I promised you that I would start writing my book, but I got side-tracked in that sink hole of legal battles, where justice is impossible.  Let me start making amends in this dark, treacherous time we live in by giving you little samples from my book.

                                            Reservation Black Hole

In Matthew 18, Jesus, responding to the question "Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven," calls a little child to his side, and says to the disciples that those who can humble themselves like the child are the greatest in God's kingdom. In Matthew 18:6, Jesus admonishes that "whoso shall offend one of these little ones which believe in me, it were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and that he were drowned in the depth of the sea."

1

            My writing had got me in deep trouble, especially with the Area BIA Director, Robert Ecoffey, who really hated my little Bob stories that Clifford would print in the Black Hills Peoples News, a local reservation paper.  In my stories, I would question Ecoffey about his investigation into the murder of Anna Mae Pictou Aquash.  Ecoffey did not like my little Bob stories, and he had his way of expressing his dislike.  Once I had made social/political statements,  I was a marked person, except that I didn’t realize what I had gotten myself into.   I had messed with the tribal political machine, and no one was going to tolerate that.  I filed a lawsuit, which was not well received by the tribal political machine or Ecoffey.   So Bob had me evicted from my house, arrested, jailed, and banned from the reservation. 

            When I returned home from a cook sale in Pine Ridge, I noticed a pick up backed up to my door.  I figured someone was breaking and entering.  I turned around and drove back to my neighbor’s place to call the police.  When I returned, my yard was full of cars.  Louella was standing there waving her arms and proclaiming that I was now evicted and she was claiming my house.  I rushed past her.  All the doors were standing wide open.  The padlock hasps had been pried off and the door jambs were broken.   I rushed inside the cabin to call the police, only to find the phone gone!   And everything else gone!   My beautiful house that I had been building for the past 8 years, now violated.  I rushed past her and into the cabin.  A lot of things were gone!  The computer was gone!

            I rushed outside to find some things were put in my pickup box and in the cab.  I saw the computer sitting there in the front seat.    Louella was standing there in the yard, along with her son Robert, shouting,  “You’re evicted!”   Apparently the goon squad had been hauling my things out all day, stealing my property.  

            I ran back past Louella and her goon squad, jumped in my Bronco, and drove off to a neighbor’s house to call the police.  I told the police that some people had broken into my house, and were stealing my things, that I would meet them at my house.  They said they would be right out. 

            I was driving slowly back to my cabin, when the police pulled up behind me and motioned for me to stop.  The police officer told me that I better follow him to the police station.  That didn’t make any sense.  A pit of fear gripped my stomach, as I drove along.  Instead, of following, I pulled into Karen’s again.  I raced up the steps and knocked on the door.  The police officer followed me and told me  that I was under arrest.  He even read me the Miranda rights.  Karen asked him for his court order or warrant.  If he had one, I didn’t see it nor was I presented with one.  I said I was going to use the phone.  He said if I did, I would be charged with resisting arrest.  Good, god!  They were really going to take me away.  And I had to let someone know that.   “I have a right to make a phone call,”  I said, my hands shaking as I dialed the number of my best friend, Lucinda.   Karen was arguing with the police officer, asking where was his court order.   I don’t know if he had a court order or a warrant.  I never saw one.

            The police told me I was under arrest, but he wouldn’t tell me what for.  He ordered me to put down the phone or he would add more charges.

            “What charges?”  I was dumbfounded!  This was insane!  Unreal!  He wouldn’t tell me what I was charged with, nor did he show me a warrant.  He just insisted that I hang up the phone.   Lucinda answered the phone.  I told her to listen very carefully.  Karen started arguing with the police officer about not having a warrant, which was good.  That way, the officer couldn’t prevent me from making the phone call, and he couldn’t listen in.  “I am being arrested, and they are going to put me in a squad car and take me to jail.  Please meet me at the Kyle jail….I don’t know why…. I don’t know what’s going on,  but if you don’t meet me at the police station,  you may never see me again!  And I don’t have time to explain.”

            The Tribal police officer said, “ Come with me.”   I put down the phone.  He was actually going to put me in the squad car, and take me away!  He told me not to resist, or he would have to handcuff me.  Somehow, I managed not to faint.  He put me in the squad car, closed the door, and off we went towards Kyle, nine miles away.

             I asked,  “What about the people who have broken and entered my house and are stealing my things?  What are all those people doing in my yard with boxes?”

            He said,  “I’m just following orders.”  I was to hear that a lot, I’m just following orders.

             We were rounding the hill heading into Kyle when the officer got a phone call.  He turned around.  I asked where we were going.  He said he was to meet someone in Porcupine.   I asked the officer,  “ What about my house and my things?”   He didn’t have any answers. 

            We passed 3 Mile Creek, and were heading towards Sharps Corner.  About half way, we were met by another squad car.  The officer got out, and the two of them talked for awhile.  Then, he got back in, turning at Sharps Corner, and heading south.  The other officer was following.  There was some more talking on the radio.  The officer stopped, turned around, and started heading back towards Sharps Corner.  Some more talking, then he stopped, turned around, and headed back towards Porcupine.

             The hardest thing was not knowing what was going on.  What is going to happen to me?  Every time I was transferred to another car, I asked someone to safeguard my house and belongings.  This was never done.  Apparently, no one had orders to protect my property and apprehend the thieves who were stealing my things. This gave rise to a more frightening thought.  No paper work, no warrant, no court order, and the police not investigating the theft, it all added up to that they wanted to get rid of me.  But how?  My mind wouldn’t let me contemplate any further than that.

             There were 2 police cars waiting at the Big Foot pull over.  The officer and other police officers got out.  Six officers were outside of their cars, talking.  After they conversed for awhile, the officer told me to get out of the car.  My heart was racing.  I said nothing, but did as I was told. My heart dropped to my feet, as I was escorted into another squad car.  I was afraid I was about to take the Anna Mae ride.   For the first time, one of the officers spoke, and told me this was going to be the last transfer, that they would take me straight to Pine Ridge and put me in jail!

            I said,  “I think there’s been some kind of mistake.”

            “You are Janis Schmidt, aren’t you?”

            “Yes.”

            “Then there’s no mistake.  We are just following the Judge Cook’s Order.”

            “What Order?  How can there be an Order without a hearing?”

            But they didn’t want to answer questions, and furthermore, felt they didn’t have to.