M. C. Williams

I'm both cop (semi-retired warrior) & pastor/chaplain with nearly 40 years on "The Job." My purpose is to share the hope of Christ with the lost/hurting in LE .

[M. C. Williams @GodsCop911]

@EliteMan091 Obama.

[M. C. Williams @GodsCop911]

Rookie Cop on His First Solo Shift Saves a Life… And Points Us to the Ultimate Rescuer - https://t.co/yO6F1WzFiz

[M.A. Rothman @MichaelARothman]

𝐁𝐄𝐈𝐑𝐔𝐓, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟑. 𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐔𝐙, 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟔. 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐈𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐃.

Forty-three years ago this week, an Iranian-backed suicide bomber drove a truck into the United States Embassy in Beirut and k!lled 𝟔𝟑 𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 — 𝟏𝟕 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐀𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐬. Three Army soldiers. One United States Marine. The first act of Iranian terror on American flesh. It was the opening shot in a war we did not choose and for 47 years did not answer.

Today the War Department stood at a podium and said their names out loud: 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐑𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐓𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐞. 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐟𝐟 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐁𝐞𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐱𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥. 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐟𝐟 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐒𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐳𝐚𝐫. 𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐕𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐌𝐜𝐌𝐚𝐰. For the first time in four decades, the men who sent them to that gate are standing up for them.

"𝘍𝘰𝘳 47 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴, 𝘐𝘳𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘈𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘢, 𝘬!𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘻𝘦𝘯𝘴, 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴, 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘺. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘳 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐𝘳𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘶𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 47 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴." — Secretary of War Pete Hegseth

And Trump is the first one to finally pick up the phone and answer. Fifty-five days into Operation Epic Fury and the scoreboard is not close. The Strait of Hormuz is 𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧. The blockade is not a slogan. It is steel, law, and American sailors.

Thirty-four Iranian-tied ships turned back at the line. One ship refused — the 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐥 𝐓𝐮𝐬𝐜𝐚, a container hulk the size of an aircraft carrier. The U.S. Navy destroyer fired 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬. Ignored. Then nine inert rounds from a Mark 45 five-inch gun precisely through her engine room. Dead in the water. United States Marines 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭-𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 and took the ship. Crew unharmed. Blockade enforced. Message sent.

Half a world away in the Indian Ocean, American forces seized the 𝐓𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐲 and then the 𝐌𝐚𝐣𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐗 — two super-tankers together carrying the capacity of 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐬 of sanctioned Iranian crude. Navy control teams embarked. Cargo in U.S. custody. A second aircraft carrier joins the blockade this week. Three carrier strike groups are already on station. Seven more warships are postured in the Indian Ocean.

"𝘕𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘏𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘶𝘻 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘜𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘚𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘕𝘢𝘷𝘺. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘳. 𝘞𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘭, 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯, 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘶𝘵." — Secretary Hegseth

"𝘐𝘳𝘢𝘯'𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘺, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘐𝘙𝘎𝘊 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺, 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘶𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘢 𝘨𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐠. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘕𝘢𝘷𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘰𝘮 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘈𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘪𝘢𝘯 𝘎𝘶𝘭𝘧." — Chairman Dan Caine

This is the regime the corporate media still calls a "government." Let's be precise. They m∗rdered 45,000 of their own citizens in the streets in a matter of weeks. They lay mines in international shipping lanes. They pull up in 𝐁𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧-𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐨𝐚𝐭𝐬 and spray AK-47s at random merchant ships, cruise ships, and anyone who cannot shoot back. That is not a nation. That is an organized crime family with a UN seat.

And now President Trump has authorized the United States Navy to 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐲 any Iranian fast boat laying mines or threatening American shipping. No hesitation. Same posture as the cartel drug boats in the Caribbean. The Rules of Engagement are clean. The Navy is uncaged. The Ayatollahs' pirate fleet has a choice: go home or go under.

While the regime bleeds, Europe holds 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬. Fancy rooms. Nice lunches. Strong statements. No ships. Most of the oil that feeds European jets and German factories flows through that Strait. And yet the only Navy willing to die for it is ours. Secretary Hegseth was blunt: "𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳." Get a boat or get quiet.

Vietnam took 𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬. Iraq took 𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬. Afghanistan took 𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 and ended at Abbey Gate. Trump and Hegseth have taken the world's number-one state sponsor of terror and broken it in 𝐟𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐲-𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬 — no American boots on Iranian soil, no nuclear weapons, no mission creep. Just clear objectives, unapologetic power, and a chain of command that finally believes in the mission.

From that smoking embassy crater in Beirut to the locked steel door of the Strait of Hormuz, the line runs straight. Forty-three years. Four American martyrs on that Joint Force list. Thousands more since. Marines at Khobar Towers. Sailors on the USS Cole. Soldiers in Iraq hit by Iranian EFPs. 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤.

𝟒𝟕 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐈𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐀𝐍 𝐖𝐀𝐑. 𝟓𝟓 𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐑. 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐃𝐔𝐄.

[M. C. Williams @GodsCop911]

@MichaelARothman Well said.

