MrBallen Podcast: Strange, Dark & Mysterious Stories - Listen Now - REDACTED: Declassified Mysteries with Luke Lamana

Episode Date: November 12, 2024

Behind the closed doors of government offices and military compounds, are hidden stories and buried secrets from the darkest corners of history. Each week, Luke Lamana, a Marine Corp Reconnaissance Veteran, pulls back the curtain on what once was classified information exposing the secrets and lies behind the world’s most powerful institutions. From the hitmakers at Wondery and Ballen Studios, we bring you REDACTED: Declassified Mysteries with Luke Lamana. The stories are real, and the secrets are shocking.Listen Now: http://wondery.fm/REDACTEDSee Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Hey, it's Mr. Ballin here, and I am so excited to tell you all about a brand new podcast from Ballin Studios called Redacted, Declassified Mysteries, and it's hosted by the incredible Luke Lamanna. From covert government experiments to bizarre assassination attempts, Redacted dives deep into the astonishing true stories of uncovered secrets, lies, and deception within the world's most powerful institutions. Governments and military services around the globe have always cloaked themselves in secrecy. But history shows that when you

try too hard to hide something, it only makes people more curious. Luke and his team have spent months researching these totally true and thoroughly twisted tales guaranteed to keep you on the edge of your seat. Stories like the mind-bending truth behind Operation Paperclip, where former Nazi scientists were smuggled into America to advance US technology and intelligence during the Cold War. Or the shocking story of Charles Manson and the CIA revealing how a notorious cult leader might have been entangled in a web of covert operations. Trust me when I tell you, the stories are real and the secrets are shocking. I'm going to play you the first episode of the series.

While you're listening, be sure to follow Redacted Declassified Mysteries with Luke Lamanna on Amazon Music or wherever else you get your podcasts. ["Declassified Mysteries"] In the summer of 1953, CIA operative Kermit Roosevelt Jr. paced around his office at the American Embassy in Tehran, or as he'd like to call it, his battle station. Kermit was the grandson of President Theodore Roosevelt and took real pleasure in feeling like he was in charge. But outside the embassy in the Iranian streets, it didn't seem like anyone was in command of anything.

Beyond the gates at the edge of the embassy compound, crowds of protesters were moving down the street chanting anti-American slogans. What sounded like a glass bottle exploded on the street. Kermit moved to his window and flipped the blinds shut. Iran's government was friendly with the U.S. in those days, but Tehran, the capital, had been in chaos for the past three days. There had been protests and riots all over the city, and now the violence was reaching a crescendo. Statues of former Iranian leaders had been torn down one by one.

The crowds had also looted every building in the main city square and opened fire on counter protesters and passers-by alike. So far hundreds had died in the riots and inside the American embassy the tension was high. Kermit, the CIA's director of operations, took a deep breath, trying to keep calm. Then the door to his office swung open and his radio operator stumbled in, already on the verge of tears. With a shaky hand he held up a cable transmission. It had been sent almost 24 hours ago, but there had been some kind of delay. The operator looked sick as he read the transmission aloud,

urging Kermit and his people to evacuate Tehran. Washington wanted them gone before the mobs had a chance to storm the embassy, before it was too late for them to get out of Iran alive. But Kermit showed no surprise. This was the third time he'd been told to leave the embassy since the street fighting had started. A gunshot rang out somewhere down below, and the operator jumped. But Kermit remained unflinching. He laughed coldly and told the operator to return to his desk. They weren't going anywhere. The radio operator backed out

of his office, walking down the hallway as though he was on a death march. But Kermit wasn't even a little concerned, because he knew something that his superiors back in the United States didn't, that he was the one responsible for all of this chaos. And things were going better than he could have dreamed. From Balin Studios in Wondery, I'm Luke Lamanna, and this is Redacted, Declassified Mysteries, where each week we shine a light on the shadowy corners of espionage, covert operations, and misinformation to reveal the dark secrets our governments try to hide.

This week's episode is called Operation Ajax to be in a constant state of turmoil. So many nations are at odds with each other or actively hostile towards the United States and its Western allies. Every new American president has to figure out a diplomatic strategy for the Middle East, and sub-presidents have become deeply unpopular both here and there for getting it wrong. But how did this all start? The history of U.S. intervention is long and sordid, but today's bitter conflict with Iran can be traced back to one of the most elaborate coup attempts in history, led by a descendant of American

royalty. As much as I might not agree with starting a coup in the Middle East, something that even years later affected me during my own military career, I can sympathize with Kermit Roosevelt's desire to live up to his grandfather's standard, his grandfather being former President Teddy Roosevelt. Can you imagine? My own grandfather is a hero to me. He was the only other Marine in my family, and he never talked much about his service.

