PART 14:EXTREME PREJUDICE:THE TERRIFYING STORY OF THE PATRIOT ACT & THE COVER UPS OF 911 AND IRAQ

EXTREME PREJUDICE:

THE TERRIFYING STORY  OF 

THE PATRIOT ACT & THE 

COVER UPS OF 911 AND IRAQ

BY SUSAN LINDAUER

CHAPTER 29: 

THE LAST MAN 

“One man with Courage makes a majority.” 

–Thomas Jefferson 

Throughout those steamy summer days on lock down at M.C.C. I pondered the insanity of my predicament. Indeed, it perplexed me. 

I was the nation’s scapegoat. 

Pundits shrieked. Comics scorned. I watched it all on prison television— helpless and disgraced— as the American people and the global community blistered the intelligence community with criticism for my work in Pre-War Intelligence and my failure to discover the 9/11 conspiracy. 

It was a real dog and pony show of false outrage. True political theater, Washington style......

Meanwhile, I sat in prison— declared “incompetent to stand trial”— for “believing I had a 95 percent chance of acquittal, ” based on the inadequacy of evidence against me. 545 On that basis, two psychiatrists—who confessed to observing no actual symptoms of mental illness in my behavior— agreed that I “lacked sufficient appreciation for the gravity of the charges, which would be necessary to contribute to my defense.” 

Not surprisingly, I had a very different perspective. 

If anybody suffered from a “psychotic disorder, ” it was Washington itself, fighting violently to disavow the reality of their choices before the War, and their responsibility for those choices. In angrier moments, I questioned prison guards if perhaps Congressional leaders should be forcibly injected with Haldol until they developed some integrity in their decision making. 

Alas, they had power. And I did not. At MCC, I was right where Republican leaders wanted me—locked down, in shackles and chains, so they could huff and puff without challenge. 

It got crazier as Republicans recognized that with Iraq out of the way, they could distract angry voters with boasts of their leadership performance against terrorism. Except once again, the Republican record of achievement was much less grandiose than they bragged. 

What did that matter? If I could be forcibly drugged, the GOP endgame would be perfected. Republicans on Capitol Hill could feed the country’s fever for national security unabated—and flog me with voter wrath for mistakes in their War policy. 

And I could never get out of prison and expose them— which, let’s face it, would have to happen eventually. 

How did Republicans rationalize such savage dishonesty? Through simple, corrupt illogic: Intelligence exists to protect the leadership first and foremost. Assets are supposed to make leaders look good— whether they deserve it or not. Truth is what we sacrifice for our country. Politicians matter —Not the people! 

So much for your national security, folks. 

Anti-terrorism has deteriorated into showmanship and spectacle —color coded threats. It makes for triumphant grand standing. Congress gets to be circus performers, acting out a thrilling illusion. But as far as results on the ground, anti-terrorism policy proved awfully empty, scattered with lost opportunities —like the failure to shut down the financial pipeline for Al Qaeda, what I call “happy cash, ” since the bulk of revenues comes from heroin trafficking. 

Why not kill two birds with one powerful blow? 

Actions speak loud than words—except in Washington, where it’s all hot air. 

Unhappily for me, this was about majority control of Congress and the White House. How the balance of power would fall— in favor of the GOP or the Democrats? Any action that protected the Republican marketing “brand” on national security was considered legitimate, though it violated the Constitution. Locking an Intelligence Asset in prison and threatening to forcibly drug me was an expedient strategy for holding onto power. That was the critical objective. 

I would be sacrificed on the altar of political ambition. 

Let’s face it. Their lie was much more helpful than my truth. That was the constant problem for my case. 

In our drama, Judge Mukasey was the X Factor. The inscrutable. The unknown. All of my fate rested on his shoulders. To him fell the responsibility for making sense of this mess of conflicting reports. Ordinarily, the defendant lost in these fights. I knew that. And it frightened the hell out of me. 

We expected the decision to take a few weeks. 

Instead, we waited four months. 

Chief Justice Mukasey was retiring. Mine would be the final decision of his illustrious career as one of this nation’s preeminent federal Judges. 546 

Mercifully, my old handlers had not left me in the lurch. Years before Dr. Fuisz and Hoven told me what to do if I ever got arrested (always a possibility given my close proximity to terrorism investigations). They commanded me to tell the Judge everything. From their perspective, I should have spoken up sooner. (Except that I did. I expected my attorney to talk for me. I expected these idiot psychiatrists to portray my story with a degree of accuracy.) 

By this time, Dr. Fuisz and Hoven must have thought I had truly lost my wits. But when I moved to action, it was an avalanche. Judge Mukasey received a vast amount of debriefing in those midnight letters, while I was locked up at Carswell and M.C.C. By now the Court had a clear picture of my side of the story. 547 

Judge Mukasey could see the powerful forces arrayed against me. He could see the ugliness of their fear, and the powerful motivation to destroy me, so as to tighten their grip on power. 

But none of us could figure out how he would end this game— or if he would feel compelled to go along with the government. The path of least resistance was what I feared most. 

A great Judge like Mukasey thinks about legal precedents, and how his decisions will set the pace for future cases. But not all Judges do. 

A lesser Judge could not have figured a way out of this steel trap.

A lesser Judge could not have developed a strategy for stopping the drugging—and getting me out from the Patriot Act— all at the same time. 

Thank God for Judge Mukasey. 

That summer in New York was hot and humid. While I waited, I paced the roof top recreation yard, my anxiety off the charts, praying with all of my heart for his decision to go my way. 

I was terrified with panic. I could never have kept fighting without the support of the other women inmates. My best friend at M.C.C, Sarah Yamasaki from Japan, had trained as an opera singer. Throughout the summer, Sarah blessed us with roof-top performances. She was an ebullient woman, keeping our spirits up, helping all of us transcend the brutal conditions of our imprisonment. 

The rooftop yard was eleven stories above the side walks of Manhattan. All of the women prisoners longed for grass and trees and freedom. One afternoon, one of the really spiritual women announced that she was praying hard for God to send us flowers! 

“God can do it!” she laughed. “Just watch now, I tell you, God can do it!” She was so joyful that we all laughed with her. 

And wouldn’t you know, the wind whipped up, blowing strong. From somewhere far off, a cloud of soft pink and white petals from a dogwood tree, wafted high up in the sky fluttering over the prison yard and landed on the roof. Hundreds of soft petals swirled at our feet, blowing back and forth across the rooftop. 

All of us shrieked in joy. We laughed uproariously. I remember that afternoon as one of the rare moments when all of us were truly happy. And the woman turned to us, and said, “I told you God would send us flowers!” 

And she looked at me, and I remember what she said: “Susan, God’s standing with you. God won’t let these people hurt you. Try not to be afraid.” 

That was easier said than done. 

When you’re locked up in prison, four months feels like eternity, especially waiting for such a critical decision that impacts the rest of your life. It’s hyper stressful. 

By now, all of the women and guards understood that I expected them to hunt me down any time, anywhere, interrupting any activity, when that decision came. 

Early that afternoon, my psychic radar exploded off the charts. I was at the MCC library, returning a spy thriller from the 1970s, about a spook who gets carted off to a nut house and heavily drugged by CIA psychiatrists to stop him from talking about some operation at the Soviet Embassy, during the Cold War. The plot felt awfully familiar. I tell you, Robert Ludlum and I would have enjoyed a good tea party together, scones and crumpets all round. 

In the library that afternoon, a vibrant energy engulfed me, like a powerful electrical current. I felt a rush of excitement, like I hadn’t experienced in months. 

I rushed to the guards to ask if my attorney had sent for me. 

The guard shook his head, with a tired, knowing smile. Not yet. 

They’d heard me ask many times before. Always they’d calm me down. And they’d promise to come get me as soon as anything happened. They handled it well. 

Later that evening, I jumped into the shower after dinner, escaping the hordes of prisoners for a moment of privacy. 

That’s when the message came— at the most unexpected moment. Suddenly there was a pounding on the shower door, and one of my cellmates stuck her head in the shower room. My attorney was waiting downstairs. A guard had come to take me. 

That kind of news travels lightning fast, and several inmates hovered outside the shower room. 

I was soaking wet, with a towel over my shoulders. I didn’t stop to comb my hair. I just ran for the guard. The visiting office wouldn’t stay open much longer. I wasn’t taking any chances. I had to know the answer that night. 

When I got to Sam Talkin, both of us stood in shock, staring at each other. And he said, very quietly, “Judge Mukasey ruled in our favor. You’re going home.” 

Talkin looked as stunned as I was. 

With one stroke of a Judge’s pen, my nightmare was over. 

Victory was mine. After 11 agonizing months at Carswell and M.C.C, I was saved, mind, body and soul. 

I collapsed on my knees, thanking God for it. Yes, I did! Truthfully, I could not stand on my legs. 

Oh my reputation was destroyed, as Republican leaders intended. But my intellect and creativity, my daily functioning and spirituality—what mattered most to my life—that was saved. What was most precious to me was preserved. 

