Reign of Evil - Mind Control
US_GOVERNMENT_MIND_CONTROL
Retired HEAD OF FBI Tells ALL "Illuminati, Satanism, Pedophile Rings"
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=
“..I formed a strong opinion that addresses this question. However, the answer that mirrors my perception was later eloquently provided by a Washington. D.C. news correspondent and journalist, Linda Hunt, in her book Secret Agenda. The historical basis for this book are the declassified DOD documents identifying Project Paperclip as being the secret importation/relocation of Nazr and Fascist scientist into the United States over a forty-year period.
These brilliant criminal scientists were primarily focused on two areas of research, rockets and the mind. They were placed in positions of authority in, among others, prestigious universities, colleges, industries, and NASA. Over the years, these imported criminals have directly influenced our society with advanced rocket technologies and mind-control applications through U.S. Government sponsored research. According to Secret Agenda, Nazism, as a philosophy and form of government, is alive and destroying our country, in part, as a result of Project Paperclip.
I can attest to this statement from personal knowledge gained during my employment at Capital international Airways, which is named as one of the primary transporters for Project Paperclip. These were background facts for some of the thoughts that rushed through my mind on our Jong drive from Seattle to the Southeastern U.S. I was anxious to discover the end results of my telephone campaign in the pursuit of justice I had waged while in Alaska. Our first destination would be Huntsville, Alabama. This southern U.S. city is famous for its tourism centerpiece, the NASA owned U.S. Space and Rocket…”… Cathy O’Brien…in her book Trance Formation of America…
Center. The town also boasts of being home to more Pentagon, black-budget, U.S. dollars per capita than anyplace in America. Cathy harbors
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=BplUD6kQYuU
Chinese Mafia destroy Illuminati - Interview with D. Rockefeller - Benjamin Fulford
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=tW4p9N2Ocs8
"In the Kingdom of the Blind, the ONE EYED shall be King"
'This drug......IMPEDES mind control.'--Fritz Springmeier
“Two percent of the people think; three percent of the people think they think; and ninety-five percent of the people would rather die than think."---George Bernard Shaw
[Mind control is the Reptilians Matrix of Evil, put into action by their on planet proxies: the Psychopath Satanic Reptilian hosts. It consists mostly of information control (see: Lying Medical mind control),Suppressing sexuality, and spreading Fear, through controlled Media, Politics, Movie industry, Music industry, Wikipedia, Television, & Education, with help from chemicals (Fluoride, Chlorine, Drugs,Aspartame, Vaccine poisons), and Death Towers, with Murder Inc keeping a final lid on the truth. This allows them to get away with Human Abuse and Mass Murder for Energy vampirism. Then you have their NSA/CIA mind control (see: MK Ultra Smith, Springmeier, Ford, Sodomic mind control) out of which come Jonestown, Feminism, Monarch, Serial killers Mind control killings, School shootings etc, and explains the melt down of people like Britney Spears. You can see how it is just mind control that keeps Allopathy Inc and it's rackets such as Cancer Inc afloat.]
Medical (Allopathic) Mind Control & Politics
[back] Allopathy Mind Control quotes
"Information control is mind control."--Dick Sutphen
http://www.whale.to/m/map.html
[The methods used by the Allopathic Medical Monopoly to suppress the truth and get away with covert-medical Fascism. The key is to have all information come out through pseudo-Authorities via the Media, but to hide the fact that they are all pharma Shills. This consists mostly of Lies and Fear mongering. The propaganda is then easily embedded with the strength of a Hypnotic command, with a second groupthink ring fence, based on the religious mind control programme, known as The Church of Allopathy, made easy by the fact most people are atheists and in chronic fear i.e. stage 1 & 2 spiritual, (where most of the Pyjama people are) with the stage 3 academic types being very easy to hypnotise (1), and with the most to lose if the system crashed: 'You have to understand that most of these people are not ready to be unplugged and many are so hopelessly dependent on the system, they will fight to protect it.' (see). The system itself (Fascism) is run by psychopaths, so it is no surprise there is an even more covert agenda going on suppressing alternative doctors and medicine, easily shown withcancer and vitamin C.]
http://www.whale.to/m/map.html
"Information control is mind control."--Dick Sutphen
See: Television Edward Bernays Authoritarians
Trauma-Based Mind Control: The Making of Medical Doctors
[2012] Pay for Comments – Confessions of a Paid Disinformation Internet Shill
[2010 Nov] Glaxo Smith Kline Brainwashed Doctors About HPV Vaccine By Christina England
[2010 Jan] How To Destroy Confidence In Vitamins When You Do Not Have The Facts
[2009 June] Dr. Andrew Wakefield on The Poisoning of Young Minds
[2009 may] GCSE pupils 'brainwashed to support the MMR vaccine'
The propaganda dispensed by Public health care and vaccine apologists is, at best, a weak attempt to rationalize the healthcare establishment’s positions using all the tools of doublespeak or, as George Orwell’s called it in his book 1984, “newspeak”, to: (a) mislead, (b) distort reality, (c) pretend to communicate, (d) make the bad seem good, (e) avoid and/or shift responsibility, (f) make the negative appear positive, (g) create a false verbal map of the world, and (h) create dissonance between reality and what their narrative said or did not say.
Such propaganda often relies on half-truths and/or superficially logical, but foundationally flawed, phrasing. However, this propaganda is fundamentally flawed and based on pseudo-science or non-reviewable statistical studies of medical records, where, contrary to ethical science, the study design, data selection/rejection criteria, exact approach used to evaluate the data, and/or the original data itself are kept confidential making independent evaluation/verification of the published findings impossible. [2008] Key realities about autism, vaccines, vaccine-injury compensation, Thimerosal, and autism-related research----Gary S. Goldman, Ph.D & P.G. King PhD.
"It is difficult to conceive what will be the excuse made for a century of cowpoxing; but it cannot be doubted that the practice will appear in as absurd a light to the common sense of the twentieth century as blood-letting now does to us. Vaccination differs, however, from all previous errors of the faculty, in being maintained as the law of the land on the warrant of medical authority. That is the reason why the blow to professional credit can hardly help being severe, and why the efforts to ward it off have been, and will continue to be so ingenious." Charles Creighton M.D.
"The beginning of wisdom is to call things by the right names." Chinese Proverb
"In Medicine, as in statecraft and propaganda, words are sometimes the most powerful drugs we can use." -----Sara Murray Jordan
You can see the Allopaths suppressing vaccine criticism right before your eyes on Wikipedia
"Doctors essentially believe the pro-vaccine propaganda and just keep repeating it like a mantra without looking at the facts."Peter Morrell
In the entire history of man, no one has ever been brainwashed and realized, or believed, that he had been brainwashed. Those who have been brainwashed will usually passionately defend their manipulators, claiming they have simply been "shown the light" . . . or have been transformed in miraculous ways. The Battle for Your Mind: Brainwashing Techniques Being Used On The Public By Dick Sutphen
in my view the cover-up of vaccine damage that has entailed the denigration of thousands of parents and the complete, almost Romanian-style lack of medical care of hundreds of damaged children, encouraged by the government, the medical establishment and the multinational pharmaceutical industry together with a number of journalists, is one of the most disgraceful incidents in British medical politics over the last century.
To my mind it ranks in a degree of obscenity with the cover up over the advancing number of environmentally induced cases of cancer in our society and the decades-long attempts by industry to conceal the health damage caused by asbestos.
In the case of MMR, there is a government still in power that indemnified the world's biggest pharmaceutical company, GSK, against all claims made by the parents or relatives of vaccine damaged children. When the adverse reactions occurred in their thousands, in the form of inflammatory bowel disease and regressive autism, seizures and brain damage, the government battened down the hatches and began one of the biggest propaganda campaigns ever mounted in Britain. [2008 Oct] An Open Letter to Brian Deer Rebutting His Article 'Families duped by a sad smearmaster of MMR fabrication and hatred' by Martin J Walker MA
Information Control For Social Manipulation by David B. Deserano, MS
[Inquiry into Gulf War illnesses - London, July - September 2004] The medical profession
[PROVE Sept 2004] Manipulating Flu Numbers
WAR ON TRUTH The Secret Battle for the American Mind An Interview with John Stauber
Seventeen Techniques for Truth Suppression by DCDave
"Fascism should more properly be called corporatism since it is the merger of state and corporate power."--Benito Mussolini
The key is invisibility. Once propaganda becomes visible, it's less effective. Public relations is effective in manipulating opinion - and thus public policy - only if people believe that the message covertly delivered by the PR campaign is not propaganda at all but simply common sense or accepted reality. WAR ON TRUTH The Secret Battle for the American Mind An Interview with John Stauber
Believing that democracy needed wise and hidden manipulators, Bernays was proud to be a propagandist and wrote in his book Propaganda: "If we understand the mechanisms and motives of the group mind, it is now possible to control and regiment the masses according to our will without them knowing it." He called this the "engineering of consent" and proposed that "those who manipulate this unseen mechanism of society constitute an invisible government which is the true ruling power of our country. . . . In almost every act of our daily lives, whether in the sphere of politics or business, in our social conduct or our ethical thinking, we are dominated by the relatively small number of persons . . . who pull the wires which control the public mind." It appears not to have dawned on Bernays until the 1930s that his science of propaganda could also be used to subvert democracy and promote fascism. That was when journalist Karl von Weigand told Bernays that Nazi propagandist Joseph Goebbels had read all of his books, and possessed an even better library on propaganda than Bernays did. WAR ON TRUTH The Secret Battle for the American Mind An Interview with John Stauber
"We were using niacin and niacinamide before the new psychiatric drugs entered the North American market. Our results were better and safer but we had no one to support us. While drug results were more often more dramatic, they were also much more dangerous. Eventually, it turned out that drugs, while helping in the short run and used in small doses, in the long run stopped the process of recovery long before the patients became well, and froze them into a chronic semi-invalid state from which they can not recover as long as they remain on the medication.
"Today, 47 years later, orthomolecular vitamin treatment is still relatively unknown. The use of drugs is world wide and sanctioned by powerful drug interests, the professional associations and governments. It seems not to matter that huge numbers of patients are being denied their chance for full recovery...... niacin has not been fenced in and the treatment has indeed been trampled on for the past 40 years by the galloping hordes of professional establishments, the American Psychiatric Association, governments, the FDA , the National Institutes of Mental Health, and by nearly every health-professional organization. It is a wonder that there are any orthomolecular doctors at all. ---Abram Hoffer, M.D., Ph.D.
Proper words in proper places, makes the true definition of style.---Jonathan Swift
But they were attempting to do medical research ... and that's one of those hypnotic phrases, "medical research". I could probably put everybody to sleep just by saying "medical research, medical research ..." (laughter) And people would reach into their pockets and come out with money, man ... well hey, cancer and infantile paralysis and m.s. ... whatever you want ... I'll give you money ... medical research, medical research. Politicians know that's the key they turn all the time ... when they can't figure out what to say, they say we need more money for research ... and that means tax money and it means things you don't want to be subjected to most of the time ... The CIA, Mind Control & Children: A Talk by John Rappoport
MIND CONTROL
https://ia600502.us.archive.
http://www.whale.to/b/mind_
Transformation of America - The Book
TRANCE Formation of America is the documented autobiography of a victim of government mind control Cathy O'Brien is the only vocal and recovered survivor ..
TRANCE Formation of America is the documented autobiography of a victim of government mind control Cathy O'Brien is the only vocal and recovered survivor ..
"In the Kingdom of the Blind, the ONE EYED shall be King"
'This drug......IMPEDES mind control.'--Fritz Springmeier
“Two percent of the people think; three percent of the people think they think; and ninety-five percent of the people would rather die than think."---George Bernard Shaw
[Mind control is the Reptilians Matrix of Evil,
Medical (Allopathic) Mind Control & Politics
[back] Allopathy Mind Control quotes
"Information control is mind control."--Dick Sutphen
http://www.whale.to/m/map.html
[The methods used by the Allopathic Medical Monopoly to suppress the truth and get away with covert-medical Fascism. The key is to have all information come out through pseudo-Authorities via the Media, but to hide the fact that they are all pharma Shills. This consists mostly of Lies and Fear mongering. The propaganda is then easily embedded with the strength of a Hypnotic command, with a second groupthink ring fence, based on the religious mind control programme, known as The Church of Allopathy, made easy by the fact most people are atheists and in chronic fear i.e. stage 1 & 2 spiritual, (where most of the Pyjama people are) with the stage 3 academic types being very easy to hypnotise (1), and with the most to lose if the system crashed: 'You have to understand that most of these people are not ready to be unplugged and many are so hopelessly dependent on the system, they will fight to protect it.' (see). The system itself (Fascism) is run by psychopaths, so it is no surprise there is an even more covert agenda going on suppressing alternative doctors and medicine, easily shown withcancer and vitamin C.]
http://www.whale.to/m/map.html
"Information control is mind control."--Dick Sutphen
See: Television Edward Bernays Authoritarians
Trauma-Based Mind Control: The Making of Medical Doctors
[2012] Pay for Comments – Confessions of a Paid Disinformation Internet Shill
[2010 Nov] Glaxo Smith Kline Brainwashed Doctors About HPV Vaccine By Christina England
[2010 Jan] How To Destroy Confidence In Vitamins When You Do Not Have The Facts
[2009 June] Dr. Andrew Wakefield on The Poisoning of Young Minds
[2009 may] GCSE pupils 'brainwashed to support the MMR vaccine'
"An UPDATED Review of the Doublespeak in: 'Vaccines and Autism: Myths and Misconceptions' By Steven Novella (31 March 2008; 75 pages)"
The propaganda dispensed by Public health care and vaccine apologists is, at best, a weak attempt to rationalize the healthcare establishment’s positions using all the tools of doublespeak or, as George Orwell’s called it in his book 1984, “newspeak”, to: (a) mislead, (b) distort reality, (c) pretend to communicate, (d) make the bad seem good, (e) avoid and/or shift responsibility, (f) make the negative appear positive, (g) create a false verbal map of the world, and (h) create dissonance between reality and what their narrative said or did not say.
Such propaganda often relies on half-truths and/or superficially logical, but foundationally flawed, phrasing. However, this propaganda is fundamentally flawed and based on pseudo-science or non-reviewable statistical studies of medical records, where, contrary to ethical science, the study design, data selection/rejection criteria, exact approach used to evaluate the data, and/or the original data itself are kept confidential making independent evaluation/
"It is difficult to conceive what will be the excuse made for a century of cowpoxing; but it cannot be doubted that the practice will appear in as absurd a light to the common sense of the twentieth century as blood-letting now does to us. Vaccination differs, however, from all previous errors of the faculty, in being maintained as the law of the land on the warrant of medical authority. That is the reason why the blow to professional credit can hardly help being severe, and why the efforts to ward it off have been, and will continue to be so ingenious." Charles Creighton M.D.
"The beginning of wisdom is to call things by the right names." Chinese Proverb
"In Medicine, as in statecraft and propaganda, words are sometimes the most powerful drugs we can use." -----Sara Murray Jordan
You can see the Allopaths suppressing vaccine criticism right before your eyes on Wikipedia
"Doctors essentially believe the pro-vaccine propaganda and just keep repeating it like a mantra without looking at the facts."Peter Morrell
In the entire history of man, no one has ever been brainwashed and realized, or believed, that he had been brainwashed. Those who have been brainwashed will usually passionately defend their manipulators, claiming they have simply been "shown the light" . . . or have been transformed in miraculous ways. The Battle for Your Mind: Brainwashing Techniques Being Used On The Public By Dick Sutphen
in my view the cover-up of vaccine damage that has entailed the denigration of thousands of parents and the complete, almost Romanian-style lack of medical care of hundreds of damaged children, encouraged by the government, the medical establishment and the multinational pharmaceutical industry together with a number of journalists, is one of the most disgraceful incidents in British medical politics over the last century.
To my mind it ranks in a degree of obscenity with the cover up over the advancing number of environmentally induced cases of cancer in our society and the decades-long attempts by industry to conceal the health damage caused by asbestos.
In the case of MMR, there is a government still in power that indemnified the world's biggest pharmaceutical company, GSK, against all claims made by the parents or relatives of vaccine damaged children. When the adverse reactions occurred in their thousands, in the form of inflammatory bowel disease and regressive autism, seizures and brain damage, the government battened down the hatches and began one of the biggest propaganda campaigns ever mounted in Britain. [2008 Oct] An Open Letter to Brian Deer Rebutting His Article 'Families duped by a sad smearmaster of MMR fabrication and hatred' by Martin J Walker MA
Information Control For Social Manipulation by David B. Deserano, MS
[Inquiry into Gulf War illnesses - London, July - September 2004] The medical profession
[PROVE Sept 2004] Manipulating Flu Numbers
WAR ON TRUTH The Secret Battle for the American Mind An Interview with John Stauber
Seventeen Techniques for Truth Suppression by DCDave
"Fascism should more properly be called corporatism since it is the merger of state and corporate power."--Benito Mussolini
The key is invisibility. Once propaganda becomes visible, it's less effective. Public relations is effective in manipulating opinion - and thus public policy - only if people believe that the message covertly delivered by the PR campaign is not propaganda at all but simply common sense or accepted reality. WAR ON TRUTH The Secret Battle for the American Mind An Interview with John Stauber
Believing that democracy needed wise and hidden manipulators, Bernays was proud to be a propagandist and wrote in his book Propaganda: "If we understand the mechanisms and motives of the group mind, it is now possible to control and regiment the masses according to our will without them knowing it." He called this the "engineering of consent" and proposed that "those who manipulate this unseen mechanism of society constitute an invisible government which is the true ruling power of our country. . . . In almost every act of our daily lives, whether in the sphere of politics or business, in our social conduct or our ethical thinking, we are dominated by the relatively small number of persons . . . who pull the wires which control the public mind." It appears not to have dawned on Bernays until the 1930s that his science of propaganda could also be used to subvert democracy and promote fascism. That was when journalist Karl von Weigand told Bernays that Nazi propagandist Joseph Goebbels had read all of his books, and possessed an even better library on propaganda than Bernays did. WAR ON TRUTH The Secret Battle for the American Mind An Interview with John Stauber
"We were using niacin and niacinamide before the new psychiatric drugs entered the North American market. Our results were better and safer but we had no one to support us. While drug results were more often more dramatic, they were also much more dangerous. Eventually, it turned out that drugs, while helping in the short run and used in small doses, in the long run stopped the process of recovery long before the patients became well, and froze them into a chronic semi-invalid state from which they can not recover as long as they remain on the medication.
"Today, 47 years later, orthomolecular vitamin treatment is still relatively unknown. The use of drugs is world wide and sanctioned by powerful drug interests, the professional associations and governments. It seems not to matter that huge numbers of patients are being denied their chance for full recovery...... niacin has not been fenced in and the treatment has indeed been trampled on for the past 40 years by the galloping hordes of professional establishments, the American Psychiatric Association, governments, the FDA , the National Institutes of Mental Health, and by nearly every health-professional organization. It is a wonder that there are any orthomolecular doctors at all. ---Abram Hoffer, M.D., Ph.D.
Proper words in proper places, makes the true definition of style.---Jonathan Swift
But they were attempting to do medical research ... and that's one of those hypnotic phrases, "medical research". I could probably put everybody to sleep just by saying "medical research, medical research ..." (laughter) And people would reach into their pockets and come out with money, man ... well hey, cancer and infantile paralysis and m.s. ... whatever you want ... I'll give you money ... medical research, medical research. Politicians know that's the key they turn all the time ... when they can't figure out what to say, they say we need more money for research ... and that means tax money and it means things you don
Recognised propaganda ploys
Articles
Articles re medical lying
Articles re lying
Medical Hoaxes
Medical beliefs
Mind Control of Medical Doctors
Main control ploys
Authority*
Fear of Disease
Fear of Quacks
Lies
'Vaccines are Safe' lie
Monopolies
Hypnotism
Ignorance
Shills
A-Z ploys:
Ad Hominem*
Anti-vaccine
Arrogance
Appeal to incredulity
'Conspiracy'
Denialist
'Pseudoscience' & 'anti-science'
Quacks & quackery
Paranoid
Peter Bowditch
Putz the pharma shill
Advertising
Allopathic (vaccine) beliefs
Analogy madness
Anecdotes
Antibody Theory
Anti-Vitamin studies
Anti-Vaccination
Arrogance
Assassinations
Avoid liability
Authority*
Adverse reactions
Behavioural, not medical
Benefits Outweigh Risks
Bias
Books (propaganda)
Book banning
Wikipedia
Blame the parents
Bribery
Charities
Chief Allopath (Medical Officer)
Church
Clinical Trials
Coincidence lie
Complexity
Compulsion
'Conspiracy' word game
Constructive Dismissal
Coroners
'Correlation doesn’t equal causation'
Corporatism
'Cure' word forbidden
Darwinism
Debunking
Denialist
Diagnosis
Disease Theory
Disease decline
'Discredited'
Doctor intimidation
Double Think
Education
Ego denial
Euphemism (name calling)*
Epidemiology
Epidemic Fearmongering
Evidence/Science based medicine lie
Experts
Fear mongering *
Epidemic Fearmongering
Infectious scares
Fake vaccine 'scarcity'
False Connections*
Foreign studies
Genetics
Greek Chorus
Health Fraud movement
Posse
Groups
Players
Healthy trial babies only
Herd Immunity
Hiding polio
Hiding smallpox
Hiding smallpox deaths
Hiding vaccine reactions (coincidence)
Hiding adverse reactions (don't report)
High vaccination drive
History
Histrionics
Hype Disease risk
Hypnotism
Ignorance
Infectious scares
Insurance scam
Independent/'Non-Profit'
Intimidation
Just a Coincidence
Junk Science
Law
Avoid liability
CANCER ACT 1939
Lies
Living longer myth
Logical Fallacies
Ad hominem
Appeal to incredulity
Appeal to the majority
Looking where it ain't
Long term studies (none)
Media
Medical journal control
Medical study ploys
Medical Myths
Medical records
Medical doctor uptake on vaccines
Mind Control of Medical Doctors
Missing Vial
Monkey business
Money
Monopolies
Mouse toxicity test
Name Calling (Word Game)*
Natural immunisation
Newsgroup pharma shills
Putz the pharma shill
Peter Bowditch
GMCarter
"J"
NEVER ENOUGH STUDIES
No cure, no known cause
Nonthought
Offit's 100,000 vaccines at once
Omerta
'One plane ride away'
Pandemic definition
Parent Harassment
Parent Vaccine Leaflets
Peer review
Pharma gang
Placebos
Placebo washout
Post mortem (deny)
Preserve vaccination from reproach
Quackbusters
Rationalization
RDA Limits
Regressive autism doesn't exist
Repetition*
Revolving door
Responsibility
'Safe' definition
Safety studies
Science based medicine
Scapegoats
Secrecy
Self testing (vaccines)
Shills
Slides/Red Herring
Suppress alternatives
Suppress the word Cure
Suppress studies/research
Thinking
Trauma-Based Mind Control: The Making of Medical Doctors
Trust me
'Vaccines are Safe' lie
VPD?
Word Game
Church
Glittering Generality*
Euphemisms*
Name Calling *
Evidence based medicine
Vaccine preventable disease
Suppress the word Cure
Show us the Evidence
Suppress/censor
Underlying conditions
'Unvaccinated' lie
Vaccine "science"
Vaccine commissars
Vaccine Buzz phrases
Leaflets (vaccine, lies)
Vaccine testing
Vivisection
Whistleblowers
Word Game
Great Heists
Smallpox Heist 2002
Bird Flu Heist
Medical study ploys [Medical study ploys]
Anecdotes
Antibody Theory
Anti-Vitamin studies
Clinical Trials
Epidemiology
Evidence/Science based medicine
Foreign studies
Healthy trial babies only
Hist test
Looking were it ain't
Never unvaccinated controls
Kendrick mouse test
Mouse toxicity test
NEVER ENOUGH STUDIES
Peer review
Placebos
Placebo washout
Safety studies
Study data kept secret
Suppress studies/research
CD4 cell counting
DPT Mouse tests
Mouse toxicity test
Kendrick mouse test
Hist test
Tests [See: Medical tests]
Antibody
CD4 test
Hepatitis
Mammography
Myelogram
Biopsy
Scans
PSA test
HIV tests
Herpes Tests
TB tests
Fear ploys [Fear mongering]
Epidemic Fearmongering
Infectious scares
Fake vaccine 'scarcity'
Epidemiology
Foreign viruses
Hype disease risk
Missing Vial
One plane ride away'
Hiding vaccine autism
Autism by Any Other Name
Change in diagnosis
Genetics ploy
Regressive autism doesn't exist
Behavioural, not medical
Fraudulent studies
Ethylmercury vs. Methylmercury
Shills [Shills]
Allopaths
AMA Quotes
CDC
Charities
Company men
Epidemic Intelligence Service (EIS)
FDA
Independent ploy
Institute of Medicine
Media
Quackbusters
Vaccine Committees
WHO
Wikipedia
Putz the pharma shill
Pharma flaming
Vaccine Conflict of Interest Quotes
Governments--how they function
Propaganda
Other Assorted ploys
Medical control quotes
Medical Monopoly quotes
Paul Offit's 100,000 vaccines at once
On August 3rd, 1977 the 95th U.S. Congress opened hearings into the reported abuses concerning the CIA's TOP SECRET mind control research program code named MK Ultra. On February 8th 1988, an MK Ultra victim, Cathy O'Brien, was covertly rescued from her mind control enslavement by Intelligence insider Mark Phillips. Their seven year pursuit of Justice was stopped FOR REASONS OF NATIONAL SECURITY. TRANCE Formation of America exposes the truth behind this criminal abuse of the Unconstitutional 1947 National Security Act
TRANCE
FORMATION OF AMERICA
TRANCE Formation of America is the documented autobiography of a victim of government mind control Cathy O'Brien is the only vocal and recovered survivor of the Central Intelligence Agency's MK-Ultra Project Monarch mind control operation. Chiseled deep into the white stone of the CIA's Langley, Virginia headquarters is a partial verse lifted from the Holy Bible and writings of Saint John..." ami the truth shall make you free." This statement, like the agency, is total reality. The building that it is engraved upon houses the world's most successful manufacturer of lies to facilitate psychological warfare. The "Company" uses truth and technology as their raw materials to produce "pure" lies for control of you and America's allies. Within the pages of TRANCE Formation of America you'll find the truth.
Ref 1: As quickly as the accuracy of my deprogramming notes were corroborated and/or verified, abstracts of various experiences and identification of abusers were vastly disseminated. Those who read these abstracts over the years, literally watched me gain piece/peace-of-mind (reintegrate.)
https://ia600502.us.archive.org/10/items/TranceformationOfAmerica/tranceformation_america.pdf
"Truth lives a wretched life, but always survives a lie...For every problem there exists a solution"..Cathy O'Brien and mark Phillips in their book ...Transformation of America...
http://www.whale.to/b/mind_control.html
TRA NCE
FORMATION OF AMERICA - The Book
TRANCE Formation of America is the documented autobiography of a victim of government mind control Cathy O'Brien is the only vocal and recovered survivor ..
https://ia600502.us.archive.org/10/items/TranceformationOfAmerica/tranceformation_america.pdf
For every problem there exists a solution..
The formula for problem solving, rests firmly on the quality of the supporting research information concerning the nature of the problem. Legislating laws specifically to protect people from mind-control abuses would be futile. Practically every civilized society inexistence has some law and/or group of laws which would protect the people and punish the practitioners of mind control. Laws are enforced according to lawmakers' interpretations of the specific legal language. The lack of enforcement of laws already on the books that could protect us from mindcontrol abuses stems from applied legal interpretations and cover-ups of survivor testimony by the CIA and National Security Agency (NSA) For Reasons Of National Security. Mind-control atrocities, if committed by anyone who could be linked to government sponsored projects, are typically ignored and covered up. Access to the courts by these hapless survivors is thus stonewalled by government paid so-called legal experts who receive their orders from the National Security Agency. Defining the term "mind control" is akin to defining the limits of the 1947 National Security Act. The basis for the solution to the National Security controversy is simple. It is known as: Truth logically applied.
