“A Tale of an American Political Prisoner”

Part 9.3: The DC Gulag; Washington, DC

–Get the Trumpers! (Part 1)–

by: Jessica Watkins (X: @J6ssicaWatkins)

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

After the Debriefing by the FBI, I decided to call Attorney Crisp back a few days later. He had news that would devastate my mental health until the verdict was read in my trial. He told me, with no ambiguity, “The Plea Deal was rejected. They want you to Plead Guilty to Seditious Conspiracy and Destruction of Government Property. Are you aware you’re now facing Life in Prison?” I was stunned. I couldn’t breathe. It was like bands of iron were crushing my skull and chest. I almost passed out. “What?! What the f***?! I didn’t kill anybody! What the f***?!” and I broke down crying. I don’t remember what happened next. Really, I was in a fog for days. Maybe weeks. But, I do remember wanting to die. I didn’t take the news well at all. Even worse, the attacks by the jail Staff were only increasing; while the January 6th Select Committee ramped up their new battery of hearings. The first hearing pointed the finger directly at me, Stewart Rhodes, Kelly Meggs and the OathKeepers and Proud Boys; despite the fact that we didn’t talk, coordinate, plan, or even meet each other. It was a big lie, but the Select Committee told it anyway.

(OPINION) I believe the jail staff was listening to the J6 Select Committee, and were emboldened to step up their attacks again. They had top cover; Deputy Warden Landerkin was still our warden. I have NO DOUBT that she was paying attention, and taking down names. Names like mine.

The abuses by the jail had lasted for a year and a half when I was in C2B. They had thinly veiled contempt for us on the best days, and open hostilities on the worst. There were good Officers: Hubbard, Bob, Abdullah, Swami, Sgt. Robinson. I want to recognize that they were not ALL bad; I appreciate and respect professionalism, and I give credit where credit is due. The women’s Pod in E2B was a similar story. Ms. A was good, or Ms. Palmer, Mrs. Smith. But there were haters in E2B too. Although, unlike in C2B where we could watch each other’s backs… here, all Pauline and I had were each other. So naturally, as soon as I could, I transferred cells so that we could be not just on the same wing, but the same floor (Top Right Tier to be specific). It wouldn’t matter. The Counsellor came one day and tried to get me to sign a Housing form. (remember this, it will be important later) This Housing form had 2 charges listed: Seditious Conspiracy and Destruction of Government Property, which put me as a Level 5 Inmate. I was -2 for being a female over 40 years old, and another -2 for having no Disciplinary actions against me. That put me at a Level 1 – making me a Minimum Security Inmate. The lowest possible score. At the bottom was a note that said +11 per the Warden, with DW Landerkin’s personal signature. That put me from a Level 1 Minimum to a Level 12 Maximum, arbitrarily with the flick of Landerkin’s pen. For reference sake – murderers are roughly a Level 7-8. Assault on a Corrections Officer? Level 6. I refused to sign it, telling my Counsellor “I won’t sign ANYTHING with those charges on it. I am innocent, so go f*** yourself!” OK, moving on. Do you know who was the Lieutenant in charge of E2B? You may have already seen this coming… Lieutenant Lancaster. Yep, and she HATED me! Now that I was in E2B, she would use her powers to target Pauline and I directly and frequently. At first it was targeted shakedowns. The unit had all sorts of contraband: hooch, drugs, weapons, cell phones, stolen DCDOC property. It was FULL of contraband. Yet those cells were never shaken down. Just me, Pauline, and Frenchie’s. Yet, none of us ever had contraband of any kind, but we were frequently targeted anyway. Allow me be explicit. Only the white people in the unit. I am telling you right now, I do NOT think that is a coincidence.

Me and Pauline got it worse than Frenchie did. Lancaster stole pictures of our pets, damaged our food, and had us head-down and handcuffed; surrounded by ERT while she did it. Sometimes I’d come back from court to find my stuff turned inside out. She would be “buddy buddy” with half the inmates (ones with contraband), laughing and having a good time with them. Then, she’d come to my door and start screaming at me like a Drill Sergeant and trashing my stuff. I was facing a Life Sentence for crimes I didn’t commit, and so I decided not to take any more of her bulls***. I started to react. I often snapped, screaming at her. I was facing Life in prison, and I was pushed to my limit. What would she do? Beat me? Mace me? Throw me in the hole? I would still be facing Life, so what did I have to lose? By this point, the J6 Select Committee was in full swing, streaming their bulls*** and lies to every TV in America. They often called me out PERSONALLY — BY NAME — and accused me of crimes for which I’d eventually be found Not Guilty. I often wonder if the two were connected. I think that Congress, just by saying the name “Jessica Watkins” was painting a target on my back. Do you have any idea how it feels to have members of Congress like Bennie Thompson, Liz Cheney, or Jamie Raskin saying your name; watching or listening to CSPAN or CNN live, as you’re slandered for crimes you didn’t commit, while in a jail as a Political Prisoner? Well, I do. And it sucks. BAD! The rage in your chest, the impotence, the despair. The weight of America… the richest and most powerful nation in world history… spending all those resources and political will to destroy YOU personally, while you’re INNOCENT and facing a Life Sentence for crimes you didn’t commit while a vengeful jail took out their hatred on you? I think I spent weeks crying and screaming. Soon, a new punishment was being cooked up. One day, Lieutenant Lancaster showed up and pulled me and Pauline out of our cells again.

We were taken down to the Day Room during Count, and interrogated by a psychologist. She asked “Have you ever considered a suicide pact?” I was incredulous… “WHAT?!?!?! NO!!!! What the f***?” She clarified, “Have you ever discussed having a suicide pact with Mrs. Bauer for the 4th of July?” Now I was REALLY confused. Mind you, I WAS in a dark place. Suicidal sometimes too… not that I’d told anyone. But a suicide PACT? For the 4th of July? What the actual s***? The psych lady must have seen my confusion, because she visibly relaxed. I told her clearly “No, there is not a ‘suicide pact’ between me and Pauline, or anyone else for that matter. What in the actual hell are you talking about?” She waved me off dismissively, “We just had to make sure, I am sure you understand.” Pauline had the same questioning. We both looked at each other confused. It was a strange interaction, and we assumed that was the last of it. A few days later, we were both called down to Medical. This time, a different psychologist asked us the same question. Now I was getting mad. “This s*** again? No! There’s no damn suicide pact. This ain’t Jonestown. I’m not in my cell whipping up bad batches of Kool-Aid for Independence Day.” (verbatim quote) He chuckled, and said “Well, I have heard of crazier things. But my colleague didn’t think so either, but we just wanted to confirm.” He too dismissed us, waving for our Escort Officer… Lieutenant Lancaster… to bring us back to our cells. “These people are fine, there’s nothing wrong with them, they can go back to their Units now”. Roughly a week later, Lieutenant Lancaster returned once more. I’ll never forget, she stood in my doorway and said “Go ahead and pack up all your stuff. You’re moving to E4B.” I went FLUSH with rage. Pure hatred! E4B is THE HOLE! She was throwing me in “The Hole”, for nothing! I stepped out and saw she was doing the same thing to Pauline, and it all made sense.