Belly of the Beast
Welcome to Nineveh - Part 2
We sold our house in August and had to be out by the twelfth. A couple of days prior to that, government contracted movers began packing and loading the vast majority of our earthly possessions into a semi-truck bound for Virginia. Heading into the transfer process, we expected a whirlwind of activity, busyness, added stress and emotions about leaving Kansas as it had become a special place to us, all while expecting our fourth child on top of it.
I was busy trying to (mostly) wrap up a case I had been working for about a year and a half. Search warrant affidavits complete and signed by a federal magistrate, I headed off to Virginia again for training; this time for what was supposed to be my new position there. I was gone for about ten days in late August and returned on September 1st. Prior to my departure, all involved parties planned to execute those warrants on September 2nd once I was back.
While I was in Virginia, some interesting developments transpired regarding the case I mentioned. Not necessarily the case itself, but my first line supervisor’s handling of it, and seemingly, his determination to prohibit my participation in the culmination of months of my investigative work. Not only a nonsensical move since I was the case agent and had the deep knowledge of it that only a case agent would have, but also one that was on the heels of him pushing me to get it done since I accepted my orders in June, and even prior to that.
I don’t view cases or law enforcement in general as something to “get done” to garner arrests, statistical accomplishments tracked by the agency, or accolades from management. Rather, law enforcement, in the supposed “land of the free,” should be approached with a foremost Constitutional mindset that is followed by meticulous fact finding to get as close to the absolute truth as possible. It seemed evident to me that this approach was counter to that of this supervisor and he was doing all he could to inhibit any further involvement by me.
That supervisor had told me in the past that they are more of a “70% solution” type of person. That outlook doesn’t mix with strict adherence to the Constitution in my book. This move was also indicative of gross mismanagement and abuse of authority; two of the five major categories of wrongdoing that whistleblowers allegedly have legal protection when reporting.
At the time, I believed this to also be reprisal against me for reporting that same supervisor to an FBI inspector regarding another matter. Reprisal is also, allegedly, protected when government employees report it occurred. I planned to make a formal complaint that last week of September after arriving at my new unit in Virginia. I wasn’t able to do that because I was suspended instead. In early October, I contacted the FBI’s Equal Employment Opportunity office to make those formal complaints against that supervisor and another much higher ranking official who signed the letter to suspend me.
As of this posting, I still have not received a response. To me, this is further demonstrative of the FBI’s lack of true integrity when it comes to even upholding the rights of it’s own employees, much less those of the greater public. I do plan to write more about this, but for the sake of not getting too far off track regarding the direction of this series, that will likely come in a future exposé.
“For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, declares the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.” -Isaiah 55:8-9
While I was in Virginia in August, aside from the training I was attending, my goal was to find a house. We were also praying that the baby stay put in the womb and not come early! I don’t think I can quite encompass the daily stress, worry and concern I was having while there. I didn’t even realize quite how stressed I was, mostly about finding a house, until I returned to Kansas.
I must’ve looked at around thirty houses while I was there. It was difficult finding options in our price range that were close enough to where I would be working, and that included some of the options that we needed wanted. If you’ve ever bought a house, I bet many of you likely will agree that when you know, you know. Well, I (almost) never got to that point. Day after day, house after house after house and I would return to my dungy hotel room deflated, wondering if I was ever going to find one.
I’ve since realized that our own worldly desires are so often so meaningless. I think many of us realize that from time to time and see it often enough with or own materialistic lusts and desires. I’m just not sure I’ve ever realized it to this degree before. So in that way, it is one of the fruits of this time; recognizing how finite and unfulfilling my worldly desires are and hopefully having a more Christ-centered outlook because of it.
These days, I’m simply grateful to have a roof over our heads, even if we’ll never be able to truly call it ours. This has been another blessing for us in more ways than one. Not only is it a physical blessing providing basic needs for us, but it has also shown us that our worldly wants, and even expectations we had, were rooted in the love of the world. Additionally, it has been another example of how the Lord has put people in our lives who have been willing to help with the means that have been provided to them.
