Free George Martorano » blogging

CAN ANYONE ANSWER THIS???

John Flahive — Wed, 31 Aug 2011 21:30:29 +0000

At George’s sentencing, the late Judge Hannum, gave George LIFE WITHOUT THE POSSIBILITY OF PAROLE. Thanks to some digging and scraping by George’s friend Mark, we found the following. No where is it mentioned that the MAXIMUM is LIFE W/O PAROLE. It states that LIFE is the max. Read it for yourself, and forward to those you think might be willing, and able to help exploit this and get George the relief he SO SO deserves. Thank you

§ 848. Continuing criminal enterprise

(a) Penalties; forfeitures
Any person who engages in a continuing criminal enterprise shall be sentenced to a term of imprisonment which may not be less than 20 years and which may be up to life imprisonment, to a fine not to exceed the greater of that authorized in accordance with the provisions of title 18 or $2,000,000 if the defendant is an individual or $5,000,000 if the defendant is other than an individual, and to the forfeiture prescribed in section 853 of this title; except that if any person engages in such activity after one or more prior convictions of him under this section have become final, he shall be sentenced to a term of imprisonment which may not be less than 30 years and which may be up to life imprisonment, to a fine not to exceed the greater of twice the amount authorized in accordance with the provisions of title 18 or $4,000,000 if the defendant is an individual or $10,000,000 if the defendant is other than an individual, and to the forfeiture prescribed in section 853 of this title.
(b) Life imprisonment for engaging in continuing criminal enterprise
Any person who engages in a continuing criminal enterprise shall be imprisoned for life and fined in accordance with subsection (a) of this section, if—
(1) such person is the principal administrator, organizer, or leader of the enterprise or is one of several such principal administrators, organizers, or leaders; and
(2)
(A) the violation referred to in subsection (c)(1) of this section involved at least 300 times the quantity of a substance described in subsection 841(b)(1)(B) of this title, or
(B) the enterprise, or any other enterprise in which the defendant was the principal or one of several principal administrators, organizers, or leaders, received $10 million dollars in gross receipts during any twelve-month period of its existence for the manufacture, importation, or distribution of a substance described in section 841 (b)(1)(B) of this title.
(c) “Continuing criminal enterprise” defined
For purposes of subsection (a) of this section, a person is engaged in a continuing criminal enterprise if—
(1) he violates any provision of this subchapter or subchapter II of this chapter the punishment for which is a felony, and
(2) such violation is a part of a continuing series of violations of this subchapter or subchapter II of this chapter—
(A) which are undertaken by such person in concert with five or more other persons with respect to whom such person occupies a position of organizer, a supervisory position, or any other position of management, and
(B) from which such person obtains substantial income or resources.
(d) Suspension of sentence and probation prohibited
In the case of any sentence imposed under this section, imposition or execution of such sentence shall not be suspended, probation shall not be granted, and the Act of July 15, 1932 (D.C. Code, secs. 24–203—24–207), shall not apply.

Wish…

George Martorano — Thu, 09 Jun 2011 21:51:02 +0000

Many say, wonder, what I’ll do, free. I guess it makes them, those, wish, and want to think ahead. Many wonder what made me cross the divide. The other side, to this gut-grey life inside……Can you put yourself in my shoes.? Hmmm. That makes me give a grin. You’ll never win. Win, a coming dawn; for you’ll be dead and gone…..Cross never here. You’ll be made to wilt. Dry up; give up; forget your God; maybe laugh to your own sour smell; for Pete’s sake what have you become?…..Brother, you aint no fun. Wonders sunk all your heart desires. Guess what? You’ll thrown it into prison’s mire……Me, this fellow knows a way. Up a forgotten lane. To the very edge, I’ll go. My moon will be there, full. My eyes spand the wanted land. So calling to me. Sorry my love it’s all I see…..I’ve finally crossed. Not to lights and dance. Nor bed and she and she. Know, just the simple spot and a seat for me……I’ll think of something never born; write something never read. Feel something never felt. I’ve crossed, you see, blessed a first for me. Give me those crossings everytime. I’ll survive to the head of the bastard’s lines. Keep all else; this George will be fine.
Yes, many say, wonder, what I’ll do.
Guess it makes them…..wish.

