Monthly Archives: June 2015


Based on a true story of a child who was kidnapped, the police botch the investigation, then the mother is persecuted for trying to find her son.



Oh Clint, you’ve done it again! Changeling was produced in 2008 and is directed by Clint. It stars Angelina Jolie, John Malkovich and Jeffrey Donovan.

The film is set in 1928, Los Angeles. Single mother Christine Collins (Jolie) returns home from work to discover her nine-year-old son Walter is missing. The LAPD really doesn’t do much to help Christine, so she turns to Reverend Gustav Briegleb (Malkovich) who publicises Christine’s case and the corruption in the LAPD. Several months later the LAPD tells Christine her son has been found alive. Due to the recent publicity, the LAPD organises a public reunion, however the boy claiming to be Walter isn’t Walter. Christine tells the LAPD that he is not Walter, but Captain J.J Jones (Donovan) insists the boy is Walter and pressures Christine into taking him home on a trial basis. Christine still convinced that he is not her…

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The Murder of the Innocents

The phone rang. Sarah lifted the receiver then replaced it looking annoyed. “Nothing”.

She glanced at Gerry whose face was buried in a newspaper. Then she poured their coffees and brought them over to the oak dining table.

“There’s another one”, he said, lifting his mug.

“Tell me”.

“A teenager was stabbed waiting at a bus stop. The bus was five minutes late. They think it was gang members but they have no idea who”.

“So. It’s very sad, but it happens”.

“It happens too often”.

Sarah nodded agreement cradling her coffeee cup in her hands.

“Indian kid. Bit of a mathematics genius, was going to a top university”.

Gerry looked at Sarah his eyes bright. “That’s the third one this year. There was that black boy who was a talented footballer. A random attack on the way to school”.

Sarah nodded. “And that girl who was killed at university. Studying law, wasn’t she?” Sarah added.

“And then there are those children who get killed or go missing” Gerry continued. “One her father was picking her up from school but got caught in traffic, was a few minutes late. Just disappeared”.

Sarah frowned. “And that little girl visiting her aunt in the country was snatched playing in the front garden. That was last year”.

They sat drinking their coffee in silence. “You know what happens next, don’t you?”

Sarah nodded no.

“Firstly the children and teenagers were all special. Specially beautiful, specially intelligent or talented, or just special. They had good prospects before them. And they were all good kids from good families, lower social class, but looked after. And they disappeared in a window of opportunity of a few minutes in situations where everyone would expect them to be safe. A late bus. A lift delayed. The child minutes from home. An opportunist perhaps or someone had stalked them and knew when the opportunity would arise.

Then there is the police investigation. They always botch it one way or another. The perp was a nutter they knew about but just didn’t bother with. Or it is a complete mystery – no-one is seen and they completely disappear. Or they know who done it but they waste so much time barking up the wrong tree he gets away”.

Sarah nods. “That’s true. What are you getting at?

“After the police have botched the investigation they start a smear campaign against the family, turning the family over for any wrong doing or dodgy associations”.

Sarah frowned. “I wonder why they do that”.

“Look, there’s a pattern. 1. Special kids. 2. Killed or kidnapped. 3. Botched police investigation. 4. Harass the family. It’s like some formula is being followed”.

“I suppose the smear campaign is to draw attention from the botched investigation” Sarah suggested.

“Yes, and it focuses attention either on the relatives or the police and people stop looking at the murder or kidnapping. Also when the police harassment goes on and on everyone just wants it to stop and forget about the whole thing”.

Sarah picked up the paper and read the latest story of a murdered child. “I feel there is something I’m missing”.

“What if” said Gerry, “we are looking at the situation back to front. “Remember the formula? Killing or kidnapping. Botched investigation. Smear campaign. The police have a hand in most stages of the process. They instigate the smear. They botch the investigation. They might have known about the killer before the attack, but didn’t bother. The only thing they don’t seem involved in is the actual murder or kidnap. What if the whole thing is arranged by the police? All the subsequent action is just to cover their tracks?”.

“But why?”

Gerry shrugged. “Those are lower class kids with great potential. Perhaps someone felt they threatened the status quo. Get rid of the competition before it becomes competition. Ruthless social engineering”.

“And the ones that disappear?” asked Sarah.

Sarah and Gerry stared at each other as realisation dawned.

They had no time to react as their kitchen door blasted apart in a shower of splintered wood and the bullets tore through them.


Copyright 2015

The Cull

The High Priest was ushered into the King’s presence.

“How is the campaign going?”

The Priest bowed respectfully  and answered smoothly.

“Our Priest’s sermons focused on humility, accepting Divine Will, forgiving your enemy and heavenly rewards in the after-life. At the same time the Lords increased their burdens and insults to the peasants. The Priests identified those who muttered at our sermons, and the Lords gave us lists of those peasants who were managing even the worst work loads and helping others. The leading intelligent men and women were then labelled as witches and taken into church custody. Under torture they naturally told us the names of all their relatives and friends who were then arrested”.

The King nodded.

“The Chief of Police will meet with you to organise the mass burnings”.

The High Priest bowed and left the room.

The King sat at his desk and pulled a paper towards him with the names of the peasants to be culled.

