Open Letter to Mrs. Hank Heijn


Amsterdam, Saturday, September 23, 2006



Dr. Slobodan Radojev Mitric

Zeeburgerdijk 25

1093 SK Amsterdam

Good Day Mrs. Heijn,

Nice title of your first book: Reconciliation [Dutch: De verzoening], but reconciliation with whom?

         I understand that you mean electrical engineer Mr. E.. Well, that is your business and your good right.

         But what have I done to you, so ‘honorable' madam, that you present me with a certain Karate Bob, "once arrested for multiple murder and rape."?

         Firstly, I was never arrested for murder, and my apprehension for rape came about, as you know, because I had that “golden tip".

         So now you have reconciled with one of the kidnappers and murderers of your late husband, but at the same time you are blackening the reputation of the very person, who wanted to prevent this kidnap and murder.

         Small thanks, Mrs. Heijn.

         As you and your family already know: The plan to abduct and murder your husband was known well in advance by the Dutch Ministry of Justice and the Secret Services.

         Why thank me in this way, 'honorable' Mrs. Heijn? Are you angry at me, because I tried to to save the life of your husband?

         What kind of person are you anyway?

         A few hours before starting to write this letter, I was held at gunpoint by a Dutch custom official. I was on my way to my publisher R. J. Kelder to drop a receipt for postage stamps in his mailbox.

         Because my dear wife Iris was killed 9 months ago in the “Onze Lieve Vrouwe Gasthuis” hospital in Amsterdam, and because I wanted and still want to save her paintings, I was also underway to collect scrap iron. For a kilo of scrap metal, 'honorable' madam, I get 10 cents, and if I search all night I can fill up my cart. Then maybe tomorrow’, I thought, I could buy some bread, milk and butter at the supermarket named after your brother-in-law Albert Heijn.

         But indeed, harsh times have broken out in Amsterdam; after taking away a heavy bike key chain from this quite agitated customs official with which he had threatened me, he aimed his service pistol at me and almost shot me.

         I am telling you this to show how weird life is; he wanted to shoot me, because otherwise a Turk would tear open his garbage bag, and he suspected me of being this slob. After he calmed down, I told him that I am not a Turk, but a Christian Montenegrin, people who have never have lived under the yoke of the Turks.

         Of course, madam, I did not report him to the police. Then he would immediately have been thrown in prison for intimidation, attempted murder or manslaughter, or whatever. And after all, I am not a NSB'er [Dutch Nazi sympathizer during WWII] standing on the corner of the street, 'honorable' Madam.

         But I think I will become friends with this customs official in the future. For since this customs man did not shoot me tonight, I was able to receive from my publisher a copy of your vomittance. Otherwise, the truth might never have surfaced.

         Because as you know, I was prohibited from saying or writing anything about this kidnapping under the threat that I would be sent to Yugoslavia (now Serbia) to my certain death, if I were to do so.

         Well, since you've started, 'honorable' Mrs. Heijn, I should add the rest.

         Indeed, God spared me this evening from the wrath of an angry customs official.

         Maybe also your late husband and my late dear wife Iris would want know with whom you've reconciled and why notwithstanding you still attack me.

         Who knows?

         Now, you know better than anyone what you’ve written, so I need not quote everything.

         The sentence, as can be read on page 83 of your book, that a certain Karate Bob claimed to have the golden tip, appeared as a spotting comment to me, with which you, 'honorable' Mrs. Heijn describe me as a charlatan, despite the fact that you know the truth.

         What's really going on with you, Mrs. Heijn?

         Why do you slice into the body and the spirit of your husband, as the murderers have already done?

         Approximately half a year before your husband was targeted as a potential victim, information came to light at the highest level of this country as to what the ominous figures, who later singled out your husband, were actually planning to do.

         Then an honorable man from the USA politely asked me not to let that happen.

         So it became necessary for me to creep down into the sewers of your society to successfully prevent what these brutes were up to.

         It is further none of your business, Mrs. Heijn, what and who it was.

         But a certain electrical engineer, who was discharged from his job, began to play a role for these sinister types by developing a special phone.

         He is a genius, it is true, but still an idiot for placing his perfect invention in the hands of servant of the darkness.

         With one of these enormously huge phones at that time, which were build (as camouflage) in a large tape recorder, I conversed a few hours with powerful people in America from a Ferrari belonging to a Mafiosi (who please note was also a member of the Dutch Foreign Intelligence Service, IDB and a personal sex friend and heroin companion of a prince from an Asian country).

         Now naturally you, Mrs. Heijn, as well as anyone with the current cell phones can call anyone, but as you may remember, when your husband was still alive that was not the case. So that was a miracle. But a miracle it was also that in those days no Intelligence Service of Western governments possessed such a technological device, except the Dutch Mafia.

         Do you, groceress, not find it amazing what this Mr. E. had invented?

         A president, a few senators and a number of American generals considered this invention to be very important and wanted – at all costs – to get it into their hands, something which they later succeeded in doing.

         And then you could by means of this invention of Mr. E. call anyone else in the fixed network at their expense.

         I had chosen to conduct these calls with America at the expense of Her Majesty Queen Beatrix (through her private number – because the Dutch Mafia also had it in their possession), and hoped that 'Bea' would not blame me, for I assumed it to be surely in her own interest. And also I was - at that time – protected 24 hours a day by an escort of her security service.

          Not bad, groceress, isn’t? What happened next is again none of your business.

         But the sinister types remaining on this earth in this case (despite considerable losses of their bosses) did not give up their efforts to become rich through a lightning action and therefore selected a slightly less important prey.

         Why? Ask the person with whom you have now reconciled.* They were satisfied with the few million that they have received from your family.

         The majority of the members of the Mafia bosses of Mr. E. – unfortunately not yet all of them –  disappeared from the surface of the earth following the kidnapping and murder of your husband, and thus could not enjoy their fortune very much. They disappeared not because, I believe, they caused unforgivable injury to your husband. No, Mrs. Heijn, for the life of a Minister president at that time (for whom I made a plea to be protected), let alone for a grocer with a very dubious past, no one was concerned very much; what mattered to the authorities handling this case was what these spoiled, empty heads had been planning to do.

         The plans to kidnap your husband were disclosed well in advance to the Dutch Ministry of Justice and the Dutch Secret Services. The plan according to which your husband, after being kidnapped, should count to ten or twenty into a tape recorder, and his fingertip would be cut off and then slain and buried, was presented on time to the above authorities.

          The demands to be made for the money in Dutch and foreign currency, diamonds and all other things you have done later, were submitted to the above authorities.

         Just a month later, your husband was kidnapped and murdered.

         You cannot consider my efforts to save your husband as a mere “golden tip”, honorable groceress.

         That is not a golden tip, that I call something else.

         After your husband was kidnapped and I knew that he could no longer be saved,  I tried in that case to contact you, your son and the brother of your sacrificed husband to convince you not to pay the ransom money to the murderers.

         But as you know I failed, because after the meeting with you I was arrested for multiple rapes that I did not commit, dishonorable groceress, and then also convicted no less by a judge, who was classified as an enemy of your country; at least official documents, which I forwarded to the most powerful people on the planet well in time before your husband was kidnapped and murdered, pointed in that direction.

         What kind of nasty persons are you, your son and the brother of your sacrificed husband!


Disgustingly yours,

Slobodan Von PIVA


* This now no longer possible. As mentioned in the afore-going Appeal for Justice by the Translator/publisher, this person, Ferdi Elzas, was killed in a road accident on  August 3, 2009.