911 Is Still A Cry For Help

By Judy Andreas
We sat in the Conference Room, our eyes riveted to the TV monitor. Some of my colleagues were sniffling, others were crying softly. Occasionally an angry statement could be heard. Over and over again we watched the World Trade Center footage. Over and over again, the newscasters cemented their version of reality into our stunned psyches. It was September 11, 2001.....the day the music died.
Something was terribly wrong. It was more than the film that unfolded in front of my eyes. It was more than the words of the newscasters talking about the fact that we were under siege. It was more than the threat of never ending terrorism. The television screamed the official story, yet the voices in my head muted the words. Something was terribly wrong.
My feeling of disbelief was palpable. Sitting in that room of mourners on that sorrowful day, I was having a solitary experience. Questions begged for answers. How could our sophisticated system have gone awry? How could everything that had previously worked flawlessly, suddenly simultaneously failed? How could a small group of Arabs with boxcutters have thrown the whole nation into a tailspin? .
Most of the people, if not all of the people, in the Conference Room had never heard of Payne Stewart. They did not know the story of the golfer whose private Learjet had lost contact with the air traffic controllers. They did not know that when the golfer's jet failed to respond to air traffic controller communications, F-16 interceptors were quickly dispatched. According to an Air Force timeline, a series of military planes provided an emergency escort to Payne's stricken Learjet starting about 20 minutes after contact with his plane was lost.
Later I learned that the Miami Herald talked to air traffic controllers who said they could not understand why there was no reaction to what was happening in the skies the morning of September 11, 2001. Why was there no reaction from the Federal Aviation Administration and the military?
"That's a question that more and more people are going to ask, " one controller in Miami told the Herald.
Are more and more people asking that question? Are more and more people asking any questions?
"They attacked us because they hate our freedom." The President's eyes darted back and forth as he mouthed the words.
It could have been a laughable was certainly a ludicrous comment. It could have been funny if I hadn't seen people jumping hundreds of feet to their death. It could have been funny if thousands of people hadn't lost their lives on that infamous day.
I wanted to ask him why they didn't fly planes into Amsterdam....after all .....they have more freedom than we do. I wanted to ask him why they didn't cripple a nuclear reactor. I wanted to ask him why he was lying to us.
Each day as the story unfolded, another alternative website pointed to another anomaly in the official story. Had a plane really hit the Pentagon? The size of the hole in its supposed wake left room for doubt. Was it physically possible for the Towers to collapse as stated, or was it controlled demolition? Were there explosives in the World Trade Center? Could burning jet fuel initiate structural damage within the towers? Why was Building 7 pulled? Could a cell phone call be made on a plane? Why was the Mayor of San Francisco, Willie Brown, told not to fly on that date? Why was the rubble from the buildings hauled off without a proper investigation?
Wonderful books kept flying off the shelves of the alternative press. And yet, the mainstream media stuck with the official story. It could have been the Kennedy Assasination(s). It could have been TWA Flight 800. It could have been Oklahoma City or Waco. I had visited this place before. It was difficult to breathe with the stench of deception in the air.
Although movies have always been a passion of mine, I have tried to be discerning about time spent in the cinema. And yet, as the days grew into months, I was trapped in the theater of the absurd mainstream media, forced to watch a poorly crafted film about the events on September 11. Such props as Mohammed Atta's passport placed pristinely on the set cried out for a director's intervention.
Who put the Korans in the vehicle near the scene of the crime? How did we immediately know it was Osama bin Laden who had designed the events of September 11, 2001? How did we immediately know the name of the 19 highjackers? Why were some of them showing up alive and well and safe in distant ports of call? Why couldn't we locate Osama bin Laden, a 6 foot 5 man on dialysis? It was not like misplacing ones keys.
Mr. Bush said "If you're not with us, you're with the terrorists." My questions subjected me to words like "traitor." My questions subjected me to ridicule and jokes about tinfoil hats.
"If you don't like this country...get the hell out."
Could anyone know how deeply I loved this country? Could anyone know the heart of an idealist who was once again being sickened by another lie? Could anyone know how much I treasured life?
The dinner of deception had been placed on the public table and people were devouring it. Once more I had strayed from the herd unable to graze on the lies and distortions that had been specially prepared for the flock. I sat in a lonely place.