“Do not love the world nor the things in the world. If anyone loves the world, the love of the Father is not in him. For all that is in the world, the lust of the flesh and the lust of the eyes and the boastful pride of life, is not from the Father, but is from the world. The world is passing away and also its lusts; but the one who does the will of God continues to live forever.” -1 John 2:15-17
It has been humbling as well. We wanted to use our money to buy a house for us! Not spend it on rent! Not live in Nineveh Wisconsin! Not, this, that or whatever else which doesn’t fulfill our lusts of the flesh! What a spoiled, worldly outlook to have. Of course we didn't see it this way before the suspension and, maybe I am laying it on a little thick here to make my point clearer, but when the things we think are going to happen suddenly get stripped away and our life takes a drastic turn in a different direction, a lot of other things lay bare as well.
On the last day of my training, I decided to go meet our realtor one more time to look at one more house. The majority of those who attended the training were going to grab dinner and a beer, which is what I rather would have done too. I really didn't think, or expect, the house I was driving forty-five minutes to see was going to be “it;” and it wasn’t. But, on my way there I saw a sign for a house for sale by owner. I almost didn’t turn off to see it, but last second thought, “might as well. I’m right here.” I was able to walk through it later that night since I was catching a plane early the next morning. Almost immediately, I knew this was “it.”
The following night, once I was back in Kansas at the Air B&B, we spoke with the sellers and came to an agreement. At this point, we had a great sense of relief since it was looking like everything would go through with the purchase of that house. We were elated heading into the rest of the transfer and excited about getting settled in our new house. The loss of that house, and even leaving the sellers high and dry, has been an additional facet of the overall difficulty of this trial. Not to mention the mourning process of wondering what could’ve been and how our family would’ve grown together there.
I have since wondered why things have transpired this way. I believe I have had righteous anger about the false accusation against me, and all which it has led to. No doubt I have had unrighteous anger about it too. The loss of the house included in that. I wonder how my thought process will change going forward, but for now I have resolved it in my mind that the Lord was providing what we needed when we needed it; and is doing so still, even when it is hard.
“The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.” -Job 1:21b
A few days after we had agreed to terms for the house, Lucy, our fourth daughter was born. The idea of having to find a house in Virginia on top of having a new baby, staying in an Air B&B in Kansas, living transiently already, trying to facilitate a fun experience for our family with the move, and all that goes into such an endeavor certainly would have robbed some of the joy of welcoming a new child. Little did we know things were going to get much worse, from our human perspective, in just a few short weeks.
Old Salt
“Then the mariners were afraid, and each cried out to his god. And they hurled the cargo that was in the ship into the sea to lighten it for them.” -Jonah 1:5aWe touched on it in Part 1, but Jonah really did not want to go to Nineveh. First, he tried to flee. When it became clear that his attempt at fleeing wasn’t going to work, he told the sailors to throw him overboard. But before that, the passage tells us that the sailors were “exceedingly afraid” and said to Jonah, “What have you done,” because they knew he was fleeing the Lord’s presence. These sailors were pagans. As much can be ascertained from the text where it says each cried out to his god and from the captain waking Jonah to get him to also call out to his god. It’s clear the sailors started to believe in "the God of heaven, who made the sea and the dry land,” as Jonah described Him.
The sailors, knowing Jonah was fleeing the Lord, were now seeing the one true God in action. Their conversion of faith may have been one of the fastest ever. But first they tried to row back to dry land instead of throwing Jonah overboard. This must’ve aggravated Jonah. Here he is, a prophet fleeing the mission field and sleeping in the hull of a ship. He wasn’t even willing to minister to the sailors. He wanted nothing to do with God’s calling for him. But, instead of simply sending Jonah to his death, the sailors first tried to save him by getting the ship to dry land.
Eventually the sailors relented and gave Jonah his death wish by throwing him over. They plead with God that his blood not be on their hands since everyone knew, Jonah included, that this meant death. They plead to God. Not one of their gods. Instead of repenting, Jonah chose certain death. Instead of praying to God and relenting to His will, he remained stubborn and rebellious; even unto death. Into the deep he went. The storm stopped. The sailors made a sacrifice and vows to the Lord, hopefully abandoning their false gods forever. Even in his rebellion, God used Jonah for His ultimate glory.
The word “mariners” used in Jonah 1:5 comes from the Hebrew word מַלָּח (mallach). The word is closely related to the word “salt.” The Hebrew word for salt is מֶלַח (melach). These words are so closely related that they could be used interchangeably. Even today, in English they are synonymous and it is where we get the saying “old salt,” as in a seasoned sailor, especially one who is hardy and forthright in manner.1 Strong’s Exhaustive Concordance puts it this way, “a sailor (as following "the salt") -- mariner.”
