Hi! Hi! Hi! (Bigfoot)

In the early 1980’s, Sam Bowie was a Staff Sargent in the United States Army assigned to a long-range reconnaissance company.  During a field exercise deep inside a Florida Swamp, he had a paranormal encounter that changed his life.

This is Audio Stories with J.B. Simien and this is the story of "Hi! Hi! Hi!.”  Please visit www.jbsimien.com to download this and other Audio Stories for later consumption.  Also, please show your support for this show by purchasing a copy of my latest book Paranormal Mystery from Amazon. There are links in the show notes to the book. 

Now the story.

Sam’s Army Ranger Company was conducting a three-day navigation exercise in the swampy terrain on Eglin Airforce base (in the state of Florida). The countryside that they navigated through was very difficult terrain in which to keep one’s correct location (during daylight hours).  Therefore, it was more difficult, for his small team of five men (called a patrol) to navigate the swampy terrain at night. 

On the second night of the exercise, the men were two hours into the third leg of their movement and they were lost. They located a small island just big enough to hold the team above the water level of the swamp.  Climbing on their hands and knees, out of the water in the darkness of the island, they checked the muddy ground for snakes and alligators using the night vision scopes mounted on their assault rifles.  Then they removed their heavy rucksacks and lay down to recover their strength.  Sam pulled out the map and attempted to locate the island on it.  The entire team noticed that a strong smell of urine, feces and decaying flesh inhabited the island. 

Seconds after turning on a flashlight to check out the ground, team members made a gruesome discovery. Discarded partially consumed animal body parts were spread around the small island in various stages of decay.  Some of the parts were fresh and others had long ago been consumed.  There were also numerous piles of fresh feces.  It appeared that the island was the nest of some very large predatory animals.  The team had arrived while the predators were away.
Sam was still attempting to locate their position on the map when they all heard something very large splashing through the water towards the island.  All flashlights were turned off upon hearing the sounds of movement.  The men used their night vision scopes to scan the swamp in the direction of the sound.  In the green vision of the scope, they could see what appeared to be two enormous “King Kong like” gorillas approaching the island. 

When the patrol had approached the island, the water level had been up to their chest.  Some of the men were six feet in height.  Looking through the night vision scopes, at the two gorillas, the water level was between their waist and knees.  They were very tall for gorillas (about ten to twelve feet in height).

The soldiers believed that they were observing two escaped zoo animals or pets that had been released into the wild.  People did that all the time in Florida. A few Ranger teams had encountered large anaconda snakes on past exercises.  At that point in time, the only place the men had ever seen gorillas was on TV.  They had no realistic idea of correct gorilla proportions.  However, the closer the pair got to the island the less gorilla-like they appeared to be.  A powerful stench assaulted the men’s nostrils.  It was much stronger than the stench of the island.  While still looking through the night vision scope, someone on the team exclaimed in a whisper, “Fuck, those are Big Foots.”

Instinctively, as quietly as possible and while sill laying on the ground, the team formed a skirmish line facing the perceived threat.  As they had practiced many times, they moved their backpacks between them and the oncoming creatures to create cover and support for their weapons.  The Big Foots were close enough now to be seen without electronic aids.  The team only had blank ammunition for their M-16 assault rifles.  The weapons were worthless if the Big Foots attacked. 

Sam took the pin-flare gun out of his breast pocket and fired off a round to illuminate the area.  When the Big Foots heard the pop of the pen flare they froze half squatting in the murky water.  The flair illuminated the area like daylight for about forty seconds.  The Big Foots watched the flare arc and then descend to the surface of the water.  The sudden illumination had temporally halted their progress toward the island.  It had also temporally destroyed the team’s night vision.  It must have also destroyed the night vision of the creatures because they didn’t move long after the flair had landed.

Not knowing what to expect from the Big Foots and fearing the worst. Sam chose to retreat.  He shouted “Westport” the code word for the team to move to the last designated rally point.  In this case, the team would move due west until they encountered the first dirt road.  Sargent Morales, the assistant team leader, pulled out his compass and took up a heading of 270 degrees magnetic.  He plunged into the swamp water on the other side of the small island.  The team followed him one by one into the water.  Sam, as team leader, brought up the rear.  He needed to ensure that no men or equipment was left behind.

The men moved through cool chest-high water for hours toward the dirt road.  On the movement to the road, several times they halted and just listen.  They could hear the creatures moving behind them and talking to each other.  When the creatures realized that the patrol had stopped moving, they would also stop.  However, then they made sounds like they were calling out to the patrol.  It sounded like one of them was saying Hi! Hi! Hi!  

Sam thought that they would attack at any moment.  The creatures could have easily caught the team if they wanted.  After a while, he was sure that they were just curious.  Upon reaching the dirt road the team set up a defensive perimeter and took out their field knives for protection. They used the radio to call for an extraction.  While they waited the team could still hear the sounds of one of the creature’s shouting to them Hi! Hi! Hi!

Hours later, a helicopter landed on the road to extract them.  As the helicopter circled around in the air to take up its course.  The men could see the two Big Foot creatures through the trees below.  They were looking skyward at the helicopter and using their hands to shield their vision from the sun.  For a few minutes, the helicopter crew and the team circled the area looking at the creatures in disbelief.  Then the big foots moved into a denser part of the swamp and disappeared.

In the operations debrief, the men were separated.  However, each still managed to relate with accuracy the story of their encounter with the Big Foot creatures.  The report was stamped confidential by the commander.  For weeks after the incident, each time someone on the other Ranger Teams made a mistake, they would claim to have been chased by Big Foot.  They turned the whole story into a joke.  No one wanted to talk about it after that.

Three months later, on another field exercise to Eglin, a different team of Rangers encountered the island that Sam’s team had discovered that night.  This time it was during daylight hours.  The team discovered classic Bigfoot footprints all over the muddy island.  They took photographs of the prints.  The photos hung in the company’s offices for years.  The area was closed off from access by the military police and the federal game wardens.  There are rumors that some large bears were captured by the wardens and released elsewhere.  After a few days, the area was open again.
Two years later, Sam wrote a fictionalized article for “Boy’s Life Magazine” about his team’s encounter with the Bigfoot creatures.  After much reflection, he had become obsessed with the idea that the Bigfoots were attempting to communicate with the team that night.  He thought that the (Hi! Hi! Hi!) sounds the team heard the Big Foots make was actually English.  Could it be possible they were saying Hi?  Watching the TV show Star Trek had convinced Sam that he had blown a first contact opportunity.  The theme of his article was how fear had destroyed an opportunity to explore and learn.  If given a second chance, he promised himself he would use it to expand human knowledge.

