Through direct circumstantial and filial attachment the
security services had me linked to senior activists in the main republican
movements – the IRA and INLA.
The perceptions leading to an appreciation of a concerted extra-territorial
intelligence operation concerning my person in west Cork during the 1983 United
Kingdom general election, and the subsequent admission of this to a British
member of parliament and, through him, the Home Office, would lead to two
conspiracies to murder me by United States and British intelligence agencies.
The inter-state interest in my settlement in west Cork was not confined to the
1983 British general election. Nor was it wholly devoted to the mistaken belief
of my republican connections but had more to do with my location to the
"dual function" geodetic domes on Mount Gabriel.
This particular caused most concern and would in time induce the initial overt
United States interest. In the early morning hours of Monday 20 September 1982
the Mount Gabriel radar domes were bombed by the INLA. That night an Australian
citizen named Stephanie Acquisto was a guest at my house, tucked into a glen at
the foot of Mount Gabriel.
Miss Acquisto was introduced to me conversationally
by an American lady who also guested at the property. On Friday morning
17.09.82 the American woman departed. Midday the same day Miss Acquisto
arrived. She remained until the following Wednesday.
Stephanie Acquisto and I would meet again – on Friday/Saturday 25/26 May
1984 in Coventry, England. During a late night extension to our Friday meeting
Miss Acquisto broke down and gave very strong tacit admission to being in the
employ of the intelligence services. She went further and gave an unsolicited
confirmation that – “There was an attempt to kill you." (It
was repeated).
In so far as her connection with me in west Cork was concerned, I judge her
main employer was a branch of United States intelligence.
To understand why the authorities believed me to be
involved with the IRA it is necessary to look back some years. Below are some
pertinent events set out in historic order. Generally a greater understanding
exists than is therein contained. Papers giving a fuller presentation are long
extant but are unlikely to be posted on the Internet.
Monday 28.02.77 – A young woman sits alongside me on a bench seat
in Westland Row railway station, Dublin. She opens up conversation. We remain
in each other’s company to Dun Laoghaire port. From thence by ferry to
Holyhead, Wales, and then by train to Crewe, England, where she alighted. The
woman was aged about 18-20 years; about 5'.2" tall; fair haired – as
best I can remember it; a slight inclination to plumpness; attractive; friendly
but private. She told me she came from Belfast. I harbour no reservations
whatsoever in saying her name is Evelyn Glenholmes.
This woman was held by various authorities to have been in membership of the
IRA, and credited with involvement in active service duties in Ireland, Britain
and elsewhere.
Thursday 08.01.81 – On a return journey to Cork from Coventry on
the night of Thursday/Friday 8/9 January 1981 it was observed that other
travellers broke up and reassembled at points en-route. One person at the
fringe of the group spoke to me, as he did to others, on the latter stage of
the train journey to Pembroke, Wales. As the youth (nervously) asked of me so I
did of him. He spent the festive season in London, naming the borough of
Tottenham. The admission was an error which he quickly sought to correct,
adding that he also stayed at this and that district, naming two
other London boroughs. By then he was so unsettled he gave out what was
evidently an arranged alibi.
Though unknown to each other, the youth and I shared
a west Cork domicile.
The reality of the passage was that I was in the general company of a returning
IRA active service unit, or part of. The following day, Friday 9 January 1981,
the IRA issued a press statement admitting London bombings from December 1980
to January 1981 – and the attempted assassination by shooting in December
1980 of former Conservative M.P. – then British EEC Commissioner,
Christopher Tugendhat, in Belgium. The final London action was the placing of a
bomb in an airmens accomodation block at Royal Air Force Uxbridge, late
afternoon Thursday 8 January 1981, the same day of my meeting up with the active
service unit on the train-ferry journey.
Believe Sunday 01.11.81 – Some people call at my west Cork home
ostensibly to view the property which was for sale. The real purpose was to
sus, to make assessment of me.These people, though undeclared, were in membership
of the IRA. This was a sequel, not the first, to the 8/9 January train-ferry
journey from Britain to Ireland. Their curiosity was to the sincerity of my
position in west Cork. Some happenings on the train-ferry crossing gave certain
of my fellow passengers cause, obvious to me at the time, for suspicion that my
presence on the trip may not have been innocent. In short, I was being checked
out. The latter sus was apparently carried out by senior IRA personage.
