“The End of the Reagan Era”
The Stewardship of the US Presidency
As ordered by President Richard Nixon
This is a transcript of what I witnessed having been said between the Director of Operations, CIA, George HW Bush and his “Aide” of that time, Office of Economic Opportunity, Richard Cheney, within the secure confines of the US Army Land Liason Office, the US Consulate, Duesseldorf, Germany, in 1977.
It was a hypnotic session, something I’m very good at because I have Celiac’s Disease (Read elsewhere on my site to see what I mean), and I’d been ordered, overall, to simply transform myself into a sort of human “Video Machine.”
Thinking cognitively not at all, just remembering in detail all I saw and heard. Over time, I was given much to remember, to one day testify to, with the idea in mind that our government from the top down would basically be in the hands of political forces that would leave no secret kept, no stone unturned.
On top of that, I underwent actual false surgeries, as in the SHAPE Hospital in Mons, Belgium, where actual microfilm was placed in my body. (Or at least, that’s what they told me!) Again, the idea being, that examination of an scar tissue would confirm the validity of the data placed there for very long-term safekeeping.
The Director had actually just been promoted to Director of the CIA, and thereby he’d been told of the previously classified events of his parachuting at Chi Chi Jima after being shot down during WWII. Ironically (Read my words about Gary Condit), he told me that his fellow airmen had probably been cannabalized by the enemy. And how, based on the experience, he’d promised himself that he would jump one day again.
In specifically when, on a Veteran’s Day, when he’d turn 83, and I was to remember that. As a professional “Sleeper,” that was when I was to know it was time to “Whistleblow,” – In an effective way, and no longer “Act Zaney” - as well as from many other mnemonics and stimulii planted in the Media.
I’d “Help him get his wings,” as if from a James Steward movie, for example.
(As well as a recent email with specific, known only to me and certain others, instructions, after having been unsealed in the Phoenix federal court system, as sent by, I believe, Secret Service Agent Brian Larkin.)
I’d remember the Space Shuttle Atlantis, having been named after “A sinking continent.” That’s “Finally” up there. That is to say, now that it’s up there and serving as a military forward observation point in case of outbreak of overt hostilities, that signals to me that the time has come, probably within the next two weeks, of the massive internal political change that is about to occur in our country, and that I, myself, will be central to.
It’s much the same old espionage house-cleaning that takes place before any major war. So I can now no longer hint at things in my writings, but tell this outright.
Up to that point, in 1977, I’d noted how Mr. Cheney, whose name I yet did not know, was simply a walking encylcopedia of sorts. He had a rather unpleasant demeanor, to me, at least, and I never saw him smile once. But he was almost the Director’s tutor, it seemed to me, and I marveled at his broad knowledge of seemingly everything. He was told to me to be someone “Who could reach into his black bag of tricks and make things happen.”
Many things were told to me in these sessions, but the purpose of this writing is specific: What I heard and saw in what people like Newt Gingrich are now openly calling, “The End Of The Reagan Era.”
There had been much said and to remember at that point, already. Ambassador George Schultz had arraigned for offices in the Duesseldorf Consulate for a hurriedly set up operation called the “Land Liason Office” for the US Army. Basically, it worked as a cover within the British sector of Germany, for specific reasons I detail elsewhere in this site.
Among other things, I was getting OJT training on how to be an undercover “Grey Man,” as former Director William Colby was so talented at. He maintained a cover name of Gunther Hein, GS-12, but flew in and out, as did the Director, often enough, on the “Red Eye” after bypassing Customs through the British base.
As one entered the office, I remember well, there would be two safes to the right, desks and a bulletin board to the front and left, and if one turned right, the door to the secretary’s office, and then through to Mr. Hein’s.
Back out in the hallway, to the right, were some bathrooms, and then a door usually kept sealed during usual hours, as it housed the Army Security Agency staffers who recorded these conversations, and would make transcripts of them.
"Mr. Willms," as Director Bush’s cover name was (He "Borrowed the real 66th M.I. Group's Director's real identity), suddenly answered the phone from that neighboring office, then announced that there were taping problems, and they’d have to take a break. Mr. Cheney was sent off somewhere, perhaps for coffee, or to check on the matter.
The Director said some phrase to me that basically was an order to snap out of the hypnotic state, at least to the degree I could, considering the shots I’d been given that bring one to that medically-induced deep state of hypnosis.
(It must be noted: The 3 decades I have been pursued relentlessly by political forces of our own, even thrown into Maui Prison without a trial, been forced into “Treatment,” even, that would have of me to “Confess” to what they hoped was “Recreational Drugs” and George Bush, among other things.)
