Search results matching tag 'Deportation'

April 2008: I hope the US is going to be sympathetic to a rather one-off English eccentric

SabineKMcNeill — Thu, 11 Nov 2010 20:37:00 GMT

This article appeared in the Western Mail on April 30th in relation to Maurice's crash landing in the Caribbean, being saved and landing near G W Bush's ranch.

May 2008: Pilot faces deportation from US over prank

SabineKMcNeill — Thu, 11 Nov 2010 20:23:00 GMT

This article appeared in the Western Mail after Maurice tried to deliver his personal THANK YOU note to George W Bush's ranch. He had been saved from the Caribbean sea by US coastgards. But the Americans didn't appreciate his style of expressing gratitude.

First they locked him up in a psychiatric clinic and then didn't allow him entry into the country for ever...

Steamboat Willie

Maurice — Tue, 02 Mar 2010 08:03:00 GMT

Thank You Captain!!! I loved your email!! I will phone you the next time I come to Europe! And I hope it's soon!!!!! Cheers Mate, Steamboat Willie

--- On Mon, 3/1/10, Captain maurice kirk wrote:

From: Captain maurice kirk
Subject: FUN
To: "Steamboat Willie (owner)"
Date: Monday, March 1, 2010, 2:49 PM

You will not remember me....I had ditched in the Carribean in WW2 Cub just before I dropped into good music in New Orleans. I talked to your old black Lab as all old veterinarians do. When I left you the President's men put me in Austin State Psychiatric Hospital and later deported me for some reason. Just out of jail winning the case ...I had a WW1 machine gun, apparently.

Need you for a party when next in Europe...see http://www.kirkflyingvet.com/
Best regards, Maurice in France mob UK 07708586202

USA Ban for 10 Years

Maurice — Sat, 20 Sep 2008 04:01:00 GMT

USA Ban for 10 Years

With aircraft stuck in the States, having been deported in leg irons earlier this year, I now had an appointment for an American visa. I trained it from Cardiff to Paddington to an entertaining but predictable day first in the Royal Courts of Justice and then in Grosvenor Square.

I was to witness yet another travesty of justice in that building. Vivacious Charlie Seven, seen here earlier [ photo gallery] , sitting on some protestor' motor bike outside UK's main court building, speaks to Lord Justice Collins, at length with a gallery of chronic litigants cheering her on! Just how is it defendants in her case, involving alleged theft, kidnap and harassment do not even need to turn up? How come the transcript of Judge Pumfrey's lower court was clearly at gross variance to the final judgment? She is refused a substantive hearing.

Five years she has been at it, apparently, but still believing this West-End theatre, with no ice cream or pop corn in the interval, was the place to obtain justice! ‘Justice' ah, I remember Judge Blom- Cooper telling me once, in incestuous Guernsey, that justice was a just a man made concept. Only at it for five years, a mere fledgling, I thought but a pretty one and went off to knock on Her Majesty's Treasury Solicitor's door in the very same building. Rather like the Crown Prosecution Service with its offices in the Barry police station!

No answer, not in again! Is the man never here? Now this was getting stupid. Without my being consulted, at the height of my demanding a Trial by Jury back in 2003, the HM Attorney General had ordered I be ‘certified' but needed a vast team of HM lawyers to achieve it. I was here in London, again, to try and get to the bottom of an apparent conspiracy between the South Wales Police and Royal College of Veterinary Surgeons. I had in my hand a pile of leaked internal memos between the HM Solicitor General, HM Privy Council and The Home Office, to name but a few, that had just happened to have ‘come my way'. My Lewis machine gun off the old DH2 biplane was outside as I knew she would not make it through the metal detector at the court's main door.

Feeling a trifle frustrated I stepped out into the sun shine and hailed a taxi cab for the US Embassy. Still ringing in my ears were Mr Justice Andrew Collins's quotes before me, from his government's, two year in the making, dossier suggesting my forty odd Judicial Review Applications had had ‘no merit'. "No merit"? "Had no merit"? Perish the thought. My recent £15,000 judgment against the Home Secretary for yet another false imprisonment Collins J had previously blocked for over a year! Now all I need to find is the Home Secretary's house for Patrick, my burly Irish bailiff, to seize her furniture and ‘tele'.

Now the US Embassy was a nasty experience but, perhaps, if I had stopped and thought and compared the morals applied in that building to one I had just left there would be no doubt as which one would finally come up smelling of roses.

