The Why Files: Operation Podcast - JFK's Assassination and the CIA's Psychic Cold War

Episode Date: August 8, 2026

-Upgrade your everyday at https://quince.com/thewhyfiles for free shipping and 365-day returns, now available in Canada and the UK. -Try QUO for free and get 20% off your first 6 months at https://quo.com/why -Visit https://betterhelp.com/whyfiles #ad -Discover how to move your IRA or 401k into physical gold and silver — with no taxes or penalties. Get your free portfolio review and free gold & silver guide from GoldenCrest Metals: visit https://GoldenCrestMetals.com/thewhyfiles or call [phone] now. In 1952, nine of America's wealthiest families gathered in a Maine mansion for a séance. Nine ancient gods spoke through a medium and chose nine people to change the world. Eleven years later, the CIA officer who ran that séance's donor list sent a Russian aristocrat to befriend a troubled ex-Marine named Lee Harvey Oswald. That aristocrat introduced Oswald's wife to a woman named Ruth Paine. Every piece of evidence against Oswald, the rifle, the photos, the testimony, ran through Ruth Paine's garage. A spy camera vanished from police custody. A Warren Commissioner's mistress was best friends with a woman at that séance. The connections are documented. The conclusions are yours to draw. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

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Lee Harvey Oswald was an assignment, from the CIA Dallas office. Congress sent an investigator to take a statement. When he got to the House, George's family said he wasn't home. But he was. He was in his bedroom, dead from a shotgun wound. That nobody heard. But the story doesn't start in 1977, and it doesn't start in Dallas. It starts in 1952 in a mansion in Maine, where America's wealthiest families held a seance,

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Quince.com slash the Y-Files. In 1948, the Cold War got weird. There was the space race, the arms race, and the psychic race. Rumors out of Moscow said Soviet scientists were testing telepathy in labs. If mine could be a weapon, American intelligence wanted one, but there was a problem. No respectable scientists would touch the subject, and Congress was never going to fund seances, at least not publicly. The psychic race needed a man willing to bet his career on it.

That man was a 30-year-old doctor from Chicago named Andrea Pooerich. The army put Poirich through medical school at Northwestern during the war. While he was still a student, Poor Rich published a theory that his colleagues would go near. He believed the human brain was a radio. Neurons didn't just fire, they transmitted. And anything that could transmit could also receive. If he was right, telepathy wasn't magic, it was biology. And Poorich wanted to prove it.

He rented a 45-room mansion in Glen Cove, Maine and started building. He converted one of the rooms into a Faraday cage, a chamber wrapped in copper, screen that blocks radio waves and electricity. If the brain is a radio, you test it like a radio. Put a psychic inside a room that no signal can penetrate and see what still gets through. He called the project the Roundtable Foundation of Electrobiology. So the program had a name, a facility, and a testing protocol. The only thing Proruch was missing was money. He needed private funding. Private funding? That reminds me. I need to launch the Kickstarter for my vasectomy. Just why? You want me to have the cat eat you?

Reward tears. For $10, you can hold the camera. For $50, you can hold the scissors. For a hundred, you can hold me. I'll give you $500 to never talk about this again. Two hundred. Done. The first check came from Alice Astor Bouverie.

Her father was the richest man on the Titanic. He went down with a ship in 1912, and Alice inherited a fortune and an obsession with the afterlife. After that, the donor list read like a who's who of American wealth and power, business tycoons, heiresses, and of course, politics. Henry Wallace, Franklin Roosevelt's former vice president, he cut a check. These people sat on corporate boards, advised the White House, and had some ties to the OSS, which became the CIA. Poolech tested mediums and clarivoyance from around the world, and most of them disappointed him.

Then the Indian philosopher D.G. Vinod took Pooch's right ring finger, held it for a minute, and whistled softly. I yelled the guy's finger for a full minute. Pull my finger is a two-second transaction. Anything longer, you're dating. That's not what this was. He pulled his finger and heard whistling, hello. Vinod spent the next hour describing private events from Poor Rich's life in perfect detail.

