By Robert Eringer, The Santa Barbara Investigator
With April Fool’s Day looming, let us examine a recent fooling of royal proportions.
The mark? Prince Albert II of Monaco.
The ruse? A woman fooled him into believing she was the daughter of former Soviet leader Mikhail Gorbachev.
Kathryn Aikterini, who is actually Greek, not Russian, and who speaks not a word of Russian, possessed all the credentials necessary for suckering the Monegasque Monarch, who turned 51 earlier this month: blonde hair, blue eyes, and 24 years young.
She weaseled her way into a princely meeting at the Royal Palace and convinced him to patronize, as honorary chairman, a local branch of an environmental charity—Green Cross International—that she claimed to represent.
Apparently, no one at the Palace checked her credentials—not even the Prince, beyond her physical attributes.
Only much later, after Aikterini’s admission to a psychiatric hospital for depression, was her true identity discovered.
At the time—around last April Fool’s Day—the (UK) Daily Mail reported that “police in Monaco believe Aikterini was the front person for the mafia who wanted to get a toehold into the Royal Family and the elite of Monaco for criminal purposes.”
Which suggests that Monaco’s constabulary doesn’t need to be fooled by anyone; it is content fooling itself, while robberies and burglaries continue to proliferate under police chief Andre Muleberger. (Word is, his tenure will not be renewed.)
Russian intelligence services and the Russian Mafia—often one in the same these days—are much too clever to use a psychologically troubled woman to gain the Prince’s confidence.
Moreover, the Russians have no need for a “toehold” because they already have at least one whole foot, probably a whole leg, in the door—if generally misunderstood by the Prince and Chief Muleberger, either by design or ignorance.
The new Russian presence in Monaco began with Prince Albert’s trek to the Russian side of the North Pole three years ago, when Russia agreed to assist his party’s luxury expedition with logistical support and a landing base, Camp Arctichesky. This evolved into a state dinner at the Kremlin hosted by Vladimir Putin to climax the excursion—and a burgeoning relationship between the Prince’s senior aide-de-camp and General Vladimir Pronichev, Commander of the Federal Border Guards.
Shortly after the Prince and his gang returned home, the Russians offered to construct a dacha (second home) from scratch on the grounds of Roc Agel, Prince Albert’s private estate in the French Alps behind Monaco.
Their offer was accepted—and a team of Russian builders soon arrived to bang the split-level cottage into place, with nary a word in Monaco’s news media.
The Prince did not seem to realize that taking a personal gift of such high value was an act of corruption. Nor did he seem to be aware, or care, that his new dacha would undoubtedly be bugged to the hilt with concealed microphones. (Old habits die hard with the KGB’s successor services.)
The senior aide-de-camp, whose alleged under-the-table commissions until then had been confined to local activities, presumably hit pay dirt with Russians, who are intent on laundering money through Monaco banks and real estate--and gaining residency as a safe haven from dirty deeds and prosecution by the Russian judicial system.
For no sooner had the Prince returned to his Principality from the North Pole and the Kremlin, his aide-de-camp choreographed him to board a yacht berthed in Monaco’s port for introduction to Chalva “Chig” Tchirinsky, a Georgian oligarch of dubious character associated with one of the Red Mafia’s biggest names, Simeon Mogilevich. Chig wanted to dabble in Monaco real estate.
The Prince’s aide-de-camp had much earlier welcomed Gocha Arivadze, a Georgian from Moscow, into his close circle of the Prince’s personal friends, which he co-opted as his own, including two Americans, Michael McNamara and Bob Munsch.
Thus Arivadze, ex-operator of “ARSI” gas stations in Russia, successfully penetrated the Prince’s social orbit—perhaps with some “generosity” toward the senior aide-de-camp (who coordinates Prince Albert’s schedule) for access, and perhaps on behalf of Russian intelligence. Indeed, on the evening of January 12th, 2007 Mr. Arivadze hosted a dinner meeting of Russian intelligence and senior energy executives at the old Machiavelli estate--Villa Mangiacane--in San Casciano, near Florence, Italy. He purported to represent Prince Albert and claimed the Prince placed in his possession a brand-new Rolls-Royce with Monaco tags (T245) parked outside.
Little wonder Arivadze received a medal from President Putin in the Kremlin—a presentation witnessed by the Prince’s aide-de-camp and buddies McNamara and Munsch, who were hanging off the Prince’s coattails to hatch their own business deals in Moscow.
All this, while Monaco’s derelict police, under Muleberger, fretted about a possible “toehold.”
As early as 2000, the Russian SVR determined that glamorous Monaco was strategically important to them as a base for running covert intelligence and financial operations that span the globe.
“The SVR has been studying ways and means to influence and control Prince Albert,” states an intelligence report in our possession. “The SVR will not attempt to recruit Prince Albert in the classic sense of that word, but it does intend to use its considerable resources to establish what it envisages as a ‘special, intimate’ relationship with him.”
To this end, the SVR prepared a psychological profile of Prince Albert, who had not yet ascended the throne. (He did so after his father, Prince Rainier, died in April 2005.)
“He is a fragile personality suffering from multiple inferiority complexes and is quite vulnerable,” states the profile, a copy of which we possess. “He is extremely self-centered with a distinct lack of loyalty to others. His personal desires and interests always come first.”
The SVR concluded that Prince Albert was an excellent candidate for operational development and recommended the use of several named persons as a way of gaining access to him, including a senior Monegasque politician who had compromised himself in illegal business transactions with two wealthy Russians.
But in the end, the SVR did not need to play those cards. The advent of Gocha Arivadze, the North Pole trek, and the Prince’s own aide-de-camp sealed the deal beyond their wildest expectations.
Now, oligarchs like Sergei Pugachev, who reportedly launders money for Putin along the Cote d’Azur, feel delightfully secure within the principality’s borders. It matters not that Mr. Pugachev’s Monaco police file includes numerous notations citing links to the Russian Mafia. Pugachev even bought a Monte Carlo restaurant & bar for his two sons (Viktor and Alexander)--their own little Moscow-by-the-Med.
And the aide-de-camp? Promoted to Palace Charge d’Affaires.
So it wasn’t just an emotionally unstable Greek woman who fooled Monaco’s Prince Albert. Many of his closest friends and subordinates, but most especially Russian intelligence, play him year round.
ROBERT ERINGER is currently completing a book about his five-and-a-half years as spymaster to Prince Albert II of Monaco.
The Santa Barbara Investigator may be reached at:
http://sbinvestigator.blogspot.com/
Showing posts with label robert eringer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label robert eringer. Show all posts
28 March, 2009
21 March, 2009
The Sixth Man?
By Robert Eringer, The Santa Barbara Investigator
British spies Guy Burgess and Donald MacLean were numbers one and two. Kim Philby was The Third Man. Gay blade Sir Anthony Blunt, Surveyor of the Queen’s Pictures, was fourth, and John Cairncross, fifth.
The question nagging espionage buffs for decades is this: Was there a sixth major British spy for the Soviet KGB, and if so, whom?
Some have pointed to Harold Wilson, who abruptly and mysteriously resigned as prime minister in 1976. The Soviets liked Wilson—and cleared the way for him to become prime minister by poisoning Hugh Gaitskell, the erudite Labour leader, who had stood between Wilson and 10 Downing Street. Gaitskell was pro-Europe and tied to the power-elite, a concept the Soviets pegged with one word: Capital.
Mr. Gaitskell had been planning an official visit to the Soviet Union, which required a visit to the Soviet Consulate in London for collecting a visa. The Labour leader gave advance notice so they would be ready and not keep him waiting long.
Boy, were they ready!
The KGB kept Gaitskell waiting just long enough to serve him tea and biscuits laced with Lupus Disseminata—a fatal toxin unknown to Britain.
Gaitskell knew he’d been hit, but had little time to react, as this toxin quickly attacks the organs. He became seriously ill, never went to the Soviet Union, and promptly died—without the commotion of the more recent state-sponsored poisoning of Alexandre Litvinenko, also in London, also death-by-tea. Harold Wilson took Gaitskell’s place as party leader and, soon after, was elected prime minister.
Britain’s Security Service (MI5) knew what had happened. It was for this reason they scrutinized Wilson’s behavior, bugging his phones and intercepting his mail. When the prime minister became aware of the extent to which MI5 kept him in their sights, he went ballistic, and considered making an issue of it in Parliament. But he was convinced to back off--or risk reading in the Sunday tabloids about a steamy affair he was conducting with Marcia Falkender, his long-time secretary, including snippets of pillow talk at Ms. Falkender’s cozy cottage in Buckinghamshire.
But Wilson was not a Soviet spy.
The Sixth Man was quite likely “the Battenberg Buggerer”: Louis Mountbatten, 1st Earl Mountbatten of Burma—best known, affectionately, as “Dickie” to his friends—according to a source within the intelligence community.
Lord Mountbatten, a member of the Royal Family, was homosexual, with a passion for young guardsmen. While his wife, Edwina, enjoyed multiple affairs (including one with Jawaharlal Nehru, India’s first prime minister), Dickie ran rampant through the Queen’s barracks.
The Earl’s proclivity was not lost on the KGB’s First Directorate (external intelligence) whose job it was to identify and recruit spies.
Homosexuality, in those days, qualified as criteria for targeting an individual for recruitment through blackmail. And that’s precisely what the KGB did to Lord Mountbatten, whose resentment against the British Establishment went way back to his adolescence when, in 1917, the British Government made Louis and his family change their German last name, after forcing Louis’s father to resign as First Sea Lord because he was a natural born German and Britain was at war with Germany.
The British Royal Family is German. Its real name is not Windsor, but Gothe-Saxe-Coburg. During World War I, the British Cabinet felt it unseemly that a family with a German name should rule Britannia while tens of thousands of British lads in the trenches were being mustard-gassed by Kaiser Wilhelm’s army. So it compelled the royals to adopt the name Windsor—chosen only because it sounded so quintessentially English.
At the stroke of a pen, Louis Battenberg became Louis Mountbatten.
Dickie never forgave the Establishment.
Back to the KGB, which had more than just Dickie’s homosexuality in their files. They also had this on Lord Mountbatten’s favorite cousin, the Duke of Windsor, formerly King Edward VIII: The dethroned ex-king had secretly collaborated with Adolph Hitler during World War II.
Even before the war, Edward was partial to Germany, and liked to point out that 100 percent Teutonic blood pumped through his veins. Upon becoming king, Edward shared state secrets from his Dispatch Boxes with the German leadership.
