Luke LaManna

The Brink, President Reagan and the Nuclear War Scare of 1983 by Mark Ambinder, and Stanislav Petrov, The Man Who Saved the World by Matthew C. Rivers. This episode was written by Sean Raviv. Sound design by Ryan Potesta. Our producers are Christopher B. Dunn and John Reed. Our associate producer and researcher is Teja Palakanda. 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 Witters. For Wondery, our head of sound is Marcelino Villapando. Senior producers are Laura Donna Palavoda, Dave Schilling, and Rachel Engelman.

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 Witters. For Wondery, our head of sound is Marcelino Villapando. Senior producers are Laura Donna Palavoda, Dave Schilling, and Rachel Engelman.

Senior managing producer is Nick Ryan. Managing producer is Olivia Fonte. Executive producers are Aaron O'Flaherty and Marshall Louis. For Wondery...

Senior managing producer is Nick Ryan. Managing producer is Olivia Fonte. Executive producers are Aaron O'Flaherty and Marshall Louis. For Wondery...

Wondery Plus subscribers can listen to redacted, declassified mysteries early and ad-free right now. Join Wondery Plus in the Wondery app or on Apple Podcasts. Just before dawn on January 28th, 1980, Cora Lijak stood outside the Canadian ambassador's residence in Tehran, Iran. She breathed in the crisp morning air, trying to settle her churning stomach.

Wondery Plus subscribers can listen to redacted, declassified mysteries early and ad-free right now. Join Wondery Plus in the Wondery app or on Apple Podcasts. Just before dawn on January 28th, 1980, Cora Lijak stood outside the Canadian ambassador's residence in Tehran, Iran. She breathed in the crisp morning air, trying to settle her churning stomach.

She exhaled and pulled a film script out of her bag. She knew the basic plot, but hadn't had the chance to read it all the way through. The title page read Argo in big bold letters with the words, A Cosmic Conflagration, written below in smaller font. Cora flipped through the pages.

She exhaled and pulled a film script out of her bag. She knew the basic plot, but hadn't had the chance to read it all the way through. The title page read Argo in big bold letters with the words, A Cosmic Conflagration, written below in smaller font. Cora flipped through the pages.

She tried to take in all the details of the sci-fi thriller, the absurd names of the characters, the ridiculous plot, the weirdly stiff dialogue. The movie seemed to be about tearing down a caste system on an alien planet, which made her wonder what kind of hack had come up with this. I did, she reminded herself.

She tried to take in all the details of the sci-fi thriller, the absurd names of the characters, the ridiculous plot, the weirdly stiff dialogue. The movie seemed to be about tearing down a caste system on an alien planet, which made her wonder what kind of hack had come up with this. I did, she reminded herself.

Cora had been instructed to memorize her cover story down to the last detail and to sell the lie. I'm Teresa Harris, she told herself. I'm the screenwriter. Her husband, Mark, came up behind her to tell her it was time to go. Cora, Mark, and the other four Americans in their group thanked their hosts and left in a Canadian embassy van. Cora looked out the window as they drove.

Cora had been instructed to memorize her cover story down to the last detail and to sell the lie. I'm Teresa Harris, she told herself. I'm the screenwriter. Her husband, Mark, came up behind her to tell her it was time to go. Cora, Mark, and the other four Americans in their group thanked their hosts and left in a Canadian embassy van. Cora looked out the window as they drove.

It was hard to believe how dangerous Iran's capital was by day when everyone was still peacefully asleep. Her thoughts drifted to her co-workers, the 53 Americans who were still being held hostage by radical Iranian students at the American embassy. She'd seen them being paraded around on the news with blindfolds on. If she and her companions got caught today, they'd likely join them.

It was hard to believe how dangerous Iran's capital was by day when everyone was still peacefully asleep. Her thoughts drifted to her co-workers, the 53 Americans who were still being held hostage by radical Iranian students at the American embassy. She'd seen them being paraded around on the news with blindfolds on. If she and her companions got caught today, they'd likely join them.

Or face something even worse. Cora double-checked that her forged Canadian passport was still in her pocket. She dug around to make sure she wasn't carrying anything with her real name on it. When she found an old receipt for the dry cleaners, she stuffed it in between the car seats. The vans pulled up outside the Mehrabat airport. Cora's heart pounded as she walked toward the entrance.

Or face something even worse. Cora double-checked that her forged Canadian passport was still in her pocket. She dug around to make sure she wasn't carrying anything with her real name on it. When she found an old receipt for the dry cleaners, she stuffed it in between the car seats. The vans pulled up outside the Mehrabat airport. Cora's heart pounded as she walked toward the entrance.

The freedom she'd been praying for over the last three months of hiding was closer than ever. But so was the danger of being discovered, captured, and possibly killed. The only way she and her co-workers were going to make it home was to believe they were who they said they were. As she stepped into the airport, she told herself one final time, I'm Teresa Harris. I'm the screenwriter.

The freedom she'd been praying for over the last three months of hiding was closer than ever. But so was the danger of being discovered, captured, and possibly killed. The only way she and her co-workers were going to make it home was to believe they were who they said they were. As she stepped into the airport, she told herself one final time, I'm Teresa Harris. I'm the screenwriter.

From Ballant Studios and 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 The Real Argo.