guerrilla Family. I told em I didn't. He asked why members of the
B.G.F. written on a paper with their prison addresses. This was my
list of prisoners I wanted to send books to. He then asked if I knew
anyone who wanted to blow up buildings. I asked if he was seriously
asking me these questions, and once again he claimed he was. I told
em no. He finally told me that I committed no crime, but they wanted
to investigate me so they were going to violate my parole and send
me back to prison so that they got time to do so. I told 'em I did
nothing wrong and he said he'd check into it.
The next day I was sent to Chino State Prison. I was thrown in the
hole here because I was under "local, state, and federal"
investigation. I was informed that I was suspect of some vague bomb
plot. I was later let out of the hole because the FBI never sent any
paperwork to the warden on what exactly the investigation was about.
Next my company called my wife. They asked me if I was arrested for
anything to do with fraud or identity theft. Apparently the FBI
decided taking my freedom wasn't enough. They needed to sabotage my
career, my future, and my character.
I eventually was given my time for my violation. I was charged with
possession of a knife for having a multi-tool on my computer desk,
and going outside my parole region for going to Big Bear. The gang
association charge was dropped on lack of evidence. This charge was
for the book to prisoner list. In May, my parole officer called my
parents thinking I'd been released. My mom talked to her. The PO
told her I was violated for having literature in a box in a closet
which was my property sent from prison a year ago. She also said
that when I get out I'd be no longer able to work a job in mortgage
sales or dealing with anyone's information. She also said I'd not be
allowed to touch a computer. My mom yelled at her that I did nothing
wrong and that I worked six days a week ten hours a day. She told
her how sick she was of them trying to destroy her son's life. I'm
back in the hole right now because Neo-Nazis attacked the Blacks and
the Blacks defended themselves. They said I helped defend against
these racists. Of course they let the racists off with nothing. They
extended my release date instead.
So here I am at Chino State Prison. Just yesterday I had escaped the
world of steel, concrete, and misery to become a success and be
happily married, only to be brought back to hell. My life outside is
barely hanging on. My wife, Jen Lamont is trying to struggle to make
the bills working full time and getting a second job. She is trying
to keep a roof over her head and something for me to come home to.
The federal investigation proved fruitless and they moved on
temporarily, probably to harass some other poor soul. I just want my
life back. I want to be reunited with my wife and left alone. I
don't understand how we can bomb another country to "free its
people" when our own government is kicking down our doors for
believing in change. Imprisoning us for wanting to send prisoners
books. Today it's me. I'm an easy target. I'm an ex-convict. I'm on
parole. I've got a prior felony for an explosive. The perfect
picture of a suspected terrorist. Tomorrow it's you. A political
activist, a radical, a subversive political dissident. We must stand
together to survive, or fall like dominoes as the believers in
fascism in our government consolidate power and implement a police
state never before seen in Amerikkka. Your freedom, like mine, will
be just a memory.
Rampage is a hero. Please support him. Also, if anyone could find his prison address, please give it to me. I want to send a letter to him.
Here's his website.
http://www.freewebtown.com/freematt/
A lot of people have been talking about the "Patriot Act", NSA, FBI
sweeps, etc. Lately, for a certain chosen few, we've faced their
realities. Of the few that have told their stories and made their
statements, I have not. So today I've decided to do so. Right now I
sit in a prison cell in AD-SEG (the hole) in a 7 x 10 space. The
wall beside my bunk is covered in photos of my wife and I in our
happiest moments in the outside world. On the rare occasions I leave
my cell I'm handcuffed through the tray slot and escorted until I'm
securely behind a door again and then my cuffs are unlocked once
again through the slot. Usually, these are the hour visits I get on
Sunday with my wife. I remember a time when we wouldn't even spend
an hour away from each other. So, how did I get here?
My name is Matthew Lamont. My family calls me Matt. My homies,
friends, and comrades call me Rampage. It's a name from a wild and
radical youth. I was imprisoned for three years for allegedly trying
to plant a "destructive device" at a gathering of neo-nazis from
Aryan Nation celebrating Hitler's birthday. The arrest stemmed from
a campaign of harassment arrests in Long Beach against activists,
anarchists, and other radicals. I was released over a year ago.
