Jon Lender at the Courant this morning has a piece about my lawsuit: "Activist Claims State Police Engaged in 'Political Spying' Online." Specifically, the story discusses e-mails I recovered from a variety of Freedom of Information Act requests I did in connection with the CT State Police and my arrest from January 3, 2007.

 

These e-mails show that the Connecticut State Police use fake e-mail adresses to monitor political activists, parties and protests. Lender and the Courant did not put the documents up online, and I'd like everyone to have an opportunity to read them and draw their own conclusions.

 

Of course, the last sentence is always the most important:

Krayeske, now a law student, also said Rell's chief of staff, M. Lisa Moody, forwarded to the state police governor's security detail an e-mail that a state employee had sent to her, in which Krayeske had advertised a civil rights rally on the steps of the Supreme Court Jan. 30, 2007, while his criminal case was still pending. Krayeske cited it as another indication of improper scrutiny of political activity. Rell's office declined comment on the allegation.

So, for your viewing pleasure, as posted above, I offer a few of the documents showing "eforpeace@hotmail.com" and the Lisa Moody e-mail (download it here).

For identification purposes, Lt. Greg Chelso was the head of the Governor's Security Unit in 2006. The eforpeace@hotmail.com on John DeStefano is first. I spoke with Gabriela Campos, Dan Piper and Mark Rutkowski, all members of the Central Connecticut State University Progressive Student Alliance, and none of them know an "Earl Williams," the name to whom the email is "registered."

 

For additional ID purposes, look at the names on Campos' post to the CCSU_PSA forum - Dave Pudlin, Evelyn Mantilla, David Blitz, Dave Ianno, Dan Piper, Dave McCluskey and Danny Strahanich. And, oh yeah, DeStefano's chief of staff, Shawn Matteson. Why do state police need to know what elected officials like McCluskey are up to?

 

Then one of Chelso's google blog alerts set to receive any blog posting saying "jodi rell" then is the Lisa Moody email to the state police.

I sent the email on January 26, 2007, and I bet many people here got a copy. I sent it to everyone in my email list, including Carol Wilson, a Department of Administrative Services employee who had previously shown interest the40yearplan.com.

 

Despite Wilson's comments "he just won't leave me alone," according to an FOIA request on her email inbox, the last time I had emailed her prior to January 26, 2007 was April 2006, and she responded positively about attending a forum I was hosting at La Paloma Sabanera.

Below is the entirity of the first FOIA request I did to the CT State Police, which shows the first "theseriousbrother@yahoo.com" e-mail (at page 32). The email address is blacked out because it is an investigatory technique not otherwise known. Download the entire .pdf here.

 

State Police E-mail spying on Activists

Editor's Note: Thanks to everyone who responded positively to Joe Santana's report from inside the Hartford County Correctional Facility back on October 29, 2009.

Joe is deeply appreciative of the letters he received, and of the feedback that I heard from loyal readers and passed on to him. For some people with relatives in the Connecticut prison system, Joe's last column broke down walls and brought tears of understanding.

Because of this success, and because I have been pressing Joe to write about what it is like trying to go to the doctor in prison, he has written this piece.

With this massive healthcare debate taking place nationally, and as the country discusses the 47 million Americans without regular access to medical care, I have found the discussion lacking on many fronts.

The one percent of Americans in jail - some three million people - is one segment of the population that has not been represented in this dialogue on health care.

Here is Joe Santana's take on trying to get medical attention at the Hartford County Correctional Facility. I hope to have more reports about medical care in Connecticut's Department of Corrections in future editions of this column.

And again, if you are interested in writing to our prison correspondent, he loves getting mail: Joe Santana, inmate number 306658 E2C4 at Hartford County Correctional Facility, 177 Weston Street, Hartford, Connecticut 06120.

Peace, KK

 

Medical here is almost like the nurses office at a school, although you can't be sent home afterwards. LOL.

 

Medical here should be more like a Planned Parenthood, a clinic, or like an emergency room. But I guess that would cost too much, that would give DOC a reason to ask for more funding from the state.

 

When I was asked to give more details on how our medical ward is run, I thought to myself, "Where do I start?" I see a lawsuit waiting to be uncovered. People here, including myself, just allow our rights to be trampled over, as if prisoners have no rights at all.

 

But to give a better description of what our medical unit is like, I would have to refer to the reasons one would need medical attention. I truly believe that the general public forgets that when an individual is imprisoned, he/she brings with them whatever medical condition he/she is suffering from.

