Returning to Russia
Returning to Russia
We, my son and I, were in Las Vegas. I think it was early December of 2016. We had escaped Colorado and the FBI entrapment that had been there meticulously established.
Neighbors met in the elevators, the hallways, the downstairs game room and always younger than I, and older than my son, then 16, and giving off a vibe that caught my attention, said stand clear.
The most memorable of these undercover FBI agents was a short former Army enlisted puke named Coy Ebell. Coy had been with his wife so unusually friendly in the lift, proclaiming that he was a die hard Trump believer intent on turning Colorado into a red state and one day running for congress.
His wife whose name I don't recall, was a stewardess, who according to Coy paid all their bills.
As rent at this apartment complex was not cheap at $2000 a month or more it didn't make sense that these two could afford to live in such a pricey place given that stewardess salaries are what they are. How could they afford to live as my son and I did across the street from the Ritz Carlton on the corner of 18th and Arapahoe in the heart of Denver?
I still had Yellow Pages Russia money. Lots of it. 100s of 1000s of dollars of it. Moving to Denver I expected to find a VP sales job for some sort of tech company, my son to do well in his Online Denver High School, maybe find a woman and live a modest life always denied us, due to my son'so Russian mother's commitment to be a modern day Mata Hari for the Russian FSB, and my being targeted by CIA to become, in the words of Egish Khachatrian, "this generation's Lee Harvey Oswald". This a reference to a CIA led plot to murder Obama, install Biden and blame me. That's a story captured in other posts of this my blog. Dig in.
Undercover FBI agent Coy Ebell unexpectedly invited me to join him on this fantastical quest, this Trump campaign. I was both slighty honored and more than a little beguiled as it didn't feel right though I had come to Denver to reinvent self and put the past, Russian death threats, Silk Road drug dealers, and worse in our rear view mirror, that of son and self.
I trusted my gut and politely declined. Things presidential were not my taste having learned I was to be a patsy in a failed CIA presidential assassination attempt on Obama sometime between 2012 and 2014.
Coy had, as I recall, a Trump banner thrown over his balcony at the rear of the building. A Hilary Clinton banner flew in similar circumstance nearby. Both close to our flat, somehow too close for if their distribution was random they'd be far further apart.
Trump ultimately lost Colorado but won the presidency.
I had begun to understand that son and self were under surveillance similar but worse to that which we experienced in our Victor, NY home, this house of 3200 square feet on two acres of former farmland set on a hill with a huge back porch.
Worse why? We were in far closer contact with neighbors, and were told unexpectedly by Skyline 1801 management that there were video cameras in each of the apartments. This for supposed security purposes. I thought how bizarre and what an invasion of privacy. Samantha Corente is one of the property managers I recall. Having checked her LinkedIn profile I found she had a degree in criminal justice, odd for a property manager and began to again put two and two together. Coy. Samantha. Others. Likely all FBI.
We, my son and I, moved back to Russia in late December 2016 as I had reconciled with my fraudster FSB trained wife Svetlana.
We had been apart for 3 years and she had supposedly had no contact with our son for the last 2 of those years. Obama would soon no longer be president, perhaps Sveta had had enough taste of either living with the man who had poisoned me in August 2011, Alexander Tregubov, or having whatever it was that they had that may or may not have resembled a relationship. She had a few years earlier on June 20, 2014 confessed much to me, that they had been lovers and more. But I was the father of her son, our son and thought perhaps this counted for something.
And so in Las Vegas, Svetlana and I began to speak again. Cautiously at first and then daily each morning. I sent her money for new tires to demonstrate my seriousness and good will. Nick our son advised against this saying she appreciated nothing. Finally it was my decision to take and not his.
I had applied for a new 3 year Russian Private visit visa and was awaiting it's delivery. It arrived on time and upon our return to Denver I gathered the package from the Skyline1801 mailroom and knew our time in Denver would soon come to a close.
While in Denver I learned much about my son and his intent towards me. None of it good. One night I found that which I expected, a venomous chat on his laptop, between him, my son and his mother spewing invectives my way. When I asked Nick the next day he smashed the computer, called it an accident and looked away furtively.
Both Nick and his mother had lied to me, this a thing for them usual, saying they had no contact with each other the entire two years they were apart and Nick was under my single parent guardianship. Liars. Unpleasant when one is your ex-wife. Worse when the other is your son.
We had moved to Denver in late April 2016 after my corrupt set up of an arrest on the misdemeanor charge of child endangerment. The only term remaining on my agreement with the Victor town court on this charge most fraudulent was not to get arrested for a 12 month period, that ending in mid December 2016.
