Patriots put PN Principles to Work in Tax Court
By Nelson
It was like a convention. People were streaming into the large, imposing building on the spacious downtown boulevard. At the door to the main room, old friends were greeting each other and new acquaintances were being made.
But this was no convention—it was tax court day in
Nevertheless a warm, hopeful atmosphere prevailed. That's the way it is in the freedom movement—when you know you've got the law on your side and have done your homework carefully, it changes everything, especially when Dr. Clarkson is helping you and you're among trusted compatriots. It seemed that five or six patriots under his tutelage were due for a "treatment" that day. Many had no idea what to expect aside from the obvious fact that state and federal governments are predatorial, even cannibalistic, toward citizens today.
I had never been to tax court before, and was immediately struck by the banality of it all. It had the feel of a great sheep-shearing operation. There were layers of lawyers whose only goal was clearly to help the court turn the "taxpayers" upside down and shake them. When the session began, it turned out a judge was presiding who mumbled the whole time.
This was the second or third time I had seen a court run by a mumbling judge who was inaudible and—even worse—seemed almost proud of the fact. I don't pretend to understand this. The courtroom was small and all one had to do was speak in a normal conversational tone to be heard clearly. But this the judge refused. I asked the clerk of court during the first break if a microphone could be set up for him and politely protested that neither the defendants nor their lawyers nor observers from the public like me could hear him worth a hoot. She said she would look into it.
I asked what the microphone already on the bench by the judge was for, and she replied that it was only for recording the proceedings. The rest of the day, of course, was no different. I try to be decent and objective about things, but really, for cases to be heard by judges who are indifferent or defiant over the matter of whether they can be heard is a sign that something is very wrong.
Several "regular" cases were heard, and then the tax patriots. I am acquainted with several of the intended sacrificial victims. All handled themselves very well considering they're not used to being put on the block to answer for the crime of making a living. One was of especial note, being an old friend of mine through the movement and surely the least fit to endure the IRS's rack and thumbscrew—Henry Patriot
Henry is 87 years old. He lives alone because his wife is in a nursing facility. He is understandably slow-moving and hard of hearing and his house burned down a couple of years ago. Did His Honor speak up for the benefit of his fellow oldster? Not a bit. Henry had trouble standing up, hearing the judge and even hearing the prosecutorial lawyer standing next to him trying to get the judge to finish Henry off. Henry repeatedly asked them to speak more clearly but they didn't care to—or to explain why not.
Henry's case was the first one up after the first break. The judge thankfully agreed to let Henry's friend Chris sit with him at the sacrificial victims' table and help him with his papers.
From there I'm sorry to say things went downhill. The judge and lawyers talked to Henry like a common criminal, even challenging him on whether he was actually married. I believe the result Dr. Clarkson helped him and some others achieve was a gain of some critically useful time in the process of their cases through the system. The court overall showed the imprint of the new world order and thoroughly yankeefied ideas of ethics and decorum. I'm sorry for them that they lack the basic humanity to give a man a break in Henry's position. I believe that not only is his case legally out of their reach on a great many counts, but that in no other "civilized" country would he even be bothered—even if still technically liable.
The same one lawyer got most or all of the patriots' cases. He was a fussbudget—one is tempted to say a colicky baby—who caused a scene when he initially saw Dr. Clarkson enter the room that morning. Dr. Clarkson politely but firmly explained that he, as a citizen in good standing, had the right to go and be wherever the law allowed—including right there. The lawyer's nerves were wrecked and he moped about the courtroom acting like a cat in a roomful of rocking chairs. His voice waxed shrill and his shirttails hung out while addressing the judge.
A gentleman in the audience was seen noiselessly taking pictures with his cell phone. He was finally noticed by two of the lawyers up front and they immediately started hollering to the judge about it. The judge presently got the picture and questioned the man. He answered that he hadn't known it was against the rules and had put the phone away. The judge looked at him, dumfounded. The lawyers bleated at the judge to confiscate the phone.
The judge ordered him to leave instead. As the gentleman left the two lawyers bleated at him "and take your phone with you"—excitedly and sassily, like would-be bullies. Evidently they had never seen artists drawing courtroom scenes as they happen. The rule against cameras is a relic from when they had to have flashes and made noises.
The session after lunch was very short. The defendants went home having added much valuable experience to the teaching they've gotten from Dr. Clarkson about proper procedure—and confident, overall, of the law vindicating them in due time.