Bangstad arrest saga

 

Video of me being arrested by the Oneida County Sheriff's Department.

Hi folks, This video is of me being arrested and put into an Oneida County Sheriff's squad car by the female officer with a high pony tail. To give you all a quick backstory, I was giving my weekly progressive beer tasting speech to a crowd of customers like I've done every Friday and Saturday night during the summer for years. Right-wing published of the Lakeland Times Gregg Walker, whose office is across the street from mine and who surely knew these beer tastings occurred each week, walked in front of his building within plain site of my audience. Surprised at seeing him in person, which has never happened save for in the Oneida County courtrooms where he's previously sued me for defamation, I told the crowd that this man was largely responsible for the corruption in Oneida County that I had been railing against throughout much of my speech. The crowd booed and hissed, Gregg Walker pulled out his phone, and within a half hour both me and my audience had all been arrested and hauled off to jail--a clear violation of all of our 1st amendment rights to free speech.  The speed at which we were arrested by members of four separate police departments, combined with the uniqueness of Gregg Walker's appearance during my well-publicized weekly political speech, seemed entirely planned ahead of time and not coincidental.   Now for the rest of this story: This high pony-tailed officer seen in the video put me in handcuffs while I was wearing these two bracelets as a protest against our wannabe dictator.

About 10 minutes in to the 30 minute ride to the Oneida County Jail in Rhinelander, I couldn't feel my right wrist, so I asked her to take the pressure off a bit. She said something to the effect of "other people can handle being handcuffed, so you can too,” never once checking to see why my right wrist might be hurting more than my left. I asked her numerous times to ease the pressure from the handcuffs, and she said "no" more emphatically each time. 36 hours later, I still don't have full mobility of my right wrist, and it is bruised. While at the jail, I was forced to strip out of my clothes and put on orange prison garb. They made me squat while naked and cough—which seemingly would provide evidence that I wasn’t hiding anything in my rear end—before putting me into a "holding cell." This holding cell consisted of a concrete slab, a toilet, a thin mat to cover the concrete slab, a blanket, toilet paper, and a paper cup. Instead of the jail cell you see in movies, this holding cell was half that size, much like a large walk-in closet. It had a metal door and two metal slots that could only be opened from the outside to deliver trays of food. There was a glass window that was 75% covered, meaning I was only able to see a sliver of the hallway on the other side of the cell. I was held in that cell for 24 hours, but was told that I would probably spend the entire weekend there. They let me out of the cell twice--to take my mugshot and fingerprints, and to let me call my lawyer. They let me out to get their mugshot/fingerprints about 4 hours after being locked up without a clue of what the charges were against me. Before escorting me back to my cell, the nighttime correctional officer told me I needed to sign some intake papers. I told him wasn't going to sign anything until I spoke with my lawyer and was told what the charges were against me. He told me that he wouldn't let me talk to my lawyer until I signed their papers. “Protocol,” he said. He also said that the phone system didn't work "after hours" anyway, and that I wouldn't be able to call my lawyer until the morning. I told him I wasn't signing anything, and the nighttime officer shrugged and lead me back to my cell. I asked him if I could get an extra blanket because there was only one blanket in the cell and no pillow. He said "no,” because “nobody else gets an extra blanket.”   “Do you have enough blankets to give to everyone who asks for them?" I asked. He didn't respond. Within a few hours, I started getting claustrophobic. It's quite a unique experience being locked in a small room with only a sliver of a window to see outside. My brain started wanting to "flee," but there was nowhere to go. That "fleeing" sensation turned into panic. I felt like I was losing control over my mind so I went to a happy place inside my brain. I started singing opera, which is what I did professionally for 10 years in Chicago and New York City. Singing gives me comfort, so I sang Nessun Dorma. The last word of that aria is a defiant "Vincero," or "Victory." I later would sing “Old Man River,” “America the Beautiful,” and “O Sole Mio” when other bouts of claustrophobia started taking over my mind. I’m crying as I write this because that recent memory of singing to simply gain control over panic is still overwhelmingly traumatic. After spending all night in that cell, I woke up with stiff joints and a depression that I think my subconscious used to keep me sleepy in order to avoid panicking. A woman said “Bangstad” as she slipped a tray of food into my cell for breakfast. The food was liquid-y oatmeal, biscuits and gravy—like you get as part of the continental breakfast at 1-star hotels—and a few other starchy items that I can’t remember or couldn’t identify at the time. The only protein provided was a carton of two percent milk, and seemingly their version of fruit/vegetable was a packet of orange drink powder that had citric acid in it—meant to be added to water from the faucet attached to the toilet in the paper cup provided the prior evening. One could tell that these were the lowest budget items that could be purchased but still adhere to some state-required level of prisoner nutrition. What seemed like an hour later, the lady came back. “Can you give me your tray?” “Come get it yourself,” I said. I’ve spent an entire night in your jail, still don’t know what the charges are against me, and I haven’t been allowed to call my lawyer.” “That’s not how this works,” she said. “Give me your tray.” I tried to go back to sleep. “GIVE ME YOUR TRAY,” she shouted. “Go fuck yourself,” I replied. “You’ve already violated my 1st amendment right to free speech by arresting me while I was giving a political speech on my own property and now you’re violating my 4th amendment right to protection from unreasonable search and seizure by holding me in a jail cell without telling me why. Come in here and get your own damn tray or let me out.” “I need back up,” said the woman into her walkie-talkie. Minutes later, a large man came to the door of my cell and said “give us your tray.” “Not until you let me talk to my lawyer and tell me why I’m being jailed,” I said defiantly. He then unlocked the door, came in, and kicked the tray out of the room. “You can’t call your lawyer until you sign your intake forms.” “I’m not signing anything until you let me talk to my lawyer,” I replied, and tried to go back to sleep.  Another hour later, that same man came back and showed me my charging papers through the crack in the door. “You’ve been charged with misdemeanor disorderly conduct, bail jumping, and felony witness intimidation. If it were just the first two misdemeanor charges, we could have let you out last night on a signature bond like we did with the others, but since there’s a felony charge, we have to wait for a judge to decide what the bail is before we can let you out.”

