I crawled under the worn blanket and hear April whisper from below, "You know when the sheriff brings his group [Grand Jurors for inspection?] here, we get new sheets, blankets, and decent uniforms, and a decent meal, but then we go back to the old stuff after he leaves, but he rarely ever comes. And we are never allowed to talk to him, or we get sent to the hole." I fell asleep and dreamed of these women, with the dark circles under the eyes gone, with their hair clean and shiny, free of lice, and flesh back on the gaunt frames, and dressed in decent clothing, back with a loved one or families.
At five AM we were awakened for breakfast, oatmeal slopped over into a tray that looked like dog food trays, a couple slices of white bread and a tiny cup of juice. I took my tray to a table, and sat down, I looked at the hungry girls, and pushed the tray forward for them to share the meager food. I knew that I would be able to get food later on, and they were so hungry.
After breakfast, we went back to the dorm, and we sat around and talked. I felt like I needed to stay. I also knew that I wouldn't, but part of my heart would remain with them; and the memories of what I had been subjected to were nothing compared to the heartache, suffering, and pain of these locked away, forgotten human beings, held hostage for the federal dollars the state receives for them-- human bondage, through the judicial system and the Department of Corrections and the Florida Department of Law Enforcement, the gods in black nighties, and men sworn to defend their rights, who profit from their suffering, living in their fine homes, driving their fancy cars, memberships in their clubs, and fancy law firms, the guards who abused them, and the only difference was the uniform they wore.
At seven, three of us were loaded up and taken to the court house. We were placed in a holding cell, again that stainless shelf, the toilet, and the empty hours. My hearing was for 8:45, but I wasn't taken out of the cell until 9:30. I was told to put my chest against the wall and instructed to raise my right leg. The cuff was put on so tight I almost fainted from the pain. I gasped and said "That is too tight." She simply said "Oh well, judge's order-- raise the other leg." Again the sharp pain as the cuff closed on that ankle. I was told to turn around, and my wrists were encased; the same was done with cuffs from a chain around my waist. I could not walk without tears coming to my eyes. I said "This is hurting" --again "Oh well, that's the order."
When we reached the floor to the courtroom, I was walked through the back of the judge's chambers and out into the hall, and prodded down the hall in my shackles and chains. I saw my grandson, my son, and my oldest daughter standing there; I saw their faces go white, and the tears come to their eyes. Then I saw my seventeen-year-old that DCF had taken and placed with the husband of my dead daughter, after I had raised him for sixteen and a half years. He was giggling, with his orange-spiked hair and gold chains, fancy watch, and suit, and the man who killed my daughter for insurance money, and the woman he married afterward, and took one of my daughter's sons, using the same method that had brought me to the court this time, getting hearings, telling the courts that he had noticed me, but I failed to appear. I did not appear because my notices always came after the hearings, not before! The judge enters a default the same day I get my notice, and I have no recourse except to pay more attorney fees to defend myself. ....
I was told that I was to speak to no one, and look at no one; I was to keep my head lowered and if I spoke I would be thrown into lock up till the end of my days. I was pushed across the courtroom and a chair was pushed under me and I was told to keep my chin on my chest and eyes on the floor. I prayed for strength and courage, and for the tears to remain in the tear ducts. I saw several attorneys look at me, my hair had not been combed for eight days; except that morning I had washed it with water and tried to brush it with my tooth brush, and ended up tying it on top my head with a strip of sheet one of the girls had given me. My teeth were chattering from the cold; I was trembling from being cold; the goose bumps standing the hair up on my arms and my knees shaking, my wrists had swollen, my hands were purple, ankles were bleeding; I could feel the warm blood running into my shoes.
The judge called the first case. I listened to three cases, lawyers appointed as trustees to people's trusts and estates, asking for their fees to be granted from the estates of living people who had been put away, so the banks, lawyers and conservators could drain the funds into their own accounts, and a judge granting permission. I was getting sick; I wanted to jump up and scream, "You are nothing but crooks!!!!! You are evil, mean, vicious people." Then I remembered, God said we must pray for those who wrong us, and He will anoint their heads. So I prayed for calmness, and for Him to stay by my side.
I was told to move to the seat at the table, but not to speak. My attorney, Dean Wilbur, whom my daughter had gotten for me, and Burke Culler, who was representing the Thompsons and my seventeen year old, came and stood side by side. I heard the judge say, "Sherree Lowe, you are here today to purge, you are to surrender $42,830.06 to the attorney for the Thompsons, do you agree?" Mr. Wilbur spoke and told the judge he was representing me, and that I would agree to what had been worked out, or he would drop out of the case. Judge Mary Lupo said "Well Mr. Wilbur, you are a very respected person and I will accept your word, because hers is worthless. I take it you two have come to an agreement." Mr. Wilbur and Mr. Culler said "Yes, we believe so, all we have to do is get her signature." Judge Mary Lupo then said " Shall we return her to lock up and hold her until payment has been made?" Mr. Wilbur, said "No your honor, I am requesting that you release her today, after she signs the paperwork." Judge Mary Lupo said "Do you have the paperwork here?" Mr. Wilbur said, "No, we will have to go draw it up and get it ready." Lupo then said,"Well, we will hold her in lockup until it is signed" and she got up and said she would see them at 1:30. Mr. Wilbur said, "Yes we want to get this over with as soon as possible, Mr. Culler wants his attorney fees."
