One Year Later
For those of you who came in late, and don’t know who Jeff Hughes is, or was, he was the head of our sister movement in the Great White North, Northwest Front Canada. On the early morning of October 23, 2009, a female officer of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police fired ten bullets into Jeff as he stepped out the door of his apartment building on Vancouver Island.
The RCMP do not claim that Jeff was armed or acting aggressively or drunk or stoned. They don’t claim anything. They shipped the woman officer off to Ontario somewhere and refuse even to name her or anyone else involved in the incident. This woman emptied her gun into an unarmed man and then everybody just walked away and left Jeff Hughes dead on the sidewalk, and that was that.
No, really, I’m not making this up. That’s what happened. So far no coroner’s inquest, no official police inquiry, no nothing. I say again, the RCMP just gunned Jeff down and walked away, and that seems to be that. What gets me is that there hasn’t even been a Coroner’s inquest, which I believe is completely illegal under Canadian law. As always happens in a democracy whenever a White Nationalist is involved, they simply ignore their own rules and regulations, and all the lefty civil liberties types who would be screaming the roof down if it were a Jew or a brown-skinned minority involved, are as quiet as little church mice.
In the interest of accuracy I need to clarify that although I knew Jeff for almost seven years via the internet, I never met him personally, much to my regret. We never got the chance. He was barred from entering the United States because of an old criminal record he had from about 25 years ago, and I’m banned from entering Canada because of my novels, which are also banned in Canada, by the way. You won’t be arrested if they catch you trying to take a copy of The Brigade across the border, but Canadian customs will confiscate it, and so I assume if my books aren’t considered kosher for Canadian consumption than neither would I be if I ever tried to enter the country. Maybe one day I’ll try it just to see what would happen.
Anyway, Jeff and I never got to meet, but for many years we communicated regularly, usually every couple of days, by e-mail, chat room, telephone, sometimes by video, virtually every way you can get to know a man in this day and age without actually being in the same room with him.
Most of you are aware of the fact that on the whole I don’t think much of the internet. However, after about 15 years I think I’ve developed some skill in detecting when someone is BS-ing me. I’m sure most of you have some idea what I mean. Most of us by now can judge an internet contact after a fairly short time and tell whether or not they’re running some kind of game on us or they’re lying or just plain full of it.
Jeff was never like that. He rang true every time. Let me put it this way: Jeff Hughes was one of the very few people I ever met in the White Nationalist Movement that nobody ever said anything bad about, and if you know our Movement at all, you’ll understand how rare that is. Even his Indian neighbors up there on Selby Street who knew about his National Socialist beliefs had good things to say about him to the Vancouver media when they came nosing around after he was murdered.
Make no mistake; Jeff Hughes was a real loss. He wasn’t just one of these useless Net Nazis who hang around the Vbulletin boards under an alias and nobody knows who or where they are or what they do for the cause, if anything. Jeff stood up and resisted. He passed out leaflets and put up stickers and posted all over the internet and above all he talked to people personally, and in Canada that’s a deadly dangerous thing for a White man to do.
He especially loathed these godawful Human Rights Tribunals that the Canadian regime uses to suppress and punish dissent and Thoughtcrime among White Canadians, and more than once he rode hundreds of miles on a bus all over B.C. and Alberta just to sit in the audience when someone was being persecuted and destroyed by these ghastly kangaroo courts, just so there would be at least one friendly face there to support whoever was being victimized by Richard Warman or whatever kike brought the complaint.
The thing we need to understand about the case is that Jeff was already well known to the RCMP before they shot him. This wasn’t a confrontation with some unknown subject. He was an open Nationalist and he had been visited repeatedly by various kinds of Canadian political police, including a few weeks before he was killed, by a man named Sergeant Sean McGowan from the British Columbia Hatecrime Squad, who according to what I hear are the Ottawa regime’s chief headknockers in the province in charge of suppressing racial dissent on the part of European-Canadians. Based on what Jeff told me about that, it is my personal belief that the possibility can’t be discounted that Jeff was killed for the same reason the FBI attacked and murdered Randy Weaver’s family on Ruby Ridge in 1992.
Cops hate it when people refuse to become snitches, and they can be very vindictive about it, especially in custodial situations. The Northwest Front has a woman comrade named Pam Bailey who is now being held in solitary confinement in Oregon, possibly for the next four years until her sentence ends, due to a pattern of official harassment based on her refusal to become an informant. Ironically she and Jeff were corresponding when he was murdered. Police and prison officers hate worse than anything to be told to piss off when they order somebody to rat out; it challenges their authority and their petty self-esteem almost as much an assault. Like all bullies, cops and FBI tend to freak out when anybody stands up to them.
The upshot of all this is that Jeff’s address had to be red-flagged or whatever the Canadian term for it is. The RCMP had to know who was in that apartment.
Another thing. Why did the the RCMP, the Canadian national police force itself, send a dull armed response team including dogs to investigate a domestic disturbance call? In Canada there are local police departments just like there are down here. According to the official version of events, or one official version, anyway, since it keeps changing—anyway, the original call to the police was a noise complaint about some Indian dopers playing loud rap music, and yet it was the almighty Horsemen themselves who showed up. Now, down here in the States you don’t send the FBI or the SWAT team to respond to domestic dispute calls, unless the cops know there’s most likely something a lot heavier gonna down. So that whole business of Dudley Do-Right and the Mounties rocking up at six in the morning looks excessive. Looks more like a dawn raid to me.
One more thing I’d like to get into. There’s something that angers and disturbs me about all almost as much as Jeff’s actual death, although this may sound a bit irrelevant. Those of you on the Northwest Revolution list will probably remember a number of appeals from both Jeff Hughes and myself down through the years, practically getting down on our knees and begging some of our Canadian comrades to STEP FORWARD, to make the move to Western Canada and the Vancouver area in particular, and help Jeff with his work for the NF. No one ever responded. Jeff had Canadian comrades, of course, all of whom liked and respected him, but just like here, they were scattered all over his huge country, and his nearest friends were several hours away.
Now, after he was killed, one of Jeff’s neighbors posted a more or less eyewitness account of the whole incident to Stormfront, which in view of the fact that Stormfront is Richard Warman’s happy hunting ground, probably required a bit of courage, and don’t get me wrong, I appreciate this person’s coming forward. But the fact is that after all this time begging and pleading for someone local to come forward and help Jeff, or even move to the Canadian Northwest Homeland itself to help him, it turns out, that Jeff had a fellow White Nationalist living right across the street from him, and yet they never even knew of one another’s existence.
The same thing applies to all of us. We all complain about the isolation of being a lone Nationalist in a sea of political correctness, and yet for all we know we could have half a dozen comrades living within a couple of miles of us. That’s one reason for our e-mail contact list that the Front publishes, and so far we have I think 134 people out of a list of several thousand who are willing to publish their e-mail addresses and receive contacts with a view towards personal meeting, and if that doesn’t say something about the quality of the people we get in the Movement I don’t know what does.
Anyway, it’s been a year now. Nothing has been done and pretty obviously nothing will be done, until we achieve the Northwest Republic. I don’t know what the main drag in Vancouver is called, but someday it’s going to be Jeff Hughes Avenue and there is going to be a big-ass statue of Jeff right in front of the British Columbia provincial Parliament building, or better yet right in front of the old RCMP headquarters.
We miss you, comrade.