One of our 5 customers who was arrested for simply being in the audience as I gave a fiery progressive speech at my weekly beer tasting. Among those arrested were teachers and doctors. This man kept on asking "why," because he hadn't done a thing wrong.

“It’s now Saturday. What judge is going to deal with this on a Saturday?” “It’s required that you can’t be held for over 48 hours without a judge being given a report by the arresting officer on what the “probable cause” was for your arrest. You were arrested at approximately 6 pm last night, so they have until 6 pm tomorrow to send a judge their report.” “Which means the judge isn’t really going to look at this until Monday morning, right?” “I can’t tell you that for sure, but yes, it’s possible you’ll be here until Monday.” “Can I call my lawyer?” “Yes, but you’ll need to sign these intake reports first. Here’s the deal. I’ll let you out of your cell to TALK about signing these reports, and you can STAY OUT OF YOUR CELL to call your lawyer if you sign them.” “Deal.” I simply couldn’t stand to be in that cell anymore, and that correctional officer knew it, so he bribed me with a moment’s worth of claustrophobic freedom to sign his damn papers. I called my lawyer, Fred Melms, and he told me that he had been trying to get me out, but since it was the weekend, he wasn’t having any luck. He had only been able to tell the arresting officers from the night before that no one was allowed to interrogate me outside of his presence. I told him to call my mom and my girlfriend and tell them that I was ok, and to call my political team to tell them what was going on. I would need them to get the word out to the news media on what was happening since I didn’t have access to email or social media. “Fred, they said they’re holding me longer than the other folks who were arrested because of a felony witness intimidation charge. That’s bullshit. I was giving my usual beer tasting speech in our beer garden. While I was lamenting how corrupt the Oneida County’s ‘old boy’s club’ was in trying to shut down my taproom, Gregg Walker walked out of his building across the street. I told the crowd that as one of the richest and most politically-connected men in the county, and someone who used his right-wing newspaper to bully those in town whom he didn’t’ like, Gregg was one of the ring-leaders of the ‘old boy’s club.' They all booed him from our beer garden. That must have pissed him off, because he whipped out his cell phone and seemingly called the police. Within minutes, I think every squad car in Vilas and Oneida County was there."