British Intelligence chief Robert Vannistat, whose officers kept a watchful eye on the King, reported this to a horrified Stanley Baldwin, the prime minister. Something had to be done.
PM Baldwin and Mr. Vannistat plotted to part King Edward VIII from his throne. Their gambit?
Catapulting the King’s relationship with Wallis Simpson, an American divorcee, into a national calamity. The intelligence services whipped the media into a feeding frenzy, pushing the King into a corner until the pressure was so unbearable he abdicated “for the woman I love.” Edward VIII’s terribly unprepared brother replaced him.
Re-titled Duke of Windsor, the ex-king went into “temporary” exile on the continent. He soon realized he’d been duped and that he would never be allowed to return to Britain. This deeply embittered him.
The Nazis followed these events with deep interest. They tracked Edward to Madrid, followed him to Lisbon, and cut the Duke a deal: Work secretly for us. Once we occupy Britain, you’ll be king again—and Wallis will be queen.
Wallis badgered her husband into accepting the deal.
Now back to Louis Mountbatten. The KGB threatened to expose his homosexuality--and the Duke of Windsor’s treachery--unless the Earl of Burma played ball.
Dickie was never a fan of the United States--which he despised as “classless”-- or its post-World War II “special relationship” with Britain. So it wasn’t particularly difficult for him to avoid scandal and agree to spy for the Soviet Union.
When sleaze-ball Anthony Blunt confessed his role as a Soviet spy to MI5 interrogators in 1964, he gave up Mountbatten.
Defying protocol, the Queen was informed personally by the Director-General of MI5 to keep the government of the day—especially its suspect prime minister, Harold Wilson—out of the loop. This was an extraordinary arrangement, and out of it was hatched an even more extraordinary deal: Louis Mountbatten would remain free, unaware that he had been compromised; the Queen would assist MI5 supplying cousin Dickie with disinformation for Soviet consumption.
One faction of Britain’s security service was livid. They wanted to see Lord Mountbatten punished for his betrayal. However, the arrest, trial and imprisonment of one of Britain’s most prominent royals was out of the question because of the irreparable harm it would do Britain’s monarchy.
This faction, more powerful a decade-and-a-half later, finally had their chance.
The plan was brilliant in its simplicity: Sit back and watch Irish Republican Army (IRA) terrorists blow Louis Mountbatten to kingdom come. They had earlier learned through their informant inside the IRA’s War Council of the plan to assassinate Lord Mountbatten while he vacationed aboard his yacht in Ireland. All they had to do was nothing.
And in return: Public and political outrage ensured MI5 a grander budget than ever before to fight the IRA.
The Santa Barbara Investigator
http://sbinvestigator.blogspot.com/
British spies Guy Burgess and Donald MacLean were numbers one and two. Kim Philby was The Third Man. Gay blade Sir Anthony Blunt, Surveyor of the Queen’s Pictures, was fourth, and John Cairncross, fifth.
The question nagging espionage buffs for decades is this: Was there a sixth major British spy for the Soviet KGB, and if so, whom?
Some have pointed to Harold Wilson, who abruptly and mysteriously resigned as prime minister in 1976. The Soviets liked Wilson—and cleared the way for him to become prime minister by poisoning Hugh Gaitskell, the erudite Labour leader, who had stood between Wilson and 10 Downing Street. Gaitskell was pro-Europe and tied to the power-elite, a concept the Soviets pegged with one word: Capital.
Mr. Gaitskell had been planning an official visit to the Soviet Union, which required a visit to the Soviet Consulate in London for collecting a visa. The Labour leader gave advance notice so they would be ready and not keep him waiting long.
Boy, were they ready!
The KGB kept Gaitskell waiting just long enough to serve him tea and biscuits laced with Lupus Disseminata—a fatal toxin unknown to Britain.
Gaitskell knew he’d been hit, but had little time to react, as this toxin quickly attacks the organs. He became seriously ill, never went to the Soviet Union, and promptly died—without the commotion of the more recent state-sponsored poisoning of Alexandre Litvinenko, also in London, also death-by-tea. Harold Wilson took Gaitskell’s place as party leader and, soon after, was elected prime minister.
Britain’s Security Service (MI5) knew what had happened. It was for this reason they scrutinized Wilson’s behavior, bugging his phones and intercepting his mail. When the prime minister became aware of the extent to which MI5 kept him in their sights, he went ballistic, and considered making an issue of it in Parliament. But he was convinced to back off--or risk reading in the Sunday tabloids about a steamy affair he was conducting with Marcia Falkender, his long-time secretary, including snippets of pillow talk at Ms. Falkender’s cozy cottage in Buckinghamshire.
But Wilson was not a Soviet spy.
The Sixth Man was quite likely “the Battenberg Buggerer”: Louis Mountbatten, 1st Earl Mountbatten of Burma—best known, affectionately, as “Dickie” to his friends—according to a source within the intelligence community.
Lord Mountbatten, a member of the Royal Family, was homosexual, with a passion for young guardsmen. While his wife, Edwina, enjoyed multiple affairs (including one with Jawaharlal Nehru, India’s first prime minister), Dickie ran rampant through the Queen’s barracks.
The Earl’s proclivity was not lost on the KGB’s First Directorate (external intelligence) whose job it was to identify and recruit spies.
Homosexuality, in those days, qualified as criteria for targeting an individual for recruitment through blackmail. And that’s precisely what the KGB did to Lord Mountbatten, whose resentment against the British Establishment went way back to his adolescence when, in 1917, the British Government made Louis and his family change their German last name, after forcing Louis’s father to resign as First Sea Lord because he was a natural born German and Britain was at war with Germany.
The British Royal Family is German. Its real name is not Windsor, but Gothe-Saxe-Coburg. During World War I, the British Cabinet felt it unseemly that a family with a German name should rule Britannia while tens of thousands of British lads in the trenches were being mustard-gassed by Kaiser Wilhelm’s army. So it compelled the royals to adopt the name Windsor—chosen only because it sounded so quintessentially English.
At the stroke of a pen, Louis Battenberg became Louis Mountbatten.
Dickie never forgave the Establishment.
Back to the KGB, which had more than just Dickie’s homosexuality in their files. They also had this on Lord Mountbatten’s favorite cousin, the Duke of Windsor, formerly King Edward VIII: The dethroned ex-king had secretly collaborated with Adolph Hitler during World War II.
Even before the war, Edward was partial to Germany, and liked to point out that 100 percent Teutonic blood pumped through his veins. Upon becoming king, Edward shared state secrets from his Dispatch Boxes with the German leadership.
British Intelligence chief Robert Vannistat, whose officers kept a watchful eye on the King, reported this to a horrified Stanley Baldwin, the prime minister. Something had to be done.
PM Baldwin and Mr. Vannistat plotted to part King Edward VIII from his throne. Their gambit?
Catapulting the King’s relationship with Wallis Simpson, an American divorcee, into a national calamity. The intelligence services whipped the media into a feeding frenzy, pushing the King into a corner until the pressure was so unbearable he abdicated “for the woman I love.” Edward VIII’s terribly unprepared brother replaced him.
Re-titled Duke of Windsor, the ex-king went into “temporary” exile on the continent. He soon realized he’d been duped and that he would never be allowed to return to Britain. This deeply embittered him.
The Nazis followed these events with deep interest. They tracked Edward to Madrid, followed him to Lisbon, and cut the Duke a deal: Work secretly for us. Once we occupy Britain, you’ll be king again—and Wallis will be queen.
Wallis badgered her husband into accepting the deal.
Now back to Louis Mountbatten. The KGB threatened to expose his homosexuality--and the Duke of Windsor’s treachery--unless the Earl of Burma played ball.
Dickie was never a fan of the United States--which he despised as “classless”-- or its post-World War II “special relationship” with Britain. So it wasn’t particularly difficult for him to avoid scandal and agree to spy for the Soviet Union.
When sleaze-ball Anthony Blunt confessed his role as a Soviet spy to MI5 interrogators in 1964, he gave up Mountbatten.
Defying protocol, the Queen was informed personally by the Director-General of MI5 to keep the government of the day—especially its suspect prime minister, Harold Wilson—out of the loop. This was an extraordinary arrangement, and out of it was hatched an even more extraordinary deal: Louis Mountbatten would remain free, unaware that he had been compromised; the Queen would assist MI5 supplying cousin Dickie with disinformation for Soviet consumption.
One faction of Britain’s security service was livid. They wanted to see Lord Mountbatten punished for his betrayal. However, the arrest, trial and imprisonment of one of Britain’s most prominent royals was out of the question because of the irreparable harm it would do Britain’s monarchy.
This faction, more powerful a decade-and-a-half later, finally had their chance.
The plan was brilliant in its simplicity: Sit back and watch Irish Republican Army (IRA) terrorists blow Louis Mountbatten to kingdom come. They had earlier learned through their informant inside the IRA’s War Council of the plan to assassinate Lord Mountbatten while he vacationed aboard his yacht in Ireland. All they had to do was nothing.
And in return: Public and political outrage ensured MI5 a grander budget than ever before to fight the IRA.
The Santa Barbara Investigator
http://sbinvestigator.blogspot.com/
24 February, 2009
Obama's Trilateral Connection
By Robert Eringer
February 21, 2009 12:00 AM
With spring nearly upon us, the Trilateral Commission will soon blossom into its annual conference -- scheduled for Tokyo, the weekend of April 24-26. This networking elite of politicians, bankers, industrialists and intellectuals from North America, Europe, Japan, and South Korea strives to shape foreign and economic policies of nations from behind the scenes. Who are these Commissioners -- and who commissioned them?
The notion of a tri-sphere concept, combining movers and shakers from three geographic regions, was first broached at a Bilderberg conference.
So what is Bilderberg -- and from where does it derive its authority?
It is an elite group of self-appointed global manipulators -- from North America and Europe -- who have met privately since 1954 to quietly influence governments.
Bilderberger banking bigwig David Rockefeller tapped Zbigniew Brzezinski to attend the April 1972 Bilderberg meeting in Knokke, Belgium, having taken a fancy to "Tripartite Studies" produced by the then-obscure Colombia University professor.
Appearing before Bilderbergers, Dr. Brzezinski made a pitch for inviting the Japanese into their secretive coterie on the basis that Japan had morphed into an economic powerhouse entitling it to play with the big boys. (South Korea joined that "sphere" much later.)
