*Due to Buggz’s incarceration since 2007 there are a limited amount of recent photos of Buggz. This is the best one we had.
A full interview with Buggz and Phyliss during a video call made from the Deer Lodge State Prison in July 2024.
This is how I felt the day the police picked me up for questioning after Lucky’s passing: I was sitting at a table at Chantel’s house drinking a beer when the police showed up. They went to her basement, and I saw them coming up from there, and I said, “Are you looking for me?” They asked if I was Kim Junior Norway, and I said, “Yes.” I said, “I heard you guys were looking for me. Am I under arrest?” They said, “No, we just need you to come with us for questioning.” We go to their station. I felt very confused of what they were going to ask me because I had no clue of what happened. They told me that they had already questioned Snow, Maine, Skidmore, Red Elk, and Anderson and just had finished up about 3 AM that morning. I hadn’t gotten picked up until about 10 AM later that day, so I had no clue of what they all had said. They asked me all kinds of questions that I had no answers to. The only way I started knowing of things was when they were telling me what said party all had to say. I just started to agree with what the cops were telling me of what happened from the said party. Had they questioned me first, I wouldn’t have gotten charged for this man’s death, but knowing I don’t remember anything is how, in my opinion, they got the time to start with the corruption. As for being scared or threatened, I’d have to say I never felt any. I was too confused to be scared or threatened.
To this day, I remember there was no string in the hoodie I was wearing that night. I remember, clear as day, when I first came across that hoodie. My relative, Chantel, loaned it to me, and I remember before she gave it to me, she said that there wasn’t a string in the hoodie I’ve always maintained that as what I knew and still know. When the cops told me that Snow said she saw me remove the string from my hoodie, I agreed with it even though I knew it wasn’t right. Remember now, they were all questioned seven hours or so before I was. I had no clue what they all had to say. My opinion, the cops knew I knew nothing, and they were putting this whole scenario in my head to make me think I had something to do with the crime. The cops kept saying, “Well, they said this and said that, so I was just agreeing with stuff I had no clue of. The cops kept insisting that that string came from my hoodie, which I knew it never had.
When the DNA results came back and excluded me, I knew that that string never came from my hoodie. I knew already from the beginning I was innocent. I felt so dumb for agreeing with the cops about the string being mine when I knew it wasn’t. The color of the string didn’t even match with the sweater I had. George Tate kept insisting that it was mine, and because Snow said.
I knew in my heart mind and spirit that I did not take this man’s life or take part in his beating. I knew this man as a humble and good-hearted man. I remember when he was getting picked on one time and I stuck up for him. It was over him not sharing his beer and wanting to go drink elsewhere. Lucky would give his shirt off his back for a person if need be. Had I been awake, I would have taken up for him.
As for my relationship with the Havre police before all this, I’d have to say I always was in jail for drinking underage. Never really had any prior contact with them. Just mostly avoided them as much as possible. Never been afraid of them as I recall. Had no reason to. I just minded my Ps and Qs while I drank until I got too drunk to walk straight. That’s mostly when I had run-ins with the cops and went to jail. Sometimes I would get too drunk to walk, so I maintained where I was, in my blank stage, and wake up in jail, not knowing what I was in for. But in that county, you’re already in the paper the next day of and what time you got picked up. They never list a Caucasian’s name though, just Native Americans.
I can’t really say if there is racial prejudice from the cops in Havre. They haven’t showed that to me, but then again, every time I got arrested, I don’t remember [because of alcohol blackouts] going to jail. One thing I do know is that if you went to jail in Havre, even to this day, you’ll see that the whole population is Native American, except for a few Caucasians, but they’re in the dorm where the staff keep them safe, I guess you would call it. When I was last in that jail in Havre for my post-conviction evidentiary hearing, every single block, including the female, was nothing but Native Americans. Even in the PC [protective custody] cells were all Native. B-C-D blocks, all Native. That there should show if that place is racially prejudiced towards Natives. Not only that, The Havre Daily News is by far racially prejudice. Why I say that is because if you ever was a subscriber and looked in the ‘records’ part of the paper, you will always see Native American names in there of what they got picked up for. Now when they mention Caucasians, they just say that someone did this or that, and not putting their name in there. **ASK BUGGZ RE OBIT INFO** Also, when I was up there for my post-conviction relief [hearing], usually The Havre Daily News covers every single thing in that town. As big as they made things when I first went to trial, they sure weren’t there for my post-conviction relief hearing. That was what I noticed right away The Havre Daily News not covering this story. Myself, I know that the cops didn’t want to get this out there because they knew the can of worms just opened up.
My early years growing up was around alcohol mostly. I remember as far back as I could, would be when we first lived in Harlem, Montana. I remember this little brown house we lived in. I think thereafter we moved to Mobridge, South Dakota. I remember a few things here and there. My dad got me one of the Hot Wheels or whatever they were. My mom went to Bible College there and we attended weekly church services. My dad drank a lot back then. We were always on the run, hiding [from him]. It became a daily ordeal.