I subscribe myself,
George Martorano

Prisons Past

George Martorano — Tue, 10 May 2011 23:59:43 +0000

Chained and Moving….

Well, you might think Im losing it after all these years, caged, but I like to tell all my facebook friends, blog friends, and anybody who wishes to be my friends of a certain night long ago. You see they were transporting me from one hell hole, to another. Me, in the backseat chains around my wrist and ankles, two marshalls in the front seat; not caring if I live or die. Driving me through a late stary night in America”s heart land. Where one see’s nothing but farms. Farms after farms. I had my head to a tilt and just looking out at fields of snow, and fences. Where home’s and barn’s; any and all I pray they will wish me a welcome. If I saw a soft light at a home far in the country distances. I felt I could cry……Then it happened. There far on my right, as if my shoulder and chin wanted everything from my soul, to that right. You see, I saw a barn in the distance, was a blaze. And around the barn, ran a beautiful dark horse. The yellow flames, climbing into the purple night. The steam flowing in and out of the horses nostrils. Snow being tossed up from his fast moving hooves…….And I swear to God, it was the prettiest thing I ever saw.

Prison Welcome

George Martorano — Tue, 22 Mar 2011 02:30:04 +0000

I feel wolves at my soul’s door
I feel ravens glaring down at me, down from naked branches that be
I feel so lone in this full house; a house that beckoned like a trap

And welcome to the age of prison

I feel they took all the pretty seashells from the sea
I feel the flowers gone, vanish before the sun and me
I feel an unholy drape, dark, pulled so tight beneath blue skies

And welcome to the age of prison

No more can I hear the babies cry
No more can I taste lips so shy
No more will I dance to fall
No, no more can I woo again…..friend

And welcome to the age of prison

No, no more will she wake in my arms
No, no more they chained that charm

And welcome to the age of prison

I soon will feel the sum of things
I feel what agony brings
I feel lesson’s lesson, scared on my back
I feel my love never to look back

And welcome to the age of prison

please…

George Martorano — Sun, 20 Mar 2011 15:15:24 +0000

First, I would like to wish everyone a “Happy First Day Of Spring”
Here, March 2011 and where I am now caged. Has a small enclosure of an outside rec-area. It is about as big as a regular size swimming pool. 260 times around is 6 miles. Each morning early, while most of the prisoners are asleep. I run the 260. Today, was a pleasant morning. The local news said it was the warmest day of the year so far.
After I finished the run. I strecthed some, then found a spot to sit. Sit and look up at the tops of the city’s highrises…..Than, the heads started appearing. Female prisoners doing some kind of maintence work, on the side roof of the same building. I saw them, but they saw not me.
The work they did, didnt take long. Than one by one they stood at the roofs waist high wall, talked, laughed and glanced out over the city……And I kept wathing them, each one different in many ways.
Than…..the talk and laughter stopped, by something. And I so knew what it was. One by one, the female prisoners became still unto themselves. So quiet and began gazing out. Out, over the city that they once had some kind of free life. The longing on their faces was as each were children again. Just standing there looking at a candy store’s front window, so full of sweets. Candy they so wished for, but could never have.
I saw some even lower their chins to their arms, and day dream out. Then, not a word was spoken to one on either side. In time the longing became expressions of great sadness. In time, I felt my eyes full up with tears. I knew none of them. I knew not of any of their crimes. But, I truly knew what their hearts were feeling. And if I could channel that lowness of soul. Channel it, pass it along to those who ‘decide.’ Maybe, just maybe this country would at least try and understand more.
For if I placed all that sad feelings into one person’s heart. He or she would just ly down and die. So please at least try and cry, please.

