• Michael Henry Dunn

CHIVALRY & THE TEMPLAR RETURN - PART 9: Fake News, Fireballs, & Bagels


(An excerpt from "From the Gold to the Goddess: The True Story of the Restoration of Chivalry and the Return of the Templars" by Michael Henry Dunn, copyright 2018, all rights reserved)

The summer of 2013 was a desperate time for me as I began my collaboration with Matthew. He was based in Egypt, since he was (among many other levels of mastery in different fields) an archaeologist, living a short drive from the fabled Valley of the Kings on the edge of the Sahara desert, where so many pharaohs of ancient Egypt were buried. My brief online bio accompanying the articles merely stated that I was “based in Los Angeles.” It was a very shaky base that summer. Not only had I lost my job, exhausted my savings, and endangered my relationship, but I was also without a car in a city where a car was indispensable.

A freak accident just before I left for Indonesia in March had essentially destroyed my vehicle, a twenty-year-old Mercedes sedan in great shape which looked for all the world like an ambassadorial “town car.” I had received good-natured ribbing from the monks at the publication center when I would drive into the monastery parking lot in a car that still reeked of sleek wealth. I’d bought it for a song with help from a friend – and loved the uniquely substantial and solid feeling of German engineering amid the plush leather interior.

The day before I was to fly to Indonesia, I met my close friend Terry (a professional violinist and music producer) to discuss the strategic situation of the Keenan project. Terry was as well-informed on the behind-the-scenes facts as anyone I knew, and we enjoyed a fascinating talk over dinner in the L.A. suburb of Glendale. As we stepped out onto the street late that night, I suddenly saw on the horizon behind Terry an astonishing sight. A huge blue-green fireball streaked across the Southern California sky, crossing from east to west and disappearing toward the Pacific Ocean beaches.

Terry had his back turned to the meteor, so he only saw the amazement on my face as I cried out, “My God, look at that!”

We decided to interpret it as an auspicious omen for my trip – the very heavens indicating a blaze of glory. Whereupon I got into my Mercedes and headed down the long downhill of Highway 2 toward the Pasadena Freeway, with a steep ravine on my immediate right, protected by a standard shallow guard rail. I remember feeling elated at my coming adventure in Indonesia, and uplifted by the incredible fiery display in the sky. I was prudently adhering to the posted speed limit of 60 miles per hour when suddenly the wheels jammed, the engine shrieked, and the protective air-bag exploded in my face, while smoke rose from the dashboard.

The transmission, which had been making troubling sounds for some weeks, had simply dropped out of the bottom of the car, causing every gear in the sophisticated Mercedes engineering to meld into a tortured writhing ruin at sixty miles an hour. Incredibly, I managed to grip the suddenly stiff-as-iron steering wheel and guided the car to a gradual stop on the shoulder, just inches from the guard rail. Terrified by the smoke – fearing the Mercedes was about to burst into flames – I leaped from the car and ran some dozen yards away.

The smoke from the dashboard – probably rising from the heat of the intense friction of the gears in the destruction of the transmission – gradually subsided, and the car remained intact. As the shock wore off, I called a tow truck – and then called Terry to inform him that perhaps the blazing ball of blue-green fire across the sky had been a warning rather than a good omen…and to ask him for a lift home.

The tow truck driver arrived in short order, and asked, “Hey – did I pass your transmission in the middle of the road back there?”

“Yeah, that would be mine.”

I sold him the Mercedes for parts on the spot, and took a cab to the airport next day, to begin what had already proven to be a hazardous journey.

Hence, on my return from Indonesia, I had suddenly plummeted to the bottom of the social ladder in Los Angeles: jobless, carless, and broke. My lady friend, on the other hand, earned a six figure salary at the top of her field, and lived in a luxury apartment overlooking the ocean in Pacific Palisades, just steps from the Lake Shrine meditation center which was my spiritual home.

My landlady at the boarding house in East L.A. kindly allowed me a few months breathing room on the rent – so at least I had a roof. Buses and subways replaced the sleek sedan as I counted my dwindling dollars and looked for work, reduced at one point to three bagels and two bucks. The situation was humbling in the extreme after my adventures in Indonesia, when the prospect of ample salary and world-saving glory had dangled within my grasp…but always just out of reach.

I would read with grim irony an article in the alt-media attacking the work of the Keenan team, which asserted that it was “well known” that Michael Henry Dunn was actually “a talented CIA operative” who was amply paid from intelligence community sources.

I almost wished it were true.

The wide audience Keenan’s work had at that time in the online alternative media continued to follow my posts, which were still widely re-posted across multiple alt-news compendium sites. At that time, the phrase “alt-media” had not acquired the fiercely divisive connotation it has at this juncture, when accusations of “fake news” fly back and forth between left and right. I had begun to see that the alt-news landscape was liberally dotted with disinformation sites planted by the intelligence community, in keeping with the well-known manipulation tactic called “controlled opposition” – the official term for which in the U.S. government is Co-Intel-Pro – a program outlawed by Congress which still (unsurprisingly) is continued to this day by various factions of the intelligence community. This is a well-documented tactic and in fact goes back centuries in various guises.

