Abolishing Pedophiles

By Jon Wayne 2009

Prologue
The most exhilarating experience of a kill is the final seconds leading up to the act.
Sweaty palms, heavy breathing and anxiousness consume you. Voices reassure you
that you are doing the right thing. As you lie in wait, you have the final decision in
the outcome. The ability to be the judge, jury and executioner becomes
intoxicating. You pull the trigger and as the bullet travels through the barrel the
smell of carbon fills your nostrils. A split second before the body drops they freeze
in time and the expression on their face is like you have just freed them from
demonic possession. They are now at peace and so are you…

Candice Hill was an individual at ease in my presence. The reporter stood and
introduced herself along with her camera person, Sheila, accordingly. They both
extended their hands for me to return the gestures. I ignored them both like the
hardened criminal inside me told me to. Neither woman seemed intimidated by my
obvious size advantage over them both. I could have taken either one and snapped
her neck before the guards were able to react. I only stood 6 ft tall and the shoes
added another two inches. My weight had dropped 17 lbs from the 242 lbs I was in
processed weighing, to my more consistent 225. My features were not as gruesome
as one would imagine. I was still quite handsome and knowing the effects my looks
had of the opposite sex I had placed many female guards in compromising
positions.

Candice and Sheila were graduate students in Birmingham, placing them around
the same age as my baby sister. Candice had been intrigued by me ever since I was
captured and felt I had never been able to tell my story without all the
psychoanalytical bullshit. They wanted me to tell my story raw and uncut without all
the hype and what not. I was beginning to feel like Matula Shakur giving his version
of the late great Tupac’s life. I was extremely honored and somewhat taken aback.

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The same people who praised me also criticized me saying I had myself become a
predator. I felt my story had been twisted so many times that even if Candice 1
documented the transcripts word for word I still would not be able to convey exactly
where my heart and mind were during my Crusade.

I have always loved children and to see harm brought upon a child brings out the
worst in me. I had experienced a life altering change being locked up with Stanford
for 17.5 hours a day, excluding chow, church call and bible study, for over 60 days. I
was finally allowed to bond out following his unexpected death. The judge felt
sympathy after having to witness an ordeal like that. While I was sharing the cell
with Stanford I thought about there had to be something I could do to set things
right. But what? I let my emotions be my guide and four years later I am back where
I started.

The Beginning
One sound you never get used to hearing is that of a cell door closing behind you.
There is never any comfort, enjoyment or happiness to welcome it. The sound itself
is unnerving, disheartening and constrictive. That’s the one sound I know of to
transform humans. You’re either prey or preyed upon. I have been on the opposite
end of that all too familiar sound for most of my adult life. At first, my crimes were
petty shit. I just kept fucking up. Nothing I did felt right so I constantly stayed locked
up. Eventually, my crimes grew and landed me inside maximum security. At first
the max sec didn’t bother me. It wasn’t until I was transferred to an overpopulated
dorm full of pedophiles that I realized the error of my ways. Everyone who enters
these walls eventually has an eye opening experience bringing them to the light.
Some find the religion they had lost in the streets again, allowing them to reform
themselves to become more productive citizens, if and when they do return to
civilization. Some construct more intricate plots of how to capitalize on previous
mistakes in order to excel at their chosen criminal professions. My uncle has this
saying, ’you can get by but you can’t get away.’ I was one of those who got by for
four years before the sound came to get me once more. Since my last stint at
incarceration I had changed my habits for the better and worked at becoming a
more productive citizen. I paid taxes regularly. I began sending a few extra dollars
needed in an attempt to catch up on my child support plus arrearages. I leased my
first apartment. A lot of things were going right for me but I still couldn’t get away
from that bullshit.

Four years ago I was facing two aggravated assault charges and one simple
battery. The way it was explained to me was because I used an object to inflict, that
was considered a weapon making the first agg assault. The fact that I had used the
weapon to strike two people, that made up the second agg assault. Plus the fact
that they both showed apparent signs of bruises, marks, abrasions and cuts, that’s

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where the battery came in.

Atlanta is notorious in the South for its big city appeal with a small town
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atmosphere. Rarely do you find natives of Atlanta not frequenting the club scene.
Basically, everyone here knows one another. This particular night my brother,
Lordious, B.K.A. Origie L B, and I decided to travel to the southwest side of the “A,”
hitting Club Ritz. As for those who have ever clubbed the Atlanta scene would
suspect, Ritz was packed. Sisters could have been shooting ads for all the urban
clothing designers out at the time. Roca Red, Baby Phat, Enyce, and so on. The list
of designers was endless. Four inch heels and pedicured toes. Form fitting apparel.
Hair and makeup flawless on these Georgia Peaches. Women looking so good they
were stopping traffic. Who in their right mind could pass up the Ritz when the action
was nonstop before you even got in the door? Parking was packed but we lucked
out and found an empty spot. I lit the dutchie for a lil motivation, because believe it
or not, Atlanta’s women can be an intimidating group. You better bring your
confidence to the table. Sister’s are stacking paper and aren’t afraid of spoiling
themselves with the rims, whips and jewels. Most of them buy shit like that because
they know they can snag an insecure busta and dominate his ass. Some buy them
to intimidate the weak. Make ‘em think they ‘re rolling their man’s whip so suckers
don’t step at all. They all want attention though. No matter what she’s wearing or
riding in. Babygirl wants some attention. You just have to be man enough to decide
what type of attention she’s seeking. There’s, looking for a man attention, don’t
want to be bothered attention, chilling with my homegirls attention etc. You just
have to be man enough to find out exactly what kind of attention Shawty seeks.
This particular night, I was looking for the women who wanted to dance, get a
couple of drinks, maybe socialize a little and get the fuck on. Now, I was also open
to the Shorty who thought a Nicca was within her standards and wouldn’t mind
giving up the one night test drive as well! Don’t get me wrong. The hunt is cool but
the kill is better! So after blazing we decided the gunja had us right. Enough to go
inside and let whatever be, be.

There’s something else about Atlanta’s clubs too. When you’re an out of towner
the natives can sense it. Confidence or fear. Whatever it is either drives the females
away or draws them near. But it could be the fact both my brother and I are some
handsome men. Stacking okay dollars. Aren’t too shabby with the attire. Lordious
has a more rugged style whereas I bring the slacks, collared shirts and Italian
leather shoes into the mix. Plus we’re both heterosexuals so women beware.