 

I want you all to imagine that before I came here, my health wasn't in the best condition at all. People come to prison with STDs, mental health issues and plenty of diseases. I have had some medical issues in the past.

 

When I settled in the holding cell at the West Hartford Police Department after I was first in custody, I thought: "This time away will give me a chance to get myself together."

 

I really wanted to get myself checked out while here in HCC, but it seems nearly impossible. I have been waiting for medical to get back to me since the beginning of October.

 

I can’t lie to the COs on duty, claiming I'm sick, in order to get to the medical unit. I will try to wait until my next court date, when I could be set free.

 

I would rather be seen by a doctor than to risk what these tax dollars have provided us inmates. I'm concerned with leaving this facility in the same health I came in with, because it is obvious that I can't leave here in a better health condition.

 

Letter from Inside the Belly, Part II, top...

 

Sitting in a room with 40 other people Thursday, November 19 at the Lyceum on Lawrence Street in Hartford, thinking 40 years in the future, planning how to tear down the I-84 viaduct and repair the fabric of the city, provided a rare tangible point to chart a goal once deemed unimaginable.

 

This column owes part of its genesis to Tuesday night bar talk among progressive friends (a.k.a. the Progressive Happy Hour, still meeting at Red Rock Tavern). Q: "How long will it take us to tear down I-84?" A: "Oh, about 40 years."

 

The consensus at the meeting was that it would indeed take at least 15 years to bring this to fruition.

 

"This is step one of what could be a decades-long process," former city councilman Bob Painter told the crowd Thursday night. "We don't have to do it all tomorrow."

 

A new Hartford without a highway running through it will not happen without meetings and bureaucracy and process. So rather than write about who said what last week, allow me an opportunity to dream and present a "Process Wish List."

 

First and foremost, the City of Hartford is paying $100,000, and the federal government is chipping in $200,000 to kick start the visioning process, according to David Spillane, a principal at Goody Clancy, the Boston-based architecture, planning and preservation.

 

Goody Clancy has promised the city three public meetings, the first of which was last Thursday night. In the future, I dream of seeing the community itself better represented.

 

Of the 40 or so people who attended the meeting, exactly one was black, one was Puerto Rican and one of Asian descent. Yet the Hartford neighborhoods through which I-84 runs are mostly black and Puerto Rican, and in Asylum Hill lately, I have been seeing more and more Asians, along with a smattering of many other ethnic identities.

 

I heard about the meeting because I got a spiffy postcard in the mail. It must have been because I am on the Hartford 2000 mailing list, Spillane said. They mailed out 1,200 postcards. Goody Clancy had the other 300.

 

Next time, let's doorknock Broad Street and Babcock, Asylum and Marshall and get people there. We need to hear from the teen mom and the Somali immigrant about their visions for the city. Let's dream big if we are going to spend $10 billion for a massive public works project.

 

Highway Overwhelms Feel of City, continued...

 

Suppose that an oil catastrophe more than 30 times the size of the Exxon Valdez happened and no one noticed?

 

Well it did. In the Ecuadorian rain forest. For decades, Texaco is alleged to have dumped oil in pits across Ecuador. What would be fenced off superfund sites in the United States are stinky open oil pits that indigenous peoples live next to in Ecuador.

 

After first seeing the catastrophe, American documentarian Joe Berlinger was so aghast and ashamed of what Texaco did that he decided to film it. Those first clips turned into a 104 minute feature film called Crude, which documents the pollution and the class-action lawsuit brought by 30,000 indigenous Ecuadorians against Texaco, and now its successor Chevron.

 

Filmmaker Joe Berlinger will appear at Real Art Ways in Hartford, Friday night, November 20, as part of the Hartford premiere of Crude. He will stay afterwards for a question and answer session.

 

Mr. Berlinger is crisscrossing the country promoting the new movie. He took a few moments Monday, November 16 to discuss the film.

 

Q: Crude spans years and many locations. It seems like it took a lot of persistence to make.

Berlinger: It took a lot of dedication. It was a really hard film to make. Making any film is an achievement. I hate it when reviewers flippantly rip things to shreds. I would like to see reviewers make a film. They need to show some respect that something got done.

This film was difficult to make. We filmed in brutal conditions. We were filming at the equator, and the 120 degree equatorial heat was oppressive. We filmed next to these massive pollution sites that would be fenced off in the U.S. These were superfund sites we could walk right up to and have a trial next to.