NINTH PRINTING Since the first printing of TRANCE was released in September 1995, many of the hard-to-comprehend details have been verified and miraculously managed to surface through our controlled medias. Please help us any way you can to provide this book to anyone who will further research its contents and thus shine the light of truth on the psychological warfare plan that is being silently waged against humanity. Please remember, for as long as your thoughts remain free, and consider the psychological annoyance power of a single mosquito in a room with no light. This book will remain in a print until justice prevails, the technological antidote for Kelly is provided, and unbiased, uncensored mass news media attention is given to the contents of this book. Thank you for your support.
FOREWORD by Mark Phillips "... with liberty and justice for all" 4 Preamble to the United States Constitution My name is Marquart (Mark) Ewing Phillips, born May 17, 1943 in Nashville, Tennessee, I have no criminal record and I have never been adjudged insane, I am not a scholar, professional writer, or mental health physician. While I lack the official published academic credentials, I am recognized internationally by mental health and law enforcement professionals as an authority on the secret science concerning external control of the mind. The purpose of Part I of this book is to document how this reputation was gained. This brief and highly condensed contribution is intended to provide an understanding of why, when, and where I embarked on a study of the most secret technology known to man: Trauma-based mind control. Through the publication of declassified United States Government documents, our U.S. Department of Defense (DOD) admits that this ancient wizard's mechanism for control is so dangerous that most information pertaining to it must remain Classified as TOP SECRET. As tbe employee of a DOD subcontractor with exposure to mind-control research, I was required to sign an oath of secrecy. To this day I am restricted by law from revealing certain specific information that directly pertained to my employment as, among other "sensitive" exposures, a U.S. DOD subcontractor in mind-control research. This super secret technology is an evolved system of remote human physical find psychological manipulation that has only recently been officially recognized by accredited mental health physicians for what it is, absolute mind control.
My first encounter with mind-control research began in the late 1960s in Atlanta, Georgia on the Emory University campus at the Yerkes Primate Center, It was there that I learned about primate behavior modification-the basis for human mind control. Part I of this book is my attempt to impart an understanding of how this and other exposures would prepare me for the Challenge of a lifetime. What I witnessed, in terms of technology, at the Yerkes Primate Center and Other government sponsored research facilities, combined with years of personal research into this science of mind manipulation, did not adequately prepare me for what I would be exposed to in 1988 through an unexpected chain of events. This exposure came in the form of personal acquaintance with the human results officially entitled by DOD as, among other cryptic file titles, MK-Ultra.1 1 have outlined this noxious introduction in hopes that the material provided by one MK-Ultra survivor, Cathy O'Brien, will incite a legitimate federal investigation of her claims. I was able to liberate MK-Ultra victims, Cathy O'Brien and her daughter, Kelly, from the invisible grip of this U.S. Government secret weapon of control. In the process, I also helped Cathy recover her mental and physical health. However, I have not been successful in enlisting the cooperation of my government to pursue the justice issue. There is a reason for this failure to obtain justice that you, the reader, NEED TO KNOW. I have been told repeatedly, "Justice is not obtainable, For Reasons Of National Security."
This book is primarily the autobiography of Cathy O'Brien, who did not volunteer for service to her country, but was used her entire life against her innate, voluntary will for perpetuating criminal activity by many so-called leaders within the U.S. Government. These "treasonous leaders" did volunteer for political "service" to our country. They must be held accountable for their actions. Together, Cathy and I have dedicated our lives to the pursuit of justice and rehabilitation for her and Kelly. All avenues for justice and rehabilitative relief have been blocked For Reasons Of National Security. The question arises, whose security? Cathy O'Brien provides the logical answer. Perhaps after reading this work, you will inspire others to read it. Collectively, as patriots, we can make a positive difference for Cathy and Kelly, our government, and humanity, by having our voices heard. In my opinion, our great United Stales Constitution does not need to be amended it needs to be enforced. The grim reality we must all embrace is that there is, in human terms, no justice, and no revenge adequate to equal what these two, and many other victims of this U.S. Government secret weapon experienced. The only remaining remnant of opportunity for justice for these survivors would be derived from a public forum expose of what they experienced. What these survivors need to witness is the mass dissemination of their story and a radical, positive change in their government's management of secrets. This would be an acceptable, though belated, substitute for justice. Their hope lies in the belief that- "Truth lives a wretched life, but always survives a lie..."
Ref 1: Weinstein, Harvey M., M.D., Psychiatry And The Cia: Victims Of Mind Control American Psychiatric Press, 1990.
CHAPTER 1 Sometimes words, or groups of words, found in the English language have many definitions or meanings. Within each meaning there may be different logical and Literal perceptions of the application of a given word. However, the words mind control usually conjure up a single response. This is most unfortunate due to the vast differences of perception contained within the reference. For example, if you have access to a late 1980s Random House or later Webster's New Collegiate Dictionary and reference mind control, you will notice there is a conspicuous absence of a listing. Should you go one step further and secure a college professor's teaching copy of Oxford's Companion To The Mind (Oxford Press 1987), you can reference practically anything concerning research of the mind without a reference to mind control. Perhaps you may now realize that through Random House, Webster and Oxford Press omissions, you are a victim of information control. Mind control is sometimes loosely defined as information control. This being one of many accepted ways to define the term should immediately rase questions of distrust towards your information sources. Since what we think is based on what we learn, manipulation of a mind, or a nation of minds, can be accomplished through control of information. With thought control being a result of information control, many avid researchers of mind sciences simply label it "soft" mind control.
These days, we live in a world in which the continued existence of multinational businesses and governments depends upon instant communications. However, with consideration to the so-called problem of. information overload, it would appear to most people that we hear and see enough to make rational decisions concerning our individual lives. Unfortunately, this is not true. What we don't know, as evidenced by mindcontrol atrocities, is quickly destroying society as we have known it The answer to this problem is glaringly apparent. We, as citizens of a supposedly free country, should not permit our government to restrict any information that protects criminal activity under the guise of National Security. Secret knowledge equals power, with the end result being control. Therefore, despite the deliberate efforts of those persons in control of national media information management (who are not media employees), results of secret mind-control projects gone awry have been leaking out for years through the media. People are literally waking up to the mind-control reality because there is an obvious lack of logical explanation for certain sensational news events. What really happened at Jim Jones' Jonestown and with Sirhan Sirhan, John Hinkley, and Lee Harvey Oswald? And, more importantly, why did it happen? The simple common denominator existing among these persons has been publicly slated by the media, based on research of their medical histories, is mind control. In reality, information control is but one component of mind control. Whereas "brain washing," a term coined by an investigative journalist writing about Korean War P.O.W.s around 1951, described the results of what the Chinese regarded as thought reform.
The term brainwashing denotes to most people the destruction of a person's memory. This slang term continues to be used by the news media in place of the all encompassing term, mind control. In reality, applied brainwashing techniques are similar to those used in trauma-based behavior modification. During the past three decades, a significant number of religious groups worldwide has been cited by the mainstream news media as destructive cults. An emphasis on the word destructive is necessary in defining these groups as cults. Random House Dictionary defines cult as "a particular system of religious worship". By this definition, the word cult would encompass all religions. These so-called destructive cults have been publicly denounced by the news media for using brainwashing, thought reform, and mind manipulation tactics on their believers. However, there is an obvious lack of expressed concern by these same media as they fail to address the underlying issues of mind control, the power basis for abuse. Perhaps the reporting news media can not, for some reason, publicly open the proverbial Pandora's Box. Is it plausible then to consider that closer scrutiny, by the media and the public, of these destructive cults' leadership could reveal a solid connection to government sponsored mind-control research? These arc questions that, in themselves properly addressed, would provide important answers to this social epidemic involving physical and psychological abuse. The answers that an in-depth professional investigation would provide could be the first step in resolving the rash of problems that destructive cults, serial killers, and sexual child abusers, thrust upon society. As consumers of national news media supplied information, we continue to invent half-truths which, in this case scenario, is seeing and hearing only what results from mass mind manipulation. Historians provide us a glimpse into the future through recorded events of the past. It appears that throughout recorded history, man has, towards the end of each millennium, returned to a focus on certain types of bizarre human behavior. For example, there has been in the past 150 years a resurgence of wide spread interest in the occult "black arts" which include satanism or Luciferian religions. These constitutionally protected "religions" use trauma to control the minds of their followers. Mind-control practices within the occult groups (according to survivors adjudged credible and law enforcement officials) have been accredited with bridging the gap between applied science and Shamanism. Occultism as a manner of religious expression has been around for thousands of years. Only in the last 150 years has science aggressively pursued the truths regarding mind manipulation hidden within the occult belief systems themselves. According Lo the Random House Dictionary, occultism "is the practice of alleged sciences claiming knowledge of supernatural agencies which are beyond the range of ordinary knowledge." Once again, it is a reminder that secret knowledge equals power. In 1971, the New York Times reported a story on the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) and occult research, the basis of which was gained through a collection of documents released by the U.S. Government Printing Office under the Freedom of Information Act. This was a report to Congress and clearly showed that the CIA was interested in the cause and effect clinical findings that occult religious practices have on the Black Arts practitioner's and/or the observer's mind. Of particular interest to the CIA were the heightened levels of suggestibility that certain occult rituals produced in the minds of the practitioners. Cannibalism and blood rituals were ranked highest in the order of importance to their research.
Behavioral psychology teaches us that control of human suggestibility is recognized as the fundamental building block for external control of the mind. This suggestibility factor alone potentially creates a human rights legal issue when we consider constructing laws to protect people from overt or covert mind-control practices. Consideration to the human suggestibility factor could result in all forms of consumer oriented service and/or product advertising becoming illegal. Advertising and the marketing of services and/or products through communications can be justifiably defined as a type of psychological manipulation, (nought reform and/or mind manipulation which results in a form of behavior modification, A patriot friend, Steven Jacobson, published his book entitled Mind control in America2 in 1985, eloquently exposing the science of mind manipulation through advertising. The basis for successfully modifying human behavior requires mind manipulation techniques that, when expertly applied through advertising media, become a form of "soft" mind control. Factoring in suggestibility through the tactile senses as the "Achilles' heel" of the human race renders everyone vulnerable to becoming, on some level, a victim of soft mind control. The controversy of what is and what is not mind control rages on among scholars in the schools of law, human rights, and mental health. All lhe while the confusion of issues provides a form of legal protection for practitioners of trauma-based mind control, the only known form of remote human control that is absolute. All other forms of mind control, including chemical and electronic manipulations, are considered by mind-control experts as temporary. There are laws protecting U.S. citizens' rights to practice their religious beliefs and freedom of speech. There are no laws which specifically protect leaders of destructive cults and/or practitioners of trauma-based mind control. However, because of the U.S. Government's use of mind control and the broad diversity of legal opinion concerning the accepted limits of free speech and religious practices, the legal loop holes for criminals employing mind-control techniques on their "flocks" for personal gain remain open.
It is an obvious truth that the National Security Act has been interpreted, not to guard the integrity of military secrets, but instead to protect criminal activity of the highest order. Repeal of this Act and replacement with the established rules of military conduct concerning National Security that do not infringe upon the constitutional rights of America's citizenry or the rights of its allies would result in compliance with the Constitution.
Ref 2: ISBN # 0-911485-00-7
CHAPTER 2
SALESMAN, AD MAN, MIND MAN, PATRIOT MY PERSONAL EVOLUTION
"Every revolution, bloody or bloodless, has two phases.
The first is the struggle for Freedom;
the second the struggle for power.
The phase of the struggle for Freedom is divine.
He who has participated in it invariably feels, physically, that his best and most precious-inner self has come to the surface.
We know that being faithful to the TRUTH stands higher than our own participation in governing the country—and that is why we must not have a society that would reject ethical norms in the name of political mirages."3 As I was saying to my grandmother, Mamaleen Johnson, "My life has turned into a nightmare and I'm wide awake," tears were streaming down my face, dripping off my chin onto her patent leather shoes. She affectionately patted my shoulder as she listened. The words we exchanged, the room's wallpaper and furnishings, my beloved grandmother, Mamaleen. even the taste of my tears combined with a feeling of overwhelming grief-it is ail there etched into my memory. This was the summer before I was to enter my second year of school in 1950. The first year remains a blur with cause. Life for me and my family had changed dramatically over the previous year. So radical a change that it had taken almost a year for me to realize life was not becoming any easier to live. My stuttering was getting worse. The rare moments I could speak coherently were limited to short sentences devoid of the word "you", and then only to my mother and grandmother. Occasionally when angry I could speak clearly, or when alone in the woods while talking or singing to trees. Apparently my frustration with oral communication due to stuttering had been intensified by a trauma I experienced the previous year. Little did I know then that this trauma would positively and negatively influence my future and the lives of others I would know for the rest of my life.
On a hot and sticky Tennessee July day in 1949, my father helped boost first my mother, then me, into the saddle astride our four-year-old high-spirited "gift horse" Wojac. This was to be my first ride on the back of an animal. The excitement of the moment combined with stuttering rendered me, literally, speechless. As I recall and from photographs taken at the time, I was wearing a sweat-soaked, pale yellow cotton shirt, dark tan shorts, brown socks, and dirty tennis shoes. At six years old, I was very thin and did not take up the remaining saddle space behind my mother. With the reins in my mother's hands, the horse responded to her polite command of "Come on, Wojac. Giddyup." He began slowly walking down our driveway to the narrow crushed limestone road beside our property. Upon reaching the gravel road, the horse turned or was guided left, momentarily disappointing me as I knew we were only going for a short ride. It was only about a quarter of a mile to the busy paved intersection that would be dangerous to cross. (Had my mother decided to go in the opposite direction, we could have ridden for a couple of miles before reaching any automobile traffic.) As quickly as the horse made the turn from our driveway onto the country road, my mother nudged his flanks with her heels. With another command of"let's go," the horse responded with a mild jerk of motion and he began a fast trot down the middle of the road.
The horse's speed, in retrospect, was too fast for safe travel on gravel. Not knowing this then, I was not scared until I saw the crossroads looming closer, I can hear myself half shouting "BBBBBetter slow down. MMMight BBBBe a CCar CCComming." Before I could enunciate the last words, my mother began a slow sideways slide off the saddle. I could not see her face as she disappeared under the horse, and the reins disappeared with her. The horse bolted full speed ahead. In the blink of an eye, my realization of being alone in the saddle with no way to control the horse washed over me. Quickly, I tugged on his mane to no avail. It was in this instant I determined that the runaway horse was not going to stop for the crossroads. I jumped. As I recall, the fall was swift and my abrupt landing in the sharp rocks was not painful, though it seemed that my body would never stop rolling. Panicked and with the dust beginning to settle, 1 sat up, blinked the dust and sticky blood from my eyes, and looked about for my mother. She lay in a disorganized heap beside the road. I ran to hen The first mental impression 1 experienced was that she was just wide-eyed dazed from her fall. Then I noticed her eyes weren't blinking and around her head was a thick puddle of blood. Not wanting to leave her in the road for fear she would be run over, and not strong enough to pick her up, I began screaming in the direction of our home in hopes that my father could hear me. Almost immediately he responded by sprinting to us", all the while shouting, "What happened? What happened?" For the "life remaining in me" I could not answer for, as usual, I was speechless. As he knelt down to speak to my mother, he stopped mid sentence when he apparently saw her eyes in a fixed gaze and that the back of her skull was crushed inward. Instantly he picked her up. and as we were running back to the house, he commanded my eleven-year-old sister to call an ambulance. To this day I cannot recall how we got to the hospital. The grisly scenes of this tragedy were not my nightmare. It did not play over and over again in my mind, for 1 had dissociated from it. I had voluntarily and autogenically created a memory barrier of this trauma. This is a normal human response. Had I been tortured after the trauma, I would not have been able to voluntarily recall either the accident or the torture. Hence the basis of this book.
The nightmare began during the subsequent recovery year when we realized my mother would never be herself again. She had lost over a quarter of her brain when the horse stepped into her skull. Permanently gone was her ability to smell, taste, and hear in one ear. These were the physical handicaps she developed. Her resultant emotional condition would become evident to me many years later. As a child, this new awareness of my mother's condition had minimal impact on me compared to the fear I lived with, moment to moment, due to my father's chronic alcoholism. Years later my sister would follow his lead into a losing battle with the bottle. I was safe, as alcohol made me stutter. After being told so many times during my developmental years that my mother's condition was attributable to her brain damage, and that my stuttering was because my brain was not working correctly, it occurred to me at some point to learn about the brain. For years after the accident, 1 overheard adult conversations about my mother's brain. My curiosity peaked about the brain and the resultant invisible mind and had set the course for my life's interest.Somewhere in this time period, I fantasized I would learn enough about the mind and brain to help my mother and myself. As a child, my attention span was regarded as abnormal. I was considered very bright, yet my grades in school reflected something different. Although not properly diagnosed, I was most likely suffering from what is now termed Attention Deficit Disorder (ADD). The handicaps of stuttering and ADD were to become my first personal improvement challenges once I was out in the world on my own.
This "on my own" objective came at an early age. I was barely sixteenyears-old when I left home to begin my pursuit of happiness. My first efforts resulted in total failure. However, I could not return to my parents' home because they were now divorced. Young, broke and rejected, I was able to determine two things. First, I must learn how to communicate if 1 were to enjoy any success in life, I went about this task methodically, first by enrolling myself into a local night college. In the classroom I studied speech, business law and psychology. At the library; I studied brain functions and their effect on the mind. I was not degree oriented because I could not earn enough at two jobs to attend the required classes to graduate, but my studies were slowly providing me a usable skill. Secondly, somewhere during this period of learning 1 began to realize I possessed a natural ability to sell. Perhaps this ability to persuade others resulted from my childhood experience of having to "read people" through their body language rather than talking with them. My first real job in sales was so successful that my client base was reduced by my employer. I responded to this action by moving on. The Vietnam War was heating up and I was eligible for the draft. No longer in school, 1 knew that my number would be drawn soon. And it was. Little did 1 know that my prayers for a deferment would be answered and would afford me an exemption from military duty. I would soon be working for the Ampex Corporation and with the U.S. Department of Defense in a civilian capacity. The defense work closely associated me with top research scientists working in the area of primate and human behavior modification. Ironically, I learned more about the mind from my casual relationships with these scientists than I did working at the various research sites. The sites included teaching hospitals, state mental institutions, military bases, National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA) facilities, and the Yerkes Primate Center. T h e following years of my corporate employment in national and international sales evolved into sales and marketing management positions in an executive capacity. My personal life, in terms of loving relationships, was again in shambles but my career and ongoing mind, brain, human behavior research was rewarding enough to compensate for my lack of emotional expression. The secrets I had learned so well concerning powers of persuasion, both conscious and subliminal, had long since become a functioning part of my mind's arsenal of defensive and offensive tools of control. I resolved then and there to become a "control freak". Instead, my fantasy was not to learn what I could control but what was controlling me.
Then, around 1986, a peer friend of mine observed that I had arrived in the perverbial "comfort zone" in terms of presenting profitable ideas for others to set upon, and advised me to go into business for myself. Shortly thereafter he provided me an excellent example by resigning his six-figure executive marketing directorship and nominated me as a candidate for his replacement.
Ironically, for the first time in my life, the nomination was rejected because I did not possess at least a master's degree in business management or communications. His assistant was given the position, and I was subsequently offered the assistant's vacated position with no hope of promotion, which of course I refused. Soon thereafter, my friend, free of his corporate golden handcuffs, established his own firm which became a very successful business. Around this same time a childhood acquaintance, long since socially separated from my life, reappeared long enough to introduce me to his country music entertainment friend, Alex Houston. From this introduction I learned this acquaintance, Ray Myers and his wife, Regina, are alleged pedophiles who reportedly sexually molested Cathy's daughter and their own children. It seemed that Houston was looking for someone with international business negotiating skills who could assist him in putting together a large enough sales deal to finance a manufacturing operation. After spending a few days of complimentary consulting time with him, I had made some rather interesting and intriguing observations about the man and his ideas. First of all, Houston did have a legitimate, potentially profitable idea concerning the manufacture of an electrical capacitor device that could increase energy efficiency for large industrial consumers. Secondly, Houston favorably impressed me as a calculated risk-taker. Thirdly, Houston agreed to finance my production of a marketing plan for presentation to potential foreign buyers. And finally, Houston agreed that I would run the company as President, if and when I sold that plan, I thought. "No problem!" The intriguing part of this "budding" relationship was my awareness of Houston's propensity for dishonesty. I felt an urgent need for legal advice on how to insure contractual protection from Houston. Within days, Houston and I had conceptually and contractually agreed to start up the business. I designed a logo and assigned the name UniPhayse. The contracts we entered bound both of us to our respective areas of commitment and was iron clad. Houston's willingness to participate in my legal protection maneuver further perplexed me, because of the obvious ''honesty type" clauses contained in the agreement. At the time, in my mind, I had determined that if Houston could "keep it clean" and perform his role, we would be able lo make this company successful. If not, I owned the company lock, stock, and barrel and could still make it work. Months later, with business and marketing plans in ray briefcase and a demonstration model of the proposed product in hand, Houston and I boarded an airplane to Hong Kong. We were met upon arrival by a tall, well-dressed, Korean gentleman who introduced himself as William Yoon. He owned an international shipping company. His ships carried practically everything from scrap metal to Chinese silkworm missiles all over the world, Mr. Yoon, as he preferred to be called, in keeping with Far Eastern protocol, was interested in negotiating a joint venture company with his friends in the most populated nation on Earth, The People's Republic of China. All arrangements had been made by Mr. Yoon's staff for Houston, myself, and him to fly to Beijing the following day to begin negotiations with the Mining Ministry. After several days of exhausting discussions through an interpreter almost entirely between myself and the deputy director of the Chinese Mining Ministry, it appeared as though we had a workable deal.
An elegant banquet was ordered by our gracious Chinese hosts, and it was there I learned that the Mining Ministry was a part of the Chinese Ministry of Defense. Feelings of patriotism welled up in me for the first time in my life. Iwas aware that China was engaged in supplying missiles to Libya, a Middle Eastern country with whom the U.S. was in conflict. The Chinese were swapping missiles and other weapons for cheap Libyan light crude oil. The Chinese were about the only country in the world who dared defy the Reagan Administration's trade embargo. These fleeting thoughts of being involved with the Chinese military felt treasonous to me. Although uncomfortable with the idea of a business venture with such potential for political disaster, I reminded myself that hundreds of other U.S. companies were already in China. Houston refused to discuss the subject. During the return flight from Beijing to Hong Kong, I confided my patriotic concerns to Mr. Yoon knowing that he would soon become my business partner. He eloquently relieved my fears of potential disaster with a complicated explanation that made sense at the time. This man politely informed me that we could not lose money as he and I would have interim control over all product sales revenue generated outside of China, By Chinese law for joint venture companies, 60% of all manufactured product must go outside China.
Houston and I returned to Tennessee and I briefly met his wife, Cathy, for the first time when she greeted us at the gate. She appeared to me to be young, beautiful, very dumb, and dressed like a prostitute. I paced my walk to be several steps away from her as we headed to the baggage claim area. Within a few weeks of this visit, a delegation of Chinese electrical engineers and finance experts were flown to our Tennessee office for more negotiations and to collect technical production data (we held) for future manufacturing purposes. Soon after the delegation departed for China, I received a mysterious phone call from someone at the U.S. Department of State, aka the State Department. It seems someone in my Chinese delegation had earlier been refused entry into this country due to his being identified as an international weapons supplier for terrorists. This telephone voice assured me that there were no problems that would arise and that this information was not to be publicized. I thanked him and assured him the information was secure. A couple of months later, my new Hong Kong partner, Mr. Yoon, invited me, my wife, Houston and his wife, Cathy, to come to China for the official signing of the Chinese joint venture agreement. When I asked Houston if he and his wife would attend, he flatly replied, "No". He had already booked his "act" and could not cancel. I then offered to escort his wife and mine to China. He responded "no" again, that it was too far and too expensive for a pleasure trip. I was relieved because I had already learned enough of the Chinese language to know our partners did not like or respect him, and Cathy's demeanor embarrassed me. I later learned that Houston's "gig" was to "trancesport"/transport Cathy and little Kelly to the infamous Bohemian Grove for prostitution. My trip to China with all the pomp and circumstance went well as expected, even though my wife and I were in the process of separating for a divorce. However, just before I was prepared to return to the U.S., I received some extraordinary information from a man who showed me Chinese Ministry of Defense credentials that gained my full and complete attention. This man was in possession of a file on me that could have only been gained through a thorough investigation of my past professional associations. His English skills were only strong enough to roughly, nervously translate some of the file's con-tent. This man had photographic proof of a U.S. Department of Defense security clearance I once held. He acknowledged that the "Chinese knew all about me". Thoughts of blackmail raced across my mind. These thoughts instantly disappeared when he began to voice his government's true concerns. Their concerns were about Alex Houston and his involvement with the CIA, drugs, money laundering, child prostitution, and the big one he saved for last, slavery. No mention of mind control was offered, although he did comment that Houston was a "very bad man" and his crimes were "of the White House". Disbelief was in order but not possible, due to the wide array of "Eyes Only" stamped and initialed (official) CIA letterhead and U.S. Government documents he slowly flashed before my eyes.
My first response to this "officer" was that Houston was too stupid and crooked to be connected to U.S. "intelligence". This comment was quickly countered with a gut wrenching photograph of Houston. He was smiling a demonic grin while apparently having anal sex with a small, very young, frightened Black boy. Later he was identified to me as being Haitian. When confronted with this horrific information and the apparent validity of it, I asked, "What do you (your government) want me to do?" He replied, "Get rid of him, distance yourself from him and all of his associates". I responded by asking him how he thought I could accomplish this task. He stated, "Any way you choose". I told him that regardless of what he had seen of American television concerning violence, the only way I knew was to force him out by purchasing his company stock, and I needed money to do it. He said, "Give us the figure and make the arrangements. It is done." I had returned to Tennessee with a Chinese government contract for products valued at thirty-one million dollars. Stapled to it was a telex letter of credit made out to me and the company from Houston's bank connection the New York branch of the now infamous Bank of Credit and Commerce International (B.C.C.I.). The amount was one million dollars in U.S. funds. The contract was worth approximately ten million dollars in gross profit for Mr. Yoon and me. Given the charge by the Chinese to immediately discharge Houston of his duties, I knew exactly what my plan of action would have to be. Any other approach to resolving this problem could backfire and all would be lost. And since a former, indirect employer of mine (when I worked for Capital International Airways), the CIA, was implicated, I knew one mistake and it could cost me my life. A comforting thought prevailed and I reminded myself Houston was not only corrupt, but stupid. The CIA must not have respected him either. Otherwise why would he have had to go outside his circle of powerful perverts to recruit me for an international business deal.
I drove to my office to begin the process of discovering something Houston "must have done" that would breach the performance contract he and I had signed when we started the company. Houston was out of town supposedly doing one of his entertainment gigs, so I had complete, unobstructed access to all files, his included. As I had mentally predicted during the long flight from Hong Kong, the entire ferreting process took about fifteen minutes. It seemed that Houston and the old acquaintance who had introduced him to me were, as they say, "selling out the back door". I collected the shipping bills and, ironically enough, the bank deposit slip Houston had retained when he cashed and deposited the customer's check. There was even a letter copy whereHouston had specifically instructed the customer not to discuss his account with anyone at our company other than Houston himself or bis pervert friend, Ray Myers. Upon this discovery, I phoned the local Korean lawyer (whose business card I had been given by Mr. Yoon while in Hong Kong) to begin the stock transfer process. With pleasure, 1 wrote Houston's letter of resignation. With this problem in the process of being resolved, I left the office to visit an old, dear friend (now deceased) who had maintained powerful U.S. and foreign intelligence connections. I needed answers 1 could trust with my life. This "retired" Air Force General from the Intelligence division would be my source. The word "slavery" delivered in broken English by the Chinese Intelligence officer shouted in my ears during the short drive to a local hotel lobby, a comfortable place my "spook" pal selected for us to talk in private. In the few short minutes of the drive, I had my questions (for him) mentally noted. I wanted so much to gain the most from our meeting. The slavery word had triggered a dark question in my mind, blocking other constructive thought, as I was not comfortable with introducing the term mind control into my presentation. I knew 1 could speak freely about anything to this trusted friend. I wanted desperately to avoid the words mind control, not for reasons of comdemnation, but because they represented a secret I had patriotically maintained for twenty years.
