/pol/ - Politically Incorrect

>>13576809

I kept saying, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry fellas”, and at one point I also asked them, “please don’t hurt me. Please don’t hit me,” that I was sorry, but, “there’s nothing I can do.” During this time my pants had fallen off. They must have seen the futility of trying to hold me up, so they gently lowered me to the ground. I was facing a raised garden bed, so they gently spun me around so that my back was kind of supported by that garden bed. The US Marshal in charge looked down at me and he spoke to me in a soft brotherly way. He said, “You okay, Joe? You going to be okay?” Sitting on the ground looking up at him, my body was being wracked by convulsions. I had one hundred percent body trembling going on. I said, “I’m trying, brother. You can see me trying, right?” He said softly to me, “Joe, how would it be, if one of us got on one side of you and one got on the other and we picked you up off the ground and we helped you pull your pants up.” I was sitting there and my pants were down around my ankles and I didn’t have any underwear on. I looked up at him, and I managed to say, “That would be swell, because I’m really not enjoying sitting here buck naked in front of five guys.” So they gently picked me up, and they pulled up my pants for me and they gently placed me on that raised garden bed.

It was about this time that the leader of the crew said in an irritated voice, “What the fuck are we doing here?” Then he jerked his thumb at me and told his partners “this guy’s no threat.”

At this point, my wife, Jennifer, exited the rear of our house onto the back porch. One of the guys that was visiting had gone in and told Jennifer that there were three U.S. Marshals in the back yard arresting Joe. She came running out. She exclaimed, “Oh my god! Joe! What are they doing to you?” She ran over, and threw both her arms around my neck. I was sitting there, just completely fried, and wracked with pain and convulsions, shaking uncontrollably. She kept saying, “It’ll be okay, honey. It will be alright. You’ll be okay,” while I was sitting there saying, “This is it. I’m a dead man.” She said, “No! You’re going to be okay. I said, “Honey, they’re going to lock me away from my medicine. I’m a dead man. I can’t survive without my medicine.” And this was when my wife stood up, looked directly at the head of the U.S. Marshal team and exclaimed, “Oh my god! His medicine! Can we get him his medicine?” The U.S. Marshall said, in a dubious voice, “Medicine! What kind of medicine? Pills?” My wife said, “No, no, no! Cannabis oil! It controls his PTSD!” The U.S. Marshal leader, without any hesitation whatsoever, said, “Sure! Go get it!” And my wife went running off into the house with one of the U.S. Marshals in tow.

>>13576811

The U.S. Marshals and I, we get out onto Hwy 99 and headed on down to downtown Eugene. I’m in the backseat and next to me is one of the U.S. Marshal team. He’s on his laptop, and he’s clickety- clack, clickety-clack, typing away at his report for this assignment: the arrest of Joseph Watling. We get down to the light before you make the left-hand turn to go to the jail, and he stopped typing. He looked over at me and he said, “Joe? Can you walk?” I said, “Sure, if I don’t have to walk too far and if I don’t have to walk too fast.” He said, “Joe? Look out the front window. You see that brown building over there? With the brown roll-up door? Well, that’s the jail.” I leaned over to get a good look at it, and stated, “Oh. I’ve never seen it before.” Then he said, “Joe, when we pull up in front of that door, we’ll call up the jail, and they’ll raise that door for us. Now Joe, if we pull in there and if we stop immediately and get out and come around and get you out, and take you straight into jail, Joe, that’s a signal to the people in the jail that the prisoner coming in is trouble.” And he said, “Joe, lean forward. You see that parking lot over there by the jail?” and I said, “yes, sir.” “Joe, if we pull up there and they raise that door, and instead of pulling in and stopping and getting you out, if we just wing it on through there and out to the parking lot, Joe, that’s a signal, to the jail, that the prisoner coming in is no trouble. Do you think you can walk from the parking lot to the jail, Joe?” And I said, “If you fellas help me, and if I don’t have to walk too fast, yeah, I can walk there.” So when the door went up, they just winged it on through there and parked it in the parking lot.

>>13576812

They got out and came around, opened up my door and got me out. I was a little unsteady on my feet, and since my hands were cuffed in front of me, I couldn’t really stabilize myself, so the U.S. Marshals took ahold of me and steadied me up. After a few seconds, one of them said, “You okay, Joe?” I said, “yes sir, I’m okay, let’s go,” and we started walking towards the jail door. I was remembering eighteen years earlier, the last time I was arrested and put in jail, for another DUI. I remembered the promise I made to myself, that this would be the last time I ever went to jail. And here I was, going to jail again, eighteen years later, and this time, I really didn’t know why. I found this funny, and I started to laugh. The laughter turned to gut-laughter, red in the face and doubled over, still walking towards the jail. One of the U.S. Marshals looked at me and he said, “What’s so funny?” I said, “This is me! Going to jail!” and they started to laugh too. Then one of them said, “And this is us, taking you there!” And we laughed even louder.