By the end of the day, you would have a wicked headache and your eyes would be watering. We filmed a mile and half from the Columbian border. There was a big dispute over the natural resources between Columbia and Ecuador, and it was militarized.

And of course that border dispute brings a criminal element, plus FARC guerrillas, drug runners and so on. I was concerned for my and my crew's safety. It was a malaria zone, too.

The worst thing was whenever we slept overnight in these indigenous villages, we would get these chigger bites. Chiggers are bugs that crawl into your feet and lay eggs. I still have scars that get inflamed.

 

Q: So why do the film?

Berlinger: I felt it was a moral imperative when I was shown this disaster. I was embarrassed to be an American that an American company was involved in this.

I am not smart enough to figure out the lawsuit. The film’s job is to present both sides. The reason I am comfortable with that – there is a moral bankruptcy to the whole affair. The lawsuit debates whether there was fraudulent remediation and whether the release Texaco signed with the Ecuadorian government prevents a third party from suing.

I can't sort through those issues and come up with an affirmative conclusion about the suit. But there is no moral justification for what Texaco did, even if they feel they have protected themselves from it.

It was shocking to me. One of the big failings of crude is its two
dimensional nature. The thing that I'll never forget, and there are a lot of arresting images, I will never forget the foul odor of the region and the foul odor of people’s water.

When you see the pollution with the naked eye, it is far worse. When you are looking at it from a 360-degree viewpoint, it is shocking to see what they have done to that part of the world.

 

An interview with Joe Berlinger, continued...

 

Of the few pleasures in law school, I enjoy learning about the America of old. And comparing it with the country we are today.

 

For example, reading one case recently, I realized that at the turn of the 20th century, the Mississippi legislature made it a misdemeanor crime to trade cotton futures. Ole' Miss determined it was against the public interest to engage in Wall Street-style gambling on Mississippi's main economic engine.

 

Go figure. A legislature stood up to the monied interests of its day. If only we could have found a legislature to outlaw trading of credit default swaps, and other exotic securities that are now toxic, we could have prevented the housing bubble, and maybe saved ourselves from this recession.

 

It's not like human history has not seen the negative impact of bubbles and futures trading before. But it was a surprise to me when I apprehended this gem about futures' regulation in my Conflicts of Laws class.

 

Conflicts, of course, is the study of what happens when the right thing changes from state to state, and how courts determine which law to apply when a contract made in Connecticut by people from Delaware and Michigan, to be paid in California is breached in Ohio, when it should have been performed in Illinois.

 

Each state has its own interests, and courts have to weigh these against Constitutional considerations, and most consider the area of conflicts to be hopelessly confused. It’s pretty much a coin flip, even where seemingly simple things like land transactions don’t always go by the rules of the state where the land is.

 

Generally, I find conflicts to be the study of how corporations manage to evade lawful restrictions on their aggregations of capital and pursuit of profit. Fauntleroy v. Lum, 210 U.S. 230 (1908), the case focused on illegal cotton futures trading, is run of the mill, and the bad guy wins.

 

Written by Mr. Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes, that giant of American jurisprudence, Fauntleroy v. Lum holds that despite the illegal status of cotton futures trading in Mississippi, a man can win money on illegal cotton futures in Mississippi, go to Missouri to win a judgment against the debtor, then return to Mississippi and have a court enforce that judgment.

 

Holmes reasoned that the full faith and credit clause of the United States Constitution demanded Mississippi to enforce the judgment even though trading on cotton futures is illegal in Mississippi and against its interests.

 

The guy who did it in Mississippi and won, and went to a court in Missouri to enforce his winnings against a Mississippi resident can do so, with impunity.

 

Mississippi's interest in preventing activities that could destroy its economy is subservient to Missouri's interest in having a stable judgment that will be honored in all 50 states, at least according to Holmes and the Supreme Court of 1908. I reckon that the Roberts Supreme Court would do the same today.

 

It is an unpalatable decision at best, and one that subverts the power of sovereign states. It should be expected from a Constitution written to place the rights of property and slaveholding on the same plane as civil rights, if not a higher plane than civil rights.

 

More on Futures Trading...

 

Disclosure: I have done business with John Zito previously, and I consider him a friend. But the story he told me on Monday night has nothing to do with our relationship, and my dealings with him lead me to believe that he is a credible source of information.

