From a letter sent to FFI from Anthony Miranda, currently detained at Northwest Detention Center

If you want to know what it means, I will tell you.

While I was driving with my 12 year old daughter to get something to eat, we were pulled over in a parking lot. Guns drawn out, scared and confused. I can see the tears in my daughter's eyes. Too shocked for tears - now they have me in shackles and chains. "Ahhhh stop - I'm in pain!" Yet nobody says a thing.

31 months and today: one stainless steel toilet, surveillance cameras up in the shadows, 10X10 cell blocks, iron cold walls. Ventilation poor. The air is always full of little hairs. I pick them out of my food and brush them out of my eyes.

I breathe them in and sneeze them out. I pause ...

I can feel my heart beat. I can hear nothing by prison sounds in the background. Cell doors closing with a ((thump)) and ((bang)), key chains, toilets flushing, inmates screaming at each other, guards barking orders, then another door closing ((thump)), ((clunk)) then my door closes ((bang))!

Footsteps fading away. Imprisoned in America for "political profit." They call us the worst of them all, murderers, rapists, thugs and "Aliens," which are not true.

I am a friend, son, brother and a father of six beautiful children with 7 grandchildren.

Why am I here?


Sketch by Anthony Miranda