"Who controls the past, controls the future: who controls the present controls the past."
-- George Orwell's Nineteen Eighty-Four



 Douglas Dietrich Biography

I emerge from a Tradition of Service to the Constitutional Republic of the United States. I am a Naturalized American Citizen, born the son of a Caucasian American Sailor in the Nationalist R.O.C. (Republic of China), as Reestablished on The Island of Formosa (Taiwan). He himself retired from the U.S. Navy after thirty years of Duty covering Gunboat Patrol in the twilight years of Warlord China (circa 1936—1941); the proactive phase of American belligerency in World War II (circa 1941—1945); through The Korean Conflict (circa 1951—1953 [The Two Koreas remain in a Declared State of War – with American Occupation of South Korea – to this day]); and well into the establishment of American involvement in The Viêt-Nam Counter-insurgency (circa 1961—1966; Retiring in the year of my birth, prior to my conception [Viêt-Nam was to continue as an undeclared American War until 1975]). George Joseph Henry Dietrich (b.1919—d.2007) ultimately sported no less than a dozen medals on the uniform we buried him in.

I myself experienced the 1991 Kuwaiti Campaigns of Operation: Desert Shield (1990) and Operation: Desert Storm (1991) as a U.S. Marine after my initial eight years of experience as a D.O.D. (Department of Defense) Research Librarian at El Presidio Real de San Francisco Military Base – where the United Nations was founded On-Site at the height of WWII (January 1, 1942, just three weeks and three days after the Preemptive Japanese Surgical Strike on Pearl Harbor [Dec. 7, 1941]). There, along with my Primary Duty of Document Destruction, I was assigned to locate and access incredibly rare occult grimoires for the officially recognized Satanic Chaplain of the United States Army: Lieutenant Colonel Michæl A. Aquino (b.1946—Ret.: Col.). 

"Mission-creep" (inappropriately assigned duties) had already commenced as soon as I entered employment at the Western Defense Command Center's Presidio Postal Library: I was continually contracted – in sub rosa – to plagiarize historical Research-Papers for officers to present before their Promotional Review-Boards. Inordinately expanded responsibilities also quickly exposed me to bloodcurdling stories of sexual-abuse – as related by the children using the Post Library's Children's Room – desperate accounts that the elderly staff contemptuously dismissed as childhood fantasies. The C.D.C. (Children's Daycare Center) On-Post was managed by Gary Willard Hambright (b.1952—d.1990), a Southern Baptist Minister (without a Pulpit) who was also my High School Graphic Arts Instructor at John H. O'Connell Vocational Institute (popularly regarded as: "San Quentin Prep"). By the time I succeeded in forcing the multiple authorities involved in investigating the ongoing assaults against El Presidio's underage population to take into account the damning evidence I had arrayed against Reverend Hambright; almost half-a-thousand children tested H.I.V. (Human Immunodeficiency Virus)-Positive: Virtually every child unfortunate enough to be raised behind the Sixth Army Headquarters' Españ (Spanish)-erected stone ramparts. Hambright himself died of A.I.D.S. (Acquired Immuno-Deficiency Syndrome) while On Trial, prematurely frustrating general public awareness of his mass-atrocity; much to the relief of the United States Army.

I was reinstated to my former Technical Reference Post for another two years after mustering out of the United States Marine Corps in Late-1991. Most immediately this was due to exposure to Cyclo-sarin Nerve Gas blown downwind from Chemical Weapons Storage Bunkers blown by the "See-Bees" (U.S. Naval Construction Battalions – or "C.B.s") at Khamisaiyah in Southern Iraq. Since then, my lungs have collapsed no less than seven times over a span of many years, ultimately necessitating radical experimental surgery that stapled them to my ribcage "permanently;" with a calculated twenty-percent chance of future – probably fatal – "spontaneous pneumo-thoraxes."

Another factor cutting short the normal Five-Year Marine Corps "Hitch" was a major diplomatic incident involving my "Desert Shield" Tour in Sa'udi Arabia (we spent over half of 1990 "In-Country: House of Sa'ud," assembling the ad-hoc Marine Corps "Task Force: Taro"). On August 7th of that year, at the Sa'udi port city of Æl Jubayl (south of our Port-of-Deployment), I personally attempted to prevent a Mutawh'wha'in (Sa'udi Religious Police) Unit from machine-gunning schoolgirls who were escaping from a burning dormitory. They were being shot because they were daring to expose themselves in public without veils (289 young women were ultimately burned alive in this heavily Censored Incident). Only impending State-of-(Undeclared) War prevented my extended incarceration in the "Brig" (Military Prison; it must be noted that American Marines are responsible for U.S. Embassy Guard Duty, and are thereby considered "Diplomatic Representatives-in-Uniform of the Constitutional Republic Abroad").

