Union Depot
When the Amtrak stopped at Union Depot in St. Paul, I again had my multitool knife palmed and was ready to attack and commit suicide by cop. I was the only one to step off the train. I walked alone up the ramp to the lobby of the station and took a long look around. Every face was inspected and every inch of the station was stabbed. At some point, I turned on my phone and used the WiFi to contact the 3 men headed in to escort me home. A fourth had been added to the ride and as a result they were still an hour out and I decided to make use of the lack of people inside the station to make a few phone calls and find out what was happening in Oregon. The news was as bad as I had expected. I received a text telling me to be ready to make my way to a nearby location as my ride was almost there. At that time about a 10 uniformed police officers walked into the station. I might not have seen them immediately if there hadn’t been metal detectors going off. I was debating whether or not they were there for me, if they knew who I was and if my knife was going to set off the metal detectors. By luck or chance, what happened next became my out. A very agitated man walked in and set off the metal detectors. He was screaming about racial injustice and Black Lives Matter. The police immediately surrounded him and he quickly walked out the doors and they followed. I exited at the same time and though my alarm didn’t go off, they were all making so much noise that I couldn’t hear the alarms going off and they wouldn’t have been able to either.
Outside, as I walked down the steps I saw a marathon taking place. There were police everywhere in the crowd and I used that opportunity to become the “grey man” and made it the 3 blocks to my escort very quickly. I cannot describe the feeling that came over me as I sat in the back seat of the very same minivan I rode to the refuge, surrounded by 4 armored and armed friendly men. I took the opportunity to return the weapon I was palming to the man who borrowed it to me and tried to relax. The adrenaline rush faded for the next hour and I tried relaxing. We stopped at a fast food restaurant and it nearly emptied when my escort walked in and quite obviously secured the lobby. 20 minutes later we were on the road again and we decided to stop at my girlfriend’s workplace so she could see I was home and safe for herself. Another half hour after that, I was walking into my house. Immediately, several thousand pounds of furniture was piled in front of every door and window, I secured my hunting rifle, cleared my home and then hugged my two little girls. Having spent the last 6 days in a near constant adrenaline dump, I realized at that moment that I had not bathed in that entire time and I was literally covered in mud, sweat and what I assume was seeds from the sage brush at the refuge. I immediately showered and then called Joker J and Bravo 1 to let him know that I was home safe. Several minutes later, I received phone calls from nearly everyone that had made it out and we began relaying our locations and situations to each other. I still cannot describe what I felt in my heart at that time.
That night, I headed to the home of the leader of the Northern Wisconsin Militiamen to celebrate my survival. I am not entirely sure what happened to me that night, but I do know two things. I got drunk and I heard the song "The Ballad of LaVoy Finicum" and lost all control over my emotions. In all that had happened and a nearly 2000 mile return trip, I had not stopped for a single moment to reflect on what had just happened. I knew what had happened, but the gravity of the situation did not hit me until the moment I heard his name. To this day, every time I hear that song it affects me deeply. I did not know LaVoy well, but he was my friend.
The next 2 months I did not leave my home more than a few times. I spent nearly every moment peeking out from my curtains, a rifle in my hands. When I slept, I slept for only 4 hours, clothed, with my boots on. Even if I set my alarm for 8 hours, I would wake up automatically after just 4. Every footstep within a few blocks, every bent blade of grass, every word spoken within 100 yards, I heard and woke up to investigate. Sometime before April I began to see strange vehicles with dash mounted laptops making laps around my block, sitting in front of my house and in the alley behind, and lights in the foreclosed and shuttered home across the street from mine. My TV signal was nearly always killed by 3 black lines across the picture, my phone ran extremely hot and anyone I called could hear radios and voices in the background. At night, my dog growled and snapped at the doors and walls, which is not normally in his nature. We spent many nights up and I was able to track my targets through the walls with my rifle as they tripped over the debris I purposely left in my yard. I bought a replacement pistol and began to arm up again and left the house more often. This is when the vehicles began to actually follow me everywhere I went. One day in late February, on County Road K in Dunn County, I was riding in the front passenger seat of my vehicle when we felt and heard a loud crack followed by a hollow bang, and the windshield in front of me suddenly flexed and a large circular crater appeared in the corner of the windshield in front of me. It seemed to happen in slow motion and I watched as pieces of copper jacketing flew past the passenger door window. I don’t remember making the decision or rolling the window down but I returned fire from the passenger window and threw 7 rounds, in 3 groups of 2 and one final shot, into the tree line as we passed the ambush spot and I jammed my hand down on my girlfriend’s knee and forced her to gun the engine. I know exactly how many rounds were fired because I changed magazines and topped off the other when we got to our destination. It was at this point that I knew for sure there was no turning back and that Malheur had followed me home.
