The White Patriot Party Proudly Presents...

A White Man Speaks Out

The former leader of the largest active
White Rights Group in the United States,
Speaks out for White America.

...by F.Glenn Miller

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Chapter 8:
Shotgun Blasts Fired Into My Home

A person or persons unknown, fired two 12 gauge shotgun blasts of double-ought buckshot into my home at 5:30 a.m., on the morning on November 20, 1984.

A Johnston County Sheriff's Deputy later counted 19 holes in the side of the house, several of which narrowly missed my son, Frazier, who was eight at the time, by two feet, and my daughter, Anna of 18 months, by about four feet. Frazier had been asleep on a living room couch, and Anna just below him on a pallet on the floor.

Several shotgun pellets penetrated two walls and lodged into the third, and one broke an overhead light fixture in our bathroom, creating a loud explosion which woke the whole family.

I got up, ran into the living room where I found Frazier and Anna sitting up, rubbing their eyes, and after spotting the several holes in the wall over the couch, I got my shotgun from my bedroom, where I always kept it leaning against the wall next to the bed.

And, after running half naked and with no shoes, out into my front yard, in the cold November air, I found no sign of anyone. Whomever it was had fired the two shots from the highway some 80 feet from the house, and then driven away quickly. The deputy would find the two spent shotgun shells the following day, lying next to the highway.

No one was hurt, but I became infuriated as did Marge, when we realized how close the shots had come to hitting Frazier and Anna.

I called my one and only close neighbor, Donald Clayton who lived 500 feet or so away on the other side of the highway, but although he had been awakened by the shotgun blasts, he hadn't seen anything either.

A sheriff's deputy arrived in 30 minutes or so following my call, but other than take down the little information I was able to provide and inspect the scene, he could do little else, so he left and came back the following day, at which time he found the empty shotgun shells, took a few pictures, and questioned a few of my neighbors.

The deputy, of course, knew all about me and the CKKKK, and therefore realized that I had thousands, if not millions, of enemies with the motive of hatred for the Klan. I suspected the government. Either the FBI, CIA, or other federal agency had either tried to kill me or frighten me into quitting my activities in the White Movement.

Making a long story short, no one was ever charged with the crime, even though the case was supposedly investigated by the Johnston County Sheriff's Department, the State Bureau of Investigation, and by the Federal Bureau of Investigation. This failure or, as I concluded at the time, this refusal to charge anyone, added to my paranoia of government assassination as a means to shut Glenn Miller up.

Our CKKKK rally scheduled for that very same night in Robeson County, may possibly have provoked some anti-Klan fanatic into firing those shots into my house, in an attempt to frighten me into canceling the rally. If that was the case, however, it didn't work.

 

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