After my arrival and the light chit chat of social niceties had been exchanged between us, the air changed to one of seriousness. I briefed him on my business involvement, and began a methodical line of questions concerning the file the Chinese Intelligence officer had presented on me and, especially, on Houston: shortly, my friend interrupted me in mid-sentence, smiled a toothy grin, and said, "Flash, you're still the same, and you know damn well what I mean." "Yes", I replied. The spook was referring to a '70s rock ballad titled "Still the Same" by singer Bob Segar that was assigned to me years earlier by mutual poker-playing buddies who identified with my passion for successful risk-taking. I despised gambling. My passion was "risk management" and poker gave me a recreational outlet for it. Although my friends each paid dearly, they soon learned my poker strategy was not so much "card counting" as it was my ability to read their body language. This included the micromuscle spasm responses around their eyes, Houston also lost to me at cards. The message the General was implying, roughly translated, was that I was once again "lucky as hell" to have survived my brief business relationship with Alex Houston. The discussion went down hill from that point directly into the dreaded arena of mind control. After several minutes of listening to details concerning a huge, invisible CIA slave trade going on world wide, the talk became more regionalized to Tennessee. I learned that Cathy and her little girl were victims of trauma-based mind control. They were slaves and the "soul" property of my Uncle Sam. I learned that everything 1 knew in theory and application about external control of the mind was fully operational and encroaching on the private sector of society. I was growing numb. The first words out of my dry mouth were, "How would you spring these people out of it?" He smiled and said, "I wouldn't! What are you going to do with them if you did get them out?"
Before I could answer, he interrupted and said,
"Look, you're still the same, but nothing else is with Uncle.
Now most of the CIA, FBI, and the MOB (Mafia) are the same, and they're making their moves on the military."
I responded,
"I already know that, but how do I save these two people?"
He said, "OK. Get the mother on the phone while her handler is gone. Use the usual hang up code of dial and ring twice, hang up call back, ring once, hang up and call back. Tell her you're God, Give her a biblical passage. They're all Christian based programmed around here." Understanding that this procedure would gain Cathy's full attention, the General continued, "She'll do anything, and I mean anything—except toast Houston—that you command her to do. Remember, God commands. Find yourself a preacher who knows the Bible and get a double-bind verse. You know what to do—for God's sake. And, listen, if you do this, you're on your own." "Mark, this is nuts," he pleaded. Go to China and take them with you, Forget about this Red, While and Blue cesspool. It'll clean up. There's lots of good guys in the inside busting their asses to stop this mess, but you're not going to save the world." I injected, "No, just my ass and a couple of people who Uncle considers something other than human," Then we briefly chatted about some fine points of the rescue and how to legally stop Houston from taking her back. I never saw this friend again. Walking back to my car, I listened again in my mind to his haunting words. and my own life suddenly seemed like a scratched phonograph record with the needle following the same groove over and over again. The thoughts in my head were suddenly very unpatriotic - a far cry from the feelings I had expressed in China concerning Mr. Yoon's involvement in shipping Chinese missiles to Libya. Now I felt pure rage for what my country had become during the years after I had bowed out of doing defense work. For once my own mind seemed to be my worst enemy.
Hatred for everything consumed me, I loved what my country had once represented to me, but now I was ashamed to be an American. And unbeknownst to me at the moment, soon I would be ashamed of being a male, based on Cathy and Kelly's memories. During the long, usually boring drive to my secluded house in the wilderness southwest of Nashville, I distinctly recall considering the inherent risks in the formula I was given for "stealing" two slaves from under the cokefilled noses of the CIA. My concerns were not of whether I could do it, but related to my friend's question of, "What are you going to do with them?" My thoughts went blank as I muttered to myself, "Life is getting complicated again", I then consoled myself with the old adage of "first things first". Within a few days, I had played God and coordinated the move of Cathy and her 8-year-old daughter, Kelly, out of Houston's house into a nearby apartment. All of this was totally unbeknownst to Houston. As instructed, I had deliberately placed the powerful coded suggestions into Cathy's mind. These commands partially bridged her own amnestic true perceptions that Alex was going to kill her. Little did I know that the message I was provided to block Houston's former control of her was true. Cathy and Kelly seemed to me to be very disoriented and somewhat disconnected from reality. In their new, sparsely furnished kitchen, I listened quietly to Caihy excitedly explain that "God had sent me" to her. She "knew"this was true because her hands seemed to automatically open her King James version of the Holy Bible to Psalm, Chapter 37, verse 37, which proclaims for the literal minded, "Mark, the perfect man". Not only had I placed this biblical reference by a covert suggestion in her mind while playing God on the phone, but just now in her home moments earlier, I had broken the spine on her Bible so that it would "magically" open to that page. She said, "See, God did it again for you to see".
Using a deprogrammer's language trick, I replied in a "reversed" response, "Well, I'll be damned. You are right. That's the only explanation left—that could explain all this", I was anxious to change the subject so as not to risk alerting any one of her observant personalities to my well contained laughter. I had been warned that programmed slaves were hyper-observant.
In retrospect, I could not have had thoughts of being sacrilegious. I was and remain deeply spiritual, but my earlier years of researching religions for life's answers had turned me cynical and cold of man's interpretation of the Bible, Koran and Buddha's teachings. This attitude 1 privately harbored towards organized religions did nothing to squelch the dread I felt wash over me for that moment. In my attempt to change the subject from religion, I had remembered the Nazi mind-control research performed under Himmler's command on the families of northern European multi-generational Satanists. Christianity, particularly Catholicism, was Himmler's pick of the religions' litter for targeting "Chosen Ones" for his hideous mind-control experiments. These Chosen Ones were to be the robotic leaders of Hitler's New World Order. 1 then asked Cathy what religion she was before she met Houston. She replied, "Mormon, but I was a good Catholic before then". My mind swirled from that shocking revelation. 1 again quickly changed the subject and suggested we go out to dinner and discuss her new job as my assistant starting the following the day. But tonight we would discuss her divorce plans. Later that evening, I began my search for a secure phone to find someone from past associations I knew were CIA connected on an officer's level. I needed a get-well-quick formula or a clean mental health referral who could help these two wide-eyed unfortunates. I was informed there were none and that I knew more about "that mind stuff" than anyone who would talk. I returned home to find my phone ringing with an anxious Alex Houston, who had returned from a "vacation" at Boys Town in Nebraska, on the other end exclaiming that he was looking for his wife. She had " disappeared". I faked not knowing anything and suggested he come to my house the next afternoon to go over some urgent business. The next morning, I located a lawyer, for Cathy, and she had the divorce papers drawn up. That afternoon I had Granville Ratclift, a local Sheriff's deputy 1 partially trusted, who occasionally watched my house when I was out of town, waiting inside my house to witness and legally serve Houston with the divorce papers and his termination notice from the company. My last words to Houston which I recorded on tape were, "You could get hurt if you mess with me or them. Alex, get out!" (Now, I hope Houston lives to be a hundred years of age.)
Getting the legal jump on Houston to project Cathy reminded me that I needed to attend to my own divorce needs. My wife mutually agreed her life could be more emotionally rewarding without me. She moved to Florida andset up house with her mother. We filed for a noncontested divorce. I agreed to sell the house and what remained of our joint possessions. Still unable to secure expert help for Cathy and Kelly, I maintained their safety by moving them into my house until it was sold. It was during this time that I was approached by a neighbor who said he had seen someone through his binoculars wearing a gun and taking pictures of my house. Other such intrusive visits by unknown persons followed suit. I was getting real nervous. I again called on a CIA operative I knew who worked within Nashville's corrupt law enforcement elite who, days later, informed me to "get my ass out of there now-someone wanted me dead!" When I asked why, he said, "You know damn good and well why!" The house sold quickly and I had already decided to walk away from my company, my contracts, and the one million dollars on deposit as a letter of credit at B.C.C.I. in New York. Mr. Yoon came to Nashville, He purchased Houston's stock. I returned Mr. Yoon to the airport. My last words to him were, "Farewell, friend". He knew nothing of what was going on and I have never seen or spoken with him again. That afternoon I cleaned out my office, handed the keys to the landlord, closed out my personal and company bank accounts.
I had become angry beyond anything I had ever experienced. In retrospect, this was the birthing process of evolution from man to patriot. I now only wanted answers to what was going on in my government. We needed to be safe while I searched for these answers. My next stop in this pursuit would be Las Vegas, Nevada, Once there, I met with some powerful, underworld characters I had befriended back in my aviation days at Capital International Airways while "packaging" gambling junkets for these characters. I felt confident that these guys would protect me at least until I could find out what and who Cathy knew. I was reminded by these men that they were a part of the CIA's new funding operations. One of them flippantly remarked while chomping his Cuban cigar, "You can't hide an egg in a hen house, fella". My contact then coldly informed me that I had become involved in something that affected our National Security. I lied to this "wise guy" and cryptically responded, "Oh, well. I'll take them (Cathy and Kelly) to Alaska and play like a voiceless chameleon". In retrospect, this spontaneous lie must have worked to protect me from "red shining" myself to become the recipient of a CIA/MOB hit. Cathy and I continued to stay "parked" in Las Vegas for a few more days waiting to retrieve Kelly from a last minute (suspected CIA) court ordered visit with her biological father, Wayne Cox. Later, I would learn from Kelly's medical reports that she had spent Christmas vacation "in hell." I was now alone in my mind, scared, and going broke fast. Once again I felt totally alienated from everything and everybody in my life. At this moment, 1 began constantly reminding myself that I was doing the only thing I knew for sure was right. Realistically, I was astride the proverbial tiger and I could not get off its back and survive.
Ref 3: 1991 Roman Catholic Weekly
CHAPTER 3
THE RECLAMATION OF CATHY'S MIND
"The greatest gift anyone can give another is a good memory."4
It was now the week after Christmas 1988. I was fulfilling half of my pledge to the Vegas mob. With all of our remaining personal belongings containerized and secretly in transit on a different ship, I, my "new family" and
pets were ferry-bound for Anchorage, Alaska. The sixteen hundred mile trip through ice and snow would take about three days to complete. Unfortunately, it gave me time to think.
Due to our negative cash flow situation, realistically I knew there was no place to run or hide from the CIA. Cathy and Kelly seemed happy and believed they were safe. This was my number one priority! For me, I had to trust that my escape plan would convince interested CIA personnel that we no longer represented a threat to their security. The plan was based on an ancient psychological warfare formula developed by the Romans, I wanted to portray myself as akin to a character in a bad Reagan (western) movie and ride into the sunset never to be heard from again. Thinking to myself that where we were headed geographically, there was no sun to set, at least until spring. Late one night about mid way into our voyage, 1 sought the solitude that the outside
forward deck would afford me. I was thankful for the wind-driven sleet and snow that stung and closed my eyes and opened my mind for focused thought.
At the time, 1 was psychologically "strung out" from a combination of rage and unbearable emotional headache.
To safeguard my precious teenage son, Mason, from being hurt and/or unwittingly used as a pawn to force me to remain silent, I had virtually destroyed our father/son bond. I loved and missed him very much, and still do.
The resultant emotional pain from the deception and separation seemed to be compounding within me and was consuming-my being.
I had, in the course of rescuing Cathy and Kelly, shunned and insulted my son, collapsed my company, simultaneously orchestrated two divorces and sold all personal treasures. I worried I would never see my elderly mother again.
Her health was deteriorating. The tailored clothes I wore no longer fit me, as I had lost over forty pounds and looked skeletal. Chronic insomnia, a symptom of the severe depression I secretly fell, was slowly driving me mad. My own short-term memory was beginning to fail. I had noticed for the first time in over thirty years that I was stuttering when enunciating certain words. I knew this was just the beginning of a long and dangerous expedition in search of answers.
As I stood alone, with eyes closed, on the ship's ice-covered steel deck, a strange feeling of relief washed over me. I had somehow managed to remember from where I could draw "emergency strength." I began silently praying for inner strength and guidance through a meditation technique I'd learned years ago. Immediately, I experienced a feeling of peaceful self-assurance that we would survive to tell our story.
Suddenly I became aware that the icy wind was freezing my face and hands. I was elated that I could feel again. Apparently I had repressed my tactilesenses along with my emotions. For the first time since I learned of Cathy's and Kelly's mind-control existence, I felt functionally alive.
I opened my eyes to discover I wasn't alone any more. A voice was coming from somewhere. I looked around and saw, crouched down and wrapped in a dark green blanket almost beside me, the source of the voice. Again I heard,
"Hey man, you OK?" This good man whom I later came to know and respect was Mark Demont. He was a classic example of what Alaskans term a "sour dough". Roughly defined, a sour dough was anybody from the "lower 48" (states) who was disenchanted with their home and low on money. We were both sour doughs and refugees from a sick society gone mad from CIA drugs, media violence, and uncontrolled greed. I offered him a cigarette and my hand in friendship, something I had not done voluntarily in almost a year. We agreed to stay in contact after our arrival.
About two days later, we landed safely at the Juneau docks. We were told by the ferry's Captain that it was the coldest day of the decade. The ship's thermometer read a minus forty degrees fahrenheit. For me, this was an
anticipated weather condition, and for Cathy and Kelly, a physical challenge.
I had spent about two years in Alaska around 1980. It was then that I helped my former boss from Capital International Airways, George Kamats put a new carrier on line known briefly as Great Northern Airlines. I left Alaska back then, not because of the environment, which I loved, but due to my inability to cope with Kamats' daily tirades. This rigid fellow had a long, colorful history working for other CIA controlled airlines. Among other jobs, he had held top executive positions of authority with the infamous air support section of the U.S, Forestry Service, Air America, and Evergreen (CIA) carriers.
Now I was back in Alaska, unemployed, and knowing I was being tracked like an animal by the same organization I had previously indirectly worked for, the Central Intelligence Agency. Having slept the past couple of nights, I was feeling much better and the thoughts of being tracked did not concern me. I
recall having more productive things on my mind. I could not allow raw fear to become any part of my daily diet of thought process.
Cathy and 1 dedicated every possible moment to locate a house we could call home. We finally found a fourplex apartment that was inexpensive, with two bedrooms and a heated garage. We had to have a heated garage for my three beloved pet raccoons and two dogs. Our new home would never have furniture beyond a TV, two beds, and a table and chairs. This inconvenience never was discussed. We were comfortable.
After settling into "our place" in the remote rural town of Chugiak, we immediately began doing normal things. We enrolled Kelly in a great public school, met our new neighbors, and played in the snow. All of this was being enjoyed in a traditional family way-something Cathy and Kelly had never
before known.
Our remaining meager resources were disappearing before my eyes. The cost of asthma medication that Kelly now required to keep her alive was over $400 per month. I strongly suspected that much of the reason for her declining health resulted from the two weeks "in hell" she had recently spent with alleged serial killer, Wayne Cox, She told me so, by detailing the hideous satanic rituals she and her four-year-old step brother, Jacob, had been subjected to, Fortunately, I had held onto my expensive Niton camera, guns, and personal jewelry items. These were the last real assets I had remaining to sell. I sold them and the proceeds paid our living expenses for five more months until Kelly's health needs and circumstances forced us on welfare.
During this five-month period, with Kelly in school and no telephone to distract us, I began intensifying my deprogramming efforts with Cathy, Most stays, our work started the moment we returned home from taking Kelly to school. As soon as Kelly was in bed at night, after dinner and homework, we resumed our "session". We worked like this day and night, seven days a week, focused intensely on the deprogramming process, until I would pass out from exhaustion around three o'clock in the morning.
The deprogramming formula for pulling Cathy's fragmented mind back together was inherently free of problems. The small problems I did experience with the formula stemmed from having to "expertly" apply it based on my
educated memory of almost twenty years previous. I had no communication with any recognized authority other than Cory Hammond to guide the initial therapy. My single greatest challenge was to learn how to control Cathy's constant state of trance as she journaled her memories.
In spite of reporting to the FBI that I was a hypnotist, I knew that if the FBI and CIA could prove through my admissions 1 was using hypnosis on Cathy, her testimony in court would be worthless. Therefore, the threat of reprisal from the CIA was averted. In fact, through my own intensive research of hypnotherapy I learned how to control Cathy's trance states. T regarded it as unhypnotizing her. Eventually I would be regarded by mental health physicians as an "expert" in the application of this little-used clinical tool for recovering
memory.
Aside from my learned deprogramming skill, the balance of the formula I used consisted of elements which are actually rules of ethical therapy conduct.
Those therapy rules were strictly enforced, Cathy understood and agreed that, in order for her to have absolute control of her mind, she must place total trust in me and the therapy regime.
1. I maintained a constant vigil to ensure Cathy's physical and psychological safety from all outside influences.
2. No memories could be verbalized by Cathy until after they were written
by her. The only questions I could ask were history oriented and directed to Cathy's presenting personality that was recovering the memory. Those questions could only address the who, what, when, how, and where of the memory. Even if I could have known the answers in advance, 1 could not
inject. Our perceptions would have differed radically and could have created more memory barriers between personality fragments.
3. I fundamentally explained mind control to Cathy and she then understood that what happened to her was not her fault. However, she understood she was becoming responsible for her actions here and now. Through therapy, she was asserting control over her own mind.
4. We devoted many hours to "intellectual discussions" of Cathy's learned religious beliefs and they were "logically" debunked, just as if 1 were explaining how the illusions of a magician's tricks worked lo confuse reality.
5. No expression of emotion by Cathy would be permitted during the memory recovery and journaling process. I never asked her "how does that make you feel?" This is as important as the safety issue for the rapid recovery
of memories.6. I provided Cathy adequate food, vitamins, water, and sleep to restore her failing physical health.
7. I taught Cathy how to view her memories on a "mind movie screen" rather than re-experience them through the mind's "virtual reality" mechanism.
8. I instructed Cathy how to trance herself and control the depth of her trance state through a self-hypnosis technique (some regard as meditation). This was put in place to avoid possible contamination and/or confusion of her memories, which might have happened had I used a hypnotic induction technique known as guided imagery.
9. Cathy was not allowed to read books, newspapers, or magazines, to watch TV, or to discuss with Kelly anything she recalled. Cathy had experienced a lifetime of information control and therefore had minimal
contamination of memory to sort through. This rule was also understood and respected by Kelly, whose memories were beginning to surface.
10. All behavior patterns and social habits Cathy exhibited were re-examined through logical discussion between us. All pre-established behaviour patterns, including daily routines, were re-scheduled or stopped completely.
11. I required her to wear a wrist watch twenty-four hours a day, to alert me of any "lost time" she felt she was experiencing. Losing time, without trauma, is a strong indication that personality switching is occurring. Whereas being able to account for time is an indicator that recovery is occurring.
The memories Cathy was recovering were horrible beyond anything I had ever heard anyone speak about, I often wondered if I had fallen in love with Cathy as a result of my developing the psychological malady known as the Stockholm Syndrome. Those thoughts never bothered me for I knew I had grown to love Cathy. I had heard enough horror from Cathy and Kelly to know I was now suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). The symptoms of this disorder went unnoticed by Cathy and Kelly because they too
were PTSDed, and had been all their lives.
My own health began to deteriorate rapidly. My regained body weight began to melt away once again. I was experiencing incredible stomach pain, vomiting, and diarrhea. I was literally living on a patent medicine known to ulcer sufferers as Maalox. A "secure" phone call to a doctor friend in the "lower 48" produced the name of a local internal medicine specialist I could trust. Aware of my predicament, my physician friend made the appointment on my behalf for this doctor to prepare certain in-office tests. One of the tests, using a fiberoptic stomach tube, showed that as a result of a water borne parasite, there were holes in the walls of my stomach. He recommended emergency surgery. I replied, "No. How much longer can I live with this
before surgery?"
He said, "It depends on how well you can follow my instructions"* "No problem," I said. Within a few days of feeding myself intravenously and taking the prescribed medications, I began to recover.
It was during this recovery period that I began my telephone search for answers to speed Cathy's recovery process. Again I was told by my former "well connected" associates that I knew it all. I was not convinced. However, my persistence soon paid off as one particular phone call resulted in my striking proverbial "pay dirt".
The medical books on clandestine experimental research for treating dissociative disorders mysteriously appeared "on hold" for me at the EagleRiver branch of the Anchorage Public Library. I was covertly alerted to pick them up on a certain day at an exact time. I complied.
As I was leaving the library, a middle-aged woman with a grocery sack in her arms approached me. She asked if the library was open. I thought this odd since I was walking out the opened library entrance. My curiosity was short lived when she asked, "Have you read any good books by Dr. Milton Erickson
lately?" I replied, "No, but I am checking one out by (psychiatrist) Dr. William S.
Kroger entitled Clinical and Experimental Hypnosis," "Oh, yes," she said. "I'm a real fan of Dr. Kroger and he is a real fan of Dr. Erickson who you know is considered the father of subliminal mind-control
(theory) research. She began walking away and turned, smiled and said, "Enjoy your books and use the book, Mark."
I assumed she was addressing me by name while referring to the book itself.
I also concluded from this comment that she was obviously the person responsible for delivering the books to the library. Soon I learned she was referring to a bookmark placed inside one of the books which provided me a
desperately needed communications vehicle. Recorded on the book-mark" was a toll free 800# with a time and date to use it. I used this 800# and many others similarly provided me for a communications vehicle to covertly access the spooks' (spies) subway to information. For two more years, this method provided
me with telephonic guidance through a maze of mind work with Cathy.
When 1 called the bookmark "800" number, it was answered by an electronic voice which said, in part, "Please enter your employee number now".
I complied, using a series of numbers that I had been previously "assigned" by someone who must remain anonymous because I do not know their identity.
The next sound 1 heard was that of a phone being rung. After exactly eight rings, my call was answered by someone I did not know. He asked, "What's the problem?" I fell like a vacuum cleaner salesman with his foot in the door, delivering a canned sales presentation. I began nervously emphasizing my
desperate need for a quicker therapy regime for Cathy.
The voice asked, "Have you read the books?"
"Yes," I replied. "But many of the clinical terms were foreign to me."
The voice then instructed me to go back to the library and "pick up a psych reference book on term definitions". I then interrupted his instruction to ask if I could speak with somebody who could make this deprogramming process go faster. He said, "Well, there are only two deprogrammers in this country-one in Boston (Massachusetts) and the other in Phoenix (Arizona) and neither one could be of much help or be trusted with the kind of information you are getting (from Cathy)." He hesitated, then said, "You're going to need a referral,
which I can't provide. But you know how to do it" I asked, "A referral for what?"
"To have the chance to speak with a doctor who knows about this and might be of some value," he told me,
"OK," 1 said. "Who's the doctor?" "Cory Hammond, out of Salt Lake City (Utah)."
"Gees," 1 said. "That's Mormon headquarters, and that was the last
religious trauma base for Cathy." 'Yes!- the voice continued. "But you can trust this doctor if you're careful
and don't give up too much (information) on yourself. He's paranoid like all the rest (who know about mind-control atrocities) but he could be of some help. Oh, be alert. Everybody's watching this guy so anything you say, they (the bad guys) will know."
"Thank you very much," I replied. Somewhere in the process of finding a referral professionally acquainted
with Dr. Hammond, I telephoned dissociative disorders specialist, Dr. Bennett Braun, a well-known and published psychiatrist in Chicago, Illinois. I learned from our conversation that he had an entire hospital unit dedicated to therapy for people like Cathy and Kelly. I wondered at the time why his name wasn't
previously provided to me for a consultation. As a result of this brief telephone encounter, I learned that Dr. Braun had a number of patients on a long waiting list for a "bed" within this facility. The doctor then provided me the name and telephone number of a "friend" he confided in, People Magazine senior
investigative reporter Civia Tamarkin, Contacting this People/Time Life magazine reporter was to be my biggest
single judgement error in the pursuit of helpful information. I would soon learn she was indirectly responsible for nearly costing me my life, and did indirectly cost Kelly her chance for "expert" therapy- which is another book in itself.
When I first spoke with Civia, she dropped important names like a maple tree drops leaves after a frost. I audio tape recorded practically all conversations with this seemingly well informed source, then and in the years to
follow, Civia first provided me the name and phone number of the Boston "deprogrammer," an ex-Moonie programmer by the name of Steve Hassen.
Next, she provided the name and phone number to contact Jolyn "Jolly" West at UCLA. Reluctantly, she gave me the referral I needed to communicate with Dr. Cory Hammond. "The later contact being the only "briefly helpful" one with whom I would speak.
Maximizing my PTSD impaired judgement, I telephoned programmer Steve Hassen, for advice on how to help Kelly (only), which resulted in his coming to our home in Alaska, Apparently, his agenda was to traumatize Cathy by using a well-known code to trigger her to run for her life—from me. The method he employed could have been effective, but fortunately for Cathy and Kelly, his robotic delivery like his moral ethics was very poor. I learned that Hassen's voiced and recorded professional respect for his UCLA psychiatrist friends, Dr,
West and Dr. Margaret Singer, derived from sinister reasons. Little did I know that Dr. West had worked for the CIA in Project MK-Ultra mind-control research for decades, it seems some of Dr. West's CIA supported research had been exposed by a Congressional investigator of the MK-Ultra Project in the 1970s. However he survived the public scrutiny because the U.S. Government had, in essence, halted further investigation of him and his work under the National Security guise. His only reported crime was for killing an elephant
with an overdose of LSD in the presence of school children. These facts I would learn after Cathy and I spoke with him by phone and subsequent disaster struck us, This too is another story in itself.
The phone calls between Dr. Cory Hammond and myself were informative and supportive. He proved himself to be the single, most valuable live information asset I would know in my quest for expert therapy advice. Later
Dr. Hammond delivered to the mental health community through a symposium presentation in 1991, the whole truth as he knew it on the topic of mind control.
His advisory instruction to me on a particular Erickson technique for painless, non abreactive memory recovery, called "revivification", literally saved my pre-dious Cathy from reliving the horrors as she remembered them. This man is my personal hero.
Spring in Alaska was a very different experience from what I was accustomed to in Tennessee. The Alaskans just refer to it as "break-up". In place of hearing the sounds of chirping birds, I listened to the drip noises from the ice melting off everything. The streets had become an ugly brown mush. For spring as normally a welcomed seasonal change, it was depressing to say the least. The only good news was that the days had slowly changed from darkness to warm sunlight. With this seasonal change, a time bomb I did not know existed began its countdown. Kelly's asthma and behavior were radically deteriorating for no apparent reason.
One Friday morning in May, Cathy received a call from Kelly's school principal requesting we pick her up as soon as possible and have her examined by a doctor. The school nurse said Kelly was having a severe asthmatic attack that did not respond to the medication she had with her. We picked her up only to find that her condition seemed to improve miraculously at the sight of us. But this improvement would be short lived,
The following Sunday, Kelly's coughing became almost constant. She had exhausted our supply of an important asthma medication which she regularly used in her respirator pump, I covertly substituted distilled water and sat with her while she struggled for her breath. Using an Erickson technique of guided imagery, I began telling her a story about a little girl who huffed and puffed and climbed a mountain. The story I told ended with the little girl reaching the top of the mountain only to be so tired that she fell asleep in a bed of wild flowers, Kelly responded by breathing normally and actually falling into a sound asleep for a few hours, only to awaken and repeat her coughing spell. I returned to her bedside and 1 asked why she coughed.
Kelly, somewhat agitated, responded, "I have asthma". I repeated the water substitution trick and she responded favorably and said, "Dad, Wayne (the father and alleged serial killer Satanist) told me I was gonna' die."
I said, "Well, he's not a doctor". Kelly continued, "He really did say that over and over and over again."