Returning to the United States and determined to pursue a career that would enable me to retire as soon as possible; I (transitionally) settled once again into the D.O.D. Library System as a Military Reference Technician. Unfortunately, my exotic ethno-national background; my 1984 involvement in Civil-War Nicaragua (tainted by my romantic liaison with a U.S. State Department-Identified Sandinista); my public exposure of the massive On-Site Presidio child-molestation fiasco through the years spanning 1985—1987; my Pre-Gulf War II (1991—) Civilian involvement with Ba'athist Iraq during the Summer of 1988; in turn compounded by my controversial Severance with the United States Marine Corps – all apparently correlated in dossier to present me as Prime Candidate for recruitment as "Patsy" by the self-proclaimed O.N.I. (Office of Naval Intelligence)/C.I.A./Mossad (Israeli Intelligence) Triumvirate which contacted me personally On-Base in the Summer of 1992 as they planned Operation: Mount Rushmore – the (abortive) Assassination of the Governor of Arkansas: Then-Presidential Candidate William Jefferson "Billy-Jeff" Clinton (b.1946—) during a Campaign stayover at the world-renowned San Francisco Ritz-Carlton Hotel.

By the time that the former Premier of the U.S.S.R. (Union of Soviet Socialist Republics) and last Gensek (General Secretary) of the Communist Party, Mikhail Sergeevich Gorbachev (b.1931—), leased Presidio property to establish his Neo-Socialist Think-Tank: The Gorbachev Foundation of North America; I was already transitioning into my Second Career as a Private Security Enforcement Agent – starting near the “Bodyguard Bottom” of the (initially) Unarmed Security Industry: Providing Security Presence and Escort in the Adult Entertainment Industry. I was able to “break into” the local Live/Exotic Entertainment Security provision business thanks to the Professional Recommendation of Ginotenelli Neilli (b.1939[?]—?), a Mulatto (Italian/Liberian) Corporal in the U.S. Army Reserves, stationed at El Presidio (until his Permanent Expulsion from Base Premises – resulting from a Tarot Card Reading Scam he was running amongst the On-Site officer’s wives) and a Licensed(?) P.I. (Private Investigator) with whom I had satisfactorily completed Contracts for in the past in what served as an Additional Revenue source –  running jobs with him in Sub Poena Delivery (as well as rotationally relieving him on extended Private Surveillance Operations, et cetera). The particular San Francisco Adult Entertainment Partnership that he ingratiated me with was a Two-Family Duopoly that had utilized his services to their own ends before – and they were willing to take on one of his accomplices. It was here that I was familiarized with San Francisco's Underworld and Police Connections, as the S.F.P.D. (San Francisco Police Department) and the S.F.F.D. (San Francisco Fire Department), as well as the San Francisco Emergency Medical Services personnel (at that time a separate Department) provided their own form of “security” by chronic loitering in such facilities. There were times when such blue-collar bureaucrats outnumbered “civilian” clientele.

One of the Families eventually assigned me the responsibility of guarding the Co-Owner's son, who was a former member of the Sannyasin Cult of the self-proclaimed OSHO; the Asian Indian “Super-Guru:” Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh (b.1931—d.1990). This was the Oregon “Love” Cult that had founded an independent “Global Enlightenment Colony” (Rajneeshpuram City; est. in the U.S.: 1981—1986) in the Central Oregon Desert and proceeded to plot and perpetrate the massive and well-orchestrated “9/9” Bio-Terrorist Attack that killed many Americans – and sickened hundreds more – on Sunday, September 9th, in the truly “Orwellian” Year of 1984. I was considered well-prepared psychologically for this responsibility, as I had long ago learned the details of how this major act of Foreign Terrorism on American soil was completely "Blacked-Out" (in terms of its actual ramifications) by the U.S. Government – while incinerating evidence pertaining to "9/9-'84" back in my D.O.D. days. I was asked to protect my Client from The Bhagwan's former victims (or their relations), who were hell-bent on tracking him down for "Pay-Back." Being of half-Arabic extraction himself (of Palestinian origin, but Iraqi Nationality; on his father’s side), this man appreciated my low-level command of the Arabic language and my familiarity with the culture and geopolitics of South-West Asia; and conveyed the full story of 9/9 from the Cultic perspective.