This secure site was so secure that they knew where all the KGB and MFS bugs were, and what to orchestrate before them, as deliberate disinformation campaigns. Some things said to me were real, and some were meant to be overheard. In this instance, I’m not sure which. But what I can say is that this conversation took place, as best I remember it, and I thought it was all a bad dream until the first time I saw later Vice President Bush on TV.
But without a doubt, much of the fabrications that went on there and ended up in KGB archives also found it’s way into the “Search criteria” of many of our own politically-based organizations and agencies, like the Veteran’s Administration.)
The Director was happy at how the session was going, but hurriedly told me something I’ll never forget, “Rick, I don’t want you to say a word, but...”
He would often prompt me this way before conversations with others, often the suspected moles his duties brought him up against. The moles I would be worked against, whose many photos you can see elsewhere in my website.
(My Celiac’s Disease makes of me a rare and precious jewel of an undercover agent.)
“... The next man who walks into this room will be the highest ranking mole ever discovered in our government. The highest ranking mole that you will be worked against, and this will be your career.” He said.
I was later sworn in as a Warrant Officers, CID and Civil Affairs, US Army, and ordered to ground with my secrets. US Senator Enzi is now assisting me in getting that back pay, rank, and social status – So now I can testity.
“Yes, sir.” My usual response, as I stood at attention.
Hurriedly walked in the short man with his bad mood. He was dressed in black pants and a white shirt. He stared at me a moment, and then told the Director, “It’ll be a few minutes. He’s got problems with the tape machine.”
“What’s that?” The Director asked, I believe.
“The Army guy. Who does the transcripts across the hall.” The short man answered.
“Oh, yeah. Right next to the bathrooms. You know, I still can’t believe Mr. Hein did that, and walked in on that woman Marine Officer. But I guess the sign on the door isn’t that big, and he is getting older...”
There had been an event specifically arraigned for that said future Marine General could be called forwards as witness to this operation, as with many others. Basically, Mr. Hein divided his workweek, and his apartment building, with a “Double,”
who was an actor.
Being much skinnier, he wore belly pads, and the woman in the bathroom had thought the whole thing amounted to a Security Breach. That she reported to me and others.
“What about him?” The short man asked about me.
“Oh, that’s OK. I’ve turned him off. So he doesn’t remember a thing in this state. But we better have him seated, just in case he falls down, or something... Hits his head.” Referring to the medication I’d been given, the Director said.
So I was seated. And the Director was just ebullient at his recent promotion, and more.
“You know, Dick, I just can’t believe it. Not only this promotion, but the Powers Who Be have offered me a rise to the stars. They tell me it’ll be a few terms as Vice President for name recognition, and then, PRESIDENT!”
“Really?”
“Oh, and that’s not all, either. We’ve got to steward the Presidency for that entire term period. Ever since JFK’s assassination, absolutely no one in a leadership position is safe, anymore. And, well, I guess I’ve got the background...” Referring to how in that he, as former Director of Ops., was a highly trained professional in spy craft – And simply avoiding getting assassinated.
“But won’t the Democrats complain? I mean, the CIA running the Presidency really amounts to a Police State. Exactly what the Other Side is trying to get us to do. Then it’s so simple.” The short man said.
“Yes. Then they can take over at the top. From either wing. They have worked hard to get their Sleepers everywhere.” The Director replied solemnly, but then brightened.
“But I’m glad that I have this chance to speak with you, in a secure mode, Dick. You know, I’m so grateful to you! I mean, in this day and age, you just about have to have someone do the research, and clean up one’s past. For potential embarrassments, you know...” And he looked at me.
I knew what he meant. Because of a very Inheritance Case Law thing I’m central to, I came to the attentions of federal agencies early in my life. The first time I met the Director was backstage at a Bob Hope show in Camp Zama, Japan, in 1969, where I was asked if I would consider such a “Career.”
They can do stuff overseas with an American Citizen, even a minor, that they can’t within the borders, or at least they could then. The whole thing with these secret hypnotic sessions at the Consulate and elsewhere were part and parcel of that maintained cover.
I remember well, being put in a special Karate training class set up, for my own good, run by a high master of Karate, Soke Hayashi.
The Soke was happy to work along with the CIA on this special accord, and they arraigned that he have a specially-made wood floored dojo for him in return.
And of this short guy taking our photographs working out in the high school gym, because the Director “Wanted photos.” Even from that age on, the Director had started creating my “Legend,” something the enemy would relish, an excuse to sort of always be in my lilfe, which was based on what maligned sexual reputation my Mother had traumatized me with. In order to eventually drive me nuts, and get at the Inheritance.
