Legendary Law Man Passes Milestone Year As Man On Horseback, Mounted With Fire, Sturm Und Drang

A  picture depicted Sheriff’s office with trademark magneto detonator 

An ocean is a desert with its life underground and the perfect disguise above… – America

Somewhere in the Valley of the Brazos – One bumps into these things seemingly by accident, and slowly an impression begins to form in the mind’s eye.

It’s rather like diving in hazy waters over a chalky marl bottom near a blue hole in a reef rimmed with coral and beginning to get the impression of a really big fish. A fish with a hump on its back and a very large dorsal fin. Huge tail, really ugly teeth in a semicircular mouth; and then, suddenly, you realize the fish is actually a very large shark that has been circling you slowly as you paddled along looking at nothing in particular, unaware of the eyes tracking you in your true surroundings.

There it is, and it has so cleverly concealed itself in plain sight because of its natural coloration, a hazy bluish gray on top and a fish belly white below so that if it’s above, it blends into the surface glare, and if it’s below, it’s the same color as the depths in shadow. Its peripheral appearance is easily ignored if it keeps itself just out of the direct line of sight and in that murky area of the mind’s eye.

At that point, one begins to realize there are only atmospheric degrees, gradations of experience on the surface of a planet so constantly shifting that its prairies are really the bottoms of ancient oceans and gulfs, its piedmonts and rocky ranges once mighty archipelagos, its people cast in similar roles throughout their tenure as creatures native to its shifting soils and drifting tectonic plates masquerading as continents.

Behold, the celebration of a milestone year of a legendary Cossack steeped in the mystique of the family business, in which the government supplies only the ammunition in return for the militant services of an entire clan at the ready to soldier on for the guarantee of land, lots of land in return for victory obtained at the point of the sword, the lance, the rifle, the pistol.

Sheriff Parnell McNamara, Jr., a fifth generation central Texas fed, entered the first of his septuagenarian years on April 29 with all the attendant fanfare of a traditional birthday bash of one of T.P. Senior’s boys at a spot in the country not far from the banks of the Bosque, complete with full automatic bursts from government model sub guns fit to cut the door hinges on junk cars, TNT blasts detonated with timed fuses, electrical caps and magneto plungers able to breach mighty walls, buckshot barrages that will shred walls and doors in a blink.

Like a rendezvous of the fabled trick riding mustachoied men on horseback, enforcers for the Tsar, whose rodeo stunts consisted of entirely practical skills used to keep the peasants in line and guide the pogroms across the steppes, the McNamara brothers have marked the years of their lives with coveted invitations to the people of North Waco and Bosqueville to their famous birthday parties so celebratory of their badass ways in the saddle, behind the trigger, a’strut in the corridors of power, dressed in the traditional garb of the Ranger, that knight in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, his hundred peso piece badge, boots and 10-gallon stetson all a part of getting by in a thorny world of sun, sandstorms, fanged critters, stealthy scorpions and skittish cayuses.

In fact, a recent news picture of the Sheriff posing in his office depicts him relaxing with trademark carbines, .45-70 cavalry rifles, Thompson Submachine guns, and a magneto plunger detonator in the background, with a big smile on his face, reporting a recent triumph.

It all adds up to an immediate impression of monumental interest. This hombre will deal in violent death at the drop of a hat before he will let any punter, piker, bad actor or confused fool divert his mission to take care of the business at hand for the courts.

I give you the former Deputy U.S. Marshal In Charge for the Waco Division of the Western District of the United States of America in Texas, deep in the middle of his second term as the Sheriff of McLennan County.

In fact, the image is so potent that a senior masthead of slick east coast publishing of lettres machismo, “Esquire” Magazine, once included McNamara in a pictorial of legendary tough guys. He posed in a photo shoot on the streets of Hico, the rumored redoubt of a legendary outlaw, Billy the Kid, said to have lived out his latter years peacefully in that leafy little river town.

It all fits in with the rest of the story, the tale of the youth who fled his home in Ireland on some dimly defined date in a by-gone century, headed for the New World, who left a note for his kin to find.

Milk your own cow.”

So, what’s so new? Plenty.

Unlike the “instigation” of the manhunt for the vicious serial killer Kenneth McDuff that appeared on “America’s Most Wanted,” the many appearances escorting outlaws and scalawags in and out of the federal courthouse, Lear Jets, and federal motorcades headed for an eternity behind bars, McNamara’s media image is now not so much that of a man reacting to the world around him as a bailiff for the U.S. District Court system, but is now that of a proactive cop leading his men in world of the kind of crimes that have a lot to do with the quality of life.

