NOT RICH…? THEN THE FBI IS SELDOM A FRIEND…
1700 by Jeff HessLast week, over brunch, two friends and I were discussing journalism and politics and we swung around to the subject of Robert Mueller, James Comey and the Federal Bureau of Investigation. At one point I remarked how uncomfortable I was cheering on the FBI. My friends agreed. Despite the image portrayed in television shows (including a 2018 reboot) and movies—all of which I classify as MAGA Porn*—the FBI, from its inception during the Red Scare of the ’20s, extending through the civil rights movement of the ’50s and ’60s to today has always been the tool of the 1 percent.
Alleen Brown and John Knefel, writing in The FBI Tried to Use the #MeToo Moment to Pressure an Environmental Activist Into Becoming an Informant for The Intercept, detail one such example:
Julie Henry was jogging when she got the call from the FBI. She didn’t recognize the number, which had a Washington state area code, but she answered anyway. The FBI agent identified herself as Kera O’Reilly, and said that Henry wasn’t in any trouble. O’Reilly was there to help.
The phone call, which Henry received on February 22, 2018, brought her back to an internal conflict that she thought she’d finished wrestling with two years earlier. O’Reilly wanted to talk to Henry about her online account of sexual assault, which was strange if you consider that the offense is a crime over which federal agents rarely have jurisdiction. But it made perfect sense considering the person she wanted to discuss: Rod Coronado.
Agent Kera O’Reilly couldn’t care less about Henry. She had a more important agenda and Henry was the wedge. Brown and Knefel explain:
“We’re in the throes of the #MeToo moment,” O’Reilly told Henry, and that had inspired her to reach out. Henry hung up as quickly as possible, sharing nothing. But O’Reilly promised she’d call back.
“My loyalty always has to be with the movement, because the FBI could do so much damage,” Henry told The Intercept. She had no interest in assisting the agency in investigating activists, but she worried that ignoring O’Reilly’s questions about sexual assault could risk endangering other women. “Something was going to happen either way, and I felt, and still feel, completely responsible,” she said. “Whether it’s nothing that happens and he continues to hurt people, I feel responsible for that.”
After O’Reilly left a voice message a few days later, Henry called her back, despite the risks. “I know this is dangerous without having a lawyer. But I have to do this for me,” Henry recalls thinking. “I wanted to ask her why.”
O’Reilly repeated many of the same things she had said before, but one thing stuck in Henry’s head. “‘I understand, it may be hard to talk about the details; we can talk about other things,’” Henry recalls the FBI agent telling her. “And every time she said that I was like, that’s what she really wants.”
After she hung up, Henry Googled O’Reilly. She found a Seattle Times story describing O’Reilly’s years at the bureau, and her previous job as a counselor for sex offenders. But what really caught Henry’s eye was a report in The Stranger, a Seattle newspaper, that described how O’Reilly and two other FBI agents had visited six climate activists in July 2013 and asked “about opposition to tar sands development and brought photographs, hoping the activists would identify the people in them.”
“This has nothing to do with me,” Henry realized. “She wants to get to everyone.”
Not everyone, just the people who threaten the billionaire class. The entirety of Brown’s and Knefel’s piece is instructive.
*24, Blue Bloods and Hawaii Five-0 are a few recent examples that I point to for their gratuitous display of unconstitutional extrajudicial abuses, including torture, that make a mockery of our legal system.