For those in the U.K. (or for those others who have seen the cult film “V for Vendetta”) the famous phrase “Remember, remember, the 5th of November, the Gunpowder treason and plot” derives from a successful “controlled opposition” operation by Sir Robert Cecil, whose father, Lord Burghley, had been the cunning counselor to Queen Elizabeth I - a role Robert Cecil inherited under King James I. Effigies of Guy Fawkes are famously burned every November in commemoration of the saving of Parliament from being blown up by Catholic plotters – who had, historians now agree, been led by the nose straight into the plot by Cecil’s infiltrators. The “last minute” exposure of the plot (which would have killed the royal family, the House of Lords, and much of the Commons) gave the needed excuse for a brutal crackdown on all Catholics in the U.K. – an oppression which would last for centuries.

It was, essentially, the 9-11 of its day.

As I became aware of this dynamic, I grew cautious about any seeming endorsement of the more radical proposals which would fly around the web as the horrific abuses of the corrupt elite were exposed. Drake Bailey had aptly commented on his internet radio show that infiltration and provocateur tactics were so widespread in America that “you can’t start a Dandelion Collecting Society in this country without some new member suggesting that you blow up the library.”

One particularly well-produced video making the internet rounds at that time had very much a “V for Vendetta” flavor to it, with expert graphics and a highly professional voice-over by a sinister baritone. In a compelling five minute appeal, he called out certain high-level Cabal bankers by name, scoffed at the “Rule of Law” and urged a torches-and-pitchforks campaign to storm the homes of elite Cabal leaders and more or less string them up. The video was brilliantly done, and hypnotic in its appeal.

I was immediately suspicious of it. It was too well done. I knew at once that whoever was behind that voice-over, it was clearly not some misguided “light-worker.” It was a professional actor with extensive voice and speech training who had been hired at no little expense: my own training in that field left me in no doubt on that point. The guy had Shakespearean training.

I shared the video with a trusted friend, who immediately cautioned me to not even leave an internet trace of having shared it with him: under the Patriot Act and other post-911 laws, I could be indicted for inciting violence against government officials merely for sharing the video on the web.

This, clearly, was the purpose of whichever intelligence faction had created the video. It was a provocateur operation pure and simple.

So as the still mysterious "international lawyer" named Matthew and I began our first collaboration on an article for Keenan about the possibility of a viable new international court of human rights, we maintained a tight focus on the restoration of the Rule of Law, with the goal of launching a court whose jurisdiction would be recognized under existing international law and various United Nations conventions and agreements, and which would possess authentic enforceability of its judgments.

And still, amidst the stress, I kept in close touch with Neil Keenan via Skype, without a pause in the flow of articles, giving the impression of a smooth operation relentlessly focused on the fight to free the Assets. And still Nelu languished in prison.

Somehow, despite the humbling fall and the crisis of my situation, I never doubted the rightness of my choice. I had found my true work. I was making a contribution, if only through the light being shed on the mechanisms used by the corrupt elite to secretly inflict human suffering on a massive scale as the cost of their control of currency and natural resources. My work had reached a wide audience, and I had made a name of some kind for myself – if not one that gained me any material compensation. And though the drive to free the Assets had stalled, I had found a new direction in the potential for a viable international court of human rights law, which might actually end the impunity with which the Cabal conducted its daily business – which required the systematic violation of every human rights law on the books.

And though I was working directly with the reputed Grand Master of the Knights Templar on a true “knightly quest,” I was pretty much unaware of the fact at that time.

The immediate project called for me to undergo extensive mentoring by Matthew in the rudiments of international human rights law, and the functions of the various world courts and their history and structure, such as the International Court of Justice (which processed nations’ claims against other nations), the International Criminal Court (which tried war crimes), the United Nations Human Rights Commission (essentially an advisory body without enforceability), and the European Human Rights Commission, which was similarly weak when it came to actually enforcing judgments against human rights violators.

I would learn that these were largely what were called “treaty courts” – that is, courts which were formed by treaty agreement among the nations which agreed to be subject to its jurisdiction. If you hadn’t joined the treaty which formed the International Criminal Court, for example, you were not subject to its jurisdiction. Furthermore, a nation could choose at any time to withdraw to “observer status” – again eluding the jurisdiction of the court. Shamefully, the George W. Bush administration had done this very thing, as the U.S. withdrew from the war crimes court in the build-up to the invasion of Iraq – which was, under international law, in and of itself a war crime.

The jurists and human rights activists and attorneys who pursue justice through these courts are (for the great part) men and women of integrity, I believe. However, their efforts to achieve justice have been deliberately channeled into what is essentially a custom-designed “dead end” which may make a headline or two here and there in trying some notorious war criminal (usually, as it happens, persons of color), but which is designed to never pose any serious threat to the system nor to the Cabal-controlled puppeteers behind the scenes, whose influence is documented in the formation of these institutions from the beginning (see the Trilateral Commission, the life work of David Rockefeller, etc.).

My intensive mentoring sessions with Matthew resulted in two successive articles published under the banner of the Keenan Group, intended to expose (and potentially thwart) another hidden mechanism of Cabal control. Matthew congratulated me on the excellence of the articles, noting that the ability to absorb so much complex geopolitical and historical information and distill it into a popularly accessible story was a valuable skill.

I was gratified by his praise, as I perceived he did not hand out compliments lightly. Our collaboration seemed to have reached a natural closing point one afternoon, and I was on the brink of saying it had been nice to work with him, when a long-ignored question re-emerged from the back of my mind.

“Oh, Matthew, I’ve been meaning to ask you. Neil said you have something to do with the Knights Templar – can that be right?”

There was a pause.

“Yes, Michael. I do indeed.”

And the door swung open.

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