FBI Raid Thomas Paine’s House, Point Guns At His Young Children; How an Award-Winning Reporter Became Thomas Paine
Posted on August 27, 2018 by Thomas Paine
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I can say with certainty, my decision to journey back into journalism was made after the FBI pointed guns at the heads of my wife and children. I knew that first morning (the FBI actually raided my home twice and pointed guns at my family twice) when federal agents raided our home one definitive thing was going to unfold:
These bastards — and their bosses — were going to pay for violating my family. My kids. My home. One way or the other, I would have the last word. As I have throughout my life and career. And I was going to have to go back into journalism to even the score.
I always win. You’ll learn that about me in the coming days and weeks, if you haven’t already learned as a reader of True Pundit. In fact, I already have won. The FBI learned it too. And I have much more to teach the Bureau if it decides it hasn’t been taught enough. True Pundit has broken dozens of key FBI scoops in two years and look at the Bureau. It is in shambles. No one in the media even comes close to our work.
My name is Michael Moore. No, not the Lib movie guy Michael Moore (Now you understand why I use a pseudonym) I have won numerous awards in journalism, including the Gerald Loeb Award in 1996. None of that much matters in the scope of things — or life in general — but being nominated for Pulitzer Prizes in your 20s is something I can tell my grandkids about. And the Loeb speaks for itself. A Certified Fraud Examiner too, I worked for Citi running its anti-money laundering Ops in three states. Until the FBI ruined that career.
But it is time for Thomas Paine to go public. The good guys don’t hide, as a Congressman told me this weekend. Especially after being terrorized by the FBI.
These are the times that try men’s souls, the real Thomas Paine penned. Especially when a dozen FBI agents are pointing high-powered rifles at my children during an early-morning search warrant raid.
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My boys. Then eight and twelve. With M-4 carbine rifles pointed at their wet heads just before getting on the school bus. One slip of a finger and poof, they’re dead. My wife too. Courtesy of cowboys from the FBI.
That was the first time in about twenty years I seriously thought about going back into journalism. And do things my way this time around. To unmask mother f*ckers like these FBI agents who were terrorizing my kids and wife. That was the seed that created True Pundit.
They come into your home like the FBI did to try and goad you into making a mistake, maybe take a run at one of them – or draw down with my Sig — so they could blow a hole in my pajamas. And be done with me, like their bosses hoped.
BECAUSE as a contractor I knew too much. And I still know too much. And it is almost time to tell the world all about it. We are working on a book that will detail why the FBI turned on me. The reasons are hard to stomach but I am safer if all know.
While the FBI was tossing my house and asking me dumb questions the wheels in my head were already years ahead of those chaotic moments. My wife and boys were in tears but I was already thinking how this could play out.
Taking violent retaliation off the table, getting back into journalism could be the play.
If I could stay out of prison. And stay alive.
For a good stretch that morning I was convinced they were going to stuff me in a van and drive away. But these cowboys were driving Prius’ and Ford Escapes. This was not the FBI’s varsity. That last conversation I had with the FBI before that encounter was with the Bureau’s third or fourth man in charge of the entire FBI at HQ in Washington D.C. He had asked my Intel group to investigate members of the Justice Department, including Eric Holder. That is what was on my mind during the raid. This was payback, I thought. Sure. I could understand that. But why would someone like Holder or any of his high-ranking goons in Justice send these FBI flunkies to my door?
On a bad day – at a different place – they were potential sitting ducks. But they knew the kids were home and well … Cowboys.
Meanwhile, they are rifling through every room, every drawer looking for anything they can use as leverage against me.
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FBI Raid Thomas Paine’s House, Point Guns At His Young Children; How an Award-Winning Reporter Became Thomas Paine Posted on August 27, 2018 by Thomas Paine Facebook Tweet Pinterest Email Print Share: Copy Link Facebook Twitter Reddit Share Follow on Facebook Follow on Twitter
I can say with certainty, my decision to journey back into journalism was made after the FBI pointed guns at the heads of my wife and children. I knew that first morning (the FBI actually raided my home twice and pointed guns at my family twice) when federal agents raided our home one definitive thing was going to unfold:
These bastards — and their bosses — were going to pay for violating my family. My kids. My home. One way or the other, I would have the last word. As I have throughout my life and career. And I was going to have to go back into journalism to even the score.
I always win. You’ll learn that about me in the coming days and weeks, if you haven’t already learned as a reader of True Pundit. In fact, I already have won. The FBI learned it too. And I have much more to teach the Bureau if it decides it hasn’t been taught enough. True Pundit has broken dozens of key FBI scoops in two years and look at the Bureau. It is in shambles. No one in the media even comes close to our work.
My name is Michael Moore. No, not the Lib movie guy Michael Moore (Now you understand why I use a pseudonym) I have won numerous awards in journalism, including the Gerald Loeb Award in 1996. None of that much matters in the scope of things — or life in general — but being nominated for Pulitzer Prizes in your 20s is something I can tell my grandkids about. And the Loeb speaks for itself. A Certified Fraud Examiner too, I worked for Citi running its anti-money laundering Ops in three states. Until the FBI ruined that career.
But it is time for Thomas Paine to go public. The good guys don’t hide, as a Congressman told me this weekend. Especially after being terrorized by the FBI.
These are the times that try men’s souls, the real Thomas Paine penned. Especially when a dozen FBI agents are pointing high-powered rifles at my children during an early-morning search warrant raid. Healthy Recipe Swaps That Will Make for a Better 2018 Monkeysee Ads by Revcontent Read More > 99,030
My boys. Then eight and twelve. With M-4 carbine rifles pointed at their wet heads just before getting on the school bus. One slip of a finger and poof, they’re dead. My wife too. Courtesy of cowboys from the FBI.
That was the first time in about twenty years I seriously thought about going back into journalism. And do things my way this time around. To unmask mother f*ckers like these FBI agents who were terrorizing my kids and wife. That was the seed that created True Pundit.
They come into your home like the FBI did to try and goad you into making a mistake, maybe take a run at one of them – or draw down with my Sig — so they could blow a hole in my pajamas. And be done with me, like their bosses hoped.
BECAUSE as a contractor I knew too much. And I still know too much. And it is almost time to tell the world all about it. We are working on a book that will detail why the FBI turned on me. The reasons are hard to stomach but I am safer if all know.
While the FBI was tossing my house and asking me dumb questions the wheels in my head were already years ahead of those chaotic moments. My wife and boys were in tears but I was already thinking how this could play out.
Taking violent retaliation off the table, getting back into journalism could be the play.
If I could stay out of prison. And stay alive.
For a good stretch that morning I was convinced they were going to stuff me in a van and drive away. But these cowboys were driving Prius’ and Ford Escapes. This was not the FBI’s varsity. That last conversation I had with the FBI before that encounter was with the Bureau’s third or fourth man in charge of the entire FBI at HQ in Washington D.C. He had asked my Intel group to investigate members of the Justice Department, including Eric Holder. That is what was on my mind during the raid. This was payback, I thought. Sure. I could understand that. But why would someone like Holder or any of his high-ranking goons in Justice send these FBI flunkies to my door?
On a bad day – at a different place – they were potential sitting ducks. But they knew the kids were home and well … Cowboys.
Meanwhile, they are rifling through every room, every drawer looking for anything they can use as leverage against me.