When Pigs Attack George Ramsey
By George Ramsey
End of July or beginning of August of 2000.
This is an account of the beating which I wrote for my brother Joel at his insistence that I do so before I forget the details. Thank you for your good advice my brother.
I got out of my truck and leaned against the ladder rack next to the drivers door. I had closed the door and my window was closed so I couldn't reach in the truck for anything. (I had locked the truck in anticipation of going to jail) [ I wrote this almost a year and a half before I ever saw the Police reports.]
I waited for about thirty seconds before one of the sheriffs came running up on me with his gun pointing in front of him. He pointed the gun right at me so I could look down the barrel of it. I could tell he was very agitated and fearful of me. I put my hands up and completely surrendered to him. (This pig failed to report that I put my hands up for him.)
At about that moment I saw the German Shepard K-9 coming at me from the direction that the cop came from. (I thought he was a cop, but he turned out to be a lying Pig.) (Want to see a cop turn into a Pig? Don't go face down.)
My Pit Bull, Josie came out to see what all the fuss was about at the same time, so I sic ed her on him. I know it was a dog because they called him Cody. (as opposed to a bitch)
Instead of attacking him, she ran in the opposite direction. [Also many more sheriffs were running up.] This made me do a double take on her and thus I took my eyes off the K-9 unit.
When I turned my attention back it was too late. He grabbed my right arm as I came around to face him and proceeded to chew on it for a better grip and commenced to pulling on me at the same time. (The Pig claimed to have his dog leased on his report. The truth is that the dog got away from him or he loosed it.)
At that moment another Pig tried to handcuff me with the dog still chewing on me. I shoved him away from me like such a nuisance. [This Pig's report didn't say anything about the dog being by himself without his handler. The Pig holding the gun on me didn't report it either.] Then I turned my attention back to the dog. I pulled him back to me and raised his front legs off the ground. He would not let go. I thought for an instant about karate chopping him in the back of the neck just below his head. I thought I might kill him and be executed for killing a police officer by the very people who I was trying to make stop executing my brothers and sisters.
Imagine being executed for killing a dog who is mauling you. This government has gone to Hell in a hand basket!
Instead, I popped him on top of his head with my fist. The son of a bitch still didn't let go. By this time his handler came up and shouted at me not to hit his dog and circled around me to deliver a kick to my left side that left his entire boot imprinted for about three weeks. Also it broke two of my ribs and collapsed my left lung. At that same moment the other sheriff started beating the back of my legs with his baton. Other sheriffs soon joined him in whaling me with their botons about my arms, sides, and back. They wanted me to go face down. There is no way in hell that I would do that for two reasons. .First I'm against the policy of the Police State of making us go face down. It is not necessary and is degrading to us who are in fact the masters of the Police who are nothing more than paid servants on our behalf. They are no different from a maid or butler, there to do the master's bidding. [They are in fact doing the Master's bidding. Just who is this Master?] Secondly, I wasn't going down so that dog could go for my face or juglar vein.