I then asked, "When did he say this?" "When school's out," she replied.
I asked, "What do you mean?" She robotically repeated, "When school's out."
"Do you remember when Wayne said this to you?" I asked.
"In bed," she continued. "He thought I was asleep and he was talking on the phone to Alex (Houston) and then to me," I knew then Wayne Cox had programmed her to die using a clinical technique known as hypnosleep. Alex Houston was guiding Cox through the program. I interrupted her (as I saw she was entering a deep state of trance) and
responded, "Well, school's not out and tomorrow you will be well enough to go
back to school." As I suggested, Kelly did feel good the next morning and returned to school.
This day would be her last day in Birchwood Elementary. Only a few hours passed before Cathy and I again were called, this time by the nurse who became agitated when Cathy truthfully answered her question,
"Didn't you take her to the doctor?" Later that evening, Cathy, Kelly and I would make the last of our emergency drives to seek medical help for Kelly. At Anchorage's Humana Hospital, Cathy and I met with the young, very bright and beautiful physician, Dr. Lorrie Shepherd, who seemed perplexed and, perhaps, frightened as to Kelly's unexplainable deteriorating condition. I requested a private meeting and she complied.
After about thirty minutes of my explaining what Cathy and Kelly had been rescued from, I defined mind control for her. Learning this, Dr. Shepherd then consulted with a local female psychiatrist, Dr. Pat Patrick to evaluate Kelly,
The evaluation was completed and Dr. Patrick invited Cathy, and eventually me, to her office for a consultation. This was to be Kelly's first official evaluation that indicated she suffered from Multiple Personality Disorder
(MPD),5 a serious psychological disorder resulting from severe and repeated trauma.
I then asked Dr. Patrick if she could arrange for a sexual abuse specialist to verify if Kelly had been abused. She complied. The results were positive. Dr. Patrick and Cathy seemed almost relieved at this validation. The result
sickened me.
Kelly's asthma stabilized at Humana and she was transferred to Charter North Psychiatric Hospital for in-hospital care. Dr. Patrick apparently provided the best care she knew. Unfortunately it was inadequate. Months passed and the State of Alaska welfare authorities began to realise Kelly was not improving
and her ineffective care costs were mounting by thousands of dollars weekly.
Dr. Patrick, Cathy, and I, with the cooperation of the Tennessee Violent Crimes Claims Commission, began searching for a hospital that would accept Medicaid insurance. Finally, one was located in Owensboro, Kentucky which advertised a specialty in working with ritually abused children. Kelly was
transferred to this facility and the State of Alaska paid all the bills for her move there. Later we would learn that this elegant hospital facility was nothing more than a human warehouse that collected whatever fees the federal and state governments would pay them per child resident. A pretty place to see, but the
care for Kelly would prove to be "less than nothing".
During the summer before Kelly was transferred to this Kentucky hospital, and Cathy was recovering satisfactorily, I felt it was safe to leave their side so that I could find work. We desperately needed money to travel, to live, and to return to the "lower 48" with Kelly in the winter.
I quickly secured a job at Alaska Business College as an interviewer of prospective students. My sales "performance" resulted in my being promoted in two weeks from an admissions representative to Director of Admissions. I banked as much money as possible from my earnings over the next five months to provide for our move, to be closer to Kelly. The thought of the separation agony that would exist between Cathy and Kelly served as a reminder of my
ongoing separation from my son, whom 1 had not heard from in almost a year.
Cathy, on ill advice from me, called her father and begged for some financial help for Kelly's sake. Her father wired $500 to confirm our location and commented, "This is America. Unless you come back to Michigan alone,
no more money!" It was this statement that triggered Cathy's repressed memories of her own tortured childhood by this alleged pervert and slave salesman, Earl O'Brien.
Soon the FBI telephoned Cathy and told her that she needed to "voluntarily" conic to the Anchorage FBI office for questioning. Upon arrival, Cathy wasinformed that she was under federal investigation for attempting to extort money from her father.
Cathy looked strangely relieved when she heard these charges. Later I would learn that she felt better knowing for sure she was not "crazy" or delusional and that her father did in fact do those things to her and her brothers and sisters.
The FBI Agent was openly sympathetic and reportedly the DOJ "inspired" investigation was subsequently dropped upon his recommendation. This agent went on to secure a cash donation through his Mormon church that enabled us to leave his jurisdiction.
It is noteworthy that during this same time; through another special agent at the Anchorage FBI office, 1 was interrogated for "what I knew" regarding an unrelated crime involving my ex-wife and her lawyer boss in Florida. I knew nothing, I now know that the FBI was, in effect, attempting to destroy my credibility as advocate for Cathy and Kelly through their investigation efforts of me. Their case against my ex-wife and her lawyer was solved, and her lawyer accomplice was convicted of first degree murder. My ex-wife became a state's
witness and was acquitted.
However, days later I would "see" my ex-wife being arrested and processed on the popular national television show "Unsolved Mysteries". That unfortunate case involved only one homicide and made the national news for
weeks to come. In contrast, Calhy's testimony, with proofs provided FBI officia1s, was filed and deliberately covered up—For Reasons of National Security.
The fall season in Alaska was now quickly giving in to winter and the "termination dust" (snow) was re-coating the surrounding mountains. The air was definitely becoming nippy. The change of seasons signaled another change within my new family. Kelly was going to be transferred soon to the Kentucky Valley Institute of Psychiatry (V.I.P.). Cathy and I had been saving every dollar I could earn during my brief
tenure at Alaska Business College in preparation for our move back to the "lower 48". I realized now that Cathy had gone into a state of recovery known as "fusion". She had long since stopped switching personalities and had become a beautiful, intelligent, and logical lady. She was no longer susceptible to anyone triggering her to go against or away from me. She continued to journal her traumatic memories and was professionally adjudged stable.
The passage on ships and ferries out of Anchorage to Seattle was booked solid for months ahead. They would only accept freight and/or vehicles.
1 purchased two, one-way tickets on Alaska Airlines and brought our family car, a 1976 AMC Pacer, and remaining belongings to the Anchorage docks for shipment. Suddenly, as we packed our bags and were ready to board our flight, a nearby volcano erupted and halted all air traffic in or out of Anchorage for the following two weeks. We waited anxiously for the airport to reopen. We would leave first and Kelly and her nurse would soon follow. This would be the first step of what would be an endless journey in our pursuit of justice.
4 Mark Phillips' motto
5 The term Multiple personality Disorder (MPD) Is now clinically referred to by mental
health professionals as Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID).
CHAPTER 4
TRUTH AND CONSEQUENCES
JUST US PURSUED AND JUSTICE DENIED
Our much anticipated arrival into the Seattle (Washington) International Airport terminal heralded a new beginning. Cathy appeared to be openly optimistic that perhaps, at long last, Kelly would soon have her chance for recovery. Privately, I felt much less hopeful, I knew from past personal experiences and through my "insider sources" that mental health physicians from the private sector of society had little acquaintance with secret U.S.
Government mind-control research. The only mind-control informauon these doctors had access to for the most part was from the hysterical comments supplied them by their troubled patients. Hysteria, in this case, as a symptom of misinformation is highly contagious, and therefore spread throughout the mental health profession. Many practitioners displayed symptoms of the "ostrich syndrome" to me, their peers, and patients through fear and chronic denial.
It was 1990, the beginning of the last decade of this century and the millennium, and most mental health physicians remained in a state of denial concerning the existence of mind control. Mental health as a science is barely one-hundred years of age. Truly an industry in its infancy in relation to the
other recognized healing arts.
Due to mental health's infancy and the fact that it is rooted in the archaic, mystical theories of Jung and Freud, combined with the non-availability of government controlled research information, the term "mental health" is viewed by patients and doctors alike as an oxymoron. Patients I have interviewed who suffer from dissociative disorders frequently refer to the profession as "mental hell," and their well-intentioned provider as "the rapist". Unfortunately for all parties concerned, in many reported instances these cruel labels are consistent with the quality of the care provided. Whereas I strongly support, in concept, the healing arts existing in the fields of mental health that could be applied in the treatment of mind-control patients, I cannot foresee their application in meeting the needs of these patients without some radical changes in our National Security Act. Around 1970, I recall witnessing a "mild" case in point. 1 was overseeing the video taping of a TOP SECRET psychiatric experiment involving a young man who had suffered brain damage resulting from some type of severe
head trauma. This patient was ambulatory. He could not remember anything, express himself, or for that matter, think. He was not brain dead. He was mind dead. Through the application of a combination of experimental drugs and hi-tech electronic technology involving harmonics, his brain was being "retrained" to permit constructed thought processes to commence. The brain scar tissue that was inhibiting his ability to think was being chemically and electronically by-passed. I equated this experimental procedure to the "hot
wiring" of an ignition switch of an automobile to preclude the use of a key.
The extraordinary procedure and subsequent results of this experimental therapy was meticulously recorded. The record, tape, and doctor notes were dropped into a security envelope and were taken by courier to Fort George Meade, Maryland.
What made this case so memorable was the event that immediately followed. I overheard the experiment's attending physician complaining bitterly to his nurse colleague that "his" patient in an adjoining ward, who was not a "DOD guinea pig," through application of this method, could "probably recover". The doctor's complaint addressed his being prohibited from applying state-of-the-art treatment for his patient by virtue of his DOD oath of secrecy. This doctor was frustrated at being forced to serve two masters. The DOD being one master
held control over his career through his medical license, liability insurance, and the secrecy oath he had signed. The second master was the doctor's own moral and ethical standards, supported by the Hippocratic Oath he had signed upon becoming a physician.
Thus without benefit of the voluminous DOD research findings and technology developments, the medical field of mental health is in its learning curve for establishing models to provide patients state-of-the-art care. In other
words, mental health providers themselves are quickly becoming the second group of mind/information control victims.
The mental health profession is in a state of crisis and his arrived at the proverbial crossroads of failure and success. The road to success through the application of available technologies appears to be blocked FOR REASONS OF NATIONAL SECURITY.
As a direct result of DOD management of mind research secrets and the resulting federal information containment practices, mental health providers are on the defensive with their patients, the courts, and more recently with certain special interest action groups. These groups are attacking the mental health
professional as a target for destruction. Well-funded organizations with very questionable agendas, such as the False Memory Foundation (FMF) and the Church of Scientology, have publicly denounced mental health as a profession.
The Church of Scientology has emerged as the apparent leader in publicly denouncing the mental health profession. Through the church's Washington, D.C. based "human rights" lobby group, it has launched a massive negative propaganda campaign accompanied by numerous lawsuits against ethical drug
companies and mental health providers.
Scientologists believe their church's founder, L. Ron Hubbard, has discovered a cure-all for mental illness through behavior modification.
Hubbard, a successful science fiction writer, allegedly acquired knowledge of subliminal mind control through his military service with U.S. Navy Intelligence. He named his behavioral modification program Dianetics after his first wife, Diane.
The False Memory Foundation is a lobby group which is primarily utilized by persons charged with sexual abuse. The FMF is desperately attempting to develop legislation that restricts therapy for persons suffering from dissociative disorders as a result of trauma. This organization's stated beliefs include that
repressed memory is a myth. FMF has found the mental health profession's Achilles' heel.
To date, the model for developing an effective therapy regime for dissociative disorders (which are as a result of repeated trauma) has not been published by either the American Psychiatric Association or the American
Psychological Association. The difficulty in developing a model is due to a number of factors. The primary factor involves national security secrets concerning classified mind-control research.
In the present climate, referring mind-control victims to mental health professionals for treatment would be tantamount to subjecting a patient needing delicate surgery to a surgeon who was blind-folded and hand-cuffed. The knowledge of these conditions produced the private opinion I withheld from
Cathy when she professed optimism for Kelly's latest recovery opportunity.
Nevertheless, Cathy was nearing complete recovery and we both recognized we were doing all we could a( the moment to provide for Kelly's needs. Perhaps identifying "who" within our government is interested in
withholding vital medical research findings and technologies information from the mental health profession could provide a foundation of understanding.
From my personal experiences while working for Capital International Airways.
I formed a strong opinion that addresses this question. However, the answer that mirrors my perception was later eloquently provided by a Washington. D.C. news correspondent and journalist, Linda Hunt, in her book Secret Agenda. The historical basis for this book are the declassified DOD documents identifying Project Paperclip as being the secret importation/relocation of Nazr and Fascist scientist into the United States over a forty-year period.
These brilliant criminal scientists were primarily focused on two areas of research, rockets and the mind. They were placed in positions of authority in, among others, prestigious universities, colleges, industries, and NASA. Over the years, these imported criminals have directly influenced our society with advanced rocket technologies and mind-control applications through U.S. Government sponsored research. According to Secret Agenda, Nazism, as a philosophy and form of government, is alive and destroying our country, in part, as a result of Project Paperclip.
I can attest to this statement from personal knowledge gained during my employment at Capital international Airways, which is named as one of the primary transporters for Project Paperclip.
These were background facts for some of the thoughts that rushed through my mind on our Jong drive from Seattle to the Southeastern U.S. I was anxious to discover the end results of my telephone campaign in the pursuit of justice I had waged while in Alaska. Our first destination would be Huntsville, Alabama. This southern U.S. city is famous for its tourism centerpiece, the NASA owned U.S. Space and Rocket
Center. The town also boasts of being home to more Pentagon, black-budget, U.S. dollars per capita than anyplace in America. Cathy harbors a very different opinion of this town, its police force, and the NASA research facility.
For Cathy and Kelly, Huntsville had been a place they were regularly taken to by Alex Houston for hi-tech torture and the production of child and adult pornography films.
This trip to Huntsville would be different for Cathy, except for one aspect of her previous experiences. Both she and I would receive our first threat to our lives in our pursuit of justice from law enforcement. This was surprising to me and "normal" for Cathy.
The lead-up to this threat began with my phone call to a Huntsville based legal aid group known as the National Association of Child Advocates. This organization publicized that it was formed through the leadership efforts of the local district attorney 'Bud' Crammer, who is known to his constituents as "Gun Ban Bud". After supplying this advocacy center with Cathy's recollections of her past experiences in Huntsville, we were contacted by two Huntsville CityPolice Department "vice" detectives. Their names were Jeff Bennet and Chuck
Crabtree.
Upon our arrival into Huntsville, these two vice cops escorted us and our trailer to a local apartment used for staging drug buys. The place was furnished, complete with audio and video bugs throughout every room. When I asked Bennet if the "place was bugged," he flatly denied it. From this lie I knew with certainty that Cathy and I were there to be specimens for whomever to study, I knew "who," and we gave them our best performance to mislead them. This action probably saved our lives.
After weeks of "delays," the two vice cops sat down with Cathy and me for discussion. She supplied them a myriad of testimony including detailed physical descriptions of two particular perpetrators, their names, and location maps of where they lived and allegedly produced child and adult pornography. The two perpetrators, themselves Huntsville policemen, were also helpful assets in the campaign for electing District Attorney Bud Crammer. Their names were Audie Majors and Sergeant Frank Crowell.
After Cathy had exhausted all of her recollections, Crabtree and Bennet ordered us to "leave Huntsville now while we were still alive, and shut up if we intended to stay that way!"
Later, Cathy and I would learn that Crabtree and Bennct had notified every
law enforcement officer in over five states to whom we had provided
information, They reported that we were a pair of "professional con artist
criminals". Perhaps they were able to accomplish this discrediting tactic as a
result of police reports we filed in other states, which included a reference to
our "bud experience" with the Huntsville Police Department. In addition, the
Nashville office of the FBI was responsible for perpetrating Crabtree's and
Bennet's discrediting lies. This FBI action ceased after resident-agent-in-charge
Ben Purser was told by a friendly district attorney that I now could prove the
identity and prosecute those responsible for the character assassination. The
harassmet stopped,
It is interesting to note that 'Bud' Crammer would in less than a year, be
elected to Congress. Within months after his election, Bud was rewarded for
years of alleged containment practices. Allegedly Bud has been covering up
investigations for the intelligence community, DOD, and of course his number
one financial supporter, NASA.
The wife of an Atlanta, Georgia physician, Ms. Faye Yeager, did however
survive Bud's wrath in court. Her "crime" was advocating for and protecting a
child who had been horribly abused. This courageous lady had her day in court
and won. Now she has filed a counter-suit in Federal court. Reeling from
Bud's "second hand" threats to our lives, we returned to Nashville, Here we
learned that the Kentucky V.I.P. hospital administration had suddenly declared
Kelly's State of Alaska medical records "to be in error". V.I.P. said she was
"fine!" This statement was supplemented by "you best come here now and pick
her up or we'll give her to Kentucky Child Services and they will find adoptive
parents."
This was a terrifying development since Kelly could not function outside a
restrictive environment. She had been declared suicidal and homicidal by three
attending physicians and/or therapists. Cathy and I were homeless. We
brought Kelly back to Tennessee where she, Cathy and I stayed in my mother's
tiny two-bedroom home. This living arrangement would not last. Kelly's
asthma (program), destined to separate her from her mother, returned within 48hours. We rushed her, gasping for breath, to Vanderbilt Hospital in Nashville
for emergency treatment. Again Kelly's condition worsened to the extremely
critical point, then returned to normal. Her attending doctor thought he had
seen a real miracle until he learned about mind control.
Vanderbilt Hospital physicians who reviewed Kelly's past medical and
psychiatric records recommended that she be moved to the worst child
warehouse we've seen so far, Crocket/Cumberland House, the "home for
broken butterflies" (see photo). Because Cathy and I were both unemployed
and Kelly only had Medicaid insurance, the State of Tennessee demanded
temporary custody. Their demands for custody were legally legitimate and
morally equated to extortion for they had no intentions of seeking expert therapy
for Kelly.
Through a lengthy two-year court proceeding, with five lawyers opposing
Cathy, we had a partial victory, Kelly was transferred to Charter Hospital in
Memphis, Tennessee where again she did not receive MPD/DID therapy, but
for the first time did receive genuine empathy from a social worker, Abbott
Jordan.
During this period, my life and liberty was threatened by the Nashville Metro Police Department. This verbal death threat was delivered by Metro Homicide Captain Mickey Miller and echoed by his friend and subordinate Lt. Tommy Jacobs. Miller said, "You best forget this woman; walk away from all
this now before your health changes." Jacobs said, "There's nothing wrong with that kid that her father (Cox) can't fix. She just has allergies. You'd best forget you ever heard of either one of them." I have all this conversation on
audio tape.
Within a few months of these threats came others threatening both our lives
and liberty from every branch of law enforcement within the State of
Tennessee. This included the Nashville office of the FBI. The latter was in the
form of a "clerical mistake" on the part of the FBI that was to be a "frame up"
for my supposedly threatening the President of the United States, George Bush.
This charge was totally groundless and was subsequently dropped, but only after
I secured a lawyer
It was now 1991, and Cathy and I had determined that we must proceed
with "phase two" of our pursuit of justice through a well organized information
dissemination campaign. The funding for this project would indirectly come
from the assistance of Bill Ross who also provided constant moral support,
Cathy and I have always fell uncomfortable exposing gentle persons like Bill
Ross to such horrific information as pertains to trauma-based mind control.
However, we have learned over the years through our public speaking
engagements and consultations with physicians and others that, generally
speaking, people appreciate knowing WHY they are no longer "at the top of the
food chain," Bill Ross like hundreds of others never gave up hope that we
would live to tell our story.
Five years have passed since we returned from Alaska. The lessons learned
through this trail-blazing effort in our pursuit of justice should never be taught
to anyone. No person should have to experience the heartache, desperation, and
grinding poverty that Cathy, Kelly, and I have had to live withDuring
the winding down portion of our information dissemination
campaign, Cathy approached me with an idea she thought could help us win
public support. She had repeatedly commented that she wanted to rescue
Seidina 'Dina' Reed, daughter of actor/singer Jerry Reed of Smokey And TheBandit fame. According to Cathy, she had been used repeatedly in pornography
productions with Seidina over the years and had bonded with this once beautiful
woman.
Seidina'
Seidina's husband, David Rorick, aka Dave Roe, was then her alleged sadistic handler. It is noteworthy that Roe allegedly received his training on
how to maintain a slave, using specific tortures, from Alex Houston. Roe lived
and reportedly loved, with Houston before he met Seidina. Cathy and I naively
believed at the time that Jerry Reed was not involved in his daughter's
enslavement as was Cathy's father. Furthermore, we were convinced that Jerry
Reed, with his numerous connections into politics and the entertainment
industry could be a powerful ally. This was not to be.
I rescued Seidina and in minutes after the rescue, she began talking, but not
until I had discussed my plan in person with her famous father and his agent at a
Brentwood, Tennessee restaurant. Reed had more Chan enough time to warn
Roe that I was armed and on my way to his house. All evidences disappeared.
Years later a U.S. Customs Enforcement officer informed me that I had
"somedoby" connected to Reed, possibly Reed himself, suggesting "I might be
blackmailing him." This "clean" customs officer knew I had rescued Seidina
from Roe's enslavement and that I had audio taped all meetings with Seidina,
Jerry Keed, and his wife, Prissy. He was openly concerned for my safety and
that Reed was lying so as to frighten me away.
Within two months after the rescue, Seidina and her mother filed criminal
charges, including sexual child abuse (of Seidina's four-year-old son) against
Roe. A "spook informant" working within the Nashville District Attorney's
office alerted me to these charges and the anticipated outcome. No action was
taken FOR REASONS OF NATIONAL SECURITY.
Seidina had been prostituted to, among many others, heads of state, and to
the Arabian Ambassador to the U.S., Prince Bandar Bin Sultan. According to
an involved witnesses of one of her encounters with Bandar (a friend of
George Bush) she was one of his favorite slaves. We've never heard from
Seidina or any member of her family since the rescue. This trek through hell in
our pursuit of justice taught nothing to Cathy that she had not already been told
by her abusers. For me, I learned the hard way that our Constitution was only a
beautiful plan that had been stolen, plundered, and replaced FOR REASONS
OF NATIONAL SECURITY.
Today, Cathy, Kelly, I and all true patriots stand at the proverbial
crossroads of revolution or evolution. Through armed revolution, we patriots
will perish and the emergence of a totally government controlled society will
herald in another period of "dark ages". As a proud gun owner, armed with
inside knowledge, I know we are technologically out-gunned. Whereas if we
choose to evolve through the challenges to our psyche that developed
communicat ion technologies present we can reinstate our Constitution and set
our people free. Revolution or Evolution-change in life as we know it is
inevitable.
Each of us must now take a stand to commit a portion of our individual time
and diminishing resources to support the action groups and individuals who are
not afraid to work at taking back our government through mass exposure of its
crimes. We must seek new leaders who will be committed to doing the most
with the least. These leaders share the battle cry that SILENCE DOES (indeed)
EQUAL DEATH.
6
Hund, Linda, Secret Agenda, St. Martin's Press 1991
PART II by Cathy O'Brien
AN OPEN LETTER
Mind control is absolute. Under MK-Ultra Project Monarch trauma-based mind control, I lost control over my own free will thoughts - I could not think to question, reason, or consciously comprehend - I could only do exactly what I was driven to do. Those who controlled my mind, and ultimately my actions, claimed to be "aliens," "demons," and "gods". But it was my experience that these perpe-TRAITORS of New World Order controls were/are bound by fully, human confines, despite their terror-tactic claims and illusions. The true laws of nature, and the same laws of man do, indeed, apply to them.
While they manipulated me by my religion, my maternal instincts, and my genuine concern for humanity - they never "possessed" my innate being. They could make me one of them. They never took into consideration the strength of the human spirit. They did not even know it existed. Ask why.
DEDICATION
This book is for Kelly, in order that she is understood and granted her right to qualified rehabilitation for the MK-Ultra Project Monarch Mind-Control abuses she endured at the hands of our country's so-called leaders.This book is dedicated, as am I, to Mark Phillips for rescuing Kelly and me from our mind-controlled existence, and clearing the way to recovery for Kelly by lovingly assisting me in the restoration of my mind, memory, and ultimately my free will.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
A special thanks to those unseen, whose presence have been evident. And
a special thanks to those unsung - you know who you are.
TRANCE-FORMATION OF AMERICA
My name is Cathleen (Cathy) Ann O'Brien, born 12/4/57 in Muskegon,
Michigan. I have prepared this book for your review and edification concerning
a little known tool that "our" United States Government is covertly, illegally,
and un-constitutionally using to implement the New World Order (One World
Government). This well documented tool is a sophisticated and advanced form
of behavior modification (brainwashing) most commonly known as MIND
CONTROL. My first hand knowledge of this TOF SECRET U.S. Government
Psychological Warfare technique is drawn from my personal experience as a
White House "Presidential Model" mind-control slave.
Much of the information enclosed herein has been corroborated and
validated through brave and courageous "clean" members of the law
enforcement, scientific, and Intelligence communities familiar with this case
These individuals' efforts helped me to understand and corroborate what
happened after a lifetime of systematic physical and psychological torture
orchestrated to modify my behavior through totally controlling my mind. Some
of these courageous individuals are employed by the very system that controlled
me and live in fear of losing their jobs, their families, or their lives. They have
gone as far as they dare towards publicly exposing this tool of the engineers of
the New World Order-to no avail. This book is a grassroots effort to solicit
and enlist the public and private support of Human Rights advocates, the
recognized, respected doers in America to expose this invisible personal and
social menace. This can be done by well organised, cooperative citizens with a
passion for justice, who have expressed interest in restoring our Constitution
and taking back America. This copy you hold is for your edification and
action.
While these pages have been condensed for your quick perusal, there ane
literally thousands of files of documentation that support much of what I am
reporting. Thanks to those dedicated individuals who found a means of
manipulating the system more cleverly than the perpetrators, the documents
referred to were declassified for release right at the source!
It is my patriotic respect for the principles of truth, justice, and ultimately
that freedom on which America was founded that compels me to expose the
world domination motivations of those in control of our government, commonly
referred to as the Shadow Government. By taking back America NOW, we can
maintain the integrity of our country's history and future by detaining its
destined course of being recognized world wide for the mind-control atrocities
unleashed on humanity that literally begin where Adolph Hitler left off.
Hitler's version of world domination that he termed in 1939 the "New World
Order" is currently being implemented through advanced technologies in,
among others, genetic mind-control engineering by those in control of America.
Senator Daniel Inouye, (D. HI) commented about the operations of this
secret government before a Senate Subcommittee and described it well as "...a
shadowy government with its own Air Force, its own Navy, its own fund
raising mechanism, and the ability to pursue its own ideas of 'national interest',
free from all checks and balances and free from the law itself."
The expertise of my primary advocate and skilled deprogrammer, Mark
Phillips, developed through his U.S. Defense Department knowledge of "Top
Secret" mind-control research and researchers, was responsible for the
restoration of my mind to normal functioning. As a result, I have recovered thememories related in this text, and having survived the ordeal, have reached this
point of enormous frustration. In 1988, through a series of brilliantly
orchestrated events, Mark Phillips rescued me and my 8-year-old daughter,
Kelly, from our mind-controlled existence and took us to the safety of Alaska
for rehabilitation. It was there that we began the tedious process of untangling
my amnesic mind to consciously recall what I was supposed to forget,
Many U,S. and foreign government secrets and personal reputations were
staked on the belief that I could not be deprogrammed and rehabilitated to
accurately reveal the criminal covert activities and perversions in which Kelly
and I were forced to participate, particularly during the Reagan/Bush
Administrations. Now that I have gained control of my own mind, I view it as
my duty as a mother and American patriot to exercise my gained free will to
expose the mind-control atrocities that my daughter and I endured at the hands
of those in control of our government. This personal view of inside Pandora's
Box includes a keen perception of how mind control is being used to apparently
implement the New World Order, and a personal knowledge of WHO some of
the so-called "masterminds" are behind this world and mind dominance effort.
