← Autodidact Archive · Original Dissent · toddbrendanfahey
Thread ID: 19599 | Posts: 19 | Started: 2005-08-12
2005-08-12 23:43 | User Profile
by Todd Brendan Fahey August 12, 2005
A long, tangled story, that's been published widely over the 'net. Some think I'm full of beans; others know who I am. So, whatever you want to think:
In sum: I worked for quite a few years for the late Lt. General Daniel O. Graham (Director of the Defense Intelligence Agency and Deputy Director, CIA), architect of Reagan's Strategic Defense Initiative; for Major Gen. John K. "Black Jack" Singlaub, and for CIA officer Theodore L. Humes. I've gotten my hands a little dirty, and can say that I enjoyed it.
While as a Professor of English at Koje College, South Korea, turns out the Dept. Chair had been (or still is) KCIA. He got wind of some of the political writings I was doing as to South Korean President Roh Moo-hyun and former President Kim Dae-jung (both communists), and hell came down upon me. Was simultaneously fired, just after returning from vacation in Thailand and signing a 2nd-year contract at Koje College; my apt. was searched thoroughly, the locks changed (locked out wearing only what I had on), and was told that I would be deported within 48hrs as a threat to the security of the Republic of Korea. I'm a pressure-cooker: I like to work under extreme pressure, and get my best work down in hairy moments.
This was too hairy.
Was tailed 24/7 for two days by plainclothes persons--everywhere I walked, there would be well-dressed men (totally out of place in the shipyard area where I worked and lived) walking close behind me, and nodding when I made eye contact. I returned with my office key in the middle of the night and yanked out my office computer's hard drive, which held quite a lot of shit that could have gotten friends and family in trouble, and frisbee'd it into the sea, causing the Dept. Chair to almost have a stroke in his office. He could not believe my audacity. I was threatened with arrest outright, then...
Managed to play a very dirty blackmail card, which I'd been holding in my hand for over a year, and was still ejected from Korea but not under deportation. Was escorted by military guard through Busan International Airport.
Breathed relief when my passport was not stamped: "Deported," and went back to Thailand.
Things got weird immediately upon entering Chiang Rai. First, an American "teacher" who I'd met only once (at some random nightclub) turns up at my guest house coffeeshop at 9:00am and starts goading me with really strange questions and taunts. He would not quit, and very unwisely shoved me from behind while I was arguing with the guest house owner about this strange f**ker's presence; I caught myself in the fall, but broke one of my fingers badly; then I tossed a scalding black cup of coffee into the American's eyes, and the guest house owner punches me square in the face, shattering my glasses. I decked the guest house owner and ran faster than I'd ever run in my life, barefoot, down a slick street (raining) with a knife I'd grabbed from the guest house wall, and caught up with this dodgy American and ended up slitting his face from earlobe to chin, plus all the webs between the fingers of his right hand.
Cops came; we were both taken downtown. I told my side of the story; but the other Yank wouldn't talk. Weirdest thing I've ever seen. He just clammed up. The cops interviewed people who were sitting in the guest house coffee shop and who saw everything, and it was determined that I was justified in my actions, and I was not even arrested. (I agreed to pay the American US$100 for the many stitches he required.) (The guest house owner was forced to pay US$450 for breaking my glasses. Ouch.)
Couple nights later, with new glasses, I'm standing across the street from a restaurant at which I'd eaten nearly every night (the owner was a super-cool Thai, whose English is excellent). Some youngish Thai punk guns his motorcycle engine once, disembarks, then runs full-speed across the street, slugging me again in the face, again ruining my glasses. Never met the young f**k before, had no idea what I'd done to deserve it. Ran across the street and kicked his motorcycle several times, until it lay in the middle of the road, damaged. He gets back on it, roars away.
Weird.
People in the restaurant run over to me and ask me if I'm okay, and tell me they saw the whole thing, in case I want to file a police report. The sound of a motorcycle engine again, and the punk comes back with a long, nasty curved sword, swings it at my left ribcage. I catch the blade in my left hand (9 stitches, right down to the bone) and would not let go. Should have severed my thumb from my hand. The guy's staring at me, like: "Jeezus, this guy isn't going to make it easy for me," and I head-butted him hard enough to send him to his knees. Kicked him a few times. Then he books back to his moto and rides off.
Cops arrive, reports are made, restaurant owner tells the cops of everything that has just occurred. I get free treatment on my gaping thumb at Chiang Rai Hospital; overnight stay, no charge. Many apologies from police and hospital officials.
