The Oklahoma City Bombing Wasn’t a Lone Wolf Attack And the FBI Has Spent 30 Years Hiding Why

Let’s start with what we know: On April 19, 1995, a Ryder truck packed with explosives detonated outside the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City. One hundred sixty-eight people died. Hundreds more were injured. Timothy McVeigh was arrested, tried, convicted, and executed. Terry Nichols got life. Case closed, officially.

But Jesse Trentadue never bought it.

His brother Kenneth was found dead in a federal holding cell in Oklahoma City just months later—August 21, 1995—with his face battered, bruised, and caked in prison-applied makeup meant to conceal trauma. Authorities called it suicide. They rushed to cremate the body. When Jesse stopped them and saw his brother’s injuries firsthand, he knew: this wasn’t self-inflicted. This was interrogation. This was torture. And it happened because someone mistook Kenneth for “John Doe #2”—the mysterious second bomber the FBI quietly dropped from its narrative after McVeigh’s arrest.

Now, nearly thirty years later, Jesse, a Utah attorney with no patience for institutional deference has forced the release of over two million pages of government documents through relentless FOIA litigation. What he’s uncovered doesn’t just challenge the official story of Oklahoma City. It exposes something far darker: a covert FBI program called PATCON—short for Patriot Conspiracy that didn’t merely monitor right-wing militias in the 1980s and 1990s. It infiltrated them. Manipulated them. And in some cases, pushed them toward violence they wouldn’t have committed on their own.

This isn’t a conspiracy theory. It’s documented fact.

PATCON Didn’t Just Watch—It Provoked

The FBI launched PATCON in the late 1980s, ostensibly in response to threats against agents in Austin, Texas. But internal records—and testimony from former informants—show the operation quickly evolved beyond intelligence gathering. By the early 1990s, undercover agents and paid informants were posing as radical patriots, embedding themselves deep inside groups like Aryan Nations, The Order, and Elohim City.

One such informant was Vince Reed.

According to Into the Devil’s Den, a 2008 book co-authored by FBI handler Tym Burkey and informant Dave Hall, Reed actively urged members of these groups to form a new domestic terror cell modeled after The Order—the very group responsible for bank robberies and the 1984 assassination of Jewish radio host Alan Berg. On page 126, Hall quotes Ray Redfeairn, then an Aryan Nations member, saying: “Vince Reed had urged them to create the New Order.” Redfeairn added: “I’d never trusted Reed.”

He was right not to.

Burkey later confirmed Reed was a federal asset—a top Aryan Nations official working directly for the Bureau. Yet when researcher J.M. Berger wrote about PATCON in 2012, he framed Reed’s role as preventive: helping the FBI stop efforts to recreate The Order. That version is now crumbling under the weight of primary-source evidence. Reed wasn’t stopping terrorism. He was soliciting it.

And John Matthews—one of the few PATCON insiders who went public said as much in 2011. He claimed PATCON was designed to provoke right-wing groups into violent acts, creating justification for federal crackdowns. The Justice Department denied it. Court records related to his claims remain sealed. Matthews himself vanished around 2014, just before he was scheduled to testify in Jesse Trentadue’s lawsuit against the U.S. government. He changed his mind overnight. Trentadue alleges witness tampering. A court-appointed investigation has been running behind closed doors for nearly eight years.

No one has been charged.

The Video That Should Have Been Exhibit A; But Was “Lost”

If you want to understand why Trentadue believes his brother was murdered, follow the footage.

Multiple independent witnesses reported seeing surveillance cameras at the Regency Tower Apartments just blocks from the Murrah Building with a direct line of sight to the bomb truck’s final position on NW 5th Street. In sworn depositions and internal memos, FBI agents described recovering that footage. They even showed stills from it to Wesley Bogie, a security guard who identified two individuals near the Ryder truck before the blast.

Bogie died in January 2024. His testimony can’t be refreshed.

Yet in federal court, the FBI repeatedly insisted no video existed. Under oath, the Chief of the Records Division claimed the Bureau had searched exhaustively and found nothing. Later, when pressed, agents hedged: maybe it was “misfiled.” Maybe it’s “lost.”

That’s not incompetence. That’s cover-up.

Trentadue has obtained FBI field notes describing the seizure of the Regency Tower tape. Agents logged its contents in detail. They used it in witness interviews. Then, when it came time for McVeigh’s trial—the most expensive prosecution in DOJ history, costing over $80 million—they didn’t introduce it. Not once. Not even as rebuttal.

Why?

Because, Trentadue argues, the tape shows a second man exiting the truck with McVeigh. And that man, he believes, was a PATCON operative—an FBI informant embedded so deeply he helped drive the plot forward.

