James "Whisper" Tillman

Written by Nikita

Thursday, 09 April 2009 01:24

I'm coming down the stairs from the apartment I share with my girlfriend at the time. I hit the bottom step and turn to see if she's getting the door locked ... the key's been sticking lately. I hear the "snick" of the deadbolt ... she turns and smiles down at me. I smile and wave ... the smile is for her ... the wave is for the "security" camera mounted over the door and pointing down the stairs. I never leave home without it recording. Certain our abode is safe and secure now, I turn and step toward the car when my peripheral vision picks up two, fast-moving blurs headed in my direction. It registers in my mind, "I'm being robbed by two very large blacks." Then it's impact and we're on the ground rolling ... me throwing elbows and knees ... them trying to subdue me. One of them shouts, "Stop fighting ... we're police! Narcotics agents ... quit resisting." So I roll to my stomach and allow them to cuff me with no further struggle. I lift my head and turn around. Thirty seconds ago this was a quiet, peaceful . neighborhood on a hot summer day ... now, cops are everywhere and the sound of police-band radios fills the air.

That was August 21st 2001 and I can still remember every detail in crystal clear fashion ... in super-slow motion ... like it was yesterday. The cops scaring my girlfriend into opening the apartment door, though they had no warrant ... them using me - LITERALLY - as a "human-shield" while they walked through to check for other occupants ... them throwing me in the floor and asking where I had the dope hidden ... promising they wouldn't charge her if I'd just give up the dope ... the look on their faces when all they found was two ounces and not the nine pounds they'd been told I had ... the whole thing ... I remember.

Both of us were arrested and taken to county jail, but I was assured that federal authorities would pick the case up. Looking back, I realize now that they knew I had a very good chance of beating this case in a state court. The feds have a 98% conviction rate ... no way I could beat them. So, I bonded us both out after our arraignment and before the feds put a "hold" on us. I was relieved to be out of jail, but my release was to very short-lived.

We got home and the place was TRASHED! Kitchen cabinets dumped in the floor, no drawer left in a dresser, bed taken apart, couches flipped and the bottoms ripped out, nothing untouched. Guess they didn't believe the two ounces was it. They took everything worth any value: camcorder, TV's, VCR's, digital camera, laptop, etc. All they left was one TV and one VCR. This was quite a bit to deal with and I wasn't high ... had to remedy that ... called one of my people and had dope delivered ... got high end got to getting the place straightened up.

"Channel 12 News at Six ... our top story ... county narcotics task force agents bust largest methamphetamine ring in county history yesterday ... we have a reporter live at the scene."

"What the fuck?!?", is the first thing that flashes through my mind. "Who the hell did they bust?", is next. I tell my girl it can't be us 'cause they said "ring" and we're the only two that got arrested ... right? That sounds good until our front door appears on the TV screen and the reporter starts his story. It's obvious that the police have given them a scripted version of what to say and this pisses me off. I'm out of my chair and on my way out the door when my

phone rings. It's the newest line from Sprint, at the time, and it talks ... "You have a call from 'mom'", it says. That stops me ... I answer. "Yes ma'am? yes monrna, I'm watching ... he won't be there long because I'm about to run him off ... what? ... okay, I'll stay inside ... I'll call you later ... love you too ... bye."

The news story clinched it ... we packed our stuff, put it in storage, and hauled ass on the run ... made it two months before the DPS found us in the east Texas woods. We both went to jail and were handed down federal indictments. They offered her a deal: If she'd testify against me, she'd walk ... go back to her life without any more trouble. She flat refused! She actually testified for me. Didn't help, but it was cool of her. She ended up getting 15 months for a~cn~arge that is totally idiotic. Basically, she didn't tell on me so she went to prison. She stayed in touch, but the strain of time and life in general drove us apart. I haven't heard from her since March 2006, but I hope she's well and her life is good. I fought for as long as I could, but eventually had to plea out. Look, I'm not gonna sit here and tell you that I'm innocent ... I'm not ... I'm guilty as hell. I was in possession of the dope and it was packaged to sell ... I plead guilty and received a 100 month sentence ran consecutively with a parole violation in Texas prison. No ... I won't plea innocence, but I will caution all who read this. Those agents entered my home without a warrant, they lied under oath in a federal court of justice, and they got away with all of it. Be careful! I'm told these task forces have been disbanded now because of the corruption and illegal procedures ... imagine that.

I'd love to hear from anyone who might have a comment about my story or anyone who might be interested in being pen-pals. I know you computer savvy folks are spoiled with e-mail, but I'm stuck with the good ol' USPS and I can't impose on Tripper's rep to spend the time, effort and money to send me comments or replies, so you can reach me at:

James Tillman #09772-078
Federal Correctional Institution
1900 Simler Avenue Big Spring,
TX 79720

Always smile more than you frown,
Whisper!