The round table was now in business. And on New Year's Eve, 1952, Vinod laid down inside the testing room. At 9 o'clock, Vinod started talking. It was Vinod's voice, but the words weren't his. The words came from nine ancient Egyptian gods, and Porich recorded everything. The voice was slow and deliberate.

nothing like Vinodz. We are nine principles and forces, personalities, if you will. The voice called itself the great Inniad, the nine gods of Heliopolis, worshipped in Egypt for 3,000 years before Christ. And they said they weren't a myth. They were real and physical.

And they weren't gods. They were alien minds on a spacecraft watching Earth. The nine said they controlled the universe and guided all of human history, but they were through influence, not miracles. A person met someone at the right time. A door opened. A decision looked ordinary until years later when the pattern became visible. Thenod came out of the trance with no memory of what happened. But Pooerich had dozens of pages of notes, including physics equations that didn't

make sense, at least not to him. But he didn't have much time to study his notes because six weeks later, the United States Army recalled Poolech to active duty. He went to Edgewood Arsenal in Maryland, where the military tested hypnosis, LSD, and Mescaline on soldiers. His or His orders were to find a drug that enhanced extrasensory perception, psychic research and mind control, funded by the U.S. military. That summer, he went back to Maine on leave, and on June 27, 1953, under a full moon, he gathered nine people at the mansion, one for each of the nine gods. And he picked these people carefully. Eight were wealthy and connected. Pooridge took the ninth chair for himself.

Vinod sat in the middle. At midnight, the nine returned, and this time they came with a mission. They said the nine people at the table were chosen to transform human civilization. They didn't answer to any religion or government. They answered to something much older and much more powerful. Then the cotton threads appeared. Nine threads on the floor, three feet from Vinod, nobody saw where they came from. They should have checked his belly button.

Whose? The magic guy. What's his name? Gonad. Vinod. Rimrod. Vinod. Whatever it is.

My money's still on belly button. There was one thread for each person at the table, identical to the sacred thread Hindu Brahmans received at initiation. The nine chosen ones picked up the threads and accepted the assignment. Nobody outside that room would have believed a word of it. Pooeridge barely believed it. But three years later, a stranger a thousand miles away sent him a letter that proved the nine were real.

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Always say hello with Quo. Try Quo for free, plus get 20% off your first six months when you go to Quo.com slash Y. That's QUO.com slash Y. After the session, Vinod returned to India, and the nine went quiet. When the money ran out, Poor Rich went to Mexico looking for sacred mushrooms

to open his mind. A classic wellness retreat. My Uncle Irving took the same trip in 74. Left as an accountant, came back as a rainstick guy. Yeah, I can still smell the but churley. And let me tell you, Uncle Irving looked terrible in a fish bun. At the hotel, Poirich's room was accidentally given to an American couple from Michigan, Dr. Charles Lockheed and his wife.

Pooeridge met them. The Loggid said they were contactees. Space intelligences spoke through them. These were Poorich's kind of people, so they kept in touch. A month after Poorich came home, a letter from... from when he'd arrived. It described a young Arizona contactee George Hunt Williamson. No connection to Maine.

No connection to Pooerich. He never heard of the roundtable. But somehow Williamson received the same transmission from the nine on the same nights in 1952 and 1953. Pooridge still had his doubts, but then he got to the last page. The letter contained the Einstein-Lorence transformation, the physics equation that describes

how time and space to store it near the speed of light. Pooeridge recognized it. The nine spoke the same equation through Vinod. Nobody outside that copper room could have known this. The nine broadcasts the same message to two receivers separated by a thousand miles, through people who never met. After that, Pooerich stopped doubting. He spent the rest of his life following the instructions from that room.

