The State Police Building was not too far from where I used to live. I had been there once or twice on some matters that related to running education programs in some jails in Western Pennsylvania. I was shepherded into Commander Waslewsky’s office. I had never met him. He was a marine looking man well over six feet tall with a brush cut and workout type of muscles. He stretched out his hand to me and said, “You must be feeling pretty low about now.” I must have had that kind of look on my face. Sounded like he was feeling sorry for me. He was probably right. He began by asking me to go through as many details of what had happened to me in the past three weeks. As I told him the story, it sounded even more incomprehensible to me.

During my soliloquy, Waslewsky took notes on almost everything that I said. When I finished he closed his book with a bang and looked over his glasses and said, “That’s as god damned good story, every word of it. Too bad that it’s true.” I could not get over his choice of words. I asked him what he meant and how did he know it was all true. He told me that the burning down of the house and the attempt to murder me capped off all of my statements. However, he had another reason for his acceptance of my story. “Mr. Wainright, mind if I call you Chet?” I told him it would probably make me feel more comfortable if he called me by my first name.

“Listen, I have been keeping something to myself for a long time. I have not told anyone here or in the administration or legislature. Nor did I tell my family. Just before I was appointed to this position, I got a phone call from someone claiming to be from a national organization that stood for getting the country back on the right track. As a cop, I always worry when people tell me about getting our country back on the right track. It usually means their track. The person did not identify himself, nor did he give me any information about the organization. That was the first thing that got me curious. I tried, in my own cop way to get something out of him. It was fruitless. He repeated that same phrase over and over about getting our country on the right track.

He asked me if I had any interest. He believed that in my new position, I could be of immense help to the organization and the country. He would go no further unless I answered yes to his question of the right track. I finally told him that I would consider that option and when would I need to make a decision. He told me that the organization was off the grid and that he would call back a few weeks after I began my new job. He never did call back.

After the phone call, I had the it traced by the state police cyber-crime unit. Even though I was not as yet sworn in, folks at the state police building took my calls and acted. No one could find out what the number was that called me, nor could they figure out where the call was from. A few weeks later, I got a call from the cyber-crime unit, saying that they had narrowed down where the call came from. They used some of that triangulation software and located the phone in Framingham, Massachusetts. The phone was a burner phone (throwaway) but it had the requisite information to give up the general location through a series of cell towers.’

I asked Waslewsky why he suspects that this was part of the same thing that happened to Senator Ellis, Jane and me. He said that all of these things are too coincidental. It’s as if this organization is reaching the nadir of its power and is willing to take more chances to protect their anonymity and whatever they are planning to do.

At that point, I realized that I had made an ally. I told him about Eric Haakenson. He agreed that would be a good idea. Although he was the head of the state police, it would be great if we had an outsider poking around. He asked if he could be there when I spoke to Haakenson in person. I agreed.

Meanwhile, the legislature had gone into session and I was nowhere around to find out what was going on.


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