THE JOURNEY - NOV 05 - March 07

To prepare this summary I reviewed seven diaries, which cover the 15 months from November 05 until Feb 07, when I completed Book 5. The task of giving a short overview on what took place during that time looks overwhelming. I shall attempt to recap what I had written. I take the liberty to include one or two yet unpublished, recent experiences.

The USA connection

October 05 finished with an incredible numbers/letters magic - On October 18 I bought exactly 1000 G (8, not 5) tomatoes. Moments later I found myself travelling beside an MG sports car, registration plate MG, which I found so amusing - 1000 G. 

As if my mind was programmed to see codes around me, I took note and worked through all kinds of data, which crossed my path. The medical term for what I do, my son found out, is Low level of latent, inhibited thinking.

In a way it was a struggle, a constant struggle between my interpretation (magic) and that of my family (madness) with little in between. I regarded the connections, the supernatural occurrences, as signs from the God, who allowed me to see them. To my family anything I tried to explain, like the MG = 1000 G, was nothing but co-incidence. They assumed I had somehow worked it all out and weaved what I saw into the tale I was writing in my endless blog. My friends were mostly silent, rather distant in some cases.

Yet, I still believed a sub-culture was establishing itself, one which understood and communicated with me via this code. The absolute ease, which the internet makes communication between people possible, is the only explanation for this phenomena.

This was the only way I could make sense of the numerous codes, which crossed my path daily, almost the moment I stepped out of my house. There were registration plates, signs on tradesmen's vans, or billboards etc. When I was at home I often perceived to be getting feedback, also via my code, from the radio and television. Psychiatrists call this referencing, a symptom a mental illness.

The internet changed all that. Since I had made public, in great detail and brutally honest for all to read, what my brain was thinking, why should people who followed my unusual journey not respond to it? And what better method to use than the code I had invented. (Even though, it does not take Einstein to see the word see as the letter c, or to translate the letters er as he in German.

On November 19th 05 I happened to attend the annual Christmas parade in Salisbury, our district's main town. Our postcode is 5108. The digits to me were those of Oct 18, 05, the date when the MG 1000 incident took place, almost exactly a months earlier. That day a vehicle was parked right there in John Street, registration plate ... 815.  The registration expired on 31/1/06. My uninhibited thinking read this date as 3,16 won - in John Street!

The absolute fluke, me catching a lolly in mid-air, thrown by a well-known local man randomly into the crowd, still has me spell-bound every time I think about it. The brand of lolly was called fantale. The wrapper told the tale of Meg Ryan, the US actress, whose birthday happened to be that day. All worked together in perfect timing.


The Cyclone connection

Leading up to Christmas 05 I was very active in my efforts to draw attention to Australia's high abortion rate. The debate about the abortion pill RU 486 was the catalyst. In late 2005 and well into 2006 I spent countless hours emailing politicians in Canberra, and the media, against this pill and abortion generally. To me a medication ought to be for the purpose of preserving life or improving it. The RU 486 has the opposite function - to specifically destroy an unborn, human life.

Through a strange set of circumstances my attention was drawn to the town of Innisfail, Queensland. One of the MP's I wrote to happened to have his office at the corner of Owen and Edith Streets, which rang a bell from over 30 years earlier.

Despite many concerned citizens expressing opposition to the RU 486, both Houses of Parliament quasi voted for the RU 486, by taking away the power over the issue from the (Catholic) Minister of Health. Even conservative Christian MP's in Canberra gave in to godless feminists, who won the vote. They hailed it as a great victory.

If this was the end of the RU 486 story for the media, it was not with me: Within a month of the vote in Canberra, on 19/3/06, one of Australia's biggest storms developed off the Queensland coast. A day later it destroyed almost the entire banana crop in the district, causing a severe shortage of bananas. The sugar industry was also badly affected.

One morning during a prayer session, the letters of the town Innisfail* came to my mind. All I did was change an a to e  and Innisfail turned into - sin in life. This described, in my opinion, and that of other fundamental Christians, the real state of affairs: To not give an unborn child a chance to life is to sin against life - sin in life.

*During a prayer session I was inspired to check the postcode of Innisfail. When I looked it up and saw 4860, I knew God was at work!  