We got to the door to the jail, still laughing; but as soon as the door buzzer opened the door, the smiles and laughter were replaced by a more somber tone. We entered the jail, and I slowed down, having never been in that jail, I didn’t know what to do. The team leader said “Joe, just follow those other two guys, we’re going into that room right there. As soon as we entered the room, one of the Marshals closed the door.

The room that we had entered had directional down-lighting so it was dimly lit. My eyes were adjusting and I realized that I was standing in the jail cop locker room! I’d always heard that prisoners weren’t allowed in this room because of the ordinance. I looked back at the leader of the Marshals. He was standing with his back to the door. I noticed that he was saying something; but I couldn’t hear anything that he was saying. I looked very closely at him, and realized he was talking to me; but without any sound, and what he was saying was, “Joe, don’t be afraid. Come closer.” I noticed that his eyes kept going down toward his hand, so I followed his eyes down to his hand, and two fingers were making a come here signal. I moved closer to him, and he moved closer to me. He gently directed me toward the wall, my left shoulder was tight up against the brick wall and his right shoulder was tight up against the same wall, and we were crushed together, chest to chest. He leaned over, put his mouth directly to my ear and whispered, in a voice so low I had trouble hearing it, “Joe, brother, don’t be afraid. Everything is going to be okay, buddy. And I don’t think it’s fair that these cop wannabes get to watch us take you out of those cuffs.” He then, in a normal voice, called Seth, another U.S. Marshal, who came over. He whispered in his ear, “Get over here so these guys can’t see us take Joe out of these cuffs.” They completely blocked anyone from seeing their interaction with me. Then the Marshal talked into my ear again. He gave me instructions, such as, “turn your hand over, now let it down to your side”, to get me out of the cuffs. He unlocked the belt let it fall to the floor, and then he went right back to his street voice, and said, “Well now, Joe. As you can see, the fellows are getting into their civvies and me, I have to finish this report on this assignment, Joe. Why don’t you have a seat on that bench, oh, and here’s your water,” he handed me my quart jar of water from home.

There was some banter going on, a little bit of laughing. And then they were done and ready. All three of those U.S. Marshals came walking up to me. They said, “I’m sorry, Joe, but we gotta turn you over to the jail now.” I said, “Fellas, before we do, could I say something?” And the leader said, “Sure.” I said, “I want you guys to know, how much it means to me, how gentle you’ve been, how concerned you’ve been about my physical well-being, how you interacted with my wife, how kind you were to her, how you let me have my PTSD medicine and the time to let it kick in.” I said, “fellas, you guys are absolute pros, and don’t ever let anyone tell you different.” I stuck out my hand, and each one of the Marshals shook it in turn. They said, “Thanks, Joe.” And then one of the Marshals opened the door and we all walked out.

>>13576814

It was 10 o’clock at night, I told my wife Jennifer that I was tired and was going to bed. I asked her if she wanted to turn in. She said she wanted to stay up and get some computer time, so I went to bed. Jen said that about 11:30 PM, she heard a knock at the front door. When she opened the door, she did not recognize the young man who had knocked, and was hesitant to let him in. She said, “Do I know you?” To which he replied, “Yes, I’ve been here before. I’m Skyler, Robert’s friend,” referring to Robert Mortensen. Jen said he looked like a respectable young man, so she took him at his word and let him in. She didn’t recognize him because he had only been to the house two times before with Robert and his group of friends. He had always sat on the couch, between the others, worn a beanie and had sat slumped back on the couch while his friends sat forward, so this was the first time she had gotten a good look at him.

When Skyler sat down in the living room, he told Jennifer that he wanted to make a five dollar donation for one gram of cannabis, which Jen thought odd, considering that he looked well-dressed and he had made the effort to come out so late for so little; but she didn’t say anything to him about it. She said he was pleasant enough, engaging in a little small talk, than thanked her and left.

At 12.30 AM, I was sleeping soundly, when Jennifer, who had come to bed at my request right after Skyler had left, was shaking me and saying in an earnest voice, “Joe! Wake up!” over and over. I finally roused from my sleep and said, “What’s up?” Jennifer said, “Joe! Listen! What’s that noise!” Then I heard it too. It sounded like someone or something was hitting the house very hard. The sound had a rhythm to it, crash…crash, with several seconds passing by between blows. I sat up in bed, got up, walked to the end of the hallway, following the sound and looked to the right, towards the front door. Standing there naked, as I do not wear pajamas to bed, I could see and hear that the crashing was coming from outside our front door. This seemed like a dream to me, and I remembered saying to myself “Oh, man!” and turned around and walked, not ran, back to the bedroom.

