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$5.00 / Issue 69

Names have been changed

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Dear Matt,

You remember the day I walked into the offices of SPEAK UP. I sat
my green duffle on the floor and sat at the table.

I had a lot on my mind.

More than I had ever let on. I’d hitched across the country trying
to run from someone. Not that I was wanted for a crime. No, it was
something more sinister.

It started like it always seems to for me. Out of the corner of my eye.
A yellow string bikini top and a pair of cutoffs was strolling down the
beach. A largish Rottweiler ambled alongside her.

I’d noticed her before I’d gotten to the island at the gas station before
you got on the causeway to the island. A yellow Nissan SUV with a
Virginia plate reading, INKPAD.

I stood there on the beach one eye watching her and the other on the
ocean in front of me. It was a sunny day, warm but not terribly so. She
seemed out of place on the south Georgia island. More like a surfer
girl than a Georgia peach.

When she was close enough I sent my best friend, a Great Dane

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named Theo after her Rottweiler. “Go get em” subvocally as not to
give up my intention.

Faithfully and without hesitation, Theo and his long legs rounded up
the Rottweiler and lead surfer girl to me.

She was so very shy. Unable to maintain eye contact for more than a
few seconds. She kept turning away from me. My questions plain and
friendly. What’s your name? Dani, was the reply.

I’d learned from her that she wasn’t from Georgia but from
Huntington Beach. She’d said she was a tattoo model. Which I knew
was a lie. That’s not a real job. She said she lived in Atlanta which
conflicted with her license plate.

You see the island of which I speak is Jekyll Island. Which is in Glynn
County, Georgia. Which also happens to be the home of FLETC. The
meaning of which is, Federal Law Enforcement Training Center.

Hmm, I thought to myself. Virginia plates and FLETC so nearby
she’s obviously in training to be a federal agent of some stripe.

We parted ways on that beach. I went to my crappy job which on a
side note I was fired from that day. Which didn’t really phase me.

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She sort of took up residence in the back of my mind. Not really an
obsession more of a hey I’d like to see that girl again.

Time marches on as it does and I found myself in Las Vegas in a
disabled and elderly apartment complex. I was attempting to obtain
my social security disability and got into a row with my newly elected
congresswoman. Who for the sake of brevity shouldn’t have ever been
allowed to run as she is 3 million in debt from gambling at Native
American casinos. Yet this is not the issue.

I needed help with the Social Security agency to help expedite the
process.

Words were exchanged and somehow the phase “hang you out to dry”
was construed as a threat. Which it isn’t of course and no one in there
right mind would take that as such.

So I find myself speaking with two men at my door at the apartment.
Their ID credentials were odd and entirely undecipherable. We spoke
and they left. I followed them on foot twenty some odd miles round-
trip.

They had went to a print shop near the airport and then off to Mesa.
(Inside was a counterfeiting operation. They torched the place a few
years back, is breaking and entering an illegal operation a crime?)

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During my time in Las Vegas on the streets I met a man. A Muslim
biochemist which a grudge against the government. Shortly after
the meeting with the two men who portrayed themselves as DOJ
investigators. I ran into the deranged biochemist again.

He had a penchant for going to self help groups and 12 step meetings.
Akin to the main character in Fight Club. I realized that this man was
looking for a patsy to commit something atrocious.

I saw him with a homeless man I recognized in a white pickup truck
late at night. I concerned me. So I tracked him down at his house and
saw the Volvo S60 which he planned to use for nefarious purposes
and disabled it. Merely by stealing the rearview mirror. Volvos use a
proprietary networking system with the computers in their cars. No
mirror means no start.

I then went to the Homeland Security office and in chalk on the
sidewalk, in direct view of the camera, wrote out, “Muh. Farid Ali,
deranged biochemist, please help him.”

I now was 40 miles in to saving the southwestern US from some
ghastly demise. I headed back to my apartment. Lo and behold
who did I see behind the wheel of a red Ford driving towards the
Homeland Security office?

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Dani.

You may be asking yourself. Dani? That name sounds familiar, doesn’t
it? At least in the realms of Federal law enforcement. I won’t tell you
yet, however, if you figured it out than you’re now picking your jaw up
off the floor.

Well back to the matter at hand. I have to leave something out it is
important but it’s classified and the government will never admit it.
Worse yet you’d think I was crazy for saying it.

Not much longer after the Dr. Ali situation I got the call for the
ODAR hearing for social security. I went to the hearing and before I
even got to the office a rent-a-cop got into a twist over me not signing
my name on a piece of paper.

Never mind my right hand doesn’t work anymore and it’s one of the
reasons I was applying for disability.

Long story short, I got banned from every Social Security office for
any reason whatsoever according to the certified letter that came to
my friends house where I was staying.

