When Dennis Lee walked out of jail, I had no more worries about him, and once Bill Cohan took Dennis’s case, it almost became fun. Ms. Prosecutor and friends kept up their gutter moves, the likes of which Bill had never seen before. For one example of many, one day when I talked to Bill about them, he said that customary trial practice was to give the opposing side motions well before they were argued in court, so that the other side was prepared to argue their side, etc. Ms. Prosecutor handed her motions to Bill in the courtroom as she began to argue them. That kind of hillbilly move was new to Bill, but when they tried to interfere with his license, it became personal for Bill.
For the rest of 1989 and into the spring of 1990, I didn’t see much of Dennis. Mr. Professor was funding Dennis’s attempt to resurrect the business, which eventually bankrupted him. He had other financial misadventures, which were related to trying to fund Dennis’s resurrection attempt, which contributed. He lost $500k because of business associates who deceived him, and $250K from his involvement with Dennis, and by 1992 or so, he went bankrupt, but worse than that, his health unraveled from the stress of those years, which he reluctantly admitted to me one day, which was a remarkable confession for the strong, silent type that he was.
When I arrived in Ventura in 1987, I was 29 and could still play some pretty good basketball. I could have been a benchwarmer on my high school team, and Mr. Professor thought that I could have played at the collegiate level. I have my doubts about that, but when I got there, Mr. Professor could hang with me on the basketball court, and he was in his 50s. I look back at that in awe. I have not picked up a basketball since my 30s. He had diabetes for many years, but it didn’t slow him down. He was a remarkable physical specimen. He won the discus throw in college for all of North Dakota, but he said that he just got lucky, with his characteristic modesty. Around 1991 or 1992, he got gangrene in his legs as his diabetes spun out of control, and his wife saved his legs by going to Mexico and getting an alternative treatment that is largely banned in the USA. At his funeral a decade later, his widow told me that if she had not taken him to Mexico, he would have spent his life’s last decade in a wheelchair.
One issue with the year after we sprung Dennis from jail was Mr. Researcher. I had known him most of my life, he was never the same after the raid, and if he had testified at Dennis’s preliminary hearing, it is possible that the fraud charges would have been dropped, which would have largely been the end of the case. Mr. Researcher had impeccable credentials and globally recognized accomplishments. I stayed away from Mr. Researcher and Dennis in that year, as they kind of did a dance with me in the middle, and I did not want to be there. The Ventura ordeal ultimately ruined my relationship with Mr. Researcher, as one of the many relationship casualties of my journey.
One day, at one of the hearings, Bill remarked on the many crimes that Mr. Deputy and friends committed in their prosecution of Dennis. The judge said something like, “What crimes?” Bill then went down a laundry list of them, and the judge called for a prosecutorial misconduct hearing. Those were surely very rare in Ventura County. We suddenly had the prosecution on the defensive. They did not expect their victims to defend themselves like we did. Gary thought that such officials were cowards, and it seemed to be the case, as they hid behind their badges, guns, and robes.
I testified at the misconduct hearing, which was a lot more fun than my first day on the witness stand. Mr. Researcher testified to watching the deputies ransack his office and photograph the blueprints during the raid, the threats that Mr. Deputy made to him, which drove him into hiding, and other events. For his part Mr. Deputy hid in his home for months, claiming that he was too “ill” to testify, which Bill did not believe for a second and openly challenged in court.
Even during the misconduct hearings, the prosecution kept up the gutter moves, and at one hearing that I witnessed, they moved to rejail Dennis, because he was trying to resurrect his business. It was the last straw for Bill. The next day he called Dennis and said something like, “Those people are scum, and I have a duty to remove them from the profession.” Bill, at his own initiative, filed a lawsuit in federal court the next day, which was my source of documents such as these: 1, 2. Bill asked Dennis to contact the press, so that Bill could have a press conference on the courthouse steps in LA, when he filed the suit. Bill was used to making a media splash with his lawsuits.
Dennis dutifully contacted the press, they agreed to be there, but nobody showed. While sitting on the courthouse steps with Dennis in dismay, Bill approached a nearby camera crew that was recording a story about cracks in a building’s foundation. The reporter knew about Bill’s press conference and asked to cover it, but her editor forbade her to. Dennis later wrote that the light went out of Bill’s eyes that day. It was like they were shaking their fists at a hurricane. Bill realized that his battles with the IRS paled next to what he encountered with Dennis’s case. As Dennis later told me, Bill was rudely shown his place by the powers that be in California. His lawsuit was not only dismissed, he was threatened with disbarment if he refiled it. It was the same U.S. District Court (the most corrupt in the USA) that Harry Pregerson worked in. Pregerson was the same gangster judge that made Gary Wean’s life so miserable. It was the same court that dismissed Dennis’s lawsuit, and if people read the ruling, which was artfully deceptive about what Dennis was convicted of (not filing a form – the higher courts all did that, as well as all subsequent prosecutions and all mainstream media accounts that I ever saw), it baldly stated that it did not matter what crimes the prosecution committed: they were all protected by prosecutorial immunity and statute of limitations. In other words, it did not matter if the prosecutors were criminals. No wonder Mr. Investigator admitted to lying. They could get away with anything – at least until their afterlives. Mr. Deputy and Bill the BPA Hit Man will likely live in a neighborhood close to Max’s.
