Chapter 14

Inside Looking Out

As I sat in the back seat of the Ford Crown Victoria my hands were
growing numb behind my back. The cuffs were too tight and had cut off my
circulation as I could feel my heartbeat throbbing in my fingers. "Can you
loosen these cuffs just a bit?" I asked. "Stop your whining, we're almost
there". came the reply from the U.S. Marshal behind the wheel.

I looked

out the window and saw the Miami Metro Zoo entrance on S.W. 252
Street, and less than two minutes later we were at the gates of the
Miami Metro Correctional Center, affectionately known as "MCC'" by it's
some 800 residents and as "the country club" by it's veterans roaming free
again on the streets.

There was no mistaking the place as a prison from the outside by it's
twelve foot high double perimeter chain-link fences topped with neverending spirals of razor wire.

But what most caught my attention

was just how close I had lived to this place and never even knew it was
here. Indeed my condo at the Kenlands was only about three miles away.

I was hustled out of the car by the two Marshals who ushered me inside
as I hobbled along in both leg and handcuffs, both of which I thought were
extreme overkill for anyone but the most violent people on Earth. Soon I
was between a double-door entrance and a closed circuit TV announce
our arrival.

I was duly delivered to the intake staff at MCC complete with

paperwork and the Marshals were gone in less than five minutes after
removing my shackles and placing me in a small holding cell.
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A huge black man appeared in front of me and barked "Get naked!"

"What?" I asked in disbelief. "Are you stupid or just hard of hearing?" he
retorted. This was not going well and fear entered the room. I was still in
shock of the mere fact that after years of schooling, hard work, and
volunteer work, I was headed to prison, and this "Get Naked" thing just
pushed the envelope to the extreme for me. "Why do you want me
naked?" was all I could say.

Just then a woman wearing rubber gloves

walked into view in front of the cell that was walled off on three sides. "All
300

new prisoners are stripped searched for drugs and weapons" she said
matter-of-factly.

Although I had neither, her explanation made sense to

me and decided I would get naked as soon as she left the area.

The

problem is, she just stood there chewing her gum with her arms crossed.
"I haven't got all day" she remarked.

I was hoping King Kong would

return but he didn't so I slowly started stripping my clothes off in front of a

strange woman in her 30s. I got all the way down to my undershorts and
thought that would be sufficient. "The skiwies have to go too" she
remarked, with a grin that suggested she enjoyed the embarrassment
she was causing me. When I hesitated she looked at me and said
"Look mister, I see dozens of swinging dicks and assholes everyday, so
unless you've got something real special in those drawers, I promise I won't
be too impressed". Not really comfortable with the situation, but not wanting
to create a problem my first day in prison, I dropped by undershorts to the
floor. "Your mamma must have been feeding you vitamins kiddo" was her
response.

She then ran me through a two minute drill that had me running my fingers
through my hair, looking in my mouth, between my toes, and then asked
me to turn around, bend over, and spread the cheeks of my butt to her. I
never felt so humiliated in my life and let her know it. "Is this your first time
to prison?" she asked "Yes ma'am".

"Well you better get used to this

because you'll go through this same routine every time you get a visit,
leave the compound, or go to court. Now hurry up and spread those
cheeks for me so we can get this over with." I complied reluctantly with
a frown.

Apparently some veteran prisoners going back to prison pack

their rectums with balloons full of drugs to be smuggled inside and sold for
hefty profits. The fact that I had zero history of drug use didn't seem to
301

make any difference to anyone. In prison, it seemed, everyone was treated

equally like cattle whether you robbed a bank, raped someone, or was
convicted of bribery.

This i s the front entrance to MCC Miami which is now called FCI Miami

After the search I was given an allowance of clothing to last a week which
is to say, two pairs of boxer shorts, two tee shirts, two pairs of socks, a
pair of blue sneakers and an flaming orange jump suit. For someone who
changed socks and underwear on a daily basis, the idea of having to make
all this last a week was pretty repulsive to me. The woman must have been
reading my mind and offered some relief "There's a washer and dryer in
every unit".

Within the next hour, I was photographed and fingerprinted and told to
wait for a nurse. Two hours later the nurse appeared to screen me for a
number of diseases ranging from Hepatitis, to TB and HIV. She took a
small blood and urine sample. "You'll be held in E unit until all your test
results come back.

