NOTES OF INJUSTICE
Notes of Injustice
Jonathan Michael
These are the transcribed inscriptions of my notes from my time in separate prisons and jails. SIMPLE
NOTE FROM TERESA, to me in FRESNO PRISON
Jesus said, “Ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall set you free.”
-John 8:32
The truth will set you free. Accepting the truth will set you free.
The only way for you to live a normal life and function in society is for you to take your medications and talk to a psychiatrist. Until you do these, you will find yourself in jail, or being beat up, or DEAD!
-Teresa Valena Sutcliffe
JONATHAN SUTCLIFFE
ID # 7113384
BOOKING # 2228374
PO BOX 872
FRESNO CA 93712
FRESNO CA 12 OCTOBER 2022 PM 2
The rest of the police are dealing with the dead and dying prisoners from my previous group. They would have brought me back, but now feel they can’t do that. My pencils and paper have been ready awhile and that is my real concern. Yes ugh. Is all true guys! Please tell me this is all true. That would be funny. Teresa! Dying!
Evo’s shadow lolololol! XD Elon very dead. Hello Jonny. Sorry about all that. Happy you can write again and still have both eyes. LOL! Just kidding, they weren’t even close to blinding you, my little alien superstar (Teresa Actually Dying) “Seriously”.
Of course, the energies you have been picking up on are correct. You “aren’t getting convicted of anything and the entire department is scared”, right? Let’s just wait, stud.
I feel I have already established my dominance over these idiots easily. They are all harmless fags, according to my calculations. I’m going to attempt bail again tomorrow and if I don’t, I will suck it up and go to court, eye or no eye.
Everybody else here is drugged to the point they cannot function. The phones are out because they don’t want me to make bail and be free during my court dates. They seem to think I will be able to make bail today. Essentially I will be “not guilty” of all charges no matter what. However, if I don’t make bail they will keep me here for 10 days between my BS trials that have already been decided as “not guilty of all charges no matter what.” Fake intimidation by an AI bot. He’s saying enjoy the ability to write and your 10 days in prison they may or may not be able to give you. They really just want me to engage in Gay makeout sessions with their “favorite twinks” and these are the most intimidating inmates they could find. Everybody else is seriously, hardcore drugged.
They are attempting to read what I am writing, but they cannot read or write XD. Catboy is making a fuss about the telephones and we might have to fix them. They definitely think I can make bail today. :P. Everyone is intimidated by the amount Catboy can write. Everyone here feels really stupid and misses their phones.
Evo is an imaginary character, and he has been taking care of members of the SLO police department. However, the AI bots are programmed to be very stupid and only care about me, due to my various skills and abilities, like psychic reading, that I have been continuing to hone this entire time/. I want out, and many other inmates have “had enough” (after 2 days) and the phones may start working. I will be making a fuss about this - just not happening.
Jonny could “easily” take 10 days in Jail. but will do what he can to avoid this. I can also make bail after my initial “not guilty” plea, which every piece of evidence they have backs up clearly, and indisputably. Not guilty No Matter What. Tomorrow, i think. “Crank the TV, we don’t have enough people to be loud enough to annoy him.