But the nine were silent. Pooerich searched for another channel, but every medium he tested came up empty. It took 15 years, but the nine finally found a vessel worthy of delivering their message. a 24-year-old Israeli paratrooper who could bend spoons with his mind. The call came from Israel. Uri Geller claimed he could read mines and influence events. He said he could bend metal and stop clocks. Pouritch was skeptical, but witnesses said Geller was the real deal. So Pouridge flew to Tel Aviv to watch him work. Soon after that, both men were on a plane to America. At his estate in Austin, in New York,

Pruich launched Operation Lab 9. He built another Faraday cage, had a new medium, and once again asked to speak to the ancient astronaut gods. And this time they answered. But a different voice came through Geller. It called itself Spectra, a superintelligence aboard a spacecraft 53,000 light years away. It was still denied but using a new name, and it had new instructions. To complete this new mission, Cooridge knew he needed help, so he took Geller to the Stanford Research Institute in California, the infamous SRI. Two physicists Russell Targ and Harold Putoff were also experimenting with psychics, specifically remote viewers. SRI was recruiting and training people who project their consciousness anywhere on Earth and beyond. Some of their most talented subjects could even see through time.

The first experiments were easier than sending your consciousness to Mars. The subject was given a sealed envelope and asked to draw what was inside. The experiments were conducted in a shielded room, similar to a Faraday cage. Over seven days in August 1973, Geller made drawing after drawing. One envelope had a picture of grapes, 24 of them. Geller drew 24 graves. Another image was the solar system. Geller drew that too. Geller got 10 in a row, impossible odds witnessed by trained scientists. In October 1974, Targan put off published their experiments in nature. This highly respected peer-reviewed journal printed evidence that mines could see through walls. The CIA noticed. They launched a secret program that eventually became Stargate. And for over 20 years,

Stargate trained the CIA's psychic spies. And back at Lab 9, the guest list grew. Scientists from SRI, wealthy elites, politicians, even European nobility showed up using fake names. And one of those wealthy elites was British businessman John Whitmore. Whitmore was so impressed with Poor Rich that he wanted to make a movie about the 9. So they brought in an out-of-work TV writer, Gene Roddenberry.

Gene Roddenberry wasn't impressed. He thought the psychics were making it all up, but something must have stuck with him. Because years later, in Deep Space 9, there's a character named Vinod. The episode is about a cult leader who is predicted by a small inner circle. Season 2, episode 15, Paradise. The cult leader charms everyone's technology, so nobody can leave the planet. You know the episode number?

Human. I've seen every episode of Star Trek ever, except the one with a whale, not the whale. Star Trek would down a dark alley, and I could not follow. Whether Poolech was a cult leader could be debated, but he had an inner-circure. and they kept receiving instructions from the nine. Prepare humanity, get the right people in place. The transformation is coming. One member of the inner circle was Ruth Forbes Payne Young. That Forbes.

She was also the great-granddaughter of Ralph Waldo Emerson. Her husband, Arthur Young, made his own fortune when he invented the Bell helicopter. In February 1963, their son Michael Payne was at a dinner party with his wife, also named Ruth. At that party, they became friends with a Russian housewife, wife who spoke almost new English, Marina Oswald. The pains didn't know it at the time, but seven months later, Marina's husband would be sneaking around their garage, hiding a rifle.

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and see if BetterHelp is right for you. Visit Betterhelp.com slash Y Files. That's better H-E-L-P.com slash Y-Files. Before that dinner party could happen, someone had to bring Marina Oswald into that room. In the summer of 1962, Lee Harvey Oswald returned, to Texas with a Russian wife, a baby daughter, and a problem. He spent nearly three years in the Soviet Union

and announced he wanted to give up his American citizenship. And then he changed his mind. The Russian-speaking community in Dallas helped the family at first, but Oswald wore them out with his temper and his politics. One by one, they walked away. But not George de Morinshild. He was a Russian-born aristocrat who became a Texas oil man. He moved in the same wealthy social and diplomatic circles

as the Drexels, the Morgans, the Bouviers, and the Kennedy. the Kennedys. He also had friends in the U.S. government, specifically the intelligence community. Jay Walt and Moore was an officer in the CIA's Domestic Contacts Division. They collected information on Americans overseas. After every foreign trip, George sat down with Moore and told him what he saw. In 1962, Moore brought him an assignment, an ex-marine living in Fort Worth, just back from the Soviet Union. He was perfect for the job. He grew up in Minsk, and Oswald had lived in in Minsk for years. Of every man in Dallas, only one can sit across from Lee Oswald and talk about Lennon Avenue stretching to Victory Square, about the river, about the smell of popcorn at the circus.