His eyes scanned the names which meant nothing to him. Every twenty or thirty years it was necessary – in the absence of a war. To kill the intelligent men who might become leaders. To kill the intelligent women who would give birth to intelligent men. To keep the peasants stupid, leaderless and cowed.

The King sighed with satisfaction. Did any other King know better than he how to manage a peaceful and productive Kingdom?


Copyright 2015

The Natural Leader

The Controller passed the agent waiting in the ante-room. He nodded and took the last slim folder the agent held, then proceeded into his office.

At his desk he flipped open the pages. Their target was young, quick witted, charismatic. She became the focus of any group she entered. People confided in her. Their troubles, their insights. She soaked up the worst experiences of the group and also their greatest wisdom. She was the arrow-head of any groups needs and wishes.

The Controller lifted his pen, then closed the file and went out of the office. He handed the file in silence to the agent as he swept past.

The agent opened the file for his instructions. A thick black line scored through the target’s name.


Copyright 2015


Jackie Shackleton 1948-1979

The wages of slavery is death

The King woke late. The sun was well up. He stretched his hand out for his morning refreshment but it wasn’t there. Well, he would have the servant punished. He called for his servants to dress him. But was answered by silence. Something was wrong.

He pulled his robe around him and went out into his ante-room. The Chief of Spies was sitting there.

“What has happened?” the King asked.

“Somehow the truth got out. What we were doing. The people have walked away. The soldiers too. Even the police would not obey. The prison guards opened the prisons ….”

The spy chief looked stunned.

The King stared at him in disbelief. “It can’t be. It was the perfect system”.

The spy shrugged. “Agreed. They worked – and we would take everything that belonged to them. They were always in default of the laws because we kept changing the laws without telling them. When they had children we used them as hostages. We applied draconian punishments for the slightest offence, even against relatives or friends who had nothing to do with the original offence. One woman passed me. She said, “What is the point in having children? All that risk, work, expense and worry and you get destroyed because they made a mistake.”

The King sat down aghast. “It was the perfect system. Heads we won. Tales we won”.

“And I have further bad news” the spy continued. “Our enemies have gathered and are advancing. There is no-one to fight for us”.

The King looked into space, still disbelieving. “We always won. We betrayed our allies and our supporters. No-one could gather strength against us. Any who resisted we totally destroyed along with their entire families. How could we lose?”

The spy went to speak again, but the King said “Hush”.

He listened. He heard nothing. No sound of people at work. No calls from the vendors. No babies crying. No people. Nothing.



Copyright 2015


“Billy is very quiet”.

Joan looked up from the table where she was preparing a salad for tea. “Oh,  it’s his new computer game”.

“Another ‘Dragons and Dungeons?”

“Something like that. It’s called ‘Perversion'”.

“Aaah. I think I’ll take a look at that”.

Joan nodded and continued chopping.

Frank stood behind his son for a while watching the game in progress. It appeared to be a standard card game featuring magical characters. Frank felt a glow of pride as he realised his son was beating the competition into the ground.


“Friends only” Billy grunted.

“Like to explain it to me?”

“Why not. My friends are bust”.

Billy signed off and entered the off-line version.

“Now I’m playing against the computer”.

“Why is it called ‘Perversion’?”

“It is a battle between good and evil. The good guys, angels and fairies and so on are only permitted to use straight spiritual power. Their power is the greatest, and they always win in an outright fight. So the evil powers, black magicians and hell powers use various tricks to win using their lesser power”.

Strange concept for a kid’s game.

Billy hit a key. A figure of an angel appeared.

“He is the most powerful player. But the evil powers can defeat him with a variety of tricks. I am playing evil in this round”.

Billy hit another key. A selection of options appeared.

“Blindfold. If I attach a blindfold to the Angel, he cannot see who his friends or enemies are. This reduces his fight potential considerably.

Another card appeared. It showed a flag changing colours. “False flag. This has many uses. It can turn a friend into an enemy”. Billy looked at his Dad who was starting to look confused. “I attach it to the Angel’s ally and he thinks Angel is the enemy and attacks him”. His father nodded understanding.

“Go on”.

“Ah, class! This is the trump card”.  The card showed a bolt of lightning. “This shows reversal. His power is now under my control so everything he does damages his own side. He isn’t captured, but now he is fighting for me”.

Billy set to the keyboard with gusto while his Dad watched the good armies devastated while their most powerful weapon started operating against its own side. Worlds and universes collapsed. Finally Billy threw up his hands in triumph. “Hell wins!”

Frank patted Billy on the shoulder and went back to the kitchen were the salad plates were waiting. His mind was working methodically  taking in the simple content of the game and the peculiar story line. His eyes happened to fall on the religious calendar on the wall.

“He’s very good at it” Joan commented.

“Yes. An expert”.

Frank sat thoughts chasing around in his head. Hell tactics. Subverting good and turning it into a weapon against good. Spiritual blindness. Friends attacking allies. False flags. Spiritual warfare. Occult tactics.

“Yes, very good. But I’m not sure I want Billy trained in occult warfare at his age”

Joan laughed. “It’s only a game”.

“Yes, It’s only a game, but I think I will take a look at it later after Billy has gone to bed”.


Copyright 2015