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Perhaps the most intriguing part of this story is that every single person reading this post - every single one of you - was alive when this story became news in 2004.
That fact is intriguing because everyone reading this post has either never heard this story, or forgot about it (I'm betting on the first one, because it is truly unforgettable).
Furthermore, once you hear this story in its entirety, I can promise it will be seared into your memory forever.
Our main character is a man named Marc Dutroux. He was born in Belgium in 1956. He was twice convicted of kidnapping and raping underage children. The first time was in 1989. The second time occurred in 1996.
That was not a typo - you read that correctly. He was convicted and served a (much too brief) sentence in 1998. He served only 3 and a half years of his 13 year sentence because he was released for good behavior. Less than 10 years later, he was arrested again on the same charges (different victims).
In the second round of charges, he was convicted of kidnapping, torturing and abusing victims, some of them to the point of death.
What I am about to tell you comes from the statements made by his surviving victims (called the X Files), Marc Dutreox himself, and evidence from law enforcement. I've also added references/citations at the very end of this post.
Here we go.
Marc confessed to kidnapping, raping, drugging, torturing and filming children for many years. He also claimed he was doing it at the behest of a political elite who financed his career as a professional trafficker.
Not only did this political elite finance his efforts - they made specific requests of him. Sometimes they requested specific types of children (they were called "party favors" and he was asked to deliver kids of certain age, sex, race). Sometimes they requested specific means of torturing the children to fulfill their desires (orgies, satanic rituals involving sacrifices, torture games).
And sometimes they requested he film certain influential people engaged in these acts, for later use as blackmail.
He claimed many of his customers and financiers were world leaders. This was not a stretch of the imagination because he lived in Belgium, where the EU and NATO headquarters were located. This statement was also corroborated by victims who were able to identify specific politicians.
Anneke Lucas was one of his victims who testified against him. She claimed she was 6 years old when the cleaning lady hired by her mother sold her to the pedophile network in 1969. Her claims were extraordinary:
-She was raped over seventeen hundred hours before turning 12 years old. -She was 6 years old when she was forced to participate in her first orgy, which included wearing an iron dog collar and eating human excrement. -She would actually be delivered back to her parents from time to time. However, her parents themselves were complicit in the crimes and always sent her back to her abusers. -Torture included being strapped to a butchers block used to execute other children. Other victims were forced to torture her for hours as part of their initiation. -She was considered attractive and that made her preferred by her abusers. She claimed that she tried to use that to her survival advantage to the best of her ability, but by the age of eleven, she had become so broken that she was slated to be executed and disposed of. -She said she was saved when one of her abusers negotiated for her freedom. That abuser would later sit as a defendant in the trial.
Other witnesses and victims would soon come forward, describing such things as “Black Masses,” with child and adult sacrifices taking place in front of observers and participants, which included prominent politicians and figures. This would be corroborated by a note found by police at the house belonging to Bernard Weinstein—a man who previously worked with Dutroux, but whom Dutroux had murdered. The letter contained very specific requests for certain types of victims for satanic sacrifices.
The letter was signed by a man who called himself 'Anubis'. It turned out 'Anubis' was the high priest of a satanic cult called 'Abrasax' whose real name was Francis Desmet. Police obtained a warrant and seized computers, documents, mail, actual human skulls, jars of blood, and all sorts of Satanic items - but none of this was enough to make an arrest.
As the Dutroux trial went public, other victims stepped forward and confirmed the testimony, offering up descriptions of sexual abuse and human sacrifice.
They also described “hunting parties” where elites would release naked children into the woods to hide, so that the elites themselves could hunt them down and slaughter them. Many of the stories from victims contained so many similarities, they were impossible to deny. For example, the hunting parties were often held at castles, where victims could not escape and were hidden from the public eye. Those not killed in the hunt were usually chased down and mauled/killed by Dobermans.
All of these victims echoed the testimonies of other, older survivors of ritual Satanic abuse from around the world.
It is also notable that Dutroux owned 10 homes valued at 6 million dollars.
