Corrupt Law Enforcement in America

Corrupt Law Enforcement in America

I grew up in Massachusetts in a middle class family.  My father a pilot for American Airlines served on the local planning board, my mother a former stewardess, on the board of health.  My older sister worked as a police dispatcher.  My family knew the local cops, and they knew us and we were part of the town.  None of my siblings or parents ever had any trouble with the law, and I like most was neutral on the matter of law enforcement.  It simply wasn't part of my world but for infrequent pleasant social contact mostly.  I used to visit my sister at work at the local police station and would be introduced to the local cops, middle class like me.

Now with age, experience, and a story some might find quite unbelievable, I find myself disgusted with the corruption in American law enforcement, indeed all of it, round the world.

Why?

Read my other posts in this blog to learn how I was targeted and gangstalked to be manipulated into the role of 'this generation's Lee Harvey Oswald' in a CIA led plot to assassinate Obama with me in the role of patsy in 2014.  The plot failed and I remain as do the memories which I share with you now.

The purpose of this post is to describe how corrupt law enforcement on a local level was used against me in this matter.

Where to begin?

I suppose it makes sense to start back in October of 2013 when I abandoned Russia under a fraudulent death threat.  I flew to Boston's Logan airport and was met by family friend Adam Stanhope of Pembroke MA.  Adam had over the few years prior befriended me when I was in the states on Russian visa trips.  Adam had been a friend of my younger brothers' growing up, had bought a house across the street from our family home, and most importantly my mother God rest her soul had liked Adam.

Adam at that time was a bona fide criminal, selling narcotics like MDPV and Xanax, ordered from China, on the now defunct Silk Road under the monniker 'Nawlins'.  Adam attempted to involve me in this business with the goal being to set me up.

I recall my stay at his father's home at 113 Oldham Road in Pembroke MA, where Adam fed me marijuana, now legal in Massachusetts, then not and the stimulant MDPV, by then illegal, which differed from that fall day in 2011 when Adam introduced me to this most beguiling, excitng, and ultimately psychosis inducing research chemical.  I had no idea that by accepting his proffered substance, I had taken the first of many steps into the rabbit hole, which led to me being 'red pilled' and becoming aware that I was then as now a Targeted Individual.

I recall Adam introducing me to a short older fellow who he claimed had visited to buy some pot.  I recall the vibe and the enthusiam radiating from this gray haired, round faced man as we met.  I wrote it off.  In retrospect he was likely a corrupt FBI agent resonsible for looking after Adam in this much larger conspiracy.

Fast forward to late summer 2014, the Royal Inn Motel on route 96 in Victor, NY.  I was staying at this low cost motel waiting out my tenants who had ruined the carpet and floors in the home that I owned then at 1235 Honeysuckle Pass, a 3000 square foot home on a two acre hill.

Suddenly three burly black uniformed Town of Victor, NY cops knocked on my motel room door to check on my well being.  I was stunned, nervous and more than a little put off by this unwanted intrusion.  The lead cop claimed that my two tenants had called the police saying I had threatened them.  This was curious as I hadn't told either tenant, Alice Calabrese, CEO of nearby Lollipop Farms animal shelter, or her partner, Dylan Chase, who for a time had owned a small percentage of a local gym and had his own problems with the police being a felon convicted of impersonating an animal safety officer.

Later, after retaining a lawyer I got a copy of the police report that indcated my sister Susan Macy, residing in Salisbury NH, had made the call with her concern that I was suicidal which I wasn't.  Quite the opposite I was invigorated to have the concurrent challenges of getting my 14 year old son out of Russia, away from his mother who had earnestly and slyly participated in the organjzation of a complex fake death threat that had me retreat from Russia the fall before, October 2013 and now kicking out these awful tenants.

Additionally, I had learned a few things on my way North from Virginia Beach to Victor NY pursued by what in time I learned were undercover FBI vehicles, that I was being gangstalked by FBI though at the time as that seemed to me most unbeleivable, my paradigm was that the vehicles were related to corrupt NCIS agent Doug Boyce, head of security for the London office of Marsh and McClellan, Dan Mead, and whatever had happened to me in Russia.

In this I was incorrect, it would take another year before I could wrap my head around this most inconvenient truth.  FBI.  Damn.  And me a target or suspect depemding upon what one believes.  Turns out CIA and FBI had used my adventures in Russia and later those in the States over the fall of 2013 and the winter of 2014, with women and a healthy dose of narcotics introduced to me by the aforementioned Adam Stanhope with criminal intent to put together what is called in the Targeted Individual / Gangstalking world 'parallel construction'.  That is to say a file used to justify the corrupt police resources used on a target such as myself.

