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Mike Ruppert’s Last Days in America
© Copyright 2006, From The Wilderness Publications, www.copvcia.com. All Rights Reserved. This story may NOT be posted on any Internet web site without express written permission. Contact firstname.lastname@example.org. May be circulated, distributed or transmitted for non-profit purposes only.
September 1st 2006, 2:01PM [PST] - Mike Ruppert had offered me a trip to Ashland in the upcoming fall of 2006 so I could see the new FTW office and give a presentation on renewable energy and sustainability. Very shortly after that offer, our offices were burglarized.
Less than a week after the burglary, Megan Quinn, the Outreach Director for Community Solution, was in Ashland for four days to show THE POWER OF COMMUNITY to an audience of 200 people. She spent a lot of time with Mike during her stay. After she left, Mike called me to say he had made some important decisions, but he would not give any specifics.
Then came a call of a surprisingly different tone:
“What would it take to get you to Ashland to run the day-to-day FTW functions for the next six weeks to two months with plans to eventually relocate here permanently?”
This was shocking, and I had no idea how to respond. I emailed Megan and asked her to call me. We spoke for a while.
“He says that FTW’s future hangs in the balance here – as if he would just walk away from it,” I told Megan. “FTW is the only real family he has. I don’t believe for a second he would walk away.”
I told her what Mike requested of me, and how impossible it would be to immediately fulfill such a request. Megan was very calm, and told me that no matter what I decided, I should go to Ashland as soon as I possibly could.
“Michael needs support right now,” Megan said.
“Even if I don’t intend to fulfill his request of me, you still think I should go?” I asked.
“Yes,” she assured me.
Megan was so confident in her statements that I surrendered my unbridled mental activity to her advice. I would go as soon as possible no matter what, and whether or not I was going to relocate was irrelevant for the time being.
But again, yet another call came that raised the stakes even higher.
“I need you to come out to Ashland ASAP,” said Mike on a frantic telephone call.
“I thought we agreed I would come to Ashland late next week at the earliest,” I reminded him.
“Things have changed,” replied Mike. “If you don’t come out here in the next four or five days, don’t come at all.”
That was on July 12th, 2006. The tone in his voice was steadfast and stern. Something dead serious was going on that he would not talk about over the phone. If I wanted to find out the details, I would have to figure out a way to drop all of my responsibilities (at that time I had three jobs, all with career potential) and board a plane. After many phone calls and two professional meetings, I booked a flight to leave the next day at 3pm EST.
It took three flights and twelve hours to arrive at Medford Airport, where Mike Ruppert and Carolyn Baker were waiting to pick me up. As we walked to Mike’s car he said, “Don’t speak about important matters in my car. Assume it’s bugged.” It was the dead of night as we arrived at his home.
We went to the balcony overlooking the backyard to relax. As we got comfortable, Mike leaned in and said that the burglary sent a clear message to him: “Next time we’re going to kill you.”
For weeks after the burglary Mike had been telling everyone he did not believe the U.S. government had been involved in the crime. That was just a temporary cover story.
“The #1 enemy to the world is the U.S. political and financial system,” Mike stated with absolute certainty. This statement came from years of wisdom rooted in seeing the CIA smuggle drugs into the country with his own eyes almost three decades ago. Now he had come to grips with the fact that American corruption and terror were more than one 55-year-old man could take on.
“Michael, I hate the American government. I hate this fucking government,” he lamented. Can anyone truly blame the man for feeling this way? His tears were not far away, as Carolyn and I each held his hand.
It was then that he first told me he would be leaving the country – permanently – within a few days, and that FTW was now being left to the family. Mike has no children: FTW was his family in every sense of the word. I could hardly believe what I was hearing. I started to ask dozens of questions…
“I can’t think about any of that shit right now. I’m just taking things one day at a time,” he insisted.
Mike had no headspace to worry about what next week’s headlines were going to be or who at FTW would be assigned to write about them. That was now a problem for Carolyn and I to wrestle with. At that time everything was on a need-to-know basis; very few people knew what Carolyn and I were being told.