Successful completion of my primary Contract-Assignment of note encouraged the Family that I had served to recommend me for enrollment into the San Francisco Police Academy (a very difficult proposition without inside connections, as the S.F.P.D. is one the highest-paid Constabularies in the United States, and can literally pick and choose their officer-candidates from across the nation – preferring “Lateral Transfers” - experienced veterans from other Police Departments); which I successfully completed in course. Unfortunately, permanent deafness from nerve-damage afflicting my right ear was sustained by Primary Exposure – as an adult – to the Chicken Pox; carried into the Academy by a Cadet infected by his own infant son. The S.F.P.D. Academy Certificate of Graduation in P.O.S.T. (Peace Officer’s Standard Training), however, helped to place me on a professional path that culminated in Assignment to guard the Prince and Princess of J’Yugoslăvijya at the height of The Third Balkan War (1991—1995 [The Balkan Secession Wars continue in Stabilized Confrontation until this day]), as well as participating in several Bosanski (Bosnian) and Hrvatski Vojna Krajina (Croatian Military Frontier) Field Actions ancillary to the security requirements of the House of KarajĐgeorjđgevićh’s (the Royal Dynasty of Srbvija [Serbia]: est. 1903—) Court-in-Exile (est. [London] 1941—).

One of the pivotal links to my involvement with the Srbvn (Serbian) Struggle For Survival Against American-Sponsored Islamic Insurgency in The Balkans was an (initially domestic) affair with a Srv (Serb) Čhetnik (Nationalist Partizan) Sniper; formerly a professional European Runway Model who had taken leave of High Fashion en route to Waco, Texas – when life as she had come to know it was destroyed by the 1993 B.A.T.F. (Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms)/F.B.I. (Federal Bureau of Investigation) Siege and Massacre of her “Branch Davidian” Co-Religionists. The “Davidians” were a “Branch,” or Schism, of the Seventh Day Adventist Church. The largest concentration (in relation to population) of Seventh Day Adventists in the world is in the Vojvodina (Military Principality) Autonomous Province of Srbvija (Serbia). A large percentage of the people martyred in the name of their religion at Waco held J’Yugoslăv citizenship. Yet again, I was imparted by circumstances (this time personal, as opposed to professional) the full story behind a milestone “International” Incident (in this case: The Waco Massacre) from the perspective of a former Cultist. I was much taken with her ecstatic manifestations of faith while we were physically consummating her emotional rebound from the violent loss of her former lover (and Messiah): David Koresh (originally Vernon Howell: b.1959—d.1993), whom she had fallen in with while he was still "incarnate" as an aspiring Rock Guitarist afflicted with Yaru ‘Shælayem (Jerusalem Syndrome).

My Mercenary-work climaxed with "P&D" (Patrolling and Dispatching) Duties inside the highest-paid (and highest-risk) Uniformed Security Contract in the United States: Two Tours-of-Contract with two different Corporations in the ten-square city-block, seven-hundred and sixty-three Unit A.C.O.R.N. (Association of Community Organizations for Reform Now) Project-Site of West Oakland – after the H.U.D. (Housing and Urban Development) Police had been ousted as violently corrupt – and the Gang-Massacre of the entire Samoan Security Enforcement Detachment hired to replace them demanded Extreme Response. Following the National Scandal of The Purging of Armed H.U.D. Personnel in Oakland; H.U.D. Administrator Ron Brown (b.1941—d.1996) himself was to die in Bozna-i-Herzegovin (Bosnia-Herzegovina) – a victim of The Clinton Administration's Executive-Ordered Assassination – as widely acknowledged by The World Outside of the United States.

Unfortunately, all of the profits earned throughout my Second Career of high-skilled/high-payed/high-risked Mercenary Security Enforcement Contracts were to be expended in covering the astronomical medical expenses of my elderly parents – up to my parents' passing (and beyond) – which, due to a variety of mitigating circumstances (the closure of all Base-Facilities in the Greater San Francisco Bay Area, et cetera) were not  covered under the U.S. Military Retirement Programs for either my father or his Dependent (his wife and my mother). I subsequently attended many years of lectures in Medical Journalism at U.C.S.F. (University of California, San Francisco) Medical School in order to better comprehend, and more effectively navigate, the monstrous Federal, State, and Municipal bureaucratic morass that both chronically threatened the very survival of the only two people that ever truly mattered to me and ultimately murdered them. These socially pervasive circumstances alone are a subject deserving in-depth national discussion – as are the machinations of the American Medical-Industrial Complex with which I had to contend with in context of my involuntary Third Career: Acting both as an Adult Protective Care-Provider and a Senior Patient Advocate through the Terminal Decade of my parents' lives.


