Tuesday, April 25, 2006

"Still the Shakedown"

April 18,2006

Well, it has been one week since they literally piled all of my property into a mound with different things sticking out in different places. But I am still stewing on all that went on and what or if I should do. I mean should I just take it along with everything else or should I open my mouth. Of course opening my mouth is what has created all of the hardships of my life pretty much. No, maybe not created but opened the door for the corrupt evil doers to create the hardships. It is not so much what they did to my property or what they did to my property when I am crippled and almost dead. But, well maybe you can decide. This massive cellblock shakedown done in one of the two chronic unit cellblocks was done supposedly to look for a knife. Unit management had been alerted by one of its' many snitches,-- a few of us surrounded by the many-- that there was a knife in this cellblock. So here comes the calvary. When they came in I could here different offices being assigned to search certain cells. That is the very first sign that certain inmates are going to be targeted and basically hung out to dry. So, while my cell was demolished, there were many of the cells that did not even have the sheets turned back. Their mattresses were not taken out to be scanned by the metal detector. They were pretty much not troubled. Next, while they were looking for a knife, on paper, they did not find a knife. As you know, anything can be done on paper. Anything. So, when I say it again, no knife was found, on paper, take it as it is. The problem I am having though is that a knife was very much in fact found. A knife was found in a cell upstairs on the second tier and it was slid inside the guards pocket never to be mentioned again. Nothing has come at all from this weapon being found because no report was made. No prisoner was written up. No nothing. The weapon was removed from the unit quietly, secretly, unbeknownst to many in authority but known to some. The weapon was found also with little effort because it was found on the upper tier which houses the riff-raff. Chronic, sick prisoners are housed on the bottom floor and this is where most of the demolished cells were. Before going any further, this should tell you what kind of chronic care unit this is. Screw with the sick and dying; let the hooligans rule the roost. So, this is my dilemma. It is not so much of raising hell because while they demolished my cell, but raising hell because designated cells were left alone and what they demolished my cell looking for, a knife, was found in a white prisoners cell and not only was nothing done, there was not even a report made. The weapon disappeared out of the cell block and probably the building. This is where my anger rests. Not only was my property clearly disrespected and pillaged, it was done under unquestionable false pretenses and well just outright lies. And the one who had the knife not only escaped long term segregation but his cell was left pretty much intact. So, do I have a right to be upset? Or not? You tell me. I mean, I would not want to give the Dept of Corrections the impression I am acting out of hand, like I am overreacting you know? I don't want them to say I am comparing apples to grapefruits here. Like they so much love to do. In closing, if anyone out there would possibly be inclined to help me little, God knows I would greatly appreciate it. I don't ask for much but since you would like to know, okay. I will give just a short, "off the top of my head" list. Okay, here goes:
1)A lawyer who will sue them bastards for killing me slowly, destroying my insides namely, the three biggest pharmaceutical companies in the country.
2)some law students who would help me on this wrongful conviction by sending cases and offering advise; (since no lawyer is going to help me)
3)someone who would make a pamphlet on the criminal case, the outstanding issues and one on the DOC's attempts on my life;
4)Someone to help me push these humanitarian issues with different relevant international organizations;
5)someone to help launch a massive letter campaign to certain designated officials;
6)Many, many, many people to help with the "two dollars a name" campaign to hire an attorney. Just $2 from an individual could add up. A rusted, honest individual who would serve to see this campaign through, collect the donation and maintain those funds until we have enough to hire a seasoned law abiding attorney. (maybe not law abiding would do better)
7)and, many, many more people to pray like Daniel prayed, three times a day, morning, noon and night. I do thank you. That is my wish list I guess. My sister told me as much as her hopes gets let down, trying to help me, she said, "I don't know how you deal with that." I told her it is easy because I never let my hopes get up. I don't hope...........EH