In my mind this was God's way of getting the message across to all in Australia (and the world): "Have I not commanded you - thou shalt not kill? To kill one of my perfect creations, for selfish reasons, makes me very, very angry".

If anybody else in the whole world understood this the same way, I do not know. 


In pursuit of justice

In 2001 I had also been the only person in Australia (or so I thought) to start expressing doubts about the guilt of Peter Liddy, the convicted ex-magistrate. On Sept. 7, 01, four days before the fateful day none of us will ever forget, Mr. Liddy was jailed for 25 years for alleged sex offences.

In September 05 I was able to get in touch with a person*, who knew Peter well. He was a trustworthy source of information, who assured me that Peter is indeed innocent. To know that there are other people, close contacts of the accused, who know he is innocent, gave me greater fervour to pursue my goal of truth and justice in this matter.

(Note - 24 Sept. 2010: *This person first informed me of the existence of the document, shown in Book 7, chapter 26, where the main accuser stated clearly that he had never been abused as a child !)

I kept writing about the case in many chapters of my auto-biography (mainly Chapters 11-15 in Book 5). Out of the blue I received an email from a lawyer in the UK, who had followed my writing. She also agreed that Peter most probably was innocent. There had been huge fraud cases in Canada and in the UK. Criminal elements were using fabricated child sexual abuse to get compensation money.

The height of stupidity was a case in British Columbia, Canada, where an alleged victim was awarded CDN $ 234 000, for abuse, which supposedly had occurred more than 3 decades earlier. The alleged offender never had a chance to defend himself. He had died 9 years earlier.

This kind of crime was made easier, because at the same time, or because of it, society's whole attitude towards males and male to male relationships changed. Any man, trying to be friendly toward a child in the street was regarded as potential sex-offender. Just as two males walking down the street together were regarded as gays. What madness!

My efforts to get together face to face with those others, who knew Peter was innocent, came to nothing. A number of times I had arranged to meet them at a certain time and place. I waited in vain on the street corner. As I did I saw codes, of course.

However in November 06 I was successful in meeting with the mother of Peter Liddy, a lovely elderly lady, with a bright personality and a sharp brain. Unfortunately, she is reluctant, to do anything concrete, such as visiting an MP or a journalist with me. Her son strongly told her not to do any such thing.

(I suspect Peter is frightened to come out of jail, fearing reprisal. Or he is playing the martyr - somehow getting satisfaction for suffering innocently. A third reason could be to not load his elderly mother up with burdens, she could not possibly bear.)

In March 07 I was able to trace the lawyer, who is now acting on behalf of Mr. Liddy. I walked into his office in Adelaide's North-East. His name contained much Da Ninci (the DN, Christian name Chris). I think he was impressed with how much I knew about the case. After a 15 minute chat I left with the impression that there is nothing he is doing, or can do, for Peter Liddy, unless the corruption in high places is dealt with in this cursed city.

He could do two things: One, obtain the document*, which could prove that Peter's main accuser was telling lies and push for the case to be re-opened. Secondly, he could sue the Advertiser Newspaper and the TV Station; both were responsible for false reporting. The evidence, what is written in the court transcript, compared to what was written about it next day in the newspaper should not be difficult to obtain.  

* I have since obtained a copy of this document - it can be viewed in Book 7, Chapter 26!

During May 2006 I spent approx. 14 hours, in total over five days, studying the transcript of the Peter Liddy trial. What I found was horrendous. The more I studied the case, the more it became clear that the allegations against the magistrate were far fetched and without substance. The people of Adelaide had not been told the full story. For instance, that the main accuser was a career criminal, who was promised a reduced jail term, if he testified against Peter Liddy.

The characters of the alleged abuse victims was such that they lied to police and later in court on a number of occasions. Why the jury still believed their horror stories, knowing their background, I found incomprehensible. They completely ignored the testimony of a number of men, who had never seen any misbehaviour by the magistrate, who was labelled a monster.

This stuff up (and who knows, if drug money had not paid off some jurors?) highlighted the shortcomings of our 140-year-old jury system. I suggested a totally different system to that of 12 amateurs, who could easily be manipulated.