One of the three callers, a shrewd and professional person, could be described,
borrowing from another, as a “Gerry Adams look-a-like". To an
outsider, knowing of the visit but not its purpose, the basis of the call might
have appeared fraternal and maybe even deferential. It wasn’t. At the
time of the call, history informs, the IRA were at the tail-end of a major
London bombing campaign. If events of the previous January were anything to go
by, withdrawal of the active service unit would shortly commence.
The people who visited my west Cork home I came to understand were at a higher
level of IRA leadership. One was publicly alleged to be the most senior planner
and quartermaster in what is termed the England department – that is,
mainland Britain bombing teams.
Monday 20.09.82 – (Early a.m.) Explosions take place in two radar
domes on top of Mount Gabriel. My then west Cork property was nestled in a glen
below Mount Gabriel. That night an Australian woman was a guest at my house.
During her stay she twice teased on satellites. (A tease is a
security service mechanism to introduce a subject. The aim is to invite an
unwitting exposition of one's interest and knowledge in a given area.) If
information made available to me at end of 1988 is accurate, the arrival of
this lady to my property coincided with the arrival to the area of the INLA
team who carried out the radar domes bombing.
The name of the antipodean woman is Stephanie Acquisto
. Miss Acquisto came from Woodend, Victoria, Australia.
Unknown to me at the time, but known to the authorities, was that I had a
filial connection who, through former active leftist political beliefs, was
then associated with people who may have trespassed from political agitation to
the armed struggle. One person to whom he was personally known, has been
publicly alleged to be a former INLA chief of staff.
Thursday 09.06.83 – The day for me to pack-up, pick-up and
push-off from west Cork in one unbroken movement. It was the closing day of the
sale of my property. It was also polling day in the British general election.
It was not a coincidence. Before and during the election I was subject to
round-the-clock extra-territorial surveillance. As with other in-concert
intelligence operations, the mainstay fraternal agencies involved were U.K.,
U.S.A., Ireland. History would subsequently inform that this cooperative
association had echoes elsewhere in south west Ireland. In my instance, the
preamble of security interest leading to the 9 June 1983 polling day in the
U.K. general election was lengthy. There was control and manipulation of events
up to and including the sale of my property.
Notification of the closing of sale, money at last received by solicitor, was
conveyed to me by telephone call to a neighbour’s house late Wednesday
afternoon 08.06.83. The completion of sale of property, the final
electioneering day in the U.K. general election, the closing day, judgement and
sentencing, in the Mount Gabriel radar bombing trial fell simultaneously. Was
it the killing of three birds with one stone?
My west Cork property was bought by a United States citizen, a Korean War
vintage fighter pilot who informed me he would rather be "Red than
Dead". The man gave no affirmation of purchase during his visit; nor was
price discussed or negotiated. The only reference to money had to do with the
method of payment, if purchase was made. In that eventuality it was put to me
that I accept 75% of the property purchase price in dollars from a bank in the
United States, which I could nominate.
The commitment to purchase the property was made in the latter part of the
month of April 1983.
The would-be purchasers, a family, said they made a mid-week call to the
property when I was out. The formal inspection took place at the week-end. On
their departure I packed a symbolic bag of belongings to take to Dublin. I knew
the buyers of my property had arrived.
As said, I knew the buyers of my property had arrived. Also known was the exact
purchase price. That too was an advance determinant.
I earlier remarked on the end of my time in west Cork: "....the preamble
of security service activity leading to the 09.06.83 polling day in the U.K.
general election was lengthy. There was manipulation and control of events up
to and including the closing of the sale of my property."
One aspect of that control and manipulation refers to returns from
advertisements commissioned by me and placed directly or by third parties in
overseas newspapers for the sale of my west Cork property. Returns from two
advertisements entailing not less than two respondents, that I am confident of,
one to each advertisement, were directed to view not my property but another
unit for sale locally.
The owner of the other property, a non-national, when tackled on this did not
demur from the truth of the charge. The cavalier and defensive response was to
say it didn't much matter as my property would shortly be bought!