But the burghers of Bilderberg declined to integrate the Japanese into their own forum, a bilateral success for 22 years (by then) that had succeeded in fashioning a new order in Europe -- the Common Market and European unity. Instead, attendees sanctioned a new league and, thus, the Trilateral Commission was born.
Mr. Rockefeller and Zbiggy launched themselves through Europe and Japan on a recruiting drive.
Their "planning group" convened on July 23rd and 24th at Pocantico Hills, a Rockefeller estate overlooking the Hudson River. Mr. Rockefeller underwrote the expense from his own (deep) pocket, having discovered, decades earlier, that investing in high-level networking paid huge dividends.
With approval from "the highest political and financial circles" (an internal Commission memo), the trio selected chairmen and directors to represent each sphere of the tri.
The Commission quickly became a springboard for the presidency of Jimmy Carter. Mr. Carter, as governor of Georgia, had caught Mr. Rockefeller's eye as a potential president and, consequently, Zbiggy and Mr. Rockefeller lunched Jimmy in October 1972 at the Connaught Hotel in London, where they signed him on the spot to be a Commissioner. Jimmy also became David and Zbiggy's presidential candidate -- and the Commission bestowed him the power elite support (influence and money) he needed to "arise from nowhere."
The Trilateral Commission was not nowhere -- just nowhere (back then) to be found in the newspapers.
So Jimmy the peanut farmer got elected president in 1976, and Zbig became his national security adviser, the job he had coveted from the outset. Other Commissioners in the Carter Administration included Vice President Walter Mondale, Secretary of State Cyrus Vance, Defense Secretary Harold Brown and Treasury Secretary Michael Blumenthal -- 18 in all, from 54 original members from the American sphere.
Together, this elitist clique messed things up real good: Soaring inflation, interest rates at 20 percent, and the world chessboard a horrible mess. President Carter's poor judgment caused confusion among our allies, laughter in the Soviet Union, and led, ultimately, to the hostage crisis in Iran.
"It completely justified our belief," a former senior CIA official told The Investigator, "that left to its own devices, the power elite is fully capable of causing another world war, not unlike their predecessors last century."
The CIA descended into decline, having had to endure Stansfield Turner as its director.
Said our CIA source: "Admiral Turner was more concerned about intelligence officers abroad engaging in extra-marital affairs than Iran imploding from within. He apparently mistook our agency for a missionary group."
As if things were not bad enough, Trilateral Commissioners David Rockefeller and Henry Kissinger pushed President Carter into allowing the ailing Shah of Iran into the United States, a political miscalculation that precipitated the storming of the U.S. Embassy in Teheran and the resulting hostage crisis that sealed the fate of Jimmy Carter's one-term presidency.
Mr. Rockefeller quietly bailed from the monster he'd created, putting his money behind another horse from the Commission stable: George Bush, a privileged East-coast preppie who had moved to Texas to prove his manhood in the oil biz.
But Mr. Bush lost to Ronald Reagan -- partly because the former California governor took a few jibes at "Trilateral Commission elitists" during his campaign to woo voters away from Mr. Bush in New Hampshire, where Commission membership had been whipped into a major issue just before its decisive primary.
Having enjoyed 15 minutes of fame during Jimmy Carter's presidency, the Commission then shriveled into just another think-tank opportunity for young men and women wishing entry to an international "Old Boy" network.
But now they're back!
Many of President Obama's picks for premier positions in his administration are Trilateral Commissioners (read: Beltway Establishment insiders). These include:
• Treasury Secretary Timothy Geithner;
• National Security Adviser James Jones;
• Deputy National Security Adviser Thomas Donilon;
• Director of National Intelligence Dennis Blair;
• State Department special envoys Richard Holbrooke. Dennis Ross, and Richard Haas;
• Ambassador to the United Nations Susan Rice;
• Lawrence Summers, Director of the National Economic Council;
• Deputy Secretary of State James Steinberg;
• Assistant Secretary of State Kurt Campbell;
• Paul Volcker, chairman of the Economic Recovery Committee.
(Gee, maybe President Obama will break Jimmy Carter's record?)
Ten days ago Adm. Blair clearly demonstrated how the "Old Boy" network functions: He tapped fellow Commissioner John Deutch to sit upon a spy satellite advisory panel.
Mr. Deutch, you may recall, was CIA director under Bill Clinton. "The worst director in CIA history," a former senior agency official told the The Investigator. You may also remember this: Soon after Mr. Deutch's departure from that job in 1996, he was discovered to have grossly mishandled government secrets. Mr. Deutch, it transpired, had downloaded 74 top secret documents onto four computers used at his home by other family members and connected by modem to the Internet -- on which Mr. Deutch also accessed Russian porn sites through his AOL account.
The Senate Select Committee on Intelligence investigated and produced a report to Congress stating: "Despite this knowledge (the risk of keeping secrets on un-encrypted computers), Deutch processed a large volume of highly classified information on these unclassified computers, taking no steps to restrict access to the information and thereby placing national security information at risk."
A senior CIA official privy to the classified version of the Senate Committee's report put it more bluntly for The Investigator: "Deutch allowed the Russians access to our biggest secrets."
Mr. Deutch was stripped of his security clearances. (They have now been restored.)
Anyone else would have been investigated for espionage. But an Old Boy like Mr. Deutch? Janet Reno's Justice Department worked out a gentle plea bargain. But while Mr. Deutch was in the midst of pleading guilty to a mere misdemeanor, brazen Bill, on the last day of his presidency, pardoned him, thereby vanquishing even a mild slap on the wrist for his fellow Commissioner. (Did we mention William Jefferson Clinton was a member of the Trilateral Commission when elected president in 1992?)
So excuse our suspicions about this so-called "power elite." Not because they're in charge again, but because they don't know what the heck they're doing. Conspiracy theorists yearn to believe these uber networkers rule the world. Truth is, our Beltway Establishment -- Democratic or Republican -- couldn't organize a binge in a brewery. These are the folks responsible, through negligence and profit taking, for where we are today -- ripped off by banksters and Wall Street, and Madoffs who made off.
"Obama for Change"? Maybe President Rhetoric meant spare change.
The opinions in the column are Robert Eringer's and not necessarily those of the Santa Barbara News Press. Readers may write Robert Eringer c/o the News Press. P.O. Box 1359, Santa Barbara 93102-1359.
February 21, 2009 12:00 AM
With spring nearly upon us, the Trilateral Commission will soon blossom into its annual conference -- scheduled for Tokyo, the weekend of April 24-26. This networking elite of politicians, bankers, industrialists and intellectuals from North America, Europe, Japan, and South Korea strives to shape foreign and economic policies of nations from behind the scenes. Who are these Commissioners -- and who commissioned them?
The notion of a tri-sphere concept, combining movers and shakers from three geographic regions, was first broached at a Bilderberg conference.
So what is Bilderberg -- and from where does it derive its authority?
It is an elite group of self-appointed global manipulators -- from North America and Europe -- who have met privately since 1954 to quietly influence governments.
Bilderberger banking bigwig David Rockefeller tapped Zbigniew Brzezinski to attend the April 1972 Bilderberg meeting in Knokke, Belgium, having taken a fancy to "Tripartite Studies" produced by the then-obscure Colombia University professor.
Appearing before Bilderbergers, Dr. Brzezinski made a pitch for inviting the Japanese into their secretive coterie on the basis that Japan had morphed into an economic powerhouse entitling it to play with the big boys. (South Korea joined that "sphere" much later.)
But the burghers of Bilderberg declined to integrate the Japanese into their own forum, a bilateral success for 22 years (by then) that had succeeded in fashioning a new order in Europe -- the Common Market and European unity. Instead, attendees sanctioned a new league and, thus, the Trilateral Commission was born.
Mr. Rockefeller and Zbiggy launched themselves through Europe and Japan on a recruiting drive.
Their "planning group" convened on July 23rd and 24th at Pocantico Hills, a Rockefeller estate overlooking the Hudson River. Mr. Rockefeller underwrote the expense from his own (deep) pocket, having discovered, decades earlier, that investing in high-level networking paid huge dividends.
With approval from "the highest political and financial circles" (an internal Commission memo), the trio selected chairmen and directors to represent each sphere of the tri.
The Commission quickly became a springboard for the presidency of Jimmy Carter. Mr. Carter, as governor of Georgia, had caught Mr. Rockefeller's eye as a potential president and, consequently, Zbiggy and Mr. Rockefeller lunched Jimmy in October 1972 at the Connaught Hotel in London, where they signed him on the spot to be a Commissioner. Jimmy also became David and Zbiggy's presidential candidate -- and the Commission bestowed him the power elite support (influence and money) he needed to "arise from nowhere."
The Trilateral Commission was not nowhere -- just nowhere (back then) to be found in the newspapers.
So Jimmy the peanut farmer got elected president in 1976, and Zbig became his national security adviser, the job he had coveted from the outset. Other Commissioners in the Carter Administration included Vice President Walter Mondale, Secretary of State Cyrus Vance, Defense Secretary Harold Brown and Treasury Secretary Michael Blumenthal -- 18 in all, from 54 original members from the American sphere.
Together, this elitist clique messed things up real good: Soaring inflation, interest rates at 20 percent, and the world chessboard a horrible mess. President Carter's poor judgment caused confusion among our allies, laughter in the Soviet Union, and led, ultimately, to the hostage crisis in Iran.
"It completely justified our belief," a former senior CIA official told The Investigator, "that left to its own devices, the power elite is fully capable of causing another world war, not unlike their predecessors last century."
The CIA descended into decline, having had to endure Stansfield Turner as its director.
Said our CIA source: "Admiral Turner was more concerned about intelligence officers abroad engaging in extra-marital affairs than Iran imploding from within. He apparently mistook our agency for a missionary group."
As if things were not bad enough, Trilateral Commissioners David Rockefeller and Henry Kissinger pushed President Carter into allowing the ailing Shah of Iran into the United States, a political miscalculation that precipitated the storming of the U.S. Embassy in Teheran and the resulting hostage crisis that sealed the fate of Jimmy Carter's one-term presidency.
Mr. Rockefeller quietly bailed from the monster he'd created, putting his money behind another horse from the Commission stable: George Bush, a privileged East-coast preppie who had moved to Texas to prove his manhood in the oil biz.
But Mr. Bush lost to Ronald Reagan -- partly because the former California governor took a few jibes at "Trilateral Commission elitists" during his campaign to woo voters away from Mr. Bush in New Hampshire, where Commission membership had been whipped into a major issue just before its decisive primary.
