“You Bury Me — Part 2”
Nobody upping his worth
I went home and to bed. I debated what to do, if anything. Seemed the obvious was that if, if, these kids did something stupid like shut down cellphone service in Minneapolis, then I could easily be in deep shit for having been with them on their scouting mission.
Calling it in and leave it up to FBI how to handle it seemed to make the most sense. I did that later in the morning, left a message or something.
I got a return call some time later, could I come in Monday morning? I agreed though I didn’t really see the need.
Just as I was headed out the door, I realized that the railroad tool resembled a pipe bomb.
I am headed to a Federal building. That might not be a good idea.
I took the photo you see there and left the tool at the apartment.
I met with one agent. Told him the basics about opening the tunnel covers, etc.
He wanted to know why I hung out with them. I said something like we had bonded around being gay. I really didn’t know the answer. In fact, that’s about as much reason as anything else. I did not understand why all of this to-do. It didn’t make sense. The constant harassment, the craziness…there had to be a reason and not following leads did not seem a good way to find out. There had to be simpler, less intrusive and offensive means of dealing with whatever apparent misunderstanding had occurred was my thinking at the time. Of course, there wasn’t one. The US government and megacorporations no longer have any separation to speak of and consider the American people the enemy if for no other reason than still having a few dollars in their pockets and that darned ability to sometimes think for themselves and see through the bullshit.
Of course it all makes sense once you realize that the ultimate goal was the protection of an illegal clandestine program designed to control or steer the political discourse and policy course of the United States. Creating havoc in a country that has not been allowed to stop thinking about terrorism for a single moment since 9/11 would have predictable results. More privatization of security, more contracts for chummy private corporations who take care of their friends on the inside. More influence of the larger, more influential industry leaders be they energy, defense or the financial sector itself making money for a few.
As the interview progressed, I gave him the details I knew: Walter’s supposed birthday; Dan’s phone number; Chris’ place of employment.
The agent had pen and paper but clearly was not writing down what I was giving him. It occurred to me that there’s probably a very good reason for the bench for people to wait on in the lobby in that building. I figured it was all recorded, video taped. Maybe they even have a body language expert watch or review it.
But that wasn’t all. It was because the FBI knew these guys already because they were doing what they do for them. But I hadn’t realized that yet. They were more interested in me.
We discussed why some of that might have been a “half-assed hit” (half because it would have required my drugged state to complement the offers of doing something fatally dumb). They weren’t terribly interested in carrying it out on their own, but had been directed to try or directed to make me think that they were.
The agent said that he didn’t think so. I even mentioned some of those old blogging subjects (didn’t think to, but perhaps should have, mentioned Sibel Edmonds).
Then I said, “There was a…a thing there for me to protect myself. It looked like a pipe bomb. Can you imagine if I walked into a building like this with that in my hand?”
His eyes went wide as he thought about that.
I continued, “It wasn’t a pipe bomb…I think it’s a railroad tool of some kind. Seen them as a kid near railroad tracks.”
“We’d be appreciative of any further information you can provide.”
And that was the end of the interview. If he made the connection to the FBI’s screw-up with Richard Jewel, he didn’t show it. Jewel was someone that they thought suffered from Munchausen syndrome, someone they thought created a terror attack so he could be the big hero afterwards. You know, like the CIA did on 9/11 with torture and the FBI and NYPD have been doing ever since. They eventually found that they were wrong about Jewel and pipe bombs were the work of a radical rightwing group.
I decided to leave it alone.
Then several days later, no further apparent developments in the making, I figured, “What the hell?”
I went to the 501 in the hopes of seeing them again. They weren’t there. Neither was their lesbian “boss.”
However, while I was standing outside having a smoke, there was a young man speaking to a young woman. He mentioned the Saloon (the most popular gay bar in Minneapolis, where I spent many an evening, some recently). He, though very probably straight, described very closely my experience at the Saloon including some details regarding the entertainment there. The kind of details that a surveillance team would have.
Then he said, pointing to the one of the tallest skyscrapers (could have been Wells Fargo, maybe IDS or Capella), “That’s where Batman would be, if he were here. Up at the top.”
Let me jump way back to my first recollection of even hearing about mind-altering substances like LSD. It was when my patents were explaining to me what happened to the daughter of that nice man on TV I’d seen all those times. I was about four years old when that happened.
This young man, the one I now often refer to as ‘Janus,’ who I lean toward thinking was operative, not simply some dupe being fed what to say via V2S, is one of the things that is most troublesome about this whole affair. He had to know exactly what he was doing. I was drugged and these motherf***ers tried repeatedly to use that to get me to “Darwin award” myself out of existence (and I haven’t even gotten to many of the attempts to drive me to suicide and what those entailed). There is just no other way to look at it.
We are teaching these kids to be fascists. There’s just no other way to look at that. It’s fun to see if we can torture and murder each other, I take it. Let’s show thousands of security employees that the law is just for everyone else and that you, too, can pull a search warrant out of your balls (Google it).
He also mentioned another personal matter or two which I cannot recall at the moment. Clearly knew my bidness.
I went home disgusted by that sad prank. I figured this little adventure was over.
Then, on July 16, 2010, Dan contacted me again.