On another occasion, I was cognizant that the phone line to my trailer may have been tapped. Being also familiar with the art of wire tapology, I verified my suspicions by doing a voltage measurement on the line with my multi-meter—a technique I learned from AT&T trouble shooters. Sure enough, the reading was lower than normal.
This meant that resistance on the line had increased due to someone listening in. After that, I nonchalantly took a short stroll around the neighborhood and noticed a parked van that was not normally parked on the block with a wire running up a phone pole. So I figured I’d play along with the jig.
Since the van sign read “plumber”, I recollected the WaterGate break-in and “The White House Plumbers.” Ironically, five of them were Cubans who were caught burglarizing the Democratic National Committee headquarters. For me this Cuban connection only managed to cause more confusion.
As soon as I arrived back at my trailer, I picked up the phone and proceeded to say the following: “Hey you guys sittin’ in the van with the headsets on. Do you think I would chit chat over the line with you-all listenin’ in?” Then on a more serious note, I relayed how I had told Angie that, “Our objective is to get Castro out of Cuba, and my reason for saying that; hoping that this would clarify all the confusion about me conspiring to overthrow the Castro regime. Again, like the agents outside of the school, the line remained silent, so as not to reveal their eavesdropping.
Then I began to razz them by stating, “This is most likely an illegal wiretap anyway. I can’t believe you guys woke up a judge overnight to get a warrant that quick for this surveillance, unless the guy’s a jughead.”
In the meantime, it was becoming more and more obvious to me that the chiropractic adjustment made me mad as a hatter, but it really didn’t matter; because I was out to have some grins anyway.