Injustice For All

By Dr Sam J Schaller

In Book 3 of the Rational Fear Series Kate and Jack struggle with the consequences of their choices as first Jack, then others are arrested and have to deal with various courts. It tears their family apart, sending Jack and Kate down very different paths: Kate remains dedicated to the cause of the Freedom Fighters while Jack sinks into self pity. New dangers await, quite in addition to the arbitrary enforcement of laws and misuse of the legal system by those who believe they are above the law. Kate continues to strengthen and expand her abilities to perceive and cause distant effects, making her unstoppable influence worldwide a source of trouble to everyone she interacts with. The joy and pain of living makes one ask the same question as Einstein posed: Is this a friendly Universe ... or at least a just Universe?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dr Sam J Schaller
• Release date: Nov 16, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370580828

Dr Sam J Schaller

Dr. Sam J. Schaller is a retired physician, medical researcher, pilot, ordained minister, environmental chemist and world traveler. But first and foremost Doc Schaller is a student of life with an unquenchable thirst to know and understand. Sam currently lives in one of the countries mentioned in the Rational Fear series and can be contacted at [e-mail]

Book preview

Kate Willis sat alone in the third floor loft of the old farmhouse, watching the sun rise. It was a perfect, early August morning in the Swiss Bernese Alps, between Saanen and Gstaad - so far from the violence and oppression taking place in the United States. For the first time that she could remember, she had very little to do.

Since arriving in Switzerland almost a year ago, she had gotten up early every morning and worked on the Rational Fear blog for a couple of hours until her son, André, woke up. She looked over at him, sleeping peacefully, seemingly unaffected by the madness swirling around them. But now, in the aftermath of the 4th of July bombing of the UN building in New York, the Rational Fear blog had been shut down, along with any other blogs on which Deyan Popov, the alleged perpetrator, had posted any of his anti-American or anti-UN opinions.

At least the Internet had been restored. The President had quickly made use of his kill switch and shut the Internet down completely in the US for two weeks, following the blast. When it came back up, there were myriad new restrictions and you could assume that every email, sent or received, had been opened, scanned and recorded, looking for key words like bomb, terrorist, virus, jihad, CIA, FBI, other government acronyms, or the name of any government official or ‘known/suspected terrorist’... ditto for all phone communications. Now, one had only to be suspected of being a terrorist to be arrested, held indefinitely, incommunicado, and without formal charges, legal representation nor public trial. The economy was still crashing, much like it had done in 2001, after the 9/11 attacks.

Kate thought of Article 12 of the United Nations Universal Declaration of Human Rights:

No one shall be subjected to arbitrary interference with his privacy, family, home or correspondence, nor to attacks upon his honour and reputation. Everyone has the right to the protection of the law against such interference or attacks. But the United States was under martial law and civil rights had been suspended. There was no protection of the law.

Even here in Switzerland, her husband, Jack, was being held, without formal charges for the suspicion of being a cyber-terrorist. What was that anyway? Someone who sent scary emails or frightening volumes of spam?

He had refused to violate his confidentiality agreement with Securitas AG, the company for whom he had been working in Geneva, by discussing his work or giving them access to his work computer. For that, he was charged with contempt. He admitted using a fraudulent French passport, but his Swiss attorney was confident that an affirmative defense could be raised, because his current relationship with the United States government made him qualified to request asylum.

Under usual circumstances, neither of the charges would have landed him in prison, where he now awaited the outcome of a long drawn-out legal battle between the Swiss judicial system, the US Department of Justice and the International Criminal Court in Brussels.

Demonstrations had erupted all across the US in protest of the Columbia University students who had been killed, beaten or arrested after the July 4th bombing - which had just resulted in more deaths, beatings and arrests. By August, the FEMA detention camps were full to overflowing. The true unemployment rate now topped 30%, leaving many more Americans free to spend their days blogging and protesting.

A limited number of flights within the United States were now being allowed, with plans to resume international air travel by the end of the first week in August. Despite overwhelming evidence of the health hazards, the TSA was requiring every passenger to undergo a full-body scan, in addition to groping everyone from newborn infants to senior citizens in wheelchairs, and rifling through every purse and piece of luggage before allowing them the privilege of travel. Now the TSA was also screening and searching everyone that got on a ship, train or intercity bus, within the country, as well as between countries. Anyone who refused wasn't allowed to travel. So much for Article 13, she thought,

(1) Everyone has the right to freedom of movement and residence within the borders of each State.

