Coming Clean and Resigning My Commission

After thirty-plus years of involvement in the intelligence community, I have been called to step forward and come clean.

This article details my recruitment and involvement with both the British GCHQ (once known as MI8) and the American CIA. It also provides testimony of Christ's mercy and grace.

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“All the world’s a stage, And all the men and women merely players.”
---William Shakespeare (As You Like It)

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ALL GLORY BELONGS TO GOD
Shakespeare lied. Original Sin set the stage for the downfall of man, but men and women are not players in God’s eyes. We have options.
 
The gift of free will gives us control over our destiny. We can choose the right path or chase our folly and go astray. We can choose to abide by God’s commands or lose our life to sin. Ultimately, we can devote ourselves to Christ and experience heaven for ourselves or perish in the flame.
 
I’ve known people who spoke of their childhood church experiences with animus and derision. Some talked about the “fire and brimstone” pastors they had to endure. While others spoke of the boring and unnecessary “babel” that kept them from their own selfish pursuits. Both seemed to embrace their sin. I could see the fear in their eyes as they spoke of their experiences and feel the hate within their hearts as they shared their accounts.
 
I felt a sense of sadness for them and could relate to a degree. There was a time in my own life when my own sin nearly consumed me. The pressures I had placed upon myself had nearly pushed me past the point of redemption, and it is only through God's grace and mercy that I pulled through.
 
 
WHERE THE JOURNEY BEGAN
I didn’t receive a religious upbringing. My dad harbored hate and contempt for Christ and he openly expressed it, and my mother had abandoned all hope. She was an alcoholic who repeatedly relapsed. She denied the realities of her situation and willingly placated my dad to avoid his wrath.
 
The only time the word "God" was mentioned in the household, it was followed by the word “damn.” I was verbally, sexually, and physically abused by my dad and my mom once tried to molest me. I desperately wanted to escape and turned to books and outdoor activities as an outlet.
 
My dad traveled regularly for work, and my mother would turn to the bottle as soon as he was out the door. For the first fifteen years of my life, he was on the road eight months a year, five or six days a week. By the second or third day of his trips, my mom would regularly pass out in a stupor and I was forced to fend for myself through the remainder of the week.
 
When I was five or six, my dad sat me down and told me that if I ever spoke to anyone about what went on in the household I would be taken away and sent to an orphanage. He punctuated the threat by saying I would never see my mother again. Afterward, all I could picture were scenes from Oliver Twist, and I made a vow to myself that I’d stay silent and tend to my mother.
 
 
A CROSS THAT NEVER BELONGED TO ME
Part of that meant sobering her up by the time my dad returned from his business trips. I’d find the bottles of liquor she’d hidden throughout the house, dump them out, tell her that my dad was scheduled to return, and remind her that she had to pick him up from the airport. Sobering her up, I would repeatedly screamed at her to “act right!”
 
I feared what would happen to the both of us if my dad returned home and found her drunk or hungover. He had a snap temper and openly demonstrated his wrath when I was a toddler. He was viscous with my mother, and he joyfully beat a cousin of mine once for violating a simple house rule while my cousin pleaded with him for mercy and forgiveness.
 
On one occasion, when my dad was in town and working from the office, he came home late one night, said a few words to my mother and then headed straight into the bathroom where I was alone and taking a bath.
 
He burst in, stood over me menacingly, looked me in the eye, and shouted with a whisper: “It’s your fault your mother drinks!” His voice was dripping with contempt when he said this to me, and I could feel the hate emanating from his heart as he spoke.
 
 
 ​A TIPPING POINT
When I was fifteen, I had had enough. My mom’s behavior was becoming more and more erratic and the years of abuse I’d suffered at home were boiling over.
 
During the summer break before my sophomore year of high school, I’d come home one afternoon to find my mom totally inebriated. She was on her hands and knees, attempting to wash the kitchen floor with a rag in her hand and a bucket of ammonia by her side. She was so drunk she could hardly keep her balance.