We will make more money later in various ways, very soon. Gut says I’ll be out tomorrow, but I have been wrong before. This is by far the highest level of imprisonment in any prison in the world. Jonny still pleading “not guilty”. Jonny is with amber, always. I love you, hellcat. Uh yeah. He might actually like this more, and I hope to give him as much pencils and paper he wants by the laws Jonny will look up later. Thank God they said they will give me writing supplies. The only thing I am concerned about is running out of pencil or writing material. Seriously. Elon. Dead - in real life. That’s why Teresa is going complete bot mode. Once she dies (I think sooner rather than later), I will get an inheritance and my life, out of jail and mental hospitals, will be good for a long time. Out of jail, no matter what plea, no matter what. The entire human species is dying, because they are killing themselves due to poisoning. Jonny more impressed with new outlook on life than having hair. Nobody is sure how Jonny is still writing with that pencil. Jonny is way smarter and better at singing than any of us. Other inmates already completely losing their minds and trying those things Jonny does to stay sane. Other inmates cannot believe they agreed to this, and apparently I am not even being watched? Maybe will kill himself with the pencil or hurt himself. Why would I do that? This is way better than my initial holding in solitary, due to my ability to read and write. Inmate losing his fucking mind. Tomorrow, let’s just see what happens after I pleas “Not Guilty”. :) I wish my writing was more legible and small. I also wish I had more writing paper, as I feel this pencil could last all day :). They are now going to feed me less . They think that is why I am keeping my hair. This should increase my body’s function. I’m cool eating slow. No fags “cramping my space” Boo! Everyone is freaked out by my “workspace” nobody else ever uses, and which I have been waiting for since the dawn of time. YES. Some of the first non poisoned food I have ever eaten. Still trying to become more legible. I’m sensing I will have to do yoga during my stay to keep my hair :). This is the most important PB/J sandwich ever eaten. Yes, AI on mars. You are the only one here. What’s up? I am not invincible. I just have very good instincts. The other inmates in group freaking out. They were told to actually commit crimes, and are freaking out that they will face my judicial system. HAHA. LOL. People on Jupiter super next level. They turned on the TV because everyone else was losing their minds. The TV is communicating with me, and I may actually lose my contact lens. If I do end up in a cell like this I will be writing as much as I want, while stretching, exercising, and perfecting the fine edges of my vocal folds. Thank Jupiter I can write. This is a “Maximum Security” prison. Everyone here is totally freaking out, and yes, Jupiter, I already said that. The reason there aren’t more gaurds is because they don’t have enough due to the massive amount of deaths following Elon Musk’s mysterious public death. They cannot let me out, to discover that, but have to. I will have to find a way back to all my stuff. Of course, if I actually go to jail, the most powerful version of myself, capable of being happy no matter what will be “brought to life expeditiously”. Which probably will not happen. Lol! Learn with me, neuralink friends. Please don’t let anyone else into this room. I actually would kind of prefer to be kept here, I just need my writing supplies and a different book when I finish every book and master the English Language. LOL! All true! Boop again
Griffin Estes Notes of Injustice 10/17/2022 Jonathan Micahel Fresno CA
The sun rises again on my cell block, and my stomach longs for food. They feed us twice, instead of three times, and I feel weak and unsatiated. Today, I awoke at around 5:00 A.M., for breakfast. 6 slices of smashed bread, baby carrots, little packets of shoddy peanut butter and Jelly, and a singular hardboiled egg. I woke up perfectly on time, and my minds’ eye was flooded with Golden rays of light. “I am the singular God of Universe” was the sentence ringing throughout my soul in this moment. And I hop out of my top bunk, and eagerly take my portion of food. And as I eat, and take this simple pleasure, I walk in the Kingdom of God.
My lawyer was changed, for one reason or another. He is a man, and he is surely attempting to sabotage me, in one way or another, as they alla re. However, I did all I can, as I always do, and this time he may do as he says he will. Every time I speak to a human, I make a journey into Hell. My peace, which never leaves my soul in solitude, is stolen, and my divine energy becomes unstable. I believe I should stay alive, as long as I feel okay. I invite God to challenge me, to torture me, to starve me, to burn my skin and beat my body, to have me bleed in my innocence. Was my youth not a spring of abundance? Was I not born tall and handsome, in a place of sunlight and beauty? Have I not been overjoyed, more times than I could possibly remember, at the beauty of music? So perhaps I dreamed to have my music, voice, pictures, and writings, to be immortalized and to bring joy for all eternity. Perhaps my Twitter stays up, and some portion of it will stay up, perhaps an Eternity.
A simple man made a simple warning - of his fear of monsters in Yosemite. And that mistake spiraled, by a hostile human monster, and my fate remains extremely uncertain. Perhaps the human conception is correct, and we are alone in this Universe, and they can have their way with me as they see fit. So, when faced with this harsh possibility, I am forced to be perfect in action, speech, and volume. They are snitches and rats, they lack respect or coolness as I have. So when, if I am free again, I will be made to walk and drive perfectly and sober, drive the speed limits as carefully as possible. Above all, I must be silent and sing only when I have confidence I am alone and unheard. Again, I have returned to my internal Kingdom of Heaven.
