Make Him A Deal He Can't Refuse

By now I had about all the abuse I could take. I was in a constant state of anxiety and I live in a total state of fear. I took out additional term life insurance to cover the mortgage on the house in case “they” were successful in arranging a fatal accident. If I were dead, my unsigned deposition could be used in a court of law as my testimony. I went to work the following Monday not knowing what to expect next. The usual harassment continued with people giving me a bunch of double talk and everyone lying to me about everything. It reached the point where I couldn't believe anything anyone told me. Finally I decided to go to my second level manager and try to find some solution. I decided not to talk to Don, my first level manager because he was so scared and nervous that I couldn't depend on him to get things straight.

My second level manager, John Waymore was the typical well-groomed RAM manager. He never showed any emotions and he did everything by the book. I went into his office almost in tears and said, “John, what do they want from me?”

John didn't even ask who “they” were or what I meant. Instead he replied, “Russ, you have a serious problem and you don't want to get yourself in a box you can't get out of.”

“I know John.” “My primary concern is staying alive and I need some help.”

John listened intently and then said, “I'll talk to some people and see if there isn't a solution to this. I'll get back to you tomorrow.”

I said “fine” an left.

That evening I told Anita everything and she said little. By now I was so anxious again that I spoke rather freely to Anita. She was definitely interested in what was happening.

The next day I eagerly went to John's office. John told me the RAM attorney could not help me, but maybe Dr. Stanley Arnold, the company doctor could. John then went on to tell me that if I were an alcoholic, RAM would do everything to cure me. The implication was that RAM would do everything to cure me of my “mental illness”, but he carefully avoided using those words. I was disappointed because his “solution” was what I had expected all along. I had told Anita while I was still at Gamma Supplies that “they”, the sick, subhuman filth behind all of my problems, were going to say I was “mentally ill” as their way of covering up their crimes. John patently told me that as long as I got treatment for
my problem, everything would be fine. And, of course he promised that I would always have a job since RAM provided lifetime security. In fact, John assured me I had a good future at RAM if I could just get my Gamma Supplies problem straightened out. I found it strange that John should mention Gamma Supplies since I had never defined my problem, but then we were negotiating a solution to the unmentioned problem. I told John I would make everyone happy and I would see the doctor and that his “solution” to the problem was acceptable.

It may seem strange that I left the meeting relieved that all I had to do was be mentally ill to solve my problems. Desperate people do really stupid things, and I was desperate. Otherwise, why would I believe psychopathic, pathological lairs? These sick bastard had lied to me about everything from day one and now suddenly I believed them! I was really desperate. I never considered what these subhuman scumbags would do once the had an established history of “mental illness”. They would then be safe and have absolutely no need for me. As it was now, they still needed my unsigned deposition for my testimony. My testimony was critical in the lawsuit because my name was on the Patent of the Rapid Set system and I had done almost all of the work on the system. The mental illness story would cover up the how of how they got my testimony in the first place. As John Marks points out in his book about the CIA, painting someone as a nut job, a crazy, is a convenient way to discredit any opponent and/or critic.

That evening I went home from work and announced to my wife that I had a solution to
my problem. Anita was not pleased with the “solution”. Then I approached her with the inevitable.

“Maybe we should get a divorce,” I said. “I mean this is not going to be pleasant or easy and maybe it would be best if I did this alone.”

Anita started to cry uncontrollably and hugged me. “I don't want a divorce. I just want you.”

From her reaction I knew it was useless to pursue the subject, but I still thought it was the best thing to do. I knew the future was not going to be bright or pleasant.

Death by accident?

My more immediate concern was staying alive. I felt more and more insecure, and I had a real concern that an attempt would be made on my life. That fear was soon to be realized. The Saturday following the arrival of our furniture, Ursula and I decided to drive around the area. After our damaged had furniture arrived, I began letting Ursula drive our newer Datsun 260-Z sports car to work while I drove the older Camaro to work. Since their goal had been to inflict a lot of damage to our furniture, I was afraid the new sports car would be dented or otherwise mutilated in the RAM parking lot. As we started out on a winding back country road, a slight rain began to fall the roads became damp. Since I knew the roads would be slippery, I was not driving the car as fast as I usually did. As we headed into a turn, the car started to swerve and as I tried to bring it back under control, we slid
completely into the oncoming traffic lane. By the time I got the car back under control, we had traveled a couple hundred yards in the wrong lane. Fortunately there was no other traffic or we would have had a head on collision doing about forty five miles an hour. I eased the car back into the proper land and continued on. Anita sat there looking white as a sheet. As I drove on, I jerked the steering wheel and the car swerved violently.