After Sam retired from the Army, he searched for Bigfoot creatures around North America.  He disappeared one weekend in the Cascade Mountains of Washington State.  The Park Rangers located his camp site.  There were Big Foot feet prints all over the ground.  There was also a tripod with a camera mounted on top.  Most of the people who have seen the images believe it’s all staged.  They think that Sam is somewhere having a joke on everyone.  However, the men who were on his old Ranger Team looked at the photos and said, “That son of a bitch made contact!” They suspect Sam will turn up one day to tell us what his life was like living with Big Foot.

That concludes the story of "Hi, Hi, Hi."  I hope you all have enjoyed it.  Please remember to visit www.jbsimien.com to download this and other Audio Stories for later consumption.  Please don't forget to show your support for the show by purchasing a copy of my latest book Paranormal Mystery at Amazon.  The links are in the story notes to the book.  

Thank you.  

Take care. 

See you next Saturday.

A Stormy Night at the Courier Inn - Audio Stories

So many people died in the Great Galveston Storm of 1900, there was not enough time nor manpower to bury them all.  Within days, the victims were piled like cordwood onto barges for a quick burial at sea.  However, the currents in the Gulf of Mexico are so strong that many of the bodies wash back onto Galveston Island and other Texas beaches.  Some books, about the Great Galveston Storm, claim that for several weeks pyres of bodies could be seen burning on Texas beaches day and night.  When found, many of the dead, were still tightly clinging to each other for support (the support that had failed them in Life).

This is Audio Stories with J.B. Simien and this is the story of "A Stormy Night at the Courier Inn.  Please visit www.jbsimien.com to download this and other Audio Stories for later consumption.  Also, please show you support for this show by purchasing a copy of my latest book Paranormal Mystery from Amazon. There are links in the story notes. Now our story.

Galveston Island was originally inhabited by members of the Karankawa (Car-Ran-Cow-Waa) and Akokisa (Ahh-Coke-kesh-Shaw) tribes who used the name "Auia" (A-OO-I-A) for the island."  The first Spanish settlements begin on the island in 1816.  The Port of Galveston was established in 1825 by the Congress of Mexico (not long after Mexico won its freedom from Spain).  When Texas won its independence from Mexico in 1836, the city became the capital of the Republic of Texas.  From 1836 through 1900, Galveston was a city built upon international trade.  When the Republic of Texas joined the United States in 1845, Galveston, became one of the busiest seaports in the United States.  It was a prime commercial center, Texas' largest city and the home of the wealthiest citizens in Texas.

At the start of September 8, 1900, Galveston, Texas had a population of 36,000 people.  At its highest point, the city measured nine feet (three meters) above sea level.  That elevation trivia is important because, on September 8, 1900, Galveston was completely destroyed by a category four hurricane.  The hurricane caused a 20 foot (seven meter) surge of sea water (driven by 145 miles per hour winds) to washed over the island and destroy everything along its path.  It's estimated by historians that up to 12,000 people were killed by the storm.  By mid-month September 1900, the city existed only in name.  In the United States, that Storm still holds an infamous record for the largest loss of human life by a weather event on a single day. 

The City of Galveston eventually rebuilt and erected a protective seawall.  However, it never recovered as a major population center.  In the 1920s, 1930s, and 1940s, it became known as "Sin City on the Gulf." It was a major tourist destination for illegal gambling and prostitution.  In the 1950s, those illegal businesses were closed by a wave of social conservativism that grabbed Texas and the United States.  When those illegal businesses closed, tourism and the economy died in Galveston.  In the 1960s, the economy recovered when the city re-emerged as a tourist destination.  This time the attraction became history, historical buildings, and beaches.

Very few buildings survived the Great Galveston storm.  It is in one of those surviving buildings, in The Strand District, that the Courier Inn (my hotel) is located.  Originally, the hotel was built in the antebellum days of the old south.  Outwardly, it appears to be unchanged and well preserved.  However, that is deceptive.  Inside, it has all the modern conveniences of a first class hotel.  The original name of the hotel was "The Grammar."  That hotel is legendary in Texas for its service and for its infamous owner Dr. Gunderson Tibbets.

Tibbets was said to have departed New Orleans a few hours ahead of a lynch mob (in 1889).  Those who claim to know him in New Orleans and later in Galveston said that when he departed New Orleans he was Thomas Herbert a nearly white creole barber.  When he arrived in Galveston, he was Dr. Gunderson Tibbets (alumni Harvard University).  In that one voyage, he gains a new profession, a prestigious education, a different name and a new racial identity.

Tibbets established a lucrative medical practice.  He also managed to acquire several state contracts that eventually made him and his supporter's very wealthy men.  It is said that Tibbets was not a good doctor but he was a hell of a business man.  For almost a decade he earned a fantastic living off of the state of Texas.  Then in 1898, he backed the wrong political allies and he lost his state contracts.

When the money was flowing from Tibbets businesses, the first property of importance he purchased was "The Grammar" hotel.  He lived in a suite on the third floor and he operated his medical practice and businesses from an office in the lobby.  Under his guidance, that hotel became the gathering spot for wealthy Texans and international visitors to Galveston.  On the night of the storm, September 8, 1900, the three-story hotel was fill to capacity and the lobby was packed with hundreds of refugees from the storm.  There were more people seeking refuge than could be safely accommodated. 

All the glass windows in the hotel were shattered by the force of the wind and motion of the building.  Since the storm came on unexpectedly, there had not been time to place wooden planks across the windows and doors.  The wind, the rain, and the sea came whipping through the now open windows and doors.  No ones voice could be heard above shouting.  Everything and everyone was soaked and the interior of the hotel was as dark as the night outside.  A few lamps illuminated parts of the interior.  When the crowd looked outside, no land could be seen (only ocean).  Galveston had become part of the Gulf of Mexico. People were crying, praying, begging and offering bribes to be saved.  Meanwhile, fish and sharks were swimming in the rising water among the desperate people.

The storm surge would eventually cause the first and then second floor to fill with sea water.  Survivors say Dr. Tibbets had earlier station trusted gunmen at the stairwells of the hotel to keep people who were not his paying guests, invited friends or hotel staff from accessing the second and third floor.  The men were instructed to kill if necessary. 

As the water level got higher, the hundreds of people still crowded onto the first floor panicked and attempted to force their way onto the higher floors.  The gunmen killed and wounded enough people to temporally calm the crowd.  The people begin drowning.  Everywhere there was screaming, curses and sounds of people dying. These end of life sounds could not be blocked by the noise of the storm.  The people on the higher floors listened to death claiming hundreds of souls on the first floor and prayed their time would not be soon.