Jason Thomas, III%UP Minnesota and Crow Wing
It was at this time that those I thought of as my friends began to create opportunities to back away from me. I was not surprised because of what was happening to me. I was alone and expected to remain that way. It was at this time I received a phone call from Jason Thomas of Red Wing, Minnesota. He told me he was going to go to the FBI field office in Minneapolis and throw red paint on the building to protest the murder of LaVoy Finicum and asked me to accompany him and speak to our supporters. I politely declined but stated that I would be watching and that I was considering quitting the militia and trying to live what was left of my life before they came for me. A week later, I was on a grocery run when 3 large silver SUVs with obviously supercharged motors got behind me and tried boxing me in. I said nothing to my girlfriend and kept driving, with one hand gripping the pistol in my holster. I made plans to make a sudden stop, forcing the 2 vehicles behind me to pass me, and jump out and exchange gunfire with them. They must have sensed my intent and backed off a bit, two vehicles breaking off when we reached the town of Amery, Wisconsin. We stopped at the bank and the remaining SUV pulled up next to us and the man driving attempted to hide his face with his hand while speaking into a handset. I pretended not to notice and kept watch on him through my peripheral and as we left, I stopped directly behind him and took a photo of his plates and posted it on Facebook. Within 10 minutes, Jason Thomas texted me and told me that he had the plates run and the plates came back as ficticious. The SUV did not follow me home. I did not see any vehicles for several weeks and the multitude of strange men and women knocking on the doors of our neighborhood ceased.
The reason the surveillance stopped was because of a Crow Wing County (Minnesota) deputy by the name of Mike Davis had been running the plates to identify who it was that was stalking my family and to ascertain the danger level and threat they posed. He lost his job after the FBI began investigating him. This is direct retaliation for his willingness to do the job he was entrusted by the people to do and follow up on a criminal complaint, as reported to him by numerous members on my behalf. I feel for him, as I, too, have lost my livelihood as a result of intimidation from the FBI, but do not regret enlisting his help, although I did not know his name until the story was printed in November 2017.
It was at that time that I decided to join the III% United Patriots of Minnesota as an advisor and help this group gain traction and membership. I began attending their Field Training and it was immediately obvious that my presence was a driving force behind attendance and motivation. This group was unlike any I had ever seen before. There was no lack of talent and teachers and within a few months, we had a solid base of active members who could mesh well and challenge any professional force in a firefight. Several members stepped up and furnished me with body armor and ammunition, stating that I needed it to protect myself from “friendly fire.” (These items have since been auctioned for charity, as addressed in a previous post.) I was able to report all license plates and vehicle descriptions to III%UP and the plates were run and information on the driver, or lack of registration, was sent back to me within an hour and it seemed to keep the devil at bay. This continued until July, when the FBI Joint Terrorism Task Force showed its face and began making official visits to friends and relatives. At the time I was working 80 to 90 hour work weeks, sleeping about 4 hours during the day and spent another 14 hours a week driving to and from work. I had barely crawled out of bed and put my ash filled clothing back on and was packing my lunch when I noticed that I had over 30 text messages and a dozen on Facebook messenger. I began to read through the messages and it became very clear that the FBI was to get my friends and family to turn on me. I received several vague messages asking me to stay home from work, so I assumed the worst and that they had told them I was at home and left for work early, planning to turn the cameras on the CCTV system at work to monitor the outside world while I spent the next 15 hours watching the gauges on my two 3 story boilers. Half way to work I received a frantic phone call from a coworker that I did not know well, did not work with (I worked alone in the building 10 hours a night) and who knew nothing of me but my name and where to find my number in the boiler maintenance room. He told me that his parole officer showed up and told him that he was to stay near his phone and be ready