George was actually eager to chat with someone from his hometown, but he wouldn't risk his business or his reputation. Moore said both would be fine. In fact, there was a juicy oil contract in Haiti that could land his way if he helped out the agency. So George de Morinshilt, with fresh orders to make a new friend, drove to Fort Worth. And for about six months, He ran Oswald's life. He drove him to job interviews. He helped the family find housing. He even stepped into arguments when Lee got violent.

And Lee listened to George. On paper, the friendship made no sense. George de Mourinshild dined with senators and oil executives. Lee Oswald worked a factory job in red marks during lunch. But the friendship was real. George liked him. He told people he felt sorry for Lee. He was bright, bitter, and in over his head.

He stayed close until February 22nd, 1966, when he brought the Oswalds to a small party in Dallas. One of the guests was Ruth Payne, a separated mother who studied Russian. Marina needed someone to talk to, and Ruth wanted someone to practice with. By the end of the evening, they exchanged phone numbers. That spring, George de Morinschelt left for Haiti and never saw Lee Harvey Oswald again, but he didn't need to. His mission was complete. The CIA's man in Dallas made one introduction, and it was the only one that mattered.

The only thing left to do now was wait and watch history unfold. The rifle started in a Chicago mail-order warehouse. It ended in a garage in Irving, Texas, wrapped in a blanket, tucked behind camping equipment. Between those two points, a chain of introductions ran through one family. Ruth Payne was separated from her husband Michael, who still paid the mortgage on the house in Irving. Michael worked as a research engineer at Bell Helicopter in Fort Worth. He also held a security clearance. His mother was Ruth Forbes Payne Young, the woman who accepted a cotton thread at a seance in Maine.

His stepfather was Arthur Young. the man who designed the bill helicopter and signed the checks for Poo Ridge's research. In September of 1963, Ruth Payne packed her station wagon and drove east on a two-week trip to visit family. One of her stops was her sister Sylvia's house in Falls Church, Virginia. Falls Church is next door to Langley, and Sylvia worked for the CIA. Then Ruth swung south to New Orleans, where the Oswalds were coming apart. Lee was out of work, and Marino was pregnant with her second child.

Ruth made her an offer, come live with me and Irving, until the baby comes. Marina said yes and moved in permanently, but Lee stayed behind. He only came out on weekends. By that fall, he had almost nothing. His wife and children moved out. He lived in a rented room.

He was almost broke. The one thing he owned was wrapped in a blanket in the Payne's garage in Irving. Michael Payne thought it was camping gear. By October, Lee needed work. Ruth made a few phone calls and helped Lee get a job as a warehouse clerk in Dallas. His first day at the Texas school,

book depository was October 16th. That same morning he was offered a job with an airline. Better work, better pay. He kept the warehouse job at Dele Plaza. When Kennedy came to Dallas for a motorcade, his route was unknown to the public until November 19th. Lee Oswald had already been at the depository for over a month. On the evening of Thursday, November 21st, Oswald came out to Irving a day early. Marina was surprised, and not in a good way. He played with his daughters outside until dark, then three times that night, Lee begged her to move back to Dallas. She said no, three times. He went to bed angry. In the morning, he asked her for a kiss and she turned away. Then, Lee Harvey Oswald was gone. He left his wedding ring on the dresser, and he never took that ring off,

not in two and a half years of marriage. He left $170 in cash, almost everything he had. He did not leave a note. He walked into work carrying a long paper package. A coworker asked what was inside. Curtin rods. Oswald said it was curtain rods. It wasn't curtain rods. Let's talk about the number of the Fed doesn't want you to say out loud. PCE inflation just came in at 4.1%. That's double their own 2% target. A target they've now missed five years in a row. And here's the part of that that you'd really get your attention. The Fed's own projection says we don't get back to 2% until 2028. That's three more years of your dollar buying less than it does today. You're already feeling it. Grocery bills are up to 32% since 2020.

