Bonus Team Kimberlin Post of the Day


The Gentle Reader who has been following the twists and turns of The Saga of The Dread Pro-Se Kimberlin’s vexatious lawsuits has surely noticed the substantial disconnect between TPDK’s allegations and reality. This isn’t a new phenomenon. Mark Singer wrote his biography of Brett Kimberlin a couple of decades ago. Singer writes in Citizen K (p. 310):

Once I compared Kimberlin’s renderings of certain incidents with the recollection of other witnesses, the recurring theme of “jumping the connection” almost always emerged. When a dope dealer jumped a connection, he eliminated the middleman, hoping to cut his costs without increasing his risk. Now, both literally and figuratively, it seemed that Kimberlin had this same habit. Figurative instances were narratives in which he claimed center stage, though in reality he’d participated at a distance or not at all. Or, when it suited his purposes, he might do just the opposite, ascribing to others acts he in fact had performed.

Or simply put: Brett Kimberlin tells whatever lie he thinks is to his advantage at any given moment.

Citizen K


CitizenKBack in the ’90s, before Brett Kimberlin’s parole was revoked, Mark Singer extensively investigated Brett Kimberlin’s background and his claim to have sold marijuana to Dan Quayle. Citizen K is the saga of a master drug smuggler, convicted bomber, suspected murderer, jailhouse lawyer, and media manipulator, whose story about supplying marijuana to a future vice president is only the beginning.

Click here to buy the book through Amazon.

UPDATE—Mmmmm. Popcorn.

Team Kimberlin Post of the Day


In the summer of 1993, while Brett Kimberlin was still locked up on bombing and dope smuggling charges, Mark Singer began probing further into Kimberlin’s story. Because of what Singer had written in the New Yorker about Kimberlin’s claim to have sold marijuana to Dan Quayle, there were few sources in law enforcement who would speak with him, so Singer began looking for folks to talk to in Huntington, Indiana, (Dan Quayle’s hometown) and Bloomington, Indiana, where Kimberlin had claimed to have done business with Quayle. Singer writes in Citizen K (p. 310):

Once I compared Kimberlin’s renderings of certain incidents with the recollection of other witnesses, the recurring theme of “jumping the connection” almost always emerged. When a dope dealer jumped a connection, he eliminated the middleman, hoping to cut his costs without increasing his risk. Now, both literally and figuratively, it seemed that Kimberlin had this same habit. Figurative instances were narratives in which he claimed center stage, though in reality he’d participated at a distance or not at all. Or, when it suited his purposes, he might do just the opposite, ascribing to others acts he in fact had performed.

Or simply put: Brett Kimberlin tells whatever lie he thinks is to his advantage at any given moment.

Team Kimberlin Post of the Day


Brett Kimberlin got caught lying to a federal grand jury and wound up convicted of perjury. He was asked about his dealing LSD to a two guys named John Buckley and David Pacific. He claimed, based on the fact that the Indiana State Police had busted Buckley and Pacific for attempting to operate a lab to produce psilocybin, that they were making LSD.

During a July, 1972, sentencing hearing for a cocaine bust while he was a juvenile, Kimberlin was asked:

Q. Did you ever sell any LSD to David Pacific or Jenkins, John Jenkins?
A. No, I wouldn’t be selling it to Pacific or John Buckley because they are the ones that had the laboratory, they are the ones that made it all. If I was to do anything I would get it from them. That’s my answer.

He repeated that testimony in October before a grand jury. A second grand jury was convened, and it indicted Kimberlin for perjury. He was convicted.

Through the years, Kimberlin has claimed that Buckley and Pacific lied about him as part of a deal with the feds. When he was working with his biographer Mark Singer, Kimberlin claimed that Cody Shearer, one of the people who had helped him promote his tale about selling marijuana to Dan Quayle, had confronted Buckley and Pacific and that they had acknowledge lying. When Singer checked with Shearer, Shearer said that he had never discussed LSD or perjury with them.

