- update- April 23, 2005

Franciszek C. Kulon

596 Aden Hill Road

Parksville, NY 12768

 

DECEMBER  3, 2001

DECEMBER. 31. 2002

JANUARY  .2. 2002

MARCH   3, 2003

OFFICE OF THE District Attorney

Sullivan County

County Courthouse

Monticello, NY 12701

Steven Lungen District Attorney

 

To those it might concern:

I am directing the following to your attention because I need help with a serious matter, which just does not fit well with obvious avenues of help, such as seemingly appropriate civil rights organizations, watchdog groups, federal and state offices, and the like. I receive, at most, only form letters in return. These usually say that the matter is of a type the organization does not deal with, or they suggest that I hire an attorney. However, I cannot afford to hire an attorney capable and sophisticated enough to solve my problem. It seems to me that someone or some organization ought to be as angry as I am about the following, and might offer to help Please let me know what you think. Or Please forward my letter….

I am a painter and an immigrant to this country. I studied painting in the traditional manner in my native Poland, and became well known there. I have a free soul and could not stand the oppression I experienced under the communist regime, so I came to the United States in search of an opportunity to earn and live a free life. I was well on my way, until I came to live in the small town of Parksville, in Sullivan County, New York. Here, my life has been threatened, my property placed in jeopardy, and my rights as an artist under the First Amendment have been trod upon at the whim, and to the perverse pleasure of, members and friends of the local legal community. What happened here should not be allowed in this country.

Please take a minute to read my story. I'll start by summarizing things very briefly. Then I'll go into more detail, in the hope that you, or some person or organization you know of, might be interested to help with this matter.

When I came to Parksville, I bought an old house in disrepair. I worked hard on it and it now serves as my home and my studio. Buying this house caused me to run afoul of Jeffrey Altbach, a local general practice lawyer and Justice of the Peace, who had personal interests in the property. Altbach, through his friendship with various locals, soon caused me to be falsely accused and prosecuted, imprisoned, physically mistreated, attacked, and threatened with death. At the same time, I began receiving many offers and suggestions that I should sell my house. In hindsight, it now is not hard to see what was happening, and who was behind it. Altbach wanted

my property, and wanted me out. I fought back by first seeking help to no avail, and then using the only power that I thought I might bring to bear:

I used my brush to make my persecutors, especially the public figure Altbach, satirical subjects of some of my paintings. Altbach's response was immediate, relentless, and harsh. He sued me for $1,500,000.00 over my painting "Our Honorable Judge of Liberty," which portrayed him as a smug devil sitting with his law books. But this is how I remembered Altbach after he had local police officers break into my home, drag me to his office, and cart me off to jail even though he was not legally empowered to do so. My painting was temporarily confiscated, and injunctions were issued to keep me from displaying this work.

I was held in contempt of the order by Sullivan County Judge Anthony Kane, and again went to jail when I could not pay my fine.Meanwhile, Altbach, despite my rights of free expression, continues with his lawsuit, and I am faced with having to defend myself, which I alone am not very well equipped to do.

Meanwhile too, oppressive cronyism still reigns in Parksville and Sullivan County. This is why I need your help.

It is not so much the above bare facts that are so shocking. What shocks and offends me so much lies in the details and the reasons. Imagine that you are an honest immigrant and the following happened to you. Would you not think that someone, or some agency or organization, might come to your aid, or at least investigate the matter? Would you not be concerned that others might suffer similar injustice? Indeed, others have... I know of one newcomer to Parksville who bowed under local pressure, sold his home, and left at a personal loss of over $55,000.00.

These things are likely to continue unless someone steps in. Please take the time to read on. I thank you so much, in advance, for your time.

My immigration to this country was not easy. I spent almost three years living in camps and detention before I gained entrance to New York City. Like many immigrants, I first lived in inexpensive neighborhoods that more established citizens prefer to avoid. But I worked hard at my art, and my paintings began to sell.

When my friends saw that my life was improving, they urged me to leave the more troubled areas of New York City and paint in the peace of the countryside. After several years I found that I was able to afford an old house in Parksville, in a serious state of disrepair. Never mind its condition - I could afford it, and it had promise. The closing was followed by many months of hard work. Renovations to the house competed with painting for all of my time, but I was happy.