I was deliriously happy. Ecstatic. Elated. Bounding in joy. 

It was night-time. There was one guard left to share my happiness. I would be off to Court in the morning before Ms. Eldridge arrived to hear my exquisite news. But in my heart I knew she would be happy for me. All the staff understood what this meant to me. They’d been anxious, too. These were good people. 

Prisoners are always happy—and somewhat jealous—when a fellow inmate goes home. It doesn’t happen often. Mostly prisoners get transferred to other prisons after sentencing. But those are your friends for life. They’re the ones who have helped you survive a living hell. You don’t forget them. 

That night, my closest friend on the women’s floor, Sarah Yamasaki, my opera singer friend, made a farewell card for me, with a gorgeous Madama butterfly. I have saved it on my bookcase. 

“Now, however, there remain faith, hope, love, these three; but the greatest of these is love, ” she wrote, citing 1st Corinthians 13: 4-13. My favorite Bible verse. 

Sam Talkin had already phoned JB Fields, who swore that he would drive to New York in the morning to fetch me home! 

The next morning at 11 a.m. we appeared in Court to make it official. 

On September 8, 2006, his very last day as a federal Judge, Chief Justice Mukasey rejected the Prosecution request to forcibly drug me and released me on $500,000 bail. 548 

I waved my arms wildly in thanks to Judge Mukasey, who had a great big grin on his face, as bailiffs ushered me out of the courtroom. 

Without question, Judge Mukasey saved my life. 

People are always surprised when I describe Judge Mukasey as my hero. He’s a man of fierce integrity and devotion to the law. In my case, he was surrounded by scoundrels, who brazenly lied to his Court at every turn. Forever I will give thanks for my life to his eagle-sharp acumen. If not for his shrewd aptitude, I would have been physically and intellectually destroyed. He became my secret champion in this twisted legal scheme. 

The degree of corruption confronting him on all sides was terrifying to behold. Carswell expected to catch him in this trap. Except for his brilliance in the law, and his ferocious determination to protect due process in the courts, they would have succeeded. 

Justice is cast in bronze as a blindfolded lady holding a scale of weights, signifying how truth hangs in the balance of the Court. That blindfold over the lady’s face took on sinister implications in my case, with the Prosecutor and these looney psychiatrists boldly violating legal requirements to acknowledge the truthfulness of my background. 

Psychiatry shocks me to this day for the contempt it showed our judicial system. Something has gone terribly wrong when psychiatry could lie so recklessly, without suffering consequences for its dishonesty. Psychiatry betrayed a total lack of integrity in the courtroom. I believed it should be disqualified as “expert” testimony, on par with DNA, ballistics or forensics. They can’t meet standards of reliability. 

It’s worthy of John Grisham or Robert Ludlum alright. Here was the crux of the problem: Throughout my imprisonment, I had no effective legal representation that cared for the outcome. Psychiatry recognized Talkin’s inadequacy, and played to it, unforgivably. The second problem was that Judge Mukasey could not re-craft my attorney’s defense strategy. He could not compel Talkin to accept a hearing to check the accuracy of my story. Afterwards, he was caught by surprise when the Prosecutor pushed into the vacuum of court knowledge, with this request for forcible drugging and indefinite detention. 

Ah but this was “extreme prejudice.” It was a bloodless execution. 

Despite all of that cunning amassed against him, Judge Mukasey accomplished something more clever than I would have dared to hope. He outfoxed the psychiatrists, and crafted an outstanding decision against forcible drugging, which should help protect other Americans in the Justice system. If it protects more Americans from this sort of abuse, then it’s worth what I had to sacrifice. It was absolutely worth four extra months in prison. I have no regrets that Judge Mukasey took longer to craft it right. 

As a critical prologue to his decision, Judge Mukasey expressed frustration that he was asked to rule on the question of my authenticity without access to rebuttal witnesses, who participated in the events, and could answer those questions with authority. 

In this, he saw the legitimacy of my grievance. He complained that he was forced to rely on the subjective opinions of individuals who were strictly guessing, and could not possibly enlighten the Court with the truth. 549 

Then, very cleverly, Judge Mukasey used the U.S. Attorney’s own arguments in favor of forcible drugging to shoot down the continued prosecution of my case. Looking at the available, non-classified evidence, Judge Mukasey questioned whether my actions rose to the level of criminal activity at all. If the Prosecutor was correct about my mental status, he said, it was impossible. 550 

That’s the only way he could protect me. 

Judge Mukasey’s outstanding decision against forcible drugging hinged on three points—that I was not threatening to myself or others in my daily life. Secondly, drugs would not improve the quality or functioning of my life. Achieving some improvement to the quality of life would be necessary to justify forcibly drugging a defendant—something I support wholeheartedly. And thirdly, Judge Mukasey doubted the prosecution was serious about trying the case. Restoring my competency would not lead to a trial, because it appeared doubtful the Prosecution intended to go forward. 551 

It was a brilliant decision. It’s especially subtle if you understand the day by day blows of our legal fight. 

He took all of the Prosecution arguments, and turned them back on the Justice Department, in a hard push to kill my case. 

I wanted to stand up and cheer. I recognized immediately that he’d executed a brilliant move, like a chess expert who studies the board for a long time, then executes a blitzkrieg to win. 

There was a downside. Judge Mukasey upheld the finding of incompetence against me—which was necessary to squash the case, unfortunately. And his decision relied on some of my spiritual viewpoints, my belief in God and angels and prophecy, and my exploration of religious mysticism, which I enjoy very much. 

Candidly, in one of my summer letters at 2 a.m, I told Judge Mukasey that I would not be offended one iota, if his decision cited my religious viewpoints. He would not prick my faith, or undermine my spirituality. By that time, the only thing I cared about was avoiding forcible drugging. Incompetence insulted me, but I refused to allow psychiatry to define me. That took the sting out of it. 

In fact, Judge Mukasey acted consistently with what I told him I could accept. I understand he’s a religious man himself. 

In my heart, I believe that Judge Mukasey thought liberating me from prison and a bad indictment would be worth accepting the finding of incompetence. From a legal standpoint, other attorneys after Carswell have told me he made a generous ruling in favor of my defense— though outside the Courts, incompetence still raises eyebrows. I am convinced Judge Mukasey upheld the finding as a vehicle to kill the case. 

That’s what the Patriot Act has brought us to. A choice between incompetence of a loyal and devoted Asset, or shredding the Constitution and due process of law, tearing down the most cherished rights of all defendants in the legal system. 

Given that I was in prison, without hope of a trial, many hot summer nights on lock down, I and most defendants would probably agree with his choice, even if it’s appallingly unfair. Psychiatry should have had more integrity than to meddle in my case, in the first place. 

Bottom line: Judge Mukasey stopped the Prosecutor from physically torturing me with Haldol. And he guaranteed the Justice Department would have to stop persecuting me for knowing the truth about our advance predictions about 9/11 and our Iraqi Peace Framework. At the same time his decision acknowledged the Government’s fear of my intelligence background. 

He split the baby down the middle. He struck a legal balance that was partially unpleasant to me. More importantly, in this perverse game of the Patriot Act, using what tools a Judge has, Judge Mukasey saved my life and my freedom. 

Like I said, the man’s my hero.

CHAPTER 30: 

ILLEGTIMUS NON 

CARBORUNDUM 

EST 

Don’t let the Bastards Get You down! 

Staggering out of the lock up at MCC felt like a surreal experience, putting it mildly. One moment I was getting strip searched, shackled for court and thrown into a holding cell by tough bailiffs. The next, I was waving good bye to Judge Mukasey. 

After fighting like the devil to escape “indefinite detention, ” the process of releasing me took less than 10 minutes at the inmate center. They pointed to a door. And I crossed over into freedom land. When that steel door clanged shut, I left behind sterile linoleum and shabby prison chic for modern Manhattan. 

In all, I had been imprisoned 11 months without a trial or hearing to check the authenticity of my story. That’s seven (7) months in excess of the 120 day maximum allowed by federal law for competence detentions that involve no violent actions or threats. 552 

JB Fields gave me a bear hug, as I reeled from the shock of it.

Then another gentleman stepped forward. Without giving his name, he identified himself as the former legal counsel for Panamanian dictator, Manuel Noriega and Edwin Wilson, that other black angel of the covert CIA crowd, who got nailed for running a black op involving Libya in the 1970s. Ed Wilson spent 27 years in prison, mostly in solitary confinement, until he got released on appeal, his attorney reminded me, shaking his head sadly. And the whole time the CIA disavowed knowledge that he’d got sent up for running a covert intelligence operation. 

Sort of like me. 

I got lucky. Wilson’s attorney winked at me sharply. Thought I had it rough? I didn’t know how rough the boys could play when the CIA really wanted to rumble. They gave me a break. 

