TO: A.I.C.A.P.
Dear Reverend Gucci:
I am a Canadian citizen, born and raised in Windsor, Ontario, who has been incarcerated in the State of Michigan since 1988. Ottawa approved transfer to Canada in 1995, however the MDOC denied transfer citing my life without parole sentence conflicted with their policy. This happened after the U.S. Department of Justice gave transfer discretion to Michigan.
It has come to my attention that your Alliance is in the position to assist/promote transfer to Correctional Services Canada. Enclosed please find information pertaining to how and why I became imprisoned. Hopefully it will prove helpful. Do not hesitate to tellme if you require further information. Consular Officer Beth Ann Van Ham can confirm my citizenship. She can be reached at the Canadian Consulate in Detroit by calling her directly at (313) 446-4747.
If there has ever been anyone truly serious about returning home and becoming a contributing member in society - it is me! You can only imagine how much I look forward to implementing in society what my walk with my Lord Jesus Christ has taught me, or how I hunger for the opportunity to become actively involved as a member of the Church, or how badly I want to restore familial relations both tested and stressed as a result of my predicament and location. Thus far prayer and hope keeps me strong in the faith that I will someday return home. Since luck, chance, and coincidence are not in my born-again Christian vocabulary or faith, it is fair to say you are the vessel whom God willwork the blessing through. Therefore, please tell me how and when you will facilitate this transfer. Your interest and response is appreciated in this matter. Thank you.
Very truly yours,
George S. Davis, #202779
Alger Max Correctional Facility
P.O. Box 600
Munising, MI 49862-0000
-------------------------------------------------------------------
[Enclosure:]
Due to an insidious judicial system in the State of Michigan, this Canadian national was sentenced to life imprisonment with no possibility of parole. This state violated my right to contact the Consulate from the time I was arrested and continued to do so until the time the Consulate realised my incarceration, only by happenstance, when they requested and received a listfrom the Michigan Department of Corrections concening all Canadian nationals within their penal system. I have prayed with all my heart that this miscarriage of justice is rectified and I am able to return home. I have no prior criminal record nor am I criminally minded. What I have to tell you is the truth and I pray that you will take the time out of your busy schedule to read this missive which has been compiled to the best of my ability. This was initially penned in 1992 and has now been typed for your convenience.
On September 23, 1988, I shot and killed Joseph Charles Boyd. In short, Joe Boyd had abducted me from Canada and then ultimately forced me to perform homosexual acts that I did not want to do. Joe Boyd further continued this assault and battery of rape, manipulation and control, for approximately three years, until confusion and fear escalated to the point that I completely lost myself and actually killed the guy. Let me begin by telling how I met Joe Boyd.
Shortly after running away from home, at 16 yrs of age, a dear friend was killed when she was run over by speeding boats while swimming at the beachon Labour Day weekend. Her body was recovered four days later and buried, ironically, on my birthday, and for days thereafter I roamed in a daze, hopelessly lost and confused, realising how precariously short life can be and not knowing what to do with my own life.
