By Jason James

The ultimate evil. I touched it in 2012. I told the story on Twitter, so for the sake of saving time you can read it here if you haven’t already: (@jasonjamesbnn)

A story about my brush against a child sex trafficking ring:

From 2009–2017 I had a regular column at a very popular but now defunct Hip Hop website. I was the lone writer who covered politics and conspiracy theories.

During that time I stumbled across a story about a child sex trafficking ring that operated out of Franklin, Nebraska. It was discovered when the FBI began to investigate a credit union that was owned by a prominent Republican donor and was involved in the Iran Contra scandal. During the investigation the ring was actively covered up by the FBI when they realized it stretched across the country and serviced some very prominent American businessmen and politicians. It was only through the work of State Senator John DeCamp and FBI Chief Ted Gunderson that anyone had any knowledge of it at all.

I wrote my piece and sent it to my editor before leaving for a trip to Hawaii. When I arrived in Honolulu I received an email from my editor telling me my piece was published. Then about an hour later I received another email telling me there were some “legal issues” and I had to change the language in my article. The editor was a fearless dude so something big had to have happened to prompt the email from him. So I stayed up all night re-writing my piece from scratch and sent it off the next morning. He gave me the thumbs up so I shut off my laptop and spent the rest of the week on the beach.

When I arrived back in Vancouver I turned on my cell phone and my voicemail inbox was full of threatening messages from disturbing high pitched voices telling me they knew where I lived, that I was gonna die, that an accident was going to happen, things like that.

The calls went on for weeks afterward — mostly after midnight in the early hours of the morning. It was always the same voicemails from the same voices. It was the most disturbing thing l’ve ever experienced.

It is entirely possible that somebody out there was just messing with me, but if it was, then it was the longest, cruelest practical joke in history. If it wasn’t, then I stirred up something that didn’t want to be found.

The point of this story is that these rings and these people are very, very real. I personally believe that child sex trafficking lies at the root of something much bigger and darker than we know. It’s why Jeffrey Epstein was murdered in plain sight, and why every attempt to expose them is automatically met with accusations of being Qanon conspiracy theories. Something out there doesn’t want us to know about it, and if we did know, it would expose everything else.

I lay awake at night — alone in my apartment, wondering if I made a life shattering error by writing about that story. Almost nightly my phone would rattle on my nightstand. I’d gaze at it, tempted to pick it up. Sometimes I did, sometimes I didn’t. Nobody ever answered when I did. They wanted my voicemail, and most often that’s where I sent them. The number always appeared as “unknown” on my call display. I found it oddly fitting since the disturbing voice messages sounded like they were from some unidentifiable being in a lower dimension. I tried to resist listening to them until the morning, but curiosity won that battle most nights. There’s something about a haunting voice speaking to you through your phone at 3 am that sends chills up your spine. That was the intended effect, I know. But when you’re there, in the moment, it feels like they’re in the room with you and you can’t help but freeze in the blanket of fear that envelops you.

I jammed a towel under the entrance to my apartment and another under my closed bedroom door. This was part of my nightly routine. It wasn’t the best mode of protection from an intruder, but I figured it would give me enough time to react as they forced themselves inside. I was two years into wrestling and Jiu Jitsu training and I had more years of boxing underneath me. When they entered my home I would go with what I know best: a snappy straight right hand with all of my two hundred-some-odd pounds behind it. If that didn’t shut off their consciousness I would transition to a double leg takedown and mount them from behind. A tight rear naked choke would do what a straight right couldn’t.

I ran through my strategy endlessly. If there was one of them — even if he were armed — I felt comfortable in my ability to potentially neutralize him if I attacked from the right angle. If there were two or more I was screwed. There was one way in and one way out of this three hundred and fifty square foot box. My only hope would be to create some chaos and run for the door.

Paranoia infected my mind. I interrogated my friends about the phone calls. I was positive it was one of them playing a cruel joke. They stared back at me with genuine concern when I accused them of this grand conspiracy to throw me into the deep end of a mental breakdown. The lack of sleep was enhancing my inner turmoil. It’s one of these sneaky motherf ***** s, I thought. They think it’s funny to watch me come undone like this. They want me to selfdestruct for their own entertainment.

The voices on the phone began to feel internal; they were inside me.

