Special Inquiry Judges

I recently learned Washington has a confidential legal tool that lets a prosecutor gather evidence under a judge’s supervision without doing it in public view: the Special Inquiry Judge process under RCW 10.27. Think of it less as a “trial” and more as a judge-supervised, subpoena-driven fact-finding proceeding. The SIJ doesn’t decide guilt, doesn’t hand down a verdict, and—by statute—can’t later preside over the criminal case that grows out of the inquiry.

Washington law requires every county to have a Superior Court judge available to serve in this role, designated by a majority of the judges. So this isn’t a conspiracy theory “black site.” It’s a lawful mechanism—quiet, formal, and mostly invisible unless you’re pulled into it.

Here’s the basic structure as I understand it:

• Police investigate first, then the case may be referred to the prosecutor.
• The prosecutor (called the “public attorney” in the statute) can initiate an SIJ proceeding.
• Once it exists, the prosecutor can subpoena records and compel witness testimony, under judicial supervision.
• When testimony is taken, the room is kept tight: the witness (and counsel), the prosecutor, the court reporter, and a few limited necessary roles. The point is confidentiality.

And yes—this is where the whole thing gets queasy.

People hear “you can plead the Fifth” and assume that ends the conversation. In an SIJ setting, the privilege against self-incrimination still exists, but the prosecutor can ask the judge to order the witness to answer anyway, and the statute provides immunity-type protection for compelled testimony while still allowing punishment for perjury or refusal to comply. Translation: the system has a built-in way to trade your silence for compelled answers.

What’s even more unsettling is the secrecy. The subject of an investigation might not be told it’s happening. Friends, coworkers, or family can be questioned under strict confidentiality rules. That’s not automatically evil—it’s how investigations work—but it’s also how false narratives can metastasize in the dark. When questions are asked in secret, the way they’re phrased matters. A leading question doesn’t just “gather facts”—it plants an idea.

“Have you ever seen Shannon do anything that might be considered terrorism?”

That question is a stink bomb. Even if the answer is “absolutely not,” you’ve still put the word terrorism in someone’s head next to my name. And if the person you’re asking has a grudge, an axe to grind, or just enjoys being important for five minutes, the incentive to embellish is obvious.

And then there’s the human factor nobody wants to talk about: what happens when the prosecutor gets emotionally invested? What happens when the narrative becomes the goal? Who checks the instinct to ignore exculpatory facts because they’re inconvenient? Who stops the “we didn’t prove that, but we noticed this” drift—where the original suspicion collapses and the fallback plan becomes scraping for unrelated offenses?

At what point does the system admit it has spent enough time and resources grinding a private citizen into dust—isolating them, destabilizing their work and relationships, and wrecking their health—without producing the supposed monster it went hunting for?

Great question. If I ever get a straight answer, I’ll publish it. Until then, I’ll be over here living in the kind of atmosphere where privacy is treated like a privilege, suspicion is treated like proof, and indignation is treated like guilt—especially once you stop using polite words when addressing your watchers.

Walk of Blame

 How One Woman's Prejudice Keeps An Innocent Man On Lockdown

In a recent briefing between investigators and an Assistant US Attorney where the topic was whether or not to continue a 3-year investigation of me for terrorism, a lone investigator fought tirelessly to stand up for my rights and to show that the claims that were made against me were baseless and fictional. But he was up against a beast of a woman who oversees this never-ending invasion of my privacy, who happens to be unreasonably prejudiced against me and has no sympathy for the damage her team has caused to me, my relationships, and my mental and physical health. She is of the opinion that I am simply displaying my renowned patience, that I am waiting them out so I can get back to terrorist stuff as soon as they give up and move along back to wherever assholes and US Attorneys go when they aren’t destroying innocent lives. 

Her own investigator went over fact after fact after fact, laying out all the ways their investigation was negatively impacting me and listing for her my own evidence gathered as part of my coming civil complaint for damages; evidence that clearly and unequivocally disproves the allegations they are trying to build a case around. He told her I had concrete documentary evidence proving my HIV undetectable status for the last 5 years on hand and ready to submit. He told her about my FOIPA request to the FBI and their seubsequent response indicating that there is no legitimate federal investigation underway where I am named as a party, refuting their claims of an FBI investigation into my alleged terrorist past. He told her that since I became aware of their presence and have endured their mockery and their criticisms for so long, I am a completely different person than the one they saw when the investigation began. 

He argued that continued surveillance was sure to cause irreparable damage to my life, more than it already has, and that the longer they pressed on in search of incriminating evidence, the deeper into despair I was sinking day by day. When this brave man told the AUSA that I was so frustrated and distraught over being so blatantly monitored that I cried in my bed every single day, this heartless woman mocked me with a performative voice saying, “Oh? Is the big bad terrorist crying again? Is the murderer just a widdle cry baby?” 

Just when I thought the male investigator had her cornered with logic and facts and was prepared to hear her finally relent, she raised the most ludicrous reason I have ever heard to continue the investigation. She said that I had become unpredictable, that I had started taking walks around the neighborhood late at night, and that this was an indication that continued surveillance was required. Her reasoning? That I am not a walker. That walking is not something I normally do. 

Forget about how miserable I’ve been, stuck inside a 210 square foot box of an apartment day in and day out with no other people to break up the monotony than these assholes who watch me all day and night. Never mind that my therapist urged me to do exactly what I started doing, which is to get myself out into the world at times where I feel less anxiety from my agoraphobia so that in time I will become accustomed to the outside world again. Let’s just ignore the possibility that maybe a walk through the darkened streets of Capitol Hill was preferable to sitting in that tiny apartment listening to investigators compare notes at shift change regarding my masturbatory habits. I was walking, so that means I’m a terrorist out terroring. 

I don’t know if it’s merely a matter of needing to nail down an arrest in order to justify the enormous amount of money wasted on investigating me for crimes I never committed, or if I’ve become her own personal white wale, but this person in a seat of power over a team of investigators is ignoring facts that are irrefutable and exculpatory in favor of hammering out an arrest warrant and seeing me cuffed and sent to a federal penitentiary. Forget about “innocent until proven guilty.” This woman decided three years ago that I was 100% guilty, and nothing is going to change her mind about it.