By Jim Schutze
By Rachel Watts
By Lauren Drewes Daniels
By Anna Merlan
By Lee Escobedo
By Eric Nicholson
Abbott is trying to hook up with others like himself, good citizens who have been used and cast aside by the government plotters. He listens to Bo Gritz on the radio and corresponds with various attorneys who specialize in representing patriots who've been steamrolled by government.
"My story is going to get out," Abbott says.
John Murphy, the man who first sent Abbott to prison, has another take on his former quarry: "He's sick."
No one is watching Abbott anymore. The conspiracy to silence him, the secret agents watching Abbott's every move, all of those things are in Bo's mind.
"He's filled with anger and rage and resentment and all this stuff," one of his former attorneys says. "He's bought into this scenario where he has been victimized ad nauseam by these people. He thinks the government owes him something."
Wincorn, who represented Abbott after his initial arrest and still hears from his old client, says Abbott can't accept the fact that he fell in with the bad crowd and got caught. "It's not a problem with the CIA intending this and such to happen, or the DEA intending this to happen," Wincorn says.
Sure, the DEA used Abbott as an informant, Wincorn says. But when Abbott decided he was invincible and began bringing in large drug shipments, the trap was sure to spring. "At some point he got involved with some bad people, and it became more doing their bidding than the agency's."
One disgruntled ex-con, Murphy says, does not a grand CIA conspiracy make.
But Abbott is intent on spreading the word.
On a recent Tuesday night, he is at the Ramada Inn to share his woes with several hundred other disaffected citizens.
Abbott sits in the audience as a short man, clad entirely in black, tells the assembled audience how the IRS just that day illegally seized his cars. Marty has not filed taxes in eight years, and is outraged that the government would respond in such heavy-handed fashion.
The receptive audience identifies with his plight, and talk turns to the latest intelligence that has been unearthed concerning the federal government's war on its own people.
Reliable information has it--says "a source in Washington state"--that the government will soon begin staging fake chemical spills in Kansas and Texas. After entire towns are evacuated under false pretenses, federal agents will search each home for weapons and contraband. If the tactic proves successful, it will be tried next in California.
Even Abbott has trouble relating to this meeting. He had hoped to show the crowd his copy of a videotape called "The Panama Deception," a documentary exposing the true story of the 1989 U.S. invasion.
But the crowd is clearly more interested in railing against the IRS. One woman rises to offer a detailed explanation of how she is avoiding taxes by working strictly for cash.
Another man offers the names and phone numbers of the towing company the IRS used to seize his cars. Crowd members take note, so they can keep an eye out for lurking tow trucks.
After about an hour, Abbott and his new friend Gary from Arkansas discern that this is not the night to air their particular conspiracies.
Gary suggests adjournment to Cabaret Royale. Abbott concedes that life has been a little dull of late, and so is this meeting. A topless bar might not be all that bad.
"Well," Abbott offers with a grin, "I was in prison for quite a while.