Agent 2 Inmate: The Federal Bully System

By Thomas William Thorndike

This is a true story that reveals firsthand the Federal Justice Department's tricks and corrupt practices to indict and imprison anyone who may fall in their sights. Guilty or innocent, it makes no difference to them. Like police issuing speeding tickets, they ignore the facts and do anything to meet quotas imposed by their superiors. I lived among these dishonest tactics but would not acquiesce to these unethical practices while performing my duties as a young US Treasury special agent, only to become disillusioned with the overzealous prosecutors trying, to no avail, to insist on me testifying to lies just to convict otherwise innocent defendants.

I left these criminals to pursue a career in private practice where I found true integrity and honor among top-flight executives at Union Carbide Corporation. I traveled the world, climbed to the highest ranks of international business, and later began my own tax and investment consulting firm, only to fall victim to the same monsters I worked for some thirty-five years earlier. I watched them firsthand lie on a search warrant, lie to the grand jury, threaten witnesses, and falsify information on an indictment all in their attempt to convict somebody, anybody, in an investigation all based on false informant statements traded to free a family member of real high crimes.

You will hear the story of my orphan childhood, only to push myself through high school, college, graduate schools on my own and to gain admittance to some of the most difficult positions to obtain. An absolute perfect record only to be entrapped and forced to plead guilty to charges I did not commit. You will learn of the government's tricks, lies, and corruption of its own agents all to "win at all costs." These people are not our friends, nor are they here to help. You will hear my survival stories as a child, an adult, and a sixty-three-year ex-Federal agent entering Federal prison to challenge my final survival performance.

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• Language: English
• Publisher: Fulton Books, Inc.
• Release date: Oct 15, 2021
• ISBN: 9781649528377

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Agent 

2 

Inmate

The Federal Bully System

Thomas William Thorndike

Copyright © 2021 Thomas William Thorndike

All rights reserved

First Edition

Fulton Books, Inc.

Meadville, PA

Published by Fulton Books 2021

ISBN 978-1-64952-836-0 (paperback)

ISBN 978-1-64952-838-4 (hardcover)

ISBN 978-1-64952-837-7 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Dedication

My three children, Tommy, Jon and Sarah-Anne and their spouses, stood by me when these bullies attacked over childish wrongdoing that did not ever exist. My kids never left my side and continued to support me through the ridiculous witch hunt investigation, my trial, the incarceration and thereafter. I love them dearly. I also must thank my ex-wife and the mother of my children, Therese. She came to my rescue despite the fact that we were divorced and had not spoken in 10 years. She wrote character letters to the court, offered to testify, and stayed in touch with me during the time I was locked up, all the time knowing I did nothing wrong. The saying holds true, there are only two things important in life, your health and your family.

Author’s Biography

Education

Wharton School

1987–1988 Executive MBA International Finance

University of Connecticut—Graduate School of Business

1975–1979 MBA Finance

University of Central Connecticut

1971–1974 BS Accounting

Federal Law Enforcement Training Center

1977–1978

Basic and Advance Training for Special Agents

Work Experience

Financial Consulting

2019–present: Joining senior management to streamline the efficiency of business with improved procedures, computers, software, accounting practices, and review of operational activities.

Villa Roma Resort—lifeguard and Ski Patrol

2018-2019: I enjoyed my 12 months of Probation providing life support services to 4 large pools during the summer months, and the interior pool in the winter. I saved 8 children during that summer. I also provided ski patrol services during the winter months

Cornerstone Financial—Tax and Investment Adviser

1990–2013: Developing company structures to a wide spectrum of businesses. Providing tax, investment, insurance, and retirement planning advice to both businesses and individuals.

Union Carbide Corporation—Director of Africa and Middle East

1985–1990: Routinely traveling to seven different countries in this area of the world to manage and develop our business, repatriate investments, work and develop local management, and report to senior management.

Union Carbide Corporation—Director of Special Investigations

1982–1985: Developing newly created position to uncover, investigate, and resolve improprieties within this worldwide company of 122,000 employees over several continents. UCC had over 1,000 physical locations. I was highly rated at this new position and hired away by the international division once investigating a serious problem in the Ivory Coast.

United States Treasury Department—Special Agent

1977–1982: Investigating white-collar offenses, dignitary protection details, firearms instructor, and large-case expert. Grade 12 in four years.

Prologue

This a true story I wrote while lying in my prison bunk, of a low-income boy growing up in the 1950s in a blue-collar beach town with his divorced mom and two siblings. We did not know we were poor or disadvantaged, and frankly, we did not care. We were happy. We lived in a three-family apartment house near the center of town with my mom’s sister and her family on one floor and my grandparents on the other. The simple life described by so many as the Wonder Years.