Having enjoyed 15 minutes of fame during Jimmy Carter's presidency, the Commission then shriveled into just another think-tank opportunity for young men and women wishing entry to an international "Old Boy" network.
But now they're back!
Many of President Obama's picks for premier positions in his administration are Trilateral Commissioners (read: Beltway Establishment insiders). These include:
• Treasury Secretary Timothy Geithner;
• National Security Adviser James Jones;
• Deputy National Security Adviser Thomas Donilon;
• Director of National Intelligence Dennis Blair;
• State Department special envoys Richard Holbrooke. Dennis Ross, and Richard Haas;
• Ambassador to the United Nations Susan Rice;
• Lawrence Summers, Director of the National Economic Council;
• Deputy Secretary of State James Steinberg;
• Assistant Secretary of State Kurt Campbell;
• Paul Volcker, chairman of the Economic Recovery Committee.
(Gee, maybe President Obama will break Jimmy Carter's record?)
Ten days ago Adm. Blair clearly demonstrated how the "Old Boy" network functions: He tapped fellow Commissioner John Deutch to sit upon a spy satellite advisory panel.
Mr. Deutch, you may recall, was CIA director under Bill Clinton. "The worst director in CIA history," a former senior agency official told the The Investigator. You may also remember this: Soon after Mr. Deutch's departure from that job in 1996, he was discovered to have grossly mishandled government secrets. Mr. Deutch, it transpired, had downloaded 74 top secret documents onto four computers used at his home by other family members and connected by modem to the Internet -- on which Mr. Deutch also accessed Russian porn sites through his AOL account.
The Senate Select Committee on Intelligence investigated and produced a report to Congress stating: "Despite this knowledge (the risk of keeping secrets on un-encrypted computers), Deutch processed a large volume of highly classified information on these unclassified computers, taking no steps to restrict access to the information and thereby placing national security information at risk."
A senior CIA official privy to the classified version of the Senate Committee's report put it more bluntly for The Investigator: "Deutch allowed the Russians access to our biggest secrets."
Mr. Deutch was stripped of his security clearances. (They have now been restored.)
Anyone else would have been investigated for espionage. But an Old Boy like Mr. Deutch? Janet Reno's Justice Department worked out a gentle plea bargain. But while Mr. Deutch was in the midst of pleading guilty to a mere misdemeanor, brazen Bill, on the last day of his presidency, pardoned him, thereby vanquishing even a mild slap on the wrist for his fellow Commissioner. (Did we mention William Jefferson Clinton was a member of the Trilateral Commission when elected president in 1992?)
So excuse our suspicions about this so-called "power elite." Not because they're in charge again, but because they don't know what the heck they're doing. Conspiracy theorists yearn to believe these uber networkers rule the world. Truth is, our Beltway Establishment -- Democratic or Republican -- couldn't organize a binge in a brewery. These are the folks responsible, through negligence and profit taking, for where we are today -- ripped off by banksters and Wall Street, and Madoffs who made off.
"Obama for Change"? Maybe President Rhetoric meant spare change.
The opinions in the column are Robert Eringer's and not necessarily those of the Santa Barbara News Press. Readers may write Robert Eringer c/o the News Press. P.O. Box 1359, Santa Barbara 93102-1359.
25 January, 2009
Poor Jonathan Pollard
Poor Jonathan Pollard
By Robert Eringer, The Investigator
January 24, 2009 12:00 AM
Spare a thought for poor Jonathan Jay Pollard, the U.S. Navy intelligence analyst who passed national security secrets to the Israelis two decades ago. He and his supporters had hoped, perhaps even expected, a presidential pardon or commutation of his prison sentence as George W. Bush prepared to leave office earlier this week. Despite a huge lobbying campaign that jammed the White House switchboard, this notorious spy remains behind bars. Poor Jonathan Pollard. Never one to show remorse for his dirty deeds, he still clings to a delusion that he was merely assisting an ally who had the right to know U.S. defense secrets. He uses this rationalization to mask a sociopathic mind and 007 complex -- a lethal combination in intelligence work.
"Pollard is a narcissist," Ronald Olive told The Investigator. Mr. Olive, a retired Naval Investigative Service counterintelligence officer, should know. Not only did he write the definitive book on the Pollard case ("Capturing Jonathan Pollard," Naval Institute Press, 2006), he was intimately involved in the investigation that brought Mr. Pollard to justice. "He set out to be a spy," said Mr. Olive. "It did not matter for whom. It was all about him. It just so happened that Israel took him on."
Early on, Mr. Pollard displayed many signals about his instability. Sadly, his colleagues and superiors at the Naval Fields Operational Intelligence Office put his odd behavior down to "eccentricity," even though he carried a courier card that allowed him access to top-secret documents from a full spectrum of intelligence agencies, including the Central Intelligence Agency, National Security Agency, and Defense Intelligence Agency.
For instance, soon after receiving his clearance to be an analyst, Mr. Pollard ludicrously proposed creating a backchannel collection operation against the South African government through the naval attachè at the South African embassy, while lying that his father, Morris Pollard, had served in the CIA. On other occasions, he would arrive late to meetings, sweating and disheveled, and announce that Irish terrorists had kidnapped his wife; that he'd spent the weekend chasing them around Washington, D.C., to negotiate her release.
The CIA had earlier rejected Mr. Pollard's application for employment after he admitted extensive use of illegal drugs. Later, when naval intelligence conducted a pre-employment security check on Mr. Pollard's background, the CIA would not reveal why they had shown him the door, on the erroneous assumption that it would violate his right to privacy.
And then, when Mr. Pollard was finally caught red-handed improperly removing classified material from his office, the FBI wanted to fob off doing anything about it because they were too busy on other matters.
Poor Jonathan Pollard passed more secrets to a foreign power (360-plus cubic feet of paper), in the shortest amount of time, than any spy before or after him. He did so for a mere $2,500 a month and a couple first-class trips to Israel and Europe. The Israelis also paid for his wife's engagement ring.
But mostly Mr. Pollard spied to exercise his 007 complex and fuel his mammoth ego.
In exchange for Mr. Pollard's cooperation to conduct damage assessment, the prosecution agreed not to press for life imprisonment. Mr. Pollard, and his wife and co-conspirator, Anne, then breached the agreement by speaking to the media.
Prosecutors nonetheless remained true to their word and did not demand a life sentence. Judge Aubrey Robinson, however, was under no such constraint. Confronted with the breadth of this spy's treachery, the judge, in 1987, sentenced Mr. Pollard to life imprisonment with the possibility of parole.
Sentencing guidelines dictate that Mr. Pollard will be set free in 2015.
President Clinton almost pardoned Mr. Pollard in 1998 under pressure from Israel, whose leaders took more than 10 years to officially admit he spied for them. Brazen Bill was not one to shy away from pardons of impropriety; indeed, he pardoned Marc Rich on the last day of his presidency after the fugitive's ex-wife, Denise, donated hugely to the Clinton Library.
But on Mr. Pollard, even Bill balked after CIA Director George Tenet got wind of it and threatened to resign if this traitor were set free. Mr. Tenet represented the intelligence community's view that those who betray their country should serve their full sentence.
So spare a thought for poor Jonathan Pollard, languishing away at Butner Federal Correctional Institution in North Carolina. Think of how much he deserves a prison cell. Think of him sitting there, craving more attention.
Other traitors, Aldrich Ames and Robert Hanssen, will never be set free. Their life sentences mean life. And since espionage is now a capital offense, they're fortunate to have copped a plea that evaded execution.
So what does the future hold for Jonathan Pollard?
Well, seven more years of prison.
And after 2015?
"He will undoubtedly move to Israel and try to claim back-pay he believes the Israelis owe him," Mr. Olive told The Investigator. "He thinks he is a hero in Israel. He has built up a support base there, and I fully expect he will run for a seat in the Knesset (Israeli parliament) -- and win."
In other words, for allowing Mr. Pollard to spy for it, resulting in its huge embarrassment when he confessed, Israel will finally get what it most deserves.
The opinions in the column are Robert Eringer's and not necessarily the newspaper's. Readers may write Robert Eringer c/o the News Press. P.O. Box 1359, Santa Barbara 93102-1359.
Who is Robert Eringer?
http://www.roberteringer.com/news.htm
By Robert Eringer, The Investigator
January 24, 2009 12:00 AM
Spare a thought for poor Jonathan Jay Pollard, the U.S. Navy intelligence analyst who passed national security secrets to the Israelis two decades ago. He and his supporters had hoped, perhaps even expected, a presidential pardon or commutation of his prison sentence as George W. Bush prepared to leave office earlier this week. Despite a huge lobbying campaign that jammed the White House switchboard, this notorious spy remains behind bars. Poor Jonathan Pollard. Never one to show remorse for his dirty deeds, he still clings to a delusion that he was merely assisting an ally who had the right to know U.S. defense secrets. He uses this rationalization to mask a sociopathic mind and 007 complex -- a lethal combination in intelligence work.
"Pollard is a narcissist," Ronald Olive told The Investigator. Mr. Olive, a retired Naval Investigative Service counterintelligence officer, should know. Not only did he write the definitive book on the Pollard case ("Capturing Jonathan Pollard," Naval Institute Press, 2006), he was intimately involved in the investigation that brought Mr. Pollard to justice. "He set out to be a spy," said Mr. Olive. "It did not matter for whom. It was all about him. It just so happened that Israel took him on."
Early on, Mr. Pollard displayed many signals about his instability. Sadly, his colleagues and superiors at the Naval Fields Operational Intelligence Office put his odd behavior down to "eccentricity," even though he carried a courier card that allowed him access to top-secret documents from a full spectrum of intelligence agencies, including the Central Intelligence Agency, National Security Agency, and Defense Intelligence Agency.
For instance, soon after receiving his clearance to be an analyst, Mr. Pollard ludicrously proposed creating a backchannel collection operation against the South African government through the naval attachè at the South African embassy, while lying that his father, Morris Pollard, had served in the CIA. On other occasions, he would arrive late to meetings, sweating and disheveled, and announce that Irish terrorists had kidnapped his wife; that he'd spent the weekend chasing them around Washington, D.C., to negotiate her release.
The CIA had earlier rejected Mr. Pollard's application for employment after he admitted extensive use of illegal drugs. Later, when naval intelligence conducted a pre-employment security check on Mr. Pollard's background, the CIA would not reveal why they had shown him the door, on the erroneous assumption that it would violate his right to privacy.