Most Americans old enough to remember recall exactly where they were and
what they were doing when President John F. Kennedy was shot. His
assassination traumatized the nation and provides an example of how the human
mind photographically records events surrounding trauma. The traumas I
routinely endured during my mind-controlled victimization provided me the
latitude to recover my memory in the photographic detail in which it was
recorded. The direct quotes 1 have included in the following pages depicting
carefully selected events, are verbatim. I apologize for any obscenities quoted,
but this was necessary to maintain the integrity of the statements and accurately
reflect the character of the speaker(s).
While I am free to speak my mind, Kelly, now 17, is not so fortunate.
Kelly has yet to receive rehabilitation for her shattered personality and
programmed young mind. The high tech sophistication of the Project Monarch
trauma-based mind-control procedures she endured, literally since birth,
reportedly requires highly specialized, qualified care to aid her in eventually
gaining control of her mind and life. Due to the political power of our abusers,
all efforts to obtain her inalienable right to rehabilitation and seek justice have
been blocked under the guise of so-called "National Security". As a result,
Kelly remains untreated in the custody of the State of Tennessee-a victim of the
system—a system controlled and manipulated by our abusive government
"leaders" - a system where State Forms make no allowances to report military
TOP SECRET abuses - a system which exists due to federal funding directed by
our perverse, corrupt abusers in Washington, D.C. She remains a political
prisoner in the custody of the State of Tennessee to this moment, waiting and
hurting!
Violations of laws and rights, Psychological Warfare intimidation tactics,
threats to our lives, and various other forms of CIA Damage Containment
practices thus far have remained unhindered and unchecked due to the National
Security Act of 1947 AND the 1986 Reagan Amendment to same which allows
those in control of our government to censor and/or cover-up anything they
choose. Now, with our country free from outside threats as a result of the fall
of the Soviet Union, our "free press" is reportedly no longer encumbered by
censorship. This fact alone should free us to pursue justice, but it has not.
Hence the purpose of releasing this book at this time. After seven long years of being unjustly and painfully seperated from my daughter, while our abusers have had full access to her through a corrupt and manipulated system, it is my
fervent hope and intent to solicit help from you in the form of advice, expertise,
and public outcry concerning this very solvable problem.
I could not prevent the traumatic mind-control abuses Kelly endured due to
my own victimization, yet she is depending on me now to expose the truth and
enlist the help that the Juvenile Court has restrained her from seeking. I dedicate
this book to Kelly, and all others like her, and to every American unaware of
the mind-control atrocities prevailing in this country. What Americans don't
know is destroying them from the inside out. Knowledge is our only defense
against mind control. It is time to WAKE UP and arm ourselves with the truth,
restore the constitutional values of freedom and justice for all, to retroactively
enforce the 13th Amendment, and take back America!
CHAPTER 1
MY INTRODUCTION TO HUMANITY
My pedophile father, Earl O'Brien, brags that he began substituting his
penis for my mother's nipple soon after I was born. My multgenerational
incest-abused mother, Carol Tanis, did not protest his perverse actions due to
(reportedly) having similar abuse as a child which caused her to acquire
Multiple Personality Disorder.1
My earliest recovered memory was that I could
not breathe with my father's penis jammed into my little throat. Yet I could not
discern his semen from my mother's milk. I do not recall thinking, but I am
aware through education that this early sexual abuse distorted my primitive
concepts of feeding, breathing, sexuality, and parental perceptions.
I recall as a toddler being unable to run (I could barely walk) to my mother
for help as my instincts demanded. Through my gulping sobs, my terror rose as
I tried to clear my throat of my father's semen and draw a breath of air. My
mother finally arrived at my side. Rather than comfort me, she accused me of
throwing a temper tantrum and "holding my breath". She responded only by
throwing a glass of cold water in my face. 1 was shocked! As the water
splashed my face, I knew she would not help and it was up to me to save
myself. I automatically Multiple Personality Disordered. I was, of course, too
young to logically understand that what my father was doing to me was wrong.
I accepted his strangling sexual abuse as a normal and natural part of my home
life, and split off a personality to deal with the pain and suffocation to satisfy
his perversions. Therefore as a child, I was dissociative of my father's abuse. I
was totally unable to recall his sexual abuse, even in his presence, until 1 saw
and felt his penis. Then the terror, which was my conditioned response,
triggered access to that part of my brain that previously endured the trauma, I
was remembering the abuse and how to deal with it. This part of my brain
developed into a personality of its own-which belonged to my father-which he
rented out and later sold to the U.S. Government as will be explained and
detailed in the following pages.
Other parts of my conditioned mind dealt with other abusers, abuses and
circumstances. My father was (as revealed by my own investigations)
apparently a multigenerational incest child from a large, poor, and horribly
dysfunctional family. His mother earned a living as a prostitute for local
lumbermen after his father died when he was two years old. My father's
brothers and sister were all sexually and (occult) ritually abused just as he was.
They grew up to be drug addicts, prostitutes, street derelicts, and pedophiles
who also sexually abused me and my brothers and sisters. I developed more
personality splits to deal with the traumas of these torturous relationships.
My mother's dysfunctional family also appears to be multigenerational, but
of a slightly higher socio-economic class. Her father owned the building
occupied by a Masonic Blue Lodge he led, and managed a local beer
distribution business with her mother after completing his military career.
Together they sexually abused my mother and her three brothers, who in turn
sexually abused me.
My family often went camping on the vast wilderness acreage surrounding
my grandfather's Masonic Lodge in Newaygo, Michigan. Large bluffs referred
to as "The High Banks' overlooked the White River flowing through hisproperty, which is where we pitched our tents. My mother's brothers, Uncle
Ted and Uncle Arthur "Bomber" Tanis, often accompanied us and sexually
abused my brother and me.
It was deer hunting season in or around November, 1961, when my father
took the family camping on The High Banks to hunt with my uncles. That
night, as my brother and I were being sexually passed around the campfire to
satisfy pedophile perversions, a lost hunter stumbled into our camp. My father
shot him when he attempted to run; the rifle's blasts piercing my brain and
further fragmenting my mind. I sat dazed in a dissociative trance while my
mother methodically picked up the campsite and my father and uncles disposed
of the body.
As my father drove us away from the crime scene, we were stopped by
several hunters who had the road blocked in a desperate attempt to locate their
missing companion. They described the man I saw my father kill, and said they
heard gunshots. Reality intruded on my dissociative trance, and I screamed
and cried hysterically until I no longer knew why I was crying.
My Uncle Ted2
soon became a street derelict. Uncle Bomber died a few
years later from alcoholism in his early forties. And my father became more
financially and politically connected.
My mother's oldest brother, Uncle Bob, was a pilot in Air Force Intelligence
and often boasted that he worked for the Vatican. Uncle Bob was
also a commercial pornographer, producing kiddie porn for the local Michigan
Mafia, which looped back to Mafia porn king and U.S. Representative Jerry
Ford. I split off more personalities just to deal with my Uncle Bob, his
"friends," and the perverse business he shared with my father.
My father's sixth grade education had earned him a job as a worm digger
for local sport fishermen. By the time I was six years old, however, his
pornographic exploitation of my older brother, Bill, and me had provided
enough income to move us into a bigger house nestled in the Michigan sand
dunes. My father was right at home there. The tourists and drug dealers who
littered the eastern shore of Lake Michigan further supplemented his income by
paying for perverse sex with us children. My father also became involved in
illicit drug sales.
Soon after we moved, my father was reportedly caught sending kiddie porn
through the U.S. mail. It was a bestiality film of me with my Uncle Sam
O'Brien's Boxer dog, Buster. My Uncle Bob, also implicated in manufacturing
the porn, out of apparent desperation informed my father of a U.S. Government
Defense Intelligence Agency TOP SECRET Project to which he was privy.
This was Project Monarch. Project Monarch was a mind-control operation
which was "recruiting" multigenerational incest abused children with Multiple
Personality Disorder for its genetic mind-control studies. I was a prime
"candidate," a "chosen one". My father seized the opportunity as it would
provide him immunity from prosecution. In the midst of the pandemonium that
ensued, Jerry Ford arrived at our house with the evidence in hand for a meeting
with my father.
"Is Earl home?" he called to my mother, who nervously stood behind the
screen door, hesitating to let him in.
"Not yet," my mother replied, her voice shaking. "He should have been
home from work by now-I know he's expecting you."
"That's OK". Ford turned his attention to me. I was standing outside on
the front porch, and he crouched down to my level. Patting the large, brownenvelope containing the confiscated porn tucked under his arm he said, "You
like doggies, huh?"
"Buster is a nice doggy," I replied. "He's funny." Not understanding why
the dog had been whisked away when the porn was confiscated, I complained,
"Buster's gone."
"Buster's gone?" Ford asked.
"Yeah. My Uncle Sam took him away," I told him.
Ford laughed loudly at the irony of my statement. In my limited view, I
thought he found it humorous that Buster was gone. My father pulled into the driveway, honking the horn of his new, tan convertible. Ford stood up. With his fly eye level to me, I noticed his penis was erect and reached for it as conditioned.
"Not now, honey," he said. "I have business to tend..." Ford went inside
with my parents to officially seal my fate.
Not long after that my father was flown to Boston for a two-week course at
Harvard on how to raise me for this off-shoot of MK-Ultra Project Monarch, When he returned from Boston, my father was smiling and pleased with his new knowledge of what he termed "reverse psychology".
This equates to "satanic reversals," and involves such play-on-words as puns
and phrases that stuck in my mind like, "You earn your keep, and I'll keep what
you earn." He presented me with a commemorative charm bracelet of dogs,
and my mother with the news that they "would be having more children" to
raise in the project. (I now have two sisters and four brothers ranging from age
16 to 37 who are still under mind control.) My mother complied with my
father's suggestions, mastering the art of language manipulation. For example,
when I could not snap my own pajama top to the bottoms in a childish effort to
keep my father out of them, I asked my mother, ''please snap me". She did.
she would snap her forefingers against my skin in a stinging manner. The pain
I felt was psychological as this proved to me once again that she had no
intention of protecting me from my father's sexual abuse.
Also in keeping with his government-provided instructions, my father began
working me like the legendary Cinderella. I shoveled fireplace ashes, hauled
stacked firewood, raked leaves, shoveled snow, chopped ice, and swept—
"because," my father said, "your little hands fit so nicely around the rake, mop,
shovel, and broom handles."
By this time, my father's sexual exploitation of me included prostitution to
his friends, local mobsters and Masons, relatives, Satanists, strangers, and
police officers. When I wasn't being worked to physical exhaustion, filmed
pornographically, prostituted, or engaged in incest abuse, 1 dissociated into
books. I had learned to read at the young age of four due to my photographic
memory which was a natural result of MPD/DID.
Government researchers involved in MK-Ultra Project Monarch knew about
the photographic memory aspect of MPD/DID, of course, as well as other
resultant "super human" characteristics. Visual acuity of an MPD/DID is 44
times greater than that of the average person. My developed unusually high
pain threshold, plus compartmentalization of memory were "necessary" for
military and covert operations applications. Additionally, my sexuality was
primitively twisted from infancy. This programming was appealing and useful
to perverse politicians who believed they could hide their actions deep within
my memory compartments, which clinicians refer to as personalities.Immediately after my father's return from Boston, I was routinely
prostituted to then Michigan State Senator Guy VanderJagt. VanderJagt later
became a U.S. Congressman and eventually chairman of the Republican
National Congressional Committee that put George Bush in the office of
President. I was prostituted to VanderJagt after numerous local parades which
he always participated in, at the Mackinac Island Political Retreat, and in my
home state of Michigan, among other places.
My Uncle Bob helped my father decorate my bedroom in red, white, and
blue paneling and American flags. He provided assistance in scrambling my
mind according to Project Monarch methodologies. Fairy tale themes were
used to confuse fantasy with reality, particularly Disney stories and the
Wizard of Oz, which provided the base for future programming.
I had personalities for pornography, a personality for bestiality, a
personality for incest, a personality for withstanding the horrendous
psychological abuse of my mother, a personality for prostitution, and the rest
of "me" functioned somewhat "normaily" at school. My "normal" personality
provided a cover for the abuse I was enduring, but best of all it had hopehope
that there was somewhere in the world where people did not hurt each
other This same personality also attended Catechism, a weekly class at our
Catholic church, St. Francis de Sales in Muskegon, Michigan.
My Catechism teacher was a Nun, or "Sister." Although I could not
consciously think to protect myself from abuse, I had decided that becoming a
Nun would provide me with the kind of life I sought. I could not rely upon
my family, the police, or politicians to protect me. The church appeared to be
my answer, and I listened diligently in class and prayed religiously. I learned
all about the political structure of the church, and was prepared for my first
Confession,
The Catholic beliefs I was taught include the idea that man is not fit to
talk to God (the Father) directly, but must have a priest intercede instead. This
is the purpose of going to Confession. I was instructed to tell my sins to the
priest (also referred to as Father), who would relay the message to God. He
would then supposedly tell me how many "Hail Marys" and "Our Father"
prayers to say as my penance, or punishment. My Catechism teacher gave the
class several examples of "sins," which included "sex outside of marriage."
When the Priest, Father James Thaylen, slid open the little screened partition
in the closet sized confessional, I began as 1 had been instructed, "Forgive me
Father, for I have sinned...." I then proceeded to tell him that I had sex with
my father and brother, to which he responded that I should "say three Hail
Marys and one Our Father and 1 would be forgiven?!"
I knew then that I had to either believe that this Confession thing was a
hoax, or that God condoned sexual child abuse. That night, my father had a
talk with me. Apparently he was the "Father" that the priest had interceded to.
My father instructed me that "from now on," I was to simply say "I disobeyed
my parents" when I went to Confession and nothing more!
The next time I went to Confession, I did exactly as I was told. The veiled
screen came off the Confessional partition between me and the priest, and a
penis was stuck through the window, "God said that your penance is to treat
me as you would your father. And remember, 'whatsoever you do to the least
of your brothers, that you do unto me'." After performing oral sex on Father
Thaylen, I emerged from the Confessional where all the other kids were waiting
very impatiently for their turn. My teacher scolded me for taking so long andtold me to add a few extra "Our Fathers" to my penence. When I told her 1 already did my penence, she told me again the "order of things" to the Confessional ritual—which did not fit anything I had just experienced!
Without ever consciously knowing why, I abandoned the idea of becoming a Nun as that part of me, too, split off from what was left of my "normal" base
personality. I continued to maintain an illusion of normalcy for school,5
excelling in my studies due to my photographic memory and in spite of my chronic "daydreaming".
I had plenty of friends and played enthusiastically at recess,
expending large amounts of energy in my subconcious effort to escape my own mind. And I lost myself in the books my father suggested I read: the Wizard Of Oz, Alice In Wonderland, Island of the Blue Dolphins, Disney Classics, and Cinderella—all of which were used in conditioning my mind for what soon
would become mind-control programming."
My television viewing was restricted and monitored in keeping with my father's gained knowledge. I was, however permitted to watch the "best" of movies: The Wizard Of Oz, Disney Classics, Alice In Wonderland, and
Cinderella—over and over and over again. When I was in second grade, my Brownie Troop marched in the Memorial Day Parade in which then Michigan State Senator VanderJaut also participated.
At the end of the parade, he took me into a nearby motel and had me per- form oral sex on him before sending me back to where my Brownie Troop was waiting. My Brownie leader and peers thought it commendable that VanderJagt took me with him. They gathered around to hear all about it. I
noticed a white splash of semen on my sash, and hurriedly explained that he
had "taken me for a milkshake" as 1 wiped it. away. Having to cover for his perversion to my Brownie Troop infringed on my school personality, and the "normal" remainder became even smaller.
With the memory of this incident compartmentalized in my mind. I made so conscious association to VanderJagt when my third grade teacher announced that we were taking a field trip to the State Capital in Lansing,
Michigan where he was in session. Once at the Capital, I was ushered away from my classmates and taken to an office where he was waiting with his friend and mentor (soon to be President) Gerald Ford. VanderJagt lifted my
skirt, pulled down my panties, and placed me on his desk for sex with him and
Ford. Afterward they laughed as VanderJagd placed a small American flag in my rectum and instructed me to wave it. He then presented me with a Kennedy pen inscribed with the motto that would lead me for the rest of my mind-con- trolled existence, "Ask not what your country can do for you. Ask what you
can do for your country." VanderJagt then escorted me back to the balcony of the Legislature where my classmates were gathered. He put his arm around me in front of all my classmates and presented me with the American Flag he had just had me wave for him and Ford with my rectum. My school personality split off again, but I still maintained the hope that somewhere, someday, 1 would find a place where
people didn't...what? 1 could not remember what 1 was seeking to escape.1
Multiple Personality Disorder (MPD), now known among mental health professionals as
Dissociative Identity Disorder (DTD) is the mind's sane defense to an insane situation. It is a
way of dealing with trauma that is literally too horrible to comprehend. Incestuous rape violates
primitive instinct and surpasses pain tolerance. By compartmentalizing the memory of such
horrendous abuse, the rest of the mind can function "normally" as though nothing had happened.
This compartmentalization is created by the brain actually shutting down neuron pathways to a
specific part of the brain. These neuron pathways are triggered open again when the abuse
recurs. The same part of the brain that is already conditioned to the trauma deals with it again
and again as needed.
2
Uncle Ted had also cried hysterically the night of the murder. Several years later, he
almost killed himself when he drove his car into the White River near the place of the murder.
3
Gerald Ford, aka Leslie Lynch King, Jr., served on the appropriations subcommittee for
the CIA and was appointed to the Warren Commission to investigate the assassination of
President John F. Kennedy while I knew him only as a pom boss!
4
My mother often voiced complaints that she "could not see faces," which personal
experience has taught me indicated that she was suffering from on going physical and
psychological traumas, and therefore was not in control of her senses.
5
Had my teachers been educated in the obvious signs of child abuse, my "illusion of
normalcy" would have been interpreted as a cry for help. Dissociative trance daydreaming,
tones of helplessness and sexuality in drawings, and the electric prod marks on my face should
have been recognized.
6
These same themes were routinely used in creating Project Monarch slaves. This fact
emerged through years of networking with mental health professionals.
CHAPTER 2
THE RITE TO REMAIN SILENT
On May 7, 1966, I was dressed in white from my Catholic veil to my white
patent leather shoes as was mandatory for making my first holy communion. I
was standing outside the newly built, twisted concrete structure of Muskegon's
St. Francis of Assisi Church waiting for the ceremony to commence when Guy
VanderJagt, who was affiliated with the church, strode across the lawn towards
me.
Crouching down on one knee, VanderJagt said, "You look beautiful today.
You are as beautiful as your name. Cathleen is Gaelic for "the pure," and it is
clear to me that you are flawless in your purity. Ann means "grace". It is by
the grace of God, not your actions, that you are pure. Pure at heart. You are
covered by the blood of our Lord and Savior, just like the cross on which he
hung. This is for you." He opened a black velvet box, revealing a rosy cross
necklace. Like the Kennedy inscribed pen he had presented me with at the state
capical, the meaning behind the rosy cross necklace would lead me through the
rest of my mind-con trolled existence.
VanderJagds pedophile comrade in Project Monarch, Father Don, joined us,
reaching deep into the pocket of his robes to present me with a delicate blue
charm of the Holy Mother. It was to be worn in conjunction with the rosy cross
"to symbolize your service to the holy Catholic church," Father Don told me,
which I would "promise to serve and obey".
As VanderJagt fastened the rosy cross and blue virgin around ray neck, he
told me I was now dressed appropriately for the ceremony in red, white, and
blue. I could feel his breath on my neck as he fastened the necklace and
instructed, "When Father says 'Body of Christ' and you say 'Ahhh men'... you
acknowledge that Christ is God made man, and that you know what men are
for. When Father gives you the host, it will stick to the roof of your mouth
unless you suck it off his thumb."
I hurried to line up with my Catechism classmates for the procession into the
church for our holy communion mass.
"Body of Christ," Father Don said, holding up the host.
"Ahhh... men," I responded as instructed, sucking the wafer off his thumb.
After services, VanderJagt and Father Don talked with me briefly while my
parents congregated with other parishioners. Father was telling me, "...God
has chosen you for work within his holy church. You are a Chosen One,1
my
child..."
Later that evening, VanderJagt attended the reception that my parents were
holding for me at our house. He talked with my father awhile, but spent most
of his time talking with my Uncle Bob, who had recently flown in from "a
mission over seas". My Uncle Bob and VanderJagt were friends, and remained
so throughout the years. As the party dispersed, VanderJagt drove me back to
church for a "special evening service with Father Don."
VanderJagt unlocked the rectory door of the old church across the street
from the new St. Francis structure, explaining that we had to "have a very
important talk now that I had eaten the body of Christ." The talk, blood
trauma, and sexual abuse that ensued conditioned my mind to readily acceptprgramming throughout the years that deliberately merged both U.S.
Government and Jesuit mind-control efforts for New World Order controls.
"I work for the Vatican, and now, so do you," VanderJagt told me. "You
have just entered into a covenant with the holy Catholic church. You must
never break that covenant."
Still capable of questioning at that time, I asked, "What is a covenant?"
VanderJagt answered, "A covenant is a promise to keep secrets, the secret
that the church knew all along. The Pope has all the secrets locked away at the
Vatican. Your Uncle Bob and I have been to the Vatican. It is time you
entered into the holy covenant and learned the secrets of the church that were
written long before Christ even came into being. The Dominican monks kept
the covenant that Noah carried into the new world. They kept the secret with
them. It was written on parchment and kept in a secret place in the Vatican.
They took a Vow of Silence to never reveal its location, or its content. You
must enter into the covenant. You must carry the secret to your grave. Keep it
secret from your mom, dad, everybody."
VanderJagt proceeded to fill my suggestible young mind with biblical
interpretation that laid the groundwork for future "inter/inner dimensional"
programming themes utilized by Project Monarch programmers to control the
compartmentalization of memory synonymous with MPD/DID.
"Christ saw them all," VanderJagt was telling me, "They are dimensions,
places you can see on your way to death.- That's why they're called diementions.
You must remember that Christ died and came back to tell us
everything he saw while he was on his way to heaven. He was gone three days,
but it was much longer than that where he was because time isn't the same in
other dimensions. Purgatory is one other dimension. Hell is one. And there
are lots of others in between. Oz is another dimension. The sky is not the limit
to all the worlds out there wailing to be explored. You can travel in and out of
ail these dimensions, learning the secrets of the universe. You have been
chosen to explore these oilier worlds for the church. Listen in the stillness and
you will hear his voice guiding you3
on your missions. The rosy cross is like
Dorothy's ruby slippers. Never take your rosy cross off, Cathy, when traveling
other dimensions and you will always be able to return home."
Father Don joined VanderJagt in a ritual which bathed me in the blood of a
slaughtered lamb, and subsequently, through this hideous blood trauma, locked
their stated perceptions and a basis for mind-control programming deep in my
mind. This basis for programming was anchored in the Vow of Silence which
the Jesuit monks take "not only to keep secrets, but so they can still their mind
and hear their inner guidance." Certain that the "Rite to Remain Silent" which
they had performed would ensure that I keep their secret Father Don and Guy
VanderJagt subjected me to their pedophile perversions. The two joked that I
had become "a good Cathy-lick".
After the Rite to Remain Silent was installed, the voices of my multiple
personalities that I had previously heard in my head ceased. In the silence of
deliberately created memory compartments, I could only hear the voices of my
abusers who created them... commanding my silence.
Silence for who and what I knew was involved in Project Monarch Mind
Control.
My family routinely vacationed at Mackinac Island, Michigan which is a
small island positioned in the Great Lakes close to the Canadian border
Mackinac Island, with the Governor's Mansion and historical Grand Hotel, wasa political playground where I was prostituted by my father to, among others,.
pedophiles Jerry Ford, Guy VanderJagt, and later U.S. Senator Robert C. Byrd.
The mind-controlled part of me that was prostituted there perceived Mackinac as
another dimension, the timelessness of which was enhanced by the island's antiquated
styling. Automobiles were forbidden on the tiny island, which relied on
horse drawn buggies or bicycles for transportation. Once when Lee Iaccoca was
attending a cocktail party at then Governor Romney's Mansion, I overheard him
comment, "What better place for auto execs to get away from it all than on an
island with no cars?"
Mackinac Island, due to its geographic location, provided an air of
friendliness between the U.S. and Canada that formed my childish perception
that our countries knew no boundaries. This political view was further
enhanced by my father always taking the family to Niagra Falls where my mind
was to be symbolically "washed of all memory" or what had occurred in
Mackinac. Niagara Falls' numerous, powerful waterfalls were in reasonably
close proximity to Mackinac Island, and shared the border between the U.S. and
Canada.
When Pierre Trudeau was elected Prime Minister of Canada in 1968, I often
heard it said, "Pierre Trudeau is one of Ours, you know." I first heard this
phrase cryptically referring to Trudeau's loyalty to the Vatican when Father
Don was discussing h i m with my famer one Sunday after mass. This fact
circulated quickly among those I knew who were involved in the Catholic/Jesuit
aspect of Project Monarch.
The summer after Trudeau was elected, my father took the family to
Mackinac Island as usual. Climbing on a large statue on the grounds of the
Governor's Mansion, I could see across the field to the Grand Hotel. I noticed
Canadian flags flying amongst the American flags that lined the front of the old
hotel. As I slid down off the statue, Guy VanderJagt approached with a drink
and a cigarette in his hand. Palling my hair into place he said, "Straighten your
shirt, I've got someone important for you to meet,"
"I knew someone important was here because of those flags," I said, tucking
my shirt in my pink shorts.
"When I was at the Vatican," VanderJagt began, "I was told that Prime
Minister Trudeau is a friend of the Pope. He thinks like one of us. A true
Catholic. He likes Cathy-licks."
VanderJagt led me upstairs in the mansion, where Pierre Trudeau was
lowering the window shades in a dimly lit bedroom crowded with antiques.
VanderJagt closed the door behind me. Trudeau's tuxedo coat was neatly
draped over a chair, which left him in his formal pants, while shirt, and a bright
red cummerbund which caught my eye. "I like your sash," I said.
"Hasn't anyone taught you Silence yet?" His somber, gruff attitude was
softened by his smooth, silky voice.
Triggered into the part of me that endured the Rite to Remain Silent, 1
assumed Trudeau knew all about interdimensions according to my deliberately
formed perceptions. I could not/did not understand that interdimensions
actually equated to the inner-dimensions of my own compartmentalized mind.
Likewise, I did not understand that "Keys to the Kingdom" referred to knowing
the codes, keys, and triggers to my controlled mind. "Guy said you like Cathylicks,"
I said, repeating what VanderJagt had told me. "Are you the Keeper of
the Keys?"Trudeau seemingly bore his cold, dark eyes right through me. "You can
learn more from the school of thought than you can by asking precocious
questions. Haven't you learned that children are to be seen and not heard?"
"Is that a precocious question?" I asked. "What is a precocious question?"
Trudeau sighed with impatience. "That is irrelevant. What matters is that
you shut your mouth, still your mind, and enter the school of thought. Silence is
a virtue. Listen to the silence in the stillness of your mind. Go deep inside
your mind," he slowly led. "Deeper and deeper where it's quiet and still..."
Trudeau expertly manipulated my mind with sophisticated hypnotic
language. Not only did he enlist my Silence for the pedophile perversions he
indulged in, but he instructed my "school of thought" in a manner that equated
to programming. He laid a foundation for Air-Water programs that is a mirrordimensional
theme often used by NASA and others involved in Project
Monarch. Playing off his own name "Pee-Air," he added a perverse twist to
the theme that he accessed each time 1 was prostituted to him.
Had I been capable of fear, I would have been afraid of Pierre Trudeau.
Trudeau's slow, deliberate movements masked the brutal power of his body
much the way his smooth, soft voice pierced my mind and intruded on my
thoughts. The icey cold touch of his effeminate, manicured long fingers
contrasted with the heat of his perversion... a perversion for which he blamed
me and my "temptuous, contemptuous ways".