When I asked for a business card, the gentleman shook his head with a grin. He swore he just happened to be in Judge Mukasey’s court that morning, tying up loose ends for another client on the Judge’s last day on the bench. He wanted me to understand that Judge Mukasey had dealt with me quite generously. He shared a great story about interrogating General Noriega, playing the strong man himself in a dark room, with a single lamp on the table. He was the real thing, alright. 

Call me paranoid if you like, but it’s a truth universally acknowledged that there are no coincidences in the intelligence business. If you choose to believe that a high level spook attorney for General Noriega and Ed Wilson just happened to visit Judge Mukasey’s courtroom that morning of my release, without some sort of design, I won’t argue with you. But you don’t have a functional grasp of how intelligence works. 

On the intelligence side, I’m sure everybody hoped this attack would stop now 

Trouble was, my legal drama wasn’t finished. Despite a year in prison, and two and a half years under indictment, I was still pretrial. Little did anyone guess that I was only at the halfway mark of my ordeal. My attorney made (another) fateful mistake, by failing to seize the opening provided by Judge Mukasey’s outstanding decision to move for dismissal. That decision gave us everything we needed to demolish the indictment, but Talkin took no action to push it through. 

Meanwhile, a few fiercely independent thinkers on the blogs came out for a look-see to find out what the heck the GOP was hiding behind my indictment. 

A surprising number of “awake” Americans had the smarts to question why the government refused to grant my requests for a trial. Roping me on the Patriot Act set off alarms on the blogs. 

They kept my story alive. 

And me? Well, I don’t know how to quit. 

Before I could resume my fight, however, I had to draw back my strength. And my little family in Maryland had to recuperate. My beloved 19 year old cat, Midnight was waiting by the gate when JB Fields and I drove up to my house in Takoma Park. At Carswell, I was heart-sick to hear that Midnight waited by that front gate every afternoon since I left, a year earlier. Midnight looked stunned, but recognized me immediately. With profound relief, my little family was reunited. My precious dachshunds, Raqi Bear and Mahji Bear performed dachsie races around the yard in honor of the occasion. 

Outside of Carswell, reality swept over my life again. Friends phoned to cheer my courage for standing strong in the Courts. They couldn’t believe the government questioned my competence, much less tried to forcibly “cure” my confidence as a woman Asset. Again and again, friends and colleagues swore they had never seen signs of mental illness or instability in my life. 

Everyone agreed it was awfully convenient for the pro-war camp that I got shipped off to a Texas military base for a bogus psychiatric evaluation. Their verdict was unanimous. I must know something that politicians didn’t want my fellow Americans to hear. (Boy was that an understatement!) 

Within days of my homecoming, some of my old gang from the Hunan rang up to assure me they had contacted Talkin, while the debate on forcible drugging raged on, vouching for my close relationship with Paul Hoven and his murky ties to U.S. Intelligence. That wasn’t “in my head, ” either. Talkin had known it all along. 

Some of those friends invited me to speak before the Sarah McLendon Society at the National Press Club in Washington,dedicated to the former first lady of Washington journalism. 

That speech, two weeks after my release from prison, turned the wheels of fate again. 

In the small audience of sophisticated Washington insiders, there sat an illustrious silver-haired gentleman, with a deep Rhode Island accent, among the smattering of Congressional staffers, Washington journalists, think tank executives and the like, including reps for Naval Intelligence and the State Department. 

His name was Mr. Brian Shaughnessy, and he looked mighty perplexed. 

As it happens, Shaughnessy was former Chief of the Fraud and Public Corruption Division at the federal court in Washington. The founding partner of an exclusive law practice, 553 Shaughnessy, Volzer & Gagner, in his former career at the Justice Department, he was the senior federal prosecutor assigned to the Court of Chief Judge John J. Sirica. Nicknamed “Maximum John” for his tough sentencing, Judge Sirica catapulted to fame handling the Watergate cases against G. Gordon Liddy and members of the Nixon Administration. In Judge Sirica’s court, Shaughnessy convicted two Congress members, among a stellar load of major corruption cases. Today he specializes in complex domestic and international security cases. 

Behind his congenial and gentlemanly demeanor, Shaughnessy boasts a formidable and incisive legal mind. Listening to my address at the National Press Club that evening, Shaughnessy posed a question from the audience that cut to the crux of the problem: 

If the Prosecutor had any sort of real evidence against me, why for heavens sake, would he not force the case to trial? Why would any prosecutor allow my attorney to use an “incompetence defense, ” without protest? Why not attack it? 

As Shaughnessy put it bluntly, “When I worked as a prosecutor, I wanted people competent, so I could convict them and send them to prison! I would never allow a defense attorney to make those claims without a serious challenge. I would fight it. That’s what a Prosecutor does in this situation. We don’t like it! If it was me, I’d be madder than heck that you got declared incompetent.” 

If there was real evidence that I broke the law. 

Shaughnessy smelled a rat. 

A senior law practitioner, who frequently takes the most complicated domestic and international cases for sport and personal challenge—and wins, Shaughnessy requested very politely if he might review the evidence in my case. 

We struck up quite a conversation after my talk. Later that evening, I returned to Shaughnessy’s office for a longer discourse on my ordeal. We were joined by another man who would become extremely important in resurrecting my legal reputation from the ashes, Mr. Thomas J. Mattingly. 

Mattingly proved to be an esoteric genius, a philosopher activist in his own right, with an amazing wealth of knowledge on a vast array of domestic and international issues. A veritable encyclopedia of knowledge, he could debate every issue with finesse and thoughtful detail. 

With a twinkle in his eyes, Mattingly turned to Shaughnessy. “You really should take over this case, Brian. You could knock down the Patriot Act— At least punch a few good holes in it. Would that be enough of a challenge for you?” 

It was as if the fates clicked everything into place at last. And so it came to pass that two weeks after my release from prison, my Defense took on a new attorney, as a back stop to Talkin. It marked a critical transition for my struggle. Because shockingly, my ordeal was not over yet. 

Happily at last, in Brian Shaughnessy, I found legal counsel who understood how all the pieces of the intelligence world and Washington policymaking fit together. It was a pivotal moment. In a single evening, his involvement, with a helpful push from Mattingly, reconfigured the dynamic of my battle at all levels. 

The night had greater significance that I was yet to discover. The Sarah McClendon Society had a comfortable feel to it, which might be explained by the cross over from our old Thursday night crowd at the Hunan. 

The chief organizer of the Sarah McClendon Society is John Edward Hurley, a Civil War historian on the Confederate side. A southern gentleman from Virginia and an absolute delight in conversation, Hurley was an original member of our old Hunan crowd. Most famously, he took on Oliver North and his cabal years before, ousting him from the Confederate Hall, where North was holding meetings as a front, according to Hurley. And Hurley had personally observed my close relationship with Hoven, throughout our many years of clandestine conversations. 

Hurley delighted in reminding me that spooks frequently dropped by our Thursday night gatherings, because we made up such an interesting crowd. And they were often invited by Paul Hoven. He offered to testify to that in Court. 

Kelly O’Meara was another member of the Sarah McClendon society, who crossed over from our Thursday nights at the Hunan. A former investigative journalist and congressional Chief of Staff for Rep. Andrew Forbes (GOP-Long Island, NY), O’Meara had just published a cutting edge book, “Psyched Out: How Psychiatry Sells Mental Illness and Pushes Pills that Kill.” 554 

O’Meara protested that she’d known Hoven for 20 years. 555 She declared that Hoven “talked about (me) all the time.” She described Paul as an “intelligence passer, ” and reminded me that some of Hoven’s closest friends are legendary in the intelligence community. 

Hoven used to take O’Meara shooting at the farm of Bill Weisenberger, a famous spook with longstanding ties to Middle East operations involving Libya and Edwin Wilson. And Hoven bragged about outing Oliver North on Iran-Contra, along with Gene Wheaton, and his work for the Project on Military Procurement. Those sorts of bona fides say a lot. 

O’Meara offered to testify to that in Court. If Hoven told the FBI a different story, then he lied and obstructed the FBI investigation. In which case, Hoven broke the law. 

That night it was evident the force of truth would not crawl away disgraced, for the comfort and convenience of Washington’s elite. 

I recall it as an extraordinary moment. 

In prison, the Justice Department had isolated me —and my public attorney, Sam Talkin, whined that nobody wanted to help me. Yet here at the National Press Club, I sat with supremely credible individuals who freely vouched for me. 

So where did psychiatry find the gall to attack me? 

A highly respected author and former journalist herself, O’Meara showed how my case marks a frightening trend in psychiatry today. Apparently, it’s becoming the norm to attack healthy, functioning Americans, while fighting to limit the rights of individuals to repudiate psychiatric opinions in Court. 

Her book, “Psyched Out” exposes the dangers of mind-altering psychotropic drugs, and the links of prescription drug use to school shootings by teenagers and killing rampages by adults. 556 O’Meara documents that a startling number of killers, who snap suddenly, share one commonality. They started taking antidepressants, particularly Prozac, days or weeks before their murder spree. 