Then one night while hitchhiking down Wyandotte (Windsor, Ontario) with a friend (Rick Antcil), a black sportscar pulledup and the guy driving offered us a ride. He introduced himself as Joe Boyd and stated he had just moved to Detroit and was in Windsor to visit a bar called "California's". He inquired if we knew where it was and we agreed to take him there for it was located in the vicinity to where we happened to be staying. As we talked, Joe asked if we knew where we could find him some marijuana or cocaine. We responded by saying no and then Joe stated he had some marijuana at his penthouse on the river. My friend started asking questions regarding this penthouse and inquired whre Joe worked. Joe was amused with our curiosity and easily answered all questions. He stated he owned a branch of a candy company which kept him travelling throughout the U.S. and that he was looking for a full-time assistant who would have to temporarily live at the penthouse, have access to the car he was driving, and who could accept weekly cash payments. To me this sounded remarkable, just what I needed, an opportunity to make something of myself and prove to my dad that I was worth something and could be somebody. All of this glamour amazed me for I had run away from an abusive step-mother with just the clothes on my back and I had no job, no money in pocket, no place to call home, and I slept anywhere I could. This was an opportunity in the making, a hope to become a success and to drive around in sportcars and wear gold jewellery and diamond rings like the businessman we were talking to. Joe cajoled us into coming across the border and visiting his penthouse so that he could speak in depth about his candy company and what the offered position consisted of. If we were interested. I remember being without identification so he left me at the bus terminal but told mehe would be right back with identification so I could cross the border. Looking back, I now realize Joe was centering his efforts on getting me, specifically, over the border and into the United States. Joe returned alone a short time later with American I.D. and instructed me to say nothing more than a simple "U.S." when I answered the Customs officer. We got through Customs with no problems and Joe congratulated me for doing such a good job. This happened to be the first compliment given me in a long time and it was well received. I had already talked briefly about myself to Joe, such as the living conditions when I lived at home, my unemployment, how I was staying at various friend's homes, and how my girlfriend had died and been buried on my birthday. Joe stopped at the American side of the tunnel, picked up Rick where Joe had left him, and then proceeded the short distance to the apartment towers known as the "Riverfront Park". He impressed upon us the numerous licence plates depicting diplomatic status. He informed us federal judges and even well-known celebrities lived there, such as Aretha Franklin, and due to the extensive security checks and long waiting list, you had to be somebody to live there. He bragged that he was connected and that his name was given preference over the others on the list. The cars we passed in the parking lot consisted of Jaguar's, Porsche's, Ferrari's and other nice cars, most bearing special licence plates of one sort or another. When we got off the elevator, on the top floor, I saw the marble floors and when we entered into the apartment I could see the Ambassador Bridge alight in the night through the picture window. I was very impressed with it alland to a seventeen year old this was the dream of success come true. I also noticed, however, that there were clothes strewn on the floorfrom the bedroom to the door of the apartment. Joe's demeanour changed from being cordial to being contemplative, as if he was in deep thought or even collecting his thoughts. He sat us in the living-room and excused himself to clean the mess and to make a telephone call. Approximately ten minutes later he reappeared in a jovial mood and claimed he could sure use a drink and something to smoke. Rick and I felt comfortable there, "grown up", like adults. So when Joe offered us the drinks we took them and when Joe offered us the lit marijuana cigarette we took that also. Although comfortable witho our surroundings, we were nervous because we did not belong and we both voiced that we could not stay too much longer. Joe said not to worry about the time and started telling us about the company he owned. Joe was quite a speaker and he smoothly got us to smoke and drink more and more as he talked about himself. Around 11:00 p.m. we agreed it was time to leave but Joe said he happened to be too high and too drunk to drive and asked if we could stay the night. Since neither of us had a permanent place to stay we agreed on the condition Joe drive us back to Windsor first thing in the morning (we could not wait to tell our friends). Joe arranged for Rick to sleep on the couch in the living room and for me to sleep in the extra bed in his bedroom. A little later I went to lay down and Joe followed a few minutes later. We talked further about my situation in Windsor and I confided in him about my unhappiness and that I had no idea where my life was leading and that I could not return to my dad's because