HailaR VargaR!
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Thuesday I woke up a bit earlier than I normally do. Yes, I normally wake up because the dog wants to take a leak on our lawn, around 7:00, but this morning I woke up because of a loud bang. I more or less jumped out of bed and saw that somebody was breaking into our home. Thankfully I immediately saw that it was actually the police, so I did not reach for any means of defence, and instead just raised my arms and waited for the police to enter. “Ah, it’s just the police”. My second thought was “What on Earth are they up to? Are they actually smashing our entire entrance area just because of my blog?” I was not sure whether or not they were shooting into our living room or actually flashbanging our living room. After a total of three explosiones (that later turned out to be gun shots) and a lot of breaking of glass and door frames they entered.
My pregnant wife, not yet aware that it was actually the police, tried to cover our youngest son and — she told me later — was about to reach for her 22 LR Browning lever action rifle, when she understood from my reaction that it was the police. Our youngest son, who was sleeping in our bed during that night (because my mother-in-law was visiting), and was therefore directly behind me and in front of the muzzles of the police’s assault rifles.
Sorry to digress, but some times when you buy underwear you get three underpants in one package, and for some reason at least one of these are always in some horrible colour, and of course I was wearing such a pair of underpants on Thuesday morning. A pair of strikingly orange underpants. Having been repeatedly dragged out into the street or prison hallways or similar in my underwear before, by the Norwegian police or prison guards, I thought to myself that this was going to repeat itself and I would be photographed with my little belly, my thin hair, my tanned arms in great contrast to my pale body and — wearing horribly orange underpants. (Everybody would believe that I was actually Dutch…)
When I had completed my little intelligent string of thoughts, about orange underpants and everything, the police had climbed the staircase and — simply put — arrested me, laying me face down in the bed with hand cuffs on my back. To my great surprise they also arrested and put hand cuffs on my pregnant wife, leaving my shocked youngest son sitting there alone without his mother’s protection. A whole lot of DCRI police officers in civil clothes arrived and the apparent chief said “Yes, that is Vikernes”.
The front door to the living room after the police action:
Now, thankfully my mother-in-law was there, to take care of our children, so I was not so worried about that part. I heard them talking and her trying to calm the children down. I was — to my great surprise — allowed to put on some clothes, I was told that we were suspected of having committed or preparring to committ an act of terrorism, and was held in custody whilst the police in civil clothes went through our things in the office. All in all, throughout our house, they confiscated books, ammo and 5 spare rifle magazines, PCs, USB pens, hard-discs, a 222 Remington CZ 527 bolt-action rifle, a 22 LR CZ 457 bolt-action rifle, a 22 LR Browning lever-action rifle and a side-by-side 12 gauge Bajkal shotgun, an air rifle, two air-soft rifles, hunting knives, survival knives, three crossbows with bolts, a gladius, a seax and two spears. They checked the entire house and the property too with dogs, but — of course — found nothing. They also found all the receipts for all the rifles and ammo, and my wife’s permission to own these firearms.
They did not take my wife’s hunting magazine, any of our books about camping, our fishing equipment, our first aid books, our cantines, or any other hunting, survivalism or camping equipment. (…)
After that I was brought back into the living room and saw that my youngest son had thrown up in his grand mother’s arms, and I understood that he was very shaken. The police action was obviously a bit too dramatic for a 3,5 year-old boy. She was trying to comfort him. Apparently things weren’t going so well with the kids after all. His pregnant mother was placed in front of the children on a chair with hand cuffs on, bleeding from her nose.