According to O’Meara’s research, Prozac leads the industry in serious adverse effects— like killing family members or school classmates. But drug companies like Eli Lilly are powerful enough to suppress media reports of the extreme social consequences of these adverse drug effects. As a result, ordinary Americans are largely ignorant of the links between antidepressants and sudden violent behavior, including murders. Suicides also rise dramatically after starting anti-depressants. 

“Psyched Out” goes on to examine how psychiatry contrives to create “diseases of the brain.” Citing medical sources, O’Meara argues that there’s no scientific proof that imbalances in brain chemicals occur at all, something psychiatry doesn’t like to admit. 557 

Leading medical experts agree. 

“Although a physician may tell a patient that a chemical imbalance causes their depression, the physician would be hard pressed to provide any evidence to support this claim. There is no test available that would demonstrate that any patient has a ‘biological depression’ as opposed to any other type, or even that such biological depressions exist.” Dr. Antonuccio. Psychiatric Times. 558 

“At present, there are no known bio-chemical imbalances in the brain of typical psychiatric patients —until they are given psychiatric drugs.” Dr. Peter Breggen, M.D “Brain Disabling Treatments in Psychiatry.” 559 

“There are no external validation criteria for psychiatric diagnoses. There is neither blood test no specific anatomic lesions for any major psychiatric disorder.” 560 Dr. Loren Mosher, M.D former chief of the National Institute of Mental Health Center for the Study of Schizophrenia. 

“There are no tests available for assessing the chemical status of a living person’s brain.” 561 Elliot S. Valenstein, PhD, “Blaming the Brain.” 

“Psyched Out” was illuminating to say the least, a wonderful breath of fresh air after my ordeal at Carswell. 

Of course psychiatry predicates its medical authority on the treatment of these so-called “chemical imbalances.” Despite a very poor track record interacting with external measures of “reality, ” psychiatry has learned to maneuver cleverly through the Courts, denying individuals the right to question the “medical” basis for a “diagnosis.” According to O’Meara, efforts to block court testimony by family and friends, who would throw cold water on psych opinions, has become an increasingly common method for defending the illusion of their medical authority. 

It’s a frightening trend, and all because psychiatry cannot withstand exposure to external measures and events. What’s more, ordinary behaviors and reactions to life—like adolescent angst, grief for a death, anxiety over job loss or divorce—are typed as “mentally defective responses,” indicating the presence of long term mental “disease.” That’s become an excuse for forcing drug interventions on individuals. Adolescents and young adults, for example, face tremendous school pressure to comply with drug “treatment” plans, only to suffer adverse reactions to the drugs. When that happens, psychiatry prescribes additional drugs to cope with problems created by the first set of drugs. As a result, Americans are all doped up, affecting behavior and coping mechanisms—and not for the better. 

And don’t forget– the number one way Carswell restores competence is to take pre-trial defendants off these drugs. After a short detox, I saw first-hand myself how 9 times out of 10, they’d be just fine, and ready for trial. Somewhere along the way, the women got misdiagnosed for nonexistent conditions. But there was nothing wrong with these women. They suffered no diminished capacity of any kind. I listened to women thank Carswell for showing they were mentally okay. 

Finally, “Psyched Out” raises serious questions as to whether women are getting targeted by psychiatry, particularly. 

By example, Eli Lilly has been marketing Prozac under the name, Sarafem, for women suffering premenstrual tension. The two drugs are identical in composition, except that Prozac is a green pill, while Sarafem has a pink and purple color. The color choice affects “how women react to the drug, ” according to Eli Lilly. 562 Women taking Sarafem have no idea that they’re actually ingesting Prozac, the most powerful anti-depressant on the market. 

Would women still want the drug if they had the facts? And since when has menstruation become a mental illness anyway? 

Psychiatry’s attacks on women are hardly subtle. 

In my case, confidence, motivation and pride for my achievements got stigmatized as “grandiosity” and a “mental defect.” 563 That’s the new language used by psychiatry to attack a woman’s strength, though the same qualities in a male colleague would be praised as ambition and perseverance. That’s how they attacked me. 

Citing its “medical authority, ” psychiatry argued that a lowly woman like myself could not possibly have engaged in anti-terrorism work. I must be suffering a “mental disease” for believing that I had done so (for nine years).Naturally then, I must suffer myself to be “cured, ” in order to unlearn my confidence in my life. 564 

It was blatant sexism, with no “clinical” link to reality—since I could prove I did these things. It should be a red flag that psychiatry exalts women who are submissive and dependent— and coincidentally, more needy for approval. Docile, insecure women are ideal, since they are more easily persuaded to accept instruction as part of the “doctor-patient” relationship. The abuse I suffered exemplifies how psychiatry punishes women who deviate from social weakness, and challenge their authority. 

In their way of thinking, we are disobedient little girls who need to be punished with drugs and “treatment.” 

Those attitudes did not change after my release from Carswell, unfortunately. Now psychiatry demanded that I must submit to a process of re-education to eradicate my strength, independence, and decision-making skills. I would be “healthy” when I no longer exhibited “symptoms” of confidence and self motivation, and when I stopped believing that I have led a meaningful and productive life. 

When I stopped feeling empowered and goal oriented, when I learned self-doubt, insecurity and weakness, then at last I would be a “real woman.” I would be cured. 

If that sounds seriously disturbed, it is. 

If I had not fought back, those arguments would be continuing against me today. 

Bottom line: psychiatry is big business with big profits. And the courts are a marketplace for clients. Psychiatry and pharmacology are looking to build market share together, in a quest for revenues. That’s what it all comes back to. Making money. 

And so my nightmare was not over, though I had defeated psychiatry on the critical issue of forcible drugging. 

On that basis, Pre-Trial Services demanded that I report to Counseling Plus in Silver Spring, Maryland for yet another psychological evaluation, followed by counseling. 

Thankfully, at the community level, politics was removed from the “diagnosis, ” as Ted Lindauer and I had expected. 

And what did the Maryland evaluation find? That I suffered Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD)— caused by my experiences at Carswell. And nothing else. 565 

Counseling Plus reported that I was “fully grounded in reality in all my sensory faculties times four.” Other than anxiety and tension caused by my false imprisonment, I showed no signs of mood disturbances. There was no other source for my PTSD symptoms. 566 

In other words, according to this “diagnosis, ” if I had not got shipped off to prison without a trial or hearing, and threatened with forcible drugging, I would not suffer symptoms of any kind at all. I showed no signs of other “mental defects.” 

Like Dr. Taddesseh before Carswell, for the next year, Counseling Plus reported that I suffered “no depression or bipolar disorder, and no signs of psychosis or psychiatric symptoms of any kind. (Lindauer) is fully oriented to her surroundings times four.” 567 

Nevertheless, I was forced to undergo nine months of “counseling” until I refused to go back. 

So what did we talk about? Why, the corruption of psychology, of course, and how much I despised it. How it deprived me of my legal rights and reputation. I had nothing else to say to these people. Every Saturday got ruined by forced recitations of the awful conditions at Carswell, and the horrific abuses of prisoners, or how psychiatrists knowingly and deliberately lied in my case. It explains why my awful memories are so vivid to this day. 

Beyond that, Dr. Tressa Burton, the court psychologist, surfed the internet for clothes and weekend entertainment for her daughter, while I was forced to sit in her office, bored out of my mind. She surfed the internet constantly during our meetings. A couple of times she handed me women’s magazines, like Good Housekeeping and Cosmopolitan, and asked if I saw any articles I’d like to discuss. Or if I caught Oprah’s show that week. We had nothing to chat about together. 

I saw with blinding clarity that psychology is about pop culture. It’s the fad of the moment. Pretty much you have to turn off your brain, and blather from your mouth. I’d look at the clock, and ten minutes would have gone by. And I’d think to myself, oh God, how dull! How much more of this can I take? 

It was a huge waste of my time and your tax dollars. But I had to stay the full hour, so Counseling Plus could make money off the feds. I learned quickly that even the subsection of psychology that recognized the corruption in my case, lacked the integrity to turn down federal tax dollars. They used defendants as an ATM machine to make cash withdrawals off the state and federal budgets. 

Counseling Plus could have cut back the number of meetings I was forced to attend, since it had no value to my life. But Burton could not make money if she did. And it was always about the money. Psychology doesn’t want clients to be strong or independent. They can’t keep those clients. That’s why they try to focus all of your energies on bad things. It doesn’t surprise me that people who participate in long-term counseling have incredibly unhappy lives. 

Psychology did teach me one very important thing: Focusing all of your energies on bad experiences is a stupid and wasteful activity. There’s no benefit to reliving your worst nightmares over and over again. On the contrary, it’s a fairly destructive pass-time. 

As proof, my meetings with Burton started in October, and got interrupted mid-December, when she suffered a series of seizures that forced her to cancel meetings for the next two months until late February. 