(2) Everyone has the right to leave any country, including his own, and to return to his country.

Kate's biggest fear was that Jack would be returned to his own country, against his will, to be tortured and killed by his former CIA masters. Kate sat there trying to think of something more she could do to help him. In addition to doing her own study of US, Swiss and international law, she had already contacted Jim Marquart, her old high school debate partner, who was now a criminal lawyer in Arizona. He had agreed to come to Zürich to help defend Jack as soon as he could get a flight.

Until then, Jack would be kept in isolation, ostensibly for his own protection, in Gefängnis Zürich, a men's prison used mostly for pre-trial detention. The best Kate could do was to just be ‘there’ with him, every minute that she wasn't taking care of André or monitoring communications between the remaining elite power brokers. Nearly a third of the power elite had died when the first outbreak of the Elite Virus was carried around the world by those attending the June Bilderberg meeting.

At least she was still able to send Jack her thoughts across the miles, telling him what was happening back at home and warning him of any dangers she sensed.

Jack had been arrested the morning of July 6th, two days after the UN bombing, and the US Attorney General had immediately started demanding his extradition. So far, the AG hadn't been able to present sufficient evidence to the Swiss court to meet their criteria for extradition, and their ‘case’ against Jack was far less convincing than the case they had had on Roman Polanski.

First, the AG had alleged treason, although no one had yet been able to identify any treasonous act or statement. They conveniently failed to mention Jonathan Rohmer's previous employment history with the CIA. Jack had been accused of the murder of two CIA interrogators and eight mercenaries in Honduras, but Honduras had no wish to extradite him and there were no witnesses or physical evidence linking him to that crime. No one had been able to locate the medivac pilot who had flown Katherine Willis from Honduras, back to the hospital on Ambergris Caye in Belize. He was now a member of the Freedom Fighters, flying various aircraft for Kelly's covert operations. So the only other witnesses that could even place Jack at the scene were ex-CIA operative David Kelly and Katherine Willis herself. And they were both in the wind.

The CIA had agents surveilling Jack's old apartment, as well as the apartment building in Les Grottes where they had all lived for nearly a year, the Securitas AG office in Geneva, the prison where Jack was being held in Zürich, every airport, bus and train station, plus every major border crossing. So far, there had been no sign of Kelly or Katherine Willis.

Now, in desperation, the AG was alleging that Jack had been a co-conspirator in every act of terrorism ever attributed to the Freedom Fighters or David Kelly. That, of course included the UN bombing, based only on the fact that two emails had been exchanged, nine months earlier, between Deyan Popov, the Bulgarian student credited with masterminding it, and Jack.

Why wasn't anyone asking the obvious questions? Kate thought. How could a twenty-year-old Bulgarian hacker, a language major at Columbia, have gotten enough C4 and access to the UN General Assembly Hall, months in advance, in order to accomplish this? And why would they think that Jack had anything to with it when his emails contained no such information; not even the name of anyone else with the skills or contacts to help Popov? Logic obviously had little or nothing to do with it.

Kate was very aware of the maneuvering going on behind the scenes. To the powers-that-be, his arrest was just an annoyance. They didn't want him in a Swiss prison. They wanted to get their hands on him and were confident that they would. It was just a matter of time.

On the evening of July 5th, when they had separated, Katya, Kate and André going to the farm near Saanen and Jack going back to his official address in Geneva, Kelly quietly left the country. Only Kate and Katya knew where he was. By now, Kate could track anyone that she knew well. It was just a matter of putting her attention in the direction of their unique vibration and up they came on her radar; a relatively new skill that she hadn't mentioned to Katya, or anyone else yet.

Kira Dupre, whom everyone now knew was formerly Laryssa Tarasova, the daughter of David Kelly's Russian wife, Katya Tarasova, had been brought in for questioning. She hadn't told them much because, in truth, she didn't know much. What she thought had happened in Honduras was just hearsay and she only knew that the woman whom she called Katherine Charbanou had been badly injured. Kira had been eighteen years old at the time. She told them she had been taking care of a little boy, whom she called David Charbanou, and admitted that both Katherine Charbanou and her own mother, Katya, had lived in the flat in Les Grottes. She had given them the address of that flat, where she had previously lived and had been going to take care of David, six days per week. But she insisted that she didn't know where either of the women, or the little boy had gone.

