The terror loosed in Oklahoma City on April 19, 1995, was created by criminals and murderers directed by and paid for by the federal government. This is the only conclusion that can be reached by a calm analysis of the facts.*
The case of Sgt. Terry Yeakey is only one of a myriad of dramatic stories that could be told—stories just waiting for Hollywood, but out of bounds for public consumption.
It has been nearly 10 years since Oklahoma City’s Murrah building was blown apart one quiet April morning. Contrary to news reports, the persons found guilty and sentenced for the Murrah bombing atrocity could not have been solely responsible. An Oklahoma City police sergeant became aware of this before anyone else, apparently during the first hour of rescue. He paid for that discovery with his life.
Yeakey, an African-American hero if there ever was one, was a giant of a man with a heart as big as the rest of him. As the first cop on the Murrah building scene following the explosions, he became a crusader for truth. There is a memorable news photo of his 6-foot, 3-inch, nearly 300-pound frame sprinting down NW 5th Street toward the building on one of the many rescue missions he performed that ugly day. He worked for 48 hours without sleep.
After numerous private investigators produced evidence of multiple explosions, unexploded bombs being hauled away by the authorities, and the incapability of an ammonium nitrate fuel oil bomb to cause the kind of devastation seen in downtown Oklahoma City, a giant government cover-up became obvious.
But Yeakey knew it long before the rest of us. Only a couple of hours into the rescue, Yeakey became painfully aware of something disturbing. Did he somehow figure out that the building had been blown from the inside and that the news reports were fabrications?
Did he overhear a strange conversation from some of the many Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms (BATF) agents who were on the scene sooner than they should have been?
Whatever it was, Yeakey was upset. He called his wife that morning crying, “It’s not true. It’s not what they are saying. It didn’t happen that way.”
Yeakey ran back and forth into that concrete mess of bricks and mortar all day long and continued beyond exhaustion, far into the night.
In a cadre of heroes that day, Yeakey’s performance was outstanding. On May 11, the following year he was scheduled to receive the Medal of Valor from the Oklahoma City Police Department (OCPD). He never got it. He was murdered on May 8, 1996, in the country, two and a half miles west of the El Reno Penitentiary. His body was found a mile from his blood-soaked car.
The official report said “suicide.” However, many people who knew Yeakey have questioned that, as the inside of Terry’s private automobile was described by witnesses as looking like someone had “butchered a hog” on the front seat. There was much blood on the back seat, too, but little or none where his body was found a mile away.
More suspiciously, his private bombing reports were missing from his car and have never been found.
According to the report, while still inside his Ford Probe that he had parked on a lonely country road, Yeakey slashed himself 11 times on both forearms before cutting his throat twice near the jugular vein. Then, apparently seeking an even more private place to die, he crawled 8,000 feet through rough terrain and climbed a fence before shooting himself in the head with a small caliber revolver, which he apparently took with him to the hereafter.
Independent investigators speculated that had Yeakey shot himself with his own gun, a Glock 9mm, there would have been significantly more damage to his head than was evident.
What appeared to be rope burns on his neck, handcuff bruises to his wrists, and muddy grass embedded in his slash wounds strongly indicated that he had some help in traversing his final distance.
However, the information about the victim undergoing a violent beating prior to his “suicide” was left off the medical examiner’s report.
The bullet’s entrance wound was in the right temple, above the eye. It went through the policeman’s head and exited in the area of the left cheek, near the bottom of the earlobe line. The trajectory was from a 40-45 degree angle above his head. There were no powder burns.
According to unnamed officers, 40 or more law enforcement personnel were at the scene combing the area for the “suicide” weapon, but were unsuccessful for more than an hour.
But after an FBI helicopter landed at the scene carrying FBI SAC Bob Ricks, “Yeakey’s weapon” was suddenly discovered only five minutes later. Of course, it was not Yeakey’s police issue handgun, and the description of the weapon has never been made public, but the official record immediately became that of “suicide.”
One of the last people Yeakey talked to was a friend who knew he was on a mission of private investigation. Yeakey had told him that he was on his way to El Reno to check out something, but first he had to shake the FBI agents who were following him.
He reportedly stopped at a café in El Reno and spoke with a friend and had either lunch or coffee there around noon. His body was found at 1:30 p.m. the same day, yet his family was not notified until the following day on May 9.
Tonya Yeakey, the mother of his children, later reported in a radio interview that Yeakey had shared a secret safe deposit box with Dr. Charles Chumley at one of the downtown Oklahoma City banks. Despite denials by OCPD officials, Mrs. Yeakey maintains that Yeakey and Chumley were friends even before the bombing and that they had conferred several times regarding pictures from the scene and the distorted truth of the official story.
She suspects that the bank box contained incriminating pictures, but the private bank box in mention was closed and its contents emptied immediately after Yeakey’s death. Mrs. Yeakey does not know who
authorized it, and whatever contents were there have never surfaced.
Chumley had only worked side by side with Yeakey during those first hours and days of rescue, but also had defied the federal officers at the scene who reportedly attempted to have him falsify reports.
Chumley, a private pilot, had also died mysteriously when his plane went into a nosedive from 6,000 feet into a cabbage field following a takeoff from Amarillo in August 1995. FAA investigators found “nothing mechanically wrong” to cause such a bizarre accident and it remains a unsolved.
Including Chumley and Yeakey, there have been more than 30 suspicious deaths of witnesses who harbored information pertinent to the truth in the OKC case. During recent decades, much of the FBI has earned the reputation of being more of a government protectorate than an efficient investigative agency.
Although the Yeakey incident occurred 30 miles away in a different jurisdiction, the investigation was quickly taken out of the hands of the El Reno police and the Canadian County sheriff and turned over to the OCPD and the FBI. No homicide investigation was conducted, and there was no autopsy.
The funeral director reported that the cuts described as “superficial” in the medical examiner’s report were so severe that they had to be sewn up to prevent leakage before the body could be embalmed.
One retired cop, who preferred anonymity, suggested that the strange hush-up of a cop killing was easily instigated by the FBI because of its knowledge of drug crimes within the ranks of the OCPD.
“It’s a hammer that [FBI agents] have held over our heads for a long time,” he said.
In an exclusive interview with American Free Press, Mrs. Yeaky said that her husband had been upset by something he had seen under the day care center during the rescue operation. He had wanted to go back and photograph it, but the officials would not let him onto the site again.
She said Yeakey had been ordered by his superiors at OCPD to rewrite his nine-page report to omit and alter certain facts and to condense it to but one page.
She said she was told by her husband’s superior, Lt. Joann Randall, in a brief but hostile telephone exchange, to “tell Terry that if the new report is not submitted by the end of the week, he will be put on reprimand.”
Mrs. Yeakey also said Yeakey was supposed to be decorated for his work as a rescue person, but didn’t really want the limelight. She said Yeakey felt the investigation was fraudulent and didn’t like the fact that the OCPD was honoring people who weren’t deserving.
Yeakey had told friends that he was going out of town to hide or secure “evidence of a cover-up of the bombing by federal agents.”