Memories, Conclusions, a CIA Plot to Kill Obama in 2013 Just as They did JFK in 1963
Lots to Cover and Schedules to Keep, Obama Assassination Plot of 2014 that Failed
May I present to you NCIS special agent Douglas Boyce!
And some of his text messages to me from that summer of 2014 as I was apparently pursued and harassed by FBI vehicles.
Unless I miss my guess, Doug conspired to assassinate Obama in 2014 or earlier with me in the costarring role of 'patsy'. Long story...
Doug is honestly a talented and amazing guy. His moral compass I'll not comment upon here. I will say he voiced to me his admiration for Afghani warlords who decided who in their tribes would live and who would die.
In many ways I understand Doug, in others I don't and perhaps don't want to. The levels of deception and ultimately depravity to which him and his formerly Russian wife (Elena gave up her Russian passport and therefore citizenship so as not to hinder Douglas' mad climb within the American security apparatus, though no doubt she remains Russian to her core) would stoop to, seem to me out of reach. Maybe it was just a question of opportunity. I hope not. Were our roles reversed would I take the decisions he has taken? Sometimes, I indulge myself and wonder.
Doug and I had met in Russia in 1999. I admired him then. Now I admire his abilities, though not so much the man, as I know too much, more than I want to know about him.
Doug and I served together on the American Chamber of Commerce of Saint Petersburg, Russia in 2000. His day job was running the famous Lomonosov Porcelain Factory, and I worked in a 71% American owned Russian phone company.
In 2014 in his basement Doug admitted to me that back then, in those days, he had been an American spy in Russia. C effing IA. CIA. Great.
Over time I would conclude that others whom I had met and earlier admired in Russia among those expats were similarly employed, and who also seeved on that American Chamber of Commerce Executive Committee, Dave Eggers, J. Christian Moore, Jim Hitch, and others. And their attentions towards me, their friendships, were false and that I was a target. I was the fool.
As retired Anglican priest residing in Tallinn, Estonia, Stiiv Knowers, would tell me indirectly, this in early 2017, at the behest of likley MI6 agent Adrian Terris, as he told me directly that The Lord loves most that which he creates, a reference to how my life was molded by these sorts of folk in our esteemed security services.
I can say I've learned a lot, more than I ever expected. Compartmentalization for one. Let's dig in to that a bit as I dissect for you this failed presidential assassination plot from the point of view of the man who was to have been in the role of 'patsy'.
But first a memory, a snapshot, two.
April 1984, I was in US Navy bootcamp in Orlando Florida. Recruit Training Center they called it. I would be made 'honor recruit' at the end of those eight weeks in the sun. 1st out of 640. And I remember about a week, maybe two into the program finding about 3/4s of a large marijuana cigarette in my wallet.
I had smoked pot throughout high school and had quit 30 days prior to entering the service, wanting to become a man, and wanted a clear mind with which to become that man.
I wondered how it had gotten there. When I had smoked marijuana I never put half smoked joints, roaches, in my wallet. How on earth did this get in my wallet? My 19 year old mind assumed it must have been mine for any other conclusion would be far fetched. Now with the gift, of time, knowledge, and experience, knowing I am now and have been targeted for years, perhaps since birth I can conclude and believe my conclusion accurate that our dear security services had placed it there as part of their attempt to mold me this way and that.
I threw it away. My head was shaved and I had signed a six year commitment to the US Navy. And I was made company yeoman and as stated above, honor recruit.
Another memory. We fast forward through time to September 2011. A modern hospital in Wellesley, MA. My mother lay in an intensive care unit, her breathing assisted by a machine, her condition of COPD requiring that 100% oxygen be provided by a mask. Her condition had worsened during this hospital stay from an unexpected C-dif infection. She had as a result been in much pain those last days. The next step would have been a tube.
We, my siblings and I, decided she should not endure that step and would honor her wishes not to be kept alive by machines. We instructed the nurse to remove the oxygen feed. The nurse in turn informed us of what to expect, how this would go, our mother's leaving this life.
The nurse was accurate and in four hours, with me steadfastly holding her hand, my mother, our mother passed away, again with me holding her hand as she went cold.
My siblings had chosen to sit by her feet, heads down turned. My half sister who had lived with us for a time in my childhood held her other hand those four hours.
Her death. The joint in my wallet. If my interpretation of events in my life associated with this failed presidential assassination attempt about which I post ad naseum I wonder who put the joint in my wallet, and far darker, did someone ensure my mother was infected in the ICU with C-dif?
Dark thoughts, one worse than the other by orders of magnitude.
Obama would only be in office so long. And Adam Stanhope, with the help of Wisconsin resident Mark Brady had tried in September of 2011 to keep me in America by introducing to me so innocuously certain narcotics, one then legal, MDPV, one then not, MDMA.