April 12,2006
I have wrongfully suffered in these gulags of NC for over 16 years but tonight I experienced something for the very first time. And right this very minute I feel like just breaking down and crying till I am sick. I nodded out, did a little traveling like I usually do during the 5:20pm count and change of shifts because I am usually a little mentally tired by then plus it is usually quiet and peaceful. I was long gone from here when my inter-sensory perception quickly alerted me and I rose up in this old wheelchair. Everything was dead quiet but something was still not right. I got up, walked to my door and strained to look down to the cellblock door. Sure enough, outside the door they were gathering. The warlords were preparing to come in on their chattel. I yelled out to alert everyone. They had the whole works. At least 40 calvary, metal detectors, rods, pins for sticking down into lotion bottles, every kind of Homeland Security gadget you could imagine. They sent two pure dickheads to my cell. One, who looked every bit of 16 and not as big as a soaking wet dishrag and weighed no more, I could tell immediately he was trouble. It took 15 minutes, a metal rod, a pipe and a flashlight just to search the wheelchair. I wish to God I could have taken a picture of my cell when they finished. I was sick. As I stood there looking, Captain Moody was a few feet away. I have known Capt Moody before this place was thought of and he is probably the most decent, fair, humanistic officer there is here. If you are right, he will call it right and the same if you are wrong. When I called him to my cell I did not even need to say anything. He just stood there doing what I was doing. Looking....Here I am crippled, almost dead, and they literally destroyed my property. Captain Moody asked who searched my cell. I told him I did not know. I guess just knowing there is at least one human being who has the ability to look through someone's eyes other than their own is good enough. I mean, just to know that at least there is one officer out of 400 who knows it is not right if it is not right. Just knowing there is one on your side if only for 10 minutes eases it. Had Captain Moody not been close by I would still be mad as hell. Let us all say thank you to Captain Moody!!

PS They were looking for a knife that a dishonest inmate said was in here. They did not find one. HA! HA!

Monday, April 24, 2006


April 24,2006
These days never change. Never. I look and think of all the stories that have surfaced especially over just the last two years of all that has been done to prisoners held under U.S. Military control in Iraq and Guantanimo and other remote hidden places. I think how it is truly horrible and yet, really helps to show the true light as to the great America. Yes, doesn't all of the brutal, barbaric acts by the US Military's greatest really help Europeans and Asians, South America and the world, see exactly what America is made of. It is made or well, let us change that. It is controlled by cowards and bullies. It is controlled by the wealthiest and the greediest. And here we can now bring in most of the rest. While it is sick, all that America is doing to people throughout the world which most of the masses support still does not show the complete full picture of what America is. The same things only, only worse things that America's military`s are doing all across the globe, are also being done to their own and others trapped inside the gulags of America. You see, I guess if it wanted, America could bellow, "but hey, we're not doing anything to you people that we aren't doing to our own all across America from North Carolina to California." I have actually been waiting for one of those arrogant pieces of crap in Washington DC, like Rumsfeld, to throw that one out. And believe me, it would not be out of character for one of them uppity's to say something like that. In this prison, just one of 76 in NC, one state out of 50, it is a very regular thing to witness a prisoner being savagely beaten. One evening after dark, we were out on the smoker which is about 400 square feet of concrete completely surrounded by a 50 foot wall of cement except over in the corner there are about three huge windows which look in on the hallway elevators. These elevators run up to the working unit, the Green Unit. On this particular evening there were about 10 of us standing at the window smoking when we looked at the elevator doors opening. When they opened, there was a prisoner crumpled in the floor of the elevator who was handcuffed behind his back and had shackles on his legs. We all just gazed in awe at the blood which was sprayed all over the floor and the walls and standing around the prisoner were four guards and a sergeant. Their clothes were spotted with blood as well. It was noticeably obvious that the prisoner, Rob, was unconscious. Several of the guards reached down and picking Rob up by the handcuffs they tried to throw him out of the elevator but they were only able to get his upper body to the cement floor outside of the elevator. This must have pissed the sergeant off because he reached down, grabbed Rob by the hair on his head and began slamming his head into the cement. He did not just slam his head one time, he repeatedly slammed it over and over and over....bam, bam, bam, and with each slam, blood would fly and we could see actual gashes developing all over the back part of his head. I was in the hall afterwards and several prisoners were up through the hall cleaning the heavy layers of blood that had followed Rob as he had been dragged to the hole. Shortly after, the guards and sergeant returned to their unit and told many prisoners housed in the same cellblock as Rob that Rob had busted his head up pretty good by "laying his head into the elevator wall."......One of the guards or the sergeant had actually taken one of the long black flashlights they had used to heat Rob and rammed it several times into the elevator wall to make it appear rob had rammed his head into the wall. With a total of five guards surrounding him, it would not have been possible for him to have done this if he had wanted. The following morning I just happened to have been called to medical about 8a.m. As I sat there waiting to go back, I saw them bringing Rob into medical. They were literally having to lead him as both of his eyes were completely swollen shut. To describe it in just one phrase, Rob's own mother would not have recognized him. She would not have known here own son. The sad thing is this is not an isolated case. They constantly handcuff prisoners then beat the living hell out of them. And medical does whatever it has to, to help the cover up. I have a small picture here I keep hooked to a card. It is an Iraqi who is chained over a contraption. Do you have any idea on any given day how many prisoners in NC are laying chained to a cold steel bunk, butt naked, no mattress. The wrists strapped to each corner above the head and the two ankles spread, strapped to the two end corners of the bunk. For days and days they are held like this and they have no choice but to pee and crap on themselves. Then they are made to lay in it day after day. Then they may get a slice of nutriloaf,( baked slop in a deep baking dish and after it cooks, it is sliced). And you wonder why so many prisoners get out of prison and kill families. How much rage inside of a man does it take to murder a whole family? If someone out there would ever research this, my God, the story it would tell. Rage and more rage and more rage. I hear some of them talk about how they have been beaten so bad and how they will get out soon and oh, how they are going to pay them back. It is scary. But rage is rage. How many American military have been killed because of rage. A son was beaten or killed. A mama was shot and killed. Rage and this exact same rage could be inside of so many million. Rage. That is all it is. Just pure, simple, rage. The eyes show it the best. Just rage!!!
Take Care................EH