And that was how long the Director had already been running this mole, I realized at that point. That man, who I was later ordered to remember by a mnemonic, “The Chainy Man,” as if being covered in chains, i.e., Cheney, also had a specific anomoly.
“Oh, it’s not a problem. It’s my job, you know.” He replied, but the Director asked
“But I’ve always noticed. You wear those really nice shoes. Does that Italian leather really make a difference?”
“Well, for me it does. I have these really small feet, you see... So have these shoes made specially for me. I don’t really have any choice.”
“Oh, I didn’t know that.” As if the Director actually didn’t know. But then duplicity is the basic core of spycraft, at all levels.
Then the Director asked. “But, you know, I’ll really need good help in the future. And I really should pay you back. Besides, you’re going need the authority and resources in the future, in order to run him...” They both looked at me.
“Well, I don’t know...” Cheney replied.
“Yes, I mean it!” The Director was ebullient, again. “I’ll need... Cabinet Secretaries, things like that! Umm... I know! How about Secretary of Defense?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t have any military experience.” Cheney hedged, perhaps not sure if he was being lured into a trap.
“Oh, that’s OK! You’ve been in government service, how long? THAT’S what I need to run the military! Someone who knows the workings of government!” He offered, standing as he was, by the secretary’s office door. The safes were to my right. (This is what is known as a “Flag,” for me to mention the word “Safe,” for apparent reasons. It implies that the data in my mind is safe, and not broached nor corrupted by what would be known-to-be heavy pressures to submit to interrogation. That’s happened, all right!)
“Oh, we’ll get you into our family oil business, too, Dick. We run a little company known as ‘Root, Kellog, and Brown.’ We’ll make you CEO of something, and you can earn your pay without really having to do a thing.” And the Director looked at me in a funny way, for he had enunciated that name, as if to make it stand out in my mind. I don’t know why.
“And to consider!” The Director smiled happily. “There’s even historical precidence in this, they tell me!”
“Meaning?” I could tell from the look on his face that Cheney’s intellect had been hooked.
“Yes! It seems that President John Adams had a son, who also became President. After all, we’re going have to have the right staffing for this position, and my son... Well, it turns out, once we did the security check, that he’s boozing it up a lot, and we’ll have to get him cleaned up. But why not! And that will guarantee you your career!”
“But... What about between... Presidencies?” Cheney asked.
“Oh! Well, we’ll just have to arrange that we give it over to the Other Side every other time, or the Enemy will see an advantage. But you can carry over to other administrations, why not? I mean, once they see the need for your authority...” The Director answered. And I since have come to understand why President Bush “Shot himself in the foot,” figuratively speaking, in that election for Bill Clinton.
It’s the only time in my life I’ve burnt my Flag in anger. It gives me subsequent understanding, however, as to why and how it was that I was thrown into Maui Prison by activist Judge Komo, back when Clinton decided to make an almost historical visit to Hawaii.
It was based on false, trumped-up gun registration charges, so politically salable at the time, based on how I’d been manipulated into buying a .38, a .22, and a .410 shotgun by my wife.
Yes, subsequently printed in The Maui News, articles from Maui Psychologist Sword, how “Only the murderous would buy a Saturday Night Special,” since HONSPORT arranged for have only the short-barrelled type on stock.
“Only an intended assassin would want such a derringer and ‘Cop Killer Bullets.’” Was the hype.
And the only shotgun, the best home defense weapon I’d read in the planted article in The Maui News, that MAUI EXPEDITIONS had to sell me was a short-barrelled, black, “Assault gun” with a pistol grip.
“The Street Sweeper,” it was called, unbeknownst to me at the time, for in that one could use .41 pistol rounds in it, and the bullet would tumble, causing greater wounds. And one could wear those fashionable long black coats (In Maui?) to hide it under, and “Wipe out a crowd.” I never bought nor fired any, myself.
Cheney was his Defense Secretary at the time, and the whole thing had not only set up a situation for me to be summarily, if Unconstitutionally, thrown into prison at the request of the visiting Secret Service, and I presume, Bill Clinton. They routinely thrown “Nut cases” into jail anytime a President comes to town.
Then, again, it was specially arranged situation to break me into “Talking” to “Councelors” they had readily available. It took me a while to understand why the other prisoners in the overcrowded cell, who were all awaiting sentencing and hoping for good ones, continuously wanted to talk about “Drugs, Homosexuality, and Important People I’d known.”