If there are no problems, you'll be released into

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general population." I knew I was healthy, and didn't like the fact that I
would have to be held in a unit that was generally a quarantine unit where
God knows what diseases where floating through the air.

Indeed, when I

arrived to E unit, I met not one but two guys who admitted they lived
permanently in E unit because they had TB! There were about eighty men
housed in E unit - two per cell and a large common area in the center
occupied by ten or so stainless steel tables and benches for feeding and
card-playing. So the days went very slow in E unit and I avoided contact
with most everyone and used the rest rooms with great caution, being sure
not to have skin contact with any common surface.

The constant sneezing,

coughing, and spitting of flem in this unit kept me in my cell most of the day.
I don't suffer from a germ phobia, but this unit would make any health care
professional cringe especially since no disinfecting was done at all in the
unit.

The only cleaning was a sweeping and mopping of the floor twice a

day. I managed to locate a can of clorox cleanser and used it to scrub the
dickens out of the sink and toilet in my cell, the only one I'd use from then
on.

But fortunately after about ten days, my name was called and I was told
to gather

my clothing because I was being released to general

population. I was elated. As I approached the door, the guard simply said,
find your way to B unit and report into the unit guard there. They know
you're coming. When he opened the door, I was amazed by what I saw
and for a brief moment, felt like Dorothy must have felt when she awoke
in the land of Oz.

Before my eyes, I saw nothing that looked like a

prison. There was a big circular lake surrounded by a walkway with what
looked like very modern townhomes placed about fifty yards back from
the lake. I didn't see any bars nor guards. What I did see was dozens of
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prisoners in their orange suits strolling about the compound chatting.

Some were sitting at benches playing chess or backgammon.

The

landscaping was incredible with palms and other tropical trees swaying in
the breeze. In the distance I could ee some prisoners

playing soccer

on a regulation size field, and others lifting weights in an area well

stocked with exercise equipment.

I had to look real hard to see the perimeter fences I saw when I first
arrived to MCC Miami. I Iooked for the guard towers that you always
see in the movies but found none.
groomed park

or

day

camp.

This place looked

The

peaceful

occasionally interrupted with a brief announcement

like a well

environment

was

on a p.a. system

that certain prisoners should report to the visiting room, or a certain

guard to call some extension.

My brain was having a hard time

believing what my eyes were seeing but in short order, many of my

previous fears and anxiety began to evaporate.
is deceiving

and quite disarming

Indeed, this facility

to any new arrivals. The lake and

benches made it almost look like a retreat or sanctuary. But the all male
strollers dressed in orange brings one back to reality right quick.

After asking for directions from a prisoner, I found my way to B unit,

and the unit guard asked me my name.

When I told him, he pulled

my jail card looked at my picture and asked me if I had any problems

with blacks

or Hispanics?

"Not particularly

- why?"

I responded.

"Because we've got a full house here and I need to place you in a cell
with either a black guy or a Latino, which do you prefer?"
one doesn't smoke." was my choice.

"Whichever

I was placed in a cell with a guy

named R u i Martinez from Brazil, who at the time was not in the
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cell.

I immediately n o t i c e d that this new cell was kept spotlessly

clean and the top bunk was empty.

gets the top bunk.

In prison, the new guy always

I found the empty locker and unpacked. This 6 by

9 foot box would b e home for the

next eleven

months.

After

unpacking I went back to the guard in ignorance and asked "What am

I supposed

to do now"?

He looked at me like I was either dumb or

crazy and replied, "It's Saturday man, do whatever you want. Just be
sure you're back here in your cell by 4:00pm for count".

That gave

me just about two hours to kill so I decided I would explore the prison
grounds and hope I didn't stroll into some restricted area.

The prison compound was about ten acres by my estimate with about
three of that being wooded areas of pines and scrub.

Aside from the

five housing units there were some other large buildings which I soon
discovered

included

administration

large

cafeteria,

public

building, security office, a visitor's

works

building,

building that was

bout 2,500 square feet, and education building, and something called
a "segregation" building.

I was quickly chased away from the last one

by a guard who told me that building was off-limits.

I apologized a nd

explained

and wanted

it

was

my

first

day

and

there

no

problems.

I then discovered

there were six tennis courts and four handball

courts hidden behind C & D units. I walked by a few basketball courts

and a baseball

field, which

were all in full use.

