So I’m standing there, not really believing what I’m seeing. I’m asking random people in the crowd, “what happened” and getting various stories.
But wait, hold on. Fast forward, a few weeks. I’m sitting at my desk. Jimmy comes in. He walks over to my table, and throws down a copy of the New York Post in front of Mark, sitting next to me.
Jimmy says, “look at this shit, can you believe this shit?”
So, you know, Jimmy and Mark are looking at the paper, so I stop pretending to work and look at it.
“Wha?” I kind of do a double take.
“What?” Jimmy asks.
I don’t say anything. It’s not everyday – well none of this shit is the kind of thing that happens “every day.” But it’s not everyday you see a guy you used to work with, bound and gagged, on the front page of a tabloid.
Jimmy looks at me suspiciously. I don’t say shit.
Ok, ok. So two years earlier, in California … there was this waitress named Rebecca…
“I say to you: our wombs have been filled with the children of fornication by those sons of apes and pigs who raped us. Or I could tell you that they have defaced our bodies, spit in our faces, and tore up the little copies of the Qur’an that hung around our necks? By God, we have not passed one night since we have been in prison without one of the apes and pigs jumping down upon us to rip our bodies apart with his overweening lust. Kill us along with them! Destroy us along with them! Don’t leave us here to let them get pleasure from raping us.
Leave their tanks and aircraft outside. Come at us here in the prison. They raped me on one day more than nine times. Can you comprehend? Imagine one of your sisters being raped. Why can’t you all imagine it, as I am your sister. With me are 13 girls, all unmarried. All have been raped before the eyes and ears of everyone. They took our clothes and won’t let us get dressed. As I write this letter one of the girls has committed suicide. She was savagely raped. A soldier hit her on her chest and thigh after raping her. He subjected her to unbelievable torture. She beat her head against the wall of the cell until she died, for she couldn’t take any more.Brothers, I tell you again, fear God! Kill us with them so that we might be at peace. Help! Help! Help!”
MEMORANDUM FOR THE RECORD
SUBJECT: Visit to Project [deleted]
1. On this day the writer spent the day observing experiments with Mr. [deleted] on project [deleted] and in planning next year’s work on the project (Mr. [deleted] has already submitted his proposal to the [deleted]).
2. The general picture of the present status of the project is one of a carefully planned series of five major experiments. Most of the year has been spent in screening and standardizing a large group of subjects (approximately 100) and the months between now and September 1 should yield much data, so that these five experiments should be completed by September 1. The five experiments are: (N stands for the total number of subjects involved in the experiment.)
7. A Very favorable impression was made on the writer by the group. The experimental design of each experiment is very carefully done, and the standards of detail and instrumentation seems to be very high.
Though she didn’t know it, her modeling career was facilitated by Richard Fuisz (pronounced fuse), a former actor, psychiatrist, pediatrician, congressional candidate, whistle-blower, and entrepreneur who declines to comment on a published report that he has intelligence ties. Fuisz, who owned a company that did joint ventures in Moscow, was approached by the then-Soviet ambassador to Washington, Yuri V. Dubinin, to set up a modeling agency to prepare the first waves of Soviet beauties for American commerce (which often meant substantial dental work) and protect them from “adverse influences” and bad publicity like magazine “spreads about their teeth,” Fuisz says.