On the first floor, any still living children were held above the rising water by their fathers and mothers.  Tibbets was begged to allow the remaining women and children still alive to be saved.  He refused.  He said that the upper floors couldnt hold any more people.  Physically, the building was swaying under the force of the surging sea water and the high wind.  If the motion continued to intensify, the building would collapse.  It seemed moving to the higher floors only delayed death by minutes or hours at best.  The city was now part of the Gulf of Mexico.  Only creatures who could breathe water were assured of survival that night.

The desperate situation caused the remaining people on the first floor to gained new courage.  They attempted to force their way once again to the next level but they were not successful.  The water level was now above the heads of the tallest men.  In under half an hour, hundreds of people were dead and the water was still rising.

It again became necessary for Tibbets to repeat that gruesome selection scene from the first floor as the rising sea level begin to consume the second floor.  The third floor was already packed beyond capacity.  No people from the second floor (guest nor staff) were allowed to move to the third floor.  Tibbets repositioned the armed men and himself to block access.  The hundreds of people on the second floor begged to be allowed onto the next floor. Some just accepted the coming of death and prayed, screamed, or remained silent until the end.  Some were killed by the gunmen.

It is estimated that the dead on the first and second-floor number more that than seven hundred people. After the storm passed, there were so many dead in Galveston that no one cared what had transpired at the Grammar Inn that night.  No one was put on trial for murder and, certainly, no one was praised for the decisions made by Tibbets.  The people of Galveston encouraged   Tibbets to find a new home. The Hotel was eventually rebuilt and reopen with a new owner and a new name "The Courier Inn."

"In September 2000, I was attending a business meeting in Houston, Texas.  I had some free time over the weekend.  So, I decided to visit Galveston to enjoy the beaches." Said Michael Gannon of Tacoma, Washington.  "I was given a haunted guide to Southeast Texas by one of my business associates because he knew that I enjoy staying in unique places.  That my thing."

The guide's writer recommended a stay at the Courier Inn.  She recommended the rooms on the third floor (preferably in stormy weather).  The guide promised that under the correct conditions a ghostly experience would be guaranteed.  She also, said that the hotel employed a holographic machine (purchased from and maintained by Disney Company) to ensure its guest experienced the legendary event for which the hotel is famous (when the conditions are not right). 

I have been interested in paranormal events since my first unexplained experience as a child.  In 1983, my two cousins Gene and Sue Gannon disappeared one night inside their home in Seattle when they were just kids.  For days my uncle and aunt could hear their voices calling for help in the hallway that connects the bedrooms.  Still, not they nor the police could find them. After two weeks, my uncle and aunt committed suicide when my cousins couldn't be heard anymore.  In 2013, the bodies of my cousins were found in the hallway of the house in which they had disappeared thirty years earlier.  They were still little kids.  An author named J.B. Simien wrote about the incident it in his book "Paranormal Mystery." It's on sale at Amazon.

Friday, my first night at the inn, I checked into a comfortable room on the third floor as recommended.  However, I was more interested in checking out the bar scene in Galveston that night.  I drank quite a bit of liquor. It was after two a.m. when I return to my room.  As soon as I laid my head on the pillow, I was asleep.  When I awoke the next day around eleven a.m., I didn't recall any paranormal incidents.  That afternoon, I hung out on the beach for a while then I checked out some of the city's historical venues.  Coincidentally, it was Saturday, September 8.  The one-hundredth year anniversary of the Great Galveston Storm.
Later that night, I decided to hang out at the Inn because of a sudden thunderstorm.  In Texas, thunderstorms are how Mother Nature cools off the countryside after a hot day.  They are very frequent on the Gulf Coast.   In the Inn's bar, I made the acquaintance of a local woman named Jennifer.  Texas women are so beautiful.  I'd like to pack her up and take her home.  We talked about the history of the city and the history of the hotel (as the storm got stronger).  At ten-thirty the Inn lost electrical power and switched to emergency lights.  Jennifer supplements her income by entertaining tourist like me.  For a reasonable fee, she accompanied me to my room.  

We had been in bed for almost an hour, vigorously, enjoying each other's company.  Then, for a short while, we were just quiet and resting for the next round.  That's when we both heard just below the noise of the storm the distant sound of distressed people.  They seemed to fill my room and fill the hallway.  They sounded very far away but at the same time all around us.  We could hear them praying, cursing and begging god to be spared. Then the room was suddenly filled with fireflies.  There were so many fireflies that they illuminated the darker room. Jennifer said that the hotel must have turned on the holographic machine to simulate the ghostly experience.  She had seen something like this before with other clients in the hotel but she thought this time it was more detailed and really very entertaining. 

I got out of bed.  Still nude, I put on a house coat.  I stuck my head out of the room door to discover where the sound and fireflies were originating.  I wanted to see how the machine did this cool holographic trick.  The hallway was filled with fireflies too and the distance sounds of desperate people dying in water.  I could see other guests were, also, peeking out of their doorways. The guy across from me asked, "Where is the noise and all these firefly's coming from?" Then we heard gunshots and everybody closed and locked their doors. 

Were we under terrorist attack? I thought. Jennifer said it was part of the show.  I called the front desk to see what was going on.  I told the desk clerk that we had heard gunshots coming from the hallway.  I also told him that there was fireflies and the sound of a crowd in the distance coming from the hallway and my room. The clerk replied calmly, "Sir, please don't worry, it's just our legendary ghosts.  They won't hurt you.  They don't even know you are there.  I asked if they were using the machine.  He replied, "The electrical power is out sir.  We can't use the machine while we are on emergency power."  The ghost's sounds you are hearing are real.  The fireflies are actually orbs (the souls of people who died in the hotel)."  I asked him to send somebody up. 

The bellhop didn't appear to be upset or surprised as he calmly said, "You needed something sir?" "Don't you hear and feel what's going on?" I asked him.  "Is this some kind of Hollywood special effects that the hotel employs to frighten guest?"  The bellhop told us that what we were hearing and experiencing is a type of paranormal recording that is imprinted on the building because of the tragic incident that happen there one-hundred years ago.  He called it a residual haunting.  The incident plays when conditions are just right.  Just what the guide book said.  The hotel is haunted.

Jenifer and I set nude in bed listening to the sound of the historic events unfolding one hundred years earlier.  She is very beautiful especially when reflected in the illumination of those orbs.  We tried to record the sounds and sights we were experiencing on our cell phones.  They didn't record anything.  We talked about those dying (no dead) people and the strangeness of hearing their deaths one hundred years later.  I thought about the choices that the people had made that night. For those that survived, it was just luck.  For those who died?  Well, no person has enough personal will to defeat death.  Also, I thought about Tibbets and the choices he makes to save his guest, friends, and staff.  Plus, the choices he makes to force other to accept their deaths.

