Sunday, March 31, 2013

On a recent episode of the History channel series 'America Unearthed' forensic geologist Scott Wolter examined  famous explorer Meriwether Lewis's Masonic Apron and discovered that the blood stains on the apron were not Lewis's and in fact belonged to two or more other individuals. This is a shocking discovery that validates claims made in mine and co-author Paul Schrag's 2011 book The Suppressed history of America. Below is the episode that  alters the accepted history related to the untimely murder of an iconic American hero. For more proof that Lewis was murdered also watch the episode of Brad Meltzer's Decoded 'Secret Presidential codes' Here. Also included in this Blog post are some sample excerpts from our Book. Lets hope this exciting new forensic discovery made by Scott Wolter brings enough awareness so that the Tennessee Governor is forced to exhume and properly re-examine Lewis's bones with the latest cutting edge technology available. 
I think Lewis deserves it! 






Today we can appreciate the far-reaching magnitude of Lewis and
Clark’s journey to the West. But at the time, Jefferson’s goal to find a river route that linked with the Pacific had failed. His assumption that it would take Americans a hundred generations to settle the West was also wrong. Lewis and Clark opened the floodgates, and after the discovery of gold, the hordes were unleashed. The prairies turned in to farms, the buffalo were hunted to extinction, the Native Americans were killed, and the survivors were rounded up and placed on reservations. The white man’s diseases would eventually decimate the populations
of the Mandan, Arikaras, and Hidatsa, the hospitable tribes whose
friendliness and helpfulness were so crucial to Lewis and Clark and the Corps of Discovery.





The explorers managed an extraordinary feat by surviving the sixthousand-mile excursion. The ramifications of this journey would prove to be monumental. The West they traveled would never be the same. After resting and recuperating in St. Louis for several months, Lewis departed for Washington in the winter of 1807. Little did he know that the political atmosphere brewing in the heart of D.C. would prove to be deadlier than any of the experiences he faced during the expedition. It is no secret that most of the founders were in the frequent company of Freemasons. Although he never claimed to be one, Jefferson visited Masonic temples and had high-ranking Masonic friends such as
Benjamin Franklin. Jefferson used this access to acquire the knowledge he felt was going to be used against the founders by usurpers who were gearing up for a war.

Both Lewis and Clark were masons as well. In fact Lewis was a Master Master known for achieving high rank among American Masons in almost record time. Lewis was elected to the Door of Virtue Lodge in January 1797 and had climbed the ranks to Past Master Mason within three months. By 1799 he had attained status of Royal Arch Mason in Widow’s Son Lodge at Milton, Virginia. Shortly thereafter Lewis had been chosen by Jefferson to be his private secretary. In September of 1808, after being named governor of Louisiana Territory, Lewis helped establish the first Masonic lodge in St. Louis and was named Master of St. Louis Lodge, Number 111. During his time as governor Lewis was active in the lodge and shared duties with his most bitter rival, Frederick Bates, who was a close associate of famed traitor General James Wilkinson. When Lewis left St. Louis on his fateful, final journey, he handed over his Master’s role to Bates, who later signed William Clark’s Masonic diploma, presumably after Clark was
encouraged to join the Masons by Lewis. 

Today the so-called Illuminati have become darlings of pop culture. But it wasn’t long ago that the mere mention of the words Illuminati or New World Order was enough to squash a prominent career or, even worse, get a person killed. The danger was even worse in the days of Meriwether Lewis, when the Illuminati’s infiltration into the very heart of the country was establishing very strong roots. George Washington, the first president of the United States, was personally indebted to the Rothschilds, who were instrumental in helping him obtain his position as a land surveyor. George Washington did not oppose the foreign influence of the Illuminati, but he wrote cautionary letters about them. One of these letters, dated October 24, 1798, says:

It was not my intention to doubt that the doctrines of the Illuminati
and the principles of Jacobinism had not spread in the United
States. On the contrary, no one is more satisfied of this fact than I
am. The idea I meant to convey, was, that I did not believe that the
lodges of Freemasons in this country had, as societies, endeavored to propagate the diabolical tenets of the first, or pernicious principles of the latter. That individuals of them may have done it, or that the founder or instruments employed to have found the democratic societies in the United States may have had this object and actually had a separation of the people from their government in view, is too evident to be questioned.