my step-mother beat the crap out of me whenever she got the chanceand, to put it mildly, I was terrified of her. Joe explained that with his recent move from Indianapolis, Indiana to Detroit he was troubled to be so alone and have no friends to hang out with. He said he was searching for a loyal friend, as much an assistant to work for him, and that he would like very much to be a friend to me. He said he would bring me to the office inthe morning after he dropped Rick off in Windsor. I wanted the job but I also wanted Rick to receive it, however, Joe said he only needed one of us. He needed an answer so I said I would let him know in the morning. When I awoke Joe had already dropped Rick off and was preparing breakfast. Afterwards we drove to the office in Sterling Heights and he shoed me how to work the computer. It was Saturday and nobody else was there. He mentioned that a guy, Larry George, had been living at the apartment but had recently moved out. I found out later that Larry had escaped from the apartment, the night Joe came to Windsor, and took a bus back to Indianapolis andthat a couple of Joe's friends met him at the bus terminal to beat him up to the point of hospitalization. This was the result of the telephone call and Joe's jovial mood that night. I did not know why this happened, at the time, but I do know that Joe continued to call Larry's parents where Larry was living to threaten him and whenever we went to Indianapolis, Joe made sure to drive by the house real slow a few times and then park down the road with the headlights off and under the streetlight. It was obvious Larry took notice and was fearful, he would pull back the curtains and when he saw Joe's black sportscar under the streetlight he would hurry throughout the residence turning off all the houselights. Sometimes I could see his mother and father peeking from behind the curtains. Joe would just sit in the car, smoking cigareetes, watching the house. Larry was beat up one more time and I understand he left Indianapolis in fear of his life. This took place within two weeks of meeting Joe Boyd. Even though I enjoyed my job and got along extremely well with everyone that worked for the company and sales even increased, I was homesick and wanted to return to Canada. I had mentioned this to Joe for about a week but he always said he was too busy or stated that I was making good money and that because of me sales were on the rise. One night after work while riding with Joe back to the apartment I informedhim that I was leaving and going back to Windsor. Joe argued that he was in the process of getting my drivers licence, and when I would not change mymind, he claimed he had a surprise waiting for me at the apartment but first wehad to go to a bar to meet someone. Joe kept pushing mixed drinks at me while we waited for his associate to show and I ended up getting very drunk. The associate never showed and we left. Joe lit up a marijuana cigarette while driving to the apartment and I fell asleep in the car. We arrived and I needed assistance getting to the apartment where once inside, I went directly tothe bedroom and fell asleep on the bed. I do not know how much time had passed but I groggily came to, in a stupour, realising Joe had my penis in his mouth. My pants were out of reach somewhere around my knees. Joe was taking pictures, a flash kept going off, with this camera he had on a tripod and which was being operated with a remote control switch. I struggled to fully wake up and I tried to get form under Joe BOyd but to no avail. I was too drunk and Joe outweighed me by at least 100 pounds. Joe slapped me around while I was trying to get out from under him and he was yelling about how would I like these pictures sent to my dad and my brothers and that I had better get wise or else. Joe then got off the bed and let me pull my pants up, and as I laid there bewildered and wondering what was happening and what to do,Joe put a rolled ball of what he said was opium into a pipe and lit it. Soon the room filled with smoke and, still drunken, I became dizzy and the room started spinning. Joe Boyd was speaking in a low voice and I do not remember what he said or when I fell to sleep but when I woke up in the morning I told him I wanted the pictures and would leave for Canada and he could stay out of my life forever. I was definitely frightened but I wanted no part of this kind of lifestyle. He would not give me the pictures and told me I was not going anywhere or he would beat me to near death and send the pictures to my family. Joe intimidated me and was very controlling and I was scared to death of the guy. He kept saying that I was only seventeen years old and assuring me that soon I would be a successful businessman and that with allthe money I would make I could do whatever I wanted to. Joe further assured me that if I left before he said I could he would find me and kill me and that he did not care who I was with because he would kill them too. Soon the abuse and the homosexual acts I was being forced into disgusted me to the point that I overcame my fear of Joe and slipped away from the apartment, to the border bus terminal, where I returned to Windsor. Upon arrival I went to John Stevens' house and told him the situation and that I was in fear for my life. Joe knew of John