EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW WITH CURRENT PROFESSIONAL SECURITY CONSULTANT EMPLOYEE

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By

CrazyTalkLA Staff & Saint Agents Research team

The school, Milken Community school, pursued him like a bird-cat swatting at a sparrow. After many attempts, “Justin,” an investigative reporter on his first California assignment, broke the circle of secrecy at a private Jewish school, hidden within the Hills of Los Angeles. He has not been the same since.

I got a mission today;

My instincts tell me to run away;

My mentor, commander Angel agrees;

There'd be sights no one else sees;

Just like I sacrifice to keep things cool;

Like a rat in a maze, I seek answers in Milken school.


 

This is THE beginning of the INTERVIEW.



I decided to take Uber to the interview. I was confident they would hire me to be on their security team as they aggressively recruited me.  As the Uber driver approached the entrance gate, I was greeted by a security guard with a gun—probably a Glock 9 mm. The last time I had seen this level of protection was in Iraq, guarding the embassy. I told him who I was and he went to a bulletproof booth to check out my story. He returned to the driver and told him to drive me down the hill, to the “security office.”

Unless this was some kind of reform school for juvenile delinquents, which it definitely was not, I had no idea why there was a need for security guards with automatic weapons. But, as I was about to learn, the guns weren’t there to protect the students; they were there protecting something (or someone) much more threatening; my objective was simple, to find out the school’s deepest and darkest secrets.

 

Security at Milken?

In one word, security at Milken was a joke. It must be noted that Milken School outsources its security to a contractor, Professional Security Consultants. The assistant director, Maria, interviewed me while the Director of Security watched and listened from his office. This security office was smaller than your typical bathroom (and smelled like one too). Wall-to-wall there were computer monitors: four large monitors that viewed and recorded every square inch of the school.


As much as I attempted to focus on the interview, I was a bit distracted by the elaborate surveillance system in this office. There were cameras wall-to-wall – four or five big screen TVs with at least 20 different views at one time, which were all being recorded simultaneously. I have to say, it was an impressive sight. On the other hand, why a small high school in the middle of the Valley was in need of a six-figure, state-of-the-art surveillance system meant one thing: It began to make sense why parents were paying $40,000 tuition each year. “It wasn’t for the quality teachers,” a kid told me.

It was assumed that this fact-finding mission was conducted by myself. Well, that couldn’t be further from the truth. Who do you think called me out-of-hiding for my services?
 

I was hired after being at the school for 15 minutes.  Glenn, the Director, gave me this egocentric speech about personal protection assignments and things he had done when he was younger. Personally, I thought he was a nice guy. That opinion changed after I got to know his sinister side. You see, I have the “gift” (or curse) of reading people: Is the person nervous? Is the person lying or hiding something? Does she have a drinking problem? It’s like knowing what cards people were holding without seeing the cards. Glenn was holding four aces.

 

It was no revelation of luck. I already knew this school was interested in hiring me. Maria made this clear when she offered me $12.00 per hour and a full-time schedule. I had achieved my first objective—getting hired.

It wasn’t a coincidence that Glenn interrupted the interview abruptly just after Maria offered me this position. I had seen this before: the hiring manager or “Director” monitors the interview from a remote location. Glenn took control of the interview. He began listing credentials and emphasized how the owner of this Company was an ex-Massed Agent; a spy for the State of Israel. The real-deal Nazi hunters known throughout the world for their ruthlessness and persistence. I was truly impressed. I wanted this position more than before this interview.

The position was mine! They pursued me vigorously. They contacted me at home. Called my cell phone. Had one of their officers (Will Wirz) call me at home, delivering the message: “they wanted me to call you and say that we’re ‘very interested’ in having you come to work for us.”

While this message was genuine, the caller, his voice, his tone, was fake. It was then that I questioned the sincerity of this offer of employment; for I knew I had work to do.

If there was one thing I understood about LA, it was that I wasn’t in Kansas anymore, Toto.

Just as the guards with guns left a bad taste in my mouth, as did the six-figure surveillance system. Sure, I understood it was a high school, but there was no need for this type of elaborate surveillance system. Then it made sense: someone was milking Milken School, and the milk was green. 

When I came in the next day to complete the “new hire” paperwork, I was astonished at how this security company had avoided losing the Milken School account or even being audited by the state regulatory commission. Glenn suggested that I didn’t have to read the papers I was signing, which for some stupid reason I agreed to. One thing he didn’t know about me was that I can read an entire page of text in a matter of seconds. I had to sign off on forms stating that I watched training videos; some were from OSHA. I did not watch one single training video during my employment at PSC (Professional Security Consultants). This presented an escalation of the incompetence at Milken.

And a child shall lead them

-Book of Isaiah


Day 1

What I saw in this room was unexplainable. Even if I wanted to, I could not put it into words. Though it proved that evil transcends all—even in a private high school that maintained its own, private police force. Sometimes you encounter events that are so dark, so destructive, and so indescribable. This was one of those events.

I accepted the position. Sure, it was a little weird how “they” vigorously pursued me. However, this was Los Angeles, the land of the weird, the crazy, and everything else that is too messed up for the rest of the world. Being from the East, I reviewed everything through my God-given senses.

Angel: “This is your mission. Be the guardian. Recon the school grounds. Find out why this school evokes so much fear. Yes, my child. Your work is here.”


The first day I reported to work at this school was a bit surreal. Not having a car, I took the LA Metro to Milken School, which is deep in the San Fernando Valley – yet still in LA.  I have to say, I saw this place at my interview, read about it online, but seeing it up close in the bright sunlight of California was breath-taking. The bus ride to the school took two and a half hours each way! I thought for sure the security company would inquire as to why one would ride a bus 5-6 hours per day for a minimum job. I guess they were content just watching me.