It is also notable that Dutroux was not employed.
It is also notable that Dutroux received $1,200 per month in public assistance.
It is also notable that documents released by Wikileaks show large sums of money in various currencies were deposited into his wife's bank account.
It is also notable that those deposits coincided with reported kidnappings and missing children reports.
It is also notable that before his removal, judge Jean-Marc Connerotte was on the verge of publicly disclosing the names of high level government officials who had been recognized on video-tapes of sexual torture that took place in Dutroux's dungeon.
It is also notable that 20 potential witnesses for this case have died without explanation.
Does any of this sound familiar? Are there any headlines today that sound like history is repeating itself?
Guys, not one single thing in this post is theory. It's all proven and on record.
You see the pictures attached to this post? Those are images of hunting games. They're paintings that people like Tony Podesta buy, and hang in his home, and invite others over to enjoy.
We all know Epstein was a sick sob who had friends in high places - the same friends that hang out with Tony Podesta.
You think Epstein was the only one? That he's somehow unique? Or was he the low level one they were willing to sacrifice to protect everyone else involved at a higher level?
Do you realize now that when it comes to trafficking, satanism, pedophilia, human sacrifices, organ harvesting, adrenachrome - that it is art imitating life? That these people who are so obsessed with the art that glorifes these things might actually, themselves, be engaged in these things?
Do you think normal, non-pedo, non-cannibal, average Joes would hang that garbage up in their homes?
Suddenly the claims that world leaders and governments being involved in this satanic horror show isn't so far fetched after all.
Suddenly its not so crazy to say that world agencies who claim to stop these crimes (WHO, UN) are actually facades that cover up the real work of procuring and enabling - yes, even participating - in these crimes.
Suddenly the whole house of cards comes crashing down.
With this one case, all the unbelievers are silenced.
For crying out loud, this trial was in 2004! Did you remember it? If not, do you wonder why it was not front page news across the world?
And if you're asking yourself HOW DO THESE PEOPLE GET AWAY WITH THIS - have you not yet figured out that the very people who are supposed to end it, are doing it?
Most everyone has watched an Epstein documentary on Netflix - I think there's been maybe 3 or 4 made since his death. And the one thing I heard people say over and over and over again was this: "Where is Epstein's girlfriend and why hasn't she been arrested yet?"
Did anyone asking that question even try to find the answer? Or did you just shrug your shoulders and say, "Well, it is what it is and there's nothing I can do about it" and go on with your life?
Let me help you out.
Did you hear the news story from two weeks ago that President Trump fired federal prosecutor Geoffrey Berman? He was the prosecutor in charge of the Epstein case.
AG Barr requested Berman step down, and Berman refused. So Trump fired him and Berman was replaced with prosecutor Audrey Strauss. And then suddenly BAM! Maxwell is in custody.
You now get a front row seat for the horror show that is about to come out.
You will not believe who is involved and how deep it goes. And you will not believe the lengths they'll go to in order to protect their secrets.
Podesta like paintings
Edit: I am not the OP. I found is somewhere else on the internet and thought you guys would enjoy it. I’m pretty surprised I haven’t heard of it myself.
Edit: Anneke Lucas testimony This is a pretty valuable testimony from the former child who helped expose Dutroux.
Hawk And The Billboard-Sized ID Card
We are about to embark on another journey with Hawk. The typical paths for mankind are either the straight and narrow or wide and crooked. This does not apply to Hawk though; Hawk is a trailblazer. Hawk came to that proverbial fork in the road, and instead of taking the clearly marked routes, Hawk decided to break brush, butt naked, through thorny vines and poison ivy. Some of you have arrived here and are likely wondering, "What the fuck is OP talking about?" I could tell you to go back and read the Hawk prequels, but I don't think you will. Therefore, I might as well briefly explain Hawk.
Imaging three Service Members are conducting a mounted patrol through Death Valley. They are hours into their trip through Satan's grundle-region, but the vehicle breaks down. They have to abandoned the vehicle and continue on foot. They are exhausted and understand the desert sun is going to rape their souls. They each decided to take one item to assist with surviving the blistering heat. The breakdown is below.
