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If questioned, the veterinarian who treated my Norwegian Elkhound Storm, and just about everyone else who has knowledge of what happened to him, will undoubtedly maintain that his death was accidental.

Here, however, is the description of that event given by my former wife and her attorney in Paragraph 4a of her divorce complaint, New Jersey Superior Court Docket Number M-19503-90, dated March 23, 1990:

The problems with the marriage began in or about the fall of 1987, when the party's dog, Storm, was injured in the back yard. Plaintiff took him to the vet for what appeared to be a minor cut, however, he had a hole in his lung cavity and, unfortunately, died. Defendant believed that someone either knifed the dog or got him from across the street. Because Plaintiff signed the papers to have the dog cremated, in his mind she became part of the criminal conspiracy.

Note, please, that the statement does not deny the existence of a criminal conspiracy.

How, I would like to ask, does a dog go about puncturing his own lung? There were no gardening tools or farm equipment exposed in our back yard. There was nothing against which an animal might run, piercing his chest to the lung. The wound was about 1 1/2 inches long, nearly horizontal, such as might have been made by a hunting knife or a bayonet. Res ipsa loquitur.

Abraham Lincoln once asked a debate opponent "If you call a tail a leg, how many legs does a donkey have? Five? No, just four. Calling a tail a leg doesn't make it one."

My dog was stabbed. Call this act of boldfaced terrorism whatever you choose, but it is what it obviously is. Cowardice and corruption can obscure reality, but they can never change it.

My letter of March 24, 1987 to the New York State Special Prosecutor (nearly six months before my dog's death) contained the following:

I don't want to make this letter unreasonably long. My rough notes contain many details and names that may or may not be pertinent. Let me state bluntly that I fear the possibility of a physical assault (probably a knife attack) sometime between now and July. If this comes to pass, it will probably be carried out either by Pablo or by a black man whose name I do not know. The person behind the planned assault is a woman.

Writing about the night of September 29, 1987 is difficult, but necessary.

The last time I saw my dog Storm was just after the stabbing on September 9, when my wife put him into the car and rushed him to the veterinarian's office. She left him there, and the doctor told her he would call to report his status. The first call told us that Storm was in "dire straits." The second informed us that our dog had died.

That night, however, began the assault of "Marlin Fitzwater's Private Purgatories" that continues to this day. Diabolical equipment supplemented my normally acute hearing, causing me to hear "voices" beyond my normal range (see the document that John St. Clair Akwei submitted in support of his lawsuit against the National Security Agency). The vicious individuals using this technology led me to believe that my dog was still alive and was subjected to torture. As noted in earlier messages, other dogs in my town were, in fact, tortured that autumn in a "Mafia operation" involving my employers and their associates.

On September 29, I heard two disgusting male voices coming from the area of 97 Homes Park Avenue (in the Iselin section of Woodbridge, NJ) apparently planning to torture and set fire to a dog, then "plead insanity." I telephoned the Woodbridge Police Department at around 10:40 PM and asked for Lieutenant Sexton, with whom I had spoken earlier in the month. He was not in when I called. The officer who answered said to call back later. I left a message for Lt. Sexton that the dog whose head was crushed was probably not Storm, that Storm was still alive, but in great danger.

The two men continued to talk. One said "We'll open him up and ..." At one point, there was the sound of a dog crying in pain, followed by laughter from the two men.

I called the police again about 11:15. While I was on the phone, I heard the urgent slamming of car doors as at least two vehicles drove off together from a part of Homes Park Avenue south of my house (possibly the area of 97 Homes Park). Lt. Sexton was still not in. I left a message that I believed my dog was in extreme and imminent danger of being tortured to death.

A few minutes after that call, I heard a terrible sound coming from the area of Washington Avenue and Chain O' Hills Road, about a block from my home. It was the unmistakable sound of a dog in mortal agony. I'm sure that others in the neighborhood heard it as well. Some, in fact, may have reported fire and smoke. My niece's husband, who lived directly across the street from me, emerged from his house, entered his car and drove off (it was not his custom to go anywhere at that hour). For about the next half hour, there was the repeated sound of sirens. I heard a neighbor's voice say "They found the dog ... burned."

Shortly before midnight, my nephew returned, emerged from his car, and stood for a moment in his driveway looking toward 97 Homes Park Avenue. I saw him clearly, and clearly heard him say "Bastard!" before he turned to enter his house. He and my niece have never been willing to tell me what they know about these events.

Although the United States has adopted novel "understandings" that conveniently exclude such terrorism from the definition of mental torture, Europeans should recognize this horror for what it is. This is the America you all admire so much, for whose sake and at whose command you are willing to violate international law. This isn't a country -- it's hell!