From that point, I needed [alcohol] for the heartache and my problems throughout life and from there it led to needing it for a hangover. Then I became full-blown alcoholic. I ventured off from place to place, drinking. I’d run into my dad, or I would look for him to drink with. I ran into my youngest daughter’s mom and tried to become a couple. That never worked. I drank too much. Now my twins, when I was a dad of the year, made me happy all the time. Kiara and Kenessa. What beautiful names. Them two little rugrats sure kept me busy. Moeika [my eldest] wasn’t jealous of them too much. She knew she was daddy’s girl. I loved it when the twins played peekaboo with each other in their walkers. They would make me laugh my ass off. Them kids was crazy. Me and Moeika were inseparable when I was there. Even her mom was jealous of her because she was a daddy’s girl. I paid more attention to all three of my daughters more than I did the Big Y [their mother]. That’s the reason she gave them away, Kenessa to Big Y’s Gramma, Moeika and Kiara to Big Y’s aunt. Big Y separated the twins. To this day she still doesn’t tell why she gave up my daughters. I couldn’t take them because I was too far gone in the alcohol. I made damn sure though that for every money I got or had, I would make sure I gave a share to each of my daughters. Now, my youngest daughter, Tyra, I was only out there for the first four months of her life. The times I was able to see her, I was also a good dad. I miss and love my daughters.
During the seven months I was out after Main got arrested, I still kept drinking. I really don’t know if I imagined I would be arrested, tried, and convicted. The booze is what kept me going. I had bad luck all month prior to Lucky’s passing. First, I was drinking with my cousin and his brother-in-law one night and the next next day, my aunt called to see if I knew where her son-in-law was and if I had seen him that morning anywhere. She had me go to different houses to see if he was there. I asked her why, and she said that the police found someone froze to death down at the Agency. Came to be that it was my good friend that they found froze to death. I was just drinking with him the night before that morning. I kept telling him to just stay. That took a toll on me.
Then the night of his wake, I went to Havre and was drinking around. I had my mom’s car at the time. I picked up Marcus [Longknife], who I called Uncle because he was with a relative of mine from Rocky Boy. He was a pallbearer as well as me. After the funeral, he went back to Havre. I stayed in Hayes for a few days. I mosied on back to Havre and started drinking around again. It was about a week from the funeral. I went to this apartment to see where Marcus was. The people there said he was sleeping in the back room. I went to that room and said, “Uncle, get up. Let’s go to the store.” His hand was up like he was just resting. He was laying on his side. I grabbed his hand to shake it, to wake him up, and his arm was stiff. I freaked out and went in the living room and told the people there that they better check on him ‘cause I think he’s gone. They went in there and started crying and screaming. A week ago, we were pallbearers. Now he is gone. That was a hard one.
I went down to his wake and funeral in Fort Belknap. I drank the whole time I was there. I even made a fool out of myself, I guess. I then went back to Havre and continued to drink around. It was about a week that goes by. I’m still trying to cope with these two deaths of people that were close to me, and that I was just drinking with. Thinking things couldn’t get any worse, it happens again. This time I’m getting blamed. Something happens to my good friend, Lucky, while I am passed out. It was like everyone I got close to passed away in at least one week timing from each other. I don’t know how to feel at that point. I don’t know how I felt other than I was Bad Luck. So no, I never imagined I would be arrested, tried, and convicted.
When I got arrested, I was sober. I had alcohol in my system, though. I remember when they asked who I was, they said, “Yeah, we got him.” They had their guns drawn on me. Told me to get on my knees and put my hands behind my head, and do not move one bit. All I could think of was my daughters. I was lonesome for them. I always got lonesome for them when I sobered up. I got to the police station in Great Falls ‘cause that’s where I got arrested. I was put in a holding cell, and the police told me I’d be extradited to Hill County the following day. While I was in that holding cell, all I could think of was why I would be arrested. Why would I be arrested? I was passed out the whole time [during] whatever happened to this man I called friend. Everyone even said that.
When I got a lawyer, he asked if I did it. I said no and he said what if I don’t believe you? And I said something like, isn’t it your job to be for me? He showed me some evidence and I got confused because I was like how the heck was I able to do something like this when I was so drunk I couldn’t hurt a fly and besides, I was passed out when the assault or assault happened. I did not for one second believe the prosecutor’s theory. People and police who have arrested me at one time or another, who have seen me when I was piss-poor drunk, know I am helpless as a newborn. That’s the truth. When I started seeing more and more evidence, [I knew] there was something I couldn’t quite pinpoint that was wrong. It was a strange feeling. Even when I seen the photo of how bad lucky was, I didn’t have a look of guilt, nor did I have a feeling of guilt. I just knew there was something wrong with the prosecutor’s theory.
Well, later on, my lawyer was showing me more about the evidence from the prosecutor’s theory, he mentioned that they said there may also have been a rape that happened. I said how could there be one? They got all my clothes and what not. I asked him how come I ain’t charged then? He said they won’t bring it up at trial because there’s no evidence of a rape that even occurred. He then asked me why Red Elk say a sexual accusation against you that may have occurred. I said I don’t know. I didn’t even know that he made a statement against me. I then read some of the discovery against me and said, That’s messed up. I didn’t do shit like that. I know I never. The lawyer said don’t worry about it. About a month goes by and the results of any kind of rape happening came back as negative. No kind of rape happened whatsoever. I already knew that after hearing the good news on that false accusation. I looked at the lawyer and said I told you. He made it sound like it was all good like they won’t be accusing you with that.
Then I went to trial and the prosecutor all of a sudden dropped a bomb by bringing an uncharged rape close to the jurors ears. Knowing a lot of my family was there in support for me, sitting behind me, and just heard that and how it was said from the prosecutor, I felt fucked up. And I looked back at them and whispered, nothing like that happened. I was shaking my head in disbelief and trying to figure out in my head to show my family nothing like that never even occurred.