 

John Zito called me a few minutes after this incident was over, while the handcuff marks still indented the flesh on his wrists. The incident, as reported here, was fresh in his mind.

 

Furthermore, at the outset, I will indicate that I reserve and hereby exercise the right not to call the Hartford Police Department for comment on this matter. First and foremost, I would have to go through Nancy Mulroy, the HPD spokesperson (read: paid prevaricator).

 

If anyone considers Ms. Mulroy to be credible in representing the truth, I point them to her lies about my political arrest in January 2007. I understand that my personal history necessarily colors my perceptions. But the fact that prosecutor dropped the trumped-up charges brought by the HPD lays waste to her version of what happened.

 

So rather than waste Ms. Mulroy’s time and mine, I’ll save us all the aggravation and fabricate her response in my best bureaucratic legalese. Ms. Mulroy would not allow me to speak with the line sargeant or the officers. Instead, she would likely say:

 

"The interaction was as a reasonable police reaction to aggressive behavior. We're in the business of protecting and preserving the peace. We're not in the business of handcuffing innocent people."

 

Simultaneously, I beg my audience, especially those who commented to me last week about how moved they were by Joe Santana’s Report from Inside the Belly, that this is what happens every day to people like Joe before they end up in jail.

 

Because law enforcement is often tainted by race, I should point out that John Zito is white.

 

Beyond race, Zito is president of the New Britain Avenue Merchants' Association. He runs Beij, Williams and Zito, a respected, hundred-year-old small business specializing in engraving headstones.

 

John and his wife Imani are leading the charge for sustainable small businesses with their restaurant Alchemy Juice Bar and Café. They are raising a large family together.

 

On Monday night, November 2, 2009, at about 8:40 p.m., John needed to exit his driveway in order to pick up one of his daughters at her dance class across town.

 

As he walked out of the front door of his storefront, towards his car in his lot, he noticed two officers coming out of his parking lot, crossing New Britain Avenue, heading towards a house.

 

"They were in my parking lot, blocking the gate," Zito said. "The vehicles were running with the lights on."

 

So John raised his voice to be heard across the street. "Hey guys," he shouted. "I need to get my car out, and I don't believe I gave you permission to park in my lot."

 

They said something aggressive back to him, and he said they ignored him. Then they went inside the building.

 

"I was forced to wait. I had no choice but to wait," Zito said, noting that his daughter was waiting for him.

 

So he called 911.

 

Contempt of Cop, see the rest of the story...

 

It has only taken almost three years, but tomorrow, I will have a day in court. I'm sending out a press release, and it reads like this:

 

Bridgeport, CT: On Friday, November, 6, 2009 at 2 p.m., at the federal district court in Bridgeport, judge Stephan Underhill will hear oral arguments on motions for summary judgment in Krayeske v. Hartford, the civil rights lawsuit filed by Ken Krayeske in the wake of his arrest and subsequent dismissal in 2007.

 

Krayeske is inviting persons interested in watching to attend the hearings. Krayeske filed the civil rights lawsuit against three Hartford police officers, two state cops and the city of Hartford for false arrest, false imprisonment, excessive bond and free spech violations on May 24, 2007.

 

"I've waited a long time for this day in court, and we haven't even reached the trial yet," Krayeske said.

 

Motions for summary judgment are part of the pre-trial process, and they test the factual sufficiency of a case. In writing the motions for summary judgment, the state police revealed that during the 2006 gubernatorial campaign, they weren't just looking into the affairs of the Green Party, but peeking into other political activities, like those of Democratic gubernatorial candidate John DeStefano.

 

"It is beyond the pale that the state police cannot determine the difference between legitimate, constitutionally protected activities and those which pose a danger to the state," Krayeske said.

 

As it stands now, one defendant, Officer Jeffrey Antuna of the Hartford Police Department, did not even file a motion for summary judgement. So a trial will happen for at least one defendant, and perhaps more, depending upon how Underhill rules. A trial date for mid-2010 seems likely, Krayeske said.

 

The two state police officers (Sgt. Mark Cassista and Detective Pedro Rosado), the city of Hartford, and two Hartford cops (Andrew Weaver and Mack Hawkens) have filed to essentially dismiss the case brought by Krayeske. They all argue that the facts don't support his claims.

 

However, they all argue three different versions of the events.

 

There are enough opposing stories of what happened on January 3, 2007 at the inaugural parade of Gov. M. Jodi Rell as to justify a jury trial, Krayeske said.