Stevens because John was my employer when I worked for CTX and I had mentioned that I had enjoyed that job. Joemust have known John's telephone number because shortly after I arrived John received a phone call and I heard Joe screaming and swearing on the other end. When John hung up he asked me if that idiot was crazy. I then continued with what had been happening and shortly a knock on the door interrupted the conversation and when John opened the door, Joe walked in. Joe's face was twisted in a snarl and he wore a long black trench coat, a low wide-brimmed black hat, dark sunglasses, and all his jewellery. He definitely looked intimidating because John took a step back and said there will be no trouble in his house and told Joe to leave or he would call the police. Joe replied that I had left the office with the job half done and with some company money. Joe was deflecting the situation to suit him, something I was to learn he did quite well. Concerned for John's life I left with Joe to go back to Detroit but first Joe had me call John and instruct him not to call the police. John argued that what Joe was doing was wrong andthat if I would testify the police would arrest Joe. Joe was listening and telling me what to say. I plead with John not to call the police and he finally agreed but stated he did not like it one bit. I could go on and on about what happened for three years but I will reduce it to give you a better understanding of what I was up against. I did escape Joe's clutches a few more times, out of desperation, only to be caught again and broughtback to the State of Michigan under threats that my family and friends would be hurt. Joe said he was getting tired of reminding me and that maybe he sould let the threats become reality if I thought he was bluffing. Joe moved shortly after from the penthouse to a remote lakefront house in Hartland. This house was very far from the border and the move was to thwart my returning to Canada. I realized I was in a no win situation so I tried to make the bestof it by making as much money as possible by doing the best job possible at work. Joe then started buying me 14kt gold rings and other gold jewellery which he deducted from what he paid me each week. He saidthey would improve my image with his employees and Iwould get more respect and earn more money. Joe made sure I was left with very little money in my pocket. This was one form of control because now I owed him and he stated that if I left, criminalcharges would follow and I would go to prison. The harder I worked the better the company did and the more money I made. Joe took what he said I owed and finally claimed some ofthe money he was withholding was actually being invested in the stock market on my behalf. Since he already had stocks he jsut added to his investments and paid the taxes on everything. He showed me what stock was purchased and assured me that when the time came to cash in he would gladly assist me. Being young, naive, and gullible, I believed him because I wanted to make enough money to leave. I thought this would resolve everything. When things became unbearable I would callJohn, even though Joe instructed me never to talk with him, and John would calm me down and come get me when I asked him to. This happened twice. Once John came to get me at the Amoco gas station which was never Joe's house, and I asked John to meet me there when I found out Joe was leaving the house for a while. When Joe returned and found me missing he sent some of his friends out to find me, which they did in Windsor, and to bring me back after dispensing a thorough beating. The other time John came from Windsor to get me was when I was to fly to Chicago because Joe thought I needed an attitude adjustment and I was to stay there for atime to get Canada out of my mind. I was to drive to the airport and leave the car at the Ramada Inn where one of Joe's employees could pick it up. When I realized the details I called John and let him know the opportunity. When John arrived he askedif I had any money and if I had anything that belonged to Joe or the company. I did not and stated such. Joe soon realized I never made it to Chicago and he called John inquiring my whereabouts. Ultimately he sent his friends to Windsor to find me. This time, however, I was hiding at an old friend's apartment and I had not written her address down anywhere. Two weeks later Joe was hopping mad, he was calling my friends yelling and threatening them and telling them, he spoke kindly, offering to drop by and take them out for pizza and beer, persuading them that only my best interests were at issue. Speaking with my friends daily, I knew exactly what Joe was doing and I told them not to be deceived by his kindness. Unbelievably, Joe's friends seized me while on my way to the corner store. They punched me around, while Joe watched, and threw me in a van that had pulled up. Joe later bragged he had distributed over fifteen hundred dollars to my friends to find the elusive location. Before crossing intothe U.S. Joe switched cars. He gave me some I.D. and had me drive his car while he role in the van behind me. The Customs officer noticed my bloodied face and started asking questions. I told him the entire situation about Joe, how I was being forced to do things, that I was just beat up