Defying the Boston Mafia

ISIS is like the Mafia. They have taken over oil wells and are making 3 million a day. Shaheb and Shrerima were born in New Orleans. Shaheb played jazz trumpet. Sherima said the head-takers are coming to America after reading passages in the Koran. We were invited to an art gallery to be filmed for a PBS documentary ‘Religion In America’ a show about home-spun America religion. When a black man whom Shaheb invited to live in our building raped my young Roanoke Indian friend, I demanded justice according to Islamic Law, since Shaheb would not let me call the police. When he could not provide that justice, I left, and moved in with Dottie Witherpoon, whose great grandfather was a Signer of the Constitution. I rejected Islam, as well as Christianity.

I almost told Judge Boutillini the truth. While riding in the elevator he told me that morning he caught a murderer and a thief coming down sheets in a escape attempt. He got his gun out of the drawer, jumped out on to the roof, and got the drop on them. And, later, he handcuffed Jesus to his desk, was the thought in my mind. If I told him about the Mafia case, it would have blown his mind, just a my mind was blown. Thanks to Bush’s ‘Shock and Awe’ we Americans will be married to Islamic Terrorists – forever! Last night Papa Duck the preacher man said we should convert Muslims, and if they refuse “kill them”.

Rosamond Press

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anderson4Above is me in 1971. I lived on Beacon Hill in this apartment building. I had unlimited guts. I took on the whole world.

In 1971 my attorney told those who refused to move out of our home on 40 Anderson Street, a four story building on Beacon Hill, to move to the top floor for our safety. I was in a legal battle with the brother-in-law of the head of Boston’s Mafia, and they were losing. This guy was a top-notch attorney. The owner of the grocery store down the street who liked me, said;

“They want their building back. They will hurt you.”

When I heard the door being kicked in on the main floor, I rushed downstairs to find the door to the old managers apartment knocked off its hinges. Then I heard the awful sound of the squatter’s three month old black lab having its throat…

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About Royal Rosamond Press

I am an artist, a writer, and a theologian.
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