Kira had been offered, and accepted, immunity in exchange for any information she could give them, as Kelly had instructed her to do. She had only been seventeen years old when her mother and Kelly had ‘forced’ her to leave Siberia with them. It was understood that she had used forged documents because she had no choice. The authorities had been sympathetic and gentle with twenty-year-old, very obviously pregnant, Kira, who was now married to Denis Dupre, a noted Geneva plastic surgeon from a prominent family. The authorities were disappointed to learn that she had no direct knowledge of any crimes the others may have committed. She was questioned and released. Kira was given a message to relay, should her mother, David Kelly or Katherine Willis contact her: ‘Come in and we'll cut a deal’. As expected, both her phone and home were under 24 hour surveillance.

Kate was glad that Kira, whose first baby was due in less than two months, on September 25th, was at least safe from prosecution. Her husband, Denis, and in-laws had been shocked to learn the details of her life before coming to Geneva, but had dealt with it rather well, Kira thought.

Denis Dupre was also detained and extensively questioned regarding his knowledge of his wife's background, as well as his own involvement with Katya Tarasova and Katherine Willis. He had performed the plastic surgery to alter their appearance, potentially making him a co-conspirator, an accessory after the fact and accomplice to any crimes they might have committed afterwards. It was apparent that he was as surprised to learn the details as his parents had been. He turned over all of the medical records he had on both of them, sans photos, as they hadn’t allowed any pictures to be taken. The authorities were convinced that he had been clueless, or deserving of an academy award for such a flawless performance if he wasn't telling the truth. Denis had told them the truth.

The Elite Virus epidemic, which had infected 12,123 and killed 6,202, had all but died out by the end of July with no new cases being reported for the last week. Once the CDC had discovered the epidemiological pattern and made it known, most of the world's population was no longer afraid of the new designer bug, and life had pretty much returned to normal. Only the elite families, with the precious Illuminati bloodline genes, remained vulnerable and frightened. As Kelly had always said, ‘Your strength is your weakness’. The very genes that had granted them privilege and power now made them vulnerable to the Elite Virus.

The ultimatum the Freedom Fighters had delivered to the ‘banksters’ had worked. The nations of the world were now free of privately-owned central banks and all of their fraudulent loans. For the first time in many decades, the countries of the world were free to print their own money without interest, and regulate their own money supply. Time would tell which politicians would use the opportunity to free their people and make their countries more prosperous and which would simply see it as another opportunity to further exploit and enslave their own.

Chapter 1 – Civil Unrest

Sargent Scott Anderson was being held in the brig at the Pre-Trial Confinement Facility, in New London, Connecticut until his court martial hearing, scheduled for the first week in August. The military tribunal quickly found him not guilty of the murder of the Russian UN Forces trainee whom Anderson had killed in defense of the unarmed Columbia University students involved in the protest in front of the UN General Assembly Hall, when it blew up on July 4th. Only now, his case had become a matter of international political attention.

Sgt. Anderson had been assigned to a multinational NATO force, under UN command, on UN soil. The matter had been referred to the International Criminal Court who ruled that the US Military had no jurisdiction to hear the case and demanded that Scott Anderson be sent to Brussels and tried in the International Criminal Court. The US Military Chiefs strongly objected. Anderson had been given a swift trial and cleared of the murder charge, per the Uniform Military Code of Justice. Still the President had ordered that Anderson be immediately turned over to the International Criminal Court, whose authority he claimed superseded that of the courts of any member nation.

The handwriting was on the wall. Anderson had followed his conscience instead of following orders. They would certainly make an example of him, convict him of murder and execute him. The backlash was swift and intense. Soldiers, no longer on active duty, along with their friends and families took to the streets in a new wave of public protest. The signs they carried had slogans ranging from ‘Restore US Sovereignty’ and ‘Whatever happened to Habeas Corpus and Posse Comitatus?’ to ‘Get Us Out of the UN and all Maritime Treaties’. It wasn't long before they were joined by other groups, putting the government on notice that ‘We Refuse to be Serfs Any Longer’ and ‘The UNITED STATES OF AMERICA CORPORATION Doesn't Own Us’.

Active duty soldiers started refusing to be assigned to NATO-controlled units, and many of their commanding officers supported their decisions. National Guard units sent in to break up peaceful protests were refusing to take illegal orders to beat and arrest American citizens, who were peacefully exercising their First Amendment rights. More and more local police and sheriff departments joined Oath Keepers, renewing their oath to protect and defend the Constitution from all enemies foreign and domestic. And there seemed to be more domestic enemies than foreign, of late.

