Built by people who
have held the line.
MJ Blais has spent 33 years in armed protective work of one kind or another. He served as a Navy SEAL, then as a detective with the Anaheim Police Department — high-risk warrants, a terrorism liaison role, a special tactics detail — where on one call he brought a seventeen-year-old girl out alive from a hostage standoff. Later he stood on protective details supporting the movement of heads of state.
Somewhere across those years he got interested in what the tactics don't teach: the behavioral and social patterns that precede violence, well before anyone would call it a threat.
For ten years he has also run Sendekem, a licensed Texas-based investigations firm serving Fortune 500 clients. It's where the assessment work lives — understanding what a principal is actually exposed to, before anyone talks about a program.
He built Blue Goose to close a gap he kept running into: between people who can move a principal safely and people who can read what's coming. The measure of the work is quiet. A principal who stops scanning the room. A family that travels without keeping a count of the exits.
MJ Blais spent a decade running Sendekem, reading what threatens Fortune 500 principals — mapping the exposure before anyone built a program around it. The same gaps kept surfacing on the execution side, and there were two.
The first is the vendor seam. A principal hires a protection firm and, separately, a car service. Two companies, two chains of command, and a handoff between them at the moment the principal is most exposed: the ground between the vehicle and the door. The two functions meet for the first time on the day of the movement — coordinating by phone, trusting a driver no one on the detail trained.
The second is quieter and more common. Even inside a single engagement, the "team" is often a roster assembled for the week — operators who have never worked together, don't share the same tactics or vocabulary, put in a rental car or handed off to a chauffeur. Each may be capable alone. But a team that hasn't trained together isn't a team; it's a group of strangers improvising at speed, in the one line of work where improvisation is the failure.
Blue Goose was built to close both. One firm, one command, one set of policies. Protection and the vehicle under the same authority. Licensed protective officers who are employees, not contractors booked for the day — people who train together, speak the same language, and know the vehicles better than anyone because they're the ones who run them. Nothing meets for the first time on the day it matters.
The point of closing the seams is quiet. A principal who isn't managing two vendors, isn't wondering who's actually behind the wheel, isn't counting the exits. Security and luxury turn out to be the same thing — both are what's left when there's nothing to manage and nothing to watch for.
You won't find our operators' faces on this site.
Discretion isn't a tagline; it's the work. The people who protect our clients stay out of frame, by design. What we'll show you is the standard they're held to — and we'll introduce the team in person, when there's a reason to.