Jeremy Brown: Tactical Patience Part Two

The following is a letter written by Jeremy Brown, a former Green Beret from Tampa. Jack Martin, a local pastor, received the letter via email from Mr. Brown and has provided it to Hernando Sun. Brown was arrested in connection with events taking place on Jan. 6, 2021. He received a pardon from President Trump but remains in prison due to other charges connected to an FBI search of his home when he was arrested. Jeremy wrote this to chronicle what his life has been like since Jan. 20. The first part of the letter was printed in the Feb. 14-20,2025 issue.

I was the first one to be pulled out. Remember, have the pretty girl give the bad news? This Marshal sat in on my first hearing in DC and had been very kind, understanding and vaguely familiar with who I was. As she told me I was NOT gonna be released, she looked more disappointed than I was because I just smiled with that “Of course, I’m not” look. I simply asked if she was sure, said ok and asked to use the phone again.

My first call was to Tylene, but no answer, which I figured might happen as she was likely being mobbed. But that meant I had to call my Mom’s phone, which I DID NOT want to do. She picked up quickly and I said, “Mama, let me talk to Tylene.” As I did not have the heart to tell my Mama. But she told me she wasn’t there with her in the truck. I paused, not wanting to tell her, but then I did. “Mama, they’re not letting me out.” I could hear her tears starting as she slowly said, “Oh, Baby, I’m so sorry.” As if it was her fault. I didn’t have much time, told her I loved her, then made my way back to my cell, having just left it a few hours ago.

As I returned, inmates hit me with 1000 “WTF?” questions. I walked into my now striped bare cell threw my bag down and mat on my bunk. The ‘Detail Inmates’ (worker bees) offered a few things back, but I told them I didn’t expect anything back. They brought some extra sheets and an extra blanket. I had left my headphones, so they brought a broken set that I could at least hear in one ear.

Then they shut the door. I sat there silent at the end of my “9 minutes” that was going on 26+ hours now and thought…”Well, I have my own room now, so I get to take a shit with some privacy.”

A few hours later, all five of the others from my POD had returned (so much for the shit) and I later found out ALL had been turned back. We spent most of the night silent, disappointed and at ground zero. No food. No extra clothing. No way to call. No freedom.

Jan. 22 was just one more day closer to my appeal, but later in the afternoon, the nurse came and took all the J6ers’ temperatures. This was a sign we were leaving, but I had never seen them do that BEFORE we were pulled out and definitely not with our tablets still on. Movement security is ALWAYS extremely tight. So, now we spent the night wondering, “Where? When?” I stayed up all night, checking messages for info, watching World Poker Tour and Bar Rescue (free plugs) because IF we were moving, it would be between 2 a.m. and 3 a.m. After 3 a.m., I told those who were still up that it didn’t look like we were moving tonight. I ran my battery down to zero percent then at approximately 5 a.m.ish, they came. “You’re leaving.” Jason had 1 percent left, so we got the word out. I was also able to sit by the phone in the common area and sneak a call out. Again, never had the phone been left on before. Thank God for poor security!

Now it’s Jan. 23 and all day in a holding cell to find out we are being driven eight plus hours by van to Pikesville, KY. No stops! No bathroom. Just six “American Bin Ladens” (depending on which lie about Bin Laden you believe). Once at Pikesville, we were put in a 20×20 foot cell, given mats to sleep on the floor, fed a pretty good chicken sandwich and told we would be leaving in a few hours. At 1 a.m.ish, 17 other Inmates join us, making it sitting room only for the next few hours. But, at least the staff were super friendly and supported us (without letting us go), and gave us unlimited phone calls on real phone lines. Before sunrise, we were back in chains.

On Jan. 24, we are stuffed in vans for a 4 to 5-hour drive to Grayson County, KY. Here, I would stay through the weekend, with nothing but the clothes I wore and sleeping, once again, on the floor in a cell made for 10 inmates. I was number 16. In the last spot of floor, right by the bathroom…JOY!

