What do Jonbennet, Chandra & Laci have in common? The Gary Condits!


Wednesday, July 30, 2014

Re: Cold Case Lyric Collins and Elizabeth Cook Subject: My having seen the two about November of 2012 in Wyoming hitchhiking and having reported it to no avail.

Rick A Hyatt

548 15th #402
Rawlins, WY 82301

Dear Sirs,
Re: Cold Case Lyric Collins and Elizabeth Cook
To: Various
Subject: My having seen the two about November of 2012 in Wyoming hitchhiking and having reported it to no avail.

I will attempt here to recreate what I saw and did in retrospect and in detail. I am certain I herein provide information that would lead to the perpetrator(s) involved.
I was a truck driver then working for BCN and hauling gravel from Baggs, west on I-80, and north on Wamsutter Road. I since got snagged up in a DUI, mainly because I was whistleblowing on unsafe and illegal conditions of some trucking companies, so was out of the loop for some time. Hence, only now do I have the wherewithal to follow up.
At the Wamsutter turn-off, there is a nice truck stop called Love’s. Since I was hauling a double trailer of gravel, and they had taken homage to truck drivers pulling over on the road, there was no way I could stop when I saw two girls on the southeast corner holding a small cardboard sign. I would not have been able to give them a ride, anyway, as I was headed north up into the oilfield desert, and it is not allowed anyway.
Still, the scene seemed very out of place: The two turned and half-way pointed the sign to me in a wistful way, but not as if they were in danger, or anything. I could only make out that the older one, who held the sign, had written it in pen, and that alone made me wonder.
Why not something more readable, like a magic marker? They couldn’t afford one? The staff wouldn’t loan them one? I later thought perhaps they didn’t have time to wait in the usual long lines.
Then I noticed their clothing, for it was starting to get cold here in Wyoming, with some snow that had melted somewhat. They were dressed way too lightly to be hitchhiking nor be camping or homeless, and the clothes too clean.
It was so out of place that I decided that I would try to memorize the image, as the truck bounced too much to try and note such anomaly in my log, as I usually do.
I first scrutinized, as quickly as I could in motion, the taller one to the right holding the sign. She had brunette hair with bangs almost to the shoulder. She was wearing yellow and white (I reported all this in greater detail to the tip lines later, but don’t remember so much now), unusual colors, and I think now it was the lightweight slacks that were yellow.
But what stood out about here was her glasses, something I would have called in my younger days, “Horn-rimmed glasses.” Her head being rather round, the oversized black rimmed glasses made her reminiscent of an owl, frankly.
To the left was the shorter blond girl, whose hair was longer, also ending in bangs. She wore a beige kind of sweater with a brown band around the middle. When I went to scrutinize her more closely, she immediately, turned her head down and away. I quickly saw why and looked away myself out of politeness. She had an oversized forehead, and was probably self-conscious of it, I thought at the time.
I wondered what they must be doing, and looked for handbags or backpacks, but saw only – I think it was – a larger handbag made of the same material perhaps as the sweater on the ground.
For me to have stopped at the truck stop would have meant going around and trying to find a spot for my double-trailer, etc., and by that time, I thought, someone would surely pick them up anyway. Love’s has just that, friendly people.
But it just didn’t fit, so rationalized that if the older one perhaps had just gotten her license, lived in Rawlins (50 mile) and had run out of gas. Perhaps trying to get a ride back to get Daddy and get same. It was not until later that I found out the oldest was only 10.
I was in a rush, anyway, as my employer was trying to get me to drive overtime, which I would not do. So I had to rush to get in two loads, and this was my first. Therefore, picking up gravel at Baggs right at sunrise would have made it somewhere around 9 or 10 o’clock, I think.
Some time later, perhaps a week or so, I was hauling another load and about 25 miles up as I later calculated it, I slowed at the top of a blind hill, as the road narrowed with an abutment to the right, and it be a blind spot over the ridge. Especially with the long, enormous dust cloud that my rig generated, often blinding oncoming traffic.
And slowed even more, seeing a small pickup parked in the westerly most ditch on the side of the road. It had rained, so the grader’s work had come to naught, as it was flat, and now dry. But I slowed, thinking that a local person might be stuck, or perhaps an oil boss was parked like that to signal his trucks into a site. There were a few tanks off to the West and an entry road just before.
But they don’t usually use their personal vehicles, which this clearly was, so again, I noted it. I did not want to be like others who “Dusted out” the locals without any compulsion about it.
There was a 20’s – 30 year old man in the driver’s seat with black hair and a stubbly kind of new beard.
He had his right arm stretched out on the bench seat of this smaller, brown, I believe, 70’s vintage but in excellent shape (Not a ding nor scratch, nor cracked windshield, to be seen – VERY unusual for off-road Wyoming, let alone the area.) His left arm he had crooked out the open window, apparently not caring that he was about to be dusted out. As much as I slowed, the wind was blowing west.
His demeanor was unreal. It was as if, and I describe it this way: As if not only the World was about to end, but the entire Universe as well. I’ve never seen anything like it until I download Dan Morrisey’s photo later on. And even then, that look was not as strong as that day. He ignored me.
Instead, he put his right hand on the dashboard for something, and looked down, mouthing something. I’d tried waving to him and to make eye contact, but I thought he was, instead, cussing me out. Yet he did not roll up his window, as any local resident would have. So I slowed further and looked down and in as I passed.
