The White Patriot Party Proudly Presents...
...by F.Glenn Miller
Previous Chapter | Index | Next Chapter
The 5-day trial began in the U.S. District Court in Raleigh on July 21, 1986 . Steve Miller acted as his own attorney. Bill Martin represented me. And there was no representation for the White Patriot Party.
Arrayed against us was special prosecutor Morris Segelman Dees, U.S. Attorney Samuel Currin, and several other lawyers representing either Dees or the U.S. Justice Department.
I felt like a church mouse among giant buzzards.
Believe it or not, but the court actually appointed Morris Dees as "special prosecutor" and paid all his legal fees and expenses. He worked for a private independent Civil Rights group and therefore had no legal standing with the government at all, at least as far as either he or the government would admit. But, nevertheless, the court saw fit to appoint him "Special Prosecutor" to prosecute Glenn Miller, Stephen Miller, and the White Patriot Party, and allowed him to lead and orchestrate the prosecution, over the bureaucratic heads of the U.S. Attorney and the U.S. Justice department.
That was a whale of a sweet deal for Morris Dees. Not only was he paid by the Southern Poverty Law Center, he was paid by tax payers to boot, and he got to do what he loved most in the world; destroy White racists. It's amazing he was able to restrain himself from doing cart wheels and giggling spasms all over the courthouse.
During the jury selection, my lawyer tried to keep Blacks off by citing the fact that all Blacks in North Carolina had been "class-action plaintiffs" in my original case, and because Blacks could not be fair and impartial as required of jurors by the U.S. Constitution. Martin stated that everybody in the state including Blacks knew of Glenn Millers racist organization and activities, and therefore Blacks could not be fair or impartial toward me.
Prospective Black jurors were asked by Judge Britt if they could be fair and impartial, and "sure 'nuff," they said yes, and he took their word for it. By that same procedure and reasoning, Jews could be allowed to sit on juries trying Nazis accused of holocaust crimes, if those particular Jews said that they were fair and impartial. That is, of course, impossible. But, it's no more impossible than fair and impartial Blacks sitting on my jury and the jury of Steve Miller and the White Patriot Party.
The court even said that Blacks had no greater interest in Glenn Miller than other members of the public. Anyone who believed that, should have been at our Whiteville march where thousands of Blacks jumped up and down and screamed their hatred for me.
"Special Prosecutor" Dees called his first witness: one Robert Norman Jones who was then serving time in prison on a firearms conviction. Jones testified he met me on three occasions and that I had given him $50,000 in cash for illegal weapons ranging from Law Rockets and Claymore mines to hand grenades. He also stated he knew Steve and other Fayetteville members, and had trained dozens of them in the use of explosives and other illegal weapons, during the time he lived in Fayetteville . Jones also confirmed Dees ' allegation that I was building a White racist army to wage war against Blacks, Jews and other minorities, as described in the book, Turner Diaries.
On the second day of Jones' testimony, Dees had his assistants bring in a big pile of guns, explosives, and ammunition, which had been confiscated from Jones' house at the time of his arrest. And, Dees presented each of the weapons to the jury while Jones described their awful and powerful potentials. Of course, Dees did not even allege that any of the weapons belonged to me. He just pointed out how destructive they could be "in the wrong hands," in order to prejudice and inflame the jury. And, Jones testified that those were the type weapons he had sold to me, though Dees never did bring in a Law Rocket nor did the government ever find one, even though Jones testified I'd purchased 13 of them from him at a cost of $1,000 each. If the government believed Jones, then they must believe I've still got all those Law Rockets now; because they never did show up. The fact was, I didn't even know what a Law Rocket looked like, and wouldn't have recognized one if it had hit me up side my head.
In truth, I had heard talk about Robert Jones, though I'd never seen him. Jones had become friends with Steve, Jack Jackson, Doug Sheets and other members in the Fayetteville area. On visits to my house, they sometimes mentioned Jones, but only as a good 'ole boy who was a dealer in legal guns and in military equipment such as pistol belts, camouflage uniforms, army boots, etc. Steve had described him as a fellow who sold legal guns at low prices, and once he purchased a .38 caliber pistol for me from Jones. That was the extent of my knowledge of Robert Jones. Not only had I never seen the man in my entire life before the trial, I underwent a polygraph test just after the trial and proved it. I gave copies of the written polygraph test to TV, radio, and newspaper reporters in Raleigh. Currin's predictable response was "polygraph tests don't always work right."
