Brice Taylor
Chapter Thirty-two:
Robot Breakdown
The Second Accident on
April 12 was No Accident
On April 12, 1987, at 9:15 a.m. I had another accident. I couldn't fathom how or why I could have
another accident at the same precise date and time, two years later. But, after smashing my head into a
tree and breaking my back in a horseback accident I began flooding with more memories of the past and
began having even more trouble functioning in my day to day world of responsibilities. I was forced to
take more time out to rest and heal in my conscious life. I sought more chiropractic care and began deep
healing with prayer, herbs, and increased body therapies. During this time of physical healing I also grew
spiritually closer to God and gained the strength of perspective I would need to face further reality.
A Visit to the Mental Hospital
It took a couple of years but as my programmed systems began breaking down, causing memories
of my past to begin flooding uncontrollably into my present awareness, I became increasingly more
dysfunctional. I had trouble performing my daily duties as my past came crashing into my awareness,
often with many memories flooding in at the same time. I had trouble dealing with my outer physical
reality, because there was so much going on inside my head to distract me. Paying attention
simultaneously to both inner and outer realities was a challenge, especially with my programming
throwing up hypnotic commands to become confused, have a migraine, burn or kill myself, or redirect
my thoughts in another direction my controllers dictated. After numerous memories of abuse by my
father, mother, brothers and others, including ways in which I myself was used within the system to
abuse others, I asked my therapist, Stuart Perlman, to call Department of Human Services (DHS) with
me and report all of us. He did as I asked and I gave lengthy interviews to authorities, hoping someone
would help me stop this abuse and insure that my children and the other children in the family would be
safe.
As I became increasingly more dysfunctional, I was admitted to a mental hospital in Westwood
for ten days and got another dose of reality. While in the mental hospital, a suited man entered my room
at night while I was in my bed sleeping. He opened the door, came in, sat down on my bed, hypnotically
commanded me, looked around to insure we were alone, then quickly put a tourniquet on my arm and
injected me. Very quietly he said, "You are safe, you are very, very, safe. Nothing you are remembering is
real; it's all just a bad nightmare. Close down section 34 and remember you are safe, very calm and very
safe. You don't need to worry about anything anymore, everything's been handled." Adding another vial
of the drug to the syringe, he injected it into my arm and began round two, "Stuart Perlman is your
friend. He is your trusted friend helping you through these difficult times. He and he alone can help you,
no one else can quite fill his shoes and every time you look at his shoes when he is sitting in front of you,
you will remember this. Now you will sleep very deeply and when you wake you will not remember any of
this or the sound of my voice, but now you will sleep very, very deeply. Your children are safe, you are
safe and you will rest and sleep very deeply. Remember, you are very safe." When he was through, he
took the needle out of my arm, put all of his paraphernalia into a black doctor's bag, and quietly slipped
out of the darkened room. As usual, I viewed all of this from other personalities within, ones that were
not asleep.
What these programmers need to know is that when a person has multiple personalities,
especially personalities that have been programmed to have superb memory capabilities, those
personalities can and do take note of everything that is occurring. If the presenting personality is
drugged, there are still other personalities left inside, untouched by the drugs who 'take note' of what is
happening. Due to this, myself and others have recovered volumes of experiences, as we healed and reintegrated, in order to be able to put together this larger picture to present to you. Their misuse of
the technology failed. Sorry Henry, back to the drawing board. I guess you need a further distilled
diagram, because, Henry, your security system was not locked up as tightly as you might have thought.
During my hospital stay, I brought up the issue of my children's abuse. To my utter
disappointment, DHS failed to take seriously the allegations of abuse to the young members of our
families. Further, as I was released from the hospital I leaned over the desk to see my medical chart,
which read, "Delusional." No one took me seriously then. I hope you the reader will now.
Further Monitoring at UCLA
My visits to UCLA Neuropsychiatric Institute (NPI) occurred more often after my 1985 and 1987
accidents, and the ensuing head and back injuries. I waited in a room lined with chairs and, when called,
I robotically walked where they told me to and did everything just like they requested. If they said, "take
off your blouse," I did. Anything they asked of me, I did. They put me into an examining room, and
tested me neurologically, saying things like, "touch your nose, move your eyes up to the left," that sort of
thing. Then they tested me walking, bending over, etc. I saw the white uniformed doctor refer to a list in
a little notebook. He asked me questions to which I replied robotically. He asked me, "What is your
name? Where do you live? Who is your husband?" All these were standard neurological examination
procedures.
Then an older doctor came in and told me to follow him into a different room. Things got more
technical then. There was a room full of large recorders, the reel-to-reel type with a chair positioned next
to them. He sat me down next to the equipment and gave me long round bars of metal to hold in my
hands. They were always testing different things. I didn't know what, but tried my best to do them
"right." If I did it wrong they got angry and then I got hurt. The doctor hooked me up to headphones and
told me to hold the metal bars real tightly, and I was instructed to go into a very deep trance state.
After certain word phrases, I was electroshocked. I never knew when it was coming and was told
not to let go of the metal bars. When the phrases didn't apply to me, like for instance, "I'm an Eskimo"
there were no shocks. But after a true statement that was applicable to me, I was shocked. Some things
felt very personal and could have only been applied to me. Like, "I love my husband Craig." Or, "I am a
good mother," or, "I am happy in my life; therapy is making me a better person." All kinds of statements
like that were played through the headphones. Sometimes they shocked my feet instead of my hands or
my head. Things varied often and so did the people administering the 'tests.'
At other times a white van picked me up from the streets of Westwood, after a therapy session,
and took me to UCLA. Sometimes they did stuff to me right inside the van. They had equipment inside
and they said things to me and delivered electroshock. It happened often when I was in therapy with
Stuart, in Westwood. The van would pull up to the curb and when the driver leaned toward the passenger
window with his arm across the seatback and looked at me, I was programmed to come toward the van
and step inside. The driver's uniforms varied, like a mail delivery or some bogus repair service, and the
man accompanying him would do the work on me. Sometimes they would initially slap me around. I
never knew what they were going to do, it was always different and I was caught off guard and couldn't
protect myself. I couldn't ever think to protect myself, even if I knew it was coming. They caused all sorts
of violence in order to keep me under control; they tied me up in a chair and put a gun to my head, or
raped or tortured me in some other way. They put knives to my throat - anything they thought would
scare me. At times there was a large mirror in the back of the van and they would stand me in front of it,
tell me I was so and so, and give instructions to that part of me to do jobs or report things. There was a
wide variety of electronic equipment in the back of the van. They injected my arm with some drug and
then showed me clips from a video. One time they showed me a clip of a person unscrewing a big round
cap that let water into the room that they told me I was in. I was told it was real and that I would be safe if I didn't remember the past. In this virtual reality session they told me that the water would come
over my head and I would drown if I continued to remember. All this was done in the name of "national
security." There was great personal confusion over being in charge of my body or its safety, as a result of
all these tests. It was like my mind was removed from my body and acted separately, and it was very
scary because I wasn't able to be there to protect or help my own body, or my children's.
When the men in the van were finished with me, they pulled. up next to my car, which was parked
in Westwood. When I saw my car I was programmed to switch to Sue and not remember anything that
had just happened, but the other personalities were given the hypnotic suggestion to remember to keep
their instructions hidden and separate from Sue. The men told me to get inside of my car, sit there for
awhile and drive home when I was ready. If I was running late they told me an excuse to deliver to my
family when I got home. This happened more often and the trauma got more intense while I was in daily
therapy with Stuart and Margie.
Another time at UCLA-NPI, I was sitting on a stainless steel table where they had been
photographing my brain from a x-ray machine that stopped and shot pictures in four separate places as
it scanned my head. The doctor said my brain was in a perfect state for some sort of link up. Next they
laid me on a stretcher and tied my ankles and wrists to the bars on the side then they slid me naked into
a long silver metal tube. They placed a small black mask over my eyes just before they shut the door. I
thought maybe they were going to kill me but they said only parts of me died for others to be reborn. A
continuous cycle of life and death for personalities kept things in order, preventing chaos from an
overcrowded internal system. This was how my personality system was kept neat and clean, maintained
for their use.
The scientists and doctors turned everything into a study. They merely turned a mind control
slave system breakdown or "containment problem" into another project to further their research.
"You have heard that it was said, 'an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.' But I say to you, do not
resist one who is evil. But if any one strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also; and if any
one would sue you and take your coat, let him have your cloak as well; and if any one forces you to go one
mile, go with him two miles. Give to him who begs from you, and do not refuse him who would borrow
from you.
"You have heard that it was said, 'You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.' But I say to
you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be sons of your Father
who is in heaven; for he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on
the unjust. For if you love those who love you, what reward have you?" -- Matthew 5:38
Chapter Thirty-three:
Bill Clinton and Hillary
Over the years Bill Clinton surfaced in higher level political circles. At one of Bob's parties Bill was
all made up in a Statue of Liberty costume, decorated in red, white and blue, complete with blinking
lights. He was holding a torch and he acted feminine. I had to have sex with him later on and it felt
confusing to me because it was like having sex with a girl in a man's body. That was strange to me even
under mind control, even compared with all the other strange and perverted experiences to which my
controllers subjected me.
In 1992, before he was inaugurated, Kelly and I were prostituted to Bill Clinton in Klamath Falls,
Oregon. On the ride to meet him, we were told, "Remember Chappaquiddick - that same type of accident
could befall you."
When we met Clinton, he said, "Did you know that I am now your boss, and you will do exactly as
I say. You are under my command." With a robotical tone of voice he told me to give him oral sex and to
get down on the floor where I belonged. Then Kelly robotically sexually serviced him after which I gave
him a message before we were let out of his room.
Later on, I delivered messages to Clinton from the Council, from Kauai, before he was President. I
was delivered aboard a very large ship, put into a stateroom and told to stay on the bed and wait for him.
