My shooting range, my doctor's practice, my general [translated from German]

The original article is German and paywalled. Idk what the tildes policy on non-english content is, but reading it (and from an outside perspective) it's just so over the top ridiculous that I'd really like to know what people from the US or living there think about it.

Archive link to the original German article:
https://archive.is/swROV

DeepL translation:

Five-year-olds learn to shoot in Vic Mellor's amusement park.
In his practice, the patients decide what they take. And then there's the plan to infiltrate the clinic.
Involved: Trump's favorite general.

Vic Mellor has founded a family practice in Florida, which he advertises with a special promise: All the doctors who work here have been fired elsewhere. Guaranteed! Mellor actually has nothing to do with medicine. He was a marine, later worked in construction and eventually made millions in the concrete business. He admires Donald Trump and years ago started building a "park for patriots" in Florida, where pre-school children learn to shoot. Then came corona.

In Mellor's Park, opponents of masks and vaccination deniers met between the water slide, shooting range and petting zoo. Among them were two recent arrivals: retired General Michael Flynn, Trump's first National Security Advisor, became Mellor's political mentor. Tanya Parus, a project developer and mother of three young boys, became his direct line into an angry parenthood. Together they forged plans. Project one: a new chain of health centers for people who smell the "establishment" behind every doctor. Project two: the infiltration of the local clinic, the renowned Sarasota Memorial Hospital. Both are progressing.

The first "We the People Health and Wellness Center" in the south of Sarasota County opened a few months ago. Vic Mellor paid three million dollars for the new building with columns and arched windows. Inside, there is a bright waiting area with a water dispenser and a receptionist with a stethoscope over her coat. Behind her is a glowing sign: "We the People", the first three words of the constitution in the original handwriting, next to it a curved heart.

The Wi-Fi password is "MedicalFreedom4U!". Flyers advertise a lecture in a church on "the Covid-19 vaccination and its disastrous side effects", others for red light therapies. Two books on the shelf: "The War on Ivermectin" about the deworming agent used in veterinary medicine, which has been glorified on the internet as a miracle cure for Covid-19, and "Evolution Disproved" by internist Michelle Scott about the creation of the earth. She is on duty at the practice today and is currently treating a woman who is complaining of an earache.

The practice is run by co-owner Tanya Parus, a sporty woman in her mid-forties with glasses and shoulder-length blonde hair. "We offer everything that any pediatrician or general practitioner does," she says - except vaccinations. "But you have to become a member." The health insurance companies are one of the biggest problems with their requirements, and we will never cooperate with them. Nevertheless, 500 patients have already signed up. A family of four can join from 250 dollars a month. Parus is already planning more branches.

When the pandemic broke out, she had just moved here from Georgia with her family. "We thought the schools were so good here." She was apolitical. But what her eldest experienced at elementary school drove her up the wall. "Masks for small children? As a mother, I know what boys are like. They throw their face masks on the floor, put them back on, touch them everywhere. That exposes them to a lot more germs." Parus signed her son out and taught him at home. Sometimes the family visited "The Hollow". That's what Mellor named his park, after the hollow pieces of concrete he got rich with.

Mellor is in his mid-50s, muscular, with tattoos on his arms and neck. He, too, never wanted to know anything about politics, as he says from behind the tinted windows of his Cadillac Escalade on the way to "The Hollow". "Until I saw them bashing Trump from morning to night." Mellor had a bad feeling. "It was clear to me: next they would take away our guns and then the rest of our freedom." This gave rise to the idea of "creating a kind of vacation camp for children where we teach them about the constitution" - especially the Second Amendment: the right of the people to bear arms. Mellor never leaves home without his Sig Sauer. As an explosives dog handler, he was once responsible for the security of the presidential helicopter and traveled the country with George Bush.

Mellor has to unlock two gates to get onto the site in his beefy SUV. His park is usually closed, Mellor is in trouble with the authorities. That's why he prefers to give tours of the grounds. Palm trees and mangroves grow everywhere. Mellor himself used heavy equipment to help dig out the lake in which an alligator is swimming. Three days ago, a goat was born in the enclosure. Mellor goes over and caresses the animal. "It's unthinkable that we would slaughter one of our animals," he says without being asked.

