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  • Serikali ya Jina: Ramon Montague
  • Idadi kujiandikisha: N-62212
  • Umri:57
  • Muda aliwahi:32 miaka
  • Nyumbani Town:Chicago, IL
  • Sentence:MAISHA
  • Sasa Mfawidhi:Mauaji, Jaribio la mauaji, Home Invasion
  • Alias:Ben Khayil FKA Rico Mac
  • Kutolewa Tarehe:N /
  • Gerezani Maegemeo:Hebrew Yisraelie
  • Mzunguko wa Ushawishi:Kenneth Key
  • Taasisi:Stateville Correctional Center
  • It is incumbent upon me now to give to the communities from which I took so much. My motto now is Each one. Reach one. Kila mmoja. Teach one.

Ramon Montague

My name is Ramon Montague. I was known on the streets of Chicago, Illinois, as Rico Mac from Roseland, infamously known as the Wild Hundreds. I’m incarcerated for murder, attempted murder, and home invasion. I was given natural life, a sentence that was unlawful and unconstitutional. I am fighting to have it overturned. In March 2016 I will have been incarcerated for 32 years of the 57 years of my life. I have spent more time in prison than on the streets. The lifestyle that I led set the stage for my lengthy prison sentence.

As a fourteen-year-old youth I wanted to hang out with the older guys who called themselves Outlaw Gangsters but they weren’t having it, so I started my own crew. We called ourselves the Insane Outlaw Gangsters. Our crimes were mostly robberies. A month after my sixteenth birthday, I was charged with kidnapping and robbing another teenage boy. I was sent to a juvenile facility called the Audy Home. I was given six months probation and sent to Detroit, Michigan. I returned to Chicago and two months before my seventeenth birthday. I was charged with aggravated assault for shooting a guy who confronted me for robbing him. I was sent back to the Audy Home and then to St. Charles, a juvenile prison, where I spent fourteen months, and I was paroled. I tried to keep my nose clean by getting a job with my father and uncle painting houses, but that did not last long. When I received what amounted to my first check, it was not even minimum wages. I went back to jail several times for various crimes, but the crimes weren’t serious enough for me to be sent to prison, until I was charged with mail fraud, embezzlement and forgery for cashing federal postal money orders. By this time I had sold drugs, used women as prostitutes, and robbed drug dealers and numbers men. I was given two years of prison time and five years probation because I would not give up the person who gave me the postal money orders. I was given a month to take care of my affairs and while out on the 30-days leave, I was charged with the crime I’m in prison for now.

For the first fifteen years of my imprisonment I did the same things that caused me to be in prison. I was sent to the Pontiac Correctional Center, a prison that was infamously known as the Thunder Dome. I was housed in the South Uppers, a cell-house known as West Beirut for the violence committed against inmates and staff. After being there for eleven months and due to the work I had put in on the streets and in prison, as well as the respect the men had for me, I was put in charge of running the prison for the Brothers of the Struggle. Every Saturday we had joint exercises with all of the organizations under the Six Point Star. There would be two columns of at least 200 convicts running the yard chanting slogans like Taste great! Less filling! na One mind! One body! One soul! There was a community right outside the prison walls and the Warden sent word that he did not want any chanting scaring the community and having them think the inmates run the prison, and if we did, he would back the buses up and load them up. After informing the brothers of the Warden’s warning, I went on to say, “long as my sacrifice is not in vain, I do not care where they sent me. If there was not a Brother of the Struggle there before I got there, there would be one there when I got there.” The brothers gave me their promise that my sacrifice wouldn’t be in vain. We went on exercising and chanting. That decision caused a friend of mine for ten years to lose his life, which is something I have to live with for the rest of my life. I was put on the circuit and transferred from prison-to-prison and kept in segregation. I moved so frequently that my mail could not catch up to me. While on the circuit I continued my rebellious actions and racked up more segregation time. One of the Brothers of the Struggle who I respected as a man and loved as a blood brother told me that I was needed in general population and that my sacrifice was in vain. I took the brother’s advice.

I took account of my life. I became a student of world history, Black Nationalism, Buddhism, Catholicism, Zionism, Communism, Socialism, Taoism, philosophy, and above all African history. Africa and its renowned culture is the cradle of civilization. I studied Egypt, the Sumerians, Yisrael, Babylon, the Mali Empire, Ghana Empire, Songhai Empire, and Ethiopia. After learning that I was a descendant of a renowned people, I experienced several emotions. I was elated to find out that Africa was the cradle of civilization. I was angry that our culture was once so high in the world, and fell so low. I was disappointed that we could not get out of our own way and come together. If African-Americans were united, our joint buying power would be close to a trillion dollars.

I knew that all of the knowledge I had acquired required a spiritual base to serve as my foundation or I would be a rudderless ship floundering about. I felt Christianity was a tool to enthrall the African descendants in the western hemisphere. I studied and practiced Al-Islam for two years. I taught myself some Arabic and Swahili. Then I realized names have meaning, and that Rico Mac had a negative connotation, so I chose a strong African and Islamic name- Chaka Al Rashad. I never stopped studying. I eventually came full-circle, back to the Holy Scriptures. No other people could fit the prophetic depiction of Deuteronomy 28:15-68. I chose to study Hebraic culture. I became a practicing Hebrew Yisraelite and given the name Ben Khayil or Son of Valor. I read, write and speak Hebrew, but not fluently.

The last fifteen years I have practiced if you know better, you show better. I knew that I could not continue to do the same things that caused me to come to prison and expect a different result. That would be insanity. It is incumbent upon me now to give to the communities from which I took so much. My motto now is Kila mmoja. Reach one. Kila mmoja. Teach one.

Ramon Montague N-62212
P.O. A 112
Joliet, IL 60434

  

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