[FarewellToTheChief @ChiefFarewell]

*Yes, I know it's a long post. But the death of President Lincoln, one of the defining events of our nation's history, is best told in full.

April 14, 1865, 8:30 PM, Abraham and Mary Lincoln arrive at Ford’s Theatre. Inside, the play-My American Cousin-was nearing the midway point of Act 1 when the Lincolns appeared, escorted by Metropolitan Police Officer John Parker. The play stopped, the orchestra played “Hail to the Chief,” and the Lincolns were then shown down the right-side aisle and taken to their theatre box, formed from boxes 7 and 8, an inner dividing wall having been removed to accommodate the Lincolns and their guests, Maj. Henry Rahtbone and Clara Harris, for the night. The couple passed through a door, walked down a short, narrow hallway, and passed through another door and walked into the box. Parker, his job to keep guard at the door leading to the theatre box, sat in a chair. He soon grew tired, bored, and needing a break from his exhausting duty, moved to a seat in the first gallery to watch the play. He then left the theatre for the adjacent Star Saloon, where he joined Lincoln’s valet, Charles Forbes, and his coachman, Francis Burke; Forbes returned to the theatre and sat near the door to the President’s theatre box. 9:30 PM, John Wilkes Booth made his way down Baptist Alley behind Ford’s Theatre. He handed over his horse to Edman Spangler, who, in turn, handed over the horse to Joseph Burroughs (Peanut John). Booth, now inside the theatre, made small talk among the actors in a stage wing, angling for a view of Lincoln. He walked under the stage to the opposite side, left the theatre and walked out onto 10th St. to the Star Saloon. He imbibed to calm his nerves, thinking and contemplating, practicing the scenario in his head. A patron sitting in the bar, seeing the actor, chastised him, “You'll never be the actor your father was.” Booth responded, “When I leave the stage, I will be the most famous man in America.”

10:15 PM, the play, moving through Act 3, Scene 2, was nearing its end. Booth left the saloon and entered the theatre through the main entrance. Ten minutes later, thereabouts, Booth furtively made his way up a flight of stairs on the right side of the theatre and stopped just feet from the door leading to Lincoln’s theatre box. According to a witness, Booth, standing at the box door, pulled out a card, wrote something on it, and gave it to Forbes. Forbes went into the box, returned to the door, and Booth entered. The door closed, Booth grabbed a board (it was placed earlier), braced the top against the door and wedged the bottom into a notch on the floor. He moved down the hallway and stopped at the box door. He withdrew a small, handheld drill, made a hole in the door and enlarged it with a knife, peering into the room, surveying it, getting the layout down and the position of the President. Inside the booth, Lincoln sat on the far left, Mary to his right, Rathbone and Harris to the far right. Down below, the audience was transfixed on the stage. Up in the box, Lincoln, having seen their box guests holding hands, reached to his right and grabbed hold of Mary’s left hand. She leaned to her left and hugged him, asking, “What will Miss Harris think of my hanging onto you so?” Lincoln, looking at the stage, and in what were likely his last words, “Why, she will think nothing about it.” Booth entered the box and with catlike agility, moved a few steps across the floor, stopping behind the President. The couple, their guests, the audience, stagehands, all the actors and actresses and orchestra, were oblivious to the calamity about to befall the country. The couple, leaning forward and holding hands, were enjoying a rare moment of peace and calm. Booth, familiar with the play’s lines, knew when the audience would break out in a chorus of laughter, creating a screen of noise, perfect for drowning out loud noises. Down from the stage, just as Booth anticipated, came the highwater mark of the play. The character Asa Trenchard, turning to Mrs. Mountchessinton, gave his line, “Don’t know the manners of good society, eh? Well, I guess I know enough to turn you inside out, old gal, you sockdologizing old mantrap.”

Laughter exploded and Booth raised his single shot, .44 caliber Derringer. Pointing it just inches from Lincoln’s head, he fired. A round bullet crashed through Lincoln’s skull, entering through the lower left portion behind his ear, tearing through his brain, moving up and to the right, coming to a stop behind his right eye. Rathbone, seeing Booth and realizing what happened, sprang to his feet. Booth withdrew a long dagger and moved forward for to attack. Rathbone, seeing the dagger overhead, raised his left arm to parry the attack. Booth brought the dagger down, striking Rathbone’s shoulder, slicing skin and muscle down to the elbow. His opportunity to escape presented, he ran to the box railing, and jumped down to the stage, catching his right boot spur on a Treasury Guard flag used to the decorate the outside of the box. He landed on one knee, in a sort of lunge position, stood up, and shouted “Sic Semper, Tyrannis!” He limped across the stage, headed out the theatre’s back entrance, down an alley, and into the night. Inside the box, Mary, seeing her husband’s head go limp and fall forward, had let out a series of blood curling screams. Rathbone ran down the box hallway, removed the board blocking the door, and a mass of people crowded through the door, standing outside the theatre box.

