He wrote Walter, protesting his innocence, defending his convictions:
I have been framed. I guess I just wanted to make certain you knew there was no deal on the table and likely not to be with the way I have been drawn and quartered before I even got to court. They knew they didn’t have to deal, not after the job they have done on me… I don’t blame you one bit if you are upset and frustrated. Me too, you know. I didn’t do this. But one thing I am guilty as hell about is my religion and beliefs, especially pro-life. In that regard I’m no different from all the people being put in new graves in Israel and Beijing… I know this is hard. You are suffering, through no fault of your own, for your brother’s religion. Many people in Russia and China are dead over this. You are so kind to keep asking to help when all I gave you, via the movement, not via killing anybody, is grief. I guess what I’m trying to say is that it is my religion and belief that bother the powers that be. If I were not pro-life, they would have not gotten this far. Actually, they would never have thought of it. I would be no greater a suspect than you are… My current lawyer, who I hope to keep, hates pre-trial publicity. But there is another set of lawyers out there who I have no control over who want to show the world about how I have been framed.
In another letter to Walt, he further developed his self-portrait as innocent fall guy:
If I could name who shot Slepian, I would. But I do not know for certain. I suspect I’m in trouble because I can make a good guess. But it’s nothing they don’t already know. Even if the FBI knew I did not do it, it’s too late for them to change horses and stick the blame on someone else. Do not to be ashamed is my word. I would think that’s good enough. But most people only believe what they read in the newspaper.
He wrote a long letter to Susan Brindle, intended as a message for all his friends to see—and he knew the Edgars would be reading it at their leisure, too:
The Peace of the Lord be always with you, but especially today!
I don’t like writing generic letters, i.e. letters intended for more than one person, but I am out of paper and stamps, and so many people have written. Also, it is tedious to repeat things, to the point where I don’t repeat them, and even good friends, as a result, are clueless.
As I told the extradition judge here, I am innocent of this terrible thing, and I desire to enter an American court as soon as possible to clear my name. Any delays toward that goal are procedural in terms of the slow grinding of the wheels of justice. Some advantage accrues to my defense lawyers in that they can prepare a defense.
Preparing a defense in this sense does not mean merely establish my alibi and things like that, things I could have attempted two and a half years ago. “Preparing a defense” means becoming familiar with the bizarre twists against me. For example, you would think that hair or carpet fiber appearing in a forest is laughable enough, and not hardly worth refuting, especially as both appear in connection with the stealing of my car from an airport parking lot. But suppose other defects appear in the hair itself; and you can get the hair omitted by pointing this out? Do you see what I mean? These are the sorts of decisions Mr. Cambria (my lawyer) must face. All of this stuff has to be evaluated on its merits, even if its appearance is ludicrous.
Why did I run away if I’m innocent? This is what everyone wants to know. The answer is a person, not a thing or an idea. The person is Maurice Lewis, R.I.P., who was poisoned in Canada in 1996, roughly.
Maurice’s body was found in a truck parked on the side of the road. His body had lain there two days. The official cause of death is “no apparent cause” or trauma—nothing except that he was dead. The RCMP report indicated the presence of someone who cleaned up the death scene before the RCMP got there (Royal Canadian Mounted Police—like CHPs, or State Troopers in the United States). Why do we know this? The RCMP makes no reference to any wrappers, papers, soda cans or bottles or bags that one would associate with eating a snack. The only people I know with no food wrappers in their cars are people who only eat in restaurants on long drives. Maurice Lewis was not such a person. All prolifers eat cheap so they can save money to pay for the expenses of pregnant women, which Maurice Lewis did do.
I spent six weeks alone with Maurice in a strip cell in Rome, when we were beaten. I know about him. So, the death of Maurice weighed on my mind in Fall 1998, when the first news of the FBI seeking me as a witness came on the news (i.e. if that’s how they treated Maurice, what about me?). Then there was the matter of the 1985 San Francisco trial against me for charges of assault with a deadly weapon. I was acquitted, but what a pain! I was not interested in repeating that experience.
Then there were outstanding warrants in a jurisdiction where I had just finished suing (unsuccessfully) the warden, who, (before I sued him) had murdered two inmates, crushing them to death in a trash compactor during an escape attempt. (Don’t worry, he won’t sue me for libel, this is an open fact demonstrated in court—the prosecution merely needed an eyewitness.)
So let’s review the bidding, as Nancy Kopp would say:
a) Maurice Lewis;
b) San Francisco, AWDW (i.e. I have already been charged with things I didn’t do);
c) Pittsburgh warrants (exposure: 4 years.)
Even so, when I heard I was wanted for questioning, I tried to turn myself in through a Vermont lawyer, Dan Lynch… and lo and behold when I called an intermediary, Dan had become a judge. This gave me pause. (Can you turn yourself in to a judge?) Sounded awfully ex parte to me.
So, the run theory prevailed. If I had it all to do over again, I probably would not have run away. But that’s hindsight.
If the above does not make sense, please ask any veteran rescuer, any veteran object of U.S. lawsuits, or for that matter (esp. about Maurice…) anyone familiar with Mena witness murders (New American Spectator), (No I am not a conspiracy theorist… yet).
My spirits are good. I look forward to a vigorous defense. My eyes are on God, I am looking to Him to free me. I am tired of running. The evangelical chaplain here gave me a tape of hymns by 2nd Chapter of Acts. Here is my favorite:
I pray for you all. Please write, don’t be afraid. Send it unsigned through a lawyer if you wish. I’ll figure out who you are. God bless you.
Remember my chains. It was a quote from St. Paul’s letter to the Colossians, 4:18.
Chapter 21 ~ “A Pro-life Scalp”
Buffalo, N.Y.
Summer 2001
Buffalo lawyer Paul Cambria Jr. had a national reputation. He had defended the right to free speech for clients such as porn king Larry Flynt and shock rocker Marilyn Manson. At 54, he had practiced law for nearly 30 years. He contributed regularly to a website devoted to legal questions regarding pornography and free speech. He rode a Harley, was once featured on the cover of Rolling Stone. The press loved him. He once admitted that he wanted to be on O. J. Simpson’s legal Dream Team “in the worst way,” and quipped he was relieved he wasn’t hired to defend Timothy McVeigh because his skills might have got the Oklahoma City bomber acquitted.