I did. He slipped into the room without knocking and locked the door behind him. He said, smiling
coyly, "I believe you have something for me?" He had sex with me, with my dress and his pants still on. It
was a quickie and then I gave him the message. It required a simple answer that I was to deliver back to
the Council. His answer was agreeable.
Bill liked to be sung to and have his forehead rubbed. He liked to play mommy and baby baby Bill.
He was often very strange.
When it came to Bill Clinton, Henry would stoop low. He even sent up bags of cocaine with me to
use when I was with Bill or Hillary in order to get them off guard. Bill and Hillary both did the cocaine. I
placed it on a small mirror for them and they had glass nose straws they snorted it through. Bill could do
the whole little white pile with one snort. Hillary took two or three sniffs to get all of hers. Then we
usually had sex.
When I said certain things, they thought I was a gift from Bob Hope, the entertainer. Bob and
Henry's real relationship was kept quiet. The Clintons didn't seem to know that Henry and Bob were
working so closely together, one getting me into the White House while the "Expert" Henry Kissinger
delivered the goods in order to find ways to hang the Clintons. Henry said, "I want them so badly."
After I was through, two men in black uniforms with yellow-braided stripes on their shoulders
came to get me and one stood on each side as they escorted me back to the helicopter that was on one
end of the ship. It was a white helicopter. They put me in with the pilot and I was flown back to the small
airport on Maui, near the Coconut Inn, where I was staying, as I worked on the writing of my first book,
Starshine.
Before he was President, there was an occasion in a large hotel in Los Angeles. The Clintons were
already heavily guarded with a whole group of Secret Service agents.
For my use as a sexual slave, I was trained to make love to married couples by always bringing the
focus back to them. "Isn't your wife beautiful! Isn't your husband strong," or, whatever statements would strengthen their bond and love for each other, if they were to be kept together. When I got through
with couples they were totally enamoured with each other and hardly noticed when I dressed and left the
room. I was used in this way with the Clintons. There was usually cocaine, often a gift from someone they
knew, routed through me.
After the Clintons went to sleep I left. A man stepped toward me as I exited the room and escorted
me down a red carpeted hall, to the elevator, and down to the lobby, as he held my elbow and lower
forearm. At this point, another man took over, making a very smooth transition. I was pushed down into
a waiting limo (I think it was a black Mercedes), as the man hurried and slammed the door. I was taken
to the airport and the driver radioed ahead, and a man met us at the curb and hurried me onto my plane.
Now Clinton is President
Kelly had a school function or a friend's party at the Beverly Hilton. I hadn't seen her in awhile as
she was living in California and I was living on Kauai, but I was brought in to help her with "The Prez,"
who was then newly-elected Bill Clinton. He had a group of girls and women there and that night he
wanted only oral sex, along with chocolate and fruit slices. Afterwards, it was my job to redirect the girls
back into their social function so there would be no mix-ups.
Sex slaves were used to sexually service both male and female members of the White House when
our controllers called for it, and I was not to be exempt. Once when I was flown to the White House from
Hawaii, Hillary played what she called "the tease game." She tied me up so she could be safe, she said.
When she was through with me she looked at her gold watch, said she had to go, put on her dress and
left. I put on my clothes and headed out to the waiting limo to Henry.
Henry always wanted to know exactly what Hillary's verbal responses were to things I said to her
and he listened very carefully for speech patterning. They were trying to create a phrase of words that
would stop her dead in her tracks when she went to court for the Whitewater incident. They had been
planning this one even before Clinton took office. Henry knew and so did his people. They were trying to
destabilize the government by ousting the President. Their plan was that "A cornerstone will fall, and
further destabilize the American people. First Nixon, now Clinton, thus the people will lose faith in their
leaders and the democratic way of life. So they will want to change it and will lean toward World Order."
I knew in 1993, long before the Monica Lewinsky affair, that if Clinton was ousted, they had succeeded
again in their plan and movement toward the New World Order.
The programs I had for the White House were pretty well-worn and grooved. Henry often rode
with me in the limo to the White House if he hadn't had time to load me up beforehand. Sometimes, he
wanted to sharpen me up or check my systems. He often went to have a cup of coffee or a cigar while I
was doing the job. When I came out of the White House, flanked by Secret Service agents, I'd get into the
limo and he would ask me to repeat verbatim what was said. I'd tell him exactly what they said and how
they enunciated it. I could record not only what they said, but I could repeat it back just like they said it -
tone, inflection, and all. And from that, Henry and his boys could run a voice print; then, using it, they
developed a way to control people through their own language patterns. Henry put his cigar to his mouth
before saying, "If you can get their patterns, you can control their minds." They put me close to the
Clintons so they could obtain speech patterns, information about weaknesses they had and ammunition
to get Clinton thrown out of office. They would stop at nothing in their effort to chip away at the
Constitution and democracy.
Henry Kissinger hated Bill Clinton, but he especially hated Hillary. He wanted to publicly
humiliate and disgrace her by showing that she had illegal investments and that she lied. Henry said,
"People (the public) will be manageable after this is exposed."
Al Gore was easy for the Council because I believe he is a robot like me. Al Gore had me
perform oral sex on him. He didn't do cocaine, though. He adamantly refused. Henry said, "He's a robot
of choice."
I also had memories of experiences where I was at the White House with Hillary, Chelsea and a
famous female vocalist, involved in a sex ritual.
My personal belief, based on my experiences, is that over the years, more leaders were under
mind control. I believe it to be vitally important to dismantle the system that has created this, as well as
gain aid for the victims, but not to further punish or humiliate the victims who are in need of
professional help to heal. I know there has been corruption at the highest levels in the White House, and
whether compromised through blackmail, lack of spiritual integrity, or mind control, I believe the
Clintons are caught in a "Catch-22."
In a society where mind control is insidious, the whole of society is responsible in some way,
whether through ignorance, denial, spiritual disintegration or greed. To the extent that some of us are
not free, none of us are free. I believe it is God's perfect plan for those able persons to come to the aid of
those who are in need.
In the center of the flame there is a hollow place
and nothing can burn in this sheltered space.
For the fire builds a wall, scientific fact claims,
and insures a safe area in the midst of the flames.
And in the hurricane's fury there's a center of peace
where the winds of destruction suddenly cease.
And this same truth prevails in life's tribulations;
there's an island of calm in the soul's meditations.
A
place that is quiet where we're shielded from harms
secure in the haven of a kind Father's arms,
where the hot flames of anger have no power to sear
and the high winds of hatred and violence and fear
lose all the wrath and their savage course
is softly subdued as faith weakens force.
So when the fires of life burn deep in your heart
and the winds of destruction seem to tear you apart
remember God loves you and wants to protect you.
So seek that small haven and be guided by prayer
to that place of protection within God's loving Care.
-- Helen Steiner Rice
"Every word of God proves true; he is a shield to those who take refuge in him."
-- Proverbs 30:5
Chapter Thirty-four:
Excuse Me, I Would
Like My Life Back
As parts of my personality tried to break free, there were many, many attempts to bring me back
into the fold; all of which included torture and trauma. In an attempt to understand what was wrong
with me, I began reading every technical book I could get my hands regarding Multiple Personality
Disorder. In the 80's, there wasn't much written. As I read I recognized symptom similarities but didn't
seem to fit the mold of the 'garden variety' version of MPD, caused by abuse without programming. My
search for the truth was unceasing.
Desert Hot Springs
Between 1985 and 1990 my husband and I often went to Two Bunch Palms, a spa resort in Desert
Hot Springs, which is a neighboring desert city bordering Palm Springs. Craig and I would go for a few
days to rest in the mineral pools and utilize the luxurious massage therapy and green clay face masks that
were a part of the resort's celebrity reputation. Once before I went, I watched a King Arthur video and
when a shaft of white light shown down on the oracle as he kneeled to deliver a message from God to the
king, I began crying and knew at once I needed to go to Two Bunch, alone. Witnessing this, my husband
said, "Fine, it's okay. Just go. Do what you need to, honey." I left immediately. Arriving at Two Bunch in
the dark around 10 o'clock at night, I was terribly afraid, but didn't know why.
"Two Bunch" as we referred to it, was a 'double edge sword' where I was accessed by Bob Hope
and a group of men, including the Council. At the same time I was receiving intense bodywork from
professional practitioners, which helped shake loose memories at a cellular level, other dedicated parts
of my personality structure who were skilled to withstand torture and humiliation continued to do so on
an increased level so that I could continue therapy and healing. I prayed daily for the Holy Spirit to bring
to mind those things that needed healing in the perfect time frame, and that is just what occurred. These
personalities cooperated over the years of my battle for freedom by absorbing the threats and abuse and,
in addition, kept it separate from my conscious mind so I could continue my quest for freedom,
unencumbered by fear or resistance. After an intense session with a gentle little old man who was an
expert in Trager bodywork, my memories began to increase. During the same visit, I was instructed to
attend secret meetings at Two Bunch where I stood back while a group of men talked. My husband was
seldom there. I believe one meeting was "The Palm Springs Civic Committee." Bob golfed with them and
they had business dealings together.
There were times I was picked up in the parking lot by a silver limo and taken to Bob. Sometimes I
wouldn't even get out of the limo; I'd wait for Bob and he would enter to direct me. Other times I would
spend the day with him. One night I was directed to a bunch of palm trees late at night to look for the
White Owl. Bob Hope ended up being the White Owl I was looking for. At the time, I was unaware that
this was a program. I walked outside into the late night breezes to report to the Palm Trees and to Bob,
the White Owl.