Retirees have lost 26% of their purchasing power. And if your 401k isn't up 30% or more in real terms, you're not gaining, you're going backwards. And it doesn't stop there. The next wave of inflation is already in the pipeline. Here's the thing. Gold and silver were never really a bet on inflation. Their insurance against the currency that's losing value on purpose.

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up to $25,000 in bonus silver. At 1229 on November 22nd, 1963, the presidential motorcade turned from Houston onto Elm Street in Dealey Plaza. Kennedy sat in the back of an open-top Lincoln waving. At 1230, the shots came. Three rounds. Kennedy slept over. Governor Connolly collapsed in the seat ahead of him. The limousine raced to Parkland Hospital where doctors pronounced the president dead at 1 o'clock. On the sixth floor of the depository, police found three spent shells, a cardboard box near the window,

and a long, empty paper bag. And hidden near the stairwell, a bolt-action 6.5 Carcano rifle that traced directly to Lee Harvey Oswald. And you know the rest of the story. 45 minutes later, Officer J.D. Tippett was shot dead on a sidewalk in Oak Cliff. Police arrested Oswald at the Texas Theater.

Two days later, in the basement of Dallas Police headquarters, a strip club owner named Jack Ruby stepped out of a crowd and shot Oswald on live television. Oswald died at Parkland Hospital. There was no trial, no cross-examination, not one word of testimony from Oswald, but there didn't need to be. He was the shooter, the lone gunman, and that was the end of it. But a murdered president and a murdered suspect left the country full of questions. So seven days after Dallas, President Lyndon Johnson appointed a commission of seven men to answer those questions,

chaired by the Chief Justice of the United States, Earl Warren. The press called it the Warren Commission. For 10 months, the commission took testimony from hundreds of witnesses. In September 1964, it published its answer, an 888-page report backed by 26 volumes of evidence. And one conclusion, Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone. Case closed, officially. Except the case never closed for the American people. Instead, the questions got louder.

Within a few years, most Americans didn't believe the official story. And people spent decades digging into details that the commission ignored. What they found always led back to one house. Michael and Ruth Paines. Marino lived with the Pains. Oswald was there every weekend. He was there the night before the murder. The murder weapon was in their house.

Nobody was closer to the Oswald family than the Paines. Ruth Paine became the commission's most valuable civilian witness. She testified longer than almost anyone, and she translated for Marina, who still spoke very little English. Her translations were the backbone of the official story of who Lee Oswald was and what he intended to do that day. The backyard photos, Oswald posed with the rifle and his Marxist newspapers,

they came out of Ruth Payne's garage with the rest of the family's belongings. The rifle came out of that same garage. And so did one piece of evidence almost nobody talks about. When Dallas police searched the Payne's house, Detective Gus Rose found a Minox camera loaded with film in Oswald's bag.

A Minox is a German spy camera, small enough to hide in the palm of your hand. Intelligence agencies loved them. Warehouse clerks couldn't afford them. The camera was photographed and put into police inventory. Then the camera disappeared. But something showed up in the FBI's inventory, a Minox light meter. Three times the FBI asked Gus Rose to change the paperwork from camera to light meter.

Rose refused every time, and he testified to all this under oath. Reporters asked why the Dallas PD said camera and the FBI said light meter. There wasn't a good answer. So Jay Edgar Hoover sent orders to the Dallas office. Find that camera. And the next day, someone did. Michael Payne. The next day, Michael Payne handed the FBI of Minnach's micro camera.