That was the most fucked up feeling I ever felt in my life. Being accused of a rape that never happened. Red Elk made that statement. That’s the only reason why the false charge came up. My trial lasted well into two weeks. Once the prosecutor first brought that false allegation up, it was like there was no ending for him bringing it up every little while.
After my trial, Main’s trial came up. At his trial. Red Elk was asked once again if I was doing sexual motions toward the victim. He stated, no. He made that up because he was scared of the Skidmores. The prosecutor said, “So Mr. Norway did not do what you said in your statement, accusing him of sexual acts?” Red Elk testified he made it up due to fear of his life at Main’s trial.
That’s why I hate lies more than anything to this day because the prosecutor used Red Ell’s one lie against me to convict me. Just that one lie got me convicted. Got my whole life taken from me. That one lie fucked with the lives of my daughters. They had to grow up hearing about it and [have it] used against them just to hurt them in school and what not. Being accused of this rape allegation, then hearing about Red Elk confessing he made that up because he was scared of the Skidmores just doesn’t go away. A lot of people who read The Havre Daily News of that time, and the ones at my trial, got that bullshit lie still in their heads. A lot of people think I did it. Just thinking of what my daughters may have went through really angers me. They couldn’t defend me because they don’t know what happened. The twins are only seven, my oldest was nine, and my youngest daughter was only four months old. This story will hopefully give my daughters trust in my innocence, I maintained ever since day one
When I first was questioned in November 2006 I was still buzzed up because I was drinking right before the police located me. After I was questioned. I sobered up a little but went right back to where they apprehended me and started where I left off. I stayed drinking until I got arrested and went to jail long enough to sober up. I got out and started drinking again.
In July 2007 when I got arrested, I was sober but had a lot of alcohol in my system. I was really bad off before I got arrested. I would drink all day and not feel a thing until about midnight. Then I would get just enough of a buzz going on to get a few hours of Sleep. I would be up and at [more drinks] about 3:30 AM in the morning or so, opening a beer. My ex-wife used to hate that about me. She said, “Christ, it’s all I could hear is “chuke-ess” – you opening your damn beer every morning at 3:30 every morning.” She said that really bothered the hell out of her. That’s when I stayed in Great Falls. When I got arrested though, I felt like I was sober. Even the next day I didn’t have a hangover. Usually, I have really bad hangovers to where I have really bad tremors to where I can’t eat or even hold a cup of water without it spilling all over the place. I had wicked shakes in my alcoholic years.
When I did get arrested [for Lucky’s murder] in July 2007, it was like I was already sober and had been for a while. I thought I would have one of the many hangovers I usually have after I sober up, but I actually never [did]. That was surprising to me. The first day in Hill County Jail was calm. I can remember my first day as if it was yesterday. I got served the warrant saying what it was for and all. I was in disbelief and all I could think about was my daughters. After a minute I was sitting there thinking why and how come, when all of a sudden I was at a calm that was peaceful. I don’t know what it was, but a presence assured me that I have nothing to worry about. I knew in my heart that I did nothing to Lucky. I grew up in a Christian family so I believe God let me know in my heart and he calmed me with His love.
My impression of my lawyer back then was that he was on their [law enforcement’s] side by some of the stuff he said. One of them that got me going was when he said, What if I don’t believe you? That angered me, but I continued with him anyhow. Some of the evidence he showed me he just gave me a glance and I would say, Let me look at them. He would just skip through and say, That doesn’t matter and stuff like that. There was a lot of stuff I wished he would’ve done, especially file some of the motions that would have been appropriate for my case. At times he would look at me like he didn’t believe in me. Like I was awake when the assault or assaults occurred that night, as if I took part or something. I really don’t know how I feel about him today. He did say at the hearing [testified] in Havre that, had he known what we had uncovered during my post-conviction investigation, he would’ve used a different strategy. That there told me he didn’t fully investigate my case properly and didn’t know what he was doing
Before I was arrested in July 2007, I never was offered a deal for less time if I testified against Maine, I didn’t know I was going to be charged at that. During the seven months I was out and upon questioning me the chief investigator had me sign a paper granting [me] immunity. This was done before I even got charged. I kept what they told me the other parties said prior to me prior to asking me anything. Snow, Red Elk, Skidmore, Maine, and Anderson all have been interviewed before me every time George Tate came at me. George Tate was telling me of what happened from their side first, so I was just in agreement without actually knowing what really happened that night. It wasn’t until I was already convicted that they had me take the stand against Main. I kept pleading the Fifth and they said I could not use that Amendment. I told the court I have nothing to say as I was already convicted and what is the point of the Fifth Amendment if you can’t use it in the court of law? Pointless. I kept to saying no to every and all questions.
I wanted to go to trial even though they tried to give me a plea deal. It was somewhere’s like 30 years with so much suspended. My plea deal had nothing to do with Main. They just wanted a confession. Now that I think of it, that would’ve been perfect for the cops. Everything would have been in the clear for them because the case would’ve been closed [before their treatment of Lucky was discovered]. I knew from day one I did nothing to Lucky. That’s why I took it to trial. I’ve always maintained my innocence and always will.
The only memories I had memories I had while waiting for trial was I kept seeing Anderson saying, Come with us I remember seeing him and going back to sleep. One thing I don’t remember is all the things that Snow, Main, Skidmore, Red Elk, and Anderson told George Tate. None of what they said I have no memories of. I tried to play it in my head over and over, but I have no memory of any of what they said to George Tate. That is how I know I never did anything or partake is because I was so drunk, weak from not eating, and like everyone there said, I was passed out.