Back to Susan, like my tenants, I hadn't been in touch with her, hadn't informed her of where I was staying.  I hadn't seen her since the death of our mother in September of 2011 nearly three years earlier.   Interestingly the police report didn't include Susan's phone number, or address further than that she resided in New Hampshire,  which was odd as the police are supposed to be strong at documentation and the police report clearly states that the address of the person making the call be recorded, yet they didn't.  I would find a pattern in this subtle for of police corruption.

Intentionally Incomplete Police Report Lacking Address of Complaintant 

So the cop lied about the reason those three uniformed bullies knocked on my door, that the tenants, Alice and Dylan, made the call.  From the police report my sister Susan had.  Interestly and again none of those parties had I informed as to where I was staying.  In retrospect I understand I was under corrupt police surveillance the entire time I was in the US from October 2013 to December 2016.  The 'Patriot Act', Fusion centers, based on the complex lie that was 9/11 at work.  Corruption.

I'll say this, as much as cops lie, they also follow orders, so the three cops likely didn't have a view to the larger picture of how them simply doing their jobs was part of a larger CIA blossomed and FBI led attempt to turn me into a patsy, a la Lee Harvey Oswald, Timothy McVeigh, the Las Vegas shooter and others.  I suspect these others include Sirhan Sirhan and the Chapman fellow who pulled the trigger on John Lennon.

Guys like senior NCIS agent Doug Boyce of Virginia Beach, had the broad picture as to the complex attempt to use psy ops and NLP on me to push me down the path to being a patsy, imprisoned, or dead.  These beat cops certainly didn't.  Gangstalking 101, using that lingo Doug was a 'handler' while the cops were 'perps'.  Christ.  All my childhood paradigms as to how law enforcement worked in the US torn asunder, thrown away.  Corruption.  Never ending.

Police Report 1 of 2

Police Report 2 of 2 

I would have another visit from the police in the fall of 2015.  By then I had rid myself of my bad tenants, spent $6000 to repair tbe damage they had incurred replacing all the carpets on the stairs and second floor, as well as that of a first floor study.  They had made these damages under corrupt police guidance in an effort to bait me.  The term in the targeted individual / gangstalking is 'managed aggression', or to put it more plainly, to bait me into actions most emotional and against my best interest.

I had succeeded in getting my son out of Russia, meeting him at JFK airport on December 4, 2014.  He had an overarching interest in trying marijuana now that he was in the US, and succeeded in getting into my stash.  My view was fairly liberal on this matter, thinking better he do this at home than on the street or somewhere else unsafe.  I had smoked pot as a teen as well, and my allowing him to smoke pot at home was in conflict with New York state law as I would learn.

Fall 2015.  I am at the Walmart in Victor, NY while my son was home.  He had against my direct instruction gathered and planted 30 marijuana seeds into 30 cheap plastic pots, and had placed them on the back deck in plain view of whomever might stroll by.  I told him, this is illegal, get rid of those.  He disobeyed me and simply moved them inside and put them on the kitchen table, which was set next to the sliding glass door.  Ths was as I learned part of the larger conspiracy.  I learned that sons are loyal to their mothers; certainly my son apparently was.  And she, his mother, Svetlana Borisovna Macy, who had conspired with Russian Alexander Valerievich Tregubov and Egish Kharchatrian in constructing 'street theater' resulting in a fraudulent death threat against me and my fevered retreat from Russia to the US in October 2013.   Svetlana  admitted this to me in a long distance phone call I initiated on June 20, 2014, from Virginia Beach to Saint Petersburg Russia, and had as Alexander Tregubov told me in a Skype call while I resided at the Stanhope residence in December 2013, that Svetlana 'had a plan' to gain my US assets that she had not acquired in our dramatic set up of a divorce in late 2012 in Russia.

In the Walmart parking lot, I received a call from the Victor Police Department, inquiring as to whether or not I had made a call asking for police asistance to my home in Victor NY.  I informed the dispatcher tbat I had made no such call and had no need of police.  The dispatcher assured me they would not be sending any police based on her call back to a call I never made.

Corrupt FBI at work again I would learn in time.  These boys are the best in the business I must say, though knowingly or unknowingly corrupt as the day is long.

I arrive home, and there were three police cruisers in my driveway.  My son was in the back seat of one cruiser.  I am told they went around the back, looked through the sliding glass door, saw the infantile pot plants, numbering 30, and based upon this arrested me for 'Child Endangerment'.