This secret battle continued at the universities as well. On July 4,
1812, Joseph Willard, then president of Harvard University, delivered a speech in Lancaster, New Hampshire, explaining:

There is sufficient evidence that a number of societies, of the
Illuminati, have been established in this land of Gospel light and
civil liberty, which were first organized from the grand society, in
France. They are doubtless secretly striving to undermine all our
ancient institutions, civil and sacred. These societies are closely
leagued with those of the same Order, in Europe; they have all the
same object in view. The enemies of all order are seeking our ruin.
Should infidelity generally prevail, our independence would fall of
course. Our republican government would be annihilated.


Alexander Hamilton served as secretary of the Treasury under
George Washington during 1789–1795 and learned a great deal about the banking system. This knowledge helped him form the FederalistParty, primarily made up of bankers who advocated a strong central government. Naturally the Anti-Federalists favored states’ rights and remained true to the original ideas fought for by the founders. Because Hamilton was a founder himself his perceived betrayal was an even greater offense. 

Jefferson was conscious of this and had anticipated an eventual showdown with Hamilton. Before Jefferson was able to develop a strategy to handle Hamilton, the wheels of destruction began turning. The infamous House of Rothschild had its sights set on America. While the war was on the verge of being lost, Washington borrowed from fellow founder Alexander Hamilton. Hamilton was acting as a Rothschild agent, and this one shrewd move essentially won the war for the bankers. When the war was over the colonies were granted independence, but with Hamilton’s sly maneuvering the House of Rothschild already had its proverbial foot in the door. After the Revolutionary War there was a huge debt to be paid, and Hamilton wasted no time in setting up the First Bank of the United States in 1791, shortly after Benjamin Franklin’s death. This bank was privately owned and secretly belonged to the Rothschild consortium.






Benjamin Franklin understood the dangers of a privately owned central bank controlling the issue of the nation’s currency.
Jefferson disagreed with Hamilton strongly about a national bank,
believing it would acquire too much power over the government. He said at the time that he considered a private bank issuing public currency and the creation of perpetual national debt to be more of a threat to America than any army. Jefferson faced a tremendous challenge in keeping America safe from Hamilton. Hamilton wanted to install an American king and even created the concept of “implied powers,” which was a clause used to cover any governmental action not enumerated in the Constitution.

Through his own Federalist Party, Hamilton had infiltrated all branches of the government and gained a near monopoly of the judicial system. Dedicated to achieving a simple goal, Hamilton wanted to increase the federal government’s power over the states. This was never a popular idea, as the voters said “No” time and time again. Even though Hamilton suffered electoral defeat after defeat, he wasn’t discouraged and knew the original plans were being carried out clandestinely. As Jefferson paced the grounds of the White House, he knew he was surrounded on all sides by dark forces. However successful Hamilton was in gaining access to and control over America’s newly formed government, it wouldn’t last long enough for him to enjoy it. Aaron Burr killed Hamilton in what may be the most famous duel in American history.


With the death of Hamilton, Jefferson had one less enemy to worry about. But Hamilton’s death caused mass commotion and hysteria as Burr, Jefferson’s disgraced vice president, went on the lam.
Less well known as an agent for the British central banking advocates was Nicholas Biddle. 

Biddle was a brilliant lawyer, publisher, financier, and at the vanguard of American efforts to establish a central banking system. Biddle was every bit as responsible as Hamilton for founding the First Bank of the United States. When the First Bank’s charter expired, it was revived and led by Biddle until Andrew Jackson vetoed its charter, leading to its implosion in 1843. Jackson believed that the future of America was in jeopardy thanks to the influence of foreign banking interests such as the Rothschilds. While all of this was going on, news began to circulate in the colonial streets that the seemingly crazed General James Wilkinson was gearing up for an invasion of Mexico. The triumphs of Lewis and Clark quickly faded from public consciousness as news of Wilkinson’s plans spread.

Wilkinson’s right-hand man was another chief troublemaker for
President Jefferson. Probably the most feared man in the territory, John Smith T. was an aggressive land swindler looking to acquire all the lead mines he came across. He was reputed to have killed fifteen men in duels and always carried four pistols, a Bowie knife, and a rifle. He could provide the remaining lead needed for Wilkinson’s invasion of Mexico, but before they could make the move Jefferson removed Wilkinson from his gubernatorial duties.
Wilkinson was furious over his demotion when, after the capture of Aaron Burr, fingers began pointing in Wilkinson’s direction as a coconspirator. Wilkinson’s removal, and the government’s subsequent clampdown on the mines, left the Louisiana territories in a chaotic state. Crime and corruption were everywhere, and the whole area needed to be cleaned out.

