Brett Kimberlin is a liar and not a very good one. That’s not only my opinion. It’s shared by essentially everyone who’s investigated his tall tales and false narratives. I began writing about Kimberlin in May, 2012, and it wasn’t long before I developed my own sources of information on his mendacious past. Seven years ago today I published this post about #Brett Kimberlin and Dan Quayle and Lies.
* * * * *
This morning, I got a phone call from a friend who has had a rather interesting life. Back in his hippie days, he and his wife were traveling across the country. During that trip, they stopped in Bloomington, Indiana, to crash with one of his ex-girlfriends. This happened around Thanksgiving in 1972.
While they were staying there, they were introduced to a young kid who was dealing drugs named Brett Kimberlin. My friend remembers the name, and he recognized Kimberlin’s picture when he saw it some years later during the Speedway Bomber era.
My friend and his wife were also present when Marilyn Quayle dropped by to introduce her new husband. (The Quayles were married on 18 November, 1972.) Apparently, my friend’s ex and Mrs. Quayle were friends. It was clear to my friend from the way the introductions went that this was the first time that the Quayles and Kimberlin had ever met.
Brett Kimberlin claimed that he sold dope to Dan Quayle on multiple occasions from 1971 to 1973. If what my friend tells me is true, and I have no reason to doubt him since these and other details of his story check out with other sources, Brett Kimberlin lied about Dan Quayle. That conclusion is also consistent with the DEA’s investigation of his claims.
So we have a convicted perjurer caught in another lie. Whoda thunk it?
* * * * *
The Gentle Reader may wonder how I was able to find such a connection so quickly. It was pure luck. You see, I used to live in Indiana, and in the late ’70s I was courting the young lady who became Mrs. Hoge while she was a student studying audio production at Indiana University and working in the music scene in Bloomington. As a result, I know some very interesting people who were in Central Indiana during the late ’70s.
Facts are stubborn things.