A Black Cat with Rainbows

George Martorano — Thu, 23 Sep 2010 15:27:54 +0000

Somedays it’s black and white, while somedays are gray and pale. Year to year caged has a heavy grip on my shoulders.
Then sometimes through the fog coming off the steel and stone, I’ll get a simple change of freshness. It came not long ago. I was moved to a better cell block, cleaner and less yelling. My new cell is not far from the chow hall. One evening I saw a small black cat near the rear of the chow hall. He was in an area that was shut down so I could not attend to him/her.
The next day I looked out my cell window and there was the cat again, I named him, Blackie. What to do, what to do?.
The area where Blackie hangs out is restricted and I can’t get to him. So, I decided on a “line”. Attached a chicken leg to a long line. It took 3-4 throws to get it where I wanted, now I wait. I waited and waited, no Blackie. The next day I checked again, no Blackie, so I slowly pulled the line back towards me, the chicken is covered with ants. I try a piece of beef next and begin to wait again, no Blackie. I think some. I wrap some oily sardines in a thin paper, oil, smell seeping through. I throw the line down , perfect placement, I’ve gotten good at it by now. I sit and wait… oh the joy I have watching Blackie consume the meal. I watch how he prances to it, almost like he knew how to get the paper off and started chowing it down. Later, I got a chuckle as Blackie got tangled in the line and started jumping around finally getting him/herself freed. I see Blackie once and a while when jogging he yard… it’s almost like he gives me a little head nod good morning when I pass by. He sits out my cell window on occasion, asking, not begging, for a snack.
Well, sardines cost, here, 95 cents a can, that’s almost 30 bucks a month, 325, 350 a year. Know what? I gotta make a move with someone in the kitchen. Get me some regular fish I can feed to him. Hope Blackie likes it, it’s a whole lot cheaper than the sardines.
Anyways, at least I have Blackie to brighten by black and gray days; I think I’ll change his/her name to “Blackie the Rainbow”

Continuation of a “Creative Funny Prison Story”

George Martorano — Wed, 12 May 2010 00:17:22 +0000

Jenkins was a sleep,or was he? Three are two kinds of sleep when caged up that puts one between two worlds. a living one, and a dead living one. The talk with Alice prior to him dozing, about the deep shit she was in because she prepared, premeditated the whole thing. Shooting him in a bank of her cheating lying lover. He dreamt of how if she had just shot him at home and pled nuts that all this craziness wouldn’t be happening.
Coming out of his sleep, he could her in the high-walled bathroom stall… then, she stepped from behind the wall… Jenkins shot up to a sitting position.
There standing in front of him was Alice of course. but now she was dressed in a gray-cashmere dress, perfect, wearing Cuban heeled loafers. She had this hidden under the suit they brought her in with, the mustache was gone now too. Jenkins just stared, her was this petite beauty, short black hair, and lovely eyes.

…”might as well let them see me for what I am”
It took some time for Jenkins to speak, he spoke quickly as he went to the door to look for any guards. He knew there should be little or no guard activity as it was the middle of the night, but wanted to make sure. “This is getting nuttier and nuttier as the night goes on, First a guy, then a freak, now a dame. I gotta think.” Jenkins started pacing, Alice sat and watched. What she saw was a hard, handsome man pondering her fate… he had to be, he already knew his. Knowing he was worried about her made her heart beat so.
“… ok listen, listen to me real good Alice. That is your real name right?” she shook her head yes. “Ok, jails have three shifts , this is the grave yard sift now. Day shift starts at 8am. Sometimes lawyers come in early since the courthouse is attached to see clients before their appearances. i think we can get you out of here”
“I don’t understand?” she said staring at him
“Look Alice, your in big trouble, you don’t want to spend your life caged, this can work.”
“I’ll hire a good lawyer”
“Alice, you shot someone in a bank killing him. You will go to prison, they will eat someone like you up, understand?” She could see the concern in his eyes… and she kissed him, they embraced.
“Alice, Alice stop, there’s not much time, listen good. The night shift put you in here-the grave shift delivers breakfast. Your gonna act as my lawyer see… When you tell the guard to let you out, talk down to him a little, like he’s not even there”
“But we are in the bullpen”
” So what, lawyers come in here all the time. Hey, Alice, what do you have to lose” and he smiled, a beautiful smile Alice had never seen on a man…