“The only explanation for the FBI ‘losing’ that videotape,” Trentadue told The Gateway Pundit, “is because the second person in the truck was one of the Bureau’s PATCON undercover operatives.”

Think about that. The government spent tens of millions prosecuting a “lone wolf” while sitting on video evidence showing a team effort. And they lied about it in court.

Kenneth Trentadue Wasn’t Suicidal—He Was Mistaken for a Fed

Kenneth Trentadue was transferred from California to Oklahoma City in August 1995 for a minor parole violation; nothing serious, he told his brother Jesse in their last phone call. He expected release soon. They talked about his young son.

Three days later, he was dead.

Found hanging in his cell. Face covered in thick makeup. Body already slated for cremation.

When Jesse fought to see the body, he discovered cuts, bruises, and swelling consistent with blunt-force trauma—not self-harm. Prison officials claimed Kenneth “hit his head multiple times” during a botched hanging. But the injuries were too widespread, too severe. His arms and legs bore fresh contusions. His cell had been scrubbed with bleach immediately after death. Evidence vanished.

Jesse believes federal agents mistook Kenneth for Richard Lee Guthrie—a suspected PATCON-linked figure and possible “John Doe #2.” Both men were the same height, build, and weight. Both had dragon tattoos on their left forearms.

Guthrie was a known associate of Elohim City and The Order. He died in federal custody in 1996 under similarly suspicious circumstances—officially ruled a suicide, but with signs of struggle.

Kenneth wasn’t a terrorist. He wasn’t even political. He was collateral damage in a sting operation gone wrong or perhaps gone exactly as planned.

The Government’s Legal Escape Hatch: The “Government Actor Defense”

Even if Trentadue proves everything—if he names names, produces the tape, exposes PATCON’s architects, he likely won’t see justice in the form of prosecutions.

Why? Because of a little-known but devastating legal doctrine: the government actor defense. Under this precedent, federal agents and informants cannot be criminally liable for actions taken “within the scope of their duties”—even if those actions include entrapment, fraud, or murder.

In practice, it’s a get-out-of-jail-free card issued by the state to itself.

As Trentadue puts it: “Asking the United States to prosecute itself is like asking Al Capone to prosecute himself. It’s not going to happen.”

And if a PATCON operative were indicted? Trentadue says the case would collapse the moment that person started talking. “He or she is going to open the entire PATCON can of worms,” he warns. “Which the government cannot allow to happen.”

So the strategy shifts: not conviction, but exposure.

“Justice is coming in the form of exposing PATCON,” Trentadue insists. “Which I recognized long ago is ultimately more important than seeing my brother’s murderers prosecuted. By exposing PATCON, we are saving our country and defending the Constitution.”

PATCON Didn’t End in the 1990s—It Evolved

Most people think of PATCON as a relic of the militia-era 1990s. Trentadue knows better.

Through decades of document review, he’s traced PATCON’s fingerprints onto Waco, the Fast and Furious gunrunning scandal, bank robberies linked to “White supremacist” cells (some allegedly funded by federal assets), and even plots to sabotage critical infrastructure—like the cooling system at Alabama’s Brown’s Ferry Nuclear Plant.

More disturbingly, he’s uncovered evidence of a “Sensitive Informant Program” that places FBI assets inside mainstream media outlets, federal judges’ chambers, defense teams in high-profile cases, and even the White House.

Yes—you read that right.

These aren’t wild claims. They’re conclusions drawn from redacted but partially released FOIA responses, deposition transcripts, and internal memos that describe informants tasked with “steering narratives” and “neutralizing adversarial legal representation.”

And PATCON’s reach extends into recent events.

Consider the 2020 Whitmer kidnapping case in Michigan. The FBI announced it had foiled a plot by militia members to abduct Governor Gretchen Whitmer. But first-time documentarian Christina Urso—who’s spent five years reviewing court records and interviewing defendants—says the truth is far uglier.

Her upcoming film, Kidnap and Kill: The FBI Terror Plot, reveals that the FBI didn’t just monitor the group—it created the plot. Undercover agents organized “Field Training Exercises,” provided weapons and lodging, and pushed idle talk into actionable plans. One key agent, Richard Trask, was later arrested for violently assaulting his wife after a swingers party but not before his testimony helped convict defendants. He got “time served” and walked.

The first federal trial ended with two acquittals and a hung jury. Only after limiting the entrapment defense did prosecutors secure convictions. Meanwhile, three other men—Eric Molitor and the Null brothers—were fully acquitted in state court. Michigan’s House honored them for their courage. Leftists demanded the speaker be stripped of her committee roles.