Outside there were cars parked all over our front lawn and there were DCRI policemen everywhere. I had a hood placed over my head and was quickly placed inside a car along with half the SWAT team. My wife was placed in the car behind with the other half of the SWAT team. The two cars left the property and drove very fast towards the high way, and continued in around 160-170 km per hour on the high way, to Brive. The police professionally maneuvred the car through the traffic, and we arrived safely in Brive. We were both placed in different holding cells. I knew that they had had no reason whatsoever to charge any of us for “terrorism”, but I had my bad experiences with the Norwegian police freshly in my mind. Would the French police too fabricated evidence? Would they too lie? Would they too plant evidence? Would they too keep me locked up for almost a year before they would let me stand before a political court and go through some mock trial? I did not yet know, so I was worried. Unfortunately my wife was apparently involved too, and my three children were left there to wait for our return.
Thankfully the police did their best to remove the glass from the floor and went to great lengths to make sure there were no glass fragments in the shoes given to our children. Here is some of the glass found on our floor, after I have vacuumed the area outside of the pile itself:
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Unfortunately I have been in a holding cell before. Several times actually. All in all for about a month’s time. It is not very comfortable. You just lie there, some times for days, or in extreme cases even for weeks, before you are transferred to a normal prison and a normal prison cell where you are to spend a year or two in custody awaiting trial.
In France I was allowed to talk to a lawyer surprisingly fast. He told me that I was arrested for “terrorism”, but that they didn’t seem to have any evidence for this whatsoever, so he assumed that it had been done just to give them more time and more legal rights in relation to their treatment of us.
Having found nothing whatsoever in our rental house or on our property suggesting in any way that my wife and I had any criminal plans the police officers were left with trying to make us talk ourselves into trouble, to put it that way. Only they didn’t actually seem to be too interested in “getting” us. Instead they tried to get clarity. I was shocked! Having experience with the band of thugs known as the Norwegian criminal police, who never seemed to care for anything but getting me and everybody else they arrested, no matter what, I was talking to policemen who were instead doing their job, like common people expect them to do and like they are supposed to do. No false testimonies. No fabricated evidence. No planting of illegal items on our property. No desperate attempts to make everything I said sound as if I was rotten to the core. No obviously deliberate misunderstandings of what I actually said. No attempts to put Marie and me up against each other. Nothing, save some confusion regarding what had been confiscated where and who had been present when this had been done. At the same time the local policemen in Brive behaved exemplary too, all of them and all the time. They were polite and professional. No screaming of vulgarities to the incarcerated. No threatening behaviour. No disparaging laughing or exposure of us to ridicule or other unpleasantries. No misuse of power. Wow! France was really different. At that time I felt a bit ashamed for being Norwegian. Maybe civilisation had not yet reached Norway after all.
They brought clarity and very quickly found out that my wife and I had no terrorist plans. However, the DCRI police officers were working under orders “from the top”, as they put it, so they had to find some way to justify the arrestation of us, obviously ordered from “the top”, so they started to prepare other accusations against us. Like were we suitable parents? I was asked questions about my sons’ camo clothes, archery and my daughter’s use of a sword on one of the photos on my blog.
Was this military training for and political indoctrination of my oldest son?
Was this military training for and political indoctrination of my 2-year-old daughter?
No?… okay. I have no idea what went through their minds when they asked these questions, but at least they didn’t insist that this was military training or indoctrination of any sort. Boys like to play with toy guns and camo clothes. Boys love wooden swords and shields. They love to play hide-and-seek (and camo clothes are very good for that). Boys love bow and arrow, I did too when I was young. The little 2-year-old girl is playing with her bigger brother’s wooden sword? No, that is not military training and brainwashing of children. It is not political indoctrination. It is perfectly normal.
“The guy on the top”, a politician of course, wanted to get me for something though. No terror plans unveiled after the first 24 hours? No evil nazi indoctrination of children unveiled after the first 48 hours? Merde! So they had to find something else to pin on me, and extended the custody for another 48 hours. My pregnant wife was released from custody though, and was successfully smuggled out by the DCRI under the radar of the horde of journalists who had set up camp outside the police station.