When Jones was testifying on the stand, I couldn't tell when he was lying or when he was telling the truth, except when he made statements concerning me personally.
I didn't know what illegal dealings he'd had with other members, but I knew he'd had absolutely none with me. However, due to the court's ruling that I was legally responsible for the actions of everyone even remotely associated with the Party, then the jury only had to find one of them guilty of violating the court order, to find me guilty as well. But none of them were on trial.
The case was an extremely confusing one for the jury as well as for our side, because Steve and I weren't charged with possession of illegal weapons. We were charged with contempt of court by operating a paramilitary organization and violating two state laws. In order to find me guilty, the jury had to be convinced beyond all reasonable doubt that (1) I ran a paramilitary organization with the intent of causing civil disorder, and (2) that I knowingly, willingly, and intentionally violated Judge Britt's court order, by operating an illegal paramilitary organization and breaking the two state laws. The bottom line was that Dees had to prove I had the intention of causing civil disorder.
I would have had to be an absolute idiot to knowingly, or willingly, or intentionally violate any order of Judge Earl Britt. I was scared to death of the man. I admitted all along that I may have accidentally violated his order, and asked to be informed how I had, if I had. But, I did not do so intentionally, so I was therefore innocent of that charge.
As for operating a paramilitary organization with the intent of causing civil disorder, I knew I was innocent of that, as well. I wanted to unite, organize, and educate. I did not want to cause civil disorder. In fact, I did everything possible to prevent civil disorder by doing everything from taking out $700 adds in the Robesonian newspaper to plead with Indians not to attack us, to pleading with members to refrain from illegalities because it was counter productive to my goal of uniting, organizing, and educating the White masses.
James Holder testified, after being brought in chains from the state prison where he was serving 18 years for murder. Sitting in the witness chair, he looked to all the world, like a little lost puppy whining for it's mommie's attention. In Holder's case he was whining for the attention and approval of Morris Dees. Holder, of course, confirmed every word that Dees put into his mouth during the trial, and during Dee's prison visit rehearsals, rehearsals which Holder admitted to when my lawyer asked if Dee's had spoken with him prior to the trial.
An Effram Zimbalist, Jr. clone in the person of an FBI agent testified for the prosecution that he was an expert on The Order, and on the book Turner Diaries, and that Glenn Miller was definitely a member of The Order, and, I was carrying out the Turner Diary blue-print plan of violently overthrowing the government. He went on to describe in gory detail many of the crimes attributed to members of The Order, implying that I was as guilty as they.
Any reasonable person attending the trial should have wondered why I was not being tried for Treason, Murder, and Armored car robberies, not to mention the lesser felony crime of possession of illegal explosives and firearms, instead of the misdemeanor of contempt of court.
I took the stand in my own defense, and of course, denied all the charges against me. Dees smirkingly asked why I hadn't worn my camouflage uniform and combat boots to court, and I told him it was because I was scared to death of making Judge Britt mad at me, if I did. I got the impression Dees regretted asking the question, because my answer tended to help prove I was innocent of intentionally showing contempt for Judge Britt's court.
My lawyer also called a few White Patriot members to the stand who testified that I'd never asked them to break any laws, and that ours was entirely a legal organization.
Dees had stacks of blown-up reprints of articles I'd published in the Party newspaper, showing marching White Patriots, and others holding rifles and shooting at bulls-eye targets. Dees contended that the marches were intentional acts designed to intimidate Blacks from freely exercising their rights, and the pictures showing members with guns became pictures of violent revolutionaries training to wage war on minorities and the government.
Dees also introduced as evidence, an article I'd written in one edition of The Confederate Leader, which concerned my recommendations to Southern Whites in the event of certain national catastrophes. In the article, I described a future America in which there would be food riots, race riots, drug riots and other bloody upheavals brought on by the collapse of the government due to bankruptcy and the government's incapability of protecting law-abiding citizens. In that eventuality I wrote, Southern White people should and would join with the White Patriot Party in putting down the insurrections, and in placing the White Patriot Party in political power throughout the South. I continued, that we would, under those circumstances, declare our independence from the union, and form our own nation which would be named The Southland, and which would be comprised of the Southern states' 1 million square mile of territory. The Southland, I wrote, would be an all-White nation, and a bastion for oppressed White People the world over.