The young f**k is arrested the next day, with the promise by police Major Songkran that he'll do 3 months in jail for the attack. He is released after one day.
Toddman is not happy. Makes life a living hell for the Chiang Rai Police Dept.; calls the U.S. Embassy; retaining a Thai attorney, etc.
Three days later, I take a three-wheeled tuk-tuk taxi (open air contraption) to a crowded shopping center in the middle of the day, pay the driver US$1 for the lift, get out of the tuk-tuk, and that's the last thing I remember.
Next thing I remember is the sound of my father's voice in my ear. I couldn't put anything together; nothing made sense; I was barely "there." He asks me if I know where I am, and I say, "I'm in Thailand." He says: "But do you know where you are now?" I draw a blank. He says: "You are in a hospital, Todd; you've been in a coma for five days; we're doing everything we can to get you out of the country and back to the US. You are very badly injured. The whole family is praying for you."
Same conversation with my mom, my sister and my ex-wife, all of who called within minutes of my finishing talking with my dad.
11 broken bones in the skull; 5 to the left wrist; two to the lower left leg.
Then, for some reason I still have no answer to, I am transferred to Chiang Rai Prison Hospital, where I dwell for 11 days, to die. My lower-left leg has been badly broken and is turning gangrenous.
I had been struck with baseball bats by six Thais, all of whom were arrested later that day (the ringleader of which was the same Thai who punched me in the face and tried to slice my innards three nights earlier; he's doing 3 years in prison now).
The only reason I'm still alive right now is, that my father's first-cousin is Head of Security for the US Olympics Committee and a retired L.A.-area police chief. He contacted the Thai/U.S. Ambassador, and that was all that was needed.
Did my having been outed as an Intelligence asset in South Korea and ejected from that country have anything to do with the attacks in Thailand? And if so, who ordered it? (KCIA, CIA, both?)
That's what happened to me last June.
2005-08-13 02:04 | User Profile
Fascinating post. Reads like a Stephen Coonts novel. Maybe [I]you[/I] ought to write a book - I'd buy it!
2005-08-13 02:23 | User Profile
[QUOTE=toddbrendanfahey]by Todd Brendan Fahey August 12, 2005
A long, tangled story, that's been published widely over the 'net. Some think I'm full of beans; others know who I am. So, whatever you want to think:
In sum: I worked for quite a few years for the late Lt. General Daniel O. Graham (Director of the Defense Intelligence Agency and Deputy Director, CIA), architect of Reagan's Strategic Defense Initiative; for Major Gen. John K. "Black Jack" Singlaub, and for CIA officer Theodore L. Humes. I've gotten my hands a little dirty, and can say that I enjoyed it.
While as a Professor of English at Koje College, South Korea, turns out the Dept. Chair had been (or still is) KCIA. He got wind of some of the political writings I was doing as to South Korean President Roh Moo-hyun and former President Kim Dae-jung (both communists), and hell came down upon me. Was simultaneously fired, just after returning from vacation in Thailand and signing a 2nd-year contract at Koje College; my apt. was searched thoroughly, the locks changed (locked out wearing only what I had on), and was told that I would be deported within 48hrs as a threat to the security of the Republic of Korea. I'm a pressure-cooker: I like to work under extreme pressure, and get my best work down in hairy moments.
This was too hairy.
Was tailed 24/7 for two days by plainclothes persons--everywhere I walked, there would be well-dressed men (totally out of place in the shipyard area where I worked and lived) walking close behind me, and nodding when I made eye contact. I returned with my office key in the middle of the night and yanked out my office computer's hard drive, which held quite a lot of shit that could have gotten friends and family in trouble, and frisbee'd it into the sea, causing the Dept. Chair to almost have a stroke in his office. He could not believe my audacity. I was threatened with arrest outright, then...
Managed to play a very dirty blackmail card, which I'd been holding in my hand for over a year, and was still ejected from Korea but not under deportation. Was escorted by military guard through Busan International Airport.
Breathed relief when my passport was not stamped: "Deported," and went back to Thailand.
Things got weird immediately upon entering Chiang Rai. First, an American "teacher" who I'd met only once (at some random nightclub) turns up at my guest house coffeeshop at 9:00am and starts goading me with really strange questions and taunts. He would not quit, and very unwisely shoved me from behind while I was arguing with the guest house owner about this strange f**ker's presence; I caught myself in the fall, but broke one of my fingers badly; then I tossed a scalding black cup of coffee into the American's eyes, and the guest house owner punches me square in the face, shattering my glasses. I decked the guest house owner and ran faster than I'd ever run in my life, barefoot, down a slick street (raining) with a knife I'd grabbed from the guest house wall, and caught up with this dodgy American and ended up slitting his face from earlobe to chin, plus all the webs between the fingers of his right hand.