I was thrown into prison the day they arrived. When I finally broke and confessed to the point that I’d worked under the Director while an Enlisted Man, did they set me free, hoping for further pressures to work. On that day, only after they’d flown out, did Clinton and Cheney leave their “Vacation,” three days early.
Well, I can only surmise what the Clintons have done with this “Information” they’ve thought they’ve had, as intended blackmail, I am sure. Excepting that in they’ve been had, and it’s also my duty now to make that very well known.
I finally told Judge Komo that I would agree to seeing an Army Psychiatrist, instead of the Hawaii Democrat state-paid ones. He, too, really wanted a “Confession” from me.
I did travel to Tripler Army Medical Center on my own expense, and at the risk of creating a false reputation, even signed the forms they mandated to get in. Claiming I was “Having a psychotic episode,” and the like. But it was that – And talking to someone with a security clearance – or Komo’s political prison, so I had no choice.
And I did talk to US Army Doctor Captain Tim Berigan in that secure location. And he did do the intestional biopsy that confirmed my Celiac’s Disease, and he told the Director that, there, in the darkened cafeteria. As they discussed how that such was being used in the way I was being run as an agent.
And Berigan DID give me subsequent orders, reminding me that I was a Warrant Officer, and he out-ranked me as Captain. Such as, I had to continue obeying the woman I’d been forced to marry, until at least my 24 anniversary, a set date in this agenda.
He, of course, has been the attending “Psychiatric technician” throughout my whole career as a “Manchurian Candidate,” or Sleeper. I’m walking, talking proof positive to Congress and everyone else that such methodology exists – VERY likely with several Congresspeople, as well.
Then the conversation at the Consulate turned to Cheney’s future control over me. I don’t know why, but he didn’t like it, and didn’t like me. I’ve actually never personally been in his presence, since.
Still, the Director had insisted. “Here. This is the second link. You have to sit in the chair backwards, and face him. Then tell him....” He whispered in Cheney’s ear.
“And then tell him what you want him to do. He will, and he won’t remember it.” Several moles I was worked against were told that. It was a lie. Actually, what would happen is that I’d go blank-looking, and mute. But specifically remembering everything then said to me, for when the Director would later re-hypnotize and clandestinely debrief me.
That’s why the Gary Condit’s let me live, that day, in Ipswich, UK.
Cheney wasn’t sure, but he told me, also, that I’d obey a man named Ronald Mitchel, when I met him in the future. Some kind of double-spy for Indonesia and us.
He later, at the Westin Maui, where he posed as my “Supervisor,” where I worked as a Security Officers, would often try the turned chair trick, and was always frustrated that it wouldn’t work.
Of course I was direly interrogated while TAMC, and even at job interviews at Rawlins State Prison (For Correctional Officer), and while driving for SWIFT TRANSPORTATION as to “JUST WHO WAS I GOING TO KILL!?” Such is the misleading demeanor of Celiac’s Disease, and the inheritant nature of society to abuse those they think are “Mentally Ill.”
Even if it comes from a food allergy.
Of course, Judge Komo had lied, and ordered that I still be interrogated by Hawaii Democrat Psychiatrists. Subsequent to that, there still was a trial, and even in spite of an Aquittal, did he order that I become subject to a “Special Study of Serial Killers in their Natural Habitat.”
Which was Congressional-funded, one of those earmarks, I am sure, put in by Representatives Condit and Pelosi and signed by Bill Clinton. And specifically requested to the Judge by Secret Service Brian Larkin, someone close to the operation back in Duesseldorf while an enlisted man like I.
But a certain Waiver Form I had signed while at the Consulate, that which SS Agent Larkin told Judge Komo of, has expired. And with it comes the contractual end of my Warrant Officer career, as well. So I thank US Senator Enzi, along with the assistance of the DC American Legion’s lawyers, in providing me the paperwork neccessary to get my back pay, rank, true status, and benefits, now on-going.
I’ve completed my given military mission. The timing of this agenda has to do with the importance of the judicial precidence as created by that Inheritance Case, the known implications of the potential complete takeover of our system by this very important upcoming election, and military, economic, and sovereignty considerations thereby.
As the Director had said that day, in the end, “So they’ll find out, Rick, that you were just obeying orders. Just obeying orders.”
Rick A. Hyatt
Warrant Officer III Class (As of 9/11/2008, or so I believe it was to be, anyway)
US Army MI, CID
111th MI Bn,
Fort Huachuca, AZ
(Or so I was told phantom payroll and records identities are kept for long-term undercover officers, and what should be my rank by now.)
Or, for that matter, all the political murders-for-hire can be connected by LAWYERS like L. Wood and Geragos!