We set our plans of attack at the bar as we both surveyed the scene. Looking for
the obvious couples. First of all, you don’t want drama by fucking with a Kat’s
woman even though she might have roaming eyes. Mistaking a rover for a loner
could have consequences neither one of us want to endure tonight. Second, find the
sexy muhfukas. Whether you have her undivided attention or no, you still want the
sister’s who are appealing physically. Next, find the Shorty who is constantly giving
you rhythm. She’s already making eyes with you and bouncing to the beat letting

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you know that she grooves. Last, the Broad everyone is overlooking. Either too busy
to notice her because she has placed herself in the midst of hotter females or 3
they’re just straight up fixer uppers. I try to notice them all. I’m never too focused in
one direction. Once I have determined my brother and I aren’t checking the same
women out and that first round of drinks come, it’s off to the races. Before I step
away from the bar I always give the sister bouncing to the beat one more glance. If
she’s still checking me out I nod and choose the table nearest the dance floor. That
move has always been known as a hit or miss though. Some women just don’t like
approaching men. That night it was a miss. As for Shawty staring and making convo
with her eyes, she never made it to my table either. Another lil hot momma caught
me off guard and snagged me out of the blue. She walked up to me and asked me
to dance. I left my Heineken on the table and got up to cut the rug.

Later my brother found me on the floor grooving after he had struck out as well
with his first round pick. I showed him where I’d left my beer and he followed suit.
Coming out to the floor to tell me,’ round two,’ while I jammed with the lil choklate
momma who had my attention. I got about three songs with her before she wanted
to bounce and find her homegirls she had come with. I was cool with it because my
mind was still set on the Shorty who was checking me out at the bar. I know she
was peeping me dancing with lil momma. I made sure of that, but she still didn’t
make a move. Right when I was making my way over to her another rooster had
stepped into the hen house. I gave her space but still sent a drink her way. She
accepted and gave me a big assed smile. I went back to my table gloating over my
small victory and finished the first heiny before starting on the second. Lordious has
always been more of a babysitter when it came to drinking but I still bought him
another. He had found himself a lil honey to groove with as he danced back to the
table to quench his thirst. He didn’t say a word to me as he picked up the other full
heiny looking at the one he had still over half full itself, and just dancing his way
back to babygirl.

Shawty from the bar finally made her sexy way to the floor and soon as I stood up
ol’ boy came straggling behind her. Checkmate!

While I sat at the table vibing to the music and enjoying my heiny, an attractive
young lady asked me was the seat across from me available. I nodded yes to the
young beauty and stood up to offer her the seat. As I pulled the stool back for her to
sit I couldn’t help but check her out. Nice. Very nice. I was thinking she might be
one of the homegirls lil momma spoke of earlier and she had directed her to the
table until this miniature version of 8ball wobbled his fat ass to the table. He spoke,
then posted up between Shawty and me. I went back to chilling. Trying not to stare
at the two of them. How in the hell did she even consider stepping out in public with
a Kat that didn’t complement her at all. I was sitting back in the stool when another
Kat came walking up. He just posted up between the table and my chair. I ignored

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him as long as I could before tapping him on the shoulder. When he turned around I
asked him if he needed me to move out of his way. He said,”no, you straight.”
Continuing to violate all rules of space. I tapped him on the shoulder again asking
4
him was he sure. He again reassured me that everything was cool. I began
becoming a little more frustrated because he wasn’t moving and didn’t understand
his obvious violations. I then told him to,’get the fuck from between my legs!’ That
seemed to get his attention real well. He turned around and I stood up. Then he told
his homeboy to bounce with him because he didn’t feel like kicking anyone’s ass
tonight. His homeboy leaned to him I assume to ask him what I had said. I sat back
down when both of them came back towards me. My pulse started pounding. My
body was preparing for an altercation. Lil 8ball asked me what I said to his
homeboy. I told him, ‘I said get the fuck from between my legs like a Bitch!’
 That little fat bastard pushed me. I shoved his ass back and swung on his partner
quick. Both of them stunned, so I sidestepped them enough and created my
distance, while grabbing the first thing not bolted down. The barstool. I swung the
stool and hit the fat boy knocking him into the table and sending the bottles to the
floor. When 8ball tried to get his fat ass up I hit him again. Giving both of them the
business for about five strong minutes before my brother and security finally rushed
me and pulled me outside. The commotion had gathered onlookers. Security was
trying to get me to my vehicle before the cops arrived. The parking lot was still so
damn full that along with all the spectators it was still difficult for us to get out. Our
exit was brought to a standstill. The two dudes were being escorted out when they
spotted me and pointed me out to the cops. I had gashed them open pretty damn
good with the stool. Both of them had bloody faces and shirts. Another cop was
questioning the only immediate witness to everything that had just jumped off. The
sexy lady who sat at the table with us. When they finally came to question me it felt
as though they had their minds made up. I was going down. Once they ran my
name and all the petty priors came up in the system I knew it wasn’t going to help
my situation. They took my black ass to jail, charging me with two felonies and I
was only protecting myself. A couple of things just did not help me at all, first, the
fact that I was bigger than both of the guys, actually just taller, plus my history of
having a record versus them being choirboys, and plus I was an outsider and did not
belong anyway, I got shafted. When the jail door slammed behind me I jumped.

I asked for a public defender the first chance I got. I knew deep down I had taken
things a little further than needed but I felt that since I had not started the
altercation and with it being two against one I should be able to get the point
across. Georgia straight fucked me in the judicial game many times before so I
wasn’t allowing that to go down again. I was confident I would be found not guilty
because I was defending myself. The grand jury still chose to indict me.

When the indictment came down my heart sank, two aggravated assaults and one
simple battery. Everytime I thought about the charges my skin crawled with the
thoughts of possibly having to go to prison because two punks and a bitch straight
up lying, swearing I was in the wrong.

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Hell, even before the indictment was delivered to the D.A. my pussy assed counsel
was telling me to take a plea. I was like,’fuck that!’ I’m not taking a plea, I’m
5
innocent. He explained what witnesses had said against me and told me the judge
would really have to look at all the evidence against me and it did not look good. I
told him that all those motherfuckers in the club probably hang together and it’s
possible they have been knowing each other since high school or longer, of course
they are all going to be against me. That asshole acted like he could not
comprehend my logic, still talking ‘bout how it would look to a jury with me beating
two people with a barstool and shit. I defended my position that even if Shaq got
into a fight with two motherfuckers I bet he would have done the same thing. I
evened the odds the best way I could so they should not have started it if they
could not finish it.

I knew my defense wasn’t that strong but it was the only one I had and I was
sticking to it.