Urso believes the Whitmer operation was a modern PATCON playbook: manufacture a threat, inflate its scale, and use it as political theater—especially useful in October 2020, weeks before a contested election where Michigan’s absentee ballot system was under scrutiny.

And the mastermind behind the Detroit operation? Steven M. D’Antuono. He was promoted to lead the FBI’s Washington Field Office.

The Deep State Isn’t a Metaphor—It’s a Filing System

Senator Chuck Grassley once noted the FBI’s habit of “hiding” compromising files by misfiling them or marking them “Prohibited Access”—rendering them invisible in standard record searches. Trentadue has seen this tactic firsthand.

In one case, the FBI was ordered by a federal judge to produce 70,000 pages of documents. Their response? Two pages per month. After years of delay, the court reduced the requirement to 1,000 pages monthly. The Bureau still fails to meet that pace.

Judge Clark Waddoups—a George W. Bush appointee—grew so frustrated with the government’s evasions that he issued a rare order: Do not lie. Do not deceive. Do not make misrepresentations. He addressed it personally to FBI Section Chief David M. Hardy.

Yet the stonewalling continues.

In March 2025, Trentadue wrote to Attorney General Pam Bondi, asking her to halt the pointless litigation and release the remaining files. She never replied.

What could possibly be protected on “national security” grounds in 2025? McVeigh is dead. Nichols is in prison for life. The bombing was thirty years ago.

Unless the secret isn’t about McVeigh at all.

Unless it’s about the program that enabled him.

Blowback: The Book That Connects the Dots

Margaret Roberts’ 2025 book Blowback: The Untold Story of the FBI and the Oklahoma City Bombing adds crucial corroboration to Trentadue’s work. She details how the severed leg found in the rubble—never identified—suggests a third conspirator on-site. She cites forensic analysts who say the blast pattern doesn’t match a single truck bomb. And she documents how the FBI seized multiple angles of video footage that have never been released.

Roberts doesn’t call it a conspiracy. She calls it blowback—the inevitable consequence of running covert operations that blur the line between observation and orchestration.

Ken Silva of Headline USA, who has interviewed both Trentadue and Roberts, puts it plainly: “PATCON wasn’t just surveillance. It was manufactured terrorism.”

And it’s ongoing.

Trentadue believes PATCON assets were present at the January 6 Capitol protest—not as observers, but as participants. Not to prevent violence, but to ensure it happened.

Sound extreme? Consider this: in 2024, a Georgia man named Mark Alan Prieto was arrested in an FBI sting involving fake bomb-making materials and staged attacks. The informant who lured him? A convicted felon paid by the Bureau.

This is the PATCON model: find disaffected individuals, amplify their rhetoric, supply the means, then arrest them as terrorists.

It’s cheaper than reform. Easier than dialogue. And politically lucrative.

Why This Matters. Beyond One Family’s Grief

Jesse Trentadue isn’t chasing vengeance. He’s building a record.

Every page he extracts, every deposition he forces, every court order he wins chips away at the fog of institutional denial. He’s not asking us to trust him. He’s giving us the tools to see for ourselves.

Because here’s the uncomfortable truth: if the FBI could run PATCON in the 1990s—if it could infiltrate groups, encourage violence, and bury evidence what stops it from doing the same today?

Nothing. Except sunlight.

The OKCFacts Substack, Roberts’ Blowback, Urso’s Kidnap and Kill documentary—they’re all part of the same project: removing layers of manufactured narrative until only facts remain.

No healing metaphors. No journeys. No paths to reconciliation.

Just accountability.

The Choice We Face

We can pretend Oklahoma City was the act of a lone madman. We can accept that Kenneth Trentadue killed himself after a routine parole check. We can believe the FBI lost the only video of the bombing due to bureaucratic error.

Or we can look at the pattern.

A covert program. Informants pushing violence. Sealed court records. Missing evidence. Dead witnesses. Promoted perpetrators. A legal system that shields its own.

This isn’t about left or right. It’s about power unchecked.

The MK3 voice doesn’t shout. It documents. It analyzes. It states what’s true—even when it’s unsettling.

And the truth is this: PATCON didn’t end. It adapted. And until we force full disclosure, it will keep operating in the shadows, using fear to justify its existence while eroding the very rights it claims to protect.

Jesse Trentadue has spent thirty years pulling threads. What unravels next depends on whether the rest of us are willing to look—and act—before the next Kenneth Trentadue dies in a cell with makeup on his face.

Justice won’t come from indictments. It’ll come from exposure.

And exposure starts with refusing to look away.