From bigxc@prairienet.orgSun Feb  5 11:44:41 1995
Date: Tue, 24 Jan 95 07:05:00 CST
From: Brian Redman <bigxc@prairienet.org>
To: Multiple recipients of list <conspire@prairienet.org>
Subject: Conspiracy Nation -- Vol. 3 Num. 62


              Conspiracy Nation -- Vol. 3  Num. 62
             ======================================
                    ("Quid coniuratio est?")
 
 
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MURDER, BANK FRAUD, DRUGS, AND SEX
By Nicholas A. Guarino
 
[...continued...]
 
   ** For a change of pace, here's an incident that's non- 
  violent -- but does include the President himself.
 
  Little Rock attorney Cliff Jackson, an acquaintance of Bill's 
  from his Oxford days, was approached in July, 1993, by Larry 
  Patterson and Roger Perry, two former members of Bill's 
  Arkansas security detail. They wanted to discuss blowing the 
  whistle on his sex escapades. (Other troopers backed up their 
  stories.)
 
  As told to *New American* magazine, Jackson was discussing 
  their stories on the phone in August with another attorney, 
  Lynn Davis (not related to [L.J. Davis]), when...
 
    ...he became suspicious that the phone had been tapped. 
    He suggested to Davis that they meet in a nearby 
    restaurant. "The whole time we were there, this 
    suspicious-looking guy kept his eye on us," Jackson 
    recalls. "After we left, we were followed by this dark 
    Suburban with darkened windows and a Texas license 
    plate." Davis noted the vehicle's license plate number 
    and ran a check on it; no such license number was listed.
 
 
  You've heard of unlisted phone numbers? Welcome to the 
  phantom surveillance world of unlisted license plates!
 
  Just a few days later, the troopers received phone calls from 
  both Clinton and Buddy Young, former head of Gov. Clinton's 
  security detail. You can hear the borderline tone of Young's 
  calls in this sample from his tense call to Roger Perry, as 
  he reported it:
 
    I represent the President of the United States. Why do 
    you want to destroy him over this? ... This is not a 
    threat, but I wanted you to know that your own actions 
    could bring about dire consequences.
 
 
  Clinton's calls were no big secret, either. For instance, 
  journalist Gwen Ifill noted in the *New York Times*,
 
    It turns out that some of the calls that were overworking 
    the White House switchboard operators [in the fall of 
    '93] were going not to Capitol Hill but to Arkansas state 
    troopers [to discuss] potentially embarrassing charges 
    about his marital infidelity.
 
 
  The troopers related that Bill asked about the pending 
  allegations and offered them plush jobs. I think what he 
  wanted most was the kind of loyal silence and amnesia he gets 
  from people like Buddy Young, whom he appointed to a $93,000- 
  a-year FEMA job (not a bad promotion for a cop).
 
  Indeed, there was a lot to be silent about. In addition to 
  numerous one-night ladies, Bill had long-term affairs with 
  six. One was a real bell-ringer: The *Los Angeles Times* 
  sifted through thousands of pages of state phone bills and 
  found 59 calls to her, including eleven on July 16, 1989. On 
  one government trip, he talked to her from his hotel room 
  from 1:23 a.m. to 2:57 a.m., then was back on the phone with 
  her at 7:45 that morning.
 
  Bill's fallback defense is always that, as he claimed on 
  National Public Radio, "The only relevant questions are 
  questions of whether I abused my office, and the answer is 
  no."
 
  Well. What do *you* say?
 
 
   ** By far the unluckiest guy in Arkansas is lawyer Gary 
  Johnson, 53, who was peacefully living at Quapaw Towers in 
  Little Rock when Gennifer Flowers moved in next door to him.
 
  Now, Clinton denied on *60 Minutes* that he ever visited 
  Gennifer. But Gary had a home security system that included a 
  video camera pointed at his door. Unfortunately, it also 
  covered Gennifer's door, and after awhile he had several nice 
  visits on tape, showing Bill letting himself in with his own 
  key.
 
  Either Bill finally noticed the camera, or the grapevine told 
  Bill's aides about it, because on June 26, 1992, three weeks 
  before the Democratic nomination, Gary got a loud knock at 
  the door. It was three husky, short-haired state troopers, 
  and they slugged him as they barged in, demanding the tape.
 
  Gary promptly gave it to them, but they continued punching 
  him, breaking both his elbows, perforating his bladder, 
  rupturing his spleen so badly that doctors had to remove it, 
  beating him unconscious, and leaving him to die.
 
  Now, here's a good question for you: Do you think Bill 
  Clinton actually picked up a phone and initiated this attack?
 
  And here's a better question: *What* *difference* *does* *it* 
  *make*?
 
 
For obvious reasons of liberal loyalty, no one in the major media 
wants to stick his neck out and be the first to do a major piece 
that pins all these murders and attacks on the President of the 
United States.
 
But sooner or later, the dam will break. The weight and scope of 
the crimes are just too massive. Even if only *half* these 
incidents turn out to be accidents or true suicides, Bill will 
find it impossible to wiggle out of being implicated in the rest. 
When some indicted hit man or functionary sees the evidence 
piling up against him, he will sing like a sparrow to save his 
own tail feathers...
 
 
                   How to Make $2 Million
            Developing a God-Forsaken Tract of Land
             Without Selling One Square Foot of It
 
When the media folk told you about Whitewater, they left out a 
few amusing details.
 