Dees presented that article to the jury as proof that I was planning to violently overthrow the government and take political power by force of arms. And, he did so with a perfectly straight face, without even the hint of a giggle, which I thought was an extraordinary masterpiece in self control. Dees looked at the jury with such sincerity and patriotic fervor and contempt for my article, and they responded with such cow-eyed zombie agreement with him, I was afraid for a second that they were all going to charge and hang me on the spot for treason.
The jury, incidentally was composed of 11 Whites and 1 Black, which will strike the reader as a fair jury. Not so. Because, since the court ruled that Blacks could be fair and impartial, that meant my lawyer had to use all our peremptory challenges on prospective Black jurors, to keep them from becoming actual jurors. Consequently, we had no preemptory challenges left to keep the White liberals off. And, since the prosecution used their peremptory challenges to keep the rednecks off, the result was a whole bunch of White liberals and one Black one sitting on the jury. Redneck jurors were scarce as chicken lips in a wolf's den. I counted two. One was an elderly white man who steadfastly refused to even look me in the eye for more than half a second at a time. The other was a woman of about 28 years old, who, to my delight, smiled occasionally when our eyes met. Hers was the only friendly face on the jury. The other 11 all had the same facial expressions when they looked at me, as my mother had when I was 6-years-old and brought her a still-bleeding dead cat I'd found in a sewage ditch. I'll never forget that facial expression.
The trial's closing arguments found Dees and Currin both convincing the jury of our guilt, not that the jury needed either. Most of them had decided I was guilty when the words Ku Klux Klan were first uttered during the opening presentation.
Dees almost managed to bring forth wet tears a couple of times during his closing arguments. But, the real clincher came when Sam Currin said, "I'm the United States Attorney, and I think he's guilty." When Sam said that, I saw every head in the jury box bob up and down in agreement, except that one redneck gal, and even she looked at me a little suspiciously.
The jury deliberated for only a couple of hours. I told Steve during the recess to refrain from showing any emotion and to hold his head up, even if the jury announced guilty verdicts, because I knew our reactions would be reported in the newspapers and over radio and TV news. And, sure enough, they were the next day.
The jury, of course, found Steve, myself, and the White Patriot Party all guilty, as charged. And, during the announcement of the verdicts, all the jurors, save one, had changed mean-looking facial expressions to that of a cat who had just eaten a fat, juicy rat. They all looked highly pleased with having done their patriotic duty, and they relished seeing me hear about it in the form of their verdicts.
Steve and I managed to hold our heads up and we kept our nausea inside our stomachs, and off our faces.
After the rendering of the verdicts, and the dismissing of the jurors, Judge Britt called a recess to give him time to decide whether Steve and I would be carted off to jail then for six or eight weeks while awaiting formal sentencing, or to let us go free on bond.
From the time the verdicts were announced, all I could think about was clanging doors, iron bars, Black inmates, and empty beer cans. I believed I was going to jail that day. After all the time, money, aggravation, and effort spent by the government to get me convicted, I was convinced that Judge Britt was surely going to give me the maximum one year, and being mad about the one year limit, he was going to get me started in on paying that year, right away.
During the recess, while sitting with my lawyer in a private room off to the side of the main courtroom, in walked a Dees' assistant with a written proposal stating that Dees and the U.S. Attorney would recommend to Judge Britt that I be allowed to go free on bond while awaiting sentencing, if I would sign another agreement with Dees. It stated that I agreed not to associate with members of the White Patriot Party or with members of other groups, during the time I was free on bond awaiting sentencing. Steve was offered the same deal.
My lawyer, Bill Martin, advised me that it was a reasonable agreement and that he didn't know if Judge Britt was going to send me to jail that day or not, with or without a good recommendation from Dees and the U.S. Attorney.
I was reluctant to sign another agreement with Dees . I hadn't forgotten about the last one I signed, nor where it had gotten me. So, I talked it over with Steve. Steve and I reasoned that the agreement was only for a few weeks anyhow, and besides, if we went to jail, we couldn't associate with members or anybody else anyway, except through the bars. Therefore, we asked ourselves, why shouldn't we sign it? And I started thinking about full beer cans again.
We both signed the agreement and Judge Britt accepted it and allowed Steve and I to go free on $10,000 signature bonds. He set the sentencing for a date in September, about two months away, to be held in Fayetteville .