A professional jury of only seven would, in my opinion, do a far better job. They should never have to leave the courtroom. Withholding information should never become an issue. Professionals know what they are doing. Even experts may differ, but seven professionals should get it right. (I just had another thought to save costs - six pros on a jury. If it's 3/3 the judge should be given the deciding vote).

Unlike an amateur jury, professionals will know the legal language. They will be able to follow proceedings intelligently. Their judgments, guilty/not guilty, would be based on ALL evidence before the court with a much fairer outcome for those accused and the victims.

Why is our justice system operating as it did 140 years ago? Peter Liddy would not be behind bars today, had the police done their job thoroughly and the jury been allowed to hear all the evidence.

In another case I came across, a wrong decision by a jury allowed a criminal to literally get away with murder. The jury in this case voted the defendant not guilt in a murder trial. The jury was not permitted to know the full history of the suspect. He had attacked a woman in Melbourne. She got away and took him to court. He was convicted of attempted murder. The same man* was on trial for the Adelaide murder. The jury, however, was not allowed to know about the brutal assault in Melbourne and promptly found him not guilty.

The father of the beautiful girl, who had been murdered, wrote a book about it, calling it appropriately 'Half-way to justice'.

*This man, the murderer, later committed suicide in a prison cell. 

I ask, how realistic is it to give a bunch of housewives, adult students or anybody just picked off the electoral roll, regardless of IQ, the responsibility to decide, if a man ought to go to prison for 25 years or be set free? For God's sake, somebody see the madness!

Following my research into the Liddy trial, I went to the State Library and compared what had taken place in court with what was reported in the Adelaide Advertiser the next day. I found major flaws in what was reported. More importantly, vital information, which the people of Adelaide should have been told, were omitted.

Sam Weir, the Adelaide Advertiser journalist at the time, reported that Peter Liddy handed over the sum of $ 5000 to bribe one of his victims into denying abuse. Nowhere in the court case did I read that this amount was handed over in one sum. What had happened was, Peter Liddy had asked one of the men, who he had kept in contact with, to make a statement to his lawyer (Mr. Eugene McGee) to say, he had never been abused.

The boy agreed. As a favour in return he asked Peter Liddy for some cash to buy his girlfriend an engagement ring. Peter, not even thinking what may happen, obliged with $ 3000. A few days later the young friend of Peter wanted another $ 2000, which Peter once again withdrew from the bank. Without realizing it, Peter had fallen into a trap. His generosity and his naivety became his undoing. Has there ever been a bigger scandal, a  more viscous betrayal than that of Peter Liddy?

The salt of the earth gone bland

Book Five, Chapters 11-15 contains much of what I found in the Liddy case and the conclusions I drew.  I tried to alert South Australians, and indeed anybody willing to listen, that a serious miscarriage of injustice has taken place in Adelaide. I produced and distributed flyers. All South Australian Members of Parliament received a letter about what I found and a challenge to do something.

To date, early April 2007, there was very little real response from politicians, or anyone for that matter. Even my closest friends don't want to talk about that man in jail. Nobody cares! Why rock the boat? What has it got to do with us? Why do you involve yourself with this? These are common responses, after I try and stir some interest.

Another sector I thought would listen to my plea was the Clergy. I personally went to the offices of both the Catholic and Anglican Archbishops in Adelaide with written accounts of my findings. Archbishop Driver, who announced that his was an open door policy, never even acknowledged my correspondence, despite a follow-up visit and letter to his North Adelaide office.

Monsignor Cappo of the Catholic Church once emailed to say, he'd like to be kept informed of developments. Nothing else. How much help was that?

It came to me recently, why Monsignor Cappo can't join this campaign for justice. He is being paid $ 100 000 per year by our Labor Government, as chairman of the Social Inclusion Unit, whatever 'social inclusion' (bulldust) is supposed to mean.

Why would anybody on such a lucrative arrangement, on top of his pay from the Catholic Church, rock the boat to stand up for one of his parishioners innocently in jail? (Peter Liddy had been to St. Xavier Cathedral; he even took some boys there occasionally). I am not the only thinking person, who has expressed surprise that a high ranking clergyman, should be taking such a huge salary from the public purse. (In a radio interview I heard the gentleman say that he returns much of that money back to his social work).