Before children from the age of five are allowed to shoot in "The Hollow", Mellor explains, they are first taught the safety rules. To this end, there is a covered area adorned with a banner featuring iconic scenes from the War of Independence. At the shooting range, there is a picnic table for the parents and dozens of stylized torsos made of black metal as targets for the youngsters. Pistol caliber on the left, rifles on the right. A sign on the tree admonishes the young shooters: "Pick up your brass". Mellor's eyes light up. "You should see them at the first shot, they're so scared. But before you know it, they're professional shooters." No teacher can persuade these children that firearms are dangerous.

Tanya Parus has trained as a paramedic. In summer 2021, she helped Vic Mellor organize a major event: Anyone who wanted a certificate to exempt themselves from the mask requirement should come to "The Hollow". Thousands from Sarasota County and all over Florida accepted the invitation. "We started early at seven, and by sundown they were still lining up," says Mellor. A chiropractor was there, a nurse was signing certificates. "We did everything strictly by the book," assures Parus, "we had the right forms, I took all the children's blood pressure and pulse." Taking photos was forbidden, but in the end it was revealed who had taken part in the operation. The nurse was then stripped of her bonus by her employer. She also works in Mellor's practice today.

For Tanya Parus, nothing was ever the same again. "After that day, I was right in the middle of it," she says. She kept getting calls: Could she find a doctor? Couldn't the school be forced to change course? "At night, I burst into tears because people told me how their mothers were dying in hospital and nobody was allowed to see them." Or that they were spreading illnesses because they no longer dared to go to the doctor, out of fear of vaccinations or general mistrust. So Parus and Mellor organized another event: this time, children and adults were able to be examined in "The Hollow". “After that I kept telling Vic every day: We need a practice for these people.” He raised the money.

For Vic Mellor, nothing was ever the same again [even more]. He too was now in the thick of it - in Donald Trump's MAGA movement. Because Mellor became Michael Flynn's right-hand man. Barack Obama had dismissed the lieutenant general as head of military intelligence in 2014; Flynn has since made a name for himself as a fighter against Islam and for a "Christian revival", also at Vladimir Putin's side. However, the high point of Flynn's career, with Trump in the White House, was short-lived: he lied to the FBI and the Vice President about his Moscow contacts and had to resign after 23 days.

The 65-year-old Flynn shares Mellor's conviction that a communist conspiracy is about to subjugate America after decades of preparatory work at universities, in Hollywood and in Washington. For Mellor, Flynn is just "the general". "If he has to go somewhere, I'll drive him." He has also sat at the table with Flynn and Trump. "But I don't know what they're planning," Mellor hastens to assert. Flynn spreads QAnon conspiracy myths. Trump has publicly promised to "bring Flynn back" to the heart of power. Mellor says, "If the president needs the general in Washington, I'll go with him."

Flynn has the contacts that Mellor lacks. Mellor has the money that Flynn lacks. Because his own assets were lost in several criminal proceedings. Standing at the shooting range Mellor dismisses it. "I've now spent nine million dollars on our projects," he says. He has just sold his last property and is now renting with his family. "But Trump has sacrificed a whole billion! If we win, then I'll be the happiest person in the queue at bankruptcy court."

From the theme park, we return to the "We the People" practice in a Cadillac. At an unmarked second entrance stands a meter-high sculpture of a bald eagle. This is where Mellor has set up a podcast studio for Flynn. It looks like a military command post. Maps on the wall reveal the battle Flynn and Mellor are preparing for: the voting districts of the states in which the election between Joe Biden and Donald Trump is likely to be decided in November. "As a former head of the secret service, the general naturally has first-hand information," Mellor murmurs, "so we make our own calculations."