to come in and shut down the boiler at a moment’s notice. This is important information because the boiler had regularly scheduled maintenance scheduled yearly for 8 days, and was always in continuous operation every other day of the year. This maintenance was scheduled for the end of September and the entire staff did not work in those 8 days. This was 2 months too early and he feared for my safety and told me he felt that someone had an “accident” lined up for me. I decided to wear my body armor under my hoodie and go check out the activity at work. When I got there I saw men with long guns and body armor searching the lumber yard. I don’t know how long I stood in the middle of the street and watched them but for some reason they did not look outside the lumber yard through the open gate and see me and for that reason, I and they are still alive. I made my way to a friend’s home and left the name tape from my body armor in his door jam so that when he opened it, it fell out. The next 12 hours were spent hiding within a few yards of him while he and others traveled in a convoy and attempted to make contact with me on the third minute of the third hour. Ultimately, I decided to return home and I spent the next 6 months sleeping in body armor with a hot weapon in my hand.
In October 2016, I attended a joint FTX with several other militias. Many informants were in attendance and within a month, III%UP Minnesota was folding and the fragile alliance made between all the militias in the region was destroyed by the infighting and power struggle. I decided to back out quietly and watched as Jason Thomas was exposed for being a valor thief and stealing group funds. Within 24 hours of his ousting and the collapse of the militia, the FBI was raiding members and I again prepared to fight and die. The raid again did not come and I assumed that the worst was over. 2016 ended and I celebrated my survival and began planning a plethora of Liberty activism, my first being a very loud overpass protest of the murder of LaVoy Finicum on January 26, 2017, one year after his death. On January 20, I watched the inauguration of president Trump and began to see the flurry of out of town vehicles driving past my home and stopping a block down the street and men with zoom lens cameras pointing them at my home. Then two men walked past my home and I could tell by their rigid posture and fearful looks that these were FBI agents and they were going to try to make contact. I attempted to open a live stream video on Facebook and as soon as I did so, my cell service went out. My TV stopped working and I decided that to get the best outcome possible, I would need to go somewhere public and use a WiFi connection. I tucked my pistol and sprinted to the library one block away. As soon as I entered the building, they were behind me with a local police officer and the three of them took up positions around me before I could get my camera running. I kept my hands free when they began trying to approach me and prepared to kill them if they made any sudden movements. The older sensed my agitation and attempted to defuse the situation and offered a handshake. Instead of shaking hands with my enemy, I took his credential wallet. I then began publicly berating them and they fled as soon as my phone was pointed at them. I hit record and pursued them into the hallway and told them I wasn’t going to talk and to cease the surveillance and walked away. Within 2 weeks I was receiving threats via text with no numbers attached, the same kinds of threats on facebook and one very specific threat from a Facebook account called “Cav Brat” which read “Enjoy your freedom for the 7 days you still have it” “I’ll toast to your recovery” and “quit while you’re free.” 7 days later I was assaulted by the next door neighbor of my children’s grandmother, I chose to simply walk away (which was easy because he’s 500 plus pounds of lard) and when I called police to report the crime, I was accused of felony battery and raided by the FBI Joint Terrorism Task Force.
In the time since my arrest, the above hotlinked articles and reports have come out and, although I am not directly named, the entirety of the failed investigation is about me. The story released by Fox 9 Investigative News features a photo taken from my Facebook page of Corey Lequieu and Eric Flores although III% United Patriots of Minnesota has nothing to do with Malheur outside receiving my assistance with training and membership boosts. I would like to take this opportunity to thank everyone who has assisted me and risked themselves to protect me. To date, a few have bitten felony and federal charges to protect me and that is a debt I cannot repay.
Part 5 of my story is coming soon. Please stay tuned!