Terry Yeakey was a giant of a man with a heart as big as the rest of him. I
wish I had known him. He was a crusader for truth. Whenever his name is
mentioned, I think of the news photo of him sprinting down NW 5th Street
toward the Murrah Building on another of the many rescue missions he
performed that ugly day. In his blue uniform, he tends to remind us of a NFL
linebacker about to put the sack on an unfortunate quarterback, but this is
quickly overridden by the grave concern on the face of a policeman in a
panic to save lives.
After numerous private investigators produced irrefutable evidence of multiple explosions, unexploded bombs being hauled away after the fact, and the complete and total incapability of an Ammonium Nitrate Fuel Oil (ANFO) bomb to cause the cause the kind of devastation seen in downtown Oklahoma City, a giant government cover-up became obvious.
Only a couple of hours into the rescue, Sgt. Terrence Yeakey became painfully aware of something disturbing. Did he somehow figure out that the building had been blown from the inside and that the news reports were baloney? Did he overhear a strange conversation from some of the many ATFagents who were on the scene sooner than they should have been? Whatever it was, Terry was upset. He called his wife that morning crying – the big ol’ Teddy Bear of a guy was crying – and saying repeatedly, “It’s not true. It’s not what they are saying. It didn’t happen that way.” Terry Yeakey may have been the first to discover the sham.
He ran back and forth into that concrete mess of bricks and mortar all day
long and continued beyond exhaustion, far into the night. He scraped and
crawled and dug until his fingers bled and then kept digging some more. In a
cadre of heroes that day, Terry’s performance was outstanding. On May 11th,
the following year he was scheduled to receive the Medal of Valor from the
Oklahoma City Police Department. He never got it. He was murdered on May 8,
1996, in the country – two and a half miles west of the El Reno
Penitentiary.
The official report said “Suicide,” and anyone who believes an ANFO bomb
destroyed Murrah and the other surrounding buildings will believe this.
According to the report, Terry slashed himself eleven times on both forearms
before cutting his own throat twice near the jugular vein. Then, apparently
seeking even a more private place to die, he crawled another mile of rough
terrain away from his car and climbed a fence, before shooting himself in
the head with a small caliber revolver. What appeared to be rope burns on
his neck, handcuff bruises to his wrists, and muddy grass imbedded in his
slash wounds strongly indicated that he had some help in traversing this
final distance.
The bullet’s entrance wound was in the right temple, above the eye. It went
through the policeman’s head and exited in the area of the left cheek, near
the bottom of the ear lobe line. The trajectory was from a 40-45 degree
angle above his head. There were no powder burns. No weapon was ever
reported as found at the scene, but independent investigators speculated
that had Yeakey shot himself with standard police issue – a Glock 9mm or a
.357 Magnum – his head would have been far more destroyed than it apparently
was.
Example of skull xray showing downward path of bullet exhibited in Yeakey’s autopsy drawing.
One of the last people Officer Yeakey talked to was a friend who knew he was
on a mission of private investigation. Terry had told him that he was on his
way to El Reno to check out something but first he had to shake the FBI
agents who were following him. He was traveling in his private automobile,
and witnesses said later that the inside looked like someone had “butchered
a hog” on the front seat.
While political assassinations within American borders have become more
prevalent in recent years, the ploy to place the blame on someone else –
even the victim himself – is nothing new. Neither is the gullibility of the
American public.
Although the Yeakey incident occurred some thirty miles away in a different
jurisdiction, the investigation was quickly taken out of the hands of the El
Reno police and the Canadian County sheriff and turned over to the Oklahoma
City Police Department and the FBI. No homicide investigation was ever
conducted, and there was no autopsy.
In an interview with Terry’s widow, Tonia Yeakey revealed that her husband
had been very upset by something he had seen under the day care center on
April 19th. He had wanted to go back and photograph it, but the officials
would not let him onto the site again. The Oklahoma Bombing Investigation
Committee (OKBIC) speculates that what Terry saw may have coincided with the
possible evidence of another unreported bombing device uncovered by their
“science people.”
Mrs. Yeakey also said that Terry was supposed to be decorated for his work
as a rescue person, but didn’t want to be put in the limelight. Terry felt
the investigation was fraudulent and didn’t like the fact that the OKPD was
honoring people who really weren’t deserving of the honor.
Sgt. Yeakey had told friends that he was going out of town to hide or secure
“evidence of a cover-up of the bombing by federal agents.” It was his day
off, and he was traveling in his private automobile. In his last known
conversation, Terry reportedly told a friend that he “was being followed by
the feds and had to shake them.” Previously, his household had been
subjected to numerous threatening phone calls by persons unknown, threats
which have not ceased even with his death.
Tonia Yeakey moved five times in the first three years since the Oklahoma City
tragedy. She continues to get intimidating letters and threatening phone
calls. Since her husband’s death, her home has been broken into and personal
threats have been written on her living room walls. She remains in fear for
her life, constantly seeking asylum, with no place to turn.
Sgt. Terry Yeakey was murdered, and just as with the absurd conclusions in
the Vince Foster case, the closing of the case as a “suicide” is ludicrous.
Webmaster’s note: All the autopsy evidence shows that Yeakey’s wounds were consistent with a torture-execution. The fatal shot was fired from a pistol with a silencer, held in contact with Yeakey’s skull, leaving a barrel imprint and very little powder residue. No pistol was found at the scene until the FBI arrived, over an hour after the body was found. Handcuff marks were on both wrists according to the funeral home director. By the time the body arrived at the funeral home, the wrist lacerations had been sewn up and mud and grass was inside–showing that Yeakey was dragged through the mud as he attempted to fight off his attackers.