Well, I was deliriously happy. I hated those meetings. I was delighted that she had to cancel them for so long. I regarded it as two full months of freedom, sans fascist efforts to control my thinking and lifestyle choices. 

And what happened to my life without her “guidance” and “instruction?” How did I “cope” with my Post Traumatic Stress Disorder without her presence for two whole months? 

Immediately my quality of life improved. 

My moods on Saturday afternoons picked up dramatically, carrying over throughout the week. I was much happier. I stopped raging at my friends, who were exhausted by my stress, by this time. Flashbacks to my suffering at Carswell—and my fury— decreased a hundred fold. Immediately I was more productive in my life, and the quality of my thinking and confidence started to rebound. My natural resilience kicked in. 

Without her presence, I refinanced my house, paid off my credit card debts, and redesigned my kitchen. Without psychology pulling me down, I stopped feeling like an infantilized victim of my circumstances. I became empowered and functioned as a fulfilled woman again. I started taking control of my life, and acting as a goal oriented individual. 

Getting away from her was the best thing for my state of mind—and my Saturday afternoons! 

By the end of February — regrettably— Burton got her seizure disorder under control, and started her practice again. Immediately, I crashed back into unhappiness. I was forced to suffer through Carswell all over again. Our conversations became a tape replaying all of my anger for how the corruption of psychology had robbed my reputation for my life’s work. How psychology was so selfish as to interfere with my Constitutional rights to prove my innocence in a court of law. How psychology was terrified of reality, which beat them every time. 

Every conversation fed my rage. Every weekend that Burton cancelled a meeting, my happiness skyrocketed throughout the following week. When I would go back to her office, it would pull me down like the undertow of a tidal wave. 

On that basis I would seriously question why anybody should attend counseling meetings at all. Certainly when it comes to Post Traumatic Stress, fixating on the harsh experience that caused the trauma intensifies spiritual pain, instead of healing it. That’s probably the worst thing you could do. 

Having said that, PTSD is a real condition. It’s not linked to some imaginary imbalance in brain chemicals. It’s caused by real traumatic events, and it shows itself through rage and anxiety, which grows worse by reliving the moments of original distress. 

Based on my own experiences, anybody who suffers PTSD would be helped by practicing how to refocus their thoughts onto something entirely different than the original stress. PTSD builds fast like an ocean tide. First it laps at your feet, then it crashes at your waist. Psychology might be valuable if it helped kick your mind to a different zone. You’ve got to invest energy into new experience, so the intensity of the new activity pulls your concentration away from the problem zone. The energy must be all consuming, so that you’re totally focused on the new moment— not wallowing in the past. 

Physical exercise provides more relief than psychology meetings alone, even if you’ve got a tread mill tucked in a corner of your office. Outward Bound for returning soldiers would be a healthy investment by the military. Therapy in a physical setting would make a huge difference, with blocks of time on a stair master or treadmill, punctuated with counseling. That’s how to beat PTSD. Some kind of community service, in a totally different area than the stress source, makes a difference. In my own life, I turned to animal rescue work. Playing soccer or basketball makes a difference. Taking up musical instruments—the guitar, the saxophone, the piano. Biking or hiking on the weekends. 

Any of those activities make a greater impact on PTSD than attending psychology meetings alone. Build that activity into your schedule, and you will get better. Essentially, your mind will create a fresh, positive area to focus its energies on, and your body will burn off excess tension through physical exercise. That’s how you move past PTSD. Any traumatic experience stays part of your life. The critical thing is to learn not to focus energy on it. 

Unfortunately, that’s not what psychology allowed me to do. 

If that wasn’t bad enough, the Prosecutor, O’Callaghan, was not happy with the non-political findings of Burton’s “diagnosis” of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder caused by the effects of Carswell. It failed to impugn my competence, especially because her evaluation freely acknowledged that there was no reason for prescribing drugs to “cure” me of anything. 

So a few weeks later, O’Callaghan demanded that I submit to a second psych evaluation in Maryland, on the grounds that Burton was a psychologist—like Shadduck at Carswell, not a certified psychiatrist. Burton was astonished by the prosecutor’s request. Pre-Trial Services, which had to pay for it, protested that it was a waste of their budget. And you could be damn sure I wasn’t paying for this. All of this was taxpayer financed. 

Hearing my story, the second evaluator, a psychiatrist, demonstrated a modicum of wisdom. His report assured the court in New York that Dr. Burton was reliable and trustworthy in the state of Maryland, and he would not second guess her findings. 568 PreTrial Services denied Shaughnessy’s request for a copy of that report, but Burton told me what it said. 

Post Traumatic Stress was consistent with what the Maryland psychiatrist saw. And so the second court evaluation in Maryland successfully sidestepped the whole business. He didn’t want any part of this. 

That’s not what O’Callaghan wanted to hear a second time, either. At the rate I was racking up nonpolitical psych evaluations in Maryland, there would be nothing left of the bogus finding of incompetence. 

So, once again, a few weeks later, O’Callaghan demanded that I submit to a Third Psychiatric Evaluation after Carswell— this time with the original psychiatrist, Dr. Kleinman, who declared me incompetent for the Justice Department. O’Callaghan argued that the Maryland psych community didn’t understand my history. It would take too much time to educate them.—Ergo, they weren’t sufficiently corruptible. 

Amazingly, Judge Loretta Preska (who took over from Judge Mukasey) granted O’Callaghan’s request. That’s how it came to pass that six months after Carswell, I was forced to undergo no fewer than three additional evaluations. 569 

The Prosecutor was shopping for what he wanted to hear. And he couldn’t get it outside of politicized psychiatry. Only now, through hard experience, I’d learned a few things about how to protect myself from corrupt psychiatric practices. Too many “doctors” had laughed in my face when I said my story was truthful, and voiced my desire to prove myself in court. 

After Carswell, I found a way to protect myself. I strongly urge any individual who’s forced to undergo a court ordered evaluation for any reason, even a custody dispute, to follow this method for self protection. I could have saved myself so much pain—and a year in prison—if I’d done it sooner. 

Other Americans can learn from my ordeal. It’s simple. 

Bring a tape recorder. 

Get a recording. Save the record. You will protect yourself from serious threats of psychiatric fraud if you can prove what you said, versus what they want to pretend that you said. 

You must not presume that because you have engaged in a rational conversation that these people are likewise rational. Quite the opposite. Their role is to twist everything you say into a convoluted schematic that showcases themselves. There’s nothing medical or rational about psychiatry. You must protect yourself. 

Which explains why I showed up for my third psych evaluation post Carswell with a tape recorder. 570 And from that moment, I started kicking some ass! 571 

And let me show you why. This is part of the transcript from that meeting with Dr. Kleinman on June 8, 2007. 572 It’s nothing like what you’d expect. 

LINDAUER: “This is Susan Lindauer in the office of Sam Talkin. I am formally requesting that he attend this meeting. I have been summoned here at the request of the court. It is with Mr. Kleinman who is guilty of perjury in my case. The FBI has already verified my story. Mr. Kleinman is on record lying to a federal judge. This tape is being taken for legal purposes in a potential lawsuit against Mr. Kleinman.” 

DR. KLEINMAN: “Good morning. Uh I must say that first of all, I am Dr. Kleinman. And I have been retained by the United States Attorneys Office to do a psychiatric examination on your mental state. Particularly as it relates to the charges that are pending against you and your understanding and appreciation of them.” 

LINDAUER: “Yes. I have already declared that I am innocent of those charges, and I have asked for trial. The Prosecutor who’s so convinced that he’s got a strong case has, for three years, refused to give me a trial.” 

DR. KLEINMAN: “OK. We’ll talk about that all for a moment. First, do you know who this person is to my right and your left.” 

LINDAUER: “My attorney.” 

DR. KLEINMAN: “What is his name?” 

LINDAUER: “I just announced it on the tape. His name is Sam Talkin. We are in his offices at 40 Exchange Place close to the Wall Street metro in downtown Manhattan.” 

DR. KLEINMAN: “Do I have your permission to speak with you?” 

LINDAUER: “I am here at the order of the court.” 

DR. KLEINMAN: “If at any point you decide that you don’t want to speak with me, please communicate it.” 

LINDAUER: “I am here at the order of the Court. So I expect you to ask your questions. I left my house this morning at 6:40 in the morning, and I have arrived in New York at a prompt hour. I expect this meeting will ask questions rapidly, so this can be concluded. And I refuse to answer questions about legal strategy. Except to say that I will not be using a headfucker defense at my trial. I will be using a government defense.” 

“And I know very well that the Prosecution has no right to dictate that defense.I shall be calling witnesses, some of whom have already been interviewed by the FBI, who will easily confirm that they have already verified the authenticity of my work, which has been questioned by Mr. Kleinman here, who pretended it was delusional. That was the word you used.” 

DR. KLEINMAN: “How do you think anybody listening to you right now would respond to how you —” 

LINDAUER: “I don’t care.” 

DR. KLEINMAN: “What’s your opinion?” 

LINDAUER: “I don’t care.” 

