Terry J. Allen

Summers immediately fingered Meub as the culprit and fired off a snide, accusatory e-mail. “Glad to see you bought one of our sites, hope it shows up on the campaign finance report.” Meub campaign manager mounted a high horse and shot back: “I find your insinuation that Bill’s campaign was somehow involved with what is going on with your Web site/domain name offensive and not productive. Ruth and you appear to be shooting from the hip without proper investigation … I hope you get to the source of your problem.”

It didn’t take long for everyone to figure out that the source was Scott Loughrey, a Baltimore cybersquatter. But Summers still refuses to admit that she made a mistake. “We don’t owe them an apology. We may not be able to find a paper trail to prove Bill [Meub] had anything to do with it, [but] it’s easy to hide things. Since he is a fellow Republican, we have to give him benefit of doubt.”

Last Monday night, Loughrey escalated his tactics by posting a Web page for Dwyer, that — rather than redirecting her supporters — informs them about some of her less-than-proud moments, like the time she accused Democratic Gov. Howard Dean of thuggish and illegal tactics. “The governor,” she charged, “is very willing to threaten people, bribe people … anything he can do to get a vote.” When challenged, Dwyer failed to come up with any proof but refused to apologize.

Her critics note a similar lack of fair play in the quick accusations against Meub. According to Summers, the Dwyer campaign had known for months that Loughrey owned the site. When Summers first came on board, she and Dwyer discussed his offer to sell them the dot-com address and turned it down. “In a weak moment” of greed, said Loughrey, “I asked for $2,000.” A local Vermont paper reported that after putting up his spoof site last week Dwyer was willing to pay up to $1,000 for the domain. Loughrey says he has not been contacted by the Dwyer campaign and has not decided whether he will sell.

But such moments may not be all that rare for Loughrey. Previously, he tried to sell the Wise2000 dot-com and dot-org domain names to Bob Wise, a candidate for governor in West Virginia. When Wise declined, Loughrey unsuccessfully hawked the names to Wise’s opponent, and then put them up for auction on eBay.

Meanwhile, Loughrey redirected the Wise sites to those of his opponents. That was before Loughrey launched his own half-satirical, half-serious expose of Wise’s PAC connections on the Wise2000.com domain. After the bogus Wise2000 Web site made the news, “I got calls from media asking ‘How could I shake down this nice guy?’” says Loughrey. “Mainstream press will always report from a position of power that I am the cyber-squatter attacking aggrieved politicians and they are only too eager to defend the pols.”

Despite his long-standing opposition to the corrupting role of money in politics, Loughrey admits he is squatting for dollars. “I did it because I thought I was going to make money,” he says. “But if can’t make money,” he adds, “I will make a social statement.”

Loughrey has purchased a variety of “candidate2000″ domain names, but is coy about how many or whether he has managed to turn a profit. Meanwhile, he is having fun. “Hello, I’m the dirty rat who bought Backus2000.com and Backus2000.org,” Loughrey e-mailed Vermont U.S. senatorial candidate Jan Backus. “I’m wondering if you would be interested in control over them at cost?” Loughrey said the $85 price for Backus reflected his sentiments that Backus was not as bad as the GOP incumbent, Sen. Jim Jeffords. But Backus wasn’t impressed with the discount. Instead, she cried “extortion” and turned him down, as did fellow Democratic challenger Ed Flanagan.

There is a certain irony to Loughrey’s targeting of Vermont. One of his complaints against politicians is their acceptance of out-of-state money and backing. In the same breath, he says he chose Vermont politicians’ domain names “because they were available” and hopes “Vermonters won’t be too upset” at the outside interference. The sites were available, in part, because Vermont’s candidates for local and statewide office still rely more on door-to-door campaigning, parades and spaghetti suppers than the Internet to get out their message. They are subject to the country’s strictest campaign-finance reform laws that place mandatory caps on both spending and contributions. So while the Bush for President campaign can afford to buy up such domain names as georgewbushbites.com and georgewbushsucks.org, just to keep them off the market, Vermont local pols rely on a modest and rather boring Web presence.

But failure to do so can be costly, as candidates are now finding out. Loughrey used one of those domains to create a phony Web page for Vermont Republican Sen. James Jeffords. The Jeffords2000.org site blasts the senator for taking contributions from oil, tobacco and anti-environmental PACs. Jeffords press secretary Heidi Mohlman did not dispute the factual content of the page but noted, presumably in Jeffords defense, that the senator “doesn’t discriminate against anyone who wants to give him money.”

As a U.S. senator, Jeffords is not affected by the state’s campaign finance restrictions, which are directed at state office holders. He has both the resources and the clout to go after Loughrey, and most importantly, the will. His office believes that Loughrey may have violated the law and is currently “exploring options.” Jeffords supported a bill passed by the Congress in 1999 that attempts to clamp down on cyber-squatting. Aimed mostly at commercial violations, it bans the bad-faith registration or trafficking in domain names identical or confusingly similar to a distinctive trademark. A judge could revoke a pirated domain name and award damages up to $100,000.