But after I had earned the title of Marine myself, he finally started to open up about his time in service, and I finally found out who my grandfather really was. He's the humblest man I've ever known and yet he's apparently a legend in Marine Corps history. So of course, I wanted to live up to that standard and make him proud. We'll never know what Kermit Roosevelt's relatives would have thought of his involvement in Iran in the 1950s, but what we do know is that the part he played changed the world forever. A few weeks before that coup began on July 19, 1953, Kermit Roosevelt stood at the border crossing between Iraq and Iran, enjoying a cigarette outside of the cement Border Patrol building that marked the entry point into

Iran. Semi-trucks rumbled along the highway while Border Patrol agents checked papers and cargo trailers before granting them entry into the country. Kermit took a final drag on the cigarette, then stomped it out and walked into the dull, beige-painted Iranian government building. His driver was already inside, standing at a Border Patrol agent's desk. The agent was going over their paperwork with a fine-tooth comb. By the time Kermit reached his driver, the agent was already looking over Kermit's passport.

He asked Kermit a few questions about his reasons for visiting Iran and scribbled down his answers on a beat-up clipboard that had seen better days. Kermit smiled to himself, amused by the thought that government buildings were dingy and miserable no matter what country you were in. He watched as the agent read over the description box on his passport and clearly misunderstood what the information meant. On the entry paperwork, Kermit saw the agent write Mr. Scar on right forehead, as if that was his name. Kermit smirked and decided it was a good omen, a sign that he would enter this country the same way he planned to leave it. Unidentified and unaccounted for.

Kermit wasn't planning on using his real name anyway. He was a CIA operative here on a covert mission. That bunk passport named him as James Lockridge, the pseudonym he'd been using while he was in Iran. The CIA had assigned Kermit an enormous task to covertly orchestrate the overthrow of the Iranian government and oust their new Prime minister, Mohammed Mosaddegh. Kermit saw this as a grand adventure and one he was excited to undertake. Kermit descended from a long line of adventurous men. His grandfather, Theodore Roosevelt, was world famous for his big game hunting expeditions

and his exploits leading a volunteer cavalry unit called the Rough Riders in the Spanish-American War. Now it was finally Kermit's turn to seize greatness, to do the impossible and take his place alongside his famous grandfather. Kermit had spent the past few days brushing up on the assignment. He was only mildly surprised to learn that the coup was initially proposed by British intelligence, also known as MI6. But once he thought about it, MI6's involvement made a lot of sense.

It turned out that British agents had already been in Iran for several years, working on something called Operation Boot, which was a ploy to oust Mosaddegh from power and install a prime minister more aligned with the West. And more importantly, Western business interests. For decades, the West had profited from Iranian oil, essentially becoming shareholders in the world's most profitable oil fields. But Mosaddegh was changing that. Ever since he came to power two years ago, he'd been nationalizing Iranian oil, keeping that money for Iran instead of letting the West siphon its resources.

This new policy threatened American interests and put a real dent in the Western economy. So the British coup plan was put in motion. But there was a snag. Somehow, Prime Minister Mosaddegh had found out about the coup and kicked all the British diplomats out of Iran about nine months ago, in October 1952. That set off a chain reaction of events, culminating in the CIA getting involved, which is why Kermit Roosevelt was standing before a Border Patrol agent's desk, craving another cigarette. He fished the pack of Iraqi-branded Marlboros out of his pocket. As he lit a cigarette, he watched two Border Patrol agents search the back of a livestock truck.

He took a drag of the cigarette and reviewed his assignment in his head, going over the details he'd painstakingly digested. This mission had come directly from President Dwight Eisenhower, the new American president. At some point in the first half of 1953, MI6 had approached Eisenhower and convinced him that a coup in Iran was in America's best interest. A few phone calls later, and Kermit found himself in the backseat of a car, driving toward this remote border crossing 300 miles west of Tehran. He was trying to enter Iran with the express purpose of overthrowing its government.

Kermit's boss had said the coup was necessary to squelch Mosaddegh's supposed communist leanings and secure democracy and the blessings of liberty in the Middle East and blah blah blah. Kermit didn't believe a word of it, but Kermit knew that his opinion didn't matter. He did what his superiors told him to do. Ten minutes later, the Iranian border agent let Kermit enter the country, and Kermit and his driver were back into their dust-coated car and headed for Tehran. They drove all afternoon, speeding through vast deserts and farms in rural communities. Until finally, just as dusk fell over the desert, the high-rise buildings and soaring

minarets of Tehran appeared on the horizon. Kermit felt a rush of excitement course through him. His great adventure was about to begin. A few weeks later Kermit strode down a colorful street in Tehran enjoying the morning bustle. Iranians were on their way to work flooding the street with mopeds and hurrying down the sidewalk. Kermit walked slowly by comparison. He was in no rush, just on his daily walk to the coffee shop down the street. He stepped over bright red flyers that littered the ground.

