I am starting this post at 9 a.m.
on Sunday morning, 6-23-13.

I started my trek toward the terrible scene
of what appears to be a most heinous crime
against God, truth, and humanity,
at 1:30 p.m. on Friday afternoon.

I live about 60 miles north of the location
where my destination lies.

That is to say, about one hour
and a few extra minutes,
when the traffic is clear.

My only objective is to determine
which is the northbound lane,
and which is the southbound lane
which I am looking at on the videos
which I have seen during the prior days.

As one who has been on
numerous crime scenes (hundreds)
and numerous accident scenes (hundreds)
and one who has spent a good deal
of time attempting to piece together
various odd clues and puzzle pieces,
I knew that I just needed
to get to the scene
and to stand in it
and let my senses come fully to life,
in order to figure out
what I cannot determine
from some other place.

With my expectations very low
I began the long southward trek
down the 101 freeway
(also known as the Ventura Freeway,
made famous in a popular song
a number of years ago)
to Hollywood.

Because I was born in Santa Monica
and raised in Brentwood
and Topanga/Malibu
during my early years,
and did some of
my first jobs in Westwood,
and because I went to paramedic school,
and law school in Los Angeles, 
it is always something of a return home
to me when I go back into
what I refer to as
"my old stomping grounds".

I spent a lot of time on Sunset strip
as a teenager
and haunted the Fairfax district
where I ate my first falafels
and frequented the bookstores
and record stores in that area.

My ex-wife went to Hollywood High School,
which one passes on the way to the collision site,
and my mother was very involved
with raising money
for the Los Angeles Philharmonic Orchestra,
such that Hollywood Bowl,
which one also passes on the way,
is also a location very familiar to me.

The entire area in which Highland and Melrose
are located is part of my old home
and has always been beloved to me,
such that it is always something
of a homecoming to me
when I come in from the hinterlands
north of there.

On the way down I wondered
where I could get a look
at some Mercedes coupes
in order to see the brake lights
and to get a better sense of just exactly
what I was seeing in the blurry footage
which I had been studying the night before.

Almost as if it were a providential
sign from heaven, a
Mercedes which looked almost exactly
like the one which I last saw
wrapped around a palm tree,
on video, the night before,
pulled directly in front of me,
just before I turned from eastbound 101,
where it turns into 134,
onto southbound 101
(Hollywood Freeway),
and then continues down
into the civic center
where my father's mother
originates from
and where my family conducted
one of our businesses,
J.W. Robinson Department Stores.

I got a good look at the light bar
that goes across the trunk lid area
and I got a good look at the tail lights,
including those white lights
which stood out so clearly to me
in the video of Michael's last minutes
on this earth
(a very sad sight,
indeed).

Several miles down 101 southbound
I got off at Highland Avenue,
just north of the Hollywood Bowl,
and began to proceed southward
at a very slow pace,
because the traffic gets so thick
and congested in that area.

I finally reached Santa Monica Boulevard,
(a street with thousands of memories to me,
which is named after the city I was born in),
about fifteen minutes later.

I zeroed my odomoter
and now began
a most solemn and sobering procession
down the path which was to lead
to Michael's untimely death.

I had decided, before reaching my destination,
that I would go down to Melrose Avenue
while scouting the location
and then turn around
and double back
to scout out the other side
where the engine lay
and where I had seen
the huge debris field.

A quick look at my Thomas Guide mapbook
had showed me that
once I passed Santa Monica Boulevard,
my main cross street would be Willoughby Avenue,
and then Melrose Avenue.

I remembered a "Twilight Zone"
I had seen many years ago
in which Willoughby was repeatedly mentioned
as being some far off land
like Oz, or the Elysian Fields.

Another irony,
I thought to myself.

My first objective was to find
the palm tree with the huge chunk
taken out of it,
and to determine which side
of the avenue it was on.