Friday, April 14, 2006

APRIL 14, 2006
I guess, no I know that this government agency, the NC-DOC is not only getting updates for themselves but for Washington, as to how close I am to death. Back in the fall they were stopping certain ones coming out of the chow hall taking their pictures. I already knew what it was through my contacts. It was part of the FBI's project under Mueller whereby certain prisoners who could work against the government needed to be profiled and affixed together in some book form. Well, I saw they were taking certain Black prisoners with dreds. When I came out, one of the Captains told me to come over. He was about to tell me to stand at the wall to get my picture taken but the "STG", Security Threat Officer, a Latino female sergeant, who was taking the pictures obviously thought I was out of her hearing range and she spoke up and said, "oh no, they already have all about him" and the Captain told me to go on. Yeah, they already have all about me. I guess they do, at least since 1973, that I am aware of. But anyway, old Mueller definitely has his hands in my daily life scale. It is just he doesn't have that one important button he very much would like to have...the death button...at his disposal. He can cause health problems and cause daily hardships but he isn't the big enchilada, so....After the specialist told me all of my insides had been burned out listing the two likely culprits, either the HIV cocktail drugs or poison(viread, videx, keletra) I stopped taking those toxic HIV drugs. Four months after I stopped taking them my T cells were almost 1000 which is way above normal, but my viral lode was 450,000. Over the next four months, I developed strep pneumonia immediately after coming here and told them 5 days after arriving that there was some bad air being pumped into these cells. Well, I just finished the antibiotics for the third bout of strep pneumonia. At the same time my blood work showed my glucose elevated so they started doing fasting sugar checks. For two straight months my fasting sugar levels ranged from 540-620, dangerous levels. Nothing was done. It caused permanent damage to my eyes. At the same time I had a huge staph infection in my arm which had to be cut 4 times. The FNP who was treating me through all of this witnessed and heard and overheard some things that deeply bothered her. They bothered her enough that after a 40 minute conversation with my sister she said she just could not take it anymore and quit with a three or four day notice. She knew. And it frightened her. My bloodwork in February, through all of this four month ordeal showed my T cells had dropped to 420 and listed my viral lode as above 100,000 which I knew was affected by three bouts of strep pneumonia and a long lasting staph infection and sugar readings of 600 and >. The FBI and all the rest probably brought out boxes of ticker tape and said "Let's Party Down!" After being a thorn in the government's side for four decades to the point of taking the top billing on the Justice Department's Terrorist List of the 80's, let us face it. I am hated. It is pretty pleasing to the ear really. As for dying, screw them....My faith has carried me through things most could never imagine. But I will talk more about dying the next time. Or maybe the next. I really don't have time now. I have a lawsuit to draw up and a Petition for Writ of Mandamus. Next time. Take care. Guess who's watching you. Yeah, I have got to talk about that too but if I don't stop, I will have 20 pages and somebody will go to cursing.........EH