Cops came; we were both taken downtown. I told my side of the story; but the other Yank wouldn't talk. Weirdest thing I've ever seen. He just clammed up. The cops interviewed people who were sitting in the guest house coffee shop and who saw everything, and it was determined that I was justified in my actions, and I was not even arrested. (I agreed to pay the American US$100 for the many stitches he required.) (The guest house owner was forced to pay US$450 for breaking my glasses. Ouch.)
Couple nights later, with new glasses, I'm standing across the street from a restaurant at which I'd eaten nearly every night (the owner was a super-cool Thai, whose English is excellent). Some youngish Thai punk guns his motorcycle engine once, disembarks, then runs full-speed across the street, slugging me again in the face, again ruining my glasses. Never met the young f**k before, had no idea what I'd done to deserve it. Ran across the street and kicked his motorcycle several times, until it lay in the middle of the road, damaged. He gets back on it, roars away.
Weird.
People in the restaurant run over to me and ask me if I'm okay, and tell me they saw the whole thing, in case I want to file a police report. The sound of a motorcycle engine again, and the punk comes back with a long, nasty curved sword, swings it at my left ribcage. I catch the blade in my left hand (9 stitches, right down to the bone) and would not let go. Should have severed my thumb from my hand. The guy's staring at me, like: "Jeezus, this guy isn't going to make it easy for me," and I head-butted him hard enough to send him to his knees. Kicked him a few times. Then he books back to his moto and rides off.
Cops arrive, reports are made, restaurant owner tells the cops of everything that has just occurred. I get free treatment on my gaping thumb at Chiang Rai Hospital; overnight stay, no charge. Many apologies from police and hospital officials.
The young f**k is arrested the next day, with the promise by police Major Songkran that he'll do 3 months in jail for the attack. He is released after one day.
Toddman is not happy. Makes life a living hell for the Chiang Rai Police Dept.; calls the U.S. Embassy; retaining a Thai attorney, etc.
Three days later, I take a three-wheeled tuk-tuk taxi (open air contraption) to a crowded shopping center in the middle of the day, pay the driver US$1 for the lift, get out of the tuk-tuk, and that's the last thing I remember.
Next thing I remember is the sound of my father's voice in my ear. I couldn't put anything together; nothing made sense; I was barely "there." He asks me if I know where I am, and I say, "I'm in Thailand." He says: "But do you know where you are now?" I draw a blank. He says: "You are in a hospital, Todd; you've been in a coma for five days; we're doing everything we can to get you out of the country and back to the US. You are very badly injured. The whole family is praying for you."
Same conversation with my mom, my sister and my ex-wife, all of who called within minutes of my finishing talking with my dad.
11 broken bones in the skull; 5 to the left wrist; two to the lower left leg.
Then, for some reason I still have no answer to, I am transferred to Chiang Rai Prison Hospital, where I dwell for 11 days, to die. My lower-left leg has been badly broken and is turning gangrenous.
I had been struck with baseball bats by six Thais, all of whom were arrested later that day (the ringleader of which was the same Thai who punched me in the face and tried to slice my innards three nights earlier; he's doing 3 years in prison now).
The only reason I'm still alive right now is, that my father's first-cousin is Head of Security for the US Olympics Committee and retired L.A.-area police chief. He contacted the Thai Ambassador, and that was all that was needed.
Did my having been outed as an Intelligence asset in South Korea and ejected from that country have anything to do with the attacks in Thailand? And if so, who ordered it? (KCIA, CIA, both?)
That's what happened to me last June.[/QUOTE]
I think they just wanted you out of their country. lol.
2005-08-13 03:09 | User Profile
Bardamu:
lol.
You f*ck. Go through six baseball bats to the cranium and see if you'd survive.
...anyway, and to the point of your stoopid reply: "WHO?" wanted me out of their country? That's what I'm trying to find out.
2005-08-13 03:13 | User Profile
OPERA96:
I'm writing another novel now: [I]A String of Saturdays[/I].
It'll feature an account of the Thailand episode. At 800 pages, it won't be finished 'til 2007. Am gonna self-publish it at $50/copy. (@150 copies, will make back my expenses.)