Late on another night at Two Bunch, in a nightmarish reminiscence of the movie, Stepford Wives,
that I had been required to watch years before, I robotically responded to programming as I trekked out
to the parking lot in the white robe provided by the spa. A limo pulled up and mindlessly I climbed inside
where a man immediately injected me with a drug. When we arrived at a big warehouse-type building in
the desert that was like a robot reconditioning facility, the man had to help me out of the limo because I
was so drugged. Once inside, doctors in surgical greens placed me on a gurney and started an IV. It may
have been filled with a truth serum drug, because that is the type of questions they fielded me. They were
trying to identify what I was doing in therapy, what I was remembering. Repositioning me to a chair,
they slapped me over and over and I wasn't allowed to go to sleep. If I began to fall asleep, they slapped me again. They were very upset about the therapy and told me lots of lies while they made me look
into bright white lights. If I didn't keep my eyes open long enough, they would hold my eyes open and
face me directly into the bright lights. They kept injecting my arm, as they yelled at me.
A man, approximately 35 years old, dark-skinned with brown hair, wearing a green tie, tan tweed
jacket, white shirt and tan pants, entered the room. He directed the doctors what to do and told them
what he wanted to find out, then they supplied the drugs, electroshock and lights. Returned to a metal
gurney, he asked me questions over and over that didn't make sense to me, while I sat on the edge of the
gurney with my head hanging down, totally out of it. He showed me pictures of people, men usually, and
asked me questions about them and kept slapping me. Parts of my personality system would not comply
and talk to him and it was making him very angry. In response, he took something sharp to the bottom of
my feet. Then he called in the bright lights, and when my eyes could no longer stay open as he
commanded, he had another man hold my head up, prop my eyes open and direct the lights in my eyes.
They kept this up for what felt like forever. Then he laid me down and put a long rod up my vagina to
shock me as he said, "She'll talk, just give her time - we have all the time in the world."
But I was dissociated deep within myself and really didn't care if they killed me or not. I had been
conditioned from birth to take what they dished out and if I died, I just wouldn't have to endure any
more. No more suffering, it would be over. His frustration level saturated, this man instructed his
assistants to lay me down and they took an electric sheer, the type you use to clip a dog, or prep a person
for surgery and ran it up my pubic hair, up my stomach, all the way up to my chin. He said it was
something to remember him by, "To keep remembering what happens if you don't comply."
After I'd given up and was "gone" they pulled a plastic cap dotted with little metal electrodes over
my head. They told me over and over that they would make it much easier on me if I would just
cooperate and quit therapy. But I didn't stop. They had to carry me out to the limo and when we arrived
back at Two Bunch, the man accompanying me snapped his fingers in my ear and commanded, "Snap
out of it!" and followed up with the suggestion that I was very, very tired and wanted a nap. Slowly, I
trudged back to the room and went to sleep. I don't know where Craig was.
Desert Hot Springs was a place of horror for me as I attempted to get well by working hard in
therapy with Stuart and Margie. I remember Stuart saying to me after I continued to show up day after
day with more pieces of my painful past to process in therapy, "I have never seen anyone who is more
motivated than you; it's like you're running a marathon."
I responded, "I don't feel like I'm doing this fast enough." No wonder - neither he nor I
consciously knew that I was still being tortured and reprogrammed; reporting to the Federal Building, to
UCLA, to my political abusers and to Bob Hope when assigned. Consciously, I thought Two Bunch Palms
was a place where I went to get rejuvenated to do more abreactive work in order to recover. But even in
the midst of the chaos there was a divine plan and timing to my life; I just had to be extremely patient.
As my healing defiance continued, I was returned to Two Bunch. One night I got dressed to go eat
in the restaurant. There was a very large clock that hung over the entrance of the restaurant and my
instructions were to, "walk to the clock at 6 o'clock." But instead of going inside, I was instructed to turn
and walk to the parking lot where a man in a white suit drove me by limo late at night to a club. He took
me inside and seated me in a maroon colored booth tucked away in the darkened club. Sonny Bono came
out and told me to enter the cleared area. He was twirling a whip like he was going to lasso something.
Then he cracked the whip. He did it over and over and it terrified me, because I felt he was going to hit
me with it. Sonny said there was nobody there to hear my screams. "Scream all you like," he said
laughing. Jokingly he added, "I kinda like it." He went on to explain that he was "giving me what I
deserved for trying to break the mold."
I was helped up off the floor where I was huddled and delivered to a group of men in suits.
They said I was the guest of honor, but it wasn't fun. They said I was stirring up a bit of trouble back
there in Southern California and they just wanted to make sure that nothing bad happened to me. They
took a long time to tell me all this, slowly, calmly and smoothly, before another man took me to a
dressing room type of partition in a back room and, holding me up by one arm, threw me up against the
wall and beat the living breath out of me. I ended up in a heap on the floor with my mouth bleeding.
Giving me one final kick with his pointed boot, he said, "There, that ought to do ya."
Another suited man came in and began "taking care of me," he said, while he took pictures of me
all beat up to send to my family and friends, and he told me over and over, things that didn't make sense
to me like, "You are a queen. You will always be a queen; you have no successor so you must always
remain the queen. It's a matter of privilege; you must remain the queen." His last instruction was, "Lay
by the pool and get a tan," that I was going to be visited by "the man." I knew the man he spoke of was
Bob Hope.
After I was returned and spent the next day recuperating and tanning by the pool, I was picked up
again. On the way to see Bob they said my clothes weren't suitable to see him so they stopped at a dress
shop in the Springs and one of the suits went in with me and picked out white slacks, a yellow shirt, a
gold belt and sandals. Throwing my clothes in the trash he said, "these are more befitting."
We met Bob in a public place. I was taken to him and he broke free for a moment and came over
to me, "Tsk, tsk, is this anyway for a woman to be showing a good example to her offspring?" He was
referring to my attempts at freedom.
To further frighten and intimidate me, he pulled a picture out of his coat pocket of Kelly and I
naked together and said, "The time will come my fairy princess to speak of better things," and he
continued, finally commenting that he needed to, "teach me appreciation." Roughly, he took hold and
squeezed my collar then abruptly let it go and walked away, like he was through with me. Unfortunately,
he wasn't. I was taken back to Two Bunch where I left the new clothes in a massage room and returned to
my room with another white robe on.
Another occasion Craig was with me at Two Bunch, when late at night a limo picked us up in the
parking lot. We were taken some place and reprimanded for the therapy I was doing and were
threatened with the "loss of many things," if I didn't stop and if my husband didn't make me stop. A man
in the limo took hold of Craig by the shirt and warned, "Bob doesn't want to have anything happen to his
important asset. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir," my husband replied. He was very scared and for some reason I started laughing.
Within seconds the man delivered a blow to my face. I felt the stinging of my cheek as his
attention turned to me, "Do you find something funny, young lady?" I became very serious and stopped
laughing.
I didn't have any way to know then the uphill battle I faced, the magnitude of the system I was
attempting to break out of, or the many obstacles, heartaches and abuses I would have to withstand over
time in my battle for freedom. Despite the threats, my husband continued to pay $3,000-$5,000 a
month for psychotherapy and bodywork, for four more years of my recovery. My controllers found the
fact that I was in therapy amusing, totally assured that I was processing from anywhere but the National
Security guaranteed, mind-controlled area of my brain. Since they saw me as a robot, they didn't worry
about being discovered. Plus, they felt their secrets were protected by their sheer incredulity.
I was programmed to report to the Federal Building, which was in very close proximity to Stuart's
office and to UCLA. I went upstairs to the 7th floor, exited the elevator and went down two doors on my
left. I was told, "You will find a room with a view," which cryptically meant there was a closed circuit
television for instructions. Further I was told, "Sit down, soak up the view, then go back downstairs and try to read the newspaper in the stand and report back if you can." Due to programming against it, I
couldn't read it but always followed orders and tried. I was at the Federal Building often. It was a place of
"orders headquarters" from Henry. He gave me instructions over closed circuit television when he
couldn't gain access or time with me anywhere else.
I had a lot of disguises to wear into the Federal Building. Hats, dark glasses, old baggy dresses, or
skirts I'd throw on over my short shorts. I received closed circuit instructions at other locations also, like
in rooms in hotels or at corporate offices, office buildings in Los Angeles, Santa Monica, or in the San
Fernando Valley. But, at times, Henry had something urgent and needed access to me immediately, so he
sent me to the Federal Building. I also delivered my own medical reports from UCLA to the Federal
Building to send back to Henry. I guess it was like a mind control report card. My continual breakdown
created more need for "check-ups."
Hope Tries to Bring Me
Back Into the Fold
During this time as my memory began bleeding through, per program, I suffered with severe
migraine headaches and other programmed responses to this security breech. In another of a series of
containment efforts, Bob directed me to hike up to China Flats, a small waterhole area located on the
Jordan Ranch, down the street from my home. He told me to meet him there at 4 p.m. Bob was flown in
on a two-seater helicopter. This meeting was intended to bring me back in line and was not much
different from the little chats he and others had been giving me. Like always he started out very calmly
and before he was through ended up shouting at me as he paced all over. He always said a lot of, "When
are you ever going to learn?" in between the programs he triggered me with and he called me, "my child."
What he and others didn't understand was that I was not any more capable of really controlling of myself
and my actions than I had ever been. The actual problem was that now I had parts of me who were
becoming conscious, which was triggering the acting out of their program commands and this was
disrupting my usage and threatened to destroy their plan for my life. In my soul I wanted to be free, but
it would take time to accomplish that.
Robot Breakdown Strategies
One day, Henry and George Bush were having a "meeting of the minds," as they called it, to decide
what to do with me since the efforts to keep me 'in line' and 'on line' were continually failing. As I sat in
'park mode,' overhearing their conversation, George Bush said, "We're going to have to waste her Hank."
Henry replied, "George, we have to be rational and calmly think ahead to the future. Just look at
the situation we are faced with. This isn't one isolated case. Sure, she has been my closest watched, but if
she's breaking down after all we've done, then the others can do the same thing. We could have a world
of trouble on our hands and I don't mean that lightly. We have got to restore her and send her back out
there. We'll need a hundred of them like her to help keep the others marching in line. We'll just create a
new scenario. It's our game, we can create it anyway we choose, like we always have. I just need some
time to figure out a plan. Take her out now and we actually will lose control. We can use her to learn
from our mistakes to correct them next time. I'm sure I can devise a plan that will capitalize on this. I
just need time to go back to the think tank."