Thursday, April 06, 2006


Lights out! Every night like clockwork. Well, it is clockwork I guess. We finally found out, no not found out, because we have known for months along with USA Today and the Hickory Post office that someone here at Alexander Correctional Institution, who works in the mailroom or works with the mail, has been destroying or keeping my USA newspaper. Since I got here and got USA Today started here at this prison, every single week at least one paper and often two days, papers failed to show up. At least twice a paper was missing three days during one week. Anyway, a little over two months ago, the Raleigh office, Director of Prisons ordered this prison mailroom to log all of my mail, to deliver every piece of my mail to me and have me sign for every piece. This now shows every day I did not receive a paper. A couple of months ago, USA Today launched an investigation into all of the missing papers. They felt there were too many I was not receiving. I am not going to say right now how they did it as it may compromise a future investigation but they called my sister this week to tell her they have 100% documented incontrovertible proof that all of my missing USA papers got missing between the prison mailroom and my prison cell. Well, well, well.......Now my USA Today will ask the US Postal Inspector out of Washington, DC to formalize the findings. Hopefully with enough pressure, the US Attorneys office out of DC will prosecute those here at the prison who were responsible. In all truthfulness, the Superintendent Reggie Weisner, a Psychologist, is fully responsible as he runs the prison by not running it. His motto is " all the staff do what you please. Act however you want. Destroy all the mail you want, etc." So he should be held responsible. Of course there will be several guilty parties before it is over because they take all of the inmates mail into the prison warehouse, dump it all out on the big deck and all the prison warehouse workers gather around tearing open and reading and destroying the mail. I am sure all of them will start blaming each other but at least they can not blame the prison guards who deliver everybody else's mail . So if right is done, somebody should lose their job and somebody indicted by the federal prosecutor for federal mail tampering and destruction of property in the possession of the Federal Postal Service. We are going to have to push to keep the heat on. If you can, shoot an email to USAToday.com and tell them those responsible for destroying my newspapers should be held accountable. I would plead with everyone who reads and purchases USA Today to tell them you support their paper and now they need to support Eddie Hatcher and indict the prison crooks destroying his newspapers. I mean, it is not enough he is dying, they want to add a little more misery and destroy his mail.The one thing he looks forward to each day. Please email USA Today and the US Postal Inspector.
Thank you,
Eddie Hatcher and his sister

