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?”

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!

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.

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.

The Real Motives - Hatred and Fear

After a couple of days, I decided I was not quite sure I wanted to cooperate with the
"solution". As usual though, my initial acceptance of the solution did result in some changes in my work environment. The changes reflected a form of behavior modification where changes in my environment were used to reward "correct" actions and punish "unacceptaable" actions. Behavioral psychologists call this positive and negative reinforcement. Prior to my talk with John, I had been totally excluded from all meetings and department gatherings. Occasionally I would see a notice of a department meeting laying around and my name would be conspicuously missing. But now suddenly Don came in and told me the time and place for the next department meeting and made every effort to make sure I would be attend. I had been excluded from the original notice of the meeting, but now I was inexplicably being told I should attend it. Also, almost immediately after my conversation with John, Don left a signed card on my desk which enabled me to attend an in-house electronics course. He had held the card for over two weeks while Osama had his request card for the same course returned in a couple of days. The timing was not coincidental.

The manipulation of my environment to control my behavior only further infuriated me, and their record of not honoring("they" have no concept of honor)their agreements made me decide to seek other advice. I went in to see John again and told him that I was having second thoughts about things and wanted him to cancel the appointment with the company doctor which he had made. I told him I wanted to discuss the situation with a friend.

I was beginning to wonder if all the stress wasn't effecting my mind to the point that I was letting coincidences bother me too much. I wondered if I was over reacting. I decided to test a coincidence out on someone else. One morning I came to the office and Osama was out doing something so I checked over his desk. There was an article from the local newspaper tucked away in a cubicle about an opera company appearing at the Poughkeepsie Civic Center. I read the article, put it back and when Garo came in I struck up a conversation about his interests.

"I have lots of interests," he snapped back sharpley.

"Do you like opera?" I asked. "Did you know they have operas from touring companies appearing at the Poughkeepsie Civic Center".

Osama got a stunned look on his face and then looked over his desk for the newspaper article. Then he glared at me as if to say, "you've been going through the things on my desk". He angerily turned back to his desk and went back to work on some papers. For some reason he no longer wanted to talk to me. He also knew he couldn't prove anything. I went back to work too, but now I knew I was not overreacting. Coincidences like that which I was experiencing have a very shocking effect on the victim.

That weekend I returned to my parents place in Scranton, PA. On Sunday I made a visit to an old friend and mentor of mine, Ernie Kovac. Ernie was a General in the Air Force Reserves, a former chemisty professor of mine and a locally politically active community member. If there was anyone I knew who might be familiar with my type of situation I was in, Ernie was the man. As usual, Ernie greeted me warmly and invited me into his home. As we chatted I noticed he mentioned some things that did not make a lot of sense, but I dismissed his remarks. Then I told him about my problem. After listening intently he summed up the situatiobn by saying, "Surely one person like yourself is not going to stop something that big".

"But that's just it," I replied. "I don't want to stop it; I just want the harassment to stop."

Then Ernie suggested we go outside and take a walk around the groungs. As we walked he sstarted asking me about my niece. He kept asking the same questions over and over again, the way a small child would until it became annoying. Suddenly I realized he was doing it on purpose! I looked at him with fear in my eyes and once he saw the look on my face he stopped doing it. After that, the nature of our conversation changed. He began talking in analogies and related through analogies that my problems were due in part because some people considered me arrogant and certain people hated me. I stood there in disbelief. Things had been planned and orchestrated from the day I walked into Gamma Supplies and now I was being told that things were my fault. And remember, Ernie had known me for about 15 years and had helped me in my career in many ways. Now I was practically pleading with Ernie.

"What can I do?"

"I don't know," he replied. "I have a friend who knows about these things. I'll talk to him and see what I can do."

"Thank you. I just want to end this war. I can't take much more of this abuse. I'm not even sure if I am going back to RAM. What should I do?"

Ernie didn't even hesitate. "Go back to RAM." He said.

I knew Darth Korey hated me and was not surprised when Ernie informed me that Darth had hire two thugs to beat me up and break my legs. That most likely was the plan when Jay Wells had invited me to go with him to the Full Sails restaurant for drinks. I instinctively knew at the time that something was amiss and had refused to accept his offer. Given the low-life, psychopathic personality of Darth, that revelation did not surprise me at all.