Then the troubles began. In September, 1997, a plain-clothes police officer, Detective Sticco, accompanied by another officer in uniform, kicked open my front door. Without a word of explanation, they handcuffed me and told me to stay put. Then they began to search my house. When they found nothing of interest, Sticco began a show of force in front of his apparently surprised young colleague. Waving his loaded revolver in front of my face, he promised to shoot me on the spot if I made an unexpected move. He used my telephone, made some calls, pushed me out of the house with his knee, and took me away in a car. I had no idea what was happening.

This was not the first time in my life that I have been subjected to police violence. When the communist secret police came to get me in Poland 1980 they where cool, efficient and impersonal. They let me take certain personal items. There was no cursing or personal attacks, and they at least explained why I would be placed in a political prisoners' camp. You see, twenty years ago in Poland I was an active anticommunist. But in Parksville I could think of no reason for what was being done. There was no explanation, Miranda readings, or anything of the sort. I asked the officers where they were taking me. The response was "Shut up you fucking asshole, or I'll shoot you down." I tried desperately to understand why Detective Sticco apparently hated me, someone he had never even seen before.

The police took me to the troopers' barracks. Detective Sticco made some phones calls, fingerprinted me, and forced me to sign my name at the bottom of some form. Then the officers put me in a private car and took me to the office of Jeffrey Altbach. Never mind that Altbach had no authority or jurisdiction over the matter. They joked a while at my expense. Altbach asked if I had $2,500.00 on me for bail, and said that if I did not, I would be going to jail. I explained that I could make a phone call and get the money, but was told that I could not. I was taken to jail. First though, the police took me back to their barracks to get a police car for the trip.

On the way to jail, Detective Sticco cursed and insulted me continuously. I learned that I was "trash... a fucking unwanted Russian stinky immigrant chicken shit fucking asshole." I could not help feeling I was being provoked to show the slightest sign of physical resistance which would result in even worse abuse.

In jail I was not allowed to contact anybody until the next day. Despite that, I was optimistic. I thought the incident must have been a terrible misunderstanding of some sort. Finally, I was allowed to make a collect call to Mr. Halkias, the owner of Grand Prospect Hall in Brooklyn, where I had helped with renovation and artwork since my arrival in New York City. Mr. Halkias was, to say the least, surprised when I told him I was calling from the County Jail. He tried to post my bail and obtain my release, but his efforts were rebuffed.

I spent two days in jail, and then was taken to the courthouse in Grahamsville to face Judge (and automobile mechanic) Zanetti. Judge Zanetti asked about the charges against me. Ms. Mitzner of the District Attorney's office responded, "He has no respect." She also said that Altbach had caused me to be locked up, and had the "papers," but unfortunately was on vacation that day. Judge Zanetti ordered that I be returned to jail until proper "papers" were produced. I now understand this to mean papers with formal charges.

Two days later I was brought back before Judge Zanetti who posed the same question to Ms. Mitzner - where are the papers? Mitzner replied that she still had nothing from Altbach. Judge Zanetti then released me, stating, "I can't keep him locked up forever without a cause."

A sort of peace lasted until I learned of a court appearance date. It was, however, interrupted by numerous unsolicited telephones offers to purchase my home. At the time, I did not connect these phone calls with my arrest - I was merely surprised, because I had no plans to sell and never expressed such intentions to anyone.

Despite being uninformed about the nature of the case against me (no formal court appearance documents were ever provided) I showed up as orally instructed by Judge Zanetti. I arrived alone, without a lawyer. I waited five hours. My case was left for last. When my turn finally came, there were only the court clerk, Judge Zanetti, Mitzner from the District Attorney's office, my neighbor D'Ambrose, and myself in attendance. Judge Zanetti read several charges against me - the ones I understood had to do with harassment of D'Ambrose, and Ms. Susan Derby, a friend of both D'Ambrose and Judge Zanetti.