At first, I wasn’t a problem in custody in Hill County. I only started acting up because I was in there for something I did not do. That was frustrating being in jail for a death you had nothing to do with. Of course, a person is going to act out. After I got convicted, I about lost it. I acted out and had a standoff with detention officers there. In my state of mind, I wanted to give them a reason or cause that I actually did and know I did. I just got convicted of Accountability to Deliberate Homicide. A charge I know I never did. I was filled with such anger, I acted out. I wanted to make it worth it.
When I got to prison. I didn’t think I was acting out. I had a mindset that you had to earn respect when you got here. From Fish Row [entry level screening for placement] I went to Max for 15 days and got caught up back there, got another 15 days and then re-classified to ADSEG (Administrative Segregation) for six months. That was my first experience in “the hole.” I almost lost my marbles in that place. You get a little stir crazy. After I got out of ADSEG and went to general population, I was put in Close-I, close custody.
For the first five years of my time, I was in and out of the hole and did another stint in ADSEG for six months. I kept up my negative behaviors and was always always in the hole or getting right ups. I always walked the yard and worked out at the gym by myself. That’s just the way it was for me. Got into fights over the lie Red Elk said. That their lie followed me throughout my time. I showed my paperwork stating that he lied and said that out of fear from the Skidmores. I found out that paperwork in black-and-white don’t mean shit in this joint. In this place hearsay is more solid. Hearsay will put a coat on you quicker than shit and it will stick. When you do see paperwork on a so-called solid dude, their group says, Oh, we already handled that or we know about it. Oh, what’s another one? Oh, they say, that’s a homie though. Them kind of people that do have paperwork on them, whether they a sexer, rat, or taking up for the cops, I call ‘celebrities’, as in celebrity rat, celebrity sexer, or celebrity c/o’s.
Everyone wants to be hard here, but they should be thankful this place isn’t a prison where they got no choice but to carry out a mission or actually do what they’re told. After seeing all this and that, I decided I wanted to change, so I took up a group called New Directions. At first I wasn’t too enthused and I got the concept, but I wanted more and I wanted to change. So I took the group a second time. The second time did me good. I started to look at things different. I wanted to do a more easier way of doing my time. I started letting things go that I normally wouldn’t. The first time I did, I felt I hurt my pride. I got through it though and that’s when I first ‘did the time’, meaning ‘take one day at a time.’ I thought this place was one that you had to earn your respect but come to find out that this place isn’t about that. It’s a P.C. joint for out-of-staters. I had my fair share of fights and what not, but I didn’t let that control me. The tools I learned from that group opened my eyes and grew me up. I started getting less and less wrote-ups and wasn’t in the hole as much. [At first] I mostly just wanted to get three years write ups so I wouldn’t have to go to the ‘Low-side’ [I didn’t want to move there]. I almost got another one just to stay on the ‘High side’, but I made up my mind to just do good and give the low side a try. Guess what? I’m sitting in the low side library where it is nice and quiet, writing this. Took me 16 years to finally get to the Low-side. I adjusted quickly. I like it here.
I really never had depression while being in prison. There’s too much going on to be depressed. You got all kinds of jokesters saying crazy shit that gets you going. Always laughing about something. Now anxiety, it takes a toll on you if you let it. That’s all on you though. If you talked shit about someone or did some shady shit, of course you’re going to be walking around on eggshells full of anxiety. You also get anxiety when you can feel in the air that something is about to go down. As long as it ain’t me, I don’t have to feel anxious. The anxiety when I do get anxiety for no reason, I just tell myself that it ain’t real. And if [the anxiety] you’re going to attack, get the damn thing done. Then when I do that, it goes away. It’s like I call it on and it goes away. Not only that, the mental health staff provided me medication for my anxiety.
Despite the availability of drugs and alcohol that swoops through every once in a while, I managed to stay sober. Yeah, [when I first got here] I tried out everything at least once, but I never relied on it or try it again. I just tried different drugs just to try it. It just wasn’t me. They made me feel as if I could be taken advantage of if something went down. I just didn’t feel right doing drugs. You would think that because I did plenty of drinking before I got here that I would drink in here, but I never once tried to drink in here. Probably what kept me from alcohol in here was the feeling of being healthy for a change. I started working out and doing a lot of jogging. The feeling of being healthy was amazing. It’s all I do is work out. If I don’t, I feel like I didn’t accomplish anything for the day. It’s like a worthless feeling I never got into meditation, except for when I tried out yoga for about three months or so. That was very therapeutic. I actually enjoyed yoga. It was a different exercise.
