Richard Biggs's Blog

For the immediate future I won’t be writing on this blog, instead devoting my time to a journal of my experiences in writing a book about a drug lord. You can follow it at: www.dicksbook.net

Have a good one.

I’ve started a new blog to record my experiences in researching a drug king’s involvement with the CIA and others. The upcoming book’s title is, A Species of Insanity. The blog can be seen at www.dicksbook.net

Will you see my footprints

We come in dust and leave in wind

Will you see my footprints

When the beginning meets the end

I’ve never been much concerned about my legacy. When I’m gone, I’ve moved on to another place. No, it doesn’t concern me. I’m more interested in the effect I can have while I’m here. Can I convince others that God wants them to have joy, not just happiness because happiness comes and goes while joy stays with us. Can I convince my grandchildren they need to walk constantly with God? Can I convince them that we’re all alike, no matter if we’re skinny or not, handsome or not, brilliant or not. Will they understand that all this drama in their life will seem amusing as they gain life experience? Will they understand that we can only advance through experience, so embrace life, cherish it, and always relate back to the Source. Will they understand that goals can be met through many different doors, so never give up—-Never.

These things are more important to me than what someone might say or write about me later on. Like Jimmy Buffet said: I’d rather die while I’m living than live while I’m dead.

Peace,

Dick

I read an interesting and well-written article by a lady discussing what women wear. Specifically, she talked about wearing the skin-tight yoga pants that many women choose, not only for exercise but to go to stores, soccer games, etc. It was her thought that such attire creates lust in men and that it’s a woman’s scriptural obligation to be modest in her clothing.

Now, while I understand her motive, and agree to some degree—for instance, I wonder why women wear ultra-short skirts and revealing blouses to church (but that’s just me)—as a man I find the article somewhat off putting. It’s as though she classifies all men as young boys who can get aroused by reading the newspaper or watching a racy episode of Sponge Bob Square Pants. When we pass through that stage and become adults, we are no longer just controlled by testosterone; we allow other things to govern us. Yoga pants! How about bathing suits—no, I’m not talking about strings, just suits in general. They show the woman’s curves, so is she supposed to cover when she enters the water? What next, veils?

I understand this isn’t what she was suggesting but once you open that box, it’s open. Is it a woman’s obligation to dress so that men have no temptation to undress her in their minds? In my opinion, it’s that kind of thinking that reduces women to objects to be at men’s disposal; let’s put her in her place. If a woman walks up to me and undresses, am I supposed to lose control or simply admire the view? If I walk into a bar and order a beer, am I supposed to feel a responsibility to someone who might be an alcoholic? We can quote scripture and while you might see black, I see white. So, doesn’t it come down to individual responsibility? If a woman wants to wear clothing that shows her attributes, is it any different than a man wearing a custom made suit or showing off his muscles with a skin-tight shirt? Or have I missed something and it’s only men who lust.

If a woman thinks she has to cover up to remove my lust, what must she think of me? We are all created by God and if we walk with Him, what worry do we have? We, for the most part, are not fragile pieces of china, broken by the slightest trembling. My God is not a god of don’t’s.

ROCK ON WOMEN!

1) I will not abuse anyone nor tolerate abuse

2) I will not laugh at offensive jokes

3) I will not judge by color or race

4) I will not hate

5) I will not eat peaches

6) I will not give up

Well, God gave me the answer. My separation was because I was getting too anxious about world results. In other words, I was allowing happiness to be dependent on what I wanted, instead of just observing and enjoying. Happiness is when your team wins while Joy is knowing it doesn’t make any difference. God reminded me once again of this truth: He wants me to experience Joy.

I’m certain this is the message from Him. Think about it for a moment. Doesn’t the search for happiness lead us on a roller coaster ride through life? But the Joy of knowing that God loves us and His love is unconditional, and that He wants us to have a great life, and all we have to do is to accept that truth, embrace it totally—isn’t that wonderful? It overshadows all the small victories and defeats.

Yes, we should feel elation over our successes and disappointment over defeats, but we need to step back and put everything in perspective. Why are we here? What does God want for us? We need to clothe ourselves in Him, enjoy His presence, and allow Joy to dominate our thoughts.

May you find peace,

Dick

There are times when I feel separated from God, and the last couple of weeks have been that way. I have no idea why. I attempt to never let Him stray far from my thoughts; yet, something hasn’t seemed right lately. This isn’t the first time it’s happened.

Usually, I feel a close connection to God, and always at those times there is a wonderful peace in my life. I’ve tried to reconstruct my thoughts—have I allowed ego to enter, have I allowed anger to creep in—but nothing seems much different than usual. Sometimes I think my impatience with people is the problem that shoves a barrier between us. After all, God is infinitely patient—at least He has been with me. In church this morning, I asked for understanding and the sermon touched on material aspects of our lives. Perhaps that was God speaking to me. Perhaps I’ve allowed the outside world to crowd my thoughts too much.