This was the obstacle facing Lewis as he prepared to succeed
Wilkinson as the new governor of Louisiana. But Lewis was idealistic and optimistic and reportedly looked forward to taking out the trash corrupting the Louisiana territory. Strangely, Lewis then fell silent for an extended period, much to the dismay of Jefferson and others who awaited the publication of his journals. 

Various theories have emerged regarding the delay, including
that Lewis was given time to recuperate by Jefferson; that he was actively searching for a wife; and that he fell victim to alcoholism, disease, or some other debilitation. Scholars generally concede that a clear answer to what happened to Lewis during this time is unlikely to ever emerge. This mysterious delay also resulted in scores of volumes of the journals going missing. Gary Moulton, professor and editor of one volume of the published journals of Lewis and Clark, suggests that throughout the years growing evidence indicates that much of what Lewis and Clark wrote about the westward journey was lost. Over the years, numerous documents of the expedition have come to light, some in the most unexpected places. . . . These discoveries seem to support the notion of other lost items yet to be found. No hope of discovery ranks so high as the hope of finding Meriwether Lewis’s diaries, which would fill the large gaps in his writing during and about the expedition. What those journal entries contained, and what truths they may have revealed about the fate of their author, remains a mystery. The other strange anomaly that has come to light are the mysterious gaps in Lewis’s journals, which are extensive and have vexed scholars for two centuries. Curiously, Lewis’s diaries are not included among the works compiled to create the tale of Lewis and Clark’s great journey. During a time when the journals were being compiled and prepared for publishing, correspondence between Jefferson, Clark, and one of the first editors of the corps’ collective journals, Nicholas Biddle, mention no concern about Lewis’s missing diaries. It is important to note that at this time that Biddle was not yet embroiled in efforts to revive America’s central banking system but was likely already in bed with the Rothschilds and the Federalists. 

Despite a preponderance of missing documents, stories of the corps began circulating in 1806 via newspapers, word of mouth, and government documents, including Jefferson’s first report to Congress of the journey. In 1808, with the help of schoolteacher David M’Keehan, the journals of Patrick Gass were published amid public and private protest by Lewis. Biddle was the first to publish an authorized, official account of the journals kept by Lewis and Clark, albeit a paraphrased narrative and not an edited reprinting of the journals. Biddle was chosen by Clark and several advisors to take on the task that Clark conceded he was not literate enough to complete. At the time Biddle was a young Philadelphia lawyer, editor, and publisher and was considered to be qualified to take on the massive project. At first Biddle refused the job offered to him by Clark but was later convinced by one of Lewis’s mentors, botanist Benjamin Smith Barton, to accept the assignment.

With the help of Clark, Biddle began work on the project in 1810,
supplementing the collective, remaining journals of the corps with 
to-face interviews with Clark, who provided a wealth of additional material from memory during interviews conducted in Fincastle, Virginia. Biddle then returned to Philadelphia to complete the project. In June 1811 Biddle finished the manuscript but delayed publishing the work because the chosen publishing house, Conrad, had recently gone bankrupt. Biddle shopped the manuscript around but eventually passed the project off to one of his cohorts at the Port Folio magazine, Paul Allen. At the time Biddle said he was overwhelmed by duties in the Pennsylvania state legislature, at Port Folio, and in his own law practice. 

In 1814 the two-volume History Of The Expedition Under The Command Of Captains Lewis And Clark, To The Sources Of The Missouri, Thence Across The Rocky Mountains And Down The River Columbia To The Pacific Ocean. Performed During The Years 1804–5–6. By order of the Government Of The United States was published.




Strangely, Biddle’s name did not appear on the book, which bore the byline “prepared for the press by Paul Allen, Esquire.” Scholars generally consider this edition the first published work to provide a reliable account of the travels of the Corps of Discovery and refer to it as the “Biddle/Allen edition.” It is generally accepted that Biddle took some literary liberties with the story, including a number of omissions regarding some of Lewis’s checkered history, such as his six court martials while serving in the military, and a generalized effort to craft the narrative into a rousing frontier tale. 

