I last saw Dad at the Hill County Jail where he visited me for one last time. Snuffy and Mom were the only ones allowed to accompany  him into the jail. No other family was present, only armed policemen standing with a hand resting on the butt of their sidearm. I was tightly shackled, both hand and foot. But, little did anyone know how free my spirit raced from place to place where  Dad and I went on our travels. He looked proud and very peaceful, just like he had gone to sleep. I didn’t want to wake him. Actually, it seemed like he might sit up and start singing with me when I sang him a song for his journey. We smudged. I cut my hair and sent the memories and mystery that hair cutting possesses with him. I thanked him for all of the things he taught me and shared with me. He told me before that he would help me from the Spirit World. I felt his spirit as close as ever and still feel it.

When I got to Deer Lodge and was put into population, the first thing I noticed was a sweat lodge and a tipi while I was crossing the yard. Not long after, a thunderstorm came with lightning, thunder, rain and hail. In the morning, the sweat would start and I knew he was there. All of the Native brothers paid respects for his passing. He was well-known and respected among the brothers and staff that knew him there. This was my first time out in the open sky, sun, wind and earth under my feet since the more than two-and-a-half years that I spent in the Hill County Jail. It reminded me of coming out of a Sun Dance. I knew Dad sat in this same sweat lodge many times with the Native brothers. I never once forgot about the rest of my family who are grieving, especially Mom.  I remembered what Dad told me when I was small. He said, “Mom will always be the closest thing to you, no matter what happens.” He would always say how strong of a woman she is and how strong her side of the family was.

Dad loved his children and grandchildren equally. He may have seen some more than others, but his love was consistent and even. He traditionally adopted and raised his grandson, Mike, and suffered a great loss and another test for him and Mom. His great grandson, Anthony, was the next to be my little brother. So, there were always four generations around the house at beautiful Big Warm. Mike and Anthony both have visible traits of their grandfather, Ga-ah-woo-wus, even if it were cussing a blue streak while trying to fix something. But, generosity, strength and wisdom were Dad.

Once, when he came to stay with me in Kumeyaay Country in Southern California, I introduced him to an elder named Tony Pinto. Tony said Dad was a “young fella” because Tony was about 96 or so, but in good, mobile health. Tony took us out in the mountains to Eiapyiip (his reservation). He told us the story of his people and showed us the Sacred Leaning Rock where their creation began. He really must have liked us to share that. Later, we went and ate with some kids at the office, and he wanted Dad to pray and offer the food. After Dad went back to Montana, Tony was up at the office one day. In fact, he was there everyday. Anyway, he was always quiet and all of a sudden he said, “Your dad is a medicine man!” It caught me by surprise and I said, “He never did tell me anything about that.” Tony kind of scolded me and said, “He won’t tell anyone.” People like Tony, throughout the country, had that level of respect for Dad. I know he really made people laugh with his stories and his charisma. Laughter is good medicine.

Later on, when Dad had a sudden heart attack and had to go through 16 hours of surgery, I had to agree with Tony that he had medicine. Actually, I always thought so. To live through the open heart surgery with its devastating complications was a miracle. And the Creator let him stay with us for several more years. During the surgery, Dad took a journey into the Spirit World. Long ago, Dad told me stories of his grandfather, Lone Fly. Dad had his eagle wing fan. He said that if I ever really wanted something, to pray with that fan.  When Dad was out of surgery, we went to Big Warm and had a sweat lodge ceremony. We asked Big Bill, a.k.a. Stoney (a Stoney Indian) to run the sweat and pray for Dad.  I got the fan and told him the story that Dad told.  So, he said he would tell the spirits to interpret our prayers.  We went back to the hospital in Great Falls and sat with Dad who was still fighting for his life.  I was sitting with him in ICU when he came out of it.  He came up swinging and threw a left at a nurse’s aide.  They put him back out with sedative medicine, but I knew then that our prayers had been answered.  Dad slowly woke up, but couldn’t talk or move his limbs enough to communicate.  He had a hole in his throat from the breathing machine.  The first noise he made was when  he sang the AIM song from the hole in his throat.  It made me weak and humble, but proud. I left and went back to work in California.

When I came back a month or so later, he was in rehab and told me the story of the journey he took while he was out.  He said he went to three places.  The first place, he saw his grandfather, Lone Fly, riding with a couple other old Indians.  The second place, he was on a hillside overlooking a big Indian camp.  He said it looked really peaceful in that camp, but said he couldn’t even describe how lonely it felt on that hillside.  He saw a horse with a travois coming from the camp up to where he was.  A really pretty Indian woman was on the horse pulling the travois, maybe to take him down to the camp.  She looked right at him, then turned her head and rode away.  He said it was lonely.

The next place he went was inside of a big lodge and the people he named who were there were the same ones that were in the sweat lodge with Stoney.  He said everyone was up in the air high in the lodge and spinning around like a merry-go-round. All of a sudden, everyone landed on the floor and he was still in the air going around the top of the lodge.  He was really scared and got mad at Stoney.  Dad was in the condition he was in after surgery and Stoney was laughing.  He told Dad he had to touch a spot on his chest and say “mitok-o-yos-in,” which means “all my relations” in Lakota.  Dad said he couldn’t move his arms and hands to touch the spot and was really mad at Stoney for the way he was laughing.  And with all of his will power, he touched the spot and said, “Mitok-o-yos-in.”  That’s when he woke up and took a swing at the nurse’s aide in the ICU room.

