Tag Archives: Department of Defense
After my passport numbers went up on line from my favorite travel agency, these hits about my itinerary overseas above were then followed by the same from the FBI’s national research center near Fairmont / Clarksburg WV (CJIS), the largest institution of the agency for centralized info on criminal justice. This is something new, as I’ve learned to expect just a visit from the George Bush Center for Intelligence with a server named so as to be seen. Courteous. I can feel the love! But what changed so as to occasion CJIS?
FBI-Atlanta was kind enough to let me know the other week that I’m involved with the DARPA – COMPASS program. That may have replaced my original decades old perpetual interdepartmental cannot-be-unmasked-for-more-details program of tracking that Main State and later the FBI described to me with a letter and then an alternative identity (effectively a third!) without me asking for it. The COMPASS program carries a certain risk. A target of COMPASS, i.e., a person of interest, can be such because of being at risk or as constituting a risk. Since I’ve always been treated extraordinarily well, I’m guessing I’m in the at risk category, and COMPASS, as DARPA’s new toy, is the now by far the most effective mathematical analysis prediction “machine” (if you will) concerning individuals somehow in the midst of gray zone activities. It’s much easier to just throw me in the mix and forget about it along with the now small multitude of ambiguous characters. That’s what COMPASS is for: easing the burden of work, doing more with less.
In that case, I’m guessing that the tracking promised by Main State in the early 1990s has been delegated to the usual CAPPS systems which continuously updates passenger name records (PNR) for everyone on any given flight manifest. If there’s a high enough risk score attached to that PNR, an inquiry is automatically sent along to the TSA of DHS and, when they are frustrated at being locked out as to why there is a high score, they send the inquiry along. It’s imagined that CJIS can come up with a reason for the high risk score, and, pushing a bit more when that’s found to be untrue, the inquiry is simply overruled by Main State and I’m cleared for the flight, all updating in the COMPASS spreadsheets for use in their surely infallible algorithms. ;-)
So, it’s highly doubtful that there will be a pesky no-fly list notification while, ticket in hand, I attempt to get a gate and confirmed seat assignment at Hartsfield-Jackson international terminal. After all, I’m forever “accompanied”, to use Pope Francis’ terminology, on flights since as long as I can remember, back into the 1980s. I’ve never been on any SSSS or TSDB lists as far as I know, though in 1990 and then again in 2009 some entirely expected fun was to be had at Tel Aviv’s Ben Gurion. Smiling chutzpah always wins the day.
The last time I went through the TSA shake down in Atlanta the agents instead stepped waaaay back and let me and my carry-on stuff pass totally unchecked despite plenty of metal in the carry-on stuff and literally many pounds of surgical metal holding my leg together. When I protested their lack of concern about the carry-on stuff and all the metal I had on me they instead said that it didn’t matter, and that I could go through, that I’m good, because their checking me didn’t matter. That just left me bewildered. Less checking than for the pilot, the only other guy in line. It’s not like they were busy…
My seating is always switched out at the last second so as to place me with diplomats (with their usual retinue) or with various branches of the military or with Federal Air Marshals or of other reps of institutes and agencies, always. Or maybe these are the only people who fly these days. One memory in particular regards a most polite and well mannered diplomat who enlisted my help to get safely to the Excelsior in Rome, a kind of beyond the star system hotel next to the U.S. Embassy, reminiscent of the “Continental” of John Wick fame. Goodness!
My usual unusual accompaniment during the flight should be more interesting than the usual interestingness.
Some would wish good luck, good fortune. No. Life has nothing to do with such imagined things as hoped by the creators of the all-power-encompassing COMPASS program, which, ironically, is based entirely on chance, luck, the demon goddess “Fortuna.” What a living hell that is…
Instead, everything has come together seemingly miraculously, in the Providence of our Lord, with the ministrations of the angels, to ensure that what needs to be done is accomplished. But after that, it seems to me, I’ll be quite on my own. But that’s O.K. That’s also according to the will of the Lord. And I’m happy with that.
Continuing my “Day-Off story, by coincidence I arrived to the side-parking lot outside the perimeter of FBI Atlanta at the same time as a CTU guy from Virginia, who didn’t go through the main gate but instead parked in one of the free remaining spaces outside. I parked next to him. He walked me to the security building, except when I went back to my car to get I think it was my passport. He went back to his car and rummaged around next to me until I was on my way again to the security building. He went inside handing off a piece of paper. I went to the window outside, out front as instructed. I struggled to see anyone as the window is almost completely blacked out and even the voices are so muffled that almost zero communication can go on.
The two agents had one piece of paper visible on the entire length of the long counter between them and me. They were looking at that, looking at me, looking at that, looking at me, looking at that, looking at me, shoving it on the counter right under my nose, though upside down. I guess they were beckoning me to, you know, accidentally have a look. It was a one-page summary report, you know, the kind you fill out with the “tab” key on your computer keyboard so as to jump from one bordered-field-box to the next, entering the least info possible, the origin, the date, the name of the author, a slightly larger box for comments at the bottom. I did get a look at the name of the author (which I needn’t give) and the provenance of the printout. The provenance of the report is what took me totally off guard. The provenance of that report was the absolutely last thing I would have thought to see that morning just there at the FBI.
To be continued. Time to start gaming the gaming game.
The first time the FBI laughed with glee, in my face, was when they found out that I knew about their program of gunrunning using my identity (yes, you read that right), immediately supplying me with a false passport without me asking for it, protecting their gray-man who was using my name and wanting me, the squeaky clean U.S. Citizen in good standing, to disappear from the face of the earth, giving up being a priest, giving up being in contact with siblings and friends. Leaving all projects of a lifetime behind. I’ll say it’s their program since they cooperated with the State Department with the passport thing and they seemed to know everything there is to know about the program.
Every time since then that I had a “See something say something” event going on, they did the creepy thing:
“If you see something, say something.”
“No no no!” “See something, say something” thing is a total lie. No one cares.
Like the Florida school shooting.
In fact, you become a target for knowing too much. So what if people die?
It puts most people off. But a few, perhaps very few, get somewhat entrenched and insist on saying something about what they saw. Do that and you end up like the naive investigator guy in Lord of War, disillusioned:
That five minute scene sums up the last 40 some years of my life. Truly. You would think that after 40 years I would be delivered from this. But no. As Main State told me in 1992 and as the FBI told me in 1996, the program is perpetual. No way out. Not alive anyway. As THE black-site guy told me once, “No one gets out of life alive anyway.”
What pushes me is that people are dying in my name. And it continues. And it was all just ramped up hugely just the other day. I don’t know what to do about this.
I would tell the FBI about it and I will if asked, but, like, it’s their program. So…