How Douglas Dietrich Stopped Gulf War I on His Summer Vacation

In 1981 I transferred out of the Electronics Department of San Francisco's John H. O'Connell Vocational Institute of Technology (colloquially referred to as: "San Quentin Prep") and majored instead in Commercial Illustration via that particular Trade School's Advertising Arts Department. I was able to enter the field of Graphic(s), even as a student, by producing pornographic comic-book illustrations: San Francisco being internationally celebrated at that time as one of the capitals of Adult Entertainment on the world scene; as well as the acknowledged countercultural epicenter of a thriving "underground" publishing industry catering to the ubiquitous local (and national) market(s) of sex, drugs, music, and the occult.

By 1982 I entered employment on-site El Presidio Real de San Francisco's Western Defense Command Center as a Librarian's Aid through the D.O.D. (Department Of Defense) via my status as a Military Dependent – even while continuing my education at John O'Connell. San Francisco hosts more Foreign Consulates than any other city in the United States other than New York City (Washington, D.C. hosting actual Embassies) because the United Nations was founded inside San Francisco's Presidio Military Base on the 1st of January in 1942. In 1988 the Editor of The Star Presidian, the Presidio Post's newspaper, approached me to let me know that the 'Iraqi Consulate was seeking to expose Iranian atrocities in the ongoing, and seemingly endless, First Gulf War (Islamic Fundamentalist Iran vs. U.S.-Allied Secular Æl 'Iraq: 1980—1988); which was entering its eighth year at the time. The Editor knew of my pornographic illustration sideline and felt that my talent would be appropriate to such an endeavor.

Naturally I agreed for the sake of adventure and the opportunity to travel. Inside the 'Iraqi Consulate, I was informed that the staff of their own nation's Ministry of Propaganda was stifled in creativity at this point: The Ba'athist Party of Șaddām Hussæyin's (Saddam Hussein's) Régime was seeking foreigners with a greater sense of cosmopolitan awareness and global affairs to present Æl 'Iraq's plight to the rest of the world – particularly to the West.

The very day that I arrived in Bhagdād – on the 14th of April in 1988 – the U.S.S. Samual Roberts, a guided missile frigate, had just struck an Iranian mine in the Persian Gulf while escorting Kuwayiti oil-tankers. The U.S. Navy responded by shelling two Iranian oil platforms that had been exposed as fire-control and observation points. The Iranian Navy sortied out to counterattack. By the end of one of the largest naval battles in modern history that you've never heard of, three Iranian warships had been sunk and six Iranian suicide speedboats had been destroyed. Although the battle itself was never given a name, it was covertly referred to as Operation: Praying Mantis, from the name of the original fire-control platform shelling.

For the next two months I toured The Front at the behest of the Ba'athist Propaganda Ministry in order to get a sense of the morale challenges they faced. The situation looked as hopelessly stagnant as that on the Western Front in Europe during The Great War (1914—1918). No one cared about what America did for Æl Kuwayit, which was viewed as an enemy parasite, “slant drilling” into lraqi petroleum fields. The Iraqis felt that they were saving all of the Middle East, including Israel – a state which they held in utter revulsion – from the Persian objective of reinstating their ancient Empire under a Modern Medievalist Shi'ia Theocracy.

I witnessed the horror of the Pasdarin, the Iranian Revolutionary Guard(s) Corps, clearing the Iraqi-laid minefields and depleting the ammunition of the 'Iraqi Forces. By this point in time their manpower and resources were so low that they couldn’t afford to lose any more professional veterans – nor their desperately needed years of combat experience. They utilized instead a resource they had in plenty – suicidal Iranian children. They took thousands of young boys who had not yet reached puberty and covered them in pure white grave shawls: The color of death in Asia. They could be seen for miles away – an intentionally easy target for Iraqi fire. Each boy was given a tiny plastic key to hang around his neck with the assurance that this trinket would get him through The Gates of Heaven. The children’s job was to clear a path through the minefields for the Pasdarin to advance behind them.