As I continued to break down even further, I overheard Henry Kissinger say to a man I didn't
know, "We may as well monitor her closely and watch how she breaks down. We've got a lot of others
like her out there that are going to need tending to. So we'll learn from her how to best take care of the
others." Through my therapy with Stuart, Henry was hoping to seal up the holes in my consciousness
that were leaking memory of my past, especially the over the rainbow parts of my life experience that I
was programmed not to remember. They were attempting to do a repair in my mind from my childhood
so it would shore me up for further use. They also wanted to set me up to keep others locked into programming, while they listened to me lecture on how I got out, which I wouldn't really have
accomplished. After the culmination of their plan, they felt they would have the masses' minds under
control and would no longer need to continue the charade since no one would be able to think to
question anything that was occurring. They felt this would greatly simplify the human condition so that
those self-chosen elite who were qualified could exist in peace and have superb quality of life. Henry said
he had been witnessing too many robots cracking up and he needed me to be restored so I could
complete the business that was planned for me with the contacts that, over the years, had grown to know
and love me. He said I had put in the time and had gained an intimate trust with many important key
players and I had to finish out my time by continuing to be of service to the people that had grown
accustomed to me. So they shored me up with therapy, submerged me in the new age healing program
lock-ins and began getting me conditioned to not be with my husband so much. Craig and I had been
inseparable for many, many years, so this was a slow but steady change.
Henry had me peruse the leading bookstores, buy a variety of new age books from different
categories, read them and report back a synopsis. This gave him plenty of current 'rages,' he called them
and data that he could tap into to devise a strategic plan for the future.
And Henry's plan soon emerged. One day after my therapy session, men in suits accessed me in
Westwood as I went down the stairs that faced the back parking lot and confiscated my whole journal.
Skimming through it, one said, "She's written out a whole agenda." They told me I didn't need to worry
about this anymore, that they would be glad to handle it for me. And they walked away with my journal.
Then I had to report for more reconditioning in their attempt to shut down the leaks. This was in the late
80's. Henry felt it was crucial to monitor me heavily until I'd made the transition fully into the new
'persona' they were creating me to be: increasingly a more independent woman, very together, good
speaker, writer, etc., for the future. In this way I could serve as an attraction and ultimately a
containment person, with an agenda of speaking out about satanic ritual abuse. Then others would miss
the real story about the mind control while their own programming would be sealed even tighter by
words they would program me to deliver. "Like one of those Chinese finger puzzles," Henry said referring
to the containment web. This was all done so when they transferred me to Hawaii, the transition would
go smoothly.
Was it Escape or
Relocation and Redirection?
After I fled California to Kauai, what I was still not yet aware of was that as parts of me celebrated
their freedom, other programmed parts were still intact, fully programmed and still serving "the cause"
my controllers dictated. Actually my "flight to freedom" was not yet fully realized; instead it turned out to
be a clever plan my controllers devised in order to use me to the fullest during the stepped up
culmination years of their plan. They went about destroying my marriage and having me watch movies
that superimposed the reality they wanted me to believe. I was directed to watch the movie Shirley
Valentine and when I went to the Whole Life Expo, a psychic that I walked by reached out to me and told
me that I would be making a trip across the oceans to a new life. My life was still out of my own control
and unbeknownst to me I continued to serve their plan, only now from the tiny island of Kauai.
A Heavenly Message
Feeling lost, disoriented, and missing my family I left behind, I sought out places of solace on the
island. One day I had an incredible experience. The white sand beach on Kauai felt warm beneath my
skin as I allowed my body to melt into the relaxation of the soft sand, basking in the warm gentle rays of
the Hawaiian sun as the wind gently caressed my aching body and spirit. The sweet smell of the pungent
plumeria flowers that I laid near my head continued to waft a heavenly aroma. My body felt exhilarated
from the swim in the beautiful blue Hawaiian sea water. The uplifting Christian praise music that played
through my Walkman lifted me ever higher, soothing and easing the tension in my wounded, terrified, disoriented mind and body. As I rested, I once again heard, very clearly, the words of the Holy Spirit,
"Doesn't one so wounded, deserve to heal in the most beautiful place in the world?" Tears of
acknowledgement streamed down my cheeks and dropped onto my large magenta beach towel.
Silently I cried out in desperation and despair, "God, I miss my kids and my husband. I'm so
confused, I feel lost and weak, what should I do? Help me Father, please help me." Soon I felt comfort as
the Holy Spirit wrapped His huge loving, soothing arms around what I was to later discover was this
most wounded of souls. I fell into a deep, peaceful slumber, momentarily letting go of all of my cares and
burdens and was entered into that peace that passes all understanding. And I began to realize the
meaning of those words learned so long ago in Sunday school. This peace, enveloping me in the midst of
the chaos and confusion of my life, gave the promise of hope. And this time it wasn't Bob.
When I awoke from this peaceful slumber, I was guided by the Holy Spirit to take a walk. Silently,
I was led in the direction of an old sign that read, "This is the site of an ancient Hawaiian refuge, a
sanctuary for natives escaping unjust accusations and retaliation by their accusers where those seeking
protection can find refuge." Tears came to my eyes as I realized I, too, was being allowed to take refuge
there. And for the moment I felt safe. The Holy Spirit gently nudged me, like a loving father caring for his
young, in the direction of the crescent shaped rock wall bordering and enclosing into safety, the small
swimming beach called Lydegate. I stopped to take in the incredible view, the turquoise blue waters,
sending wave upon wave crashing into the large rock fortress that protected the beach. I marveled at the
glorious sense I felt that the Almighty Creator of the heavens and the earth was gently rocking the world,
thus creating the beautifully graceful, never ending wave formations.
Breaking my thought the Holy Spirit spoke again, calling me by the nickname He has used over
the years, "Starshine, look to the right of the large rock beside your foot. There you will find a gift."
Hardly believing my ears, I questioned, "A gift for me from my Heavenly Father? Was I hearing
correctly?"
Curious now and with the anticipation of a small child awaiting the opening of the first gift on
Christmas, I bent to discover what sort of gift from God was there for me to receive. Reaching out, my
hand found it before my eyes, and I pulled the small object from it's home on the sand and held it before
me, carefully examining each and every detail. It was so tiny, so intricately detailed and so, so fragile.
The paper thin shell remains of the mini sea urchin was so extremely fragile that I was afraid I would
crush it and break it simply by holding it.
As I continued gazing on this miniature gift from God, I listened with quiet intent as my Heavenly
Father spoke to me once again, "My child, you are so precious to me. I will hold you in the palm of My
hand, just like you are holding this small gift from me. You need to know that as this shell is extremely
fragile, so are you at this time, in ways you have yet to understand. Do not fear, be patient with yourself
and know that I am guiding you step by step. Most of all remember, you are never alone."
Deeply touched by this message, yet completely without understanding of the ways in which I
might be as fragile as the tiny, delicate shell that I held in my hand, I cautiously wrapped my fingers
around it and went back over to my place on the beach. Lying down, with the gift still carefully held in
my hand, I contemplated, "How could I be that fragile?" As I thought, the only explanation I could come
up with was how at times, due to the many still unintegrated multiple personality states I often found
myself in, I was often unable to perform even the simplest of tasks. For instance one afternoon, alone at
Kay's, so far away from my home in California, I found myself hungry yet unable to even think to
remember how to go about making my lunch. Feeling two years old and indeed locked, for the moment,
into a very childlike personality, I could not even begin to think how to make myself a sandwich. The
perfected gears in my mind were not turning on their own, as the sophisticated machinery created by
Henry Kissinger, Bob Hope and others, broke down and came to a screeching halt. And where it stopped, left me often locked into the mindset of a two-year-old. I just couldn't function. And so I thought,
perhaps this was the type of situation that my Heavenly Father was aware of and was reassuring me that
He was there for me, all I had to do was trust. Broken and unable to do anything on my own, yet with the
trust of a child, I allowed myself to relax into His promise.
Later that night as I got ready for bed, I placed the tiny, fragile shell on my windowsill, to remind
me of the promise. And so it was that God led me to healing and complete recovery, in His time, and in
His way, so that I could be with you to share His message today. For God wants all of the wounded,
mind-controlled slaves to be freed and he has tasked me with the assignment of being the fiduciary, His
trusted servant, willing to facilitate the release and healing of those wounded souls locked into the
bondage of mind control. And so if you find yourself not free, God will make your way to freedom, and
will lead you every step of the way, just like He did for me. He has promised to make your way. Jesus
said, "Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you.
For everyone who asks receives; he who seeks finds; and to him who knocks, the door will be opened."
All you have to do is ask.
Interwoven into the many experiences I had where the Holy Spirit came to guide me, were also
other experiences where the parts of me that were still programmed realized that I was still not free.
Soon after I moved to Kauai, without my conscious awareness, I was delivered to
Barking Sands Missile Weapon Site, located on the south shore of the island, and at other times serviced
people like Ronald Reagan, Bob Hope and his friends on the golf course in Princeville. George Bush met
me at the tiny Princeville Airport in order to direct me into further assignments and threatened me in his
attempt to keep my renegade freedom fighter personalities under wraps.
In spite of my controllers' attempts to shut down conscious access of how I had been used, I
continued to have flashbacks of many of my political experiences and I began to more fully understand
the way my programming worked. These memories, that often included my family, gave me a fuller
picture of reality and helped me understand why I couldn't yet safely return to California. As I grieved
the loss of my husband and children I had left behind in California, I was spiritually guided to thank God
no matter how bad things looked. I found myself sobbing through my tears as I cried out, "Thank you,
God, I love it!" even as they eventually took custody of my children away. The Holy Spirit continually
showed me that no matter how it looked, I was still in the right place. And while it appeared that I served
two masters, all along God knew that I was still in service to a greater plan that I would need to
experience and be a part of in order to chronicle it and share it with you now.