As for my faith, I went to church and read my Bible. I read my Bible every day, prayed and talked with God. At one point I was just going to go about just doing my time without exhausting any existing appeals that may still be able to give me light. Then something told me to fill out the paperwork for the post-conviction relief. It was like something told me that something isn’t right in this whole ordeal. Fill it out and send it. My luck, I got it filled out and notarized the day before the deadline and mailed it. You can call it sheer luck or part of God’s plan for me. Even though my paperwork for my PCR arrived a week late before a judge, he accepted it because it was notarized a day before the deadline. Myself, that’s God. Then God handpicked who he wanted to represent me, because I think there was about two or three public defenders that had reasons why they couldn’t take on my PCR. That’s when Phyllis Quatman, from Quatman and Quatman law firm, took a chance on me. Right out of the gate she gave me hope. I felt the MOM character in her for the first couple of minutes. You know, the character in a mom that says they’re going to protect their child no matter what and stick up for them? That’s how I read her out the first time I met her. My faith in God kept growing and growing as He showed me more and more throughout the years with Phyllis. She always told me she ain’t giving up on me no matter what, even if she has to represent me for free. She believed in my innocence. I once told her, All I want is the truth of what happened to Lucky. I already knew I had nothing to do with his passing. I just wanted to know the truth behind this whole situation even if I don’t get out. My prayers and keeping my faith in God started opening doors to this truth. I prayed hard. A little at a time new evidence started to be found out that wasn’t known about or brought up at my trial. The truth started revealing itself. I started having more and more hope. I did a lot of fasting for certain things to be revealed, and by God’s grace He revealed the corruption and justice that was bestowed upon me. I started going to the Native American sweat and was firekeeper for eight years. I did my share of suffering in sweat lodge for answers my case. God never fails. More and more doors kept opening. The sweat lodge is a powerful place to pray and [a place] that God endures over. All this that started unraveling is what keeps me going so that I can get out of bed and live my life. God showed me favor and continues to.
I never gave up hope on getting my freedom back. I always knew I am innocent. My hands were always clean for what I got convicted of. My first five years in prison I didn’t give a fuck because it was like I was over with D-U-M-B. That’s also why I acted out for the first nickel of time. I always had hope. I just couldn’t see any type of spark where there may be light. I was mad as hell at the justice system and how corrupt them motherfuckers are. All I could think about was how the hell did I get convicted? Snow, Skidmore, Red Elk. all said i was passed out when the assault or assault happened. all evidence pointed at Snow, Skidmore, Red Elk, Anderson all said I was passed out when the assault or assaults happened. All evidence pointed at Snow, Red Elk, Skidmore, and Main. One admitted to assaulting Lucky. One of them’s DNA was on that ‘ligature’ around Lucky’s neck. Two of them’s knuckles showed evidence of being in an altercation. They had nothing on me but that little fucked up lie that Red Elk said about me. That’s all the jury kept hearing from the State, was that fucked up statement that Red Elk said against me that he admitted he made up in Main’s trial. That little fucker.
Then the jury was deadlocked and couldn’t reach a verdict. What does that tell you? Shit didn’t add up properly. Then the judge threw a dynamite instruction at me, to where the jury had to find me guilty. During my trial, two jurors said a few people from the audience had keyed their cars. One got keyed in the parking lot of the courthouse and the other said his car got keyed at Walmart. When that was brought to my attention, I knew I was fucked. I said, If that is so, why don’t you have the persons pointed out arrested for keying your cars? I dealt with a lot of racism before, but this was by far way out of control. All around fucked trial.
All this I kept thinking [about] and [it] made me want to give reason to act out while in prison. Only thing that kept me sane was my faith, and belief in God that somewhere’s down the line there’s going to be a spark of light at the end of the tunnel. My mom’s prayers and her knowing I didn’t take anyone’s life also kept me sane. Once the light revealed itself from this picture, I pointed out that [it] didn’t seem right for some reason. I got excited because my prayers were starting to be answered. Photo 42 started unraveling the truth to Lucky’s death. Things weren’t adding up right of why I got convicted. Things started shifting over to looking like a cover-up that was pointing at the cops. Facts started adding up to this new theory of what really happened. The cops phonied up the photos, mismeasured the ligature to make it measure out to be tight enough for strangulation. We later, after eight years of investigating for PCR, remeasured the ligature and come to find out it measured an inch and a half bigger than what the cops logged it down as in 2006. We found out a lot about the photo logs of how they phonied them up. I was so pissed when Phyllis explained how photo logs in a crime scene are [supposed to be documented] and explained of how phonied up the logs were in this case. Then down the road a little more we found out the disc was [also] phonied up to the crime scene video. You gotta see it to believe it. Did that ever give me hope, but then it pissed me off cause how could my trial lawyer be so lazy in his investigation?
Now the tables have turned against those who we thought were supposed to protect and serve. I got all kinds of possibilities in my mind of why they went corrupt and took this man’s life when in fact he was still alive. Everything in this book is true. None of this is made up. How could one make up this fact-based truth? The truth has finally revealed itself. Thank you God and Phyllis Quatman
The one that has been there since day one through it all with me is my mom, Mary Whitecow. She never missed a visit while I was in County awaiting trial. She was there through my whole trial and my sentencing. The hardest part for my mom was when I got sentenced. I could see on her face, and I will always remember, how broken she looked when I was handed down 65 years with a 25-year [parole eligibility] restriction. I remember clear as day what I said to those in support of me and especially to my mom. I told him not to shed a tear, that’s what they want, wait until you get in your car. I could see how brokenhearted my mom was. I’ll never forget how she looked. After that, she stood by my side [and] still to this day, she’s still there. Mom would eventually come to M.S.P to visit with other family members. She would be so happy to see me and would be sad to leave. All I could do is tell her, You’ll see me again, hang in there. Mom made sure I had what I needed when need be. I kept in touch on a regular [basis], and she always prayed with me to God to make a way, where there seems no possible way, to open the doors, and move mountains for the truth. Mom reached out to all the prayer warriors she knew, to agree with her in prayer for this truth that she also had hope in. No matter what, mom knew I was innocent. She was quite stumped by the jury when they came back with a guilty verdict. I remember her saying, How could they? There was nothing connecting you to Lucky’s death. Mom has always been there from day one and continues to be there for me. God and Mom. I love Mom dearly and I thank her so very much for all she did for me, for being there for me, and most of all, knowing that her son is innocent.