The following September 11th, I attended a conference in New York City called "Confronting the Evidence" Among the many speakers were Jenna Orkin, Webster Tarpley, Dave Von Kleist, Christopher Bollyn, Paul Hoffman, and Karl Schwarz.
Jenna Orkin delivered a chilling disclosure on the coverup of the air poisoning at Ground Zero. Asbestos, mercury and lead had been released into the air. And yet, the EPA lied and told the American people that the air was safe to breathe. They even allowed the White House to edit their press releases. "Over half of our heroes had begun manifesting respiratory problems and there were firefighters who could no longer work. Fourteen rescue dogs had already died."
Does anyone know the statistics over two years later? Does anyone care? Were our "best and bravest" merely fodder for a diabolical plan?
At the conference in New York, The Project for the New American Century, known as PNAC was discussed. This is a document that was crafted in September of the year 2000, which, in essence, was a plan for increasing defense spending, preemptive actions and the use of military force and domination. The creators of PNAC were the same neocons that are running the Bush administration, including the brains behind the plan, Paul Wolfowitz. This project included regime change in Iraq as a central element. The originators of the plan, realized that the American populace would not allow this to happen unless there was an event of catastrophic proportion. "A New Pearl Harbor"
9/11 was clearly that event. I thought it would only be a matter of time before everyone would begin questioning the official story. I thought it would only be a matter of time before people would wake up.
When I left that wonderful evening on September 11, 2002, I was filled with hope. Sure....we did not all agree on everything, but was that a necessary component for our working together to uncover the truth? Yes........there were some egos that were larger than the event itself, but isn't that to be expected in the world of personalities? If we all, indeed, had the same goal, couldn't we band together in deference to the old adage "there's strength in numbers."
It has been three and a half years since the planes flew into the towers. Has any progress been made? It's difficult to gauge. The mainstream media continues to ridicule the truth seekers..........having the audacity to print bogus articles in such magazines as Popular Mechanics. It shies away from interviews with authors who have published well researched and well documented books on the subject of 9/11. Perhaps the mainstream media realizes that it is no match for the truth. After all, how loud can Sean Hannity yell?
As the days grow into years, my sphere becomes increasingly populated with others who share a commitment to the truth. The Internet has brought a vast assortment of like minded people into my world. I will be eternally grateful to this global telephone. Those I have met have provided a "net" to catch me from falling into the abyss of despair.
Everyday people may sense something is wrong but they prefer to chase it quickly from their thoughts. Feeding their families, making a living and watching television are their rituals and routines for survival. I cannot fault them. I cannot hit them over the head with my "two by four" of Judytruth. I cannot evangelize them into the 9/11 movement. This is something I have slowly learned over the three and a half years. This is something I am still learning.
Will we ever uncover the truth about September 11, 2001? Please do not expect a Hollywood ending from my pen. Should we give up? A resounding "NO." Can we continue along our unique path, inviting others to join us, while not demanding that they do? I hope so. Is life about conformity? I don't think so.
I frequently refer to a quote from the Hindu Guru, Maharaj. He said "You can try to change the world. You won't accomplish much, but you will change yourself in the process."
And yet, I confess that there are some days when I cannot shake the fear. There are some mornings when my optimism does not awaken. There are times when my heart aches under the weight of the whispered truths and my soul knows that I am helpless to do anything about it. I have learned to understand those days and not to fight them. They are the sorrow that makes the joy more delicious. They are illusions melting into disillusionment. They are a necessary movement in the symphony of the soul.
Life is a spiritual trip. We must find our own answers to the question of meaning. And, if we do not, that too is a choice.
My joie de vivre is is mine. I stamp the foot of indignation. Nobody can destroy me. Only I can do that. I smile at the animals and the trees and take a deep breath of the air that coughs under the weight of its pollutants.
My awareness of the fragility of life has been heightened. I smile at the shopkeepers and chat with passersby. I seize each opportunity to be a support and source of strength to those whose paths cross mine. I silence, if only for a day or an hour ...the voice within that beckons me into a world beyond this world. No.....I do not want to fall into the well of bitterness and anger. How would that serve my fellow travelers? How would that serve my friends and family? How would that serve myself?
Copyright 2005 Judy Andreas



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