“A Tale of an American Political Prisoner”

Part 7.2: The DC Gulag; Washington, DC


by: Jessica Watkins (X: @J6ssicaWatkins)

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

The breaking news from Congresswoman @RepMarjorieTaylorGreene was still spooling on the ticker along the bottom of the News Channels, when the retaliation against us began. Less than 12 hours after the news dropped that Warden Landerkin had been slandering Trump (and us) on her Twitter, first thing that morning the shakedowns began; spearheaded by her lapdog, Lieutenant Lancaster. It was clear to us who orchestrated the shakedowns and why. It’s no coincidence that the Warden got exposed by members of Congress less than half a day before we were targeted so viciously. The Warden was mad her Twitter messages went public (and viral), and so she was going to make us J6er’s pay. The CO’s came through like a whirlwind, ordered us out of our cells and proceeded to DESTROY them. They took anything they wanted; pictures of pets, letters from family, custom made items, Discovery (a legal term used for any evidence that is given to a Defendant), legal documents protected under Attorney/Client privilege, laptops provided to us by the DoJ/Jail. It didn’t matter. They did whatever they wanted, because… yup, they had Top Cover. They dumped our Commissary items on the floor, including our food, and stepped on them. I even had a boot-print in one of my Honeybuns. They screamed at us, searched us, and destroyed our cells. When we were finally allowed to go back into our cells, it was like a hurricane had struck. Everything we owned was damaged, destroyed or taken, and unceremoniously dumped in a massive pile on the floor. My books were tossed into a pile, the pages and covers badly damaged and bent. It was infuriating to watch as the CO’s leave the Unit with a swagger, proud of what they had done.

It took me hours to rebuild my life in there. I meticulously rehung my crinkled pictures of my pets and family, fixed my books the best I could. I threw away the Commissary food that was now inedible. I made my bed and tended to my plants (glad to see they had been left unmolested) and tried to reset everything the way I liked it. An hour later, the CO’s came back and repeated the cycle. They destroyed our cells a SECOND time. Took more items, destroyed more property, and violated more of our rights. I was beyond pissed. Twice?! Really?! So, I carefully rebuilt my life once more. I tended Ziggy and my plants, glad to see they had been left untouched yet again. By this point, it was after lunch. The CO’s came into the Unit, bellowing out “Oooooutside Reeeeec!” I was skeptical. After being treated like a subhuman animal all day, it felt suspicious to be allowed the freedom to go outside in the sunlight. But, I needed to vent, and after the nightmare day we’d had, the fresh air sounded amazing. I went outside. When I came back inside, Tim Hale (a good friend of mine) rushed over to me. He was like “Ok, first. Don’t freak out. OK. They came back AGAIN, and this time they took Ziggy and all your plants”. So, I promptly ignored his good advice and immediately freaked the hell out. I mean, like ballistic level freaked out. I saw red. My cell was trashed AGAIN. My stuff was f***ed up AGAIN. A third time! Only this time, my plants were gone.

Tim told me what had happened. As soon as we were baited to go outside, they came back and targeted the cells of everyone who had gone outside. This time, Lieutenant Lancaster herself had targeted my cell, and according to Tim (as I’m sure he will tell you) that “…Lieutenant Lancaster came in with a box, and came to your cell specifically. She hauled off your plants like they were evidence of a crime.” I was infuriated in the extreme. Crying, screaming, all that. The CO’s had seen my plants for like 7-8 months by that point. Ziggy had grown into a bush. The CO on duty (one of the nice ones) looked VERY apologetic, he said “well, technically they were contraband. You’re not supposed to have them.” I was red-eyed from crying, and I told him… “All the murderers, rapist, drug dealers… have you ever seen any of them have plants?” He shook his head no, and I continued “…wouldn’t you think that the jail would WANT inmates to care for living things? I LOVE living things, animals, plants, people… I LOVE them. Wouldn’t you prefer to see my tending something with love and care, rather than making shanks or cooking hooch, or whatever?” He shrugged apologetically “I know, what you mean… but the rules…” I sobbed. “What rule? Eh!? Eh?! What rule? I checked! There’s no goddamned rule! I checked.” Sobbing. That was a bad day for me.

But it wouldn’t be the last. There’d be plenty more bad days, and as usual we’d get the brunt of them. The former Speaker of the House, Nancy Pelosi, had been pushing for a January 6th Select Committee. When the Republican choices for the Committee were presented, Fancy Nancy rejected the choices immediately. She decided that the partisan Committee would only include the members she felt were anti-Trump enough to play along with the charade. Soon it was announced, a J6 Select Committee would be convened, featuring 7 Democrats and 2 RINO’s so deeply in bed with the Dems that the blue lube on their lips could only have come from under a Democrat desk. The Select Committee was seated, and a rushed panel was convened Live on public TV, featuring 4 Police Officers with a sob story to share. One of whom would be accusing me and my Codefendants personally. A Capitol Police Officer that had been saved by the OathKeepers. A cop that was close personal friends with Nancy Pelosi. A guy who would use J6 to make himself famous, write a book, and then run for Congress. All based on a lie that he would begin telling on the first panel of the J6 Select Committee. This serial perjurist would go on to accuse us of crimes we did not commit, lie under oath in our trial, and then beg our Judge to “throw the book” at us in our Sentencing. That man is Harry Dunn. Harry… F***ing… Dunn. And as a result, we would once be in the crosshairs of our captors.