Saturday, April 01, 2006


It's been more than two years since I last wrote my "prison diary" in my website so it has taken me some days to kind of get into this mindset to start back up. So world, Eddie Hatcher is back. True, I almost died again and of course the prison staff still get caught whispering, "how the hell is he still alive." and, "my God, is he not dead yet?" I guess they are just amazed that I've dodged every bullit that has been shot my way. Two years ago while I had puddles of blood shooting out of me and losing 70 pounds I thought I was on the way out. Even I could not see how anyone could live going through what I was going through. After the first year, the medical department realized that the secret death warrant ordered by some unknown force within the government, in collusion with prison administrators had failed, so they figured they better cover themselves. So after a year of dying and everything in me being way below normal they sent me to a specialist. A week after the specialist performed a colonoscopy on me he had me brought back to his office where he sat beside me and said, "Eddie, I had to call in (4) pathologists to look at these biopsies because I did not know what I was seeing. We were finally able to rule out cancer but Eddie, your entire colon, bowel and intestines are burned to a crisp. Eddie they have been torched and they will never be able to absorb nutrients or digest food again. I could see in his face that he wanted to say more but having two guards staring down his throat made him quieter. So, about a week later my sister reached him and had a very free and comfortable conversation. He told her that all of the Pathologists had agreed that they had never seen anything like this in a living person before. He stated that my entire insides was the sight of a huge chemical burn. We know what causes chemical burns. Well he basically left us with one, the HIV drugs the prison had been forcing me to take had basically killed me, or two, I had been injected with some type of poison. He did not believe I would live weeks. Well, this was May 2005. Almost a year since I was expected to be dead. And you can believe the North Carolina prison system, those in high up positions mostly, are greatly disappointed. They feel they have failed again. Lets see, they failed in 1991 when a skinhead inmate put an 11 inch solid steel ice pick through my lungs three times and next to my heart one time. The inmate came out public in the press three or four weeks after I came back to this earthly place and stated that prison officials or men within the government wearing suits had contracted him to "take care of Hatcher" and for this hit they would give him an interstate compact to Texas, his home state. Well, it seemed they had reneged on their promise because I was only dead for 21 minutes. Yes, he failed so he got peed-off at them. Well, that was death number I. Then in 1995 they tried again and they came pretty close. I had PCP from December to March with not one shred of medical care. The great Warden of Central Prison in Raleigh NC was James French. He ordered the prison hospital not to treat me. Had it not been for a taped conversation my mama had with the doctor a lot might have happened. But on a Sunday afternoon after the Governor of NC, Jim Hunt ordered them to admit me and treat me at Central Prison hospital, I had a little spell of Respiratory Arrest and flew around for about 26 minutes. Then I had to listen to an Indian Doctor from India , and a nurse from Jamaica, try to explain my short absence. I recovered fairly quietly again. No one except my mama, knowing the second gift of the second death. Well, they tried again with this latest episode. On an afternoon in July 2005, at Marion prison located in the foothills of NC where they perpetrated my demise, they said I was dead for 18 minutes. One of the guards, the guard who laid the side of his face on my upper chest for about the entire 18 minutes had some type of conversion himself. He just couldn't stop, over and over, he'd say, "but Eddie, you didn't draw one breath and your heart did not beat one time for 18 whole minutes then just all of a sudden, (he threw his hands in the air) hear you are telling us to please get out of you cell. Over and over he would repeat this, then he'd ask, "Eddie, I know something went on, where were you, what happened, I can tell by looking at you. I'd tell him, "I was given the third gift for the third death and sometimes God lets us forget some of what happens because our minds might not contain all we saw or did or what was said and who said it. God lets us remember what we need to remember. I explained that the visits I had made and things I had seen and lessons I had learned while classified as dead was much like our deep dreams. In sleep when we are closest to death our dreams are forgotten because they were more than dreams and our minds just cannot absorb nor contain what we have beheld. I told him I had been blessed all of those times to see and hear and know. I told him how when my mama made the first visit to see me at Central Prison and after the young guard yelled "no touching" and almost made me react. Mama smiled and whispered "you know it is not your time yet because I saw all what you saw." This almost blew me away. My mama was with me during those 26 minutes and she saw and heard all I had saw and heard. She just raised a finger and put it to her lips. God had rested her soul by including her in my death and return. Well, if I had somone who could type as much as I could share I would continue and tell you what happened when my mama left this earthly place permanently. I have never told one living soul. And I know as my sister types this she is thinking as she knew something happened but has never known exactly. I'll also begin to share with you the daily battles, adventures, and literal violations against humanity that is taking place within the prisons of NC. I promise that I will alway tell the truth and the truth alone will be enough to make you salivate for more. And I will give it. Write me if you want.........EH