Prison life was not easy. I wasn't a CEO of Enron or Martha Stewart.
I went through maximum security California State Prisons. Life was
hell for my three years. However, I paroled in one piece. When I was
released I had lost everything. The anarchists and activists I knew
in Long Beach left the movement in fear that they would be
imprisoned, I knew nobody. I was taken in by my family. From there I
tried to piece together my life little by little and adjust to the
outside world. I searched endlessly for a job without success due to
my felony background. Finally, I found one at a cell phone booth
selling cell phone contracts and phones. Meanwhile, I found a
younger generation of activists and revolutionaries trying to make a
difference in this post 9/11 environment. I did my best to guide
them away from the pitfalls and mistakes my generation made before I
served time. Things were going alright. However, the company I
worked for decided they didn't want to pay me my commission , so
fired me on the basis that I was a felon, even though I marked on
the application and explained verbally to management that I was a
felon. I ended up taking them to Labor Board and getting a small
portion of what they owed me. I was angry, but still determined to
try to succeed in making a life for myself. I ended up taking my
G.E.D. so at least I'd have a High School diploma. I put up a resume
on the internet and hit the street in search of a job.
I was finally hired at a mortgage company in a boiler room type
telemarketing division. It was probably the last job I would ever
want to do at the time, but nobody else would hire me. While I
worked my butt off there I kept pushing the activist, revolutionary,
and anarchist movements. I was determined to bring these radical
ideas to the prisoners I left behind. Likewise I was determined to
bring to attention the injustice I had seen and felt while behind
those walls. It was for these reasons that I was identified as a
threat. In this movement I started dating a womyn relatively new to
the movement, but dedicated with her heart and soul. I ended up
getting her a job at my work as well. I did my job at work like I do
my politics. I was dedicated and persistent. Someone finally gave me
a chance, so I was damned if I let them down. I hustled on the phone
calling 200 people a day. Soon I was the top salesperson on the
floor. I started making good money in commission, and had paychecks
I never thought I'd make. At Hart Park in Orange County during an
activist friend's birthday I proposed to the womyn I was dating,
Jennifer Phillips. She accepted my proposal. On July 21st, 2005 we
were married.
From that point, to the day of my arrest, were the happiest days of
my life. I continued to work my butt off telemarketing. Jen and I
got our first new apartment. We never left each other's side. We
even worked next to each other. Soon my wife took top producer from
me and we had a friendly competition at work. Soon we even made
enough money to buy a brand new car. These are the things I never
even dreamed of accomplishing in life. To some people it waz
nothing. To some people it might even have been materialistic, but
these are people who have no clue what it's like to be a felon
scavenging for a job desperate for money. To me, I was on top of the
world. However, my wife and I didn't forget our beliefs. Nor did I
forget my past. I was inspired after reading Lorenzo K'mboa Ervin to
start study groups in prison. I gathered several names and addresses
to get these study groups going. I was determined to bring these
groups to reality. My wife, Jen, was even more determined. She went
out and raised money to get this going. Meanwhile at my workplace I
was promoted to being a loan officer. I was no longer a
telemarketer! My family was proud. Nobody could believe it. Only a
little over a year before I was in a security housing unit! However,
fortune wasn't waiting at the end of this rainbow.
February 23rd, 2006 a day after my promotion, I was asked to step
out in the hallway at my work. Two plainclothes detectives flashed
their badges and asked if I was Matthew Lamont. I stated I was. They
told me to turn around and handcuffed me. When I asked why I was
being arrested they said, "we are small fish in a big pond". I guess
I was the fish food. They took me to a white SUV outside and drove
to my car. They then went through my car with several other
unidentified people in plainclothes who met them there. They took my
wife's folder for class as evidence- "we got propaganda in the
vehicle", they said. This smoking gun was a picture of a fist inside
a feminist symbol on the front of the folder. While I sat confused
watching my world fall apart the FBI and the Special Services Unit
(a intelligence unit in the parole department that works closely
with the FBI) raided my apartment. They ransacked the place and took
anything remotely political into evidence. Anti-Bush posters, anti-
war posters, flyers, political pamphlets, a letter from a prisoner,
and a list of prisoners to be sent books. They took my computer and
my cell phone as well. I was then taken to the Police substation.