The event lasted for about an hour and a half.  It ended with the passing of the storm.  Afterward, I was grateful to be alive.  Jenifer and I, happily, got back to our pleasure

That concludes the story of "A Stormy Night at the Courier Inn."  I hope you all have enjoyed it.  Please remember to visit www.jbsimien.com to download this and other Audio Stories for later consumption.  Don't forget to show you support for this show by purchasing a copy of my latest book Paranormal Mystery at Amazon.  The links are in the story notes. 

Thank you and take care.

Some Help from a Friend

People who know me will tell you that I am a practical person.  I'm not prone to romanticism.  If anything can be said of my personality it is this, I am predisposed to a fact-based life.  For the last ten years, I have been a police officer with the Seattle Police Department. Just two short years ago, I was promoted to Detective Sergeant with the Special Investigations Division.  As a detective, I am reluctant to delve into intangible ideas such as supernatural events connected with crimes.  Still, I can't deny what the facts reveal.  I was helped up the career ladder by a ghost.

Welcome, scholars to 2017.  This is Audio Stories with J.B. Simien and this is the story of "Some Help from a Friend." Please visit www.jbsimien.com if you would like to download this story for later consumption.  The 2016 season of Audio Stories is now complete and the stories have been compiled into an e-book called "Paranormal Mystery" available on Amazon.com.  There is a link in the show notes below.    I think you will enjoy the book.  Please purchase a copy and help me pay the Audio Stories bills.  Now, this is the story "Some Help from a Friend."

In 2014, I was a plain clothes patrol officer working out of the vice division.  Two important issues deeply concerned me at that time.  First, I wanted to earn a promotion to Detective Sergeant.  Second, I wanted to marry my girlfriend Paula Harlan.  However, I desired to be more advanced in my career before I asked Paula to marry me.  Paula is successful criminal attorney with several high profile case wins attributed to her skills.  She is paid sums of money I can only dream about.  Paula is on her way to a level of achievement I will never reach.  Though I knew Paula loved me and would marry me if I would just ask her, I didn't feel that we were equals.

I was not advancing in my career (as I preferred).  As an old fashion male, I wanted to be more successful than her.  I can see now that I was desperate to feel worthy of her.  Therefore, I was continually seeking opportunities to distinguish myself on my job.  Plus, I took online education courses to help pass the Sergeants Exam and volunteered for difficult assignments. I did everything I could do to get face time with my bosses.  It worked.  I begin to be notice and praise for my efforts.  Their remarks indicated that I was on track for promotion to Detective Sergeant.

On the last day of August, I was working the graveyard shift on a slow Saturday night.  I was patrolling alone in uniform in the Central District.  There was not much activity that night. Primarily, I was just wishing for something horrible to happen (so that I could get more face time with the bosses).  I had just pulled over at the Starbucks on Jackson and 23rd Street for a restroom and coffee break.

As I departed the vehicle, I was still dreaming of promotion, when I was startled by an older male voice calling from behind me, "Hello Officer Terry." Because of the location, I always expected trouble.  So, I turned quickly with my hand on my weapon prepared to draw and shoot (if necessary).  As I faced the person, I observed an older, graying, heavy set man with a steaming cup of coffee in his hand.  He was no threat.  Just a citizen.

I was surprised to encounter him.  I had not observed him anywhere near the vehicle as I was preparing to exit.  I always check.  It's necessary to guarantee my safety.  Yet, somehow this man had managed to appear out of a bind spot.  I needed to be more careful.  "Hello Sir," I replied.  "You startled me," I said.  He smiled and said, "Yes, I have been told that I am too damn quiet for my own damn good."

"How may I help you, sir," I asked.  "Truly, officer it's not what you can do for me," he said.  "I've decided to help you." Great, I thought, he's nuts.  "You don't know me," he said. "However, I know you because I am an associate of your girlfriend Paula.  She did something very good for me a while back. Now, I want to repay her by helping you."

"Then you're a client of hers," I asked.  He said, "I was a client of hers and I owe her still. So, I want to repay her by helping you solve a crime.  Hell, you might even get promoted.  At the very least it will look good for you," he said.  I have a no-good friend that needs to be arrested."  I was very doubtful about his story.  "Why do you want to turn in your friend," I asked?  "What did he do?"  "Have you ever heard of Tony Lex.?" He asked.  "Of course who hasn't?" I replied.

Lex was a gang leader with known ties to international organized crime. He was suspected of murders, theft, and drug trafficking.  He had been convicted of some major crimes five years ago. He was sentenced to twenty years of hard labor.  He embarrassed federal prison authorities when he escaped after two months (five years ago). He was known to be still conducting his business underground.  Capturing him would be a major plus for any cop.

"What do you know about him? I asked.  "I know that he is held up in a house in Renton and he has plans to use a stinger anti-aircraft missile to down a big jet as it lands at the Airport in a few hours."  "How do you know this," I asked?  "I don't want to say but I'll give you the address to the house in Renton, Washington. There is still time to arrest him before anything happens."

With that said he called off an address and I recorded it in my patrol book.  "I asked him for his name."  As I looked up, he was gone.  It had taken at most fifteen seconds to record the address in the patrol book. I didn't hear him leave and I didn't see him walking away in the parking lot.  Damn he was quick!  I must admit that I was not sure that any of that conversation had actually taken place.

I went into Starbucks and took my restroom break.  I knew the clerk at the counter.  He said, "I'm glad that you didn't shoot that guy by your car.  It looks like you were about to go Wild West on him for a minute."  "Did you see which way he went?" I asked.  "No." He said, "I saw you pull up and suddenly this guy comes out of nowhere."  "I saw you talk to him then write something down but he just disappeared."  "I saw you scanning the parking lot for him but I didn't see him leave either."  "I tried to video it for YouTube but it happened to quick."

When I returned to the patrol car.  I called the Desk Sergeant and told him I had a possible location for Tony Lex in Renton given to me by an informant.  Ten minutes later I received a call from a Police Commander who directed me to meet with the FBI at the Renton Police Department.

I told the FBI I had been tipped by an anonymous informant.  Within two hours, of having been given the information by my informant, I observed as the Renton Police Department and the FBI breached a house and successfully arrested Tony Lex and several other high profile criminals.  He had indeed been planning to down a passenger jet with a stinger missile and blackmail the government to keep him from doing it again.