He said it was his and was in the garage the whole time, in a coffee can. Michael said the police weren't interested in a spy camera, found in a house occupied by defectors Russian wine. The spy camera was in a coffee can? Of course. Right next to the microfilm in a sugar bowl and a cyanide in a spice rack. And the serial number on Michael's camera had five digits. The Minox Corporation said their cameras had six digits.

And a serial number is important. It's how Minox could trace a camera's manufacture date and origin. A five-digit number makes it untraceable. The Warren Commission had the Payne's under oath for days. Nobody asked them one question about that camera. The rifle, the photos, the translations, the spy camera, and the job that put Oswald in that window. Every one of those things ran through Ruth Payne's house.

Even Oswald's mother said she believed both Marina and Ruth Payne were involved. Somehow the family at the center of the evidence was never treated. treated as part of the case. And here's the thing. The FBI was already looking at the pains. Twice in the weeks before the assassination and agents stopped by. He was keeping tabs on the defector's wife who lived there.

The bureau had a file open on Lee Harvey Oswald before a single shot was fired. So when the shots came, every phone line that touched Oswald's world became a live wire, and the FBI started listening. On the afternoon of the assassination, Michael Payne called Ruth from work. He said he felt sure Oswald killed the president but didn't feel Oswald was responsible.

And then came the next sentence. We both know who is responsible for the assassination. When commission lawyers asked Michael about this, he denied saying it. And the call never appeared in the Warren report. It was reduced to a few sentences in an FBI file called Commission Document 206. And in that file, the source was redacted. The names of the people on the call were redacted. Just a male voice and a female voice.

The phone numbers were not identified. For more than a decade, we both know who was responsible. That quote only lived in that buried report. When the files were opened in the 1970s, it was revealed that it was, in fact, Michael and Ruth Payne on that call. Something else was missing from the Warren report. In all 26 volumes, all 88 pages, Pooharich, the Roundtable, and the Nine

didn't appear once, but they should have. The Seance world was closer to the commission, than anyone knew. One of the seven commissioners was former director of the CIA and longtime villain on this channel, Alan Dulles. Dulles should not have been on that commission for a few reasons. One, Kennedy fired him. After the Bay of Pigs, Kennedy said he wanted to, quote,

shattered the CIA into a thousand pieces and scatter into the winds. He believed Dulles wanted to drag the U.S. into a war with Cuba, which they tried over and over, so Dulles was out. And there's another reason Dulles had no business being on the commission. He had a secret.

During the war, he ran a spy in Switzerland, Mary Bankroft. She was his agent, and she was his mistress. And for more than 40 years, Mary Bankroft's best friend was Ruth Forbes Payne Young. They traveled together, they vacationed together. Hold on, hold on, hold on.

The commissionist's spy girlfriend's best friend is the seance lady, whose son had the rifle in his garage. Those are the facts. I've seen tighter plots on vertical, You watch those. Guilty pleasure. Haders welcome.

While Dulles sat on the commission, Bancroft wrote of a letter reminding him how well she knew Michael Payne's mother. That letter wasn't in the report either. It was found 40 years later. The man Kennedy fired had the files on the family that housed this killer, the files on the family of his mistress's best friend. And 14 years later, someone started burning the files. On September 5th, 1976, George de Moran Schilt wrote a letter to the director of the CIA begging

for help. He said vigilantes surrounded his family. Their phone was tapped. They were followed everywhere. Either FBI is involved in this, or they do not want to accept my complaints. We are driven to insanity by the situation. I tried to write stupidly and unsuccessfully about Lee H. Oswald and must have angered a lot of people.

I do not know. But to punish an elderly man like myself, and my highly nervous and sick wife is really too much. Could you do something to remove the net around us? The director read the letter, and he recognized the name. His prep school roommate was DeMorin Schultz's nephew. And in DeMoran Schultz's own address book, there was an entry for an old friend. Bush, George H.W.

Poppy. The director of the CIA was George Bush. Bush's staff asked how well he knew the writer. Bush said he knew the man since the 1940s. Then in a memo, he added a strange sentence. I do know this man, DeMorinshild. I don't recall his role in all this. I don't recall.