As the pigs beat on me I reached into the dogs mouth and pushed my fingers down his throat. I could do this because his mouth was opened by my arm. I could see his eye staring at me as I did this. At the same time he is jerking on my arm and chewing down to the bone. ( I should have gouged his eyes instead.) The Pigs were going into a frenzy . [I regress- I use Pig because they acted like Pigs and then lied like Pigs on their reports. ] One charged me and caught me on the forehead above my right eye with his baton. Almost immediately, another ran at me about ten feet and came down as hard as he could on top of my head above my forehead on the sagital crest which is the hardest part of my head. His baton bounced off with little effect. His eyes opened wide in disbelieve. Then they brought in the pepper spray. I faced down to keep from being hit in the eyes. I could feel three streams of spray hitting my head and shoulders. As the spray splattered off of me and got on the Pigs I could feel them retreat to be replaced by another bunch trying to knock me down and administering their batons the whole time. I felt three waves of Pigs attacking and retreating. By this time the dog had replaced his attack on my leg. He grabbed me behind the leg and about my hamstring. Before it was all over he almost tore through hamstring and had torn the arteries in my arm so I was in danger of bleeding to death. Between the dog pulling on my leg and the Pigs doing their best to knock me down, I was in fact on my back being dragged by the dog until my armpit came in contact with the trunk of a tree trunk ten to twelve inches at it's base. I pulled myself up this tree trunk. When I was almost up, I heard one of the Pigs say to “watch his weapons”. They turned their attention to my hands and started to beat my hands against the tree. I immediately turned loose of the tree, but not before one caught my right hand, fracturing my thumb and breaking my forefinger at the meta carpol. By that time I was in great pain to the point where I couldn't stand it any more. I had welts and bruises all over my arms, back, and legs, and the pepper spray was all in my skin so I felt like I was on fire. I yelled “I'm a Man”. They kept attacking me. I then ordered them to shoot me. I had reached my limit. I thought they were beating me to death. Between the physical pain and the mental anguish caused in me by the inequity of our government and society, I was ready to die, but on my terms, standing like a man , not squirming on the ground like some worm. I felt like a bullet would more dignified than being beaten death like a dog. About then I had nothing left to my spirit of rebellion. They took me down and swarmed over me to the point that I couldn't move my head because a Pig was putting his whole weight on it in such a way that my mostly blind left eye was in the dirt along with my nose and mouth and only my one good eye was left facing up. I was concerned that if they kicked my face they would put my one good eye out. At about this same time I realized that I was sofficating. At this time I didn't know I had broken ribs or a collapsed lung because I was just one big ball of pain unable to breath. I screamed out in a weak shrill voice which was unrecognizeable to me, that they were killing me and started panting to try to get some breath.. I was no longer controling my body functions at that time (I mean the panting). I was aware of multiple hand cuffs and shackles being placed on my arms and legs behind my back. I had bruises half-way up my elbow from all their tightly applied cuffs. (I doubt anyone has worn more steel than me at any one time, anyway it's hard for me to imagine. Actually, not really, but that is another story.) They finally got off me, so I was able to start breathing again. Soon they brought a board to place me on so they could get me on the stretcher for my ride to the hospital. It hurt something awful when they pulled me up on the board and also when they transferred me over to the stretcher. They started asking if I had aids because one of the Pigs had been bitten and had gotten my blood on him. I was tempted to tell them yes, but instead I just said that I didn't know. I hope he worried at least a little bit. I asked one Pig if I had killed someone. He asked me whether I wanted to. I didn't say anything, but I should have told him that they acted like I did. They got me in the ambulance and I asked to loosen the cuffs because they hurt so bad I could feel them in spite of all the other pain which hid my broken bones and collapsed lung. The ride seemed forever. The EMS guy told me not to spit or curse in his ambulance, Those were his rules. I told him I wouldn't spit and I'd try not to bleed too much and kept asking him where we were so I could keep a mental picture of how far we were from the hospital. By the time that they got me in the emergency room, one of my hands was on fire from lack of blood flow. It was turning black and the pain was unberable. They had broken the key off in it and couldn't get it off. While someone went to the maintenance department to look for bolt cutters I had to sit in pain wondering whether I would lose the use of my hand. They finally located some bolt cutters and it took two of them to cut through the hand cuff steel. The meat was hanging out of both places where the dog had chewed on me. Blood was squirting out of my