He glanced down at them. He'd been seeing the flyers all morning. Kermit didn't read Arabic, but he knew what the posters said. They lambasted Prime Minister Mohammed Mossadegh, accusing him of being anti-Islam and calling for his removal from office. He stopped at a newspaper stand on the next corner to buy that morning's edition of an English newspaper. He liked to take it with him to the cafe so he could sit and read.

A front-page headline read loud and clear, FIRE MOSADDECK. In fact, the entire paper seemed chock full of anti-Mosaddegh. In fact, the entire paper seemed chock-full of anti-Mosaddegh rhetoric. The side of it filled Kermit with glee, because all of this, both the flyers and the newspaper article, had been his handiwork. The first phase of what the CIA was calling Operation Ajax. The first objective of the mission was to seize control of the Iranian press and pump anti-Mosaddegh rhetoric into every newspaper in circulation. Kermit wanted every pair of Iranian eyes to see nothing but red flyers and angry press. Upon arriving in Tehran in mid-July, Kermit had actually been a little apprehensive about

this stage of the mission. Mosaddegh was, beyond a shadow of a doubt, the most popular prime minister in modern Iranian history. How do you turn an entire nation against a popular democratically elected leader? He thought it would be impossible to get the Iranian press to print slander against Mosaddegh, that they'd fight his efforts to control the flow of information. But he faced almost no resistance. The press in Iran was already corrupt, so it didn't cost much to get columnists and

reporters on his payroll. From there, the propaganda had been printed in an endless stream. He quite literally couldn't leave the House without stepping over it. He even got agents back in D.C. to write anti-Mosaddegh propaganda that accused the prime minister of having Jewish parents, which was a big taboo, and pretty much whatever other lie Kermit could think of. But he couldn't tell whether the Iranian public was buying these lies. Mosaddegh was still enormously popular.

Even still, Operation Ajax was going better than Kermit had hoped, which meant it was time to ease into phase two of his plan, generate chaos. Kermit knew how he was going to pull this off, too. By paying Iranians and expats in Tehran, who would gladly sell out their own country's Chaos Kermit knew how he was going to pull this off, too. By paying Iranians and expats in Tehran, who would gladly sell out their own country's best interests. But these assets couldn't be just anybody. They had to have sway.

And in a country where 98% of the population practiced Islam, that meant targeting the mullahs, the religious leaders and scholars that held enormous sway over their congregations. In fact, Kermit was on his way to meet one such mullah now. But he had to be careful. He'd spent weeks establishing this morning routine, from newspaper stand to coffee shop and then the park beyond, so that any witnesses, anyone tailing him, would have no reason to suspect he was up to anything other than exercise. Kermit arrived at the coffee shop and sat down at one of the

little tables outside, checking his watch. He had about 30 minutes before his rendezvous, so we opened the paper, scanning the page as he reviewed his to-do list in his head. First, he needed to meet with the mullah and buy him off, then touch base with some other assets who might prove useful. Luckily, the CIA and British intelligence already had an active network of locals in Tehran that he could tap into. This handful of experienced Iranian operatives were paid tens of thousands of dollars every month to act as eyes and ears for Western intelligence, and now they would all be at Kermit's disposal. Frankly, Kermit had been surprised by how high-rank ranking some of these assets were.

Politicians, military officers, clergymen, newspaper editors. The list went on. Kermit was most interested in the street gang leaders on the American and British payrolls. He knew he'd need them at some point. After all, he was planning a revolution. Kermit flipped the newspaper and sipped his coffee, draining it in three swigs. Then he started his routine stroll around the park. But instead of completing his normal loop, he left through a gateway on the far side of the park and walked down the block,

eventually entering a department store across the street. He headed toward the men's clothing department, nodding to the saleswoman in the makeup department as he passed. To onlookers, he was a western diplomat on his way to get a new shirt or silk tie, maybe for some upcoming special occasion. There would be no reason to connect him with the mullah, who was browsing crisp white shirts on a rack nearby. Kermit didn't so much as glance at the mullah. He just continued browsing, wandering slowly to the other side of the store. At one point Kermit crossed behind the mullah, but otherwise the men didn't interact whatsoever. And yet, by the time Kermit left the department store ten minutes later, he had slipped an

envelope to the holy man, one containing enough money to sway the mullah into delivering a very specific sermon that weekend, one that would denounce Mosaddegh as anti-god and irreligious, and hopefully convince the Mullah's congregation that their new Prime Minister had to go. A few days later, on August 3rd, Kermit slipped into the back seat of an unmarked car. There was a wool blanket sitting on the seat next to him, and he grimaced as he laid down across the seat and threw the blanket over his body, hiding him from any onlookers. The car began moving, and Kermit started to feel hot. He tried his best to will himself not to sweat.

