After which, Cooper claimed to have been upgraded to have been given the security classification of “Top Secret, Q, Sensitive Compartmentalized Information with access authorized on a strict need-to-know basis.” (Q clearance is issued by the Department of Energy.) Cooper claimed that the same day he received that classification, he saw records proving the Navy and Secret Service had assassinated President John F. He would go on to serve two tours in Vietnam.

His superiors, he would later write, told him to never speak of it again. Cooped claims to have seen a massive, disc-shaped UFO emerging from the ocean and submerging again. In his own accounting of his life, Cooper’s formative moment came when he was serving in the Navy, aboard the submarine USS Tiru. These are the palpable sounds of the end of the world.įor eight years, that’s how William Cooper began his radio program.Ĭooper’s name is largely forgotten these days, but he stands as one of the most influential shortwave radio broadcasters and conspiracy theorists in modern America. People are screaming, jackboots hit the ground. A deep baritone voice punches through the anxiety-inducing wall of sound: “Lights out on the hour, it is the hour of the time.” Dogs are barking. In the process, he would wind up building up a whole new conspiracy empire.Īn air raid siren sounds. Jones had another reason for being in Waco: He was leading a charge to rebuild the Branch Davidian compound from the ground-up. And when it comes time, you people are going to be brought to punishment,” Jones says, thrusting a finger towards the reporter.

“A revolution of peaceful information is coming. The reporter nods, smirking, as Jones lays into him. “You’ve got a big problem, buddy.”Īs Jones gets closer to the man in front of the camera-a reporter for CBS-the lower-third of the screen offers a helpful, if misleading, title for the journalist: “FBI AGENT.” Jones marches up to them and starts getting into it: “I’m sick and tired of hearing your lies, when you machine-gunned a bunch of men, women, and children,” he’s screaming. The camera pans over to another film crew. The shaky camera cuts to Jones making a beeline across the field, with more wreckage in the background. Jones, who was until recently a marginal and out-of-work radio host in Austin, was visiting the former site of the compound, just outside of Waco, Texas to shoot a documentary for his fledgling online media network.įrom behind black sunglasses, he nods to the industrial carnage: “They always destroy the evidence and don’t let locals in to document anything.

Alex modern warfare