Beirut Rules by Fred Burton & Samuel Katz

Author:Fred Burton & Samuel Katz
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2018-10-22T16:00:00+00:00

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ON SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 1, 1986, Imad Mughniyeh’s gang released David Jacobsen. Jacobsen traveled from Beirut to Damascus; from the Syrian capital, he was flown to Wiesbaden and the US Air Force medical facility. Once again the HLTF was summoned. This time, the team consisted of representatives from the CIA, FBI, DIA, and ██; DSS Special Agent Fred Burton was also summoned. Jacobsen appeared in good health despite being frail and haggard. He had been viciously beaten with a rubber hose after Father Jenco’s release. The debriefing was routine and matter-of-fact. Gathering information concerning Buckley’s final days was a top priority for the HLTF contingent. “They took Buckley’s body out of the room and outside the apartment,” Jacobsen explained calmly. “There was a staircase outside where we were being held and the guards didn’t even bother to carry Buckley away. They dragged him. And when they dragged him down the stairs you could hear the slow thud of his head banging on each and every step. It was horrific.” To illustrate the point and the sheer barbarity, Jacobsen slapped his hands together and slammed them down on the conference table with as much force as his weakened frame could muster to mimic the sound of Buckley’s head hitting the marble stairs. He clapped over and over again to illustrate how Buckley’s head hit the marble staircase as he was dragged down toward a courtyard; he also crashed his open hand onto the table for effect.24 The slow and terrible cadence of the reconstruction was horrifying to the men in the room. The spies, soldiers, and special agents sat in silence, aghast that even in death William Buckley’s dignity had been so flagrantly violated.

Confirmation of William Buckley’s death was kept from the media for months. In Langley, the concussive wave of despair and anger grew daily. Silence turned to anger, but the anger was directionless. The CIA still didn’t know who Imad Mughniyeh was.

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