A few weeks after Nick started his Denver Online school year he began to receive packages in the mail of 'research chemicals'. These were synthetic cannabinoids and synthetic cathinones, both mostly illegal. What puzzled me was that Nick had no money for which to pay for these items. I asked him about it again today and he lied saying he had paid using funds from my bank account. He then recanted, changed his position and claimed he had accessed my debit card. Bad call Nick as that would draw on the same account. So he lied and continued to lie. Someone unknown was sending him these goods for reasons I should have understood faster, but I am not always the quickest guy in the room.
I asked him to stop buying these things and expressed my concern that while I was fairly open minded and liberal on the topic of narcotics, I was under a court agreement that if arrested I would go straight to jail for 12 months. This seemed not to concern him. He refused.
I took the next step and put in a 30 day mail stop order at our local downtown Denver post office. Crazily the stop order was returned in 3 days along with multiple packages containing more 'research chemicals'. I took these and flushed them down the toilet, my earlier experimentation with these materials having taught me much, more lessons unneeded.
The fix was in, corrupt FBI was ensuring these goods made their way to my son and hoped that I would indulge and overindulge, crossing some sort of line, getting arrested, thrown in jail, there spanked, dead, my CIA Obama assassination tale dead with me. Cover up complete.
Seeing the fix for what it was I took self and son out of state to avoid possible arrest and enjoyed a fantastic tour of the American West. While in Arizona, I found a bag of Colorado weed in the car, decided it best to remove this risk and throw the bag away. My 16 year old son disagreed, and after throwing the pot away he pulled a knife on me in the front seat of our car. I was shocked. Still am when I think of it. There was a lot more going on here than a simple bag of weed being thrown away. Also gone was the chance I'd end up arrested and in jail, something I now firmly believe my son desired, having been programmed by his deceitful Russian mother against me.
And within a month of our return to Russia his mother organized 'street theater' to draw me in, they simulated a fight, I stepped in to break it up, Nick picked up the knife laid carefully by and with foreknowledge of his mother a dual tipped knife, stabbed my left arm, severing the artery, blood gushing everywhere.
They had wanted me dead. I kept my head and used a tie as a tourniquet and made my way with Svetlana to the nearby hospital for a life saving operation.
And since that day I hear the Hugh pitched buzz of a 15600 hz tone generating device likely lodged deep within my left arm. This a gentle reminder by the CIA that they can do much where and when they want and whistle lowers like me bleed and are mortal.
Stay tuned. I know you will.
We, my son and I, were in Las Vegas. I think it was early December of 2016. We had escaped Colorado and the FBI entrapment that had been there meticulously established.
Neighbors met in the elevators, the hallways, the downstairs game room and always younger than I, and older than my son, then 16, and giving off a vibe that caught my attention, said stand clear.
The most memorable of these undercover FBI agents was a short former Army enlisted puke named Coy Ebell. Coy had been with his wife so unusually friendly in the lift, proclaiming that he was a die hard Trump believer intent on turning Colorado into a red state and one day running for congress.
His wife whose name I don't recall, was a stewardess, who according to Coy paid all their bills.
As rent at this apartment complex was not cheap at $2000 a month or more it didn't make sense that these two could afford to live in such a pricey place given that stewardess salaries are what they are. How could they afford to live as my son and I did across the street from the Ritz Carlton on the corner of 18th and Arapahoe in the heart of Denver?
I still had Yellow Pages Russia money. Lots of it. 100s of 1000s of dollars of it. Moving to Denver I expected to find a VP sales job for some sort of tech company, my son to do well in his Online Denver High School, maybe find a woman and live a modest life always denied us, due to my son'so Russian mother's commitment to be a modern day Mata Hari for the Russian FSB, and my being targeted by CIA to become, in the words of Egish Khachatrian, "this generation's Lee Harvey Oswald". This a reference to a CIA led plot to murder Obama, install Biden and blame me. That's a story captured in other posts of this my blog. Dig in.
Undercover FBI agent Coy Ebell unexpectedly invited me to join him on this fantastical quest, this Trump campaign. I was both slighty honored and more than a little beguiled as it didn't feel right though I had come to Denver to reinvent self and put the past, Russian death threats, Silk Road drug dealers, and worse in our rear view mirror, that of son and self.
I trusted my gut and politely declined. Things presidential were not my taste having learned I was to be a patsy in a failed CIA presidential assassination attempt on Obama sometime between 2012 and 2014.
Coy had, as I recall, a Trump banner thrown over his balcony at the rear of the building. A Hilary Clinton banner flew in similar circumstance nearby. Both close to our flat, somehow too close for if their distribution was random they'd be far further apart.
Trump ultimately lost Colorado but won the presidency.
I had begun to understand that son and self were under surveillance similar but worse to that which we experienced in our Victor, NY home, this house of 3200 square feet on two acres of former farmland set on a hill with a huge back porch.