But basically I had violated the number one, prime law that is given in Robert Greene's book, The 48 Laws of power. Law 1 is "Always make those above you feel comfortably superior. In your desire to please or impress them, do not go too far in displaying your talents or you might accomplish the opposite - inspire FEAR and INSECURITY. Make your masters appear more brilliant than they are and you will attain the heights of power.

What I had never realized was that I was a slave and that I had made some very powerful and stupid masters look bad by exposing a very bad plan. I just hadn't realized I was a slave. I thought I was living in america - BOY WAS I WRONG!

LEGAL DOCUMENTS ALTERED - By Whom?

The results of my laboratory tests finally came back and they were negative. Although the cancer scare was greatly reduced, the test were repeated at another hospital and the results were again negative. That meant the only health concern remaining was the problem I was having swallowing. In late May, I saw a throat specialist who cauterized my throat. After the severe pain caused by the cauterizing process mitigated, there was a marked improvement in my throat and my overall health. By June I was back on the tennis courts and was back looking for a job. I was also four thousand dollars poorer.

I began searching the want ads in June and soon had several leads toward a new job. One position I was interested in was with the General Energy Company. I went to Massachusetts for an interview and it went very well. A couple of weeks later I was invited back for a follow-up interview. Everything was going well until I had a meeting with the research director who gave me a very difficult time. He aggressively attacked to the point of being ridiculous, and he constantly put me on the defensive. The hostile nature of his interrogation made me suspicious. I left his office feeling I had handled his aggressive questions well, but I knew his hostile attitude toward me was not my imagination when Dr.Dan Wolf, who was acting as my host for the visit, apologized to me for the director's hostile behavior. I still felt the interview had gone well and I left fully expecting a job offer.

A week went by and I did not hear anything from General Energy. I became suspicious and anxious. I phoned Dr. Wolf's office, but I could not get a definite answer or a date when I would be told of their decision. I was just left hanging. Finally, I called Roger Cardell who worked for a recruiting agency. Since Roger had been helping me get some other leads I discussed the General Energy situation with him. He said he would make some inquires and find out what was going on. After a couple more weeks of getting the run same run around that I had been getting, Roger threw up his hands and said, “I don't know what is going on up there, but something funny is going on.” It was good to hear him confirm my suspicions. There could have been many reasons for my situation with General Energy, but I couldn't help but think that “they” were somehow involved. Finally, I did receive a letter from General Energy that stated that they did not have any positions at the present time.

In addition to writing for jobs, I also wrote to the Professional Relations Staff at the American Chemical Society and described what had happened at Gamma Supplies. Their response was that they sympathized with me, but there was nothing they could do to help me. They made a few suggestions on how I could improve my resume, but they gave me no advice on my problem with Gamma Supplies. I was disappointed because I thought the American Chemical Society might be one organization with enough muscle to help me.

In late June I unexpectedly received an official copy of my sworn statement for editing and signing from my attorney Leonard Smart. With a sense of satisfaction, I went to my bedroom and started reading. There is no way I could have expected what I saw. The statement was a string of meaningless, rambling words as if they had been said by someone totally crazy. I sat there stunned! I knew what I had told Cruz Little and what I had in my hands was not the same thing! I didn't know what to do and I was confused and scared. I kept thinking who has the power to alter legal documents. And now it seemed clear why Cruz Little had not been interested in what I was telling him about the illegalities that went on at Gamma Supplies. He was an integral part of the trial rigging! No wonder the judge
had ruled that Better Supplies must use outside legal council. Better Supplies staff lawyers would never have sold the company out.

Cruz Little also would have been a good source for how Darth Korey had received his information on the importance of the free formaldehyde and other inside information about the “Rapid Set” formulation. If Bruce Tittel had not been his source he was a good bet. It also helped explain why Darth Korey and Cruz Little would always have private conversations from which I was always excluded whenever we got together for legal proceedings.

THINK ABOUT IT! You have a federal judge making rediculous rulings in favor of one side of a lawsuit. You have the opposing lawyer helping the other side and you have critical testimony from a "programed" witness. Who could and would undermine the american judicial system to that extent to increase the wealth of a few select people???? WHO WOULD HAVE SUCH CONTEMPT AND DISDAIN FOR THE AMERICAN SYSTEM???

The Beginning of A New Hell

About a week after I received the sworn statement, Cruz Little called me. He repeatedly urged me to sign the sworn statement I had and to send it back to him. I told him I would read it over. There was no way I was going to sign the worthless statement I had. I also knew I had to keep that document as proof of a conspiracy. Since I was at my parents house that was occupied almost 24 hours a day, I put the document in my dresser drawer and tried to forget about it.

