Another Deep State actor has bitten the dust.
On Monday, 21 February, Dr. Francis Collins was hanged to death at Guantanamo Bay, but he did not go quietly into the night, or, in his case, the dawn. Whimpering, bawling, sniveling, and moaning, Collins tried to bargain for his life as a uniformed Marine shoved him up the shallow steps leading to the gallows.
The man who used to strum his guitar at work and creepily serenade female employees implored the execution detail to spare his life, saying he was old, tired, and probably wouldn’t live much longer anyway. Below him, Rear Adm. Darse E. Crandall and another high-ranking military officer who was chomping noisily on a cigar cast a disdainful glance in his direction.
“I didn’t do anything,” Collins said repeatedly, his frail frame atremble. “I did nothing wrong.”
“Treason, mass medical malpractice, conspiracy to commit murder,” Rear Adm. Crandall bellowed. “Eight unethical behavior suits in litigation, suddenly settled and confidentially sealed days before Obama appointed you head of NIH. But you did nothing wrong?”
Unlike other Deep Staters, Collins requested Last Rites. A member of the U.S. Navy Chaplain Corps climbed the steps and stood beside him, saying, ““Through this holy anointing may the Lord in his love and mercy help you with the grace of the Holy Spirit. May the Lord who frees you from sin save you and raise you up.”
Collins beseeched the priest to parley on his behalf, to tell Rear Adm. Crandall he didn’t deserve to die.
“That’s beyond my job description, my child,” the priest replied.
Without further ado, a soldier atop the platform slipped the noose around Collins’ neck and gestured to Rear Adm. Crandall that he was ready to carry out the execution. Rear Adm. Crandall gave the “execute” order, and Collins dropped to his death, his neck snapping instantaneously.
He was pronounced dead at 9:15 a.m. on Monday morning.