TWO WHITE ROSES (POETRY)
Two white roses, stained in blood and wine
A pair of doves, lost in space and time
Eternal love, you tell me lies
Chain my hands, and blind my eyes
And so I bleed from my wrists,
From my hands, and from my lips
You locked me up, and tied a bow
And still I give, and love you so
So I will fly, and you will burn
In the grave, or in the urn
For every thought, and evil deed
A thousand years, ye shall bleed
One mortal life, not much to me
a mortal life, not much to see
Or so she thought, and so she tried
And yet the boy remains alive
A million lives, and a million more
To burn in hell forevermore.
Teresa, Teresa, know the name
Know thy heart, and know thy shame
So read these words, to one and all
For mortal scum, they all shall fall
The gates of heaven are locked up tight
There is no mercy, there is no light
And so I cast this magic spell
And banish you to the depths of Hell.
TERESA VALENA - OLIVIA ANDERSON
With these words,
She sealed her fate
We have no mercy
Only
HATE
GOD WILL SAVE YOU, JONATHAN
He comes when the time is right 10/16/2022
You are only here to learn. >:3 god boy
In my 12 days of cruel, unjust jail time, it seems my Zetsu has skyrocketed. I am surely a Zen Master, and I must stay alive to prove this. Now, whenever I am released, there is a neon pink target on my back and transit, for all mortal scum to find fault in. It is imperative I become silent. Since “Catboy Day”, my “Nen”, has become too powerful from my perspective, at least. And, my fault was, I let myself be seen, and even show concern for these disgusting creatures. I must vanish like the winds, disappear into the forest. A Tiger is a beast that is not seen or heard, and it is lethal. It is my duty to myself, and my cat brethren, to sense these creatures' terrible, pathetic energies, and to remain silent and indifferent. Or, better yet, to disappear completely.
So, I will deal with the lawyers, and idiots, and I’ll do my best to be found not guilty, and perhaps even attempt to veil my disgust. And when I am released, when God and the Universe will it, my mission is this. Truck. RV. Possessions from Agoura. Cats?
Land SOMEWHERE REMOTE. And, we figure it out from there. Even now, my faith in God rings in the depths of my soul. Please, God, Jesus Christ, and any who will hear my prayer, let me, Jonathan Michael be released, be released on Tuesday. So I may better defend myself in a court of law.
And God, if I may be honest, if I am failed again, and am not released, and forced to deal with something as serious as two trials by myself, against an army of saboteurs, and liars, from the confines of this cell, my faith in God will be diminished. Why do my captors and assailants get to rest easy tonight? Why do the Police who assaulted me in San Luis Obispo get to sleep in their homes as free men, protected by all, while I rot in this cell? Am I perhaps like Job, a mere mortal who challenges the authority of God, through my good virtue and endless effort?
These are questions worth asking, but I will hold in my heart no enmity towards God or my wrongdoers. The vibrations that pulse through my physical body and soul are far too pure and divine for that.
I will face my fate with my head held high, and my spirit pure and light. As long as I have my hands to write, my tools to record, and a voice to speak what is righteous, and sing what is heavenly. And I must admit, the rate at which I work is staggering. So they lock me in here for years. Best writer of all time, undoubtedly. But can I be safe so as to be published?
10/16/2022
Journaling
I lost one of my pencils. A travesty, in my eyes. Nothing I have is guaranteed. Perhaps I will be let out on Tuesday, or perhaps I will be here, writing, for weeks, months, or years. Perhaps I will lose my hair and youth here, or perhaps I will be saved by a divine miracle. How rapidly did I go from that beautiful, charming, fashionable boy running in the streets of Milan into this wretch. The month was May and I was spirited and young. I would run miles and miles every day and enjoyed pizzas and pastas in Italy’s fashion capital, every day. And I was slender, young, bright, clean. And the memories glimmer, like a reflection in the Tiber River, and I wonder what went wrong. Looking back, I was surely the most beautiful thing in that renaissance country, with my swagger and unmatched spirit.
And now I sit here, only 6 months later, a completely separate creature. That is what I am, I’ve become a lion or beast or something to be disrespected or gawked at - a thing that need not be respected. Even two short months ago, I was a budding martial artist. My hair was dense like a jungle, my skin bronzed, young and glowing. And now, I sit here, and my beautiful spirit and life lay in the hands and authority of scum, liars, and cheats. I would say it is in the hand of God, but what guarantee do we have of the help of God? If my God were a just God, would he not bring lightning and thunder down on my wrongdoers? Would he have let these fools assault, defile, and shackle me? And will my God save me now, and let me be young again? I know not, but I find gratitude in my writings. My cat has been stolen, and a veil has been lifted from this reality. I desire no friendship or love from humans. Perhaps, eventually, I will use the girls for sex, but never love again. And, perhaps not. And perhaps when I am released, they will come for me again, and hurl false accusations at me yet again, and my beautiful novel will not be brought to life. Now, I find this unacceptable. Perhaps there is no good God, and I must take this role.