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The next day interviews started normally, around
8:00, and the subject was very political, and obviously intended for a
preparation of a potential legal persecution, based on my possible
violations here on Thulean Perspective of the French ban on expressing
certain political opinions. Later the same day a judge wanted more
answers and more clarity in relations to questions I had answered
before, both the same day and also the two previous days, and he
according to the police wanted to get a more correct picture.
My lawyer told me at the end of the day that I was
probably going to be transferred to Paris, to a special place dedicated
to these subjects, and after having been returned to the holding cell I
started to prepare mentally for another long and hard battle against all
odds in a hostile system wanting to punish me in order to scare me and
others from talking against the “elite”. Political crimes. Punishment
for expressing my opinion and airing my concerns for the future.
One of the investigators returned to the cell shortly
after, maybe after only 20 or 30 minutes or so, and told me that the
judge had read through the last interview and I could go home. But I had
been given another 48 hours in custody, and only 10 or so of those
hours had passed! How was that possible? Well, I had given my
explanation, which seemed to be just fine, so I could just leave. As
easy as that. Again I faced a cultural shock, being used to petty police
investigators in Norway, who never ever released anybody until the very last minute, no matter what, and always trying
to keep you locked up longer and for as long as possible. They would
have at least kept me for those 48 hours! No, the investigation was over
so I could just return home… okay, as a Norwegian I was really not
expecting this, but I was of course not going to argue about it, so… off
we went.
The same SWAT team that had arrested me were tasked
with bringing me back home, in civilian clothes this time, but still
with ski masks on. They were still exceptionally authoritarian,
professional and clear, so to speak, and we left the police
station driving a car through a group of photographs and reporters, who
had to be physically pushed out of the way to give room for the car to
leave. They kept running after the car for some time, trying to get a
shot they could use. Dear Pagan God! I was ashamed of being of the same
species as these individuals; what a horrible group of people! (Yes, my
wife has moderated me quite a lot here. This was not what I originally
had to say about them…)
During the journey home the policemen drove and
behaved no less professionally than before, looking out for pursuers (i.
e. journalists), and routinely telling each other about what they saw.
“Right clear”. “Left clear”. “Attention! Volkswagen”, when a Volkswagen
started driving from a parking lot when we drove past it, et cetera.
Being a Lada Niva driver I can assure you that the trip from Brive to
my home certainly took much less time than it normally did.
They asked me where I wanted them to drop me off,
because they told me there were journalists besieging the property, and I
told them to go to a pathway behind a grove nearby. They sat me off and
joined me on my walk towards the house. I explained how I planned to
enter our garden, and they told me they had to make sure I entered
before they could leave. Within sight of them I approached the house and
gave them my thumbs up when I arrived in our garden. It was a bit
bizarre. Four well built and fairly young men wearing ski masks and
combat gloves, but t-shirts, just standing there under the trees. Had I
met such a group on a pathway in a forest, when out walking with the
kids, I would have been very concerned. I was thinking about that old
lady I had seen a few times on the path, and was hoping she wasn’t out
walking that particular evening…
The rear entrance was locked, so I had to move around
to the front, but I tried to do so when there were nobody there. The
coast was clear and I opened a front door, which had been left unlocked
(!?), and when I closed the door behind me I saw a photographer taking
pictures.
The reporter rabble by the police station in Brive started to appear, one after the other, and began taking photos of everything.
The garage. The house. The cars. The tree in our garden. The windows.
The cars again. The cars from another angle. The house from another
angle. Et cetera. Over and over again. It went on for hours. Why?
Why on Earth would these motives be of any interest whatsoever to their
readers or viewers?
All cars had been left unlocked, in the open in our
yard. One car had been taken out of the garage and another had had it’s
cover removed, leaving them completely exposed to the lenses of the
reporters. Why?
To stop their intrusion of privacy I went out, under
cover, to put one car in the garage and to cover up another. The
cameramen went nuts, and ran around like madmen, taking photos.