Now to get into this US fortress in the centre of London you must first say hi to ‘Ike', not the strong wind that nearly smashed my cub, last week, sitting patiently in Texas for me. No, I mean the grand statue of General Eisenhower, Supreme Commander for the 6^th June 1944 D-day landings, the very week I was conceived.

It was no photographs allowed and at the first check point it was also made very clear my mobile phone was not getting through either. Already late for the appointment I hurriedly buried the phone in Uncle Sam's front garden but it not was until I was in the building I remembered I had forgotten to switch the dam thing off.....well there was soon much activity, to long to recount just now but as the friendly policeman said later, armed to the teeth with automatic weapons, "At least we did not need to cordon off a two mile square of London and call in the sniffer dogs"! So I hid it somewhere else.

Five and a half hours I was in that building naively thinking I could persuade the team my deportation from Texas in May had been triggered off by a little misunderstanding and a ‘communication breakdown'.

The lady referred to the US Department of Homeland Security's report from my weeks in a Texas jail, awaiting deportation. Part of which had been sent to the UK's Civil Aviation authority causing immediate suspension of my pilot's licences. She then accused me of operating around the world under an alias name, a ‘Mr William something Garcia'!

"No I did not land on Mr Bush's front lawn", "No, I was not ‘engaged in criminal activity' as written on the DHS charge sheet", "No, I was not ‘endangering the general public'", also written on the charge sheet. No visa despite my telling the embassy staff that, upon my release from Austin Lunatic Asylum, their certificate, confirming my sanity on the day of examination, stuffed well deep in my pocket, the FAA had telephoned to re assure me there had been no offence committed. My telling them my actual landing of the cub, outside the P49 prohibited zone, five miles from the US President's ranch in a field full of cows, also appeared to fall on deaf ears.

I was simply trying to deliver a ‘thank you' letter to the Commander in Chief of US Coast Guard who had just saved my life from the sharks, a hundred miles off the Dominican Republic in the Caribbean. It still makes me shudder when I recall my Texas experience. Just what is going on in this crazy, crazy world?

House of Commons Demonstration Tuesday 22nd July 2008

Maurice — Sat, 19 Jul 2008 03:13:00 GMT

To be addressed by Dr Vincent Cable MP, Liberal Democrat Shadow Chancellor of the Exchequer and other MPs

22 July 2008 at 09.00

Demonstration starts 9.00 am on the 22nd July outside the Central London County Court and at 9.00 am at Brentford County Court. The group at Brentford County Court will join those at the Central London County Court at 11.00am. We will go on to the Royal Courts of Justice and The Law Society.

Between 2- 4pm MPs will address the demonstration in Committee Room 6 in Parliament. Enter through the main visitor entrance, which is at Cromwell Green, just off Parliament Square

42 Augustine Road

Harrow Weald, London

HM Partnership/RCVS/South Wales Police/Civil Aviation Authority

Dear Patrick, 19^th July 2008

CAA Thursday Meeting to consider Revoking all my Pilots Licences.

Thank you, kind sir, for attending yet again another example of the Royal College of Veterinary Surgeons and now, the Civil Aviation Authority, apparent joint determination to prevent me from having income to fight the corruption in the South Wales Police and British Law Courts, dominated by crooked lawyers.

Remember the police were the original complainants to have me struck off the veterinary register following their loss of 121 criminal charges out of around 130 laid against me in the barbaric environment of a UK ‘HM' controlled court room. There is still no apparent ‘accountability', after 10 years of harassment and false imprisonments, for almost daily nefarious conduct including their failed ‘disclosure', ‘perjury' and general ‘perversion of justice'.

The Civil Aviation Authority removed my licences upon ‘communication' from Texas, USA, that they now accept was utter nonsense. I did not land my aging Piper Cub ‘on the road outside President Bush's ranch' nor was I ‘engaged in criminal activity and endangering the general public,' as the US Department of Homeland Security hurriedly stated to justify jailing me and then having me deported like some common criminal. The FAA confirmed, at the time, I HAD COMMITTED NO OFFENCE.

The CAA have now chosen to bring up ‘old matters', just like the RCVS did when the South Wales Police complaint collapsed, in order to justify not just removing my veterinary licence but giving it back. Meanwhile, my Royal Courts of Justice Judicial Review Applications are being deliberately buried by the usual HM Masonic cabal that currently dominates the UK judiciary.