In April of 1818 Biddle claimed to have returned all the journals except Ordway’s to agents of the American Philosophical Society. Ordway’s journal was considered to have been rich with narrative about the daily exploits of the Corps, including strange details such as their encounters with legendary Welsh natives. Since then a number of journals and papers have appeared that indicate Biddle and others may have kept, lost, or miscataloged a number of the original journals given to them to edit.


In June 2009, two centuries after his mysterious death, collateral descendants of Meriwether Lewis launched a website as part of a campaign to exhume and examine the explorer’s remains. The announced goal was simple: use modern forensic techniques to determine once and for all whether Lewis died by his own hand, or by someone else’s. Lewis’s family has worked for more than a decade to secure from the federal National Park Service permission for the exhumation and proper reburial. The campaign encourages concerned Americans to write letters to the secretary of the U.S. Department of the Interior, which oversees the National Park Service, which controls the land in Tennessee where Lewis is buried. 

Lewis’s family began to bang loudly a drum that has been beating consistently since Lewis’s mysterious death at an inn along the historic Natchez Trace roadway. This renewed interest in Lewis’s true fate has caused substantial uproar among historians, government officials, academics, and armchair experts as they review a patchwork collection of documents, reports, and various pieces of evidence. All continue to draw a variety of conclusions based on that same evidence. Some say Lewis committed suicide, succumbing to a lifelong battle with depression, bipolar
disorder, alcoholism, malaria, syphilis, or some combination thereof. Others are certain bandits murdered him, and yet others are equally certain that he was murdered as part of an assassination plot carried out by high-ranking officials of the burgeoning U.S. government. If one thing is clear, it is that Lewis’s death has come to represent a growing distrust of American history as presented and popularized. 

Lewis was just thirty-two years old when he returned from the landmark exploration. The celebrations following the adventurers’ return masked the fact that Lewis had returned to an America rife with political turmoil. Upon returning, Lewis and Clark did not waste time in traveling east to debrief President Thomas Jefferson. The explorers were welcomed as heroes wherever they went and spent weeks touring, testifying, and receiving royal treatment. Following a string of celebrations and official inquiries Jefferson rewarded the explorers’ accomplishments with instant appointment to high political office. As we know, Lewis was named governor of the tumultuous Upper Louisiana Territory. Clark was appointed brigadier general of the militia and superintendent of Indian Affairs for the same region, serving alongside Frederick Bates, who was named secretary of the Upper Louisiana Territory to serve under Lewis. Clark and Bates quickly left for St. Louis to begin their work. Lewis, in turn, left to wrap up some business in Philadelphia, where he intended to publish volumes and volumes of journals recorded by the Corps of Discovery during their journey. Lewis searched for a publisher and began looking for artists to illustrate the compiled works. The journals and field notes remained in St. Louis, waiting for Lewis to arrive and prepare them for publication. 

Official records of Lewis’s life during the next four months are sparse. A letter from Lewis to old friend Mahlon Dickerson suggests that Lewis spent time celebrating and socializing during his stay in Philadelphia and that he may have sparked a romance and proposed marriage to a woman he met there. Lewis later returned to Virginia and made a round of official visits while hosted by President Jefferson at the White House. He also visited with his mother, Lucy Lewis Marks. Details of his time in Virginia end there. Some scholars speculate that he attended the treason trial of Aaron Burr in Richmond, Virginia, at Jefferson’s request.


On March 8, 1807—a full year after he was awarded the position Lewis arrived in St. Louis to begin his appointed duties as governor of Upper Louisiana. His mysterious absence has never been satisfactorily explained. A letter from Jefferson sent during the interim suggests that he was frustrated and concerned about Lewis’s absence. The letter, dated July 17, 1807, reads, “Since I parted with you from Albemarle in Sep. last [1806] I have never had a line from you nor I believe has the Secretary of War with which you have much connection through the Indian department.” 

Expressing concern about publication of the expedition
journals, he wrote, “We have no tidings yet of the forwardness of
your printer. I hope the first part will not be delayed much longer.” Lewis is reported to have taken on his duties as governor with
enthusiasm, but he struggled to manage the chaotic political circumstances he had inherited. Secretary Bates is characterized as having it in for Lewis, who he considered a political rival and perhaps usurper of his rightful role as governor of the Louisiana Territory, and is said to have worked hard to undermine Lewis’s efforts as governor. Bates may also have harbored some resentment toward Lewis. Years earlier Bates had applied to become Jefferson’s private secretary, but Lewis was chosen in
his stead. Meanwhile when James Madison became president in 1809 Jefferson’s cabinet was replaced, and Lewis’s great ally was no longer able to lend presidential support. 

