We don’t need to add anything to this story, for you to get the picture. just in case you don’t believe that folks in prison have phones; read the second story and think twice about who can reach out and touch anybody.
Yeah.. This is About Some Serious Control,
That’s why we KNOW YOU NEED TO KNOW
- By David Kravets
June 8, 2009
Christian Engström will assume the EU Pirate Party seat this fall
Sweden’s Pirate Party won a seat in the European Union Parliament, swept in Sunday amid outrage over a new copyright law and the convictions of the four founders of The Pirate Bay.
The party, formed to protest copyright law, took 7.1 percent of votes in Sweden and one of that country’s 18 seats in the European Parliament. The party stands for radical reform of copyright legislation, abolition of the patent system and guaranteed online-privacy rights.
The party gained a renewed focus in Sweden after the four founders of The Pirate Bay, the world’s most notorious BitTorrent tracker, were convicted of copyright infringement and ordered jailed for a year and fined millions.
After weeks of testimony and delays ending April 17, Pirate Bay administrators Fredrik Neij, Gottfrid Svartholm Warg and Peter Sunde were found guilty in the case, along with Carl Lundström, who was convicted of funding the five-year-old operation.
The verdict triggered a political backlash among Swedish youth, and the Swedish Pirate Party more than doubled in size to 40,000-plus members, giving the anti-copyright party a genuine shot at landing a seat in the European Parliament.
The election was also a reaction to the Swedish government’s April implementation of the Intellectual Property Rights Enforcement Directive, known as IPRED. Its main goal is to enable copyright holders to acquire once-private data identifying people linked to illegal file sharing.
Activist Christian Engström, who will assume the Pirate Party seat this fall, told Wired.com in a recent interview that copyright laws are becoming an affront to privacy.
“If politicians want to prevent ordinary citizens from sharing files, they will constantly have to expand their ability to monitor,” Engström said in a telephone interview. “It’s necessary to reform the copyright legislation to ensure that citizens’ right to privacy is respected.”
In addition to one year of jail time, the defendants were ordered to pay damages of 30 million kronor ($3.6 million) to a handful of entertainment companies, including Sony Music Entertainment, Warner Bros, EMI and Columbia Pictures.
The case was brought by the Swedish government and Hollywood, in what’s best described as a joint civil-criminal trial. The defendants were charged with facilitating copyright infringement.
In the trial’s aftermath, several BitTorrent trackers across the globe have shuttered. The verdict has emboldened copyright authorities to crack down on torrent sites, and file sharing in Sweden has dropped. Mininova, one of the world’s largest BitTorrent indexer, has begun moving toward legitimacy.
The Pirate Bay, with more than 20 million users, keeps operating as usual, despite the convictions, which are on appeal. The four remain free, pending the outcome of the appeals.
The European Parliament consists of 785 members and is one of the governing bodies of the European Union.
Does one seat matter? Tell us what you think.
By Vince Beiser 
05.22.09
In one prison monitored by signal sensors, “the maximum-security sector looked like a telemarketing center.”
Photo: Andrew Hetherington
In his 25-plus years as a Texas state senator, John Whitmire had never received a phone call like this one.
“I know your daughters’ names,” said a nasal voice. “I know how old they are. I know where they live.” Then the caller recited the young women’s names, ages, and addresses. The senator, sitting at an antique rolltop desk in his Houston office, gripped the handset tighter.
Whitmire is the bald-headed, blunt-talking chair of the state senate’s Criminal Justice Committee, a law-and-order man who displays an engraved pistol in his office. But that call last October 7, he says, “scared the hell out of me.” Richard Tabler, the man on the other end of the line, had murdered at least two people and possibly four. He was a prisoner on Texas’ death row, supposedly locked safely away. But from the narrow bunk of his solitary cell an hour’s drive north of Houston, Tabler had reached out and touched one of the Lone Star State’s most powerful politicians with a smuggled Motorola cell phone.
Richard Tabler photographed at the Texas prison where he is on death row.