The next morning I awoke to see the beauty of the Rogue Valley for the first time. Ashland is gorgeous! CNN was soon turned on, and we saw the Middle East in flames. Former Israeli Prime Minister Binyamin Netanyahu was being interviewedand said what we were seeing was not comparable to something like the 6-day war; it was not as serious of a matter. Mike noted that he felt this statement was likely significant. Ultimately it was. The difference this time was that Israel and the U.S. were defeated.
Carolyn, Mike and I briefly discussed the events transpiring in front of us before it was clear Mike would not, and could not, go on thinking about such matters at that time. Before we turned off the images of Southern Lebanon being destroyed, Mike half-jokingly blurted out, “You sure you guys don’t want to come with me?”
We then went to the FTW office where I saw the crime scene of the recent burglary with my own eyes for the first time. Mike handed me a thick file filled with information on current and future investigations. “These are your responsibility now,” he said.
“You have to learn to think like me when following breaking news,” Mike instructed Carolyn and myself.1
The three of us then went to the Ashland Public Library where we each had a separate assignment. We found, and printed out, information for different itineraries to leave America and head to Venezuela.
We brought what we had printed at the library back to Mike’s house. He kept what he needed and had me burn what he didn’t. There was something about this action that made all of these events that felt so surreal suddenly “turn real” like the war games of 9/11.
Shortly thereafter Mike went to his safe and came back with his most prized possessions (from a personal and sentimental standpoint) to give to the FTW family. I could no longer hold back tears as he handed me his grandfather’s pocket watch that looks almost identical to the watch my great-grandfather left to me when I was child. Now the two sit next to one another under lock and key.
Carolyn and I took an hour to talk about our ideas for FTW editorial affairs: That marked the end of the business day.
From there on out, that Friday night was all about relaxing; something Mike needed lots of. The man rarely took vacations or weekends off. When he did take vacations they were always intertwined with FTW business. He hardly ever rested from fulfilling our mission. We went out to dinner with a good friend of Mike’s who was one of the few people in Ashland that knew what was going on. Then we chilled out in a heated pool and soaked for the entire evening.
By the time we were done soaking, I had been in Ashland for 24 hours. We got back to Mike’s house where he told us he would be leaving the country sometime between Sunday evening and Monday morning. He would spend less than two more days in America. Unfortunately, due to a hectic professional schedule back in New York, I only had another 8 hours left to spend in the Rogue Valley.
32 hours after arriving in Ashland I was back on another plane headed to Salt Lake City, then to New York. In a span of 50 hours I had taken 5 flights. I only wish I would have had more time to spend with my dear friend Mike – the most important and memorable mentor of my life. Hopefully, one day I will.
After settling in back home in New York, I made the decision to leave my professional pursuits in the music industry behind me to dedicate my time to ensuring FTW survives and thrives.
“You have to learn to think like me.”
This is a mantra I can hear Mike reciting in my mind as I follow breaking news reports everyday. To our subscribers, this I promise:
I will dedicate my entire being to making sure you have the news and analysis you need in order to understand what is transpiring in the geopolitical landscape so that you can navigate the obstacles we will all confront. From here on out, everyday, I dedicate myself to the legacy of FTW.
Each morning I awake with the goal of making Michael C. Ruppert proud of the work that I and FTW publish for our subscribers and for the world.
I have followed and contributed to FTW’s map for five years. With Carolyn Baker, PhD., former Special Forces Master Sergeant Stan Goff, former Assistant Secretary of HUD, Catherine Austin Fitts, Jamey Hecht, PhD., Jenna Orkin, and Mark Rabinowitz (among many other talented professionals), I can assure you all that FTW will continue to be on the cutting edge of hard news and sustainability for a long time to come.
And as you have already seen, Mike has not abandoned us, just as he has not abandoned you. He continues to write for FTW and provide guidance and wisdom when appropriate. To be sure, this is not the end of an era, but rather the expansion of a legacy that started in the wilderness and is spreading across the globe.