Madison’s appointed secretary of war, William Eustis, complicated efforts in Louisiana by refusing to pay expense vouchers. Lewis is said to have paid government expenses from his own pocket, spiraling downward into severe financial trouble. In the fall of 1809, Lewis made a special trip to Washington to settle his disputes with the War Department and to revive efforts to publish his journals. Lewis left St. Louis by boat on September 4, 1809, with plans to travel the Mississippi to New Orleans and then travel by sea to Washington, D.C. Reports from Fort Pickering commander Captain Gilbert Russell suggest that Lewis’s health and mental stability were deteriorating. After he arrived at Fort Pickering, near Memphis, Tennessee, Russell relayed that members of the boat crew reported that Lewis had twice attempted to kill himself. Russell was allegedly so alarmed at Lewis’s condition that he refused to let him leave until his health improved. 

During that time Lewis decided to travel to Washington by land. (Lewis said he changed his plans because he was afraid his expedition journals would fall into the hands of the British at sea.) His plan was to leave Fort Pickering for the Natchez Trace, a rough road that stretched 450 miles from Natchez, Mississippi, to Nashville, Tennessee. From there Lewis could take the road to Washington, D.C. While Lewis continued his compulsory recovery at Fort Pickering, Major James Neelly, agent to the Chickasaw Nation and a close ally of Wilkinson, arrived and agreed to travel with Lewis. By then Lewis’s health was reported to have improved enough for him to travel. Lewis left Fort Pickering with Neelly and two servants. One of them, John Pernier, was Lewis’s personal servant. The other, an unnamed black man, was Neelly’s travel companion.

Shortly after an optimistic departure Neelly reported that Lewis’s
health had begun to deteriorate. The party rested at the Chickasaw
Indian agency and then continued on toward Nashville on the morning of October 10. Neelly stayed behind to look for some horses that had strayed while Lewis and the others went on ahead. That evening, Lewis’s party arrived at Grinder’s Stand, a roadside inn about seventy miles southeast of Nashville. Lewis and his travel companions checked in with the intention of waiting for Neelly. Early the next morning, on October 11, Meriwether Lewis died in his room from two gunshot wounds and what appeared to be a series of knife wounds.





Immediate details of the discovery of Lewis’s body and the circumstances surrounding his death are largely contained in a single letter from Neelly. His letter to Thomas Jefferson, and subsequent letters sent by friends and associates of Lewis, all seem to have been based on the accounts of Mrs. Grinder, at whose house Lewis stayed. 

Those accounts, due to the pace of communication, situational complications, and the remoteness of the site of Lewis’s demise, were collected and delivered to government officials, including Jefferson, during a period of several years. The first and most immediate report came from Neelly who, appointed to his position as agent to the Chickasaw Nation by Wilkinson, was suspiciously absent during Lewis’s deadly ordeal and was not an eyewitness. Three months after Lewis’s death and Neely’s report, Fort Pickering Captain Gilbert Russell, another Wilkinson appointee, wrote two letters to former president Thomas Jefferson, providing further details of Lewis’s death. Russell’s descriptions of Lewis’s health when he arrived at Fort Pickering, along with other descriptions of the explorer’s overall health, became the foundation for assertions that Lewis committed suicide. 

Author and historian Eldon G. Chuinard, who calls Lewis his hero,
calls into question the allegation that Lewis was deranged at the time, inferring that Russell had concocted the story. He notes a letter written by Lewis on September 22, 1809—just two weeks before his death—to Amos Stoddard, commandant of Upper Louisiana. The letter, says Chuinard, appears to be written by a very lucid Lewis. The entire letter is a lucid, coherent statement written when he was supposed to have mental derangement while coming down the Mississippi and during his first days at Fort Pickering. . . . Also in the letter he says, “You will direct me at the City of Washington until the last of December, after which I expect I shall be on my return to St. Louis.” This does not sound like a “mentally depressed” person. A return to his duties in St. Louis was clearly on his mind—not suicide. Historical investigator Kira Gale goes even further to discredit Russell’s reports, speculating that they were forgeries produced by Wilkinson. 

