“A Little Bit of So Much Me” Greetings From Missouri Anarchist Prisoner Casey Brezik
“What’s up comrades?! Good to see you’ve taken at least a vague interest in my support site. I appreciate that. Some people might already know who I am, either through correspondence or possibly because they were unfortunate enough to have known me in the past, before I caught this case. Lol. For those of you who don’t know me, or haven’t heard from me in so long, I want to make this post for you. I want to tell you who I am now because, like everyone, I too have grown and matured through time. Hopefully, I’ll continue to do so.
Currently, I’m serving 12 years for a botched/failed assassination attempt on Governor Jay Nixon’s life. I’ll spare the details for my next post. For now, it’s only relevant that I’m serving 85% of those 12 years and will be eligible for parole in November 2020. Five years from now.
Who am I though? I’m an anarchist who doesn’t believe in forcing one’s self on any other, neither physically or ideologically. I don’t believe in coercion as a means to get what you want, but I do believe in self-defense (again, I’ll explain my case in my next post). I’ve identified as an anarchist for 7 years now. I was “radicalized” during my first extended stay (9 days) in jail, where I finally began to open my eyes and became conscientious of the deceptions taking place around me. I still have a scar above my left eye, courtesy of Lt. Scott.
Since my grandfather informed me that the ideas I was expressing were “anarchist” in tendency. I’ve only grown in my determination. I started by looking up “anarchy” online and found a site called anarchy.com. I remember I made flyers for the site and passed them around at my local mall and downtown area (I was living in Springfield, MO at the time). The site was essentially a discussion forum for ideas of an anarchist utopia. It was only the beginning of my activism.
The site was eventually abandoned and left to the spam-bots to overrun. Not knowing any other anarchists and because my life seemed to be on a steadily declining downhill slope, I decided to leave in search of other anarchists. At first, I had no idea where to go. I only knew it had to be somewhere bigger. So, I set off on a bus to Kansas City. My grandparents lived there and they were my only connection outside of Springfield.
Having spent a few days on the streets in Springfield already, it wasn’t much different to spend a few nights on the streets in Kansas City. When you’re on the streets, it never really seems to matter where you are. The streets are the streets. Eventually, I met up with my grandparents. However, because I was absconding as a “Fugitive from Justice” on my first “Possession of Marijuana” felony, I knew I couldn’t stay long at all. My family are not anarchists and have found comfort relying on authorities, so it seems they feel some sort of responsibility to report to them about my going-ons. I knew I wasn’t safe, so I began hitchhiking north.
Shortly thereafter, I wound up in Omaha. I’ll discuss this more in a future post because it’s deserving of its very own, but for now I’ll let it suffice to say that I happened across a semi-annual conference against the U.S.s global militarization policies and the militarization of space amongst other things, held by the Nebraskans 4 Peace. News to me at the time was that STATCOM was stationed just south of Omaha at Offit Air Force Base. This is where I met my first anarchist comrades. One from Italy and one from Romania. They gave me some leads for where I might go for more information. At the time, I was told about Re-Create ’68 and the NYC Anarchist Bookfair. NYC seemed a little intimidating from my perspective, so I decided on Denver. Plus, a guy from Washington told me about a blockade the dock workers were going to pull on the military vehicles being shipped to Iraq out of the piers in Olympia. I wanted to be a part of that, if I could.
I didn’t make it far. I was picked up by the police for hitchhiking westward along whatever interstate runs from Omaha to Denver. I had yet to learn how to “avoid capture” at the point. Lol. I owe that technique, which I’ll share with you in a later post, to an old friend in Kansas City. I was arrested just west of Omaha and sent back to prison.
I paroled out to my grandparent’s in Kansas City and renewed my search for anarchists there. I killed time by checking out books on anarchism from the library. Eventually I found Kansas Mutual Aid’s online page. I emailed them and they directed me to something called an infoshop in Kansas City. I emailed the Crossroads Infoshop in Kansas City (no longer there) and found what time they’d be open.It’s funny because I remember it like it was yesterday. It was dark inside the bookstore and the doors were locked, so I just waited, sitting on the ledge of the flower bed outside the building. I’d ridden the bus and waited a very long time to even find another anarchist already, so I was patient enough to wait a little while longer. I was reading a book titled “Anarchy” and was trying to focus enough to comprehend what it was saying. Then, all of a sudden, people began pouring out of the building carrying bicycles! What the hell?! I’d been waiting to get in and there were people there all along?! Lol. They were friendly, though. I’ll never forget how entertaining one of them in particular thought it was that I’d be reading a book titled “Anarchy.” Lol. Anyway, I explained to them why I was there and we walked around back to speak for a little while. These were the first American anarchists I’d met. These were my comrades.
They invited me to a potluck that night at their friends’ house. It was great! I felt I’d finally found what I’d been looking for. The start of a new beginning. It felt great. Ha! I even remember one of the more attractive women at the gathering that night calling me into the bathroom where she was talking with one of the guys I’d met earlier, while soaking in the tub! That was kind of cruel. Lol. I wanted to look but didn’t have the guts to. Lol. Anyway, the guys at the “party” even found me a place to crash for the night, knowing that I’d missed the last bus and would otherwise be spending the night on the streets (I felt it was worth it, for sure).
That began an acquaintance of which I’ve always wished could’ve developed into deeper bonds, but I’ve come too to understand that I was struggling with a lot of “demons” at the time, which I didn’t always readily recognize. It makes sense that there was a need to create distance. In the end, though, I was only left feeling abandoned.
Still, my communicating with these like-minded individuals gave me the courage and conviction to do more than just pass out fliers, stand in protest, or simply “resist.” They introduced me to a concept called Direct Action. My activism only increased from there on. Gradually, the intensity of my actions increased and eventually landed me in this cell, where I write to you from today.
I’m an anarchist because I’ve seen so much unnecessary suffering and recognize its roots in a system of deception and exploitation. I’m an anarchist because I feel I’ve opened my eyes and instead of simply conforming, I find more value and meaning in resisting. Frivolous on the grander scale, maybe, but relevant to my inner peace and being right with myself. I’m an anarchist because I have a lot of love for people and hate to see anyone being oppressed because of who they are, where they come from, or whatever other reason people come up with to justify their actions. I believe in the underdog because I am the underdog, as so many of us are.
One of my role models through history, El Che, once said “A true revolutionary is guided by great feelings of love. A love for humanity, a love for truth, and a love for justice.”
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