Not known to many 4-wheelers, big rig drivers can see a lot from their vantage point, and I thought I must. Just as I passed, a round head with black hair and bangs with the aforementioned “Owl” glasses looked up from his groin area. My first thought – Please forgive me – Was that I’d seen the same (older?) girl at the truck stop and so that she must have been servicing the guy. Hence, parked on the side of the road where there was a view, but no other reason I could think of.
But, in retrospect, I now wonder if her seeming casualness with the man was because it was her father, and she was napping until awoken.
Perhaps, I think now, to point me out to ask if I “Was the one?” As in having scrutinized them so well at the truck stop, perhaps. They were the only two in the truck.
In that area, and a few miles further, I believe, is the turn-off for Jeffery City, and one of the few “Official” BLM signs that designate a camping spot with water, like a marina. As an outdoorsman, I had often wondered what it must be like, and if it had trout. But the distance alone meant there would be no way for me to ever see and certainly not with my own truck, nor the rig.
But as I passed, I looked at the license plate, for such can often give clue as to the owner. Local county resident, out-of-state, etc. I think I saw a trace of red and white only for there was enough fine dust on the bumper to be as if one had taken cups of it to cover same up. The front license plate had also not ben visible. But this all put into my mind the hauling of a light-weight pop-up trailer for camping, for I have done that. Of course, on BLM land in Wyoming, one can camp where one wishes pretty much, but one would want at least some greenery, like trees, and water. They definitely weren’t hunting (Notice my previous error typo by spellchecker, “Hiking.” It was past the time of year for antler finding.)
But one would, in any event, end up going down to the only place pretty much in miles to reprovision for real ice, food, gas, even showers, like Love’s. It’s very cosmopolitan, and nothing else pretty much in Wamsutter, which is miles from everywhere.
So in retrospect, I wonder if the two tried to get away while he was in line or in the shower or something.
Being an internet junkie, I often read up on news and such. I happened upon an Amber Alert, which I usually don’t read, but it caught my attention. I first did more reading to see if it could be that two.
I called in the tip line at that point. And when I saw more on the big screen at Mike’s Bar and Grill in Rawlins, I was very sure. So much so that I twice made a point of telling the woman bartender and even a few of the kitchen staff about it.
I told “Jodi” and another BCN driver that I’d scored on the Amber Alert, but they didn’t seem interested, so I didn’t say much more. Jodi also owns “Jesse’s Place,” a motel, when he doesn’t drive.
Since everything I’d read rang true to the sightings, I called not only the two hot lines at least, but the Evansdale Police, and followed up with a voicemail to the Sweetwater Sheriff’s Office. They share an office with the HP in Wamsutter, and I thought that would be the quickest.
I’ve received some strange looks from folks, like one employee from Love’s since, but no one else has contacted me. I finally got a news alert that they had been found dead back in Iowa.
And in reading about that, I find that it is glossed over, for it is stated that the Police want to lure someone out with details. Therefore, I’m not sure what the truth can be in the final disposition.
I can only assume that the finding of them dead at another lake other than where their bikes were found is true – And thereby, my observations above. I know I saw them, I just don’t know why the father would have brought them to Wyoming, and then taken such interest in my sighting of them. Unless that made him change whatever plans had had at the time.
Having downloaded Dan Morrisey’s photo, it is much more slim – Like I saw – than on video. His black, stick-out stubble hair and beard are the same. The photo reminded me of his buck teeth, which are reminiscent of “Meth teeth.” The body size, etc., fit. But one can see beyond the shadow of doubt, a certain “The Universe is going to end” look only somewhat replaced by some sense of gratitude, even at such a long Meth sentence, and certainly no grief nor mourning appears to be extant.
One could speculate, and this is my best. I could only point out a few things you probably already are aware of: That little brown pickup came from Suburbia, not from around here. If they weren’t situated in the general area, and wanted to spock me out, why not do it closer to the highway and town? How’d he know to stay on the main road, and not branch off to other sites? Did he ask someone about the big white BCN trailer/trucks? Any further out beyond the turnoff to Jeffery City and he would have REALLY stood out in the broad open, and where traffic goes fast. What did that mean to him that I’d noticed them? The Amber Alert?
In other words, I must think that whatever the girls knew or had witnessed in Iowa, he could NOT allow same to be known to his sentencing Court, at least. I surmise that perhaps he may have hunted for antelope the general area, and/or knows someone in the area, like Rawlins. Perhaps he borrowed the truck and/or even a camper. If he was staying at a farmhouse, the same. There is absolutely NO other reason to be in this desolate area – At a time an Amber Alert was out on the two and he was overdue, it was said, for some Court appearance. Except to hide out for a period. What was he waiting for?
I have suggested that oil field drivers, especially drivers and the oilfield bosses, who patrol the area, be asked if such rings a bell. There is B&M, Haystacks, Basic, Hayland, and others in Rawlins and Wamsutter. There are the oil companies, and even several owner-operators who would have traveled the road at the time. The Baggs gravel pit would know who. The “Desert Bar” and Love’s, of course, might validate these sightings.
(Note: 1/18/14: I just day before yesterday went to Mike's Bar & Grill and verified with an employee there that I'd discussed the matter with him in detail as described above at the time.Well, the authorities screwed up then by not contacting me, so is it a cover-up that they don't contact me now?  Or was I incarcerated and held for SIX MONTHS INCOMMUNICADO because of THIS matter?  There's a reward for this - Why would they hold that back? Or is it simply because I'm a "Birther" who REALLY KNOWS TOO MUCH?)  Cold case of Lyric Collins and Elizabeth Cook