Transferring a respondent to a newspaper advertisement for a specific country
residence to another country residence of somewhat different specifications
patently necessitated plausible explanation. Whatever the explanation, it
indicated an authority preference for another game plan, one that history would
inform was destined to run into the sand at the English beach resort of
Blackpool. On the failure of Plan A out from the box of tricks came Plan B (a
controlled property disposal), one that lay ahead. To intrude and manipulate in
the fashion they did the collection of state agencies had to know what was
going on – re. my private efforts to sell the property. The finger of
suspicion points to the interception of letters and telephone traffic. Finally,
it required that individuals be suborned.
The exchange with the above non-Irish citizen took place in early April 1983. Later
in the same month my property was purchased. It had been on the market for more
than two years.
An independent confidence as to the impending purchase of my property was
arrived at without the benefit of the above gratuitous offering.
Why control at that time? The British authorities were fearful for the lives of
parliamentary candidates campaigning in the soon to be declared general
election. It would seem they did not wish my freedom with the potential it
might have until the election had run its course.
During the election the British, with help from their Irish pals, resorted to
disinformation, in that they published the names of two supposed IRA assassins.
This headline grabbing diversion, an established security tactic – one by
no means confined to republican matters, is known to me as Big Bang Bullshit. The exercise has potential for many
interpretations and ends. It is a game bereft of formal address or words with
the primary intention hidden from view. Given that these things have purpose,
one asks what operational intelligence reason was behind the high
profiling of those named. The motive is to misinform and misdirect.
Red herrings apart, those justly or otherwise perceived as dangerous will have
been accorded the dubious accolade of round the clock surveillance. Such a
judgement was passed on me. See sheets A1 and A2
An interesting aside to the sale of my west Cork property came in the first 24
hours of the 48 hours prior to closing of sale. In that time three locals
independently suggested that I should withdraw from the sale and make an
alternative disposal. As these people will surely have been aware of
contractual obligations, one wonders were there strains in the consortium? A
case of well laid plans coming unstuck?
In November 1988 a law lecturer spoke to me, saying he was writing a thesis on
police intelligence-surveillance work in Ireland and wanted background to my
case. He would assert that the sophisticated security operation centred on me
in west Cork could have been carried out by British and United States agencies
without the support, participation or cognizance of the Irish authorities.
Accepting that is to give credit to some extraordinary implications. A love of
folklore notwithstanding, I do not believe in official fairy tales.
The main property employed for fixed surveillance in west Cork during the 1983
U.K. general election was appropriated for a period of not less than six
weeks. This was in advance of the election and at least up to its conclusion.
The local occupants of the property removed themselves to another location for
the duration. The same bungalow house was previously used for fixed
surveillance. Over the years it was utilised for periods extending to months.
Indeed it was so perfectly sited that one could be forgiven for thinking it was
purpose built.
Friday 01.07.83 – Coventry, England. A letter dealing with two
matters is hand transferred to Mr. John Butcher M.P. at his constituency
office, and is extended by oral presentation. On the recent extra-territorial
surveillance in Ireland, I inform that some of those involved are known to me.
This was to lend substance to the charge. It was a naive and imprudent
declaration.
In that innocent admission I all but confirmed an awareness of British and
United States intelligence activities in west Cork. An educated extension of
that claim would translate to a knowledge of U.S. and U.K. concern for and
interest in the Mount Gabriel radar facility. It was understanding they would
be highly protective of. See sheet B1.
Saturday 16.07.83 – I fly from London to New Zealand going via Los
Angeles, which, it is added, was not my intended choice of route, but one I was
talked into taking. The curious thing was being flown into Los Angeles nearly a
day and a half ahead of my ongoing flight and receiving an invitation to spend
the night on the town (without passport) or have an armed escort at the
airport. I chose the second option. But this was not put into effect. Instead I
was sent on my way, a mandatory departure by another carrier, to New Zealand. See sheets A3, A4, A5.
Tuesday 06.09.83 – Miss Evelyn Glenholmes is arrested in Belfast
under the Prevention of Terrorism Act and is taken to Castlereagh barracks. On
Friday 9 September she is fingerprinted.