This was a big break.  It made international news. I was the hero of the day.  I spoke at the press conference alongside a platoon of high-ranking officials.  In a few days, I was awarded a medal for valor by the Seattle Police Department.  Also, I was advanced to the number one position for promotion to Detective Sergeant.  In less than one month, I was promoted and assigned to special investigations.  I was proud.  I was ready to marry Paula.  She said it was about time.

One month later, I was sitting in my new office when I looked up from a report that I was completing at my desk.  I saw the informer who had given me the tip about Tony Lex seated on the couch in my office looking through magazines. I was pleased to see him but I was also curious as to how he had gotten into a three-door security area without being escorted. I was amazed.  So, I just stared at him for a minute.

He said, "Well I see you got the Tony Lex case wrapped up. That will teach him to screw me over." "Yes," I said, "Are you here about the reward?  That's something the federal government will have to pay."  "No," he said, "I just wanted to let you know that I am satisfied and that I want you to agree that I have paid back Paula value for value."  "Who are you?" I asked. "What did Paula do to help you?"  "Well now," he said. "She made me happy." I turned away to come around my desk and join him on the couch.  When I look again, he was gone!  I never heard the door to my office open. Damn, he's quick!

I pulled the surveillance tapes for the entryways and the hallways leading to my office. No one can move around a police station and not be caught on video but somehow, I knew he wouldn't be on the video. I just had to satisfy my curiosity.  There were no fingerprints either.

Months later, I had a request from Tony Lex to visit him at his new prison.  Accompanied by an FBI profiler, I spoke with Tony in a secured location.  Everything was recorded on video.  He wanted to know one thing. Who told me where to locate him?  He said that everybody who knew about that caper was captured in the house in Renton.  No one else could have known about it.

I told him that I didn't know the informant's name. He identified himself as a former associate of yours who wanted revenge.  "That covers everyone I ever screwed over," Tony said.  I notice that he had a photograph with him.  He asked if the man in the photo was the informant.  I looked at the photo.  Yes, it was the informant.  With my best poker face, I said the informant was unknown.  Tony was taken back to his cell.  The profiler recognized the photo as Clifford Wall.  He asked, "I wonder why Tony thinks it's Clifford?  He's been dead for three years."  I didn't tell the profiler he was the informant.

When I returned to Seattle I asked Paula about her association with Clifford Wall. She smiled and told me the story. In her third case as a self-employed lawyer, she had worked to get Clifford Wall and several others freed of false charges for the importation of illegal drugs.  She managed to free the group but it cost them everything.  Later they discover that Tony Lex had falsely informed on the group to avoid federal charges for the crime he said Clifford's group had committed.  Tony had ruined several families when the accused were charged on his word alone.

 After being released by the court, Clifford Wall used every bit of legal maneuvering possible to make Tony Lex's life hell.  Clifford disappeared three years ago.  It is commonly believed that he was killed by Tony Lex.  I told her that I had seen Clifford Wall and he turned in Tony Lex to me to reward her for making him happy.  I didn't tell her the strange circumstances of our meetings.

A few days after this discussion with Paula, I was driving home from work when I noticed Clifford Wall watching me from the sidewalk as I pulled out of the parking garage.  I unlocked the passenger door and waved for him to get into the car.  As he entered and adjusted his seat belt he said "Hi Officer Terry. I was hoping to see you out here."  I asked him, "How is it that you can disappear so quickly from our encounters?"  I asked, "Clifford are you a ghost?  Did Toney Lex kill you?" He replied, "I just move when you're not looking man.  So, you know my name now?" He asked.

I told him that I know that he is Clifford Wall and that he disappeared three years ago.  He confirmed that to be true.  "Where have you been?" I asked.  "Just hiding," he said.  I told him that Tony Lex didn't know that he was the informant but he suspected that he was.  He told me that he had visited Tony frequently in prison and that he had already told Tony that he was the informant.

Tony knew the day that I visited him in prison that Clifford was the informant (that's why he had the photo).  Clifford gave it to him.  I told Clifford that I could make arrangements for him to meet people from of the federal witness protection program.  I told him that Paula and I are grateful and that we could help him.  He said "I'm glad Paula is happy.  I owed her a lot."

I paused at a traffic light and made a left-hand turn.  When I turned my head back toward Clifford to ask him another question, he had disappeared again (this time from a moving car).  Clifford Wall never said to me that he wasn't a ghost.  He just said that he moves when I'm not looking.  Got damn he's quick!

Well, that concludes Audio Stories "Some Help from a Friend," written and narrated by me, J.B. Simien.  I hope that you have enjoyed it.  Please join me again next Saturday for a new original story.  Also, please use the link below or visit www.jbsimien.com to purchase your copy of "Paranormal Mystery" at amazon.com.  You will find a good book to read and your purchase will help me pay the Audio Stories bills.

Thank you and take care.

Alternative Death Care

For weeks the group couldn’t agree on the name for the club.  Some thought it should be “Eternal Love.”  That name invoked positive feelings and explained to an extent the group’s purpose.  Others wanted the emphasis on the technical capabilities that the group was promoting.  They gravitated towards the name “Craft Embalmers.”  Several other names were suggested that had lower appeal. The members battled back and forth until in compromise and desperation they decided upon the name “Alternative Death Care.”  Everyone agreed that the name fully captured the purpose and intent of the organization.  Certified members became known as “Deathers.” 

This is Audio Stories with J.B. Simien and this is the story of Alternative Death Care.  Please join me each Saturday for a new original story at www.jbsimien.com.

It’s a cold Saturday Morning in February.  Shelly Grey is sitting with two members of her new club (Tom and Jenny Stuart) in her kitchen.  They are enjoying coffee and freshly baked pastries.  The Stuart’s are advising Shelly on how to host the home funeral of her recently deceased infant son.   The three of them just spent the last hour discussing the logistics of the process: receiving his body, washing his body, dressing him, preparing him for the viewing and the basic laws covering this alternative process.  This afternoon these two Deathers will guide Shelly through the process.
Alternative Death Care is not just an organization of volunteers who help its members with the home funerary process, They also advocate, in court, for the right of their families to live with their deceased loved one’s in their homes (as they lived with them when they were alive). 

There are other groups like theirs, which advocate for a home funeral process.  However, they are not seeking to preserve the bodies of their loved ones.  They are only trying to be more involved in the process of personal care for their deceased loved ones.  They (like Alternative Death Care) don’t want their deceased loved ones to be given over to strangers for what has historically been the duties of the family.  They see their connection with their loved ones as a contract to be there in a loving way from birth through life to death.  Also, the high cost of the commercial funeral process encourages a do it yourself approach.  They simply want to be part of the process then dispose of their loved ones with dignity.  Alternative Death Care wants to keep their loved ones at home.