:rockon:
2005-08-13 03:18 | User Profile
Bardamu? why repost the wholeeeeeeeee thing, please don't do that.
Todd? over the years many "funny" things will happen to you, is only part of the job.
If you are smart you will retire to the middle of nowhere and don't make friends, that way you will know that anyone near you or your property is not a friend, it works.
2005-08-13 03:22 | User Profile
[QUOTE=toddbrendanfahey]Bardamu:
lol.
You f*ck. Go through six baseball bats to the cranium and see if you'd survive.
...anyway, and to the point of your stoopid reply: "WHO?" wanted me out of their country? That's what I'm trying to find out.[/QUOTE]
No, you're boasting, as usual. :lol:
2005-08-13 03:22 | User Profile
Ponce:
Good advice.
I've picked out such a place. Just turned 40, and I'm giving it another 7 years. After that (if I live that long), I disappear; will continue writing, mebbe some painting (a la Gaugin).
My grandma is 87, rich as hell, and has only two grandkids. I'll be ok. :smartass:
2005-08-13 03:29 | User Profile
[QUOTE]I wanna live fast, love hard, die young, And leave a beautiful memory Don't want slow walkin' or sad singin', Let 'em have a jub-i- lee I wanna leave a lot of happy women, A-thinkin' pretty thoughts of me I wanna live fast, love hard, die young. And leave a beautiful memo- ry.
I got a hot-rod car and a cowboy suit, And I really do get around I got a little black book and the gals look cute, And I know the name of ev'ry spot in town I wanna find 'em, fool 'em, leave 'em An' let 'em do the same to me I wanna live fast, love hard, die young And leave a beautiful memory
[URL=http://www.cowboylyrics.com/tabs/young-faron/live-fast-love-hard-28.html]Cowboy Lyrics[/URL] [/QUOTE]
Todd, someday you will have to tell me about how you got back to South Korea (and why you went back). Right now though this Okie must just be too out of it living the slow and predictable life to drink it all in.
2005-08-13 03:31 | User Profile
Friends in High Places.
No bull. (Don't think I could be disgorged again; could be murdered, but that's extremely rare in S. Korea.)
2005-08-13 03:52 | User Profile
ya, very off-topic.
Proceed, please, to a thread where this makes sense. :afro:
2005-08-13 04:04 | User Profile
At the appropriate area, bueno.
Not on this thread, tho.
2005-08-13 04:14 | User Profile
Why the afro icon?: Because you wrote "Negro." No problem. But it's got 0.00 to do with this thread.
Go to another one where it might make sense. :gunsmilie
2005-08-13 04:27 | User Profile
[QUOTE=delabeckwith]Todd, I am sorry if I did something wrong. What is the thread that is appropriate? And why the afro icon?[/QUOTE] Try [URL=http://www.originaldissent.com/forums/showthread.php?t=17854&highlight=Booth]this thread[/URL], amigo. Just a little use of the forum search function can do wonders to get your posting up to speed.
2005-08-13 04:48 | User Profile
Once again, geek: :dung:
Get the **** off this thread, with your topic-of-interest.
It's not difficult. "Just do it" -- Nike advertisement. :tank:
2005-08-13 05:09 | User Profile
[QUOTE=delabeckwith] One Love still, "who's bob barr?"[/QUOTE]Appreciate the confession. Hasta la Vista, baby.
2005-08-13 14:41 | User Profile
[QUOTE=toddbrendanfahey]OPERA96:
I'm writing another novel now: [I]A String of Saturdays[/I].
It'll feature an account of the Thailand episode. At 800 pages, it won't be finished 'til 2007. Am gonna self-publish it at $50/copy. (@150 copies, will make back my expenses.)
:rockon:[/QUOTE]
Lemme know when it's ready. I'll be first in line. You want an address or something?
2005-08-13 16:53 | User Profile
[QUOTE=toddbrendanfahey]Once again, geek: :dung:
Get the **** off this thread, with your topic-of-interest.
It's not difficult. "Just do it" -- Nike advertisement. :tank:[/QUOTE]
Todd? the F word is not tolerated here and or personal attack, thank you.
2005-08-14 16:38 | User Profile
Ponce:
When you get to be a moderator/Admin here, lemme gno. :taz:
Until then, I'll post f*ck, with the appropriate asterisk, if I deign to.
& where was the "personal attack"? I missed that one.
(& danke, OPERA96: 149 left to sell. :punk: )