Dr. Charles Leale, assistant surgeon of the U.S. Volunteer Army, was first to the President’s side. He had Lincoln removed from his chair and placed on the floor. He then removed Lincoln’s upper garments and neck collar and, thinking he had been stabbed, checked for a knife wound. Moving his hands up, he ran his fingers through Lincoln’s hair, found a clump of hair-soaked blood and saw that a clot had formed on the back of his head. Leale found the bullet wound. A second doctor arrived, Albert King (he served in the Confederacy and Union) followed soon after by Dr. Charles Taft. Together, the three men positioned Lincoln’s body in an upright, forward, slumped position. The three doctors, their patient alive but barely, agreed the wound was fatal but they couldn’t allow the President to expire without exhausting their efforts. Lincoln was again laid out on the floor and Leale, straddling him, lifted his arms up and down. He then pushed on the stomach in an upward direction and performed mouth to mouth. Not wanting the President, the savior of the Union, to die in a theatre, they made the decision to move him to a more suitable location. With a sling under his back, two soldiers grabbed hold, two more soldiers stepped up, each one holding a leg, and with Leale holding the head, Lincoln was moved out of the box, down the hallway and stairs, and outside the theatre.

A crowd formed around the President as the doctors looked for a location. Directly across from the theatre, Henry Safford appeared in the doorway of a boarding house. Drawn outside by the noise and large crowd, and hearing the President had been shot, he called to the doctors to come inside. Led by Safford, Lincoln was carried down the first-floor hallway into a back bedroom, placed on the bed diagonally to accommodate his height, and made as comfortable as possible. Doctors, knowing death was imminent, made examinations to ascertain a better understanding of the wound and to keep it clean of clotting blood; doctors also inserted a Nealton probe to extract foreign matter. As the night progressed, Lincoln’s condition worsened, visually and audibly. His pupils dilated, his pulse slowed, his breathing grew labored, and his arms began to spasm, all of it caused by his brain swelling, pushing down on the spinal column, placing pressure on the brain stem, the controls of breathing and heart rate. wound to the head. Come early morning, a dark stain spread over his face, his right eye was swollen and purple and his lips were blue. Minutes before death, his breathing was fast and shallow, his right eye having since been transformed into a black mass. Members of his cabinet and a team of doctors stood around the bed. By this time, Mary, unable to bear the strain, had long left the room. Raindrops pelting the window and Lincoln’s dying breaths were the only sounds. At 7:22 AM, Saturday, April 15, Lincoln, the savior of the Union, passed away. Sec. of War Stanton then spoke the line etched on the wall in Lincoln's gravesite memorial: "Now he belongs to the ages." CoD: gunshot wound to the head.

[M. C. Williams @GodsCop911]

@ChiefFarewell Well said.

[M. C. Williams @GodsCop911]

@SecRubio He is RISEN indeed!

[M. C. Williams @GodsCop911]

@StandUpForTrmp D

[M. C. Williams @GodsCop911]

The Centurion Law Enforcement Ministry meets for warrior-focused fellowship, prayer and Bible study (aka, "Cop Church" this Friday at Calvary Castle Rock from 6:30 - 7:30 PM, Room 108. Open to all current and former officers and their spouses.

[DOW Rapid Response @DOWResponse]

.@SECWAR “I’ll close with scripture, drawing strength from Psalm 144:

‘Blessed be the Lord, my rock, who trains my hands for war and my fingers for battle.

He is my loving God and my fortress, my stronghold and my deliverer, my shield, in whom I take refuge.’

May the Lord grant unyielding strength and refuge to our warriors; unbreakable protection to them and our homeland; and total victory over those who seek to harm them. 

Amen.

[M. C. Williams @GodsCop911]

The Centurion Law Enforcement Ministry's local (Calvary Castle Rock) "cop church" fellowship meets this Friday, Calvary Castle Rock, Room 108, 6:30-7:30 PM -- 1830-1930 -- :)

[M. C. Williams @GodsCop911]

Life After Death - Greg Laurie Devotion - March 10, 2026 https://t.co/RZTFgJvMfU

[M. C. Williams @GodsCop911]

Possible that my profile has been hacked. Taking steps.

[M. C. Williams @GodsCop911]

@RightPulseNewss OUTSTANDING

[M. C. Williams @GodsCop911]

Diana Williams, EOW 03/03/2025. Always on my heart.

[M. C. Williams @GodsCop911]

Tomorrow is the 1-year anniversary of Diana's Homecoming in Heaven. She was always focused on the kids and grandkids -- and on God most of all. I can't wait to join her.

[M. C. Williams @GodsCop911]

I took this pic in Feb. of 2024 -- not knowing what was coming for us in 6 months (8/10/2024 -- terminal cancer diagnosis).

[M. C. Williams @GodsCop911]

Created by John Lites. My bride was and is my gift from God. I can't wait to join her in Heaven.