CIA Agents, Current and Former in Russia Identified.

CIA Agents, current and Former  Abound in Russia

Matt Igel

Matt Igel, ex Army Ranger, West Point graduate.  We met in spring 1998 in Saint Petersburg, Russia.  I've often reflected why we had what I considered a friendship.  The reason simple.  He had reached out to me and was nice.  Only may years later did I learn this was a CIA tactic, a ploy most dishonest.  This alone qualifies Matt Igel, presently residing in California, a former Kelly Services executive in Russia and Switzerland.

Matt had agreed to marry a Russian gal, Marina, short like Matt, with brunette hair and a pretty smile.  Nice girl.  Matt invited myself and my then girlfriend, now wife Svetlana for a train trip to Estonia, maybe it was Finland.  This was 1998 and I don't recall.  I was grateful for what I perceived as his friendship.  I had just worked for two years in Siberia setting up a cellphone company called Beeline, as the lone American in the Russian city of Kemerovo, a city of 500,000.

Matt unexpectedly asked me to organize for him his bachelor party.  This meant locating and renting an apartment, arranging food, and identifying female entertainment providing different services.  I recall even going so far to have some green t-shirts printed up with Kelly Services logos to set the atmosphere.

I recall having no idea how to locate these girls, dancers, strippers, massage professionals.  I asked a few people, the most helpful one a tall Swede named Conny Yonsen.  Conny is now dead victim of a knife wound in a bar.  Sad.  I had liked Conny and his pretty Russian wife Nadia.  I had served as mentor for Nadia's Masters project and found her bright, a good match for Conny.

Conny was older than I and had a long lost of recommendations.  Girls of all levels from street prostitutes to stage dancers.  I determined to hire 3 types of girls: strippers, prostitutes, and massage girls.  This would provide a suitably entertaining show and as all the attendees male could seek some comfort in accordance with their comfort levels.  A good time was had by all.

I returned the next day and was mildly disgusted by the amount of used tissues left about in the room wherein massage services and more had been provided.  I was pleased with myself, acting as emcee, and wanted to do a good job for friend Matt.

I think I never noticed much was the tone of Matthews voice when we spoke.  It was deceptive.  In time ever I learned why.  He had been part of a CIA team whose task it was to make for me a sort of virtual reality, giving me slight nudges towards debauchery.

The reason he asked me to arrange his bachelor party was to introduce the relatively sexual einexperienced self of that time to the world of Russian dancers. prostitutes, and massage girls. Suspecting nothing, I had a great time meeting and negotiating with these ladies.  Even met a gorgeous brunette willing to play the game of smiles 'wherein' she would hide under a round table full of bachelor part guests and blow one at random.  I thought that a bit much and thanked her and said no.

As Matt Igel was part of a large complex CIA plot to manuver me into the role of presidential assassination patsy a la Oswald in 1963, they needed absolute deniability while constructing a history that would make the public believe I had become a sex crazed, drug addled lone shooter type.  The hardest thing in a way for me was shifting my paradigm for I had incorrectly believed boys like Matt Igel to be friends.  They weren't.   They were government gangstalkers and I, a targeted individual..

This was 1998.  The Obama assassination was planned for sometime between 2012 and 2013.  They had time.

My last contact with Matt Igel was a Facebook chat as I drove in the darkness on my way to move son and self to Denver in April 2016.  Matt and I never chatted on facebook.  I had by then learned I was under continual FBI surveillance as with a FISA warrant with my name on it.  So why had Matt chosen this time ever of night to get reacquainted in manner deniable?  Simple, to distract me from the wheel, and to cause a deniable car accident on a poorly lit highway.  And as we all know chatting while driving on a cell phone is illegal in most states.  And yet Matt kept chatting.  I am an excellent driver and kept my head in the game to see what I could learn.

Matt Igel is currently employed by Golden State Communications Inc as COO.  Communication Rental Service's contact person is Matthew Igel at 408-558-2700 with estimated revenues of $4000000.

Matt Igel, CIA scumbag.


Steve Gardner

Steve interviewed me to replace him as Commercial Director of majority American owned Russian fixed line phone company PeterStar Telecommunications in February 1998.  My start date was to be April 1 1998.  I showed up on April 2nd out if respect for Russian tradition of doing nothing of import on April Fool's Day.

Stephen Gardner.  Looks like a decent guy.  He is not.  He hired me in April 1998 with intent to subtly influence me using CIA mind control techniques to lead me with his aforementioned pal Christian Courbois into debauchery.

Why?

Steve was likely part of an advanced CIA team intent on assassinating Obama with me in the role of patsy.

Steve is dishonest and you can hear it in his voice should you choose to listen.  CIA takes care of its own, hence his new role in the pot industry.

I recall one of many conversations with Stephen, one in which he claimed he would no longer work as he suspected he had a genetic heart ailment.

Steve claimed to have lost his father in his early 50s.  True or not I can't say.  I can say Stephen used to take me to strip bars, bordello, casinos all in an attempt to explore my weaknesses.  It is interesting to see his actions contradict his words in any case, him going back to work at Tikun Olam with the Russia related likely CIA agents, Jeff Jones and Dave Eggers, also described in this post.

I recall while in Russia Steve invited me to a Roger Waters concert (he of Pink Floyd fame) and prior to the show he invited me to join him in the apartment of Jeff Jung, another American expat,  but this one who sold hash.  We smoked up, enjoyed the show and I thought little of it til years later.

I was in the midst of divorce and Steve and Christian Courbois invited me to a planned intervention.

Their interest was not in the reparation of my then ex-wife Svetlana and my relationship.

Rather Stephen and Christian wanted a story to later tell investigators in the case that the 2014 Obama assassination attempt had been successful they they as 'dear friends' had attempted to intervene.  I would have been a dead patsy at that point, and they would have described me quite unfavorably to the FBI of what sort of man I had been, sex crazed, drug addled, lone shooter, deranged type.

Later a Russian Egish Khachatrian told me in a long distance phone call, "Rick you will be this generation's Lee Harvey Oswald.  We will get you and Obama too."

Stephen Gardner was part of that and unless I miss my guess is active CIA.

I still recall him interviewing me in February 1998 to replace him in a Russian phone company.

Steve and I went out that night to a combination strip club/bordello now closed.  I recall thinking how cool.  How wrong I was.  If evil exists, then Stephen Gardner, like Christian Courbois is firmly on that list.

Later around 2005/6 Steve Gardner mentioned to me in an offhand manner there was a job opportunity via a mutual acquaintance, Tatiana Dick, a Suffolk University educated attorney, resident of the Isle of Jesey with a very wealthy dad, Sir John Dick (both described in this post).  The job was in Rwanda in a cell phone start up.  Steve had moved self and family from Russia to Sarasota, Florida and was therefore not interested in a move to Central Africa and thought perhaps I might be.  I was flattered, thinking what a cool network I had at that time had.  Later I learned it all a setup by CIA to have me believe in things untrue.  I recall seeing Tanya at some social affair at that time where she said that she knew two good guys in telecoms, Steve Gardner and me Rick Macy.

I was again flattered and again being misled.  At that time I had a few months earlier quit my job as Sales Director for Latin America and the Caribbean for the RF Communications Division of military manufacturer Harris Corporation.  This just after booking their largest contract to that time from a South American customer, the Chilean Army under a program named ACERO which in Spanish means steel.  The contract was US $14.5M.  My largest sale to this very day.

Concurrently with the suggestion of this Rwandan cell phone start up, I had been introduced by likely MI6 agent Adrian Terris, a Scot residing in Russia for about 20 years, to his main shareholder, Antony Michael Czura.  I recall our meeting at the Radisson in Moscow by the Kievskaya train station.  Multimillionaire.  Former CEO of large and prestigious Swiss concern SGS.  Adrian at that time was CEO of Saint Petersburg Yellow Pages and Tony it's main shareholder.

I was at the time running my little Russian boutique corporate sales training business under the trademark RICK MACY SALES TRAINING pushing my fairly decent reputation in Russian telecoms as something of a corporate sales guru having launched the commercial departments for a cell phone start up in Siberia in the mid 90s, and having held similar positions in fiber optic based fixed line phone companies in Saint Petersburg and later Moscow, PeterStar Telecommunications and Comstar Telecommunications.

Comstar was interesting in that it was the first Russian phone company with foreign capital having GPT, a British manufacturer of telecoms kit largely for British Telecom as its 50% shareholder.

And I, middle class boy from New England, was for a time her commercial director reporting to the embattled  Russian CEO and our corporate Vienna MITI office.  I was the only foreign commercial director in her storied history.  She is now part of the largest national cell phone company in Russia, MobileTeleSystems.

In any case Tony had pitched me on the idea of being Adrian's number 2 as COO. My task would be to repair their 4 year old money losing start up in Moscow called Moscow Yellow Pages.  And assuming I steered that part of the business to profitability Tony promised to build or buy a Yellow Pages business in Kiev.  I would run that business and move to Kiev which for a time interested me as I had already lived in Moscow and Saint Petersburg.  Plus Kiev offered better weather and a new experience.  I had by that time once visited Kiev for an interview by Erik Franke, CEO of a national Ukrainian cell phone company,  UMC.  Its owners, Russian company AFK Sistema, rebranded her as MobileTeleSystems based on their larger Russian national cell phone company.

I'll digress a moment more and throw a modicum of suspicion at Erik for inviting me for that interview.  Erik's claimed purpose for seeing me was that he wanted an expatriate to oversee the construction of a national fiber optic based fixed line phone company, as part of as expansion plan for UMC.

Certainly my experience in Russian fiber optic based fixed line phone companies made me a suitable candidate were such plans real.

You see about this I wondered.  AFK Sistema already owned a fiber based fixed line phone company in the Ukraine, located in Odessa.  I knew this company for she was 100% owned by Comstar Telecommunications where I had worked as Commercial Director.

Financially and operationally I wondered wouldn't it make better sense to build out a national fiber based fixed line phone company via Ukrainian Comstar than to build the same via UMC?


Tony knew a thing or three about capitalism and how to make money.  He was also one of the most deceptive psychopaths I've ever met.  And I day this with affection for I had truly liked Tony, was loyal to him, never stole from him, and working together we returned the Saint Petersburg Yellow Pages to profitability and sold it to Swedish investors consisting largely of the Lundin Group via their Russian vehicle Kontakt East for approximately US $23M.  Tony owned the most shares and made the largest amount.

I along with another SGS former executive David Fleming, a Kiwi, now CEO and main owner of a New Zealand home nursing business called Careoncall.co.nz, held 7% of the shares or options thereof.  David and I each earned about US $1M from the transaction.

And so with Tony's offer on the table and us having at that time a preliminary understanding that he was likely to make an offer and I was likely to accept the Rwandan opportunity came in second place, intriguing though bound not to happen.

I learned later that either way I turned I was going to make money, be in my mind a Rockstar,  this part of CIA's plan to make a lone shooter troubled individual back story that would hold up to all manner of investigation.  This making me notorious for all time as an assassin of America's first Black president.  The truth would be of course that I would like Lee Harvey Oswald before me, a patsy.

So Steve Gardner....

And like Courbois, should you see tall bald Stephen Gardner coming your way, cross the street.  I am lucky to have survived.  Oddly I bear him no ill will, no point in that, simply I share this story so others might benefit.

It is my strong belief Stephen Gardner is CIA and was part of a complex plot to assassinate Obama in 2014 with me in role of patsy.  In this, he joins a list of others including Russian spy Anna Chapman, self admitted CIA spy currently the NCIS agent Douglas Boyle,  Matt Igel,  J. Christian Mooore, David Eggers, James Beatty, Stephen Wayne, August Meyer, Coy Ebell, Adrian Terris, Reverend Stiiv Knowers, David Meerkatz among others.