And then, when Mr. Pollard was finally caught red-handed improperly removing classified material from his office, the FBI wanted to fob off doing anything about it because they were too busy on other matters.
Poor Jonathan Pollard passed more secrets to a foreign power (360-plus cubic feet of paper), in the shortest amount of time, than any spy before or after him. He did so for a mere $2,500 a month and a couple first-class trips to Israel and Europe. The Israelis also paid for his wife's engagement ring.
But mostly Mr. Pollard spied to exercise his 007 complex and fuel his mammoth ego.
In exchange for Mr. Pollard's cooperation to conduct damage assessment, the prosecution agreed not to press for life imprisonment. Mr. Pollard, and his wife and co-conspirator, Anne, then breached the agreement by speaking to the media.
Prosecutors nonetheless remained true to their word and did not demand a life sentence. Judge Aubrey Robinson, however, was under no such constraint. Confronted with the breadth of this spy's treachery, the judge, in 1987, sentenced Mr. Pollard to life imprisonment with the possibility of parole.
Sentencing guidelines dictate that Mr. Pollard will be set free in 2015.
President Clinton almost pardoned Mr. Pollard in 1998 under pressure from Israel, whose leaders took more than 10 years to officially admit he spied for them. Brazen Bill was not one to shy away from pardons of impropriety; indeed, he pardoned Marc Rich on the last day of his presidency after the fugitive's ex-wife, Denise, donated hugely to the Clinton Library.
But on Mr. Pollard, even Bill balked after CIA Director George Tenet got wind of it and threatened to resign if this traitor were set free. Mr. Tenet represented the intelligence community's view that those who betray their country should serve their full sentence.
So spare a thought for poor Jonathan Pollard, languishing away at Butner Federal Correctional Institution in North Carolina. Think of how much he deserves a prison cell. Think of him sitting there, craving more attention.
Other traitors, Aldrich Ames and Robert Hanssen, will never be set free. Their life sentences mean life. And since espionage is now a capital offense, they're fortunate to have copped a plea that evaded execution.
So what does the future hold for Jonathan Pollard?
Well, seven more years of prison.
And after 2015?
"He will undoubtedly move to Israel and try to claim back-pay he believes the Israelis owe him," Mr. Olive told The Investigator. "He thinks he is a hero in Israel. He has built up a support base there, and I fully expect he will run for a seat in the Knesset (Israeli parliament) -- and win."
In other words, for allowing Mr. Pollard to spy for it, resulting in its huge embarrassment when he confessed, Israel will finally get what it most deserves.
The opinions in the column are Robert Eringer's and not necessarily the newspaper's. Readers may write Robert Eringer c/o the News Press. P.O. Box 1359, Santa Barbara 93102-1359.
Who is Robert Eringer?
http://www.roberteringer.com/news.htm
17 January, 2009
Full moon at the psych ward
Sent to me by Robert Eringer, The Investigator for the Santa Barbara News.
Note: A recent documentary called American Drug War features Sheriff Joe Arpaio’s draconian “Tent City” in Arizona. The documentary is a must see. I’ve seen it a couple of times, it’s unbelievable.
January 17, 2009 12:00 AM
The Investigator recently ventured into the maximum security psych ward of Sheriff Joe Arpaio's Maricopa County Jail in Phoenix, Ariz. This is not the kind of place most folks would want to spend any significant time.
"It's true what they say about the full moon," one of the jailors tells The Investigator. "We have more incidents then."
A full moon is imminent.
Heavy, self-locking doors clank open and shut as we enter the acute wings where patient-inmates are treated and observed until they're ruled sane enough to stand trial.
Guards endeavor to enforce a sterile existence. They are hard-pressed. Several inmates protest incarceration with peculiar art therapy: finger-painting the walls with their feces. One male, bent on harming himself, had just sickened his keepers by dining on his own dung. The stench of scatology weighs heavy despite daily hosing.
The main thing here is that inmates -- those believed to be suicidal -- not be able to harm themselves. To this end, those categorized "Level One" are refused any clothing and must exist in their cells dressed only in their birthday suits, lest they attempt to utilize garments for hanging themselves or attempt suffocation by gagging.
The result is a human zoo. Some pace, some sleep -- all are on display through unbreakable glass.
"I don't belong here," is a familiar rant among the constrained. One leans forward, lends an ear (a barrier prevents the possibility of it being bitten off), and invariably hears that a terrible mistake has been made, that he or she has been confused with somebody else or vindictively targeted. "They're all nuts, even the shrinks -- but not me!" Mental health care staffers have become jaded by this familiar refrain; they are naturally skeptical of grievances, be it lack of drinking water or a non-flushing toilet.
"If you look at their chart," says a keeper, "you'll see things that'll make you feel real good that they're in here instead of out there."
We already feel that way about several inmates, including a serial killer who shouts that he wants us all dead. "Get out of my house!" he hollers repeatedly, along with a string of obscenities. "I'm going to kill you all!" When we walk past, he grins like a Cheshire cat, sweeping the forefinger of his right hand from ear to ear across his throat.
This particular individual is assigned a 24-hour watcher, posted outside his cell to raise alarm in the event that he smashes his own head against a wall. This is because the day before he scraped a piece of cinder block from the wall and punctured an artery in his wrist.
Some inmates are caged for mere misdemeanors, and will be out on the street within days, homeless. They'll be directed to a medical shelter for free medication to continue treatment begun in the facility. But none of them ever appear, and weeks later, in a perpetual cycle, they'll be picked up again for new transgressions and re-booked into old cells.
One inmate believes he is a vampire; he looks at visitors as if dinner has arrived. Apparently, he has a record of dining on human flesh and drinking blood.
Nearby, an Iraqi male has been feigning madness for several years to prevent the Immigration and Naturalization Service from deporting him home to Baghdad. The mental health care staff knows that he's faking it, but every time he is forced into court, the Iraqi lunges at the jury; the judge calls a mistrial and orders him back to the Psych Ward. (Interesting that he prefers to live among these folks rather than return to Iraq; maybe no one has told him Saddam is dead.)
A new inmate arrives in black & white stripes, restrained by pink handcuffs.
Sheriff Joe does his best to ensure prisoners -- sane or insane -- do not want to return to his facilities. This means pink underwear and no coffee, on the basis that coffee is a luxury without any nutritional value. "In Arizona we don't mollycoddle our inmates," says Lisa Allen, Sheriff Joe's Director of Media Relations.
But the recidivist rate -- 60 percent -- is no different than, say, in San Francisco, where county prisoners can order cappuccino and watch color TV in relatively comfortable cells. Which means tough and humiliating conditions do little to deter a majority of offenders from returning to a criminal life -- though it does save public money.
A certain element of society will always be criminal or homeless or suicidal, no matter how much rehabilitation or treatment is lavished upon them. You can lead a horse to water, the saying goes, but you can't make it drink.
Nonetheless, the measure of any civilized society is how well it cares for its unfortunates.
Which leads us, in a roundabout sort of way, to Cold Spring Canyon Bridge on Highway 154.
Since this arch bridge was built in 1963, 48 persons -- aged between 18 and 72 -- have used it as a launch pad for jumping to their deaths. No one has survived the 480-foot drop.
Suicide is often impulsive, deriving from temporary thoughts, and almost always a result of psych-ache associated with bipolar syndrome, depression and schizophrenia, which can all be treated.
A research study showed that 94 percent of 515 persons prevented from jumping off San Francisco's Golden Gate Bridge were still alive seven years later.
As many as one in six people will become seriously suicidal at some point in their lives, according to the American Association of Suicidology (AAS) in Washington, D.C.
The allure of a "suicide bridge" -- of its certainty, without impediment -- is a strong motivator for persons temporarily blinded with suicidal thoughts.
"There is no question that bridge barriers work," Dr. Alan Berman, executive director of the AAS, told The Investigator.
"Research has shown that barriers are the most effective form of suicide prevention on bridges that have been magnets or landmarks for people with suicidal thoughts. Our research includes looking to see if suicide increases elsewhere in the general area, and we find there is no such increase."
Despite its cost, a plan to install barriers on Cold Spring Bridge measures up to the morality we expect of ourselves as a civilized people.
Who is Robert Eringer?
http://www.roberteringer.com/news.htm
Note: A recent documentary called American Drug War features Sheriff Joe Arpaio’s draconian “Tent City” in Arizona. The documentary is a must see. I’ve seen it a couple of times, it’s unbelievable.
January 17, 2009 12:00 AM
The Investigator recently ventured into the maximum security psych ward of Sheriff Joe Arpaio's Maricopa County Jail in Phoenix, Ariz. This is not the kind of place most folks would want to spend any significant time.
"It's true what they say about the full moon," one of the jailors tells The Investigator. "We have more incidents then."
A full moon is imminent.
Heavy, self-locking doors clank open and shut as we enter the acute wings where patient-inmates are treated and observed until they're ruled sane enough to stand trial.
Guards endeavor to enforce a sterile existence. They are hard-pressed. Several inmates protest incarceration with peculiar art therapy: finger-painting the walls with their feces. One male, bent on harming himself, had just sickened his keepers by dining on his own dung. The stench of scatology weighs heavy despite daily hosing.
The main thing here is that inmates -- those believed to be suicidal -- not be able to harm themselves. To this end, those categorized "Level One" are refused any clothing and must exist in their cells dressed only in their birthday suits, lest they attempt to utilize garments for hanging themselves or attempt suffocation by gagging.
The result is a human zoo. Some pace, some sleep -- all are on display through unbreakable glass.
"I don't belong here," is a familiar rant among the constrained. One leans forward, lends an ear (a barrier prevents the possibility of it being bitten off), and invariably hears that a terrible mistake has been made, that he or she has been confused with somebody else or vindictively targeted. "They're all nuts, even the shrinks -- but not me!" Mental health care staffers have become jaded by this familiar refrain; they are naturally skeptical of grievances, be it lack of drinking water or a non-flushing toilet.
"If you look at their chart," says a keeper, "you'll see things that'll make you feel real good that they're in here instead of out there."
We already feel that way about several inmates, including a serial killer who shouts that he wants us all dead. "Get out of my house!" he hollers repeatedly, along with a string of obscenities. "I'm going to kill you all!" When we walk past, he grins like a Cheshire cat, sweeping the forefinger of his right hand from ear to ear across his throat.
This particular individual is assigned a 24-hour watcher, posted outside his cell to raise alarm in the event that he smashes his own head against a wall. This is because the day before he scraped a piece of cinder block from the wall and punctured an artery in his wrist.