He wanted to look commanding, considering his destination. He also tried his best not to move as the car crept through the streets of Tehran to an imposing set of gates on the north side of the city. Kermit couldn't see what was happening, but he could hear enough to know that a security guard had barely glanced at his driver's papers before waving the car through. A moment later, Kermit had officially entered the compound at the Royal Palace. This was the third phase of Operation Ajax, and the only portion that had made Kermit truly nervous.

He needed to convince Mohammed Reza Pahlavi, the 32-year-old Shah of Iran, essentially Iran's king, to sign paperwork dismissing Mosaddegh as his Prime Minister. He would be asking the Shah to sign off on a coup that would overthrow the government of his own country, and that would be no easy task. Despite Kermit's smear campaign against him, Mosaddegh was still the most popular political leader in Iran. It would take a lot of courage to fire Mosaddegh, and that was something the young Shah lacked. He came off as immature, more concerned with

looking cool and being liked than leading with any kind of conviction. Even if he agreed to the coup, he might change his mind by morning. Nothing was certain until he signed the papers and had them delivered to Mosadeq's front door. And yet, Kermit had to convince him. Kermit didn't even want to think about what it meant for him if he failed, let alone American diplomats and Iran as a whole. The car pulled to a stop. From beneath his blanket, Kermit could hear footsteps approaching the car, graceful and measured, the click of expensive shoes. A moment later, the door opened and Kermit sat up just enough for someone to settle onto

the seat next to him. Then the car was moving again, slowly slowly to another part of the royal grounds. Kermit didn't speak. He just waited in silence until the man beside him told him the coast was clear. Kermit threw off the blanket and smiled at the Shah of Iran, introducing himself with as much reverence as he could muster. The driver had parked on the side of the palace, an area cast in shadows and hidden from the guard stations. Kermit felt relieved. Complete secrecy was imperative if this coup had a prayer of working. Kermit decided it was best to cut to the chase, since the Shah probably already knew why they

were having this meeting. That was because Kermit had already spoken with the Shah's twin sister, Princess Ashraf. Princess Ashraf was everything the Shah wasn't. Politically savvy and cutthroat enough for the both of them, she saw Mosaddegh as an enemy whose nationalization of Iranian oil had cut into the royal family's profits. In fact, she'd been so vocal about her dislike of Mosaddegh that she was deeply unpopular with the Iranian public. The outrage had made the Shah so afraid for his own position that he unofficially exiled Princess Ashraf to Europe more than a year ago. Kermit knew that she would be sympathetic to Operation Ajax and that a brand new mink coat

and a wad of cash might be enough to convince her to help. Kermit had been right about that, but even though the Princess returned to Iran and begged her brother to dismiss Mosaddegh, to Kermit's surprise, she failed to convince him. So Kermit resorted to Plan B. He called an army general who the Shah owed a lot of money. And the general had made some headway, but the Shah still wasn't totally convinced to turn on his prime minister. And that's when Kermit knew it was up to him. This was a conversation he needed to have face to face with the Shah. Kermit used his contacts to arrange this midnight meeting. He wouldn't waste it. He launched into a rehearsed speech about how Mosaddegh was anti-royal. The royal family's coffers would soon run dry once all that oil money dried up.

In just a generation or two, maybe the royal family would be ousted from Iran completely. Did Reza Shah really want that to be his legacy? Kermit did his best to make it sound casual off the cuff. He pressed the Shah, even as he watched the Shah's face go taut. This might have been the conversation the Shah was expecting, but it wasn't the one he wanted to have. They were only in the car five minutes before the Shah asked the driver to take him back around to the front steps and Kermit was forced to dive under his blanket again for fear of being seen. And yet, even from under the blanket, Kermit couldn't help but notice a moment's hesitation before the Shah left the car, as though he'd wanted to say

something but thought better of it. Then, as the car door slammed shut, a smile crept over Kermit's face. A surge of adrenaline rushed through him, one that had him up and pacing his house for the rest of the night. The Shah had hesitated. Some small part of him had wanted to continue the conversation. Kermit was sure of it. So the next morning, Kermit called his contact and set up another meeting with the Shah for that night. same time, same place. And the night after they talked again, and again, and again. On the night of August 9th, Kermit waited under the blanket in the back seat as usual, and the Shah made his way down the lavish front steps of the palace. The moment he ducked

into the car, Kermit launched into his nightly diatribe about the need for the Shah's support. Kermit had the whole pitch memorized at this point, and the more the Shah agreed with him, the harder he hammered his point. Mosaddegh was dangerous. He had to go. When Kermit finally ran out of breath, the car fell silent. The Shah's expression was unreadable, but Kermit knew he was mulling it over. And finally, the Shah relented. He told Kermit that over the past week he'd come to see things more clearly. He knew that Kermit and his own sister and the general were probably right. He would dismiss Mosaddegh from office.

