The Relocation Program
So it’s come to this.
I have spent my whole adult life seeking out the truth. The truth is a frightening thing, and is not easily obtained. I had hoped with my life’s work to change that – to make the truth available to all in one fell swoop of revelation. I see now that I was naïve. Very well. I have my contingencies.
The following is being post in r/NoSleep as a last resort. I urge you to be open to the contents herein. If published through other channels now, this information would be suppressed. Here, at least, it has a chance to survive in some form. Perform a radical act today – Try to Believe.
FILE: THE RELOCATION PROGRAM (1)
CORRESPONDENCE: From: Jeffrey R. Tebow To: REDACTED (ManFromTaured)
June 8th, 2009
Dear REDACTED (ManFromTaured),
Well that is a name that I have not heard in quite a long time. Quite a long time. Also before I begin I want to let you know that you're only getting a reply at all because in your first letter you seemed to already know so much. Then when you mentioned Penny I had to give you square odds that you might actually be serious. I've since called Penny at the contact info you provided and she's vouched for your "expertise", as she put it at least. She's really the only reason you're getting this letter at all, son. A little professional advice one investigator to another: in my years of snooping I always found the direct approach to be a little bit too much for most people. It closes mouths and minds. While I appreciate that you're "trying to be as up front as possible" about your motives, maybe in the future you want to try being a little more subtle?
Brass tacks. Miller Loughton. I was first approached by his widow in 1966. I say "widow" because at the time that's all she was as far as I was concerned. Now as you know most of my work like all PI's has always been odd jobs tossed my way by lawyers and law firms - I was a businessman after all and I had to eat. But every now and then a jilted lover or a jealous wife would look me up in the book and come right to my door like I'm some pulp novel dick. Generally I'd turn them down or talk them out of whatever damn fool plan they were hatching, catching cheaters in bed with their side women and that kind of thing. Penny was different. She was desperate, that was clear, and still in love with Miller to be sure. But she didn't seem half-cocked and hair-brained like most others of her stripe. She genuinely struck me as being more than anything else confused.
She approached me to find her husband which I told her was all well and good but generally if a man disappears either he don't want to be found or there's somebody, somewhere doesn't want you to find him. Makes jobs like that hard. Penny though, she told me that she knew where he was, which was a new one on me. See, she didn't so much want me to find him as to confirm that she had found him. That was a second check mark in her favor to make this a job I'd actually consider. Seemed easy enough and she was willing to pay a flat rate for specific results - namely fingerprint ID on the individual, her husband, Miller. Everything was adding up and I figured I'd get a couple meals out of the paycheck until she dropped the bomb. Miller had gone missing in 1953. That's thirteen damn years he'd been gone.
I dug deeper, asked more questions and come to find out, as you know, that Penny had found her husband completely on a fluke. Her brother Ernest stopped in at a bar in Tallahassee, Florida, and there he was. Spitting image of Miller Loughton. He and Miller had known each other fairly well, fishing trips together and the like. When Ernest had spoken to the man behind the bar (Miller was tending) he'd shown no recognition. Still the resemblance was such that Ernest phoned Penny and eventually Penny had found me. She had her little ones, the eldest Miller's own boy, she had that bun in her oven when Miller first vanished, and a new little girl resulting from her recent re-marriage and so she couldn't run off and follow up herself. So she saved up her pocket money and hired me. That's the back story, and you probably know all that already from Penny.
Tallahassee was about a two hour drive. I had a free day a couple days after she hired me so I told her things would be short work. She'd given me a picture of Miller so I knew who to be on the lookout for and sure enough the moment I stepped into that bar there he was. And I tell you this, 13 years or no 13 years that man didn't look to have aged a day from the man in that picture.
I played it pretty cool and this is where I want you to pay the most attention friend, as you might learn a little something. I went to the bar and ordered myself a tap beer. I watched this Miller look-alike pour it and noted that he grabbed the pint glass firm around the center just like I hoped he would. After I paid the man I made sure only to touch the top inch of the glass myself and I drained it quick to avoid condensation. It's a good trick if you can get the guy you're after to make you a drink. I left about an inch of beer in the glass to nurse, and I struck up a conversation with this man waiting for a good moment to drop the glass into a paper sack I had with me and take it on home.
