Чак Хоган - The Standoff

The time is NOW to show our strength. They want to ban our guns. Support Compulsory Firearms Ownership!!! It is the ONLY WAY to guarantee your freedom. Your right to own and carry a firearm and defend your family is GUARANTEED by the Constitution. Stand up for Glenn Ables! If someone trespassed on your private property and shot your dogs dead, you would shoot back too, and it would be within your God-given rights. Keep ammunition well stocked and always keep one gun hidden in the event of an Occupationalist purge. Martial law is imminent. The blue helmets are coming.

This tyranny is not limited to the land of the Great Northwest. The siege on Glenn Ables is just one phase of a series of strategic federal assassinations, beginning with the murder of Order founder Robert Matthews and including the recent massacre at Waco. We must END THIS TYRANNY! If ZOG is allowed to establish a stronghold here at Paradise Ridge, they will rampage throughout Montana and the entire Northwest. THIS IS OUR LAST STAND! We need witnesses on the front lines in the form of freedom-fighting Christian Soldiers. The time is NOW to fortify our charter and establish once and for all time the independent white homeland of Washington, Idaho, Montana, Oregon, and Wyoming, and secure our borders.

They have targeted Glenn Ables because he stands for a way of living that we as members of the White Race believe in and hold to be true. His is a family like anyone else’s who moved up here to raise their kids away from the drugs and violence and the crossbreeding of the cities, to try and reclaim a little corner of this great country that was once our own. No decent, moral Christian should have to live next to a bunch of niggers and Jews.

This attack is pure provocation. Hundreds of United Nations agents bankrolled by the money merchants in the East, military helicopters cruising the ridge, armored personnel carriers, hi-tech demolition equipment — all for one man and a simple firearms offense? Pure and murderous provocation. ZOG must be stopped at Paradise Ridge.

We all have guns and are not afraid to use them. We take our orders straight from the Bible, and we know that Thou shall not kill is really Thou shall not murder. Yahweh commanded his people all throughout the Book, Go out and slay. In the name of Almighty God, we will do whatever it takes to defend our families and our Christian way of life.

Glenn Ables was not afraid to shout it from the mountaintop. He and his family are a testament to the freedom the federal establishment is here and now trying to take from us by force.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

This is a call to arms. As our forefathers before us threw off the tyranny and oppression of the Kings and Bankers of Europe and established an independent homeland, so must we now rise to the cause. The final hour approaches! A state of war currently exists in America. This is a call to action. Support Glenn Ables. His fight is our fight. Witness him and join him. Get the word out over the wires. Get fax machines if you already don’t, get computer modems. Use their technology against them. Send it out over the American Patriotic Fax Network. We must come together now. Let the faithful converge on Paradise Ridge.

KEEP AMERICA PURE!

This is our last stand against the Zionist Government and their New World Order. We will not back down. We must keep our land free. FBI agents are white in color only, and by their fruits ye shall know them. The federal agents here will be held accountable for their crimes. If Glenn Ables is murdered, or if any harm comes to his wife or any one of his five innocent children — then in the name of all that is Christian and Good, the second American Revolution will begin right here. The marauders will be overthrown. That is our covenant.

There was nothing from the cabin overnight. Banish could tell that it was morning now by the brighter complexion of the drab canvas walls. In the absence of any real progress, he had devoted himself to paperwork. Photographs of the Newlands, Ables’s in-laws on his wife’s side, had come in from Provo, along with biographies and neighbor interviews. Craig Newland, Marjorie Ables’s brother, had four months earlier put in for a week’s vacation from the paper processing plant that employed him. Their Sunoco credit card account showed activity at a station twenty miles outside of Huddleston six days before, a nine-gallon fill-up at 10:37 A.M. on Saturday, July 31. Their 1987 Ford Lynx had been found parked, locked, and empty on one of the access roads adjoining Paradise Ridge, a coffee-stained AAA Triptik highlighting interstates from Utah to Montana discarded on the backseat. By all accounts, the Newlands disliked Glenn Ables but had undertaken the journey north in order to visit Marjorie and the children, whom they had not seen in over four years. They were likely the only true captives in the cabin.

Two Assistant U.S. Attorneys had come in before dawn to brief Banish on the government’s formal criminal complaint regarding the shootout. They were going to charge Ables with the murder of Deputy Marshal Bascombe, and Mellis with assault on a federal officer, while reserving future charges against twelve-year-old Judith. The wording of the complaint was important to Banish because filing it with the U.S. District Court in Helena effectively released the FBI version of the initial skirmish into the public domain. The news media could then source the complaint and air previously withheld information. On the other hand, it was a legal document, and any inaccuracies or omissions would hinder the government’s case later in court. Banish had spent the better part of two early morning hours going over it with a red pen.

The press situation itself was heating up. The Press Services Office of the External Affairs Division had called overnight from Washington to order a departure from SOP. They had decided that a pool of twenty print reporters and one Associated Press photographer would be allowed access to the staging area that morning. Their concern was that a five-day standoff without any substantive development would move a blacked-out media into broader speculation in the form of opinion pieces concerning transgressions of “the State,” or comparisons to similar standoff situations — the MOVE bombing in Philadelphia; Waco — that had ended unfavorably. Traditionally, the longer a siege dragged on, the more law enforcement came to be painted as the instigator. Banish, in order to avoid media disruption of the staging area, had already figured out a way around the command. Perkins was at that hour escorting the press pool up an adjacent mountain, one with a higher ridge and a distant but fair view of Paradise Ridge below.

That had been the only official communication from the Bureau SOG, or seat of government, in Washington, D.C. Nothing from the top brass, and specifically nothing from AD Richardsen. The obvious explanation was that no significant progress had been made. Nothing happens in a hostage negotiation until somebody picks up the phone. Banish had always played the maverick in keeping the Bureau at bay, but for this, his first active assignment in almost three years, he had expected to be kept on a short leash. Not only expected, but anticipated. Even hoped. He wondered then, fleetingly, if there was some other way they were keeping tabs on him.

He stopped what he was doing then and sat back in his chair. As he had done once or twice daily following his release from the hospital, and nearly every other hour since arriving at Paradise Ridge, he took his mental pulse. He was self-evaluating. His reason seemed to him sharp enough. The disruption of his routine at Skull Valley had at first been overwhelming. There, by adhering to strict work, meal, and sleep schedules, removing himself from the constant push-and-pull of everyday life, he had slowly and painstakingly rebuilt his mind. He had lived there inside his head like a man with a white coat and clipboard, tampering with and tempering the dark thoughts and appetites and urges that had nearly consumed him. At Skull Valley he had been his own lab rat. He ran the labyrinths and doled out the cheese. And the Bureau had left him alone there, but perhaps for too long. He saw now that the recovery of his reasoning faculties had left little room for the more gauzy shadings of the mind, such as personality, temperament, character.