In order to ensure that they would trigger all the mines, the boys were fastened together with long lengths of heavy chain to drag along the ground and sweep the battlefield clear. Those that faltered were to be shot or bayonetted by the Pasdarin behind them. This was a true exercise in redundancy – as none of these children ever betrayed either qualm(s) or regret(s) in the dying. In loud, clear voices they sang their religious chants and songs as they surged forward. As they neared The Front, wave after wave of their tiny bodies rose to break like the crashing surf, their heads and limbs blossoming into the air in gouts of blood and flame.

“Do you hate the enemy?” I asked an 'Iraqi soldier who waited patiently for the children to arrive within machine-gun range. An officer who spoke English – as many 'Iraqis of higher education did – translated the soldier's answer for me: “We do not hate The Enemy,” he said. “We simply kill him.”

The only really motivated sectors along The Front were held by the Mujahadeen æl-Khalq – or the M.Æ.K. – the Iranian Liberation Army. Șaddām Abd al-Majid al-Cikriti Hussæyin (b.1937—d.2006) harbored an all-female army with stunning combat records, the highest-educated army ever to hit the field in the history of Mankind. These women were all M.D.s, D.D.S.s, C.P.A.s, Ph.D.s, and Attorneys-at-Law whose practices had been declared illegal in Iran under the Ayatollahs on the basis of their gender alone. These women formed a host of young professionals determined to push the corrupt Mullahs out of Tehrān and into the Caspian Sea. Thanks to Șaddām Hussæyin's vast oil-revenues, they were equipped with full armored units as well as several helicopter units. With their inordinately high level(s) ofeducation, skills, and  élan, these “Amazons in headscarves” had adapted quite readily to the technology of ultramodern mechanized combat. But herein lay the seed of Iraq’s ultimate destruction at the hands of Neo-Conservative America.

I had never seen Șaddām Hussæyin while In-Country: Iraq. I was informed that he often made pilgrimages in time(s) of crisis to visit Ijosif (Joseph) Stalin's (b.1879—d.1953) Birthplace in Georgia and his Resting-Place in Moscow. Șaddām Hussæyin was an ardent Neo-Stalinist – and a Neo-Nasserite (Gamal Abdel Nasser: b.1918—d.1970) – who was beginning to play the high-stakes game of geopolitics; calling for Pan-Arabism while straddling East and West. Hussæyin's forces were trained in Soviet Battle-Doctrine(s) and equipped increasingly with Soviet weapons. His infantry carried sturdy Soviet AK-47s while the Ayatollahs' "Holy" Warriors sported costly German Heckler & Koch machine-guns.

The Mujahadeen æl-Khalq (M.Æ.K.) was also strongly Neo-Marxian in its ideological orientation. No doubt this was due to their higher educational exposure leading to a more secular orientation which modified their traditional Muslim cultural heritage. It was painfully obvious – even then – that Iran’s Fundamentalist think-tank types were selling the threat of a Communized Arab Bismarck and his empowered "Harem" to George Herbert Walker Bush, Sr. (b.1924—). The fossilized Cold Warrior sitting in the White House would certainly have been terrified by the threat of a new Domino Theory that would manifest in Southwest Asia if the M.Æ.K. overthrew the Patriarchs of Iran. It is a foregone conclusion that charts and graphs adorned Pentagon Planning Rooms displaying Iran and 'Iraq awash in a sea of liberated feminine Pink and political Red – a vision guaranteed to convulse the Senior Bush into paroxysms of reactionary anxiety.

On May 25th, the Iranian-Occupied Eastern approaches to Æl-Basra were recaptured by Iraq in an immensely costly offensive dubbed Tawakalna ‘Ala Allah“We have put our trust in Allah” – or: “In God We Trust.” When I asked about the significance of this name, an 'Iraqi officer told me without hesitation: “Because we sure as hell don’t trust the United States!”