In the daily soap opera of the local Waco newspaper and the three area network broadcast outlets, McNamara appears often in his trademark Stetson with the specified Parnell McNamara flattened wide-awake crimp on its crown, inveighing against human traffickers and detailing how his men used their wiles to ensnare the captors of innocent womanhood in sweatshops of sin giving massages with happy endings, their hairy-legged alter egos wooing molesters on-line as they pose from an office cubicle as a virginal young woman astray in a world of indecision as they arrange assignations with eager men looking for an opportunity to grab the brass ring with an underage woman.

The familiar mosaic in county orange and flesh tone has become a familiar accompaniment to the blaring headlines proclaiming dozens of arrests and indictments of these enemies of the people so depicted on bulletin boards and easels at press conferences. Clearly, McNamara is on the move.

Forgotten are the campaign promises of 2012 to investigate 53 cold cases of homicide. Asked about that, McNamara admitted that police agencies such as Waco P.D. are reluctant to turn loose of the kind of information it takes to continue such difficult investigations. No can do.

Similarly, the Sheriff’s Office under his guidance has displayed a lackluster performance level when it comes to serving arrest warrants on men who have beaten and brutalized women. At least two have suffered the constant threat until, at last, the bad actors turned up at their doors to kill them.

In the area of enforcing the law on minor offenders in the ghettos of Waco where the police department has jurisdiction, McNamara’s night shift has left the rural areas of the county without police protection while its night shift wolf pack patrolled minority ghetto dwellers, searching out perpetrators of the dreaded offenses of driving while license suspended, driving while insurance is not in force, and failure to appear in municipal, justice and county courts to answer for misdemeanor crimes – against the peace and dignity of the people of the State of Texas.

Similarly, marginally employed men who are forced to live in third rate motels located along the interstates and U.S. Highways because of their lack of a credit rating or past history of felony convictions had best stay inside their rooms after dark. If Parnell’s Posse catches them walking up and down the balconies, they are liable to face a trip to jail or a long, loud, drawn-out discussion about their pedigree, or their particular little problems in getting along in the world. Bummer.

Fee fi fo fum.

During the campaign of 2012, soon-to-be Chief Deputy Matt Cawthon, a retired Texas Ranger who had worked as a member of the Lone Star Federal Fugitive Task Force seconded as an officer of the Texas Department of Corrections Institutional Division, Office of the Inspector General, faced a civil action brought by a residential building contractor named Marvin Steakley who demanded an additional $70,000 in building fees and to pay for supplies in the completion of a residence.

Steakley was holding the certificate of occupation for the home hostage in return for his money, which Cawthon had already paid to creditors, suppliers and subcontractors. He and his wife Shelly could prove it, and did prove it to a 74th District Court jury over the course of a five-day trial.

As the trial progressed, McNamara held forth about his career during the numerous breaks in the action as the attorneys conferred in the judge’s chambers, recesses prompted by arguments over points of law, and the like.

It emerged that he and his brother Mike McNamara, who had worked for their father T.P. McNamara, Sr. from the time they were in high school in the office of the Deputy U.S. Marshal in Charge of the Waco Division Office, were very much opposed to patch holders in what the G has labeled Outlaw Motorcycle Gangs.

They were somewhat expert in the intricacies of Civil Asset Forfeiture, he confided, between tales of operations long forgotten. Their travels often took them to San Antonio, he reminded me, the headquarters of the Western District of Texas and the place where the Mother Club of the Bandidos, U.S.A. is organized.

He explained the mechanics of forfeiture of money, anything of value such as motor vehicles, guns, tools, homes – and especially motorcycles.

I mean, we would have the wrecker drivers pick these hogs up and they would go down the street with them swinging in chains, these big old motorcycles that weigh better than a thousand pounds…” he said.

By his gestures, one could see what the chains did to the paint and chrome pieces of the motorcycles, something he found hilarious.

One learned that McNamara is not the kind of man you have to ask questions. All you have to do is listen. He will tell you exactly what he thinks, and you get his version of what has happened if you will just listen carefullly. His personal style brings back memories of spitoons in the courtrooms, cigar smoke and long poker games in the back rooms of saloons and club cars of trains, confidential talk in barber shops and law offices, gabardines, spurs, Stetsons, moustache wax, tack and polished silver.

