Remember what happened when you came home from the Chicago Democratic Convention in 1968? Things started blowing up around here—things like police stations, draft-boards and recruiting stations—even the war-crimes building at U-M and the Ann Arbor CIA office.
A dude named David Valler was coming on the set in a big way around that time. Called himself “President Dave” and meant it. He was so far out on his ego trip he was appointing his future “cabinet” from off the street. One street brother was tapped for “Postmaster-General” because he delivered mail.
Valler writes for the Detroit News now. But even in his new role, as a lying pig informer, boot-licking, cheek-spreading star witness for the FBI, he admits that he really wanted to be President. What he isn’t saying is that he really thought he was going to be president and that part of his campaign was passing out equal parts of LSD and dynamite.
He tried to tell people on the street that he was going to blow his way into Washington.
The tremendous ego that Valler was working off of made his terrorist acts a joke, a lie and a threat to the people.
He was a tripping fool who got so deep in the zone that he had to become a pig to save himself.
Valler was one of those people who fell into believing the media hype about John Sinclair—that John was the “king of the hippies” or the “hippie king” or something like that. That’s bullshit, that’s always been bullshit. John never wanted to be a “hippie king.”
John is simply a man who has earned the trust and affection of his people. Valler is one of those alienated cynics who can’t relate to that, can’t relate to brotherhood, but like the pig he is, see everything in terms of personal power.
Power-hungry as he was, Valler felt threatened by John and sought his support. He proposed that John become involved in some bombings to which John could only tell him to get the fuck out of his sight. Having been harassed by the pigs for years even back then, John wasn’t about to get involved with a fool like Valler.
Valler vowed that he’d “get” John and his friends for that. Meanwhile, he was getting further and further out of touch with reality telling everybody he met about the things he had bombed, including the CIA offices in Ann Arbor, tripping constantly, ceaselessly and getting poked in the ass by some outrageous dudes.
When the pigs picked him up in the middle of October ’68, it didn’t take him very long to crack and start oinking. At first it wasn’t too serious, mostly just his Detroit News articles, pseudo-senile attacks on “marijuana-smoking degenerate hippies” and the whole scene he claimed to have been such an important part of.
But then, on October 10, 1969, a federal indictment naming John Sinclair, Jack Forrest, and Pun Plamondon as conspirators in the CIA bombings. Brother Jack was snatched from his bed with a broken leg, John was already in jail, and Pun was notified in time to go underground where he lives and works to this day.
The indictment also named David Valler as a “co-conspirator but not a defendant.”
Which simply means that the real conspiracy is between Valler and the pigs. Valler is in it to save himself, the pigs are in it in their age-old quest to destroy any opposition to tyranny, in this case the White Panther Party.
John, Pun, and Jack are all Panthers. John is Party Chairman, Pun is the Minister of Defense, and Jack is a Detroit Captain.
We must deal with these lies as a people. All of you who were around in the summer of ’68 and talked to Valler, heard him run on and on about his bombings, particularly the CIA bombing he so proudly proclaimed to have pulled off, contact the Detroit White Panther office at 4867 John C. Lodge, in Detroit. All information is potentially useful. We must build a defense against the lies that would keep John in jail, put Jack away, and separate Pun from his people.
Free John Sinclair!
Free Jack Forrest!
Free Pun Plamondon!
—Detroit White Panther Party