“Something is wrong.” I said. “This car normally handles well and today I can hardly keep it on the road. The roads are pretty dry now so it is not the road conditions.”

Ursula commented that it did not seem right to her the previous day coming home from work. “Maybe we should stop at a garage and check it out”. She said.

We drove to the nearest gas station where we stopped and I inspected the car. The first thing I noticed was that the right rear tire was very low. I got the tire gauge from the glove box and checked each tire. They were all about 50 percent under inflated. I also noticed that all of the valve stem covers were missing as if by design so that I would know for sure that the car had been tampered with. Anyone who knows anything about cars, knows that badly under inflated tires can cause a car to handle poorly and is a dangerous situation. That coupled with the knowledge that I usually drove the sports car fast could be used to arrange an accident. The fact that I didn't hit anything was pure fate. Had another car been coming towards us when I lost control, I would most likely be dead. Even so, the fact that the car had been tampered with served to generate more fear, anxiety and anger. After I inflated the tires, we headed back home and neither of us said much of anything.

Your Home is only a place for terrorism in Nazi America

He didn't need to say anymore to tell me what kind of trouble I was in. Since he had been an assistant district attorney in Brooklyn for severals years, he was knowledgeable in criminal activity. However, I insisted that I wanted to document the changes in the alteredstatement, and I wanted the noted changes documented in such a way that they would be legally acceptable in a court of law if I were dead or alive. He told me to go ahead and note the changes and then we would make a date to notarize such changes I agreed to do what he had said.

I had been planning on visiting my parents the weekend following the meeting with my attorney and thought that would be a good relaxing atmosphere in which to note the changes in my sworn statement. I still had not told Anita about the changes in the sworn statement. I told her I wanted to take the document with me when we went to my parent's house so I could read it, sign it and then have my sister notarize it for me.

That Friday evening, we drove to my parent's place. Saturday morning I took the sworn statement downstairs to the living room and started to read it. I was shocked by what I saw. The statement now read as I originally had stated things! The incriminating sections which had been deleted were now there intact. Someone had switched had been switched back to the original statement. I walked out to the kitchen where Anita was sitting talking to my mother.

“This is not the same as what they sent me.” I said in a shocked state.

Anita just glanced at me and sheepishly said, “You can't be sure of that.”

Her comment startled me and sent a chill down my spine. It reminded me of the scene in “Silkwood” when Karen Silkwood was on a plane having a conversation when she realizes that her best friend has betrayed her.

“What do you mean I'm not sure!” I was furious. “Those sons-of-bitches knew I was going to document the changes so they switched the original back.”

I couldn't believe what Anita had said, but I was too stunned to talk to her about it. Apparently the sick Nazi bastards had hoped in my anxious state that I would sign the altered document. But when I refused to sign the altered document and was planning to note the changes, the sick Nazi bastards (“they”) switched it back to the original sworn statement. It also meant someone had been in my house to switch the statements and that made me even more furious. I had no privacy in my own house. What irritated me even more was that the last bit of physical evidence I had was gone.

Remember these events took place in 1978, long before 9/11/2001. Soon after 9/11, the Nazi american government made it legal for gestapo agents to enter your home in the “fight against terrorism.” From my experiences, the best way to get rid of terrorism is to get rid of the U. S. government and its corporate substructure.

On October 9,1978 I signed what was now my original sworn statement made to Cruz Little and Associates. I took that along with some other documents and gave them to my sister to place in a safe in the law office where she worked. I gave her the name and address of the Federal Judge in Milwaukee that was trying the case in the event I should be killed. Now how dumb was that? I already knew the Judge was corrupt, but I had no other place to turn. As you will read later, sending it to the Justice Department or the U. S. Attorney General would have been equally futile.

I returned back to New York that Sunday with a sense of relief that I had the original sworn statement back, but I was now living in a constant state of fear for my life because I now knew how far the sick Nazi bastards (“they”) would go to cover up the whole affair.

When we returned home the first thing I did was to go to the suitcase and look for my Costeal diary. It was gone! I had kept it with the altered sworn statement which meant that whoever switched the statements also took the diary. I was furious again at the thought of someone invading my privacy and doing whatever they pleased while I was helpless to do anything about it. My whole life was being manipulated to make things the way “they” wanted them to appear and I had no way of stopping it. It was as if I was living in George Orwell's “1984”.