And shortly after that exchange: 

LINDAUER: “I will be delighted to provide a copy of this tape to you. That’s not a problem. 

DR. KLEINMAN: Well, I’m going to ask actually is when you’re done, you’ll give the tape to Mr. Talkin.” 

LINDAUER: “No, no, no, no.” 

DR. KLEINMAN: “Let me finish. And that Mr. Talkin make a copy for the following reasons.

LINDAUER: “No. No. I have an attorney in Washington [Mr. Brian Shaughnessy] who is preparing a lawsuit against you. You are guilty of perjury in a courtroom. I spent a year in prison because you lied to a federal judge, mister. You want to say you’re a doctor? Well, real doctors have malpractice insurance. You have wrongly pretended that I am incompetent. You have wrongly pretended that I am delusional. You have actually advocated forcibly drugging me to cure me of the history of my life, which is true. I think you are Despicable.” 

DR. KLEINMAN: “Well, here are the conditions. I’m going to ask that the original of the tape be given by you to Mr. Talkin before you leave today.” 

LINDAUER: “No.” 

DR. KLEINMAN: “That’s OK.” 

LINDAUER: “I will not do it. I will, however, guarantee that you have a copy of the tape. I have no trouble doing that.” 

DR. KLEINMAN: “That’s fine, but since I want to make sure that there is only one version of the tape.” 

LINDAUER: “I don’t trust Mr. Talkin. Mr. Talkin has repeatedly refused to interview witnesses. Mr. Talkin has repeatedly refused to get subpoenas that I asked for. Unfortunately, Mr. Talkin has proven that he is not reliable.” 

DR. KLEINMAN: “You don’t trust him.” 

LINDAUER: “Absolutely not.” 

DR. KLEINMAN: “What do you think he would do with the tape?” 

LINDAUER: “Lose it.” 

An arrangement was made to copy the tape at Talkin’s law offices that afternoon. I took the original tapes home with me, and Kleinman got his copy. It would have been simpler to buy a second tape recorder for $20 at WalMart or Target. They’re not expensive. No defendant can afford not to have a recording device at this sort of meeting. My case provides ample evidence why. 

My decision to hold onto those tapes proved vital to my next court battle. One year later, Shaughnessy forced the Court to grant my statutory right to a competency hearing—after producing a Third Favorable evaluation from a nonpolitical psychiatrist, Dr. Richard Rattner of Washington, DC. At the hearing, Dr. Kleinman based his entire testimony on this meeting. 573, 574 

Apparently Dr. Kleinman did not realize I kept those tapes, instead of handing them over to Talkin, as instructed. (I’m such a naughty female!) Or else he imagined that I lost them. Whatever his thinking, when Dr. Kleinman falsely described our conversation to Judge Preska, Shaughnessy surprised everyone with a Motion for Reconsideration that shattered several major inaccuracies in Dr. Kleinman’s testimony. 575 And Shaughnessy submitted transcripts of the interview as proof. 

The moral of the story is for each individual to hold onto your own tapes. Get them transcribed immediately. And always save the tapes. That’s critical. Psychiatry has the ability to twist and pervert even the most innocuous conversation. That’s their “contribution” to the court proceedings. They will not hesitate to make mischief. 

Here’s another example: 576 

DR. KLEINMAN: “So let me go back. You said when we met previously, the purpose was to cover up Iraqi Pre-War Intelligence. Do you believe that I have any role in that?” 

LINDAUER: “Yes.” 

DR. KLEINMAN: “And did I knowingly have that role?” 

LINDAUER: “Yes.” 

DR. KLEINMAN: “OK So tell me what role I had in knowingly covering it up?” 

LINDAUER: “You deliberately lied to a federal judge. I told you in very clear terms that I was an Asset working in Iraqi Pre-War Intelligence. You lied and pretended that I was delusional for thinking that I had done this work. Which I did for NINE YEARS.” 

DR. KLEINMAN: “Okay.” 

LINDAUER: “You got me declared incompetent, which is a joke. I mean, it’s so the politicians don’t have to take responsibility for what they did. And their decision-making in Baghdad. They can blame the Assets and pretend that we failed to bring them good quality intelligence. And by the way, the Senate already has investigated the January, 2003 intelligence.” [The date cited in my indictment for my approach to Andy Card and Colin Powell.] “And they found it ‘chilling and prophetic.’ That’s what they called it.” 

DR. KLEINMAN: “So? Let’s go back. See my understanding is that I was asked by the government to evaluate you regarding your competency to stand trial. That’s my understanding.” 

LINDAUER: “That’s right. But in the course of doing that, I very clearly and carefully explained to you that I was an Asset. That I had been doing this for years. And you went to the Court, and you said, Oh, your honor. Nobody can verify her story.” “Nobody except everybody who’s talked to the FBI, my friend.” 

LINDAUER: “This is easy to prove. Very easy to prove.” 

DR. KLEINMAN: “Very easy to prove. Have you given that information to your attorney?” 

LINDAUER: “Absolutely. And my attorney did nothing to interview these people. So my Uncle Thayer Lindauer, who is an attorney with 40 or more years of experience, he interviewed these witnesses. He located them.” 

DR. KLEINMAN: “So this is your uncle who interviewed them?” 

LINDAUER: “My uncle, who is an attorney, has interviewed them. They responded to his phone calls immediately.” 

DR. KLEINMAN: “So have you provided this information to Mr. Talkin?” 

LINDAUER: “Of course.” 

DR. KLEINMAN: “You have?” 

LINDAUER: “Of course. Of course.” 

DR. KLEINMAN: “So then he has—” 

LINDAUER: “The whole thing has been bullshit.” 

And later on: 

DR. KLEINMAN: “Let me speak about trial for a moment. Let’s take a step back. What are the charges pending against you? What are they?” 

LINDAUER: “You already know the charges. I’ve been accused of acting as an Iraqi Agent in conspiracy with the Iraqi Intelligence Service. Which is just the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard in my life. I want to hear this Prosecutor tell the people of New York that working on an antiterrorism investigation is against the law.” 

“And by the way, I’m one of the people who warned about 9/11. I do not appreciate what you did in the slightest!” 

DR. KLEINMAN: “How did you know about 9/11?” 

LINDAUER: “We had been watching for an attack for months.” 

DR. KLEINMAN: “Who’s we?” 


LINDAUER: “Richard Fuisz had been instructing me for several months. From after the Lockerbie Trial. OK, the Lockerbie Trial ends in January. In approximately March and April, Richard Fuisz is beginning to aggressively ask me, over and over again, if there is any intelligence that I’m hearing about any attack. Specifically I am to pump my sources for information on airplane hijackings and airplane bombings. I am to tell Iraq and Libya – Iraq PARTICULARLY—that if anybody bombs the United States, and we find out that they knew about it, we will blow them fucking back to the stone age.” [Note: The correct months were April and May.] 

DR. KLEINMAN: “Did you tell Iraq and Libya that?” 

LINDAUER: “Yes. And by God, Richard Fuisz did his job. Richard Fuisz did exactly what he is supposed to do. He is proactive. He is strong. He is thinking. He is working to protect this country. And he has nothing to be ashamed of. And I don’t either. This is how we do it.” 

DR. KLEINMAN: “Let’s talk about Iraq for a moment. I believe that you told me that you were once, in fact, in Iraq.” 

LINDAUER: “Yes. I’m not going to discuss answers to any charges against me.” 

DR. KLEINMAN: “I’m just asking—Do you understand that there is a charge against you?” 

LINDAUER: “Oh, I understand, and I’m going to kick their fucking ass in court about it.” 

DR. KLEINMAN: “But what’s your knowledge of the charge? The charge exists. I’m just checking to see if you know what the charge is?” 

LINDAUER: “The charge is that I took a trip to Baghdad.” 

DR. KLEINMAN: “And?” 

LINDAUER: “My answer is that they knew I was going to Baghdad. And I can prove that in a court of law. I can prove I asked for permission to go. I was doing exactly what I thought I was supposed to do. It was totally in good faith. That’s my answer. I did not go off to Baghdad without anybody knowing about it. If they didn’t want me to go, they just had to say so.” 

DR. KLEINMAN: “Fine.” 

LINDAUER: “Anything they wanted me to do. I’d jump up and down five times, and turn in circles for them. Seriously.” 

In “reality, ” I filed a written request for permission to travel to Baghdad in March, 2001. The letter to Andy Card recounted the invitation from Iraq’s Foreign Ministry. I promised to meet any U.S. official before or after the trip. I also agreed to delay the trip, at their request. The U.S. Attorney had a copy of this paper. So did Talkin. 577 

Following that exchange, Dr. Kleinman inquired about a videotape made by the Iraqis at our final meeting in Baghdad. Critically, the tape involved my Iraqi friend who had agreed to act as a liaison to an FBI Task Force on AntiTerrorism. This required extraordinary courage on his part, as it could easily get him killed. 