My mind boggles at the apathy, not only by these two mainstream churches, but by all churches I have informed about the case. Whatever happened to the compassion by those, called to be the salt of the earth?

Those who deliberately turn a blind eye toward the oppressed, the hungry or the imprisoned, are not pleasing God. Without an intimate love for God, a Christian's weekly pomp and ceremony on Sundays (or Saturdays) is just that - pomp and ceremony and about as useful as kneeling before your letterbox every morning and worshipping it until the postman comes by.

A most unusual discovery, a place I was led to and later took a photo at, pointed clearly to the innocence of Mr. Liddy. The way the story slowly unfolded was unreal, yet so real. Two businesses located side by side in the suburb of Wingfield; one had the same surname as that of a Liddy accuser, the other that of one of the boys, who testified he never saw any sexual abuse. One name, without the letter V, spelt the German word echt - meaning real or genuine.

The address was almost identical, street name and number, to that of our church at Enfield. I also discovered and took a photo of some graffiti on a large, green street sign across from Medindie, the suburb where Mr. Real - Echt - lived. My imaginative mind de-coded his surname and his Christian name (Ben), hidden in the graffiti on that sign.

(The graffiti on the sign remained for all to see for many months, even after I had published it on my website. It was removed in late 06).


Easter Magic           

As I write this review of 'the journey so far', it is only a few days until Easter 07**. What took place at Easter 06, on each of the three days, but specifically on Friday and Sunday, surprised me, because it was absolutely unplanned.

** Correction: The Easter Magic event happened at Easter 2006, not 2007 - my apologies.

On Good Friday, after a moving church service, I happened to hear about the Musical "The Witness" and decided to drive to the Barossa Valley to see it. A visit to Angaston afterwards led me to Cross Street, the Zion Lutheran Church*, plus a National Rally by the Austin Healey Car Club. The names, the numbers, the surprises never stopped. All made sense.

*Less than a week before writing this, a week before Easter, I again was led to a Lutheran Church, also called Zion. (Read on). 

When I say the numbers never stopped, they really were an amazing find. The phone number of the Zion Church were the same digits as that day's date.

(14/4/07* interesting, as I write it is 4/4/07) ...

*I just noticed something else for the first time: The letter N on a cross looks very much like the number 4 twice, if tilted. The vertical part of the cross is like a 1. Isn't there a vague similarity to 144 - which happened to be also the date of my Angaston excursion?

There's more: In a vision some years ago I had seen the words IS SO on a "Litfasaeule" a cylindrical shaped tall structure. The only one in Adelaide, which looks anything like it and I had photographed, advertises a business - In large letters is reads ANGAS, at the place where in my vision I had seen IS SO.


... with only an 85 left over, which happened to be the house number of the church in Murray Street, Angaston.

It took me a few days to see all the magic. (As demonstrated above, I still discover more). Later I saw how 44 fits so well into the postcode for Angaston - 5353.

There was no doubt, my discoveries were crazy and weird. But they were perfectly true, impossible to be fabricated by a human mind.

On Easter Sunday, by mistake, I arrived at the church 1 3/4 hours early. Instead of returning home, I prayed and was led to by the Holy Spirit to another Cross Street. My unusual walk continued via a garage sale, to a very small church gathering nearby. The punch line, the twist, came when I realized that among the nine or ten worshippers, was a lady I knew. Her name was Rose. The address Branson Ave. also fits perfectly into the picture, if you know the code.

Later, writing up about it all, more symbolic beauty came as I saw the shape of Cross St., a L joined with a J, plus the name of the intersecting Street, Leron St. It was not far from Collins and Prince Streets, the UBD street map showed it was our arterial route A1.


Media - the love

During 2005/6/07 I continued to experience much weird and wonderful events with bizarre links, which I perceived as supernatural. A good example is the story of the 35 cents. Being somewhat crazy about numbers 3 & 5 I found 4 coins, 35 cents, on the road while taking a quick ride on my bicycle. The date happened to be March 5th. My family did neither understand my surprise, nor did they agree that an intelligent being could be behind it.

