Gregory V. Boulware

Imagine an enjoyable evening walking with your family; your wife and children viewing the beautiful moonlit sky. The earlier part of the tour began with a very pleasant and fulfilling afternoon luncheon in the park. The leaves are beginning to change colors from summer to fall… All of you are taking in the wonderful visit when one of you turns up missing. All hell breaks loose! Panic and terror evolve into the shear realization that one of you is missing! One of the children has gone missing and the only thing that is found is a rather large bestial footprint and a pool of blood. Imagine this in your backyard… Your neighbors are all shocked with horror! No one knows what to do or whom to suspect. What are We to do?

Can One Imagine “The Horror of It All…!” /

…four men were pounding and kicking on my North Philly door. Two were in suits. The others were in dark black leather cop uniforms with the shiny threatening over-the-calf-length riding boots. One of them was Black with a sneering and calloused disposition.

They grabbed my half asleep body right from the half opened door and slammed me fully into the stairwell wall. I was still unclothed. My under shorts were all that I was wearing. It was damn cold.
The scary looking cops were from the child support unit. They told me I was under arrest for not showing up in court, a failed appearance to a Montgomery County Court Hearing. On the way to Norristown, we stopped (they stopped) for doughnuts and coffee. They gave me a plain white bread and fried egg sandwich along with a half pint carton of milk.

After they roughed me up in my North Philly apartment, they, allowing me to get dressed with a pair of socks, shoes, blue jeans, and jacket. I was then handcuffed, shackled, and shoved and pushed into one of two waiting squad cars. The servant’s portion of our continental breakfast was a gesture of kindness on their part.

It’s true that I informed the judge that my daughter was living with me for more than a month. We were living in Los Angeles…


“I languished in that stinking jail for more than one hundred days as a hostage…while wondering and worrying about my young daughter who was expecting me to pick her up from school, by these jailers who would not even attempt to find out if I was the man they were looking for!”

The newly released imprisoned Black Man went on to describe his horrible ordeal. He described the terrifying experience and what the inmates were forced to eat. He spoke of spoiled, rotten, and awful food that was being served in the prison. The description entailed poor hygienic practices of the inmates selected to serve food and beverages as deplorable. He said it was not possible to maintain an appetite knowing, seeing, and smelling the vile body odors mixed in with the stink of the food. The filthy hands served meals and handed plates and spoons (forks and knives weren’t allowed). Inmates would leave the restrooms without washing their hands. They picked their noses and scratched between their legs and ass cheeks while extending handshakes and swapping food and snacks. Several diabetic prisoners had infections from glucose pin pricks. The open sores were apparent. The wounds were not covered by Band-Aids.

The man forcibly walked into the prison system drug-free but soon appeared like that of an ungroomed, underground living crackhead. The guards brought in bootleg movies for the inmates to watch on one of two flat screen TVs. With the consideration that buying and selling bootleg movies is a crime, it’s baffling to know ‘the powers that be’ see no evil in showing these films, even while they’re still shown in theatres across the country.

“Staring into the eyes of a killer, one late and rainy fall day, we were traveling along in the prison van. We were chained together with handcuffs. Can one imagine a face-to-face with a man who had mercilessly butchered four people, including a three-year-old baby girl?
This guy was being transported from one jail to another. This latest exchange was just another appearance, appealing the death sentence he’d received.
I’d been locked up now for about three months. Child support was the issue. A minor discrepancy for a misplaced payment recorded by the court clerk went missing. It was found after the fact.
Sitting right next to this murdering coward, who slaughtered Heather and Lisa Greaves, twenty-seven and twenty-three, and Heather’s three year old daughter – I wanted to whip his ass! He was from the suburbs and I was from one of the toughest projects in Philly. He was Montgomery County’s most notorious killer of all time. He was sentenced to death. I was defending my right to defend the right to support my child and wound up in jail for doing so – chained to this motherfucker!
I wondered, what the criteria was regarding putting a death row inmate in close quarters with someone who was being held hostage for a contempt citation?

I thought this nightmare would soon be behind me. After all, this kind of shit doesn’t happen to a ‘Host of the Annual Odunde Festival in South Philly does it?’

ISBN-10: 1491086270
ISBN-13: 978-1491086278
“The Horror of It All…!”
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