I was genuinely

impressed by the recreational facilities and decided that I would make

use of the "weight shack"

the

area

where

all

the

barbells

and
305

exercise equipment

was

kept.

guard monitoring

the

activity.

radio, handcuffs, and pepper spray.

was in any danger here.

behaved.
mostly
drug

Every

recreational

They

had

only

with

armed

But it didn't appear anyone

The prisoners were all tranquil and well-

This after all, was a federal prison and its occupants were

white- collar criminals - fraudsters,

smugglers and

prosecuted
criminals

were

facility

dealers.

embezzlers,

Violent

by the state which consequently

crimes

and lots of

were

mostly

inherited the violent

in their prisons. There were exceptions to be sure, but

those few were kept under scrutiny and often kept in a special unit I
was told.

As

walked

compound
to

where

prisoners

around the
was

drawn

most

of

the

were

mingling

which was in front of the

education

building.

glanced inside through one

of the windows

and saw

rows and rows of bookcases

and

small

classrooms

maybe twenty

chairs

Prisoners get 3-4 hours free time to read or pla y cards

of
per class area.

The building was open and

prisoners were coming and going so I went inside to investigate.

was delighted to find a small library and was told by another prisoner
that current reading material would have to be gotten from the mobile
library that visited the prison once a
County.

When

week,

compliments

of

Dade

I picked up a few magazines and saw dates that

306

were five years

old,

I knew what

he meant.

It was then that

discovered what would become my home away from home.

It was a

small library inside the library and when I walked into browse, it was
by far the quietest spot at MCC. I was told it was
The law books

wasn't

what

three IBM selectric typewriters.

caught

few to the bar association

let me have a trial.

my attention,

I knew that I would

of letters trying to right the wrong

the

law library.
but rather the

be writing

of my conviction

a lot

and maybe a

about Judge Hastings and his refusal to

Yes, these typewriters would come in handy so I

made sure to check the hours of availability for the law library before I
left to continue my little expedition.

It was now 3:45pm and I noticed everyone was headed back to their
units so I decided it would be prudent to do the same.

As I left the

education building, I spotted another building behind it that I didn't see

before. Over a hundred prisoners were coming out of its door, so I had to
ask about the building and one of its occupants told me it was "Unicor"
which meant nothing to me. So I pried a little further and was told it was a
prison factory where prisoners working for 30 cents an hour were making
sheets and pillow cases for the U.S. military, veteran's hospitals, and
other government agencies like FEMA and The Peace Corps.

Upon

hearing about UNICOR, I had to laugh to myself a bit. For just a few days
earlier I was watching a news clip of President Reagan lambasting the
Chinese government for

unfair trade policies claiming that China was

using cheap prison labor to manufacture goods at prices other countries

couldn't compete with. Well at 30 cents an hour, I didn't see much
difference between Chinese and American prison labor.

But these guys

here at MCC didn't seem to mind working the ten hour shifts. Most of the
307

UNICOR prisoners were from Latin America and enjoyed the extra
spending money they were able to earn behind sewing machines.

Back at B unit I found my new cell and met Ruy Martinez, a jovial guy who
wasted no time in taking me under his wing with a few tips to stay out
of trouble and make time pass quicker. Ruy, it seemed was convicted as
the master-mind behind the great Eastern Airlines drug ring that had
been importing tons of cocaine from South American secreted
the

structural

panels

of

inside

Eastern Airline jets. Apparently they were

successfully running this operation for ten years when someone slipped
and got caught.

Nothing epitomizes the "weakest-link" theory more

than a drug ring. It only takes one careless or negligent person in

the organization to bring everyone tumbling down.

Ruy was facing 25

years in prison but he wasn't sentenced yet. He showed me pictures of

his family while we waited to be counted in our cells.

Twice a day the

prison staff would count all the prisoners to ensure nobody decided to
leave. I didn't know it yet, but before I left MCC, I would get to watch two
escape attempts, and watch a friend get caught in a third.

Counts

normally take about 30 minutes to complete as two or three teams of

counters make their rounds and compare their tallies.

When they don't

match, Ruy told me counts could take as long as two hours.

After the count, Ruy told me that our unit would be released for dinner in a
matter of minutes and all I needed to bring was an appetite, which by
now I already had. Sure enough the guard hollered "Chow time!" and
our unit emptied in an orderly fashion and I walked with Ruy to the
cafeteria I had seen earlier.