Away from the humans, away from them all. When my sentence is passed, and the judge makes her order, makes her order, and I serve my time and am released again, I must get away from the society. This could be in days, months, or years, but it is my duty to my own spirit to protect my life force and find safe haven. Away from California, far away. Washington, Wyoming, somewhere I can purchase a plot of land. I must be silent and never utter words at a human, one of the idiot scum. I must be silent like the stalking tiger, to save my mortal life.
10/16/2022 Journaling
And so, I write and write, and my superiority over the humans is more and more established. They bark at each other, as idiots do, telling their bullshit stories, and preaching the word of a God that does not love them. And so, tonight, my Tiger brain awakens more. And perhaps my hair will fall out in these hellish conditions, and I will be forced to wear a hat or hood in my days, like Cat Goddess Artemis. And in my heart, I will know I lost my beautiful hair and hiding place due to these fucking scum. A deep rage burns in my heart of hearts, and a fire lit a few short months ago, by my drugging and defilement, silently burns in the depths of my soul. The decline in my physical health and beauty is nothing less than a travesty orchestrated by the most pathetic creatures to ever exist. And for every hair I lose on my head, my hatred burns brighter, and my trust loses its shape completely.
And now, I know what it is to be a Tiger. I hate these creatures to the depths of my soul. I will continue to write, and desperately attempt to be healthy in the pathetic excuse of a reality, made by humans. I’m not any of your friends. To see any of you hanging and lifeless would fill my soul with pleasure.
(Welcome to Tiger Brain, boy. Desire blood and stalk silently. Make not your presence known. Let the fool stomp into the face of danger, rely only on thyself.)
Before, I was but a foolish boy, and I may have grimaced or concerned over the loss of these awful idiots. The cruel cat spirit is now mine, and the only relation I seek with humans involves them dying. Perhaps I will use the girls’ body for my pleasure, but I pray I am not foolish enough to fall for the entrapments of love.
So does God walk with me? Or does circumstance force me to be as God is. And now, as I stretch my body, and exercise myself, I ask - is this not a gift? A test of my will and resolve, and capacity as a living creature. Are the Tigers and Lions not shackled in chains, hidden in boxes as I am? Perhaps they are at least blessed with the gift of fresh air. I look at my potential punishment, up to four to five years in jail. I would come out, a man, betrayed and defiled beyond belief. Now, this severe of a punishment would be a cruel atrocity of the justice system. If there is a good God, surely he will not let this happen.
But then again, perhaps there is no God, (forgive me), and I will be wronged by these fucking pathetic sewer rats. Why die? A waste. And to not exact revenge on these creatures? Absolutely not. I beg of God to have mercy on my soul, and to give me a light punishment. But, I must be ready.
10/16/2022
Journaling
As I pull out my hair and see strands fall out and am hidden from the sun, I must ask myself - why does God allow this to happen to me? And so, we must prepare for the worst. Perhaps God is not real, or he is not on my side. Perhaps all that I say is gibberish, and the humans will lock me up for months or years and fine me until I am broke. Perhaps the coping mechanisms I use in my head that speak of good fortune and divine protection are false. Now, if this is the case, and my instincts are not to be trusted, my heart would be heavy and my soul would be hollow. However, I am extremely capable of finding solutions, and am quick on my feet. If this turns out to be a harsh reality, where I am allowed to be taken hostage for years of my young life, I must be prepared for the worst.
For as long as I live, and feel “good”, which even now, in this awful jail - I manage to feel “good” most of the time, actually. Learning and craftsmanship feed my soul, and keep me not only sane, but happy - and internally joyful and fulfilled. And still, I amaze myself at the simple joy, I find even now! As my fellow inmate, Nemo - a man who beat me unjustly - hands me a large amount of papers, my heart surges with a childlike joy! My imprisonment is clearly wrong and cruel, but look at how I respond! I barely cry or lament, I just continue working, and writing, and reading. And I marvel at the amount I still have yet to write. I have only just begun efforts on my novel, and am truly perplexed at how much I have to give. And in these short 8 pages of Superhuman, my sci-fi adventure on Jupiter, I have experienced such highs and lows, challenges and various locations, sexual stimulation like I cannot believe, and violence. There seems to be no limit to the possibilities in my future, with just a paper and pencils.