In those days, life was simple, and there were many heroes to admire. The WWII veterans, the firefighters and police officers that many of them became, and our US government who had so many admirable men and women. It was the days of John F. Kennedy, J. Edgar Hoover, and so many incredible war stories of regular men and women performing incredible acts of heroism to save their fellow man and to honor their country. My family fought in the war, my mom, Anne Davies, for the American WAVES (Women Accepted for Voluntary Emergency Service) and my father Norman Ball, for the US Army. Even my stepfather Charles Thorndike, who entered my life at age five, was extraordinarily strong and a great guy, who adopted me. He, too, was a hero as a Master Sergeant in the US Army. I was surrounded by heroes. Consequently, I wanted to be a hero myself, and I grew with these intentions and attributed my life to helping others and always doing the right thing to honor these great people.

I believed in the words truth and justice for all, and the good guys wearing the white hats were in search of the truth. Even when I served as a special agent for the US Treasury later in life, I was just as satisfied to learn the target or defendant was innocent and had not committed the crimes alleged. However, I quickly learned that the truth had no place in the new Federal Bully System. I discovered first hand from my experiences as an agent, and much later as a defendant, that these despicable people are only concerned with winning at any costs. The lying and illegal deeds start at the top and dribble down to the judges, prosecutors, and the agents and police. Believe me, the white hats are just a disguise!

The entire system does not care if the defendant is innocent, and uses tricks like Goliath attempts to defeat David with extraordinarily little chance of survival. However, it is a miracle when David can free himself with a small stone and a slingshot. Most just get eaten by the corrupt system. They all are trying to prove how important they are, justify their jobs, and place themselves in a position to gain a private-sector, high-paying job based on their convictions. The truth never even enters their minds. You will read how my prosecutor did not even care that many statements in his indictment were false. As their Target, they are only concerned if they can get caught disguising the truth, misrepresenting the facts, scaring witnesses to lie in their favor, and even lying to judges concerning the rule of law, as they did in my case.

Thank God, these monsters are finally being exposed at all levels, and perhaps someday we will force our country to treat all people fairly and presume the defendants are innocent until proven guilty. I believe they are training all enforcement servants just the opposite. This is a big problem with the distrust of our public servants today.

Section I

Background

Chapter 1

Introduction

It was a brisk March Monday morning 2011, and I was sitting on the back steps of my beach house in Milford, Connecticut, looking out over the ocean, showered and dressed at 5:45 am. Certainly an early hour for a sixty-year-old businessman, who had sold his tax and investment practice almost one year prior in expectation of the truth not setting him free.

I had atypically locked my best friend, Reilly, a four-year-old 105-pound German shepherd, in the house, and he was not happy about it. He was always by my side, on guard, and especially if I was home and within his sight. Reilly traveled everywhere with me, and he enjoyed the long trips to Vermont, where he and I spent many long weekends building my cabin in the mountains. Shadow, his black Lab brother, was asleep. But he traveled with us just hoping to get some more food.

What Reilly did not know was that the US government had lied and misrepresented their trumped-up charges, sufficient to convince a grand jury to indict me for filing a false tax return after their three-year investigation. Ridiculous allegations, and they were on their way to get me all for $47,000 of alleged taxes owed and $17,000 of interest. The indisputable and documented facts presented in this writing prove that, truth and justice are no longer the motto of the US Justice Department, but rather today, it is to win at all costs. Gangster John Gotti best restated the famous Judge Sol Wachtler 1985 quote, They could even indict a ham sandwich. I did not owe any taxes, but the Bullies had manufactured a case cooked up by an overzealous prosecutor.

I had learned from a friend that the seven-person gestapo attack team would be heading to my home at this ungodly hour after not being able to find me on the previous Friday afternoon. Their intent was to disrupt the target’s (me) life in any way possible regardless of the evidence, or better yet the lack of evidence, having convicted me in their own minds, and then to manufacture the evidence to support their false allegations and, most importantly, to win at all costs. Finding the truth was irrelevant. This is not Dirty Harry chasing and arresting a bank robber, but rather Barney Fife looking to arrest Aunt Bee for illegally parking outside the sheriff’s office while delivering an apple pie. The only difference is, Barney did not have real bullets in his gun. And these idiots did.

This Government patrol had intended to locate me on the previous Friday afternoon so that they could take me into custody and make me sit in the US Marshal lockup in Bridgeport, Connecticut, over the weekend, awaiting to be presented to a US magistrate for arraignment and to set bail. This gestapo unit searched for me and tracked my cell phone, by using US Marshal proprietary searching software, and found my phone sitting in my Escalade (also tractable by them through OnStar) parked at my gym—exactly where I had hoped they would find it, purposely parked as a diversion all day since I learned of their dishonorable intentions. After I parked the SUV, I went to lunch and then to the movies, only to see the Government Bully patrol surrounding my vehicle as I drove past on the way home. I knew the gestapo did not get paid overtime on the weekends, so I was safe until Monday. Hopefully on Monday I would be released without having to spend overnight in the Bridgeport lockup.