Monday 12.09.83 – Miss Glenholmes is charged with being a member
of an illegal organisation, Cumann na mBan (women’s section of IRA), is
fingerprinted and photographed.
Monday 12.09.83 – The date on a covering letter from John Butcher
M.P., sent to me with Home Office letter dated 8 September 1983. The latter had
the imprint of Douglas Hurd M.P., then Minister of State. This was in reply to my
first of July representations to John Butcher M.P., reference west Cork
surveillance, etc. Mr. Hurd informed: "The police found no evidence that
Mr. Kelly was involved in terrorism." (A reply to a non question). The
letter was forwarded to New Zealand and picked up at Mount Eden youth hostel,
Auckland on Sunday 2 October 1983. Two weeks after receipt, there was an
intelligence agency attempt to kill me in Abel Tasman National Park. See sheets B2, B3, B4.
The introduction of Miss Glenholmes at this juncture
is to make the point of collusion between the Home Office and one of its
component parts, the Security Service – MI5, and Mr. Butcher M.P., in
gross violation of the rights of a citizen. Miss Evelyn Glenholmes is the woman
with whom I shared a crossing of the Irish Sea on Monday 28 February 1977. The
arrest of Evelyn Glenholmes would appear to be for the purpose of taking her
fingerprints in order to create a nexus with the Pangbourne arms-explosive
cache. Apparently the hoard was under official control from April 1983, or
earlier, but for operational intelligence reasons was not
publicly disclosed. It was subsequently alleged that prints from Glenholmes
were found on items in the hoard.
(Further research would determine that the Pangbourne cache was under official
control from at least December 1980. There are horrendous implications to this
claim. More on that at a future moment.)
The arrest and fingerprinting of Miss Glenholmes to create a connection with
the Pangbourne munitions hoard would be convenient. In some minds it would
serve as another proof that I enjoyed high level status in the IRA. It was a
conclusion borne of a mistaken reading of events.
Mr. Butcher's missive of 12 September 1983 was, I aver, back dated. As a
secretary would have no reason to take such an initiative, one asks why Mr.
Butcher resorted to this simple but significant act of deceit? The inescapable
conclusion is that by the time the letter was typed, not as it is dated,
rationalised and firmer notions of my terrorist connections and potential had
been concluded. Back dating the letter was a means to achieve a separation from
the activities leading to that understanding.
The letter is dated (Monday) 12 September 1983. It was posted (Friday) 16
September at 8.15pm. Mr. Butcher’s secretaries had an excellent record of
posting letters on the same day as written or, at the most, one day later. The
single exception to the rule is this item.
(For more on Miss Glenholmes see page one of this document and questions 16 and 17 of polygraph examination – connection by hyperlink at end of State Murder 1 presentation.)
Thursday 15.09.83 – I hitch-hike from Kerikeri (north North Island, New Zealand) to
Auckland, getting a lift for almost the entire extent of a very long journey,
enjoying for hours the company and conversation of an obviously brave and
decent man. One wonders what report he lodged on me? That evening I had a brief
exchange with an official New Zealander. Soon afterwards he was observed
making a lengthy reverse charge telephone call. One reasons it was to his base
in Wellington.
Friday 16.09.83 – A young English woman arrives at Mount Eden
youth hostel in Auckland, where I was staying, after a long coach trip from
Wellington, beginning late the previous night. She soon befriends me. Over the
next couple of days she sounds me out in that inimitable double-talk that is
the hallmark of intelligence operatives when they are fishing. Miss
"M" attempted to tease out, among other things, if I had northern
Irish friends, generally, but specifically girl friends. (No). A few days on,
at Kerikeri, a U.S. based Israeli solicits my attention. He teased on what
military training I had. A search for Middle East connections? None.
There were other happenings at that time, which, if the reason was not
apparent, the reality was. I had gone from hot to scorching. A great danger was
growing about me.