Now that it’s obvious after the investigation that the cops set me and Main up, it is hard for me to comment on that because it angers me so much. They almost got away with their own conduct that night, phonying everything up so that me and Main would take the fall. I really don’t feel for them other than knowing that they are messed up individuals. Myself, I would like to know exactly why and what was the deal with taking this man’s life? Like, what caused them to do what it is they did to Lucky? Who ordered it done to cover this whole scenario up? They knew Lucky was alive and yet they did nothing to keep him alive. All the investigation evidence says Lucky he was alive, and they knew he was. Why? Then Guzynski’s right in the mix to help cover this up for the cops. Buy them time, but for what though? Everything on how Guzynski performed his duties on their theory says he was in on it. [In April 2018], when we asked for the [original five photo] disks and [the crime scene] videotape in my case to be viewed by a specialist, Guzynski took possession of them. Who knows what the bastard did with them in the time he had them? We already had an order for the discs and videotaped to be sent to a specialist before Guzynski retrieved them. Judge Laird allowed him to do this anyway. Apparently court orders don’t mean shit in corrupt cases.
One thing that I found to be unusual, and I mean very unusual, was when, all of a sudden, the cops started harassing Ciara Ost in 2019, just before Judge Laird granted me a hearing. Remember she was one of the officers at the 2006 crime scene [who documented the blood pooling and trails]. Well, she had apparently moved to Arizona right after Lucky died and she and her husband [Havre Officer Nick Ost] got divorced. I think she moved back to Havre around 2015. [In early October 2019] she was stopped a few times by the cops in Havre for whatever reason.
Check this out: The same day Judge Laird wrote her order granting me an evidentiary hearing, like October 17th or 19th, Ciara Ost was found at her house, deceased. The cops said she hung herself. The strange thing is, from what I’ve read, women don’t usually hang themselves. They cut their wrist or overdose. Me, I think she was the whistleblower in my case for the evidentiary hearing. I believe she was gonna pull the covers off the cops that phonied everything up to set me up. I believe they had to shut the whistleblower up. Don’t you, the readers, find that to be odd? I bet whoever investigated her death was the same ones that set me up and if a different agency investigated her death, it would be ruled a homicide.
Now for [Havre Captain] Bill Wilkinson, my hearing was getting closer to being heard and all of a sudden a month before my hearing, he retired after 31 years. Why? Don’t really know, but I’m sure you, the readers, get it. About that time, I was also informed that Judge Laird’s husband, the district judge seeing over my hearing, was really close friends with one of the cops [Officer Wittmer] involved in this corruption. When I heard about that, I knew already how my hearing was going to turn out. I think Judge Laird’s mind of decision was made up way before she was even appointed my case. Somehow, she was chosen from the start. The first day of my hearing she was always looking towards Guzynsky and snappin’ my lawyer off with her eyes. I knew I wasn’t gonna get a fair hearing. I knew already I was gonna get denied. At the end of the first day, though, the judge asked if there was any last words for the day and that’s when Phyllis stepped up and gave it to the judge, of how her conduct was towards my lawyer. Oh, shit, I was thinking. But I liked it, though for my lawyer, putting this judge in her place. Boy, the next day the judge was a totally different person. I believe Judge Laird knew, and still knows, what these cops did. She bought them enough time is all. For what though is still boggling me. I’m sure she was good at one time before she went dark and corrupt. One time I was reading the Havre Daily News and come across two of her judgments, both sex crimes. What gave me hope with her from what I read on her judgments of them sexers was that she gave one probation for three months or something like that, and the other sexer a little more time than that. Either she likes sexers and what they do, or she has such a hate for Native Americans. Did I mention she once prosecuted in Fort Belknap Rez where I’m from? That’s interesting huh?
I really don’t know what to expect from the so-called criminal justice system when everything turns out good in my favor. What does one expect from all the years he’s done for something he never did from the beginning? A lot of shit happened to my family and my daughters since I’ve been down. Sexual shit happened to two of my daughters when they were young. How is the criminal justice system supposed to unrape a rape that happened to one of them? I blame the so-called criminal justice system for what happened to my daughters and all the shit my family went through all because they never correctly investigated my case from the beginning.
I have absolutely nothing good to say about the criminal justice system. The whole fucking system is corrupt. Cindy Peterson knew about this when she put that warrant out on me, then all of a sudden, she resigned from the county attorney after she did that. Even she didn’t want no part in it. You got Judge Seeley, who is now a district judge. She was the main assistant attorney general that prosecuted my case. She knew about everything. I believe she just needed to convict me and Main of something we didn’t do to become District Judge. Judge McKinnon, I’m sure knew about everything too. She was the one who presided over my case. It wasn’t long after she moved up also, to become a judge on the Montana Supreme Court. Not sure why Guzynski held onto protecting what the cops did. He never moved up in the world.
I’ve always wanted my freedom back, but I wanted it back from the truth being told. I’ve always believed in ‘the truth shall set you free.’ I prayed and prayed for all these years for the truth. I’ve been through a lot in the time I’ve been in prison. Seen a lot. Hurt a lot. But I never broke weak and repeated what I seen or heard [in here]. I always prayed for Lucky’s family every day and before I went to sleep. Always praying for them no matter what. My heart always goes out to Lucky’s sister, Joyce Metcalf. I ask God that one day this family will accept the truth behind this cover-up the Havre police almost got away with, that took their son, brother, uncle father, nephew, grandfather from them. When they have peace and acceptance of this truth that was uncovered, then I will have closure. Until then, I don’t think I will ever have closure.