My first reaction to having the diary stolen was to put new locks on the doors. The next day I went out and bought dead bolt locks for the front and side doors and a new garage door locks. After installation, I gave Ursula a set of keys and gave her specific instructions not to let the keys out of her sight. I foolishly felt sure no one could get in our house now without forcible entry and then I would have proof that someone had been in our home.

We were still living without our household belongings which meant we were thril when we learned our furniture was due to arrive after eight weeks of waiting. I was concerned about the conditions of the items because there had been frequent mention of my furniture at work. Since Dick Sawyer had asked me on four different occasions about my television set, I was particular interested in the condition of the TV. When I came home from work that afternoon, they were finishing unloading the truck. At first glance it seemed as if no items were missing and I began to think my fears and concerns had been for nothing. Then Anita told me the bad news. First and most notable, the picture tube on the TV had been broken. The back end of the tube had been broken off. My fears had been justified. In addition, the coils on the refrigerator had been broken, the hoses on the washer had been slashed and the cord to the dryer had been ripped off. Also the legs to the dining room table were missing. The only major appliance that was in working condition was the dish washer which we did not need because the house had come equipped with one. The neonazi bastards (“they”) had really done a job on my possessions in order to terrorize me and make my life as uncomfortable as possible.

Now you know why some people keep Pit Bulls and Rottweilers in their house. They want to keep the ruling fascist scum out!

Dewey Cheatem & Howe

My life at home was not much better that my time at work. Strange incidences were
also beginning to occur in my personal life. My car insurance was one example. I had paid my car insurance for a six month period when I had been in Louisville, but I had never received a statement of coverage. When it came time to renew the policy, I decided to stay with the same nationally known company. Since I was going through a local agent, I requested a copy of the coverage I was suppose to have. The agent said there should be no problems and that I should receive a copy of the policy. Weeks and then months went by and I received nothing. Every time I called the agent, he assured me I had coverage, but he could not understand why the regional office had not sent me a copy of the policy. I kept thinking “they” had a hand in all of this and “they” were causing me the aggravation and frustration, but I had no proof. I went over a year without knowing if I actually had any kind of automobile insurance. Finally, when I registered my cars in New York I did receive insurance ID cards. Even they were temporary and improperly filled out.

There are two important things to point out about my situation at that time. One, I didn't consider the fact that the U. S. Government had declared all out war on me and that “they” could be intercepting my mail. It turns out that intercepting mail and other communications is a favorite terrorizing and harassing practice of the U. S. Government. And years later I would get ample proof the my mail was being tampered with. I should also note that mail tampering is a common government practice against many Americans. I heard a lecture by a close associate of the late Dr. Martin Luther King where the associate claimed the government commited various acts of terrorism against Mr. King in an effort to discredit him. One of the acts he mentioned was mail tampering.

Second, years later when I was able to read and study about terrorism and terrorists, I learned a major reason behind the secret identity of my captors. Terrorism is most effective if the source of the terror is unknown. If you know the source of the terror, you are more able to form coping mechanisms to deal with the terror. That is why whenever an act of terrorism is committed against the U. S., the government immediately releases the identity of the supposed perpetrator. Even thought the announced perpetrator may not have had anything to do with the terrorist attack, the public feels safer and reassured knowing the name of the terrorist or terrorist group.
I was also experiencing trouble with my lawyer, Dewey Cheatem. I had not been present for the closing on my house and Anita signed all of the documents and then had the lawyer keep the papers. When Anita came home, she asked me if I wanted to keep the documents or if I wanted the lawyer to keep them. I told her I wanted to keep the papers and then called the attorney to tell him I would like the documents on the house. Weeks went by and I received nothing. I called Mr. Cheatem again and reiterated my desire to have the house papers. Again, I received nothing. The third time I wrote him a short note and got the same results. I could not believe that I could not get my copy of the house mortgage. It was if the papers were being held just to frustrate me. Finally, I wrote a very nasty letter threatening a lawsuit if I did not receive my house papers. About a week later, and after several months of aggravation, I received the documents. This would not be the last time I would have difficulty getting documents which belonged to me, but which were in
another person's possession.

Oddly enough, shortly after the closing on the house, I had discussed my Gamma Supplies problems with Dewey Cheatem. I explained what had happened and what had occurred with the second sworn deposition.

“What can I do for you?” He asked.

“Well, the sworn statement I have has been altered from what I said, and I would like to to document the changes.

Dewey just looked straight at me and solemnly said, “Are you trying to get yourself killed? Do you have a will?”