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(Warning to reader: this introduction is choppy. I am just trying to accommodate the public by getting blocks of my narrative up quickly. When I finally weave them all into one story I will improve the writing, add more links etc.).
On the last day of July, 2020 a dear friend of mine from Montana, a stolid, Native American fellow some several years my junior, visited me at my home in Utah. A few days earlier I had had surgery on my spinal chord, and he was checking in. He told me that there was a group of people, some ex-federal some not, some cyber-experts and some of various other expertise, who were organizing on the subject of election fraud. My friend was adamant that I get involved and help them. My friend was quite a squared-away individual, and I took his advice and requests seriously. The next day, August 1, my friend died in a plane crash: though the coincidence is troubling, I looked into it personally (I am a multi-engine instrument land and seaplane pilot), and it does seem to me to have been the error of his instructor (who flew the plane into a box canyon without the power to climb out).