Final segment in a day or so…

Why President Obama Should Release George Martorano

John Flahive — Mon, 09 Feb 2009 02:37:28 +0000

George Martorano was a low level “pot” dealer in the 70′s-he was approched by “agents”, and supposedly led a 3 year, 75 MILLION dollar, drug smuggling ring-after 3 years of “agent orchastrated” drug deals that George could have never done WITHOUT them, he was arrested, plead guilty, and was given a LIFE NO PAROLE sentence. A LIFE NO PAROLE SENTENCE??? ARE YOU KIDDING ME??? Noriega was “freed”, Manson gets parole hearings. I gotta ask again- ARE YOU KIDDING ME???? While I have been asked, and stated before, “did George need to face punishment for his crimes?? OF COURSE.” But to have all hope ripped away for a non-violent “orchastrated” 1st time offense is absurd. George has spent 26 years in federal prison-he has paid his debt for his crimes-enough is enough.
George’s “Commutation of Sentence” petition was denied by the “out-going” George Bush on Nov 24th-they waited until his birthday on Dec 21st to tell him-hmmm, coincidence, or arrorgance-you decide. George will not give up-neither will I. Someone has to see that ENOUGH IS ENOUGH. What good does it do, to keep someone like George locked up any longer?? 26 years, I DO THINK HE HAS LEARNED HIS LESSON. Is it personal??? Does someone really hate this man enough to MAKE SURE HE NEVER GETS OUT?? This is crazy folks-our prisons are full. WHY??? because of craziness like this.
Hopefully this year will be the year-the year that somebody in Washington takes notice that we have a real problem within our courts and prisons-while the crime rates have dropped, inmate populations just keep rising-something is wrong with that. WHY IS THERE NO FEDERAL PAROLE??? Great question, still no valid answer. WHY DO WE BUILD NEW PRISONS THAT WE CAN’T FUND and NOT SCHOOLS??? Another great question, still no valid answer. Prison and Sentencing Reform really need to be issues this “CHANGE” administration look at- AND SOON.
We, George and I, will continue to persue “avenues” of relief-after all, we do live in country that founded upon a “Second Chance”. We can only hope and pray that President Obama does make change-that he does give hope to people like George-that he gives George that “Second Chance”. While we have to wait till Nov to re-submit George’s Plea for a Commutation to the White House, we do not have to wait to encourage the President to make change, bring federal parole back, and release the NON-VIOLENT OFFENDERS that have been locked up way too long.

What’s really Important??

George Martorano — Thu, 29 Mar 2007 21:12:35 +0000

It is night, I sit alone in a small closet on the second level of my cell block.

In this closet I have placed a small table with a chair. The light is dim, but I still enjoy the clutter because I am alone.

When one claims and sets up such spot, it is soon found out. They know I am a writer. They know I have been to all of the worst prisons. They know what I write helps all at times. They know to leave the man in the dim light closet alone.

There is a spider web in the corner. There’s a brown spider there. I watch him at times before I start to write. Even though my eyes are upon him, my mind is in other places, free sunny places… and I daydream.

I’m also thinking about the cold apple and cold club soda I have on ice in a trash bucket in my cell. I have a an old water bottle I fill everyday at the chow hall, only place they have club soda.

I’ll eat and drink both after i finish writing tonight. Funny how the small things become important in prison…

1.my small table and chair

2.my cold apple and club soda

3.my small closet

4. my blog

… “good night”

Inside A Federal Prison

George Martorano — Sat, 24 Mar 2007 23:45:42 +0000

I am asked at times… “What’s it like?” “My God, how do you do it?”… and all I can say is… “Here I remain, here, you can find me through my pen.”

“I’ll explain in simple terms of suffering…”

“I feel as a rock, oh, not some rock of pretty colors. Not some rock positioned on a rise above a lovely shore… No, just a gray thing forever at rest. There, up a dark alleyway, that opens into a cluttered backyard of some abandoned building. Where debris is left. Where drifting smells of decay spawn.”

“Yet, at times, at season best, an ugly vine leans over the rock. Brings forth a single yellow flower; bending there, as to offer a kiss.”

“Then, whence first snow falls. Clean and levels a glistening white across the unwanted place. And as if eyes peeping above Heavens gate. The tip of the rock waits… last, tears come. Just a moistened squint. Just a hint… I can go on… and on…