arm where the arteries were torn and blood was running all down my leg. I was in the most awful pain, like I was on fire. I asked the doctors to knock me out and start sewing me back together, but the Pigs would not let them do so until they interrogated me. They asked me if I wanted to kill Bush, and if I hated him. I told them that I didn't hate him, I loathed him, like a pile of dog shit on the side walk. The people I was after were the ones who pull his strings and make him dance like a puppet. They asked me what I wanted. I told them that I had been protesting against the government's policy of executing prisoners as well as being against school vouchers, school uniforms, income taxes and property taxes. All this was going on at the same time that my body was screaming in pain which was pretty unbearable and I didn't have the patience to expound on my thoughts. I did tell them that I was against the inequity which many of the people experience in this country, especially those like one of their own of American Indian heritage which was amongst the many cops in the room. I made him attest to my words, challenging the rest to feel what he had felt and to know what he and I knew. After that a woman sargent who said she was in charge of the investigation questioned me about whether alcohol or any other drug was involved. I told her that I only had time to drink one beer. Then I told her that she looked like she had been a beauty contest winner when she was younger. I didn't want to make her feel good but rather was bull shitting her to change the subject. An MHMR representative ascertained that I was lucid and with all my faculties. After that I was photographed on the emergency room table by Internal Affairs for what I thought was for the purpose of investigating the police. [Years later, in the process of scrutinizing their reports, I discovered that they gave the photo to the dog handler. A trophy, as it were.] (I wish that I had shot the finger at them.) I finally got the doctors to start knocking me out. Sometime during the questioning process, on two occasions I acted like I died. Once I held my breath for a long time. It was easier than normal because the pain from my lungs was overshadowed by the pain in the rest body, not to mention that I only had one working lung and had slowed my body down to almost shut down. [I took two days to be able to urinate again, and that was under the threat of having a catheter inserted into my penis.] That time I got the doctor to react. He started saying “Mr. Ramsey you have to breathe” The concern and caring in his voice was startling in contrast with the treatment which I had just received at the hands of my servants who each and everyone of them had pledged to serve and protect me. (You) That is, of course only if I'm still considered a citizen which is questionable in my mind due to being disqualified from participating in the State Wrestling Championship in 1976 at SWT, due to having long hair. At that moment I tried to will myself to death, to no longer be tormented by the idiocy and inequity which assails my senses on a daily basis. The doctor repeated his request. I opened my eyes and looked up at him looking down at me. He asked me again. I took a breath and sat up in great pain with the help of someone who was holding my back. I looked at my arm . The flesh was torn and ripped, mushroomed out of the skin. I was still bleeding after thirty minutes or so. My pants leg was torn at the knee and was hanging by about an inch of cloth, otherwise that dog would have made shorts out of those new blue jeans. Blood was running down my leg and it too was all musroomed out from the dog ripping and chewing on it. I in fact came very close to having my hamstring cut. The doctor held my hand up and told me to move my fingers or he would have to cut my whole forearm open to reconnect the nerves. At the time I didn't know that my thumb and forefinger were broken because my whole arm was on fire from the dog chewing on me and baton blows which I had received, not to mention the rest of my body. It took great effort to move my fingers. This was also the hand which had the handcuff which had to be cut off with the boltcutters. It had been on so tight that my hand was dark blue and was hurting even more than the rest of my broken bones or welts or chewed up flesh. Keep in mind that my hair was soaking wet with pepper spray as well as my clothes, which made it difficult for the doctors to handle me. They asked me if I wanted to try to take my T-shirt off or should they cut it off. I told them there was no way I could make the moves necessary to slip the shirt off, so they had to cut it off. Shortly after that I fell asleelp under the effect of the anesthetic. I woke up and raised my head up. That was about all I could do. A sheriff was guarding me and I was shackled to the bed by my left ankle. I thouhgt to myself ,”I've seen this In movies, but never expected to be living it.”