Department of Justice

?My letter to the Department of Justice was also mailed, with certified mail, to the Department of Justice Washington D.C. In my attempt to file a complaint against an Oregon State Police officer,I decided to drive to the O.S.P. headquarters in Salem, Oregon. When I arrived I noticed the officer at the desk was a very big man, and probably not over twenty-five . He received my complaint better than I expected and said he would get someone to help me. He returned and said he would call Shelia Reed from the governors office . ?The door on my immediate right opened and Ms. Reed introduced her self . I explained that my son had severe sleep apnea, and was sentenced to prison a month earlier, based on the testimony of a confidential informant . I then showed her a letter from a local attorney, Robert Brasch to District Attorney Paul Burgett. As she was reading the letter I noticed she became red in the face, and suddenly handed me the letter and blurted out, I can’t help you, and then turned and trotted away, the way a woman does when wearing shoes with heels. I don’t believe she got passed the second paragraph . ?Having no luck with the Oregon State Police, I decided to write a request for an investigation and deliver it to the Department of Justice, also in Salem Oregon . My father insisted on going along believing the D.O.J. would finally help. Upon our arrival we were told they could not, and did not, talk to the public, although they did accept my letter, they then refereed us to Randy Banks at 410 Hawthorne St. When we arrived no one was in the office and after about ten minutes we left and went to a pay phone. My father was very upset and pointed out, we were from out of town, and did not appreciate being given the run around . ?They informed us we should return and Mr. Banks would speak to us . When we returned three men were there, and they seemed out of breath . I noticed that the man standing, where the secretary should be, was wearing a blue wind breaker . Mr. Banks was trying to get his breath and said, you have ten minutes, what have you got, I’m in a hurry . When I started to open my brief case Mr. Banks said, I’m in a hurry, we don’t have time for that, just tell me what you have . I tried to explain and Mr. Banks simply dismissed us and said get a lawyer . When we left I noticed the F.B.I. office was on the first floor next to the front door ?Several weeks later while on a trip to see my son, I decided to go to the F.B.I. office in Mr. Banks building and advise them of the situation. As soon as I entered the office I recognized the man at the window, however he did not seem to recognize me, so I presented him with the letter from Mr. Brasch to District Attorney Paul Burgett . As he was reading the letter, I was watching for his reaction and sure enough, he dropped the letter on the counter and pushed it back to me as if it were on fire. He began to stutter and said, I can’t help you, I’m not an agent, you’ll have to come back and make an appointment. Although there were people in the office, I could only assume that they were not agents either . I turned and left the building, I could not help but wonder just what his job was, since he was the man in Mr. Banks office, the one in the blue wind breaker. ?My letter to the D.O.J. and the Brasch letter are posted at my web-site, additional information will be added soon. Lowell V. Keef Jr. http://scint-stinks.com ?