The only sounding board I had for these amazing flukes was the media, a TV program, radio station or a website etc. Often I would comment on a current issue, which they were discussing, and weave a message into an email I sent. Usually I added humour, which helped me cope. Plus, in moral issues especially, I included a truth based on fundamental Christian principles.

On the day before writing this (on April 1 - no joke) I sent a message to a radio station. An weird incident had taken place, which led me to a street in Gawler, a town about 20 minutes drive away. (Please note, I have left out  -*-*-  some right and left turns for privacy).


Hi Stephen,

Today I happened to listen to Cruise 1323. A song played, which went something like this: "Cross the bridge or you'll fade away". Only yesterday I crossed a bridge. It came about like this:

During the week (on Wednesday) I browsed briefly in our new library in Para Hills. Whatever made me do it, I don't know, but I picked up a book by Wendy Harmer (Farewell My Ovaries). Maybe I picked the book up because I had mentioned her in my auto-biography?

Anyway, after handling the book for a few seconds I found myself holding two small pieces of paper with the following writing in red pen:




I took the pieces of paper home. My curiosity took over. Yesterday, Sat 31/3/07 just after 9 am, I had a go at finding the place. I don't know what is a Bio shed, but as I drove up Main North Road, praying silently, it came to me to cross the bridge near the Gawler railway station. Then I turned....   -*-*-

On my left, without doubt, was the driveway, which led to a large tin shed. (I could see it from the road, opposite 2/4 ... Street. I was not brave enough to go any closer).

Half hour later by co-incidence (I happened to see a notice in a shop window in Gawler) I found myself walking around the Zion Lutheran Church Fair. I ordered a coffee and sat with a man, who was looking after his granddaughter. More co-incidental - he happened to be a police officer, working in Intelligence. We had a good chat.

I just thought I sent you this tale, because of the song about crossing the bridge. Another weird part is the timing - your song today came at 12.47 PM, or perhaps a minute later. These digits make today's date -1/4/2007.

Kind regards

Dieter Fischer

PS  I did not take Wendy Harmer's book on loan. Not my kind of reading.    


In my Book 4, Chapter 33, I had briefly mentioned Wendy* Harmer, who I had heard on radio, while on holiday in Victoria, talking nonsense about my favourite movie, The Sound of Music.

As I was editing this paragraph on 4/4/07, 11.51am, I was listening to the radio. I heard one presenter say: "Thanks for telling us Wendy".  

On Monday following my excursion to Gawler I sent of copy of above email to a TV program on Channel TEN. That same afternoon, how strange, I was taking a photo of the place where this tale had started, our new library. Right there and then I noticed a parked vehicle, with only the three letters TEN as its registration plate.

If I were that way inclined, I could become paranoid, thinking that somebody was following my path, online and offline. Oh what fun!



Media - the hate

When I say hate, I don't mean that I hate individuals in the media or anyone else. What I do hate, and have written against for a long time, is what certain writers and journalists do and have done: report half truths or fabricate complete articles out of nothing.

Certain stories I came across almost invited a cynic like me to expose it as bulldust. A good example was the one, where twenty people were trying to dig out a girl on a beach, who had been buried in a 1.5 m hole. The girl died on the beach that day.

One lifeguard's name was Ben May, whose name happened to be printed right over the page from a Maybelline ad. Their slogan: "Maybe she was born with it". Was there anybody else in Australia, who saw the difference between may be and the lifeguard's name?

In a rather bizarre discovery I had found a scripture in the bible, which only needed an N to be pointing to the suburb, where we live: "God came from Teman, the Holy One from Mount Paran" (Habakkuk 3,3). Maybe those who see the similarity between maybe and Ben May, will see Mount Paran as Para(n) Hills? Maybe?

The way the article had been written, the reader would assume it all took place in Australia, when in fact it had allegedly happened on a UK beach. (Just now on editing I see something else - (Maybelline, how similar to -  may be N lie?)

Only rarely did I buy the newspaper. When I did read it however, usually when my wife or son brought home the Saturday edition, I often read stories, which I suspected were nothing but fabricated bulldust.