All eyes on me as I entered the holding cell. The aroma of piss, feet, bad breath,
ass and musk. Fragrances all too familiar to me filled my nostrils along with the
weed and Egyptian musk oil I wore. Twenty to thirty muhfukas in an already too
crowded cell, collected themselves on benches and the floor. I had been the last
one in so the area closet to the toilet became my sleeping quarters until I was
allowed to bond out. At the rate we were going just to get finger printed and photos
taken, I knew I should not hold my breath on being released anytime soon.

I made as many calls as possible on my cellphone before the C.O. would come to
confiscate it. I had not charged the damn battery fully at all that day so it drained
quickly. I started texting like crazy until the phone shut itself off. I continued trying
to get comfortable in my pissy corner. Eventually I had to prop my legs vertically
against the wall and used my $60 Sean John as a pillow. I got about 45 minutes of
sleep. My name was called for me to go see the nurse to get my vitals checked. She
wasn’t an unattractive woman but she still allowed herself to let out a little uumph
when I sat down in front of her. I knew what she was thinking as my hard soled
shoes echoed against the waxed tiled floor until I found my seat in front of her. The
same thoughts that my fellow cell mates as their wandering eyes watched me enter
the holding cell. “Who da fuck is dat Nigga?” My attire did not scream hardened
criminal and everyone stared until I pulled off my shirt exposing jailhouse artistry
upon my body. When my name was called I put the somewhat wrinkled garment
back on. The nurse’s eyes tried to stay professional as she outlined the pecs under
my wife beater and unbuttoned Sean John. She smiled seductively when she asked
me preliminary questions. One in specific, ‘was I employed?’ Once she received an
answer she excused herself and stepped into an adjacent office. I overheard her
and another female giggling loudly like school girls and my ego had me thinking the
conversation piece was this 6ft, 234lb, chest nut brown eyed adonis before her.

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When she returned she was blushing, damn near glowing, as she asked me was I
married, another one of those preliminary questions. I was then shown to chairs
outside the door she had recently gone into to get her silly on. I sat and waited until
6
I received my next group of instructions. The nurse I was to see next was more to
my liking. She called my whole name when she was finally ready for me. Her
commands came across more forceful than those from the previous nurse. I started
to think my ego had gotten the best of me for thinking their giggling session had to
do with me until I gave her a chin check. “What’s that fragrance you’re wearing?
Egyptian Musk?”

“Yeah. What? You into oils?”

“Dats all I wear.” I lifted my chin, tilting my head slightly to the left inviting her in
for a whiff. She got close enough that all I had to do was face her and our lips would
meet.

“That’s not all you’re wearing.” She said recognizing the gunja smell. She wanted to
draw blood and take my blood pressure so I stood up to remove my shirt. She
turned around and her eyes widened. She let a low whimper escape as she
wrapped my twenty inch arm and pimped away. She pulled out an elastic band to
wrap around my other arm.

“I’m going to make it tight.”She warned. I let out my own little chuckle.”What are
you laughing at me about?”

“My mind is in the gutter.”

“Oh, cause I said I’m going to make it tight? You are so wrong.” Her technique was
flawless. I didn’t even feel the prick break the skin as she loosened the band to let
the blood flow filling three tubes. When she sat down to finish my paperwork she
noticed my birth date.”No wonder your mind was in the gutter, you’re a Leo too.”

“Yeah, and if your mind is anything like mine you know exactly what I was thinking
when I saw that phat ass.”

“Shit’d you ain’ know . Me too!” We both laughed. I’m the 4th and she’s the 19th. I let
her know a known fact if she had been paying attention. The President and I share
the same birthday. She blessed me then when she said her next
sentence.”Hopefully this is just a minor setback because you are destined for
greatness.”

I left her office smiling ear to ear and when the door closed behind me again reality
set in.

No bonding company was willing to touch me since I was not from the Georgia area
originally and hadn’t changed my i.d. to reflect the fact that I had been living in
Georgia since getting out of the military. My brother hadn’t changed his i.d. either

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and he is who I was hoping would be able to bond me out. I was now preparing for
the long haul. It would be approximately 15-30 days before I saw a judge. It would 7
take a wing and a prayer in order for me to get out unless I posted the $3000 bond
cash. I had only about $250 in my pocket. I was hoping the bondsman would come
through for me for the usual 10% of the 3k. Was not happening! Tonight or anytime
soon.

I was called to release my possessions into the custody of the jail. Cell phone, cash,
jewelry, belt and pens. It was time to dress out. The 24 hour dormitory was filthy.
Like trustees had not cleaned them in weeks. Perhaps even months. Muhfukas
started being nosy, asking those same ol’ questions about what a clean brother like
myself doing in the clink. “It couldn’t have been for doing the right thing.”
Conversation ended as quickly as it began. I didn’t need to know who was innocent
or what, I was just concerned with the fact that I was guilty. Plus I did not want to go
around broadcasting I had beat the hell out of 2 assholes from the area, there was
no telling who was related to 8ball and friend. So I wasn’t sharing war stories with
anyone.

Stanford
I had never considered myself the master of anyone’s fate but my own until Darrell
and I became cellmates. I had enough to worry about trying to control my own
outcome. A maximum security overpopulated cell changed all of that for me.
Instead of being housed in the dorm I was assigned to originally I was placed in a
dormitory full of sex offenders. At first glance it seemed everyone was the run of
the mill felons like myself. We all wore the same standout orange to distinguish
ourselves from the general population prisoners who were dressed in all white. It
wasn’t until I was locked down with him that I learned exactly where I had been
placed. Stanford began telling me everything and the information he released sent
more chills up my spine. I had been down the road enough times to know what goes
on behind the walls of a jail or two and it is common knowledge that crimes against
children and the elderly are not tolerated well. He was slick with how he let me
know what was going on in our block. He never for once asked why I was locked up
he just casually began telling me his story like we were old friends.

“Man this locked up shit is getting old. I’ve been in here almost eight months and
these motherfucking officers and that damn search team, man, they some assholes.
I’m telling you now. See you just getting here so you don’t know yet but you stay
here long enough, you gon’ find out…”

That’s the seasoned vet’s game. He doesn’t want to come right out and ask you
how long you got before you expect to be released, because if you are going to be
there a minute he doesn’t want an enemy as a cellmate. He leaves the door open
for you to fill in your own responses and dropping hints on how I will get to see the
way the search team operates. Experience told him I more than likely didn’t have a

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bond because I was not burning the phones up, trying to see when exactly my
savior would be arriving, when I first came into the block. And since that much was 8
true I allowed him to tell me his predicament even more.