This is what I see when I picture myself driving away from this prison: I see straight forward, never looking back. There’s nothing to look back for. I just want to keep moving forward. The first thing I want to do would be to stop at a store and get a can of Copenhagen Longcut then stop in a McDonald’s and order a #1 supersized with a Coke with a side of barbecue sauce to dip my fries in. I’d probably need some anxiety meds of some sort, so maybe I’d have to stop at an ER to get something until I get situated with mental health where I end up. Ever since I’ve been locked up, I always dreamed of being there, always, for my daughters and now granddaughters. I’ve always wanted to make it to where they would never have to worry about anything ever again. They would be set for the rest of their lives. My dream also is to build that house my mom always wanted with that white picket fence. Her dream house. My mom would also be set for the rest of her time. Mom was with me through this whole situation so of course I’m going to go out of my way for her. I hope the readers that read this understand that racism is real, but when we bleed, every one of us humans bleeds the same color. RED.
A-ho. This ain’t rap, This is real!!
I thank you, Mom, for being there down this long corrupt road with me, and I thank you, Phyllis Quatman and Jack Q for going all out for me and showing me your loving kindness.
In law school, I only wanted to graduate and become a prosecutor, putting the ‘bad guys’ in jail. That is what I did and I lasted 7 years before I burned out, in part because chasing my crime victims and witnesses around the ghettos of Alameda County and Contra Costa County, armed, made it difficult to switch gears when I returned home at night to our two beautiful but very young kiddos. At some point, my ‘mom’ instinct won out over my ‘seeking justice’ instinct and we moved from CA to Montana. I had no intention of practicing law here, only to spend time with my kids and stop swearing like a sailor. After eight months of bliss, Jack advised we had no money, so if I wanted a house, we needed to practice law. He insisted I apply for a public defender contract. There was no state public defenders’ office then. The local judges simply hired their buddies who worked out of their own offices and did very little, if anything, for their clients. I don’t know why they hired me except I was female and had a ton of trial experience, something sorely lacking in the seven of us assigned to represent the accused in the county. I swore to Jack I would never represent a child molester and overall, I was horrified to represent any criminals. However, I believed in the Constitutional protections afforded everyone and that the State had the burden of proof, beyond a reasonable doubt, to prove the accused guilty.
Then I met the ‘bad guys,’ including a client who admitted he’d molested two young boys. At the time, sitting across the table from him in the contact visitor’s room, I had an epiphany – a god moment, if you will – and I realized truly, there but for the grace of god go ALL of us. This man had a horrible childhood, was also a molest victim, and cried the whole time I was there. Afterward, with my new vision of these ‘evildoers’, I realized everyone accused of a crime, and even those convicted of a crime, deserved justice, too, in the form of the best legal representation possible, along with kindness, compassion, and mercy.
One client had been treated so illegally in his drug case, he begged me to call the ACLU about the justice system in Flathead County. I did and ended up working with them to establish Montana’s first Office of the State Public Defender, an entity that hired its own lawyers and staff, independent of the judges, the public, or the prosecution.
I tried two high profile murder cases, State v Jesse Kyle Ernst and State v Chris Showen, both televised, and both resulting in acquittals. The Ernst case was featured on Dateline, NBC twice under the name “Blood Brothers” and is still available. Jesse was an 18-year-old disabled boy who watched his brother shoot an innocent Good Samaritan during a home burglary. Yet the local judge sentenced both brothers to 100 years in prison. The shooter, Ted Ernst, was paralyzed from the waist down, in a wheelchair, and only 19 years old. Both boys had been brutally assaulted by their mentally ill mother for many years. This is the story in Courthouse Cowboys, a Modern Tale of Murder in Montana, my first book.
I took on two death penalty cases, post-conviction, in CA. More mercy, more compassion, more love grew in my heart and hardened me against injustice and especially the death penalty. Meanwhile my husband testified against his old prosecutor’s office to help a man he’d convicted and had sentenced to death row. Jack admitted eliminating Jews from his jury because he was told by the judge they wouldn’t sentence anyone to death. The backlash and publicity from Jack’s testimony was horrific and nearly got him disbarred. Later, the CA Supreme Court took their wrath out on me and tried to disbar me there and in MT. That is the subject of Book 2, Courthouse Rebel.
I took a sabbatical from the law between 2008-2012, 5 years. When I returned to our mom-and-pop law practice, I again agreed to a public defender contract and that is when I met Buggz Ironman-Whitecow. They hired me to handle his post-conviction case, meaning to reinvestigate everyone and everything involved. At the prison in July 2013, Buggz told me he wanted me to discover the truth of what happened when Lloyd ‘Lucky’ Kvelstad died on November 25, 2006. Lucky was his friend and Buggz was positive he hadn’t hurt him, but he was also extremely drunk and could not remember what happened that night. Once I got further into the investigation of his case, I knew he was innocent and wrongfully convicted and incarcerated. Since that moment, I have spent over a decade to free this humble warrior, and I will not quit until Buggz is free.
