PAT SHANNAN'S MUSINGS

Pat Shannan's  MUSINGS


Introduction Pat Shannan's Musings

In 1995, freelance writer Pat Shannan became a regular contributor to Media Bypass magazine. In 1998, publisher Jim Thomas hired him on as "Journalist-at-Large," whose duties were to include getting the story from the "inside." Shannan's first assignment was to cover the search for accused abortion clinic bomber Eric Rudolph in the Great Smoky Mountains of western North Carolina. That story appeared, along with Shannan's first Musings column -- "The Evolution From Quiet Desperation" -- in the October, 1998 issue.

In Janurary, 2002 Paul Hall and Chris Temple purchased Media Bypass magazine and, having to make many tough editorial decisions, immediately opted to keep Shannan on board along with his popular Musings column. "Pat has become a Media Bypass icon; his work is very important to the on-going education of America ... the last thing I want to do is cut his column" writes managing editor Hall. So the "Musings" continue into the next century offering readers insights and controversial contemplations only the likes of Pat Shannan could seek out and pen. We re-print the current Musings column -- Frank Conner - Revisor of the Revisionists -- here on the intro page and follow it with all the others in reverse chronological order.


MUSINGS - June '03

The Rest Of The Story

This is the story of two men. Although they never met, they knew each other well. One enjoyed national prominence as a news commentator. The other gained national notoriety through distorted news comments. One advertised Buick automobiles, and only for that reason, the other has pledged never to drive one as long as he lives.

Imagine: the dead body of your wife of twenty years is wrapped in a blanket under the kitchen table with half of her head removed by a .308 slug. The body of your 14-year-old son - with its heart blown out - lies on the dirt floor in a side house, zippered through the back with automatic weapon fire. You have sustained only a flesh wound in the shoulder, but your best friend writhes on the floor near death with shrapnel in his chest. Armed snipers with orders to shoot on sight surround your house. These terrorists are the most fearsome of all - the kind that wear badges and can kill with impunity. You hover on the floor of your cabin with your three young daughters and fear for your life and theirs.

Such was the situation confronting Randy Weaver on August 22, 1992.

The federal invaders had amassed by the hundreds in full combat regalia with tanks, helicopters, ATVs, and immense firepower the day after a U. S. Marshal was killed in the skirmish that also killed 14-year-old Sammy Weaver. They surrounded the Weaver home in the mountains of northern Idaho and were carrying out orders to shoot on sight. And while the FBI officials would later deny it, this order evidently included women and children. The Weavers believed that if they were not systematically picked off one-by-one, their home would be burned to the ground with them in it, and their deaths would be blamed on "a government-hating father who torched his house and murdered his own children rather than knuckle-under to federal authority."

The violent federal action against the Branch Davidians religious sect outside of Waco, Texas only eight months later would prove that the family's fears this day were not farfetched.

Over the next 10 days, the Weaver family and their wounded friend, Kevin Harris, resisted all overtures by their oppressors to carry on any negotiations. They simply were too terrified to even discuss it. FBI HRT leader Dick Rogers was quoted as saying "Vickie Weaver was targeted because she had been profiled as the maternal head of the family, who would kill the children before allowing them to surrender."

Midway through this siege, the FBI officials learned that Randy liked to listen to Paul Harvey's news report every day at noon. So they asked the national spokesman to appeal to Randy on his August 27th noon commentary, and he did.

At noon, Randy and the others heard Paul over the airwaves urge him to come out and that he, Paul Harvey personally, would see to it that Randy got effective counsel for his defense. "Please, Randall," begged Paul, "Please surrender today so all this bloodshed will cease," and Randy remembers smirking and thinking to himself, As if I am the one doing the shooting! To attempt to surrender would be certain suicide, he believed, and did nothing.

The next day the FBI officials had a new ploy, and again they enlisted Paul Harvey's aid in carrying it out. For several days they had wanted to carry on a dialogue with Randy, but from inside their armored tank, they could not make out the muffled verbal responses emitting from the sealed cabin. A remote-controlled robot was brought to the scene and motored to the cabin's front door. There was a telephone attached.

"Randall Weaver, pick up the phone," instructed the voice over the megaphone from the tank, but no response came forth. A little while later, the family listened again to Paul Harvey's noon broadcast, and the commentator again appealed to the family.

Following another short diatribe insisting that only Randy could stop the carnage, Paul urged again, "Pick up the phone, Randall! Please pick up the phone so they can talk to you."

But when Randy peeked out to closely observe the robot, he was appalled to see the extended barrel of a shotgun under the phone, ready to blast anyone who stood in front of it. The phone was positioned so one could not lift it without jeopardizing himself in front of the shotgun.

Randy never believed that Paul Harvey was part of a plot to kill him but a convenient dupe who was unwittingly helping the FBI do exactly that. "And if he is that naïve," says Randy Weaver today, "then he is too dumb to know anything about cars, too, so I will never own a Buick."

And now you know. . . . . . the rest of the story. Good day.


Home | About Author | Books | Print Order Form |