LINDAUER: “There is a videotape, which I’m not even remotely moved by.” 

DR. KLEINMAN: “So what’s your interpretation of it?” 

LINDAUER: “I expected [the Iraqis] to tape the meeting. I’m an Asset. You don’t wink at the camera. I’m an Asset. I’m working my ass off to persuade the Iraqis to give us information about terrorism. I am expecting them to tape that meeting.” 

DR. KLEINMAN: “Okay.” 

LINDAUER: “I expect that there is a tape recorder somewhere. Whether it’s video or audio, that’s the difference that I didn’t know. But I expected them to tape it.” 

DR. KLEINMAN: “Because you’re an Asset?” 

LINDAUER: “They know. This is a game. This is how the game works.” This sort of exchange was typical: 

LINDAUER: “Applying present situations to yesterday—If you tell me today that I should have done something yesterday doesn’t work for me. Because I asked for instructions. And I promised to obey the instructions. And I specifically sought instructions. And I said that “I will obey you to the letter. Just tell me what you want me to do. I can prove that in any court of law.” 

DR. KLEINMAN: “That’s fine.” 

LINDAUER: “None of this mattered until the Presidential Commission on Iraqi Pre-War Intelligence was formed. I was their chief asset working with Iraq on anti-terrorism. It would have been obscene. I mean, my God, you should take me out and hang me from the Stock Exchange or the Empire State Building, if I didn’t help after 9/11. The whole reason my contacts existed was so that there would be somebody with deep contacts inside the Iraqi government, so whenever there was a terrorist attack of any kind, there would be a back channel source to get it.” 

“If I had refused to get that information after 9/11, THAT would have been traitorous. That would have been treason. That would have been ugly. That would have gone against every single thing I believe in, and everything everybody else I know believes in."

Most of the conversation with Dr. Kleinman focused on the possibility of a plea bargain floated by the prosecutor. This is where we caught him lying to the Court. 

Over and over, Dr. Kleinman badgered me to plead guilty on tax charges. Steadfastly I refused, while he tried a number of approaches to persuade me that I should accept the deal.. 578 We caught it all on tape. 

Observe that I was not indicted for tax charges. 579 I did not owe back taxes, and would not have owed additional taxes if I accepted a guilty plea. It merely provided a vehicle for ending the case, if I chose to do the Justice Department another favor— not likely after Carswell. Floating a guilty plea for something not on my indictment reinforced Shaughnessy’s opinion that the Prosecutor recognized he could not get a conviction on the original charges. There really was no case against me. They had to find something else. 

Shockingly, under oath, Dr. Kleinman testified that I was the one who suggested the Prosecutor had floated a plea bargain. In court testimony, Dr. Kleinman told Judge Preska that he had no personal knowledge such an offer existed. 580 Upon checking with O’Callaghan, Dr. Kleinman said he discovered I was wrong. He declared that my “mistake” about the plea bargain proved I continued to be “incompetent to stand trial.” 

My eyeballs bulged to hear it! 

Shaughnessy pulverized Kleinman. And I mean, Shaughnessy beat him silly. Thanks to the tapes of this meeting, we could prove that Kleinman himself interjected questions about a plea bargain over and over again, 581 which I repeatedly shot down. He pushed the plea bargain for a good two hours of this interview—all caught on tape. 

Then Kleinman falsified testimony under oath in front of Judge Preska. 

Another interesting point is that almost none of Dr. Kleinman’s questions related to my emotional state of mind or psychology. For example, Dr. Kleinman devoted a good half hour to exploring my finances. 582 

DR. KLEINMAN: “So, do you still own a house?” 

LINDAUER: “Yes.” 

DR. KLEINMAN: “Do you have a mortgage on the house?” 

LINDAUER: “Yes.” 

DR. KLEINMAN: “Do you pay the mortgage on the house?” 

LINDAUER: “Yes.” 

DR. KLEINMAN: “How often do you make the mortgage payments?” 

LINDAUER: “Every month. Like everybody else.” 

DR. KLEINMAN: “What is your monthly mortgage payment?” 

LINDAUER: “About $2500 a month approximately. I just refinanced. That includes taxes.” 

DR. KLEINMAN: “Did you use any kind of mortgage broker to refinance?” 

LINDAUER: “Well, yeah. Of course.” 

DR. KLEINMAN: “I’m not an expert, but one could do it directly with a bank. Or you can use a mortgage broker who helps?” 

LINDAUER: “Yeah, yeah.” 

DR. KLEINMAN: “So did you do it with the bank or with the broker?” 

LINDAUER: “A broker. YES.” 

DR. KLEINMAN: “What was the purpose of refinancing?” 

LINDAUER: “Uggh! My God! To get a better interest rate. To pay off my debts. And to make some improvements to my house.” 

DR. KLEINMAN: “So you got a loan in other words? What did your interest rate go to? From what to what?” 

LINDAUER: “That’s none of your business.” 

DR. KLEINMAN: “It’s OK if you don’t tell me. I’m just asking your reasoning.” 

LINDAUER: “It has nothing to do with you.” 

DR. KLEINMAN: “Does that seem intrusive?” 

LINDAUER: “Yes.” 

DR. KLEINMAN: “What’s intrusive about it?” 

LINDAUER: “It’s none of your damn business.” 

DR. KLEINMAN: “Do you have a checking account?” 

LINDAUER: “I’m not going to answer any of these questions. You’re full of shit.” 

DR. KLEINMAN: “Am I?” 

LINDAUER: “Yeah, I think you’re desperate. I just refinanced my house, got a better interest rate, paid off all my debts, remodeled my kitchen and put in new windows.” 

DR. KLEINMAN: “What am I full of shit about?” 

LINDAUER: “You’re looking for some excuse to harass me.” 

DR. KLEINMAN: “I’m not looking for anything. It’s more relevant to your mental state.” 

LINDAUER: “Oh yeah, right. Tell them that I’m SOOO DEPRESSED that I paid off all my debts!! I’m SOO worried because all my debts are gone. What garbage. Make sure that you say that’s garbage. (Sarcastic laughter).” 

DR. KLEINMAN: “What’s garbage? But it relates to your competence?” 

LINDAUER: “You’re desperate—” 

See what a difference a tape recording makes? Not what anybody expected, I’ll bet. Probably you expected some emotional floss about childhood trauma, or some deep secret feelings about life. Some deeply sensitive emotional concerns that poignantly depict a wounded “inner child.” 

I defy anyone to explain how that conversation reflects on my “emotional well being” at all. Or how that would substantially demonstrate my inability to contribute to my defense at trial? 

And yet, following this conversation, Dr. Kleinman reported to Judge Preska that I continued to be “unfit for trial.” He declared that I “could not assist in my defense.” 

Only now Brian Shaughnessy waited for me in the wings. 

From that first auspicious evening at the National Press Club, Shaughnessy became fully engaged in my defense. Without further delay, he began interviewing witnesses and examining evidence and alibis. 583 He wanted to be fully prepped for any conversation with O’Callaghan to move forward out of this stalemate. By now it was obvious Talkin couldn’t handle that sort of discussion on my behalf. Shaughnessy took over the role filled by Ted Lindauer at Carswell. Talkin continued to appear with me, and sit at the table. But Shaughnessy began traveling to New York for all of my status meetings with Judge Preska. 584 

Dr. Kleinman’s obvious dishonesty whet Shaughnessy’s appetite. Because of these forced psych interviews, the Justice Department had my defense strategy—and Shaughnessy recognized they were most desperate that I should not use it. The fraud of the indictment would be exposed, and the government would suffer deep embarrassment for the lies they told about Pre-War Intelligence and 9/11. 

I would win. The public would win. And Washington politicians would lose big time. 

Shaughnessy recognized this was a truth Americans needed to hear. 

By May 2007, I told Sam Talkin that I would not attend meetings at Counseling Plus for much longer. Shaughnessy guided me skillfully. He urged me to give the Court a reasonable opportunity to achieve closure, before we reopened the question of my competence. Over that summer, he had several conversations with O’Callaghan. Above all, we reminded Judge Preska that psychiatry had forced this finding of incompetence on me without a hearing, in strict violation of my rights under the law. If this case didn’t go away, Shaughnessy would formally take over my defense and move for Trial. 

From that point on, psychology would get tossed in the dust bin where it belonged. 

In August, Shaughnessy, who’s a congenial and shrewd fellow, gave O’Callaghan one final chance to drop my case. Shaughnessy reminded him of the promise to Sam Talkin before I left for Carswell that the Justice Department would drop the charges if I cooperated with the incompetence defense. 

It was now a year after my release from prison. 

O’Callaghan said he’d changed his mind. He intended to hold the charges against me for another year, and possibly two years. 

Shaughnessy thanked him politely, and retreated to our corner of the boxing ring to prepare for another fight round 

Clearly O’Callaghan had not learned the lesson of an intelligence war: He had power over his actions. He did not have power over mine. 