Friday 14.10.83 – Bark Bay, Abel Tasman National Park, South
Island, New Zealand. In the Park I meet up with Gary who claimed he lived in
Alaska, though was not local to the state. He appeared to be interested in the
Clear area of Alaska. Somehow I thought it was a placename in Greenland,
confusing it with a sister location there called Thule. A cross relationship
exists between the two locations, each being a major base in the U.S.
military-intelligence global early warning network. Gary said he was in the
hills on a "fishing" trip, but had no fishing rods. He claimed
to have a "handline". What he did have was a secret service
two-way radio which he tucked away in his bed. He seemingly used the outdoor
lavatory facility when communicating. There was animus about when we parted
company.
Sunday 16.10.83 – The day I was to see no more days. For six days
my companion in Abel Tasman National Park was an American woman named Cheryl
Bonney. Cheryl and I always remained in close contact during the hike. On this,
the final day, we were walking along a narrow cliff path when I broke away,
easing ahead before putting in a short spurt of walking to extend the
separation to about 70 metres. On rounding a blind section of a bend along the
winding track I passed a slim and attractive woman in say mid-late twenties,
and almost immediately behind her a man of exceedingly powerful build. A great
ugly brute in black clothes. About fifteen metres beyond them I stopped and
turned. The other pair had halted at the point of the bend. They were awaiting
Miss Bonney, who, though approaching them, was still unseen to me. Cheryl came
into view, spoke to the woman for a brief few seconds – they were
evidently known to each other – before going to the statue-like figure of
an indigenous Alaskan beyond. She had hardly spoken to him when he about turned
and faced me. His movement was a slow clockwork rigidity. Have you ever seen a
heavyweight strongman prime himself for a big lift? Back straight, shoulders
rise and square, chest expands, the stance solid, arms fixed and tense, almost
akimbo. His unblinking eyes lodge onto mine. It was a mutual exchange. Before
he could move Cheryl quickly wheeled in front of him, her back now to me.
Behind the big brute his sensitive and squeamish companion began physical
contortions, her face distorted into a mask of fear, arms reaching out as if to
stave off an invisible approach. It was a writhing and retreating from a
tortured expectation of what she was about to see. The sight was unreal. A
veritable and macabre, if involuntary, dance of death.
The fifteen paces between us was a gap too far. With a good working brain the
brute would have been much more dangerous. He was game. He took orders. Miss
Bonney gave them. The talking was entirely one way. It lasted, one estimates,
longer than one minute. While listening the Alaskan was unmoving, his aggressive
countenance continuing my way. At the end of what was said, Miss Bonney turned
about and walked to me. Her asiatic subordinate remained momentarily pinned to
the spot. Glaring, he slowly rounded to move off with his by then composed
companion. Cheryl and I walked away as one.
This man was no figment of a writer's imagination. He was the real thing: an Odd-Job
man. His function was to kill with his bare hands. The end result would would
have been dressed up to appear as an accident. The eventual discovery
most likely being made at the cliff bottom.
Before the day was over I better understood what was given to me at an earlier
juncture – given, I add, by an American operative. To quote: "In
America the Pentagon arranges for those who disagree with them to have
accidents."
That night I sought out a retired United States Air Force Lt. Colonel who lived
in Nelson. He was told things were getting out of hand, that a United States
intelligence agency thought me to be associated with the blowing up of two radar
domes in Ireland. He could not help.
In Nelson during afternoon and evening of Sunday 16
October 1983, and again the following morning, Cheryl and I talked. It was an
exchange as much in feeling as in words. The context and balance is very
difficult to communicate, but not the feeling. That was wholesome, warm and
gentle. Our respective positions were related to. Cheryl was made aware of my
understanding of the preceding days activities and intentions. On my mentioning
that the name of the organisation involved was the CIA – a specific
reference to her colleague Gary – she
displayed acute difficulty in responding, using her hands in gesture of
discomfiture and embarrassment to have me desist in the use of those three
letters. She was told I was not a terrorist or member of the IRA, and never had
been.
Arout midday Monday 17 October 1983 I saw Cheryl for the last time. She was
with a colleague, also a non staffer, and aspiring boyfriend, a Canadian named
Len, who was also party to events in Abel Tasman National Park. Len had by then
been brought up to date. He was sitting in a restaurant in Nelson, his hand
covering and resting his side face, the head turned away and deflected
downwards. It was a picture of shame. A matter of conscience or a shame of
being caught out, I know not.