Kauai Containment Center
The friendly recovery network I was connected to while on the island of Kauai was still carefully
held within a network of programmed people so I would be surrounded by the programming themes
intended to keep me in bondage. It is a very clever plan. I was welcomed with loving arms by Kay Snow
Davis and Charles Davis. But mixed in with incredible love, healing, and Holy Spirit insight, was also a
secret agenda, one that to this day I believe they also were unconscious of. Charles drove me around the
island to welcome me and orient me to my new surroundings. While we drove, he set in barrier blocks
within my mind that would later block memory of my use at different areas including large hotels, like
the Westin, Hyatt, Princeville, CoCo Palms Resort, and Garden Isle Inn.
The Westin Hotel on Kauai was full of big white statues, huge indoor pools, waterfalls, and large
cultural art pieces. Kay took Kelly and I there one evening, when Kelly was visiting, and as we walked
around the hotel, she hypnotically laid in number systems from one to eight, designating different areas.
Later when I received the little post cards in the mail, alerting me to my assignments, I could decipher
the simple codes. All they needed to say was W- 1 and I knew that would mean the Westin, a room on the first floor. An eight would mean the far restaurant and so on. Each hotel had a letter assigned to it
and numbers identifying areas where I was to go.
Not yet in touch with the many reporting personalities I had that were still intact, I thought I was
safe. Actually, I was contained by many things in my environment. First I was contained by the network
of programmed individuals I was living amongst as their programmed statements and hand signals
continually reinforced my 'remember to forget' programs. My memory was also blocked by the endless
visual images that were linked in my subconscious mind with hypnotic program commands to forget.
Many of these images in my daily environment were things like the large building-size murals of whales,
dolphins and rainbows that I drove by every day. I was also still reporting back to California to old
friends and other people who I didn't know were programmed. Then, I was reporting to the 800
numbers I was instructed to. The containment plan was and is large, and will continue to work very
effectively - until enough people are able to see what is actually happening.
Still a Working Girl
I was actually kept very busy on assignments, yet consciously thought that I went to the beach
every day. There were blocks of assignments but I never was to enter a hotel from the same direction
twice so I wouldn't be detected or become a familiar face to the wrong people. Some places Kay cued me
to and other places Charles did. But I was cued to large hotels all over Kauai and some of the neighboring
islands.
I was programmed to stand on the corner of the highway and was picked up by a military jeep and
taken to Barking Sands Missile Range. There were underground facilities and if the base was threatened,
even for the security of classified, top secret information, then they had missiles and bombs set to go off
which later would be explained as an enemy attack. I don't believe the military guards knew exactly what
they were protecting. When I'd round the corner with a senior officer-in-charge, they'd look surprised at
first, but I was waved through before being taken to a high-tech operations room. Once inside they sat
me in a large thick metal chair that spun and did all sorts of torturous things, but they told me my mind
was numbed so I couldn't feel the pain. They numbed my mind with hypnotic suggestion while my body
spun. Then I was instructed to lean into position to look into the big goggles. The pictures I saw began
with a bee and other nature scenes and then it all went so fast I couldn't see the individual pictures. That
way the information went directly into the subconscious mind without any conscious intrusion or filters
to connect the two. As long as the programmed information bypassed the conscious mind they felt I
couldn't remember because I wouldn't be able to connect the information.
When I was to meet Reagan on the island, I received a post card in the mail and it had the date,
time and place on it to meet Reagan. When he came alone I met him at the Princeville Airport. He
arrived anonymously by helicopter with Secret Service agents. A limo was waiting inside the fence to the
airport and the helicopter would land right by it and Reagan would be rushed off the helicopter, and
hurried into the limo and we'd be taken to the Princeville Hotel.
Another time I was programmed to meet Reagan at the Princeville Hotel on the north shore of the
island. He entered through the large sliding glass doorway and I was sitting in a chair in the lobby,
instructed to watch for him. This was in 1991 and Reagan had come to the island for a visit. When he saw
me he quickly pointed toward the left side of the hotel indicating that I was to walk that way.
Immediately I walked in the direction he pointed. As I got out of sight of people and into a back hallway
he quickly walked over to me, said hello and told me that he missed me, then he spun me around for
programming purposes and escorted me to the elevator. Men in suits followed close behind and he
explained that he still had agents guarding him that we would have to contend with.
We entered into a large peach colored room that overlooked the bay. Reagan said Nancy was
flying in to meet him later and said he just wanted a reminder of me. He went on to explain that he really
missed me and he really missed being President. He said he was really surprised just how much he
missed it. We had sex in the usual stance, with him passively beneath me. Afterwards he smiled and said,
"You've still got it kid." He patted me and I lay next to him until he fell asleep and then I let myself out of
the room. I passed the agents in the hallway having a cigarette by the elevator and waited mindlessly for
the valet to bring my rental car around. When I returned home, I was in a stupor and went straight to
bed, all traces of the memory neatly locked beneath the programming that protected it.
The Last Time I Saw Bob
Hope Goodbye Cruel World
Another day when I drove my Lexus to Princeville, I accompanied Reagan and Bob on the golf
course. I rode in the golf cart and was pretty out of it while we were on the green. All I could do was clap
and smile when they did well and I kept score manually for them. While Reagan was taking his turn, Bob
said to me, "So you think you got away, huh?" Shaking his head he continued, "There are bigger fish in
the sea that got away, but you my dear are not one of them."
I smiled and curtsied to Bob, like I had done for years.
Bob softened and said, "Feels like old times out on the course, doesn't it?"
"Yes it does, Bob." I answered just before he began to relive and rehash the past, constantly
referring to old times, old movies he'd starred in, old performances, USO tours, old people - THE PAST!
He said he loved the Princeville course, loved the view and said that the ocean air was good for him. He
had some sinus problems and said they cleared right up when he was out in the ocean air. He never once
mentioned sex, maybe he'd become to old.
They didn't bother playing the whole green. Bob wasn't real strong and one time he fell into the
golf cart and took a hold of it like he was having trouble seeing and walking. Reagan asked him if he was
okay and Bob replied, "Hell yes, let's go on, I'll be fine." I didn't know then that this was to be the very
last time I would see my owner in person.
Prince Charles Visits the Island
Prince Charles came to the island when he and Di were having marital problems. He came just to
relax and get some perspective. The Council instilled a whole agenda into me for the week I entertained,
toured, listened, and had sex with Prince Charles. Retrieving this memory made me really nauseated.
My Children are Reprogrammed
In an attempt to rescue my children and provide them with a safe home and believing I was actually safe and free, I brought them to the island. I had no idea that I was still being accessed, and that they were also. Consciously I thought we just went to the beach everyday, while the kids played with friends and surfed. But later I remembered that when they arrived they also were taken to Barking Sands Missile Base. Their programs were stepped up to match my new level after which Danny was very sick and laid on his futon and cried for two days.
While on Kauai, when Kelly was with me for the summer we were programmed to perform as a mother-daughter sex team. We were also filmed in underwater ballet and sex with dolphins and other sea creatures in pornography. Sometimes we swam with underwater sea turtles, they were such docile creatures and they weren't interested in sex. I could relate to them because all they tried to do was get to safety so they could relax and finally be at peace. There was lots of porn filmed on the island. They felt the natural splendor would only enhance the productions and they filmed lots of slaves with dolphins. They filmed us in shimmery suits, or braid wraps, all sorts of fancy hair and body jewels and ornaments or jeweled waist belts while otherwise naked. There was quite a following of dolphin porn lovers. When a male dolphin got excited, his penis stuck up and looked like a Bird of Paradise flower. We all learned that if you weren't scared and approached him lovingly the sexual encounter wouldn't be as painful. There was a rich local attorney named Ken whose job was to sufficiently launder the proceeds. I delivered money to him from Sylvester Stallone and from other less prominent men on the island.
Sylvester Stallone
Stallone liked to have group sex with lots of women and he liked Kelly and I together. He had us the first time when we were staying in a cottage in Anahola. As programmed, during the middle of the night I went to my daughter and said, "Kelly, Kelly, wake up, we have work to do.
"No Mom," Kelly said, "I'm tired."
"Wake up now!" I commanded, snapping my fingers drawing my 13-year-old daughter into a wide awake state. I held her hand all the way to the rental car we drove when I first arrived onto the island. We drove to Stallone's house in Anini Beach and parked in the drive. He said that since it was a rental car it would be fine. Kelly and I went into the house and out to a oval room where there were other girls waiting. One was Japanese and another brunette. At first we all just sat and looked at each other, smiling in awkward embarrassment. Sly walked in with a white towel around his otherwise naked body and held his hands out to us. He told us we were waiting for the 5th wheel but she never arrived. He laughed and directed us into the bedroom. He pointed to Kelly and said, "I want her first." He told her she had the Bo Derek look and he kissed her before she began her trained, skillful sexual repertoire. Stallone was snorting cocaine and during the group sex it was my job to remember to offer him more. He had a small spoon that he stuck up his nose to snort the white powder. Kissing Kelly he said, "Bob has good taste." Pulling her hair back and kissing her more deeply he added, "and it's getting better all the time." When he was finished sexually satisfying himself with her he rolled her over and said, "rest little baby," as he went to the other girls in turn. We never spent the night, stayed just a few hours and after Stallone went to sleep I kissed his cheek, took Kelly's hand and we tip-toed out.
Stallone once said, "There's nothing quite like a slave. I love getting them from the underground. You're all so cooperative, don't give me no shit. This is the life I tell ya'. No bitchy, demanding women, not when I can have beautiful, sweet, white women who set me free. It's all about freedom," he rambled, while laying on his back in a seemingly drugged stupor, about "America the Beautiful and the home of the brave." He was high on cocaine. The higher he got the better the animal lover he was to become. That was his code name, "Animal." And when they told me, "the Animal" wanted Kelly and I, then I knew it was Stallone. I also gave him massages, often in open air areas.