And so, consistent with my pledge, in August, 2007 I refused to go back to Counseling Plus after 10 months of worthless psychology meetings, financed by hard working American taxpayers. 585 

I told the Court that I refused to play this game any longer. My days as a campaign contribution to Republicans on Capitol Hill was over. 

But it wasn’t over for O’Callaghan. His backer on Capitol Hill was now campaigning for the highest office in the land. John McCain wanted to be President. In a short time, O’Callaghan would land a plum campaign job in McCain’s inner circle. O’Callaghan’s internet bio boasts that he “advised McCain’s campaign on terrorism and national security policy.” 586 

Now that was an interesting twist. I’d been arrested after phoning McCain’s Senate office, requesting to testify before the Presidential Commission on Pre-War Intelligence, which McCain spearheaded for Republican leaders. The refusal to grant my demand for a trial protected McCain’s wrongful claims about 9/11 and Iraq. Indeed, any sort of public hearing threatened to expose McCain’s deceptions on a host of national security issues. 

For years I believed that the intelligence faction attacking me had ties to John McCain. Now I got my proof. 

Only now there was a sea-change O’Callaghan had not expected. 

Now a top Washington attorney was championing my defense. Brian Shaughnessy had my back. And he fully agreed that my case should go to trial.

next
American Cassandra

notes
CHAPTER 29 
545. Court Decision by Judge Loretta Preska Upholding finding of Incompetence. Sept 15, 2008. 
546. Court Decision by Judge Michael B. Mukasey on Forcible Drugging, in favor of Defendant. U.S. vs. Lindauer. September 7, 2006. Date of retirement Sept 8, 2006. 
547. Court papers. Prison Correspondence from Lindauer to Judge Mukasey. Copies supplied to defense attorney, Sam Talkin. 
548. Ibid. Court Decision by Judge Michael B. Mukasey on Forcible Drugging, in favor of Defendant. U.S. vs. Lindauer. September 7, 2006. Date of retirement Sept 8, 2006. 
549. Ibid. Court Decision by Judge Michael B. Mukasey on Forcible Drugging, in favor of Defendant. U.S. vs. Lindauer. September 7, 2006. Date of retirement Sept 8, 2006. 
550. Ibid. Court Decision by Judge Michael B. Mukasey on Forcible Drugging, in favor of Defendant. U.S. v Lindauer. September 7, 2006. Date of retirement Sept 8, 2006. 
551. Ibid. Court Decision by Judge Michael B. Mukasey on Forcible Drugging, in favor of Defendant. U.S. vs. Lindauer. September 7, 2006. Date of retirement Sept 8, 2006. 

CHAPTER 30 
552. Ibid. Federal Statute. Competence Detentions. 2006. 
553. Biography of Brian Shaughnessy. Law Firm of Shaughnessy, Volzer & Gagner. 2010 
554. Patricia Kelly O’Meara. “Psyched Out: How Psychiatry Sells Mental Illness and Pushes Pills that Kill.” Author House. 2001. 
555. Court Testimony by Patricia Kelly O’Meara at Competency Hearing of Susan Lindauer. Judge Loretta Preska, presiding. Southern District of New York.. June, 2008. 
556. Ibid. O’Meara. “Psyched Out: How Psychiatry Sells Mental Illness and Pushes Pills that Kill.” Author House. 2001. 
557. Ibid. O’Meara. “Psyched Out: How Psychiatry Sells Mental Illness and Pushes Pills that Kill.” Author House. 2001. 
558. Antonuccio et al. Psychiatric Times, 12:8, August 2000. Cited in O’Meara. “Psyched Out: How Psychiatry Sells Mental Illness.” Author House. 2001. 
559. Dr. Peter Breggen, MD “Brain Disabling Treatments in Psychiatry.” Springer Publishing Co. New York, 1997 p. 5. Cited in O’Meara. “Psyched Out: How Psychiatry Sells Mental Illness and Pushes Pills that Kill.” Author House. 2001.
560. Loren Mosher, MD, former chief of the National Institute of Mental Health Center for the Study of Schizophrenia. Cited in O’Meara. “Psyched Out: How Psychiatry Sells Mental Illness and Pushes Pills that Kill.” Author House. 2001. 
561. Elliot S. Valenstein, PhD, “Blaming the Brain” (The Free Press, New York, 1998) p.4. Cited in O’Meara. “Psyched Out: How Psychiatry Sells Mental Illness and Pushes Pills that Kill.” Author House. 2001. 
562. Ibid. O’Meara. “Psyched Out: How Psychiatry Sells Mental Illness and Pushes Pills that Kill.” Author House. 2001. 
563. (i) Court Testimony on Forcible Drugging, Judge Mukasey presiding. Dr. Goldstein. May 9, 2006. (ii) Ibid. Psychiatry Report by Dr. Stuart Kleinman. Sept 17, 2005. U.S. vs. Lindauer (iii) Ibid. Psychiatry Report by Dr. Sanford Drob, Jan 18, 2005. U.S. vs. Lindauer 
564. (i) Court Testimony on Forcible Drugging, Judge Mukasey presiding. Dr. Goldstein. May 9, 2006. (ii) Ibid. Psychiatry Report by Dr. Stuart Kleinman. Sept 17, 2005. U.S. vs. Lindauer (iii) Ibid. Psychiatry Report by Dr. Sanford Drob, Jan 18, 2005. U.S. vs. Lindauer 
565. Psychology Evaluation by Dr. Burton, Counseling Plus. Oct, 2006. U.S. vs. Lindauer. 
566. Psychology Evaluation by Dr. Burton, Counseling Plus. Oct, 2006. U.S. vs. Lindauer. 
567. U.S. Pre-Trial Services. Session Notes filed by Dr. Burton, Counseling Plus. October 2006 through August, 2007. U.S. vs. Lindauer. 
568. U.S. Pre-Trial Services. No copy of the 2 nd Psych Evaluation in Maryland, postCarswell, has survived. My Pre-Trial Supervisor refused my request for a copy. Shaughnessy and I suspect the Justice Department feared what my Defense might do if we got hold of two positive psych evaluations, back to back, that contradicted the Court proceedings. For whatever reason, they refused to hand it over. 
569. Psychiatric Evaluation for Prosecution by Dr. Stuart Kleinman, U.S. vs. Lindauer. Judge Loretta Preska presiding. June, 2007. 
570. Motion for Reconsideration of Decision on Defendant’s Competence and Her Right to a Speedy Trial. Filed by Brian Shaughnessy, October 1, 2008. U.S. vs. Lindauer, Judge Preska Presiding. 
571. Affidavit by Susan Lindauer filed with Motion for Reconsideration, citing tracts from taped interview on June 8, 2007. Judge Preska presiding. 
572. Transcript of Interview for Psych Evaluation with Dr. Stuart Kleinman, witnessed by Sam Talkin at Law Offices of Talkin & Muggruccio. June 8, 2007 
573. Court Transcript. Testimony of Dr. Kleinman, Judge Loretta Preska. Sept 15, 2007. 
574. Ibid. Transcript of Interview for Psych Evaluation with Dr. Stuart Kleinman, witnessed by Sam Talkin at Law Offices of Talkin & Muggruccio. June 8, 2007 
575. Ibid. Motion for Reconsideration of Decision on Defendant’s Competence. Brian Shaughnessy, attorney. October 1, 2008. (ii) Ibid. Affidavit by Susan Lindauer filed with Motion for Reconsideration 
576. Ibid. Transcript of Interview for Psych Evaluation with Dr. Stuart Kleinman, witnessed by Sam Talkin at Law Offices of Talkin & Muggruccio. June 8, 2007 
577. Ibid. FBI Evidence. Letter to Andy Card dated March 1, 2001. 
578. Ibid. Transcript of Interview for Psych Evaluation with Dr. Stuart Kleinman, witnessed by Sam Talkin at Law Offices of Talkin & Muggruccio. June 8, 2007 
579. Ibid. Federal Indictment. U.S. vs. Lindauer shows no tax charges. 
580. Ibid. Transcript of Court Testimony. Dr. Kleinman, Judge Preska. Sept 15, 2007. 
581. Ibid. Transcript of Interview for Psych Evaluation with Dr. Kleinman, witnessed by Sam Talkin at Law Offices of Talkin & Muggruccio. June 8, 2007 
582. Ibid. Transcript of Interview for Psych Evaluation with Dr. Kleinman, witnessed by Sam Talkin at Law Offices of Talkin & Muggruccio. June 8, 2007 
583. Ibid. Brian Shaughnessy. Prologue. 
584. Court transcripts. U.S. vs. Lindauer. Presence of Brian Shaughnessy at proceedings. June 2007 onward 
585. Letter to Judge Preska from Susan Lindauer, June 10, 2007 notifying Court of Brian Shaughnessy’s interest in the Case. (ii) Session notes from Counseling Plus in August, 2007. End of Meetings with Burton. 
586. Ibid. Biography of Edward O’Callaghan. Law Firm of Peabody Nixon