Very early the next morning I moved the third car out
of the way, around the corner of the house, but the reporters –
arriving a bit later – just trespassed on the neighbour’s property and
continued to take pictures of it from his private property. Yes, they
broke the law in order to continue to take photos of the same car
they had photographed the day before… what a scoop! “The car is under
the tree around the corner now!” Oooo!
I pity them. They can not be very proud of themselves.
This photo is taken by me this morning, the 20th of July 2013. “What goes around, comes around”.
The blacking out of the face and the license plate is
(yes, amateurishly and quickly) done by me using Paint, because of the
privacy laws here in France, that I at least respect.
I am a survivalist, so if I want to keep staying out
of their view I can do that – literally for years. They took my wife’s
rifles, but not our food and water reserves. I wonder if the TV stations
and newspapers can afford to keep their reporters here in France for
very long – or if they are willing to keep this up, only for them to
take more photos of our property and properties. They are already
representing services that have in reality become redundant. We have the
internet now. We don’t need you guys any more. Bye bye.
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“Many have loved treason, none the traitor.” (European proverb)
This week Marie and I was in trouble;
persecuted by the police for no good reason whatsoever, and also placed
in the stocks and attacked viciously by the media. Some human beings out
there, none of them our friends, joined in when the media wailing choir
sang their songs of scorn, when they spewed out their hatred and spat
upon us with their venomous tongues.
“An undeserved insult doesn’t bite much.” (European proverb)
So I am happy to tell that Marie and
I, although we have certainly also seen some hostility the last week,
have been overwhelmed by the support we have received. From family, from
friends, from acquaintances, from complete strangers and even from
individuals we have only admired from a distance before. We have seen so
much courage and true comradeship in those around us. We are very
touched by this and grateful, and we wish to express our gratitude to
you all. We have received literally hundreds of mails, with everything
from offers of economic assistance to moral support. We are also very
encouraged by the fact that so many who were not our friends before have
stood up for us and thrown themselves into the line of fire, so to
speak, when the temperature was at its highest, for our protection;
demanding from us only that they shall be allowed to fight for justice
and morality alongside us. Thank you all, very much.
“One should go invited to a friend with good fortune, but uninvited if he is has problems.” (European proverb)
To those who offer us economic aid, or
who suggest we open up for others to donate money to us, I will say
thank you very much, but no thank you. You are very kind and we
appreciate your thought immensely. We have of course suffered
economically from this, but we wish to carry this burden alone. The
burden of knowing that others will be burdened by us is worse to carry
than the burden of the economic loss itself. We think and we hope that
we will be able to manage.
“From harm you grow wise, but not rich.” (European proverb)
To those who have ordered the ForeBears
DVD I have been asked by my wife to tell that your orders will be
processed, but it will take more time than usual, because of our
situation right now. She has received an extreme amount of orders, much
more than usual, but at the same time we have a house to tidy and clean
and a door to repair after the police raid. We are walking with shoes on
inside, because there are tiny glass fragments everywhere, even
upstairs, and even after we have vacuumed several times. Because of the
siege by journalists we have also been unable to comfortably remove the
rubble and piles of glass from our living room. We hope to get it all
done before the return of our children.
“Rather suffer for the truth than be rewarded for lies.” (European proverb)
Thankfully, because we are
survivalists we have not lacked any food, drinking water or anything
else either, and had the choice not to expose ourselves to the
individuals with cameras outside, and I wish to use this as an example
of how important it is to be prepared for any and every type of
difficult situations that might occur. If you are a survivalist you will
suffer less, and some times not at all, in situations that would be
very difficult for those who are not. Not everything you have to survive
is of classical nature or possible to predict.
“In calm water every ship has a good captain.” (European proverb)
Thank you all again very much for your
support. We will try to get back to each and every one of you
personally, but we hope you understand if we are unable to, or at least
no able to very soon.