As I walked up to this school, which was on a downward slope, I could fully see this fortress. Its perimeter was constantly patrolled by armed guards – I already knew that. But it was a school, a school with children: That’s why I could understand the need for the elaborate security, the iron gates, the surveillance cameras. The only violations I observed were committed by the contractors hired to add additions to the high school campus: construction workers doing lines, smoking cigarettes, and making anti-Semitic remarks. I learned quickly not to see these things. In other words, PSC did not care. After all, the construction gave them an excuse to milk Milken School for additional labor hours—whether or not there was even a guard present at those posts or not.

I approached on foot. It took me awhile to walk up to this school’s entrance as I had to encircle the expressway to access it. Sure, they could have told me about this rear entrance gate, which was fully accessible and 25 yards from the bus stop. But, their surveillance footage was much more important.

Right when I arrived on foot at this impenetrable steel gate, I was met by a security officer.  Her name was Domeka, and she was a fit, African-American female that was a part of this security force. She didn’t wear a gun but was still nevertheless intimidating when she began to question who was I was.

“Who are you here to see? What are you here for?” she asked.

“I smiled. Okay, I’m here because I work here.”


“With who? Do you have a name? Anyone can say they’re security,” she replied.

She was making this difficult, or maybe she was a bit over-aggressive. Either way, it didn’t really matter because I belonged there – I was a part of Domika’s team…I was security. I pulled the official Milken School/PSC security shirt out of my backpack and showed it to Officer Domika. With that, this large, steel gate standing between us slowly opened. I was in and ready to work and ready to fulfill Angel’s mission.

As I entered the facility the evil vibes Angel was talking about almost swept me off my feet. Seeing the large gate close behind me struck terror within my bones and made my body shiver. Yes, there was definitely evil in here. And if the evil came at me, I’d have a hard time escaping. For early on in my training I was taught to know how to evacuate in case of emergency. However, even the employees who drove to work were expected to remain locked in the confines of the castle. The feeling of being locked in made me paranoid. On top of that, the uniform I was issued was too small. The shirt was so tight and made it hard to breath.
And when I couldn’t breathe freely, I sweated and began having panic attacks. The only water they had available was in coolers that made the water 80 degrees.  It was painfully obvious that I'd have to fend for myself at this place. Everything was all good as long as this illusion of protection remained perpetual to the Milken School staff and administrators.

I walked up to the security office, taking notice that all the other officers were staring at me. Also, I can’t really explain it, but I could feel it; I was being watched closely. As I entered the Office, Will gave me a one-hour training session about how the cameras worked, my main responsibilities, etc. While he was giving me instructions about the job, school and students, I pretended to take notes. Instead, I was focused on the surveillance system. Will told me that each kid pays tuition of $40,000 per year--not for good teachers or a state champion sports program, but for the illusion of protection. But security from whom? From what? Will knew some of these secrets I sought; but he had no reason to trust me yet. He was two-faced and fake, who thought wearing a gun made him tough. I was right not to trust him. After all, he was the Professional Security Consultant erron boy.

Maria showed up to train me. I had taken some maps out of the Teacher’s Lounge, which seemed to disappoint Maria. “You can use the maps here, but never take them home,” she proclaimed. She gave me a 20-minute tour of the middle school and high school, where she pointed out the decals that I was expected to locate and scan with a Company cellular
phone. After we finished going through the high school, Maria handed me the decal scanner and had me perform the patrol alone.

It was then that I knew I had made a mistake in accepting this “job.” Chasing around white stickers or staring at a gate 8 hours per day is enough to drive one insane with boredom. I had to keep reminding myself that my mission at Milken had absolutely nothing to do with security. No sir. I was there to observe and report.


Maria pointed to one corner of a hallway and told me it was off-limits to me. So, when I was doing these patrols by myself I could feel I was being watched. I somehow stumbled into this forbidden hallway. After all, my objective to find out the source of this evilness and I sensed a strong presence of pure evil.

There were three doors at the end of this hallway. One was some type office and one was some kind of boiler room. It was the third door, the one that made me shake like a dead leaf. Just as I was about to touch the outdated door handle the dispatcher called me on the radio and told me to report to the office. When I arrived at the office, Maria and another supervisor began throwing questions at me about why I was looking in the wrong places for these decals. Maria seemed upset that I was snooping around the forbidden hallway. That was my wake up call.


It was inevitable. I knew Angel would make opening that door an objective. I knew that whatever was behind that door was the source of all the evil I had been sensing. And, in all honesty, the negativity, the despicable taste in my mouth, a level of fear I had yet to experience, would soon become familiar to me. And this name Gabriel kept coming to me. I had no idea who Gabriel was but I suspected he had evil motives. Despite all my training, I feared for my immortal soul!

I finally understood why I was summoned to the City of Lost Angels. But I took an oath to protect the youth of the world: I had no choice other than seeing what was in this “secret” room. Angel would not be able to help me on this one. I was alone. I was scared. I was trying to get ready to open this door.

(The) Angel: Alas, the children are safe. Though, one out of every hundred million humans across this small planet is granted this “gift” of being able to feel with their senses; to read peoples’ entire lives in mere seconds. J is one with this gift, yet he uses it to protect and serve the righteous and innocent. At the same time, he battles the evil forces of the world. He has been trained his entire life how to transcend mortal, human abilities. He is the Saint.

TO BE CONTINUED…

 

 

I'm supposed to say that: The following story is... fiction and any name(s) listed is/are coincidental and does not refer to any real person.

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