Is politician for, I recall vividly, but not until I have counsel present. And Bush wrote back to George DeMorinshelt. In your situation, I can well imagine how the attention you described in your letter affect both you and your wife. However, my staff has been unable to find any indication of interest in your activities. On the part of federal authorities in recent years, I can only speculate that you may have become newsworthy again in view of the renewed interest in the Kennedy assassination, and thus may be attracting the attention of people in the media.

Two months after that, George tried to take his own life, four times. His wife got so scared that she hadn't committed. Doctors put him through electroshock therapy and released them at the end of 1976. In March, 1977, journalist Edward Epstein went to Palm Beach to interview him. They met at the Breaker's Hotel for breakfast. That's when George finally admitted his CIA contact,

Jay Walt Moore, put him on Oswald. I would never have contacted Oswald in a million years if Moore had not sanctioned it. Too much was at stake. The friendship was real. The assignment was too. They took a break for lunch. Epstein went back to his room,

and they were scheduled to pick things back up at three. That same morning, Congressional investigator, Gaetan Fonzi, drove to George's house. Jeez, name was Foncy. Yep. Cool name.

George wasn't home. Fonzie left his card with George's daughter. Yay! George came back at two. He saw the card and went upstairs. Almost 40 minutes later, his daughter found him. He apparently shot himself with a shotgun. But six people were in that house, and not one of them heard a shotgun go off.

But a maid had a tape recorder going, she was recording a soap opera. On the tape, you hear a single blast at 221, then the sound of a gun hitting the floor. And George wasn't the only witness connected to JFK, who turned up dead, or didn't turn up at all. Chicago mob boss Sham Jankana was shot in his kitchen before he could testify about the CIA's plots against Castro. Mobster Johnny Roselli went missing and turned up in an oil drum. an ex-cop Richard Kane was linked to the mob and the CIA. He was also killed in Chicago, in a sandwich shop. Hale Boggs was a congressman on the Warren Commission.

He publicly criticized the Warren report and called for a new investigation in the 1970s. He disappeared in a small plane over Alaska in 1972. The wreckage was never found. And a year and a half after Palm Beach, the Lab 9 estate burned down. Decades of Poor Rich's files went up with it, along with the family dog. He didn't talk to the police, but later he wrote he believed it was the CIA. Then Poor Rich went into hiding. He died in 1995 after a fall down a staircase. By the end of the 1970s, the JFK witnesses were all dead and everyone in Poor Rich's world lost their jobs,

their reputations, and their funding. Some people lost their minds. Every person in the Council of Nine and every person who can name them was gone. This is one of the stories where the true parts are strange enough without any help, so let's separate what happened from what didn't. The seances happened. The roundtable was real, and so was that donor list. Poolech's assignment to find a drug that enhances ESP is true. The nine are a different story. Everything from inside that copper room comes through one man, the aliens, the predictions, the equations, nobody else saw any of it, and Poolech didn't write about it until 1974. After JFK, after the Warren report, after the Pains got famous.

Either nine aliens predicted history or one man made up a story to claim a piece of it. Now, Gellers 10 for 10 really happened in front of witnesses, but he's been controversial for years. But the CIA wrote about him that he demonstrated his paranormal perceptual ability in a convincing and unambiguous manner. But that wasn't good enough to keep Stargate running.

The program was eventually shut down because it wasn't yielding valuable results. But that's also being debated. What happened to Dallas is different. There are records, there are witnesses, there's connections, a lot of connections. Too many connections to explain away as coincidence. Lee Harvey Oswald got a job at Dealey Plaza over a month before the president's route was announced. That's either a coincidence or he knew something.

Now I leaned toward he knew something, but until we have all the JFK files, all we can do is speculate, which we love to do. Now it's true that everything ran through Ruth Paine's house, but she was never charged. And she said for 60 years she was just helping a friend. She's still around today and she sticks by that story and please leave her along. The spy camera turned up in the FBI's own files. Then it became a light meter. The police receipt says camera and FBI signed it.