I was no investigative journalist — I was a columnist for a Hip Hop website. I wrote about politics and conspiracy theories. People loved when I dug into a good conspiracy, and I had fun doing it. Most of the time I would follow a rabbit hole to the bottom and my essays were letters to the surface. I found most of the conspiracies I wrote about were marred with inconsistencies, but there was always a kernel of truth at the center. That’s what I was after; the nugget of reality that had spun out into an urban legend.

This one was no myth though. This one was stacked with layers of truth buried beneath a mountain of dirt and blood.

Ted Gunderson went on speaking tours about Satanism and the Illuminati. John DeCamp gave a handful of interviews but had gone mostly silent. Both appeared to have spun out as well. Listening to Gunderson you’d find it hard to believe he was once an FBI Chief. He would drone on for hours about ritualistic child sacrifice, secret societies, elite depopulation agendas. He was Alex Jones set to broil.

And just like Jones, Gunderson and DeCamp were scrubbed from YouTube. The only place to find their past speeches and interviews now is on Rumble. (rumble.com/v2ef4c2-march-2005-former-nebraskasenator-john-decamp-exposes-elite-pedophiles.htm) Both men passed away some years ago.

Alex Jones is still very much alive and well though — despite legacy media’s attempt to destroy him. He had always been the oddball on the fringes of mainstream society, screaming across the digital landscape about Satanic plots to enslave the global population under a new world order. Before the Covid-19 pandemic many regarded him as a poster boy for paranoid delusions and manic episodes of extreme psychosis. Now in the post pandemic world we’re slowly realizing he was just ahead of the curve.

No matter what you may think of Jones and his dramatics, there’s one ripple in the highly publicized history of his missteps that lends to his credibility: the night he infiltrated Bohemian Grove.

Bohemian Grove is an isolated retreat for prominent businessmen and politicians located deep in the outskirts of Northern California. Past guests include former presidents such as Barack Obama, both Bushes (Jr. and Sr.), Bill Clinton, Ronald Reagan and Richard Nixon. During this retreat attendees partake in a pagan ritual where an effigy is burned in tribute to a forty foot statue of Moloch, an owl deity, mostly referenced in the book of Leviticus. The ceremony is called the Cremation of Care (en.wikipedia.org/wiki/ Cremation_of_Care) and is supposed to symbolize the burning of their conscience; a cleansing of guilt from reprehensible deeds.

In the Christian Bible Moloch is mostly associated with child sacrifice. Interestingly, Bohemian Grove is frequently referenced in the victim statements given during the child sex trafficking investigation I covered.

In 1999 Jones successfully snuck into the retreat and videotaped the ritual. (rumble.com/v2xfqa2-the-darksecrets-of-bohemian-grove-free-eye-opening-video-byalex-jones.html) Upon release of the video, media and Bohemian Club members attempted to downplay it as harmless fun amongst a bunch of bros in the woods. But if you’ve seen Jones’ documentary — over an hour of shaky hidden camera footage with narration from Jones himself — you know what you’ve witnessed is a far stretch from a group of guys playing lawn darts and drinking Budweisers. It’s an occult ceremony that world leaders are taking part in; a ceremony with the specific intent to remove one’s care and cast their conscience into the fire.

The reason I believed what I was reading as I sifted through the victim statements was the level of darkness and depravity being described. These were things not even I, an adult man, could dream up. This was nightmare fuel coming out of the mouths of children. Even the most mentally disturbed child with the wildest imagination could not concoct the acts they were recalling — many of whom were found in opposite corners of the United States but testified to being present and could corroborate stories that occurred in other states altogether. What they detailed were events so blood curdling I often cried when reading their accounts. These children — most now teenagers — had been abused so thoroughly it was amazing they were still coherent enough to tell their story. Many agreed to testify at a grand jury trial, and all but two mysteriously died before they had their day in court.

Eventually the phone calls stopped and life continued on, but the evil I was exposed to while writing the piece and my experience in the aftermath stained me forever. The recent release of the film Sound of Freedom and the propaganda effort to suppress it has resurrected those old memories. The same voices that wailed in my voicemail messages for three weeks after my essay was published have reemerged in articles from Rolling Stone, Washington Post and others trying to deter the public from discovering this world hidden beneath the cultural rot. Something out there doesn’t want the public to know about the darkest ridges of society’s underbelly, and it’s my personal belief that it’s within those creases we’ll find the kernels of truth that will awaken us to the poison seeping into everything else.

Go see the movie, follow the breadcrumbs it’s left behind, and most importantly, keep digging.

Originally published at bravenewnormal.substack.com