Sly thought the dolphin porn was the greatest new combo and he directed a lot of the porn videos. It was filmed at areas at the North Shore, Poipu or, he had us helicoptered into remote areas for filming. Large cameras were taken out to these remote island areas. I delivered some money from Stallone and from other less prominent men on the island to Ken, the wealthy attorney who had a big beautiful house in Kilauea. I believe it was his job to see that the money was sufficiently laundered.
Sly wore a wet suit but we were always naked in the water. There were trained dolphins that we did water ballet and swam with. When we swam gracefully the male dolphin got excited and started nudging us. We grabbed onto them and went for the ride; if we didn't, they told us, "one wrong move and you could get ripped to shreds." The dolphin actually remembered us over time and the same male would consistently choose the same girl, even when the group size changed from small to large. They got to know us and didn't forget in between. When my sons were on the island they were filmed also. One day after the filming, Sly said to Kelly, "You come back soon, ya here?"
During other visits, where I was supposedly allowed to see my children, Kelly and I were prostituted to Charlton Heston, and I was to Kareem Abdul Jabbar. Taj Mahal, the jazz musician, was on the island to keep other slaves in line through satanic rituals. One time I was programmed to drive to Secret Beach at night to attend a 'gathering' where, unbeknownst to my conscious personality, I was raped in a ritual.
Consciously I thought, as my programmed reality dictated, that I had escaped from my controllers in California and I was now safe. I believed I had rescued my children, and as the summer came to an end, I began the process of enrolling them in island schools. I moved from house to house, attempting to keep our whereabouts anonymous, only to have my still programmed children call back to their father in California and report our current location and phone number. It was terrifying. And I thought I would die of grief and terror when Craig told the kids and I that if I didn't return them to California he would be sending in a police escort to bring them home. Devastated and panicked but not knowing what else to do, I returned my children to their father in California. Shortly afterwards, my attorney notified me that if I wanted to ever see my children again I needed to attend a court hearing in California. Frightened of the danger of being accessed, I called Ted Gunderson (retired FBI official) who helped me hire a bodyguard. I flew to California, where behind the judge's closed doors, I lost custody of my children. My attorney, Doug Wolfe, let me in on the news when he informed me in the Courthouse hallway, "You're lucky to be alive, just get back to the island and get a job."
My children's programmed father and our controllers were now in even more total control of their lives.
The Wind Beneath My Wings
Extremely sad and depressed, I returned to the island. The job I took when I returned was to begin to more fully document many of my memories and I began writing my first book STARSHINE. It wasn't an easy task because first I had to undo the endless programs that kept me from being able to use the word processor without a programmed part of me destroying the information I had just typed. But I was determined to do whatever it took to get eventual help for my children. Memories of a political and international nature often flooded my awareness and I documented them each time something new came to mind. Due to the vivid nature of flashbacks I experienced, I spent nearly two years stuck in the body memory part of my Kissinger experiences and had to live with the smell of this cigar smoke and listening within to the sound of his accented voice. Similarly, I flooded with sexual memories about Pete Wilson and Ted Kennedy. Talk about intrusion!
Since I had no money, I hired the 'ocean' to be my therapist and with God's guiding, I actually did some of my best memory recovery work alone on the beach, with the ocean holding the space of peace, love and strength for me so I could delve to the depths of my own mind. With the solid foundation built from years of memory recovery done while I was still in California, and after a year on the island retrieving still deeper layers of memories, and programming, I had a pretty clear picture that something was up - exactly what I wasn't sure. I couldn't imagine why I would be with Henry Kissinger, Nixon or Reagan, or what was so important about me that people were following me and overly interested in what I was doing. But all my memories, held together by the pages in my journals, began to neatly fill in the picture. In 1992, 1 purchased a light and sound machine of my own, and after mastering the fear associated with using some of the same technology my controllers had used on me, I began to more easily recover even deeper layers of memory. Soon I realized the programs that controlled me were broken and nullified as I became consciously aware of them.
Bush Flies Into Princeville
But my other secret jobs didn't stop and with my family out of their way, I was now freer and more unencumbered than ever to work for my controllers. George Bush met me at Princeville Airport, a very small airport on the north shore of the small island. Then we would both be helicoptered to Barking Sands Missile Range. When we arrived he and a military officer saluted each other and then he was escorted to an outside structure that had glass doors.
At another time, George Bush met me at Barking Sands Missile Range, for a talk about "getting back in line." I was parked in my Lexus waiting near the entrance when Bush drove up in a military jeep. A military officer was driving him. Bush told me to start my engine and follow him. I followed through the gates that were opened for him into the missile site. He motioned me out of my car and stomped over to me. He stood and yelled in my face about being irresponsible. I had a hard time hearing or understanding him because it was extremely windy. I also think personalities inside of me were attempting to shield me from his barrage of programmed verbiage. He waved his glasses around while he yelled at me. In his cryptic mind control lingo Bush said, "Get into line or Kelly will be on a #9." He was referring to the well known freedom train mind control theme, of being thrown off the train, which cryptically meant her death. Angrily, Bush saluted and told me to get back in my car and get the hell home. He was very angry.
One night while in Maui, I had a dream and saw a map with a check mark identifying Oregon. At that time I was unaware that I was receiving telepathic messages, often at night. I called Margie Paul and told her about the dream and that I felt guided to move. So she talked to a famous movie star that was also her client and asked her to recommend a place. Through that recommendation, I moved off Maui and took what few belongings I had left with me to Ashland, Oregon. I rented a home, referred to me by this movie star's realtor friend, and began writing. Kelly and Danny visited me at Christmas. Soon after, Kelly and I were prostituted as a mother daughter sex team to Clinton, who had just been elected, but not yet inaugurated as President.
I didn't realize that I was still programmed not to notice when I was 'missing time.' Healing, integration and deprogramming didn't come as quickly as I wanted it to. Healing took time. But my continued motivation to heal and figure out what this all meant kept me uncovering more and more in regard to my own programming and how the system all worked.
Months later I mustered the courage to move back to California. I desperately wanted to help my children, and felt I was recovered enough and safe enough to do that. I didn't know I still had layers of personalities and programs still intact that would keep me under control, and unfortunately neither did David Neswald, the therapist I worked with there in Southern California. To make matters worse, upon the completion of Starshine, as I readied it for print, my brother, Rick, who was one of my programmed controllers, and whom I had chosen not to see for years, was able to access me one last time. This accessing allowed him to gain entrance to my apartment in Calabasas and rape me, threatening that if I didn't stop with Starshine they would publicly display the compromising pictures that he then took of my children and me. The next morning, I awoke disoriented, terrified, and confused and had no idea the source. But later that day, I "remembered" the horrific scene and was grateful to have at least remembered it because, in the past, it had taken me months, often years to remember traumatic events.
In hysterical panic, I once again phoned Ted Gunderson for further advice on how to stay safe. He told me to get special locks for my doors, and a security system, and I had alarms that I bought for each door so if anyone, including myself, went in or out, they would sound off. I even purchased an alarm that I wore on my body and set it off if anyone of a suspicious nature approached me. It was terrifying, as I realized I was still not able to keep myself safe, due to programming that operated beyond my control. Soon I realized, though, that this traumatic event was actually another "gift" to me, without which I would never have known I was still under program. I continued working in therapy with Dave Neswald who, although well intentioned, was not informed in regard to how my sophisticated government programming worked. I had hired bodyguards in the past and now he and Ted were suggesting that for my safety I hire one again, only full-time now. With very limited funds, and enormous mounting therapy bills, I wondered how I could afford a bodyguard? I compromised and hired a live-in housekeeper who would at least be with me most of the time, as my therapist was afraid that my controllers would switch me with my "twin sister" and take me away. I lived in absolute terror, trying to keep the trauma from occurring not only at my controller's hands, but also at my own. I was scared all the time, because I couldn't even trust myself, not knowing if I would involuntarily switch and put myself or my children in danger. Most of the time, in those days during 1993, I couldn't even complete a sentence when I attempted to communicate and my mind felt confused and exhausted.
I persevered toward getting Starshine into print. When I began to ponder just what the cover should be like, I found a booklet in a craft store with a picture of an angel that I just knew had to be on the cover. The events that occurred later that day, proved to me without a shadow of a doubt that God's angels were indeed watching over me. When I called the artist and explained that I wanted her angel to grace the cover of Starshine, she agreed without question. The only thing she wanted me to know was that this was the angel she had designed for the White House Christmas tree that year! Talk about synchronicities and miracles.
Attempts to Stop Me
Over the years, as I attempted to heal, break free, write and get my book into print, I was harassed in many ways. Over time, I paid more and more attention to the triggers that were sent my way to stop me from remembering and becoming free. These messages and triggers actually provided a guide, a road map of sorts, toward discovering and dismantling deeper layers of my programming.
For years, I have been tailed, my phones are usually tapped, people have been "sent in on me" in my controllers' attempt to reprogram and regain control of me. Other people were 'sent in on me' in a timely fashion, such as in 1992 when Patrick Stone and I 'bumped into' Dutch Schroeder, his Baylor University coach, who just happened to be vacationing on Maui during the exact same time we were writing the FBI chapter in Starshine. When we had lunch with he and his wife, he told us he was one of Bill Sessions' friends. At that time, William 'Bill' Sessions was still the Director of the CIA.
