Fallout (Autumn, 1996)
----------------------

Some nightmares never seem to end.

This has certainly seemed the case with the ongoing saga of Ed Cummings (Bernie
S.). We've devoted many pages to this bizarre tale since it began in March,
1995. And we've learned so very much.

To summarize what we've already told you, Cummings, a 2600 writer for years,
was arrested for possession of telecommunications devices that could be used
for fraudulent purposes. He was never accused of committing any fraud however.
The United States Secret Service managed to have him imprisoned for seven
months on a charge that virtually any technically adept person could be guilty
of. (It was widely believed that the Secret Service had been embarrassed by
Cummings' disclosure to a Fox news crew of unflattering pictures of them
- pictures that had been given to him by a friend and which we have since made
available on our web site.)

On Friday, October 13, 1995, the nightmare ended. Ed Cummings was released from
a federal prison where he had spent time with murderers and other
"non-technologyoriented" criminals.

He quickly put his life together again, securing a job with a phone company and
speaking of his ordeal at various conferences.

But then the Secret Service came back. It seems that a couple of years earlier,
Cummings had had a little run-in with a local police department when he parked
his car illegally and had it searched by a local cop who didn't understand some
of the technical papers and apparatus within. The cop took Cummings and his two
friends to the station and proceeded to question them. They were never placed
under arrest and, when the police left the room, one of Cummings' friends took
the sheets of paper the cop had been interested in and also removed the
batteries from a tone dialer, presumably to erase private phone numbers. (For
some reason they had been left alone with these bits of "evidence.") The cop
discovered this shortly after the three of them left. He managed to find them
again and, since nobody was willing to say who had done the tampering, the cop
charged Cummings since the car belonged to him and he was considered the one
"in charge." And Cummings never saw the need to set the record straight, since
it was a ridiculously minor, almost funny, accusation. He was sentenced to
probation. Now, after being arrested by the Secret Service, he was in violation
of that probation.

In January, 1996, with considerable pressure from Secret Service agent Tom
Varney, Cummings was put back in prison with an insanely high bail of $250,000
while he awaited sentencing. And, because of his high bail, he was kept with
the most violent and dangerous offenders. When he was finally sentenced in
March to 6 to 24 months, it almost seemed like a relief because an end to the
ordeal was at last in sight. And, while technically he could be held for two
years, it was virtually unheard of for prisoners not to get parole after their
minimum time was up, unless they had disciplinary problems. One thing Cummings
had going for him was an impeccable behavior record in prison.

It was no secret, however, that the authorities within the prison system and
the Secret Service were quite upset with Cummings' outspokenness on his case.
His weekly updates on WBAI s Off The Hook and the coverage in 2600 as well as
the smattering of press coverage in the mainstream media was a real thorn in
their side.

June came and went with no parole hearing. And when the hearing finally took
place, on July 2nd, Cummings was told that processing only took place on the
first of the month, so nobody would even touch his case until August. Such
senseless logic appears to be the norm in America's prisons. But in this case,
prison authorities seemed intent on making Cummings' life as miserable as
possible.

One of the best examples of this occurred in July when he was finally moved to
a minimum security facility and allowed to participate in a "voluntary"
community service program. (If you don't volunteer, you get sent back to the
maximum security prison.) During this brief period, he was contacted by Rob
Bernstein, a reporter for Internet Underground, who wanted to write an article
on his case. Bernstein called the prison, asked for, and received, the fax
number at the facility where Cummings was working. His intention was to forward
a copy of the article to Cummings before it was finalized so that any mistakes
could be corrected. At the time, it seemed logical and in the real world it
would have been.

But this was not the real world. When it was discovered that a fax had been
sent to Cummings (without his knowledge or consent), prison officials
immediately threw him back into the maximum security prison at Bucks County.
They claimed he had misused the telephone system by receiving the fax and that,
as a result, his time in prison could be increased by nine months.

Cummings appealed this ridiculous judgment as any semi-rational person would.
They kept him in maximum for 19 days, nine days more than they were supposed
to. His appeal was denied and, at the same time, he was suddenly subjected to
shakedowns and was being written up for infractions like having too much
reading material or one too many bottles of shampoo. Each of these had the
potential for getting his parole denied. All of a sudden his impeccable
behavior record had been tarnished.

Believing he was being harassed, Cummings filed a grievance. Right after it was
denied, he found himself being transferred from minimum to another maximum
security facility in Lehigh County. The reason for this action was "protective
custody." It was obvious to everyone that the real reason was to get rid of
him.

Then things got much worse. Within a day, Cummings was viciously attacked by a
violent inmate. He had his jaw kicked in and his arm shattered by the time the
guards got around to stopping it. His jaw wired shut, he was then thrown into
the infectious diseases ward at Lehigh County where his medical care was
virtually nonexistent. They even refused to give him painkillers. And strangely
enough, all of the phone numbers Cummings had called in the past were blocked.
If ever anyone was being given a hint to keep their mouth shut, this was it.

But despite all of this, Cummings refused to be silenced. The story of what was
happening to him got out and this time it got people so angry that there was
nothing left to do but take action. In an unprecedented move, visitors to the
2600 web site, listeners of WBAI's Off The Hook, and hackers around the planet
joined forces to end the nightmare once and for all. A mailing list, which
quickly got hundreds of subscribers, was started. A voice mail hotline was set
up at 2600. Volunteers worked around the clock. People who had never been part
of the hacker world began to get involved. It was clear that this was no longer
a hacker issue but rather a very significant human rights case. Even members of
the mainstream media began to take an interest. (Sadly, the Electronic Frontier
Foundation and the American Civil Liberties Union still didn't get
involved.)

Within a few days, a demonstration outside the Northampton County prison and
courthouse (where Cummings had now been transferred) had been organized. After
nearly two years, the Bernie S. case had finally become a blatant example of
miscarriage of justice to nearly everyone who heard about it.

The strain on the authorities must have been tremendous. The number of phone
calls, letters, faxes, and emails to Pennsylvania prison and governmental
offices, as well as the Secret Service and congressional offices, was
unprecedented.

And suddenly, on Friday, September 13, 1996, the nightmare ended. Ed Cummings
was released effective immediately. And, while still subject to parole
regulations, it was apparent that the Secret Service was fresh out of the power
to put him back in prison. Here was a clear example of people power.

It was a definite victory but not the kind that makes you feel good for very
long. Things never should have been allowed to get to this point in the first
place. Much work remains to be done. The aftereffects of this torment won't
soon go away. Apart from facing permanent disfigurement, Cummings has had his
life almost completely destroyed by these actions. There are many pieces to
pick up. And, for the rest of us, there are many people we must hold
accountable for this travesty.

These questions demand immediate answers: Why was the Secret Service
(particularly Special Agent Tom Varney of the Philadelphia office) so intent on
imprisoning Ed Cummings? Why were they allowed to have such an undue influence
on court proceedings? Why did Judge Jack Panella (Northampton County, PA) set
bail at such high levels for such a trivial nonviolent offense? Why did the
Bucks County Correctional Facility have Cummings transferred into a prison for
violent offenders and what exactly did they mean by "protective custody"? And,
finally, how did we ever allow the federal government to pass a law that can
put someone in prison for possession of electronic components without any
evidence of their being used to commit a crime (Title 18, U.S.C. 1029)?

While we look for answers, we will also need to keep track of the injustices
facing all the others in prison, now and, regrettably, in the future.

We can hope that this tragic case and the tremendous response to it will be
enough to teach the authorities an unforgettable lesson and keep it from
happening again.

Somehow, we doubt it.