Conspiracies happen.  I found out.  Oddly I survived and share these facts with you gentle reader.  You think Lee Harvey Oswald shot JFK?  Think again.  Google Ole Dammegard, 'Terror are You Kidding Me?"

You thing a few Muslims did 9/11?  Think again.

CIA and Mossad gangstalkers pulled the wool over all our eyes, made lots of money, bought better homes on beaches and we are left to believe their lies.

Be careful with whom you meet, whom you choose to trust.  I wasn't so mindful as I didn't think I'd have to be and remain extremely lucky to be alive.

Steve Caron

Steve Caron.  American expat residing in Russia at least 20 years now.  Twice married, partner is a tudent travel business called Sindbad.  They also work with the ISIC network which I think has something to do with student travellers.  Not sure.  Have to check.

Steve and I met in 1998 via Steve Gardner.  Steve Gardner would go out of is way to belittle, to sometimes ignore, and to in manner surreptitious, make fun of Steve Caron.

Steve Caron I was told was a teacher of 'Lifespring', some sort of new age candle lit self help affair.  Gardner once attended one of Caron's 'Lifespring' events with paul Leonard, and for years after poked fun at Steve Caron over the ole business which I found amusing.

Steve Caron would in the late 1990s and 2000s invite me to events, dinners, etc.  More often than not I was happy to accept, to feel that human sense of inclusion, something I felt without in high school, the Navy, and my earlier pre-Russia work career as i was always traveling.

I had liked being amongst these Western expats in Russia, feeling as a sort of 'Cowboy' amongst 'Indians'.  So few of us.  So many of them.

Feelings matter.  They make us human.  Perhaps they are all that we are.  But I digress.  Back to Steve Caron.

Steve went to a good University whose name I don't recall.  This compared to my time enlisted in the Navy going to college at night for my BS.

I liked that those in what I had perceived our little group of expats often had fun at Caron's expense.  Always fun to have some one to pick on.  And yet I liked him.  Heck I liked them all.  These Western expats I had met in Russia reminded me so much of when I had been selected as Outstanding sophomore of my high school, Sacred Heart, in Kingston MA.  I had been selected and sent off for a three day seminar of sorts with what I considered an amazing cross section of talented kids, the sort of which I'd like to be part of, to be like.

I recall coming back from that weekend away, it was likely early in that school year, in the fall, and I recall having taken the decision to be serious in my studies so as to be positioned to be associated with people like those whom I had met in my weekend away.  Grades were never hard for me, studying so simple, I read so fast and so well, digesting information easily.  I recall in those standardized tests always being the first one done and getting if not the highest grade being amongst the top.  This of course led to a sort of false confidence for my world view as I learned 50 years later upon learning I was targeted was false, the stuff of CIA and mass media creation.

I decided to once again be an A student.   I had always been one up until perhaps that year when I grew aware, hit puberty, and began to believe all of high school a scam of sorts.  Plus I had my day job at the Kingston Drive In Theater where I was paid money for work.  Work became my salvation.  That is until it didn't after I became a modest millionaire and saw the scam that was as well.  Odd life.  In my humble view.

And while this is a digression from this section on Steve Caron, bear with me.  We'll return to him momentarily.

Upon my return from that weekend away where I was one evening treated to 'poppers' (I had no idea of what they were, having never before heard of them, though do recall a headache from this strong, shortlasting legal inhalant.  This as we watched the horror film 'Phantasm' the poppers provided by a sophomore whom I don't recall from another school.

Upon my return from the three day seminar conducted somewhere I do not recall in Central Massachusetts, I encountered on that Tuesday the woman who had selected me as outstanding sophomore of the year and had sent me on that three day seminar.  She was the high school principal, Sister Nivard Kohout, this was her first year in that role replacing the far milder Sister Ida Mary.

I was pleased to see her and wanted to share with her what I had experienced on this three day seminar, less of course the tale unexpected of poppers.

Her reaction had caught me off guard.  She was cross, mean, and apparently in a foul mood.  She asked sarcastically why I had missed school the day prior, that Monday.  This shocked me for she knew the seminar was three days.  After all, she had selected me and sent me to represent our school.  She knew I would be absent that Monday.  So why this provocation?

Sister Nivard continued her short rant.  I dont know so many years later recall all of it.  I do recall how it ended.  She accused me of being 'full of shit'.  This had such effect on me, for she she was a nun, betrothed to Jesus and all that malarkey, had up til that conversation appeared to like me, even to the point of being endeared by the bright young teen who I was in that year of 1978 or 79.

She pushed my buttons, this I admit fully.  I told my mother such was my shock.  And from the moment that conversation ended I decided the hell with high school, and my recent decision to be an A student once again.

Not until 2014 did I have reason to suspect this she had done on purpose.  Goes to the whole MK Ultra aspect of my tale.  By the end of my sophomore year I had set the school record for detentions and as asked not to return my Junior year.  I see this manipulation now as part of the creation of a backstory the FBI would use years later to mindf*** a generation of me as troubled individual all the way back to high school.

Sister Nivard Kohout died painfully years later of cancer.  I often attribute this to Karma.


https://www.legacy.com/obituaries/bostonglobe/obituary.aspx?n=nivard-kohout&pid=134739845

Back to Steve Caron.  Enough tales of my high school years.  What I had liked about Steve and all the people described in this post, quite lengthy, is in a way quite psychological, they represented those kids from that Outstanding School Sophomore Seminar, and not the mediocre buffoons from my high school or days upon the USS Underwood FFG-36, post high school.

Steve's voice, in retrospect, always seething with deception.  He had pushed me to start a MySpace page when those were in vogue and later a Facebook page.  I did the latter and not the former.

In retrospect I believe Steve pushed me about those social networks so as to create more material for the FBI to mindf*** the world.

As an aside as I was CEO of Yellow Pages Russia a 'black pr' page was constructed on LiveJournal by mysterious account holder Puzzloy.

It can be seen here:

https://puzzloy.livejournal.com/

Again, the idea of the CIA was to construct a robust, investigable back story about a man who went nuts, became a lone shooter, and killed America's first Black president.  Just as they had killed America's first Catholic president in 1963.

Steve had brought up the topic of hashish more than once as if baiting me to smoke up with him.  I went with my intuition and moved those conversations forward to other topics.  There was something in Steve I simply didn't trust.

I compare those feelings, untrusting, with the feelings I had for multimillionaire August Meyer who proferred and partook together with me Colombian marching powder while I provided the hashish sold to me alternatively by American expat Jeff Jung (also described in this post) and Russian bisexual amphetamine snorting prostitute Albina Taptiga.

Interesting.  Especially when I consider the effort by our spy services in setting up my introduction to and false friendship with August Meyer.


Jeff Jones

Jeff was an American expat in Saint Petersburg whom I had met a few times but our times didn't so much overlap.  Jeff worked for a company called Dixon Valve and I believe was ex Navy having attended the US Naval War College as well as holding a staff position for a US congreszman of some sort that was political in nature.  

Jeff was always exceedingly nice to me and would often bring up the topic of sales.  This he did to keep me in my comfort zone as in those days my mind was focused on my career which in turn had been based on being a salesman and I considered myself a good one.  

Jeff would later email me which surprised me for we were not close.  

Jeff's attentions towards me recalled another exmilitary guy Jim Jacquet who when in Saint Petersburg sought me out and was also unusually friendly.  These emails continued to 2016 when unexpectedly Jeff became COO for the US operations of Israeli medical Marijuana producer Tikun Olam.  

I was surprised and told him so. By then I was living as single parent in Denver smoking legal weed most days to keep self calm as day by day I was learning that I was under continual surveillance as I had been in Victor, NY and had a hard time getting my head around the fact that it was the FBI gangstalking me.  Jeff responded in one line emails amicably enough.

In 2019 when I learned that 2 years prior Tikun Olam had hired Steve Gardner as Marketing director for its US operations I sent Jeff a note of surprise which went unanswered.  A few weeks ago the US operations of Tikun Olam hired Dave Eggers as acting CEO.

Seems to me CIA is stacking this company with a few of its operatives.  To what end I can't say.  Maybe this is even good for this company having CIA support.  This would of course be consistent with he support offered Israel by the US since her beginnings in 1948 when my dad likely OSS flew in Operation Magic Carpet delivering Jews from places like Yemen and Ethiopia to the 'promised land'.

I've been to Israel one in the early 90s on business.  I saw Tel Aviv and Jerusalem.  I saw the difference between the Israeli side, developed, organized,  nice.  I saw the Palestinian side, quite the opposite.  Didn't know what to make of it for years.  Listening to the press regarding the middle east always confusing.  The paradigm I use of late is Israelis as European settlers just as we had once upon a time in North America.  The Palestinians in the role of the American Indian.  We all know how that went.  I expect no different in that far away land.

And as to Steve Gardner, Dave Eggers, Jeff Jones, all talented men, all deceptive, dishonest. 

Their characters and likely willingness to gangstalk me and likely conspire to assassinate Obama in 2014 suggests they would have little problem performing unscrupulous tasks in other matters.  CIA seems to desire these qualities in their hires.  

My advice?  

If you see them coming, cross the street.  Find another company with which to conduct commerce.  My two cents.  Earned with blood. Some sweat.  And a few tears.  

Douglas Boyce

The worst of the worst.  Now employed as a special agent by the NCIS.  I was his houseguest in the spring of 2014 where one night he laughed and told me he was employed by the CIA when we met in Russia in 1999.

Matt Igel had mentioned him disparagingly to me speaking poorly of Douglas for his choice of sneakers with a tux for a wedding, perhaps Matt's.  This a CIA trick to create the appearance of distance between agents in the same area.

Douglas told me some other things that spring in his home.

Blacks were inferior.

Germans are the most advanced race on the planet.

Lie detector tests are beatable by trained personnel.

Suck up, not down.  This a reference to my sexual lifestyle of that time which he termed 'Roman'.

Douglas continually posed the question, "What juice is worth the squeeze?" when we would discuss my departure the previous October under a death threats I later learned was false, and in which my ex-wife Svetlana had conspired.  Douglas knew all these things.  He worked hard to mask his deception as in the evenings in his 313 Sage Road Virginia Beach home he would busy himself with cleaning, charging and organizing his scuba equipment.  This minimized his tells.


Dan Mead

Head of Security for Marsh and McClellan in London.  Served with Douglas Boyce and Paul Leonard in the military years earlier.

It over time struck me as odd that these three guys Dan Mead, Doug Boyce and Paul Leonard who had all served in the US military together all ended up post service in Russia's Northern Capitol simultaneously.  Suspicious?  To put it quite mildly.

And Dan, short and having some odd security related job that I don't recall, always had this sort of smirk when we would meet for a beer or in other social situations.  As I look back now that smirk Dan expressed somewhat gleefully was a 'tell' as he knew I was targeted, he knew that I was clueless as to the plan laying ahead for me as a patsy in a US presidential assassination that would fail.  The failing bit Dan of course knew nothing about and likely would have bet against.


Paul Leonard

Employer unknown, now in Western Canada.  Also served in the military with Dan Mead and Douglas Boyce.  Overstayed his Russian visa, was picked up by Russian police, set in a Russian jail for five days before being deported.  And banned from returning to Russia thereafter for five years.  And the question that burned in my head was how does a guy this smart, and Paul is way smart, smarter than me, and I am a bright bunny, so something so messed up as remaining in Russia over his visa?  Made no sense.

Paul is quite smart, smarter than I.  He knew better than to overstay his visa.  He did this on purpose to confuse.