The food was served in a buffet line,

and

I was

again,

I had to admit

impressed

with

not only the

308

selection

of decent food,

Prisoners themselves

but the cleanliness

of

the operation.

prepared and served the food, and it seemed

all the older Italian mobsters ran the kitchen. My first meal behind
bars was roast beef, mashed potatoes, peas & carrots, a salad and
some garlic bread.
coffee.

To drink I had my choice of milk, tea, water, or

I had not eaten in over ten hours and I was famished.

well and again, couldn't get over the quality of this prison food.

I ate
It was

about now I guess that I started convincing my se lf that eleven months

here at MCC Miami might not be so difficult to handle after all.

Ruy

told me how lucky I was to have guidelines of 11-13 months and how
most of the guys here would
give

their

testicles

right

arms

and

to trade places with

me since they were facing ten

years or more behind bars.

My plan for the next 11 months

was to work out every day to
keep my body in shape, avoid and all argument, and learn enough about
law to overturn my conviction

The first case I would read abou t was

Strickland Vs. Washington the precedent case on Ineffective Assistance of

Counsel. Over the next few months I would review over 300 cases,
sometimes as many as 10 a day.

As it turned out, MCC Miami was not a real prison per se, but rather
an intake facility, a processing center where prisoners pending trials,
or awaiting

sentencing

temporary warehouse

were awaiting their day in court.

of sorts.

It was a

Once sentenced they'd be shipped

309

out to a real prison to serve their time in harsher surroundings. State

prisons were much worse, filth, and dangerously violent. Here at MCC
Miiam there were no bars. Just heavy steel doors that locked us into our two
man cells every night. Two man cells were relatively safe you could not be
attacked or gang raped like in other prisons where dormitory type house
was the trend like you see below here.

If something happened to you in a two man cell your cellmate would be held
accountable legally and charged with new crimes if you are injured. It was
this false sense of security that would almost cost me my life. One does not
expect to get raped or attacked in a federal prison where most of the
prisoners are either drug smugglers or white collar criminals. So it easy to

310

be caught off guard here, and other minimum or even medium security
facilities

As I said, most people do not serve sentences here at MCC Miami. But
there were exceptions
area and who

like myself - people who lived in the Miami

had very low guidelines

of less than 24 months.

Prisoners facing such little time could in fact serve their entire time at
MCC Miami and these were first offenders like myself. In all there,
must have been about two dozen of us that fell into this category.
General Noriega would be another such exception. Yeah, Ruy and some
others kept telling me how "lucky" I was.

But knowing I was innocent

of the crime I was convicted and now jailed for, I couldn't buy into the
"Lucky" theory, no matter how hard I tried. Below is MCC Miami

311

The following day I was assigned to a work detail in the kitchen and
was told to report to Joe Kuhn the supervisor.

Joe was a decent,

down-to-earth guy who treated me and all the others with respect and
dignity.

Never once did he ask me why I was in prison, and frankly, I

didn't think he cared.

He asked me if I'd rather work in the bakery,

wash pots and pans, or work on the serving line. I asked him what the
difference w a s .

He pointed out that I'd have to be up at 5:00am to

work in the bakery but I could come in at 9:00am to do the pots and
pans and leave whenever I finished. The serving line he told me paid only
$19 a month and I'd get $38 if I did the pots and pans. I chose the pots
and pans detail and Joe spent about 30 minutes showing me where all the
cleaning fluids and scrub brushes were and where to put the clean pans
when I was done with them.

It was a menial job, but it was in an air-

conditioned kitchen and I only had four hours of work a day, which gave
me four more free hours than most everyone else.

But the hot chemical-

laden water was playing havoc with the skin on my hands which turned a
weird shade of

hot pink from chemical burns.

Joe saw them and the

next day he brought be a think pair of rubber gloves and a jar of aloevera gel. Like I said, he was a real decent guy.

With those four extra hours every day, I started hanging out in the
education building reading old magazines and preparing the drafts of the
letters I needed to write to the Chief Judge, my congressman, and the
American and Florida Bar Associations.

While spending this time in the

education building, I made a strange and sad discovery. I had always

assumed that when people were sent off to prison for their crimes, they
would get counseling and some sort of rehabilitation or therapy to help
them see the light so to speak.