“We have not inherited Europe from our ancestors; we have borrowed it from our children.” (European proverb)
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We could speculate widely about this, but the truth is that I know why they did this. They told me: they arrested us because “someone” had told them that I had been one of those unfortunate 500+ receivers of the “manifest” of the Zionist, Freemason and Christian mass-murderer Anders B. Breivik, who received it before his horrendously coward crimes against anti-Zionist socialist youth on Utøya. The French police had been told that an address reciving his manifest, registered in the name wolfschanze, was my e-mail address. According to the police this (false) knowledge alone lead to our arrest. Hm… I wonder who told them this, and why?
You can always argue that my wife’s purchase of two small calibre (one 22 LR and one 222 Remington) bolt action rifles and a small calibre (22 LR) lever action rifle, as well as a 12 gauge shotgun could make them suspicious, but if so just about the entire rural France should be under suspicion too, because here were we live almost everybody has such rifles. Some one or two fewer, sure, and others one or two more, but still. If anybody thinks that terrorists plan an attack using legally registered side-by-side shotguns and small calibre hunting and sport rifles of 7th and 5th category then they are not policemen, but are more likely to fall under some other and much less flattering category.
With that said, I have yet to see any European family fathers and pregnant mothers of three small children commit any acts of terrorism anywhere.
My criminal past has also been listed as an argument in favour of an arrest, but can anybody tell me where the link is between killing a perverse self-proclaimed murderer in self-defence, because he wants to torture you to death, and terrorism? Even if you believe in the self-contradictory lies of the “Norwegian” authorities and trust them when they claim that I drove almost 550 km and murdered a man for no good reason whatsoever (yes, that is the official claim, by the Soviet mock court in Oslo) you have to understand that going from “murdering” a man (for no good reason) to terrorism is a very, very long and indeed rare step.
(I can quickly add that they didn’t want to admit that I acted in self-defence, because that would have ruined their whole case against me, Norway’s most popular and unpopular dissident at the time, but they could list no other reasonable reason for me killing him, so they just pretended I killed him for no good reason whatsoever. Why not? Nobody in the “Norwegian” press has ever questioned this anyhow. They also claimed I had stabbed the guy 21 (23?) times, when in reality I killed him with a tiny pocket knife, that I pulled only because he tried to get a (big) knife to stab me, and the majority of those wounds were in any case probably caused by glass fragments from a smashed lamp, which he at one point fell flat into wearing only his underwear, and also later walked around in. One of those “stab wounds” listed as caused by me were found under his foot. Welcome to Soviet Norway.)
I seriously doubt that the police saw me as a threat only because I killed a man 20 years ago – for whatever reason.
Finally, the speculations regarding our arrest being caused by my encouragement to revolt are also pure rubbish, because I have stated in these same blog posts, and in comments too, that we must never break the law and always act according to the laws of our countries. “Never do anything illegal”, as I have often stated, is very much in conflict with terrorism.
The French authorities, like they told us and our lawyers, arrested us solely because of that (false) link to Breivik, a person we strongly disagree with on all fundamental questions. A person I have publicly and repeatedly attacked, because of his coward crimes and because I detest everything he stands for and represents.
So tell me France, why did this really happen?
My French wife was arrested, a shy, 155 cm tall pregnant blonde with three small children and no criminal record, and they pretty much only asked her questions regarding me and my activities, so why was she not brought in as a witness instead? You tell me…
I grew up in and have lived most of my life in Soviet Norway, alias NDR (Norwegische Demokratische Republik), so I am no stranger to vicious political suppression, totalitarianism, extremism and state persecution and terror against dissident citizens: is this perhaps the reason why I feel so much at home here in your new France?
Soviet Norway: first and mainly Soviet:
The France I remember and adore:
NB! Remember that I have no Facebook profiles, so anyone pretending to be me there are frauds. Remember also that each and every Burzum website other than burzum.org are all false, made by fans or by individuals who wish me no good.
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