He said his name was Cy, for Cyril, Belquist. Asking him general questions about the town and such I found out that according to him he'd lived in Tallahassee all his life. He had a wife, a small child and he'd served in Korea. Honestly by the end of the conversation I was convinced that what Ernest had found here was a genuine doppleganger and not Miller but a Miller lookalike. The man didn't even have the right accent as I'd been told Miller was all Georgia, through and through. Well Cy Belquist sure wasn't.
And that is really all that I have to add to Penny's story. I played only a small role and you know the rest. I managed to get that pint glass in the paper bag, dusted the prints and sure enough Cy Belquist and Miller Loughton had the exact same fingerprints. I let Penny know that and only that, leaving out the new family the man had and the other oddities and it was up to her on what to do next. Personally I think she did the right thing to let sleeping dogs lie. I would suggest that you do the same, son. Trust me on this. I know.
From an old investigator to one that’s whatever age you might be, I’m sure it’s younger than me, know when to pick your battles, son. This whole thing is long old and dead. I'm amazed Penny is even still with us. Hell I'm amazed daily that I keep waking up myself. I suggest you forget about this and live your own life. I hope this all helps you realize that way is for the best.
Yours,
J. Tebow
CORRESPONDENCE: From: Craig Loughton To: REDACTED (ManFromTaured)
Aug. 13th, 2009
Dear Sir,
It is my understanding that you recently had been in correspondence with my mother, Patricia (Penny) Wernhauer. She spoke very highly of you and said that you were the first man she'd talked to in decades to have any sympathy about her story regarding my father, Miller Loughton. For that - making her feel something positive before the end - I wish to express my thanks.
I regret to have to bear the news that my mother has passed away. She had a long life, and if it wasn't always happy I think it was fulfilling for her. I think the specter of my father did haunt her through the years, though, right up to the day that she left us. And it is for that reason, more than any other, I am writing you at the address I found in her papers.
I've read your letters to my mother and I must say that I'm very curious about them. She would tell me stories about my father - they were high school sweethearts and knew each other for years despite the fact that he disappeared when they were only 19. You probably know all of that already, though, what am I thinking? I assume she told you everything in her side of your correspondence (sorry - I'm getting sidetracked. This is not an easy time for me...). The stories she would tell me, though, were all from before he was gone. This always seemed to make sense to me, as how could there have been any stories of him AFTER he was missing? But... your letters and other events seem to indicate there was more to be said about him that I have not heard.
I was with my mother at the end. She told me many things as I held her hand at her bedside. One of them was that I should contact you, let you know what had happened, and to pass you one very specific message: She said that "They don't know who you are yet". She repeated that several times, and seemed... almost amused by it? Maybe satisfied is a better word.
And, with that message passed along, my duty to my mother regarding the relationship you and she had is finished. That was all. However, as the son of Miller Loughton, I feel that I have the right to know more about what you and my mother were discussing, and what happened to my father. I've lived my life alternately thinking that something horrible and out of his control happened to him, then swinging back to thinking that he just couldn't take being a father and he abandoned my mother and I. If there is any chance that you can offer up any closure for me on this subject, please, please respond to this message and let me know what you know, what you might've found. Your letters contain certain other details I may be able to follow up on, and I will if need be, but it seems like it will be much simpler just going to the source.
Please help me understand my family, Mr. REDACTED. Anything you can offer is appreciated.
Sincerely Craig Loughton
CORRESPONDENCE: From: Jeffrey R. Tebow To: REDACTED (ManFromTaured)
Deember 5th, 2009
REDACTED,
This is the last you're going to be hearing from me son and I hope to Hell that I never hear from you again. In fact let me just say it straight out to you: DO NOT CONTACT ME FURTHER. I am an old man dammit and I want to be left alone to end my days in peace.