Paul and I exchanged emails in 2015 after I had gotten my son Nick out of Russia in December 2014.

Paul made comment by email in reference to my vibrant Facebook posts as day by day learning who had been involved in my son's kidnapping, my knowledge that Douglas Boyce was corrupt and involved in a failed presidential assassination attempt the year earlier in 2014 in which I was to be patsy.

In Paul's email to me he suffered two 'typographic errors' or so he claimed.  He typed the word 'fiends' in place of 'friends' and the word 'death' in place of the word 'dealt'.

These were simplistic NLP attempts to frighten and intimidate me.  Paul failed.  These emails are shown below.  Judge for yourself.  Learn that which I learned.

Darrin Stock

Darrin Stock, on the far left of the picture was an American expat who came to Saint Petersburg after I had gone my way to Moscow in 2001 and from there to western New York in 2003.

Stephen Gardner with whom I had kept in touch via the odd email over those years, he and I met up upon my return to Saint Petersburg in 2006.

I had just taken on the role of COO of the Saint Petersburg Yellow Pages working for a dual national Swiss/Kiwi named Antony Michael Czura who had earlier been director of 4 billion euro turnover a year Swiss company called SGS.  Quite a famous company.

Tony used to brag about making payoffs to world leaders with a special focus on Libya's strongman Moammer Khadaffi.  These payoffs in cash requiring several briefcases.   And thus Tony assured a Libyan revenue stream for SGS and fat dividends for her shareholders.  I am confident he picked up a bonus or two along the way.  Welcome to Capitalism 101.

Back to Stephen Gardner and thereby to Darrin Stock.  Stephen made the comment it was too bad Darrin and I hadn't met as in Stephen's expressed view, we shared a taste for Russian women, that is to share day lots of them.

Darrin and I met.  I don't recall when.  I do recall that he was Chairman of the Papa John's chain for the Northwest of Russia.  Another company had the Moscow franchise.  I recall Darrin describing Papa John as a bit of a duck which amused.

In the summer of 2011, Darrin asked if I could lay my hands upon a ticket for the Amcham 4th of July event in Saint Petersburg.  In Moscow the affair is open to all, while the one in Saint Petersburg is more of a closed affair with tickets limited and distributed amongst member companies.  I don't recall how I got mine that year nor one for Darrin.

We agree to meet on Petrogradskiy where the event would take place near a street called Aptekarskaya now location of a very nice Ginza restaurant, an upscale Saint Petersburg chain of restaurants.

I recall this event as it was the last summer I would ever be the man that I was prior to being poisoned that August of 2011 by Alexander Tregubov.  I likely weighed at least 230 pounds.  Now if I tip the scales at 190 that is something.

Back to Darrin.  Darrin had if I properly recall had earned money on Yahoo back in the younger days of the Internet.   In this I could be wrong.  Then he ran a restaurant in Mexico, again if memory serves.  Darrin was nice to me, chatty when he didn't have to be and in time I would learn this was the simple method others like Christian Courbois, Steve Caron, Matt Igel and other likely CIA agents had used to establish trust with me, to form bonds.  These feigned friendships later to be destroyed on purpose in manner anything but random to maximize the psychological effect of isolation, a chapter from the gangstalkers handbook.   Those were scary times for I had no understanding of what was happening nor why.  Now I know.

Back to Darrin as I digress far too frequently.  In that Amcham 4th of July affair he was reported to have been introduced to a gal named Tanya Dick, a trained attorney, one of those people I had met in Saint Petersburg having really no idea as to their day jobs but all too often being invited to parties, dinners and a variety of events.   And in this Tanya was a wonderful host.  Looking back now I can see that which I missed, the deception in her eyes,  in her voice.

I was told based upon this initial meeting they later in May of 2012 married.  They invited me as I had brought Darrin, Steve Caron as he had brought Tanya and James Beatty for reasons I do not know.

The three of us flew to Paris, rented a car, drove across France, hopped on a ferry to Jersey and attended the wedding of Darrin Stock and Tanya Dick.  My memories of this trip are mostly positive  but for one moment, a meal actually where CIA played a psy op game.

We were in rural France and hungry. Places were closed due to the peculiarities of French labor law.  The three of us stopped at a French restaurant and nearly begged to be fed.  They reluctantly agreed.  The conditions were we could only order salad.  And so we did.  They were served in manner perhaps best described as discourteous.  And as the three of us dug into these salads, with vegetable and chopped ham, the salad of Steve Caron appeared to contain ham that had been chewed and spit into the plate before being covered in salad.  I thought it amusing, no I found it funny for in our circle of expat pals all so often Steve was the one let's say disrespected.   Examples of this would include his many phone calls to Steve Gardner that Steve would in my presence ignore.

There were other little things, he had been involved in some cult like thing that both Paul Leonard and Steve Gardner made fun of for years.  I didn't understand the chewed salad as I do now.  It was a distraction.  To keep the noise level up so I would not so, so I would effectively ignore the tells that James and Steven were giving off on that trip.  I recall at the wedding some vibes from James that I wrote off.  I know better now.

We returned to Saint Petersburg.  Still unsuspecting that I was a target in an advanced CIA plot Darrin Stock proposed that my little Russian training company perform some training in that late summer for one of his Papa John's restaurants.  I agreed.  I think the contract was $11,000 or so.  Decent money for a few days of my time.  Plus all the pizza I could carry home.

I recall it bothering me, though not so much for me to say no to the contract, it bothered me that the ROI, the return on this $11,000 would be a long time coming given the average order value, the high rate of staff turnover.  But I liked Darrin and thought he liked me and clearly he knew what he was doing.  And he did know.  He was causing me to trust him and for me to form with him that which we commonly refer to as a friendship, though this was nothing like that as I was a target and Darrin a CIA gangstalker.

By fall 2012 I was divorced and Darrin kindly offered that I might have the use of his Nevskiy Prospekt apartment.  It was in the 50s across the street from the new Burger King.  I gratefully accepted.  I was in the throes of what I believed was an on again off again romance with former prostitute Evgenyia Kosheleva.

She was at that time in her home town of Angren, Uzbekistan.  She had with intent broken my heart and so I filled the time with two bisexuals playmates Albina Taptiga (now married with child) with a married name of Putulina, and her young girlfriend Evgenyia Kritova.  These gals enjoyed hashish as did I and introduced me to the stimulating effects of amphetamine sulfate only some weeks earlier.

Natasha Mishanova was another prostitute who had similar taste and so one night the three of us got naked, enjoyed hashish and speed, a little S&M play of which I confess I have not as yet developed a taste.

I do recall the look in Albina's eyes as they handcuffed me to the bed.  I was more interested in making porn movies for life was short as I had learned the previous September as I held my mother's hand the four hours it took her to pass.  And we we smoked and snorted and screwed the night away with the four of us in the master bedroom.

Now here is where Darrin revealed his hand.   Darrin had supposedly negotiated the Quiznos license for Saint Petersburg and had assembled a small prelaunch team.  At its head was self proclaimed Jesus freak Aaron Bogott.   I had nothing against Aaron.  We were acquaintances and not much more.  He and his partner in a small and failed Russian oil change business Kelly Rivers, also a self proclaimed lover of the Lord and of the Christ had invited me one year to a Superb owl party.  I agreed and arrived.  I think it was the Patriots vs somebody.   I don't recall who won.  I do recall the evening full of weird vibes which I wrote off to the party consisting mostly of Jesus freaks.  I thanked them, ate my fill of party treats and made my way home.

And that morning after smoking huge hits of hashish and snorting lines of amphetamine sulfate one by one the four of us, I and my three 'girlfriends' if one can call them that, one by one made our way to the bathroom.

By then Aaron Bogott and his two or three Quiznos launch team gals who were using Darrin's apartment as an office while I was staying there were witness to what must appear to the most open of minds as what was clearly an exercise in debauchery the night before.

A few days after this witnessing Darrin said he needed the apartment for a finance guy named Steve Kendall who appeared competent and gay and so my invitation to use Darrin's flat was rescinded.

I thanked him and went on my way, back to Kamennoostrovskiy where ex-wife Svetlana with fire in her eyes could say little for fear of revealing the larger plan.

And that plan was simple, Darrin had let me use his flat knowing full well Aaron Bogott and his gals would see me and my gals and would in the case that the Obama assassination in which I was to be patsy Aaron Bogott would be only too ready to tell the FBI what a sex crazed drug addled troubled individual I must have been.

Because by then nor I nor Obama would be around to provide any tale contradicting that which the CIA had spent decades in constructing.


Tanya Dick

Tanya, in the middle of the shot bove, is a sweet sort of criminal. Very smart woman.  She's all over the top nice, at least she was to me.  And apparently with purpose, none of it good.  No not at all.

Many American expats I had met in Russia seemed to act as though I were interesting.  So what does one then assume?  One must be interesting!

Not until much drama and a revelatory Skype video call with my Russian FSB trained honeypot trap sparrow then ex-wife Svetlana Macy in December 2015.

In that call sweet Svetlana posed the question, "Rick didn't you know that 80% of your expat friends in Russia were intelligence agents?"

I hadn't known.  I had just thought I was likeable.  Thought I had friends, these really interesting people.

Since returning to Russia in December 2016 after a three year hiatus due to a fraudulent death threat communicated to me by two Russian FSB trained 'sparrow' honeypot traps, my ex-wife Svetlana Macy and the prostitute who led me to divorce, Evgenyia Viktorovna Kosheleva not one of my former expatriate 'pals' who remained in Russia reached out to me.  I reached out to two by phone, Christian Courbois and Brian Kean and was told in terms none too blunt not to call again.

The actual threat of death was reported to come from two Russian men, Alexander Tregubov and Egish Khachatrian who had posed respectively as Genya's boyfriend/pimp and human trafficker.  I bought into the fraud and departed Russia in October 2013.

I contacted two other American expats who remain in Russia, James Beatty and Aaron Bogott.  We separately met for coffee and their reactions were the same, outright curiousity that I had survived my three years in America, and both of them as though they had taken lessons from the same instructor in the art of self soothing, kept reaching up as if control had been lost and kept stroking their chins.  Some might see this as a sign of deception.  According to a recent youtube video by a retired FBI agent it indicates the subject is uncomfortable and with each chin stroke attempts to sooth self.  And both James and Aaron must have been awfully uncomfortable given the tens of times each reached out to touch their lower faces as we 'enjoyed' our coffees.

I confess I was in full detective mode being quite suspicious of them both.  James for lying in earlier facebook chats, and Aaron for somehow in the space of moments garnering over 70 comments on a facebook post as I watched from afar alone in western New York.

This Tanya Dick invited then wife Svetlana and I to dinner parties at her well appointed flat in Russia. She had married American Darrin Stock and supposedly I had a role in their meeting each other at the Amcham 4th of July party in Saint Petersburg in 2011, hence my invitation to their wedding in May 2012 on the Isle of Jersey.

I suspect they were already acquainted.  Tanya is a lawyer and her father quite wealthy.  Tanya is very bright, very fast, and in speaking with her you can pick out that tone of falseness.   I did.

This year she sent her assistant Dima to get a copy of my passport and Russian visa under the pretense that scoundrels had by forging papers stolen her Russian apartment out from under her.  I complied wanting to see what would happen.  As she is an attorney from a wealthy family I admit I find this pretext somewhat unbelievable.  And from Tanya as soon as I complied she went into communication blackout mode which is the mode of all the apparent conspirators listed here as they are likely in the employ of the CIA and they failed in their assigned task of molding me into a patsy for a 2014 attempt on the president's life.


