“A Tale of an American Political Prisoner”

Part 6.8: The DC Gulag; Washington, DC

by: Jessica Watkins (X: @J6ssicaWatkins)

–The Inexorable Slide–

A True Story; 100% verifiable with Text Messages, Emails, Video/Audio, Court Documents and Testimony.

After months in Solitary Confinement, Harassment by the CO’s, Malnourishment, Medical Neglect, and a lack of hygiene -namely the trimming of beards- the general morale tanked. It didn’t help that EVERY Media source, Conservative and Liberal alike, spat on us like we were Vietnam Vets fresh off the plane in 72. Our names were synonymous with traitor, insurrectionist, terrorist, extremist, white supremacist, racist, homophobes,etc. (@DanBongino calls this name-calling orgy “Ista-phobe-a-phobe-a-phobism”). Even Conservative voices like @BenShapiro kept calling us “…idiots and droogs with clubs”, as if we were a mob of armpit scratching cavemen beating on cops while shouting “Eegachaka Eegachaka, Eega Eega Eegachaka”. The constant assault on our senses and sensibility left us depressed ALL the time. The guys looked like wild eyed homeless people with massive shaggy beards. The jail refused to give them a way to trim their beards. Everyone looked like hell. Probably me too, but I didn’t have a mirror. Or (thankfully) a beard. Morale in C2B tanked. Arguments broke out frequently; paranoia ran rampant. Everyone was on edge, concerned that people were Leftists, Feds, or snitches. Which of course, some like Tom Sibbick, turned out to be just that. Others would join that bandwagon, feeding information about their fellow inmates to the Leftist Media and the DoJ. Nate and Ronnie started partnering with Nanci Pelosi’s daughter, using J6 to get famous and to make a documentary with her. Those same people also became some of the biggest grifters. Their true Leftist colors shining through, as their newly applied “Patriot paint” peeled in the pressure cooker that was the DC Gulag. It was clear, they didn’t love America or espouse Conservative ideals. They believed in only one thing; themselves. Fortunately there weren’t many of them. Soon the wheat would be separated from the chaff.

The grifters banded together; trying to get interviews and start up Podcasts to promote their “brand”. It’s a page out of the Biden playbook really. A few were like Jake; trying to get famous, vying desperately to be “The Face of J6”. He would go around telling people “Roxanne Boylin died in my arms”, despite a complete lack of evidence to support his assertions. That story disappeared pretty quick once Macabee arrived (the former Sheriff who ACTUALLY performed CPR on Roseanne Boyland). Others were trying to get rich, opening and closing numerous GiveSendGo accounts to hide how much they were making. Nate was one, having allegedly made nearly half a million dollars for “legal fees”. But his lawyer was pro-bono, so we’re not sure where the money went. Ironically, these same grifters would be the very same ones crying for “transparency” from groups like the Patriot Freedom Project; which did a LOT of good for Patriots and their families. The grifters did NOT like the competition. Fortunately, there weren’t many grifters to emerge in C2B, but they were all eager; each trying to use J6 to get famous; aided and abetted by people on the outside… people like Peter Santilli, who emerged to advocate for the Political Prisoners, only to make a quick buck and fade away into obscurity. While the grifters tried to use J6 as their ticket to fame, the rest of us just wanted a ticket home. Many were fathers, and listening to them call their wives and children was heartbreaking. Listening to a grown man cry to his wife and kids while in prison for crimes he didn’t commit is about the worst possible thing you can imagine. The pride was stripped away from these honorable men, replaced with fear and the crushing pressure of an America that hated them and reveled in their suffering. People like Guy Reffitt, who was one of my best friends, struggled to take care of his family and maintain his dignity; all the while, his Liberal f***ing son was betraying him to the Feds and the Media for money and fame of his own. It was disgusting.