The RCVS relied on, remember, a string of ‘trivial' motoring convictions obtaining the HM Privy Council outrageous quote that, in effect, all professions must now make their members conduct their private lives as if ‘acting in a professional capacity'! [See para 33 KIRK v RCVS 19^th Jan 2004 Privy Council Judgment]. That, Patrick, indicates just how serious the state our courts are really in and why the CAA can also act with impunity under ‘Her Majesty's Prerogative'.

The CAA's continuing refusal to return my licences is, you witnessed, based on five points:

1. I negligently or deliberately engaged the aircraft in a thunder storm whilst landing in a field five miles from the US President's ranch. Landing in order to deliver, personally, my letter of thanks for the US Coast Guard saving my life. I would never have made breakfast, except for the sharks!

CAA evidence was based only on what was written on http://www.kirkflyingvet.com/ about inclement weather.

2. I had ditched my ‘Liberty Girl' in the Caribbean, one hundred miles off the Dominican Republic.
3. I had landed her on a street of Kanazawa City, Japan, three years ago, destroying her with myself finishing up in hospital.

Apparently, you heard, the CAA takes the view that a single engined aircraft should neither cross water beyond gliding distance to land nor, in the case of the Japanese incident, fly over mountainous terrain despite being generally designed for the purpose. The mere fact my engine failed more than ten miles from the Japanese city was apparently irrelevant but the fact the mountain range had nothing, not even for a cub to land in and live, meant I should not have been there in the first place!

4. Four years ago emergency services were alerted following a call by a member of public that my Taylorcraft was experiencing engine trouble over the Bristol Channel.

The fact I made no such assumption to request help but landed at Bristol instead of nearby Chivenor, Devon, is now also being held against me.

5. Record keeping omissions of biannual flight test instructor/examiner requirement.

Having spent the money to employ these professionals it appeared, correctly I must say, I had failed to properly record the purpose of the exercise...flight safety. The fact a string off pilots, purported to be qualified, took my money both here in the UK and the USA, did not appear to concern them. I hope I was mistaken. Since the hearing I have found out one such professional later refused to sign up my books as his wife was killed in the very same aircraft shortly after my two hours of instruction with him.

Patrick, the Home Secretary still refuses to hand over the £15,000 awarded by the court for one of the fourteen South Wales false imprisonments so I think it is time to cause just a little more trouble in London, on Tuesday, than what they might expect of a man ‘wishing to conduct his private life in accordance with their lordships' wishes' in order he may ‘practice veterinary surgery' before he dies.

Yours sincerely,

Maurice 2

Pilot Faces Deportation: Western Morning News 9th May 2008

Maurice — Tue, 10 Jun 2008 15:10:25 GMT

Maurice Arrives in France

Maurice — Mon, 02 Jun 2008 22:47:00 GMT

Just landed at St Malo harbour, Brittany, from Portsmouth on my Honda CBR 1000F to find my old car in the car park has disappeared. The French Authorities tolerate we local English leaving ‘old bangers' at the Ferry Terminal but not for this long!

My un-planned extended stay in Texas, at ‘Uncle Sam's Pleasure', has lost me not just my flying licence, but now my cut away speed model Ford Orion motor car. Talking of the CAA they have sent me some more ‘official info' from the US that reads like an Enyd Blyton children's book. Apparently it states I radioed McGregor Airport with some nonsense message about visiting a Mr Bush by aircraft. No such thing ever happened as the US Authorities very well know having all the evidence to suggest no transmission was ever made, whether by VHF Radio or ‘C' mode Transponder, while I was flying around Texas. As for the GPS they took off me and will not return, that stayed in my kit bag switched off all the way to Crawford.

I also now have a document quoting the McClellan County Police that I was 'not arrested' at the scene nor had I committed any civil or criminal offence. As I said to the boss of the legal department of Air Crew Licencing, in London, "If I had been in charge of air safety anywhere in the world with the information just sent across the ‘pond' from the US I would have marched the culprit pilot directly to Broadmoor (the UK's secure mental hospital) and thrown away the key".

Anyway it may take me years to fight through the courts so here I am looking frantically for a French ‘abinitio' pilot's licence pretty damn quick but where do I learn to fly French style and learn the lingo? Thierry of Air Journey has already found me a friend, François SIEGEL in Paris to possibly expedite the problem.

This old motor bike, resting in the long grass, once our front lawn, is supposed to get me to the South of France tomorrow but am I not getting a bit too arthritic for just a lumpy beast? As I mount her it reminds me of the French aristocracy being winched on to their jousting horses in their heavy suits of armour for the battle of Agincourt!