In my childish ignorance, I believed Trudeau's demeanor and forward
combed hair were characteristic of his French descent. "I know all about the
French," I had bragged to my new "Grandpa" Van while visiting his home in
Milwaukee, Wisconsin,
My mother's father had died shortly before Kennedy was assassinated, and
my Grandmother quickly latched onto a wealthy, highly political businessman
from Milwaukee. She met Grandpa Van Vandenburg on the passenger/cargo
ship that traveled the waters of the Great Lakes, the Milwaukee Clipper. The
Clipper transported cargo including Cadillacs from Vandenburg Motors to
Canada, as well as the drugs sanctioned by the local Coast Guard via the U.S.
Government that my father distributed. Sometimes 1 accompanied my father to
the docks in Muskegon to pick up the drag shipment, which usually involved
prostitution. Jerry Ford and Guy VanderJagt combined business with pleasure
in the ship's casinos on occasion, which is where the connection between my
Grandma and Grandpa Van was reportedly made. Grandpa Van knew Jerry
Ford, and subsequently was acquainted with Pierre Trudeau.
"What do you know about the French?" Grandpa Van asked me as I sat on
his living room floor petting the dog he just brought home. Improperly cued
and dumfounded by his question I remained silent. "I know you've met Pierre
Trudeau," he prompted. "I also know you love doggies. So I bought this dog
for your grandma now, so you could enjoy him, too. His name is Pepe. He's a
French Poodle,"
"I know all about the French." I said, mentally comparing the large French
Poodle in front of me to Trudeau. "They have pretty nails..." I stroked Pepe's
painted toenails. "They have funny hair..." I petted Pepe's clipped fur. "And
they pee a lot," I giggled.
"You'd better take him outside, then," Grandpa Van told me, attaching
Pepe's leash. After walking the dog past what felt like every tree in the
neighborhood, I announced that 1 would call him "Pee-pee".Uncle Bob filmed Pepe and I pornographically on numerous occasions,
producing bestiality films that I would later learn Pierre Trudeau was privy to.
Pepe remained a part of my experience long after Grandpa Van divorced
himself from my Grandma, and long after I developed beyond Trudeau's
perversion for little children.
1 was slow to grow into adolescence. By the time I was thirteen years old,
my breasts were tender and beginning to swell, which made me "too old" for
VanderJagt's pedophile perversions. When my father brought me to Mackinac
Island for routine prostitution at the Political Retreat, VanderJagt introduced me
to a new friend he had made now that he was in Washington, D.C. as a U.S.
Congressman-U.S. Senator Robert C. Byrd, Democrat from West Virginia.
Byrd had been a U.S. Senator as long as I had been alive, serving as Senate
Whip and later as President Pro Tempore of the Senate and as the all powerful
Senate Appropriations leader. Byrd commanded attention and respect from all
who came in contact with him, particularly from my father. When we were left
alone in his room, he loomed over me in a threatening stance. His cold, blue
slitty eyes locked onto mine. I undressed and climbed into his bed as ordered.
I was momentarily relieved to find that his penis was abnormally tiny—so small
it didn't even hurt! And I could breathe with it in my mouth! Then he began to
indulge himself in his brutal perversions, talking on and on about how I was
"made just for him" due to the vast amounts of pain I could withstand. The
spankings and police handcuffs I had previously endured were child's play
compared to Senator Byrd's near death tortures. The hundreds of scars on my
body still show today. With VanderJagt, sex was a matter of "how much I
could give," whereas with Byrd it was "how much I could take". And I was
forced to take mote pain than any human could logically withstand. I was
dedicated to Byrd at age thirteen which meant he would be directing my future
in Project Monarch, and my father would raise me according to his
specifications.
My MPD/DID existence became more regimented from that point on. I was
kept physically worn down to the point of exhaustion in order that I be
sufficiently receptive to my father's limited hypnotic programming capabilities
to condition my mind for mind control. The pornography I was forced to
anticipate in became much more violent immediately after Byrd, switching me
from predominantly pedophile and bestiality themes to torturous versions of
sadomasochism (S&M). My father and mother worked in tandem daily to
"break my spirit," destroying any remnants left of my self-confidence, tearing
down my self-esteem, and thus annihilating my free will urges. They
conditioned/taught me my dreams were reality and my reality were dreams, that
black is white and up is down. "Good night, sleep tight, dream about your
mommy and daddy" is what I heard every night. This was intended to confuse
my mind to believe incest in the middle of the night was "just a bad dream".
My television, books, and music became even more strictly controlled and
monitored that before. This was not only to infringe on my last minuscule
freedom of choice, but for total mind-control conditioning purposes.
For example, the annual televising of Judy Garland's Wizard Of Oz was
celebrated as a grand holiday around my house. This was to prepare my mind
for future base programming on the theme that I, like Dorothy, could "spin"
into another dimension "Over the Rainbow". After all, "Birds (Byrds) fly over
the Rainbow..." was a theme that became a part of my life.
My father insisted I watch the Walt Disney movie Cinderella with him,
paralleling my existence to Cinderella's—"magically trance-forming from a dirty
little slave to a beautiful Princess". In typical "reverse psychology" humor, he
referred to pornographic photos when singing "Someday my Prince (prints) will
come," or by placing literal sexual emphasis on "will come".
My brother, Bill, who was often featured in kiddie porn with me, was not a
"chosen one" for Project Monarch (beyond supplying more children to be
dedicated in later years). Yet my father figured that "what was good for me
would be good for my brother". He took us to see Walt Disney's Pinocchio,
explaining that my brother and I were his puppets still in the carving stage. The
distortions of reality that these and other Disney theme movies provided when
coupled with my father's government trained conscious and subconscious
controlling influence, began to further erode our ability to discern fantasy from
reality. My brother, now 37, remains psychologically locked into those
traumatic childhood years and is obsessed with Disney themes and productions
to this day. His house is decorated in Disney memorabilia, he wears Disney
clothes, listens to my father's instructions on his Disney telephone, and
maintains "When You Wish Upon a Star" as his favorite song, which has locked
his children into the same theme.
My father also instructed me to watch Alfred Hitchcock's horrifying movie
The Birds with him. This reinforced in my mind the movie's theme that there is
"no place to hide from the birds/Byrd".
I was quickly beginning to lose all ability to question anything but my own
judgment. It was easy to believe that there was indeed "no place to run, no
place to hide," which is a necessary and primary psychological basis for
government/military mind control. In later years, "who ya' gonna call?" and
Ronald Reagan's quip "you can run, but you can't hide" echoed deep within my
mind. After all, even if I could think to seek help, who would help me? The
police? The church? My parents? Relative? Politicians? School? There was
no one left that would help me, I sensed.
My television programming was then expanded to include the shows that
every Project Monarch Mind-Control slave I knew had to watch: I Dream Of
Jeannie, The Brady Bunch, Gumby And Pokey, and Bewitched. I could relate to
the Genie pleasing her master, who was a Major for the Air Force in I Dream
Of Jeannie. This served to confuse the reality of my own experiences with the
fantasy of television production. I told all outsiders that my family was "just
like the Bradys". Through Gumby And Pokey I was led to believe that I was as
flexible as these animated clay performers. Therefore, I was capable of being
physically maneuvered into any sexual position. The mirrors depicted a
doorways to other dimensions and adventures interlocked with my Catholic
conditioning and Alice In Wonderland and Wizard Of Oz theme programming.
In Bewitched, it is the normal new door neighbor that is considered crazy rather
than the witches. This is another reversal that was applied to my bizarre
existence. I was one of the only kids in my school that listened to country
music. But then, Senator Byrd fancied himself a country music fiddler and it
was "my duty to love what he did", I was ordered to listen to country music or
no music at all. Music was my psychological avenue for escape, a dissociative
tool. But this, too, was used in setting the stage for my future as a Project
Monarch "Presidential Model" mind-controlled slave.
As suggested, I read the Boxcar Children Series over and over again, I
empathized with the trials, traumas, and tribulations the children endured whilethey fended for themselves from their boxcar home along the railroad tracks.
My father often made train sounds at me in passing to subconsciously remind
me that I was currently "in Train-ing" on the undeterable track of the "Freedom
Train."4
This term, taken from Harriet Tubman's underground railroad for
slaves, reversed the meaning of the word "freedom" to confuse one's "one track
mind" and instill the belief "I am free to be a slave". This also reinforced my
training to stay on track-the plan (track) laid our for me. My father would
often quip, "When God passed out brains, you thought he said 'trains' and got
in the wrong line". Convicted (capital crime) career criminal, country music
entertainer, and CIA operative Merle Haggard often used well documented
cryptic language in his songs pertaining to government mind-control slave
operations. He released songs including "Freedom Train" and "Over theRainbow".
My father told me repeatedly that Merle Haggard was my "favorite"
singer, and his songs reinforced my programming.
Of course, Senator Byrd remained my "favorite" fiddler as ordered. He
played train songs like "Orange Blossom Special" while making train sounds on
his fiddle. Sometimes I was his captive audience, bound and gagged, while he
played his fiddle. Other times he instructed me to spin round and round like a
music box dancer in order to add "new dimensions to our sex".. These new
dimensions included more and more physical pain through "kinky" torture.
My father took advantage of his new political connections and advanced
himself occupationalIy, manufacturing camshaft auto parts at a local factory.
Soon he was promoted to a sales management position due to his connections
within the Pentagon Procurement Office and General Services Administration,
coupled with what he had learned about double bind hypnotic persuasion. He
continued to supplement his income by sexually exploiting us children. This1
now included brazenly prostituting me to Muskegon Coast Guard officials while
on cocaine runs to and from the base. Meanwhile, my father took us all to
church every Sunday, and my mother stayed busy having babies to raise in the
Project. In true pedophile fashion, he surrounded himself with children by
coaching little league sports, chaperoning school and Catechism activities, and
becoming involved with the Boy Scouts. All of this made him appear to be a
model citizen and "pillar of the community". The illusion was fonned. The:
parts of me that knew otherwise had no choice but to remain Silent.
1
Project Monarch slaves were referred to as "Chosen Ones".
2
Torture to the point just before death, such as with Death's Door programming, was
jointly used by the Catholic Jesuits and the CIA in Project Monarch.
3
It was the voices of my mind-control programmers and handlers that I later heard guiding
me.
4"Freedom Train" is the internationally recognized cryptic code term for Project Monarch
slave operations that I heard repeatedly throughout my victimization
CHAPTER 3
MY FIRST PRESIDENT
Muskegon, Michigan is a coastal tourist attraction, and home of the annual
Seaway and Coast Guard festivals which bring people to the town from all over
Michigan. VanderJagt remained publicly visible through opportunities such as
these. My father often could be seen with Vanderjagt and was photographed at
his side white judging festival events like the kiddie parades, sand sculpturing
contests, and so on—all of which I entered and won. In later years, my father
polished and shined the red paint of his 1966 Ford convertible to chauffeur
VanderJagt through the local parades. This only served to reinforce the illusion
that my father was a "pillar of the community".
In 1973, Senator Byrd instructed my father to send me to Muskegon
Catholic Central High School which was overseen by the director of St. Francis
of Assisi Church, Father Lepre. The Catholic church, of course, has its own
political structure, with the Pope presiding over all. The strong political ties
between the Catholic church and the U.S. Government was overtly evidenced
by the much publicized relationship between the President and the Pope during
the Reagan Administration. Of course, I had been privy to this political
relationship ever since my First Communion-a relationship that the Rite to
Remain Silent was intended to cover. My experience with Catholic Central's
direct involvement in Project Monarch's physical and psychological
conditioning further confirmed the union between the U.S. Government and the
Catholic church.
When Senator Byrd changed my school from public to Parochial, he also
destroyed through dissociation my school personality. I no longer viewed
school as my haven from abuse, as it was controlled by the church and, as I
later learned, monitored by a corrupt segment of the C.I.A.
By the time I enrolled in Catholic Central, the cliques and groups had
already been formed. 1 had a personality to fit in with the "good" kids and one
that interfaced with the "bad". It did not take long for the "good" kids to notice
1 also got along with the "bad". I soon found the only kids that could relate to
me were the other known Project victims. We clung together in a close knit
group, herded around like the proverbial sheep by those in the school who knew
we were MPD/DIDed and under mind control. We each switched personalities
as circumstance demanded, most often in unison. We were ritually traumatized,
constantly tranced, and then programmed during school hours. Since 1 no
longer had my singular "school personality" and was constantly switching
instead, the compartment of my brain that held school memory was no longer
consciously retrievable. Therefore, I had no basis for continued learning aside
from what I could photographically memorize from class. My grades appeared
erratic, ranging from A's to failing. And some A's received I did not earn
academically.
In my required religion class, Sister Ann Marie bad been leading us in study
on the topic of Confession, This was to prepare us for the kind of Confessions
we were to be giving Father Vesbit, who was also our school principal. The
day Sister ordered us to Confession, I refused to go. I unconsciously feared 1
would be sexually assaulted again in the Confessional, this time while my
teenage peers waited impatiently outside the door. Sister made an example out
of me to the class, saying I was a "Satanist" and that I was "going to hell".With seemingly no escape from the occultism that proliferated at the school, I
could no longer differentiate between Catholicism and Satanism.
Whatever Senator Byrd's purposes in sending me to Catholic school, no one
seemed to notice that I had no reason to religiously adhere to Catholic
principles. Therefore, the applied reversal of Satanism held no "spiritual
magic" to it either. The wedge of anti-superstition that the Catholic school was
inadvertently driving into me only served to discount the occult principles and
superstitious traumas that they were attempting to use to control me,
Satanism is often used as an extreme pain/violence trauma base in Project
Monarch Mind Control, reportedly due to the previous German Nazi Himmler
Research. I did not adhere to the desired helplessness attitude that this was
"spiritual warfare" and out of the realm of mankind's ability to stop.
Regardless of my religious beliefs or disbeliefs, I experienced the "results" just
the same. Being subjected to and witnessing trauma so horrible, while my body
was raped, tortured, and ravaged by men literally drove me out of my mind.
Catholic Central did increase my endurance capabilities as planned,
however. I signed up for the two-mile run in the girls' track team as ordered.
Muskegon Catholic Central led the state of Michigan in high school athletics,
using mind-control technique to "modify" their star athletes and cause them to
excel beyond pre-established records. The school gained national recognition
for its contribution to professional leagues with their manufactured programmed
athletes. But, like Tommy LaSorda's Dodgers, Catholic Central's consistent
victories began to raise suspicions and questions. This created a public scandal
for the school that threatened to close its doors in 1975.
The girls' and guys' track teams converged after school for practice. I was
among the few females singled out for coaching by Coach Cheverini and his
hypnotic mind-control methodisms due to my Project Monarch victimization. I
was instructed to run 13 miles per day (another corny satanic ploy) to get in
shape for my two-mile race. I often ran with a male friend who was the record
holder for the two-mile in guys' track. He and I were friends, sharing much
due to our similar Project Monarch victimizations. Together we learned how to
shut out pain and fatigue when we ran. We tranced into a fast pace set in our
minds by Coach Cheverini with no comprehension of time or distance. We
perceived the track as our "Yellow Brick Road" in accordance with the Oz
theme programming. Senator Byrd's plan for building my physical endurance
through Catholic Central's coaching methods proved successful for allowing me
to survive his intensely torturous sexual perversions.
In addition to routine trips to Mackinac Island and Niagara Falls, my family
often took camping trips to "get away from it all". In reality, I was taken to
key places for ritual abuse, prostitution, and pornography. In the fall of 1974,
my father announced we were going to go camping "back in time" to an old
fashioned festival in the small remote town of Cedar Springs, Michigan for their
annual Red Flannel Days celebration. My mother told me to pack my jeans and
sweaters and my Catholic school uniform which she had washed and pressed for
the occasion.
Cedar Springs was quiet, with the festival events including dilapidated
amusement rides set up in a small parking lot, and contests where local farmers
pitted their mules and horses against each other to see whose could pull the most
weight. The main (and only) street of town was lined with the few local
businesses, including the town's red flannel underwear "long Johns" factory. In
the center of town, a mock, single, jail cell had been erected to hold any and allparade participants who failed to wear the required red flannel underwear. The
jail was guarded by quasi Keystone Cops. I was amused when the townsfolk
began lining up to march in the parade, with very few remaining to watch it, A
mentally retarded man carried the baton to lead the parade, followed by kids on
bicycles, hay-wagons of old folks, a grade school band and people walking-all
in their red flannel underwear. The grand finale' of the parade, the town
firetruck, was approaching, surrounded by numerous motorcycle police. I
heard folks whispering "the President is coming". I assumed they meant the
President of the underwear factory. I was wrong. I watched in horror as the
firetruck rolled to a stop, and Secret Service helped then President Gerald Ford
as he stepped down to the pavement.
My father was excitedly tugging on my arm, half dragging me through the
wall of Secret Service agents, to talk with President Ford. I looked around
nervously as my father made the necessary arrangements with Ford to prostitute
me to him later that evening. VanderJagt, who never missed a parade it
seemed, was signing autographs. As he smiled at me, someone roughly
grabbed my arm. Nervous and startled, I screamed. The crowd laughed as a
Keystone Cop threw me in the jail, scolding me for not wearing my red flannel
underwear when I was talking to the President. I was trying to be
inconspicuous in hopes no one would see me with the likes of Ford, but then,
they did not know him as I did. The Keystone Cop rattled on and on about
"how lucky" I was until my father paid my bail and I was released from the
cell.
That night, I wore my Catholic uniform as instructed and went into a
dissociative trance as my father drove me to the local National Guard Armory
where I was prostituted to Ford. Ford took me into an empty room, pushed me
down on the wooden floor as he unzipped his pants and said, "Pray on this".
Then he brutally, sexually assaulted me. Afterward, my memory was
compartmentalized through use of high voltage. I was then carried out to the
car where I lay in the back seat, muscles contracted, stunned, in pain, and
unable to move.
When we got back to Muskegon, my father sent me to the beach as always,
to let the repetition of crashing waves against the beach "wash my mind free of
memory" while I watched the sun set. I was totally locked into the belief that
truly there was "no place to run," not even to the President of the United States.
I remember that the "sane" part of "me"-my innate personality-seemed to
die after seeing Ford as President. I recall walking up the steps of Catholic
Central High School one morning, reaching for the door, and crying
uncontrollably. I cried myself into a heap at the top of the stairs. I did not
even know why I was crying. As an MPD, I rarely cried at all. But I was still
sobbing hours later when school let out. Someone found me, but I do not recall
to this day ever leaving the school steps. I never really experienced "emotion"
after that day until I was rescued, deprogrammed and reintegrated in 1988.
Now all of my brain was functioning through a wide variety of memory compartments,
also known as multiple personalities, with no part of me left "free"
of abuse. Now it was as though I had "no place to run," not even in my brain.
This drove me out of my mind which is exactly what my abusers needed for
total control.
CHAPTER4
THE MOST DANGEROUS GAME
When I learned of a pending rendezvous with Senator Byrd in Traverse
City, Michigan (VanderJagt's headquarters), I stole some candy at a local
convenience market hoping to go to jail and escape my encounter with Byrd. I
was caught, and the police were even called. But, of course, my poetically
powerful abusers would not allow for me to have a police record. The entire
matter was not-so-mysteriously and suddenly dropped. My only "punishment"
was to have a conference with the school principal, Father Vesbit.
Father Vesbit knew I was part of Project Monarch, and handled the matter
accordingly. He raped me in the school's private chapel after school while
holding a Satanic ritual involving several of my project friends. Kids often
attached nicknames to their teachers, and there were only a few of us who knew
the reason why Father Vesbit was called Father "Fuzzbutt". His backside was
covered with thick black hair. He "counseled" me on several occasions, once
remarking, "I thought kids in your situation were all part of the Exchange
Student program."
My Uncle Bob Tanis was visiting our house soon after that. He had flown
in from what he claimed was a "black ops" Air Force Intelligence operation. I
know now that in typical CIA mode of operations, he was relating a story of lies
salted with some truth. His point was to inform me that the Catholic Church is
"justified" in its involvement with our government due to the Priests' "hearing
confessions from mobsters and spies". He also explained that Exchange
Students were "spies in the making" that Priests found, through Confession,
were problems. Thus they were considered expendable and transferred out of
the country. He then suggested to my father that I see the school guidance
counselor, CIA Operative Dennis DeLaney, immediately. My father
enthusiastically told me that DeLaney was a long time friend of his from St.
Francis who "knew how to handle kids like me". Arrangements were made for
me to see him after school.
DeLaney began by informing me that he was "aware of everything" and that
he knew just what I needed "to put me back on track". He said that my family
needed to lake a trip to the Teton Mountains of Wyoming. He even provided
maps and information in an envelope for my father. He turned off the lights in
his office, and turned on a slide projector. He showed me scenes of the
numerous waterfalls of the Tetons, all of which were to "wash my brain" of the
reality that I was performing oral sex on him as ordered while the slides ran.
Then he scheduled a follow up appointment for further "counseling".
This trip to the Tetons would provide a change of scenery tram the usual
Mackinac/Niagara Falls trip, but I could no longer hope for a change in the
direction life was leading me. I was told my life was "predestined," and all I
had to do was follow the road stretched out before me, i.e., the "Yellow Brick
Road". I was destined for Wyoming, but would not know why until I arrived.
I confirmed the family trip to the Tetons when 1 saw DeLaney for my follow
up "counseling". He informed me that he had already talked to my father about
the trip, as well as our upcoming trip to Disney World in Florida. I was not
surprised to learn of an additional trip. Nor did I have the capacity to become
excited, suspicious, or apprehensive. I was aware that DeLaney was heavilyinvolved in Project Monarch, not only because he was accessing my sexual
personalities again, but because he was helping to pave the way toward my
destiny of total mind control.
During Christmas vacation of 1974, my father flew us all to Disney World
by route of Tampa, Florida. Ignorant of geography, it did not occur to me that
Tampa was out of the way to Disney World until my father drove the rented van
to the gates of MacDill Air Force Base. Military personnel met me there and
escorted me into the base TOP SECRET high tech mind-control conditioning
facility for "behavioral modification" programming. This was the first in what
became a routine series of mind-control testing and/or programming sessions on
government installations that I would endure throughout my Project Monarch
victimization.
Whether I was in a military, NASA, or government building, the procedure
for maintaining me under total mind control remained consistent with Project
Monarch requirements. This included prior physical and/or psychological
trauma; sleep, food, and water deprivation; high voltage electric shock; and
hypnotic and/or harmonic programming of specific memory compartments/
personalities. The high tech equipment and methodisms I endured from that
time on gave the U.S. government absolute control of my mind and life. I had
been literally driven out of my conscious mind and existed only through my
programmed subconscious. I lost my free will, ability to reason, and could not
think to question anything that was happening to me. I could only do as I was
told.
After the MacDill Air Force Base experience, my home life worsened. The
controls and conditioning that my father and mother executed on me tightened
even more. I was no longer permitted to have any contact with my own
brothers and sister (I only had one younger sister at that time). This stopped me
in my subconscious efforts to protect them from my father's abuse, and left me
with a desperate, empty aching for the loving relationships I previously shared
with them. Of course, I never was able to protect them any more than I could
defend myself or later protect my own daughter. However, until government
programming began, 1 had routinely "baby sat" them every evening and took
them for long walks that lasted for hours in my feeble attempt to keep them out
of my parents' range. Subconsciously I believed I was making a difference.
The day my youngest brother told my mother he much preferred my company
over hers was the day I could no longer be near him or my other brothers and
sister. Apparently I was making enough of a difference that my parents were
compelled to separate me from them. I was ordered to my closet-sized bedroom
in the garage as soon as I got home from school or work. I could not speak to,
look at, or hug my brothers and sister. I was not permitted to eat dinner with
my family, although they let me out of my room to set the table, wash dishes,
and do other chores. If I ventured from my bedroom to use the bathroom and
was caught by my mother, she said, "nobody rattled your cage" and ordered me
back to my room in the garage.
In the summer of 1975, my family drove all the way from Michigan to the
Teton Mountains of Wyoming. I was ordered to ride in the back storage area of
the family Chevy Suburban since 1 was forbidden to associate or communicate
with my brothers and sister. So I dissociated into books, or into the
metaphorical, hypnotic suggestions from my father and tranced deeper as I
watched the prairies seemingly endless sea of "amber waves of grain" streak
past my window. Once when we stopped at a gas station, my father took meinside to show me a stuffed "jackalope" mounted on the wall. Due to my
tranced, dissociative state and high suggestibility level, I believed it was indeed
a cross between a jack rabbit and antelope. It was 100+ degrees in the
Badlands when it cooled down at night. The intense heat of the day accentuated
my ever increasing thirst. My father was physically preparing me though water
deprivation for the intense tortures and programming I would endure in
Wyoming,
Dick Cheney, then White House Chief of Staff to president Ford, later
Secretary of Defense to President George Bush, documented member of the
Council on Foreign Relations (CFR), and Presidential hopeful for 1996, was
originally Wyoming's only Congressman. Dick Cheney was the reason my
family had traveled to Wyoming where I endured yet another form of brutality—
his version of "A Most Dangerous Game," or human hunting.
It is my understanding now that A Most Dangerous Game was devised to
condition military personnel in survival and combat maneuvers. Yet it was used
on me and other slaves known to me as a means of further conditioning the
mind to the realization there was "no place to hide," as well as traumatize the
victim for ensuing programming. It was my experience over the years that A
Most Dangerous Game had numerous variations on the primary theme of being
stripped naked and turned loose in the wilderness while being hunted by men
and dogs. In reality, all "wilderness" areas were enclosed in secure military
fencing whereby it was only a matter of time until I was caught, repeatedly
raped, and tortured.
Dick Cheney had an apparent addiction to the "thrill of the sport". He
appeared obsessed with playing A Most Dangerous Game as a means of
traumatizing mind-control victims, as well as to satisfy his own perverse sexual
kinks. My introduction to the game occurred upon arrival at the hunting lodge
near Greybull, Wyoming, and it physically and psychologically devastated me.
I was sufficiently traumatized for Cheney's programming as I stood naked in his
hunting lodge office after being hunted down and caught. Cheney was talking
as he paced around me, "I could stuff you and mount you like a jackalope and
call you a two legged dear. Or I could stuff you with this (he unzipped his
pants to reveal his oversized penis) right down your throat, and then mount you.
Which do you prefer?
Blood and sweat became mixed with the dirt on my body and slid like mud
down my legs and shoulder. I throbbed with exhaustion and pain as I stood
unable to think to answer such a question. "Make up your mind," Cheney
coaxed. Unable to speak, I remained silent. "You don't get a choice, anyway,
I make up your mind for you. That's why you're here. For me to make you a'
mind, and make you mine/mind. You lost your mind a long time ago. Now
I ' m going to give you one. Just like the Wizard (of Oz) gave Scarecrow a
brain, the Yellow Brick Road led you here to me. You've 'come such a long,
long way' for your brain, and I will give you one,"
The blood reached my shoes and caught my attention. Had I been further
along in my programming, 1 perhaps would never have noticed such a thing or
had the capability to think to wipe it away. But so far, I had only been to
MacDill and Disney World for government/military programming. At last,
when I could speak, I begged, "If you don't mind, can I please use your
bathroom?"
Cheney's face turned red with rage. He was on me in an instant, slamming
my back into the wall with one arm across my chest and his hand on my throat,choking me while applying pressure to the carotid artery in my neck with his
thumb. His eyes bulged and he spit as he growled, "If you don't mind me, I
will kill you. I could kill you—Kill you—with my bare hands. You're not the
first and you won't be the last. I'll kill you any time I goddamn well please,"
He flung me on the cot-type bed that was behind me. There he finished taking
his rage out on me sexually.
On the Long trip back to Michigan, I lay in a heap behind the scats of the
Suburban, nauseated and hurting from Cheney's brutality and high voltage
tortures, plus the whole Wyoming experience. My father stopped by the
waterfalls flowing through the Tetons to "wash my brain" of the memory of
Cheney, I could barely walk through the woods to the falls for the process as
instructed, despite having learned my lessons well from Cheney on following
orders.
The next year when our "annual" trip to Disney World rolled around, my
father drove, pulling his new Holiday Rambler Royale International trailer. (I
slept outside in a tent because I was not permitted inside it since "I wasn't
family".) My father dropped me off en route at the Kennedy Space Center in
Titusville, Florida where I was subjected to my first NASA programming.