Worse why? We were in far closer contact with neighbors, and were told unexpectedly by Skyline 1801 management that there were video cameras in each of the apartments. This for supposed security purposes. I thought how bizarre and what an invasion of privacy. Samantha Corente is one of the property managers I recall. Having checked her LinkedIn profile I found she had a degree in criminal justice, odd for a property manager and began to again put two and two together. Coy. Samantha. Others. Likely all FBI.
We, my son and I, moved back to Russia in late December 2016 as I had reconciled with my fraudster FSB trained wife Svetlana.
We had been apart for 3 years and she had supposedly had no contact with our son for the last 2 of those years. Obama would soon no longer be president, perhaps Sveta had had enough taste of either living with the man who had poisoned me in August 2011, Alexander Tregubov, or having whatever it was that they had that may or may not have resembled a relationship. She had a few years earlier on June 20, 2014 confessed much to me, that they had been lovers and more. But I was the father of her son, our son and thought perhaps this counted for something.
And so in Las Vegas, Svetlana and I began to speak again. Cautiously at first and then daily each morning. I sent her money for new tires to demonstrate my seriousness and good will. Nick our son advised against this saying she appreciated nothing. Finally it was my decision to take and not his.
I had applied for a new 3 year Russian Private visit visa and was awaiting it's delivery. It arrived on time and upon our return to Denver I gathered the package from the Skyline1801 mailroom and knew our time in Denver would soon come to a close.
While in Denver I learned much about my son and his intent towards me. None of it good. One night I found that which I expected, a venomous chat on his laptop, between him, my son and his mother spewing invectives my way. When I asked Nick the next day he smashed the computer, called it an accident and looked away furtively.
Both Nick and his mother had lied to me, this a thing for them usual, saying they had no contact with each other the entire two years they were apart and Nick was under my single parent guardianship. Liars. Unpleasant when one is your ex-wife. Worse when the other is your son.
We had moved to Denver in late April 2016 after my corrupt set up of an arrest on the misdemeanor charge of child endangerment. The only term remaining on my agreement with the Victor town court on this charge most fraudulent was not to get arrested for a 12 month period, that ending in mid December 2016.
A few weeks after Nick started his Denver Online school year he began to receive packages in the mail of 'research chemicals'. These were synthetic cannabinoids and synthetic cathinones, both mostly illegal. What puzzled me was that Nick had no money for which to pay for these items. I asked him about it again today and he lied saying he had paid using funds from my bank account. He then recanted, changed his position and claimed he had accessed my debit card. Bad call Nick as that would draw on the same account. So he lied and continued to lie. Someone unknown was sending him these goods for reasons I should have understood faster, but I am not always the quickest guy in the room.
I asked him to stop buying these things and expressed my concern that while I was fairly open minded and liberal on the topic of narcotics, I was under a court agreement that if arrested I would go straight to jail for 12 months. This seemed not to concern him. He refused.
I took the next step and put in a 30 day mail stop order at our local downtown Denver post office. Crazily the stop order was returned in 3 days along with multiple packages containing more 'research chemicals'. I took these and flushed them down the toilet, my earlier experimentation with these materials having taught me much, more lessons unneeded.
The fix was in, corrupt FBI was ensuring these goods made their way to my son and hoped that I would indulge and overindulge, crossing some sort of line, getting arrested, thrown in jail, there spanked, dead, my CIA Obama assassination tale dead with me. Cover up complete.
Seeing the fix for what it was I took self and son out of state to avoid possible arrest and enjoyed a fantastic tour of the American West. While in Arizona, I found a bag of Colorado weed in the car, decided it best to remove this risk and throw the bag away. My 16 year old son disagreed, and after throwing the pot away he pulled a knife on me in the front seat of our car. I was shocked. Still am when I think of it. There was a lot more going on here than a simple bag of weed being thrown away. Also gone was the chance I'd end up arrested and in jail, something I now firmly believe my son desired, having been programmed by his deceitful Russian mother against me.
And within a month of our return to Russia his mother organized 'street theater' to draw me in, they simulated a fight, I stepped in to break it up, Nick picked up the knife laid carefully by and with foreknowledge of his mother a dual tipped knife, stabbed my left arm, severing the artery, blood gushing everywhere.
They had wanted me dead. I kept my head and used a tie as a tourniquet and made my way with Svetlana to the nearby hospital for a life saving operation.
And since that day I hear the Hugh pitched buzz of a 15600 hz tone generating device likely lodged deep within my left arm. This a gentle reminder by the CIA that they can do much where and when they want and whistle lowers like me bleed and are mortal.
Stay tuned. I know you will.
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