Bulbs in The FBI, Seattle Field Office

Bulbs. The cameras were out at the FBI office in Wenatchee.

I found out the room where they do interviews had been having a problem with the cameras being out. Little did I know, anything I said, 2 years, to Wes, in that room, was broadcast directly to Seattle FBI. Huh.

Right before my son and I were totally traumatized further.

I didn't know that. I thought my informationn about Judge Warren and anything else was only going straight to Wes but no, it was going to Seattle.

I had reported some very sensitive information, and it was disregarded on the Wenatchee level, but people in Seattle offices knew all about it. Who knows how many people.

I told this new guy, Stan, that you can't trust everyone. Why am I the one to be fucking telling the FBI this?

I liked Stan. I was walking down the hall, and plenty of men had passed by, but I singled the man out. I knew which one Stan was. I walked right up to him and said, "Hi, are you Stan?" and he said yes, surprised.

(Yesterday I noticed someone looking at me from a distance and I decided to drive by the car slowly. I rolled down my window and he rolled down his. I said, "Italian, right?" and he said, "No, American. Born and raised." I said that I had taken one look and just knew he was Italian. He had white hair and blue eyes and was fair. He said, actually, that his ancestry WAS italian. I said,, "Thank you!")

That was a tangent. But I liked Stan, as he seemed very open and amiable. The man is, I think, a good person. But I don't think he is really cut out for investigative work, or maybe I'm just realizing there is are different kinds of people for different kinds of investigations.

He said he's had three people come to his office in the last 2 years. The man thinks this is sleepytown when it's a Sleepy Hollow. Maybe people aren't coming to the door because they know what will happen to them if they speak up. When I left, I told him to look beneath the surface in this town. He looked at me nervously or in sort of a skeptical disbelief. It was the "She's nuts" look. And here I am, giving him sound advice and I'm staring into the eyes of a very nice but naive man.

You have to see serious shit sometimes, before you're able to believe in the possibilities.

Like I said, for most things, Stan is probably really really good and he is a good listener, attentive, and I just had a feeling that the man is "sound". But he's also unsophisticated when it comes to intel. He doesn't know the things that some bottom rung gangsters even know.

I'm not saying he's stupid and he doesn't know me so what should he think? But at teh end of the meeting, he was asking me if I was meeting someone every week. A doctor. Like a psychologist or something. I don't know, should I be, Stan? what do you think? He said it was because I mentioned something about a doctor.

He asked me about this stuff, right about the time I asked if this informationno was going to Seattle. He said yes and I had nothing to worry about. I said, you never know and he said no one from the FBI can use the info for their own means, or something about what the FBI can't do. I told him he reminded me of Rick Baker assuming something hadn't happened or someone didn't leak anything because "It's illegal" or "The FBI can't do that."

Yeah, I know, they're not 'supposed' to do "that". I told Stan this. I said, "Why do you think so many people are dying in Mexico and the U.S.?" and asked if he was familiar with the facts about how info had and has been leaked back and forth, resulting in deaths. He looked really uncomfortable and like I was paranoid. But those are facts. I don't know how he could be so absolutely trusting. In general yes, but he shook his head when I said there were people in the FBI who were not on the same side. He just looked at me in disbelief.

I have a feeling some of the older guys know a thing or two.

At any rate, he said was that it, and I said, well, we skipped over a huge section. I told him he got Part I and Part III but we'd skipped over Part II which had to do with all the Wenatchee stuff. I sort of think he should know, since it's his jurisdiction.

But anyway. I'm not saying what I talked about and I shouldn't say how I talked, but it doesn't seem like it even matters. No matter what I say, when it comes down to it, we were at a standstill:

He was looking at me like I was crazy
and I was looking at him like he had his head up his ass.

So I don't really know how anything is accomplished with that combo.