“My last roommate got a healthy dose of the search team. I tried to warn him they
were lowdown but he would not listen. See we have cell inspections e’ry
motherfucking day in here. They come through and tear your stuff up like it ain’t
shit man. The lieutenant ain’t no joke either ol’ dyke Bitch, Lt. Ballard. She came in
here the other day throwing shit. She kicked over the barber’s chair, we use to get
our shapes, over to the door. She told us our dorm smells like a bunch of funky
asses and dicks. Man, she told us just like that!” He chuckled,” The Strategic
Response Team, S.R.T. was dressed in full battle gear complete with the helmets
and shields. They came through screaming,’Get on the floor! Get on the floor!’ We
was already sitting on the floor before they busted in though. But I guess they
wanted us face down. I guess my roommate didn’t move fast enough because they
snatched his ass up and threw him back to the floor hard as hell! I mean, they
actually slammed that man face down on the floor, man! I was like man that’s
fucked up! They told me to shut my motherfucking mouth. But I kept talking see.
Shit’d I spent seven years in the chain gang and officers didn’t talk that shit like
these motherfuckers here. In chain gang you got motherfuckas with 35 years, shit’d
dey don’t wana hear no shit from no officers. So I told him, fuck you man! I said all
ya’ll trying to do is show out for the Lt. shit! We was already on the muhfucking
flo’! Yeen have to do dat man like dat! Dat was wrong man!”

“The man sitting here bleeding and shit,” he continued, ”and that really pissed me
off. Chain gang woulda fucked one of dem officers up. Den he gon try to tell me he
would do me the same way. But I told him you ain’t gon’ do a motherfucking thang
to me. Cause Um already down. Den Lt. came in the room yelling, talking ‘bout I’m
disrespecting her officers. I told her da same thang, ‘Lieutenant we was already
sitting on the flo’. All he had to do was say face down or something. I said, the man
was getting ready to lay down, da officer just didn’t give ‘im a chance. That
wouldn’t right. Man, I told her to her face. She was just standing over us. I knew
what she wanted. She wanted me to try to get up while I was setting her straight.
That way they coulda beat both of us down. Me and da Lt., we done had words
befo’ because of one of the officers trying to show out on me. I used to screw the
girl when I was on the street a long time ago befo’ I went to prison the first time.
When she saw me in here fo’ what I’m locked up for now, she tried to tell me I was
no different than that white boy over two doors down. See he in here fo’ messing
with little boys and little girls. See I just messed with a girl dat was too young. Most
e’rybody in here caught up with young girls and something sexual. So Corporal Cox
tried to say um just like the white boy. She called me a predator. I told her I ain’t no
motherfucking predator! And you ain’t gon’ talk to me like dat. Man,”he chuckled
again,” den the bitch got all up in my face. See she wanted me to hit her but I was
the one who backed away because I knowed her and I still had feelings for her even
from way back then. She just kept coming at me. So I turned my back and started

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walking away and she grabbed me and turned me back ‘round to face her. I pushed
her off me a little. I told her,’girl you better gon’!’ Shit’d um a man and u a man.” 9
He said breaking away from his story with a deep southern drawl. “It’s only so much
a man gon’ take off a woman befo’ he snap back. Man the S.R.T. came hauling ass
back here, because Jones was in the booth and he called them when I touched her.
Boy, looka here! Corporal Cox started acting bad as hell then. Calling me all kinds of
baby fuckers and told me I need to find a real woman. All kinds of shit she was
saying to me. So I told her she needed to stop letting the lieutenant lick her pussy!”
He burst into laughter.”Dat motherfucker hit the ceiling. She and the Lt. both
cussing me out. Spitting all in my face and shit. I told Jones to let me back in my
cell.
 See, to me I don’t feel like no predator man. I knew that girl was too young for me
but she just kept tempting me. She used to always have on clothes that fit her
body, showing off her shape. Man, dat girl was fine! Um talking ‘bout fine! A body
like a grown woman. And all the lil niggas in the neighborhood was screwing her. I
knowed I wouldn’t da first to touch her. I know I wouldn’t! See, she stayed with me
and my wife and she asked me one time if one of the lil boys from up the street
could come over when my wife was gone to work one night. ‘Cause my wife was a
salary manager at Arby’s, so she did the closings. So Ne-Ne, dat’s the girl name, she
asked me if the lil boy could come over. She knew my wife would say no. so I asked
her what her and the lil boy was gon’ be doing. She started laughing cause we all
knew she was fucking, see dat’s why Ne-Ne was staying with us. Her grandmomma
and her auntie, my wife’s sister and momma, they suspected that the girl was
screwing but they could not prove it. Ne-Ne still kept sneaking out and her auntie
just kept kicking her ass trying to make her follow the rules of the house. Ne-Ne was
not having it.”

So Stanford and his wife ended up with another mouth to feed. He told me how
difficult it became in his own house because soon after the arrival of his new
addition he got laid off from his job and things around the house started to get a
little tight. He went on to tell me how his new house guest was truly out of control.
“Ne-Ne was a fucking fool man. E’rybody was fucking dat lil girl. I know for a fact my
neighbor was fucking her and he was 33 and married! Ne-Ne told me all the shit
that nigga had in his house, what he had in his bedroom, his bathroom, his closets
downstairs and up. Ne-Ne was telling me so much shit about the dude she had me
thinking ‘bout robbing his ass for e’rythang he had, man. Ain’ lying! That nigga was
giving her money for dat pussy, man! Nigga gave her two hundred dollars one time.
I know because she came to me asking me to take her to the supercenter up the
road. I told her then I wouldn’t taking her way up there for her to be bullshittng. Den
I said you ain’t got no money anyway. And dat lil motherfucker pulled out two crispy
big faces. I said, damn Ne-Ne, where you get dat much money from? ‘Cause I knew
she didn’t have no job. She just smiled. So I said hell yeah I’ll take you up there. We
get in the car and she had on these tight –tight shorts showing her bumps in the
back. Her ass was so big and pretty man. Dat gull had a big ol’ ass! She got in the

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car and when she sat down the shorts pulled all up between her legs. So I had to
school her. I told her a young lady shouldn’t wear no shorts like that when she on 10
her menstruation because you can see her pad. Ne-Ne told me,” Ain’ on my period,
dats all me!’ I said guy lee, girl dats yo pussy all fat like dat? She said,’ Yea you
wanna see? I’ll let you see it.’ And pulled her shorts, may likin’ she was gon’ show
me at first. I said girl I don’t wanna see yo stuff! Knowing dat I did. You know what
she told me? She said,’I ain’ skead.’ And pulled her shorts down in the front. Man,
dat pussy was so fat and pretty! Big ol’ pussy too man! My dick got so hard I started
feeling bad ‘cause I knowed all the stuff Ne-Ne had been through. See, dat’s why
she stayed with her grandma and her auntie because she was molested as a lil girl.
So the family was mad at her momma because she didn’t protect dat girl. Even
when my wife said we was gone get her I was asking where her daddy at?