It took all of Kermit's willpower to keep from whooping out loud, but he held his breath as the Shah agreed to sign the paperwork in the morning, and then he told the driver to take him back to the front steps. Kermit pulled the blanket back over his head and a wave of relief washed over him. Some small part of him couldn't believe that he'd done it. In less than a month, he'd successfully completed all three phases of Operation Ajax and in just a few days time would see Mosaddegh dismissed from office completing his mission. As the car rolled to a stop outside the palace steps, Kermit thanked the Shah and said he would look forward to hearing the

announcement on the news in the morning. But the Shah clicked his tongue and said it would have to wait until Saturday. The Iranian weekend is Thursday and Friday and no one was going to overthrow the government on their day off. Just before midnight on Saturday August 15th 1953, Colonel Nimatollah Nasiri sat in the lead car of a military caravan. He was the commander of the Imperial Guard, and under the cover of darkness, he and a small caravan of military officers were on a special assignment. Several military caravans were cutting through the streets of Tehran tonight, heading for the homes of Iranian politicians. The colonel knew that across town Kermit Roosevelt

had gathered at a safe house with fellow agents, all awaiting a call on whether or not tonight's operation was successful. The Colonel had heard that the agents were sitting around a record player drinking vodka and listening to the song, Luck Be a Lady, from the American musical Guys and Dolls. The Colonel smiled to himself, deciding they could use all the luck they could get. The Colonel double-checked his breast pocket, feeling for the folded piece of paper he'd stored there for safekeeping. It was the official decree signed by the Shah that dismissed Mosaddegh from office. Within the hour, he would hand-deliver the decree to Mosaddegh, and if the Prime Minister

resisted, have him arrested on his doorstep. But first, they had to make a stop. Colonel Nasiri's car pulled up in front of a stately home in an upscale neighborhood of Tehran. Nasiri hopped out of the car, along with two officers. He knew that the officers could have handled this part of the mission on their own, but out of respect, Nasiri wanted to do this face to face. He knocked on the door and waited for Mosadeq's military chief of staff to answer. It was late, so there was no question the man would be home, probably already fast asleep. Nasiri would wait for the military chief of staff to roll out of bed and come to the door. Then Nasiri would inform the man he was being arrested.

The charges would be false, but that didn't matter. He just needed the chief of staff detained for the next few hours. Because after arresting the chief of staff, Nasiri would continue on to Mosideq's house, and the CIA agents across town had wanted to make sure that when they dismissed Mosideq, there would be nobody available for him to call. No chance of rallying support or whipping up a fight. Mosideq would be isolated and cornered. Except minutes ticked by and nobody came to the door. So Nassiri knocked again, harder this time. They waited, but no lights turned on in the house. Nassiri pressed his hands to the glass to appear into the dark foyer, but there was no movement. No indication that anybody was even awake. After five minutes,

Nassiri and his officers realized that the house was even awake. After five minutes, Nasiri and his officers realized that the house was completely empty. The military chief of staff and his family were gone. It was odd, but Nasiri told himself that they were out late at a friend's house and had lost track of time. Or perhaps they'd taken a last minute trip out of town to see family.

Nasiri decided not to read into it. They would continue on to Mosideq's house. 20 minutes later, Nasiri and not to read into it. They would continue on to Mosadeq's house. Twenty minutes later, Nasiri and his motorcade pulled up along the front gate to the Mosadeq family apartment complex. The Prime Minister's family had owned the apartment complex for years. Instead of buying a lavish house, Mosadeq and his wife had continued to live in one of the corner units, even after he was elected Prime Minister. The caravan rolled to a stop and Nasiri stepped out of the lead car and approached the security guard standing watch at the gate. He heard car doors open behind him and knew that a horde of military officers were now falling in line. He watched the security guard's face

as the officers took formation, reading the terror in the man's eyes. Nasiri thought that was good. A scared guard was far more likely to cooperate, and Nasiri would prefer there be no bloodshed tonight. He wished the guard a good evening, then handed over the signed document that dismissed Mosideq from office. He demanded to be let into the complex. The guard nodded, but he didn't open the gate. Then several men in military uniforms stepped out of the shadows and surrounded Nasiri and

his officers. They were armed, and one of them ordered Nasiri's officers to stand down. Nasiri tried to mask his shock as two of the military men grabbed him by the upper arm and escorted him toward a jeep parked just beyond the gate. It was clear their plan had failed. And now the Colonel was the one on his way to jail. In the early hours of August 16th, Kermit paced the hallways of the American Embassy's compound, torn between the urge to punch a wall and the need to drown his sorrows in vodka.