This is also where they edited the movie that will soon be released: "Two hours and six minutes about the persecution of General Flynn. One hundred percent facts. And we take out lavish insurance, so no one can sue us." Mellor is now also trying his hand at producing music, and children are soon to learn filmmaking in "The Hollow" after shooting. "We have to infiltrate Hollywood," explains Mellor.

Flynn no longer speaks to journalists. But it's not hard to guess what drew him to Sarasota besides the white beaches. The county was a battleground of the culture war even before the pandemic. School board elections revolved around slavery, transgender rights and vaccinations. The retired general with a direct line to Mar-a-Lago wanted in on the action. And the county offered a rare opportunity. Because in Sarasota, people not only directly elect the top school board, but also the supervisory board of the clinic.

Mellor, Parus and Flynn helped to build a "movement for medical freedom" and supported four candidates as early as 2022. The freedom they mean is this: If a patient believes a dewormer like ivermectin is better at fighting Covid-19 than what has been proven in scientific studies, then doctors have to obey. That was well received: Three applicants won. Should two more be added this year, the rebels would have a majority.

Under pressure from the newcomers on the supervisory board, the clinic evaluated its handling of corona. The result was that the mortality rate at Sarasota Memorial was lower than elsewhere. Previously, the doctors at the clinic had received death threats, but since then the situation has calmed down somewhat. At the hospital, they no longer want to say anything about the big dispute. Managing directors and chief physicians have learned that any statement in defense of science only adds fuel to the Florida fire.

Finally, Tramm Hudson, a member of the supervisory board since 2015, offers to meet in a hotel lobby. Presumably because, long before he founded a private bank in Sarasota, he was stationed in Schweinfurt as a soldier and enjoys reminiscing. The 71-year-old proudly wears the Sarasota Memorial Hospital logo on his light blue polo shirt. In the past, he says with a mischievous smile, only people like him sat on the Supervisory Board: "White hair, here forever, well connected." Nobody cared about the elections, hardly anyone turned up to the public meetings of the council.

There is a lot at stake. Hudson enumerates: With around 13,000 employees, the clinic is the largest employer in the district. Last year, it had a turnover of 1.4 billion dollars at its eleven locations. Sarasota's population has an average age of 57.5 years, almost twenty years above the national average. "People rely on us," says Hudson. Around 30,000 operations per year bear witness to this. The nine supervisory board members, who are elected for four-year staggered terms, have the right to set a property tax of up to 0.2 percent to finance the clinic. The current rate is 0.14 perc

Sometimes hundreds of people came to the council meetings. "They traveled from as far away as California, it was like a big stage," says Tramm Hudson, who chaired the council at the time. They heard "heartbreaking stories from citizens who couldn't say goodbye to their dying loved ones during the pandemic" - but also slogans from "far-right activists". Hudson was also once the Republican chairman in Sarasota County. "But I'm not a Trump man, so I wouldn't be elected today. Florida is firmly in MAGA hands." Hudson doesn't sound bitter, rather mellow with age. He proudly searches his cell phone for his opponents' campaign video, in which his own face is transformed into that of Chinese dictator Xi Jinping.

Bridgette Fiorucci is one of the three new members of the Supervisory Board. At the meeting in the café next to the clinic headquarters, she presents herself quite differently from Parus or Mellor. Fiorucci, a petite nurse who cares for victims of sexual abuse, thanks us for the opportunity to talk, asks a lot of questions herself, weighs her words. She rejects the idea that her commitment has anything to do with Trump with wide eyes. "I went to a Waldorf school!" She is simply a passionate nurse, she says, and a lot has gone wrong at the clinic.

Fiorucci contracted Covid early in 2020 and did not want to be vaccinated against the virus afterwards. Some doctors refused to work with her as a result. And Fiorucci had to call in lawyers to secure a place at college for her unvaccinated daughter. "But she was still segregated because she had to test herself three times a week." Fiorucci was reminded of a patient she had spoken to years ago about the Holocaust. "He had survived Auschwitz and had his prisoner number tattooed on his arm. I never understood how one group of people could do that to another because they were 'unclean'. And now it started again before my eyes." Hitler wanted to exterminate the Jews in Auschwitz, the American government wanted to save lives with coronavirus rules. But Fiorucci does not accept this objection. "Did you know that they wanted to print gold stars on the name tags of us unvaccinated people?" When asked how she came up with that, she waves it off sadly. “Now is the time to heal wounds.”