Beginning at the bottom of p. 316 in Citizen K, Mark Singer writes:

Sifting through this heap of mendacity , I asked myself whether Kimberlin lies for sport or whether an assortment of small lies coalesced into a gang of tar babies that encircled him. When I first heard about Pacific and Buckley, they amounted to an interesting brick in my wall; their role in Kimberlin’s life never rose to a sinister level. Ultimately, they signified his willingness to stay wedded to a falsehood despite black-and-white evidence to the contrary. My metaphor metamorphosed. The Pacific-Buckley factoid—the news report of their arrest, along with Kimberlin’s claim of their perjury to frame him for same—was no longer a constructive brick but one of many blond turns in a labyrinth of misinformation.

Or to put it more simply: Brett Kimberlin tells lies, and he seems to do so even when he knows there is documentary evidence proving him a liar.

Dread Pirate #BrettKimberlin, Media Critic


Recently, TDPK has increased his notoriety (and infamy) by attempting to use lawfare to silence bloggers who write truthful things about him. Reading Mark Singer’s book Citizen K, it seems that his media relations have had their ups and downs. The attention he received for outlets such as NPR when he claimed to have sold dope to Dan Quayle is one of the high points. The coverage he received from his hometown papers at the time of the Speedway Bomber trials was a definite low. From page 174 …

Three days after the verdict, the Indianapolis Star published a story that described Kimberlin’s encounter with Ben Niehaus in Corpus Christi following his arrest in February 1979. This conversation, according to an investigative report filed by Niehaus, lasted five hours—or, according to Kimbelin, about five minutes. Niehaus noted that Kimberlin “stated that if we wanted to find out who murdered Mrs. Scyphers, we should consider Sandra Barton’s brother-in-law [Jack Crosby] in Austin, Texas, who Kimberlin said was a CIA agent.” The Star reporter, Joe Gelarden, paraphrased Niehaus’ written report: “According to sources, Kimberlin knew the [Crosbys] were helping the police with the Julia Scyphers murder probe. He once tried to get Niehause to investigate the [Crosbys], who took in Sandi Barton’s daughters after their grandmother was murdered. Informants reported Kimberlin left the bag at the [Crosby] residence to frame them for the Speedway bombing.”

The 1979 arrest was the bust for drug smuggling. Ben Niehaus was an investigator in the Speedway Bombing case. The bag in question was a trash bag containing bomb-making materials and an AR-15 rifle. Continuing from Citizen K

The treatment Kimberlin received from the Indianapolis media often provoked his outrage, and he was most offended by the Star. Gelarden, he explained, was a government stooge who would print anything the prosecution fed him. Complaining about this lack of integrity, he referred to “an article written by Gelarden saying that I had told Niehaus that the Scyphers murder weapon was buried in the Crosby’s backyard.”

This was a startling remark. I had read and indexed all the Indianapolis newspaper clippings about the murder and the bombings, but I’d never come across any reference to the murder weapon buried anywhere. A rereading of Gelarden’s clippings confirmed this for me. I had, however, recently heard from a government source that Kimberlin had indeed made the remark to Niehaus about the murder weapon. My bewilderment deepened: If I had never mentioned a buried weapon to Kimberlin, and if no such detail had ever been reported in the newspapers, what had prompted his denial? When a person claims to know where a murder weapon is buried, even if he’s trying to finger someone else, what does that imply?

Gentle Reader, that’s not the only time one of TDPK’s narratives has run aground on the shoals of reality. He tells so many stories that it seems he loses track.

Well, as Mark Twain once wrote, “If you tell the truth, you don’t have to remember what you said.”

Dread Pirate #BrettKimberlin, Pacifist?


On page 173 of Citizen K, Mark Singer describes some of the testimony during one of TDPK’s Speedway Bomber trials. Sandi Barton worked at TDPK’s restaurant and was the mother of a young girl in whom he had taken … how shall I put this? … a special interest. Bixler was a guy who bought guns for TDPK who was, and is, prohibited from possessing firearms because of his felony record.