From then on, I was "obsessed" with following the "Yellow Brick Road" to
Nashville, Tennessee. Moving to Nashville was all I could talk about. If
anyone asked me the question I could not think to ask myself "Why?", I would
respond by reiterating it was something "I had to do".
I had gone through the motions of my senior year in a dissociative trance. I
became further distanced from religious values by my religion class teacher.
Brother Emmett. This was due to his promotion of cannibalism via Pier Paul
Reed's book Alive, and by his teachings at a religious 'corseal' retreat I attended
that included occult ritual at ST. Francis Church. I graduated from Muskegon
Catholic Central High School in our bicentennial year of 1976. I was led by
Senator Byrd to revise my plan to attend Hope College like I had promised
VanderJagt as a child. This new plan was for me to temporarily attend
Muskegon Community College, because my "real education" was to come
through mind-control programming-not school. In order to be exhausted, as
was necessary for my "real education," I worked three menial jobs in addition
to attending college.
During my first semester of college in 1976, I made plans to take a trip to
Nashville with my Project Monarch friend from Catholic Central. (She remains
an expendable victim to date, and therefore her identity must be protected from
public release for her safety.) My father explained that I was to stay at the
Fiddler's Inn in Nashville, see the World Famous Printer's Alley row of sleazy
country music nightclubs, and attend the Grand Ole Opry on Friday night, as
ticket arrangements had been made through a "friend," in spite of their scarcity
during the Thanksgiving holiday.
I never thought to associate Fiddler's Inn with Senator Byrd's fiddle playing
when my friend and I arrived in Music City, U.S.A. Nor did 1 find it odd
when a country music "star" entertaining at the Black Poodle nightclub in
Printer's Alley began directing my activities. My friend and 1 were provided
with free passes to the Black Poodle to encourage us to return each night where
entertainer and CIA operative Jack Greene and his Desperado band were
playing. During breaks between sets, Greene and his band would sit with my
friend and me to manipulate our suggestible minds. I was told it was "my
destiny" to have met band member, Wayne Cox, who had been trained forparamilitary mercenary operations under Louisiana's U.S. Senator J, Bennett
Johnston, I soon learned that everyone associated with Greene was involved in
his CIA "Freedom Train" operations. When I told Greene that my friend and I
would not be returning on Friday night due to attending the Grand Ole Opry, he
told us that he would be working the Opry that night. He made arrangements
for us to come back stage and see him immediately following his segment. He
explained that the "security" guard at the Opry, Nashville Metro Police Lt. Bob
Ezell, was a good friend of his and would let us in.
At the Opry, my friend and I sat in the audience watching as Jack Greene
introduced his "special guest," U.S. Senator Robert C. Byrd. At the sight of
Byrd, I went into a pre-conditioned deep trance and robotically went through the
motions of following Greene's instructions. Once backstage, Greene pointed
out his dressing room, which he was sharing with Senator Byrd, and ordered me
in. The personality that had been sitting in the audience had perceived Byrd as
an entertainer and could not, or would not, think further. But as I walked into
the dressing room and saw Byrd perched on the edge of the mirrored vanity in
his boxer shorts, I switched into the child personality that had known him as a
U.S. Senator on Mackinac Island since age 13, and responded sexually.
Afterward, Byrd was claiming me as "his," excitedly telling me that he had
"always wanted his own little witch". I soon learned the enormity of this
statement.
Jack Greene's band member, Wayne Cox, later told me that playing music
behind Senator Byrd at the Opry was not the only way he "backed him". He
also backed him politically and in Freedom Train operations. Cox then made
arrangements for my friend and me to stay the remainder of our trip at his
trailer in Hendersonville, Tennessee. There was no choice but to comply. The
following night, after Jack Greene completed his show at the Black Poodle, he
drove my friend and me to a nearby participating after-hours club, the Demon's
Den. There, Cox was to pick us up and take us to Hendersonville. Instead, we
were slipped a drug and taken "on a tour" of Union Station, Nashville's then
abandoned train station, where supposedly the only train still running through
there was the Freedom Train.
Senator Byrd's attempted cultivation of superstition through my Catholic
schooling should have maximized the impact of the occult ritual I was subjected
to in the tower of the old stone and slate turn-of-the-century train depot. But
the pain and horror was sufficiently effective in itself—even without my
adhering to superstition-to produce the intended mind shattering results. Cox
took my friend and me on a "flashlight tour" through the rubble of Union
Station, until we came to a homeless man sleeping on the ground. Cox ordered
me to "kiss the railroad bum good-bye," then shot him between the eyes while I
was still only inches away1
. He then used a machete to chop off the man's
hands, which he put in a zip-lock bag. He then led us up the rickety stairs into
the lower of the old depot. There Jack Greene, his band members, and others
dressed in black robes were gathered around a black leather alter in a room lit
by candles and draped in red velvet. In total shock, I was laid on the alter and
subjected to rape and torture while the participants indulged in sex, blood, and
cannibalism ritual.
The next day I woke up on Cox's couch, vaguely aware that I had suffered a
"bad nightmare". When I stood up, I passed out from blood loss. I was
bleeding profusely from the vagina. It was all I could do to prepare to drive
back to Michigan, and my friend was certainly not in a stable frame of mind tohelp. I did not know what happened to me, nor was I able to question it. I had
a new "obsession" on my mind. I had been programmed at the ritual to move
to Nashville and marry Cox, as ordered by Senator Byrd.
Back in Michigan, I made the announcement to my parents that I was
moving to Nashville to marry Cox, as it was "predestination". What they
would not tell me was that my father had just literally SOLD me to Senator
Byrd in exchange for lucrative military contracts that made him a millionaire
overnight—a millionaire on a sixth grade education—a perverse, child exploiting
criminal, immune from prosecution, working as a CIA operative for the U.S,
government! That mind shattering occult ritual I endured in Nashville marked a
new life of wealth and prestige for my father white thrusting me into a new
phase of my torturous existence-and I had no choice in any of it!
1
Nashville Metropolitan Police Lieutenant Bob Ezell, who also acted in the capacity of
Grand Ol' Opry security guard, covered up the murder.
CHAPTER 5
TINKERING WITH THE MIND
It was 1977. I was a 19-year-old mind-controlled programmed slave in the
CIA/DIA Project Monarch Freedom Train operation, literally owned by U.S.
Senate Majority Leader Robert C. Byrd, who was then a 20-year incumbent and
on the Senate Appropriations Committee, As Byrd's "own little witch" (sex
slave), I would also become involved in covert government operations. I now
understand that this required more memory compartments/personalities than I
had developed. Hence one more reason for the mind shattering occult ritual,
and my "predestined" marriage to Cox. In typical Project Monarch structure,
Byrd was my "owner" and in control of my life, while Cox became my primary
"handler" and followed Byrd's orders to ensure that 1 was at key locations and
events at appointed times and to maintain me under mind control. Cox
reportedly was not paid cash for his role like my father was. Instead, he either
followed orders or would be prosecuted for distributing drugs and being the
occult serial killer that he was and is to date. Cox's primary role was to shatter
my mind further through repealed occult trauma as well as father my daughter,
Kelly, to be raised in the genetic mind-control studies of Project Monarch.
I moved to Nashville, as ordered, to marry Cox, who took me to the
backwoods of his hometown swamp in Chatham, Louisiana for months at a time
for occult traumatization. Cox had been brought up in witchcraft by his
mother, and admittedly longed for her sexually and ritually. Together they
subjected me to their beliefs, which included what equates to a weakened
version of mind control used by witches for centuries, anchored in superstition
rather than scientific fact. These superstitious beliefs seemingly conflicted with
Cox's mercenary training to the point that his killing raged out of control. For
example, Cox would murder a human through repeated stabbing with a knife,
believing that the "departing spirit" and splattered blood gave him power to
control my mind. In truth, it was my aversion and subsequent traumatization by
the event that caused me to dissociate and trance, leaving my subconscious open
to his suggestions and those of others. During the three years I was with Cox,
he ritually impregnated and aborted me six times, consuming several of his own
offspring and preserving the others shaped in ceramic for sale in his interstate
occult body parts business. Cox's M.O. for murdering always included
removing the hands with a machete, as the "Hands of Glory" he kiln-dried in
the ceramic shop of his and his mother's house were in demand and thus
distributed throughout the occult underground supply network. Cox's protected
cocaine and body parts distribution routes included Texas, Arkansas,
Mississippi, Tennessee, and Florida.
Cox and I traveled to Florida on several occasions as his mother's parents
lived in Mims, which is only minutes away from the NASA Kennedy Space
Center in Titusville. Cox, like my father, made sure I was there for mindcontrol
testing and programming as ordered. Cox perceived me as a "Chosen
One," and often used this CIA Project Monarch term when referring to me and
for proudly "justifying" his leaving me at the NASA installation.
Cox had a variety of belief systems that he applied to various situations, all
of which were superstition based. He believed in spirit communication or
"divine guidance" through nature spirits and demons, that Satan must beappeased, that Jesus is an alien, that the Bermuda Triangle is a door to another
dimension, and that the end of the world is near. He 'religiously' carried a
Bible with him everywhere-including to occult rituals-quoting scripture like a
theologian. He justified "eating the body and drinking the blood," "being
washed in the blood," and even "murdering children" according to the story of
God testing Abraham by ordering him to murder his son, Isaac, by knife on an
alter. Jim Jones was one of Cox's idols, as was Charlie Manson, and he touted
the Jonestown massacre as a prime example of the "power of (CIA) mind
control".
Cox demanded I become a Mormon in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter
Day Saints. This was to "prove" that Satan was everywhere-particularly in the
Monroe, Louisiana Mormon church where he led occult ritual, and in the
Hendersonville, Tennessee church that the so-called Freedom Train rolled
through.1
Cox's determination to instill his religious superstitious beliefs in me was
side-tracked by J. Bennett Johnston in his Shreveport, Louisiana office early in
the summer of 1978.
Cox's mother, Mary, had driven us to Johnston's office near Barksdale Air
Force Base as ordered. As she knocked boldly on the obscure metal door, 1
read the attached metal sign: "General Dynamics Research and Development".
A smaller sign near the doorknob read; "Unlawful to enter premises without
prior authorization. All violators will be prosecuted under penalty of federal
law."
Johnston, wearing a light blue, leisure suit and smelling strongly of body
odor, opened the door. "Well, hey Senator," Mary drawled in her backwoods
Louisiana dialect, "I brought the children to see you like you said."
Johnston looked at her with annoyed disgust. "I see that," he said matter-offactly.
He then proceeded to instruct Mary to wait outside a moment while he
talked with Cox, then to take him on to her home in Monroe where I could be
picked up at the Airport a few days later.
Cox and I were ushered into Johnston's barren military-style furnished
office. Several Presidential and military photographs hung on the wall and
served as the only decor. Johnston sat on the front of his military issue desk
and talked to Cox's subconscious mind using cryptic, hypnotic Disney Peter
Pan theme language,3
as he apparently had done in the past when Cox had a
mind left to control.
"As long as your ticker's running, chat crock-a-dial you've been feeding
over the years will be running right behind you. (Peter) Pan knew how to stay
a step ahead of the game and stop the inevitable process of becoming gator bait
himself by offering to give him a hand now and then."
Cox dismembered his murdered victims and distributed the "Hands of
Glory" to fellow Satanists and occult traumatized/ Peter Pan theme programmed
mercenaries, while feeding "left over" body parts to an alligator that lived in the
Swamp behind his house. This was indicative of Cox's twisted, murderous
response to Johnston's traumatic Peter Pan theme programming... a
programming that I was about to experience "first hand".
Cryptically instructing Cox on Senator Byrd's orders, Johnston continued,
"I've got to hand it to that Pan. His livelihood of creating hookers for the
Captain (Hook) was indeed lucrative. And speaking of creating hookers, a little
Byrd told me that a shift from routine hand-ling to a theme that is alien could
prove lucrative to you." Revealing his intent to ensure my military mind-control programming, Johnston told him, "I'll lay a little groundwork and set
the patten for countdown. Then I'll send her out to launch for you, and it's
your job to man the craft from there..."
Cox was ordered out of Johnston's office, and he turned his full attention to
me. When alone with the Senator, Johnston manipulated my mind, and
ultimately my beliefs and perceptions, for future programming. He referred to
a picture of himself shaking hands with unknown Navy brass as he dramatically
told me, "I was there that fateful day in 1943 when a hole was ripped in the
fabric of time through what later became known as the Philadelphia
Experiment. All those fine boys vanished along with their ship in a bizarre
twist of events that parallels the Atlantis disappearances. A vortex was created
in an effort to slip dimensions and become invisible to the enemy. It was a
success beyond the highest expectations and launched us all into universal
travel. It is no wonder at all that we have had a man on the moon. Traveling
to distant planets and galaxies is Mickey Mouse stuff in comparison to the high
tech wizardry of trans-dimensional travel. Trans-dimensional travel
circumvents all measures of time, including distance and speed. When the
fabric of time was torn, we opened ourselves up to intergalactic travel—both in
and out of this dimension - and in and out of the future, as well as the past. We
can alter the course of history by traveling back in time to alter events, or we
can blast off into the future and gain wisdom and knowledge of events yet to
come. We can control the future by controlling the past. At present, this is a
relatively easy task according to the theory of relativity and abilities gained
through the Philadelphia Experiment. I came back an ET (extraterrestrial)
myself. And our ship relumed to this Earth as a spaceship.3
I gained the keys
to the universe on that fateful day, and I carry them with me now, sharing only
a Key or two at a time with those who are Chosen. You are a Chosen One
(Johnston was deliberately interfacing with Rite to Remain Silent conditioning),
and therefore must learn the ins and outs of interplanetary travel. Your mission
is trans-dimensional. You can span infinite dimensions by learning from me.
Take it from me, you're going places, kid. And I'll teach you to get there by
riding the light. I'll teach you the groundwork, and you do the light work. The
key to the universe lies in the speed of light. The only way to travel is by beam
of light. You will learn to go to the light... Your mission is to learn how to
Tinker with time. I'm going to take you on that journey myself
. Come with me now. It's time we were leaving this plane and boarding another."
Johnston took me the short distance from his General Dynamics Corporation
provided office to the Barksdale Air Force Base airfield. He was apparently
well known at Barksdale, and a small cargo plane was ready to lake us to our
destination-Tinker Air Force Base in Oklahoma.
Johnston took me the short distance from his General Dynamics Corporation
provided office to the Barksdale Air Force Base airfield. He was apparently
well known at Barksdale, and a small cargo plane was ready to lake us to our
destination-Tinker Air Force Base in Oklahoma.
Once we were airborne, Johnston accessed my sex programmed personalities
for his own aggressive perversion. His use of cocaine further accentuated his
hyperactive demeanor as he brutally slung me around the back of the small
plane while he had sex with me. At one point the pilot hollered from the
cockpit "Hey, you're creating turbulence. Knock it off, will you."
Johnston laughed and responded, "What the fuck do you think I'm doing?"
By the time we arrived at Tinker A.F.B., my arm was beginning to show a
dark bruise that extended from my shoulder to my elbow. A uniformed man
greeted us as we walked across the airfield. Johnston apparently knew him
quite well, and referred to him as "Cap'n" (which tied in with the Peter Pantheme programming I was about to endure). When he noticed my arm, Cap'n
reminded him, "Hey, that's not necessary, you know."
"Yeah, I know. Take care of it for me. Here..." Johnston took the straps
of my tank top and pulled them down around my forearms (which still could not
cover the bruise.) "There, that just about covers it." He smiled and continued,
"You look like a Southern belle that way rather than a damned ol' Yankee
anyway,"
Cap'n said, "She'll be a Tinker-belle by the time we're through here today."
Then, referring to Johnston's primary purpose in actually escorting me to
Tinker he asked, "How are your South American operations progressing?"
"I've got to talk to you about that," Johnston answered. The two talked as
though they had worked in tandem on given mercenary operations/assignments
in the past. "I may need a few of your boys to back me on something."
"Back you, or cover you?" the Cap'n retorted.
Johnston laughed, "Both if you'll front the operation."
Johnston had previously "justified" his use of Tinker (Peter Pan theme)
programmed niind-controlled mercenaries to me by saying, "Mercenaries are
missionaries who follow their inner guidance system rather than their old Uncle
Sam. Politics hinder the route to freedom, and these boys slip under
international laws, undetected, to carry out the work the military boys only
dream of doing.."
I was escorted away from the two by a nurse, who purported to be tending
to my injured arm. In fact, she was preparing me for the "Tinker-belle cage"4
—
an electrified metal cage with an electrified grid bottom. Locked inside, 1 was
subjected to high, direct current voltage to compartmentalize the Peter Pan
theme mind-control programming that 1 endured. Like Peter Pan's Tinkerbelle,
I learned to "ride the light" as a means of travel.5
Additionally, my instilled
Tinker-belle theme mind manipulation included a sense of Never-Never-land
timelessness that was rooted to my "natural" inability to comprehend time due
to my MPD/D1D.
Back in Louisiana, Cox and I shared a subconscious understanding of Peter
Pan themes and "riding the light". The difference between us was that Cox
consciously activated Tinker Air Force Base programming within Johnston's
band of mercenaries, while my trance was perpetual whereby I could "NeverNever-Land."6
I was with Cox on numerous occasions when he was running guns and/or
cocaine, and activating specified mercenaries for operations as instructed by
Johnston, In the course of these travels I saw numerous underground arsenals
and stockpiled weapons that were known to Senator Johnston, but were not on.
military installations. I was also privy to government sanctioned cocaine
operations.
On one such cocaine run in 1979, I traveled with Cox to a remote area in
the Ouachita National Forest near Hot Springs, Arkansas to "watch for fairies
like Tinker-belle" and "ride the light".
We sat in the brush near a railroad track until we saw a light approaching
from the Eastern sky. At the time I thought I would be "riding the light" as I
was led to believe, but in retrospect I recall my personalities being deliberately
switched and a helicopter landing in a nearby clearing. Cox and I unloaded
approximately 200-400 pounds of cocaine from the van he had driven, and
stacked it in the helicopter. We were then flown to a small airport that
appeared to be no more than a dark, fenced-in clearing where 1 saw a row ofmetal buildings that looked like mini-warehouses. While the cocaine was
unloaded into a warehouse, Cox and I were taken by car to a nearby grey stone
hold. The driver led us upstairs, and knocked on the Penthouse door.
"Yeah," a voice answered,
"I got a Tinker-belle and a Peter Pan here to see you, Sir," the driver called.
"Send 'em in." Cox and I walked into the suite where then Governor of
Arkansas Bill Clint cm was shuffling through a briefcase. Clinton and Johnston
were cohorts in illegal covert operations that emanated from Tinker Air Force
Base.
Cox spoke up. "Senator Johnston said a little (Senator) Byrd told him that
you are one of Ours."'
"So what does that make you?" Clinton asked impatiently.
"A Chosen One," Cox nodded his head toward me.
Clinton asked me, "Chosen by whose order?"
I cryptically delivered the proper coded response, which cued Clinton to
proceed. "What brings you here?" he demanded.
Interpreting his question literally as is "natural" for programmed MPD/DID
slaves, I answered, "I rode the light, Sir."
Clinton rolled his eyes, and looked back over at Cox who was nervously
rocking back and forth as he so often did. "State your business," Clinton
ordered.
"Uh," Cox cleared his throat, habitually picked his nose as he rocked back
and forth and said, "Well, uh..." Clinton looked disgusted.
"Get him the fuck out of here!" he ordered the driver. Cox was immediately
escorted out,
"That's better," Clinton said. Using standard Jesuit hand signals and cryptic
language, he triggered/switched me and accessed a previously programmed
message.
"Senator Johnston sent me to give this to you." I handed Clinton a thin,
large brown envelope, "And I have some fairy dust guaranteed to make you fly
high." I took the personal stash of cocaine that Johnston was sharing with
Clinton from my pocket.
Clinton snorted two lines of the coke immediately. He smiled. "Tell Ben
I'm impressed." He showed me to the door.
The severe torture and mind-control programming that I was enduring at
Tinker Air Force Base had prepared me for this simple "mission" and many
others. Although Cox's out-of-control occult serial killings polyfragmented my
multiple personalities as intended by Byrd, it was Johnston's alien theme mind
conditioning that locked me into absolute robotic helplessness. After all, had I
been capable of rationalizing, I would nave found that the thought of
interdimensional travel and aliens was no more bizarre to me that Cox's
murderous actions or having found out pornography king Jerry Ford held the
office of President.
When my daughter, Kelly, was born in February of 1980, Cox's former
employer. Jack Greene, traveled to Louisiana to meet with me in keeping with
his role as Nashville's CIA Freedom Train "conductor". He took me aside and
explained that since Cox had fulfilled his (genetic) role in producing Kelly,
Senator Byrd had ordered me back to Nashville. Greene talked at length,
hypnotically reviving my original programmed "obsession" to move to
Nashville. He told me that Cox had proven too insane to follow orders
anymore as was evidenced by my extremely poor health (much of my hair badfallen out) and by the stench of decaying human flesh that permeated the area
surrounding his remote Chatham, Louisiana swamp house.
If I had had a mind of my own, I know in retrospect I would have felt as
though 1 had been released from a prison dungeon. But I could only respond by
telling Cox matter-of-factly that I had received "divine guidance" to move to
Nashville at once to a home that awaited me. Cox had no choice but to comply
with Byrd's orders. Kelly and I moved to Tennessee when she was only three
months old, and Cox temporarily moved with us in order to apprise our new
handler of the latest details of our victimization. Within weeks, Cox moved
back to Chatham, Louisiana to live with his mother (even to this date). Now he
reportedly raises goats for sacrifice and carries on his occult serial killing
activities unhindered due to his immunity from prosecution because of whom
and what he and his mother know.
CHAPTER 6
UNITED STATES MILITARY &
NASA MIND-CONTROL TRAINING
Soon after moving to Tennessee, I learned that Senator Byrd had simply
exchanged one living hell for another for me. My new mind-control handler,
CIA operative and country music ventriloquist/ stage hypnotist Alex Houston,
seemed only to pick up where Cox had left off. As "destined," Kelly and I
moved into a run-down old trailer on Houston's property, which adjoined Jack
Greene's farm in Goodletsville, Tennessee. I was subjected to further occult
ritual on Greene's farm, and was ritually impregnated and aborted again, this
time by Houston. A difference between Cox and Houston was the superstition
factor; Houston knew exactly what he was doing and why he was doing it, in
accordance with tried and proven scientific U.S. Government mind-control
research and development. I gleaned this knowledge from conversations I
overheard between him and "those in the know".
Alex Houston was 26 years older than I, and claimed to have gained his
knowledge of stage hypnosis and government mind-control methods from the
military while entertaining overseas in Bob Hope's USO tours. After the tour,
Houston reportedly moved to Washington, D.C. where he and his alter-ego
dummy, Elemer, were regulars on the Jimmy Dean television show in the '60s.1
According to Houston, he was regularly booked to entertain in officers" clubs
on military bases due to his involvement in covert government operations.
During the brief interim period that Cox resided on Houston's farm with us,
he played music behind government mind-controlled slave Louise Mandrell and
her husband/handler, R.C. Bannon. Cox had previously worked with Louise's
sister, Barbara Mandrell, at the onset of her government sponsored career in the
1960s, traveling overseas with her in the same U.S,O. tours that launched
Houston's career. Irby Mandrell, the Mandrells' father and manager,
reportedly sexually abused all three of his daughters and eagerly thrust them
into their mind-controlled existence much the same way my father had sold me.
His daughters, too, were owned by U.S. Senator Robert C. Byrd.
Cox was soon fired from his position with Louise due to his insanity. Once
when Houston was traveling with the Mandrells as he so often did throughout
the years, Irby Mandrell relayed the events that prompted his firing of Cox. He
told Houston and I that Cox had become an embarrassment to him while
traveling.
"I knew he was weird," Irby Mandrell said. "That's OK. I can live with
that. But when he pitched a tent behind the hotel so he could hear the trumpets
sound, signaling him to march to Missouri,2
I said, 'Start marching, son.
You're done. You're through in Nashville. Don't ever come back.' That's it,
he was done."
Houston reminisced with Mandrell about the U.S.O. days, and inquired as
to how he had tolerated Cox back when he played music behind Barbara.
"Oh, yeah. I remember he (Cox) had somewhat of a brain back then." Irby
Mandrell continued, "Barbara was just a kid back then with the talent of a full
blown star. I thought she had what it takes to make it in the industry. Then the
Byrd came along and introduced us to the latest in technology."Houston interrupted, "Are you talking about (music) equipment or the kind
they've got in Huntsviile (Alabama's NASA mind-control training center)?"
"Both," Mandrell replied. "But it was Huntsville that launched her to the
stars. The doors opened wide after that. Byrd took a lot of pride in Barbara,
and the doors just kept opening. With my baby's talent and the Byrd's
influence on her mind and career, there was no way we could lose."
When Houston became my appointed mind-control handler in 1980, Byrd's
influence on my mind boosted Houston's "entertainment" career. His travels
had expanded to accommodate covert drug and money laundering operations
across the U.S., in Mexico, in Canada, and throughout the Caribbean.
Houston had, and has, a great deal of "no show" money, but I was never
permitted access to it. Poverty was one more means of control I endured, as
slaves like myself were not afforded the freedoms that having money allows.
When I was working three menial jobs during college, all of my money was
taken from me by my parents. All money earned by Cox's cocaine and body
parts enterprises was reinvested in the coven and drugs, leaving us dependent on
charities for our basic necessities. With Houston, 1 had to "earn" every penny I
spent on groceries and necessities over and over again, which made "earning my
keep" a deliberately impossible cycle. This kept me financially dependent and
further hindered my ability to escape, even if I had known enough to attempt it.
My innate protective maternal instincts as a mother may have been accentuated
due to my past unsuccessful attempts to protect my brothers and
sisters (I now had two sisters). It was my desperate need to keep Kelly safe that
drove me to the point of "fight or flight" when I was transferred to Houston. I
had long ago lost my ability to "fight," but my new maternal instincts compelled
me to "flight". I did all I could to save Kelly and myself from Houston and her
fate in Project Monarch. Since I had no ability to reason and was amnesic, I
"fled" to my parents' new house in affluent Grand Haven, Michigan, I had no
concept of what I was running from or to. I arrived with my baby daughter in
my arms, the tattered clothes on our backs, and what few donated belongings I
had acquired for Kelly. Within a few days, my parents received and followed
Senator Byrd's instructions, and turned me back over to Houston—who, in turn,
sent me back to Louisiana for further conditioning.
After three more months of intense, nonstop tortures by Cox, 1 could not
think to follow maternal instincts and barely knew my own name. I had no idea
how old I was, where I was, how long I had been there, and what had happened
to Kelly during that time, Kelly's own testimony and current programmed
poly fragmented Multiple Personality/Dissociative Identity Disorder reflects the
high tech, sophisticated conditioning and torturous trauma she endured during
this and numerous ensuing times that we were separated. When 1 was returned
to Houston as orchestrated by Byrd, my brain contained a series of new
compartments ready to be programmed and led.
Intensive mind-control behavior programming began at once, and Houston
ensured that I was taken to my appointed destinations under the guise of his
travels in the country music industry. In the early 1980s, my base
programming was instilled at Fort Campbell, Kentucky by U.S. Army Lt.
Colonel Michael Aquino. Aquino holds a TOP SECRET clearance in the
Defense Intelligence Agency's Psychological Warfare Division (Psy Ops). He
is a professed Neo-Nazi, the founder of the Himmler inspired satanic Temple of
Set, and has been charged with child ritual and sexual abuse at the Presidio Day
Care in San Francisco, California. But like my father and Cox, Aquino remains"above the law" while he continues to traumatize and program CIA destined
young minds in a quest to reportedly create the "superior race" of Project
Monarch Mind-Controlled slaves. I quickly teamed that Aquino did not adhere
to his profoundly professed occult superstition any more than I did. His
"satanic power" was in the form of numerous variations of high voltage stun
guns,5
which he used on me regularly. Although Aquino used occultism (blood
trauma) as a trauma base, his programming was high tech and "clean"—not
muddled in a proverbial witches' brew of ignorance. He quickly dispelled the
Cox influence, and began programming me according to Byrd's specifications
as his "own little witch" for sadistic sex, covert CIA drug muling, black mail,
and prostitution operations.