For instance, he was at pains to explain the litigation he and his brother Mike went through at the time of his retirement at the age of 57. Because they never wanted to rotate to other cities as members of the Marshal’s Service, they remained in a certain category of employment throughout their careers in order to avoid routine reassignment to such places as Detroit or New York, Los Angeles or Cleveland. Naturally, there was a hassle about retirement benefits, and in the shakeout, they got no retirement pensions.

One learned he’d been making it as a handgun licensing instructor. Becoming Sheriff would be a significant trade up for he and his family. He needed the job.

When he came to the Tokio Store near West to make his stump appearance, bikers from all over the area were there in their finest regalia, riding their scooters polished to perfection, ready to hear country and rock music played by local musicians lined up Al Cinek. Cawthon warmed up the crowd and McNamara gave his stump speech, pressed the flesh, answered questions, and moved on.

In a phone conversation a week or so later, Cinek mentioned that Facebook videos and announcements appearing on social media had attracted many bikers from the Metroplex, east Texas and the near reaches of the west, including members of the Cossacks MC and their support clubs.

That’s when the phone crackled, pop popped, hissed and crackled again, then popped and popped before it re-bopped the be-bop.

What was that!” Al asked, alarmed.

That’s what it does when the computers hear a word they’re programmed to pick up in surveillance, I said. This was years before Snowden did his thing. Who knew?

You could feel his anxiety over the phone. It didn’t feel good. The social media thing was good about attracting a crowd, but was it the right crowd? He left the topic open. It wasn’t anything one was welcome to discuss; he made that plain.

As the years have gone by, Parnell stories available for collection have piled up in my notebooks. They include numerous mentions of the birthday parties, but law men like to throw in meat and potatoes about the full auto carbines, just what kind he loaned out to law men on the days of the final assault on the Branch Davidian compound in April, 1993. The rumor is that they were antique Schmeisser Machine Pistols, 9 mm parabellum, as well as AR-15 models with select fire for full auto operation.

And now, we learn that a man depicting on-screen a Texas Ranger, Jeff Bridges, The Dude, has patterned his walk, talk, wardrobe and style by studying videos of Parnell McNamara, Jr., much the way John Wayne patterned his act in a brief acquaintance with the legendary law man, Wyatt Earp when Earp worked as a consultant to movie producers in Tinseltown.

In an interview immediately following the “melee” at Twin Peaks on May 17, 2015, McNamara chuckled loudly, compared what had happened at the shopping mall to the Gun Fight at the OK Corral by saying, “That only got three. This got nine!”

The ammunition: .45 acp. 5.56 NATO, .308 NATO, .45-70 Government.

The fighting men: Clan McNamara.

The family business. Soldiering for the United States of America.

So mote it be.

Two Cossacks brothers arriving at Ellis Island in traditional garb

AG’S Embarrassing words

Jeff Sessions, the ignoramus from Alabama who believes he’s the AG

Washington – The unfortunate statement by former Alabama U.S. Senator Jeff Sessions that he’s shocked that a judge on an island in the Pacific can block an executive order by Donald Trump is a total embarrassment to experienced Americans of even minimal education.

Obviously, this fool has no idea how the federal court system is organized, or even its function. Nevertheless, as a white-headed, tooth-sucking Sun Belt Republican of the New South, a wise man of the U.S. Senate, he voted on numerous judicial appointments to federal benches without the basic savvy that would enable a high school student to pass a routine quiz about a civics lesson.

He proved it when he blurted out his ridiculous opinion to a CNN reporter, and the pitiful thing is, the only thing that makes it remarkable is the Attorney General of the United States of America said it, not some senile old gramps at the Dairy Queen nursing a second cup of coffee.

Had he bothered to read the 120 day Court order to stay the Executive Order issued by U.S. District Court Judge Derrick R. Watson of the District of Hawaii, he would have learned that there are valid constitutional principles to consider in the lawsuit brought by the Plaintiffs, the State of Hawaii and Ismail Elshikh, an adherent of the Muslim religion.

Both claim that Donald Trump and the rest of his government are engaging in a “Muslim ban” in contravention to what is known as the Establishment Clause of the First Amendment, which plainly states, in bluff terms, “Congress shall make no law regarding an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof…”

They hold that not only has Trump said in no uncertain terms that the purpose of the travel restrictions for people seeking refugee status or travel on visas issued in six predominantly Muslim states is not only to ban from the U.S. people who worship under the tenets of the Muslim faith, but that to do so will cause the people of Hawaii and her institutions irreparable harm.