Penny's boy Craig found me. I wouldn't tell him nothing in response to his letters so the boy came to my home. My HOME sir. I don't appreciate this situation and these intrusions on my privacy. This all happened more than 50 years ago for the love of God. You stirred it all up and now I'm living it all again and I DO NOT WANT IT. My bad dreams are bad enough. No man alive needs to live such dreams out in the day.
You leave me alone. You leave him alone. You let this lie you understand? It's quits. The dead are dead, including Penny now God rest her, and it's best we leave them that way.
Again DO NOT CONTACT ME.
Finally,
J. Tebow
CORRESPONDENCE: From: Craig Loughton To: REDACTED (ManFromTaured)
March 2nd, 2010
Dear REDACTED,
I've finally decided that I'll answer your last few attempts to reach me. I understand now why when you first replied to me you said that it was best for me to not get involved. My mother had said much the same thing, though I thought that she was trying to protect my feelings more than anything else. Recent events and my meetings with Mr. Tebow have convinced me there was more to your and my mother's warnings now. Probably too late. But as that is the case, I guess I just wanted to reach back out to the only other person who actually WANTS to be involved in all this.
My wife has left me. She's taken the last child we still have living at home and gone back to live with her father up North. I've lost my job, I'm going to lose my home soon. My father, it seems, is determined to take everything from me from beyond the grave. Though, who really knows? For all we know he's still alive. Jesus, this is all just insane.
It took a couple of attempts, but I got Mr. Tebow to tell me what he wouldn't tell you or my mother (though I suspect she knew - whether he told her or she found out some other way). He refused to write it down, and he refused let me record him, so all I really have is my own memory to go on. But it's not like it's a story one can easily forget, especially not when it's about your own father. Whatever the case - if you wanted to know, here it is.
Mr. Tebow said you'd been sending multiple letters to him asking about his trips to Tallahassee back in the 60's. He admitted to me that he would go to that city a few times a month from 1966 to sometime in 1968. He explained that he'd found my father working in a bar there going by the name Cy Belquist, but his fingerprints proved it was my dad. He explained about my mother and uncle and how it all started. But after the job was over his curious nature just got the best of him, and he had to try and see if he could figure out just what it is that makes a man reinvent himself like my father had seemed to. To save you the suspense, he never really did.
Mr. Tebow got to know "Cy Belquist" by drinking at the bar where he worked behind the counter. He'd just go in to have a few drinks every now and then, until he got to be something of a regular. He played it out as him being a salesman of some kind, doing a route that took him through Tallahassee at irregular intervals. He got to be such a regular fixture he could start asking personal questions.
"Cy Belquist" confided in Mr. Tebow that he'd been wounded in the head in Korea, which is of course impossible. My father disappeared in October of 1953 and that war ended in the summer of that year. Still, Mr. Tebow said that the man had even shown him all the scars he had under his hair. He speculated that "Cy" might've been in a car accident or something, had amnesia like in some kind of soap opera, but the scars were so hard to see under his hair that it all just a guess, there was no real telling what caused them.
Anyway, "Cy" had gone through a recovery process, and he'd met a nice young nurse who he'd married. She was a widow and had a little boy exactly my age, which I certainly found odd. By 1966 "Cy" and Mona Belquist had been married for over 10 years. By all accounts, the couple had a completely normal life. They moved to Tallahassee from Atlanta, where he'd been in recovery and she had worked, specifically because "Cy" said that was where he was from, and he could even tell stories about his younger days in that city. That doesn't make any sense, of course. But it makes more sense than the rest of this story, God help me.
The only thing that ever struck Mr. Tebow as odd about my father's alter ego before things took a turn later on were the dreams. He said that "Cy" would occasionally talk about how working nights gave him trouble sleeping and that played with his head and he would have these crazy dreams when he could finally go under, about doctors wearing these kind of floppy helmets with tubes coming out them - looking like old time divers, was the way he put it - shining lights in his eyes. Sometimes there was a woman, too - a young pregnant woman crying and calling for someone, though he could never quite make out her words. He told Mr. Tebow he'd wake up screaming and drenched in sweat when the dreams came to him, and he'd scare his wife half to death every time, even if she was out in their yard.