Both illegal today. I recall the temptation. Unhappy marriage. Mother dead. Should I have stayed as Adam desperately attempted to persuade me, I wonder how that adventure most horrific would have evolved.
I recall being suspicious of Adam, or Mark, but discounting those feelings. I got back on the plane and returned home to my wife and son in Russia.
The plot simmering, bubbling all the while. A divorce, most dramatic, unpleasant and ultimately planned awaited me and a fraudulent death threat. Those were some years I can tell you from 2011 to 2014 especially.
Earlier I had been invited to appear on a live Russian TV show by ex head of KPMG of Saint Petersburg, American expatriate Tom Stansmore. Tom likely CIA and currently managing an accounting outsourcing company in Saint Petersburg called Emerfing Markets Group. Tom has ties with two other likley CIA agents in Saint Petersburg, James Beatty, and Jeff Letino.
The topic of discussion the election of America's first black president Obama.
Later I understood that those appearances much like the mysterious roof fire at our home in Russia on Kamennoostrovskiy Prospekt 35 in Saint Petersburg on May 29, 2009 (this JFK's birthday I would be told in the summer of 2014 by another American expat I had met in Russia in the 2000s, Jason Solek, him likely CIA) had been planned so as to help fulfil a dishonest narrative that would have been used to mindf*** a generation.
The narrative? Successful American in Russia loses the plot as a result of a failed business venture after successful ones, a failed marriage, the death of his mother, more than a little sex (yes, sex, and lots of it - we'll have to dive into that at some point) spiced with the augmentation of proferred narcotics by unscrupulous actors like Adam Stanhope, Mark Brady, August Meyer, and Albina Taptiga.
A saucy tale to be sure. All brought to you by folk like Doug Boyce and worse.
And the genius of our security forces at the darker higher levels, is having manipulated me or to put it less dramatically, having assisted me on my path, especially as regards sex and drugs, they could then use their surveillance of me in Russia and the US to create a file to be used by the lower police levels, not knowing of the antics of their higher up, more secretive coworkers to justify warrants, surveillance of me by the FBI.
This would justify their investment. So dark. So very dark. I wonder had they calculated my willingness to use self as bait upon leaving Virginia? Funny stories those. Well, not really, but got to stay optimistic and look at it all glass half full.
In any case. I know. I lived it. I think that's enough for this evening. Stay tuned. I know you will. ))
May I present to you NCIS special agent Douglas Boyce!
And some of his text messages to me from that summer of 2014 as I was apparently pursued and harassed by FBI vehicles.
Unless I miss my guess, Doug conspired to assassinate Obama in 2014 or earlier with me in the costarring role of 'patsy'. Long story...
Doug is honestly a talented and amazing guy. His moral compass I'll not comment upon here. I will say he voiced to me his admiration for Afghani warlords who decided who in their tribes would live and who would die.
In many ways I understand Doug, in others I don't and perhaps don't want to. The levels of deception and ultimately depravity to which him and his formerly Russian wife (Elena gave up her Russian passport and therefore citizenship so as not to hinder Douglas' mad climb within the American security apparatus, though no doubt she remains Russian to her core) would stoop to, seem to me out of reach. Maybe it was just a question of opportunity. I hope not. Were our roles reversed would I take the decisions he has taken? Sometimes, I indulge myself and wonder.
Doug and I had met in Russia in 1999. I admired him then. Now I admire his abilities, though not so much the man, as I know too much, more than I want to know about him.
Doug and I served together on the American Chamber of Commerce of Saint Petersburg, Russia in 2000. His day job was running the famous Lomonosov Porcelain Factory, and I worked in a 71% American owned Russian phone company.
In 2014 in his basement Doug admitted to me that back then, in those days, he had been an American spy in Russia. C effing IA. CIA. Great.
Over time I would conclude that others whom I had met and earlier admired in Russia among those expats were similarly employed, and who also seeved on that American Chamber of Commerce Executive Committee, Dave Eggers, J. Christian Moore, Jim Hitch, and others. And their attentions towards me, their friendships, were false and that I was a target. I was the fool.
As retired Anglican priest residing in Tallinn, Estonia, Stiiv Knowers, would tell me indirectly, this in early 2017, at the behest of likley MI6 agent Adrian Terris, as he told me directly that The Lord loves most that which he creates, a reference to how my life was molded by these sorts of folk in our esteemed security services.
I can say I've learned a lot, more than I ever expected. Compartmentalization for one. Let's dig in to that a bit as I dissect for you this failed presidential assassination plot from the point of view of the man who was to have been in the role of 'patsy'.
But first a memory, a snapshot, two.