During the three months I was back with Cox, a muscle in my upper vaginal
wall was cut and dropped in preparation for Houston to flesh carve a hideous
witch's face4
for Senator Byrd's perversion. Aquino provided the ancient
instructions on how to mutilate me, and Houston used silver nitrate and hot
exacto knives to carve the details of the face without any form of anesthesia.
By flexing the muscle downward, the face protruded out of my vagina. Not
only did this surgery give Byrd a vagina suited to his minute, underdeveloped
penis, it also provided an equitable "curiosity" to be displayed over and over
again in both commercial and non-commercial pornography and prostitution.
On the 1981 anniversary of John F. Kennedy's assassination, I was forced to
"marry" Alex Houston for appearance sake. Earlier that month when I had
been taken to Washington, D.C for prostitution purposes, Byrd informed me
that I would actually be "marrying" him when I "pledged my vows" to
Houston.
"It is a covenant between the two of us," Byrd had said, "It is me that you
will honor and obey 'til death do us part," Byrd then instructed me to pick up
my wedding dress from a nearby D.C. store. Throughout the years, Houston
often joked about the significance of my Washington, D.C. wedding dress—
which was depicted in pornographic photos and a commercial video to
"commemorate our wedding night",
Alex Houston's "best man," Jimmy Walker, was also a photographer for
Larry Flynt's sexually graphic commercial pornography magazine, Hustler.
When I met Byrd after the ceremony at Nashville's Opryland Hotel as ordered,
he presented me with a "wedding gift"—a rose patterned crystal crucifix
deliberately designed to anchor "our wedding" in my Catholic/Vatican instilled
beliefs. The Larry Flynt photos depicting me in my wedding dress with the
crystal crucifix to "commemorate our wedding night," was standard lock-in
procedure for all mind-controlled slaves I knew who were forced to "marry"
their handlers/owners.
Houston's booking agent, Reggie Mac (MacLaughlin), of United Talent and
later of MacFadden Agency in Nashville, Tennessee, had been booking CIA
involved country music acts into key locations to aid the execution of covert
government operations. For example, Houston's ventriloquist act "Alex and
Elemer" would be scheduled to perform at a county or state fair near
Washington, D.C., where I would be picked up by car or helicopter and
escorted to the White House or the Pentagon. The ensuing activities would be
compartmentalized in my memory in a manner that caused me to believe 1 had
simply been traveling in the country music industry, and no one "back home"
would be suspect of my absence. Another example would be that Houston
"entertained" at Byrd's West Virginia State Fair every year, which gave alegitimate appearance to my presence there, when in fact I was being prostituted
to the Senator I had "married."
During the early '80s, Reggie MacLaughlin primarily booked Houston into
areas that were conducive to my mind-control programming with Aquino. I
was first subjected to Aquino's tortures and programming in Fort Campbell,
Kentucky; Fort McClellen in Anniston, Alabama; and most frequently, at
Redstone Arsenal and Marshall Space Flight Center in Huntsville, Alabama.
Military mind-control was fast, effective, and highly technological, but it was
the NASA programming that launched me as a "Presidential Model", Even
though Aquino instilled my programming on both military and NASA
installations, he had access to the latest technological advancements and
techniques through NASA. These included mind foolers such as sensory deprivation
tanks, virtual reality, flight simulators, and harmonics. By the age of
two, Kelly had already been subjected to Aquino and his programming through
these latest technological advancements, which shattered her fragile young mind
before her base personality had a chance to form. Rather than use occultism on
Kelly, Aquino traumatized her through sexual assault and high voltage tortures
of the mind and body. She, like I, to this day carries numerous scars from this
"non satanic" abuse base. I know, from years of research, NASA technology
and Aquino's programming, combined with the Project Monarch standard sleep,
food, and water deprivation and high voltage, made Kelly a subject of state of
the art genetically multigenerational MPD/D1D psychological mind-control
engineering.
In 1981, Byrd personally joined Aquino in Huntsville, Alabama during one
of our programming sessions. NASA cooperated fully with Byrd on any and
everything, since it was Byrd's Senate Appropriations Committee that
determined how much and/or whether NASA received government funding. I
lay naked on the cold metal table, tranced and photographically recording every
word and detail of my programming and every word that Byrd and Aquino not
so privately discussed. Byrd was providing Aquino with specific details of
certain perversions he wanted me equipped to fulfill or perform. Additionally,
they talked about scrambling my immediate memory with two private porn films
they were arranging to have produced locally. These were titled How To Divide
a Personality and How To Create a Sex Slave. These films are the kind NASA
became involved in producing for the dual purpose of "scrambling" memory
and documenting their mind-controJ procedures. The resident Huntsville,
Alabama pornographers were two local cops, one of which was (and is) a
Sergeant.5
This served NASA and the CIA well when cover-up was necessary.
The How To Create a Sex Slave film depicts the common "spin" programming,
which in essence is the combination to unlocking or accessing a
specific programmed act. For example, the compartment of the mind that holds
memory of incest is stimulated to open when the original abuse is eminent.
Seeing my father's penis would "trigger" a specific response, supposedly
opening the neuron pathways of my brain to allow the part of my brain that
dealt with his actions before to deal with them again. With "spin"
programming, the trigger of seeing my father's penis is replaced with a
combination of specific verbal commands and a specific number of physical
spins so that anyone with tbe "combination" could access that particular part of
my brain. The part of my mind containing "knowledge" of the original abuse
by my father learned to "like" painful, sadistic sex. Senator Byrd wanted me
programmed in such a way that he could decide if he wanted me to scream andcry when he whipped me, or if he wanted me to become sexually aroused and
"beg" for more. After programming, when I met with Byrd, I would "dance"
like a music box dancer, twirling round and round until Byrd's fiddle music
stopped. My mind precisely calculated how many revolutions I had made
whether I was capable of conscious counting or not (much like a normal person
wakes up at a particular time without an alarm clock), and the desired results
were produced as accessed.
This is but one simplified example of sex programming, and I was
programmed for more than sex. But this particular incident of programming at
the U.S. Army Redstone Arsenal would change my existence entirely and set
the stage for my role in covert government black, budget-type operations as a
"Presidential Model".
Seeing and/or knowing that Kelly was being tortured and programmed
proved to be a detriment to my own mind-control programming, such that the
common "cross-programming" of mother and daughter was rarely viable. In
the fall of 1982, Houston was scheduled to perform at the State Fair in Senator
Byrd's home state of West Virginia, Byrd arrived at our hotel with LT. COL. Aquino, who took Kelly with him, supposedly for programming purposes, I
was left alone in the hotel room with Byrd, whose KKK affiliation fueled his
rage over my having been recently prostituted to black entertainer and CIA
operative Charlie Pride. Although I had had no control over the situation to begin
with, Byrd expended his fury on me rather than on Houston who was
ultimately responsible for the incident. He took out his whip and began beating
me as he had so many times before. Only this time it seemed to last forever,
Byrd was still whipping me when Aquino returned with my tranced and
traumatized daughter. I regained consciousness enough to pull myself up off
the floor when 1 heard Kelly's hysterical cries. Byrd ordered me to the
bathroom for a cold shower to stop the bleeding. My body could not carry out
his orders, and I collapsed again in the bathroom, smearing blood all over the
floor. Kelly's cries again revived me, and I crawled to the door to find Byrd
sexually assaulting her and Aquino disrobing to join them. One small window
in the bathroom appeared to be a possible means of escape to obtain help, but
Byrd caught me and knocked me to the floor. The whole bathroom was smeared
in blood by the time he threw me into the shower and turned the cold water on
to slow the bleeding.
Later that afternoon, Kelly and I stood hand in hand in the afternoon sun at
the State Fair where Senator Byrd was about to make a speech to his.
constituents. My blouse stuck to my freshly whipped skin as Byrd walked onto
the stage, and the crowd cheered. Although Byrd periodically sexually abused
Kelly throughout her Project Monarch victimization, the horrific incident inWest
Virginia was the last time 1 was able to instinctively think to respond at
all. Aquino's mind-control programming further insured it, as did Byrd's
access to high tech mind-control equipment via West Virginia's Jesuit College,
where he claimed the role of "Head Friar".6
Kelly has reported enduring much sexual abuse by both Byrd and Aquino.
Aquino apparently incorporated sexual abuse with his mind-control
programming and sex training of her, and shared more such events with Byrd.
It was also my experience that Byrd's sexual perversions were heightened when
Aquino shared in the assault. Traumatic events such as this one in West
Virginia reinforced my own programming through conditioning, and further
locked me in to Byrd's seemingly inescapable control.
CHAPTER 11
"POPPA" PHTLIP HABIB
https://ia600502.us.archive.org/10/items/TranceformationOfAmerica/tranceformation_america.pdf
My (CIA operative) handler, Alex Houston was scheduled to perform with
country music entertainer Loretta Lynn at the Playboy Club in Atlantic City,
New Jersey in the spring of 1985, and he admittedly did not want me there for
the performance. He explained that after his show, he intended to "dress up
like a carrot as lunch for the Bunnies" and I would only be in his way. But 1
had White House business to attend with a different land of "rabbit". Reagan
had arranged for me to meet with his personal attache", Philip Habib (now
deceased), who always played the cryptic rote of the Alice In Wonderland White
Rabbit to mind-controlled slaves. Houston had no choice but to take me along
once the orders came down.
CIA operative Ken Riley, the Neo-Nazi pedophile who functioned in the
capacity of Loretta Lynn's road manager and Project Monarch Mind-Control
handler, was Alex Houston's closest friend. Riley often made arrangements
through Loretta's and Houston's shared talent agent, Reggie Maclaughlin, for
all of us to travel together—particularly when it involved government covert
operations such as this Playboy Club gig did. Loretta's singing career and
political ties into CIA covert operations have always been synonymous. Riley
escorted her in and out of the White House on numerous occasions during the
Reagan Administration, By natural attrition, this put Riley in a secondary role
as a "backup" handler for me as he often returned from D.C. with orders for
and/or concerning me. Houston and Riley shared much: CIA covert operations,
country music interests, Neo-Nazi and U.S. Government mind control, Project
Monarch methodologies, slave running1
, pornography, cocaine, and pedophile
activities. Kelly and Riley's young daughter were often filmed pornographically
together, and endured the sexual assaults of Houston and Riley2
together on
numerous occasions.
This trip to Atlantic City provided me an opportunity to talk with Loretta
while her husband, Mooney, Riley and Houston met for business. Loretta and I
had so much in common that our time together had been restricted from the
time we met in Minneapolis, Minnesota in 1981 and discussed our
victimizations.3
While alone in Loretta's dressing room at the Playboy Club,
we discussed a wide range of topics from motherhood to the White House. We
talked about Reagan in terms of his role as The Wizard Of Oz, but mostly we
recited the general praises we were trained to say. We talked about Reagan's
"favorite" music by Air Supply, which he had supplied to us both via Riley.
Air Supply's cryptic NASA/Project Monarch theme recordings became "life and
breath" to us both according to Reagan's intention, which locked in our
programmed devotion for him. We discussed the recent Inauguration party
Loretta had attended at the White House. (I was aware she had entertained
there as Houston relayed information to Riley pertaining to his recent trip to
Panama to meet with Panamanian Dictator and CIA operative Manuel Noriega
in order that Riley deliver the information to Reagan during the Inauguration
party.)
Loretta and I switched personalities spontaneously as we inadvertently
triggered each other with the shared cryptic language to which we were
accustomed. We discussed forbidden subjects including Noriega and Byrd untilJ
Riley and Houston caught us and separated us as though we were a couple of
naughty kids. I learned more than I was supposed to about Loretta while in
Atlantic City, but was never permitted another opportunity to speak with her so
freely.
This trip to Atlantic City was multi-purpose, which was not unusual for government operations in which I was forced to participate. I had a major cocaine transaction involving Noriega to attend at the airport; a message to
deliver to Philip Habib pertaining to the Contras, and another programmed in by Habib in answer to Reagan; country music "entertainment" aspects; and prostitution to Habib according to Reagan's instruction.4
As the sun was setting over Atlantic City, Houston activated the Project Monarch Oz programming that was used for high level covert operations, and had me dress accordingly. I wore real and faux diamonds to signify my "Presidential Model" business role, rubies to signify my Oz programmed prostitution personality, and emeralds to signify my Oz programmed drugm business. This physically indicated to my contact(s) which mode of operation 1 was under at the rime. Rarely did I wear all three indicators at once, but they
certainly applied in this operation with Habib. Houston led me down the waterfront boardwalk toward the hotel casino where I was to meet Habib, walking like the Oz Scarecrow and singing, "Follow the Yellow Brick Road",
Houston led me up the elaborate escalators of the hotel to a high stakes gambling area where Habib was playing cards. The guard at the door did not letm Houston through, and I was sent to Habib's table on my own. When I
approached, Habib leaned back in his chair to hear while I quietly recited in Oz cryptic, "I've come such a long, long way to see you, Uncle Ronnie sent you something."
"What would that be?" he asked loudly as he leered at me and chuckled. I could not respond because 1 was under heavy program. He handed me his room key and pulled me close as he hypnotically whispered, "Use the key. Put it in the lock. Turn. Open the door, and step through a window in time." The other gamblers at Habib's table were getting impatient, and I quickly exited the gambling room.
When I arrived in Habib's room, two of his bodyguards accessed my programming. "Chiefly speaking," I began reciting Reagan's message. Arrangements were made for the two guards to pick up a fair sized shipment of
cocaine the next morning that was arriving on a small military "brass" airplane. Houston and I would then board the plane and fly to D.C. where 1 would complete my part of this operation;
When Habib arrived, he ushered me into the bedroom part of the suite and began disrobing, down to his boxer shorts and gartered socks. Referring to a recent Dante porn film I was used in, he said, "1 liked your ruffled tennis panties..." then threw me a pink teddy and ruffled panties resembling the tennis
outfit commanding, "Put it on." I complied. He threw me a stuffed toy cat on the pillows and explained, "That kitten is going to keep this Kitten (pointing to me) from screaming. We're going to play Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum." (S&M games) Habib physically resembled the violent Alice In Wonderland characters, especially in his boxer shorts. The hysterical controlled laughter that rose in my throat would only have intensified his abuse and was (fortunately) choked back by terror as he begun attaching heavy rope ties to the four posters of the bed. On command, I crawled onto the bed and lay on my stomach while he tied me so tightly I was stretched. He shoved the stuffed cat under mymouth, then entered me roughly from behind and said, "Come to Poppa". The intense pain as he brutally sodomized me was outweighed by a high voltage stun gun as he jolted me repeatedly to create the perverse jerking movements and rectal muscle constrictions he desired. I soon passed out from the blinding high voltage of his stun gun. It was nearly 3:00 AM when I stumbled out the door with the stuffed cat in my hands, nauseated, disoriented, and in extreme pain. The cool, ocean breeze helped revive me as Houston marched me back to the Playboy Club.
Houston knew I had been programmed with a message for Reagan that I would deliver the next morning in D.C. As usual, he began to access it immediately. His quick timing somehow permitted him to penetrate the
electricity and programmed codes (designed to keep the information repressed) and accessed the information. Houston kept a written record of any messages he was able to access (along with photos and ledgers) for his personal profit and future blackmailing purposes, should he need to protect himself. In this case, I surmise from Houston's Panama activities, conversations I overheard between him and Riley, and my recollection of the messages he accessed, that his purpose in extracting this information was for his personal profit in backdoor dealings with Noriega. I understood it was these kinds of dealings that eventually contributed to Noriega's downfall with the CIA.
Morning arrived before I was allowed to sleep, and I felt exhausted and "spacey" as I waited by the curb for Habib's bodyguards to pick Houston and me up and take us to the airport, A small military airplane was parked in a restricted fenced in area as we arrived at the airport. The two bodyguards conducted their business and quickly loaded the trunk with the bundles of cocaine as planned. Houston and I boarded the airplane and flew to Washington, D.C. where I delivered Habib's message to Reagan. The bank transaction numbers later checked out to be a Cayman Island account number. Philip Habib was directly involved in various DIA/CIA Operations I was forced to participate in throughout the Reagan/Bush Administrations, Although Dick Cheney maintained his role as my Commander for these Operations, Habib directed my actions where International "Diplomatic Relations" were concerned, Cheney orchestrated events from behind his desk, whereas Habib was active in the field as Reagan's attache'.
The following Operations, documented in their entirety from my experience perspective only, most likely involve other aspects to which I am not privy. In typical DIA/CIA manner, scam "need to know' information resulted in the "left hand not knowing what the right hand was doing." Nevertheless, the overall criminal purpose of Operation Carrier Pigeon and Operation Shell Game, documented herein, does not change.
1 Riley, over time, owned several slaves.
2 Riley, like my father, Wayne Cox, and other, remains apparently immune from prosecution for
his crimes against children and humanity, as it is considered a matter of "'National Security" under
the 1984 Reagan Amendment to the National Security Act.
3 I still have the handwritten note from Loretta that prompted out forbidden conversation and I
hope that someday Loretta will gain the piece/peace-of-mind that comes with rehabilitation.
4 In the course of deprogramming, I found retrieval of this information much quicker than it
would have been had Houston not accessed it previously, against government policy, and for his
own personal gain.
TRA NCE
FORMATION OF AMERICA
CHAPTER 22
MY CONTRA-BUTION
U.S. and Mexican relations were flourishing in the successes of NAFTA's groundwork, while polictical differences pertaining to Nicaragua remained a minor point of contention. Since the Catholic Vatican's Intelligence arm of Jesuits were working closely wilh U.S. Intelligence to usher in the New World Order, they used their established influence in Mexico and Nicaragua to provide a common ground for "diplomatic relations". My dual mind-control victimazation by the ClA and the Jesuits since childhood, and my previous "diplomatic relations" in Mexico thrust me into the role of messenger and prostitute to Nicaragua's Daniel Oriega. Were President Reagan's Nicaraguan Freedom Fighters fighters OF freedom or FOR freedom? My mind-controlled existence rendered me incapable of pondering such questions. Nevertheless, I had a programmed "passion burning in my bosom" for the Contras as was patriotically instilled through torture, when I embarked on my "peacekeeping mission" to Nicaragua for Reagan tale in the summer of 1985, I boarded NCL as usual to reach my appointed destination. Since Nicaragua was not a port of call for NCL, I flew from the Yukatan of Mexico to a remote military airstrip in Managua. It was in this small mountain top clearing that I met with Commandant Daniel Ortega, as had been arranged through the Vatican. I was dressed seasonably in shorts, with my long blond hair lucked hack in a French braid. Onega's attire, too, was reflective of the casual air to meeting. His tan, military uniform had worn thin, and was free of any protocol insignias. The dark, rose-colored sunglasses he peered through apparently had not changes his somber view of the "noble cause" he claimed to represent. A man of few words, he greeted me with an order, "Come with me." I rode wilh him in silence as he drove a jeep the short distance across the airstrip to a small, near, two story, white, frame house. As we came to a stop in front of the house, Ortega said In a sad, slow voice. "I have needs like any man. But I feel like a whore myself for accepting your President's offer." His bedroom was clean and functional, with numerous assault weapons scattered around, I did not see any modern conveniences or personal effects, but Ortega seemed to be at home in his surroundings. Ortega's demeanor was that of a man who bad abstained from sex longer than most in bis politcal position. As he slowly unbuttoned his shirt, I noticed a Catholic medallion with the secret Jesuit ascension/descesion symbol on it, a common accessory among Jesuit spooks. He sat in wicker chair as 1 followed his silent lead in gratifying him orally. While he chain smoked cigarettes, I sat in front of him on the floor, and relayed Reagan's message to him as programmed. I began. "President Reagan has sent me as a messenger of peace." He casually interrupted. slowly looking me up and down. "I'd like to have a piece in a few more minutes." I continued, "Your people have endured many hardships Throughout their existence. He (Reagan) only wants to help. The American people want to see
CHAPTER 24
A-HUNTING WE WILL GO
On December 4, 1986, I turned 29 years old. Usually mind-controlled slaves were discarded, "thrown from the Freedom train," at 30; but I argued with Houston when he told me my government abusers only had one year left to "use me up". I had had no conscious awareness of the passing of time, and believed I was still only 24. Regardless of what I believed, my abusers did their best to "use me up" physically and psychologically before even a month had passed. I was in Washington, D.C. on a routine trip, which included being prostituted to President Reagan. "Uncle Ronnie's" cheeks were flushed from excitement and cognac as he told me, "I always take two weeks off for Christmas to go back to California." Reagan interrupted himself to break into an old Hollywood style song and dance, "California here 1 come..." The While House, he claimed, had always been confining to him, and he appeared genuinely excited about his upcoming trip. "I look forward lo this trip every year because I get to see old friends. Oh, I still work while I'm there-the President's work is never done-but at least I'm there. It's about time you see where I call home." Then, quoting the Wizard of Oz, he said, "'There's no place like home.' And you're about to see why. Say it with me, "There's no place like home. There's no place like home'." Then he instructed me in Oz cryptic, "Click your heels. There's no place like home." Blue-white light seemingly exploded in my brain, like being hit with deadl low voltage AC electrical current. Reagan was "setting the stage" for an attempted mind scrambling time slip, to be reactivated at an upcoming meeting I would have with him in Bel Air, California.
The motor home was packed to the walls, and the walls were packed with cocaine as Houston, Kelly, and I departed on our long drive to California. Houston had planned several "tourist stops" along the way that proved as" nightmarish as the California ordeal itself. In Las Vegas, Nevada, Houston kept Kelly and me busy prostituting us to everyone he knew "in the know" and in attendance at the Country Music Association's annual convention. Weary of being sent from room to room, 1 was back in the lobby literally trying to catch my breath when I saw Michael Dante. He was dressed in an expensive, light grey silk suit and dark glasses, looking more like a Fed than a mobster, leaning on a post, waiting for met "Our love" he professed over the phone for mind conditioning purposes was certainly not apparent now. "You're late," he growled as he looked at his watch. He ordered me into the Ladies' Room to activate programming by having me "lose myself in the infinity mirrors that lined the walls. With my mind set like he wanted, he then used and directed me in commercial pornography. Later, he did the same with Kelly.
At the Grand Canyon, Houston traumatized Kelly and me in preparation for. the upcoming events in California. While hiking down the canyon, Houston attempted to anchor hypnotically all of the trip's events behind the death and insanity programming to which he was subjecting us. When we stopped for a late afternoon lunch in the Canyon, Kelly collapsed in a state of shock, unable to eat. Houston was pleased because he "got to eat it all himself". I was, as
CHAPTER 28
"FREE TRADE" OF DRUGS
AND SLAVES AT THE JUAREZ BORDER
The next day. Dante drove me to a Bel Aire mansion high on a hill where
another party was underway. As I joined those who had gathered on the manicured lawn, I recognized many of the same Mafia people who had been a the Malibu retreat aka "Hotel California". This was a welcome party for President Reagan who had just arrived. He was walking across the yard toward me with his friend. Jack Valenti, who was the president of the powerful Motion Picture Association of America. Reagan looked his role amongst his mobster friends, his beige coal with fur collar draped over his shoulders revealing a dark grey, pinstripe suit underneath. In retrospect I remember him as dressed like the one mobster I did not have to meet, John Gotti. As soon as my eyes met his, 1 was knocked to the ground by a familiar blue-white blast (high voltage) like the one I had recently experienced in D.C.
When I came back around and my eyes refocused, Dante was holding me up. Reagan said, "Well, hello Kitten". "Uncle Ronnie, how'd you get here?" I asked in child-like innocence. "The rainbow, Kitten, the rainbow," he answered in Oz cryptic, "I told you I was coming home. There's no place like home, and you said it with me. So, here we are. I keep a little piece of the rainbow in my pocket so I can get backn over it (to D.C.) anytime I want to. I make a wish, and click my heels, and I'm gone."
For the moment, Reagan succeeded in confusing my mind with Oz cryptic metaphors, reconfirming to my child personality that he was indeed the powerful Wizard. As we went inside for a brief meeting, my personality was deliberately switched to the one that had dealt with de la Madrid the night before. The grey-white stucco house was decorated in plush Presidential blue carpeting and deep, cherry wood tones. The "office" was small and further crowded by those of us present for the meeting. De la Madrid was comfortably seated, as was Jack Valenti. I was not privy to Valenti's exact role in opening the Juarez border, I only know that he was well educated lo the particulars of this meeting. Dante and I remained standing since we would be leaving as quickly as I heard what Reagan, who was shuttling papers and pacing the room, had to say.
"Well, Kitten," Reagan said to me, "this is your death sentence: You'll go out ia a blaze of glory." I was not surprised to receive confirmation of my imminent death by Reagan. I had heard about death by fire from seemingly everyone involved in establishing "free trade," through Mexico, of our nation's children for drags. Reagan's use of patriotic metaphors and puns while matterof-factly informing me he ordered my death was reflective of his often displayed lack of respect for human life. What reflected his character even more were the crimes he was involved in that prompted him to cover-up through "sentencing- me to death. I had witnessed the criminal foundations of NAFTA, which in turn could threaten the successful implementation of the New World Order should these secrets ever be revealed. Initial "Free Trade" including drugs and white slavery extended beyond the U.S./Mexican border. It
Cathy O'Brien: TRANCE Formation of America (1of7)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b9yDihqCHS0
Uploaded on Sep 19, 2011
Written by Elton Robb: I am not very popular, but I too have been studying prophesy. Especially concerning the United States. I love America, but her god, Yahushua (Yahweh saves) is incredibly angry with his people right now. He doesn't blame the Illuminati, he blames the people.
Cathy O'Brien: TRANCE Formation of America (2of7)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hxr9IyBBcFU
Cathy O'Brien: TRANCE Formation of America (3of7)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2bg1wb2FXxQ
Cathy O'Brien: TRANCE Formation of America (4of7)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iSpSaxggJvA
Cathy O'Brien: TRANCE Formation of America(5of7)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jB1kUmVJi0I
Cathy O'Brien: TRANCE Formation of America (6of7)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OEARBJR-T6c
Cathy O'Brien: TRANCE Formation of America(7of7)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3LOV7Eg7nHg
The Uncut Interview from Salve TV in Germany - CIA Mind Control - Cathy O’Brien and Mark Phillips
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nir9mOWkj5c
Published on Jul 26, 2014
Hear what they don't want you to know about. This video was mysteriously edited by some unknown source. What the people that cut parts of this video out didn't realize is that an audio recording was made at the same time. The authors of this video decided to add the audio back where someone had cut the video. When you see the video picture freeze is the parts that were cut. They just put in a still picture of the person talking when they add the audio back to where the video had been cut.
It's very telling to listen to what they don't want you to know about.
Original source for this video:
http://www.salve-tv.net/web/de/webtv/...
Cathy O Brien The Most Dangerous Game (Graphic, discretion advised)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Laon3_ob54A
Published on Apr 22, 2012
MK Ultra US Presidential Mind Controlled Sex Slave Cathy O'Brien talks about her abuse and shows, with the aid of a doctor, the vaginal mutilation, done to her by Michael Aquino.
Cathy O'Brien Story - Illuminati Mk Ultra Monarch Mind Control WARNING!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G9MKi49DF-E
Published on Jan 20, 2014
Cathy O'Brien Story - Illuminati Mk Ultra Monarch Mind Control WARNING!
Click Here- http://www.wzurl.me/prepping
Cathy O'Brien - Exposes M.K. Ultra & Sen. BIRD - Part 2
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JZvjtDvorKk
Mind Control Programs: How Are Victims Selected and Recruited?
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lGQjj1jvoSA