Some Saturday Morning Visitors

For some time we have suspected that Sojourners has been under surveillance. Unusual problems with our phones, the inexplicable disappearance of certain materials from our office, and the presence of questionable cars, often at odd hours, have all contributed to our suspicions.

Then one morning last fall, the most concrete incident of apparent surveillance occurred. A number of people have told us that our best protection against this type of activity, and any of its potential consequences, is to get the word out to as many of our friends as quickly as we can. We therefore want to tell you the full story.

On the morning of Saturday, October 27, 1984, Ed Richardson, a staff member, was up before dawn to leave town for the weekend. On his way out of the city, he stopped by the Sojourners office to pick up a few things. He arrived just before 6 a.m. and parked behind another car in front of our building.

It was just becoming light as he walked down the driveway toward the back entrance of the building. As he rounded the corner to head toward the doorway, he was startled to see four men looking in the building. Two were staring in through the entrance door, and two were peering in the sliding doors about 20 feet away. They didn't see Ed. The tall and husky men were white, well-dressed in suits and ties, and appeared to be in their late 20s or early 30s. One was carrying a camera.

Ed calmly asked, "Can I help you?" They all turned around and were obviously quite surprised, acting as though they were caught at something. One of the men, who had red hair, blushed with embarrassment.

After a few moments of awkward silence, the red-haired man, the only one who spoke, finally said with great hesitancy, "Uh, is this Sojourners?" Ed replied that it was the magazine's office. The man then said they had come to visit the community. Ed told them no one lived here and that Saturday morning at 6 a.m. was a very unusual time for someone to visit the community. This seemed to further embarrass him. His only reply was "Uh, uh ..."

Ed offered to give him the name of someone to call if they wanted to visit, but the man turned it down, saying he already had the number. Ed then asked the man for his name and number so we could contact him for an appointment. The man again declined, this time saying, "Uh, that's OK, we'll come back some other time. Thanks."

While Ed and the red-haired man were talking, the other three men slowly made their way toward the driveway and the front of the building. Ed noticed that the one carrying the camera was taking great care to conceal his equipment. The red-haired man now also began to move toward his partners. Ed followed them as they headed up the driveway. Every few yards the red-haired man glanced over his shoulder at Ed and nervously said, "Thanks, we'll come back when you're open."

The four hurriedly got in their car, the one parked in front of Ed's, and drove off rapidly, the tires squealing as they left. Their car was a plain, dark brown, late-model sedan, with a long CB-type antenna attached near the back left window. The car had Virginia license plate "G-306" with a 1985 sticker in the corner. After they sped away, Ed checked the outside and inside of the building for any other evidence of who they were, but found none.

We have pursued several avenues in an attempt to find out who owns Virginia tags "G-306," but so far to no avail. The state of Virginia refuses to give us any information, citing privacy laws. The District of Columbia Police Department says no law was broken, although I was told their actions would have been illegal if our building had a fence surrounding it. But with no law broken, privacy laws also kept the D.C. police from helping us. We are exploring other routes of investigation, some including the help of congressional friends.

That is all we know. We will keep you informed of any developments.

Joe Roos was managing editor of Sojourners magazine when this article appeared.