- Marine: Water
- Sailor: Food
- Hawk: Car Door
- Marine: I brought water in the event we get thirsty.
- Sailor: I brought food in the event we needed energy.
- Hawk: I brought the car door. We can roll down the windows when it gets hot outside.
The setting is Iraq. I was a leader at war with the terrorist that inhabited Iraq, and the nearly constant stupidity Hawk continually displayed. Hawk has just informed me that he had lost his Identification card (ID). Nobody that has lost and ID enjoys it, but please understand that the process is different between civilians and Soldiers. I have never lost one, so I am not entirely certain, but I know they are different. I had to counsel (wrist-slap/discussion) Hawk regarding his lost ID. I needed the Company Commander to counsel Hawk, and sign documentation in order for Hawk to receive a new ID card. We can't simply go to the Department of Motor Vehicles (DMV) and replace it. The military process requires a couple wrist-slaps and a fuck-ton of paperwork.
The fact that we were deployed made this process more difficult. We did not have the ability to reissue ID cards within our Battalion. We had to venture to a larger Forward Operating Base (FOB) that had an ID card facility. The process was not complicated, but it was certainly a pain in the ass. Our particular Operations Tempo (OPTEMP) did not allow me to send an underpaid babysitter; Hawk was going solo. This would not be a problem with any other Soldier, but this is Hawk. I would feel more comfortable sending my preteen to Michael Jackson's Neverland Ranch for a sleepover than I do sending Hawk anywhere without adult supervision. I was forced to allow Hawk to spread his wings, and pray he didn't fly into a fucking window.
OP: Hawk. You are manifested to leave with Battalion Headquarters (HQ) tomorrow. You will be departing at 1000 hours, but need to report to Battalion HQ tomorrow at 0930. Any questions?
It was fucking cut-and-dry. There was no room for subjective mental retardation on behalf of Hawk. I was not requesting a dissertation in thermonuclear astrophysics. I just needed Hawk to exit the rear of the barracks, walk 50 feet, and stand there before 0930. Still, that doesn't mean Hawk wont fuck it up. Hawk was a football-bat in a soccer game. Hawk fucked it up. Hawk mentally computed, "Go to the chow hall at 0900 and eat. Then go to port-a-john at make an underwater sculpture, and then report to the wrong side of the battalion headquarters building around 1000. Cool. Hawk did not maliciously miss the trip, but his potato-brain outwitted himself. I had a Non-Commissioned Officer (NCO) escort Hawk back over to Battalion an manifest him for a for the dinner trip.
This time I had a Team Leader ensure Hawk was properly nestled inside a departing vehicle. All Hawk needed to do was report to the ID card facility and get a new ID card. Too easy. Right? Hawk made it though. I called the ID card facility to ensure Hawk received a new ID card. He did! I was happy, but my confidence in Hawk was short lived. Any confidence in Hawk has an incredibly short shelf-life. The 30-minute trip between Hawk getting a new ID card and arriving back to our FOB was too much.
Hawk enters Team Room
OP: Hawk! Great to have you back brother. Show me your new ID card.
Hawk: Okay Sergeant.
Hawk is rifling through his wallet. No worries. He must have misplaced his new ID card. It's brand-fucking-new. He must have accidentally stowed it in a different spot in his wallet. We waited, and then we waited some more for Hawk to produce a less than one-hour old ID card. No dice though! Hawk lost it. Again.
Hawk: I am going to run back to the vehicles Sergeant. It must have fell out.
I knew better though. I was fairly certain it didn't fall out. I didn't know where it was, but I was fairly certain the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) had better odds of finding the boogieman, than Hawk had of finding his ID car. The race was on! I don't know how the FBI fared, but Hawk failed. I wasn't even mad anymore. Hawk was now just living up to my very low expectations. Still, what the fuck was I going to do as a leader to rectify this situation? We have to repeat the counseling process, and have the Company Commander sign more documents in order to get another ID card. I know it was not purposely lost, but I still have to punish the kid.
