Fighting for My Own Right

There came a time when I didn’t have to fight for other people’s rights- I had to fight for my own. A judge, a provincial assistant, a fiscal, some lawyers and two usurers made up the unholy alliance of land grabbers who preyed upon the financial difficulties of the people of Indiana for ten years. Our ancestral land was illegally foreclosed by the syndicate and our entire family was bound to suffer severe financial setbacks. Vicious men forced my parents to sign documents stating that they had received money (they received none) so that they could charge more illegal interest. We weren’t alone. Other families suffered the same fate.

I organized these families and sought the help of my former professor, a lawyer who volunteered his legal services. We filed charges at the courts and at the Office of the National Defense for the investigation, arrest and detention of the syndicate. Mysteriously, however, our papers always disappeared, with the help of the influence of the syndicate’s many powerful backers. The victims eventually became increasingly discouraged and embittered. If justice proved elusive, I vowed to seek revenge even outside of the legal process by killing our oppressors  one by one.

It was during this time that my sister Marie was most passionately praying for me. She was a Christian whose life had been transformed and infused with meaning by Christ. She tried to explain her faith to me, but I didn’t understand. Maybe I refused to understand.

Enjoying Life in Prison

I never really experienced much of true prison life because I was incarcerated only for a little while. Having exerted my influence, I was allowed to go home in the evenings and report to jail the next morning. I would treat them all from the warden to the jail guards to a drinking spree everyday. We even converted one prison cell to a gambling den where drugs and booze were freely shared around. Even inside the prison, I was still making money.

Through the instigation of the warden, I falsified and padded the vouchers so that we were still collecting the meal allowances of the dead and the released inmates. I called the shots inside the prison. I could come and go out of prison whenever I wanted to. One night I wanted to drink beer and eat goat meat. Since we did not have any money I ordered my men to rob one beer house and in the fight that ensued the owner himself was killed. Everyone was afraid of me because of my influence and uncontrollable temper.