Some inmates are caged for mere misdemeanors, and will be out on the street within days, homeless. They'll be directed to a medical shelter for free medication to continue treatment begun in the facility. But none of them ever appear, and weeks later, in a perpetual cycle, they'll be picked up again for new transgressions and re-booked into old cells.
One inmate believes he is a vampire; he looks at visitors as if dinner has arrived. Apparently, he has a record of dining on human flesh and drinking blood.
Nearby, an Iraqi male has been feigning madness for several years to prevent the Immigration and Naturalization Service from deporting him home to Baghdad. The mental health care staff knows that he's faking it, but every time he is forced into court, the Iraqi lunges at the jury; the judge calls a mistrial and orders him back to the Psych Ward. (Interesting that he prefers to live among these folks rather than return to Iraq; maybe no one has told him Saddam is dead.)
A new inmate arrives in black & white stripes, restrained by pink handcuffs.
Sheriff Joe does his best to ensure prisoners -- sane or insane -- do not want to return to his facilities. This means pink underwear and no coffee, on the basis that coffee is a luxury without any nutritional value. "In Arizona we don't mollycoddle our inmates," says Lisa Allen, Sheriff Joe's Director of Media Relations.
But the recidivist rate -- 60 percent -- is no different than, say, in San Francisco, where county prisoners can order cappuccino and watch color TV in relatively comfortable cells. Which means tough and humiliating conditions do little to deter a majority of offenders from returning to a criminal life -- though it does save public money.
A certain element of society will always be criminal or homeless or suicidal, no matter how much rehabilitation or treatment is lavished upon them. You can lead a horse to water, the saying goes, but you can't make it drink.
Nonetheless, the measure of any civilized society is how well it cares for its unfortunates.
Which leads us, in a roundabout sort of way, to Cold Spring Canyon Bridge on Highway 154.
Since this arch bridge was built in 1963, 48 persons -- aged between 18 and 72 -- have used it as a launch pad for jumping to their deaths. No one has survived the 480-foot drop.
Suicide is often impulsive, deriving from temporary thoughts, and almost always a result of psych-ache associated with bipolar syndrome, depression and schizophrenia, which can all be treated.
A research study showed that 94 percent of 515 persons prevented from jumping off San Francisco's Golden Gate Bridge were still alive seven years later.
As many as one in six people will become seriously suicidal at some point in their lives, according to the American Association of Suicidology (AAS) in Washington, D.C.
The allure of a "suicide bridge" -- of its certainty, without impediment -- is a strong motivator for persons temporarily blinded with suicidal thoughts.
"There is no question that bridge barriers work," Dr. Alan Berman, executive director of the AAS, told The Investigator.
"Research has shown that barriers are the most effective form of suicide prevention on bridges that have been magnets or landmarks for people with suicidal thoughts. Our research includes looking to see if suicide increases elsewhere in the general area, and we find there is no such increase."
Despite its cost, a plan to install barriers on Cold Spring Bridge measures up to the morality we expect of ourselves as a civilized people.
Who is Robert Eringer?
http://www.roberteringer.com/news.htm
28 December, 2008
In Monaco ethics are chopped, changed
Sent to me by Robert Eringer, The Investigator
December 27, 2008 12:00 AM
Three weeks ago Prince Albert II of Monaco scrapped a scheme to build a peninsula on platforms upon the sea as a means of expanding his densely populated Principality. His Minister of State, Jean-Paul Proust, corrected the Prince. It's not terminated, said Mr. Proust, breaching protocol (one must never suggest the Prince is wrong), but merely "suspended."
Which actually means Monaco is in a suspended state of confusion, brought about by conflicting factions battling over backhand commissions, even while the Prince speaks of cracking down on money laundering and corruption.
"We are not a place that tolerates illegal financial activities or money laundering in any form," Prince Albert announced while opening a Monaco embassy in London last year.
Yet the prince knows the identities of a number of money-launderers -- including persons engaged in illicit arms dealing -- who continue to thrive as residents in his Mediterranean tax haven.
"Ethics cannot be chopped and changed," Prince Albert added.
But one needs only examine the case of Monaco's former finance minister to understand that ethics in Monaco, under the Prince's rule, are easily chopped and changed.
On the streets of Monte Carlo, Finance Minister Franck Biancheri was known as "Mister Ten Percent" for his proclivity to accept secret partnerships in business enterprises -- including a restaurant chain -- whose applications he swiftly rubber-stamped in exchange for a silent 10 percent stake.
In a clear conflict of interest, the finance minister tried to place his wife, Sylvia, on the board of a Monaco bank. He also demanded cash under the table to permit a money launderer to invest in ASM, Monaco's soccer team, and then arranged for the money launderer to acquire Monegasque nationality.
But most astonishing was how Mr. Biancheri bought and built his personal home: He orchestrated a scenario whereby the government donated land to a senior citizen association, which then sold the land cheaply to his friend, who then split the land with Mr. Biancheri for a pittance, after which building permission was quietly granted. Mr. Finance Minister then dispatched construction laborers from Monaco's Forum Grimaldi (presided over by his wife), to get cracking. Plumbing, heating and air conditioning subcontractors installed their wares and sent invoices to Forum Grimaldi for payment. A company called Sicobois tried to deliver 42 custom doors to the convention center -- doors billed to the Forum. The goods receiver at Forum Grimaldi was baffled until the driver found a different delivery address: The Biancheri villa.
Was Mr. Biancheri arrested and prosecuted for corruption and fraud?
No.
Franck Biancheri is now Monaco's foreign minister.
How does such a thing happen in a country whose royal head of state publicly declares, "Ethics are not divisible"?
Everyone has heard wacky conspiracy theories about Freemasonry. So bear in mind what follows is not far-fetched secret society paranoia, but factual information about how Freemasonry operates within France.
Freemason lodges maintain a formidable, covert influence within the French judicial and police structures. All three Freemason lodges in France have gained reputations in recent years for being "affairiste" -- a French term meaning corrupt business practices, to include influence trafficking and false invoicing, particularly in companies controlled by the state. Freemasons in the judiciary hamper investigations through bureaucratic measures -- "routine" inspections, internal investigations, and reassignments -- designed to torpedo any serious attempt at reform
The most prominent of France's three Freemason lodges is Paris-based Grande Loge Nationale Francaise (GLNF). One of GLNF's most senior Masons is Jean Paul-Proust, a former Paris police chief -- and, since 2005, Monaco's Minister of State.
Mr. Proust and Mr. Biancheri enjoy a Masonic bond, with Mr. Proust having engineered Mr. Biancheri's initiation into the so-called "Circle of 500," a lodge spin-off.
When Prince Albert was confronted with evidence of Mr. Biancheri's widespread corruption, he took six months to accept the finance minister's "resignation" -- and allowed Mr. Proust to immediately appoint him "special adviser to the minister of state" and chairman of economic development. Mr. Proust then craftily steered Mr. Biancheri back into his cabinet.
Another GLNF Mason in Monaco is Philippe Narmino, Secretary-General of Monaco's Red Cross since 1988. Mr. Narmino is alleged to have misappropriated a painting by Joan Miro valued at 1 million euros, donated to the Red Cross but never logged. A senior judge, in addition to Red Cross honcho, Mr. Narmino habitually accepted gifts, including a yacht named Brave Captain, and he engaged in a scheme, with close friend Gerard Brianti, to profit from valuations conducted on high-ticket items contributed to the Red Cross.
By anyone's standards in a civilized country, complicity in such dealings and acceptance of expensive gifts by a judge constitutes gross impropriety and is wholly unethical.
Yet, fully aware of Mr. Narmino's disreputable doings, Prince Albert selected him to be Chief of Judicial Services -- the highest-ranking justice position in Monaco -- due to GLNF pressure tactics.
Another shady character in sunny Monaco is Jean-Paul Carteron. Mr. Carteron left Paris in 1981 to work for "Papa Doc" Duvalier and wound up looking after the Haitian dictator's corrupt fortune. He carried on with "Baby Doc," facilitating real estate deals along the French Riviera. The Duvalier dynasty was brutal and murderous -- and the beginning of Mr. Carteron's own fortune. After bloodying his hands with both "Docs," Mr. Carteron -- in 1989 -- created Crans Montana Forum in Switzerland and re-styled himself as "humanitarian." His forum provided respectability for brutal, corrupt regimes in Africa, from which Mr. Carteron personally profited.
The Swiss, by 1996, suspected Mr. Carteron of laundering money and requested he move his forum elsewhere. He took it to the Principality and re-named it Monaco World Summit, creating the erroneous perception among foreign governments that his private entity was a Monaco institution. Then, mixing with representatives of the world's smaller nations, Mr. Carteron became a broker. Not stocks and bonds. Mr. Carteron brokers honorary consulships to Monaco. His going rate is 50,000 euros.
Prince Albert knew about these unethical antics, but rather than point the door to Mr. Carteron, His Serene Highness designated him co-fundraiser for a pet project called "Peace Through Sport."
But the prize for Most Unethical Behavior goes to Thierry Lacoste, Prince Albert's Paris-based lawyer. Mr. Lacoste works hard to manipulate the Prince's decision-making in Monaco while simultaneously representing Monaco-based clients whose presence in the Principality is diametrically opposed to the "new ethic" promised by the Prince. Such clients include Samy Maroun, a Lebanese businessman connected to several scandalous oil deals, including the corrupted U.N. Oil-for-Food program.
Which brings us back to where we began: the $10 billion land reclamation project. Mr. Lacoste reportedly urged his client, the Prince, to shut it down -- get ready, folks, this is good -- because the consortium with which he had secretly aligned himself was eliminated in favor of rival vendors.
"Monaco is in crisis," a Monegasque insider told The Investigator. "Fifteen years of growth was destroyed by this. People in Monaco are angry. So are the vendors, who wasted their time and money for two-and-a-half years. And what does the Prince do? Right after New Year's he goes to Antarctica for a month to look at penguins. He's not serious."
He is also not sincere. Upon accepting the role of monarch, Prince Albert vowed to put "morality, honesty and ethics at the forefront of my government and cabinet."
Sadly, and shamefully, it was all a sham.
The opinions in the column are Robert Eringer's and not necessarily the newspaper's. Readers may write Robert Eringer c/o the News Press. P.O. Box 1359, Santa Barbara 93102-1359. Or if you have a story idea for The Investigator, contact him at eringer33@aol.com. State if your query is confidential.
