News?

That did not happen, Mr. Maffiaa

03-06-2018

To Bri, Army, & Tea, LLC

Suggested Deposition Q&A

Q: How many police agencies did you contact on this?

A: At least three or four.

Q: How many news organizations or reporters?

A: On this issue, three I can readily name in Las Vegas, Lincoln Nebraska, and Kansas City. I have contacted dozens of news organizations, but not many on this phenomena.

I’ve called this a “referential murder,” or in this case suicide.

On March 3, a man competed his suicide in front of the White House. I waited for the name and it was disclosed as:

CAMERON: The last name of a Prime Minister in the nation I’m from and trying to visit, plus the first name of a Starbucks employee I knew.

ROSS: The last name of a professor I wrote to about his complaint letter to SEC regarding the oil business.

BURGESS: The last name of a McCaskill field worker who was supposed to assist me.   

Mr. Burgess was driving a maroon or burgundy car, the near exclusive car color of people I’d like arrested. It appears to be a Saturn or Honda Accord. This business of sending “messages” through car models is not new, and is not a psychiatric “idea of reference,” it’s almost mass psychosis at this point. For example, the housekeeper at this motel I am now furious at over my only butter knife gone missing came to the door today with a food item and...there cruised the maroon/burgundy pickup truck—a vehicle type I will never drive or ride in again. this was on the Sunset lanes lot, but at least no one came out yelling or gesturing, which has happened numerous times. Former Attorney General John Ashcroft was known to sign FISA-related paperwork in a pickup truck. (This was mentioned in my long-suppressed book).

The young man had no criminal history, yet suddenly “whacked out” and shot himself in front of the White House. Why? He attended Auburn, which is in Alabama. This was about a week after I documented my “Executive Order—Alabama License Plate Number” story which found the police saying, “No such plate” back when my life appeared more “normal.” The casino mafia number trick? Add the dead man’s age: 2+6 =8—a supposedly unlucky number. Time of suicide? 1700 GMT, and I’m finished joking about the “17” and “27” obsession among the afflicted.

How about someone puts a name to my U.S. Air Force pal next door to 911 St. Rita? I never asked it, and if he gave even a first name I do not recall it. What I do recall is all of the “Psy Op” that came out of Jane Indehar’s building, including the screeching from “Red Wrangler Woman” and her fan belt, Mr. Whitlock’s gray Mitsubishi Eclipse and impersonation of a security guard, plus an unoccupied 2 North apartment filled with law books visible and no tenant on record with the City of Clayton next to my 2 South address. The City of Clayton workers dug up a parking spot’s asphalt and made the dirt left behind in mounds shaped like graves. This is no longer funny, particularly if human remains were found, because Wrangler’s boyfriend disappeared after a heated dispute I saw and heard. Down the block in the other direction, I’d be happy to point out the cocaine dealer’s building, but that would be with a lawyer, not police.

Speaking of recall, I do not think some of these “shooters” are in control of their actions. My mother called whatever may be influencing them “Black Ju Ju” and “Voodoo.” I was told as a child to stay away from any person or group that endorsed anything like it. Now, let’s talk about my two Ocean Bank checks written for car payments in the same month. A new box of checks had been opened, and I had absolutely no recollection of opening the box. Would you like names attached to a Great Rivers Mental Health client and a Chestnut Heath Systems client seen in Concord, New Hampshire? One was ringing the bell at a kettle for the Salvation Army just a few years after I told him as an LCSW his on-line Gemology class was possibly a waste of money.

“Doing a little spying?” It is a relevant question, because I do not misidentify people.

Thanks for your lawyerly time,

William C. Hughes