MonsterMark
Dedicated LVC Member
Check out this story.....
In the days leading up to Nov. 3, 2008… my cell phone and that of a family member were subjected to treachery that only somebody with serious power could have accomplished. Because of the dual attacks upon my sanity, I came to Washington D.C. with fear in my heart, but I was not about to stop. Nothing short of a bullet was going to stop me from filing that application on Nov. 3, 2008.
On the Greyhound bus to DC, I had made a plan to pay for a tourist trolley ticket to take me one stop from Union Station to SCOTUS. I figured I would be safer blending in with tourists rather than being alone.
Before leaving for DC the night before, I died my hair blond, shaved, put on rock and roll clothes and stuffed the copies of my application in a hole through the pockets of my jacket which hid the documents in my back.
I looked nothing like the attorney who had been in the Hughes Justice complex all week in New Jersey.
But I made one mistake.
I had my electronic passport in my sneaker. I walked into Union Station to purchase a $35 trolley ticket and probably set off an RFID tracker.
I waited outside of Union Station for the trolley. At approximately 2:45 PM, just after I had purchased my ticket inside the station, I was sitting next to a white homeless man with a grey beard in his 50’s. He had two shopping carts full of clothes, food, radio etc., apparently his life possessions. We were the only two people sitting on this stone circle just outside the station. Suddenly, the homeless man starts gibbering some kind of weird code. He sounded like this,
“Echo one four two seven, target is in the building, repeat target is in the building…”
Then he paused and I looked up and a big SUV had pulled up right next to us, and two BIG mofos in yellow gold shirts got out of the SUV, opened the back door and started putting on body armor and packing mega heat… all the while they are scouring the area for the “target”.
The homeless man is talking to them through a device in his battered shirtsleeve,
“No point in wasting time, I want to get paid for this, target is in the building… Ok, but I thought you might want to just get the target, repeat — target is in the building, target is in the building. Stop wasting time out here.”
He was mixing in code talk with things I could understand.
Finally, these Blackwater types in yellow who had no badges or official insignia head into Union Station carrying full weapons.
I’m having a heart attack. They looked straight at me at least twice but I looked like such a clown. If they were looking for the brown haired bearded intellectual looking lawyer guy who was in court that week there’s no way they would recognize me with shocking platinum hair in my face, a dayglo blue jacket, flared jeans and trainers.
I am a chameleon.
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The storm is gathering
In the days leading up to Nov. 3, 2008… my cell phone and that of a family member were subjected to treachery that only somebody with serious power could have accomplished. Because of the dual attacks upon my sanity, I came to Washington D.C. with fear in my heart, but I was not about to stop. Nothing short of a bullet was going to stop me from filing that application on Nov. 3, 2008.
On the Greyhound bus to DC, I had made a plan to pay for a tourist trolley ticket to take me one stop from Union Station to SCOTUS. I figured I would be safer blending in with tourists rather than being alone.
Before leaving for DC the night before, I died my hair blond, shaved, put on rock and roll clothes and stuffed the copies of my application in a hole through the pockets of my jacket which hid the documents in my back.
I looked nothing like the attorney who had been in the Hughes Justice complex all week in New Jersey.
But I made one mistake.
I had my electronic passport in my sneaker. I walked into Union Station to purchase a $35 trolley ticket and probably set off an RFID tracker.
I waited outside of Union Station for the trolley. At approximately 2:45 PM, just after I had purchased my ticket inside the station, I was sitting next to a white homeless man with a grey beard in his 50’s. He had two shopping carts full of clothes, food, radio etc., apparently his life possessions. We were the only two people sitting on this stone circle just outside the station. Suddenly, the homeless man starts gibbering some kind of weird code. He sounded like this,
“Echo one four two seven, target is in the building, repeat target is in the building…”
Then he paused and I looked up and a big SUV had pulled up right next to us, and two BIG mofos in yellow gold shirts got out of the SUV, opened the back door and started putting on body armor and packing mega heat… all the while they are scouring the area for the “target”.
The homeless man is talking to them through a device in his battered shirtsleeve,
“No point in wasting time, I want to get paid for this, target is in the building… Ok, but I thought you might want to just get the target, repeat — target is in the building, target is in the building. Stop wasting time out here.”
He was mixing in code talk with things I could understand.
Finally, these Blackwater types in yellow who had no badges or official insignia head into Union Station carrying full weapons.
I’m having a heart attack. They looked straight at me at least twice but I looked like such a clown. If they were looking for the brown haired bearded intellectual looking lawyer guy who was in court that week there’s no way they would recognize me with shocking platinum hair in my face, a dayglo blue jacket, flared jeans and trainers.
I am a chameleon.
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The storm is gathering
