[feel free to copy and cross-post this]
My name is Conrad Cook. I have had a high-power hit on me for two years, and it’s a miracle I’m still alive. I come from a middle-class family. I have a B.A. in philosophy, and I have lead a pretty quiet life, up until two years ago. It is entirely unreasonable that I would have a hit on me, and I object to it. But the thing for you to realize is that the people who do this kind of thing kill little people all the time. It’s entertainment to them. They get off on it.
They see themselves as the masters of mankind. As kings; as a different species maybe. They’re not any different than you or me — they’re just more vicious. And they enjoy killing.
I’ll tell you a little about how a hit works, from what I’ve been able to put together from being on the wrong end of one for two years.
First you have the customer. The customer is the guy who wants you killed. In my case, the customer is the son of a rich Cambodian family, who I insulted by mistake while I was in Cambodia. I shouted “in his face” — there was actually a good distance between us — because I was turning a corner while he was walking out a doorway, and someone was hassling me to buy drugs who I wanted to brush off. I’ll tell that story in a moment.
Besides the customer, there is the target, the victim, the cunt. This is how it is understood by the people of this world. It is very important to understand that these people have a different mental vocabulary than the rest of us, who live in the world of honest work and think of hit men in terms of John Cusak movies. Either you’re the guy who pulls the trigger, or you’re a cunt, and if you’re a cunt that means you’re the one who gets killed.
In addition to this — and this is the part nobody gets right — you have everyone else. Everyone else is the businessman who the customer hires to make the hit happen, the surveillence team he hires to find you, the local thug who they hire to be a trigger man, the network of upper-class businessmen who set up the crime, the network of street thugs, who might or might not be part of a gang, but have a gang mentality, and who spread the word among themselves, so everyone can enjoy the show, the police who are alerted beforehand so they don’t turn up any evidence that might embarrass a no-leads-sorry investigation, the police who are recruited (sometimes) to help make it happen, the lawyers and such in government who are carefully warned off, and quite a lot of innocent bystanders.
Innocent bystanders can be made useful to the hit through the use of a recruited policeman, who might show a badge and ask questions about the movements of the victim. In some cases they might show a badge and say they are “authorized to compensate you” for your services to the state, and give you some small but non-trivial amount of money. Think it through:
If a cop starts asking you questions about some stranger who has shown up recently, and wants your cooperation setting up surveillance, are you going to ask them questions about what’s going on? Because if you do, it won’t matter. You’ll be told, “That’s not your business.” They are, after all, cops.
And this is common. I met a woman who told me that some guy who was a director in the Department of Homeland Security had put a hit on her, and her story matched mine in terms of the general outline. The system is utterly corrupt. Even good police who got into the job for good reasons will not stand up to people who intend to kill them for non-compliance. Or if they do they get killed. There was a Maine police chief in Fall of 2010 who was found in a motel room, dead of a single gunshot wound to the head. Police weren’t answering any questions until a day later, when they said it was a suicide, and they knew it was because he’d left a suicide note.
This is the real motive behind the biometric IDs, in my opinion. It has nothing to do with catching terrorists. It’s so the rich who have a mind to can use the law enforcement system to track down and kill our own citizens.
I was lucky to figure this out pretty quickly, and I figured it out because a Cambodian hit man was too comfortable in the idea I wouldn’t understand his language, and mentioned a name in my hearing. That name was Wade Boston’s — he’s the head of security at the U.S. Embassy. I had just moments before gotten word to him asking for Embassy help, and moments later one of the killers got word on his phone and told something to the other one, that included Mr. Boston’s name.
When I got back home, I phoned a report of this to Diplomatic Security. It was a useless call. (more…)