Anticipating going to jail, I had already appointed Cecil Cox as Leader of the Party, during my absence, and Gordon Ipock as number two man under Cox. Cecil had been a highly dedicated and hard working capable Den leader for several years, and I felt I could trust him. Gordon was a relative newcomer but was intelligent, capable, and an experienced journalist who had worked on two North Carolina newspaper staffs, so I felt he was capable of publishing The Confederate Leader newspaper and taking care of the other administrative duties.
In September, Judge Britt sentenced me to six months active imprisonment, with six more months suspended, and three years probation.
Steve was sentenced to six months imprisonment, but it was suspended, and he too received three years probation.
The Party was fined $2,000.00
And, then came the lightening jolt from Judge Britt. He ordered that the Dees agreement, word for word, be made an order of the court as part of our punishment, meaning that from that day until the end of our probation which was at least 3 1/2 years in the future, neither Stever nor I could have any contact whatsoever with any members, supporters, or associates of the White Patriot Party, or with those of 28 other groups. And Dees provided the court with the list of those other groups.
Steve and I believed that our exiles from the Party was only temporary and would become null and void on the day of the sentencing, because that is precisely what the Dees agreement had stated. However, Judge Britt decided on his own to continue the exile. And, his exile was described in the exact same words provided to him by the Dees agreement, which, was written by Dees himself.
We were not tricked into signing the Dees agreement. That agreement expired at the sentencing. Judge Britt would have exiled us at the sentencing anyway, and whether or not we'd signed the Dees agreement.
Although Judge Britt took the words and the idea of the exile from Dees, it was Judge Britt himself who made it part of our sentencing and who made it extend for at least 3 1/2 years past the sentencing date.
Steve and I both, of course, gave immediate notices of appeal and we were again released on the $10,000 signature bond, while awaiting the appeals ruling.
Meantime, we were completely exiled from the movement.
The U.S. Attorney gave me permission to send one final letter to Party associates, and permission to meet with Cecil Cox for the purpose of turning over Party records.
I wrote the letter informing everyone of what had transpired at the trial and of mine and Steve's forced exile. And, I met with Cecil Cox and Jesse Radford in Wilson, NC where my probation officer worked, and turned over all Party records, save one. That one was a copy of the complete Party mailing list, which I kept hidden safely away for use in the future if I decided to use it.
Since Steve and I were co-defendants, the court ruled that the exile did not apply to our association with each other. And, the court also allowed me to associate with two close neighbors, Jerry Hatcher and Frankie Johnson, who were Party members.
And, so there I was, separated from the White Movement, for the first time in 12 years.
The court had even prohibited me from speaking to media reporters, as leader of The White Patriot Party. That prohibition or "shut-up-order," incidentally, should provide the reader with more credibility to my long-time claim that the government was out to shut me up.
Why else would the court order me not to speak to the media under any capacity?
However, the fact remained, I could still speak to the media, as Glenn Miller, "former" leader of the White Patriot Party, and I did just that, but it didn't achieve any purpose, other than speaking my mind. I could no longer associate with the organization which took six years of my life to build, nor with close friends and members who had helped me. I was forcibly exiled from them all.
A producer from WPTF radio in Raleigh called and asked if I'd be willing to appear as a guest on an upcoming radio talk show program, And, I said yes. My trial was a hot topic in the news, and WTPF advertised the fact of my radio appearance for about a week in advance. And, they rigged up their equipment which enabled me to speak directly from my home phone and from the comfort of my easy chair.
On the night of broadcasting, the radio producer informed me that due to their prior advertising of the event, that he estimated a listenership of 1.5 million people, which I thought was both amazing and appropriate.
The program was intended to last for two hours, from 8:00 to 10:00 p.m., but due to the many callers, the producer requested, and I agreed to stay on the air for an additional hour. I could have talked all night, which was the case every single time I was ever given the opportunity to run my mouth over radio or television.
During that 3-hour program, I spilled out my guts and told listeners exactly how I felt about my trial and forced exile from the White Movement. I said that I expected to be murdered in prison either by federal agents or by Black inmates, and that my trial and conviction were all orchestrated by those wanting to prevent me from exercising my Constitutional rights, etc. I didn't leave anything out. I said just what I felt like saying, which was what I'd always done.