I recalled how in Februar my “friend” Cruz Little had sent me a copy of my original Gamma Supplies deposition . In his cover letter for that disposition he urged me to sign the document and return it to him. This was after I had told him my original testimony had been programmed through brainwashing techniques and that I was willing to testify against Gamma Supplies. His letter urging me to sign my Gamma Supplies deposition has since “disappeared” as have many related documents.
I continued to hunt for a job, but my concern that potential positions might be pulled out from under me by my ubiquitous tormentors was increasing. Then in early July, the RAM corporation contacted me as a result of a “situation wanted” advertisement I had placed. I filled out the application form and within a couple of weeks, I had an interview trip.

The RAM corporation offered a lot of advantages. First, it was big and if there was anywhere that I could hide, RAM was the place. Second, RAM was unique in that it supposedly offered lifetime job security. Since my career had been so damaged, and the Gamma Supplies threats against my working again were still on my mind, job security was an attractive feature. Thus, RAM became the job I really wanted. For several weeks I walked a tight rope by delaying accepting an offer I had just received from another company while I pushed for an offer from RAM. And I was also buying time to improve my health and increase my stamina which was at about 85% from my recent illnesses. Finally in mid-July, RAM gave me a verbal offer which I readily accepted. Since I was eager to get back to work because I needed the money, I agreed to start work the following week. Thus, by the end of July, I ended almost six months of unemployment. It is interesting that when I offered Gamma Supplies the consulting offer, I estimated that I would need about six months to recover from the hellish mental beatings I had been subjected to.

Same ol'. Same ol';Just a different cast.

The thoughts of all the threats against my career and life seemed behind me. My physical health was rapidly improving and getting back to normal. Just the prospect of having a job again helped me forget that the six month hiatus had cost me over four thousand dollars in medical bills alone. I was looking forward to returning to work, but there was still apprehension about going back into the industrial environment.


Chapter IV

My adversaries.................applied the one means that wins the easiest victory
over reason: Terror and force. ADOLF HITLER

I had not told any RAM personnel or any one associated with our move to RAM that I worked ten weeks for CoSteal corporation. To try to explain what had occurred there would have been futile. As we packed for our journey to Fitville, NY, I was making sure there no records or documents that could be associated with CoSteal or Louisville in my possessions. As I was going through my briefcase to make sure there were no papers related to CoSteal, Anita walked into the bedroom.

She asked. “What are you doing?”

I replied. “I'm making sure there are no papers related to CoSteal that I would have to explain. You know that lying on an application is cause for dismissal. And make sure when you are there that you never say anything about Louisville or CoSteal to anyone.”

“Don't worry.” She replied. “I know better than that. Just to be safe, I'd better check my things too.

There were two things I wanted to make sure of before we left for New York. First, I checked to make sure the CoSteal diary was packed with my valuable papers and second, I took another look at the copy of the sworn statement I had. It still read the same and it was nowhere near what I had testified to. Since I wanted to make sure the sworn statement did not leave my sight, I packed it with the diary in my suitcase. The next day we left for Fitville, NY and RAM.

The first few weeks at RAM were normal. I was always on the alert for coincidences, but none occurred and those questionable incidences that did occur could be readily explained away. On one occasion I went to lunch with Don Slewowski, my first level manager and a couple of coworkers. During the meal I talked about the beautiful mountains on the west coast and the enjoyment I received by hiking through the woods. When I returned to my office, my office partner Osama Ikill, who had not been at lunch, started talking about how beautiful he found the mountains on the west coast when he lived out there. I dismissed his comment as being a true coincident.

The first signs of trouble started when I tried to buy a house. We were working with a real estate agent and found a house under construction that we were interested in. The agent suggested we talk with the builder as soon as possible. That evening Anita, the real estate agent and I went to the office of the builder. The agent introduced us.

“Tom, this is Mr. And Mrs. LaBar.”

We shook hands and the Tom the builder said, “Oh, this is the couple from Louisville.”


Anita and I just looked at each other with a shocked look, and then after a period of silence, the real estate agent nervously commented. “No, no! They are from Chicago and Mr. LaBar has just started working for RAM.”

The rest of the meeting went smoothly, but I left feeling “they”had been present and that Tom or the real estate agent knew more about us than I wanted them to know. Tom's comment was just too much of a coincidence.

