by Maddox Herring Read by Kirk Barbera
"An essential text for anyone who seeks to understand the United States Social Democracy from the years 2022-2034."
-Christopher Billings, The Afternoon Telegraph
"In this historical labor of research, the Jefferson Group has rescued the voices of the untold number of young boys from the grave."
- Robert Spindler, The Soloist
"He has mastered this distressing material and convincingly tells the terrifying truth about the U.S.S.D terror."
-Greg Thick, The Caller
After seven years of official requests and hundreds of meetings, we have received the case files on those young men killed during the periodic purges of 2022-34, The Lost Boys. Their stories have been stifled, their cases buried for over fifty years. Now they will be heard.
My intent with these cases is personal as well as patriotic. My father was accused of raping my mother 40 years ago. More than that are the millions of fatherless babies along with me. It is for all of us who were guardians to one another that I resurrect our slaughtered fathers.
The world has shattered in the seven years since we started on this quest. We hope the most recent thaw of 2080 will be a true and permanent dissolution to the former United States Socialist Democracy. Yet, now we are faced with an even more daunting task than toppling an empire, we must build a new one. Building a new empire will require entering the hellish maw of the U.S.S.D. Nothing is more terrifying than the bureaucratic red tape infecting all areas of life, the remnants of which exist to this day. When we read of falling prey to the “grinding wheels of the N.D.I.G,” it sounds like literary license. It is not. We must reconcile ourselves with our own past. The key to our present can only be found there. These case studies, which have not seen light in fifty years will expose our own follies. These atrocities happened here, not in some distant land. We must face the beast. She is us.
Many of the cases we will be releasing are of young boys who indeed did father children whom they never met. There are countless others accused and condemned who did not father children. They deserve our sympathy as much as any father. We will never know how many future scientists, architects, explorers, doctors, writers, thinkers who may have perished during those times.
My involvement in this work came about by pure will and intense action on the part of the Jefferson Group. Though I have acted as head writer during this project, it could not have been accomplished without the tens of thousands of us who bound together and reopened these case files. Nothing is more American than the community group.
The idea for this work was inspired on my son’s 18th birthday. I saw he was a better more stable man than I’ll ever be and I could not but wonder how my own life would have differed with a father. My goal with this post would be to warn my son of the consequences of not crying foul soon enough. Too few men and women said anything during these cases. I look at my son and my skin crawls to think that he is the age my father was when he was accused, charged and executed within a span of three weeks.
My grandmother never knew the actual date of her son's death. There are thousands of mothers in the same position to this day. My father, like so many others, were imprisoned and charged at Guantanamo without anyone witnessing it. All part of the U.S.S.D’s new justice reforms. We intend to reveal all the information we can corroborate in order to provide what belated closure we can.
It is an historical irony that it would be the sweeping reforms of the Socialist Democrats that finally outlawed abortion and contraception. They accused men of creating these procedures as an unnatural method of controlling women. It is doubly ironic that the waves of births that occurred from these reforms would one day overthrow the U.S.S.D and reinstitute a Jeffersonian Constitution.
This first case—Case 1836924—was one of the first files we procured. His name is Bill Fent. He is our current President’s father. And he was one of the early purges under the new executive decree.
During this seven year enquest to acquire these cases we all faced many obstacles. Though the end of the U.S.S.D was near, we could not know this for certain at the time. Many previous writers and investigators had perished in the past during a supposed thaw.
Almost from the beginning our project seemed doomed. We petitioned the National Democratic Inquiry Group (NDIG) to release the case files to us. I was the first Jefferson Group member to write a petition letter:
Sister Dee,
On behalf of the Jefferson Group I make the following request.
As the national newsy has reported, the sons and daughters of the Lost Boys demand to see the case files of our fathers. We understand that neither you nor your compatriots were responsible or even alive during the 22-34 purges. We also understand the NDIG was previously the Federal Bureau of Investigation, and thus a separate entity to you, our current protectors.
We are not out to destroy or harm anyone, not the accusers, judges “witnesses,” or our fathers’ murders. This enquiry is solely for the purposes of researching the dead and forgotten, so they too may rest in our eternal light.
B. Dennis Steadman
For months we heard nothing from Dee or the NDIG. I decided eventually to force the situation. But first, I would resort to bureaucratic methods. I called everyday. I then threatened to release the single case file we did have on hand. It was at this time that I posted on Peoplebook requests for information and materials on any Lost Boys. Our servers were flooded with photos, videos, documents and pleas for information regarding lost cousins, nephews, brothers, sons, and fathers. An elderly gentleman traveled by bus from the southern tip of Florida to hand to us a box full of his son’s journals. The man did not trust the mail. We hired a full staff to categorize all the data sent to us. We also received hundreds of packages including random keepsakes and trophies and journals.