Tonight, I’ll meditate on the problem and see what God tells me. I’ll let you know.

Love,

Dick

My complaints paid off and the books were finally delivered. However, he’s still not getting his papers daily, but at this prison, small victories are appreciated.

Some of you might think that inmates, many who have done bad stuff, don’t deserve anything else, but ask yourself what’s the purpose of prison. Taking away a person’s freedom is pretty bad so why treat them like mad dogs. It’s not an easy answer, this prison problem, but surely there’s a better way. Anyway, just thought I’d let you know what’s been going on.

May you find peace in your life,

Dick

I’m including the intro to my unfinished book. Let me know what you think.

Peace,

Dick

Engineers are supposed to be boring, and I assume that for the previous three plus decades I fulfilled that perception. But in reality, most of are boring, especially when we talk about work. However, almost magically, once I moved into my second career and became a writer, that all changed. I became interesting.

Why are writers considered interesting? The answer, I believe, is that we live in a world out of the ordinary. Fiction writers create their world while nonfiction writers delve into areas hidden from most. People turn to books to escape the ordinary. While they might say they want to receive knowledge or be entertained, deep down where the truth can’t hide they know they want to journey into another realm.

My first book was about a remarkable lady who saw the conditions in the Appalachian Mountains of eastern Kentucky and chose to do something to help. I was asked to speak to several groups and a local newspaper ran a full page story about the book. I was interesting.

I created a You Tube video, got a website, started a blog, obtained a twitter account, because people were interested—not only in me but in the people in Appalachia.

Then I heard about Jerry Allen LeQuire, a man I thought was interesting, and was shocked when I discovered that I was nearly alone with that thought. He was in prison and nearly forgotten. Did this make him any less interesting?

Jerry was serving 56 years on various charges relating to his drug smuggling career in the 1980’s. At the time of his arrest, he was the largest cocaine smuggler in the southeast and had accumulated about $400 million. Authorities claimed he had hidden $280 million and dug up a farm looking for the money. None was found. This alone made him interesting.

So I contacted him and we began to talk. Our visits became more frequent and we began writing emails. I soon understood that I was becoming the student and he was the teacher. And the prison was my classroom. As we got into the details of his marijuana and cocaine smuggling career, I found myself more and more wanting to know about other things. What about the people he had met in his thirty years of incarceration, what were his thoughts about God and spiritual matters, what were his views on—well, the list of questions was long.

For most of his time in prison, no one cared much about him. His second wife had betrayed him and was in witness protection, many of his friends had turned against him to reduce prison time, and he was estranged from his family.

He told me stories about prison life, like when he was at Marion, which at that time was a super max prison, he remained in lockdown for 10 years. Marion was the worst, he explained. After two guards were murdered, goon squads from other prisons would be sent to randomly beat prisoners.

I listened and realized that there was a lost society in America that few knew about; those in prison. And I wondered why we had allowed something like this to happen.

My opinions do not always make me popular. Many people have strong ideas (often false) about punishment. I have suggestions, if asked, but don’t know if they are anything but because the problem can’t be solved by an equation. Answers don’t come readily.

I have spent well over a hundred hours talking with Jerry and have listened to him talk about everything from murder to politics. He has made me think about my own life, my choices, and especially my relationship to the rest of the world.

So, as I wrote the book (and I enjoyed the process) I knew it would have to more than just the story of drug smuggling and his relationship with both the CIA and Medellin cartel leaders. It would be about the vagaries of life—both his and mine. I came to understand that sometimes there is a fine line between the American dream and the American nightmare.

 

Haven’t posted in a long time so here goes:

My book about the prisoner is coming slowly because he’s been transferred again in an attempt, I believe, to keep me away from him. It’s the way they operate, I’ve learned in my investigation. It also removes him from his lawyer and any friends who have been visiting. The prison system is barbaric so discount what you might have thought and take it from one who has viewed it objectively—-it’s mean and cruel and employs wardens who enjoy using their power .

All prisons are not created equal, I should point out. In the three he’s been while I’ve been visiting, this one, a FCI in Arkansas, is by far the worst. They deliver his daily newspaper once a week and when I send him books, he may or may not receive them. They cram three inmates to a cell, which violates the law, and make visitors so uncomfortable it discourages future visits. In short, they are worse than a maximum security prison. I’ve reported them repeatedly but no one cares—no one.

Some prisons treat these inmates worse than stray dogs. Understand that the worst prisoners are sent to facilities other than those I’m talking about. Most of the prisoners in FCI’s are there on non-violent crimes or who have been model prisoners over the years. So, why are they treated worse than when they were in maximum security? The answer is because many have sadistic wardens, plain and simple.

I’m thinking about writing a book about prisons but will have to wait until he gets out. They’ve already punished him for a newspaper article that was written a few months ago about the book I’m writing. Like I said, they enjoy their control.

Anyway, that’s my rant for today.

Peace,

Dick