Interestingly, two days earlier Svetlana in her passion and her haste had sent a furious email to our son, saying he would soon have to pick a foster home and work with a Child Protective Service agent named Mehgan.  Two days before my arrest.  A clue.  How did she know that in two days time I would be arrested, and New York State Child Protective Services would come to call?   In retrospect this information was costly, but a clue as to how deep Svetlaa was involved as a gangstalker in this conspiracy most foul.

I beat the charge, agreeing with the court to not get arrested again for the next twelve months and to get some weeks of counseling.  The courts initial offer was a year of parole.  I refused, demanding a full blown trial, resulting in their more amicable offer if such a term may be used when dealing with corrupt cops, prosecutors, and judges.

I recall those cops executing their search warrant, finding the 30 pot plants as well as empty packages of potpurri, which may or may not have been synthetic marijuana, ordered furtively by my son.  Again the cops lied.  In their police report in order to paint a darker picture had said that in their inspection of my hone they had identified some tin pans being used to make marijuana derivatives, shatter, hash, etc.  We had none of those, and the cops lied yet again.  We had a tin container with the remnants of brownies, the aroma of chocolate still present.  It became clear to me that those cops had been instructed to lie by their superiors in an attempt to push me psychologically and to entrap me.  Cops lie.  End of story.

I recall standing in front of tbe town of Victor judge as part of the plea deal which resulted in the discharge of the 'Child Endangerment' charge.  The judge asked had I smoked pot in front of my son, I replied 'yes'.  He then asked had I smoked synthetic marijuana in front of my son to which I replied 'no'.  His reaction visceral.  And in that moment I knew like the deputy who had come to my home to issue to me a summons on neglected child support shortly after I moved into my Victor NY home saying 'I know you're in there!' had the advantage in some ways as his knowledge that I was indeed inside was based on corrupt FBI surveillance.  And that based on the Patriot Act, and that based on the complex lie that was 9/11.  Just as we had been lied to about JFK, MLK, RFK, the Gulf of Tonkin and so many other events to push the masses, 9/11, an event most horrific, organized by our elites so they might steal more treasure at the cost of the blood of the masses.  Vietnam a sham, as so many wars prior.  In the words of General Smedley, and I paraphrase, war is a scam.

Again, the judge asked had I smoked synthetic marijuana in front of my son.  I answered honestly saying no.  I had smoked potpourri against the instructions 'not for human consumption' in an attempt to use self as bait to find out who was watching, Russian criminals, Russian agents, American criminals, American police?  I have no idea what was in the potpourri so answered honestly.  The judges reaction again was visceral when I replied in the negative, telling me so much.  I was under surveillance by FBI, and they had taken the time to brief him and the prosecutor using a gangstalking term called 'parallel construction' which accounted for their animal like disgust of myself.  I held my ground.

I also recall the first meeting with my young lawyer Mark Hannan.  He was so nervous in our initial meeting, claiming a nervous stomach.  This was a pattern I would see with so many of my gangstalkers, individuals in my life under FBI guidance to gangstalk me and later entrap me.  It became clear to me that FBI had used whatever authority that had to access this boy, this Mark Hannan, my defense lawyer, so as to ensure complete coverage in their attempt to coverup all that I had learned.  I liked Mark, and relied upon him even though he also lied raising his initial quote from $1500 to $3000 realizing I could pay, and really was not in a positon to argue.  I recall Mark returning to me with the court's offer of a year of parole.  I stood my ground and said 'Mark, this trial might make us both famous...'  He had little interest and secured a better offer from the court on my behalf, don't get arrested again over the next 12 months, get a few weeks of counseling and the charge will be discharged.  And so it was.

We agreed these terms in December of 2015, four months after my arrest.  In April 2016, I moved self and son to Denver to be free of whatever had happened in Russia, and this corruption I had hoped was limited to a few bad actors on the East Coast.  I was wrong, I was under FBI surveillance who used advanced 'managed aggression' techniques to once again involve me in narcotics, with the hope that I would be in conflict with the terms I had agreed with the Victor, NY court.   And why?  Simply part of the coverup.  Get me jailed and shanked, and thus would neutralize to do what I do know which is to write and share my story.  These corrupt FBI agents planted meth in our downtown Denver apartment as they had planted crack in my Victor home.

Wow, meth and crack.  Damn.  This links back to four individuals, two I had met in the US, Adam Stanhope and Mark Brady, and two I had met in Russia, August Meyer and Albina Taptiga.  Silk Road drug dealer `Nawlins', Adam introduced me to MDPV, chemist Mark introduced me to MDMA, or ecstacy as it is known, billionaire August reintroduced me to cocaine (I had tried this in my 20s), while prostitute Albina introduced me to amphetamine.  I wondered had these four done this with evil intent, and were they linked.  I was shocked to learn they were, and that I had been targeted using the oldest tools in the book, sex and drugs.