US Deportation

Maurice — Mon, 26 May 2008 09:34:00 GMT

Now the plan was to fly in my new little yellow cub from Texas on to the Falkland Islands with my latest sponsors, Alvin and Kandy of AMT Training Solutions, promoting our talks along the way.

From Argentina I was to fly back up the Andes mountain range to the Rockies for Alaska. My floats were waiting there and once assembled it was either trans-Canada on the lakes, converting to skis for the North Pole on the Hudson Bay or, if no sponsorship matured, back on wheels again for Greenland and home.

But arrested just 5 miles from the US President's ranch near Crawford, East Texas, on the 25^th April at gun point, had now put the whole dream in jeopardy.

Once the Secret Service had handed me over to the FBI on the side of the road [like I was the last fertile Dodo egg on the planet] then the Sheriff of McClellan County turns up, Stetson and all amounting to eleven vehicles by now. After numerous phone calls I was made to do the ‘field sobriety' test and ‘walk the line', heel to toe, nine times, turn and repeat the same back again without falling over or miscounting!

Now counting was fine but memories immediately came flooding back of a certain veterinary student, Gareth Jones, back in 1967 who, whilst a little under the influence of my home made beer, returning late at night from a boat party in Bristol, had received the very first roadside ‘breath test' having put his old car through a hedge! The Breath Test marked the ending of the days when certain of the ‘chosen', unrecognised at the motoring scene, were later taken aside at the station to be allowed to quietly sober up!

Needless to say I failed the ‘sobriety test'. To walk in the way dictated, with all that metal in my leg, a previously dislocated hip, a fractured pelvis, ankle and toes made it quite out of the question!

So on to the Waco County Prison was my next stop, in handcuffs again, for Uncle Sam's alternative, a ‘definitive test' by blowing into a machine which gave the predicted four nought reading of alcohol in the blood stream. The hastily thought after drug tests held a similar zero result. But this was just delay tactics with no audit trail.

Was I going home now? No chance. After still more delay it was then suggested I had said to a prison warder, during a very fascinating prison experience, I had ‘glided my aircraft from Japan onto the US President's front lawn and recently had ditched [another aeroplane, I assume] in the Caribbean'. I was therefore going to Waco Hospital with the Secret Service in train for fear I was mentally ill!

After many hours of interrogation, brain scans, x-rays and analysis of body fluids, long into the dead of night, I was eventually shipped off to Austin State Hospital, down south, in handcuffs to the secure Psychiatric Unit for up to 90 days ‘observation'.

A little record keeping appeared to be creeping in so I again demanded the usual things one does in such circumstances. The making of a detailed written statement under caution and obtaining a copy of it was just one request. Access to telephone my wife, an independent medical examination, a copy of my medical records was another. "Dream on, Maurice".

After a week and failure to get heard in a court of law, get a lawyer of my own choosing, my own doctor or speak or be able to write to my family I am suddenly released with the offer of a lift to my cub in the farmer's field from either The President's Men or Deputy Sheriff of the County...my choice.

I chose neither. At the aircraft, having enjoyed Alvin and Kandy's lift and company over lunch, I say good bye and fly south for maintenance, the installing of wing tanks for Argentina and for the re registration to a UK register now it was obvious even to me, to travel foreign in a US aircraft, especially South America, sleeping under the fuselage at night or not, was shear folly.

Bellville police, a one horse town two hundred miles south, near Houston, had other ideas.

I was soon re arrested and charged for having an open alcoholic container on the road side and had much of the night under Secret Service interrogation all over again before being put back on a concrete floor with no bedding.

Next day with much futile plea bargaining, offering me $500, bail waiver and time off for good behaviour thrown my way, I am clamped in leg irons, chains and handcuffs and sped away to Houston's huge body disposal factory for aliens dominated by affable but apparently subservient Mexicans who slept most of the day and snored most of the night.

To cut a long story short I was soon segregated for ten days from the one thousand inmates without access to any semblance of a judicial system, contact with my wife or Embassy, seriously worried I had been drugged and denied my medication. My Texas partner of AMT Training Solutions, http://www.amt-1.com/ was refused his weekly visit but at least had it confirmed to him I was there and in solitary confinement.