December 27, 2008 12:00 AM
Three weeks ago Prince Albert II of Monaco scrapped a scheme to build a peninsula on platforms upon the sea as a means of expanding his densely populated Principality. His Minister of State, Jean-Paul Proust, corrected the Prince. It's not terminated, said Mr. Proust, breaching protocol (one must never suggest the Prince is wrong), but merely "suspended."
Which actually means Monaco is in a suspended state of confusion, brought about by conflicting factions battling over backhand commissions, even while the Prince speaks of cracking down on money laundering and corruption.
"We are not a place that tolerates illegal financial activities or money laundering in any form," Prince Albert announced while opening a Monaco embassy in London last year.
Yet the prince knows the identities of a number of money-launderers -- including persons engaged in illicit arms dealing -- who continue to thrive as residents in his Mediterranean tax haven.
"Ethics cannot be chopped and changed," Prince Albert added.
But one needs only examine the case of Monaco's former finance minister to understand that ethics in Monaco, under the Prince's rule, are easily chopped and changed.
On the streets of Monte Carlo, Finance Minister Franck Biancheri was known as "Mister Ten Percent" for his proclivity to accept secret partnerships in business enterprises -- including a restaurant chain -- whose applications he swiftly rubber-stamped in exchange for a silent 10 percent stake.
In a clear conflict of interest, the finance minister tried to place his wife, Sylvia, on the board of a Monaco bank. He also demanded cash under the table to permit a money launderer to invest in ASM, Monaco's soccer team, and then arranged for the money launderer to acquire Monegasque nationality.
But most astonishing was how Mr. Biancheri bought and built his personal home: He orchestrated a scenario whereby the government donated land to a senior citizen association, which then sold the land cheaply to his friend, who then split the land with Mr. Biancheri for a pittance, after which building permission was quietly granted. Mr. Finance Minister then dispatched construction laborers from Monaco's Forum Grimaldi (presided over by his wife), to get cracking. Plumbing, heating and air conditioning subcontractors installed their wares and sent invoices to Forum Grimaldi for payment. A company called Sicobois tried to deliver 42 custom doors to the convention center -- doors billed to the Forum. The goods receiver at Forum Grimaldi was baffled until the driver found a different delivery address: The Biancheri villa.
Was Mr. Biancheri arrested and prosecuted for corruption and fraud?
No.
Franck Biancheri is now Monaco's foreign minister.
How does such a thing happen in a country whose royal head of state publicly declares, "Ethics are not divisible"?
Everyone has heard wacky conspiracy theories about Freemasonry. So bear in mind what follows is not far-fetched secret society paranoia, but factual information about how Freemasonry operates within France.
Freemason lodges maintain a formidable, covert influence within the French judicial and police structures. All three Freemason lodges in France have gained reputations in recent years for being "affairiste" -- a French term meaning corrupt business practices, to include influence trafficking and false invoicing, particularly in companies controlled by the state. Freemasons in the judiciary hamper investigations through bureaucratic measures -- "routine" inspections, internal investigations, and reassignments -- designed to torpedo any serious attempt at reform
The most prominent of France's three Freemason lodges is Paris-based Grande Loge Nationale Francaise (GLNF). One of GLNF's most senior Masons is Jean Paul-Proust, a former Paris police chief -- and, since 2005, Monaco's Minister of State.
Mr. Proust and Mr. Biancheri enjoy a Masonic bond, with Mr. Proust having engineered Mr. Biancheri's initiation into the so-called "Circle of 500," a lodge spin-off.
When Prince Albert was confronted with evidence of Mr. Biancheri's widespread corruption, he took six months to accept the finance minister's "resignation" -- and allowed Mr. Proust to immediately appoint him "special adviser to the minister of state" and chairman of economic development. Mr. Proust then craftily steered Mr. Biancheri back into his cabinet.
Another GLNF Mason in Monaco is Philippe Narmino, Secretary-General of Monaco's Red Cross since 1988. Mr. Narmino is alleged to have misappropriated a painting by Joan Miro valued at 1 million euros, donated to the Red Cross but never logged. A senior judge, in addition to Red Cross honcho, Mr. Narmino habitually accepted gifts, including a yacht named Brave Captain, and he engaged in a scheme, with close friend Gerard Brianti, to profit from valuations conducted on high-ticket items contributed to the Red Cross.
By anyone's standards in a civilized country, complicity in such dealings and acceptance of expensive gifts by a judge constitutes gross impropriety and is wholly unethical.
Yet, fully aware of Mr. Narmino's disreputable doings, Prince Albert selected him to be Chief of Judicial Services -- the highest-ranking justice position in Monaco -- due to GLNF pressure tactics.
Another shady character in sunny Monaco is Jean-Paul Carteron. Mr. Carteron left Paris in 1981 to work for "Papa Doc" Duvalier and wound up looking after the Haitian dictator's corrupt fortune. He carried on with "Baby Doc," facilitating real estate deals along the French Riviera. The Duvalier dynasty was brutal and murderous -- and the beginning of Mr. Carteron's own fortune. After bloodying his hands with both "Docs," Mr. Carteron -- in 1989 -- created Crans Montana Forum in Switzerland and re-styled himself as "humanitarian." His forum provided respectability for brutal, corrupt regimes in Africa, from which Mr. Carteron personally profited.
The Swiss, by 1996, suspected Mr. Carteron of laundering money and requested he move his forum elsewhere. He took it to the Principality and re-named it Monaco World Summit, creating the erroneous perception among foreign governments that his private entity was a Monaco institution. Then, mixing with representatives of the world's smaller nations, Mr. Carteron became a broker. Not stocks and bonds. Mr. Carteron brokers honorary consulships to Monaco. His going rate is 50,000 euros.
Prince Albert knew about these unethical antics, but rather than point the door to Mr. Carteron, His Serene Highness designated him co-fundraiser for a pet project called "Peace Through Sport."
But the prize for Most Unethical Behavior goes to Thierry Lacoste, Prince Albert's Paris-based lawyer. Mr. Lacoste works hard to manipulate the Prince's decision-making in Monaco while simultaneously representing Monaco-based clients whose presence in the Principality is diametrically opposed to the "new ethic" promised by the Prince. Such clients include Samy Maroun, a Lebanese businessman connected to several scandalous oil deals, including the corrupted U.N. Oil-for-Food program.
Which brings us back to where we began: the $10 billion land reclamation project. Mr. Lacoste reportedly urged his client, the Prince, to shut it down -- get ready, folks, this is good -- because the consortium with which he had secretly aligned himself was eliminated in favor of rival vendors.
"Monaco is in crisis," a Monegasque insider told The Investigator. "Fifteen years of growth was destroyed by this. People in Monaco are angry. So are the vendors, who wasted their time and money for two-and-a-half years. And what does the Prince do? Right after New Year's he goes to Antarctica for a month to look at penguins. He's not serious."
He is also not sincere. Upon accepting the role of monarch, Prince Albert vowed to put "morality, honesty and ethics at the forefront of my government and cabinet."
Sadly, and shamefully, it was all a sham.
The opinions in the column are Robert Eringer's and not necessarily the newspaper's. Readers may write Robert Eringer c/o the News Press. P.O. Box 1359, Santa Barbara 93102-1359. Or if you have a story idea for The Investigator, contact him at eringer33@aol.com. State if your query is confidential.
13 December, 2008
BEWARE: “Work at Home” Scams and “Pre-foreclosure experts"
Sent to me by Robert Eringer.
Local scam artists exposed
By Robert Eringer, “The Investigator” Santa Barbara News-Press
December 13, 2008 12:00 AM
Work-at-home, "mystery-shoppers" and other get-rich-quick schemes. Here's how they work: Local con men place nationwide ads offering information on work-at-home "opportunities" -- or they offer interviews for entry into a so-called "job placement program."
You phone a toll-free number to inquire; their objective is to extract your credit card details -- and exact payment to "get you started" on what essentially is a non-starter.
They prey upon people especially hard during downturns in the economy, when jobs are lost and working part-time at home seems like a practical solution, hoodwinking those who can least afford to lose money.
And now the swindlers: Government Jobs Standard Publishing uses an accommodation address at 1187 Coast Village Road in Montecito. A would-be customer who phoned their toll-free number, (888) 611-9333, was directed to pay $69 by credit card in exchange for application forms.
Hiding behind this official-sounding name is Richard Wells Hughes, 62. He claims Studio City as his whereabouts, but collects voluminous mail from punters daily. The Investigator tracked him to his home address in Santa Barbara.
Since June, the Better Business Bureau has received 517 inquiries or complaints about Government Jobs Standard Publishing, and issued it an F rating -- the lowest -- partly for failing to respond to the BBB's own inquiries.
The Investigator offered British-born Mr. Hughes an opportunity to demonstrate that his scheme is genuine. He declined.
Another "get-rich-quick" ruse (in which the scam artist gets rich quick, not you) is Anchor House Financial, hiding behind the same 1187 Coast Village Road address -- a UPS Shop, which rents "suites" for receiving mail.
Anchor House bills itself as "pre-foreclosure experts" and purports to identify home foreclosure bargains for real-estate investors. Punters are instructed to purchase their "Book Package" for $199 -- credit card details eased out of you and speedily processed, no refunds.
"They never sent me paperwork they said I would receive in 5-7 business days," wrote Alysia W. of San Jose, "so I contacted them and they gave me a number to another business, which gave me these services for free."
Not the kind of testimonial these alleged fraudsters post on their Web sites to lure prey.
Anchor House's mail drop in Montecito connects to Susan Quinn, who bills herself on the Internet as a Santa Barbara-area "Owner at MQ SQ Productions" -- which may exist only in her criminal mind. Ms. Quinn also claims to have majored at Santa Monica College in business marketing, though what she practices is business bilking.
Multiple posts about Anchor House on Complaints Board (a Web site) include:
• "I saw the ad on Craigslist. They charged $199 to my credit card, and I have gotten no further information."
• "Crooks, crooks, crooks."
The Investigator telephoned Anchor House Financial at its toll-free number, (866) 900-9684. A female answered, but refused to identity the owner, manager, or any personnel in what she pretended was a vast empire with multiple departments.
In reality, it is just a telephone, a desk and a credit-card processor. Nor would "Michelle" confirm that Anchor House connects to Susan Quinn, even though Ms. Quinn connects herself to Anchor House on www.linkedin.com. (This means they're not only crooked, but also stupid.)