Friday, July 11, 2014

Obama has given up on his dreams of Communizing America through his Presidency

Pretty obvious, isn't it?  Since June, it's reported, Obama has given up on even trying to be President.  His hair has turned gray, and his eyes black.  His "Wife" is openly called a "Tranny," and he, "Gay."  He's given up, and doesn't even try to pretend.
I personally believe that a Federal Court, long unknowingly holding his birth certificate among other sealed records, has opened them and found Barrack Obama's real father as listed upon it.
None other than former East German STASI Gen. Markus Wolf, this immediately presents not only  a constitutional crisis for SCOTUS, but a major political one, as well.
Not just the "Foreign parent" thing, but also:
Just how are the American People going to react to the fact that a foreign high-ranking Commie Intel Officer managed to place his personally  bred Manchurian Candidate son into the White House as the "Perfect Alternative (Black, gay, Commie, Muslim, etc.) President?"
Well, with the help of the CIA, of course, specifically former CIA Dir. GHWB, who turned Wolf in 1977.
I know, I was there, in Duesseldorf, Germany, when it happened.
But for the sake of this discourse, please note how Obama's false documents, especially his Connecticut-based  SSN, became seen as flawed and deliberately but tactfully marked after that year, 1977.
To pick a Connecticut SSN from a dead guy at a looney-toon institution seems non-nonchalant on the surface, suspicious otherwise, and yet professionally spiked to be found eventually, as was planned. Gen. Wolf, remember, was a MASTER of false document creation and very knowledgeable about American paperwork.
He had more power in the US Army than some American Generals, I had learned.
He had me be adopted twice, just like Obama, for that far removed him legally and paperwork wise from being on my birth certificate as father.
If I remember correctly, that same federal court should have an original copy of mine, as well.  I remember SS Agent Brian Larkin being rather perplexed as he presented the two to HI Judge Komo in 1994, when he asked for some other things, as well.
20 years pretty much exactly that I had to go to ground with the secrets, 20 years for Obama to be counter-run by the CIA, 20 years for the enemy to think they had us lock, stock, and barrel...
Well, time's up!
Look at Obama's continence, and you can read how his Communist indoctrination is shattered completely, as he knows what the reception of the American People will be when they find out just why he tried so hard to hide the secret of who his father truly is:
Even worse for him is in that, since no one is dumb enough to go for the "Impeachment" angle (Except for Sarah Palin, and there's reason for that... A DNA test would tell you... Remember it's reported the CIA has Obama's DNA, according to Lord Blair?) everything 0bama's signed, appointed, indebted, ordered, ad infinatum will be NULL AND VOID.
Once he's declared ineligible by SCOTUS.  And there had to be some reason that they've suddenly pulled their collective (Yeah, the commie word) heads out of their under-robes - SINCE JUNE!