The Psychological Aftermath of the Whitmer Kidnapping Trial
Jurors in the Whitmer kidnapping case are now FBI targets
What happens to witnesses who testify against the Mob?
They’re placed into the witness protection program. They get a new name, a new history, and a new life. They become someone else.
Why are witnesses against the Mob transformed into new identities?
Because the Mob will not rest until those witnesses are dead. The Mob wants them dead for two reasons: retribution and deterrence.
What happens, though, when the Mob takes over the witness protection program?
That grim thought must be going through the minds of the jurors who acquitted two men accused of a plot to kidnap Michigan Governor Whitman. Even more so in the minds of the jurors who voted to acquit all four defendants.
Jurors who voted “not guilty” made themselves witnesses against the FBI—America’s newest and most dangerous Mob.
These jurors found that the FBI planned the crime and coerced six men to perpetrate it. Entrapment.
Jurors accused the FBI of entrapment.
Jurors with the power to deny the FBI the pleasure of its ill-gotten gains.
These jurors exposed the FBI what for what it is: the Democrat Party’s enforcers.
In the course of the trial, one of the six accused flipped. The FBI got to Ty Garbin. The FBI got Ty to betray his friends. Garbin was sentenced to six years in federal prison, a plea deal, in exchange for his testimony against the others.
But Ty’s testimony wasn’t enough.
You can read about the trial anywhere, but we’re going to talk about the psychological game going on in the minds of the Ty Garbin and the jurors.
The Price of Flipping
Ty Garbin flipped almost immediately after his arrest. Prosecutors offered him a light sentence if he would testify against the others, and Ty took it.
The mental game Ty went through in the weeks between his arrest and his plea deal went something like this:
If I don’t flip and I’m found not guilty, I get my life back.
If I don’t flip and I’m found guilty, I face life in prison.
If I flip, I get a relatively short sentence and a chance to start over.
The classic Prisoner’s Dilemma.
Ty and his lawyer played the Prisoner’s Dilemma game. It goes like this.
Two men are arrested and charged with a crime. They’re placed in separate interrogation rooms. Each prisoner is told that the other one is singing and offered a plea deal if they confess to the crime.
But neither prisoner can be sure the police are telling the truth. They don’t know their friend has flipped. So they have a choice:
In the prisoner's dilemma, if both players keep quiet, each gets a brief sentence. But if one betrays the other, the snitch gets off scot-free while their partner suffers a long sentence. If both players betray each other, each gets a medium sentence. As a united pair, players do better if they both keep shtum [sic].
When Ty decided to flip, he undoubtedly believed the Feds had a slam-dunk case against the whole group. Or, he believed at least one of the other five would flip.
So he flipped.
What’s Ty thinking today?
The defector in a prisoner’s dilemma laments his sentence, but feels better when he sees the other guy going to prison for the rest of his life. It’s cathartic. The other’s conviction serves as proof that the defector made the wise choice.
But what happens in the defector’s mind when the others—the people he ratted out—walk scot-free to continue their lives while he changes out of the state-issued business suit provided for his court appearance and steps back into the orange jumpsuit of a convict?
Last night, the four men Ty Garbin testified against had dinner with their families, probably at a favorite restaurant. There was much laughter and joy.
Ty Garbin ate prison food from a metal tray in the chow hall.