I decided to walk in the footsteps of those before me. Hawk was going to make a new ID card. It was not going to be as precise as a real Army ID card, but it would suffice for me. Hawk was going to make his own ID card. The template for his design was going to be the side of an MRE box. His ID card was about to be at least eight inches wide and sixteen inches long. I placed the materials on Hawks bed and instructed him to make a new ID card, loop 550 cord (cordage) through it, and wear it around his neck.
Hawk looked like an idiot walking around the FOB with a billboard sized ID card. It was working though. The door-checker at the chow hall thought it was funny, and Hawk didn't leave his new ID card at the phone-tent or internet-tent either. He went a full two-days until there was an issue. The Regimental Command Sergeant Major (CSM) was at our FOB that day. He wanted to greet the Soldiers and get a general sense of our morale levels. He was not happy when he seen Hawk wearing his giant ID card in the chow hall. I typically spend my days providing very, very detailed guidance to Hawk, and typically expect him to fuck it up anyways. It was a giant kick in the nuts when Hawk pulled a reverse card and gave me instructions.
Hawk: Sergeant OP.
OP: Yes Hawk?
Hawk: I have some guidance for you.
OP: (This is going to be good.) Really? You're going to give me guidance?!? Hit me with it then!
Hawk: The Regimental CSM wants to see you tonight at 2000 hours in the Battalion CSM's office.
OP: Why? (Fuck my tits! I didn't think I did anything wrong, but I was going to find out.)
Hawk: He was mad about my ID card and...
OP: (Cool. We agree on something!) Me too. Seeing how you can't keep track of something that was less than an hour old.
Hawk: The Regimental CSM said my punishment was demeaning and humiliating.
OP: Roger. Thanks for the information.
What the fuck? I understood where the Regimental CSM was coming from, but he was wrong. Hawk is too stupid to be humiliated. Hawk lacks the mental wherewithal to understand he was actively being humiliated. I understand this sounds rude as fuck, but Hawk is just too oblivious to understand when he is the butt of a joke. He is a goldfish brain trapped inside a human body. Making matters worse, Uncle Sam, issued this troglodyte an assault rifle outfitted with a grenade launcher. Fuck. The more I think about it, the more I believe I should be mad at the Regimental CSM for humiliating me by assigning me Hawk, type one each! However, informing the Regimental CSM of this would have gone over like a fart in church.
I immediately informed First Sergeant to ensure he was aware of the situation. First Sergeant had a smile on his face and told me, "I can't wait to go to Battalion with you and see how this plays out." I walked over to Battalion at 1950, and just waited outside the CSM's door. I could hear my Battalion and Regimental CSM bullshitting back-and-forth. It was better than overhearing angry-talk. I knocked on the door at 2000, and was told to come in. First Sergeant accompanied me inside the office as well. I was "on the carpet" in front of "the man" and I was about to have a sizeable chunk of my ass chewed-off without any anesthetic.
OP: Sergeants Majors. How are you doing this evening?
RCSM: Well, I was good until I seen one my Soldiers wearing THE SIDE OF A MRE BOX AS AN ID CARD. That's just humiliating and uncalled for. What made you think this was an acceptable recourse?
OP: He lost his ID card Sergeant Major.
RCSM: (Now a bit more irritated.) Then why didn't you just get him a new ID card then? WHY DID YOU FIND IT ACCEPTABLE TO EMBARRASS HIM?
OP: I did Sergeant Major. He went a couple days ago to get a new card. He had it for less than an hour and lost that one as well. That's why he is walking around with the MRE box ID card.
BCSM: Hawk is a little different Sergeant Major. (Said with a big grin and a chuckle.)
First Sergeant: That is an understatement Sergeant Major!
RCSM: What do you mean?
BCSM: Why don't you elaborate OP NICKNAME.
OP: He is an idiot Sergeant Major!