For the nurse to have to ring ‘Washington', right in front of me, while two doctors surmised as to just which bloods the Pentagon needed, said it all. Especially when everybody there but me knew I was to be put on a scheduled flight to England within a few hours and escorted by members of United States Department of Homeland Security all the way to Gatwick, UK.

I have landed in twenty nine countries so far, flying around the world in a J3 cub, each peoples revealing their own welcome, hospitality and friendship. The current United States of America is not the one I remember when as a veterinary student in 1964 on a seven week vacation. I hitch-hiked from New York to Los Angeles to Vancouver to Quebec, finishing up with two nights under a tree in Central Park and all on just ten dollars twenty five cents.

On the eight thousand mile hike almost every Canadian or Yank greeted me with a great smile and embarrassing hospitality. Now, forty years on, I'm not just old and grumpy the US is a far different place.

An Englishman in Texas

Maurice — Mon, 12 May 2008 04:01:00 GMT

25^th April 2008

I had recently landed, only to take off again, from McGregor Airport, Waco, Texas, on a most gorgeous bright April day in order to find somewhere more hospitable for the night. The weather forecast for the day had indicated scattered transient but inclement weather from cumulonimbus clouds gathering to the south. I noted these were now gathering significantly in size, charged with their electricity, soon enveloping the heavens with a much heavier dark fluffy pattern. My direction of flight in the old two seater J3 Piper Cub aircraft was somewhat settled for me as the skies to the south and east quickly turned ominous.

A downpour of rain then hit the aeroplane as I purred along at seventy miles per hour making forward vision virtually impossible. Just minutes earlier it had been streaming sun shine with not a breath of wind. Thunder and lightning soon broke out and continued long after I had decided to duck out of it into a pretty Texan meadow far below. On approach to land, following a preliminary circuit to spy out potholes, ditches and possible wire, I was greeted by a huge flower bed of pink and white flowers, weeds do doubt and a muscle bound black bull grazing with his herd at the other end of the strip. He could be sorted later.

Either under or over the power cables, straddling the long grass, was my dilemma due to a sudden change in wind direction now buffeting us both violently from the side. It also did not help my final decision as to just which field was best to get out of this turbulence, forces sufficient now to cause structural damage to the airframe. As the old adage goes, ‘never land unless you are sure you can get out again'!

However, with decision now made and committed on a somewhat rutted and possibly boggy permanent pasture, prone to flooding, I later noticed, I throttled the engine back and glided down through rain that was simply bucketing down while the lightning crackled all around illuminating the black back drop of a sky before us.

Water poured into the cockpit in the descent as both windows and doors had to be wide open in order that I could stick my head out into the slip stream to try and see with better accuracy and just where we were going to finish up was paramount in the agenda!

Safely on the ground I taxied her back close to the road and bridge with tail facing the wind hoping that, should the wind suddenly change direction again, I could rely on the raised road and trees for protection while I hurriedly reached for the ropes, hammer and the nails for picketing her down.

No sooner had I started the wind died and the sun appeared! All I could hear was a peaceful cacophony of bird sounds in the adjacent woodland. No other man made machine in sight. Only the euphoria, post flight, experienced by pilots that have just ‘broke the bonds of earth'.

The severe thunder storm had moved one, albeit but a few fields away. A Texan field, incidentally, can stretch a mile or two in all directions. A little different to my South Wales six hundred foot airstrip outside our kitchen window in the shadow of Randolph Hurst's old Norman castle.

I was then taken aback by the beauty around me. Flowers and the abundance of lush green foliage was everywhere. No different, at first site, to the farmland in the West Country of England where I had been brought up as a child. The Texan summer was yet to arrive.

One of the issues deciding which field to land in, as I circled overhead, was the sight of a huge Texan flag painted on the full length of a barn roof. Well, at least I am still in hospitable surroundings, I thought, as I reminisced on the wonderful hospitality over the past few days that I had enjoyed from Houston, San Marcos to Odessa and then back to Robert Lee and Comanche.

I decided the storm was gone and so clambered up onto the road before deciding what to do next.

Having decided which way to walk I slowly set off down the road in a westerly direction my right ankle, full of fixation screws from an old hang gliding accident, ‘telling me all about it' as the rough ground of the field had exacerbated the ensuing arthritis and, no doubt, made worse with the result of far too much good or not so good red wine over the years.

I wished to leave a message of thanks to a local ranch owner concerning the US Coast Guard, my having previously checked he was away but just might be back for the coming week end, starting tomorrow.