I figured that it would probably
have a memorial
which is so typical of fatal crash scenes
in this part of the world,
and watched for the flowers
and signs
which are so often found
at such locations.

Sure enought I was about one block
north of the location
when I spotted the flowers
and signs
as I was beginning to become
deeply moved and deeply saddened
at the loss of our once great country
which this one noble man
had fought so hard
to help to restore to us.

It is both sickening
and disheartening at once,
to me,
a son of a long line of patriots
who gave their lives
and fortunes, selflessly,
for their fellow men,
without any hesitation,
whatsoever.

What a far cry they are
from this current bunch of
clowns and jackals
who have no care
for their fellow humans
and who behave
like a bunch of wild, insane butchers
of the worst sort imaginable,
while using the very wealth
which was created not by them,
but by my own relatives
and numerous others like them.

A mix of shame and outrage
crossed through my innermost
and deepest parts
of my soul and spirit
as I realized that I was not going
to be driving past that tree,
but instead,
had to pull over
directly across from it
to look in astonishment
and amazement
at the sight before my eyes.

The first thing I couldn't help but notice
was that there was a sign on the tree
which read
"Death by State, RIP Mike".

My sentiments exactly.

After sitting for several minutes
in something of a stupefied state,
while taking it all in,
I pulled up to the nearest street
on my right
and pulled off of Highland
onto the side street.

Sitting directly across from me
was what we would think of
as an orthodox Jew,
complete with white shirt and yamulke,
sitting in a van,
facing toward Highland,
as he busied himself
with a cellular telephone.

The whole place seemed
to have an air of paranoia about it,
which one could cut with a knife.

It only became all the more intense
as I got out of the car
and started to sense the location.

It was weird enough
with that man sitting
directly across from me,
but even weirder yet,
that he refused to look up,
like anyone else would do,
or to acknowledge my presence
within about ten feet of him.

He was a dead ringer
for the man who was seen in the videos
hosing down the car
within minutes of the explosive wreck.

Very strange, I thought to myself,
as I suddenly heard a crow
up in the tree above me,
making that scolding noise
for which they are so well known.

I found this particularly ironic,
not only because of any number of experiences
I have had with these birds
during the past several years,
but because it was the very first thing
which I heard on the KTLA news report.

That is to say,
the very first video report
which I had seen,
began with a crow
making this very same noise.

I called up into the tree
and said good day to Mr. Crow
and asked him
what he was so upset about,
and whether he was the one
which I had heard on the video.

I know that may sound strange to some,
but I have talked with the animals
since I was very young child,
and continue so,
to this day,
out of respect for nature
and our Creator.

While the crow remained hidden in the tree,
directly above the man in the van,
who refuses to look up,
while pretending to busy himself
with his little tiny screen
on his cell phone,
I asked the crow to show himself.

He did.

Directly above that man.

And the bird seemed very upset
about something.

How ironic, I thought to myself,
that this bird is warning about something,
which they are well known to do,
and he is most definitely not happy
about that man directly below him.

I had to laugh to myself
as I realized that nature itself
is opposed to whatever monstrosity
took place in this very location
just several days before my arrival.

While also realizing
that I had just received
my hardbound copy of
"The Gifts of the Crow"
(which I was looking forward to reading, asap),
in the mail just the day before,
and which was sitting on top
of a pile of books,
on my back seat
at this very moment.

I walked toward Highland Avenue
(eastward)
from the side street
and then onto the street
as I decided exactly how I wanted
to approach my examination
of this scene.

I had decided to walk in a long rectangle,
first going southward,
and then returning
on the northbound side
where I would go up
and examine the intersection
where a witness had described
the car bottoming out,
just before crashing.

My understanding,
based upon the reports,
and the videos,
was that the collision scene
was just north of Melrose,
but upon arriving,
I quickly saw that it was
just south of Melrose.

So that Melrose would form the northern edge
of the rectangle,
while the storm drain,
where the engine had landed,
200 feet south of the palm tree,
on the far side of the northbound lanes,
would form the southern edge.