 

"They all are trying to throw each other under the bus," Krayeske said. "Defending this lawsuit is an unfortunate waste of taxpayer dollars. Had Gov. M. Jodi Rell taken responsibility and come clean earlier in the process, the state wouldn't be wasting valuable resources shielding constitutional tortfeasors from liability."

 

Attorney Norman A. Pattis of Bethany will represent Krayeske before Judge Underhill. Underhill's clerk sent out a notice in September stating that he could rule from the bench, but Krayeske is expecting a decision to take more than 90 days to decide whether or not the defendants' arguments that the arrest were reasonable are bunk.

 

"This is a step along the way to justice," Krayeske said.

 

Attorney Stephen Sarnoski from Attorney General Richard Blumenthal's office is representing the two state police officers. Attorney Joseph McQuade of the Hartford law firm Kainen, Escalera and McHale is the counsel of record for Antuna, Hawkens and Weaver, while the city of Hartford's office of corporation counsel is defending the claims against the city.

 

For more information, please contact Ken Krayeske at ken_at_the40yearplan_dot_com.

 

Letter from Inside the Belly, continued...

Editor's Note: The phone rings on a Sunday night a few weeks back. An official robotic male voice, not very friendly, says "Hello, This is Global Tellink, and this call originates from a Connecticut Correctional Facility and may be monitored or recorded. You have a call from" (the voice pauses) "Joe Santana," says the person on the other end of the line.

 

Mr. Roboto continues, without missing a beat "an inmate at the Hartford Correctional Facility. To accept this call, press five now." I press five, and before Mr. Roboto turns over the line to Joe, he gives me a pitch for prepaid collect calls from prison. Then I hear Joe's voice: "Hey Ken." At irregular intervals during the call, Mr. Roboto reminds me that this is Global Tellink and that this call is from a Connecticut Correctional Facility.

 

With about 13 minutes, Mr. Roboto reminds us that we have but 120 seconds remaining. Mr. Roboto marks time again at 60 seconds. After a minute, silence. Usually the conversation gets cut off in mid-stream, although we try to time it and wind down appropriately. It's always an awkward ending. It's hard to squeeze a lot of life into 15 minutes.

 

Joe Santana joined the staff of Echoes from the Streets in January 2001, months before we ever hit the presses. His first article explored the history of hip hop. At the time, he was a freshman at an alternative high school because of some difficulties.

 

But he could write, he had excellent people skills and he showed potential for a reporter. Echoes sent him to New Mexico to report from the Taos Pueblo Native American Reservation with buildOn, the international educational aid organization based on Stamford, CT that builds schoolhouses abroad and encourages community service here in the US. Joe's cover story from September 2002 is here.

 

Joe earned his GED, and wrote about that triumph. As the years rolled on, his enthusiasm for telling stories was matched only by his propensity to attract trouble.

 

I wish I could say it is not painful to watch as a person, a friend, an employee, a mentee and a father makes mistakes, compounded by the built-in prejudice of the criminal justice system. It is.

 

But Joe still loves to write. I have been encouraging him to send this letter for some time. It came in the mail last week, pencil on three different sheets of paper. I offer it to you in its entirity. I look forward to publising more work from him.

 

Joe Santana, inmate number 306658 E2C4 at Hartford County Correctional Facility, 177 Weston Street, Hartford Connecticut 06120, always loves to get mail. Feel free to write him back. -KK

 

Well hello everyone. My name is Joseph and I am an inmate at H.C.C.C. I am here because I have made some poor choices in my life, and this is the way I am taught to correct my mistakes. It's a sad story in general, but in this letter I will not be discussing what I should have done.

 

I will be writing about the process inmates go through before or after sentencing. So pretend that I am an undercover journalist sent to jail to get the first scoop of life in a correctional facility.

 

Let's start off with whatever police department you're booked in. In my case, I had a choice of either West Hartford or Hartford. I told my bounty hunters to bring me to West Hartford because the officers there would actually treat me like a human being.

 

When I got there, I was searched thoroughly, told to take off laces and anything else I could hang myself with. Everything that was in my possession was bagged and put away.

 

Next was the finger printing, which in my case had to be done four times for four different warrants. I would like to thank the WHPD for serving all of my warrants in that one arrest. You might be asking "What's so great about it?"

 

Letter from Inside the Belly, continued...