Fascist american Terrorism Starts Up Again After I Buy A House

The second problem arose at work in mid-August when I started arranging to have my
belongings shipped from Louisville to Fitville. We had decided to purchase the house wehad looked at and a completion date of the first of September had been given to us. By setting in motion the paper work to get our belongings, I thought the shipment could be made with little or no delay. However, the man at RAM shipping started giving me a bad time. He said he had to have two estimates. I told him that I already had an exact weight, the rates were federally regulated and the items were in storage with a carrier and that no other moving company would give me an estimate under those conditions. The man in shipping became adamant and totally unreasonable. He would not ship the items without two estimates. The issue was so ridiculous that I began to wonder if this wasn't some planned frustration like that I had so frequently encountered at Gamma Supplies.

My worst fears were confirmed soon after our house closing on August 30th. I was busily working in the laboratory when an RAM pen I had in my pants pocket began to leak. The ink stained my pants so I went looking around the laboratory for some dry cleaning chemicals. When I couldn't find any, I went into the adjacent laboratory and asked coworker Dick Sawyer to help me locate the chemicals. After some searching, we found what we were looking for and I began to clean my pants. Instead of cleaning though, the chemical spread the ink stain to an even larger spot.

“This doesn't seem to working to well.” I said. “I started with a small spot and now I have a large one."

“It doesn't seem to be doing much good. It looks like you're doing cloth chromatography instead of cleaning it.” Dick agreed.

I worked on the spot a little more and then went back into the other laboratory to continue working at the bench. About five minutes later, my boss, Don Sienkowski, came walking into the lab. I turned and said “hi” and then went back to my work. Don stopped beside me as if he wanted to talk, but I ignored him because I was busy. Finally, Don grabbed me by the arm and insisted I talk with him.

“I see you had some trouble with your pen.” He said.

“Yes,” I replied. “A good old RAM pen leaked all over.”

With that once again I turned back to my work, but Don continued. “I was on a trip in Chicago once and I had this nice white shirt on. A pen I had in my pocket started to leak and created a small black spot. Well, the fellow who was showing me around the lab got some acetone for me to use to remove the spot, but it just spread it out to a bigger one. It was like I did cloth chromatography rather than cleaning it.”

I just stared at Don. His insistence that he tell me the story and his choice of words was too much to be a coincidence. Don looked at me as if to say “do you get the message” and then continued his tour of the laboratory. I was left in a state of fear and anxiety. From that point on, coincidences abounded at RAM.

After that coincidence, I began to wonder about some other things that had occurred. When we had our house closing, I scheduled it at eight thirty on a weekday morning. About three days before the closing, Don came into my office to tell me he had scheduled an important meeting on my research project at exactly the same time my house closing was scheduled. It was a classic “no win”/psychological double bind situation. There was conflict created between attending my house closing and attending an important meeting at work. And, as I was to find out later, there was a general policy in the department not to
schedule any meetings before nine A.M., because many people like myself had flexible
working hours and some people did not show up for work until nine or later. I ended up spending a lot of time and effort to make sure my attorney could close on the house for meso I could attend my critical work meeting. At the time, I considered the whole incident an inconvenience.

Nazi Terrorism and the american injustice(sic) system.

If you think you are “free” in this country and you work for a living, read the previous post again. I was a slave! If I wasn't a good slave, the masters, the owners would force me to a subsistence level of existence. And since I already knew how corrupt and worthless the american judicial was, I had no legal avenues to pursue. I will relate later how the american slavery system was enforced on other employees.

The phone was also used to modify my behavior in other ways. I had decided to make another dentist appointment by the same dentist which had broken my tooth. On the first call, the receptionist answered , identified herself and then we were cut off. I immediately called back. This time I got to identify myself before the call was cut off again. On the third call I was explaining to the receptionist how my calls were being cut off when it happened again. At that point I decided “they” did not want me to go back to that dentist, and “they” or somebody else were cutting off my phone calls. I found another dentist in the phone book and I called and made an appointment without any problems. My choice of dentists had been made by cutting off my phone calls.