He'd just been forced to send a wire to Washington, explaining why Operation Ajax had not been successful the night before. Kermit opted for vodka. He poured himself a glass and sank into the armchair in his office, then turned on the radio. Outside his office window, the sky was turning a rosy shade of pink. The sun was creeping up over the rooftops across the street. It made Kermit feel exposed, like his failures were about to be dragged into the stark light

of day. Over the radio, a news reporter announced that a coup against Prime Minister Mosaddegh had failed overnight. Kermit wanted to throw his glass across the room as the reporter gave the details of Nasiri's arrest outside Mosaddadeq's home. And then a fellow agent knocked on Kermit's door and sauntered into his office. The agent sat on the edge of Kermit's desk and said he had the details of what had unfolded the night before.

Mosadeq had somehow learned that he was going to be dismissed and sprang into action. He had his loyalists leave their homes to avoid arrest. Then he planted troops outside those homes to wait until Nasiri and his co-conspirators made their move, and when they did, they'd be ambushed and arrested for treason. The Shah was so rattled that he and his wife had already fled to Rome. Apparently some reporters met his plane when it landed in Italy and he stepped onto the tarmac joking that he might be looking for a job soon. Kermit audibly groaned at that, stunned by how spineless this shot seemed to be. The agent agreed, then pushed himself off Kermit's desk and headed over to the wet

bar. He poured himself some of Kermit's vodka. He told Kermit there was something else, too. CIA headquarters had sent a wire early this morning. They were calling it quits. Kermit's vodka. He told Kermit there was something else, too. CIA headquarters had sent a wire early this morning. They were calling it quits. Kermit was ordered to throw in the towel and hop on the first flight back to Washington. Kermit felt shell-shocked. The idea of abandoning his mission, of failing where his grandfather had succeeded, felt like a sucker punch to the gut. He couldn't breathe. He just slammed down the rest of his vodka and told the agent to leave him alone to stew. He couldn't understand how this had happened.

His plan was risky, sure, but it was doable. He'd laid the groundwork meticulously. But now Mosadeq was still in power and the Shah was gone. He leaned back in his armchair, staring at the ceiling, oscillating between anger and disbelief. He stared and stared at the hairline fractures that snaked across the ceiling plaster, going over the plan again and again in his head, searching for the weak link, trying to figure out who might have snitched.

Couldn't end like this. He was too close to pulling it off. He poured himself another vodka, wheels turning. He still had resources, he realized, and contacts. He could still figure out a way to get Mosadeq out of office, figure out some way to turn this failed coup on its head, change the narrative, just like he'd been doing since he waltzed into Iran a month ago. That morning, he sent a wire wire back to Washington telling them to cancel his flight home. He was staying. And by that afternoon he knew exactly how he was going to get Operation Ajax back on track.

By early afternoon on August 16th Krimet had bought a piece of brand new cutting-edge equipment – a photocopier, one of the only copy machines in all of Tehran. It was roughly the size of two refrigerators roped together. Kermit turned it on, and the copy machine roared to life, clacking like someone was banging a hammer inside it. He fed a piece of paper into the copier, then ordered as many copies as the machine could print. It shook as it made hundreds of photocopies. Agents could hear the machine from down the hallway. It sounded like Kermit had installed a bowling alley in the break room.

But within a few hours, he had a stack of flyers, photocopies of the edict the Shah had signed that dismissed Mosaddegh from office. He ordered his officers to begin posting them all over the city, but especially in the rougher districts on Tehran's south side. Then he sent a few copies to the reporters and newspaper editors on his payroll. He wanted the edict printed on the front page of all the papers, along with his own version of events. The current news reports had it all wrong. The coup had actually been Mosaddegh trying to overthrow the Shah.

Once Kermit felt certain the papers would back his story, he went back to his office and placed a phone call to two Iranians he'd been working with since arriving in Tehran. He needed a favor, a big one. Nothing that the two of them couldn't handle, but still it was a risk. The men were nervous about getting involved. What Kermit was asking was in their wheelhouse, but much bigger than anything they'd ever attempted. Kermit asked the Iranians if $50,000 would be enough to convince them to participate.

Then he held his breath through the long beat of silence. He heard muffled whispers on the other end of the phone. Kermit didn't have time to negotiate, so he rephrased his offer. Either the men could take the 50 grand and go through with the plan, or Kermit would have them killed. Kermit wasn't just clever, he was ruthless. The next morning on August 17th, one of the gangs from Tehran's south side took to the streets with signs, calling for the Shah to stay in Rome.