So, I want to say, “Thank you” to Stoney and the people in that sweat lodge, and all the other prayers.  I realized, for real, that Dad wouldn’t be with us forever, so I was able to record his stories and information between his two journeys.  I’m sure he is in that peaceful camp now!  I’m guessing the pretty woman was his grandmother, Hiding Woman, who died not long after giving birth to Thomas Main.  The spirits must have pitied us and let him come back to stay for a few more years.

Respect from all the brothers in the Montana State Prison system. Thanks to all of our family, friends and relatives who helped and attended Dad’s funeral.  My spirit was there, but my body wasn’t.  “Hang in there Mom. You are the bomb!”

AHO,

James Main, Jr. #3002286

3800 N. Ulm Frontage Rd.

Great Falls, MT  59404

It has been one year since my father, James Main, Sr. took his journey to the Spirit World. So, I say, “Ut-nu-huh-ban, Ga-ah-woo-wus” or “Farewell, Coyote Bear.” It doesn’t mean goodbye forever. It’s more like, “I’ll see you again.” The year seemed to go by fast. Many families on our reservation have suffered losses of their loved ones since Dad left. Our hearts and prayers go out to them.

We were very fortunate to have Dad with us for some extra years. In 2001, he had a major open heart surgery and took a path to the Spirit World, but he came back after doctors shocked him and his own will to live prevailed. People all over the world prayed for him at that time. We were grateful then for prayers and are still grateful to the people who helped us out with Dad’s funeral and burial ceremony. He had many friends and relatives who will miss him dearly.

I wrote a story for the local Ft. Belknap newspaper about the journey that Dad took on his first experience of going to the other side. We will share it when it’s done.

While I sat in the Hill County Jail in Havre, Dad was my most faithful visitor. For two-and-a-half years, he and my other family members came. Dad’s last visit was three days before my trial started. They allowed my brother and my mother to bring his body into the facility, so I could pay my last respects. I thought it was unfair that I wasn’t allowed to attend his funeral, but unfair is normal in the Montana justice system. Other inmates facing felony charges went to funerals on the reservation while I was incarcerated. So, I was being sentenced before my trial began. Ft. Belknap even offered additional security if the court thought that security was an issue. But, I had a good little song and ceremony with what we had to work with. I guess it was meant to be that way: very humble.

The last couple of days, we’ve been seeing a big eagle outside of this facility. So, that’s always a good sign, especially at this time. It’s good medicine. We’re in the dead of winter and we can see the Badlands to the east and the sunrise. It’s actually very pretty, as the Badlands have their own rugged beauty.

I finally got to go to the eye doctor and get my eyes tested. I had reading glasses when I got to MSP in Deer Lodge nine months ago, but they were taken and I’ve been struggling to read since. A story I heard at the United Tribes Pow Wow came to mind during the eye test and glasses business. Henry Green Crow was the announcer that time at the pow wow. I was a kid at the time.

The story goes:

One time there was this elderly Indian man who raised his grandson. The young boy knew the ways of his people and it came time that he was of the age to go to school. Grampa was having a hard time deciding whether he should send his grandson to school and learn the ways of the white man or keep him home and continue his traditional life. Grampa decided he would send the boy to school, so he could get an education. So, he got clothes, etc., and sent him to school. At school, the young boy was bashful and wanted to sit in the back of the class with the boys. The teacher told him that he couldn’t see the blackboard and must sit in the front so he could see. The teacher said that the boy needs an eye test and may have to wear glasses. The boy told his grampa this when he came home to their little log house. Grampa told him, “Indians can see like the eagle” and ” You don’t need to wear any glasses, so tell the teacher that tomorrow!” So, at school the next day, the same thing happened. The boy was placed back in the front row and told that he was to get an eye test and may need glasses. The boy came home and sadly told Grampa, “They said I need an eye test and glasses because I can’t see the blackboard.”

Grampa said, “No! Indians can see like the eagle! I will give you a test myself!” Grampa asked the boy to go over to the window and look out and tell him what all he saw. So, the boy looked out the window and told Grampa that he saw the mountains, clouds, trees, etc. Grampa seemed pleased and said, “Yes, I told you Indians can see like the eagle!” All at once, the little boy excitedly said, “Grampa! I see a one-eyed dog and he’s coming this way!” Grampa hurried to the window as fast as he could, which was slow because he was old. He pushed the boy to the side and peeped out the window and said, “Son, I think you need glasses! That dog is going the other way!”

I think I can see far, but I do need reading glasses. I got re-classified yesterday from Medium Restricted to Medium Unrestricted, so I may be moving to another pod or facility sometime soon. Our Native brothers here are doing good things. Our functions are well-attended and are tightening up. We are trying to get a sweat lodge at this facility and a drum. The different races amongst the inmates and convicts (in here, there is a difference) get along well. But this is prison and things can change very quickly. But for now, “It’s good in the hood!” Aho!