Another thunderstorm, as if from nowhere, soon had me drenched but wind there was not. Hard hailstones, almost the size of pigeon eggs, hurt as they bounced off my hat and shoulders. Again the shower and lightning was gone almost as quickly as it had arrived leaving the road in large puddles of crystal clear water.. The sun was again blazing down and I must have been at least a mile down the road by now from the little Cub, in the process of trying to photograph a scissor bird on a fence, when I heard a screech of tyres behind me.

I looked round to see two fast moving male white Caucasians exiting the limousine at speed. I was impressed. Both were brandishing what looked like nine millimetre Berretta pistols but the only problem was, they were both pointing at me.

Up with the hands, down spread eagled on the road, hands slowly behind your back, for handcuffs, the usual stuff, seen on television, except I was having to do it! Face down on the gravel is not comfortable nor is it easy for a sixty three year old trying to get up again with his hands behind his back.

Pockets are searched while a passport is quickly tendered by the prisoner with the vain hope of expediting this sudden new relationship thrust upon him with the well dressed ‘men in black'. What was to turn out would be a long drawn out experience, debatably quite unlawful, in a Texas Mental Institution.

As Dryden wrote, around the turn of the 17^th century:

"There is a pleasure sure in being mad that none but mad men know".

Maurice's Statement

Maurice — Mon, 12 May 2008 03:49:00 GMT

My proposed deportation is based on false information already confirmed by the British Embassy, Secret Service, FBI and the Sheriff of McLellon County. All but the British Embassy at the scene of the alleged offence.

Further, senior DHS officers, Orlando Gardona and Special Agent Jason C. Gadberry, together, told me on the date of the charge, I had landed my aircraft on a public highway thereby being in breach of section 237 (a) (4) (A) (ii) of the Immigration and Nationality Act i.e. "engaged in criminal activity which endangers public safety".

Further, on 1^st May the deputy sheriff authorised me to fly the aircraft away from the field in which I landed, incidentally more than 500ft from a public highway.

The Federal Aviation Authority confirmed to me and witnessed by two US pilots (anxious to recover the aircraft from Belville on my behalf) the landing was lawful. FAA contacts are: Mr Arnold Thermeyer, Mr Brian Troupe and Mr Doug Gould.

In respect of the incident, subject to the pilot's licence and airworthiness of the aircraft, I had committed no offence and "put you to the proof here of".

The FAA have obtained both police and secret service statements that I had landed the aircraft in a farmer's field, not a highway, in bad weather well away from the restricted P-49 zone surrounding the US president's Texas ranch.

1s PA Notams stated my right to conduct a flight from Commanche, Texas to the incident site. This was also confirmed by two US pilots at Hamilton Aerodrome (I have names).

If I had infringed any civil or criminal law or was "engaged in a criminal activity which endangers public safety or national security" how come I was offered a lift before witnesses at Austin State Hospital by the police and secret service?

The secret service area supervisor with fellow officer at A.S.H. offered me a lift to fly the aeroplane from the field unsupervised - not a lawman officially in sight, unless you include SS agents on adjacent land filming it?. If any law had been violated or was likely to be violated how was it I was left in command to fly that aircraft in any direction I liked if it had not been decided by the president's men, the FAA, the FBI, the A.S.H. court and "uncle John Cobbly and all" that I was a danger to national security.

Later that night, 200 miles away, while on a holding charge of "public intoxication" fabricated by the arresting officer, while submitting still further nonsense to the DHS, based on hearsay, I had my bailbond waivered and offered an open door. Why?

The British Embassy, Houston had just informed me that the secret service, upon hearing of DHS involvement, had offered to expedite the issues, for all the obvious reasons and had offered, without deportation, to

have me immediately released from Belville Jail and get me on a Houston flight home for the UK (my flight is rebooked Orlando 6am - London Wed 6^th May 08).

That is why Judge Terri resinder waived the $500 bailbond for my immediate release and took into account my time in custody should I be persuaded to change my plea of not guilty for a $300 fine misdeameanor strenuously denied.

The outcome of what was a perfectly harmless approach to thank the Officer in Chief of the US coastguard for recently saving my life has turned out to be a nightmare and warning to others.

I require this statement of truth to be sworn under affidavit US Regulations and be submitted to the highest authority for reconsideration.

I never wavered my right to have this case go before a US court of law (form 1-791). Copy to British Embassy please.

Thank you and God help America.

Maurice J Kirk 3^rd May 08