In rural areas of the U.S., in many countries throughout the world, and for all of human history, the family handled the care of deceased family members from death to burial.   In the twentieth century, in urban areas, we surrendered all aspects of death to commercial processes.  It is normal for the sick and the old to die in hospitals and nursing homes.  The process of death has become a mystery to us.  We pay others to take care of it.  We are told: what is dignified and what is acceptable.  We are told what we should do, how we should act and finally how we should display what we feel.  So, we turned what had been a loving close to our relationship with a family member into a nuisance to be handled by strangers for a large amount of money.

Shelly’s son James was just three months old when he died.  She doesn’t understand why he died.  He was sleeping peacefully in his crib and hours later he had simply stopped breathing.  He couldn’t be revived.  He was her miracle child.  She was forty-five when he was born.  She and her husband had tried for more than two years to have a child.  Finally, a year ago she became pregnant.  Now, just three months after delivering James, she can’t let him go. 

Alternative Death Care is going to help Shelly preserve his body.  He will never get older and he will never decay.  She can keep him with her and see him and speak to him when she wants.  Her husband Carl thinks this is wrong. He wants to bury their son.  She said that she won’t allow that.  She can’t let him do it.

It’s not so strange to live with the dead.  Think of all the famous unburied preserved corpses like Vladimir Lenin in Russia and Eva PerĂ³n in Argentina.  With expert preservation, they have remained lifelike in appearance.  If a body is embalmed with a superior method it will appear to be alive.  The club has many members who maintain their deceased loved ones at home.  They care for their loved ones as if they are still living.  They clean them, dress them, groom them, and talk to them.  The deceased loved ones still participate in the family’s activities (especially holidays).

The club has members skilled in many advanced technological and medical processes.  The newest preservation process involves bionic implants.  The Technological Service Section of the club (TSS) is experimenting with implanting bionic servos into muscle tissue.  The results are stunning.  The servos activate the muscle tissue and stimulate the movement of the body parts.  They also control tissue decay since synthetic oxygenated blood circulates throughout the body (because of the servos).  Although the effect is artificial, the body is capable of controlled animated movement and it does not decay (it is self-healing).  The mind is gone but the body is ok.  This is the process Shelly wants James to have. 

Tom and Jenny are finalizing the details.  They and Shelly will prepare James body this afternoon at home in the garage and display him at the wake tonight in the Livingroom.  Just the immediate family will be there tonight.  The funeral is on Sunday.  All family and friends can attend.  On Monday, Shelly will observe the technical section implant the servos into James’ body and transform him. 
Carl doesn’t want this final stage to happen.  He wants to bury their son and live with the memories.   Shelly says, “I don’t understand why we should limit ourselves to memories when we can have our child at home.  This is not a denial of death.  It is a transformation of death to a useful level.”

For the past ten months, James has lived at home with Shelly.  The servos are preserving his body as planned.  Every day, Shelly grooms him and dresses him.  Frequently, she places him in his baby carrier and goes shopping, or to work, or to church, or to visit friends.  When strangers see James they think he is sleeping.  They always remark what a good baby he is to be so quite.  Shelly’s associates at work and church have asked her to stop bringing James with her.  She still brings him.  She just keeps him in a large purse out of view.  He is always near her.

Today, James and Shelly are enjoying Christmas Day dinner with twelve members of the club.  They have gathered at Tom and Jenny’s house with their animated loved ones and some loved ones that didn’t undergo the servo process.  The club members have become Shelly’s extended family.  She says, “We share a common view of the world.”  She has drifted away from most of her old friends (the ones that she had prior to joining the club).  “They seem repulsed by my decisions regarding James,” she says.  Over the past ten months, Carl has become increasingly distressed.  He is worried about Shelly’s sanity and his own.  Shelly said, “Carl is a good man and I miss him but I have chosen to care for our son.  He will be OK.  James needs me more.”

This concludes the story Alternative Death Care.  I hope you have enjoyed it and that you will leave some comments about the story.   Please join me next Saturday at www.jbsimien.com for a new original story.  Thank you and take care.

An Artist Who Dreams

The next morning while meeting with my attorney, I told her that I had found the murderer.  She didn’t believe me but she did think it couldn’t hurt for the police to have another suspect.

This is audio stories with J. B. Simien.  This is the story of an “An Artist Who Dreams.”  Please visit me at www.jbsimien.com. There you can download this and other podcasts through a link on the home page and listen to them at your leisure.  You will also find a link below to rate us in iTunes.  If you do that you will help other people find and enjoy this podcast too.

I moved to New York City to become a famous artist when I was nineteen.  Specifically, New York was where I had chosen to make my living as a Painter.  When I was a small child, I made pencil sketches that earned praise from my family and friends.  My parent’s encouragement at that early age convinced me that I had an extraordinary talent.  So, with their financial and emotional help and a great deal of learning, I advanced into the local world of art.  As a teenager, I became a highly skilled artist with a growing reputation in my hometown of Seattle, Washington.  I viewed my move to New York, falsely, as advancing from the minor to the major leagues of the art world.  It was my opportunity to associate with the greatest living artist on this planet and improve my talents.  

Thought I was a known artist with a good reputation, I didn’t have the red carpet rolled out for me in New York.  With the help of my network of associates, I was determined to support myself by painting portraits of the city’s elite residents.  The wealthy pay incredible sums of money for a celebrity artist to paint them.   If I could successfully build up clients in this niche, I would be able to pay the bills as I worked on expressing art that challenged my talents and creativity.  Unfortunately, to that desired niche of citizens, I was not enough of a celebrity.  

My clients were the niche pretending to be wealthy.  These were the people who would actually prefer to have a photo made but the pretention of their social status required a portrait painted by a known artist.  They are good people but very price conscious and highly demanding.  They want everything but they wanted to pay for it with a discount coupon from Groupon.  They didn’t want an interpretation of their image based upon the artist’s vision.  They wanted a Sears’s photograph.  That was not what I wanted.  So, naturally, the customer hire the artist who would give them what they want.  I fell from an unreliable income for painting portraits to haphazard income from making sketches of any person who would hire me in the farmer’s market pavilion.  

Greg Kinkaid was my life saver.  He is a successful celebrity artist who allowed me to live in his art studio in exchange for helping keep the place clean.  He kept me feed and in art supplies.  He let me exhibit my work in his studio in the hopes that some of his wealthy clients would purchase it or commission me for some additional artwork.  I was grateful for Greg’s help.  Still, I was deeply depressed.  I felt lost.  The stress of my failure took a toll.  I would sleep whenever I could to just to help the time pass but in my dreams, I was still unhappy.   