The signs weren't worded so politely, but they got the point across. The gang members shouted anti-Shah rhetoric and chanted in unison, and soon another street gang joined them. By noon, their numbers had swelled considerably, their ranks made entirely of criminals and gang members. There were so many protesters that they filled the street. Passersby had to duck into alleyways to get through. As their anti-Shah rhetoric grew louder, Mosaddegh supporters joined their march, thrilled to

be part of a protest that supported their beloved Prime Minister. By the time they reached Parliament Square, tens of thousands of Iranians had gathered, shouting their support for Mosaddegh and lambasting the Shah, who'd run away from his own country. Then, several men began climbing a massive statue of the Shah mounted on a horse right in the middle of the square. They threw a chain around the marble Shah's neck and pulled. It didn't take long for the entire statue to come crashing down. And as it smashed on the cobblestone below, shocked news reporters gave the play-by-play

over the radio. Kermit Roosevelt heard the entire broadcast while sitting in his office, alongside several other CIA agents who had taken part in Operation Ajax. When the reporter said the statue was toppled, the entire room erupted in cheers. Kermit was thrilled. The men he had bribed the night before were street gang leaders, and he paid them to start this protest. The directive had been simple.

Lead the charge to Parliamentary Square and topple the Shah's statue. Kermit felt like Operation Ajax was back on track. But the whole point of the mission was to turn the Iranians against the Prime Minister and to support the Shah. So how exactly was this a good thing? Simply put, you can't truly destabilize a country without starting a fight. The next morning, protests began again. But this time, Kermit paid the gang members to take to the streets chanting things like I love Mosaddegh and I love communism. I want a people's republic.

All while they looted stores, fired bullets into mosques, broke windows at random, and beat any innocent bystander unlucky enough to cross their path. They incited an all-out riot. By Tuesday morning, August 18th, the riots had gotten so bad that Mosaddegh was forced to appear on national news and publicly forbid his supporters from demonstrating. But when the sun rose over Tehran on the 19th, onlookers caught a glimpse of the weirdest mob yet. Weightlifters, most of them wearing nothing but curled mustaches and loincloths, marched

down the street shouting pro-Shah slogans like, Long Live the Shah. They were waving barbells above their heads, perhaps as some kind of show of brute strength. Behind them were jugglers throwing heavy pins and musclemen wielding knives. And even Kermit had to admit it wasn't his best work. But it would do. Because soon police and military officers joined the circus performers, chanting slogans in support of the Shah, telling him to come

back from Rome. To onlookers, it was more than a spectacle that created chaos, it was a sign of unity, with groups from different socioeconomic classes from all around Tehran joining forces to back the Shah. Any humor the mob might have induced quickly evaporated. They gained size and momentum as they made their way toward Mosideq's apartment. On the way, they set fire to eight government buildings and three pro-Mosideq newspaper offices. Kermit could see the smoke from his command center, and the sight warmed his heart, more than the alcohol he'd been drinking for days on end.

Then, Mosaddegh supporters came out to meet the mob, and the pro-Shah protesters started skirmishes with the Mosaddegh supporters and innocent passers-by. Soon, fists flew and gunshots rang out. By the time the mob of Shah supporters reached Mosaddegh's house, 300 Tehranians were dead. Back in his office, Kermit listened to the radio reports as the mob charged into the compound where Mosaddegh and his family lived and began looting. They trashed his furniture and stole his family heirlooms, while some made their way up to Mosaddegh's bedroom upstairs where they'd heard the Prime minister was awaiting arrest, or worse.

The most eager mobsters threw themselves against his bedroom door until the wood cracked and the hinges came loose. But when they entered his bedroom, it was empty. It seemed the prime minister had fled. The mob didn't bother trying to find Mosideq. Instead, they continued raiding the house, hauling all the furniture and appliances worth selling to trucks outside, and told awaiting news reporters that Mosadeq was officially deposed.

Back at the command center, Kermit was eating lunch and listening to the radio. The announcer was halfway through a broadcast about the current price of grain, but Kermit was listening as though it was the ninth inning of the World Series. The announcer's voice slowed, then cut out completely. As dead air filled the room, Kermit smiled to himself. With growing anticipation, he leaned back in his chair, waiting with bated breath. After several minutes, Kermit could hear the sound of two men arguing over the airwaves. He leaned in, trying to make out what the men were saying, but it was too muffled to hear.

He tapped his toes, anticipation building. Then another moment of silence, and a new announcer came on the radio and said, The government of Mosaddeq has been defeated. Kermit poured himself another vodka. The coup d'etat had worked, and Kermit had finally become the man he'd always wanted to be, for better or worse. A few days later, Reza Shah strode down the main staircase of his palace and turned into his lavish sitting room, where Kermit Roosevelt was already waiting.