Once I realized that the situation was serious, I asked Judge Zanetti for time to arrange for an attorney, some witnesses, and an interpreter to ensure that my poor command of English would not put me at a disadvantage. These requests were denied, and D'Ambrose then told his side of the story. When D'Ambrose was finished I tried to speak, but Judge Zanetti said he could only listen to my lawyer (the one he prevented me from getting). He also said that if he were to listen to all defendants he would "go crazy". The proceedings ended immediately thereafter. I was not allowed to defend myself. I had no idea of what the so-called harassment consisted of. Yet both D'Ambrose and Susan Derby received protective orders against me. I was ordered to pay the court fees. I simply paid them and went home, hoping the whole incident would be closed.

The memories of this began to fade a bit after several peaceful months. Despite the calm, I decided to take no chances, and so I found a lawyer in case the ugliness returned. This turned out to be a very good decision. Two State Troopers showed up at my house. They explained that they were there following the orders of a Detective Sticco, and their job was to bring me to Sticco's office in the troopers barracks. And so they did, but Detective Sticco left soon after he learned that I had retained a lawyer. Meanwhile, a trooper associate of Sticco handcuffed me to a pipe just a couple of inches from the floor. He knew I had recently undergone serious back surgery as a result of a car accident, so this must have been done solely to inflict pain. I could only kneel upon the floor. The pain in my back was unbearable but I was forced to remain that way for about two hours. I learned that they were waiting on Judge Zanetti. Yet, when Zanetti finally showed up in Grahamsville, he merely told the troopers to let me go.

It was at this point that I decided that I must fight against what obviously would be continuing injustice and harassment. I tried at length to obtain help from various traditional sources of legal aid (the Department of Justice, human rights organizations, and many others), but I could not do so. So, I then decided to create paintings about my experience with local "justice." Soon, a nasty satyr with a vicious smile, looking very much like Justice of the Peace Altbach, decorated a folder advertising my newly open gallery. Soon too, I was served with papers telling me that Altbach was suing me for $1,500,000.00 for defamation. The court ordered me to stop displaying the painting called "Our Honorable Judge of Liberty." I did not, was found in contempt, and again went to jail, in September 2002.

I asked myself, "Why did all this happen?" Why did I fall into such disfavor with the local powers? I could think of no reason, so I investigated. Luckily, Parksville is a small village and people talk a lot to one another, about one another. This helped. Here is what I learned from the people of Parksville:

My neighbor, D'Ambrose, is a friend of Altbach and Detective Sticco. Altbach's divorced wife, without his knowledge, sold my house to me. This made Altbach furious and deprived his real estate company of a possible commission. To make matters worse for Altbach, he had promised my property to one of his friends. So, unknown to me, Altbach had reasons to dislike me, and to see that I left my home.

His opportunity came when D'Ambrose made advances towards my daughter that she and I thought were improper, and I told him to leave her, and me, alone from then on. D'Ambrose, who had a history of mental problems, began a campaign against me. He sued me in small claims court for various things over ten times. All of the cases were dismissed.

He began calling the police to report that I was harassing him. Finally D'Ambrose reported that I had stolen a rifle from him. This was not true. This was when the police first came to take me to jail. D'Ambrose finally obtained the formal court protective order against me. Both his successes, and court’s refusal to explain the underlying reasons, are hopefully unique to this local legal system. Altbach, a Justice of the Peace and general practice lawyer, wrote the order. The court, through Judge Zanetti, rubber-stamped it.

Things got worse.

After about a year after my first arrest, D'Ambrose tried to shoot me. One day, when I was mowing my lawn, he fired a shotgun at me. Fortunately he missed but his shot pierced the tire of my mower. I called the police and D'Ambrose was arrested but, to my shock and dismay, I saw him free the very next day. I learned he was freed by court order. I was worried that D'Ambrose might try to shoot me again, but my request for protection was denied. D'Ambrose should have faced trial in court in Monticello. It appears he never did, and he got off easily. I was never asked to testify, even before a Grand Jury.

My attempts to obtain documentation of the case have been fruitless.

Thank you so much for your time and consideration. If you would like to see some of public documents and news accounts relating to this matter, please see my information web site at www.coolon.net.

Sincerely,

Franciszek Kulon  

 

cc: ELIOT SPJTZER 

ATTORNEY GENERAL

STATE OF NEW YORK

OFFICE OF THE ATTORNEY GENERAL

The Capitol, Albany, N.Y. l2224

home; http://www.coolon.net