After the misconduct hearings, when the judge did not dismiss the case from misconduct (the judge acted impartial, but he was anything but that), Bill tried to resign from the case (and he did it in a way that betrayed Dennis), and the judge pounced. He repeated Bill’s words from the first day: Bill was the attorney of Dennis’s choice, and Bill would see the case to the end, even if it bankrupted him. Like the Attorney General’s office in Washington did, when they took Dennis’s customers hostage to force him to capitulate, the judge took Bill hostage to force Dennis to capitulate.
Dennis pled guilty to not filing a form, which his prison records confirm. When Dennis was in jail, the probation department wrote reports on Dennis’s bail situation, and it was kangaroo-court logic that was virtually dictation from Mr. Deputy, like the newspaper articles were. The judge recommended probation, but Dennis knew that they would just fabricate a “violation” and Dennis would be right back in jail, enjoying Mr. Deputy’s hospitality.
The deal that Dennis entered into was that he pled guilty to not filing a form (which was actually my job), but he had appeal rights all the way to the USA’s Supreme Court, about how any law that made not filing a form a crime that merited prison was unconstitutional. Bill begged Dennis to take the deal, to save his hide, and said that he would do Dennis’s appeal work for free (which he did not do; other attorneys did that). Bill said that Dennis’s appeal would take several years to work through the courts, but like everything else about Dennis’s case, it went all the way through the Supreme Court in record time, and Dennis ended up in prison two years later, after all of the courts reneged on the deal. The prison officials repeatedly put Dennis in position to be murdered by the inmates, and it nearly worked. Dennis got “lucky” and “only” had his fingers broken and teeth knocked out. The judge retired several months after Dennis’s “conviction” to a hero’s farewell, at the tender age of 59. I suspect that it was part of his “reward.” On the USA’s legal system, my summary is: “In the USA, you get as much justice as you can afford.”
The entire ordeal was a tale of corruption and evil. And just like when he got out of jail, Dennis went back at it harder than ever when he got out of prison. You had to see it to believe it.
I got married in 1990 and moved away to Ohio, to put my wife through graduate school. That was when I began my days of study in earnest.
But soon before I left, I had an extraordinary conversation with Mr. Advisor, who visited Sparky Sweet. As I wrote earlier, I first heard of free energy via Joe Newman, but for the next four years, it was little more than a gleam in our eye and I was far from certain that marrying heat engines with heat pumps was going to produce free energy. But Sparky’s invention was a horse of a different color. His device was measured to produce 1.5 million times as much energy as went into it. I’ll never forget the awe in Mr. Advisor’s voice as he described watching it work, as it defied orthodox theories of electricity as ice formed on it. The next year, Brian O’Leary identified Sparky as the inventor that Mr. Advisor met. Years after that, my close friend was kidnapped and given an underground technology show, which included free-energy and antigravity technologies. Those technologies are older than I am. We were not chasing ephemeral phantoms. This stuff is real.
And as I wrote, I eventually realized that what scared the global elite about Dennis was not heat pumps and heat engines, but what might happen if Dennis brought technologies like Sparky’s to market. Then it was Game Over for global elites, and they knew it.
To end my Ventura days (I have not been back and don’t plan to return), what were my goals? I hoped to see Dennis build an industry around that heat pump. Nothing else on the world market could compete with it, and I hoped that we would use the profits from carpeting the USA with Dennis’s heat pump to fund free energy R&D, among other areas. Free energy would have been the big one, and everything else would have been secondary.
I learned my lifetime’s greatest lessons during my first stint with Dennis. Everything since then was the small stuff of my lifetime’s learning curve. I left Ventura with strong doubts that the businessman’s path to free energy would work. Our world is just too corrupt for that to work. Free energy efforts have few allies and endless enemies. Machiavelli’s observation is as relevant today as it was nearly 500 years ago.
As I have written, by the time that I became Dennis’s partner in January, 1987, I had a very good idea of what free energy would mean for humanity. My visions of the Fifth Epoch began when I became Dennis’s partner. Truly, what I have written is not really all that imaginative, but easily foreseeable outcomes if free energy was used by the public. It would be the biggest event in the human journey, by far.
I don’t tell this story to spin some tale of woe, but to show why we do not live in the Fifth Epoch today. What happened to us in Ventura is the biggest free-energy takedown that I know of. If we had been left alone by the authorities, we would live in the Fifth Epoch today. I obviously have not given up on that dream. There is much more to come in these oral histories, but that was the most dramatic part of my involvement in free-energy efforts so far. I don’t want any more drama and adventure, but a gentle transition to the Fifth Epoch is my goal, and I know who can help with this.
I have a great deal more to say (and Dennis is still at it, incredibly), but that ends my account of my first stint with Dennis.
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