My Life with Death

FBI Nevada Branch, 1787 West Lake Mead Boulevard, Las Vegas, Nevada

December 18, 2018, 4:58 a.m.

We entered the lowest floor of the concrete building. We got inside through a barbed wire fence and a window under the stairs in the blind spot of one of the cameras. We used light cones from flashlights to light our way through the dark corridors. It was a warehouse with hundreds of paper boxes of various ages, with cases closed and unclosed—that is, open or shelved—with folders and evidence. We were on the second basement level—below the evidence room was just a staff parking lot like all FBI buildings built according to the same pattern. The doctors gave me many pills - benzodiazepines, codeine, vobenzym, phenoxyl, and oseltamivir. I didn't take them before, but I took more than needed. I needed to stay on my feet for a long time. I knew I would need a lot of energy and strength.

At the end of one of the many corridors and corridors was an open room with tables that held computers. I had to get into one of them to get the information - the answers. I wanted to know everything about that agent and revisit my mother's case because of that letter.

We had to be careful and do everything quickly to avoid drawing attention to ourselves. We were not allowed to leave behind any traces of our presence.

"Hurry up," Christine urged.

I inserted a flash drive into my computer and copied the needed files. My access codes were revoked, but luckily, I knew Kent. But suddenly, my head started buzzing. A very high tone bounced off the walls of my skull. My head could explode.

I deleted the search history, took out the flash drive, and put it in my coat pocket. The lights above our heads flashed loudly and armed to the teeth, a commando ran into the room. We were trapped. Men with shotguns ran in our direction, shouting, "Identify yourselves, put down your weapons, and put your hands up. You are in a federal building. You broke the law by entering."

We tried to escape. But where. No matter where I looked - in any direction or corridor- we could not see a free way out. We were in real trouble.

I realized that if I wanted to get answers, I had to go beyond the evidence. I have to go straight to the source. I stood in the middle of the corridor, directly under one of the lights. I put my hands in my pockets and looked ahead.

I had a holster on my passport and a Colt caliber .45, which I owned illegally. I only had it with me so far as insurance.

I wasn't going to use it unless they forced me to. A group of four men in full armor ran into our alley. They surrounded us and aimed their guns at us. Christine dropped everything and raised her hands. She was not armed, nor was she holding anything in her hands.

"Drop your gun and hands up," one yelled at me. "Okay, okay," I said.

I raised one hand non-threateningly. With the other hand, I carefully unclipped the holster clip on my right hip and pulled out the gun with my index finger. I put her on the ground and kicked my foot toward them. I put both hands behind my head and knelt on the ground. I winked at Christine to do the same. They handcuffed us and took us to the cells. Christine tried explaining the situation to them, but they wouldn't listen.

About two minutes after they put us in the metal cages, they came for me again and took me to the interrogation room.