Sir John Dick

Sir John Dick.  Now in his 70s.  Once a successful lawyer in Denver.  Made money in real estate.  Former Chairman of O3B.  Board member Liberty Global.

https://www.bloomberg.com/research/stocks/people/person.asp?personId=6613252&privcapId=9956099

Mostly blind in one eye, and an amazing voice with excellent delivery.  I still recall the chills listening to his wedding toast at daughter Tanya's wedding to Darrin Stock in May 2012.  Such presence.

I believe John gave up his US citizenship to save on taxes and became one of 13 lords or barons or some such titled cool guy on the Isle of Jersey off the coast of France.

As mentioned, I recall him speaking at the wedding if his daughter Tanya Dick to Darrin Stock, currently chairman of the Telepizza franchise in Russia.  Tasty sauce.

As to the conversation, brief though it was, at the wedding aforementioned I was surprised, nearly overwhelmed by Sir John's reaction to me.  He knew my name and seemed excited to meet me.

This was extremely odd as the guest list was long and had far more impressive people than me, an American in Russia he had never met.

I suspect strongly the reason for his unexpected and knowing reaction was that Sir John was aware of both my targeting and the reason for it, which would place Sir John amongst the conspirators in the failed attempt on Obama's life meant to install Biden and blame me who like Obama was to be dead.

Another notable fact of the life of Sir John Dick is that for several years he was chairman of a satellite venture, titled O3B, shorthand for 'the other 3 billion', this a reference to those on the planet without cellphones to that time.

A decent article on the project may be found here.

https://www.satellitetoday.com/uncategorized/2013/08/20/connecting3-billion-people-the-mission-uncovered/

And a wikipedia article here,  though a bit drier.  It doesn't delve into the sale of O3B to SES, a transaction that I can't imagine being anything but profitable for Sir John Dick.

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/O3b_(satellite)


Aaron Bogott

Aaron Bogott.  American expat in Russia.  Unless I miss my guess also CIA who conspired to assassinate Obama in 2014 with me in the role of patsy.  Aaron also worked at Jensen Group in a sales role prior to his short time with a Quiznos franchise in Russia working for Darrin Stock.

His role was to bear witness against me for sleeping with three women at the same time, thus helping cement what was to be an FBI narrative about me as a lone gunman, sex crazed, drug addled troubled individual.  This occurred at Darrin Stock's Saint Petersburg apartment at Nevskiy Prospekt 55 in 2012.  Darrin had been 'kind' enough to let me have the use of his flat as it was largely unoccupied.  And so Aaron, hired by Darrin to project manage a Quiznos project in Russia that never got off the ground, accomplished what I think in retrospect was his main task, and that was with two or three female employees by his side to witness the morning after a night of mild drug debauchery, as one by one, each of the four of us, myself, Albina, Evgeniya, and Natasha each made our way past team Quiznos on our way to the loo.  And the smell of hashish absolutely had to be in the air, we had smoked so much of it the night before.

The setup almost perfect, except for the part of the Obama assassination planned for 2014.  I figured something really bad was going down in that July in Virginia, and headed North to the home I had once owned trailed by 40 undercover FBI vehicles.  What a night that must have been for them.  What a night it had been for me navigating by paper map as their GPS spoofing gear had my electronic GPS map dancing all over the place that night unforgettable.

And so apparently a torch of a sort was passed to another veteran, one who hadn't got as lucky as I.  His name, Omar Gonzalez, and he somehow made his way into the White House.  I wonder if he ever figured out how the FBI and other black ops boys pushed him on that fateful day.

In any case, all that made Aaron Bogott's testimony of no value.

One final note on Aaron Bogott and his membership most likely in the CIA.   For a time, certainly not now, while I lived in New York state, using self as bait to determine who was after me, criminals or Russians (in those days I could not contemplate the bad actors were in the employ of our US government, such was my programming, like many, perhaps like most) I was ingesting narcotics, fully aware that my ex-wife Svetlana Macy would be aware as would her Alexander Tregubov, but how?

And that night on Facebook, I got my answer, though still had a hard time accepting it.  I had made a post or commented on one made by Aaron Bogott.  And in the space of ten seconds there were 78 responses.  Eye opening.  Revealing.  And more than a little frightening.  CIA, as described in his book by Douglas Valentine, is nothing more than a state sponsored mafia.

Aaron Bogott is also a 'Christian'.  OMG, this stuff writes itself.

Upon my return to Russia after a three year hiatus, Aaron and I met in Russia for coffee in early 2017.  His 'tells' were off the scale.  He couldn't help himself as he continually grabbed his chin.  This a sign of discomfort and an attempt to self sooth.  His discomfort was something special.

And as I was supposed to be dead back in 2014 had their plan gone off as desired, it was real, real nice to know what Aaron Bogott was up to.  Wonder if his wife Ramona knows.


James Beatty

James Beatty, likely CIA with his day job at property investment company Jensen Group, located at 32 Nevskiy Prospekt, as CFO, portrayed himself as my pal as part of his role in the complex and failed presidential assassination attempt of 2014 in which I was to play the role of patsy.

I had liked James.  James pretended to like me.  So much so that in the fall of 2011 he hired me as a sales training for his staff in an off site in Egypt.  I think it was Sharm El Sheik and not Hurgada.   This led to him offering me the position  of vice president of sales for Jensen Group, a position to which I agreed and filled from January to June 2012.

James is also of note as he unexpectedly invited me to his wedding back in, I think it was 1998, although it might have been 1999.  James married a Russian girl named Viktoria who for a time had worked as a dancer.

Nice couple.

At that wedding reception I recall James offering to myself and another American expat, named Christian Courbois (Christian enjoyed a birthday this past week, I sent him a text of congratulations as it seemed the polite thing to do, though he chose not to respond) who like James was then and likely remains now in the employ on some level of the CIA, 'Bolivian marching powder' in the rest room at the event.  I partook and enjoyed the day, not thinking much more of it until some years later.

And some years later, another expat I had met in Russia in those days, a Scotsman named Adrian Terris, would brag to me how the intelligence agencies historically would be proud to take decades, even generations to work on a project.

Adrian's example was from the Middle East and featured the Crusaders taking decades to deceptively tunnel under Muslim fortifications.

In this manner James and others I have mentioned gangstalked me as a targeted individual to subtly push me towards debauchery, sex and drugs all as part of a decades long CIA plan commonly known as MK Ultra intended to create credible patsies that would stand up to investigation and research.

The only problem with this plan is the CIA didn't count on men like Ole Dammegard or me.  And maybe that doesn't matter.

My Russian FSB honeypot trap sparrow wife Svetlana had earlier gotten me into group sex so that she might use that against me years later in divorce court and to display pornographic images of me from that time to our then 13 year old son (which is a felony in the US and likely a similar crime in Russia were my son to pursue that course of action).

This helped her mold my son, our son, Nicholas James Macy into something of a weapon when she sent him to me in New York in December of 2014 two years after our divorce.

These gangstalkers like James Beatty, Christian Courbois, Adrian Terris, Svetlana Macy, would ramp up their efforts in late 2011 and early 2012.

Four more individuals would reveal themselves in time as gangstalkers whose task it was was to introduce me to a variety of legal and less than legal stimulants and empathogens:

1. August Meyer, multimillionaire investor in Russia Amazon called Ulmart,

2. Adam Stanhope, former owner of www.bangkok.com and online Silk Road drug dealer NAWLINS (and yes I reported him to the DEA, that was fall of 2014.  Within a week he was reported dead in Pembroke, MA, though I believe him to be alive in Thailand and the death a corrupt police assisted fraud),

3. Self taught chemist and self admitted occasional drug user Mark Brady of Iron River, WI, and

4. former working girl whom I met in a bordello, now young mother, Russian gal whom I knew then under her maiden name of Albina Taptiga, now she is married and has the last name Putilina.

Each of these folk would surreptitiously introduce me to bath salts, ecstasy, cocaine and amphetamine in concerted effort to lead me down a path from which others might not return.

I held my ground, learned what they were up to by using self as bait, a practice I was forced to engage in as a form of self protection after I left Virginia pursued by up to 40 undercover FBI vehicles in the July of 2014 for New York State.

Let's go back to James Beatty.  As posted here I had left Russia under a fraudulent death threat in October of 2013.

I returned to Russia in December of 2016.  I contacted James as we had been such friends earlier, which I had by then learned was a sham though desired confirmation of a sort.  And that confirmation is what I received upon meeting with James in early 2017.

You see James and I each own a Russian apartment within ten minutes walking distance of each other in the heart of Saint Petersburg, on an island called Petrogradskiy.

James and I met for a coffee at the nearby restaurant 'Ketchup Burger' on Lev Tolstoy Square.  I was pleased to see James, I am in that way human.

James could barely cover up his discomfort at seeing me.  I think part of him was curious, indeed fascinated to see me, as he knew much of what I had been put through for he played his role in that darkest of plots, a failed presidential assassination attempt.

I was fascinated to see him.  I always recall a psy ops trick he had used to gain my confidence, my trust.

James told me back around 2011 or so that I reminded him of a dear friend from high school.  I later asked him to tell me more, to descibe what were these similarities that drove him to such a conclusion.

He, of course, ignored the question, for his statement likely false, a simple psychological manipulation that for a time had its intended effect.  Now not.  Now a lie exposed, or to use kinder terms, simply a 'tell'.

His 'tells' were off the scale.  He kept reaching for and covering the lower part of his face with his hand.

This behavior would be repeated in a few days time when I later met with another American expat, Aaron Bogott, whom I had also met earlier in Russia.

Aaron, like James, is likely in some manner of employ with CIA. Aaron disgusts me in a way that James does not, as Aaron puts on a great show of being a 'Christian' which thankfully James does not.  We should count our minor blessings perhaps.

And so James and I had our coffee; I pushed his buttons inquiring as to what strip clubs he frequents these days as he used to portray himself as a fan of such places while we worked together at Jensen Group in that first half of 2012.

I offered that we meet again, as in days of old.  And as James clutched his chin repeatedly in apparent discomfort he claimed to have no time as he was quite busy with work and had a new habit of going to the gym.

I complimented him on his fire hydrant like physique (James is rather short) and we parted ways. I had gotten that for which I had come, which was confirmation of what I, at no small expense to self, had learned since my departure from Russia in October of 2013 under fraudulent death threat.

I should hate James.  Another man would.  Of this I have no doubt. And yet I don't.

When I think about how he and others enjoyed the secret thrill of being deceptive, I admit a feeling of disgust, but it passes.  I had liked, even admired James.

James is brighter than average and more motivated than many, perhaps most.  And I wonder what it was like for him that day on campus when the CIA recruiter contacted him in some manner likely surreptitious.  For him.  For Christian Courbois.  For Stephen Gardner.  For Aaron Bogott.  For Matt Igel and others.

What was that like for them in those days, when I lived on a guided missile frigate in the Persian Gulf, supposedly defending their freedoms.  Funny old world.  Funny old James Beatty.  Funny old me.


Kurt Edward Stahl

I met Kurt Stahl in Saint Petersburg, Russia in the late 1990s.  Kurt had attempted to start a medical business in Russia that failed and for a time worked at Jensen Group in the early 2000s, long before my 6 month stint with them in 2012.  Later Kurt worked for a time in Australia though now resides in Sarasota, Florida with his red headed Russian bride Natasha.

In 2002 Kurt and I agreed to go out for a night on the town, this in Saint Petersburg.  I was then based out of Moscow and held the title of Regional Director, Cable TV for Metromedia International Telecommunications, Inc.

We headed for a bar on Nevskiy Prospekt, well known as a pick-up bar in its day, the name escapes me.  Today that location is a Burger King.