When in the wilderness park Miss Bonney
sought by deft and subtle enquiry to tease out what was needed to make
assessment of me. One tease touched on Colorado, not the first, another on,
shades of Stephanie Acquisto a year previous, satellites.
The intention to which Miss Bonney was party was diabolical. That said, I am
thankful if anybody had to undertake the task it was her.
Monday 17.10.83 – Wellington, New Zealand. Night. A report is made to the central
police station on an intelligence agency attempt to kill me in Abel Tasman
National Park. The following morning the report was once more registered at the
central police station. It was also reported to the Deputy High Commissioner at
the British High Commission. And too, by telephone from the lobby of the Beehive
(national parliament building) to an M.P., a junior member of the government.
Thursday 20.10.83 – I fly Air New Zealand from Auckland to Sydney,
Australia.
Sunday 23.10.83 – I exit Melbourne, Australia by air. From arrival
at Melbourne airport to departure from Sydney, the first touchdown, say up to
five hours elapsed. As we flew over central-north Australia a voice from the cockpit
announced we would shortly be over a radar complex. Some minutes later, on
approaching a rear toilet, a man took my arm. "Look, look", he said,
"we are over them now", and proceeded to draw me to the window. I saw
only red sandstone desert. The man was Irish. A World War II member of the
Garda Siochana (Police) in Tipperary, who subsequently joined the London
Metropolitan Police before emigrating to Australia. A remarkable chap, he knew
of a poem I wrote and a book in my library. The only person to read the poem,
which recalled a military funeral in rural Australia at the time of the Vietnam
conflict, was the Australian woman who was a guest at my west Cork house the
night the Mount Gabriel radar domes were bombed.
That air journey was also memorable for other reasons. After Sydney my
allocated fare was to be diabetic meals. I am not diabetic. It is a singular
meal. A sort of self isolating meal? Difficult to believe?
The diabetic meal, not instructed by me, was cancelled and ordinary fare
substituted. Post Singapore and before Heathrow, London, twice prior to meals
the seats immediate to my own were vacated. On each occasion there was an
insistence that I should remain in position. The most compelling force, and I
do mean force, to the grant of understanding as to what was intended came after
Singapore and was alive to about two hours before arrival at Heathrow. I allude
to a spiritual dimension of understanding. See sheet
A6.
Monday 24.10.83 – Hours after arrival at Heathrow Airport I visit
the Home Office building at Queen Anne’s Gate, and ask to speak to Mr.
Douglas Hurd M.P., Minister of State, author of the letter which reached me in
New Zealand a few weeks earlier. Speaking by telephone from the ground floor I
inform one of his staff there was an intelligence agency attempt to kill me
while abroad. The man said it would be brought to Mr. Hurd’s attention
when he came in. I suggested a salty addendum to the report.
Wednesday 26.10.83 – Post event research and indications point to
my calling near midday on my then Coventry solicitor, Mr. A.V.N. (Tony)
Richards of Richards Heynes and Coopers, 101/103 New Union Street, to report an
intelligence agency attempt to kill me while abroad. Mr. Richards advised I take
up the matter with Mr. Butcher M.P. and if he in time was unable to help I
should return to him.
Friday 28.10.83 – Newspaper report: "Explosives find linked
to the I.R.A." The cache was described as "massive" and said to
be “chance” discovered near Pangbourne in Berkshire. "On
Wednesday night members of the anti-terrorist squad lay hidden watching the
spot." In time it was claimed that prints from Evelyn Glenholmes were
found in the hoard. The initial use and maybe laying down of the cache is
attributed to the December 1980/January 1981 London bombing team – the
same team, or part of, with whom I coincidently travelled on the train journey
to Pembroke, Wales, and by ferry to Cork, Ireland, on the night of
Thursday/Friday 8/9 January 1981.
Friday 28.10.83 – I make a pre-declared visit to the constituency
office of John Butcher M.P. and report an intelligence agency attempt to murder
me while abroad. Mr. Butcher asks: "Have you told your sister?". A
reference to a locally based sister with whom I was staying.