On the 4th of July in 1988, an American Guided-Missile Cruiser: The U.S.S. Vincennes, was confronted with the first Civilian Jet-Airliner ever to be used as a weapon of war. The Iranians were seething with desire for revenge against the United States Navy for the earlier debacle and had struck upon a winning stratagem: If the airliner – loaded with highly incendiary jet-fuel – succeeded in striking the Vincennes, it would disintegrate the astronomically expensive ship on impact. If the plane were shot down, the Iranians would score a propaganda victory with which to manipulate World Opinion. As Iran Air Flight 655 came in at the Vincennes low and fast; her Captain, William C. Rogers III (b.1938—), ordered constant communication(s) attempts – on multiple frequencies – to be directed at the incoming jumbo-jet; but as it sped ever closer and into line amidship, no response was forthcoming. Finally, Captain Rogers was forced to order his crew to shoot it down. On The Ground in Bhagdād we saw full film footage of the result. The helicopter cameras of the local Coast Guards and Civil News Agencies of multiple Gulf states exposed the horror of hundreds of naked, dead men’s bodies, their hands tied behind their backs, floating amongst the flotsam of the wreckage. It was obvious that the Iranians had loaded the plane with lraqi P.O.W.s (Prisoners Of War).

Everyone in Bhagdād logically expected the Americans to enter The War on the side of Æl 'Iraq. I called home immediately to confirm with my family, friends, and professional coworkers at the D.O.D., that this footage had indeed been broadcast in the United States, at least over the first day of the July 4th Holiday. But after that, no one in America ever saw it again. The U.S. government had silenced all reports of the reality of the situation. The 'lraqi government was incredulous at this inexplicable cover-up. Æl 'Iraqi Information Ministerial staff that I worked with were crestfallen. The Iranians had been handed an incalculable propaganda victory for reasons that were utterly incomprehensible. The Iranian government proclaimed to the world that the plane had been filled with women and children on pilgrimage to Æl Makka (Mecca) – a ridiculous and insulting claim on the face of it since women were not permitted to travel even domestically without male escort in Iran, let alone outside of the country. Whether the plane had been on autopilot or guided by a suicide volunteer remains open to conjecture.

This was my grand opportunity. I advocated that the Ba'athist Propaganda Ministry publicize far and wide that the United States had deliberately sought out and downed an innocent Iranian Commercial Airliner as a message that America would forcibly intervene in The Iran-Iraq War to guarantee an 'Iraqi victory and maintain Șaddām Hussæyin in power as a bulwark against Islamicist Fundamentalism. Most of my 'Iraqi cohorts were skeptical, arguing that the Iranians were all too aware of the real situation. My response was that they had backed themselves into a corner from which they could not escape. Only the ruling Clerics of the Iranian Mullahcracy knew the enormity of their crime. To deny the family-massacre story would deprive them of the National Martyrdom of Innocents. My recommended broadcasts soon commenced. 'Iraqi morale was galvanized. This conviction was so pervasive because the Iranians were helpless to provide any rebuttals to the Ba'athist Régime's assertion(s); and everyone in the Persian Gulf was now convinced that the Americans were willing to kill civilians in order to stymie Æl 'Iraq from its inexorable swing into Soviet orbit.

Three weeks later, on the 18th of July, Tehrān accepted 'Iraqi demands for Cease-Fire. The United Nations Security Council Resolution went into effect on the 20th of August. By this time 'lraqi forces in The Field were so inspired that they had captured 75 percent(!) of Iran’s armor and artillery. They could legitimately claim that they had honorably prevailed on The Field of Battle. When I was flown back to the United States I congratulated myself on one of the most constructive achievements of my life. I had helped to bring one of the most costly wars in Post-Vietnam War history to an end, a war in which well over a million soldiers had died in combat and in which the belligerents on both sides had suffered civilian casualties not properly tabulated even to this day.

There was a tragic epilogue, however, that put a damper on my pride. This was the Fatwah (Religiously Mandated Vendetta) that the hypocritical Mullahs of Iran declared against Captain Will Rogers of the U.S.S. Vincennes and his family. In this way they maintained their false claim that they were avenging the mass-murder of mothers and children. The wife of the captain of the Vincennes, Sharon Lee Rogers, became the victim of a “torch job” in March of 1989 when her car exploded with such force that the very concussion threw her out and away from the vehicle itself. Much of her clothing was burned off of her body but, miraculously, she herself survived without a scratch. Thereafter the Federal Government of the United States went into damage-control mode and totally denied the Iranian Connection to the Terrorist Assassination Attempt on the Vincennes captain's own. The F.B.I. ordered the local San Diego County Sheriff's Department to dismiss the incident as part of America's own domestic disintegration into anarchy and internecine conflict; citing the fact that over two hundred pipe-bombs a year took out automobiles in San Diego. This simply stands as another example of America’s abandonment of the pawns they throw in harm’s way – no matter what rank those pawns may hold.

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