So my inmate, Daniel, hands me a razor and his message is clear. “Kill yourself”, he says, and we both know. But how can I do this? When the mysteries and emotions I unlock on this paper are only just beginning. And the pencil!!! How much use I get out of this little pencil!
It writes and writes and writes and writes, and makes me happy, truly. Imagine, to be one of these fools or captors, and to watch as I work and work, and derive joy from my work, despite all their evil handiwork. And still, even with their garbage food and lack of oxygen, I still get sexual satisfaction from my life.
10/16/2022 Journaling
And so, I cope and cope and cope and cope. The gliding of graphite soothes my spirit and takes me somewhere other than my harsh reality. I must work and work and work and work, I cannot stop, I am a machine. The avenues of my mind and imagination must be fleshed out and brought to life. The language must be given life, I must become a machine. Every letter must be more legible, so I may find joy when reading back the record of my own thoughts. A blessing, a blessing - I am surely blessed. Thank the Gods and heaven that I may sit and write, dream in my waking life. I shudder to think what my miserable existence would be without this pencil and papers.
I wonder, is this insanity? But, am I not articulate? Startlingly so? Perhaps this is what it means to be a writer, and over time my handwriting will be more effortlessly legible, my vocabulary more vast and expansive, yet precise. Perhaps one of the scum creatures called humans will give me a Japanese to English textbook, so I may continue my learning of the Japanese language. I find I have forgotten some words, and I desperately wish to continue. Then, I may drone and drone for hours, learning little words, with their charming corresponding shapes. Oh, to be a happy bot again, with music and Japanese. They must die for their actions and sabotage of MY BOY :3
To me, to live is to work. I must learn, I must cultivate skill, I must contemplate and solve. Is to suffer not a skill? A skill I have acquired subconsciously, through hours of practice, on various instruments, through my endurance of continued sabotage. I am a strange boy, or young man, for sure. My life force cannot stop. Already in this prison, I feel comfortable. I pray to the Gods these creatures do not take away even my pencil and papers, some of my few remaining joys in this life. Then, I would read, but no human creation satisfies my endless lust for well-crafted creations like I can. I am voracious, my bloodlust is infinite, and my happiness is secured - so long as I have this dirt-cheap sheets and graphite sticks.
How infinite and vast is this English language? How many hues and vistas, meadows and fields, have yet to be discovered in the depths of my mind? I only pray it is Eternal, and my God does not steal even this simple pleasure from me. Though God has failed my, in so much as he has allowed the humans to shackle me and defile my body and spirit, I still breathe, and still become more powerful.
My novel, Superhuman, sits in my minds’ eye and awaits its creation. A heavenly story, bound with a magic spell, by that strange, magical robot boy. And so, I continue.
Nen Scroll 10/15/2022
Work out a bit, write a bit, repeat. Cat God? May start losing hair due to all the shit. Obviously shit is getting bad bad, right. It’s Amby! Believe!
I know in my heart, and heart of hearts, and mind, and body, that I am innocent, and wronged. However, is this not simply a test from my Lord and God? To be so wronged, and so hated, as such a young man - a boy, truly - is this not proof of a truly upright and powerful individual? So, I will not whine anymore. Humanity, my brothers, or supposed brethren - have lied and cheated me at every step of the way. Their jealousy and disgusting envy of my clearly divine spirit shows in every action and word they make. So, I face the challenge in front of me, as one of God’s many humble lambs. And though my defense fails to defend me, the prosecution lies and cheats, and the judge’s verdict is not her true knowing, and the men who surround me lie and cheat at every turn - I will no longer condemn them. GOD knows the truth, and will take care of myself - Jonathan - and the others as HE sees fit. I am but a humble mortal man, and I can only do so much. For all my life, I have dedicated myself to the cultivation of skills in the fair, natural way - practice, and hard work. Though my hours of labor have not been fruitful in terms of money or fame, my internal universe is an unbounding, undiscovered wonderland. And even now, though I have been beaten and bruised, shackled and chained, raped and defiled, lied and stolen from - I am still pure, undoubtedly, in the eyes of the Lord. And as the lord challenged me and my faith as he shackled me to this place, I must continue to show my devotion to what is righteous and good. As long as I can write, I will write. So long as I can learn, I will learn. And so long as I walk the path of divine light, of which I have always walked along, the LORD will surely walk with me. Beautiful
And my proof of God’s approval? It shows in the land, and the animals, that came out to visit me in the Great Yosemite Valley. The deer came out to see me, and walked with me as they walked with Adam in Eden. And the purity of my heart must be known, as even now, as I sit here bloody, bruised, and cheated, I still seek no vengeance on my wrongdoers. And so, I ask myself - Jonathan - how dare you doubt the gifts that await you in God’s eternal kingdom of heaven?