But in reality, there was no such rehab

312

program in place and the only education going on in

the

education

building was teaching all the Latin American prisoners how to speak
English. This made absolutely no sense to me especially considering that
all these Latinos would be deported upon the completion of their
sentences!

So some $300,000 a month in U.S. tax dollars were being

spent to teach foreigners how to speak English, knowing full well they
could never become U.S. residents with
American

citizens

who

were

jailed

their

convictions.

received

nothing

resembled counseling, job training, nor any classes.

All the
that

even

I was floored by

this absence of rehab and soon realized that U.S. prisons were only
warehousing

inmates even though the federal government was paying

MCC Miami $280 a day to house, feed, and provide rehabilitative services.
By my calculations, this was a lot of money (about $200,000 per day) and I
have no idea where all this money was going to. (Todays costs are roughly
$350 per day per prisoner) At MCC Miami, I learned that some private
company was earning $79 a day per inmate for educational servic es yet I
never saw any class being held. What I did see was a latin civilian male in
his 30s handing out a pack of cigarettes to anyone who would sign an
attendance sheet every day.

Someone was making a killng off of this

scheme but I could never find out the company name.

With no rehab, counseling, nor therapy, prisoners at MCC Miami just

brewed anger and resentment at their predicaments and instead of looking
for a way to better themselves for a new life upon their release, they
used their prison stay as a means and opportunity to network with other
criminals and share tips of their trade, especially those busted for drugs.
Their hatred for the system that busted them and separated them from
their families just grew by the day and many developed what I call the
313

"catch-up syndrome" which can be summarized as follows;

A drug

smuggler sentenced to fifteen years will upon his release revert back to
smuggling with a vengeance in even bigger volumes to make up for all the
lost time and income missed during their confinement period.

Their

prevalent attitude seemed to be "Us versus Them" and I soon concluded

that America's federal prisons were doing nothing to stop crime - just
postpone it for a few years. If only they did offer some job skill training and
rehab to the prisoners, maybe half of them would abandon their lives of
crime. It must serve some political purpose to keep our prisons full and
far be it from me to guess what that may be. But I'd still like to know what
they do with all those federal dollars though since there was no way that I
was actually costing my keepers $280 every day.

Being exposed to so many criminals was a genuine learning experience

for me.

The biggest thing I learned was that our government's "war on

drugs" was being fought on the wrong front. To the smugglers, they were
just businessmen trying to satisfy a huge demand for consumer drugs.
Instead of trying so hard to eradicate the shifting supply chain of drugs,
perhaps more progress would be realized if we could reduce the demand
for drugs on our streets. If the demand for drugs could be eliminated, the
supply would dry up. I also learned that those involved in the drug trade
all seemed to have inside help on a

major scale,

and the

dealers were even politically connected (i.e. Jorge Morales).

major

Many of

these guys had contingency plans in place and even expected a prison
stay or two.

Take Renee Benitez for example. Once the head of the Cali cocaine
cartel who

shot

a DEA agent who

dared to

hunt

him down

in
314

Colombia, Renee's prison stint was just a minor inconvenience as he

continued to do business from behind bars using his attorney (Steve Finta)
to deliver instructions by proxy for him. Renee would occasionally brag
that "this was a very good month for us" and once mentioned to me that
he was making about $30,000 a day.

So for those that believe that

prison is a definite deterrent to reoffend, I suggest they spend a few

days talking with Benitez and dozens of others just like him. I would later
learn from Rene that his partners in the free world was a corrupt FBI agent
who used his lawyer as the messenger. Before I left MCC Miami, I would
be introduced to the head of their criminal enterprise, and learn the
shocking truth about the real drug problem in America.

Every call must be collect. Every word is recorded even to lawyers

My initial days in prison was mostly as an observer. Every aspect of prison

life was fascinating to me. I met people who would die behind prison bars,
and while some of them earned their way into prison, I was beginning to
have serious doubts about others. I was shocked at just how many former
government employees I was running into and not high-level corrupt
officials, but rather lower level employees who either reported that sort of
corruption, or leaked irregularities: to Congress or the news media.
315

Other federal prisons for women are also scattered around America and this photo show s
a typical two per cell very similar to the one I shared with Ruy Martinez and later Rene
Benitez, and then George Morales when I was not in solitary confinement.