Jonah must’ve had some pretty serious, salty sailors on the ship with him considering they didn’t simply throw him overboard as soon as possible after being told that was how to get the raging sea storm to stop and save the entire ship from destruction and death.
Think of this scene now. Most of the sailors were probably seasoned veterans of the Mediterranean. Certainly they could’ve had some newer sailors aboard too, but I bet most were true “old salts.” They likely wouldn’t have become “exceedingly afraid” at just any sea storm. The storm they were facing was one of miraculous judgement coming down on Jonah. Yet, true to being “hardy and forthright in manner,” the sailors still tried to first get to dry land. Nonetheless, overboard Jonah went when they exhausted their limited, and futile, options of ditching the cargo and rowing in vain.
Jonah’s Prayer, Our Prayer
"And the Lord appointed a great fish to swallow up Jonah. And Jonah was in the belly of the fish three days and three nights." -Jonah 1:17It was in the belly of the great fish where Jonah finally relented. Chapter 1 closes by telling us that Jonah was in the belly of the fish three days and three nights. Chapter 2 begins with saying, “Then Jonah prayed to the Lord his God from the belly of the fish,” and closes with, “And the Lord spoke to the fish, and it vomited Jonah out upon the dry land.” By the way these passages are structured, and without being too dogmatic (hopefully), it seems that Jonah was in that fish’s belly for three days before he finally came to terms with his predicament and ceded his rebellious streak to the Lord.
Jonah’s prayer is one most of us can probably relate to. At some time or another in our lives we have thought we were sinking to the bottom of the sea. Maybe we already had hit bottom. But if it wasn’t for those moments, maybe we would never have cried out to the Lord for Him to save us. To save us from what we couldn’t save ourselves from, or from what others couldn’t save us from even though they rowed with all their might to do so.
I certainly have been about as far to the bottom as I have ever been recently, and still am there on occasion. Like Jonah, I too have “called out to the Lord, out of my distress.” Many times in the last few months. I’m sure many more will come.
When I got back from Afghanistan in 2011, I got off of the plane, went into the front leaning rest, sunk down to the ground and kissed the tarmac. I then, with about as much happiness as I can recall having aside from the birth of our daughters, walked across that tarmac and kissed my wife. I had just turned 25 a few days earlier while awaiting a flight out of Kyrgyzstan.
I had already been to Iraq. I was an infantryman returning from his second year long deployment in 35 months. I truly thought, “the hardest part of my life is over.” I had no intention of reenlisting again and had less than a year left on my current contract. I was certain nothing could, or would take pole position as “hardest.” I couldn’t have been more wrong.
Although my current circumstances are not war as we typically think about it, they have been, and still are, war like. I have no illusions that there is a spiritual battle raging all around us. It is evident nearly everywhere we turn, including when we look at our own government and see the FBI and DOJ creating a “threat tag” to go after parents for being concerned about the indoctrination their children are receiving, for instance. We are in a war for the truth. I am in that war personally and we all are in it as a society.
Having a new baby, and three other young daughters (6, 5, and 3 years old at the time of the suspension), as well as my wife to provide for, with essentially no job, no house, practically none of our belongings and a constant worry about what was coming next has been enough to drive me to despair. I believe that is the FBI’s intent. They want to break whistleblowers. They don’t want to protect us as mandated by federal law. They don’t want whistleblowers shining light on their dark, nefarious activity. They want to crush us. Our circumstances have certainly led me to praying to the Lord in similar fashion as Jonah.
“Finally, be strong in the Lord and in the strength of his might. Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the schemes of the devil. For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places.” -Ephesians 6:10-12
Thankfully for part of that time, the hardest time of my life so far, I was able to turn to an “old salt” of my own. As part of the transfer, our belongings were being held in government contracted storage in Virginia. Our household goods were scheduled to be delivered to the Virginia house on October 10th. After much back and forth with the contracted companies and FBI, we were finally allowed to get our own goods which had essentially been held hostage in the interim.
But, instead of the government delivering them to our house, as well as covering the cost of shipment, delivery, unpacking, and removal of packing materials, we had to get them ourselves, at our own cost. Truck rentals, tolls, lodging, food, fuel, and other miscellaneous costs were around $10,000.