As I walked into the bedroom, I saw Jennifer hurriedly getting dressed. I walked to the M4 rifle we kept on Jennifer’s side of the bed, picked it up and walked right back down to the end of the hallway. The front door was still being hit hard as Jenifer walked up behind me, and just as she got there the crashing stopped. She touched me on the right shoulder, and whispered, “Is it was over?” I turned to her and said, “I don’t know, Pud.” But it was not over. I could see and hear, and Jen could just hear. Out back of garage we both heard something crash, something had gotten knocked over, and then I saw a person coming across our back porch patio, shrouded in darkness. I couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman. This person walked deliberately up to our back porch sliding door and kicked it with the flat of their right foot, three hard blows, and on the forth kick this person fell to the ground: he or she had hit a glancing blow. I watched as this person got up and disappeared behind the wall that is between the back porch door and the window over my wife’s kitchen sink. I saw a hand and a forearm come from behind the wall. It grabbed the screen in the window and ripped it out, then it pushed the sash open and then all of a sudden there was this person, silhouetted in our kitchen window, from the shoulders to the top of their head. I was no longer just standing watching, I had moved back and was very quickly moving out to see what was going on and then moving back to a position of concealment, a snap shot if you will. It was one of these snap shots that showed me that this person was now trying to get up into the window.

>>13576815

Outside, under my wife’s kitchen window, I had stored, on a dolly with wheels, a table saw, and on top of that a 10 inch chop saw. This person was using this to gain entrance to our house, by using it to climb up on; however, the wheels on this homemade dolly were not locked and it went out from under him and he fell, knocking over stuff we had out on the back porch. I admit that very quickly I thought, “The front door, the back door and now the kitchen window? All that noise! Surely this person was not going to keep trying to come into my house!” But I was wrong, and one of the snap shots showed me that this person now was partially in my home. His knees were on the window sill and his left hand was griping the kitchen cupboard. This was when I saw a glint of light off the barrel of the gun in his right hand. I turned to Jennifer and whispered “They have a gun!” It was in this instant that I decided to shoot. I took aim at the center of the window and pulled the trigger, but the rifle report was a click! I had not remembered to load the gun! This I did very quickly. Thinking to myself, “Please don’t jam!” And bringing the gun back up, sighting on the center of the window, I pulled the trigger and the rifle fired and I watched as this person, still not knowing whether or not they were man or women, fell backwards. As this person fell backwards, the gun in their right hand went off and this person landed with yet another crash. Then this person got up and took off running. Moments later we heard what sounded like four gun shots out in front of our house.

Everything went quiet after that. Jen and I were still standing there, listening when there was a loud knocking at our front door. A male voice yelled, “Hey Joe, Jen! Are you guys ok?” I shouted “Who is it?” and he said, “Eric! Your next door neighbor!” I couldn’t get the front door open, so I told him to come to the back door, which he did. He came in, saw that I was shaking and offered to help me down the hallway to the bedroom so I could get dressed and this is when I put the rifle on the foot of the bed and returned to the living room.

>>13576816

The morning of the shooting, the cops set up a camera in the living room to film statements from the Watlings, both of whom are based as fuck. When Joe was in front of the camera, he was thinking that here was an opportunity to tell truth to power, so he let it rip. Right out of the gate the cop filming it asked "When did you think about calling the 911?". Joe laughed and responded, "why would I call you guys? You're more likely to shoot me than to do anything I need done". They just kept asking him questions, it went on for over an hour. We're thinking this is a political hit. Interestingly, the DA at the time had submitted a 1 year notice of resignation and she timed Joe's arrest to coincide with her last day in office.

We've all read about SWAT teams breaking into people's homes. Police tactics are so heavy-handed. The US Marshals, on the other hand, they are real pros. They know how to access a situation, and they know when they've been used as a political weapon. I am so grateful the DA at the time, Patricia Perlow, brought the US Marshals in to make the arrest. You bet we're going to be suing Lane County! One of the Bluest Counties in Oregon!

>>13576859

The cops didn't bother to arrest the two people in the getaway car, despite the perp dying because of the attempted home invasion, and despite the driver being caught lying multiple times during the initial interview, and the passenger having a warrant out for his arrest! And when they opened up the perpetrator's phone, they found he'd been stealing and selling cars and guns, selling drugs, and "all sorts of other crimes!"

The probably Soros-appointed DA involved in Joe Watling's case didn't choose to bring charges against the other two individuals involved in the crime, but she also waited over two years before charging Joe with what the USMarshals termed a "petty charge". She had him arrested on her last day in office, and on a Friday, which would have been a death sentence for him because of his Complex PTSD.

The reason he was given possession of the firearm by his wife was because he is a US Marine -trained sharpshooter while she was not.