General Manuel Noriega of Panama would share some of the very same prison cells a s I
did at MCC Miami less than 10 years after I left. I never dreamed I would meet hi s family
nor accept hi s collect call s from pri son. In 1994-1996. Some of hi s former be st friends
were also my friends, and our mutual enemies as it would turn out.

316

I guess what I really want to say about the prison system is that if they
put all that money to work in social rehab programs, counseling and
therapy, the system would make a positive impact on at least half of the
prison population, and we'd all see a genuine drop in crime on the streets.
I realize I wasn't sent to prison to analyze the system, but with all that time
on my hands, I couldn't help myself. Sure, the food was great, the cells
were clean, but the opportunity to change lives for the better was grossly
neglected and lost.

Although I met some really nice prison staff members who treated me like a
real human being (like Joe Kuhn, Oscar Solars, Mr. Browning, etc). too
many of the staff have an authority complex that compels them to act in
mean, cruel and provocative ways.

Although I talk about this in greater

detail in other chapters, let me suffice it to say now that many prison staff
members actually think its part of their job description to antagonize
prisoners in any way that can make their lives even more miserable.

For

example, I've seen guards assign prisoners to clean a latrine and rather
than give them the proper brushes and mops that are readily available,
they'll hand them a couple of toothbrushes. They weren't being punished
for misconduct mind you, they were simply being antagonized, and when
one of

the prisoners

balked,

he

was

promptly

sent

to

solitary

confinement for two weeks. These sort of attacks on their dignity are too
common in prison and only serve to polarize that "Us versus Them"
mentality.

If one were to evaluate prisons only by visual inspection, they would walk
away just as impressed as I was 'during my first week at MCC Miami.
But the quality of prison life is determined by the quality of its staff and
317

how that staff interacts with prisoners on a daily basis. Prisoners that
are

passive

and

let themselves

be

subjected

to humiliations and

verbal/physical abuse without objection will certainly have a different

opinion than I, but my father did not raise me to be abused by others,
and whenever

I had the

strength,

I stood

my ground for what I

believed to be right, ethical, moral, and humane. It would cost me dearly,

but I would never be ashamed of myself nor my conduct behind bars.
Any resistance to the prison system, no matter how polite, formal,
passive, or even correct is not tolerated --it is punished.

Therefore as

time would pass, I would endure two punishments - the sentence Judge
Hastings ordered, and the extra 27 months
decided

to

impose

upon

humane and civil I rights.

the

prison

system

me for what I thought was demanding

I wo u ld la te r le a rn fro m a g ua rd

t ha t i t w a s p la nne d f ro m m y a r ri va l t ha t I c o uld no t be
re le a se d unti l a fte r the 1 9 88 e lec tio ns , I ha d no c lue
tha t

in

t hi s

fairly

tra nq ui l

p ri so n

camp,

s o me

s tra ng e rs wo uld try to rap e , d rug , a nd ki ll me . No r did

I

t hi nk

f a c i li t y.
a he a d

co uld

p o s si b ly

Ind e e d ,

lo oks

for

me

was

he ll

wi tne ss

ca n
on

be

m ur d e rs
de ce i vi ng .

E a rth.

in

such

Wha t

A cco rdi ng

to

lay
my

s e nt e nc i ng g ui de l i ne s I w a s su ppo s ed t o b e r e le a sed
w i t h in 11 - 1 3 m on t hs . I n re a l i t y I w o u ld be de t a i n ed
i l l e g a l l y fo r 38 m on t hs .

Yes,

prison w a s

d e f i n i t e l y a learning experience

for me in

fact, a life-changing one for which I am now actually grateful in a strange

way.

I learned m or e about human behavi or

and frailties in the38

months of my confinement, than I did in all the remaining years of my

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life. I also learned things about my government th at at times made me

ashamed to be an American.

Overall, I now realize that without that

prison stay, I might still be just as naive, ignorant, and gullible as too
many

of

my fellow Americans

suffering my mother and I endured,

remain

today.

Despite

all the

prison was enlightening for me.

Eventually I learned more about life and people in prison than I did at
university. But the calm before any storm can be so cruelly assuring that I
was not prepared for the coming test of my sanity.

Copyright 1995-2014 By Bruce A. Gorcyca All Rights Reserved

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