Ne-Ne was so hot though she acted like a nympho. Like I said, my neighbor was
fucking her, the boys across the street was fucking her, my son was screwing her
and now she asking me can the lil boy from up the street come over to the house.
Man, I can’t lie man. I tried to resist her man, but dat image of dat pussy from da
day she showed it to me in the car stayed with me. I was weak roommate. I told her
yeah, da lil boy can come over but I wanted some of dem draws too. She was like
okay. Like it wouldn’t nothin’. My dick got hard right then. I wanted some of dem
draws nigh’! Ain’ lying.

So the boy came over and him and Ne-Ne did whatever they did upstairs and the lil
boy left. Ne-Ne gave me $25, man! She told me to go buy some cigars. Man, I went
and bought me a sack of weed and some blunts and some black and milds. And I
bought a quart of beer. I felt bad, man and didn’t even screw her, but I knowed it
was wrong for me to go and let dat lil boy screw dat girl in my house. But when I
started smoking I got to thinking that she is not my daughter. For real man, dat’s
the way I saw it. T waited a couple hours before I even thought about heading back
home cause I knew my wife would be there by the time I got there. Soon as I walk in
the house Ne-Ne laying on the sofa with nothing on but a t-shirt. I said girl go put
some clothes on! She gon’ get up and smile at me, opening her legs wide before
she stood up. Man, she knew what she was doing too. Dat fat ol’ pussy opened up. I
just shook my head and went in the room with my wife. So I asked my wife did she
see what Ne-Ne got on? My wife was like what? Like it was okay for her to be
prancing around the house like dat. I told her that I made Ne-Ne get up and put on
some clothes. She gone tell me that’s what I was s’pose to do. She didn’t know Ne-
Ne was trying to entice me. I wanted to tell her but,Man, I wanted to fuck dat fat
pussy so bad. I thought I gone be strong too, but I fought and fought it until that day
we went to the clinic together. My daughter was pregnant at the time. My wife, my
daughter, Ne-Ne and me, we rode up there together. While we was waiting Ne-Ne
asked my wife was we gon’ be able to stop by my mother in law’s house so she
could get the rest of her clothes. My wife was like she didn’t really want to ride all

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the way out there after leaving the clinic ‘cause they were taking so long. She asked
me if I felt like taking Ne-Ne to her momma, my mother in law, house and just come 11
and pick them up after we finished. At first I tried to get her to go with Ne-Ne and I
was gon’ stay with my daughter, but my wife was like my daughter needed a
woman with her just in case she didn’t understand what the doctor was telling her
she needed to do. So I took her.

We riding in the car and she started playing with her titties. Ne-Ne didn’t wear no
bra either. She was scratching between her titties, talking bout they itching. Just
pulled up her shirt and scratching her titties in the car like she ain’t shame. Man,
she had some pretty titties! Flat ol’ stomach. I told her she better pull her shirt back
down cause she was gon’ make me do something to her. She said whatever her
titties were itching, hell. I said alright dammit and pulled over to an empty lot. She
was ready too. She didn’t even flinch when I pulled her over to me. I told her, ‘see
you been wit dem lil boys, now uma see watcha workin wit. She pulled dem shorts
off like it wouldn’t nuttin, too! I started rubbing it wit my hand. Dat lil pussy was so
wet! I pulled my thang through my hole in my boxers. When I stuck it in her she
tried to tighten her legs. It was tight down there too. I told her dem lil boys ain’t
been doing nothing to dis pussy. Cause I knowed she wouldn’t no virgin. I said to
myself, I know Ne-Ne been fucking. Even my son say he been screwing the girl. So I
say Ne-Ne, you ain’t no virgin is you, because you shole is tight? She said nawl and
scooted dat lil ass toward me a lil bit. Man, I went up in her. She was trying to push
me off but I was gon’ get dem draws. I felt som’ pop down there and that’s when I
stopped. She jumped out of the car buttnaked trying to see between her legs. I said
gull get back in the car! She was scared cause she told me she felt something pop.
She had to find out what that was. Man, when she got back in the car again she
wouldn’t say nothing to me. Even when we picked up my wife and my daughter she
didn’t say nuttin. She didn’t want nothing from Mickey D’s or nothing.

When we got to the house she went straight upstairs and went to bed. Man, dat
gull didn’t say nouttin to me fo two weeks. Two whole weeks! She still let dem lil
boys come over and get her stuff but she wouldn’t give me no mo’. So I left her
alone, but I knowed I wanted som’ mo of dat pussy, man. I was thinking bout paying
her for it, ain’ lying. She stayed away for about three weeks. And I was just gon let it
go. I started thinking bout all the shit me and my wife had been through with me
fucking around with ol’ gulls and shit. We was trying to work it out. I stayed away
from dat girl for a long time but they was saying I was sleeping wit dat girl and the
wrong person heard it.

But that’s not the real reason um in here because I know she never told nobody I
was getting dat pussy. Ne-Ne got pregnant. But at first she had said it was my son’s
baby. But her family was saying it was my baby. I told dem I wasn’t fucking dat
damn girl, hell ev’rybody know dat Ne-Ne hoeish.”

The more he talked the more he pissed me off. I lay I in my bunk nightly listening

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to him go on and on about how he took advantage of this innocent child. Stanford
would talk until he fell asleep. When I heard him snoring I knew he was dead to the
world. I practiced making myself lighter as I jumped from the top bunk to the floor. I
12
didn’t want him to jump up out of his sleep when I touched down to the floor.
Whenever we left the cell I would wait a few minutes before joining everyone else
downstairs. Most times I told him I was taking a shit so I could use the toilet paper
to cover the window while I perfected my technique. I had to go from lying on my
back to over the side of a bunk to the hard as floor without making a sound. The
hardest part about the whole exercise was keeping the mattress they had issued
me from making the crinkling sound as I maneuvered myself around. The side of the
bunk had a four inch lip of it, I had to stay conscious of it when I made my first
move of throwing my leg to the side because many times my knee would hit there
and the sound echoed in the room.