Photo: Scott Gaulin/Temple Daily Telegram
Tabler insists he was just voicing concerns to a public official. “I was talking to him about treatment on death row, how inmates are abused back here, not fed, not showered,” he says, sitting in a locked booth in the visiting room of Polunsky Unit, the sprawling facility that houses death row. He’s facing me through a thick pane of bulletproof glass. We talk, of course, by telephone.
Tall, pale, and gangly, with wispy facial hair and big green eyes that bulge like an emu’s, Tabler looks considerably younger than his 30 years. A crudely tattooed tear leaks from one eye. Rows of thin white self-inflicted scars mark the backs of his hands and forearms. A former cook with a long, violent criminal history, Tabler wound up in Polunsky after resolving a disagreement with the manager of a strip club and his friend by shooting them dead. Days later, two teenage pole dancers who worked at the club were also murdered. Tabler freely owns up to shooting the two men, which earned him his death sentence. He has at various times admitted and denied slaying the strippers. (He tells me he “gave the green light” for their murders.)
Whitmire didn’t believe Tabler when he announced who he was. So the inmate kicked the door of his cell, flushed his steel toilet, and held the phone out to the clanging and yelling from the row’s other residents. And, just to make sure he had the senator’s attention, Tabler rattled off those personal details about his daughters. Tabler claims he didn’t mean to threaten Whitmire. “I was letting him know that just because I’m on death row, it doesn’t mean I’m stupid,” he says. “It doesn’t mean I can’t get information.”
Inmates aren’t allowed to have cell phones in any US prison, let alone on death row. But the 21st century’s ubiquitous communications tools are nonetheless turning up by the thousands in lockups not just in Texas but across the US and around the world. Last year alone, officials confiscated 947 phones in Maryland, some 2,000 handsets and accessories in South Carolina, and 2,800 mobiles in California.
The presence of cell phones is changing the very meaning of imprisonment. Incarceration is supposed to isolate criminals, keeping them away from one another and the rest of us so they can’t cause any more harm. But with a wireless handset, an inmate can slip through walls and locked doors at will and maintain a digital presence in the outside world. Prisoners are using voice calls, text messages, email, and handheld Web browsers to taunt their victims, intimidate witnesses, run gangs, and organize escapes—including at least one incident in Tennessee in which a guard was killed. An Indiana inmate doing 40 years for arson made harassing calls to a 23-year-old woman he’d never met and phoned in bomb threats to the state fair for extra laughs.
“Cell phones,” says James Gondles, executive director of the American Correctional Association, “are now one of our top security threats.”
Talking to his own security threat, Whitmire stayed calm, hearing out the prisoner’s complaints. He noted Tabler’s number, then promptly called John Moriarty, the Texas prison system’s beefy, mustached inspector general, asking how the hell an inmate had gotten hold of a cell phone in what is supposed to be one of the state’s highest-security lockups.
Moriarty’s people subpoenaed the records for the phone that had dialed Whitmire. They were astonished by what they found: The device had logged more than 2,800 calls and text messages in the preceding month. At least nine other prisoners had used it, investigators say, including members of such notorious gangs as the Aryan Brotherhood and the Crips.
In response, on October 20, Texas governor Rick Perry ordered every one of the state’s 112 prisons locked down and all 156,000 inmates searched. Officials found 128 phones, including a dozen on death row, as well as scores of chargers, batteries, and SIM cards. That brought the total number of phones and related items confiscated from Texas prisons in 2008 to more than 1,000.
Confiscated handsets; Alba, a phone-sniffing Belgian Malinois, demonstrates her keen nose.
Photos: Andrew Hetherington
Tabler was chatting with a reporter from the Austin American-Statesman when Perry’s statewide search kicked off. “Give me 15 minutes and I’ll tell you what kind of car you drive,” he bragged. “I’ll tell you your Social Security number.” Minutes later, a team of riot-suited guards stormed his cell.