At other times, men in suits found me in homes of acquaintances, beaches, restaurants, hotels and cabins alike and made their threats; physical and verbal. My car tires were slashed, my mail was tampered with, often held back for months, only to mysteriously arrive in bunches up to two years after the postmark date! Phone messages, powerfully, cryptically encoded and laced with programming intended to keep me under control were played over the phone or recorded on my answering machine. Shrill sounds and/or tones were also played over the phone to tap into my programming. Disturbing written "triggers" intended to either frighten me into submission or keep me from remembering, were sent by mail. As I ran for my life from state to state, two separate individuals rear-ended my car on the same day, within hours of each other. I was set up and programmed to pose for compromising photos in an attempt to blackmail me should the need arise. And, as I mentioned earlier, during 1993, in my quest to get Starshine into print, I was threatened and warned to cease with its self-publication. And, when I didn't stop, I was raped.
Several weeks later, with nearly 10 years of recovery behind me, this so-called "retired?!" CIA operative made dramatic changes in his living arrangements just to "help me deprogram." After relocating across the country, to a home in Arab, Alabama where I paid all domestic expenses for the three of us, a large sum of money for traveling expenses for both he, his girlfriend Cathy, and myself, and a large 'consulting fee,' this renegade CIA operative read my lengthy journal entries daily for a year and a half and agreed that in his own words, "the memory work contains absolute elements of fact laced with verifiable details." But one and one-half years, forty-two journals, and $50,000+ traveling and living expenses later, Mark Phillips informed me that nothing had ever happened to me ...nothing what-soever!
Cathy O'Brien said, "Well, you should be happy that nothing happened and that your children have not been abused!" I couldn't believe she was saying that, after all the common details of our histories we had shared.
I was devastated and went to bed and could not eat for three days and remained non-communicative and totally subdued for nearly a month afterwards. After all this time of intensely focused attention on my history, Mark informed me that I had never even been abused, and that I just had a big imagination. But, he had seemed to appreciate that I was around to cover all of his expenses.
I suspect that Mark is some kind of "containment agent" who is being directed through his "handlers" whose motivations ultimately serve the New World Order. Through his containment expertise, the information I have conveyed to you in this book you are now reading was delayed in reaching you by nearly seven years. After I moved, I found out that Mark had initially told Walter Bowart (author of Operation Mind Control and eyewitness to my use with Bob Hope in Palm Springs) that I was schizophrenic, and since then, I have uncovered a string of lies he told others in an attempt to discredit me. I also reconnected with another Kissinger survivor that Mark Phillips had worked with for a time. Mark Phillips told her the same thing he told me - "THIS NEVER HAPPENED TO YOU!" With my trust shattered, Ted Gunderson, Catherine Gould, Margaret Paul, Walter Bowart and many others supported me in what I knew to be the truth of my life. I left that home where I had paid all expenses for Mark Phillips and Cathy O'Brien and went to live in Carbondale, Illinois. I had a slower pace there and life was sweet while the situation lasted. It was a time of rest and recuperation as the final integration I had achieved in 1996, solidified into even greater strength and unification while I remained safe.
Knowing what a crucial step it is for mind control victims to wear a watch, I bought Kelly a new watch. One day while we were swimming in a nearby lake, Kelly looked me right in the eye, took the watch from her wrist and purposefully dropped it into the lake. I bought her several other watches and she did the same thing. She was not "allowed" to monitor the time and her programming dictated that she lose it, quickly, before she got hurt for disobeying her program.
My move to South Carolina to plan and coordinate a healing center for mind control survivors fell through but God was not to disappoint me in my desire for the healing center. Although I could not yet see the perfection of the Divine plan, I was soon to begin on a path that would lead me to the creation of a healing center for survivors, a center furnished with the latest, state-of-the-art technology, with the capability of bringing survivors into recovery and whole brain synchrony in a more efficient and quicker manner than my years in 'talk therapy' ever could. The psychotherapy I received, although helpful, didn't touch or recognize the powerful programming that ruled my every action, and couldn't help me learn to not dissociate. EEG Neurofeedback helped me learn to not dissociate and to be more present and attentive.
By April of 1997, Kelly was diagnosed Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID) by two separate therapists, one in North Carolina and one in South Carolina. In previous years, since 1988 I had attempted to get Kelly informed, qualified help in and out of California, but her father denied her right to see any therapist who had any awareness of the one thing she needed in order to heal. He interviewed each therapist I recommended, and if they had any knowledge of DID or ritual abuse, he would not allow her to see them. But, once again I created a home and in my attempt to help my daughter, I began studying and training to become a certified EEG Neurofeedback Clinician. I bought an EEG machine and began working with Kelly at home. She responded well to the neurotherapy, but was re-accessed and soon became completely catatonic.
But by the summer of 1997, when my daughter's worsening condition rendered her totally catatonic and non-responsive; unable to eat, drink, walk, talk, use the bathroom or move, I was forced to hospitalize her. Luckily, I found a female psychiatrist who had read my book, was familiar with MPD, ritual abuse and government mind control, and was willing to admit my daughter to the hospital while enacting the security required to keep her safe. While she was hospitalized, another recovered survivor and I gave an inservice training for the hospital staff. I also completed further EEG Neurofeedback training and opened my own business.
One time when I visited Kelly in the hospital, my car window was smashed, my briefcase, mind control literature and the electronic equipment I used to speak publicly was stolen. And to top it off, New Year's Day, 1998, the Holistic Health Care Clinic that housed my new EEG Neurofeedback business and the EEG Spectrum equipment that I used to help victims and non-victims alike, was totally destroyed by fire. Although the official fire department report was that the fire was the result of faulty wiring, I felt the fire was due to arson. To validate my suspicions, and just in case I forgot and needed "re-minding," two bags of the ashes from that fire were mysteriously delivered to my home.
Later in the year when another Bob Hope survivor visited me, I had to call the local police to report a man who was surveilling us late at night outside my home. And, as recently as February 1999, as I sent out the initial copies of this manuscript, my phone lines to my office were cut and I was tailed.
Each time I am harassed, instead of silencing me, it spurs me into greater action, and the result is another radio interview, another book or article, and more speaking engagements. I still stay as public as I can, speaking publicly whenever I am asked, so I can continue to share the truth.
This harassment cannot and will not stop being used against victims attempting to live free, until this dark system of mind control is exposed and brought to light.
"For if you forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father also will forgive you."
My Children are Reprogrammed
In an attempt to rescue my children and provide them with a safe home and believing I was actually safe and free, I brought them to the island. I had no idea that I was still being accessed, and that they were also. Consciously I thought we just went to the beach everyday, while the kids played with friends and surfed. But later I remembered that when they arrived they also were taken to Barking Sands Missile Base. Their programs were stepped up to match my new level after which Danny was very sick and laid on his futon and cried for two days.
While on Kauai, when Kelly was with me for the summer we were programmed to perform as a mother-daughter sex team. We were also filmed in underwater ballet and sex with dolphins and other sea creatures in pornography. Sometimes we swam with underwater sea turtles, they were such docile creatures and they weren't interested in sex. I could relate to them because all they tried to do was get to safety so they could relax and finally be at peace. There was lots of porn filmed on the island. They felt the natural splendor would only enhance the productions and they filmed lots of slaves with dolphins. They filmed us in shimmery suits, or braid wraps, all sorts of fancy hair and body jewels and ornaments or jeweled waist belts while otherwise naked. There was quite a following of dolphin porn lovers. When a male dolphin got excited, his penis stuck up and looked like a Bird of Paradise flower. We all learned that if you weren't scared and approached him lovingly the sexual encounter wouldn't be as painful. There was a rich local attorney named Ken whose job was to sufficiently launder the proceeds. I delivered money to him from Sylvester Stallone and from other less prominent men on the island.
Sylvester Stallone
Stallone liked to have group sex with lots of women and he liked Kelly and I together. He had us the first time when we were staying in a cottage in Anahola. As programmed, during the middle of the night I went to my daughter and said, "Kelly, Kelly, wake up, we have work to do.
"No Mom," Kelly said, "I'm tired."
"Wake up now!" I commanded, snapping my fingers drawing my 13-year-old daughter into a wide awake state. I held her hand all the way to the rental car we drove when I first arrived onto the island. We drove to Stallone's house in Anini Beach and parked in the drive. He said that since it was a rental car it would be fine. Kelly and I went into the house and out to a oval room where there were other girls waiting. One was Japanese and another brunette. At first we all just sat and looked at each other, smiling in awkward embarrassment. Sly walked in with a white towel around his otherwise naked body and held his hands out to us. He told us we were waiting for the 5th wheel but she never arrived. He laughed and directed us into the bedroom. He pointed to Kelly and said, "I want her first." He told her she had the Bo Derek look and he kissed her before she began her trained, skillful sexual repertoire. Stallone was snorting cocaine and during the group sex it was my job to remember to offer him more. He had a small spoon that he stuck up his nose to snort the white powder. Kissing Kelly he said, "Bob has good taste." Pulling her hair back and kissing her more deeply he added, "and it's getting better all the time." When he was finished sexually satisfying himself with her he rolled her over and said, "rest little baby," as he went to the other girls in turn. We never spent the night, stayed just a few hours and after Stallone went to sleep I kissed his cheek, took Kelly's hand and we tip-toed out.
Stallone once said, "There's nothing quite like a slave. I love getting them from the underground. You're all so cooperative, don't give me no shit. This is the life I tell ya'. No bitchy, demanding women, not when I can have beautiful, sweet, white women who set me free. It's all about freedom," he rambled, while laying on his back in a seemingly drugged stupor, about "America the Beautiful and the home of the brave." He was high on cocaine. The higher he got the better the animal lover he was to become. That was his code name, "Animal." And when they told me, "the Animal" wanted Kelly and I, then I knew it was Stallone. I also gave him massages, often in open air areas.
Sly thought the dolphin porn was the greatest new combo and he directed a lot of the porn videos. It was filmed at areas at the North Shore, Poipu or, he had us helicoptered into remote areas for filming. Large cameras were taken out to these remote island areas. I delivered some money from Stallone and from other less prominent men on the island to Ken, the wealthy attorney who had a big beautiful house in Kilauea. I believe it was his job to see that the money was sufficiently laundered.