To counter Kimberlin’s claim that he was temperamentally incapable of violence (“not prone to assaultive behavior”), for instance, the government cited the array of weapons that had been seized during the drug bust in Texas. Among them a .22-caliber semiautomatic pistol equipped with a silencer. The testimony of Bixler placed this gun in Kimberlin’s hands, along with the half-dozen AR-15s he said he had bought for the defendant. To show that Kimberlin was not necessarily an unalloyed altruist who catered to the needs of children and grandmothers, the government confronted Sandi Barton with her grand jury testimony that, on at least two occasions, Brett had slapped [her daughter]. Another time, Sandi had told the grand jury, when [her daughter] refused to speak to Brett he seized her beloved dog, Snoopy.

A guy who isn’t “prone to assaultive behavior” and who slaps little girls—yeah, that’s the bundle of contradiction that seems to be TDPK.

Dread Pirate #BrettKimberlin, Braggart


Mark Singer devotes Chapter 35 of Citizen K to the differences between TDPK’s tall tales and reality. He describes how TDPK told of a raid during which the narcs announced themselves by yelling, “Open up! Open up! DEA!” The raid in question occurred before the  DEA was formed. Back then, the federal narcs were the Bureau of Narcotics and Dangerous Drugs.

Mr. Singer continues:

There were similar stories whose only corroborating witnesses were dead or otherwise unavailable—Kimberlin’s tale, for instance, of being robbed by a junkie in Bloomington when he was sixteen years old. The specifics of that one never struck me as especially plausible—a hundred pound kid wrestling a .38-caliber gun from a junkie—but it was virtually impossible to prove it a fabrication. What mattered about such vignettes was their portrayal of a fearless, at times even heroic, protagonist. The tale-teller was a short fellow who needed to be looked up to, who consistently sought relationships with females much younger than himself, who could boast to an eighteen-year-old woman he’d just met on the bus that he was “one of the strongest men in the world.”

The phrase a legend in his own mind seems appropriate.

A Liar Selling Drugs


Continuing with our recent Dread Pirate Kimberlin v. Reality theme, let’s take another look into Chapter 35 of Citizen K by Mark Singer. The Gentle Reader who is familiar with TDPK knows that his first jail term was for perjury during grand jury testimony related to selling LSD.

In 1992, when Kimberlin told me that he trafficked only in marijuana and hashish—besides cocaine just that once—he stated emphatically that he had never sold LSD. “I don’t remember ever selling any hallucinogens. I mean, it’s possible, like, five hits of this or that. But it’s not in my memory base.” He also said, “I’ve never even seen amphetamines.” Yet the same court transcript contained his testimony that he had dealt in small quantities of LSD and methamphetamine. He had bought amphetamines and given them to this girlfriend, he said, because she was trying to lose weight.

Kimberlin exploited the fact that [David] Pacific and [John] Buckley were arrested on drug charges in October 1971, when according to a report in the Indianapolis News, more than $20,000 worth of laboratory equipment was confiscated. But in a 1994 meeting, Pacific told me the “laboratory equipment” was actually vegetable-canning paraphernalia plus a few flasks and petri dishes … the by-product of his and Buckley’s failed experiment to synthesize psilocybin. They had never, he maintained, tried to manufacture LSD. Why go to the trouble when the finished product was so accessible at the cost of about seven cents a hit?

“So you and Buckley weren’t making acid?”

“Oh, no. Good heavens, no,” said Pacific—a quaint-sounding denial that encouraged me to check with the prosecutor, Scott Miller, a former assistant U. S. attorney who’d headed the Bureau of Narcotics “strike-force grand jury,” stated that Pacific and Buckley weren’t manufacturers of LSD but mere jobbers. Though Miller suspected that Kimberlin was one of their suppliers, he opted to pursue a perjury indictment rather than a drug indictment. The government’s general impression was corroborated by Tim Young, who told me that Brett was his source in several “multithousand-hit deals.”