Disgusted and ashamed, I asked her what she was doing and she replied: “I have to clean up! Your father’s coming home."
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This was on a Thursday, and it sent me panicking. My dad was expected home the following day, and I could only imagine what was going to happen when he walked in the door and found my mother drunk or passed out. My mind snapped, and I moved toward her. I began beating her with my fists as hard as I could as she lay helpless before me in a prone position.
 
I must have beat her within an inch of her life. I could my hear my mom groaning in agony, and I felt nothing. Instead of feeling remorse, I gathered myself, made my way out to the front porch to wait for my dad left her alone to tend to her wounds.
 
As my dad pulled into the driveway and climbed out of his car, I stood up and marched over to him. My fists were balled and I pointed at his face with my index finger, screaming: “If you don’t get that fucking bitch out of this house, I’ll kill her and I’ll kill you too!”
 
After that, I ran out of the yard, and kept going until I was out of the neighborhood. I don’t remember where I went or how many days I was gone. But when I returned home, I found my dad sitting doscile at the kitchen table.

He quietly disclosed that my mother had gone to Phoenix to stay with her sister and would be entering a rehabilitation facility. He never mentioned after that.
 
 
SURRENDERING TO SIN
Shortly after the school year had started, my dad informed me that my mom would be returning home from Phoenix. We didn’t speak about the implications of her return, and I retreated alone to my bedroom.
 
Emotion filled me, and I began to cry. I thought about the beating I had given my mother and the evil I had been living with all those years. Rage filled me, and I simply said: “Fuck it!”
 
In the months before the incident, I had begun hiding bottles from my dad’s personal liquor stash in the rafters of the basement to curb my mom’s alcohol consumption and had never returned them. Fueled by rage and confusion, I got up from my bed, went into the rafters, and pulled out a 1.75ml of peppermint schnapps I'd hidden. I downed about half the bottle within the next half hour and drifted into euphoria.
 
That first drink sent me on a trajectory I would never have imagined. It opened the door for the devil. To protect myself from my dad, I’d begun to lie at a young age. I was pretty good at it, and I honed my skills in high school by blending in with the popular crowd and creating fictitious stories about my background.
 
 
A DARK AND DANGEROUS ROAD
I had had strong ambitions to enter the military through one of the service academies and applied myself to the task through high school. I participated in sports, held a job, made good grades, and kept my nose clean.
 
My senior year of high school, I received invitations from one of our Senators and our U.S. Congressman to interview for service academy appointments.  What I did not realize at the time was that my activities had been monitored within the intelligence community for years. Simply put, I fit a certain profile they were seeking for deep cover operations and Freemasons within the community I grew up in had tipped them off.

Unlike the meeting with the Senator, the meeting with our U.S. Congressman was a screening qualifier. I was personable, reasonably attractive, a decent athlete, and my aptitude scores were off the charts. Intelligence officials were aware of the abuse I had suffered at home and my growing dependance on alcohol. I was self-managed, had an affection for violence, and I could tell a lie without setting off a lie detector. In short, I was an ideal candidate for deep cover operations.
 
This happened in 1988, when the West was still locked in the Cold War with the Soviet Union. I had an Eastern European heritage and had taken Russian language courses in both middle school and high school. A Soviet spy posing as a classmate once lured me to join their cause and turned I had turned her down. I had an endemic love for country and wanted to serve the nation.

Two men dressed in nondescript black suits had accompanied the Congressman into the interview room and they recruited me into service right there on the spot. They convinced me to forgo my military academy ambitions and instead offered me the opportunity to assassinate high-value targets within the Eastern Bloc on behalf of the American government.

Following a grooming period, advanced combat training, and mental conditioning, they told me that I would be assigned to field work within the Eastern Bloc. These men opened the door to Princeton where I began to observe and report on high-profile fellow students during my grooming period.

I was still in college when the Berlin Wall fell and the Cold War ended. Needs changed, and I was reassigned to a clandestine operations team located on U.S. soil. I underwent additional mental conditioning and was then placed into a private sector job to build an alias persona after I completed the conditioning.
 

PULLED OUT OF THE PIT
Thirteen years ago, I completed the obligations required of me under my original oath of service.  I was trained to kill on command and terminated the last of two targets assigned to me sometime that year.