After a hour, I was given my phone calls. I still had no clue why I
was under arrest. I called my distressed wife. Jen arrived at the
apartment to find it torn to bits. She was crying and scared. She
said she didn't feel safe anymore. Of course this is what the FBI
wanted from us, fear. After a while, a special agent from the SSU
came to me. I told my wife that I'd call back. He identified himself
as Special Agent Slaten from the SSU. He told me he had some
questions for me. He questioned me first in length about my
involvement in the anarchist movement. He apparently "intercepted" a
postcard my wife sent to someone saying that we just came back from
a meeting in Big Bear. He wanted to know what group was meeting. Of
course that's none of his bizness. He then asked if I knew anyone
who wanted to blow up the Big Bear Dam. I told him that he couldn't
be serious. He said he waz serious. I told 'em I didn't. He then
shifted questions to asking if I knew certain members of the Black
Guerrilla Family. I told em I didn't. He asked why members of the
B.G.F. written on a paper with their prison addresses. This was my
list of prisoners I wanted to send books to. He then asked if I knew
anyone who wanted to blow up buildings. I asked if he was seriously
asking me these questions, and once again he claimed he was. I told
em no. He finally told me that I committed no crime, but they wanted
to investigate me so they were going to violate my parole and send
me back to prison so that they got time to do so. I told 'em I did
nothing wrong and he said he'd check into it.
The next day I was sent to Chino State Prison. I was thrown in the
hole here because I was under "local, state, and federal"
investigation. I was informed that I was suspect of some vague bomb
plot. I was later let out of the hole because the FBI never sent any
paperwork to the warden on what exactly the investigation was about.
Next my company called my wife. They asked me if I was arrested for
anything to do with fraud or identity theft. Apparently the FBI
decided taking my freedom wasn't enough. They needed to sabotage my
career, my future, and my character.
I eventually was given my time for my violation. I was charged with
possession of a knife for having a multi-tool on my computer desk,
and going outside my parole region for going to Big Bear. The gang
association charge was dropped on lack of evidence. This charge was
for the book to prisoner list. In May, my parole officer called my
parents thinking I'd been released. My mom talked to her. The PO
told her I was violated for having literature in a box in a closet
which was my property sent from prison a year ago. She also said
that when I get out I'd be no longer able to work a job in mortgage
sales or dealing with anyone's information. She also said I'd not be
allowed to touch a computer. My mom yelled at her that I did nothing
wrong and that I worked six days a week ten hours a day. She told
her how sick she was of them trying to destroy her son's life. I'm
back in the hole right now because Neo-Nazis attacked the Blacks and
the Blacks defended themselves. They said I helped defend against
these racists. Of course they let the racists off with nothing. They
extended my release date instead.
So here I am at Chino State Prison. Just yesterday I had escaped the
world of steel, concrete, and misery to become a success and be
happily married, only to be brought back to hell. My life outside is
barely hanging on. My wife, Jen Lamont is trying to struggle to make
the bills working full time and getting a second job. She is trying
to keep a roof over her head and something for me to come home to.
The federal investigation proved fruitless and they moved on
temporarily, probably to harass some other poor soul. I just want my
life back. I want to be reunited with my wife and left alone. I
don't understand how we can bomb another country to "free its
people" when our own government is kicking down our doors for
believing in change. Imprisoning us for wanting to send prisoners
books. Today it's me. I'm an easy target. I'm an ex-convict. I'm on
parole. I've got a prior felony for an explosive. The perfect
picture of a suspected terrorist. Tomorrow it's you. A political
activist, a radical, a subversive political dissident. We must stand
together to survive, or fall like dominoes as the believers in
fascism in our government consolidate power and implement a police
state never before seen in Amerikkka. Your freedom, like mine, will
be just a memory.
Rampage is a hero. Please support him. Also, if anyone could find his prison address, please give it to me. I want to send a letter to him.
Here's his website.
http://www.freewebtown.com/freematt/