I was sleeping a few days ago when I awoke out of a vivid dream.  In my dream, I was in a crowd of drunken merrymakers on New Year’s evening in Times Square.  We were watching the ball drop and counting down to the New Year.  I had a god’s eye view of the activity and the same time I was in the crowd just like everyone else.  Through my god’s eye view of the activity, I watch a young teenage woman murdered.  

She was selling marijuana in the crowd.  Then she moves to the edge of the crowd and was watching the activity from the entry way of a courtyard of one of the buildings.  She was waiting for more customers and enjoying herself.  As she was focused on the descending ball and counting down.  I observed man come up behind her.  She was unaware of his approach.  He lifted her off her feet and carried her deep into a more deserted location within the courtyard.  She screamed for help but her cries were absorbed within the crowd noise.  Once the man was in his chosen spot.  He choked her and crushed her windpipe. He robbed her of her marijuana and her cash.  He dropped her body like discarded piece of trash.

Though it is morbid, I was inspired to sketch the murder as I had envisioned it in my dream.  The angle I chose was to contrast the public celebration against the edge of the crowd murder of a teenage girl from my god’s eye view.  In my dream, I had seen the faces of both the victim and the murderer.  In my sketch, I left both the victim and the murder as faceless people.  I wanted an observer to project their own face onto the subjects.  However, I was exacting in all other detail. From the sketch, I make a painting that looks like a Sears photograph.  It was an excellent theme.  The painting hung in Greg’s studio for less than an hour before the owner of an art gallery purchased it for a thousand dollars.  She prominently displayed the painting in her gallery.  

Two days ago, I was visited by police detectives.  They made an inquiry about the subject in the painting in relationship to an ongoing murder investigation.  To my surprise, the location of their murder inquiry was the same as in my sketch and painting.  The details of the murder location and my painting were exactly the same.  It was as though my painting was a photo of the murder scene.   
At the location of the murder, the police and the prosecutor questioned me.  I told them everything I had seen in my dream.  In my complete foolishness, I didn’t realize that they thought that I had committed the murder.  They believe that my painting was a confession and I had just incriminated myself.  Based upon my help, I was charged with the murder. 

The judge was convinced that I was a flight risk.  So, I was held without bond.   Thanks to Greg, I had a private attorney instead of a distracted public defender.  The woman who had been murdered was the daughter of a well-connected family.  The state wanted this case solved and resolved quickly.  I was the only suspect in the murder.  I was in very serious trouble.  My attorney advised me to cut a deal.  She wanted my answer in the morning.  

That night I had another vivid dream.  I was still in jail but I was out of my cell walking the corridors.  As I wandered the corridors, I looked into the cells that I passed and observed the inmates in their activity.  In section K west, I spotted the murder of the teenage girl in one of the cell.  I recognized him immediately.  I awoke from the dream and make a new sketch of the murder scene.  This time I include the faces of the murder and the victim.

The next morning while meeting with my attorney, I told her that I had found the murderer.  She didn’t believe me but she did think it couldn’t hurt for the police to have another suspect.  She took the sketch and spoke with the prosecutor.  The detectives on the case had wondered why there was no surveillance video of me in the sounding area on the night of the murder.  They recognized the murder in the sketch. He was a well know stick up man.  They had lots of video surveillance of him in the area on that night.  However, there were no video cameras in the area where the murder had occurred.  

The detectives arranged to question the new suspect.  They laid a copy of the sketch on the table between themselves and him.   They set silent and stared at him, smiled and bluffed.  One of them said, “That’s murder one.”  The new suspect looked at the sketch and said to the detectives, “So, you know!”  The detectives replied, “Yes, we have a witness.  This is your chance to avoid murder one.”  The murder then confessed to the crime.  He cut a deal with the prosecutor for a charge of manslaughter. 

After the charges against me were dropped, I was released from jail.   Still, something that the detectives remarked upset me.  When I made my sketch of the murder scene, it was a day before New Year’s Eve.  The murder victim was still alive.  It seems I had dreamed of a future event.  She could have been saved. 

 The years have passed.  I continue to have vivid dreams of murder scenes.  I am compelled to make paintings of my dreams.  Those paintings have made me a multi-millionaire.  Yet, I know that with each dream the victim is still alive and can be saved.  I have confirmed later that all my painting depict actual murders that happen in the city.  I feel I’m supposed to help but do I dare risk it? 

That concludes, “An Artist Who Dreams.”  I hope you have enjoyed this story.  Please check the links below to hear other original Audio Stories and please visit me at www.jbsimien.com.  Thank you and take care.

The Black Eyed Jordon

Jordon and his cat Nicole live in a studio apartment in a historic building (in the pioneer square section of downtown Seattle).   At one point in its history, the basement of the building served as a temporary morgue for victims of the Seattle Fire of 1889.  Over the years, starting with that event and others, the apartment building gained a reputation for being haunted. 

This is Audio Stories with J. B. Simien and this is the story about a weird YouTube video called The Black Eyed Jordon.  Listeners, you can subscribe to Audio Stories through a link at the website jbsimien.com.  Please tell your friends about Audio Stories and come back and visit with us again on Saturday each week for a new original story. 

Until a few days ago, nothing unusual ever happen in Jordon’s apartment.  Then one evening he came home from work to discover the water in the bathroom and kitchen sinks were turned on.  He thought that it was possible that he had accidently turned the water on in one of the sinks (and forgotten about it) but not both sinks.  The next day, he again discovered that the water was turned on in both sinks.  Perhaps, he thought, there is a problem with the water pressure in this apartment.  However, after an inspection, of the apartments plumbing by the building maintenance team, he was assured that the water pressure wasn’t the cause.   On the third day, he again discovered that the water in both sinks was turned on when he returned home from work.   That weekend, he installed video surveillance cameras in his apartment.   He was able to check on the activity in his apartment from work over the internet. 

Today, on YouTube, I discovered some of that surveillance video posted by, my friend, Jordon (shortly before he died).  I hadn’t seen it until now.  I have been consumed by emotion over his death last week.  We had dated on and off for years.  We had an unspoken understanding that we would eventually be together.  It’s so strange to find this video now by accident.  According to his sister Jill, I’m experiencing some of the same issues he experienced before he passed.  She and I are viewing the video together looking for answers. 