The overall goal is to tell Buggz’s story and raise enough interest with the public that they can support his exoneration and freedom by conducting their own investigation to corroborate ours. I also want the site to be a place where the public can purchase my books and audio books, and to learn about Buggz, his family, his life growing up, and read his comments about the case, including through a short video. The reader should be able to submit questions that I (or the chatbot) can filter and send to him to answer as long as it’s not about the case itself. They can also learn about my family, maybe about suicide treatments like Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation, other resources for mental health, which also plagues Buggz and so many in the Native community. I want them to be able to learn about the justice system in Montana and our Supreme Court justices, the Havre police department, the prosecutors and attorney generals, and how the corruption is so much the same in every state. I would like the website to interface with other platforms like Reddit True Crime, CrimeCon, true crime blogs and podcasts = whatever we can do that will garner interest in this case and ultimately free Buggz.
I am not the expert, but I hope readers can, for example, get to a point in the book where I’m discussing the crime scene video and how suspect it is. They could go to the website and ask the chatbot to bring up the video so they can watch it and see for themselves what I’m describing. I’m not sure what the chatbot AI can do, but maybe it can be programmed to analyze the skips in the video or the metadata on the crime scene photos, or search the evidence for certain pieces of data the reader connects in his own mind. Likewise, if they’re looking at evidence on the website, they can have the chatbot show them where that evidence is discussed in the book. I suspect this is a work in progress and more ideas will come up once we are up and running.
In reality, every fact matters in an investigation. You follow the threads to see where they lead. The problem for me in this case is that much of the metadata and video data, even the blood trail evidence, is complex and extensive, so the question is how to convey the information in lay terms to a court and counsel? Ditto for readers who may not be schooled in that sort of evidence (like me, before this case!) The book is written as creative nonfiction, true crime, but it reads more like a novel. This allows me to summarize certain details and avoid writing what sounds like a police report. The other problem is that there is a VAST amount of evidence, between legal filings that contain relevant facts and arguments, trial transcripts, audio files, police reports, experts reports, etc. Because the police did such a great job with the cover up, they led all of us down the wrong path, looking at suspects in a ‘whodunit’, and away from the cause of death. So the evidence they provided led us one direction but the cause of death issue couldn’t be avoided after looking at Photo 42, the diagrams, and the blood trail evidence. So, I’d like to put as much of the case evidence in the database as possible and let readers potentially figure out other angles or discover proof that our investigative team didn’t see. Our team’s approach to the case is in the book because it is told in chronological order, as the case actually unfolded. I think readers will appreciate that since it makes the most logical sense in terms of analyzing what we uncovered.
The biggest ethical consideration is to honor the victim and his family and never forget that this human died at the hands of the police, the very people paid to protect him. They did nothing when they found him and then killed him by bagging his head. I think Lucky can get lost in this story, so I’ve tried to respect him in the book. There are invasion of privacy issues I have to keep in mind which is why I’ve only used public records and information in the case and data. Nearly all the data is a matter of public record so it isn’t a big problem, but I have changed the names, or used initials, for certain characters/clients in the book. Of course, the book contains my personal storyline, including my family and some other clients. I doubt that will be a big part of the website because those who access it will do so in an effort to try to solve Lucky’s death. My family and other clients will likely not drive much interest. Still, we need to be cautious about divulging private information. Also, it is a disbarrable offense in this state to criticize judges and my fellow lawyers – literally they can disbar me – so while I do that in the book, I want to be careful on the website to only report the facts and let readers draw their own conclusions about the ethics of the judge, justices, and prosecutors. The AI chatbot cannot offer opinions about their conduct or make accusations of wrongdoing or I can get sued for defamation.
Yes, I hope they will blog about the case, do podcasts, start Reddit threads and discuss it on CrimeCon and maybe even focus on the case at the next CrimeCon convention. I hope they talk about it on social media platforms of all types. The goal is for the public to really look closely at the evidence, as we did, and hopefully corroborate what we found. Then I hope they will gin up enough buzz and support that a court and a group of smart young lawyers will exonerate Buggz and free him. Meanwhile, H10 and I can brainstorm how to make money on this venture, besides just book sales, so that WHEN Buggz gets out, he has some money to live on and enjoy life. I’d like your company to profit and to innovate new technologies as well that will assist leveling the playing field in our justice system, maybe to prevent cops from tampering with evidence, give defense attorneys some tools to detect cheating and maybe even develop AI training materials on how to investigate a case like this. Honestly, the possibilities with AI seem endless and we’re just at the beginning in this science. Of course, as I told Dillon, if I can make enough to pay off my mortgage and some other bills, make sure I can help my grandsons with college, and maybe get to Ireland, I’d be a happy camper.
Feedback from readers and users telling us that the information they’ve gleaned helped them free a friend, or changed their own minds about the death penalty, opened their eyes to the injustices that occur every day to people of color, the poor, the fragile, and the mentally ill. I’d like to hear that just one life was saved by TMS information and treatment and that more and more places are using that technology to prevent suicide. I’d be thrilled if we/you developed the above technology to help defense attorneys train and succeed in freeing more innocent people. I’d be thrilled to see AI develop the sort of analytical accuracy that could be used in court as stand alone evidence or even just corroborative evidence to support a human expert’s opinions. I want the world to know that the ‘bad guys’ are not ‘evil doers’ from birth, that everyone could find themselves in Buggz’s position, but that it is by luck and grace that we do not. I would love to hear people conclude that everyone deserves a chance at redemption and forgiveness, and that judging one another is what is unraveling the thread that should connect us. In the end, I want the take-away to be that the only thing that matters is love. If website users can get that message from me, then I’ve succeeded beyond my greatest hopes.