I practiced making my way down to his area with the minimal amount of movement
whenever I had time alone in the cell. I had gotten my workout routine to over
1,000 pushups a day and 1,000 squat thrusts. I never allowed anyone in the dorm
to see me working out and whenever the C.O.s wanted the view unobstructed into
my cell I would get as far to the corner near the shit jacket as I could without any
detection. Days I wanted to rest I would go downstairs and join everyone else
playing cards or watching videos or taking advantage of yard call. Just to keep my
stamina up. I would go out there and dominate their asses on the court. Nothing
plays to my favor more than jailhouse rules. My size made up for my lack of skill. I
have a pretty decent jump shot but in the clink you’re surrounded by a bunch of
motherfuckers who would rather drive you into the wall than to allow you to set up
and drain jumpers on them all day. The physical game played heavily into my favor.
I mainly played to display my dominance and I wanted to show no weaknesses.
Many times than not the frequenters of the streets take the handsome features for
granted and want to show everybody else that my size is just for show until I roll
their asses up. Usually once I take off my shirt and they see the tats, scars and
gunshot wounds they decide their attempts may not be the best idea.

Whenever I was alone with Stanford he would give me the 411 on the dorm. Many
of the hardheads thought I was an undercover anyway so that would keep them at
bay for the time being. They didn’t realize that I was just as weary of being locked
up as they were but I wasn’t about to let them know I was the least bit
apprehensive about my situation, so it was similar to the peacock in the wild.
The biggest display got the most attention.

I replayed the death of Stanford in my head nightly. I contemplated climbing down

and choking that sick motherfucker every single day we were roommates, just
waiting for the opportune time to take him out. I watched and listened to a grown
assed man brag about turning his life around. He was going to church call every
Tuesday. He had the visiting pastor to write the judge on his behalf. His gimmick

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was smooth I must admit. I was disgusted with him more and more each day.
Constantly complaining how much he missed the child’s sex and not being able to
get to her, or her to him. I wondered how it was so easy for a person to flop back
13
and forward like that. Flipping between the Devil and God? A man damn near forty
in age lusting for a child. An underdeveloped womb! The same age as his own
pregnant daughter and he is telling me how much he misses raping that child! Not
holding his wife or spending time with his children and now, grandchild, but how
much he misses being with a child.

I could not attempt to condone such behavior. I was seeing firsthand how the
rehabilitation process was not working. What really pissed me off was the fact that
he might just walk. He had the sympathy factor working for him on his behalf. The
fact he was a diabetic made him a high risk inmate. Taxpayers would be supporting
a real financial vampire draining the state’s budget. This sick s.o.b. would require
insulin for the remainder of his sentence. His health was failing him tremendously.
Kidneys would be soon in need of dialysis. His trouble urinating was a sure sign to
me way before he decided to disclose that information voluntarily. The medical staff
had to continually monitor his blood sugar levels which required its own special
equipment to be maintained. His diabetic’s diet allowed him to receive an extra
meal each night. Courtesy of the taxpayers. Not to mention the housing, clothing,
food and his deteriorating health, vision had to be included.

I knew my cell mate wasn’t the only diabetic in the entire jailhouse. I wasn’t naïve
enough to imply that, but he and I both knew he was guilty as Hell. He was going to
have an opportunity to rot in style, so to speak. Air conditioned in the summer and
heated in the winter. I watched him manufacture panic attacks and claim to be
claustrophobic when the maintenance crew came to service the air conditioning unit
and the smoke detectors. Man did he put on a show! Working himself up into a
sweat and everything until the C.O.’s finally came and pulled him outside until the
maintenance was complete.

I watched every charade he put on them day and night while we shared a cell
together. In amazement to me, he actually prayed to God to help get him out his
current situation. And it was ironic to me because I prayed to God to give me the
strength to put him and the thought of him to that little girl out of his misery. He
went to church call representing a devout Christian and claimed to despise Muslims.
Accusing them of being artificial believers. I often wondered what he thought God
was thinking about him although he and God both knew he was in the wrong for
violating a child in his care. Maybe that wasn’t something covered in his ten
commandments?

Stanford never saw the contempt I had for him because I would lay in my bunk
above him at night listening to the stories about how many times he had taken
advantage of under aged girls. I had to constantly pace myself and fight back the
urge to take him out while I listened to his snoring.

Jon Wayne Page

14
I was at a crossroads in my life. Getting out of lockdown and staying out, and
finding a way to do some good instead of finding ways to do bad, I thought about all
the victims of the guys I had shared the dorm with and I wanted to find a way to
help mend the lives that had been destroyed because of predatory offenders. I had
no idea of what possible good I would or could do. All I knew is that I wanted to do
something. I knew with the record I had accumulated the chances of finally getting
that dream job at a top Fortune 500 company was between slim and none. The local
television station ran ads everyday about going back to school and becoming a
criminologist or something in the forensics field but I knew I wasn’t going to do
anything like that either. I thought about becoming an outreach speaker and
working with children from abused backgrounds and that’s when the light bulb went
off. The voice of the nurse echoed in my head telling me by birthright I was destined
for greatness. Something needed to be done and it was now the responsibility of me
to figure out what. Many people of the likes of Stanford were continuing to devise
schemes on how to beat the system in order to get back out on the streets and
continue to prey upon the defenseless. The mind of a criminal never sleeps and I
was living proof of that. For one of the first times in my life I was proud to be
considered a criminal. I wasn’t going to sleep until I figured out some way to
become a more productive citizen again, despite my former background. Whatever
it was, it had to be something to keep me from ever returning to the lockdown
status I had become so accustomed to.

Before I was released I had made a conscious effort to change the way I viewed
life. Rooming with Stanford made me realize my purpose in life. I was not an idiot I
just did idiotic things. Well as soon as I see released, no more! Believe it and you
shall achieve it. While listening to Stanford lust for Ne-Ne I knew then he would
seek her out again once he was released. He wanted her too bad, desiring her as a
lover.

I had heard on many occasions about sexual deviants not registering as sexual
offenders in their communities. That is when the idea hit me like a ton of bricks. I
designed a sketch for the prototype of a device similar to the contraceptive women
had inserted in their arms to fight off hormones and stop pregnancies. The module
was so small it could be inserted with a syringe. It would have to be nonhazardous
to the human body and able to dissolve over time and released through the
excretory system. It did not work alone though. The module had a beacon similar to
G.P.S. to detect the signal.