I had not looked at
what the name of the street was,
at the corner on which
the engine had landed,
which would form
the southern perimeter.

One can only imagine my shock
as I looked up
and saw that it was
Clinton Street.

More ironies?

Remember the Bosnia/Herzogovina war,
anyone?

This is where the Clintonistas
took Ronald Reagan's
"Freedom Fighters"
[the Isalmic (Wahibi) Fundamentalist, Mujahideen]
and polished them
into a fighting organization
which he used against the Catholic Serbs.

Yes, the very same troopers
who were being financed
and organized
by a good friend of the CIA
known as Osama Bin Laden.

For those who do not know
much about such things,
this is where the organization
known as Al Qaeda (the Base)
was born, bred, and hardened in battle,
with lots of western backing and capital.

The very same group
which was unleashed by western powers
on Libya and Syria,
and to which we are now proposing
to give anti-aircraft weapons
and shoulder-fired missiles.

Now, why does that not sound
like a good idea?

And is it not
aiding and abetting the enemy
= treason?

Or is this an admission
that they are not actually the enemy,
at all,
but rather a proxy fighting force
which is liberally supported
by those who tell us
we must give up
all of our liberties and freedoms,
not to mention privacy,
in order to protect ourselves
from these very same
"terrorists"?

Now, that's about as ironic
as one could get,
isn't it?

So, I walked the perimeter in silence
as I simply looked to see
whatever there is to see,
and to feel
whatever there is to feel.

One could cut the paranoia in the air
with a knife,
as neighbors peeked out
their windows and doors,
at yet another tourist,
or pilgrim.

I tried to be extra respectful of their privacy,
knowing that all of this attention
must be driving them nuts,
and not wanting to
add to their woes.

I noticed that most of the people
I saw were men,
and that they all were wearing
the same clothes
and yamulkes.

Each one eyeing me suspiciously,
if not threateningly.

I simply ignored them
and went about my business,
as I could not help but feel
that I was being spied upon
by wannabe informants,
or, perhaps,
actual ones.

Being a longtime student
of the Mossad
(Israeli "intelligence")
and their very brutal tactics and methods
(including those horrible hoods
and electrodes to the genitals,
made so famous
by the first photos
out of Abu Ghraib),
nothing would surprise me,
here.

It was becoming more and more surrealistic
as I walked the western perimeter
of my grid
(southbound Highland Avenue),
and then down to the southern perimeter
(Clinton Street),
and up the eastern perimeter
(northbound Highland Avenue)
and finally up to the northern perimeter
(Melrose Avenue).

After arriving at the intersection
of Melrose and Highland
I began to look for any indication
of a vehicle
recently bottoming out.

They will typically tear up
a piece of pavement
and leave fresh treadmarks.

I walked across the street several times
on Melrose,
while continuously dodging traffic
(very busy intersection)
as I closely perused the pavement.

The tread marks were very visible,
and I had seen them right away,
upon first arriving at the location.

They were fresh
and there was a lot of rubber
laid down.

While not being able to be certain
that they were the one's
I was looking for
(i.e. did someone else do the same, recently?),
I was pretty sure that I was looking
at the evidence of what it was
that the witness had described
on the videos.

I noticed that the tread marks
began at the lowpoint in the pavement
and that one tread
had a slight squiggling to it,
indicative of the car
beginning to go out of control.

The distance from Santa Monica Boulevard
to this location
was approximately 3/10 of a mile.

One could easily imagine
the Mercedes accelerating
from the 50-60 mph estimated speed
at Santa Monica Boulevard,
(which was caught on the dash cam
of the news car),
up to 100 plus mph
where it bottomed out,
causing the car to begin
that infamous high speed wobble
which has been the undoing
of many a driver,
long before this one.

From the point of the tread marks
to the palm tree
was only several hundred feet.