Afterward, I began to take stock of my life without even realizing it. The assignments I’d performed were masked from memory under a voluntary and excruciating training technique known as Monarch Programming. Through a combination of life-threatening torture techniques and  hallucinogenic drugs, I was taught to slow my heart rate, separate myself from all emotion, and blind my memories. A trained psychopath in effect.

That said, an earnest and sincere desire to quit drinking and unburden myself of all the guilt and shame I had carried with me since childhood overcame me after I had fulfilled my service obligations and I acted on it.

On February 25th of 2012, I got down and my knees, and asked Christ to relieve me of the compulsion to drink. I asked His forgiveness and asked Him to change me from within. That night, I went to bed and slept a sound sleep for the first time in years.
 
 
THE NATURE OF THE BEAST
There  is no fairytale ending here. In the months prior to surrendering my sin to Christ, a CIA operative had approached me with an offer to begin Black Ops work on the Agency’s behalf here on U.S. soil and I entertained their proposal. It was a couched offer.
 
I was told I’d be left to my own devices to further American interests and that the Agency would neither confirm nor deny my involvement in their activities if I were ever outed. There was no implied consent on my part and I went about my business. That said, my activities were monitored and there was a presumption of collaboration on their part.
 
In the fall of 2012, I began a new business venture within the media industry focused on news. The business model was revolutionary, and the strategic objectives outlined by the company ruffled feathers amongst the powerful and elite. The company planned to cover current events with an unbiased, analytical editorial approach and attempt to restore some semblance of neutrality to reporting and news coverage here in the United States.
 
In March of 2013, I met with two Secret Service officials stationed within the Atlanta field office on an unrelated matter. Unbeknownst to me, the meeting was a setup arranged by both the CIA as well as the British intelligence officials that had recruited me into service out of high school.

The startup had begun to pick up traction and my vision for the media company ran counter to the objectives of the Federal Reserve Board, the British Crown, and the Central Intelligence Agency. During the meeting, the two Secret Service agents I met with placed a call into Washington D.C., and I was marked as an expendable asset by CIA officials.
 
Throughout the remainder of the year, I faced adversity as I attempted to get the new business venture off the ground. Evil encircled me and demons clouded my judgment. I spent time in jail on a disturbing the peace charge, had my life threatened, and also had my reputation besmirched.
 
In June the following year, I arranged a business trip to Denver along with a short vacation. When I arrived at Denver International Airport, the ride I had arranged from the airport was nowhere to be found and I was forced to scramble for other means of transportation.
 
At the time, DIA’s transportation terminal was undergoing construction. My flight had arrived late in the evening and the corridor leading up to the bus platform was darkly lit. I made my way up four stories of stairs to the bus platform and observed three nondescript young men in their early to mid-twenties with tightly drawn hoodies in my passing.
 
These three men pushed or threw me off the four-story platform while I was staring off into the horizon. Later, it was revealed to me that they were assassins contracted by John Brennan to terminate my relationship with the CIA. He was the Director of the Agency at the time.
 
 
ONLY THROUGH THE GRACE OF GOD
Through Christ's mercy and grace, I survived the assassination attempt. I spent two and a half weeks in a coma, nearly five months in the hospital, and another year and a half in outpatient physical rehabilitation in the Denver metro region recovering from my injuries. I returned to my home in Atlanta in September of 2015 a changed man, but with considerably more work to do to be worthy of my redemption.
 
Meditation became a daily part of my routine after I had settled in back in Atlanta. For the first time in my life, I began to know a true sense of serenity and peace, and counted my blessings every day. That said, I picked up where I had left off vocationally.
 
In 2019, an opportunity fell into my lap to strengthen cultural ties between the United States and our allies in the Middle East. Sensing the rapidly growing tensions between China and the West, I helped orchestrate an international business deal designed to further American interests within the region.
 
As things began to solidify, the CIA reached out to me again and offered to help fund a portion of the deal. I was enticed by the offer but decided to hold off for reasons I really didn’t understand at the time. Through prayer and meditation, much more was revealed to me in the following months, and I'm sad to say that most of what I have learned hasn’t been flattering.

