PLEASE, I need some opinions on what I will say to the press on October 21, 2008

Those of you who have read my books and stories know of the horrors we children suffered at the hands of the State of Florida. On October the 19th the Miami Herald will release a story in their paper (and the Miami Herald.com on the internet) telling of these horrors that occurred at the dreaded "White House" in Marianna.

On October 21, I and many other boys (now men) will be standing in front of the White House as it is dedicated as a standing memorial to those boys who were killed, raped and beaten.

Each of us has been asked to prepare a statement to read to the press and Governor of Florida during the presentation. We have been asked to be civil and polite to any and all Department of Juvenile Justice officials attending the ceremony and that we also keep our comments civil.

Martin Tabert's fellow prisoners testified before the grand jury, describing the events that led up to his death. They said Tabert, strong and sturdy when he first entered the camp, weighed only 125 pounds at the time of the whipping. They explained that Tabert suffered with frequent headaches and his feet were badly swollen and covered with boils.

Several prisoners reported that they lined up, waiting for the guards to count them, on the night of Martin Tabert's whipping. T. W. Higginbotham, head guard and "Whipping Boss" of the camp, first called three men out of the line and beat them. When he finished with those men, he called for Martin Tabert. Higginbotham did not hear Tabert's answer and became angry.

Tabert, the prisoners agreed, was weak from his illness. He spoke softly and moved slowly. Higginbotham was so angry that he grabbed him and ripped off his undershirt. Then he began to whip Tabert. Glen Thompson reported that Higginbotham "whipped Martin about thirty-five to fifty licks." He described the lash Higginbotham used as a "four inch strap, five feet long, with three-ply leather at the handle, two-ply half way down." Another prisoner reported he counted eighty lashes in all.

A third prisoner testified that Higginbotham told Tabert to get up when he stopped hitting him, but the man was too weak to stand. This angered Higginbotham further and he said, "haven't you had enough?" and started whipping Tabert again. Several prisoners testified that this second whipping lasted as long as the first and Higginbotham placed one of his feet on Tabert's neck throughout the beating.

Another prisoner testified that when Higginbotham finished beating Tabert he hit him over the head with the butt end of the whip and continued striking him with the whip until he was back in line. Several prisoners reported that when they got Tabert in the sleeping shack and removed his clothes his "skin was all off his back in one chunk from his shoulders to his knees." Another witness said the doctor did not come to see Tabert and they "dared not ask for one" although they knew he was dying.

I WOULD LIKE YOUR OPINION OF THE FOLLOWING STATEMENT.

THE REASON I'M NOT SMILING MR. HATTON IS BECAUSE I CAN'T

I was instructed by my Cleveland Cottage house father, Mr. SeaLander, to report to Mr. Curry's office, located about ¼ mile from our dormitory. Mr. Curry was the school psychologist assigned to work with numerous boys who had been sentenced to the Florida School for Boys Reformatory in Marianna, Florida. My crime against society was for running away from the Children's Home Society in Jacksonville, Florida and being labeled as an "incorrigible child."

As I quickly walked down the sideway, I ran into Mr. Hatton, somewhat known as the Head-Master of the regular assigned other eleven cottages. Several days before, I had crossed his path while leaving the dining room. He grabbed me by the arm and wanted to know why I was not smiling. I told him, "I feel sad inside today Mr. Hatton, Sir and that I don't feel like smiling anymore." He slapped me across the face, as hard as he could, and ordered me to lie down on the ground, face up.

Pointing his finger into my face he shouted, "Do you want me to take you down to the God damn White House and beat the God damn pure living shit out of you young man?"

"No, Sir, Mr. Hatton, Sir. I'm sorry for not smiling when I seen you, Mr. Hatton, Sir."

Several months before, Mr. Hatton and Troy Tidwell had taken me to the White House and beaten me so badly that my underwear had to be surgically removed from my buttocks. I was so bloody that I could not recognize myself in the mirror.

As I neared his location, I put on as big a smile on my face as possible; a smile so large in fact, that my jaw was beginning to hurt.

"What's your God damn problem, Kiser?" he screamed.

"No problems at all today Mr. Hatton, Sir. Not today. Today I'm happy. Remember the other day you told me to be happy and smile."

You wipe that little shit eat'n grim off your God damn face before I knock it off. Do you understand me, sonny boy?"

"Yes, Sir, Mr. Hatton, Sir."

"You get your little ass over to my office and you have a seat and wait until I get there. You're going down, sonny boy."

I stood there in a shaking; my innocent little thirteen or fourteen-year-old untrained mind racing in a state of total fear and confusion. I didn't know if I could mentally or physically take such a beating again.

Five of my former six wives told me that I was basically a very responsible, rather nice and very kind man; yet they felt that I had to be the most unloving individual they had ever met. But, their final decision to leave me was because they had never, ever seen me smile.

This building and its corporal punishment policies were instituted in order to detour dangerous boys from running away from this facility. A policy some lawmakers felt was needed in order to protect society. As a law-abiding citizen today, I can and do understand that manner of thinking. However, a number of caretakers assigned to perform the duties instructed under that law took it upon their selves to beat, rape and possibly even kill some of the boys incarcerated at this facility. Boys were beaten almost to death, on numerous occasions. Some beaten because they may have had a learning disability or because there was or was not a smile on their face. Many confused, still half asleep, teenage boys taken out of bed in the middle of the night and forced to perform oral sex on some of the staff members. Some even forced to have anal sex. This was certainly not the correct manner in which to rehabilitate young boys who may have needed guidance and a sense of direction in their lives.

Gentlemen; today, almost fifty years later, I now stand before you and I am still not sure if this building will ever allow me to smile. But that's not the worse of it all. A secret inner hatred of society and a fear of my fellowman will forever be instilled and kept secretly hidden deep inside me because this White House building, the Florida School for Boys at Marianna, Mr. Robert Curry, Mr. Hatton and Mr. Troy Tidwell.

Was my secretly riding one of the girl's bikes without the orphanage matron's permission, or climbing up a thin tall pine tree or stealing a candy bar from the Patio restaurant, because I was hungry, worth the price the State of Florida made me pay?

I was not a murderer, a rapist or a burglar. I was a danger to no one, other than maybe myself. As a child, I had never hurt anyone, not even under in the slightest of terrible circumstances. I was just an innocent, confused, incorrigible, hungry, unwanted and unloved young boy who needed someone to let him know that he had a value to someone, somewhere in the world.

My entire adult life; those two horrendous beatings at the White House have been very difficult battles to deal with; one moment loving children, animals and most of humanity; the next moment a temper exploding into a fit of rage trying to protect myself from those who probably do not wish to harm me, but I cannot afford to take such a chance ever again.

I can only pray that things have changed for the children of today.

Roger Dean Kiser, Author-Child Advocate
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