This doesn’t account for any labor costs associated with receiving our goods, nor does it account for additional time away from family (for me, my brother and a friend of ours) or for additional wear and tear on my personal vehicle; which was substantial since it began malfunctioning and needed repairs after the trip. It also doesn’t account for the unloading and unpacking, or removal of all the packing materials. Much of which are still in the garage since only so much can be hauled away by garbage service each week.
I also received a $2600 bill from the FBI as this is what they say is the “tax debt” I owe them for transferring our goods from Kansas to Virginia. On top of that, the FBI is refusing to pay an additional $15,000 (maybe more when if everything gets tallied) that we spent to rent the Air B&B and other miscellaneous expenses associated with the transfer. So far, we’re out around $28,000, although that may be a conservative estimate. Truth be told, no amount of money could make this whistleblower retaliation “right.”
On November 3rd, I left my in-law’s house at about 0130 to go pick up the “old salt” I mentioned. A friend of mine who I’ve known for about 23 years graciously agreed to rework his schedule and leave his family to head to Virginia with me for the next few days. My brother also flew to D.C. on the third to help load our goods.
Our friend, whom I’ll call “Ben,” didn’t just come to Virginia with me. He was a lifeline when my family and I needed it most. He took care of orchestrating the truck rentals, scheduling the pick up and drop off, talking me through how to properly operate the truck and various driving tips based on grade and wind which were of concern during this trip, whereas I only had to reimburse him the costs.
He worked in the moving industry for about 13 years and my brother and I would not have been able to load the trucks appropriately or even get both trucks and my personal vehicle back without his expert knowledge and help. Words cannot capture what he has done for me and my family. I am grateful that he is also a brother in Christ.
After picking up my brother from the airport the night of November 3rd, we headed to a nearby hotel and prepared for the following day. The morning of the fourth, we picked up the trucks, proceeded to the storage facility and began loading our goods. More than once I thought, as the sailors did with Jonah, that it would be better if I simply throw the goods overboard. This was mostly a frustrating day where I was filled with anger and sadness and bitterness. Those feelings are still present as I type and recall that time.
“A friend loves at all times,
and a brother is born for adversity.” -Proverbs 17:17
If I would’ve known then, I’m sure I would have lost it emotionally. I later found out that while we were loading my family’s goods, Ben had been loading some of our bikes. He told my brother that he couldn’t load anymore bikes because he was getting too upset about it. This was happening because he had his own experiences as a father where his kids just wanted to ride their bikes and it was as if all was well with the world if they could just do that.
A couple of weeks earlier, my family and I went camping with Heidi’s brother and his family for a weekend. As is common for our families on camping trips, they brought their bikes. During this trip, my oldest daughter, who was just about to turn 7, kept telling me how she just wanted her bike. She wanted to ride around the campground with her cousins and didn’t understand why she couldn’t even have her bike. I remember her asking me with tears in her eyes, “But why can’t I have my bike?” I’m not entirely sure why, but I’ve really struggled with that, even before Ben told me about his own aggravation and sadness when loading our bikes. I have tears in my eyes and on my cheek even as I try to muddle through this paragraph, fully knowing I’m not doing it, or my daughters justice with this poor explanation.
Children who have no idea what is really happening, why they aren’t moving to Virginia, why their dad doesn’t go to work anymore, who are having emotions they’ve never experienced before but don’t know why, and who just want their bikes, but can’t have them because the government retaliated against their dad for sharing the truth with Congress, and then wouldn’t release their bikes (or any of their household goods) must just be enough to put me over the edge.
After a full day of loading the trucks, we began the trek towards Wisconsin at around 1730, just in time for D.C. traffic. This was also about the time I found out from the lawyer who had been representing me that the FBI suspended my pay. I’ve gotten to a point where it seems clear that they sadistically like adding insult to injury throughout this process. Ben was driving one truck, I was driving the other, and my brother was leading the way in my personal vehicle. Although it wasn’t for three days and nights, I was in the belly of the beast.
Postscript
Has there been a difficult time in your life that you are willing to share?
Do you think my anger, bitterness and sadness was/is sinful? I think it has been at times, but not all the time.
What do you think of the format of these “articles?”
Let me know in the comments! See you next week for a special Christmas edition of the Last Line Substack!
Old salt — definition, examples, related words and more at Wordnik. (n.d.). Wordnik.com. https://www.wordnik.com/words/old%20salt
I feel so many different emotions when I read your transcript, Garret. Praying that you and Heidi and the girls get justice when the final chapter is written.