For those of us who were veterans, we stuck together. A modern day Band of Brothers. Me, Tim, Kenny, Jeff M., Dominick, Ryan, Padilla, Dan; we were Seeking comradery in familiarity of discipline under adversity. For us, C2B was our own personal POW Camp. Anything behind the DC Beltway was certainly behind enemy lines; the Liberals/Democrats had made us their enemy and we were their pet hostages. The Qanon people started seeing “The Plan” everywhere. Cleve was convinced that Trump was using the Emergency Broadcast System to communicate with the Marine Corps, that Trump was still in charge of the military, and that the Marines would airlift us out of the Gulag on the 4th of July. Phrases like “trust the plan” and “every dog has it’s day” abounded. They became a trope, synonymous with optimistic lunacy. The Pod fractured basically along these lines; Those who loved their country versus those who only loved themselves. The Veterans, Patriots, and Conspiracy Theorists (we also called the Qtards) coexisted in unity as the grifters tried to tear us apart. The Qtards were some of my best friends; Cleve, Doug, Jeff S. and a few others. They always had optimism and it was infectious, the only ray of hope in a dark place. While the rest of us found unity under adversity, the Grifters and Snitches found unity in shameless self promotion. It was not a good time for the DC Gulag. Soon, the grifters were trying to record us singing the National Anthem on the phone, trying to monetize our tradition. When we found out about it, us veterans immediately boycotted singing the National Anthem, packing into my cell and sitting in a moment in silence rather than have OUR LITERAL VOICES stolen for the profit of grifters. It would take nearly a month before we would sing the Anthem again. The gap between us would widen, and soon the handful of snitches and grifters found themselves on the outside looking in. When Jake got sent to “The Hole”, things eased up some. He was kinda the “self proclaimed prophet and grifter in chief”. But, he would soon be back.

When Jake came back a month or two later, he brought with him a “new friend”. He was known to us, strongly suspected as Antifa. His name was Zachary Alam. We all KNEW who he was, but Jake was convinced that he had “reformed” Alam. Jake kept saying “No guys, he’s a Patriot now. He’s one of us. He’s a J6er”. The rest of us wanted nothing to do with him, and he knew that we were onto him. He hid in his cell as much as possible to avoid us. After a week or two, I decided to just confront him myself. I was tired of the speculation. I was tired of people “claiming” that he was Antifa, or that he was a Patriot. I wanted to hear it straight from the horses mouth. I caught Alam while he was working out at the pullup bar, and I asked point blank, “Who are you? What do you believe? Tell me. Tell, me NOW.” Anyone who knows me, knows that I have NO love for Antifa. F*** Antifa. I was pretty sure that I knew who he was, but I wanted him to tell me himself. To watch him squirm. He replied “…um, well… I uh…” I told him, “Stop. Why. Were. You. At. The. Capitol? Tell me.” He looked around at the group of us that were now beginning to assemble, and he started mumbling “…well, I live in the area, so I stopped by at the Rally on January 5th. Someone showed me a video about Adrenochrome and it made me angry and…” I stopped him again. “So let me get this straight. Someone shows you a YouTube video about adrenochrome, and so what? You grabbed tactical gear and stormed the Capitol? Do you have any idea how stupid that sounds? Did you even vote for Trump?” He shook his head, “No.” I continued, “What about the 2020 Election?” He shrugged, “I don’t know.” I was getting pissed and asked flat out, “I am only going to ask you this once. Are you now… or have you ever been… Antifa?”

He looked like a deer in the headlights. “Um, well I used to be Antifa, but…” I stopped him again. “Look kid, we knew that already. I just wanted to hear you say it. You’re Antifa. None of this ‘used to be’ bulls***, you ARE. And you are not welcome here. You’re never going to BE welcome here. F*** Jake and f*** you. Especially f*** Antifa. Nobody here is going to hurt you, but I tell you this. We hate you. OK? I hate you. You will never be one of us. You got Ashli Babbitt killed, and you stood there and did nothing. I won’t forgive you for that. None of us will. So your best bet is to PC (Protective Custody) yourself the f*** out of here. Write yourself off the Pod. You need to go to another f***ing jail. Feel me?” [more or less verbatim] I was flush with anger. The audacity of it all pushed me over the edge. I don’t do that, I don’t confront people. But the stress of the DC Gulag now mixed with Antifa in our midst was just a bridge too far for me. The next day, Alam was gone. Jake’s little disciple was gone and the grifters tightened up their ranks, and we Patriots began to reclaim our dignity. Soon Tom Sibbick would show his colors (and also his brown-eye, but that’s another story). Sibbick renounced all of us, in hopes that the DoJ and Joe Biden would (and did) show him leniency. He puckered up and crawled under his Judge’s desk, writing a letter that showed his contempt for President Trump. He claimed we were “radicalizing” because for a few weeks I wrote a Newsletter full of jokes, Bible verses and recipes for strawberry lemonade. He claimed that we “…forced him sing the National Anthem every night…”. As soon as his letter was public and circulating on every news channel in the nation, he too was gone. As the frauds exposed themselves (in Sibbick’s case, literally), the Patriots remained united. Soon, we would have new tools at our disposal, ones that would only knit us together closer. A new day would soon be upon us; for better or worse.