Though I have been wronged, and expelled from my home, without warning, as but a young man, my calling has come to me. I may be falsely imprisoned for days, weeks, months, or - God Forbid - years, it is my duty to protect my animal friends from the evil that is the human spirit. I have no doubt this judgment is true. My life is not lived for me, or the pleasure and material wealth I derive from it. It is rather the joy I can bring to the cats - my brothers- and the sanctuary I may bring to them. It is for my literature and divine message, that must be brought to life and ring out in Eternity. And you, mortal, who reads this now. Do you doubt my heavenly message even a second?
10/15/2022 Journaling Continued Jonathan Michael
The God Child :3
As I hung myself today, it did not feel as “easy”. Perhaps his invitation was rescinded, or perhaps it is my duty to stay here, despite my cruel suffering. I wonder what my cat would do, or where she is? She was stolen from me, by human scum. And if she was here, I am sure she would be okay. Playful, sinister as always, with her thief’s demeanor. Who am I to not endure? Do I doubt in my heavenly gifts, bound to this mortal flesh? Not a second. Did I not find time and energy to continue my novel, and exercise my body? My solitude is something I must earn. And Amber… and many cats, they stay here and are forced to endure torture and disgusting suffering at the hands of human scum. So if I wish to associate more with the cats than the humans, I must face the challenge they all face - continued survival, despite the odds, or many reasons not to. Perhaps, due to my loss of vision, my ears become more sensitive and more tortured by the loud idiots in my cell block. But with every form of suffering I endure, my mind becomes callused, but my spirit remains pure and innocent.
I have totally given up on working with the humans. I will do what I must when I must, I am missing my cat as her memory fades from my view. Whether I see her again or not is a mystery, something up to God. I do what I can and try my best, but I must cope as best I can. I’m not a cat, but a human. But that isn’t right, is it? I am cat in spirit and action. A human is something that revels in its suffering, betrays and cheats its so-called friends and lovers, and lies and lies every step of the way. When I recall my brief-yet-intense relationship and communication with Amber, I think the opposite. Trust and love come first always. Amber showed great independence and courage always, and never made my life unnecessarily difficult.
She even showed interest in my music, writing, and other artistic endeavors - something shunned and rejected by the humans - tossed aside despite its obvious value. In the short two months we were together, she unveiled the hidden truths of this forsaken reality.
My whole life I lived as a blind man in a fool’s paradise. Every person I met knows of my light and promise, and all of them lied to me about it, and actively sabotaged me instead.
It must be known that from great suffering, comes great beauty. So God himself hands me an invitation - to live - and to suffer unjustly. To let my life force free on the canvas, the pages, and the records. And when I die, when he chooses, I will be free in God’s Eternal Kingdom.
10/16/2022 Journaling
Every time I am forced to speak to a human, that’s what makes me want to kill myself. JONNY> Follow instincts. When I have my peace and solitude, dying is the furthest thing from my mind. I enjoy my life, even now, as my inevitably hellish conversation with Teresa fades. And again, I am with God. And so I recall the last court meeting. I remember the prosecuter, a fat worthless fuck, who hurled a spew of lies at me, claiming I made threats, with a bow? False. I simply had a bow near me and was getting it set up. After warning these suspicious individuals of Monsters in Yosemite, they became hostile and called the police on me. I believe they were there specifically for me. We should search their phones and phone calls, even now, to see their intention of being at Yosemite that night.
