Maine woman kills her husband

The title alone makes doesn’t make a compelling story.  But what if the woman in question killed her white supremicist-multimillionaire husband because he was planning to detonate a dirty bomb during Obama’s inauguration.  Would that peak your interest?

Then on January 12, 2009, Wikileaks revealed a confidential FBI field intelligence report on the incident as part of a Presidential inauguration threat analysis.[1]

According to the FBI report, Cummings had four lots of one gallon containers of bomb-grade hydrogen peroxide, uranium, thorium (also radioactive), lithium metal, thermite, aluminum powder, beryllium (radiation booster), boron, black iron oxide and magnesium ribbon.

While the radiation levels from Cummings initial device would have not have been physically significant compared to its explosive and toxic effects, had Cummings set off the device in Washington DC, during Obama’s Presidential inauguration, its psychogenic effect may have hospitalized thousands.

The FBI states it also seized literature on how to build “dirty bombs” and information about cesium-137, strontium-90 and cobalt-60 and other radioactive materials.

There was also evidence linking Cummings to white supremacist groups, including Cummings’ membership application to the US National Socialist (Nazi) party.

Local tradesmen who worked at the Cummings home told Maine reporters that Cummings was an ardent admirer of Adolf Hitler and had a collection of Nazi memorabilia around the house, including a prominently displayed flag with a swastika. Cummings claimed to have pieces of Hitler’s personal silverware and place settings.[2]

Though the Associated Press independently confirmed the Wikileaks FBI report, no-one outside of the Maine press (and Wikileaks) wanted to tell their readers about the first credible “dirty bomb” plot on US soil.

Still, what I’d like to find out is how she came to shoot her husband.  There’s no way you would be married to a guy like that and not have some inkling of what you’re getting yourself into.  All accounts make it seem like an act of passion, but that doesn’t feel quite right.

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