A DAY OF INFAMY
How time flies. This week, coinciding with the attack on Pearl Harbor - December 7, 1941 - marked the 3rd anniversary of my eviction from my home at San Joaquin Hills (27668 Country Lane Road). That crushing event changed everything for me. It led to my condition of homelessness and it ushered in my new career as an indigent litigator. I haven’t filed any new actions nor have I appeared in front of a judge in many months. In fact, the last time a post was made on this blog was on the 25th of October. It isn’t to say that I wasn’t writing, because I was. It was just in a format altogether different from what I’ve been using in the past. I was experimenting with an evolving platform introduced to me recently, in the form of “Twitter". During the Conrad Murray Trials, I became a self-styled commentator, posting tweets of no more than 140 characters while the trial was in session.
ROBERTS|JUSTICE could be found on Twitter @robertsjustice.
Whenever called upon, I introduce myself as a student of the law. Despite the incredible challenges, the desire to learn the law has not wavered. In fact, it feels as though it is one of the most important reasons that I exist, delivering for my soul a sense of purpose that transcends all the hardships and obstacles that I have faced as a homeless person thus far. I’ve held on to a phrase I wrote on my very first blog post, which said, “ … the ends and means to seek justice, to right a wrong and to heal.” In the end, this entire exercise is to become whole once again. It has been my battle cry, the alarm clock that rouses me early on those cold damp mornings to wage a new day of fights. Unfortunately, being a student of the law does not provide me with a livelihood. The laws in California preclude anyone without the proper credentials from making a living in the law. This interesting dogma is viewed by detractors as an oppressive machination of the bar association that violates the Constitution.
Working under regulative restrictions, there are only two ways in which I can make a living pursuing my cases - either settle my cases or to secure favorable verdicts in court. In this regard, I have made one inviolable and intractable resolution to never give up. After all that I have been through, subsisting in the way that I have, enduring the hardships for 4 years now, I will never settle. It will give me such pleasure to see the day that I finally face the people and all the establishments that have caused the hardships that my children and I have experienced in a trial setting. If it’s the last thing that I do on this earth, I will have my day in court.
THE SIEGE
A cafe called the Neighborhood Cup has served as my de facto headquarters since April 2008. Across the street from the Cup rests an apartment community called the “City Lights Apartments.” That is where the opening volley to this personal war really originated. The Cup has been my battlement position for all these years, feeding me with a figurative dose of incendiary materials to continue the long and arduous struggle to reclaim my good name.
There I take position daily, amassing my strength and waiting for the right time, the right opportunity, the right set of circumstances to spring my assault. It is becoming ever clearer now that the forum for our fight will be the highest court of the land - the US Supreme Court, after I discovered an investigation by a joint task force of law enforcement agencies that amount to substantial violations of my civil rights.
The spectacle of the cat and mouse game between local authorities and the “Occupy Wall Street” demonstrators gave me a shot in the arm as I discovered a kinship among those who participate. My demonstration may be muffled, calm and orderly, in contrast with the loud, drum-beating, camped-out protests at major cities around the country. Yet, the passions are obvious; theirs for the vibrancy and sometimes combative nature and mine for it’s sustained and lasting character. It has been a little less than four years now that I have been visiting the Neighborhood Cup, staring at the cluster of buildings and dreaming for the day I get the chance to tell my story to 12 individuals comprising a jury of my own peers. There are no signs of stopping, just yet.
What a man must do to have his good name restored.
How time flies. This week, coinciding with the attack on Pearl Harbor - December 7, 1941 - marked the 3rd anniversary of my eviction from my home at San Joaquin Hills (27668 Country Lane Road). That crushing event changed everything for me. It led to my condition of homelessness and it ushered in my new career as an indigent litigator. I haven’t filed any new actions nor have I appeared in front of a judge in many months. In fact, the last time a post was made on this blog was on the 25th of October. It isn’t to say that I wasn’t writing, because I was. It was just in a format altogether different from what I’ve been using in the past. I was experimenting with an evolving platform introduced to me recently, in the form of “Twitter". During the Conrad Murray Trials, I became a self-styled commentator, posting tweets of no more than 140 characters while the trial was in session.
ROBERTS|JUSTICE could be found on Twitter @robertsjustice.
Whenever called upon, I introduce myself as a student of the law. Despite the incredible challenges, the desire to learn the law has not wavered. In fact, it feels as though it is one of the most important reasons that I exist, delivering for my soul a sense of purpose that transcends all the hardships and obstacles that I have faced as a homeless person thus far. I’ve held on to a phrase I wrote on my very first blog post, which said, “ … the ends and means to seek justice, to right a wrong and to heal.” In the end, this entire exercise is to become whole once again. It has been my battle cry, the alarm clock that rouses me early on those cold damp mornings to wage a new day of fights. Unfortunately, being a student of the law does not provide me with a livelihood. The laws in California preclude anyone without the proper credentials from making a living in the law. This interesting dogma is viewed by detractors as an oppressive machination of the bar association that violates the Constitution.
Working under regulative restrictions, there are only two ways in which I can make a living pursuing my cases - either settle my cases or to secure favorable verdicts in court. In this regard, I have made one inviolable and intractable resolution to never give up. After all that I have been through, subsisting in the way that I have, enduring the hardships for 4 years now, I will never settle. It will give me such pleasure to see the day that I finally face the people and all the establishments that have caused the hardships that my children and I have experienced in a trial setting. If it’s the last thing that I do on this earth, I will have my day in court.
THE SIEGE
A cafe called the Neighborhood Cup has served as my de facto headquarters since April 2008. Across the street from the Cup rests an apartment community called the “City Lights Apartments.” That is where the opening volley to this personal war really originated. The Cup has been my battlement position for all these years, feeding me with a figurative dose of incendiary materials to continue the long and arduous struggle to reclaim my good name.
There I take position daily, amassing my strength and waiting for the right time, the right opportunity, the right set of circumstances to spring my assault. It is becoming ever clearer now that the forum for our fight will be the highest court of the land - the US Supreme Court, after I discovered an investigation by a joint task force of law enforcement agencies that amount to substantial violations of my civil rights.
The spectacle of the cat and mouse game between local authorities and the “Occupy Wall Street” demonstrators gave me a shot in the arm as I discovered a kinship among those who participate. My demonstration may be muffled, calm and orderly, in contrast with the loud, drum-beating, camped-out protests at major cities around the country. Yet, the passions are obvious; theirs for the vibrancy and sometimes combative nature and mine for it’s sustained and lasting character. It has been a little less than four years now that I have been visiting the Neighborhood Cup, staring at the cluster of buildings and dreaming for the day I get the chance to tell my story to 12 individuals comprising a jury of my own peers. There are no signs of stopping, just yet.
What a man must do to have his good name restored.