Prisoners have always been able to communicate with the outside world, through whispered conversations with visitors, smuggled notes, and a litany of more ingenious methods. But the ease with which they can do it today is chilling. During a hearing on the activities of Blood gang members imprisoned in New Jersey, a state police officer testified that he listened in on a 45-minute conference call that linked Bloods in three different lockups with three others on the streets. And then there are all the worrisome things a prisoner might look up online, like recipes for making explosives, tips for faking medical conditions, or the home addresses of, say, a politician’s daughters—not to mention guards and various enemies.
Consider the case of a, a 38-year-old Maryland resident who had the bad luck to witness a street murder in Baltimore and the rare courage to agree to testify against the accused killer, Patrick Byers. According to prosecutors, Byers acquired a phone while awaiting trial in Baltimore’s City Detention Center. He obtained Lackl’s name, address, and phone number and allegedly texted that information to a friend on the outside, along with an offer of $2,500 to get rid of Lackl. On July 2, 2007, the friend rounded up a couple of thugs and drove out to Lackl’s modest suburban home, where authorities say the crew blasted him to death with a .44 Magnum.
Grim as that story is, it’s just an intimation of how dangerous cell-phone-connected inmates can be if their network is left to grow unchecked. Brazil provides an especially bloody lesson. For years, the country’s largest prison gang, Primeiro Comando da Capital, has been using mobile phones to strengthen its grip on the state of Sè3o Paulo’s inmates and establish a presence on the outside. In 2006, annoyed by the transfer of some of its members to more restrictive facilities, the PCC used its cellular network to launch simultaneous riots in dozens of prisons and a wave of attacks on police in the streets of the state capital. More than 40 officers and guards were killed in the first four days alone. Hundreds more died in the ensuing violence.
The North Branch Correctional Institution spreads out along a wooded valley in mountainous western Maryland. The massive, low-lying complex of concrete and razor wire is one of the most technologically sophisticated maximum-security prisons in the nation. Electronic cell doors are opened remotely. Touching the perimeter fence triggers a volley of microwaves that alerts video cameras to focus on the spot.
But despite the fancy surveillance gear, phones keep finding their way in. “Inmates come up with all kinds of methods,” says former NBCI warden John Rowley as he leafs through photos of mobiles found in hollowed-out soap bars and glued-together stacks of graham crackers. Elsewhere, phones have been tied to carrier pigeons and lashed to arrows shot over prison walls. Officials found 78 devices welded inside an air compressor being delivered to one Texas lockup.
But the easiest—and probably most common—way mobiles are moving into prisons is in the pockets of guards and other prison staff. “There’s no question that corrupt officers are involved,” says Texas inspector general Moriarty. The risk is small, the payoff big. Correctional staff coming to work are typically searched only lightly, if at all, and a phone can fetch a couple thousand dollars. One California officer told investigators he made more than $100,000 in a single year selling phones.
Prisoners face a similar risk-reward calculus. In most states, the laws haven’t kept pace with technology; getting caught with a cell phone is not a crime but a rule violation, like being found in possession of a cigarette. And there’s good money to be made on rentals.
Once a phone is in, prisoners have little trouble concealing it. Cellular components have been found stashed inside Bible bindings, shoe heels, peanut butter jars, and toilet pipes. Moriarty has an x-ray showing a handset and charger lodged up what he refers to as an inmate’s “keister.” (Which begs the question: ring or vibrate?)
To find concealed phones, North Branch uses a decidedly low tech piece of equipment: Alba, an irrationally exuberant, gingerbread-colored Belgian Malinois. It turns out that mobiles have a distinct scent, which specially trained dogs like Alba can detect. “I didn’t believe it would work at first,” says Peter Anderson, who has been head trainer of the Maryland prison system’s canine unit for a decade. But after learning the method from a British colleague who developed it in 2006, Anderson trained four dogs for Maryland. Last year, they flushed out 59 phones.
Photo: Andrew Hetherington
Brought into a white-walled conference room inside the prison, Alba trots around eagerly, snuffling at tables, chairs, and bookshelves—then stops and sits, staring intently at a piece of cloth under which I’ve hidden my iPhone. “Good girl!” shouts her handler, rewarding the three-year-old pooch with a chew toy that sends her into a spasm of delight.
