On January 26, Johnathon Clearwater, an 18-month employee with USAID’s International Rescue Committee, was sitting at his work desk when he received an email marked “urgent.” Rather than open it immediately, he waited for eight colleagues in the same office to open theirs first. The email from the Office of Personnel Management, the government entity that manages the United States federal civil service, hit their inboxes simultaneously.
A startled Clearwater propelled himself out of his seat upon hearing a thunderous crashing sound on the opposite side of the office and a colleague swearing aloud. That person had flung his government-issued laptop against a wall.
“Fucking Elon Musk,” that colleague shouted. “We’re all fired.”
Clearwater then read the email. He, a probationary employee, had been terminated, and DOGE had canceled the contracts he and the others had worked on. The terse email said he had 15 minutes to pack his belongings, surrender his credentials, and vacate the building.
As the other seven in the office bemoaned the email and discussed ways of resisting the termination order, Clearwater quietly placed family photographs on his desk into a cardboard box. He then took the elevator to the lobby, gave his work badge and laptop to a security guard, and left the building.
A few days later, on January 29, Clearwater received a telephone call from OPM manager Katie Malague, who profusely apologized, saying his firing had been accidental and that he could report back to work at once. When he asked why the email stated he’d been fired for substandard performance, Malague assured him it had been a mistake, that many irreplaceable employees erroneously got sent notice of termination. “If you’ve seen on the news, errors were made, and we’re bringing people back,” Malague told him.
Clearwater told Malague he had to discuss it with his family, to which she replied, “Of course, but if you want your job back, we need you by Tuesday. We’d rather not hire someone else, but we’ll have to by Tuesday.”
The following Monday, February 3, Clearwater showed up at USAID’s offices and saw dozens of former employees holding banners and signs protesting Trump’s international aid freeze. They barred his entry, saying he should picket instead of entering the building and disturbing one of Elon Musk’s early morning Path of Exile gaming sessions.
Two security guards emerged from the front doors and escorted Clearwater inside, asking him to follow them to the security office so they could reissue his employment credentials. Inside the office, however, stood three US Marines, who informed Clearwater he was being placed under arrest for violating the Espionage Act of 1917.
Following the sweeping firings, numerous intelligence agencies and the military began probing the backgrounds of over 100 USAID personnel. Deep dives into their digital footprints had unearthed a trove of treasonous activity.
In Clearwater’s case, although he had been a probationary worker tasked with evaluating humanitarian relief for Ukrainian refugees and civilians, both abroad and within Ukraine, he had somehow gleaned knowledge of the White House’s plans to compel Zelenskyy to agree to a temporary cease-fire, which Clearwater communicated to the “Fifth Floor,” a code name for Ukraine’s Ministry of Defense in Kyiv.
Knowing what he had done, it is unclear why Clearwater returned to work. Perhaps he just wanted a paycheck or hoped to send more classified intelligence abroad.
Regardless, he was arrested and is in custody at an undisclosed military “Black Site.”
A high-ranking Department of Defense official told Real Raw News, “Clearwater isn’t the only one. We have proof that 75 former USAID employees were selling secrets for money. It’s because, under Biden’s presidency, they had access to intelligence that exceeded their purview.”
USAID’s building in D.C. was shuttered on February 7. Our source said he did not object to us publishing the article because USAID employees suspected of treasonous crimes are already in custody.