and that I was being forced across the border. I was driving a car with Michigan plates but had a birth certificate from Terre Haute and a drivers licence from Indianapolis. The officer asked me if Terre Haute was east or west of South Bend, what road would get me from there to Indianapolis, and the completed level of my education. When I said grade 10 instead of 10th grade, I was told to turn around and return to whre I came from. Turned around, Joe stopped me and asked what I thought I was doing and I replied that it was finally over because Customs knew and would not let me into Michigan. Joe was furious and told me to go on through the tunnel and stop on the Canadian side and that he would follow. Once there and stopped, Joe switched cars again by getting into the passenger seat and ordering me to drive to the bridge. He figured if he could drive fast enough to the bridge he could get me across without Customs being alerted to what had happened at the tunnel. This proved correct, as I was again in the United States, his prisoner. Joe Boyd could be extremely cunning and a smooth operator in order to maintain control. He also had friends in high places. One time while crossing back into Michigan after retrieving me from Windsor, he was pulled over and the car inspected. Customs found some marijuana under the seat and some marijuana seeds lodged in the seat cushions. We were takne into a building where Joe was told they were going to confiscate the vehicle. Joe made a telephone call and the next thing I know we were being told we could leave and to have a nice day. I think Joe was also caught with marijuana at the Canadian Customs but I am not sure. The incident at Customs left Joe gloating and he made it a point to remind me the kind of influence he and his friends had. Another example of his influence occurred on a business trip to Villa Park, Illinois. When we arrived Joe rented a motel room and gave instructions on who to meet and what my job consisted of, then he forced me to allow him to perform fellatio on me. When he was done he left to fly back to Michigan. I was to go to his employee's house and get a van, which I did, but when the guy's wife came home she reported the van stolen because she did not know I was in town and borrowing the van from her husband. The police found the van in the motel parking lot, it was parked facing thestreet, and was informed by the night clerk that I was the driver. They busted into the room with guns drawn, threw me off the bed, handcuffed me, while yelling questions. They wanted to know my name and I told them, George Davis. The room was paid for in advance on Joe Boyd's credit card (I was to sign his name when I left), the police had my wallet open and there were two complete sets of I.D., including birth certificates and drivers licenses with my picture on them, from Illinois and Indiana, in the names of David Hall and Rob Thomas, and they refused to believe that my name is George Davis. It was 2:00 a.m. and I had just been suddenly awakened to find guns in my face so quite naturally I stated my name without even thinking about the I.D. Joe had provided. I was arrested and the police took me to the station to interrogate me. I tell them that I am a Canadian national being held in the United States by a madman who is forcing me to do homosexual acts and controlling my every move. I told them the entire story. The detectives then told me I had better make a telephone call because I was being charged with grand theft auto, credit card fraud, lying to a police officer, and federal charges on the identification in my wallet. The detectives had processed my fingerprints through the F.B.I. to see if they showed up anywhere. Of course they did not but now I had an F.B.I. number because the F.B.I. told the station to hold me for federal prosecution. I called Joe and toldhim the situation. He questions me, what have I told the police and what do they know about him? I say the police think I stole his credit card and the van and that the F.B.I. wants to question me. He laughed and told me not to worry and that no matter what, I was to stay on the phone and act like I was talking or listening to someone on the other end, whilehe put me on hold to make a few calls of his own. Ten minutes later he's back on the line laughing loudly, seems his alumnus brother who used to be a lawyer is now an Illinois federal judge. As Joe is telling me this, the detectives walk in staing that all charges have been dropped, that I could leave, and that they wre truly sorry for the inconvenience. Joe, still on the other end, demanded to know what was being said and as I'm trying to digest it myself, I repeated it to Joe, causing him to roar with laughter. The detectives had to have heard it. Unbeknownst to Joe, I stillhad the F.B.I. number. Shortly after the incident in Illinois, I was pulled over, for speeding, by an Indiana state trooper. As he sat in his squad car doing a check on my licence, he suddenly started giving instructions to me via his car's audio system. He told me to put both hands on the steering wheel where he could see them, then put the left hand through the open window and onto the roof of the car, then put the right hand throughthe open window and place it on the outside door handle, then open the door and slowly remove