A resolve to this issue was pushed with Mr. Butcher for five months. I then
withdrew the charge. The terrorists who hide behind the privileges of the
British state may have assumed the withdrawal was a by-product of fear, a fear
brought about by veiled threats. The threats did not cease. Some would transfer
through me to other members of my family. If they saw the gesture of withdrawal
as an opportunity to cement a silence through intimidation, it was a gravely
mistaken and counterproductive view. A decision was made to renew the quest for
justice.
The following is an outline of happenings.
From the time of registering the intelligence agency
attempt to murder charge with Mr. John Butcher M.P. (28.10.83) to the time of
withdrawal (16.03.84), four personal visits were made to Mr. Butcher and three
letters written, two of which were hand delivered. No acknowledgement of any
visit was received. No acknowledgement of any letter was received. No reply or
concluding item of correspondence was derived from any of these efforts.
After a long travail it was found: 1) My three letters were
"mislaid"; 2) My charge on an intelligence agency attempt to murder
was registered as a complaint on surveillance; 3) A letter replying to that
false charge (complaint on surveillance) is extant at the Home Office. Mr.
Butcher’s file copy, forwarded to me for the first time in January 1985,
bears no date but carries the name of D. Hurd M.P. Another put-up letter, also
from the Home Office, dates it 23 November 1983.
That is indeed remarkable. On Tuesday 6 December 1983, consequent of a
telephone call to Mr. Butcher's House of Commons office, I was told by one of
Mr. Butcher's secretaries that the matter was receiving the attention of the
Home Secretary – “Leon Brittan himself". To make the point, a
sealed envelope arrived at my Coventry address the following day, Wednesday
07.12.83, containing a card from the office of the Home Secretary to Mr.
Butcher M.P. It bore the reference number PO 021575. With it was a compliment
slip from John Butcher M.P., with the following typed assurance: "I very
much hope that a reply will be forthcoming shortly." The latter was
without a date.
In common parlance that says the Home Office and Mr. John Butcher M.P. colluded
to place a lie on record. From the outset a decision was made to effect a
cover-up. They placed a lie on file. They then went further by responding to
that lie with another. I refer to letter of 23.11.83 bearing the name of
Douglas Hurd M.P.
That letter is exceptional for several reasons. Not only is it a lie in
response to a lie, it was not – perfectly understandably – sent to
me when written. I knew nothing of it until fourteen months later. It was from
the Minister of State at the Home Office, Mr. D. Hurd. Mr. John Butcher's
secretary (re. my telephone call of Tuesday 06.12.83) and the Home Office
acknowledgement card received the following day, confirms – as was the
intention – that the matter was with the Home Secretary –
“Leon Brittan himself". Was Mr. Brittan reluctant to write because
he was too devious to put his name to so blatant a lie? To accept the veracity
of the John Butcher/D. Hurd/Home Office formula is to accept I took to a
precipitate flight of 14,000 miles to lodge a complaint on surveillance. Would
you do it? I didn't.
The suggestion that I did is too absurd for words.
Mr. Butcher's dishonesty was not confined to the December 1983 response to my
telephone call. At a meeting in January 1984 he was driven to ask if I would be
satisfied with the knowledge that my charge, I fondly believed on an
intelligence agency attempt to murder, was on record "and will remain
there for history ". That was not the final nugget of deception to come
from Mr. Butcher M.P. More would follow.
In just about every instance prior to and after the above five month slot
(28.10.83-16.03.84), Mr. Butcher was fastidious in acknowledging all personal
visits and letters, and, where appropriate, forwarding a concluding item of
correspondence. See sheets B5, B6, B7, B8.
Please understand what was said and done by me was in
truth said and done. What I claim happened did happen.
Those unfamiliar with the cynical manipulative proclivities of intelligence
agencies may accept sceptically that events relating to Miss Evelyn Glenholmes
– the raising of extradition warrants, for example – was other than
it appeared to be.
One does not need to be a sage to suggest what we do not know about
something is usually worth a lot more than that which we do know. And what we
know is often what we have been given. Sometimes by liars.
I have known about the stage managed connection with the extradition warrants
raised for the arrest of Evelyn Glenholmes since December 1984. I did not know
the detail. That was not necessary. The benefit of the following research, the
logic and analysis, is for the reader.