Eventually we received a letter from Sister Dee.
CONFIDENTIAL
To Steadman and Associates
Discharging your commission to make enquiries about the case files of an untold number of young men arrested and jailed in the 20s and to make them available for a national healing has been received and the NDIG along with the U.S.S.D Procurator General's’ Office have made the relevant inquiries and studied the archival materials with love and respect for our honored deceased.
Examination has shown that the boys indicated in the list submitted were illegally sentence in the 22-34 date known internally as the era of the cult of personality. According to the available documents, the correspondence between your primary enquest, Bill Fent, and his family along with certain other materials that were confiscated during his arrest were sent to the National Underground Archival Repository in Tacoma, on February 9, 2061.
It has been discovered that all materials and files have been burned during the political upheavals of the 2060s.
As concerns the personal journals, letters and other materials confiscated from your enclosed list of names, during their arrest, it has not proved possible, after thorough investigation and additional verification by the NDIG special Task Force, to establish their subsequent fate.
NDIG
Elder Sister Dee
I responded with more letters and more phone calls. Sister Dee’s partner sent me an official audio recording. I admit I became quite nervous as the NDIG jingle echoed through my apartment. “We have finished our work” the man said, “Unfortunately, we could not find any files.”
The headmistress of Guantanamo and the NDIG sisters apparently decided they could conduct the investigation without our help. They had finished the job in order not to begin it. There was no reason to trust them: all they had done, up to now, was to deceive us. I did not doubt for one moment that this was simply an excuse and that they wanted to rid themselves of the tiresome Jeffersonians as quickly as possible. Neither was I convinced that the files had completely vanished. They might, quite likely have remained in the investigation files as material evidenc e of the ‘crimes’ of the accused. If I have learned one thing about bureaucrats, it is their undying love of records.
I quickly called the newly formed Founding Fathers Office in Washington to explain the situation. Their influence was growing to the point that they could not simply be ignored. Their pressure got us a meeting at the infamous building on D street.
Many brave Jeffersonians volunteered to follow me into the building where many have never returned. I rejected them all. If this current thaw was temporary, I would not go to my doom while bringing companions.
The building was the most innocuous one in Washington. It sat next to ancient imposing structures with colonnades and marble steps and appeared as though it were just a house constructed in the wrong neighborhood.
I was greeted by Brother Karl. His diminutive face curled around his nose into what must have been a smile. I had always been disgusted by the so-called men who gave their bodies over to the sisters. Looking at his tiny frame and skinny arms, I could see why he was so trusted by them.
I met with Sister Clarita. She offered me tea and I politely declined. She was a heavy set, middle-aged woman who frowned quite a lot, but tried to play nice with the new power faction in town.
I once again presented my arguments. Clarita cast me an amused and disbelieving glance and said “I don’t understand Brother Steadman, if you are in search of stories to write, then we can supply you with any number of ideas. For instance, we recently tracked down an Islamic Terrorist who served the British Government and who shot members of the U.S.S.D congress. He escaped. We found him living in Brazil! What a story that would make. Or there is the story of Commander Deniscu, the heroic soldier who recaptured our last base in The People’s Republic of Korea. What a man he is!”
We all chatted about the Yellow Sea battles and the heroes that rose out of it.
I flicked my wrist and checked the time.
“Could we return to the subject of my visit?” I asked. “When can we begin work?”
Clarita paused awkwardly.
“How do you imagine going about it?”
“I think we should set up a working group and include someone from the Procurator Office, someone from the NDIG and someone from our commission. Then we’ll begin to compile and study the cases of the Lost Boys. We will categorize them thematically and publish relevant sections and cases. our goal will be to eventually release all the files on our public forum on Peoplebook. This will be followed by a print book that illustrates our findings as to the cause of the governmental changes, the fall of Due Process and the establishment of secret police and secret trials and secret executions. If we are to avoid a similar fate in the future, we must learn what happened in our past.”
Clarita shifted in her seat. The massive wooden chair creaked under her weight. She stared at me for long moments, taking small gulps of air.
“It is impossible to get you all the files.” She said finally. “The investigation files are classified “confidential’ and ‘highly confidential.’ We do not have the right to show them to private individuals. It’s the law!”
I considered my next statement carefully. “Sister Clarita. We are not private individuals. I am a representative of The Jefferson Group.”
“Nevertheless, we cannot hand over all the files.”
“What can you hand over...now?”
She stopped for a moment, and then as if premeditated, she stood abruptly and walked to her desk across the room. Her soft soled slip ons clapped against the hard tile. Opening a drawer, she pulled out two thick files, each with several rubberbands holding in all the various documents. She clapped back over to me and handed me the hefty folder.