Realizing in Denver that I had not escaped the corruption I had encountered in Russia and on the East coast, that I was targeted by FBI, I took my son on a whirlwind tour of Las Vegas, Sedona, Salt Lake City and the Grand Canyon, even briefly entering California from Nevada, to keep us out of Colorado as the 12 month clock on my plea agreement ticked down.  We returned to Denver the day after my charge was discharged and I was not at risk to be immediately imprisoned were I to have violated the terms of my plea agreement.

In retrospect, I think my detecting that FBI targeted me under CIA guidance and acting tactically and strategically to stretch their resources, to expose them, resulted in a begrudging measure of respect.  Seems they had rented 19 apartments at our Denver residence of Skyline1801, across the street from the Denver Ritz Carlton, employed 19 undercover FBI agents to gangsyalk and entrap me.  I recall undercover FBI boy Coy Ebell, he had positioned himself as an ardent Trump campaigner with a desire to run for congress in an attempt to turn Colorado from blue to red.  He had lied of course, and his deception rolled off of him as waves do from the sea.  I recall a few dinners together.   I called him 'sheriff' which he ignored as he kept at his false identity.  He even got invited to the Trump inauguration as part of the ploy.  I recall his discomfort as we sat in his Skylin1801 apartment with little to say but fkr repeating that he had a ticket to the inauguration.

I noted several instances of 'street theater' from other residents at Skyline1801, and may recall them later in a future blog post.

Undercover FBI Agent of Denver, Coy Ebell

When arriving in Victor NY being pursued by 40 undercover FBI vehicles, I wondered who was behind this?  I recall likely CIA agent in Russia, an American from Boone, NC, Christian Courbois, inviting me out for an evening with my wife to the Grand Hotel Europe, Saint Petersburg, Russia's finest hotel, to attend a speaking engagement by Dmitry Nabakov, son of famous author of 'Lolita' Vladimir Nabakov who read passages from his father's work.

Vladimir Nabokov, Author of 'Lolita'

I recall sitting with Dmitry, now passed, and enjoying a beer with him.  I was thrilled.  He had enjoyed an education at the best schools, had been an opera singer, and certainly was far above me in terms of social status.  We talked.  He told me of being targeted by a group of Russian criminals who failed to extract from him the treasure they hoped to steal.

Christian Courbois again likely CIA in Russia had spent years pretending to be my 'friend' inviting me to bars, bordellos and casinos in an attempt to explore my human frailties.  In retrospect I was weak towards women, and had little interest in alcohol or gambling.  So why had he introduced me to Dmitri Nabakov?  My take away was his experience being targeted.  The intent was that if I figured out that it was CIA and FBI targeting me as they had other men who they had subtly pushed into the roles of patsies, shooters, a la Myron May, Lee Harvey Oswald, likely Timothy McVeigh as well among others, I would be inclined to believe my problems lay with Russian criminals, Russian FSB, and not those grand aforementioned American security agencies.  In time I would get my paradigm straight, and find the Danish researcher Ole Dammegard was correct that Western security agencies do false flag events, including the recent burning of Notre Dame cathedral, 9/11, JFK and so much more.  I was to be a patsy, again in the words of Armenian Russian Egish Kharchatrian, 'this generation's Lee Harvey Oswald'.  In this they failed upon my sudden departure from Virginia Beach at midnight on a July day in 2014, headed north for New York pursued by 40 undercover FBI vehicles, and went with another likely targeted individual, army veteran Omar Gonzalez, who they pushed using psy ops and dark tech to make the decision to scramble over the White House fence in the fall of 2014.  Poor Omar.  I wonder jf he knows what happened to him.  I reached out to his lawyer with my tale that might help exonerate Omar, but got no call back.  This I understood, but I thought to try as I like Omar had been gangstalked and was a veteran.  It seemed the right thing to do given all that I had learned.

In retrospect I remain in awe of our corrupt security services, their abilty to mindf*** the public on behalf of our elites.  Damndest thing.  Corruption.  Me targeted.  Oh boy.

The funny thing is that I remain as does my tale.  My chances of sharing that tale with the masses are miniscule similar to the chances of Ole Dammegard with his paradigm, apparently most accurate regarding false flag events.  I suppose this is why I am still alive, under corrupt Russian police surveillance 24/7, the 'street theater' subsided, the gangstalking minimal.  Oh boy.