They decided that sneaking Anderson out at night and putting him on a military transport, before the situation got any hotter, was the best plan, despite warnings of a tropical storm building in the mid-Atlantic. Their pilot, Major Gerald Ribieiro, who had flown both fixed wings and helicopters on sea rescue missions, wasn't one to be intimidated by a little squall; he was sure they could stay ahead of it. In fact, he might enjoy flying through some rough air just to see the UN observer sent to watch over them, puke his guts out.

The Major had been the pilot of the fourth helo in Operation Just Cause, dropping Kelly's company of Rangers at the LZ closest to the church where Noriega was holed up. He was also their ride out, three days later when it was basically over. He and Kelly had had a few drinks together in the Officer's Club afterward, joking about ‘Just Say NO-riega to Drugs’. They dubbed it Operation Just Because. Why did we go in? Just because we can! That had been Kelly's last mission as a Ranger, before he became terminally disillusioned with the military, retired and started working for the CIA.

When the news leaked out that Anderson had been flown out of the country under cover of darkness, the FEMA camp where many of the ‘Justice for Scott Anderson’ protesters had been confined was stormed, Bastille-style, and all the detainees freed. Seven guards and eighteen civilians died in the confrontation. The number of injured was still unknown.

Madre de Dios, Kate thought, as she read both the mainstream and alternative news accounts of the unrest in the United States. Will we even make it to December 21st, or will it end even sooner? Kate wasn't one of those who believed that the end of the Mayan calendar actually marked the end of the world. But she would certainly welcome a new era of spiritual enlightenment to replace the current modus operandi of force and more force, into which ‘civilization’ had sunk. This was unrest for sure, but there was nothing civil about it.

Kelly put together an extraction team to grab Sgt. Anderson in transit. He had Kate continuously monitoring the situation. Major Ribieiro's flight plan took the plane through the edge of the storm, creating just enough turbulence to convince the UN observer that the wisest course of action was to set down at Lajes Field, the home of all U.S. Air Force, Army, and Navy military forces in the Azores, until the storm blew over. Over 2,000 miles out in the middle of the North Atlantic, the northeast tip of Terceira (the third largest of the Azores’ nine islands) came into view. Terceira is almost entirely bordered by high cliffs, and would have been a beautiful sight, if the fog and driving rain hadn’t brought visability down to a hundred meters.

Wind and rain were so common in the Azores, with storms frequently passing through, that no one at the base got too excited about an unscheduled landing. The Major added a dramatic touch by calling in a malfunctioning transponder and requesting tower assistance, which made the UN observer sweat bullets and vomit a few more times. By the time they taxied in, the guy wanted nothing more than to get off of that plane, as quickly as possible.

The senior officer in charge of the mission decided it was best to keep Anderson on board and his presence undisclosed to base personnel. He whistled up a Humvee for the other two members of his team and the queasy UN observer, so that they could take advantage of the base's limited facilities. He would personally keep an eye on Anderson; this mission, he would leave nothing to chance.

A constant fog rose from the warm asphalt as the driving rain continued to beat down, giving cover to the three Freedom Fighters who had landed by boat several hours earlier and were now making their way toward the plane, like they owned the place, dressed in military rain garb. They stopped at the open door and politely inquired if the senior officer required anything. He impatiently waved them away. As he turned around, the last thing he felt was a needle stick before being enveloped in swirling blackness.

The extraction team quickly unlocked Anderson's shackles. Then Anderson traded uniforms with the unconscious officer, who looked to be comfortably asleep, his chin on his chest. When Ribieiro announced that the storm was settling and the transponder was again functional, a prolonged search was made for the senior officer, to no avail. He was located, almost an hour later, shackled to Anderson’s seat, wearing Anderson's clothes, mad as hell. The nearest village, Praia da Vitoria, three miles away, was thoroughly searched, without result.

By then, Anderson and his three escorts were already in the Canary Islands, having reached an airfield on Graciosa, thirty miles from Terceira, where a waiting chopper had flown them to Grand Canary. More time was wasted searching Angra do Heroismo, a village of 2,400 about 13 miles from Lajes Field. Air patrols were sent out to search the waters around Terceira. By sundown, any hope of finding and recovering Sgt. Anderson had all but vanished.

Scott Anderson reached Casablanca, Morocco at nine o'clock that evening. After trading the officer's uniform for a pull-over kaftan with long bell sleeves and a knitted kufi on his head, he and two of