The assertion that Russell’s letters were forged was confirmed
by handwriting experts during a coroner’s inquest conducted
in 1996. Gale suggests that these were the very letters that convinced both William Clark and Thomas Jefferson that their friend had committed suicide. But most likely, these letters were forgeries created by General Wilkinson to mislead Clark. Clark thought the letters were written by Captain Gilbert Russell, the commander of Fort Pickering (today’s Memphis, Tennessee), where Lewis spent two weeks in September. Lewis died under mysterious circumstances on the Natchez Trace on October 11, 1809 after leaving Fort Pickering. Clark wrote to his brother Jonathan Clark on November 26, 1809 with news of Lewis’s suicide attempts and mental derangement—information contained
in the letters Clark had received, supposedly written by Captain
Russell. These letters from Russell have never been found, so the
handwriting cannot be analyzed. However, we have two authentic
letters written by Captain Russell to President Thomas Jefferson in
January, 1810. These letters to the President provided a wealth of
detail, but they contain no report of prior suicide attempts while en
route to the fort, no report of 15 days in a state of mental derangement while Lewis was at the fort, and no report of a second will written at the fort. All things Captain Russell would surely have reported to the President if they were true.


Despite the implausibility of the reported circumstances, and the
knowledge that the first reports came from Neelly and Russell—both allies of Lewis’s sworn enemy Wilkinson—it appears that those were the very details upon which Lewis’s three closest friends, Thomas Jefferson, William Clark, and Mahlon Dickerson, accepted the notion that he had committed suicide.
In a letter to his brother Jonathan, William Clark wrote, “I fear O!
I fear the weight of his mind has overcome him.”

Dickerson mourned Lewis’s death in his diary and did not question
the explanation of suicide:

While he lived with me in Washington, I observed at times sensible depressions of mind. . . . During his western expedition the constant exertion which that required of all the faculties of body & mind, suspended these distressing affections; but after his establishment in St. Louis in sedentary occupations they returned upon him with redoubled vigor, and began seriously to alarm his friends. He was in a paroxym of one of these when his affairs rendered it necessary for him to go to Washington.

From those few statements and conclusions derive countless books,
official reports, biographies, and dissertations that conclude unquestioningly and uncritically that Lewis, an expert marksman and roadhardened explorer, had sloppily committed suicide by shooting himself in the back of the head and chest, and then cutting himself from head to toe with razors. All was done presumably to protect him from enemies that Gilbert and others assert were figments of Lewis’s deranged imagination. Lewis was buried hastily along with details of his death and the definitive truth of his killer. In 1848, nearly forty years after Lewis’s demise, the state of Tennessee began an effort to erect a monument at his gravesite. His remains were located, verified, and then reburied. 

A monument was erected at the site to honor Lewis and his contributions. The monument was made of rough-cut stone at the base, topped with a 12-foot column of Tennessee marble, deliberately broken at the top. The committee report states, “The design is simple, but it is intended to express the difficulties, successes and violent termination of a life which was
marked by bold enterprise, by manly courage and devoted patriotism.” What’s far more intriguing, however, is the unsolicited questioning of reports about Lewis’s death contained in a “Report of the Lewis Monumental Committee,” presented to the legislature of 1849–50. It reads, “The impression has long prevailed that under the influence of disease of body and mind—of hopes based upon long and valuable services—not merely deferred, but wholly disappointed—Governor
Lewis perished by his own hands,” the report reads. “It seems to be
more probable that he died by the hands of an assassin.”

Tennessee lawyer James D. Park devoted a great deal of time to investigating the cold case of the death of Lewis and delivered his finding in a September 1891 issue of the Nashville American, echoing the sentiment expressed in the report by the Lewis Monumental Committee. Park claimed, in what amounted to a legal brief arguing that Lewis was murdered, that no one in the vicinity of Lewis’s murder was ever convinced that Lewis committed suicide. He wrote, “It has always been the
firm belief of the people of this region that Governor Lewis was murdered and robbed. The oldest citizens now living remember the rumor current at the time as to the murder, and it seems no thought of suicide ever obtained footing here.”



These Theories of murder have finally been proven true and with a proper exhuming of Lewis's body we will have more answers to this 200 year old cold case.





6 comments:

  1. I got off on listening to your excellent presentation of Clark and the other things you brought up on the Jeff Rense Show. After reading this it confirms what I knew earlier. You are a very fine historian and will go far.

    Ryan

    ReplyDelete
  2. Ya had me until the stupid crap about illuminati. ..then it went wrong.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Illuminati has been around a long time. ..do your homework.

    Great article!

    ReplyDelete