BCSM: (Laughing.) I said elaborate. Why don't you tell him what you told me at the Promotion Board!
OP: Okay Sergeant Major. Please be cognizant that I a merely trying to explain Hawk the best way I know how. Sergeant Major, picture a room with no windows and only one door. Hawk is in that room, with one cat and one dog. I give Hawk very explicit and simple instructions. "Hawk, I will be back in five minutes. Make sure the dog doesn't eat the cat". Sergeant Major, you could go back in that room 30 seconds later and there would be no cat, no dog, a dead fucking elephant and Hawk is clueless about how the fuck it happened. That is Hawk Sergeant Major.
Now 75% of the occupants in the room are laughing hysterically. Guess who is not happy with that analogy? Wrong. The Regimental CSM is laughing. OP. OP is not laughing. The analogy is no longer funny to me at this point. It is a said reality of my life. Hawk is my Soldier. I deal with this heavy mouth-breathing Simple Jack human every single day. I was deployed and there was no reprieve from Hawk.
This is the shit I deal with on a nearly daily basis:
OP: Hawk. Why are you wearing DIFFERENT SOLDIER NAME uniform top?
Hawk: The laundry place fucked up.
Hawk: The laundry facility accidentally gave me DIFFERENT SOLDIERS clothes.
OP: So, rather than take it back and get your shit (LONG "I AM FUCKING DUMBFOUNDED" PAUSE) you decided to just wear another persons clothes?
)YES! Yes, these are the type answers I get in return.)
Hawk: I am not wearing his underwear Sergeant OP. (Hawk smile. The "I am mentally deficient" smile) I am free-balling Sergeant.
OP: Goddamn it Hawk. I bet DIFFERENT SOLDIER will be happy to hear that your dick-meat is funking up his uniform bottoms. Take off his uniform and put on YOUR PT (Physical Training) shorts. Then take his fucking clothes back to the laundry facility and get your shit.
Shit like this is a constant. He fucks up Promotion Boards. He can't keep track of newly printed ID cards for more than an hour. He is now wearing another Soldiers uniform. My god, I have accidentally interrupted him milking his snake while on guard duty. Scratched that, interrupted would imply he stopped. He didn't he continued without missing a stroke. THIS. THIS IS WHY I WAS NOT AMUSED OR LAUGHING!
RCSM: Is it he really that bad Sergeant OP?
OP: Oh No! Sometimes it's worse. We take our dose of Hawk one day at a time Sergeant Major.
BCSM: (Phone Call.) SSG OPERATIONS NCO. Call over to OP's Operations Center (OPCEN). Tell them to send Specialist Hawk over to my office.
The Operations NCO calls back and informs the Battalion CSM that Hawk has arrived at Battalion. The Battalion CSM instructs the Operations NCO to, "send him to my office."
The door to the office is still closed. We can hear the shuffling of feet in the hallway. We are all waiting for Hawk to knock on the door. Who knows, he might even be wearing his own uniform. We wait, and then we wait some more. We finally hear knocking. The knocking was not on Sergeant Majors door though. The knocking echoed from an office down the hall. I am about to excuse myself and go retrieve my "special" Soldier, but the phone rings. It was the Battalion Commander. He is wondering why someone knocked on his door and let himself into his office while he was on a conference call with the Regimental Commander and other Battalion Commanders. It was Hawk! The door sign that said "Command Sergeant Major NAME" must have confused him.
I can see the Regimental CSM now coming to the slow realization that the dead elephant analogy was not intended to be funny at all. It truly, and accurately, described what 5'9 and 150 pounds of stupidity looks like. We again hear the shuffle of feet down the hall, and finally there is a knock at the correct door.
Hawk just walks in. Then he sees the amount of rank in the room and pauses. He opened his mouth as if he was about to utter something ridiculous stupid, but his brain was smart enough to know better. I personally think he needed to let the abundance of drool escape his mouth.