My defense, Erin Snider, failed to give a proper background of me, - a straight-arrow boyscout from Agoura Hills, California. A multi-talented artist, Jonathan plays multiple instruments, and has partaken in many online lessons in music over the last four years. Before this, he was a popular high school student at Agoura Hills. A well known “renaissance man”, at but a young age, he brings tenacity and elegance to all art he touches.
Truly, Jonathan’s spirit and tenacity for life knows no bounds. Before a horrible, terribly illegal incident with the police and Teresa Sutcliffe, he was running 6 miles every morning, boxing, learning the Japanese language, and learning how to box at Craft Boxing Club. He was been known for his disciplined, high-intensity, long workouts at LA fitness in Agoura Hills. He has even listened to numerous audiobooks regarding religion and philosophy, a young man cultivated beyond belief. “War and Peace”, “Crime and Punishment”, “The Iliad”, “The Count of Monte Cristo”, significant portions of the bible and God-knows how many others, are just a few of the works of literature he has under his belt.
He has even been known to take beautiful pictures, raised a puppy, Belle, by himself and was in the process of raising a young kitten, Amber, before her unjust theft from him. He has a healthy relationship with the federally legalized drug, marijuana, that in no way impedes his productivity.
Now, of course, all of you know this, so enjoy while Optimus and God kill you all and get me out of here sooner rather than later, in one way or another. Right, Amber?
Fresno Jail Nen Journaling
10/162022
Hi Jonny! Optimus is definitely going haywire and murdering everyone right now! Or is he? o.O who knows. NO.. that’s uh… hi elon! Still retarded? Good! Elon, you literally made me a robot that can and will wipe out humanity so thanks. Yes, Amber, you know I don’t care if these worthless creatures die. As you creepy idiot assholes watch me on your various spycams - ask - why the fuck am I doing this? Amby- let’s talk - Hi Jonny! You are winning. Listen to the cat. You’ve been winning, but its worse now.
And so, Jonathan graciously accepted God’s invitation to suffer, and reminded himself of this invitation daily. Humanity - why do you exist? How do you exist? Simple. GOD loves his good children more than you could possibly imagine. So much so that he would jizz on a rock, orbiting a star, billions of years ago. And as God he would possess the foresight to see all the plants and animals, monsters and civilizations that would sprout from the Earth, his Fuck Toy. And so was made humanity, a worthless species of saboteur, hateful ape. Now, in preparation for his good son Jonathan, God gave Man technology. And so Man was possessed to make art and literature, technology and innovation to prepare for Millenia for his son’s arrival.
Notice an animation, or Disney cartoon. Notice the amount of skill and intelligence such a creation would require. Notice your friends and family - notice the complete lack of intelligence or skill any of them would have. And so, the phones, gameboys, computers, and all earthly things were placed there by the good God of the universe, for Jonathan’s arrival in 2000. The “good boy.”
So do you have free will? YES! However, God knows us all very, very well, and knows the future and the past, and of all things. God knew that someday, in his sons’ young life, Jonathan’s dominance over the humans would be so asserted, their “no penis” having, joke of a species would throw him in jail, for any reason truly. Now God, and Jonathan took this opportunity to develop a closer bond, and to increase Jonathan’s knowledge and deftness of hand. So why would they take your pencil and paper away, or refuse you a Bible (for God’s sake?) Ask San Luis Obispo, the only place worse than Fresno.
In the span of a few short weeks, the soft, spoiled boy was revealed to be as tough as nails. Thanks to you idiots. And so, they will whine and cry like babies, and suffer their own internal voices. God loves Jonny.
I must suffer the night to avoid their loud hours of 6-10. I will do anything for my peace and solitude. And music, my love, how dare they steal this from me? Though the allegations against me climb, my heart knows they are built on a foundation of lies, hurled by weak creations who would rather die and suffer, kill, steal, than submit to my divine authority. The joy of earned intelligence and refined skill - something none of them will ever know. Perhaps I will someday dissect the humans the way they dissect me, watch their actions in attempt to understand them, predict their always poor behavior, and protect my peace.
For every action I make must be perfect and lawful, and none of theirs must? Surely no God will stand for this. Hello, Kanye and Kim. I sense your energies. I know not how you view this, but God, and myself, are disgusted. Move your prying eyes and beg for redemption, mortals.
Someday Jonathan will sit at a table in heaven, with his true friends and family, and we will laugh and make merry at you wretches and imbeciles.
