This week brought us a remarkable disclosure by BP.
They admitted to lobbying the Scottish government on behalf of Libya to obtain a prisoner release in return for BP securing drilling rights off the Libyan.
True to form, BP denied any knowledge of, or involvement in, the July, 2009 release of Abdelbaset Ali Mohmed al-Megrahi, the Libyan Intelligence officer found guilty of planting the bomb that tore apart Pan Am Flight 103 over Lockerbie, Scotland in 1988.
If BP’s drilling deal with Libya wasn’t tied to the release of Mr. Megrahi, than what Libyan National incarcerated in a Scottish jail was a more important commodity to the Libyan government?
The possibility that BP was paid in oil for the release of a mass murderer does not require a wild conspiratorial giant step to infer. In fact, it's a probability, and an investigation should be demanded.
Yet, Prime Minister Cameron is stone-walling any investigation.
Cameron's refusal to act is a slap in the face, not only to the President and American people, but to surviving family members of Mr. Megrahi’s victims and the rule of law, itself.
Allow me to put Mr. Megrahi's crime into stark perspective.
Now more than ever, it's a story every American needs to read.
ABJECT EVIL
The Last Minutes of Flight One-Zero-Three
Chapter One – Home for Christmas
There were 259 innocents aboard Pan Am Flight 103 that night as the Boeing 747-121 Jumbo Jet lifted off of Runway 27R at Heathrow and sliced its way through the thick English night sky. The mammoth plane headed North by Northwest, climbing to 31,000 feet somewhere above Leeds. Its ground speed was a clip 434 knots as it streaked toward the heart of the Scottish Lowlands.
As Flight 103 entered Scottish airspace, the Area Control Center at Prestwick initiated contact.
Captain James MacQuarrie was a seasoned and cheerful 55 year old pilot from Kensington, New Hampshire and unapologetically known as a staunch Union man to his coworkers and employer alike.
It was Jim who responded to the controller:
"Good evening Scottish, Clipper one zero three. We are at level three one zero."
First Officer Ronald Wagner was a 52 year old flying veteran from Pennington, New Jersey (about 30 miles from my home). Ron boasted even more flying hours than MacQuarrie.
Wagner's voice was recorded next:
"Clipper 103 requesting oceanic clearance."
Soon, they were scheduled to veer West toward the black, quiet vastness of the North Atlantic. It would be another six hours in the air before exercising their final descent into Kennedy. In seconds, The Clipper of the Seas would be flying directly over 10-year-old Joanne Flannigan, 82-year-old Jean Aitken Murray and nine others whose fates would be forever intertwined with those 259 souls above them.
Captain James MacQuarrie
Most of the passengers and crew this December night were American citizens (190). It was already the 21st and many of the travelers were young American college kids who had gobbled up last minute open singles, and all of them anxious to be reunited with their families for the Christmas holidays. There were thirty-five students from Syracuse University alone, four apiece from Colgate and Brown, two from SUNY’s Oswego campus and another pair from Seton Hill College, a small Catholic school in Greensburg, Pennsylvania, about forty-five minutes from Pittsburgh. Ten residents of Long Island were returning from various locations, and 20 year-old Christopher Jones from Clavarack, New York, whose parents had recently lost their 18 year old daughter to a fatal illness. Also onboard were five members of the Rattan family from New Delhi, including three year old Suruchi who was proudly wearing a bright red tunic for her long journey to the United States. One of the Rattan children had fallen ill in Frankfurt and the family was forced to take a later flight to London. They rushed to catch the third leg of four toward their final destination of Detroit, only to enter a deserted gate, They could still see the flashing lights on the missed transcontinental flight fading into the eternal British fog as it made its laborious route to the runway. A sympathetic airline employee radioed the pilot who eased the “Maid of the Seas” back to the gate to pick up their five stragglers.
Christopher Jones
Chapter Two - Abject Evil
The ricocheting aftershocks were far more destructive than the initial explosion beneath the cockpit. Waves of pure, crushing energy pulsed through the ductwork, jolting passengers with deadly force as they began to peel the roof away. The navigation and communication center ripped away from the forward hold causing the fuselage to pitch and roll, uncontrollably. As the shock waves began to rebound from starboard to port, the cockpit and front section of the big jet broke away striking the number 3 Pratt & Whitney engine. Pieces of the fuselage began to crack apart in the –51 degree air, and the depressurized cabin began to disintegrate, leaving those who survived the initial explosions gasping for air as their lungs began to swell, and finally, collapse.
Tornado-force winds began to tear through the blackness, stripping away clothes and throwing some of those with loose or unattached seat belts to the back of the fuselage - or ejected them out of the aircraft and into the black of the troposphere. Others remained in what was left of the cabin as they crashed to earth still strapped to their seats.
A few may have regained consciousness as they hurtled to earth and toward the increasingly oxygen-rich lower atmosphere. As the falling giant entered the elevated outside air pressure, the fuselage began to break into smaller pieces and separate from the wings. Traveling at a speed of 500 miles per hour, it would be the wings that would first strike the ground, instantly igniting the 200,000 pounds of kerosene within their thin metal skins. The resultant fireball instantly destroyed houses, and between the fire and falleing fragments, a total of eleven townspeople were killed. The impact blast vaporized an entire section of the plane, along with it passengers and created a massive crater. Yet, according to forensics, the crew, flight attendants, and 147 passengers may survived the initial bomb blast and shockwaves, and even the depressurization, only to perish on impact. Additional forensics suggested that a few hearts may have continued to beat for a few seconds after striking the ground. A helicopter pilot involved in the initial recovery discovered a passenger clutching a handful of grass.
Some time had passed after the Lockerbie bombing when a note with flowers was discovered outside the Lockerbie town hall.
The note read:
"To the little girl in the red dress who lies here who made my flight from Frankfurt such fun. You didn't deserve this. God Bless - Chas."
Epilogue
Maybe Abdel Basset Ali al-Megrahi is just the luckiest man in the World.
Maybe the British Government simply neglected to realize that the single-most destructive and despicable mass murderer in British history was a Libyan, alive and well (see below) and sitting in one of their jails.
Then there was that second life sentence, the one delivered by a single doctor who pronounced Megrahi dying from terminal cancer and claimed he had just three months to live. Apparently, the doctor neglected to mention which 3 months - those that should have expired about a year ago or a random 3 months some 20 years from now, as Megrahi's latest medical update suggests.
Maybe the Libyan climate is a cure for terminal cancer.
Or maybe Megrahi has become a regular recipient of divine intervention.
After all, God is Great...right?
But exactly whose God would that be?
No doubt a “God” living among us, right here on Earth,
and one with blood, and oil, dripping from both hands.
Personally, I would expect our President to demand an inquiry.
How about you?