Timmins.net

Monday, November 10, 2003.

I was booked in Macomb County Jail. Adam shows up in cuffs too. He is afraid to speak to me. I tell him that I won't kill him, at least not here in jail, and he calms down quite a bit. He's concerned that I was arrested, rather than Salcedo. I tell him that I told them about Salcedo, and how to find him. Fuck that, I'm not taking the fall for his stupidity. He mentions that it explained alot about how they suddenly started asking him questions about it.
We start joking around, and the other people in the holding cell started the inevitable "What are you here for?" thing going around.
Some guy's got drunk driving, another was a day late on child support, another got possession of marijuana on his way out of a primus concert. They get to us.
"We were arrested by the FBI and charged with computer intrusion."
They all look at each other.
"Jesus fucking christ, you guys are hackers?"
"No, we're -alleged- hackers."
"Dude. What the fuck? You're not going to steal my credit card, are you?"
I point at Adam. "He might, but I don't do that sort of thing."
"You guys are federal. You're -so- fucked."
"Yea, we know."

Morning comes, and I get served oatmeal and biscuits and gravy, despite my telling them I'm hypoglycemic.
Ahh well, we'll be picked up at 10:30am. I'd rather pass out in court than here. It'd make a good statement. I eat it anyway, with tons of sugar on top, because it tasted nasty.

An hour later, I start feeling tingly, and these guys come up, identify themselves as US marshalls, and pick us up, and take us to the FBI office. I begin feeling really groggy. Here comes the blood sugar crash, right on time. I pass out on the interrogation room table, in mid sentence.

A few minutes later, I'm being held up by 3 FBI agents, and another has a flashlight in my eyes.
"Your pupils are dialated. What the hell did you take in jail?"
*me, half mumbling* "Nothing. I'm hypoglycemic, and they fed me the wrong food"
"Jesus fucking christ, those guys are incompetent. Should we get you an ambulance?"
"Not until you give me first aid. Get something with high protein and vitamins and medium carbohydrates in me."
Flashlight man disappears, eventually coming back with a bodybuilder shake.
"We didn't believe you, so we asked your friend. He bitched at us and told us the same thing you did. Here."
"Ugh, this shit tastes nasty, but it's just what I need. I'll need to sit for a few minutes and gather myself."
"okay, we're really sorry about all of this."
"well, I should sue those fuckers at the jail. I warned them."
"While we're doing that, can we search your backpack?"
"I've told you before the answer is no."
They begin to unzip it and empty its contents, writing them down on what appears to be an inventory sheet.
"Here, sign this inventory."
At this point the words are still fuzzy to my eyes, but I see the circled numbers, on what appears to be an inventory sheet. I sign it.
About 30 seconds later, my eyes gain focus enough to see what the title said.
"Consent to search"

*I get up out of my chair*
"You motherfuckers lied to me! That's not admissible, I wasn't in the right frame of mind to bind into a contract. My attorney is going to have your ass!"
"What's signed is signed", and they take it away as I dive for it to rip it up.

I decide not to press the issue further. I know my contract law, and that was illegal as hell.
"I want my ambulance now."
"You're fine, you're up and moving around. No need."
"Assholes, you know all of this happened in your care! If it was my opinion all of you lying crooks would be going to jail, not me."

They grin evilly.
"Time for mugshots and fingerprinting. Stand with your back to that wall."
They proceed to mugshot me and fingerprint me. I made sure to make goofy smiling faces for each one, even though they basically told me to scowl angrily at the camera.

I then was released into the custody of the US Marshals, who brought us to the federal court building downtown, where we were booked into their maximum security holding cells. They took our shoelaces.

I meet with the bond agent, who asks me a whole bunch of personal questions. He tells me I should be seeing my court appointed attorney shortly.

So the time for the case comes up. My hair, once tied back nicely, is flopping in curls all over me. I look like fucking Michael Jackson.

I am lead into the court in my plain clothes, handcuffed. They take them off, and I enjoy the freedom of being able to move my arms.

I then, in the courtroom, meet my court appointed attorney. He informs me that I am getting $10,000 bond, unsecured.
"But I don't have $10,000!"
"That's okay, unsecured means you only owe it if you violate bond."
"Oh. Cool."

We go up on the stand. I am asked if I agree to computer restrictions.
"No, your honor, I do not" I say, just as my attorney was about to say yes.
"Why is that Mr. Timmins?"
"Agreeing to this would immediately put me out of a job. I need computers and internet access to do my job, you see."
"What do you do for a living?"
"I do networking and security for my company."
"Is this the one you wrote here on your bond form?"
"Yep."
"US Counsel, do you have any protests to restrictions for non-work use?"
"Nope, we have no protest to that your honor."
My attorney looks utterly shocked, and makes the changes.
"Okay, so onto the payment of your court appointed attorney. How much can you afford to pay a month?"
"$75"
"Excuse me, Mr. Timmins, but it says here you make $38,000 a year, and have virtually no debt. I should be demanding $200 a month"
"Your honor, the bondsman didn't tell me I needed to mention all the bill collectors I have payment arrangements with."
I go on to list them all, totalling another few hundred dollars in payments each month
"And that's why I can only afford $75. I'll look over my finances when I get home, and if I find a way to pay more, I'll be sure to notify the court, your honor."
"Very well, $75 it is."
Again, my court appointed looks shocked.

I am ordered released on $10,000 unsecured bond.

We get re-fingerprinted by the US marshalls, my name and prints now in the federal NCIC database.

Without shoelaces, we both walk out of the federal court building after making our appearance at pretrial services for our bond visitation.

The sun is blinding, and the air is cold, but for the first time, I stopped taking the fresh air and sunlight for granted. I let out a war whoop that could be heard a block away.

We walk to the FBI building down the street, and I talk the agent into giving me my money, checkbook, debit cards, drivers license, and car keys back. She had nothing for Adam.
I call my friend, and we go foraging for food. We get a quiznos sub, and enjoy it profusely. My friend pulls up to the FBI building, and takes us both home.

Apparently, an entire support network was brought up in my defense. There were a huge list of people who were all working together to get me out of this, even raising bond money in the event it was unsecured. I was amazed.

The news spread quickly throughout the computer community. I guess when the agents left, Becky got on the phone and started calling everyone I knew that she had a number for to tell them what happened.

I hugged her, we went to the store and got some mountain dew and dinner, and talked forever, and fell asleep.
Little did I know what was waiting for me tomorrow.