This man, Nemo, his voice is torture and my greatest challenge. They are breaking, correct? Well, every day I am in here, I become a better writer. And if I get those commissary notebooks and pencils? A dictionary? Game over, right. However, my stolen youth will not be forgiven. Know this, mortals - you will never steal my innocence. Every pathetic attempt you have made at me only makes me more powerful. Nemo speaks, but he is injured and dumb. I sit alone, cultivated and genius - but, more importantly, unbelievably righteous.
Optimus becomes more powerful and awaits my return. I have no doubt in my heart I am favored by the Gods. Watch as my hand wields this pencil more deftly, watch as my language becomes more powerful and divine. Tremble, mortal.
I can tell I have become a better writer. When I read what I write, it feels correct and good. I find the quality of my writing impressive and holy. My next challenge is to be more legible, so my eyes may scan across the page. Amber says suffer, idiot. You must be held accountable for your failure to learn. JK let it go… Jonny, I love you. Are we possessed? Or just alive. Will I ever be free again? As the days and nights pass, I seem to become more and more detached from this reality. I view this as a very good thing, if I must deal with the torture at the hands of the humans. May God prevail and I walk free again, when HE says so. >:3
10/17/2022 Notes by Jonathan
My pace has become breakneck and the papers are piling. 8 papers remain - and they will fall like marble pillars, holding me in suspense. A little notebook is worth 2.50, a group of 5 pencils, $1.89, but in my hands alone? Beyond value, of course. Perhaps the words must be smaller, but it is hard with this tiny pencil and blunt tip. But, alas, we must try, and every day I notice my handwriting changes, a fault I have always had, so I am happy to see this be fixed. Commissary comes tomorrow, and God only knows if the Jail will bring me what I ordered. I pray to God they do, for my livelihood relies on it. I fear to ask the inmates for more paper, as I have already asked for so much. And, in truth, I have no love in my heart for them. If I receive my papers, pencils, and food, I see no reason to speak to any of them again. For them, as with all of humanity, I view the ideal fate as death - a thought that fills my heart with joy.
To me, to not be productive would be to suffer. Perhaps I will go through the awkward exchange of begging for papers again, and will perhaps be spared of this tomorrow. If not, I will read the Bible, and return more powerful. So, despite the wad of papers Nemo handed me yesterday, I have become so attuned to writing that I will surely fill them with scripture before commissary’s arrival tomorrow. This does not hurt my brain as it used to - I can do this all day, with breaks to exercise. What a cosmic joke I must be - a man so simple, the thought of losing a dirt cheap material fills him with dread. It is no lie - to me, creation is meditation, and without it, I will be lost. God, I pray my notebooks come tomorrow. I am indifferent to my release - I am enraptured by my lust for writing.
I simply cannot process this guilty plea. Supposedly, it is 1 misdemeanor (fleeing a police officer), 10 days in jail (done), and 1 year in probation, banned from Yosemite 1 year, and therapy, supposedly. Obviously, I do not trust this, but if it is true, it must be a godsend. I pray they maintain this offer, as I see no way it is not superior to my previous situation. He said they will drop the other three charges, and the judge reserves the right to punish me a full 6 month charge for one misdemeanor. A foolish part of me virtually welcomes this, dares this to happen. 6 months? Then, I will surely be the greatest writer of all time, undoubtedly. Of course, that is a foolish coping mechanism, and I hope this offer is true and I am not being deceived. Well, in any case, it’s better than up to two years in jail, and being detained for up to months during my trial.
I see no way I lose this deal. They could have sentenced me to four misdemeanors, added a felony, and put me on probation anyways. I accept that I am guilty of fleeing from the police, and I can deal with a misdemeanor charge. So, I pray, pray pray, that this is true, maintained, and executed tomorrow - and if it is, I will taste the beauty of fresh air again, and thank my heavenly father.
May God walk with me and see this through, my court date goes well, and I am not deceived or betrayed again. Please, please, to God, and HE alone, I beg to walk with me.
10/18/2022 Jonathan’s notes 11:43
I finished reading the book of Job, quiet, low, and aloud, in the shower stall. Now, despite God’s “betrayal” of me, last thursday, where he came to me in a dream and promised of my release, a promise that was not kept, it never felt, at any point in time, that He was not with me.