Judge Watson indicated that he agrees with the Plaintiffs, who allege “by singling out nationals from the six predominantly Muslim countries, the Executive Order causes harm by stigmatizing not only immigrants and refugees, but also Muslim citizens of the United States.”

He furthermore makes extensive citations of “public statements by the President and his advisors regarding the implementation of a Muslim ban, which Plaintiffs contend is the tacit and illegitimate motivation underlying the Executive Order.”

One may read the Judge’s Order of which Mr. Sessions complains so bitterly by clicking on this highlighted area.

Other than that, as we all know, the Legislature is now in session, contemplating constitutional carry of handguns. This would not be alarming if not for the past track record of the Know Nothings who brought us the Branch Davidian raid and the Twin Peaks massacre under similar circumstances, during earlier sessions of other Legislatures with smaller numbers.

News is a matter of trust

Behold, the price of decreased government regulation and supervision…

Six Shooter Junction – Recently, a woman of limited means provoked her own arrest at a legislative committee hearing where the leadership refuses to allow electronic recordings of the proceedings.

After repeated warnings, she was forcibly removed, and when she resisted, officers pulled her hair, knocked her down, dragged her and at the jail placed her in a restraining chair where they strapped her in. Then they placed a hood over her head.

True, the hearing was covered by live streaming video, archived and indexed for the public, but she wanted her own copy. It was not to be.

She has no media credential.

So I determined to jump through the hoops required to get this jewel from the Texas House of Representatives Business Office, Manager of Payroll and Personnel, james.freeman@house.texas.gov

Freeman’s conclusion, after providing beaucoup information about just who I am and what I do, was, “based on that information, we are unable to establish your eligibility for a media credential.”

It comes as no surprise.

Freeman meets the payroll that regulates the golden handcuffs of corporate sensibility binding a bunch of good old boys and girls to benches and machines that drive one of the most ruthless corporate economies in the history of the world. The driving mantra of this consortium is “Decreased government regulation.”

One of the tools in the box with the most leverage to achieve that goal is an embargo on any truly useful information as it relates to corporations who do business in the Lone Star State.

These organizations are nearly human. They can do anything a human being can do, except die. The closest thing to that is to run out of money, and then a government trustee settles their debts and reorganizes them.

The payroll Freeman meets is $600 per member per month, most of whom take that pay day once a year and pay their rent on condos, from which they organize their activities in each biennial session of the Legislature. Why would anyone want to do all that, to keep meticulous campaign records, meet entertainment and appearance obligations and travel to the capital often for certain obligations for the pittance of $7,200 per year gross?

RETIREMENT!

The Texas Legislature has one of the most lucrative, benefit-laden systems available. Makes it all worth-while, to chill with family and friends during the golden years and reflect back on the true story.

“I did all this with a part- time job.” It’s almost as good as, and then I married the boss’s daughter, but nowhere as socially confining.

But the statewide embargo on information that is imposed by the corporate sponsors who make all this possible is nearly sociopathic.

Let’s take a look at a certain central Texas community of hard-working farming families and the agricultural workers who service their needs in the employ of multinational agribusiness conglomerates.

The Bohemian enclave of West has suffered a couple of criminal incidents over the past few years, each of which I, The Legendary Jim Parks, covered as news events. I guess Brother Freeman was far too busy counting the sheaves and paying out the shekels to take notice.

In one, a fertilizer storage plant exploded under entirely mysterious circumstances. After laborious investigation, a federal agency, the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives eliminated all possibilities for the cause other than a fire in an ammonium nitrate mixing room that was set as an act of arson. By whom?

They don’t know.

The bullshit.

The true facts of what happened were suppressed by the media, systematically, with precision, and no inconsiderable alacrity.

After all, corporate America is always looking for team players.

The simpler, the better, and this story was fairly straightforward. Some total idiot completely disregarded the well-known fact that rapid charging of storage batteries creates highly volatile gases, causing them to explode. The fool plugged in a golf cart to recharge within reach of open bins of a compound that once burning, emits highly explosive gases of its own.

During the afternoon of the day of the explosion, a fire ensued in the electrical system and an electrician assessed the damage, secured the circuit, and promised to prepare a repair estimate.

Someone knows who plugged the battery charger back in.

She’s not alone, but she has a motive to speak out.