Ingenious! It was like it happened almost overnight after my release from the
county jail, I was being mentioned in the same sentences with Oprah and that guy
from the computer software company. Talks were surfacing about possible Nobel
Prize, just like my role model Dr. King. Everything in my life had changed but for

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some reason I was not satisfied. Stanford and his crew constantly haunted my
thoughts.
15
At first, reactions to my invention were slow and extremely negative. The idea was
primitive and needed a lot of fine tuning. Civil Rights advocates began questioning
the violations upon civil rights. I had to stand before Congress and defend the
“Pervert Alert” as it was grossly called for the initials P.A. for Protection Assistance.
My argument was that the P.A. allowed any particular offender to remain
anonymous and still lead a successful, productive life. Unlike the registry which
notified every resident around the community to the arrival of a sexual offender.
The constant ridicule is the number one reason a majority of offenders fail to, or by
pass altogether the registration process. This is based on the information gathered
during recent polls of sexual offenders. The P.A. offers them a sense of security
which allows them to go out into the world and not have to be followed by activists
or run out of their neighborhoods. Actually I believe the P.A. does more to protect
the civil rights than the old way of doing things because it protects the identity and
allows the public and the offenders to co- exist. The communities still get to dictate
whether or not they would like to feel safe by purchasing the P.A. monitors at their
discretion. The monitor sends a warning signal when the incoming signal becomes
steady over an unspecified amount time. The purchaser determined whatever
setting they deemed convenient for them and their families. So an offender could
maintain anonymity as long as they stayed within the guidelines of their release.

Once the public watched the coverage of my proceedings P.A. monitors were being
bought like crazy. It was estimated more homes would have P.A. than televisions
and personal computers combined. Some families placed one in every room in the
house. And you never knew the identity of an insert carrier unless you caught them
lingering in your area for too long. The P.A. caught on like gangbusters and the
fruits of my spoils were very lucrative. Jon Wayne became a household name and
this time it was not for the wrong reasons.

Despite all the accolades and high praise I had received for doing my part in
society I remember watching the 5 o’clock newscast and my heart skipping a beat.
It was on a Thursday and the daily news had become a part of my every day
routine. The P.A. made the top story for the broadcast and I finally understood what
it had been invented to do. The reporter began the piece by explaining how the P.A.
had come into development under heavy scrutiny from many different sides of the
table and if it was not for the tenacity of the inventor the story about to be told
might have a very different ending.

An offender had been stopped and caught in the act of violating the agreements of
his release. He basically had been caught red handed. Evidently he was too smart
for his own good. He figured since his release had been anonymous he was
invisible. A P.A. notice had gone out prior to his release and it was the first
precautionary step used in assisting the rehabilitation process for sexual offenders.

Page
He thought he was avoiding detection by continuing to stay on the move while he
stalked throughout his neighborhood. He frequented the playgrounds, swimming
pools and community clubhouses and tennis courts like he was a regular resident.
16
Although through his own admission, he was apprehensive on a daily basis, the fact
that he had gone without incident within the community help to build his confidence
as he made his way around. And the fact that he knew how popular the P.A. had
recently become in society he still decided to push the limits and see how far he
could go.

Since he knew for certain at least one home in the community did not have a P.A.
monitor installed he knew there would be no cause for alarm inside. So he decides
he wants to throw a party and invite the neighborhood children to attend. He went
to the local copy shop and had expensive invitations made up and stopped by every
mailbox in the community to drop off an invite.

The reporter then stated there were a number of things that lead to his capture.
First, was the heads up of the neighborhood’s president association placing
monitors in all the common areas. Each time he visited the areas a signal was sent
to the monitor the president himself had placed into his home which collected data
from all the strategically placed monitors in the community. Whenever the fast
acting president received an alarm, without hesitation he would jump on his golf
cart, also equipped with its own monitor and head to the area of the warning.
Although he was not able to identify the offender he was able to begin monitoring
the unusual habits being formed around the common areas. A luxury he and his
residents did not have before. Over 95% of the resident’s homes, in his community,
were equipped with monitors. With the new technological advances, signals could
now be sent to cell phones, laptops, or any other electronic device parents or
guardian chose. That way they could check on the children home alone on a
consistent basis without the need for constant worry over safety.

Another thing to lead to his arrest was the party he himself was planning. The
community had established its own code of mutual conduct that apparently he had
overlooked. Whenever a resident had a community event planned it was customary
for the arranger to reserve the clubhouse, therefore reducing noise, traffic and
litter.

Last, and maybe the one thing we can say is one for the good guys and nosy
neighbors, the party time he had posted on the invitations was being passed
without a single guest showing up. With all the red flags mentioned earlier the
community association visited each home housing children and told them to be on
alert because of the warnings in the common areas. Since he had no children he
was not visited. But his impatience is what finally did him in when he took it upon
himself to go door to door. Just so happens one of the doors he knocked on was the
door of a county detective. She said she thought it was extremely odd for an adult
to be going door to door looking for children… The station then began to show the

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interview of the detective and all she did was praise the monitor she had bought
just two days earlier because she had recently become a grandmother. The
association did not visit her because until then, she did not have any children living
17
with her either. The monitor gave her the warning she needed to confirm her
instincts.

I muted the television, obviously feeling pretty damn good about myself. The P.A.
had proven its weight in gold but the system was still flawed. It was apparent to me
by how this guy was able to stalk his prey so defiantly. I felt like all the hard work to
achieve the sigh of relief was in vain. The guy was apprehended but for some
reason I could not help from being pissed off. It was almost maddening. I had the
same type anger associated with the fantasies Stanford shared with me about Ne-
Ne. The P.A. had worked far better than I could have hoped or expected but it was
not enough for me. After what happened between Stanford and I, I thought the
same feelings would not surface again. I was wrong, something had to be done and
I was the only one who could do it. I could not rest until every home was equipped
with a Protection Assistance monitor.

The rage I felt after the 5 o’clock news brought on a flood of emotions I had only
experienced once before. I did something I had never considered doing before. I put
the Protection Assistance mainframe computer on line with my cell phone G.P.S.,
personal computer and laptop. This allowed me real time monitoring of every P.A.
sold in the world. Wherever a warning signal was detected I received notification
along with the local surrounding monitors. I thought I knew what I wanted the
information for but I knew I did not have plan. I was going into the situation blind
with rage and adrenaline. How many predators would test the boundaries of my
system until they themselves found a weakness? That was a question I was not
going to wait on an answer to!