The three government attack police vehicles and the squad of seven heavily armed agents with bulletproof vests were surprised to see me sitting outside, awake, showered, dressed in a suit, and waiting for them on my back steps. These Bully personnel would have preferred to surprise their victim, also known as taxpaying citizens with no arrest or criminal record whatsoever, in bed so they can enter the victim’s home and search wherever they want, while the victim gets ready to be dragged away in handcuffs—hopefully, the defendant looking like hell in his PJs. Normal procedure for capturing today’s hardened criminals. The truth be told, these idiots would not know what to do if they were sent to arrest a real criminal. Even Barney Fife would be less afraid of his own shadow than these fat out-of-shape, make-believe law enforcement officers.

Think of the waste of time and taxpayer money spent on this arrest attack raid on my house when my criminal attorney had already informed the US attorney’s office that if I was to be indicted, I would certainly turn myself in at the Federal Building. Moreover, my attorney had already e-mailed the US attorney receipts reflecting that my personally owned handguns had been sold. Additionally, he informed the US attorney that he had in his possession my US passport. Where was I going to go?

Nonetheless, here comes the badge brigade of seven tactically dressed and armed to the teeth to assault my multimillion beach house and to arrest a sixty-year-old investment adviser, who could have turned himself into their office and had offered to do so. My only worry, when I learned of the armed Bin Laden assault, was for my best friend, Reilly. I knew Shadow would sleep through the ordeal, but not Reilly. The Bully Team knew of my dog and had certainly planned to neutralize him in any way they deemed fit in defense of themselves. Can anyone believe they still do this in our country, and can you picture Ruby Ridge evolving once again? I can! The overzealous federal agents assaulted and killed Randy Weaver’s wife Vicki and his child Sammy for allegedly being in possession of sawed-off barrels on shotguns in 1992. The allegations were proven false, but only after the Justice Department shot up his residence killing two.

As you will learn from these pages, the government is a comedy of errors and employs mostly substandard-quality individuals who could not get employment most anywhere in a for-profit environment. The unfortunate dilemma is, the American taxpayers have unknowingly allowed these Federal Bullies to dilute most of our constitutional rights over the years right from under our very noses. And one does not realize this until they are doing to you what they did to me and so many others. They do this in the name of National Security, the Patriot Act and Homeland Security and have granted themselves unlimited and unquestioned authority. One government employee approves the other’s misconduct. And the judges close their eyes. It is like giving Corporal Agarn of TV’s F Troop in the 1960s a detonation switch for a nuclear bomb, while Captain Parmenter watches and approves the activity. Yes, Corporal Agarn is an idiot, but he has the switch with no repercussions and has no accountability. Sounds familiar? Kind of like Waco, Texas, with government agents reacting to false statements from what else an informant, alleging wrongdoing. The Bullies attacked rather than to wait and burned down the Branch Davidian members building, killing seventy-six residents, including twenty-six children. All on allegations of illegal firearm possession. Come on, they are in Texas and everyone has a gun. Basically, the feds just did not like the residents of the compound and their long hair and alternative lifestyle in 1993. So, raid them and then burn all of them to death. Not one federal agent was punished or fired.

My entire story is intended to expose the level of terror currently lurking within our own Federal Bully System, formerly known as the Federal Justice System. My evidence presents the documented lies and misrepresentation of the truth, including the intentional misstatements of our own US tax laws and other lies by the special agents. My truth exposes the government attorneys’ scare tactics and misconduct (that is what they call lying for US attorneys), and worst of it all, the uncaring and asleep at the switch attitude by the gatekeepers of the Federal Bully System, the Federal judges.

This is my story of the truth, of how our government can and will attack anyone who comes or is placed within the crosshairs of their sites, for political or a personal favor. This reality of a nightmare is told by a highly educated, former senior US Treasury special agent (me,) with a meritorious record of high integrity and accomplishment, and who did elevate himself to a Fortune 30 US multinational corporation at the age of thirty-one and who became a Director Special Investigations and later promoted to a corporation officer of international business.

If you believe the truth will save you, when they come, as I did, just read this first hand encounter with the Feds spoken by a former Fed. If this is not sufficient to alarm you of the slipping away of your Constitutional rights, read the case of former Alaska US senator Ted Stevens, who became a political target in 2005 and was convicted. Later he was exonerated in 2007 after the six US attorneys were found to have lied and misconducted themselves. We must become proactive as a country and demand more of our elected representatives and those who are worn to protect us. The most recent unveiled cases in the FBI, CIA, IRS, Secret Service, etc. are just too much to ignore.

When will it stop? Is Germany 1941 in our near future?