“I probably sold fifty to seventy-five thousand hits of acid in my life, over a year and a half period,” Young said. “Purple microdot and orange sunshine are the two I remember. How much of it from Brett? All of it. I don’t remember buying acid from anyone but Brett. He sold it to me about ten thousand hits at a time. If he said he never sold acid, he’s a lying [redacted]. Guarantee.”

Isn’t it amazing how much of TDPK’s narrative seems to be contradicted by other witnesses, court transcripts, and the like?

Dread Pirate #BrettKimberlin, Master Detective


The Dread Pirate Kimberlin’s brother Scott was murdered while TDPK was in the Marion County Jail. Mark Singer reports the following on pages 313 and 314 in his book Citizen K:

As noted earlier, he [Kimberlin] told me that while in the Marion County Jail, he’d called acquaintances in Dayton, learned the name of the motel where Scott had been staying, persuaded the clerk to give him a list of phone numbers dialed from the room, and referred the police to an unfamiliar number, which guided them to the killer. “It was my quick detective work that solved the crime.”

One afternoon, the three of us, seated in Brett’s living quarters, downstairs in Carolyn’s [TDPK's mother] home, talked about Scott. She cried as she described identifying her child’s corpse, and the crying continued as she recalled testifying during the trial of his killer. She told of driving to Dayton with her former husband and his second wife, of meeting on a Saturday with a homicide detective who said he couldn’t really get started until Monday. That weekend, she said, they began their own investigation. They canvassed motels along the interstate south of Dayton, and at the third stop she found Scott’s name in the guest register. She persuaded the clerk to provide the list of outgoing phone calls, which she gave to the detective. One of the numbers led directly to a material witness, and the killer, George Shingleton, was arrested within a week.

Another jumped connection. I avoided eye contact with Brett as Carolyn spoke. And I never chose to raise the subject with him again.

TDPK is a convicted perjurer. He has been known to tell lies.

Dread Pirate #BrettKimberlin and Alternative Healing


There’s a whole chapter in Mark Singer’s Citizen K (Ch. 35) that deals with TDPK’s alternate version of reality as compared to the recollections of others. One story deals with an attempt at alternative healing.

When his high school girlfriend Susan Harvey, then in her early twenties, lay comatose in the hospital after a terrible car accident, he saved her life—so he said. Her doctor told the family to “pray for her to die, that she probably wouldn’t come out of it.” Kimberlin, the sole believer in recovery, “stayed by her side for literally three months.” He had mystical experiences in her hospital room, where he spent a lot of time in “meditation and affirmation.” To discourage scarring, he salved her wounds with vitamin E. …

Kimberlin advised me to speak to Susan’s mother, who he assured me was quite fond of him. “He was a nice teenager, I think, ” Darlene Harvey told me. “But my children said I didn’t know him very well.” Brett’s ministrations, she asserted, had not been beneficial. “We hired private-duty nurses so Susan wouldn’t fall out of the bed, but they were worth nothing. I went in one evening after work and found this one nurse has gone to eat and left her alone. So that was that, no more private nurses. I guess after that Brett and his mother would slip in the back door to visit her. He poured oil on her stomach, which was all cut open from surgery. It was vitamin E or something like that. The surgeon was so outraged—he read the riot act to me. Brett didn’t nurse her back. He might have thought he did. ‘Nursing her back’ is a figment of his imagination. The surgeon said if that oil had gotten into her stomach it would have killed her. Brett thinks one thing, but the doctor thinks another, and I’m sure the doctor knows more about this particular situation.” Susan Harvey refused to be interviewed, allowing only that she wanted “nothing to do with Brett Kimberlin.”

If the Rules of Civil Procedure don’t apply to TDPK, why should the rules related to medicine?