For starters, although I had taken the U.S. Maritime Service Oath for Commissioned Officers when I was sworn into service out of high school, I’ve learned that I was actually recruited by British Intelligence officials within the GCHQ to serve the interests of the British Crown at the outset of my career. An unwitting double agent the entire time to be precise.

Over the first twenty years of my career, I terminated assets interfering with the Crown's strategic objectives within the United States and also helped the Crown gather intelligence on strategic assets within the Transportation, Education, and Financial Services industries. I engaged frequently with the Cosa Nostra and Bratva organized crime syndicates during that time, and the assets I terminated were among their most hardened and notorious bosses.

The British Crown has deliberately destabilized American culture and society in a calculated game of chess ever since the Continental Congress adjourned in 1789. They accelerated their plans when the Cold War ended and kicked their plans into overdrive during Bill Clinton's two terms as President in the 1990's.

Part of this has meant eliminating criminal elements within the underworld that threaten British Freemasonry's strategic objectives. Additionally, they have deliberately debased the moral values of America's poor and working class families, and routinely corrupted American government and corporate institutions through extortion, graft, and bribery.

The British Crown has now begun to do much the same within the boundaries of the  United Kingdom as well. They aim to usurp the British Parliament and regain control of their old empire.

MI6 and GCHQ agents orchestrate controlled chaos throughout their own territories and former British colonies to destabilize the value of their own currency and foster fear among the populace.  The Crown intends to usher in a fascist political regime once the Queen Elizabeth II passes away and the Crown changes hands. Fostering economic calamity is a means to that end. British agents has stacked Royal gold reserves to facilitate the coming power play.
  
It has also been revealed to me that several of my classmates at Princeton have sold their souls, or a portion thereof, to America's greatest foreign adversary for what amounts to a handful of silver and a box-full of trinkets. They have willfully diverted jobs and strategic manufacturing capacities to China and weakened national security in the process.  I spent a good deal of time with  some of these classmates during our time together at school and had affection for them. That said, what was revealed to me leaves me feeling glad we were never close.
 
Lastly, it was revealed to me just how porous national security within the United States has become the past four decades. As a nation, the United States was so focused on radical Islamic terrorism following 9/11 that we neglected very real threats here at home stemming from China and Russia, as well as the British Empire.

For years, foreign sleeper cells from all three nations have wormed their way into American communities as well as our schools. I've had direct engagements with some of the cells from all three nations over the years. They routinely conduct espionage and actively recruit naive young men and women to their causes. It's a big reason why America's school systems have destabilized the last several years and American society as a whole is so fractious.
 
 
A RESIGNATION
There is a war coming. The British intelligence offices I once served know it, as do the CIA and other foreign intelligence services. The blue-blooded elites of the world have designs to carve up the map and feast on the spoils. The decimation of the United States is a big part of their plan.
 
This Third World War has been well over two centuries in the making. Many of the wealthiest and most powerful among us envision conquering the heavens as mankind has conquered earth: through blood, sweat, tears, and slavery and the war to come is advance preparation to this end. As Proverbs 8:5 reminds us, they have largely forgotten Christ’s teachings and boldly wave their middle finger at Him at their peril.
 
I can tell you first-hand of Christ’s grace and His mercy. I can tell you that He lives, that He listens, and that He sees all. Contradictory to Shakespeare's allegory, we are not players on a chess board like the wicked and the evil would have you believe.

On December 21st  of 2019, Astronomers picked up a sonar signal that originated from deep space on November 28th of that year. The signal defied the laws of physics, and for some reason astrophysicists are baffled to provide an adequate explanation.
 
Students of the Bible and technological advancement know well the source and meaning of that signal: It was The Clarion Call as outlined in the Book of Revelations. Christ Our Savior and His angels approach to serve wrath upon the earth and reclaim His kingdom for heaven.
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Everyone reading this has a choice to make: You can abandon all to Jesus Christ and be welcomed into heaven; or take sides in a futile Third World War soon to come. Those that chose the later option will disappear into the abyss like unrepentant sinners were during the Flood of the earth while those who embrace Christ will be blessed with eternal life.

Author: Erik Gagnon - Managing Partner, Chi Rho Consulting