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.
 
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’d 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, remind her that my dad was scheduled to returrn and that she had to pick him up from the airport, and repeatedly screamed at her to “act right.”
 
I feared what would happen to both of us if he returned home and found her drunk or hungover. He had a snap temper and often showed 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 he screamed for mercy and forgiveness.
 
On one occasion, when he was in town and working from the office, my dad came home late one night, said a few words to my mother and then headed straight to the bathroom where I was alone and taking a bath.
 
He burst in, stood over me menacingly, looked me in the eye, and said: “It’s your fault your mother drinks.” His voice dripped with contempt, 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 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 balance.

Disgusted, I asked her what she was doing, and she said: “I have to clean up. Your father’s coming home."
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This was on a Thursday, and it sent me panicking. He was expected home the following day, and I could only imagine what was going to happen when he walked in the door and found her drunk. My mind snapped, and I began beating her with my fists as she lay helpless before me in a prone position.
 
I must have beat her within an inch of her life. I could hear her groaning in agony, and I felt nothing. Instead of tending to her wounds, I gathered myself and made my way out to the front porch to wait for my dad.
 
As he pulled into the driveway and climbed out of his car, I stood up and marched right over to him. I balled my fists, pointed and him, and screamed: “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 out of the neighborhood. I don’t remember where I went or how long I was gone. But when I returned home, I found my dad docile. He quietly disclosed that my mother had gone to Phoenix to stay with her sister and would be entering a treatment facility. The matter was 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 matter, and I retreated 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, I got up from my bed, went into the rafters, and pulled out a 1.75ml of peppermint schnapps. I downed about half the bottle 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 learned to lie at a young age. I was pretty good at it, and I honed my skills in high school by blending in and creating fictitious stories about my background.
 
 
A DARK AND DANGEROUS ROAD
I had ambitions to enter the military through one of the service academies and applied myself 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 both our Senator and our Congressman to interview for service academy appointments.  What I did not realize at the time was that my activities had been monitored by intelligence officials for quite some time. Simply put, I fit a certain profile they were looking for.

The meeting with the Congressman was a screening qualifier. I was reasonably attractive, a decent athlete, and my aptitude scores were off the charts. They were aware of the abusive I had suffered at home, and my growing dependance on alcohol. I had an affinity for violence and I could tell a lie without setting off lie detectors. I was an ideal candidate for deep cover operations.
 
This happened in 1988, when we were still locked in a Cold War with the Soviet Union. I had an Eastern European heritage and had taken Russian language in both middle school and high school. A Soviet spy posing as a classmate lured me to join their cause and turned I had turned her down. I had an endemic love for country and wanted to serve our nation.

Two men dressed in nondescript black suits had accompanied the Congressman into the interview room and they recruited me right there on the spot. They 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 conditioning. They opened the door to Princeton where I began to observe and report on 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 on here on U.S. soil. I underwent additional training 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. That said, an earnest and sincere desire to quit drinking and unburden myself of all the guilt and shame I had carried since childhood overcame me.
 
On February 25th of 2012, I got down and my knees, and asked God 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’s no fairytale ending here. In the months prior to surrendering my sin, a CIA operative had approached me with an offer to begin Black Ops work on the Agency’s behalf here on U.S. soil. It was a couched offer.
 
I was told I’d be left to my own devices and that the agency would neither confirm nor deny my involvement 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.
 
In the fall of 2012, I began a new business venture within the media industry focused on news. The business model was revolutionary, and our strategic objectives ruffled feathers. We planned to cover current events with an unbiased, analytical editorial approach and attempt to restore some semblance of neutrality to reporting and news coverage.
 
In March of that year, I met with two Secret Service officials stationed within the Atlanta field office. Unbeknownst to me, this was a setup arranged by both the CIA as well as the intelligence agency that had recruited me into service out of high school. My vision ran counter to theirs, and they marked me for death during that meeting.
 
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 flight from Atlanta to Denver for business as well as for a short vacation. The ride I had arranged was intercepted, and I was forced to scramble for other means of transportation when I arrived at the airport.
 
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 the four stories of stairs leading to the platform and observed three 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 command. He was the Director of the CIA at the time.
 
 
ONLY THROUGH THE GRACE OF GOD
By the grace of God, 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. 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.
 
After I had settled in, meditation became a daily part of my routine. I began to know a 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 in 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 has been revealed to me in the months following. I'm sad to say that most of what has been shown to me 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 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.

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. 

The Royal Family has now begun to do much the same within the boundaries of the  U.K.  They aim to usurp their own Parliament and regain control of the empire. They are orchestrating controlled chaos to spread fear throughout their kingdom and destabilize the value of their currency. They have stacked their gold reserves and intend to usher in a fascist governmental regime once the Queen Elizabeth II passes away and the Crown changes hands.

It was also revealed to me that several of my classmates at Princeton have sold their souls, or a portion thereof, to our greatest foreign adversary for what amounts to a handful of silver and a box-full of trinkets. I had affection for some of them during our time together at school, and the revelations have left me glad I never really knew them at all.
 
Lastly, it was revealed to me just how porous our national security has become the past four decades. As a nation, we were so focused on radical Islamic terrorism following 9/11 that we neglected very real threats here at home stemming from both China and Russia.

For years, foreign sleeper cells have impregnated themselves throughout our communities. Over the years, I've had direct engagements with some of these cells. They conduct espionage and actively recruit naive young men and women to their causes. It's a big reason why our school systems have destabilized and our society as a whole is so fractious.
 
 
A RESIGNATION
There is a war coming. The intelligence offices I once served know it, as do our CIA and 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 war has been well over two centuries in the making. The wealthiest and most powerful among us envision conquering the heavens as mankind conquered earth: through blood, sweat, tears, and slavery. They have forgotten Christ’s teachings and wave their middle finger at the One True God at their peril.
 
I can tell you first-hand of God’s grace and His mercy. I can tell you that He lives, that He listens, and that He sees ALL.
 
We are NOT players on a chess board like the wicked and the evil would have you believe. Every soul has a choice to make. You can abandon all to Jesus Christ and be welcomed into heaven; or disappear into the abyss like the unrepentant sinners of Noah's age were.

Author: Erik Gagnon - Managing Partner, Chi Rho Consulting