The Investigator offered Anchor House the opportunity to demonstrate that their scheme is genuine. They did not call back.
We identified these scams to The UPS Shop at 1187 Coast Village Road. "I think it's despicable," co-owner Chris Quinnell told The Investigator, "and we would cooperate with law enforcement if they contact us."
Another such outfit is American Data Group, run out of 424 E. Cota St. in Santa Barbara, under the corporate name Frontier Publishing, which offers a "government job program." You pay $69.95 plus $10 shipping. You do not get a government job.
The Investigator phoned American Data Group -- 560-6160 -- and spoke with Olivia Bastaneda. We gave American Data the chance to demonstrate that their enterprise is genuine. Its owner William Clayton phoned The Investigator to say, "I work very hard at what I do," and to express surprise and indignation that his record with the Better Business Bureau is so poor. (It holds the record for most inquiries and complaints this year: 2,505.) But a tentative plan for The Investigator to meet Mr. Clayton at his office to discuss his company's bona fides went undone when he did not phone back.
Another F-rated company is National Sales Group, which operates out of an accommodation address at 27 W. Anapamu St. Its owner is Anthony Newton; one of its principals, Mark Lawrence, has a shady history with American Direct Marketing and ADM Auctions.
"Advertising Sales Execs Needed!" they advertise. But they have no such jobs to give; it's all about take -- your money. Complaints (more than 150) include everything from not receiving a refund (44) to not performing as agreed (56).
Goleta-based Consumer Loyalty Group runs a scam called Suppliers Online, which offers to "supply you with the tools, training, and, most important, the inventory you need to earn the extra cash you deserve."
What really happens is this: they cash your credit card.
They: a group of chums -- Chris Sidell, Mike and Todd Hill, Chris Eberz -- who have been running credit card scams in Santa Barbara for 15 years, according to the Better Business Bureau. These were the same cheats behind HUD Refund a few years ago. So named to create the misleading impression of association with Housing and Urban Development, a U.S. government agency, HUD Refund cultivated a scandalously bad record before it ceased to exist in 2005.
Its founders continue to thrive, same old scam, new official-sounding names.
The Better Business Bureau has logged 547 complaints against Consumer Loyalty/Suppliers Online -- and issued it an F rating.
Also in Goleta, next door to Consumer Loyalty Group, at 35 S. Patera Lane, is ProShoppers: Omni Computer and Information Management. Owned and operated by James Gibson, this flimflam operation has accrued, over several months, an astonishing 1,521 inquiries and complaints with the Better Business Bureau -- another F rating.
Ripoffreport.com has stated the following about Mr. Gibson's scam: "Don't get involved with this company, save your $29.95 and prevent getting charged $9.95 a month thereafter."
Santa Barbara Police Department spokesman Lorenzo Duarte has this advice for anyone suckered by credit card scammers: "Report the crime to police and contact your credit card companies, which will request a police report number to facilitate their investigation."
Rick Copelan, president and CEO of the Better Business Bureau in Santa Barbara, told The Investigator: "Santa Barbara has long been a haven for telemarketing operators. Since money is no object for them, they may as well operate from a nice location."
Dave Saunders, chief investigator for the District Attorney's office, told The Investigator, "Consumer protection cases and unlawful business practices fall within the purview of the DA's office."
So The Investigator brought our findings to Allan Kaplan, Senior Deputy District Attorney with Santa Barbara County. "We have prosecuted numerous cases like this," said Mr. Kaplan. "We look forward to prosecuting more -- and to seeing your column."
A crackdown may be in order.
The opinions in the column are Robert Eringer's and not necessarily the newspaper's. Readers may write Robert Eringer, c/o the News-Press, P.O. Box 1359, Santa Barbara 93102-1359 or if you have a story idea for The Investigator, contact him at eringer33@aol.com. State if your query is confidential.
Local scam artists exposed
By Robert Eringer, “The Investigator” Santa Barbara News-Press
December 13, 2008 12:00 AM
Work-at-home, "mystery-shoppers" and other get-rich-quick schemes. Here's how they work: Local con men place nationwide ads offering information on work-at-home "opportunities" -- or they offer interviews for entry into a so-called "job placement program."
You phone a toll-free number to inquire; their objective is to extract your credit card details -- and exact payment to "get you started" on what essentially is a non-starter.
They prey upon people especially hard during downturns in the economy, when jobs are lost and working part-time at home seems like a practical solution, hoodwinking those who can least afford to lose money.
And now the swindlers: Government Jobs Standard Publishing uses an accommodation address at 1187 Coast Village Road in Montecito. A would-be customer who phoned their toll-free number, (888) 611-9333, was directed to pay $69 by credit card in exchange for application forms.
Hiding behind this official-sounding name is Richard Wells Hughes, 62. He claims Studio City as his whereabouts, but collects voluminous mail from punters daily. The Investigator tracked him to his home address in Santa Barbara.
Since June, the Better Business Bureau has received 517 inquiries or complaints about Government Jobs Standard Publishing, and issued it an F rating -- the lowest -- partly for failing to respond to the BBB's own inquiries.
The Investigator offered British-born Mr. Hughes an opportunity to demonstrate that his scheme is genuine. He declined.
Another "get-rich-quick" ruse (in which the scam artist gets rich quick, not you) is Anchor House Financial, hiding behind the same 1187 Coast Village Road address -- a UPS Shop, which rents "suites" for receiving mail.
Anchor House bills itself as "pre-foreclosure experts" and purports to identify home foreclosure bargains for real-estate investors. Punters are instructed to purchase their "Book Package" for $199 -- credit card details eased out of you and speedily processed, no refunds.
"They never sent me paperwork they said I would receive in 5-7 business days," wrote Alysia W. of San Jose, "so I contacted them and they gave me a number to another business, which gave me these services for free."
Not the kind of testimonial these alleged fraudsters post on their Web sites to lure prey.
Anchor House's mail drop in Montecito connects to Susan Quinn, who bills herself on the Internet as a Santa Barbara-area "Owner at MQ SQ Productions" -- which may exist only in her criminal mind. Ms. Quinn also claims to have majored at Santa Monica College in business marketing, though what she practices is business bilking.
Multiple posts about Anchor House on Complaints Board (a Web site) include:
• "I saw the ad on Craigslist. They charged $199 to my credit card, and I have gotten no further information."
• "Crooks, crooks, crooks."
The Investigator telephoned Anchor House Financial at its toll-free number, (866) 900-9684. A female answered, but refused to identity the owner, manager, or any personnel in what she pretended was a vast empire with multiple departments.
In reality, it is just a telephone, a desk and a credit-card processor. Nor would "Michelle" confirm that Anchor House connects to Susan Quinn, even though Ms. Quinn connects herself to Anchor House on www.linkedin.com. (This means they're not only crooked, but also stupid.)
The Investigator offered Anchor House the opportunity to demonstrate that their scheme is genuine. They did not call back.
We identified these scams to The UPS Shop at 1187 Coast Village Road. "I think it's despicable," co-owner Chris Quinnell told The Investigator, "and we would cooperate with law enforcement if they contact us."
Another such outfit is American Data Group, run out of 424 E. Cota St. in Santa Barbara, under the corporate name Frontier Publishing, which offers a "government job program." You pay $69.95 plus $10 shipping. You do not get a government job.
The Investigator phoned American Data Group -- 560-6160 -- and spoke with Olivia Bastaneda. We gave American Data the chance to demonstrate that their enterprise is genuine. Its owner William Clayton phoned The Investigator to say, "I work very hard at what I do," and to express surprise and indignation that his record with the Better Business Bureau is so poor. (It holds the record for most inquiries and complaints this year: 2,505.) But a tentative plan for The Investigator to meet Mr. Clayton at his office to discuss his company's bona fides went undone when he did not phone back.
Another F-rated company is National Sales Group, which operates out of an accommodation address at 27 W. Anapamu St. Its owner is Anthony Newton; one of its principals, Mark Lawrence, has a shady history with American Direct Marketing and ADM Auctions.
"Advertising Sales Execs Needed!" they advertise. But they have no such jobs to give; it's all about take -- your money. Complaints (more than 150) include everything from not receiving a refund (44) to not performing as agreed (56).
Goleta-based Consumer Loyalty Group runs a scam called Suppliers Online, which offers to "supply you with the tools, training, and, most important, the inventory you need to earn the extra cash you deserve."
What really happens is this: they cash your credit card.
They: a group of chums -- Chris Sidell, Mike and Todd Hill, Chris Eberz -- who have been running credit card scams in Santa Barbara for 15 years, according to the Better Business Bureau. These were the same cheats behind HUD Refund a few years ago. So named to create the misleading impression of association with Housing and Urban Development, a U.S. government agency, HUD Refund cultivated a scandalously bad record before it ceased to exist in 2005.
Its founders continue to thrive, same old scam, new official-sounding names.
The Better Business Bureau has logged 547 complaints against Consumer Loyalty/Suppliers Online -- and issued it an F rating.
Also in Goleta, next door to Consumer Loyalty Group, at 35 S. Patera Lane, is ProShoppers: Omni Computer and Information Management. Owned and operated by James Gibson, this flimflam operation has accrued, over several months, an astonishing 1,521 inquiries and complaints with the Better Business Bureau -- another F rating.
Ripoffreport.com has stated the following about Mr. Gibson's scam: "Don't get involved with this company, save your $29.95 and prevent getting charged $9.95 a month thereafter."
Santa Barbara Police Department spokesman Lorenzo Duarte has this advice for anyone suckered by credit card scammers: "Report the crime to police and contact your credit card companies, which will request a police report number to facilitate their investigation."
Rick Copelan, president and CEO of the Better Business Bureau in Santa Barbara, told The Investigator: "Santa Barbara has long been a haven for telemarketing operators. Since money is no object for them, they may as well operate from a nice location."
Dave Saunders, chief investigator for the District Attorney's office, told The Investigator, "Consumer protection cases and unlawful business practices fall within the purview of the DA's office."
So The Investigator brought our findings to Allan Kaplan, Senior Deputy District Attorney with Santa Barbara County. "We have prosecuted numerous cases like this," said Mr. Kaplan. "We look forward to prosecuting more -- and to seeing your column."
A crackdown may be in order.
The opinions in the column are Robert Eringer's and not necessarily the newspaper's. Readers may write Robert Eringer, c/o the News-Press, P.O. Box 1359, Santa Barbara 93102-1359 or if you have a story idea for The Investigator, contact him at eringer33@aol.com. State if your query is confidential.
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