On that night long ago, we, Kurt and I, picked up almost immediately two Russian girls and quickly took them back to the corporate apartment I stayed in while in town.  He had, or I was led to believe, had sex with one of the girls, while I had sex with her friend.  We discussed swapping but never got around to it.

I recall Kurt as expressing a very misogynistic attitude towards women, quite cavalier.  I had enjoyed our night out, thinking this is what the cool kids do.

I was therefore surprised when shortly thereafter Kurt married Natasha.  His actions contradicted his words.

In hindsight, I believe our night out was a psy op, intent on helping me slide on my path to debauchery.  And like all the other CIA gangstalkers has cut ties with me even rejecting a facebook friend request.  On its' own that would have little merit.  Taken in combination with the behavior of others on this list, in this blog, it is difficult for me to imagine that Kurt was not CIA.  Ask him...))

Many expats in my time in Russia provided in hindsight a 'tell' as they in manner coordinated though then not visible as such provided, positive feedback for fooling around, misogynistic attitudes towards women, cheating, sleeping with prostitutes.  These included not only Kurt, though his example quite bright, Christian Courbois, Stephen Gardner, Steve Caron, James Beatty, Caterina Innocente, Mike Hammond, David Meerkatz, Mirco Zanini, August Meyer, and others.


Steve Wayne

Harvard educated.  Married to a Rockefeller.  General Director of Jensen Group, an American owned Russian Property management and development company.  I've known Steve since 1998 though we were never close.

Oddly Steve invited me to his 2004 wedding.  I was thrilled 'look mom I'm going to a Rockefeller wedding' as I didn't see this for the psy op that it was.  I even got Christmas letters from Jensen Group after I left Russia?  How did they ever get my address?  I hadn't told them or anyone.  CIA is good that way, sometimes too good.

I worked as VP Sales at his Jensen Group for the first 6 month of 2012, this position being offered to me by his #2 James Beatty.  James made a big deal that he thought I was a better fit than another expat in town with far more real estate experience, overweight Canadian Kyle Patching.  Kyle I learned was also in on the whole let's kill Obama thing and is likely employed by the Canadian CIA (CSIS).  My ego ate it up.

The reason for my hire was in the case the whole 2014 presidential assassination plot succeeded James could have described to FBI my office melt down as my mother had just died the previous fall and I had been poisoned by my wife's lover the month before that in August 2011 losing 35 pounds in a month.  I was literally sitting myself to death.

I also spent a four day bender with three naked Russian prostitutes named Albina Taptiga, Genya Kritova and Natasha Mishanova in a free apartment provided by multimillionaire August Meyer's 'construction manager' Rustam Ivanov.

Before the girls came and Rustam and August departed, August laid out lines of cocaine to get that party started.  I had no idea back then of his evil intent.  In time I would learn.   Albina then after sex introduced me to another material to be snorted, amphetamine sulfate.  Different than cocaine.  She laid out a big thick line and as I wanted to squeeze all I could out of life, having held my mother's hand as she passed just a few months before, not realizing her trick, her less than noble intent,  I insulated it, that is to say I snorted it.  It was different than cocaine, and all in all I think I liked it better.  Didn't have all that jittery cocaine side effect nor the depressing come down.

I recall a conversation with multimillionaire August Meyer on the matter who claimed to prefer cocaine, it being of natural origin, and lord knew it what sort of clandestine lab they were knocking out amphetamine sulfate paste.  I had no response to August and simply enjoyed our conversation.  I had liked him.  And though horribly mistaken, I had thought he had liked me.

Back to the naked women, that was Saturday.  We spent four days up on that stuff so I called in sick on Monday and Tuesday of that week.  More fuel for the upcoming unbeknownst to me FBI fire.  By missing those two days of work, I had given CIA agent James Beatty a great story for the FBI had the whole Obama assassination thing gone the other way, him and me dead, him as a hero, and me as a notorious white nationalist figure of some sort.

I do recall my first meeting with Steve Wayne.  I was commercial director of PeterStar Telecommunications, a large all digital overlay phone network in Saint Petersburg in those days.  I recall I had a half hour of Steve's time to describe to him the advantages and thereby the benefits of using the PeterStar network.

I had incorrectly assumed I was making an excellent presentation.

The truth was more Steve was a CIA gangstalker and I was a targeted individual whom he wanted to better know as my planned success and decline were to become part of American folklore much as the life of Lee Harvey Oswald had half a century before.

I always got a weird vibe from Steve.  Grateful to have found out why.


Christian Courbois

Got a story for you.

"It's a story of a lovely lady, who was bringing up three very lovely girls...."

Just kidding. (If you recall the early 1970s American sitcom that that tune goes to, give yourself five points)

It's actually about two American expats in Russia, Christian Courbois and James Beatty.

Bright boys.  Went to good Universities and came over to Russia shortly thereafter.

Christian got his hands on a postal service license and started a postal delivery company called 'Westpost' and James started an outsourced accounting company called 'Emerging Markets Group' (EMG), today run by another American expat by the name of Thomas Stansmore, a trained attorney who for a time ran the Deloitte office in Saint Petersburg, Russia.

We were all great friends for many years here in Saint Petersburg.

I recall 'bumping into' Christian at 'Mollie's', a bar on the end of Rubenshtien Street here in jolly old Saint Petersburg, Russia back in the spring of 1998.

I don't recall the circumstance under which I had met James.  Though I do recall James, not really knowing me, invited me unexpectedly in 1998 to his Saint Petersburg wedding to a beautiful Russian woman named Vika, or Viktoria if to be more formal.  And at the Beatty wedding we, by this I mean Christian, James and I, enjoyed together Bolivian marching powder in the bathroom during the wedding reception.

James might have provided it, I can't be sure.  I know that I didn't as I had no such connections as I was new to the city and focused on work and career and not debauchery.  I recall thinking what cool guys.  Wow.

Thomas came to this city after me and was running the KPMG office I believe.  How we met is another story for another time.

That was 1998.  The year of our initial introductions.  Later Christian invited me to the grand opening of the 'Coyote Ugly' strip bar on Litieniy Prospekt.  Christian also later invited me to a speaking event featuring Dmitri Nabakov, son of famed father Vladimir Nabokov, who authored the classic 'Lolita'.  I would later guess these were nasty little psy ops manipulations and not simple invitations.

Christian and James frequently invited me to 'banya parties' where there would be beautiful Russian prostitutes aplenty.  I thought this must have been what university was like.

I had not attended traditional university.

I had served in the military achieving my bachelor degree at night.  And as to these 'banya parties', I partook, no lie.  I assumed we all partook, and in this I might be mistaken.  Don't know.  Can't say.

So again we met in 1998 and apparently were friends until my departure for Moscow in 2001, though we would socialize frequently as I had cause to visit Saint Petersburg frequently from 2002 to 2003 as I was responsible for a small cable tv and internet provider long ago sold off.

I left Russia in 2003 for New York State only to return to Russia in early 2006.  Christian and James had remained in Saint Petersburg and we began to see each other socially.  In fact, brother Christian immediately invited me to a bordello where I was led to believe we both enjoyed the same lady, a young though of legal age brunette.

In hindsight it were almost as though Christian had a task to get me into a bordello as quickly as possible upon my return in 2006.

Hmmmm.

At the time of my return, Christian and James supposedly invested $20,000 into an inadequate second floor bar located on Bolshoi Prospekt about five minutes walk away from where I had invested in a city apartment at Kamennoostrovskiy Prospekt 35, scene of a mysterious roof fire on JFK's birthday - May 29 of 2009.

That also another story for another time, although I have previously posted here on fb as to that matter.

The bar failed in some weeks maybe months as I recall.  While it was open one night Christian calls my cell and asks me to go over, have a drink, and see if the waiter provided a receipt or not.  I agreed.  Why not?  Christian was my friend and friends do things for each other.

I forget if I were given a receipt or not but reported my findings back to Christian.  Then there was this odd moment while at the bar when a young man came up to me and asked me had I earlier worked as the commercial director of PeterStar, now part of Russian cellular giant MegaFon.  I replied that I had and I recall the emotion, something a bit dipped in regret as I had really liked that job and I did not have that position anymore.

I had liked working at the phone company.  By then my work was the Saint Petersburg Yellow Pages. Quite a different and smaller business, though my position was superior as CEO and not the level below as commercial director as it had been at the phone company.

The vibe from the fellow at the bar felt somehow forced and disingenuous.  I didn't think much of it, finished my beer and returned home.  Never been one for hanging out in bars so much.

Today in retrospect, was that question designed to make me feel somehow less, perhaps lonely, so as to push me psychologically to seek out female companionship?  Don't know.  Can't say.  Can say that in 2014 I would get lessons in psy ops from a talented and senior NCIS agent named Douglas Boyce. Those lessons intimate, late at night and in his beach house.  Lovely place.

Back to the bar - that James Beatty, a brilliant, trained, motivated accountant, part owner of EMG, senior manager at Jensen Group would invest $20,000 in a bar in Russia and let it fail so spectacularly beggars the imagination, at least mine.  I conclude the bar was another psy op targeting me.

And about that time in 2006 James mentions to me that he and Christian were discussing the idea of renting a small apartment for the purpose of cheating on their wives and might I not also be interested in getting in on that opportunity.

Nothing ever came of that though I recall thinking, what cool guys these two.

Fast forward to the winter of 2011/2012.  My Russian wife and I were hosting a party in our apartment and had both James and Christian on the guest list.  Christian appeared to be drunk in manner that I had not witnessed with him before.  He stayed the night on one of our couches.  I would learn later about the gangstalking term 'street theater', and I was getting a mindful of it that evening.  And many, many times before.  I had no idea of such things.  Had no reason to.


In May of 2012 James Beatty and I along with another American expat, Steve Caron, were invited to a wedding on the isle of Jersey.  We flew to Paris as a threesome, rented a car, and drove across France, took a ferry and made the wedding.

Some weeks later Svetlana and I would begin the process of divorce.  Our expat group was small and I had been led to believe tight.  In this I would later learn how incorrect I was.  Christian Courbois and Stephen Gardener invited me to an 'intervention' claiming how much they cared about me as we were such good friends and they didn't want to see me divorced.  I thanked them and got divorced.  And I recall from that meeting the vibe from the two of them, a vibe of insincerity.  I didn't think about it or react, simply noted there was deception and falseness in both their voices.

I left Russia in October 2013 under a con of a death threat organized by my then Exwife Svetlana, her Russian boyfriend Alexander Tregubov, Egish Khachatrian, Evgeniya Kosheleva and a few others.

I returned to Russia in December 2016 as I had at a distance, all the way from Denver, reconciled with my exwife Svetlana.  We remarried this past September.  9/11 actually.  Just a coincidence that.

Since returning I have met James Beatty once at a restaurant where we had beers together, one for him and one for me, or perhaps it was coffee.  Not sure.  Don't recall.

What I do recall were James continual tells, touching his chin and face throughout our brief meeting, something I had never witnessed him do before.  This action, this face touching is called professionally a 'tell' or a giveaway when someone is uncomfortable and deceptive.

Google Paul Eckman.  He has done great work in this area of human behavior.

I said as we, James and I, as we live only a few blocks from each other it might be nice to see each other again socially.  James put me off claiming he was far too busy.

In early 2017 after my return to Russia, I called Christian.  His voice was stern as he asked me how did I get his cell number.

I replied you gave it to me twenty years ago.  He perkd up with 'we can't be friends'.  A very short conversation, that one as I recall.

We, Christian and I, did unexpectedly run into each other in the summer of 2017 at a restaurant Abrikos, located in the heart of Saint Petersburg on Nevskiy Prospekt.