Dread Pirate #BrettKimberlin and the Persistence of Memory


the_persistence_of_memory_-_1931_salvador_daliWhen Mark Singer began writing his book Citizen K, he generally believed the claims made by TDPK. He learned his lesson. Chapter 35 is devoted to the differences between the stories Brett Kimberlin told and those of other witnesses.

Once I compared Kimberlin’s renderings of certain incidents with the recollections of other witnesses, the recurring theme of “jumping the connection” almost always emerged. When a dope dealer jumped a connection, he eliminated a middleman, hoping to cut his costs without increasing his risk. Now, both literally and figuratively, it seemed that Kimberlin has this same habit. Figurative instances were narratives in which he claimed center stage, though in reality he’d participated at a distant remove or not at all. Or, when it suited his purposes, he might do just the opposite, ascribing to others acts he in fact had performed himself.

Given the behavior I have personally witnessed in Maryland and Virginia courtrooms, he does not seem changed.

Dread Pirate #BrettKimberlin on Religion


Mark Singer quotes The Dread Pirate Kimberlin describing his religious beliefs on pages 35 and 36 of Citizen K.

Until the children hit adolescence, Carolyn often took them to Sunday services at St. Paul’s Episcopal Church. Brett was confirmed there, along with his brothers and sister, but he had no faith.

Brett: “I was the only one who wouldn’t pray. Mom used to tell me to wear a suit and tie to church. I said, ‘Mom, if there’s a God, he doesn’t care what I’m wearing.’ I went to Sunday School and learned the Lord’s Prayer and stuff, but I felt totally alienated from this fraud. From the age of six, I didn’t buy into it at all. No brainwashing this boy. I have a very open mind. For instance, I wouldn’t say that I believe in psychic phenomena. But I believe in the possibility of psychic phenomena. Just as I don’t close my mind to the possibility of some universal force. There are obviously things that we still don’t know about, but all this organized religion I just don’t buy at all. I don’t like any kind of groups. A lot of people got into meditation for religious reasons. The reason I liked transcendental meditation was because there was no religion involved. There were no other rules.”

Yeah, no rules to be subject to.

The Gentle Reader who is familiar with Genesis 3 will remember the lie that Satan told Eve, “… and you will be like God …”

Dread Pirate #BrettKimberlin and the Truth


Mark Singer’s book Citizen K:The Deeply Weird American Journey of Brett Kimberlin is full of interesting insights into the TDPK. On page 327, Mr. Singer reflects on an exchange in which TDPK tried to convince him that a reports printed in the Indianapolis News and the Chicago Reader were mistaken.

The notion of Kimberlin admonishing anybody not to lie both amused and galvanized me; I had no choice but to retrieve from storage the transcript of Sandi’s testimony. On pages 4532 and 4561, I located the colloquy that confirmed what the Chicago Reader and the Indianapolis News had reported. Confronting the naked evidence of this particular deception left me feeling momentarily deflated, if not downright insulted. Did Kimberlin think I was stupid? Getting an appointment at the federal archive proved a mild inconvenience, transcript copies cost fifty cents a page, and I had to hire someone in Chicago to go to the archive and pick up the pages—but I’d had tougher days at the office. Did he think I was lazy?

Written records are often not TDPK’s friends.

An Interesting Coincidence re #BrettKimberlin


We didn’t pick up yesterday’s mail until we were coming in from church this morning. Mrs. Hoge handed me a package that turned out to contain a copy of Citizen K: The Deeply Weird American Journey of Brett Kimberlin. A friend finally got me a personal copy via a used book seller.

The book has one of those clear plastic protective jackets that you find on library book, and, sure enough, it’s stamped as being a discarded book from a library. The Monroe County Public Library. In Bloomington, Indiana.

Bloomington is where TDPK was selling drugs when he was a teenager. It’s where the activities that led to his first conviction (for perjury) took place. Bloomington is turning out to be a real source of information. Perhaps some more follow up with personal contacts is in order.