My father was in the CIA during part of the 80’s and a fraction of the 90’s. During his tenure, he was charged with the task of capturing Abimael Guzman amongst other hush-hush missions.
As a child I was a keen observer, and was able to gather bits and pieces of information about his assignments even though they were highly confidential. He often spoke about classified files only he had access to, and secret terrorist connections which lead me to believe he must have been either an undercover agent or a Central Intelligence authorized arms dealer/ assassin.
Something must have gone awry with the agency at some point, which I ascertained, was probably the reason why he wasn’t allocated proper agent gear when he needed to take his picture for the cover of his tell-all-unauthorized story about the CIA’s missions and had to resort to wearing my mom’s silk animal print pajamas paired with my grandmother’s beret for the portrait.
Being involved with revolutionaries and top secret enterprises wasn’t new to my dad as he was used to rubbing shoulders with the likes of Klaus Barbie and Che Guevara. They’d been known to hang out together and shoot the revolutionary-guerrilla-mass-murder shit at a local coffee shop called Haiti, which was located in the heart of Miraflores. These men were audacious enough not only to conduct executions by firing squads but also to be seen sipping cappuccinos together in the most touristy district of Lima in broad daylight (I knew it must have been daytime as my father never went to bed past 6pm)
In addition to my fathers involvement with the Central Intelligence Agency, he was also part of a mission (not sure for what organization) to uncover the existence of Aliens. This was a more challenging mission than capturing the head of Shining Path since it was zealously protected and red taped by the US government.
He often spoke of his plans to blow wide open Area 51 and Roswell in order to reveal to the world at large the presence of these extraterrestrial beings amongst us. I knew it was all true as he had related to us a few of his aliens sightings in detail. He wouldn’t disclose all his stories, as some were too chilling or too troublesome therefore not apt for our simple and unsophisticated ears.
He’d seen the aliens first-hand on one of his hunting trips and accidentally witnessed one of their ceremonies while hidden behind a bush. He knew what they looked like (blonde with dreadlocks) and what they ate (flattened chickens) and what their rituals were (they resembled a masonic convention) The American’s apparently had truncated his many efforts to blow the alien whistle in the beliefs that the general public was not ready to receive this information.