Christian was making a mad dash to escape any interaction with me.  I called his name.  He stopped.  We shook hands.  The palm of his hand was wet, so wet.  Mine, dry.  He claimed he had to run, and so I let him.

Christian by then was also divorced.  I had hoped he would have been pleased to see that I had overcome the effects of my divorce and rebuilt my little family, such as it is.  We certainly had things in common or so I had thought.  I was incorrect.

After being informed in 2014 by another former American expat met in Russia, this one Douglas Boyce, now a senior NCIS agent living in Virginia Beach that he had been CIA when we knew each other in Russia in 1999/2000, I of course connected dots as one might.  Christian was likely CIA while I unknowingly played my role as target.

All my Western American expat friends absolutely refused to meet with me since my return to Russia in December of 2016, but or the above described run in with Christian, and lone meetings with James Beatty and Aaron Bogott as described in this long post.  All of them.  Each and every one.  None return emails or messages.  Statistically improbable and as telling as the noonday sun.

A year earlier, December 2015, in a video skype call with my then exwife Svetlana, she in Saint Petersburg, and I in Victor, New York she asked or rather informed me, "Rick 80% of all your expat friends were also intelligence agents.  Didn't you know?"

Hmmmm.  I hadn't.  Who would?

I would later learn that I had been targeted, subject to Psy Ops manipulations, NLP and active measures all intended to push me into debauchery.  And to what purpose?

NCIS agent Doug Boyce would tell me in the summer of 2014 that I had misperceived much in my life, just before he confirmed that I had been poisoned in August 2011 by Alexander Tregubov, causing my tremendous weight loss that month of 35 pounds.

In time, I learned that I had been gangstalked.  I had been targeted. And two of my gangstalkers IMHO were Christian Courbois and James Beatty.  So the only question I have for them and to it I think I already know the answer, is, a la Doug Boyce, were or rather are you boys also employed by the CIA?

Another question comes into view. Did they all conspire to gangstalk me as part of a failed presidential assassination attempt in 2014?

Recall the news of veteran Omar Gonzalez scrambling over the White House fence in the fall of 2014, this just after I am pursued and harassed by 40 FBI cars in the US.  That of course is another story.

Christian Courbois.   CIA.


Jeff Letino

Jeff Letino, an American expat I met in Russia, who IMHO is likely employed in some manner by our CIA and who likely conspired to assassinate Obama in 2014 and who also has a day job that apparently provides a form of cover for whatever it is to which he is up to these days as general manager of Advark a Russian video advertising platform keen on competing with Google Ads, once told me that my 'file' describes me as easily approachable.

I met Jeff in Russia in the 2000s.  I don't recall the circumstances of our meeting.  I do recall being pleased that I perhaps like him and many of the other expats, Americans and others I had met in Russia, had escaped the crushing pressures of modern American middle class life, mortgage, wife, kids, schools, daily commute to work, and going to the same job every day for years.

Looking back at that time I had thought that guys like Jeff Letino and I were therefore in someway cool especially as we were both ex-Navy enlisted, him a nuclear machinist mate serving on a submarine and myself an electronics technician serving on a guided missile frigate.

After I returned to Russia in December 2016, Jeff and I reconnected in manner so endearing to the CIA and other classes destined services.  Couldn't be too obvious but they wanted guys like him, like Anatoly Davidoff, like Thomas Noll, and like Adrian Terris to spend some face time with me.  See what I knew and then perhaps make a decision about what to do about the problem of me, literally 'the man who knew too much'.

First let's hop back in time to the spring of 2014 in the days I was houseguest at 313 Sage Road, Virginia Beach, the home of NCIS special agent Doug Boyce.

Doug had only some days previously admitted to me unasked that he had been in the employ of the CIA when we met in Russia in 1999.  This a surprise and more for I had neither an active security clearance nor a fabled 'need to know'.

My Russian FSB trained honeypot trap sparrow ex-wife Svetlana had just disappeared with our 13 year  old son Nicholas James Macy.  She had twice attempted extortion to get the remaining 50% of apartment 7 at Kamennoostrovskiy Prospect,  Saint Petersburg,  Russia.  A place I had prior to our fraudulent divorce in the fall of 2012 owned 100% having bought it in 2006 from tax dodging multimillionaire August Meyer.  August is notable in my tale for many reasons, drug use, gangstalking,  giving up his US citizenship to save $300,000,000 in taxes, gaining Russian citizenship, and a few other odds and ends.  Nice guy our August.  For a time he had me convinced we were friends.  What a fool I was.

So Sveta was missing as was our son.  I had left Russia in October 2013 under what I believed was a death threat communicated to me by Sveta and another Russian FSB trained honeypot trap sparrow named Evgeniya Kosheleva.  I had begged Svetlana to come with me and she promised she would in some weeks after organizing her affairs.  She lied.  This was and remains a consistent theme in our relationship.

Using Facebook to reach back into Russia to find missing wife and son two American expats whom I had met in the 2000s, more acquaintances than friends reached back.

The first Jason Smolek offered to do a physical search in Saint Petersburg for them.  This would require that I cover his costs including airfare as he was at that time out of Russia but with I believe a valid visa.  Jason Smolek took this opportunity to arise me unasked of the relevance of the date of a Notre Dame like unsolved roof fire at my aforementioned address in Russia.  May 29 2009.  Jason told me this was JFK's birthday.

The other man to reach out to me was Jeff Letino.  He told me that he was on the board of a Russian security company with access to the Russian police and had resources that might be brought to bear in this case.  Jeff offered that we meet at an address in Asheville, NC, several hours drive from Virginia Beach.

Between the two options that of Jeff Letino sounded more promising.  After all we were both vets and he had access to a Russian security company.   Jason Smolek was simply an American employed at a telecoms consulting company set up by a Swede named Karl whose acquaintance I had made years earlier called J'son and Partners.  J'son being a contraction of Karl's last name Johannson or something similar.

Soon after or about the time Jeff and I agreed to meet in Asheville, Svetlana my ex-wife who by then I had learned had conspired in my divorce and the fraudulent death threat and who would not answer her phone for a month unexpectedly answered my call of June 20, 2014 and admitted much.

1. She had never loved me

2. She was with me to get pregnant as her lover Alexander Tregubov, the man who poisoned me in August 2011, pretended to be a pimp and to beat up a prostitute of whom I had grown fond on Christmas Day night December 25, 2011, and who was the supposed maker of the death threat that caused me to leave Russia in October 2013

3. Svetlana only stayed with me as she wanted to raise our son in commercial comfort which I provided as she had grown up poor in the Soviet Union

4. Svetlana and Alexander had been somehow monitoring my whereabouts, phone calls, emails, Internet access from 1997.  She didn't reveal how they had technically achieved this.  In time I learned of the larger CIA led FSB supported plot which had brought Svetlana and I together for a presidential assassination attempt on America's first Black president, Barack Obama, to have occurred between the years of 2012 and 2014 that failed.  None the wiser but me and of course those involved.  How well compartmentalized CIA had managed this failed project I cannot say and won't speculate.

As described in other posts in this blog the day after this call I began to be followed, harassed, and gangsta led by ten unmarked vehicles, the next day 20, and the day after that 40.  The stuff of bad spy novels.  It took me time and a bit if using self as bait but I learned these were most likely,  nay certainly FBI vehicles or those of their subcontractors in private security.

All as described in the renowned work of Dane Ole Dammegard.   I was to be patsy and had in fact been a manchurian candidate my whole life regardless of how ridiculous this sounds at first.  Read all my blogs.  Sleep a night.  Then decide what you think.  It took me years to determine that which I learned and share with you here in this online manner.

Jeff Letino and I therefore didn't meet in that summer of 2014.  I sent him an email explaining the circumstances around my cancellation, describing graphically the cars, the harassment, etc.

In 2017 using denial CIA methodologies Jeff and I met again.  He sent me an email which I found flattering for by then I knew he was CIA and had been part if the plot to set me up as patsy that had failed.   In his email he wrote that never in 1,000 years had he expected the project to turn out in this manner.  He left unsaid the other bits.  That I had survived, had uncovered the plot, had returned to Russia and had not only gotten my son myself in December of 2014 but had reconciled with my fraudster Russian wife.

We texted each other a lot in that spring of 2017 talking around the spy stuff in manner entertaining, him trying to plant false foundations in my mind on a manner of topics, me answering forthright though with respect for Jeff was CIA and I wasn't.

Interestingly, at least to me, and I think to you, while in Denver at the end of my stay in December 2016 under advanced FBI surveillance I applied online at the CIA.  Long story and not one for now.  Jeff let me know that, and this may or may not be true, that a young officer at Fort Meade thought they had enough resources in Russia without me.  I suspect the whole thing, Coy Ebell and Stewart Devine leading me through hoops so that I would apply was a charade partially in order to get me back to Russia, get my hopes up and my guard down.

Jeff invited son and self to join him and his two sons for a Russian basketball game.  The vibe from him all night was off the scale bad.  I kept my cool and was amicable.

In a few days time our relationship ceased and as with Adrian Terris and the good Reverend Stiiv Knowers, Jeff followed the CIA gangstalking handbook suggesting I was not mentally well.

This I had been expecting for thanks to the Internet I knew of the Stasi implemented program of versetzung  (I may have this misspelled) of organized state run gangstalking and what it meant to be a targeted individual under corrupt police surveillance 24/7.

I had to play it out to see what would happen.  I'm like that.  My dad once told my mom the thing about me he most admired was my ability to stick to something and to see it through even though it caused me discomfort, even though I hated it.  Thus an observation he made when I was ten and had a paper route I detested but kept at for well over a year, maybe two.  Those words from my old man still have meaning,  more with each day that passes.  Thank you dad.  And f*** you Jeff.  And oh yeah you too Jason.


Tom Stansmore

Tom Stansmore was introduced to me via a session of 'street theater', though this I knew not at the time.

I forget the expats name, Mick something or other who was like Tom also Deloitte invited me to play a goof on Tom who was the new guy at the Saint Petersburg office of Deloitte.

I agreed.  The idea would be that I would be positioned and play the role of a really important auditing account Deloitte was trying to book.  We would have a lunch or dinner, I don't recall as this is easily 15 years or so ago.  And so we met, I played the part of difficult client and Tom attempted to kiss my bottom.  At the time it seemed funny.

Now knowing what I've learned about a failed CIA plot in which I was to play the role of patsy, Obama was to be dead and Biden installed with fat defense contracts and less personal freedoms as the corrupt payoff I see that day in quite a different light.

Tom Stansmore is a very very bright guy, no fool at all.  A lawyer by training, hired by Deloitte, running their Saint Petersburg office and currently general manager of an American owned Russian accounting outsourcing firm called EMG, Emerging Markets Group.

This company was set up well over 20 years by then young and also very bright accountant James Beatty who is currently employed by Jensen Group and described in this post.

I had grown to think Tom and I had become friends, once him asking me to sell him a gram of hashish I happened to have on me in the mid 2000s.

While I was never involved in selling drugs as a business per second,  Tom was a friend and you do friends favors.  I would later see this as a subtle nudge towards debauchery and illegality.

Tom one evening called me and said he had been asked to be on a live russian TV show and they desired a second expat in addition to Tom.

I had liked Tom, was thrilled and agreed.  It was a live show, broadcast at perhaps 11 pm or so.  The question being discussed was Obama as America's upcoming and likely first black president.  I recall my style of those days, a bit over the top.

I'm more reserved since learning all that I've encountered since meeting Russian spy Anna Chapman in Moscow in 2008, experiencing the Notre Dame like unsolved fire on the roof of my home in Russia on May 29, 2009 which I would learn unasked from likely CIA agent Jason Smolek in 2014 the significance of this date as JFK's birthday.