I was shocked. Mr. Wilbur had entered into the record what the commitment was about! Burke Culler wanted money from me to pay his fees for representing my son and the Thompsons for suing me for a trust fund that was not in existence! ...
I was kept seated until everyone else had left the courtroom and lined up in the hall, and instead of taking me out through the door behind me and back through the back hallway, I was again prodded out into the main hall. My grandson started to approach me with his arms out and tears in his eyes-- I am speaking of my 20-yr.-old grandson, who has made me a proud great grandmother-- he was told to back up; he couldn't come near the criminal.
I was then taken through the back after the grand parade, right back through the judge's offices and down stairs, my heel and ankles leaving blood drops on her carpet. I stumbled and fell almost at her feet-- Mary Lupo, I mean. The thought of Jesus as He carried his Cross, flashed across my mind and made me hold my words back. ....
I sat in that cell for another five hours, and then Mr. Wilbur came and sat down. He read the papers to me. I was to put my home up for sale, I had ten days to list it with a broker, whatever proceeds arrived from the sale, were to be paid to Burke Culler, if the sale did not provide the total of $42,830.06, I would have to still come up with the difference by July 15th.
I cried. He said he was sorry; he asked where I would go, and what would I do. I said God would provide! I signed his paper, which the judge had already signed, but I signed "under duress" and he took it to show the guard, and said "Release her, the judge has already signed the order." He went down the hall and didn't even wave goodbye.
After a while a guard came-- a man. He saw my swollen wrists, and bloody ankles, and asked, "Who did this to you?" I answered, "It doesn't matter." He took the cuffs off my feet, and the cuffs on my wrist were so loose they nearly fell off. He walked slowly with me out to the van; he helped me in, and transported me to the County Jail where I was placed in another locked cell until 7:30. Then they unlocked the door and told me to come sign my release papers. I said "Sign it for me, I can't write," and showed him my wrist. He scratched my name on the paper and told me to go down the hall to the restroom and change my clothes, put the blues into the hamper, and exit through the door at the end of the hall. I heard the latch release; I pushed the door open and exited into the fresh air.
I was prepared to walk the seventy five miles back to my 15-yr.-old that had been here at my computer, trying to tell people to the best of her knowledge why Sherree Lowe had been arrested. I read the email from the reporter who said that she received a call from someone 12 hours before I was arrested; that the woman from Okeechobee who ran for Senate had been arrested for a felony.
So now, as Paul Harvey has said so many times over the years, you know the rest of the story. Now you know why I am involved in JAIL4judges-- broke and homeless, I will not stop until J.A.I.L. becomes law, and I will continue to run for public office to fight for the people, if it means I bathe in public restrooms, and wear clothes from the Salvation Army.
Now on the bright side: When I walked down that ramp, I saw my grandson, father of my great-granddaughter, my son Tim, and my son Patrick, my dearest friend Tennessee, waiting at home, where my daughters, granddaughter, and I knew that I may have lost another battle to the corruption of the lawyers and judicial gods who are committing treason upon the American people, but I have still been blessed. We can, by the Grace of God, win the war!
When I got home to my computer, I saw the flagged email. I read the encouraging words from all of you out there. I cried, but I know that where there is a will, and faith in the Almighty, there will be a way. And J.A.I.L. will become law, and we will de-throne these gods in black nighties.
Perhaps after seeing that scene in that courtroom, my son and daughter will understand why I am involved in J.A.I.L. and my anger at the system that destroyed my life and loved ones. I have lived my life giving, and loving, and trying to forgive those who trespassed against me. But sometimes, we have to stand up and fight back.
I pray for the Thompsons and for the young man they have filled with so much hatred toward me, for they will be judged by the Lord, as I will, and for the lawyers who rob us, and for the judges who are a party to it, and allow it. The young man whom I worked and raised will soon become a victim to the system, because when he goes behind those walls, who will be there for him to call? He turned his back on family for the lust of easy money. Now he has lost everything-- his lawyer got it all! And the judge who made me sign it away, ridiculed teenagers. It was another court action to be remembered. May God have mercy on their souls.
I walked through those halls and sat in the cells where justice is supposed to live. Those walls, steel doors and security are not there for justice-- they are there to protect those who are doing injustice to human beings, where people are treated like dirt --cold steel, filth, hunger, cold, pain, suffering--and the judges and lawyers get plush, mahogany, marble, and wealth. They have no heart, no feelings, no concern for other human beings-- only for the riches derived from the bondage and suffering of the poor, sick, and helpless.
I have learned there is no justice for the common man in the court system, and the wicked and corrupt win in our system today. Truth does not exist!
I request that those of you who read this story, if there is legal help out there, who would help me, or advise me, please contact me. I have not been able to find it in Palm Beach County, nor Okeechobee. In fact I question if it exists, but we shall see.
Many thanks and Blessings to all of you!
Head JAILer, Florida Chapter