Fox News: Homeless Program  & The Homeless Hotel
COMMUNITY SERVICE
CERTIFICATE PROGRAMS
for
Unemployed
Under-Employed
Prison Inmates
The Homeless
&
Charities
Call or text Lou's  cell:
720-447-7300
or email:
LouPrincipe@gmail.com
The Principe Foundation is a
private 501c3 foundation
For additional information:
LouPrincipe@Gmail.com
720 447 7300
Thank you.
Professor Lou Principe is the new owner of
the 131 room motel, formerly the Ramada
Inn.  The general manager of the motel told
FOX 10 they're letting homeless people stay
in 25% of their rooms, in exchange, they
learn the front desk, house cleaning,
maintenance repairs, and whatever else
needs to be done.

The folks staying at the motel get four
weeks of shelter, training and meals. After
that, motel workers have enough training to
get into the workforce and  Principe  helps
them get jobs, they are just not returned to
the streets. We hope other motel and hotel
owners will do the same.

Principe has over 40 years experience
teaching self-image psychology, customer
service and sales. He has spent the past 15
years volunteering his time training those
about to be released from prison and the
homeless.

. This is the only one of a kind  program that
has proven sustainable  documented results.

Lou is always available by phone, text or
email to discuss this program.
His cell 720-447-7300
Email: LouPrincipe@gmail.com
Isaiah 42:7 "to open eyes that are blind, & free the captives from the prison
house" of their mind. Change your thinking from a Homo Sapiens thinker to a
Homo Luminous thinker, one who thinks on a  higher spiritual plane, the one
we are all trying to achieve
.
“FBI, pull over.” I took my gun and badge from under my seat with my gun in my right hand by my
side pointing down. I said: “Police officer, get out of the car slowly.”
The driver responded: “Lou, Chief Malphurs told us we can talk to you. We really are FBI.” I heard
my name. I heard Woods’ name, and the driver stuck his arm out the window. In his hand was his
FBI identification. I was stunned: I put my gun and badge in my pocket. The agent asked if I knew
the girl I went out with tonight. I told him I had just met her at the Dairy Queen. I did not even know
her last name. He asked if she knew I was a police officer. I told him it never came up. I did
undercover drug work at times, and everyone knew me as the kid working at Dairy Queen, but no
one knew I owned it.

The other FBI agent explained that she and her boyfriend had committed several bank robberies in
Arkansas, as well as murder. They were holding off arresting her hoping the boyfriend would show
up. The agents said, “The chief approved you for a special assignment with the FBI. to help capture
Marvin Grissom, the boyfriend, who was on the Most Wanted List. The next day, the FBI wired my
car and told me not to carry a gun or my Police ID and “to spend as much time as I could at her
house waiting for Marvin to make contact with her. No one has any idea what went through my mind
the few days I spent several days at her house. “I’m a dead man.”

I had no idea she was so vicious, she has seemed so nice. A taxi driver knocked on her door a few
days later and delivered an envelope to her. She opened it and asked if I could drive her to the
Howard Johnson Restaurant on 441.I asked her where we were going again in the car, praying the
FBI was monitoring the wire in the car. I had no idea if they heard where we were going or if they
were watching us. The beads of perspiration were dripping down my neck, my chest cavity was
heaving, and the veins in my temples were bulging. She asked me if anything was wrong because I
was sweating. I told her I might be coming down with a cold.

After we arrived at the Howard Johnson Restaurant, we took a corner booth on the left by the
kitchen swinging doors. Our spot was isolated from the rest of the restaurant. I had a view of
Highway 441 and the parking lot. I was looking around for my FBI contact, but was nowhere to be
seen. I was really sweating at that point. Not seeing any of the FBI agents, I assumed they didn’t
hear the radio message. When Marvin showed up, he was going to kill me. In retrospect, I should
have sneaked one of my guns in my socks. We waited for over two hours; Marvin didn’t show up. All
of a sudden the swinging doors of the kitchen opened.

The FBI agent I knew walked up to our booth and said, “Officer Principe, would you like to introduce
me?” With that, the woman went into a rage. She stood up screaming, you’re a #$%^% cop, you $%
&^#. She tried to escape but the agent blocked her path, put her in handcuffs, and arrested her. I
asked the agent, “What if he shows up, is it just you?” He pointed out the window. “See the
telephone repair people? Did you notice the painters on the roof when you came in? The bus boy
and the waiter are all agents.” Wow, I never knew how they operated. Since that day, I have had the
utmost respect for the FBI.