Forty four years…


If you go back in these blogs you will see that occasionally I post phrases or numbers that are for me to decipher. I am meant to piece this thing together like a puzzle and very often the pieces are odd and so irregular that one might feign indifference as an antidote for complete befuddlement. While these pieces and patterns reflect superficial to most, if I am clever enough to decipher—they hold microcosms of information. Such was the case many blogs ago when I wrote about the following segment of a session I had with R:

“…You will find the answers. The number ________ is significant and the trail will lead to MOT.
2x’s he repeated– the trail will lead to MOT…”

Charley said I would find the answers to the two of those. He predicted that the trail would lead to MOT and it has. It was amazing how many combinations of words I went through and how many hours of detoured research I logged on my laptop before I figured out the true meaning of these two things. I generated lists of words that fit within the genre of my research that began with M. Then I produced an abbreviated list of the words I knew to be bridge; of, on over, only, official, officer… and so on. Then I spent equal amounts of time concentrating on the T of the equation. First considering words like; title, tax, truth, trust, target. When the combinations of all three letters became incongruent to my line of thinking I made them nouns like people, places and things. Nouns including such words as; mafia, Tampa, of and so forth. Early on I worried about the connection from “bug tickets” (AKA- bolitas) and the alleged money transfers via airplane from Valdosta to Tampa. It was clear that enough illegal money was being made in Valdosta back then to have Las Vegas dismantled and moved to Georgia one casino at a time and for all I know there may still be a grain of truth to that plausibility. So you can see my caution about a having to dig deeper into a possible association between the historic Sicilian numbers racket and what was happening back in 1966 with Bossman and his local racket.

You can also see how that would give the letters MOT a whole different meaning and I don’t think you need as vivid an imagination as mine to figure out that that would have been a very frightening proposal to dig into real time! But what I deciphered this week while walking through a parking lot and passing over the word SLOW painted in yellow on wet asphalt is an even more frightening proposal.

If you take the word SLOW and invert it… the first three letters mimic somewhat close to MOT—only the T is actually an L and so you only get half the effect. But my mind works in mysterious ways and so it became not a matter of an inverted L leaving me with half of what a T might look like; it became about why I would have made the association to MOT in the first place. That’s when you take a leap of faith and know that others are at the helm and you just go with whatever impressions are trying to enter your mind. The more I concentrated on the inverted word ‘SLOW”, the more I began to rummage through the catalog of other more recent clues and the bells started going off in my head.

The language barrier between Charley and I finally broke free. I could think now in his cryptic anagrams; navigate his shorthand of information. It was remarkable how once I let go of my thought process and embraced his, it opened up my mind. The awkward association between SLOW and MOT got me thinking about letters presented perhaps in other angles. Letters became not just words- but phrases, numbers became addresses and dates. Suddenly as I pulled out of the parking lot it hit me. The clock rolled over to 11:11 and I instantly knew without doubt what MOT meant. It was almost a religious moment followed by an unending stream of, “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God…” And even though I once was compelled to think that MOT stood for “Moment of Truth” as the actual words; it seemed such an infantile assumption. It did in deed mean the moment of truth for all involved, but not in the fashion you would assume. It was just one more clue leading to one more clue. Do not be foolish enough to think that I think would share this with you now, for MOT stands for something even more clandestine than you might think.

Within seconds of that epiphany, the numbers I had been given made perfect sense. Other clues that hung in the back of my mind- came crashing back into the forefront–baiting me to decipher them. My ‘ah-ha’ moment that R said I would have whenever I was on the right track to something suddenly became a series of ‘oh s____ moments’ that lasted the entire afternoon and into the evening. The minute I figured out the language, several other things began to make sense. Every tid bit of information that had evaded me before or that I had deciphered but had no definitive segue to use as bridge to something else became a roadmap to what Charley had been trying to lead me to since the very beginning. Things that now the proper persons in appropriate places have been made well aware of too and they are as amazed as I as we plug the holes left by forty four years of lies and evasion.

Again with the numbers.
Charley died at 44 years of age.
It has been 44 years since his death.
I have been on this job for 44 weeks.
I know about the MOT and now I am right behind you!

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