Mr. Tebow got in the habit of going to Tallahassee and had almost forgotten the original reason why he'd started doing so, until sometime in '68 when things took that turn I mentioned. One night Mr. Tebow, fresh off some big money job he'd done, got a little over zealous with his drinking and flat out asked "Cy" if he'd ever heard of Miller Loughton. My father got real quiet, but he said that the name did sound familiar, and he asked Mr. Tebow about him. Mr. Tebow told him everything he knew - my mother, me, the disappearance, everything except that "Cy Belquist" WAS Miller Loughton. Mr. Tebow noted - and he seemed to think this was really significant, though I can't see why, maybe you can - that an old drunk that was always at the end of the bar got up and walked out after this conversation happened. Mr. Tebow said that was the last time he ever saw that man.
"Cy" got a little strange after that night. He had been an affable - that was the word Tebow used - person for nearly two years, but on each visit now he seemed more sullen, subdued and lost in his own thoughts. Mr. Tebow wasn't sure if he was always like that day in and out, or if it was only when he showed up to the bar that "Cy" got that way. Either way, the old drunk, as I said, never came back, but starting on his next visit two new regulars were at the bar every night he was. They were pretty nondescript for the time - black suits and skinny ties, crew cuts. They could've been anyone, but Mr. Tebow noticed them before they ever did anything because, he said, they never did ANYTHING. They just sat in the bar at a table. Sometimes they didn't even have drinks, and they never talked - to each other or anyone else. Even remembering them made Mr. Tebow feel uncomfortable, I could tell. He started pacing around his room at this point, flicking back the blinds and checking out the windows and all sorts of agitated things while he told me the story.
He tells me then that it wasn't too long before the whole thing went sideways from there. Mr. Tebow showed up as usual one night, but "Cy" was even more pensive than he had been before. After a little while he took Mr. Tebow aside to the end of the bar to talk. He told him that he'd been thinking more about the name Miller Loughton, and he'd been having even stranger dreams than he was used to since Mr. Tebow brought it up. That was when it happened.
The two new regulars were quietly shooing people out of the bar when Mr. Tebow next looked up. It wasn't a busy night, so they had the place half cleared by the time he'd noticed. "Cy" seemed upset, but when he asked them just what they thought they were doing, they said that they were "friends of some of your old acquaintances, Mr. BELQUIST", putting a creepy emphasis on the name. And... that was basically the whole thing.
Mr. Tebow says that the next thing he remembers is being in a car with the two men. They were back in REDACTED CITY, and approaching his apartment building. He said he felt like he was in a dream on that ride, which is funny - you'll see why in a moment. The men told him that everything was under control now, and to just let it go when they let him out at his place. Which is what he did. That is, until his bad dreams started. Dreams with the same kind of men in old time looking "diver's suits" my father mentioned and my mother - it was specifically now my mother in these dreams - crying somewhere in the room with him. Worst of all, he said she always had a teenage boy with her in those dreams. I guess that's me. Christ.
Mr. Tebow said that, through the years, he'd occasionally see men who looked just like those two strange men sometimes. The first time he saw them was on his next trip to Tallahassee - a year after the incident. He found out that the bar had burned down - burned down the very same night he and my father had been rousted out of the place. The newspapers had speculated about the owner's mob connections as a cause, because investigators had determined it was definitely arson. As he was leaving the library where he did his research, he saw the men. He saw them again when he started trying to dig back into the names Miller Loughton and Cy Belquist a little later. They didn't look friendly, he said, and he'd come home one day after a sighting to find his cat had managed to hang itself from a doorknob on a clothesline that he swore hadn't been left hanging there. I thought he sounded crazy when he told me all this this past fall. I was so wrong.
Like I said, I've lost everything at this point. I feel like I'm being purposefully isolated by some outside force. Maybe my life really has just turned to shit, though, and I'm falling back on paranoia to justify why everything is going wrong. I just don't know. But at this point I'm almost glad my family has gone away. I don't want them to have to deal with whatever is coming next.