On one envelope it read Case #1836924, William Turngood Fent.
The other had my father’s name.
My immediate desire was to publish both cases on our public forums and seek to stir up trouble with the procurators office. Eli Fent cautioned me against that. Wisely, he told me we cannot move forward with the same tactics that got us here. When I gave him his fathers file, he simply placed it back into my hands and clasped my shoulder in his iron grip.
“My son, I give this to you to tell the story of my fathers’ death. Do not yet release all information. We have cleared the road, but landmines remain. We must move forward cautiously. I trust you to publish what is necessary and nothing more. For now.”
What you are about to read is a brief description of the case file, including transcripts of interrogations and letters on Case # 1836924, Bill Fent. Many passages were blacked out of the report and some pages are missing. With the corroborating evidence from those outside the NDIG as well as the friends and family of Bill Fent, we now have a complete picture of his life and death. Here we will concentrate on his sentencing, arrest and subsequent execution.
Our goal is truth. It is not to make this boy or any other appear as a saint.
Soon we will release the file in its entirety along with as many files as we can discover about The Lost Boys.
William Turngood Fent was a tall handsome football player at Santa Rosa High School in 2021. He was a senior and had led his team to the state championship in Arizona. He was atypical in that as the most popular young man in school, he was not much of a bully. But he was not innocent either.
There are reports that he would ridicule some boys for their weight, and he was once quite brutal in his verbal attacks of a heavyset female classmate.
On april 20, 2020, he remarked aloud in class about a young lady saying to everyone that “she gave the worst head he had ever received.” He was given a very brief detention for this, but was allowed to play that Friday’s game.
(It must be remarked that various slang terms for felatio were used over 400 times in the case file. This salaciousness was one reason the interrogators looked unfavorably on William).
He was being watched by college scouts. He wanted to be a businessman and was narrowing down his college choices, when, on January 16th, 2022, the FBI Special Rape Assessment Team (SRAT) came to his home. They confiscated all his possessions from his room, and barred his parents from entering their own home for 2 weeks.
The procedure was surgical. The condemned boy would be left no time to escape and no time to take his own life. Once accused the SRAT machinery went to work tracking him, investigating him, and planning a quick and efficient arrest.
Rumors of secret arrests were at this time only beginning to be whispered. Still, they spread like wildfire. No one seemed to understand how or what occurred during or after an arrest. His parents say that when the SRAT’s came at night he stood tall like a knight and tried to joke with his captors “Those ladies keep you busy, don’t they?” To his mother, he leaned over and kissed her on the cheek and said “I trust if there is a child, you will take care of him”
His mother would not know of his fate for 16 years. She would never come to know the true day of his death.
Record of the Cross-Questioning of Prisoner 1836924
INTERROGATOR: You have been accused of raping Wendy Miller. Do you acknowledge your guilt? Bill: No. I do not.
INT: How can you reconcile your claim of innocence with the fact of your arrest?
B: I see the accusation by Wendy as false. We had sex. I didn’t rape her.
INT: Yet her friends confirmed you went up to a room during the July 4th party. Is that not correct?
B: Yes we went to…
INT: And you know Dylan, whose house you were in. Correct?
B: Of course. We play football together.
INT: Several young women saw you pulling Wendy to the room.
B: I was holding her hand
INT: They said Wendy and you were up there for quite a while
B: Is this a joke? Yes I lasted a long time. She wasn’t my first.
INT: So you’ve done this before?
B: Yes
INT: Do you often drink at parties? B: yes we all do! It’s a party!
INT: Have you ever been drunk?
B: Not excessively, no.
INT: Do you fantasize about Wendy? B: What the hell does that have to do with anything?
INT: William Fent, you are accused of rape. Is it possible you believe that you were having consensual sexual intercourse but were in fact living out a rape fantasy? B: Rape Fantasy! No way! I’m not into that shit.
INT: I’ll remind you, Mr. Fent, we have the ability to track every site you ever visited and for how long.
B: Ok. I never said I don’t watch anything… Just not rape stuff.
INT: On July 1st you watched 45 minutes of pornographic material. Did you not? B: I don’t recall. I suppose.
INT: You admit to watching porn? B: I am an 18 year old guy…
INT: So it is possible on July 1st you were watching pornography? B: Yes.
INT: The porn you were watching has been classified as rape fantasy.
B: What are you talking about? I don’t watch rape fantasy that’s disgusting.
INT: I will read you a description by our official report and the offenses of the pornography.
Man enters room and grabs woman
Rips of her shirt
Though there is kissing, woman appears surprised.
Man throws woman on bed and while gripping her neck begins inserting himself inside her.