Fiorucci doesn't want to discuss who she has become involved with. "Medical freedom has nothing to do with politics," she asserts. "I don't even have cable TV." She simply wants to ensure that patients have a choice. At the hearings of the hospital council, dozens of citizens had complained that their loved ones would still be alive if only they had been given ivermectin. Yet study after study has shown that the parasite drug is ineffective against Covid-19, at least not in a dose that is tolerable for humans; just like the hydroxychloroquine advertised by Trump.

In the "We the People" practice, Michelle Scott can only laugh derisively at this. She has more than 30 years of professional experience as an internist and in an emergency room, she says in a deep, imperious voice, and she has prescribed both drugs to dozens of patients herself - all of whom are doing just fine! It was a daily battle with the pharmacies, says Scott scornfully. "We had to lie and claim that we needed ivermectin to fight worms. Then, of course, the dosage was far too high, but what could we do? They were blocking the good drugs."

They? Who? Dr. Scott doesn't hesitate. "The World Economic Forum in Davos," she explains. "That's why they didn't have a lockdown in Sweden." What does Sweden have to do with it? "Well, because Davos is there," Scott triumphs. The fact that there are two countries in Europe with "Sw" only throws the doctor off her stride for a millisecond. "Satan lives in Davos," she states, referring to her book in which she exposed the theory of evolution as a "total hoax". Scott has to see her patient, but she still has to get this off her chest: "It's as clear as day that the lockdown had nothing to do with the virus, it was just so that Dementia Joe could steal the election."

Vic Mellor admires Scott. "She really is a tough doctor!" He confirms that he will support other candidates for the hospital supervisory board in the summer. "With two more people, we would have a majority on the council," Mellor reminds us. Tramm Hudson, the former chairman of the board, spells out what could then happen. "They could appoint a managing director who shares their philosophy," he says. He in turn could hire like-minded doctors. The whole thing could bankrupt the hospital. "But this time the Flynn people must expect resistance." Last time, they had the element of surprise on their side. Now Sarasota is gearing up. Hudson estimates that a citizens committee will spend hundreds of thousands of dollars on the volunteer supervisors' campaign.

"Yes, it will be tougher this time," confirms Mellor at a picnic table in "The Hollow". But he doesn't shy away from a fight. He finds kind words for the local "Proud Boys", even though he asserts how silly he, as a "real" soldier, finds the paramilitary behavior of the right-wing extremist men's association. Like many Proud Boys, Mellor was there on January 6, 2021, when the Capitol was stormed in Washington. He does not reveal whether he also entered the building. "The FBI hasn't knocked on my door yet," he simply says. He went to the capital with his wife and son for Trump's rally. "But I don't like speeches and we were cold. So we went to see the Capitol. At some point, the atmosphere there exploded." And? "That was one of the proudest days of my life! January 6 stands for our fight against tyranny."

Vic Mellor is preparing himself for the fact that this battle will demand a lot from him in 2024. Because Joe Biden has "zero chance" of winning the election, even with trickery, the following will happen: "A world war will break out somewhere in the summer and our military will be involved," predicts Mellor. "Then there will be a new pandemic. And then something really bad will happen on American soil. Then they'll impose lockdowns again, maybe even martial law. And in November, we'll all only be allowed to vote by postal vote."

The scenario that Mellor creates in the shade of two palm trees sounds a lot like civil war. Does he expect violence? "Oh yes," replies Mellor, "but it won't come from us. If we wanted violence, we would have started it long ago." Just then, four shots shatter the silence in the park. It must be the gardener trying out a gun. Undeterred, Mellor finishes his thought. "We're the ones with the guns, aren't we? We're the crazy ones!" He grins.