I continued studying the skid marks
and attempted to get as many photos
as I was able to,
(while continuously dodging cars
and waiting for the signals to change),
over and over again.

I cannot begin to tell you
just how paranoid
I was beginning to feel.

One cannot help
but think that
they are being watched
by numerous persons
with ill motives.

How much is imagination
and how much is real
is anyone's guess.

All I know is that I was becoming
less and less comfortable
by the minute.

I cannot say this about numerous
other scenes which I have photographed
in the middle of traffic.

I felt like a car was going to
fly out of nowhere
and hit me any second.

Time to move on
and make myself scarce,
I decided,
as I then crossed over
to the southern side
of the intersection
and begin my long journey
down to that terrible scene.

I crossed the street,
about mid-block,
and walked out
onto the raised grass-covered median
and walked up to the palm tree.

I first noticed that the flames
had scorched the trunk
up to about 15 feet
above my head.

There was still some debris
and broken glass
laying on the ground
around the tree.

The area where the car had been
was badly burned.

There was a piece of metal,
which had melted into the pavement,
on the street
right next to where the car had been.

The first thing that one can't help but notice
is that the car had hit
at a really odd angle,
considering the direction of approach.

It is at a literal, nearly 90 degree angle
to the direction of the street.

One cannot even imagine
that it was traveling southbound
to end up at such a severe angle.

It looked more like the car
had been traveling
on an eastward trajectory.

Only the slighest hint
of the southern direction.

That is to say,
no curvature,
as one would expect
from a vehicle traveling south
and then suddenly swerving left.

That's strange enough,
but even stranger yet
is that there are
no skid marks at all.

Not even a hint of them.

We can tell a lot from skid marks,
after one has been
on numerous crash scenes.

But no skids at all,
after suddenly veering
hard to the left
at a high rate of speed?

Was the car even on the ground
when it turned,
one is forced to ask oneself.

Or --- ???

I have never seen
anything like this.

After several other people turned up
and joined me in the meridian
we all looked long and hard
to find any indication at all
that the car had been moving southbound
and then suddenly veered hard to the left,
(eastward)
into the palm tree.

All were asking the same question
i.e. how is this even possible?

When a car comes
to a grinding halt
after colliding with
a non-moving object
it will always leave
some kind of marks.

None here.

If he had hit the grass
and then spun sideways
there would have been
corresponding marks
on the grass.

There are none.

If the driver had made
any kind of a move
before the impact
it would have left a mark,
somewhere.

But there were simply none.

Yes, I am completely baffled
and blown away by this.

I do not even have a theory
to explain it.

If the driver was drunk
and lost control,
there would be marks.

If the driver was suicidal
and decided at the last second
to veer into the tree
in a fit of rage and despair,
there would be marks.

Where are the marks?

Was he airborne as he turned?

And how could that even be possible
without leaving marks
where he left the road?

How could the car
turn while airborne.

All of those explanations
would seem to
require an external force.

Then there is
the matter of the engine.

Why didn't the engine
either go backward,
into his lap, 
or go forward in the direction
the car was going
when it hit the tree?

Instead, it is going
at a 90 degree angle
to the direction of travel.

That is, it had considerable lateral force.

Very considerable,
to throw it 200 feet,
sideways.

Explosion, anyone?

That is one of few explanations
which make any sense, whatsoever,
given these very strange facts.

As several of us stood by the tree
and discussed various matters
I suddenly realized
that I was smelling diesel fuel
coming from the grass.

I reached down
and rubbed one finger
into the burned materials
and put it to my nose.

Definitely diesel.

It is the smell of the burning charcoal
when you spray lighter fluid on it
and which you can smell anywhere
that someone is having a barbecue.

Now I am really puzzled,
because that fire was no diesel fire.

And diesel requires an ignition source
somewhere in the neighborhood of 1500 degrees,
if my memory serves me well.

