The Conservative Who Stopped an Obama Assassination

In a tale that reads like a Hollywood thriller, a small chapter of the Ku Klux Klan in Wayward, Florida, was inches away from executing one of the most catastrophic plots in American history: the assassination of Barack Obama just days before he was elected president in 2008. They meticulously mapped out every aspect of the attack, from the timing and location to the motorcade alignment. They armed themselves with .50-caliber rifles and even planned the destruction of their getaway vehicles. The group was convinced they had covered every detail, but they failed to account for one crucial variable: betrayal from within.

Joe Moore, a man they trusted with the task of pulling the trigger, was no ordinary Klan member. A year prior, he had been initiated into the so-called Invisible Empire, where he quickly impressed his fellow Klansmen with a fabricated military record and his sharpshooting skills. But Moore wasn’t just another recruit; he was an FBI informant, embedded within the most infamous hate group in America with one mission: to prevent the assassination of Barack Obama.

In his explosive new memoir, White Robes and Broken Badges, Moore reveals the shocking details of his undercover work, which marked the FBI’s first-ever operation targeting the KKK. The story he tells is one of unimaginable tension and moral conflict. Moore attended cross burnings, witnessed unspeakable acts of violence, and participated in the twisted rituals of the Klan, all while wearing a wire. His actions didn’t just thwart a presidential assassination; they exposed several law enforcement officers and government officials who had pledged their loyalty to bigotry.

The Jacksonville native’s account paints a vivid picture of the dark, hate-filled world he infiltrated. One Klan member proudly displayed his stockpile of weapons and tactical gear, while another casually showed off a backyard incinerator, ominously referring to it as his “personal crematorium.” Living this double life came at a great personal cost to Moore, who struggled to separate the venomous persona he adopted for the Klan from his real life as a husband and father. He relied on breathing techniques learned in the military to maintain his sanity as he walked the razor’s edge between maintaining his cover and staying true to his mission.

The deeper Moore embedded himself in the Klan, the more paranoid he became. He feared the day when his fellow Klansmen would discover his true identity and come for him and his family. This fear didn’t stop him, though. In 2013, he embarked on a second, even more dangerous mission to infiltrate another Klan chapter in Bronson, Florida. His efforts were ultimately successful, leading to the arrest of four prominent members who were plotting to murder a Black man named Warren Williams over a personal grudge.

But the story doesn’t end with a triumphant conclusion. After the dramatic 2015 SWAT takedown of the conspirators, Moore and his family were forced to abandon their identities and start new lives. The very government he served failed to adequately protect him, leaving him to lie awake at night wondering if the price of his service was too high. The four Klansmen were eventually sentenced in 2017, sending shockwaves through the KKK and other white supremacist groups, leading many to abandon their hoods and robes for the alt-right’s more mainstream disguise.

Joe Moore’s story is a chilling reminder of the darkness that still lingers in the shadows of America. He takes pride in having delivered a devastating blow to the Klan, but he’s not naïve about the broader movement. As he warns in his memoir, the forces of hatred have not been defeated; they’ve merely adapted. With the 2024 election on the horizon and democracy itself under threat, Moore’s message is clear: the fight is far from over, and we should be very afraid.