That and being told by NCIS agent Doug Boyce that he was CIA in Russia when we met in 1999 with a slathering of life under FBI surveillance and gangstalking while living in the US from October 2013 to December 2016.

My move back West initiated by a false death threat voiced to me by Russian FSB 'sparrow' honeypot trap ex-wife Svetlana Macy and Russian FSB 'sparrow' honeypot trap girlfriend Evgeny Kosheleva on behalf of threatens Alexander Tregubov and his buddy pal Egish Khachatrian.

Alexander being notable for poisoning me in August 2011 causing me to lose 35 pounds in a month and Egish who told me in a long distance call, "Rick we will make you into this generation's Lee Harvey Oswald.  We will get you and Obama too'".  That was summer 2014.

One might understand why I am quieter and keep to myself more than in days passed as a result.

Back to Tom Stansmore.   My best guess is he is CIA in Russia as he is affiliated with two other boys whom I strongly believe to be CIA in Russia, James Beatty and Jeff Letino.

It's funny I recall seeing the rock group 'Foreigner' in Saint Petersburg, which I thought in itself a bit ironic.  As they sand 'I Want to Know What Love Is' there were Tom and I singing along jokingly swaying with the crowd in manner nearly homoerotic.  Funny times.  Funny guy.  There isn't much CIA won't do to manipulate a target like me this way or that'.

The main point of this description of Tom was him getting me on that Russian TV show where I exclaimed quite vibrantly I couldn't believe the racist country of the USA (recall ownership of blacks was legal not so long ago in historical terms) would elect it's first black president, much less let him serve out two or even one term.

In this I was correct for CIA had a plan to kill him from sometime between 2012 and 2014 featuring me as guest star in the role of patsy.

The video would have been used by FBI post facto to mindf*** the world just as they had done in 1963 when they blew off JFK's head and again in 2001 when they pulled off that most criminal of hoaxes 9/11.

Thanks Tom Stansmore.  You rock.

Here's an interview with Tom from the EMG website:

http://www.emg-russia.com/press/publications/thomas-stansmore--interview-faces-and-cases/


Dave Eggers

Dave Eggers I met in Saint Petersburg, Russia a few months later in 1998.  He was then a Ford Motor company finance executive.  Ford was in those days opening a brand new small scale car factory to take advantage of the growing Russian car market.  The factory focused I believe on manufacturing the Ford Focus, which I suppose sounds amusing, this unintentional.  

Dave quickly became popular with the boys employed by Jensen Group, an American owned Russian property investment company located at Nevskiy 32 in the heart of Saint Petersburg.  I always had a feeling about Jensen Group and the American expats that there worked.  In my mind I thought of them as members of a cult, the cult of Steve Wayne,  the owner.  This thought made me chuckle and while I knew these boys I was comfortable being at something of a distance.  In my mind working in Russian telecoms far cooler than Russian real estate.  Not saying I was correct, this was just my opinion.  

I lacked imagination in those days the late 99s and 2000s to recognize that Jensen Group and Steve Wayne himself now married to Valerie Rockefeller had been a CIA investment and Harvard grad Steve Wayne himself in the employ of the boys at Langley.

Dave Eggers would bike around town and I recall him bragging getting arrested by Russian police, thrown into a slammer for a night as a bum as he reportedly had no cash in his pocket and was perhaps somehow picked up for a Russian version of vagrancy.  Not sure it was many years ago.  The story seemed to please Dave.   I think in hindsight perhaps this was done to construct a cover much like another CIA agent, Paul Leonard, a good friend of both corrupt NCIS agent Doug Boyce and Head of Secuirty for the London office of Marsh and McClellan, Dan Mead, these two I believe also CIA agents although to date only Doug Boyce has this admitted to me.  

Paul put on a show over staying his visa, getting thrown into a Russian jail for 5 days before being deported.  This long bothered me as Paul was smart, smarter than me, and so very quick.  There was no way he would make such a mistake were it not intentional.  

My best guess and it is only that a guess was that he with another CIA agent in Russia Christian Courbois who had immediately worked his way into being my friend most charasmatic back in the summer of 1998, were working to add noise to my field of perception so as to make it more difficult for me to sort wheat from chaff, to see and to differentiate true signals from false.  Paul had supposedly sent some sort of fabricated Russian high tech out of the country using Christian Coubois' mail service named Westport.   Christian I recall complained of this.  This all a charade.  'Street theater'.  

Back to Dave.  Dave always had a weird tone to his voice when we'd speak.  I wrote it off as I had nothing with which to compare it as I had been targeted my whole life and without my knowing had interacted with gangstalkers unknowingly for years.  

Lying, while human, is an act perhaps somewhat unnatural which results in 'tells' from the liar.  The great Paul Ekman has studied this field and I have as a matter of necessity, encountering deceptive person after deceptive person, especially when my gangstalking went into high gear in Mid 2011 through 2017 have spent long hours reading up on the topic, watching YouTube videos to better identify practioners of deceit so as to protect myself.  In retrospect the tone of Dave's voice always contained a sort of untrue ring to it which I in those days wrote off.  

Dave unexpectedly invited me to see the Ford Motor plant then just opening (now closing for commercial reasons).  He personally drove me to see the factory the night before the grand opening.  I thought how lucky was I.  

What a pal.  

I hadn't realized this was a feignt, a manipulation to cause me to trust,, to care for, to like the criminal I know now as Dave Eggers.

Dave soon thereafter asked my help regarding some aspects of his employment contract and would I be a friend and perhaps cut and paste for him some paragraphs from my expat employment contract so that he might better negotiate with Ford.  I readily agreed,  happy to be of use to my friend. 

Dave and I also served on the American Chamber of Commerce of Saint Petersburg together with self admitted CIA spy Douglas Boyce and another two men I believe to have in those days been in the employ of CIA, Jim Hitch, head of the Baker and McKenzie law office and J. Christian Moore earlier head of the Coudert Brothers law offices in Saint Petersburg.  This contract review request was likely another psy op manipulation.

Later while living in western New York employed yet again by defense contractor Harris Corp my wife and I were invited to spend a weekend with the Eggers, Dave and his wife large breasted, pixie faced brunette Nadia.  I recall we played golf and they were renting a nice hone in Wellesley, MA, the New England town in which my mother would die several years later, perhaps poisoned by these CIA criminals so as to push my buttons and keep to schedule.  Obama would be in office only so long.  And the plan was afoot to install Biden.  Why do you think he didn't run?  That crap about his dead son simply another politicians lie.  While visiting Dave Eggers and wife Nadia they prepared a cold Russian soup called Okroshka.  I never cared for Okroshka but as a good guest finished my bowl.    Immediately after the Okroshka I alone began to vomit it all up.  I was of course full of apologies.  I see now I was poisoned so as to detract my perceptions, my third eye from detecting the betrayal and the criminals all around me.  It worked. Though now I know and am wary, more wary than in those earlier trusting days.

I've been poisoned at least six times as part of this adventure most horrific.  I've described some of these circumstance the most dreadful and cruel of these happening in August 2011 at the hands of Russian Alexander Tregubov when he handed me a spiked beer.  I lost 35 pound over the next four weeks.  Felt I was shitting myself to death.  Excuse my directness for nothing else conveys the horror of that weight loss, so immediate, so personal, so frightening.  

A few months back my Facebook account was hacked and a message sent from my account to that of Dave Eggers whom I have since blocked as I have all those CIA expats like Matt Igel,  J. Christian Moore, Jim Beatty, etc.  The message said something to the tune I know you poisoned me.  Up to that point I hadn't.   I had only suspicions.  Thanks CIA.  

J. Christian Moore

J. Christian Moore, or as I knew him, simply Chris.  We met in Saint Petersburg in 2000, some months before my son was born on September 15th of that year.

Svetlana and I had been living on on Rubenshtien Street.  Peter Owen Edmunds, likely once in the employ of MI6, now dead of a painful cancer at 57, and the first Commercial Director of PeterStar Telecommunications, (whereas I had been the third and Stephen Gardner the second) was apparently moving self and family back to the UK, so why didn't Svetlana and I move into the apartment he was leaving on Millionaya Street?  The location a bit more prestigious, the apartment larger with higher ceilings, closer to wonderful city center parks (which with us expecting our first child attracted).  All that and private parking for my corporate turbocharged VW Passat.

Of course I agreed.  And there in that apartment I would meet the upstairs neighbor, a man I would for years consider my dearest friend in Russia.  Chris Moore.

And I would be so wrong.  CIA is really good about such manipulations, such deceptions.

Chris is now in California after many years in Moscow.


James Hitch

When I met James Hitch, or Jim as he was commonly known, it was 1999 and he was head of the Baker and McKenzie law firm office of Saint Petersburg Russia as well as the Chairman of the American Chamber of Commerce Executive Committee.  He was in that role my predecessor.

I called and invited him for a drink as I was newly elected to the Executive Committee and felt it proper to introduce myself.  He was older than I by ten, twenty years.

I found him affable, congenial, actually in these regards a bit too much so as he kept touching me, smiling, nothing inappropriate, just weird.  I wondered were he gay, but shushed that thought out of my mind.  After all this was just an introductory meeting, and we all have differing styles.

I replaced him as chair via election of the other board members.  He shortly thereafter moved to Kiev to run the Baker and McKenzie office there.

After my summer of 2014, and my lessons in psy ops by self admitted CIA agent Doug Boyce, I can't help but to conclude like others on that board who I believe to be CIA and to have conspired to assassinate Obama in 2014 like Doug Boyce, Dave Eggers, J. Christian Moore (only Doug has to date admitted his membership in this venerable organization) Jim Hitch was also CIA.  And his manhandling of me, while over the top, intended to have opposite effect, to instill confidence and trust.

Jeff Jung

Jeff Jung.  I don't recall where and when we met in Russia.

I do recall the night of the Roger Waters 'Dark Side of the Moon' 30th anniversary concert at Palace Square just outside the Hermitage.

Steve Gardner, I and a few other expats had tickets for this wonderful concert.

Steve suggested/decided we should drop by Jeff Jung's as he would have hashish and we could thereby smoke up before the show.  And we did.

In retrospect Steve using CIA tactics of deniability and subterfuge likely wanted to make sure I connected with Jeff so as to ensure I had a steady supplier of hashish.  It worked out that way.

Jeff was different than most other expats as he was not married or in a committed relationship.  I had liked that about him.  He seemed to me his own man.  He wasn't.   He was likely another of Langley's men.

Jeff played one psy op trick on me as he gave me either a flash drive or a CD with video files on it.  We in those days, boys like Jeff, Kyle Patching, Steve Caron and I would give each other copies of films we had downloaded.  This was in the years before Netflix and Amazon Prime and after the demise of that initial file sharing program that those rich twins bought shares in whose name I don't recall.  Vanderwink twins or some such thing.

Jeff gave me the videos on a day much like any other and pointed out one with a recommendation that I watch it.  Wild and Wonderful Whites of West Virginia.  Similar to Kyle Patching recommending that I watch 'Trailer Park Boys'.  Both used power of suggestion on me as an unsuspecting target.  I didn't think about it then.  Didn't have any reason to be suspicious.  Now with the passage of years, my education in certain aspects of spy craft from ex-CIA and current NCIS agent Doug Boyle in the spring and summer of 2014, I see these as gentle nudges with poor intent.


Brian Kean

Brian Kean.  Ex army.  A special sort of scumbag.  We had met in Saint Petersburg while he was working on launching a new beer called Bochkarev.

We were never close.  He was friends with Jim Beatty, another likely CIA boy described in this post.

Brian's voice always had to me a deceptive ring that I wrote off.  He would sometimes invite me for a boys night out featuring beer of one sort or another, claiming to be an afficiando.  Maybe he was, I couldn't say.