As a matter of fact
I was once told by firemen,
who I worked with
at truck accident scenes,
that it would require a blow torch
to ignite pure diesel fuel.

So where's the blowtorch?

The car was fully engulfed
in a very hot flame, immediately.

And the flame was hot enough
that the materials of the car
were incinerated almost immediately,
such that they continued burning hotly
for at least five to ten minutes,
with flames shooting up
15 or more feet into the air.

One witness,
on the original KTLA footage,
which was taken down
in less than 24 hours, 
had described
hearing an explosion
which shook the windows
and walls
of the house.

All of the physical evidence
seems to be consistent with
explosive force.

The front of the car is totally shredded,
as can be readily seen
in the video footage,
taken within minutes of impact.

That is not normal,
unless it was fiberglass.

I do not know the exact model of Mercedes,
but I don't think they are
making the bodies of fiberglass.

Metal wraps around a tree trunk
and leaves a huge dent in the metal, 
where the tree once was,
prior to pulling the vehicle off of it.

It does not shred,
under normal circumstances.

One can only be left with one conclusion,
and that is,
even taking high speed
into consideration,
there is nothing normal
about this vehicular collision.

Actually it is as unusual
as any I have ever seen.

As several of us stood discussing
these matters amongst ourselves
a young woman and a young man
arrived on the scene
carrying a sign
which was about 2 feet by 3 feet.

I could only see the white back of it
as they approached
with apparent fear and trepidation.

They looked like they were going
to put the sign up on the tree,
and then hesitated
and started to leave,
and then turned around
and came back again,
after speaking with one another
for several long minutes.

Now I could see the front of the sign.

"This was not an accident"
it read in big letters.

We all looked at that sign
and at one another
and had to nod our heads
in affirmation,
as the girl became emboldened
and put the sign up
on the palm tree
so that every driver
in the northbound lane
would be sure to see it.

It wasn't long before an elderly man
with the same "uniform"
as the rest
with the white shirts and yamulkes
walked out
and gave a very disapproving look
upon seeing the sign.

He paced back and forth
as if ready to walk over
and tear it down.

Which I suspect he planned on doing
just as soon as we all left,
which wasn't long afterward.

I got down on one knee,
and read each of the letters,
out loud,
which had been so kindly
and lovingly
placed by and on the tree.

I was deeply moved
as I personally thanked Michael
for giving his life
for the rest of us,
and prayed
to our loving Father in Heaven
to have mercy
upon his poor tormented soul.

After having a number of discussions
with various people
who happenend onto the scene
from the surrounding neighborhoods,
I went back
and got into my car,
went down to Clinton Street
and turned around
to head northbound
right by that sign
which that young woman
had just placed there
for all the world to see.

Across the street,
and looking very menacingly at it,
was that same elderly man.

I could only imagine
what he was thinking.

But, judging by the look on his face,
and the body language
he was not going to allow that sign
to stay up for very long.

I can only hope that his plans
were subverted
by powers far greater than him.

We shall see.

I hope to get some photos posted,
and will now get busy with that.

Thank you Michael,
for speaking truth to utterly corrupted power
and may your life not have been given in vain,
and may your blessed soul
rest in peace
and be an inspiration
to all of those others
who are so afraid to speak out
and by doing so
have become complicit
in this long series
of abuses and outrages
and mass murders
of women, and children,
and elderly persons,
and our fellow believers
in these various lands,
and for all of the thefts;
all done
in the name of
"we the people",
without our permission
or acquiesence,
and often without our knowledge,
even. 

We have lost one foot soldier,
but our army of "spirit warriors"
stands stronger than ever,
and now madder than ever
at the latest attempt
to make a mockery
of our Lord, God, and Savior.


w/ unimaginable love to Michael
and all others
who are courageous enough
to follow in his footsteps
down that well-trodden path
from lies and wickedness,
to truth and righteousness.


vw

12:01 p.m
Sunday
6-23-13
Ventura, California, USA