A member of the law enforcement community killed her baby sister with a gun she borrowed from her father in an attempt to protect herself from him.

He forced an ambulance off the road, beat up the driver, whipped her with a cane, and made two trips to her house where he beat her senseless before he returned to take the gun away from her and killed her with it.

Why?

Her sister, a former Emergency Medical Service technician says, “Someone else could have her and he couldn’t. He couldn’t stand it.”

He’s in the penitentiary now. Finally.

Law enforcement had paperwork on him that would have put him behind bars all along. They just didn’t serve it.

In fact, he broke into the ambulance driving sister’s house to menace her sister and she, herself, put the gun to his head, cocked and locked, and just didn’t pull the trigger. He retreated, but it wasn’t the end of the story.

I wrote extensively about the crimes directly from the written records. At a community gathering in a rural beer joint, one of the drunks pointed out an insurance adjuster who told me the story of the golf cart and the fire.

Our first aid lady has something to say about government regulations. She says there was no burglar alarm, fire alarm, fire prevention system, video surveillance, fence or any other way to keep unauthorized people off of the property of West Fertilizer.

There weren’t even any material safety data sheets to describe the hazards of the fertilizer that exploded and cost so many families their homes, more than a dozen firefighters their lives, and robbed the State of Texas of its peace and dignity.

To a man, the campaigners for public office, including Governor and Lt. Governor with their legislative roles, voiced repugnance for the need for government oversight and expressed their adamant refusal to let any such disaster as happened to the people of West to impede the wheels of corporate commerce.

Ta-da!

The EMS lady is unemployed now. Her partner lost his job over substance abuse impairment, was the subject of a federal probe over explosives, and wound up in rehab.

She tried tending bar in downtown West until her boss got caught drinking while working at his own bar and made a scene because Texas Alcoholic Beverage Commission staffers were standing on the corner outside the door with local cops.

He raved at them for driving business away from his door.

“I don’t want to lose my certification as an EMS tech over something like that,” she said.

Sometimes, it’s good to not have the approval of the government to write news.

After all, I wrote every evolution of these stories with no credential whatsoever. Plenty of people read the stories.

I’m satisfied. I hope the neoconservative business schmucks with the button-down checkbook minds are.

But, seriously, sometimes the bottom line really IS the bottom line.

After all, what is a Grand Jury, if not a form of government regulation?

Last $1 Million Club Member In Waco ICU After Seizure Meds Witheld

CORRECTION: MARCUS PILKINGTON REJECTED A PLEA OFFER AND ACCEPTED A JUDGE’S SENTENCING OF TWO 5-YEAR Concurrent sentences for narcotics possession and a 2-year sentence for tampering with physical evidence. No charge of domestic violence was involved. We apologize for the inacuracy. – RadioLegendary

Jail Commission complaint pending for mistreatment of ailing inmate

Bandido Marcus Pilkington sustained a 1/4-inch bullet wound at Twin Peaks. He suffered a seizure at the Limestone County Jail when corrections officers failed to give him his medication 

Waco – The family of Marcus Pilkington filed a complaint with the Texas Commission on Jail Standards after he suffered a seizure at the Limestone County Jail. He is in an induced coma at Hillcrest Baptist Medical Center today because corrections officers reportedly witheld his seizure medication.

Pilkington’s mother and grandmother were said have been ordered by hospital security officers to clear off the premises when they met the ambulance as it arrived from Groesbeck.

Authorities finally allowed his mother to visit his bedside late Wednesday afternoon after a police official from the Groesbeck area arranged for the visit.

A Limestone County District Court sentenced Pilkington to two concurrent 5-year terms for domestic a domestic dispute involving stalking and a 2-year stretch for a marijuana charge on Tuesday. After he checked into the County Jail, corection officers allegedly neglected to give him his medication.

Pilkington, who has served as a sergeant at arms in the Bandidos Motorcycle Club, has gained some notoriety as the last member of the “$1 Million Club” to be released on a bond reduction after his arrest as the last of 177 defendants taken into custody on the identical charge of engaging in organized crime at the Twin Peaks massacre on May 17, 2015.

During the fracas, Pilkington suffered a 1/4-inch bullet wound in his leg, then served an extended period of days in the Jack Harwell Detention Center after receiving initial medical care. According to his mother, he received no further medical attention during his stay at the privately operated lockup at Waco, which is leased to LaSalle Corrections, an out of state operator.