I do recall his lisp and was often surprised he was employed.  Like Adrian Terris, a Scotsman likely in the employ of MI6, Brian would play the fool to allay any suspicion I may garner along the way.

I recall while I was CEO of the Saint Petersburg Yellow Pages and Brian was employed by a Russian marketing firm that was perhaps owned by Ogilvie.   I am not sure for that was 2006, over 13 years k now.  What I do recall is his ridiculous commercial offer to run for Yellow Pages a promotional campaign.  For the mere price of half our annual revenue, which that year as about $6,000,000 he would run an unspecified, undocumented advertising campaign.  I listened out of respect, thinking the offer ridiculous, and thinking Brian Kean ridiculous.

In retrospect, I believe Brian made this silly offer as a sort of psy op to get me to discount him, to think him stupid.  I had paid attention in 2014 to all the tradecraft lessons given me in his home, by former CIA agent Douglas Boyce.


August Meyer

August Meyer.

For a time back in 2012 and maybe 2013 we had a series of late Friday night gatherings.  Just him and me and some wine, hash, and coke.  August sourced the wine and coke while I brought the hashish.

Usually this would be after other expat pals like Steve Wayne would go home.

I always felt shiny, special, and fun being invited by August to his apartments on Canal Griboedova, 3 metro stops from my apartment on Petrogradski which I bought from him in an all cash deal in 2006.

I had liked August, admired his mind more than his bank account, for that was none of my business while he would share his insights in enjoyable conversation.

I had liked his petite brunette wife Inna as well and believed that she too liked me.  We are both Scorpios, her birthday a week after mine.

August always mandated restraint as we snorted those thin lines of cocaine in his home.  He has two apartments side by side on the top floor of his building which offers delightful views of Canal Griboedova and some not unattractive architecture nearby.

August introduced me to his cocaine dealer, a middle aged man named Pavel.  The phone number I have for Pavel no longer works which is just as well.

August and I would text each other and inquire if the other was ready for a 'Pavel night'.  I liked the sense of intimacy.  We always bought 50/50 and in small amounts, 2 or 3 grams.

I thought August had liked me.  In this over time I would learn that I was incorrect.  He like so many other expats whom I would meet in Russia were actually working in concert with the CIA and trying to program me into becoming a presidential assassination attempt patsy.  Learning that was like a firm punch to the stomach.  The kind that makes you double over.

I admired August's well trained mind.  He had gone to good schools and had been a prosecutor in San Diego before leaving the US behind and becoming a small property investor in Russia.  He bought and refurbished apartments for a time.  Mine is one of them.  210 square meters with a small balcony 1 minute away from a metro station.  City living.

I would regale August with my stories of having sex with a variety of prostitutes at a variety of bordellos.   August would relate to me the latest goings on in his battle for control of the Russian Lenta supermarket chain.  These conversations were in the time before he sold his shares.

I imagined my life as quite full.  I had myself over a million in the bank, owned a place in New York State and the aforementioned Russian apartment was married to a beautiful Russian had a son and had a variety of Russian and expat friends and acquaintances from many walks of life.  The high end would certainly include multimillionaire August Meyer and his overweight German friend David Meerkatz. Others would small business owners or men and women with solid corporate jobs.  I also had made the acquaintance of many prostitutes and a few madam and one self professed pimp who would poison me in August 2011.  That's another story already posted here on fb earlier.  You can find it if you look for it.  The self professed pimp's name is Alexander Tregubov.

August would engage me and two other American expats, Christian Courbois and Steve Caron in gentle discussion about the upcoming first election of Obama.  Christian and Steve were vocal Obama supporters while August had voiced a preference for that other black candidate Herman Cain.  I mostly stood on the sidelines as I had no preference and didn't care.  What was interesting to me was the difference in their arguments.  Christian and Steve would talk about hope and opportunity while August would present facts and figures.  I confess I found August's arguments far more compelling than those of either Christian or Steve.

I was surprised to be included in a series of emails in the cc line on the topic of the upcoming presidential election authored by Meyer, Courbois and Caron.  I didn't mind.  Nice to have friends and such barbershop type discussion.

It wasn't until 2014 that is clicked as to why the three of them had appeared to professional friendship and why they bad sent those emails.

As posted here on fb earlier I have reason to believe I was to be a presidential assassination patsy against Obama in 2014.  I have also described here a mysterious roof fire on May 29, 2009 in the building that houses the apartment I bought from August Meyer.  In 2014 another American expat I had met in Russia, Jason Smolek, told me the significance of this date, JFK's birthday.

You see the fire and the emails had been constructed and left as 'smoking guns' in the event of a successful presidential assassination in which both Obama and I would be dead, the world would be mindfucked as it was in a 1963.  Investigators would blame the fire on me and see some sort of pattern in the emails drafted by Meyer, Courbois, and Caron and use that and the fire and other things no doubt to paint a picture of me, the author of this post, Rick Macy, as a line wolf nut bag.

The press would never know the truth that I was and remain a 'targeted individual' and these boys, Meyer, Courbois and Caron are federally funded 'gangstalkers'.

And the introduction of cocaine by August Meyer was done in concerted manner with the intoduction of Amphetamine to me in February 2012 by then prostitute Albina Taptiga in a Saint Petersburg apartment owned by August's very dear friend Rustam Ivanov and the introduction of MDPV to me by Adam Stanhope in September 2011 and of MDMA to me by his pal Mark Brady in that same month.  The idea of the CIA in planning all this was classic, give the boy an inch and he'll take a mile.  This had earlier worked as regards my sex life, having now slept with a bit over 400 women and more than a few men, those mostly after Albina presented the benefits of amphetamine just after my mother passed with me holding her hand.  I learned there is indeed a whole sex/death dynamic.

I recall the intonation of August's voice when I told him that I had had an experience with MDMA.  He responded, 'The Love Drug' in manner approaching lascivious though not quite.  And later on that Friday evening after ample portions of wine, cocaine, and hashish, he murmured '30 seconds of pleasure for $3 million dollars'.  Unsure then of what he meant I took that as a sign we ought to wrap our evening up.  I wondered was he interested to fool around in such an altered state.  I considered August my friend then and thought best that we close this evening now and so I said my goodbyes and trundled off into the night air on my way to home.  Later I would reconsider his meaning, his intent.  I now see it as him making comment on the destruction in store for me as a 'targeted individual' by him and a legion of CIA and FBI gangstalkers.


Brad Cook

Brad Cook, American I met in Saint Petersburg, Russia.  His day job back the now 20 years ago was as business editor for the now defunkt biweekly English language newspaper, Saint Petersburg Times.  He wrote a column that caught my attention in those days 'Another Piece of the Puzzle'.

I recall an article he wrote on Monsanto that caught my attention.  I dont recall the circumstances of our first meeting.  I do recall being happy to meet him.  We would sometimes meet to play pool and drink beer with our girlfriends, his Olga, mine Svetlana.

Brad was a drinker as was Olga.  We were unexpectedly invited to their wedding reception on the New Island Restaurant, a cruise boat converted to a floating, mobile party boat.

Later, Brad was offered a top job at Bloomberg Moscow and was excited by his new six figure salary.  I once stayed overnight as guest at their apartment in Moscow and I recall their infant son.  Biggest head I ever saw on a child.  ))

Brad invited me to an event at the Bloomberg office in Moscow.  So many high tech screens and all so modern.  A marked improvement from the more modest St. Petersburg Times offices to be sure.

I recall an odd evening before either he or I moved to Moscow.  It was late.  Svetlana and I lived on Rubenshtein street.  And outside an apparently drunk Brad Cook was howling my name.  I don't recall why he should know where I lived.  It mattered not.  I let him in, led him to a couch for him to sleep it off.

Looking back at that odd night I see it differently as a psy op.  I'd see a similar bit of 'street theater' some years later around 2011 or 2012 in our apartment though this time performed by aforementioned Christian Courbois.  I was throwing a party and in retrospect the guest list was full of CIA though I knew that not at the time.  Christian arrived late, drunk.  August Meyer and James Beatty with wives had already arrived.  Christian came alone and was super vocal drunk or acting so going on about his 7 girlfriends.  My then wife, FSB trained then as now, got in on this act of 'street theater' assuring Christian she would personally smooth things over with his wife Luba to save their marriage.  It all felt so bizarre.   I had no idea at that point that I was targeted and my home full of CIA gangstalkers.

And yes with August' arrival, Colombian Marching Powder' was also on the guest list.  His personal contact, supplier, likely of the Russian police, Pavel, dropped in and out so as to assure my mind would be further encumbered and distracted.  James and Christian also partook as we all made quick exits to my second bathroom so as to access the white material without the wives knowing.  Though this in retrospect I doubt.

Brad had howled drunkenly that night over a decade earlier, perhaps it was summer 1998, at my door to cause me to discount him, to think more highly of myself.  Subtle psy ops manipulation.  CIA and FSB are perhaps the best in the world at these dark games.  They boiled the frog that I was for decades to create an actor for the world stage.  I was to be something special, one for the ages, in the words of Egish Khachatrian "this generation's Lee Harvey Oswald".

Brad also in a sort of frosting on the cake way presented me a book once entitled 'All You Learned Were Lies'

John Varoli

If there is a special place in hell for the people described here, there is one in particular I hope they have a spot where the grill is turned up real high.  His name is John Varoli.  

John used to be a reporter for the New York Times and Bloomberg for Russia.  And for anyone who knows anything that means likely he was paid for, compromised by CIA.  I am sure it was lucrative e as he now runs a consulting PR business based on the contacts he made in his years as a reporter. 

One day I think it was 2011 though I'm not sure, I do know it was before my poisoning for I was still larger than I am now, I received a phone call asking my availability as an actor on a Russian prime time show called Побег.   This show a Russian version of the popular US prime time TV show 'Prison Break'.  I was flattered, thrilled even as I had never acted before and certainly not on TV.  I was made aware that I had been recommended for the role by John Varoli, an American I had met in Russia, perhaps more than an acquaintance but certainly less than a friend.   

I had liked John as he seed a cavalier type.  He had a girlfriend named Natasha he told me he would keep in Russia, never marry and enjoy himself with other women.  Thus a psy op, a gentle almost neutral suggestion that such a choice, such a lifestyle was respectable.  John had lied.  He married Natasha and moved her out of Russia.  I didn't know enough then to detect deception of that sort .  I do now.   

The acting requirement was for a middle aged American who spoke passable Russian who would play the role of US Consular officer and also spy.  The character's name was John Webster.  The lines were seven.  And there were two days of  shooting, each at about $500 a day.  What was not to like.  Plus they paid the train fare from Saint Petersburg to Moscow and back again.  The experience was fun, I got to hang out with the leading actress whose name I don't recall her name but she was a well educated beauty with fluent English.  I got to hang out in a trailer, have makeup applied and even had lunch with a Soviet award winning director Vladislav something or other.

I had no idea I was being played.  The reason for the gig had to do with the yet unknown to me attempt on Obama's life in which I was scheduled to play the guilty role of patsy.  And these moments of of me on video would be used by FBI to mindf*** a generation just as they had in 1963 but with far more advanced technology.  They would show these videos of me and compare them to shots of me after my poisoning, and as no one but me knew the timing between my poisoning in August 2011 and my first use of amphetamine sulfate in February 2012, the FBI would be sure to have photos of me post poisoning showing the extreme weight loss.  Thus weight loss to be blamed on drug use and not on the poisoned beer I had accepted and drank from my then Russian wife's lover Alexander Tregubov.   And I hope there is a place in hell next to Varoli for Tregubov.  Time will show.