Though woman appears to enjoy, the look on her face is clearly non-consensual.
There are acts of fellatio performed by the woman, but they appear to be done out of fear.
CATEGORY: Rape Fantasy
INT: On July 1st, you watched Rape fantasy. All of your porn viewing is of that nature. On July 4th you had an opportunity to bring into reality your fantasies, so you grabbed Wendy, dragged her upstairs and proceeded to rape her.
B: No way! Wendy wanted me. We’d been friends for years and had been messing around all the time prior to that day.
INT: Wendy has said you would force her to perform felatio before games.
B: That’s a lie! She’s a damn liar. She always would come to me.. She has a thing for football players. I’m not the only one.
INT: Do not slander Miss Wendy. We have all the evidence we need from Wendy, her friends, and your previous encounters with women. Confess your crimes and we can move on with your punishment.
B: I did nothing wrong. She’s just mad I wouldn’t date her.
INT: I suggest you do not blame your victim, Mr. Fent.
Though the FBI Special Task Force has since attempted to obscure what happens in Guantanamo to extract confessions, no matter how thickly they built the prison walls, word reaches us of their methods.
A fellow prisoner with Bill Fent was a young pre-med student named Charles Thelleck. In his case file was a letter he wrote from prison to a girlfriend (who never received the letter). It is a chillingly detailed account of how these “truthful confessions” were obtained.
I am a fit man, as you know, but after 6 days with no food, I could barely stand. The investigators began to use force on me at my sickest and most frail. My clothes were stripped and I was made to lie face down on a cold marble slab. My knees cracked hard against the edges. First, they simply hit the soles of my feet and my lower back with wooden rods. They would rest for some time and then hit me in exactly the location they had hit me previously. This was nothing compared to what they did next. They used one end of the rod to rape me. I was asked repeatedly if I “liked it,” as my victims had supposedly “liked it.” They were referring to my testimony that the women I had been with wanted to be with me. “Where is the consent form!” They screamed. “Confess! Rapist pig! Confess.”
They went down the list of all the women I’d been with. These tormenters claimed that every single one of them had accused me of raping them. Even you. I was being accused of serial rape of the highest degree. It was physical and psychological torture to me. Had all the women I’d been intimate with really betrayed me? My torturers, for I have no other word for them, dragged me down a narrow hallway and dropped me naked and cold on the little cot. I slept for some indeterminate amount of time. Before long they were at it again. I began to shake uncontrollably, “we got another one” I heard them say.
Fright arouses terror, and terror forces us to find some means of self-defense.
Death! Death is certainly easier than this. I confessed!
William Turngood Fent, Accused Rapist
The case file indicates that Bill Fent eventually confessed to rape. He was brought before a tribunal judge. His accuser was brought forward. This was claimed to be part of the empowering of women, to face their tormentors.
Wendy had tears in her eyes.
Wendy: I’m sorry I accused Billy. I was jealous. He didn’t rape me. It was consensual I promise! Leave him alone.
Judge: Wendy, you are still under Mr. Fents’ power. He is controlling you as we speak. He is oppressing you with his every breath. He is a disease, a virus that has brought you physical, emotional, and spiritual agony. Do not let your oppressor have power over you. Shatter your chains, look him in the eye and tell him “I, Wendy, am in control of my mind and my body. Say it.
Through the tears, Wendy muttered barely audibly “I, Wendy, am in control of my mind and my body.”
Judge: Good.
Addressing Bill: I sentence you to death by lethal injection. To be carried out immediately.
Bill’s Last Words
At 6 o'Clock on February 8th,, Bill was brought into a small coroners room. There were a few interrogators and witnesses to sign off on the execution. They asked if Bill had any last words.
The report says that Bill only cried, sputtering out that he was sorry and did not want to die.
For thirty years the NDIG had lied about Bill’s death. The Fent family believed that Bill was imprisoned at Guantanamo and then transferred to Alcatraz, where correspondence was no longer allowed. Billy Fents’ mother was told he had died in his cell on October 19th, 2029.
Today, we can officially reveal the true date of his death.
William Turngood Fent was arrested on January 16th, 2022. He was interrogated from the 16th till the 20th, when he confessed. On the 21st, he was sentenced. From January 21st to February 8th he was held in a small cell, awaiting his turn for execution. On the night of February 8th, 2022, Bill Fent was executed.
His son, Eli Fent was born April 2nd, 2022. Eli was raised by his grandmother, since his mother could not bare to look at him without bursting into tears. Wendy eventually moved away and became a den mother at an orphanage.
Bill Fent may have grown up to become an owner of a small moving supply company, or a credit repairman, or a world renown sports broadcaster. We will never know.
Instead he is known to us as William Turngood Fent, Lost Boy #1836924
