In the early 70s the cops showed up at my door one night about 1 am. I asked them if they had a warrant and they said no. I told them to go away. They said they were going to break down the door (and I believed them), so I opened it and they rushed in.
I started raising hell about how they didn't have a search warrant and I wasn't saying shit to them, so they left the apartment, but arrested me for conspiracy.

They gave me my phone call and I called Gary Simpson and told him what happened. The cops then took me back into a room and tried to question me. I wouldn't tell them shit (probably a dumb idea in retrospect since I hadn't done anything). I was cuffed, sitting down with my hands behind a chair. The cop jumped up on the table in front of me and threatened to jump on me if I didn't talk.

Meanwhile, Gary called back to the jail and they said they didn't have anyone by my name. He called the P.G. County Executive at home (this was about 2:30 am in the morning) and raised hell that the cops were holding his prisoner incommunicado. The County Exec called to the jail and told them to produce me. They did.

I met briefly with Gary about 3:00 am in the morning. After questioning me and finding out I hadn't done anything, he recommended I consent to a search of the apartment and I did.

Once I consented, the cops figured I didn't have anything and didn't bother to search the place. They put me back in a cell at Hyattsville, transferred me to Upper Marlboro in the morning, took me before a judge and dropped the charges.

Gary did a great job and really impressed the jail personnel since he'd gotten the County Exec to call them at 2:30 in the morning. I was even more impressed that he got out of his bed and met me at the jail at 3:00 am.

A lot of us miss Gary and his unrelenting quest for justice.