I ended up hitchhiking to Los Angeles, zero police contacts,
absolutely no one knew my location or destination. I was at a friend’s

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house in La Habra sleeping in a camper when two individuals who
portrayed themselves as FBI were at my friend’s house to deliver a
letter (I have attached the scanned letter for posterity).

Roughly the same time Homeland Security was all geared up and
kicking in my friends door in Las Vegas. Huh?

So you mean to tell me that Homeland Security wanted me for
the incident in Las Vegas and yet the FBI found me in La Habra?
Something is fishy. Very very fishy.

As I wandered the streets of LA. I came across a group of rail riders.
I used to ride trains myself a long time ago. I sat down and talked to
them. They informed me that I was being tailed.

I walked into the bathroom at the park and exchanged clothes with
the fellow rider. I watched at the black SUV followed him now. He
rounded back and I snuck up behind the SUV and gave my tail a
fright. They sped off and my fellow hoboes laughed and laughed. We
sang songs and drank cheap booze until it was time to sleep for the
night.

I snuck off from the group. I didn’t want to endanger them anymore. I
ended up doing a cross country hitch.

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That’s when you met me, Matt. In Charlotte, I found a brief respite
from Dani and her endless stalking and harassment.

When I left so suddenly, I was being stalked again. To Miami as you
know.

In Miami I wrote something for you. You probably didn’t understand
what it meant.

I wrote “It sits outside my windowsill mocking me.”

You now get what I really meant.

Now in Miami it was just God awful. Dani had moved about 10
blocks away. Using Twitter and 4chan (the unofficial home of the
hacking group known as Anonymous). I obtained a picture of Dani.

I like to choose places to hide where federal agents stick out like
a sore thumb. It makes it difficult for them to operate openly. La
Pequena Habana is such a place.

Dani was back to her tricks counterfeiting, fake IDs, and something
I discovered she is wildly addicted to eugeroics, otherwise known as
wakefulness promoting agents. These drugs are insane. With as little
as a few doses, psychosis is a very common side effect.

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(No one in law enforcement should be allowed to take these
medications)

She was doctor shopping and using the fake IDs to obtain these meds
from pharmacies in Little Havana.

Late one night my dog was startled. I felt uneasy about his
consternation. For some unknown reason, it was sheer intuition. I took
a mechanics mirror and pushed it out the doorway of my apartment.
There were armed men outside the door.

Not police, mind you. I went to my table grabbed my SIG and shot
into the wall.

They laid off the harrassment for a little bit. I’d even met a girl,
Angela. Who I still love even though it’s over.

We had a great 6 months together. Until Easter of 2015. Angela and I
went to sunrise Easter mass on the beach.

After Mass, we stopped by the Walgreens on Calle Ocho and 8Th
Ave in Little Havana.

Angela went and got her estrogen and testosterone suppressors and I
wandered around the store.

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I found Angela at the counter upfront buying some cosmetics and
who was at the other check out line balling up her fists? Like she’d
ever survive a fist fight with me.

Dani quickly paid for her prepacked Easter basket wrapped in blue
cellophane and darted out the door.

In Little Havana it’s commonplace to see the most desperate and
disabled to sit outside the Walgreen’s and beg for money. People in
wheelchairs and walkers with gross deformities the poorest souls of us
all.

Suddenly after she darts out the door these people come into the store
frightened. Eyes wide with labored breathing.

Angela and I walked outside and Dani sat with a drawn pistol on me.
Quickly pulling it back and then throwing it into the trunk of a later
model white Mercedes.

To be honest Angela didn’t even see the gun. She isn’t aware of such
treachery in this world.

That set me off leading to the whole assaulting a federal officer who
lied to me.

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Dani is not a good person.

I found this disturbing: Dani has an uncle/aunt, Hans Weber, who
traces back to East German intelligence or for all intent purposes
Russia.

Hey, I’m just a homeless guy, right?

I’m in way over my head.

Trying to stay out of my grave.

Dani’s last known location, Topeka, Kansas. I saw her at a place that
should have been a private geotag on Google maps in OKC.

I have a feeling she’s on the run. She speaks fluent Spanish. However
she will end up in the United Arab Emirates.

FYI, INKPAD the license plate runs back with no information. It was
scrubbed from public database.

The OIG of the CIA when shown this did absolutely nothing and
began gaslighting me.

Faced with an obvious crime of altering public records and computer
tampering instead of reporting it to the FBI and Virginia law

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enforcement. He left it to me. Seriously.

I’ve had enough.

A freedom of information request through the CIA and get heavily
redacted (to the point of absurdity) documents.

I want my freedom or safe passage from the United States of America.

I may have to miss meeting with you Matt. Everything I’ve written is
the truth. Maybe know you can understand where I’m coming from.

Your friend,

REDACTED

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