April 1984, I was in US Navy bootcamp in Orlando Florida. Recruit Training Center they called it. I would be made 'honor recruit' at the end of those eight weeks in the sun. 1st out of 640. And I remember about a week, maybe two into the program finding about 3/4s of a large marijuana cigarette in my wallet.
I had smoked pot throughout high school and had quit 30 days prior to entering the service, wanting to become a man, and wanted a clear mind with which to become that man.
I wondered how it had gotten there. When I had smoked marijuana I never put half smoked joints, roaches, in my wallet. How on earth did this get in my wallet? My 19 year old mind assumed it must have been mine for any other conclusion would be far fetched. Now with the gift, of time, knowledge, and experience, knowing I am now and have been targeted for years, perhaps since birth I can conclude and believe my conclusion accurate that our dear security services had placed it there as part of their attempt to mold me this way and that.
I threw it away. My head was shaved and I had signed a six year commitment to the US Navy. And I was made company yeoman and as stated above, honor recruit.
Another memory. We fast forward through time to September 2011. A modern hospital in Wellesley, MA. My mother lay in an intensive care unit, her breathing assisted by a machine, her condition of COPD requiring that 100% oxygen be provided by a mask. Her condition had worsened during this hospital stay from an unexpected C-dif infection. She had as a result been in much pain those last days. The next step would have been a tube.
We, my siblings and I, decided she should not endure that step and would honor her wishes not to be kept alive by machines. We instructed the nurse to remove the oxygen feed. The nurse in turn informed us of what to expect, how this would go, our mother's leaving this life.
The nurse was accurate and in four hours, with me steadfastly holding her hand, my mother, our mother passed away, again with me holding her hand as she went cold.
My siblings had chosen to sit by her feet, heads down turned. My half sister who had lived with us for a time in my childhood held her other hand those four hours.
Her death. The joint in my wallet. If my interpretation of events in my life associated with this failed presidential assassination attempt about which I post ad naseum I wonder who put the joint in my wallet, and far darker, did someone ensure my mother was infected in the ICU with C-dif?
Dark thoughts, one worse than the other by orders of magnitude.
Obama would only be in office so long. And Adam Stanhope, with the help of Wisconsin resident Mark Brady had tried in September of 2011 to keep me in America by introducing to me so innocuously certain narcotics, one then legal, MDPV, one then not, MDMA.
Both illegal today. I recall the temptation. Unhappy marriage. Mother dead. Should I have stayed as Adam desperately attempted to persuade me, I wonder how that adventure most horrific would have evolved.
I recall being suspicious of Adam, or Mark, but discounting those feelings. I got back on the plane and returned home to my wife and son in Russia.
The plot simmering, bubbling all the while. A divorce, most dramatic, unpleasant and ultimately planned awaited me and a fraudulent death threat. Those were some years I can tell you from 2011 to 2014 especially.
Earlier I had been invited to appear on a live Russian TV show by ex head of KPMG of Saint Petersburg, American expatriate Tom Stansmore. Tom likely CIA and currently managing an accounting outsourcing company in Saint Petersburg called Emerfing Markets Group. Tom has ties with two other likley CIA agents in Saint Petersburg, James Beatty, and Jeff Letino.
The topic of discussion the election of America's first black president Obama.
Later I understood that those appearances much like the mysterious roof fire at our home in Russia on Kamennoostrovskiy Prospekt 35 in Saint Petersburg on May 29, 2009 (this JFK's birthday I would be told in the summer of 2014 by another American expat I had met in Russia in the 2000s, Jason Solek, him likely CIA) had been planned so as to help fulfil a dishonest narrative that would have been used to mindf*** a generation.
The narrative? Successful American in Russia loses the plot as a result of a failed business venture after successful ones, a failed marriage, the death of his mother, more than a little sex (yes, sex, and lots of it - we'll have to dive into that at some point) spiced with the augmentation of proferred narcotics by unscrupulous actors like Adam Stanhope, Mark Brady, August Meyer, and Albina Taptiga.
A saucy tale to be sure. All brought to you by folk like Doug Boyce and worse.
And the genius of our security forces at the darker higher levels, is having manipulated me or to put it less dramatically, having assisted me on my path, especially as regards sex and drugs, they could then use their surveillance of me in Russia and the US to create a file to be used by the lower police levels, not knowing of the antics of their higher up, more secretive coworkers to justify warrants, surveillance of me by the FBI.
This would justify their investment. So dark. So very dark. I wonder had they calculated my willingness to use self as bait upon leaving Virginia? Funny stories those. Well, not really, but got to stay optimistic and look at it all glass half full.
In any case. I know. I lived it. I think that's enough for this evening. Stay tuned. I know you will. ))
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