Uniquely, the vast majority of the 25 or 30 callers were on my side, and only a few made unpleasant or hostile comments to me.
U.S. Attorney Sam Currin told me later in court, that he had not only listened to that 3-hour radio broadcast, but had recorded it on tape, to boot, which flattered my ego considerably. Sam had the reputation in the media of being a right wing conservative, but he never said anything to me to cause me to believe he shared any of my right wing conservative views.
After my exile, I began to worry that many White Patriots might quit the Movement entirely because of dissatisfaction with Cox and Ipock. So, I had the Party mailing list xeroxed into several copies, and I mailed a copy to each of several other White leaders around the country, including David Duke of the National Association for the Advancement of White People, Ed Fields of the National States Rights Party, William Pierce of National Alliance, Tom Metzger of White Aryan Resistance, Bob Miles of The Mountain Church, and Richard Butler of Aryan Nations.
I wanted my 5,000 White Patriots to continue receiving regular doses of White racism and anti-Semitism through the literature published by those groups. And should some of them decide to quit the Party for whatever reason(s), they'd have several other groups from which to choose, and many would join one of them rather than quit the Movement entirely.
I met with or phoned Steve frequently to discuss our exiled predicament and the court case. Once, I met him underneath a bridge on 301 highway, over Cape Fear River, just outside Fayetteville, and asked him if he'd be interested in going underground with me. I wanted to know where Steve stood on the underground idea.
Steve flatly rejected the whole idea of going underground or of engaging in any type of illegal activities. And, after I'd posed my suggestion to him, he said, "Hell no. I'm still going to whip Dees in court."
That statement by Steve, along with everything else I knew about him, convinced me he was framed on the conspiracy charge which sent him to jail in December 1986, and which resulted in his conviction in April 1987 and a 10-year prison sentence.
The months following my exile slowly passed while I sat around my house or walked around my farm sulking about my lonely situation and about my pending imprisonment. I had no confidence at all of winning the appeal. I sat, walked or drank beer while pondering and plotting what I should do. I felt that my whole world had fallen apart, and I didn't know what to do with myself. I even phoned my father and suggested to him that I move to South Carolina near him and start farming some of his 550 acres of land. By engaging myself in the hard and long hours of farm work, I felt I could become contented away from the White Racist Movement, and free my mind from all the racist and anti-Semitic compulsions that had consumed me for the past 12 years.
My father's response to my suggestion of moving to South Carolina was, "there's nothing for you down here, son," and his rejection was somewhat painful to me.
I would be recognized in Dillon , South Carolina where my father lived, and I always felt he'd prefer I not live there because of my notoriety. And, his telephone rejection confirmed it.
I knew I had to move my family away from my house and farm near Angier, before I went to prison or underground, because that address of Route 1, Box 386, Angier, NC, had been publicized all over the country by way of my newspapers and telephone message machines, not to mention the mass media's disclosures over the past six years. Marge and the children were never safe even with me there. So, with me in prison or underground, and unable to protect them, I felt they'd be in even more danger from my fanatical anti-Klan enemies.
And so, I started traveling around the state in search of a new place to move my family. Marge and I and the children spent several days in Western North Carolina looking at houses and land, but didn't find anything suitable.
I drove alone back to Western, North Carolina, still searching, and I randomly decided to get on 1-77 North and try Southwest Virginia. Driving across the state line into Virginia I began to admire the beautiful rolling hills, so I stopped at a tavern in Hillsville, Virginia and discovered through conversations with local rednecks that the county was over 99% White. So I visited a realtor and wound up buying a 1-acre lot, situated on a mountain, three miles from town. Paying cash for a new mobile home, I had it moved onto the lot, while Marge and I began the process of selling our Angier home and farm and moving to Hillsville. Unable to find a buyer through newspaper advertisements or local realtors, I was forced to sell out to a neighbor and I lost an estimated $20,000 in the quick process.
After settling down in HillsviIIe, in January 1987, I continued to ponder the pros and cons of going underground. The alternative was to begin a completely new White organization that would be separate from the White Patriot Party and all other similar groups, which was an alternative not prohibited by the terms of my court-ordered exile. I would begin from scratch just as I had in December of 1980 when I founded the Carolina Knights of the Ku Klux Klan with only three members.