It’s an impressive trick. But Anderson admits that even the best dogs don’t always find their target. “The scent signature isn’t very big, so they have to get fairly close,” he says. “Dogs aren’t the answer, but they help.”
Terry Bittner is taking a more technological approach. He heads up the Cell Hound product line of ITT, housed in an office park outside Baltimore. The company sells a system specifically designed to detect cell phones inside correctional facilities.
Hunkered before an oversize monitor showing a schematic map of the division’s headquarters, Bittner explains how it works. Sensors installed throughout the building search for cell signals by scanning the mobile-phone radio spectrum seven times per second. When they detect one, a circle appears on the monitor showing its location. The map of Cell Hound’s offices is crawling with red and green circles, the colors indicating the types of network in use. Some circles float around, indicating someone walking and talking. Others blink on for only a second—a text message.
Lockups tend to show a lot of wireless activity. “The maximum security sector of one prison we went to looked like a telemarketing center,” Bittner says. Three facilities so far have bought the system, which can cost from $20,000 to $500,000. But spotting a phone’s location isn’t the same as stopping it from being used. By the time a guard gets to the scene, the device could be stashed.
Senator Whitmire has a more straightforward approach. “Jam the damn things!” he bellowed at a recent Texas senate hearing. Sounds obvious, but there are problems with this tactic, too. For one thing, it’s illegal. The 1934 Communications Act prohibits anyone except the federal government from interfering with radio transmissions, which now include cell calls.
At the urging of frustrated state officials, a bill was introduced in Congress in January that would let the FCC grant waivers for jamming in prisons. But the telecom industry is fighting it. Jamming inmates’ phones would block calls by prison staff and other paying customers, they say. There are also technical shortcomings: A few layers of tinfoil can shield a phone from the jamming signal.
While the squabbling continues, what might be the most effective way of cutting illicit phone use is largely ignored: making it easier for inmates to place calls legally.
There’s no question that prisoners are using cell phones to foment all kinds of mayhem. But investigations have established that most calls placed on contraband mobiles are harmless—just saying hi to family and friends. Whatever their crimes, most convicts have parents, children, and others they’re desperate to stay in touch with. Letters are slow, and personal visits often involve expensive, time-sucking travel. Some prisons have public phones for making collect calls, but access is limited, conversations are often monitored, and phone companies often charge much higher rates than on the outside.
A Virginia woman whose husband is six years into a 40-year sentence says she won’t let him use a cell phone because she doesn’t want him to get in any more trouble. As a result, “my phone bill last December was $800,” she says. “That was my whole Christmas bonus.” Between calls she drives seven hours each way, twice a month, to see him in person.
“Cell phones are the best thing since conjugal visits,” says a California con I’ll call Jack. “And being a lifer, I don’t get those.” Jack doesn’t want his real name printed because I spoke to him—several times—on a contraband handset he had procured in the pen, where he’s doing time for second-degree murder. “I call my mom three or four times a week,” he says. “And I text my daughter every night.”
But the most compelling reason to let inmates like Jack talk to their families isn’t that it’s nice for them or even their mothers. It’s that it could reduce crime and save the public a bundle by cutting recidivism. Most of the more than 2 million men and women behind bars in the US will eventually be released, and decades of research show that those who maintain family ties are much less likely to land back in jail. Every parolee who stays straight saves taxpayers an average of more than $22,000 a year.
Even tough-on-crime Texas has embraced that logic. The state has long refused to allow phones of any sort for inmates in its prisons, but this year officials are installing landlines. “Once they’re in place, we expect a decrease in the problem,” Moriarty says.
Those phones might have saved Richard Tabler’s family a lot of trouble. Most of his calls were to his mother and sister, who also bought minutes for Tabler’s mobile account, say Moriarty’s investigators. In Texas, it’s a felony to help an inmate use a cell phone. So on the day the statewide lockdown began, police also arrested Tabler’s mother and sister.
