Khamenei Secret Spy Chief Breaks Down Live I Met Jesus and He Showed Me Everything
For years, I destroyed lives and called it duty.
At sitting there alone, I finally saw what I had become, and I could not hide from it anymore.
I spent 15 years as K&A’s most trusted intelligence operative, helping silence dissident, crush uprising, and destroy lives across three continents.
Then Jesus appeared to me in a prison cell, and everything I believed collapsed in a single moment.
I have never told this story publicly before.
What I am about to share will shock you, anger you, and maybe even change your life.
Stay with me until the very end because the last thing I say may be the most important thing you ever hear.
My name is Farhhatani.
I am originally from Thran, Iran.
I currently live in an undisclosed location in Western Europe.
For the better part of three decades, I was one of the most feared and most invisible men inside the Islamic Republic.
I did not carry a gun.
I did not command armies.
My weapon was information.
Then when I used it to destroy people without ever leaving a mark, I was born in the summer of 1966 in a quiet neighborhood in the eastern part of Thran.
My father Mahmud Tehrani was a school teacher who believed deeply in discipline and order.
He was not a wealthy man.
We did not have a big house or expensive cars or connections to powerful people.
What we had was a small apartment, a shelf of books, and a father who told us every single night that knowledge was the only inheritance worth passing down.
My mother Fatime was a gentle and deeply religious woman.
She prayed five times a day without fail.
She fasted every Ramadan with complete devotion.
She wrapped herself in her shadow every time she left the house.
And she taught me and my two younger sisters that obedience to God was the highest form of honor a person could achieve in this life.
She was the most sincere person I have ever known.
And I say that knowing full well that her sincerity was used against her by a government that knew exactly how to take genuine faith and to turn it into a tool of control.
I was 12 years old when the Islamic revolution swept through Iran in 1979.
I remember the streets of Thran filled with people shouting and singing and weeping with joy.
I remember my mother pulling me close and telling me that God had finally answered the prayers of the faithful.
She said that Ayatollah Kmeni was a holy man who would lead Iran into a new era of righteousness and justice.
I believed her because she was my mother and she had never lied to me about anything.
The revolution changed everything about daily life in Iran almost overnight.
Schools changed their curriculum.
The way women dressed changed.
The music that played on the radio changed.
The books that were allowed in classroom changed.
Everything was filtered through the lens of the new Islamic government and its vision for what Iranian society should look like.
For a 12-year-old boy raised in a religious household, much of this felt natural and right.
The world my mother had always described to me in prayers and teachings was now becoming the official reality of the country I lived in.
I was a good student.
I graduated near the top of my class in high school and earned a place at the University of Tehran to study political science.
It was at the university that I first came into contact with the networks that would define the rest of my life.
The early 1980s were an intense and dangerous time on Iranian university campuses.
The Iran Iraq war had just begun.
Revolutionary fervor was at its peak.