[Especially not when I was president of my class in the seventh and eighth grade. Back then I didn't realize how fucked the government and society are.] I asked someone for water for I was very dehydrated. They got me some and shortly after I was served some food. I didn't feel hungry and besides hospital food is nothing tasty as far as I'm concerned. Also, I had to eat with my left hand which I never use in that way. My right hand was useless. After a coulple of days with the Sheriffs guarding me, three men in black suits entered my room. They were Secret Service Agents and they told the Sheriffs that they were taking over and to get the shackles off of me. They addressed me very politely, and began questioning me about my designs on Bush. I told them I had none except the wish that he not become president. Near this same time period I was given a personal recognizance bond due to the minor nature of my lawlessness. ( The person in charge of that process asked me what I did for a living. I told him that I painted the houses up on Cat Mountain, an upper end community overlooking the Colorado River. He responded that I was practically a pillar of the community and he had no trouble granting my bond.) I was charged with evading arrest and resisting arrest. Shortly after that the Secret Service asked my permission to check my truck and home. They were only interested in my writings and books which might indicate a threat to this country. When they finished their investigation they came back to see me. They thanked me for my cooperation and Agent Samuel Becon told me to call him if he could be of any help. The thought of Feds saving me from Texans is incredulous to me, never-the-less, that is what happened. I have given much thought to secession from the Union, but have always been concerned about jumping from the pan into the fire. When we joined the Union we left a back door available to slip out of in case we didn't appreciate the results of our marriage. We in fact are the only state with a provision for getting us out by secesssion. I'm sure the Federal govwenment thinks that because of the Civil War we forfeited that provision, but I believe that we could still make our case. We joined by the stroke of a pen and we can leave the same way or by the sword if need be. Still, there is the danger of evil resulting, rather than justice. Two days after I had been in the hospital the doctors discovered that my left lung was collapsed. One of them asked me why I hadn't told them. I answered that I couldn't tell because I had so much pain from the beating I had received as well as the mangled flesh on my arm and knee. {At that time I didn't know that my ribs were broken or that my hand had been broken either. As a matter of fact If didn't know my hand was boken until the swelling went down in my arm about three weeks later and I went in the hospital to get my hand x-rayed. I actually set my own bone with the help of pain killers. By the time a doctor finally looked at it about a month after the fact, he told me my bones had set in my hand and gave me a brace to wear.It took two weeks to finally see him because I had no money or insurance to see a personal doctor.} When the doctors told me about my collapsed lung, they encouraged me to let them stick a tube in my side to release the vacuum which was keeping my lung collapsed and to remove the blood which had pooled in my lung cavity. They explained to me that my lung could stay collapsed and become ruined if they didn't do this. I told them to go ahead, so they cut a hole in my side below my left armpit with a pair of scissors. [I call it my Jesus wound] The moment they stuck that 15 inch tube down in that hole, my lung popped back into shape. It was a very weird sensation that I felt as the air rushed back into my lung. There was a container about the size and shape of a small brief case attached to the tube to collect the blood from the lung cavity. After the third day I was well enough to consider walking around the hospital. I had to carry this contraption around with me everywhere I went. I jokingly called it mybriefcase. Around the third night I dreamed that I was being beat up in a fierce way like the Sheriffs did me except they weren't uniformed. This startled me awake. After a while I went back to sleep. This time I dreamed that I was on the ground on my back looking up. Someone leaned over me and head butted me in the face. After that I would not let myself go back to sleep and thought twice about sleeping the next night. The nurse on duty told me I was having flashbacks after I told her about my dreams. A fellow next to me who had his jaw broken with a baseball bat told me he was having the same kind of dreams. After five days in the hospital, and three days with the tube stuck in my chest, the doctors finally let me go. About two or three hours after they pulled the tube out of my chest and sewed me back up, I was walking out of there, thankful to be alive and free to go into my future. Jeannie Lucas came and picked me up and took me to her home and dressed my wounds until they healed enough to take the dressings off. We are together at this writing and plan to marry in may of next year which is ten months after my beating. How strange life is. One moment you think life is leaving you and the next you're springing right back into it. Other times it's visa versa. WE MUST NOT KILL EACH OTHER I AM YOU AND YOU ARE ME! If those are peace officers which are back shooting our (lower class) youngsters, I wonder what a mother fucking, total asshole, piece of shit Pig might do. PEACE OFFICER-----------A MEEK WARRIOR. COP----------------------------A WANNA-BE PEACE OFFICER. PIG-----------------------------A CRIMINAL WEARING A PEACE OFFICER UNIFORM OR ONE WEARING A RED TIE IN A POSITION OF POWER, SUCH AS THE GRAND JURY.