Greensboro, North Carolina

My monitor had been going off like crazy during the entire drive up from
Birmingham. The closer I got to the outskirts of Charlotte the more my pulse
quickened. Once I got to High Point I lit a blunt to calm my nerves. A million
scenarios played over and over in my head. I really did not know what in the hell I
was going to do once I got to Greensboro. The best thing would be for me to just
allow the authorities to handle this. They had done an outstanding job in
Birmingham with the apprehension of the first offender to violate terms of his
release. All I had to do was let them do their jobs. But what if this guy was more
persistent than the last? If I left everything to chance I would probably be too late. I
created the P.A. to secure the anonymity of the people entrusting my ethical
judgement. Furthermore, how would I be able to determine I had the correct target?
If a group of people happened to be in the vicinity I wouldn’t know for sure exactly
who the right person I was seeking.

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The more I pulled from the blunt I realized everything I was thinking was just my
nerves. One mistake and everything I had recently built would come tumbling down. 18
I made it to Greensboro around 0345 in the morning after an eleven hour drive
including gas. I drove around another hour or two trying to find somewhere to lay
my head until I felt rested enough to tackle the day. I was either going to talk
myself out of whatever I was considering doing or I was going to come up with a
plan of attack. The rest would do me good. Blunts had me ready to attack this thing
full throttle so I knew I needed a clear head. I did not want to leave any type of trail
making it obvious I had been anywhere around Greensboro if I executed what I had
thought of while riding my adrenaline rush. I got my bearings while resting in a
supercenter parking lot. When first light came I found the Greensboro Urban
Ministries. Since I knew sleeping in my vehicle would soon draw unwanted attention,
I decided to take up residence at the shelter. I figured no one had anonymity like
the homeless. This way I could blend in, be seen, be forgotten and travel the city
plotting my next move.

The area receiving all the recent activity was easier than I had expected to find. My
G.P.S. made locating the grid a piece of cake as well. Determining the target was
just as difficult as I thought it would be though. This guy was a real slick
motherfucker! And just how slick showed during my attempt to try and pinpoint
exactly who he was. He consistently travelled with a high volume of traffic.
Whenever I got a strong warning signal and thought I was about to narrow down a
particular spot, a crowd seemingly come out of nowhere to block my path. I was
driving around in circles for what felt like hours. I had been around the block so
many times I could have steered with my eyes closed and just when I would think I
had the signal triangulated the warnings would stop. Frustration began to make me
wonder maybe I had indeed made a mistake by travelling all the way from
Birmingham. Something inside me would not allow me to give up though, the
possibility of letting another unsuspecting victim fall prey to a monster.

My technological advantage had become my aid again. In a mere click or two on a

keyboard I was able to find out why the target had truly been so elusive. The
Greensboro metropolitan area downtown was not highly equipped with P.A.
monitors like the residential areas. Although many of the businesses had them, over
80% did not. Another loophole was found and a predator slipped through it.

My pulse began racing again. I sparked a blunt and headed back to where the
warnings had originally taken me and concentrated on that area the most. I
travelled along the same route hoping to get another hit. Nothing! Damn near a
whole day wasted driving around in circles and chasing my tail, it seemed to me. I
was about to call it a night. Curfew at the shelter was approaching when my monitor
started singing like Patti Labelle. I finally had my mark! He had found the perfect
hunting grounds. A high school located right across the street from the YMCA. I did
a search for the Greensboro YMCA on my laptop to see if they had access to a P.A.

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monitor. They did not! Why the hell had they not purchased a monitor? The Y has a
child daycare center downstairs and everything for a parent to drop off their
children while they proceeded to get their workouts complete. I do not know what
19
happened to piss me off more, the fact they all were so negligent or the fact that
this asshole had found the perfect hunting ground for his predatory appetite. He
was back to stalking children for his own sexual gratification.

‘The first kill is always the hardest.’ Those were the words my older cousin, an avid
hunter had once told me after he bagged his first 12 point buck. ’You tend to
believe every potential shot you have in your sights is the one to take. You rush to
judgement and in your haste you make a mistake.’
 It was as though the offender was reading my mind at the right time. Before I could
complete the thought I was spotted. Somehow he must have noticed my truck in
the area too many times. It is possible I had gotten too close to him when he
stopped at a phone booth on the corner, but my ego and my curiosity sucked me in.
Once I saw him facing the school’s direction in my rear view I raced around the
block too soon. He was pretending to make a call which made me think I had the
wrong person but the P.A. was not wrong. He shoved his hands inside his pants
pocket and began getting himself off. He noticed me then. The heat of the moment
had me at a disadvantage, although he didn’t know what my intentions were. The
fact that he noticed me watching him made me freeze, but I wanted to be sure for
my own satisfaction and that is what almost cost me. I had to watch him to see if
indeed he was satisfying his urges, to see if he was actually reaching into his
pockets searching for change. His hand never returned to the coin deposit and that
is how I confirmed I had definitely found the right person.

When he noticed how intently I was staring at him he started to bail. I had to get
him before he got away. My rifle was already loaded, all I had to do was push in the
safety. His silhouette was center mass of the cross hairs of my infrared scope. Dot
at the base of his head and squeeze the trigger! Seemingly all in one continuous
motion the predator dropped before he heard the shot. People on the street paused
for a moment like they were making sure they had not heard what they thought
they heard. After the echo died off, it was business as usual downtown.

I tried to maintain my calm just like I did when the C.O.’s questioned me about
Stanford. I was a wreck on the inside but I could not allow the pressure to overtake
me. I got on the interstate heading south. The whole time I was driving away from
downtown Greensboro I was expecting sirens to be hot on my tail chasing me down.
My heart was beating frantically, my first public kill. Excitement and fear were
mixing and the high was intoxicating. I lit a blunt to try to calm myself. I had saved
a life! I thought I would feel better but I didn’t. Another pedophile was gone, also
another son, lover and friend. I started to get a sickening feeling inside. If I didn’t
find a way to improve the P.A., I knew there would be more offenses. My P.A. was
flawed badly. The loophole was so wide that any predator could slip through if he so

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desired. I began to think about the assholes that hadn’t been caught yet and the
fear, adrenaline and sickness seem to leave me altogether. The fact that those who 20
were intending to violate couldn’t be detected yet made me think about the
potential victims I might be too late to save. Just more worries. All the way back to
Birmingham I brainstormed ways to improve the effectiveness of the P.A. monitors. I
was legally bound by the fact that they held the offenders identity anonymously. I
knew congress would have a field day if I allowed the P.A. monitors to narrow the
proximity to almost pinpoint accuracy where the offender’s location might be. The
one civil liberty congress was trying to avoid violating was now coming to the
surface. Someone was organizing a witch hunt, and even though I was not armed
with burning stakes or boiling water the witch hunt started with me.
Page 21