James May
"Institutionalized" – The Targeted Destruction of James R. May
“They said I was institutionalized — but I was just trying to survive.”
James R. May is a 60-year-old man who spent 30 years in prison. When he was finally released in early 2018, he didn’t come home to freedom — he stepped into a minefield, where every step was watched, every mistake punished, and every misunderstanding weaponized against him.
This is not rehabilitation.
This is entrapment.
Arrest #1 – The unknown ID Law
At the end of 2018, just months after his release, Detective Michael Ramos of the Highlands County Sheriff’s Office knocked on James's door. He asked to see his ID.
James handed over his driver’s license — unaware that Florida law now required registered individuals to have a special sex offender designation printed on it. No one told him. He’d never been issued a modified license. He had simply walked out of prison and tried to live.
Ramos arrested him on the spot October 29, 2018. James was unaware of the obligation.
Since it was obvious that James had no knowledge and in order to keep him from trying to fight it, they changed to charge to resisting arrest without violence and offered probation. However, probation keeps you in the county.
James was sentenced to six months of probation, which he completed without a single violation.
He was released from his second charge April of 2019. James continued to be harassed by Ramos until he had a heart attack in December of 2019.
Arrest #2 – The Smartphone Trap
In September 9th, James’s daughters gave him a gift: his very first smartphone. After 30 years behind bars, he didn’t know what apps were. He just wanted to make calls and send texts to his family.
Within 48 hours, Ramos showed up again and demanded to see the phone. He claimed James had failed to register apps that were pre-installed on the device — apps James didn't even know existed.
He was able to get out on Bond September 2020.
Then — just a few months later — Ramos filed five more counts, based on the same phone and the same information.
James had another heart attack in jail in December of 2020.
Here’s the kicker:
Ramos accessed James’s phone without a warrant, and
During deposition, Ramos lied under oath, falsely testifying about when he obtained the app information.
This wasn’t justice.
It was sabotage
James spent 10 months in jail, then accepted a plea deal for 36 months — just to make the nightmare stop. In March 2023, James was released from jail.
Arrest #3 – A Truck He Didn't Own
The nightmare wasn’t over. By December 2023, Ramos charged him again — this time over a truck owned by James’s daughter, registered in Polk County.
Despite no criminal intent, Ramos arrested him again.
The prosecutor claimed that because James’s wife had co-signed the loan, James was somehow required to register the truck.
He never drove it.
Never lived with it.
Never had possession of it.
But they charged him anyway.
Charge Splitting: Designed to Break Him
On December 19, 2023, Ramos charged James with five counts.
On May 28, 2024, James’s attorney notified the court of a motion to dismiss.
Just six days later, Ramos filed five more counts, using the same exact information but different dates of registration obligation he didn’t use the previous filing. \t should have been a total of 10, but he held back 5. But because they were filed more than 90 days apart, the court forced James to hire a second attorney for the new charges — effectively splitting his defense in half. Today he is a broken man with an empty wallet.
The Human Cost
James has suffered two heart attacks under the stress of these endless prosecutions.
Now the prosecutor is demanding a 13-year sentence, claiming James is "institutionalized" and "unfit for society."
Not because he’s violent.
Not because he’s dangerous.
But because he was never given a fair chance to start over — and now they're using his confusion and trauma as evidence that he should never be free.
Why This Matters
James R. May is one of many.
His story reveals a deeper truth about Highlands County’s justice economy — one where law enforcement, judges, and prosecutors feed off the revolving door of minor violations, re-arrests, and plea deals.
Ramos didn't just enforce the law — he bent it, broke it, and lied under oath to keep James trapped.
This is not rehabilitation.
This is re-incarceration by design.