It was just after midnight the Shah thought it was appropriate to keep their usual meeting time but tonight Kermit hadn't been hiding in the driveway under a blanket. He'd entered in full view of the guards. The Shah motioned to a chair and Kermit sat down. The Shah sat across from him as the servant came over with a tray of vodka and each man took a glass. The shah raised his and told Kermit that the toast was in his honor tonight, that he owed his throne to God but his people to Kermit Roosevelt. Kermit smiled and took a sip of his drink. The shah followed suit. Tonight the vodka tasted especially smooth.

Fast forward 26 years later to November 4, 1979, the American Embassy in Tehran. A young CIA operative watched from his window as Iranian students chanted anti-American slogans. Suddenly, buses filled with more rowdy demonstrators sped towards the embassy. As soon as the buses screeched to a halt, students raced out the doors to join their fellow demonstrators. Just then, the operative noticed a female student using bolt cutters on the embassy's gate as other students cheered her on. Worried that things were escalating, the operative phoned his bosses back in D.C. when suddenly the doors burst open as armed students stormed the embassy.

Before the operative knew it, he and 89 other Americans in the embassy were hostages. The Iranian hostage crisis lasted 444 days. These students held America's attention for close to a year and a half and arguably cost President Jimmy Carter a second term. And it all goes back to Operation Ajax. After Kermit's coup, a new government was installed by the Shah. Mosaddegh was eventually found by military police and arrested. The United States sentenced him to three years of solitary confinement to be served on house arrest at his family's remote villa in the countryside of Iran. But many of Mosaddegh's allies paid a heavier price for their loyalty to the Prime Minister and to their country. Several allies were sentenced to death for their part in saving Mosaddegh's life and attempting to stop the coup. Mosaddegh was the last democratically elected

leader in Iranian history. The incoming Prime Minister returned a lot of power to Reza Shah, allowing him to rule as a more traditional monarch, but he relied heavily on the United States and brute force to maintain that power. Those who have since fled Iran used to joke that life was good so long as you didn't ask questions. Not exactly a tenet of democracy. Over the next 25 years, the Iranian government became so despised by Iranians that it destroyed Iran's relationship with the United States and set the stage for the Iranian hostage crisis of 1979, when young revolutionaries

took over the U.S. embassy in Tehran. And that gave way to a revolution that installed Supreme Leader Ayatollah Khomeini. Khomeini promised freedom, but instead adopted the Shah's tactics of brute force to install a crippling dictatorship. Iranians have been fighting, often at the cost of their lives, for democracy ever since. For their part, the CIA saw Operation Ajax as a runaway success and an important milestone for their newly established organization. It became the template for future CIA-orchestrated coups around the world. But over the long term, Operation Ajax set the stage for Iran to

become one of the US's most hated enemies. Operation Ajax may have made Kermit the man he always wanted to be, but he should have been careful what he wished for. While his grandfather, President Theodore Roosevelt, is remembered for becoming the first American to win the Nobel Peace Prize for ending the Russo-Japan War, Kermit is remembered for the lasting pain Operation Ajax caused. Unfortunately for the Roosevelt family, his legacy is having made many Iranians bitterly anti-American for generations and helping to destabilize the Middle East.

From Ballen Studios and Wondery, this is Redacted, Declassified Mysteries, hosted by me, Luke Lamanna. A quick note about our stories. We do a lot of research for our stories, but some details and scenes are dramatized. We used many different sources for our show, but we especially recommend All the Shah's Men, An American Coup and the Roots of Middle East Terror by Stephen Kinzer, and Counter Coup, The Struggle for the Control of Iran by Kermit Roosevelt, as well as articles from the New York Times and NPR.

This episode was written by Aaron Lann. Sound design by Ryan Patesta. Our producer is Christopher B. Dunn. Our associate producers and researchers are Sarah Vytak, Teja Palakonda, Adam Melian, and Rafa Feria. Fact-checking by Sheila Patterson. For Ballin Studios, our head of production is Zach Levitt. Script editing by Scott Allen. Our coordinating producer is Samantha Collins. Production support by Avery Siegel. Produced by me, Luke Lamanna. Executive producers are Mr. Ballin and Nick Whitters.

For Wondery, our head of sound is Marcelino Villapando. Senior producers are Loredana Palavota, Dave Schilling, and Rachel Engelman. Senior managing producer is Nick Ryan. Managing producers are Olivia Fonte and Sophia Martins. Our Music Supervisor is Scott Velasquez for Friisahn Sync. Executive Producers are Erin O'Flaherty and Marshall Louie for Wondery.