I guess I blame myself. I've been trying to look into things on my own. I'm looking out the window as I write this, and I just watched a white panel van pull out of a spot across the street, only to be replaced by a blue panel van of the same make and model not a minute later. Sometimes I feel like people are following me in my car, or even when I'm doing something as mundane as shopping for food. Before my wife left, our house was broken into on multiple occasions, but nothing was ever stolen. Is it all connected, Mr. REDACTED? I have no idea... I feel so lost...
One final thought, since I know you're looking for answers just as I am, though god only knows why you're doing so. I found some old pictures of hazmat suits from the 60's and I took them back to Mr. Tebow - this was the last time I managed to see him. He was less than pleased to see me and wouldn't say anything. But he looked truly terrified when I showed them to him. I don't think I'll ever be seeing him again. I'm going to continue doing my own research - I've already lost everything that means anything to me, so why not, right? Nothing more to lose...
I don't even know how to end this... I guess just wish me luck.
Sincerely,
Craig Loughton
CLIPPINGS: Albany Herald (Albany, GA), December 27th, 2009
Obituary: Jeffrey Ronald Tebow Born Jan 3rd, 1940 Died Dec 25th, 2009
Jeffrey R. Tebow was taken from us by his own hand on Christmas Morning. We can only speculate on what could have haunted him so for his nearly 70 years to bring him to commit such a mad act and end his own life. Jeffrey leaves behind one beloved child, Mattie Tebow-Parker, 46, of Macon. He is remembered by his fellow residents of Century Retirement Home as a quiet, dignified man. May his secrets follow with him to where ever he has gone.
(Upon investigation, this obit was submitted anonymously, paid for by a local money order)
CLIPPINGS: Atlanta Journal Constitution, Atlanta, GA - April 10th, 2010
Headline: Gunman Shot Dead at CDC Headquarters
The CDC was shaken today by an individual attempting to force entry into the facility while armed with a handgun. Craig Miller Loughton of Atlanta was shot dead at the scene.
Miller was a known unstable individual, having a recent arrest record for drunk and disorderly as well as breaking and entering. This is in contrast to the Craig Loughton known by his many friends and estranged family, who are all surprised and horrified over his mad act.
"He changed over the last year, certainly," said his wife Beverly Loughton, who was in the midst of seeking a divorce with her husband. "He seemed like a whole different person. But he was always so gentle - I can't believe he'd do such a thing."
Miller (sic) Loughton approached the CDC facility at around 7AM on Wednesday morning. Security personnel watched him approach their outer checkpoint on foot and expected to turn him away, as is not unusual with transients. When confronted, however, Mr. Loughton produced a large caliber pistol and shouted threats at security personnel, who were also armed. Clearly threatened, they opened fire and the suspect died on the scene before emergency services had arrived.
Said Cornell Mosby, head of the security detail: "Obviously, we're horrified by what's happened. The employees involved in this tragedy have been given leave time and will be supported with counselling. The assailant was clearly not well, and evidently thought that the officers knew who he was and why he was there. Now I guess we'll never get to know what drove him to such a mad act."
CORRESPONDENCE: From: "DARREN BELQUIST" To: REDACTED (ManFromTaured)
June 6th, 2013
Sir,
Do not contact me again, ever. I don't know what kind of game you are playing, but I've never heard of any Miller Loughton, or Craig Miller, or any of these people. I don't think you're well, I think you need help. You've upset me so much I can't sleep without having nightmares. Please, please leave me and my family alone. I may not have much time left according to my doctors, and the last thing I need are more bad dreams. LEAVE US ALONE!
D.B. --------------------------------- END ---------------------------------
More will come as I can release it.
For friends listening, seek the Truth in The Book of the Damned
209/41 670/333 . 658/16 473/125 143/77 340/32 309/111 . 666/290 476/120
Posted Apr 10, 2017, 11:04 AM UTC