Chapter 2

Early Years

I had worked hard for thirty-five years since graduating college and earned and reported all my income. I bought everything I owned myself, including the beachfront property. I had done so since I was thirteen years of age. I did not grow up in the life of privilege, nor did I steal anything or get anything for free. I lived away from my hometown, Milford, after going away to college and all those years working and raising my family. When I returned to Milford, this small city by the sea, I wanted to once again enjoy the easygoing life of this beach town and to help the children at risk living at Boys and Girls Village. This was the same town and the same people who had helped me when I was a client of the town orphanage, after I lost my family and was on my own. And as I learned as a kid, I needed to give back to those who had helped me when I was in need. It is just the way I was raised, like so many others who give and give today.

I grew up with my mother, older brother, and older sister. My father was no longer part of my life, since he had returned from WWII mentally distraught after being incarcerated for almost five years in a German prison camp. He married my mom after returning from the war and had us three children. However, he really was not right and had mental distress, and Mom divorced him when I was young, perhaps only two. I did not see him much after the divorce, but he sent birthday presents for a few years. Then he disappeared from our lies. I cannot imagine his pain and despair with his wife leaving him, losing his children out of his life, and fighting the demons in his head all by himself, especially after being incarcerated by the Nazis. I know my mom was thinking of her kids’ best interest when she left him, but this war hero was left on his own without his wife and three young children. Now that is real pain. I love you, Dad, and I am sorry for all that you endured. I wish I could hug you right now.

My mom then remarried my stepfather when I was about five years of age. My stepfather, Charlie, bought an old run-down farmhouse sitting on a large lot, and built around it were all new post-WWII 1950 Cape Cods and small ranch houses. Moving to this old house and property was like going to Disney World for us kids. We moved in a flash from the crowded three-family apartment building. But after we moved, we were less than two miles from my grandparents. It was a lower middle-class area where most people, like us, had one car, and most of the moms did not work. My mom needed to work and did so as a secretary in a factory office in town.

A short time after we moved to the farmhouse, my mom and stepdad had my younger brother. He is five years younger than me. My older brother, my sister, and I always considered my stepfather and our new brother as our own blood and family and not of another marriage. Our neighborhood was modest with all working people like teachers, policemen, utility workers, and office people living there; the town pharmacist lived next door. We grew up poor, as compared to our neighbors, but we were happy. We did not know the difference, and we played with whatever we had available. No special toys or expensive bikes, only regular stuff, and we had a ball and never complained. It was not the era of free anything, and the government was not handing out anything. Everyone took care of themselves, and if you needed money, you got a job and you worked. We learned at a young age that no one was going to give us anything, and we did not want it for free anyway but rather wanted to work for whatever we got. It was the WWII veterans struggling and making their way through life and we were their kids living with the greatest generation ever. And we did not even know it at the time. These great people who sacrificed everything to protect our way of life and gave up so much in doing so, like my dad and stepfather—they are the true heroes in my life, regular people doing the right thing.

My mom was my life and idol. She had been born in Wales and immigrated to the United States at the age of five in 1927 with her parents and three siblings. My mom, Anne Elizabeth Davies, was tall at five foot seven, very fit, blue eyes, and she had beautiful long dark hair. She was extremely attractive. She used to take me, my brother, and my sister to Gulf Beach in Milford, have all three of us sit on a beach towel, tell us not to move one inch, and she would drive in the ocean and swim for what seemed like miles then return to protect us once again. Still today, Gulf Beach is where I go to pray and heal the struggles of my everyday life. It was during these early years I learned to endure and not to complain, with so many others suffering much more than me. But just reading this description of my mom brings tears to my eyes.

My mom had a white German shepherd named Rex. He was first hers alone, and then he became the family pet once she married and had us kids. Rex was 125 pounds and never had to be tied up or restrained. He protected us and the neighborhood, and no one came near my mom or us kids if Rex did not approve. Rex lived until he was nineteen and a half, and my mom finally had to put him down after he became blind and deaf and unable to move on his own. I was about eight when Rex left us, and it broke all our hearts. Therefore, my most recent dog was a German shepherd, named Reilly. I lost him while I was in prison to cancer, along with a black Lab named Shadow, who passed at thirteen. I plan to get two more dogs when I get home and properly situated, and they will be the new wolves (dogs) in my life. I took a wonderful photo with Reilly sitting next to my mom’s headstone in Milford and sent it to all my siblings. None of us knew that God would attack my mom’s health the next year after taking Rex and walk her through six years of torture struggling with lupus, a disease that is manageable today. As I look back, these six years were the hardest of my life.I always worked as a kid, and I started by walking to Lou’s diner about one mile from our house and asking for the day-old doughnuts. Lou knew my mom was sick, and he knew the struggles of my dad and us kids. Funny, I did not know that he knew. Lou gave me the stale doughnuts. My siblings and I ate some, and the larger part I sold to the