myself from the car. Besides feeling like a pretzel, I wondered what I could possibly have done to warrant this. The F.B.I. number was causing him some concern because in all his years on the force hehad never know the F.B.I. to issue a number wihtout providing a reason. I had the number but no charges, no convictions, and dispatch could not find any record of its origin. Yet again I told the entire story. I was told to wait in the car I was driving. Five minutes later the trooper reappeared long enough to drop a traffic warning through the window and into the car. He then got in his car and drove off. Joe Boyd was well connected with people involved with organized crime, and with politicians of both parties, and both of his parents are semi-retired F.B.I. agents in Washington, D.C. Joe Boyd graduated from a university in Missouri with at least one degree in psychology. His alumni friends supposedly consist of lawyers, judges, a secret service agent, and a lobbyist in Washington, D.C. Joe Boyd was being pursued by Ron Wintrow, a federal agent with the U.S. Department of Labour, in Indianapolis. The newspapers in Indianapolis described Joe Boyd as a Mafia Boss and he kept all the articles from various newspapers he appeared in and would brag about them when he got drunk or when he wanted to make a point. Joe was also involved in the "Dallas Candy Wars", whre competitors were eliminiated by getting their vans torched, their houses riddled with gunfire, and by being hospitalized. Nobody from this candy company was ever criminally indicted. This company prospers throughout the U.S. and parts of Canada. Joe Boyd was a homosexual predator who preyed on young boys that were artless to the ways of the world, where gullible, and who could be manipulated and controlled. First he would befriend them and then he would viciously attack them, terrorizing them into submission. When Joe was finished with these boys they would be warned that if they talked they might be found in an alley some place with their throats cut. He was only interested in young boys from broken home and runaways in need. He knew exactly what he wanted and he went after his prey with calculating efficiency. I just happened to be unfortunate enough to get sucked into his vortex. You would be surprised how a teenager can be intimidated and controlled through the use of drugs, violence, alcohol, and even false praise, especially if the teenager is naive and innocent to the evils of the world. The by-product of these abusive actions occur when the teenager slowly matures and is unable to accept the situation and feels shame and guilt for being in such a position. With no proper guidance the teenager is expected to fend for himself and is left going from one extreme to the next. I could not break free from Joe's control and when I did have the opportunity and the courage to notify the law enforcement agencies, they lacked the ability to deal with the situation.
The Canadian Consulate General, in Detroit, became aware of my predicament in 1992 when they requested and received from the Michigan Department of Corrections a listing of all incarcerated Canadian nationals. They are aware that I am unable to secure my trial transcripts and that overa decade has passed since the trials took place. They are awareof the ineffective assistance of court-appointed counsel in my trials and in my appeals and that the entire judicial process amounted to nothing more than a "sham". The authorities in the State of Michigan deliberately violated my right to contact the Consulate, thus violating the Vienna Convention on Consular Relations (1963),yet the Government of Canada refuses to get involved. When I applied for transfer to Correctional Services Canada under the existing International Transfer of Sentenced Persons (Council of Europe Convention), and the Michigan Department of Corrections denied transfer due to an administrative policy they had implemented, virtually changing the established language and thwarting the cause of an international treaty signed into effect between two neighbouring nations, the Government of Canada refused to get involved. When I sent Foreign Affairs, Ottawa, a formal complaint listing the violations of international law being perpetrated by the State of Michigan and how my family and I continue to be affected by these actions, I received as a response four photocopied articles originating from Amnesty International and other news sources. My Government's inability to enforce violaitons of international law, whre the U.S.A. is involved, leaves me sitting in a foreign prison wondering if life has passed me by and the joke was on me. I cannot understand how my Government could spend over $75,000.00 on a pornography movie entitled "Bubbles[Galore]", which starred American porn actors and actresses, and spend over $150,000.00 so one of our male soldiers could have a body like a woman's; yet allow it's citizens to languish in American prisons, the result of their legal rights violated and exploited in order to get the conviction. Are my expectations too high when I expect our trusted Government officials to intervene on an international matter which merits their involvement?
Thank you for taking the time to read this missive. If you have information that may be helpful, please contact me.