This is another one of those boring, kryptic, for-the-record posts only a couple of people understand. There’s a development since my last post of this kind the other day. For some reason late last night I felt an urgent need to try to find out a bit more about my “call this number if you need help” instruction given to me back in 1992 by Main State concerning the kind of help they would provide me into the future as occasioned back in the day by my ever present “Shadow” (who, by the way, is making overtures of friendliness to me all of a sudden).
In trying to find out more about the phone number the other week, there was nothing to be found even with brutal searches, not in the Department of State, not anywhere else. I decided to wait until more info was available before calling the number once again. I had called it when I had visited Main State some seven months ago at the end of 2016. A recording provided yet another name and number to call, which only provided yet another recording and this time an invitation to leave a message. I never got a call back. But the message wasn’t unnoticed.
During that visit to D.C., later that same day, I then continued my quest of visiting the national memorials, putting many miles on foot traipsing back and forth along the National Mall. It was impossible not to notice something out of place in the last 100 yards before finally arriving back to my car along the Potomac. There was another car parked behind mine with a nice, very professional, middle-aged Asian-looking couple inside, the unusual thing being their raucous laughter, the kind that’s a show, difficult to keep going, almost as if they were trying to be noticed. Indeed, they were making a spectacle of themselves as if oblivious to the world around them even while making it clear that they were noticing my arrival with interest. It was so odd that it was enough to put one into left-of-bang mode even though I was sure of their entirely good intentions, making me feel foolish.
As I wrote when it happened, it was then that I noticed, heart sinking, that I had a $250 parking ticket, it being that the handicapped spots in D.C. are not marked with either painted spaces or signs over the spaces as in North Carolina, but only with a sign down the street with a tiny arrow pointing in whatever direction tickets are to be distributed. In trying to pay the ticket online (possible only after about three weeks), I found that someone had arranged for that ticket to be cancelled. The Asian couple immediately came to mind, along with the State Department. But I couldn’t be sure. Until now.
Last night, when I searched again for more info on that phone number mentioned above, a “hit” came up, not only with an entirely different name and an office at the State Department corresponding precisely to my situation in view of my “Shadow,” but even the home address of this person in North West D.C. (a little dangerous for him, thought I, as he would possibly have plenty of disgruntled “clients”). In searching for that info a looked-at-by-almost-nobody in-house recruiting webinar came up. “That’s the guy who was laughing in the car behind mine along the Potomac seven months earlier; 100 percent,” thought I, with myself being the one who was now laughing out loud, “and he’s obviously the one who paid my parking ticket. Same guy. Exactly. Unmistakable. 100 percent.”
I’m guessing that his laughter was about my actually being a priest who has such a “Shadow.” They didn’t introduce themselves to me only because he was apparently fairly new to heading up his office in Main State at the time and it had been almost a 1/4 century since the last time I had contacted Main State, so that they needed to find out for sure who I was after all this time before speaking with me. Just to say, when the FBI had given me a false passport for my own protection without me asking for it twenty years previously, that agent had also laughed at my situation of being priest who has a “Shadow,” he knowing that this was all just too very perfect in favor of my “Shadow,” and he being amazed that I knew anything about the situation in the first place. Like my Asian guy (totally unflappable in the webinar), this FBI agent was otherwise utterly serious, he having been in charge of the investigation of the U.S. Embassy bombings back in the day. I’m amazed that the actual director of that office at Main State came out, and with his wife.
At any rate, this Asian guy seems to be a wonderfully friendly guy, and ultra-super-competent in what he does for international concerns. I’m tempted to make the request I’ve been wanting to make for a long time now. Indeed, at one point in the webinar, he almost seemed to refer to my situation in view of my “Shadow,” the idea being to keep such a “Shadow” illegal in appearance in a foreign country but entirely legal in our own, kind of, perhaps. It’s a kind of make-laws-around-an-existing-situation-to-make-something-else-possible thing. I remember the FBI wanting to keep the status quo of my having a “Shadow” going while merely giving me a false passport of appeasement instead of stopping my “Shadow” from using my identity. After all, he said that as far as they are concerned, my “Shadow” – precisely as a “Shadow” was now a good guy.
In fact, as I read over the 1992 letter of the State Department, it’s clear that they have zero interest in tracking my “Shadow,” but have all the interest in the world in tracking me, and that they have zero interest in helping me secure bank accounts out of reach of my “Shadow.” In fact, they simply assured me that the situation would continue into the future.
All of this explains an “incident” that happened on my return to the parish, after Vienna/Fairfax GMU on 66 West, and precisely at exit 296 of 81 South, the latter exit being a triumph of my little vehicle back in the day. Heh-heh-heh. Anyway, perhaps another trip to D.C. will soon be in order. I’m happy to know a bit more about who I’m dealing with at Main State. As I say, he seems very friendly.
P.S. As it works out, this guy also has pretty much all say about what goes on at the Hague. And that means that I could possibly ask him about a friend, a priest, who someone had attempted to trash there, though he came out shining.