The video is edited.  It’s a narration about a doppelganger (a ghost that could be Jordon’s twin except for his large black pupil-less eyes).  In the start of the video, Nicole is alone in the apartment.  She hops onto the kitchen counter and moves toward the sink.  Then using one of her paws, she moved the single handle of the water faucet until water begins to flow.   Next, we see Nicole drinking from the flowing water.   Later the video shows Nicole repeating the process at the bathroom sink.  Nicole had learned the importance of turning on the water (to get a drink) but she had not learned the importance of turning the water off (when she was done).  That resolved the mystery of who opened the water taps in his apartment and mine.

The video was a third through its run.  We next observed Jordon, suddenly appear in the main room of the apartment (from nowhere).  His eyes are large and completely black like a demons.  We can hear the water still running in the sinks, as Nicole, strikes an aggressive defensive posture and backs into a corner of the living room.  With her back against the wall, she hisses at Jordon as though she does not know him.  She is afraid!    We see Jordon opening and pulling things out of his kitchen cabinets and fridge.  He is throwing the items violently onto the floor of the apartment and making a big mess. 

Some minutes later, Jordon (wearing different clothing with no black eyes) enters the apartment from the outside hallway.  The black eyed Jordon turns his head and moves towards the door.  He appeared to want to speak to the Jordon who was coming through the door but he disappeared as the other Jordon enters the room.  We see the Jordon who just entered the room looking at all the damage and shaking his head.   We see Nicole come to the door to greet him.  He had been shopping for clothing.  Next, we see him looking at his phone.   He appears to be reviewing the video.  His hand covers his mouth.  He is shocked by what he sees. 

Later, we see Jordon and Nicole sleeping.  We see the black eyed Jordon standing next to the bed (silently watching the pair).  Black eyed Jordon appears transparent.   He extends his arm and touches the sleeping Jordon on the back of his neck and disappears.   Jordon is now having a seizure.    After he recovers, the spot on the back of his neck that the black eyed Jordon touched him is swollen and appears to be causing him pain.   He checks himself in the bathroom mirror.   He lets out a scream of distressed.  Turning to one of the surveillance cameras, he reveals squiggling worms embedded in large holes in his skin on the back of his neck.  Jordon squeezed the swollen spot, in front of the camera, and several squiggling worms fell from the holes.  The video ends at that point. 

I was told by his sister that, though the video was edited, it was not fiction.   Everything happen.   The day after that incident, she helped her brother edit and load the video to YouTube.  He refused to go to a doctor.  He didn’t have health insurance.   She claims that the worms appeared to be migrating under his skin towards his head.  By the end of the day he had become violent towards her.  She had to leave his apartment to avoid a fight.  Within twenty four hours, Jordon had killed eight of his coworkers.  The clothing he was wearing on the day he murdered his friends, was the same clothing that black eyed Jordon wore in the video.  The medical examiner found two unusual issues during Jordon’s autopsy.   First, he had large black eyes with no pupils.  Second, a colony of unidentified worms were discovered nesting inside his brain.  The examiner speculated that the nesting worms could explain his murderous behavior.

Since I live in the same building, I adapted Nicole after Jordon’s death.   Almost immediately I begin to experience water turning on by itself in my sinks when I was out of the apartment.  Now, I know that Nicole is the cause.   Today, I found my stuff pulled out of my cabinets and thrown onto my apartment floor like Jordon.  I am putting in a video surveillance system this weekend to monitor my apartment.  I’m not sure what the hell I will do if it’s a demon.

This concludes the story of The Black Eyed Jordon.  I’m J. B. Simien.  I hope that you all have enjoyed it.  Please tell your friends and your fans about Audio Stories with J. B. Simien.  There is a link below that will take you all to iTunes.  Please rates us there.  Your kindness will help other people find us.   We will be here for you next Saturday.  

Thank you and take care.

12 Psychic Predictions for the Trump Administration in 2017

The World’s First Trillionaire
Trump is successfully using the agency of the Presidential Office to enrich himself.  He is on track to become the world’s first Trillionaire.   

The Ceremonial Head of State
Trump has delegated daily operation of the administration to his chief strategist and senior counselor Stephen Bannon.  Stephen Bannon is operating from the White House as Trump’s Prime Minister.  He has consolidated his power over the administration to become the acknowledged real power behind the throne.   Bannon is on course in his mission to make America White Again. 

The Pay to Play Administration
In the Trump Administration, the enforcement or non-enforcement of laws and regulations is based upon what’s best for the Trump’s business empire.  Everything has a price.  To achieve favorable treatment, present Trump with a gift.  Once the gift has been accepted or renegotiated to an acceptable gift, you can be assured of the enthusiastic cooperation of the Trump Administration.

Prove we support the Trump Administration
Diplomats, federal government suppliers and federal government workers, offer proof of their support of the Trump Administration by selecting Trump branded products.

Halt to all Non-White Christian Heterosexual Immigration to the U. S.
The Trump Administration and the Republican Congress (as ordered by Bannon) are engaged in the process of pushing a constitutional amendment to halt permanently all non-White Christian heterosexual immigration into the United States.

New laws define U.S. citizenship
The Trump Administration and the Republican Congress (as ordered by Bannon) are engaged in the process of pushing a constitutional amendment to deny US citizenship to children born in the United States if both parents are not U.S. citizens and White.

National Identification Card Required of Non-White Citizens
The Trump Administration and the Republican Congress (as ordered by Bannon) are engaged in the process of requiring all non-White Us Citizens and U.S. residents to possess a national identification card to verify their citizenship.  

Two Classes of U.S. Citizenship
The Trump Administration and the Republican Congress is engaged in the process of creating a constitutional amendment to create two classes of U.S. citizenship.    The First Class Citizens have full voting rights, preference in employment, preference in receiving government services and their children are born as U.S. Citizens.   First class is reserved for the founding White Christian heterosexual Citizens.   Second class citizenship is reserved for all other U. S. Citizens.  There is no voting rights associated this this group.  Their children must be naturalized to become US citizens.

Constitution Amendment on Marriage.
The Trump Administration and the Republican Congress are engaged in the process of creating a constitutional amendment to limit marriage to a heterosexual men and women.

Only English Can be spoken in the Public Space Laws.
The Trump Administration and the Republican Congress is engaged in the process of creating a constitutional amendment to require English only be used in government communications and in public spaces.

Police exempted from violations of U.S. Law
Public policies supports the use of deadly force by law enforcement officials in any incident they deem that such force is needed.   White Christian heterosexual citizens are exempted from this law.   Law enforcement officials must have justification when engaging those citizens.

Presidential Reality TV Show on the Trump Network

Trump is the owner, producer and star of his Presidential reality TV show.  He has revived his catch phrase “You’re fired!”  Weekly he gives assignment to governments officials to improve the bottom line of his business empire.  Fans watch as he fires, on his weekly live presidential TV broadcast, an unfortunate government worker.