Monday night, Jan. 27, I was told I was leaving after just 4 days there when others had been there 20, 30, 40 or 50 plus days. The only other guy leaving from that cell had been waiting 52 days for his BOP move. The BOP told one of my attorneys it takes 40 to 60 days AFTER the case is complete. But NOT Jeremy Brown! We hate him EXTRA! Another odd thing, according to not only inmates but the guards as well was the destination was BLACKED OUT. It wasn’t until we were being processed out that one of the guards told us, “You’re going to Atlanta! By Van!” Five to 6 more hours in shackles.

On Tuesday, Jan. 28, I arrived here in “Hotlanta,” the home of US Penitentiary (MAX) turned Medium, turned the worst LOW-security prison in the US, according to inmates. And of the 11 that came, I was the ONLY one assigned here. The rest would continue on. So, after a few hours, I was in-processed into MY prison home until Dec. 2027, or whenever Justice arrived, whichever came first. By the time I was done with the paperwork, it was past 4 p.m., so nothing else could be done. I was assigned a cell on the 6th floor, Cell #A3614, and met my new cellmate, Robbie, a 52-year-old with more pain than me, so I was on the top bunk. All I needed was my Phone Access Code (PAC#) so I could call everyone and tell them where I was…NOPE! No officers could help and the three counselors and managers I tried all rudely told me to get out of their offices. I went to sleep, confused as to why I was here and worried that no one knew. In a BOP Record, 7 days, I had been assigned to the WORST Low in American prisons at 456 miles of the 500-mile limit from my home.

Wednesday, Jan. 29, I woke up for breakfast, got my clothing and bedding issue, tried to get a “first-time shopper” commissary, but no money had hit my “books,” so, NOPE! Then, after making a new friend, he led me to Mrs. Jones and Angel in a Den of Demons, who, in less than 5 minutes, got me everything I needed to access phones and TRULINCS (email). I could now communicate, which meant relax (somewhat). But I was still on edge with the hope that, at ANY minute, they could be letting me FREE!

Thursday, Jan. 30, I spent the day getting up to speed with huge doses of Hopium and had a few “Call-Outs” (when Officers tell you to be somewhere), each making my heart race thinking, “Is this it?” NOPE! First was Psychology and the second was DNA Collection. But then, just before 4 p.m., I heard, “Brown, 614!” I walked out and the officer waved me down. He said, “Why have I been calling you all day?” I told him, “Because I’m NOT supposed to be here!” That’s when he said it. The words I had waited for, “Pack up all your stuff and report to R&D.” (where you IN process…and OUTPROCESS). I asked why. He said he didn’t know. I rushed back to my room where I had left Robbie (cellie) and Mike (my new friend) and I said, “They told me to grab all my shit and report to R&D. What does that mean?” They both had been in for a while and both said, “YOU’RE GOING HOME!!” We shook hands, bro hugged and I left all but my issued clothes and was OUT THE DOOR!!!

As I walked with the escort officer, I asked if this meant I was being released. He said he didn’t know, but it could be. Then I told him, “I’m a 20-year Green Beret Combat Veteran. I led a HALO Team that jumped out of planes in the dark at 20,000 plus feet, and THIS was the most nervous I HAVE EVER BEEN IN MY LIFE! Because I’ve already been told I would be free once in the last week and a half!” He chuckled. I DID NOT.
I was NOT released. Instead, I had everything taken from me. Given YELLOW pants (not my color) and put where I am RIGHT NOW. The ONLY thing I’ve been told is, “You weren’t supposed to be here, so the US Marshals will come and get you.” I would rather Don and Donna from Cowboy Logic come and get me.

That has been MY “9 Minutes.” As I watch Mr. Tarrio and Mr. Rhodes free on TV, I am HAPPY for them but also sad and angry. Guess the “Good Guys” don’t always win, especially when they record the “Bad Guys” breaking and preparing to break the law.

We just got the call to “lock down in 10 minutes,” so I have to go! This took me ALL DAY to type, so please don’t let it go to waste. Please excuse the grammar and spelling, as I am rushed. Please feel free to make corrections.

I know you are ALL working HARD to help and I greatly appreciate it, but I’m not home yet, so I’m asking for MORE help. Like I told Lara, “I will be here as long as the American People leave me here!” You have more power in numbers than you know and I feel it, but please keep pushing!! My life depends on it! De Oppresso Liber!

— Jeremy