At least 7 squad cars from Vilas and Oneida Counties and Towns of Woodruff and Minocqua were employed to arrest both me and 5 of our taproom patrons.This was clearly an intimidation tactic meant to scare anyone away from coming to our taproom again, and potentially planned ahead of time given the sheer numbers of police who showed up.

“Of course it’s bullshit, Kirk. The last four years have been bullshit, that’s why we’re trying to sue outside of Oneida County. I can’t do much for you until there’s a hearing, and that’s not going to happen until Monday.” “There’s nothing you can do to get me out, Fred? It’s rough in there, I’m claustrophobic.” “I’m doing the best I can.” After hanging up with Fred, the daytime correctional officer led me back to my cell. “Officer, is it possible to put me in a bigger cell? I didn’t know how claustrophobic I was, but it’s hard on my mind to be in such a small cell. “I’ll ask the sergeant,” he said. “Possible you can give me another blanket to use as a pillow?” “No.” I didn’t hear back from that guard until I was granted bail and released approximately 6 hours later. I spent the next 4 hours in the jail cell and almost went crazy. I started doing jumping jacks in the cell to get some exercise, but then I started sweating and realized I hadn’t had a shower in 36 hours. I didn’t want to get even more gross by sweating, so I stopped exercising, knocked on the cell door, and a guard appeared. “Hey man, I’m really claustrophobic in this cell, and I haven’t showered since yesterday morning. Any chance you can let me out to take a shower?” “There’s a policy where we aren’t allowed to let you shower until you’ve been here longer than 48 hours.” “Ok. Got it. I’ve been singing to myself to get my mind off of my claustrophobia. Is it possible there’s a book out there that you can give me to read?” “Yes, I think I can get you a book.” That, folks, was the first bit of kindness I received at the Oneida County Jail after being there for 22 hours. Two hours later and a few chapters into a charming vampire novel, I received another knock on my jail cell. “Bangstad, you’ve been granted bail at $1,150. If you’d like to use the phone to call someone to help you post bail, I’ll let you out.” I called Fred, who had been given my wallet by one of my employees the night before, and he paid my bail with my Amex card. I got a few Delta frequent flyer miles along with my freedom. As the jailers were preparing my release forms, I asked the guard on duty if he had some soap.  “Sure,” he said as he reached into a closet. “Wait, so that means you could have given me soap all along?” I asked. “No, we’re not allowed to give you soap until you’ve been here 24 hours, but since you’re being released, I’ll give it to you.” “Jesus,” I muttered under my breath “who makes these rules.” As I was walking out of the jail to freedom, I saw the guard who had never gotten back to me after promising to ask his sergeant if he could put me in a larger cell. I also saw a tv screen that showed ~12 empty cells of various sizes. “You know, man. This guy just gave me some soap, you could have given me that extra blanket for a pillow.” “There are hundreds of people in this jail.  If I gave you a blanket, I’d have to give everyone a blanket.” “I just asked for this soap, and your colleague gave it to me without suggesting he had to give everyone else a bar of soap. Has every other prisoner here asked for an extra blanket?” “There were not enough blankets for you.” “When you’re kind, there’s always enough blankets.” That’s the end of my story, which was the most harrowing 24 hours of my life--not only because my 1st, 4th, and 14th amendment rights were violated, but because I found out I had claustrophobia in a tiny holding cell at the Oneida County Jail. I should have known I was claustrophobic because I once freaked out while getting an MRI, where they insert your body into a small metal tube. It wouldn’t have mattered had I known to tell the Oneida County correctional staff about my newly-discovered mental malady or not, because they simply don’t care. “If others can handle it, you can too.” I know that my story is no different from the many other folks who get locked up in county jails throughout Wisconsin. The only difference is that my mouthpiece is probably a lot bigger than theirs. Apart from the crazy reasons I was locked up in the first place, I have a newfound disgust for the way prisoners are treated in Wisconsin, and I vow that if I’m ever in a position to make prison conditions better, I’ll do it.  As to why I was locked up in the first place, I’ll say this: Gregg Walker was able to use bale jumping and witness intimidation as reasons for Sheriff Hartman to lock me up, because Vilas County Judge Martha Milanowski refused to dismiss the criminal defamation complaint against me from last September. I’ve heard that Wisconsin circuit court judges are loath to dismiss criminal cases because they want to protect the system—that system being the cordial cooperation between local judges, district attorneys, and county sheriffs. In protecting that system, she ignored US Supreme Court precedent--which de-criminalized defamation in 1964 with the landmark Garrison v Louisiana decision. Had she dismissed my case when she had the opportunity, the bail conditions Hartmann used to lock me up wouldn't have existed anymore. I’ve been told I can’t sue Sheriff Hartman for wrongful imprisonment until I win my criminal defamation lawsuit, which could take years. I've also been told that the five customers of ours--including teachers and doctors--who were arrested and jailed for simply being vocal members of my audience, have a very strong wrongful imprisonment lawsuit against the county if they choose to pursue it.