So in a spirit of altruistic service and public education, I'm 
going to let you in on the secrets of how to pull off a land 
scam. Pay attention, because you've never heard this before.
 
  A. Real estate developing is more fun when you can borrow all 
     your capital without having to pay it back... or even sell 
     any land. So to get started, you need two friends: one an 
     appraiser, one a banker.
 
  B. Next, you find some dirt-cheap dirt. Anywhere in the 
     boondocks will do. In the Whitewater case, it was 230 
     acres of land along the White River for about $90,000. 
     (Some housing tract! It was fifty miles to the nearest 
     grocery store.)
 
  C. Then you get your appraiser friend to do a bloated 
     appraisal. Hey, what are friends for? Let's say he pegs it 
     at $150,000.
 
  D. You go to the bank and get the usual 80% loan. [CN -- 
     e.g., 80% of $150,000 with the land as collateral] You now 
     have $120,000, so you pay off the land [($90,000)], and 
     you still have $30,000 in your pocket. You're on a roll.
 
  E. You pay $5,000 to subdivide it and bulldoze in a few 
     roads. (Or if you know the ropes, you get the state to do 
     it, as Bill did to get a $150,000, two-mile access road.)
 
  F. Voila! You now are the proud owner of a partly-developed 
     luxury estate community. So you call up your appraiser 
     friend again, and he re-evaluates it at a cool $400,000.
 
  G. You hustle back to the bank [run by your friend McDougal] 
     and get a new 80% loan based on the new value. (Nothing 
     out of line so far. An 80% loan is standard, right?)
 
  H. You draw up plans for some fine houses (which will never 
     be built.)
 
  I. You get a new appraisal.
 
  J. You get a new loan.
 
  K. You make two or three phony homesite sales to friends. You 
     shuffle the funds around among your shell corporations and 
     bounce it back to your friends -- plus a little extra for 
     their help.
 
  L. You get a new appraisal.
 
  M. You get a new loan.
 
  N. You do a "land flip," selling the whole thing to Company X 
     for $800,000, which sells it to Company Y for a million, 
     which sells it back to you for $1.25 million. (All these 
     companies are your friends.) And yes, this kind of thing 
     *did* happen in Whitewater and Madison. In fact, 
     Whitewater figures David Hale and Dean Paul once flipped 
     Castle Grande back and forth from $200,000 to $825,000 in 
     *one* *day*!
 
  O. You get a new appraisal.
 
  P. You get a new loan.
 
  Q. Finally, your development corporation declares bankruptcy, 
     and the bank has to eat your loans because the money is 
     all gone, and since the record-keeping is so poor, nobody 
     knows where it went.
 
But weep not for the bankers. You pay them nicely -- perhaps a 
third of the $2 to $3 million you skim off. Weep for the taxpayer 
who bails out their banks.
 
Which is to say, in the case of Whitewater, weep for yourself.
 
 
            -+- Does This Actually *Work*? -+-
 
Whitewater was just the first of a series, like a pilot for a 
sitcom.
 
Using Whitewater as a prop, Bill and his partner Jim McDougal 
milked -- by my rough estimate -- several million dollars from 
the SBA [Small Business Administration] and at least five or six 
banks and S&Ls, starting with the Bank of Kingston.
 
But their later ventures, bringing in Steve Smith and now-Gov. 
Jim Guy Tucker, did even better. Campobello started with about 
$150,000 in property and squeezed over $4 million in loans from 
banks in about two years. Castle Grande began with $75,000 worth 
of swamp land and cleared over $3 million. It never built 
anything. The only human artifacts on it today are a few old 
refrigerators and mattresses.
 
Why do I have information you haven't seen before? Because my 
firm had $10 million in Madison Guaranty S&L, and I was thinking 
of buying the Bank of Kingston. (I was already worth millions by 
that time.) When I saw Kingston's financial statement, however, I 
ran like a scalded cat.
 
And Madison was worse. You didn't have to be a Philadelphia CPA 
to spot their money laundering, dead real estate liabilities 
proudly listed as assets, huge amounts of 24-hour deposits from 
brokers, and $17 million in insider loans. It was a nightmare.
 
Whitewater Development Corp. had at least an appearance of 
sincerity. It even had TV commercials, starring Jim's 
[McDougal's] striking young wife, Susan, in hot pants, riding a 
horse. Another one showed her behind the wheel of Bill's restored 
'67 Mustang.
 
But after Whitewater, the deals began dropping their frills like 
a hooker in a hurry to get things over with. The RTC criminal 
referral that Bill suppressed during his presidential campaign 
cites such later corporations as *Tucker-Smith-McDougal*, *Smith- 
Tucker-McDougal*, and *Smith-McDougal*. Catchy, eh? If it were 
me, I would have called them *Son of Whitewater*, 
*Whitewatergate*, and *Whitewater & Ponzi, L.P.*
 
                   [...to be continued...]
 
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Aperi os tuum muto, et causis omnium filiorum qui pertranseunt.
Aperi os tuum, decerne quod justum est, et judica inopem et 
  pauperem.                    -- Liber Proverbiorum  XXXI: 8-9 

 Brian Francis Redman    bigxc@prairienet.org    "The Big C"
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    Coming to you from Illinois -- "The Land of Skolnick"        
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