The bill, which relies largely on civil rather than criminal redress, also allows suits against people who register the domain name of a person “without that person’s consent, with the specific intent to profit from such name by selling the domain name for financial gain to that person or any third party.” The state attorney general’s office is looking into whether it has jurisdiction. While Vermonters are not taking the free speech issues surrounding domain-name sales lightly, they are also enjoying a good giggle over the tempest in an e-pot.

When Salon requested documentation last week to verify the irradiation claim, base spokesman Derik Crotts said he would get the records. Two days later, another official, Col. Alan Hardy, commander of the 3rd Chemical Brigade, called back and acknowledged that the bacteria was, in fact, live.

The Army apparently also gave the Missouri Department of Natural Resources, which last year issued permits allowing the training programs, conflicting information about B. subtilis. “They originally told us it was dead, then they told us they are not sure, and then told us it is not [dead],” said Roger Randolph, director of Missouri’s air pollution program.

In fact, virtually no members of the public were aware until recently that spraying was taking place at all at the U.S. Army Chemical School program on the base. Though the military posted required notices in newspapers and held public meetings to discuss the training program last year, it did not disclose that spraying of bacteria into the air was part of the plan. Base officials say they had no intention of misleading anyone and stress that they included the information in an environmental impact statement — a massive document on file at local libraries that few people would know to seek out.

That document also discloses that the deadly nerve gas sarin — the toxin released by the Aum Shinrikyo cult into the Tokyo subway system that killed 12 and sickened thousands — is used for chemical warfare training at the fort as well. The sarin tests take place indoors in completely secure facilities and pose no danger to the public, say base officials.

Last week, Joyce Riley vonKleist, president of the American Gulf War Veterans Association, helped organize a meeting in Versailles, 50 miles from Fort Leonard Wood. Some of those at the meeting, which was attended by hundreds of people, demanded that the Missouri Department of Natural Resources revoke the base’s permit allowing the training.

For activists like Riley vonKleist, a former captain in the Air Force, the conflicting information disseminated by the military is part of a pattern of Pentagon coverups over exposure of U.S. military personnel to chemical and biological hazards, including nuclear testing, Agent Orange used as a defoliant during the Vietnam War and toxic agents during the Gulf War that many believe caused the widespread medical complaints known as Gulf War Syndrome.

VonKleist said she objects to the training even if the bacteria is dead. “We don’t care if the stimulant is irradiated or not,” she said. “We don’t want to be any part of any experimentation.”

Anthrax has been weaponized by various countries as a biowarfare agent. While B. subtilis, also known as bacillus globigii, physically resembles anthrax and fools the Army’s detection equipment, it is generally considered safe and is often found in decomposing vegetable matter.

However, officials at another base planning to run a similar program assured the public that they would use only dead bacteria and raised the possibility of health problems associated with the live agent. Officials at Fort Polk in Louisiana issued a “dear concerned public” letter in which they tried to allay residents’ fears by posing and answering questions — including one which asked if the testing created any environmental risks.

“Virtually none,” stated the letter. “The training will involve the use of dead spores of this bacterium … There have been rare cases where the live microorganism has been isolated from infection sites in persons with severely compromised immune systems. However, the use of dead spores precludes any such problems.”

Missouri residents learned in August that the Fort Leonard Wood program included bacteria spraying after the proposed training in Louisiana drew public fire. Army officials there responded that similar exercises had already been safely held in Missouri. The chemical detection and training exercises are part of a five-week course held a few times a year at the base. The course prepares some 60 soldiers to operate the biological integrated detection system (BIDS), which can be used in the event of a germ-warfare attack. After discovery of the extent to which Iraq had developed and weaponized disease agents such as anthrax, U.S. officials expedited deployment of the detection system.

Another BIDS program planned for Los Alamos, N.M., was curtailed last year after citizens raised concerns over B. subtilis spraying.

According to Leonard Cole, a Rutgers University political scientist and an expert on germ warfare tests, low concentrations of B. subtilis pose no threat to healthy individuals, but high concentrations could engender health problems, including flu-like symptoms and eye and organ infections. Those at risk include “the immunocompromised — the very old and young, people receiving radiation or chemotherapy or people with HIV,” he said. “Studies show B. subtilis has an unusual capability of genetic transformation that some scientists suggest can make it a carrier of disease-causing viruses.”

Brad Perkins, the chief of Fort Leonard Wood’s decontamination division, was adamant that the program presented no risk to the public. “The likelihood of an immunocompromised person in the training area was pretty slim,” he said.

However, when asked if the bacteria could spread beyond the fort grounds, Patricia Nilo, commandant of the Chemical School program where the training is taking place, said, “Yes, it is possible.”