Oneida County Sheriff Grady Hartmann, the man in the black sunglasses in this video, was in charge of arresting and zip-tying 5 of our customers, including 2 teachers and 1-2 doctors (I'm not sure). As the lead law enforcement officer on the scene, he must have approved the "probable cause" to arrest our customers for doing absolutely nothing but being vocal members of the audience during my speech on my property.

I’ve been begging the last four years for Attorney General Josh Kaul, a democrat, to step in and protect my company and me from blatant harassment by Oneida County, the Town of Minocqua, their law enforcement, and the Republican-elected circuit judges who protect this corrupt system.  As the top law enforcement agent in the state, he has the power to do something.  He has not. I’ve begged the Wisconsin chapter of the ACLU to help protect me from obvious 1st Amendment violations, and they didn’t reply for years. Finally, after making the right connections in Milwaukee to make it impossible for them to ignore me any longer, ACLU Wisconsin told me they were simply too busy to help. I’m currently suing the Oneida County zoning board in federal court to try to stop them from shutting me down for bogus zoning violations, but Western District Judge Peterson has rejected our latest motion for a preliminary injunction. We just appealed to the 7th district court of appeals. We’re going to attempt to get relief from Wisconsin’s 3rd District Court of Appeals, because Oneida County’s refusal to give me a business permit is in direct violation of Wisconsin statue, but the 3rd District is full of Scott Walker appointees—all of whom surely passed Republican purity tests before being appointed by the most partisan and abusive Governor our state has ever known. Once we lose in the 3rd District, we’ll try to get Wisconsin’s Supreme Court to help us. Their 4-3 progressive majority just voted to allow congressional gerrymandering that gives our 50/50 swing state a lopsided 6-2 Republican majority in the House, and upheld Scott Walker’s ACT 10, which limits the ability for nurses to strike to get better wages and benefits. With friends like these in Wisconsin’s Supreme Court, who needs enemies? I simply can’t give up, I’m not capable of it--but I’m am running out of hope that there’s a judge in Wisconsin who has the stones to do the right thing—in my many cases or in any case that simply asks to be treated fairly by one’s government. But I will keep trying, and all I can hope for is that my widely-read essays can make their way to some Wisconsin judges and help them find their backbones, or inspire a new crop of lawyers to try to change our failing justice system by running to replace the current judges who prop it up. I can’t stop fighting because my livelihood depends on it, but I wish I could. I'm tired and my brain hurts. To help me continue to fight, please chip in to my legal defense fund here. I simply don't know what else to do other than to keep paying lawyers to help convince bad judges to do the right thing--and maybe sing a few arias to calm my my storming mind. Thanks for reading. Kirk Bangstad Owner, Minocqua Brewing Company Founder, Minocqua Brewing Company Super PAC https://mailchi.mp/minocquabrewingcompany/americas-literacy-crisis-and-the-gullibility-gap-8274385?e=a04011bf08