Photo: Andrew Hetherington
Tabler himself has been segregated from the general population since his calling spree. In the hope that authorities will drop charges against his family members, he says, he’s cooperating with their investigation, giving up the names of guards involved in cell smuggling. That has put him at risk. “I’ve written to Governor Rick Perry’s office, told him, ‘Look, I apologize for this drama I caused,’” he says. “‘But I fear for my life. I’m having threats from officers.’” And prison gangs: Furious that he triggered a crackdown on the phones they rely on to do business, the gangs have put a half-million-dollar bounty on his head, he claims.
“They’ve got cameras everywhere since that Tabler-Whitmire thing,” death row inmate Henry Skinner told me soon afterward. “Right now you couldn’t get a phone no matter how much you had. That Tabler messed up a lot of things for us.”
For a while, anyway. The lockdown Tabler sparked was lifted in November. Since then, another 310 phones have been found in the hands of Texas inmates—including four on death row.
Vince Beiser (vincelb@sbcglobal.net) wrote about new energy storage technologies in issue 17.04.
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*Prosecutors have begun investigating whether to charge ex-heavyweight champion Mike Tyson and a photographer for a fight at Los Angeles International Airport.
*Oprah Winfrey’s much-anticipated interview of Sarah Palin brought her talk show its highest ratings in two years.
*In a recent radio interview with Atlanta’s The Bert Show, Janet Jackson refered to Jermaine Dupri as her “ex,” despite recent reports that the two were back together (and had never been apart) after previous rumors suggested they had broken up.
*”The Wendy Williams Show” has been renewed on Fox TV stations through the 2011-12 season, even though ratings in most markets have been modest, according to the Hollywood Reporter.
*The Los Angeles city attorney wants back the $3 million it shelled out for Michael Jackson’s memorial at the Staples Center, a spokesman said Monday, despite an audit concluding the event generated even more revenue for the city.
*Despite losing an earlier court battle, the father of Michael Jackson will try again to challenge the two businessman named as executors of his son’s estate – this time by trying to prove that his son’s will was forged.
*Janet Jackson made a surprise appearance at Los Angeles mall The Grove last weekend to personally witness a flash mob that featured a choreographed number to her greatest hits. [click title link to watch video.]
*Allhiphop.com is reporting that the mothers of rappers T-Pain, Lil Wayne and R&B singer Ne-Yo have teamed to launch their own talk show entitled “Dinner Table Discussions.”
*What in the hell is goin’ on in the ATL? Are the high school kids down there that gangsta? If you had to judge from this incident in suburban Atlanta, you would think that the kids are completely out of control. [click title link to watch video.]
*Director Lee Daniels says he felt compelled to bring the story of child abuse to the big screen in “Precious” because it helped heal the scars from his own painful past.
*Oprah Winfrey gave Robin Givens a lengthy apology on her live show last Friday over the manner in which she dealt (or didn’t deal) with a comment made last month by the actress’ ex-husband Mike Tyson.
*The latest party to file a creditor’s claim against Michael Jackson’s estate is the law firm that represented him against Debbie Rowe in 2005.
*50 Cent will play Santa for single mothers this holiday season as part of “50’s Money For Moms” contest, in conjunction with BET.
*Chris Brown got an earful of judgment from a woman during a public promo appearance in New York last week. [click title link to watch video]
*The reality show filmed by Shaquille and Shaunie O’Neal before their marriage took a decisive turn last week may find its way to at least one network still willing to give it a chance.
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s regarding Michael Jackson’s autopsy results! It’s been reported that prescription drugs were involved in the singer’s death, but our source says an illegal drug – allegedly heroin – was found in Jackson’s system. This explains the search of Jackson’s rented mansion for needles, despite the family’s attempts to attribute it to prescribed drugs administered by injection.
To hear my mother say, ‘Michael is dead,’ to feel and hear the tone in her voice to say her child is dead, is nothing that anyone can ever imagine 
Grieving fans were rattled when Michael Jackson’s father Joe Jackson showed up carefree at the BET Awards Sunday night, 3 days after MJ’s death, with a somber Janet Jackson in tow, while the rest of the clan mourned at the Jackson compound.
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