At this point I had become pretty desperate and was hoping to find some way out of my predicament before I went completely insane. I decided to call Cruz Little and find out where the lawsuit stood. I called with some apprehension because of the altered sworn statement, but I needed to know where things stood in the Gamma Supplies legal battle. He informed me that the judge had reversed his earlier decision(surprise!) and now the lawsuit would be decided on the merits of the case which meant my testimony and signed deposition was important and needed. He also informed me that after a year and a half of unemployment Ravi Sardess was now employed by a foundry supply company and now they were going to take his deposition. It was very clear that my captors and tormentors believed in obtaining testimony through economic extortion. In other words, if you want to work, you will testify as “they” tell you to testify. “They” were definitely a criminal element. And, many years later, I learned that Ravi didn't get just a job, he was the company Technical Director.

“You are wasting your time; he'll sing the Gamma Supplies story now.” I told Cruz. “I don't know who is behind this, but they can move mountains and Ravi isn't about to testify against them.”

Cruz seemed oblivious to my comments and continued on as if nothing was wrong. I hung up feeling worse that ever. Not only was my testimony important, I had no place to turn.

A Slave's Choice: Torture or Death!

It was a bit ironic that my new next-door-neighbor turned out to be a FBI agent who
specialized in corporate crime. I really didn't have much faith in the FBI being able to helpme with my problems since the government in general had had very little success in an anti-trust suit they had against RAM. The people who were causing my problems were a power elite who literally were above the law. In fact I was becoming more and more convinced that some arm of the government was behind my problems. But, since I had no other hope, I thought I would talk to the agent and maybe use it as leverage.

One weekend while Anita was away visiting her father, I got the opportunity to talk with my new neighbor. I talked to him about my problem in generalities and he seemed interested, but he was more interested in the general business practices at IBM. Little came out of the conversation except an affirmation in my mind that he would be able to do little to help me.

The following Monday I decided to approach my boss to see what response I would get. I went into his office and got directly to the point.

“Hi Don. Do you have a moment to talk about something?”

“Come on in Russ,” he replied.

I took out a small pocket tape recorder and said, “Do you mind if I record this conversation because it is important?”

Don became extremely nervous and started tapping his pencil on the desk and bouncing his feet on the floor. “We can talk about anything you like, but you can't record it!”

I said fine and then continued. “My next door neighbor is a FBI agent, and if the harassment doesn't stop around here I'm going to talk to them. Now you can tell that to whomever you please, but I am not kidding.”

Don was excited and nervous and he didn't know what to say. Apparently “they” had not briefed him for handling such a situation. “Fine, I'll pass you message on,” he finally replied.

“Good.” I said. “Because I'm tired of living like this.”

“You know Russ, you should trust RAM. We would never participate in any nefarious scheme and besides, the FBI treats people pretty rough too.”

I left Don's office feeling at least Don was worried about my going to the FBI. I really had no intention of going to the FBI, but I was hoping the threat might bring some change.

The response to my FBI threat was swift and retaliatory as usual. That afternoon I was working alone in the laboratory when my second level manager, Gene Leski came in and started a conversation with me. After some idle chatter, Gene said, “Russ, a person could get killed working alone.” Then after a long pause he added, “working in the lab that is.” I took the comment to be a disguised threat on my life, but the way it was worded I could never prove it.

That evening I told Anita what had happened and I said, “He worded the threat in such a way that you could argue that it was a harmless comment, but if you had been there, the only way it could have been taken was as a threat.”

One thing the threat had not done was cause any great increase in my anxiety. I just was not worried about them killing me because I believed “they” did not need another martyr like Karen Silkwood on their hands.

The next day at work was fairly normal. There were no harassing phone calls or strange incidences. As I was about to leave work Don Slewowski grabbed me and said he had to talk to me about working in the lab. I said Gene already had spoken to me and another conversation on the topic wasn't necessary. But Don insisted.

“You know Russ, some of your actions are really dangerous. You could get seriously hurt or even killed if you keep it up.”

“I know, Gene already informed me.”

“Well, I'm just telling you for your own protection,” Don assured me with a threatening tone in his voice.

I left work feeling again that my life had been threatened, but it was done under the disguise of working alone in the laboratory. First, none of the threats ever mentioned my comments about going to the FBI and two RAM trained, smooth talking managers would not use words like “killed” in talking about a minor infraction of working in the laboratory alone. Finally, the tone of Don's voice was more threatening than advising, but as usual a person would sound crazy if he said RAM managers were making threats against your life. Given the situation, it would be hard not to take them as threats. This time, the comments did have the intended effect in that they created a great deal of anxiety and a sense of panic set in.