And so, over a period of about a week, I sat at my kitchen table writing the rules and by-laws of my new organization, and completing the lay-out for an 8-page newspaper tabloid and introductory edition of my newspaper which I entitled The Dixie Leader. Contained therein, included a long editorial appeal for members, an introduction to myself and my activist history, and selected pictures of marches and rallies taken of the White Patriot Party, as well as other articles and items which I deemed attractive. My new organization which I named "the Southern Patriot Party," was similar to The White Patriot Party in ideological, and racist and anti-Semitic propaganda, but had one very distinct difference. My new group would not accept members over 29 years of age, and would not accept anyone who had previously been associated with any other racist group.
I had the newspaper printed in 15,000 copies, and went about the task of distributing them throughout Southwest Virginia, by throwing them in driveways and next to mail boxes, and by giving stacks to tavern owners to pass out free of charge.
I also installed a telephone message machine in my home to recruit members and to spread my views.
I included in the newspapers, a big membership application form, along with my phone number and Hillsville P.O. Box address, which obviously contradicted my plan to keep my family's whereabouts a secret. But, since I couldn't think of any other way to build a new organization without prospective members knowing how to contact me, then I simply had to make a choice. And, my choice was dictated by my racist and anti-Semitic obsessions. So I provided my phone number and a P.O. Box address.
I even went so far as to purchase space in the local newspaper where I ran a fairly large ad advertising my new organization and trying to recruit members. And, I wrote several lengthy letters to the editor which were published.
After all the work and expense and several weeks of trying to start a new organization, I failed to attract even one single member.
About all I succeeded in attracting was the hatred and hostility of local citizens, as evidenced by their letters published in the area's newspapers, and phone calls to me. However, in fairness to Hillsville's citizenry, my family and I were treated well by everyone we met personally, and several shook my hand and said they liked my newspaper and my letters published in local newspapers. But still, no one was willing to join my new group, nor was anyone willing to attend meetings at my home when I advertised two such meetings over my telephone messages and invited anyone interested in at least hearing what I had to say, to come to my home at such and such a time and date.
After 5 or 6 weeks, I just gave up in disgust and quit all my efforts to start a new group because it had no success at all, and because my heart and soul was still with the White Patriot Party and North Carolina.
On January 18, I drove to Raleigh, and Marge and the children marched in the Cecil Cox-led, Annual march and demonstration in downtown Raleigh. Though I was prohibited from any association with White Patriots, I saw nothing illegal with Marge and the children marching with them, nor of my being a spectator watching the parade from my parked car. And, when they marched past me, I yielded to the temptation posed by the Confederate flags and the martial music and I got out and gave the White Power salute, in full view of them and several Raleigh police officers and SBI agents, one of whom had come over earlier and shook my hand.
Cecil Cox had managed to assemble around 150 marchers, and I was pleased that he and Gordon Ipock seemed to be holding the Party together better than I had expected. Cecil changed the name of the organization to "The Southern National Front" soon after my exile, and he made other doctrinal changes which he felt would give them a better chance of surviving attacks by Dees, federal prosecutors and anti-Klan groups. He did away with the camouflage uniforms and other aspects of paramilitary appearances and emphasized legality as the basis of the group.
Cecil was unable to phone or write me directly, but he could phone Marge and mail her their newspaper. Gordon Ipock published a few editions, and I thought they were top notch. Gordon was a much better writer than I'd ever been, and he knew how to do a newspaper layout, all owing to his prior experiences in college and while working on the staff of regular North Carolina newspapers.
Cox phoned Marge regularly. She was still a member of the group, and not under court orders, so her rights were intact. Cox gave Marge updates on the group, and she passed them on to me.
According to Cox, the group was continually going down hill in terms of numbers and financial income, but that he, Gordon, and other hard-core members were doing the best they could.
I became convinced that it was just a matter of time before the whole group collapsed and disbanded. I came to that conclusion from reading their newspapers, from Cox's phone conversations with Marge, from reading between the lines of media reports, and from my own experiences and knowledge gained during the previous 12 years. And I was right. It disbanded in less than one year.
All that I had worked so hard and long to build was going down the drain and there seemed nothing I could do about it. But, I thought to myself, as I sat in my easy chair, sipping on my Natural Lites, or staring at the ceiling, there was still one thing left I could try...
Previous Chapter | Index | Next Chapter
Brought to you by WhitePatriotParty.com
copyright 1999, 2005 by F.Glenn Miller, White Patriot Party. All rights reserved.