Only hours before writing this I had reason to question an item in a nationally broadcast TV breakfast program. A man in a car was reported to have tried to drag a teenage girl into a car. She escaped unharmed. Nowhere, did I hear the word "allegedly". When I saw footage on TV that it was at bus stop 36, plus the street name (much Da Ninci), I smelled bulldust. I emailed the program, saying the girl may have had too much pizza the night before, or was just drawing attention to herself.


To my mind, not only local stories were fabricated by the media. For instance, a day or two ago I heard a TV presenter mention that: "Iranian oil exporters are gaining an extra 12 million Dollars per day, because oil supplies from that country are under threat. The increase in crude oil had been brought about by the capture of 15 British marines, who had allegedly strayed into Iranian territory by mistake. I ask, how easily would it be to fool all of us, and make 12 million Dollars extra a day?

My main concern is not only that newspapers tell lies. It is when these lies are having serious repercussions, such as an innocent man in jail or another losing his seat in Parliament.

Through my British contact, an expert lawyer in sexual abuse cases, I have found out about another case. A high-profile, former MP is languishing in a Queensland jail, fighting for justice. Bill D'Arcy, according to my sources, allegedly raped an 8-year-old girl in a small, one teacher school, almost 40 years ago. Fellow school children were allegedly only a few feet away.

Not one of the class could be found as a witness. From what I read about the case, the media also played a part, by misreporting, in bringing down this man. It really makes one ask, how many more people are in jail*, because they did not receive a fair trial and/or the newspapers portrait them as monsters on their front page?

* At the time of editing, less than an hour a go, I spoke to my local informant. He told me for the first time of a man in a wheel chair, who allegedly raped a girl ten times in his home. Why would you go back time and again to someone's house, if you know you get raped? The man is serving 18 years at the present time. Whatever happened to justice?


ALL see L - REAL

Quote from the first few paragraphs in my Book 5, written on 1/5/06: I am equally curious, as I have been with my previous four books, where it will take us all. ... HE will astound us all in the end with a twist, so we all know - it must be HIM. 

Book Five more than any other had done just that. If it was all a great deception, as one clergyman suspected it was, let me say, it was a wonderful, true deception.

What I experienced raises the same old question: Are my numbers all co-incident, or is there a higher intelligence controlling all? To be making contact for the first time, without knowing anything, with a radio station on 1/1/07, then finding that their frequency is 1170, to me is magic, co-incidence or not.

Ten days later, on January 10, 07 the twist came with the score in a basketball match. The digits at the final siren, not only fitted my 1963 code perfectly, the total number of baskets scored was 210. Our team the Adelaide 36ers lost 111:99.

It was doubly remarkable, because I had never ever been to a professional or non-professional basketball match before, but felt very strongly to attend that particular night. 

Chapter 1 of my Book 5 is called Love - power without weapon. If the letter L is a symbol for (God's) love, this very letter was highlighted supernaturally, beyond human manipulation or imagination, two days after the basketball match.

This tale really started in July 07. During a symbolic ceremony at church, participants wrote on a piece of paper the obstacles, which they'd like to see removed, which stops them from moving on. During the 'burn the problems' ceremony my paper did not burn as excepted. Three letters EAR remained. Later I discovered them, when I removed the ashes at home. 

The phrase I had written on my piece of paper was ALL CLEAR, which meant only the letters ALL CL had burned. Ironically it was the same day the Tour de France concluded in Paris. One of the sponsors was called CLC, which is again very similar to the message 'all see L.

This crystallization of ALL CL was  prophetic. It came to pass approximately six months later, on January 12, 07. My son Jon and I were travelling in New South Wales. Late in the evening, not far from our destination for the day, Narrandera, we both spotted a cloud in the sky to our left. It was unmistakably the letter L, or the number 7 upside down, which was following us for 15 minutes or so, right into the town.

In a really unreal L twist, if your pardon the expression, I happened to scan a photo, which I had taken the day before Christmas 06. It was the slogan - All I want for Christmas on a large billboard in Port Adelaide. The letter L was the only one missing in the word Adelaide, underneath the sign.

As if God is confirming that his love and that of HIS son Jesus is real, the photo revealed another code, the letters REAL. It was part of the business name underneath the billboard FIRST NATION.. ..ALESTATE.

God was pointing to a man, who died, but came back. That's why HE chose this location for this unreal photo: The Black Diamond Corner.