How to Descent Into the Shadows

My Story of Becoming an Operative in the CIA: The Reality Beyond Hollywood

Several years ago, on Christmas Eve, I found myself standing outside my father's house, grappling with the weight of secrecy. Just weeks earlier, I had returned from a highly classified training so covert I had to fabricate stories about my whereabouts for the past ten months. My heart pounded and my hands were clammy with nervousness, not just from the cold but from the anticipation of the lie I was about to tell.

A week before my birthday, my father had picked me up from the airport. He believed I was returning from a deployment, unaware of the truth. I had never been on the C-17 that landed that morning. Instead, amidst the emotional reunions of families at the airport, I had stealthily emerged from behind a hangar, putting into practice the art of deception I had learned: presenting a falsehood as reality.

As I stood at the doorstep of my father's Los Angeles home, I was acutely aware of the change in my life. When he opened the door, I spun a complex tale about an impending move to France for an extended stay, a lie crafted to mask my new assignment. I had been posted to Paris; as a spy for the most powerful secret agency on the planet. Though he tried to hide it, I could tell my father had doubts about my story.

The true reason for my relocation to Paris, the fashion capital of the world, remains a story in itself, one shrouded in the classified realms of my clandestine activities. While the details of that mission are a tale for another time, perhaps one I might never legally be able to share, but the following may offer a glimpse of what this life was like.

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