RCSM: Hawk good to see you again. Glad you are not wearing the largest ID card I have ever seen. Hawk! I have had a conversation with your leadership, and I see why they are irritated with your lack of situational awareness. Son, you need to get your shit together or I will find you a job I am certain you won't like. You understand where I am coming from?
I heard it. He heard it. The Regimental CSM gave a pretty simple warning. "Stop fucking up or else!" All Hawk had to say was "Roger" or "Understood Sergeant Major." Something the Regimental Sergeant Major said must have peaked his interest though. I was about to gently rest my face inside the palm of my hand and wonder what I did in life to deserve this creature. What poor choices led me to this moment in time in which I am truly wondering, "What the fuck are you doing with your life OP?"
Hawk: What's the other job Sergeant Major? (Goddamn it Hawk. Fuck my tits. Why? Fucking why Hawk?)
RCSM: I was implying that you would not want the "other" job. It was a threat Hawk. I will have you sweeping the Regimental headquarters building and pulling Kitchen Patrol (KP) duty for the remainder of the deployment. Get your shit together Hawk. You tracking?
OP BRAIN: Please. Please only utter one word or the name Roger. PLEASE. I beg you.
Hawk: Yes Sergeant Major. (YES. It was a small victory in an otherwise long day.)
RCSM: Hawk. I am going to personally take you over to LARGE FOB tomorrow to get an ID card, and then return you, WITH THE ID CARD, to Sergeant OP.
Hawk: Roger Sergeant Major.
RCSM: Hawk. What happened to the MRE box ID card?
I look at Hawk and I think I see a little turd-nugget exit his wrinkle-grommet (asshole) and tumble down the leg of his trousers and come to rest above his boot. It was either that or his peanut size brain had finally managed to dislodge itself and roll down his neck-hole. It was probably the brain.
Hawk: (Drum roll. The anticipation in the air was as thick as a surgically enhanced Kardashian butt.) Um. Ah. I think I lost it Sergeant Major. I set it on my bed, and when I came back it was gone.
Well, would you look at that. Hawk managed to lose an ID card that was larger than an eight-by-ten sheet of paper. Wow. Just fucking wow.
We were eventually dismissed from the meeting, and returned to the Team Room. I needed to ensure Hawk was prepared to get another ID card while the Regimental CSM babysit. On-the-other-hand, I prayed Hawk acted Hawk-like. I wanted the Regimental CSM to return Hawk back to me, scratching his head, and apologizing for verbally reprimanding me.
Regarding the billboard-sized ID card; Hawk lost it. He said he set it on his bed before walking over to Battalion, and taking a pit-stop in the Battalion Commanders office. I suspect he threw it in the trash and forgot. Maybe the Regimental CSM took it, or trashed it while in the chow hall? Maybe aliens stole it? I don't know. I just know it was never found again. I was not mad though. I just laughed it off. Nothing, and I mean nothing, surprised me if Hawk was involved.
UPDATE: Hawk is still dumb. Hawk will forever be a brainless shell of a human. He is a genuinely a kind and caring person though. He will give you the shirt of his back if you need it. However, you will need to provide step-by-step instructions, and have a bucket-load of patience in order for him to put it back on, inside-out and backwards. Even that would be a small victory though.
Some of you may be happy to know that I reached out to a handful of people I am still in contact with. I currently have 17 stories on-deck. They are not all about Hawk, but he does make retarded cameos in some of the stories. I also have not-funny stories, like my first Improvised Explosive Device (IED) encounter or the time I took a fair amount of mortar shrapnel to the face. Fear not though. I have my own unique way of conveying stories and I assure you there will be at least one chuckle hidden within.
I appreciate all the kind comments, and really enjoy the back-and-forth conversations and story-sharing with you, the Reader. I hope you got a laugh. Be safe, drink beer, take a knee, and face out!
I will continue to spread-out the Hawk stories weekly. The title may change, but there at least three on deck!
07 SEP 20: Hawk's Hot Tub Excursion
14 SEP 20: Hawk Walks Home, IN IRAQ
21 SEP 20: Hawk Drives; We Shoot