I would like to take this time to thank those people who are knowledgeable and have followed my case in not only my support, but other Native prisoners who are wrongly incarcerated here in Montana and throughout Indian Country (and non-Indians, too.) I am currently in the MSP Regional Facility-DCCF here in Glendive, Montana. I have reached a new level of this turbulent journey, the appeal process. The first round has been very exhausting to my family and friends. My case is at a very high level of politics, due to many factors, one being the mistakes and flaws in the investigation. These mistakes and flaws are very well documented, but never presented or published.

I want to assure the public that I am not guilty of Murder, Accountability, or Aggravated Assault, no matter what the 9th Circuit Court has decided. All of the Hill County officials who were involved in my investigation and prosecution are long gone. This includes: The Mayor, County Attorney, County Sheriff/Coroner, Chief of Police, Assistant Chief of Police, Police Captain, Sergeant, and others connected. A couple of these positions were abandoned before their term expired (before my trial). So that would explain why the Attorney General’s Office took charge and appointed another prosecutor. Now, Mick McGrath, who was the Attorney General in my case, is on the Montana Supreme Court. My private attorney, Kenneth Olson, who was ineffective and insufficient in representing me, was appointed to the Montana Public Defenders Board of Directors, while representing me. So now, Chief Justice McGrath oversees my appeal and Kenneth Olson oversees the Appelate Court Defenders who will be representing me. So, it seems they have just followed the railroad tracks to this new level.What we need is an intervention from an outside entity in a contaminated justice system. It would be a good start here because everyone basically knows everyone. When officials make mistakes or are incompetent, all they do is move to a different department.

I do realize that you may have read the violent and ugly nature of this case. That is one side of the story. Since the media has no interest in telling the truth and admitting and correcting their rush to judgment in publishing selected evidence and testimony, etc. to balance public opinion, then we will provide what has happened on this blog. Maybe a publisher will pick it up. We’ll see. I guess there’s a lot to see in the future. I want to ask for continued support and expanded support by following the updates on my case, as well as the conditions and all-around prison life in the state of Montana.

There are some very dear people to me who have been hurt and suffered as I have. I want to apologize to them in my own humiliation for using alcohol and putting myself in this position. The issue of injustice is very large and to confront it comes with a heavy sacrifice. Hopefully, Lloyd “Lucky” Kvelstad’s life was not called to the Creator’s lodge for nothing. We shall see. 

One of the most devastating things was my absence at my father’s funeral, which was one day before my trial started. So, my family was in a state of shock and disbelief on both issues. However, my family had arranged to have Dad’s body brought to the sally port in the Hill County Jail. I was able to smudge, cut my hair, and sing for him. I told him, “Ut-na-huh-ban, Ga-a-woo-wus,” meaning “I will see you again, Coyote Bear!” So, I appreciate that, even though we were surrounded by police and I was shackled, hand and feet.I was told he had a good funeral with lots of friends and relatives.

When I got to the population unit in MSP-Deer Lodge in July 2009, I was immediately welcomed by a powerful storm with lightning, thunder, hail, wind, and rain. We had a sweat the very next morning with all of the Native brothers. My dad was very well known there. Much respect was paid. I was there a month and was transferred to this facility of the other side of the state. Coyote Bear said he would help me from the other side. I feel his presence, so with that, I will say prayers for all, and ut-na-huh-ban!

Ay-ju-hey-ots, Bat-wa-haht

Thank you, Singing Arrow (James Main, Jr.)

You can write:

James Main, Jr. #3002286

3800 N. Ulm Frontage Rd.

Great Falls, Montana 59404

You can write to Governor Brian Shwietzer at:

Montana State Capital Building

P.O. Box 200801

Helena, MT 59620-0801

Also, we desperately need a mitigation expert to do a pre-sentence investigation report. The court uses this document in the sentencing. If you know anyone who could step forward and volunteer some time to this effort, please contact Rose Main at (406)673-3013 or (406)390-5350.

Thank you for your support.

Today marks one year, 365 days ago, since Bat-wa-haht, James Main, Jr. was arrested and incarcerated in the Hill County Detention Center in Havre, Montana.

As you go through the day, please say a special prayer for Jim Jr. and all Indian prisoners.

In 42 days (January 7, 2008) his trial will begin so please continue praying.

Thank you!

We are embarking on this fund raising campaign to help with much needed legal expenses. Our hope is to reach out for help and pray that it comes. Time is of the essence as his trial date draws near.

Jim, Jr. is an innocent man who is yet another victim of political and racial oppression. Our family has always been active in the struggle for Indian rights and therefore a target for anti-Indian law enforcement, anti-Indian politics and anyone who doesn’t understand (or want to understand Indian rights), especially in Reservation border towns like Havre, Montana.

Thanking you from our hearts, we remain in the struggle and forever…

Strong in Spirit,

James Main, Sr. (Dad)
Vernie B. Main (Mom)
Rose “Sugie” Main (Sister) & family