The property clerk admitted he changed the paperwork when the bureau asked him to and Hoover's teletypes about this still exist. Skeptics will say the camera appears on the Friday list, but the bag wasn't searched until Saturday. Maybe someone confused a camera case for a camera, but a camera case doesn't hold film, and Gus Rose opened it and found a role inside. He said so under oath, and he never wavered. None of it makes anyone a spy, but it's one more thing that ran through that garage that got rewritten on paper. That phone call happened. The Warren report didn't have much to say about it, and without an actual recording, Michael Payne is innocent until proven guilty, but it's

another uncomfortable detail. George DeMoran's. Schult confessed, but he was dying, and he was paid for his story, so the confession is not solid. But he was a CIA informant. At the time, Jay Walt Moore denied that. But the classified files show George really was reporting to the CIA. The CIA denied a lot of things about JFK, and they still do. I don't think George was killed, but the uncomfortable connections are there. Dulles is the real problem with all of this. His mistress's best friend was all over the story and was never investigated. That's not a confession, but it proves the Warr Report was incomplete at best and corrupt at worst.

And everything flows from that. Della should have never been on that commission, and I'll never stop saying it. Dead mobsters happen. Were they connected to JFK? Maybe. Was the mob connected to the CIA? Absolutely. But the one death that should bother you is the dead congressman. The guy from the commission, Hale Boggs. His plane vanished over Alaska. Now that's a place where planes vanish, but it would be nice to have some closure on that. But no wreckage, no closure. Poor Rich's house really was set on fire while he was away.

His kids were home, but they got out in time. Their dog was really killed. And his notes were lost, but he published before the fire. So here's what we're left with. An ordinary explanation. Wealthy families are connected. They're connected with each other, with the government, and with the intelligence community. Wealthy people cluster. Oh, sure, they cluster around seances, the CIA, and the guy who shot the president. My poker buddies cluster around TV, warm light beer, and somebody's wife's meatballs. You have a point, but correlation is not conspiracy.

And it ain't exculpatory either, counselor, clearing someone to guilt. I know what it means. But that doesn't explain the pattern. The same people kept appearing around psychic research, military money, the Paines, Oswald, and the CIA. I didn't even get into the Moray Island UFO Kine. to JFK, but I have a whole episode on that. More names like Fred Christman and Guy Bannister. More people connected to New Orleans.

All connected to the CIA, all connected to the mob, and the death of a president. Coincidences are not a conspiracy, until they are. The alien gods weren't real. The nine people were. They had the money, the connections, and the power to change the world.

And nobody could prove they didn't. There are people out there right now sitting around a table, deciding who lives and who dies, deciding which elected leaders are inconvenient, deciding what stories you're allowed to hear. It doesn't matter if you're a mobster, a strip club owner, or the president of the United States. If you become a problem, you go away.

But nobody at a table like that thinks they're a villain. They think they're chosen. A god, a flag, a voice in the dark. Something always gives powerful people permission. And once they have it, the ordinary rules don't apply to them. The people at the table change, but there's never an empty seat. Thank you so much for hanging out today. My name is AJ. You know hecklefish.

Word to the WISE. If your new best friend speaks to Flort Minsk and keeps driving you the job interviews, ask who's pay for the guess. This has been the WIFiles. Get her learned anything. He'd appreciated if you could subscribe. I don't care, but he really wants you to like, subscribe, comment, and share. That stuff really makes his spins tinkle. Like most topics we cover on the channel, today's is recommended by you. If this story you want to see or learn more about, go to the Wifiles.com slash tips. Send me an email. on Discord in the comments, you'll find, you know where we are. If you enjoy the stories I tell here on the Wi-Files, check out my other show on the channel.

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Bubbs. Where are you, Mubs? Inside the Bible said I would I love my UFOs and paranormal fun as well as music So I'm singing like I should And it never ends No, it never ends I got stuck inside males hole with MKL truck

Being only two of a way With the shadow be pulled And his name was cold The Secret City Underground And with the dark watcher