Sly wore a wet suit but we were always naked in the water. There were trained dolphins that we did water ballet and swam with. When we swam gracefully the male dolphin got excited and started nudging us. We grabbed onto them and went for the ride; if we didn't, they told us, "one wrong move and you could get ripped to shreds." The dolphin actually remembered us over time and the same male would consistently choose the same girl, even when the group size changed from small to large. They got to know us and didn't forget in between. When my sons were on the island they were filmed also. One day after the filming, Sly said to Kelly, "You come back soon, ya here?"
During other visits, where I was supposedly allowed to see my children, Kelly and I were prostituted to Charlton Heston, and I was to Kareem Abdul Jabbar. Taj Mahal, the jazz musician, was on the island to keep other slaves in line through satanic rituals. One time I was programmed to drive to Secret Beach at night to attend a 'gathering' where, unbeknownst to my conscious personality, I was raped in a ritual.
Consciously I thought, as my programmed reality dictated, that I had escaped from my controllers in California and I was now safe. I believed I had rescued my children, and as the summer came to an end, I began the process of enrolling them in island schools. I moved from house to house, attempting to keep our whereabouts anonymous, only to have my still programmed children call back to their father in California and report our current location and phone number. It was terrifying. And I thought I would die of grief and terror when Craig told the kids and I that if I didn't return them to California he would be sending in a police escort to bring them home. Devastated and panicked but not knowing what else to do, I returned my children to their father in California. Shortly afterwards, my attorney notified me that if I wanted to ever see my children again I needed to attend a court hearing in California. Frightened of the danger of being accessed, I called Ted Gunderson (retired FBI official) who helped me hire a bodyguard. I flew to California, where behind the judge's closed doors, I lost custody of my children. My attorney, Doug Wolfe, let me in on the news when he informed me in the Courthouse hallway, "You're lucky to be alive, just get back to the island and get a job."
My children's programmed father and our controllers were now in even more total control of their lives.
The Wind Beneath My Wings
Extremely sad and depressed, I returned to the island. The job I took when I returned was to begin to more fully document many of my memories and I began writing my first book STARSHINE. It wasn't an easy task because first I had to undo the endless programs that kept me from being able to use the word processor without a programmed part of me destroying the information I had just typed. But I was determined to do whatever it took to get eventual help for my children. Memories of a political and international nature often flooded my awareness and I documented them each time something new came to mind. Due to the vivid nature of flashbacks I experienced, I spent nearly two years stuck in the body memory part of my Kissinger experiences and had to live with the smell of this cigar smoke and listening within to the sound of his accented voice. Similarly, I flooded with sexual memories about Pete Wilson and Ted Kennedy. Talk about intrusion!
Since I had no money, I hired the 'ocean' to be my therapist and with God's guiding, I actually did some of my best memory recovery work alone on the beach, with the ocean holding the space of peace, love and strength for me so I could delve to the depths of my own mind. With the solid foundation built from years of memory recovery done while I was still in California, and after a year on the island retrieving still deeper layers of memories, and programming, I had a pretty clear picture that something was up - exactly what I wasn't sure. I couldn't imagine why I would be with Henry Kissinger, Nixon or Reagan, or what was so important about me that people were following me and overly interested in what I was doing. But all my memories, held together by the pages in my journals, began to neatly fill in the picture. In 1992, 1 purchased a light and sound machine of my own, and after mastering the fear associated with using some of the same technology my controllers had used on me, I began to more easily recover even deeper layers of memory. Soon I realized the programs that controlled me were broken and nullified as I became consciously aware of them.
Bush Flies Into Princeville
But my other secret jobs didn't stop and with my family out of their way, I was now freer and more unencumbered than ever to work for my controllers. George Bush met me at Princeville Airport, a very small airport on the north shore of the small island. Then we would both be helicoptered to Barking Sands Missile Range. When we arrived he and a military officer saluted each other and then he was escorted to an outside structure that had glass doors.
At another time, George Bush met me at Barking Sands Missile Range, for a talk about "getting back in line." I was parked in my Lexus waiting near the entrance when Bush drove up in a military jeep. A military officer was driving him. Bush told me to start my engine and follow him. I followed through the gates that were opened for him into the missile site. He motioned me out of my car and stomped over to me. He stood and yelled in my face about being irresponsible. I had a hard time hearing or understanding him because it was extremely windy. I also think personalities inside of me were attempting to shield me from his barrage of programmed verbiage. He waved his glasses around while he yelled at me. In his cryptic mind control lingo Bush said, "Get into line or Kelly will be on a #9." He was referring to the well known freedom train mind control theme, of being thrown off the train, which cryptically meant her death. Angrily, Bush saluted and told me to get back in my car and get the hell home. He was very angry.
An Act of Nature Sets Me
One Step Closer to Freedom
But "category five" Hurricane Iniki changed many of their plans and this act of nature ultimately
worked in my favor, freeing me a little more each day. I lost the home that I attempted to recreate on the
island to the hurricane, and as I healed my mind, body and spirit, I realized more and more every day
that I still wasn't safe. In order to have the electricity to continue powering my laptop, Patrick Stone, the
man who helped me write Starshine, (himself an unrecovered victim of mind control), and I were forced
to leave the island. Military planes evacuated us to the island of Maui, where we continued writing. There
we were continually visited and harassed by men my controllers sent to the hotel that we later discovered
was also a "containment center." True to the network containment strategy, our friends on Kauai
referred us to this place and we continued writing while we were monitored. It frightened me because I
was now conscious enough to realize that I continually ended up in places where I thought I was free, but
I wasn't. This was due to the fact that I wasn't fully integrated and half of my programming was still
intact and affecting me, still binding me hopelessly to my controllers. In many ways I felt free though,
and continued to heal and dedicate my life to service and God. While I, Susan, wrote, my 'inner twin
sister' Sharon took the heat and once again endured the physical and mental tortures so I could be free to
write Starshine. My dissociative state was now being used in my favor, although it often wasn't easy. One night while in Maui, I had a dream and saw a map with a check mark identifying Oregon. At that time I was unaware that I was receiving telepathic messages, often at night. I called Margie Paul and told her about the dream and that I felt guided to move. So she talked to a famous movie star that was also her client and asked her to recommend a place. Through that recommendation, I moved off Maui and took what few belongings I had left with me to Ashland, Oregon. I rented a home, referred to me by this movie star's realtor friend, and began writing. Kelly and Danny visited me at Christmas. Soon after, Kelly and I were prostituted as a mother daughter sex team to Clinton, who had just been elected, but not yet inaugurated as President.
I didn't realize that I was still programmed not to notice when I was 'missing time.' Healing, integration and deprogramming didn't come as quickly as I wanted it to. Healing took time. But my continued motivation to heal and figure out what this all meant kept me uncovering more and more in regard to my own programming and how the system all worked.
Months later I mustered the courage to move back to California. I desperately wanted to help my children, and felt I was recovered enough and safe enough to do that. I didn't know I still had layers of personalities and programs still intact that would keep me under control, and unfortunately neither did David Neswald, the therapist I worked with there in Southern California. To make matters worse, upon the completion of Starshine, as I readied it for print, my brother, Rick, who was one of my programmed controllers, and whom I had chosen not to see for years, was able to access me one last time. This accessing allowed him to gain entrance to my apartment in Calabasas and rape me, threatening that if I didn't stop with Starshine they would publicly display the compromising pictures that he then took of my children and me. The next morning, I awoke disoriented, terrified, and confused and had no idea the source. But later that day, I "remembered" the horrific scene and was grateful to have at least remembered it because, in the past, it had taken me months, often years to remember traumatic events.
In hysterical panic, I once again phoned Ted Gunderson for further advice on how to stay safe. He told me to get special locks for my doors, and a security system, and I had alarms that I bought for each door so if anyone, including myself, went in or out, they would sound off. I even purchased an alarm that I wore on my body and set it off if anyone of a suspicious nature approached me. It was terrifying, as I realized I was still not able to keep myself safe, due to programming that operated beyond my control. Soon I realized, though, that this traumatic event was actually another "gift" to me, without which I would never have known I was still under program. I continued working in therapy with Dave Neswald who, although well intentioned, was not informed in regard to how my sophisticated government programming worked. I had hired bodyguards in the past and now he and Ted were suggesting that for my safety I hire one again, only full-time now. With very limited funds, and enormous mounting therapy bills, I wondered how I could afford a bodyguard? I compromised and hired a live-in housekeeper who would at least be with me most of the time, as my therapist was afraid that my controllers would switch me with my "twin sister" and take me away. I lived in absolute terror, trying to keep the trauma from occurring not only at my controller's hands, but also at my own. I was scared all the time, because I couldn't even trust myself, not knowing if I would involuntarily switch and put myself or my children in danger. Most of the time, in those days during 1993, I couldn't even complete a sentence when I attempted to communicate and my mind felt confused and exhausted.
I persevered toward getting Starshine into print. When I began to ponder just what the cover should be like, I found a booklet in a craft store with a picture of an angel that I just knew had to be on the cover. The events that occurred later that day, proved to me without a shadow of a doubt that God's angels were indeed watching over me. When I called the artist and explained that I wanted her angel to grace the cover of Starshine, she agreed without question. The only thing she wanted me to know was that this was the angel she had designed for the White House Christmas tree that year! Talk about synchronicities and miracles.
Attempts to Stop Me
Over the years, as I attempted to heal, break free, write and get my book into print, I was harassed in many ways. Over time, I paid more and more attention to the triggers that were sent my way to stop me from remembering and becoming free. These messages and triggers actually provided a guide, a road map of sorts, toward discovering and dismantling deeper layers of my programming.
For years, I have been tailed, my phones are usually tapped, people have been "sent in on me" in my controllers' attempt to reprogram and regain control of me. Other people were 'sent in on me' in a timely fashion, such as in 1992 when Patrick Stone and I 'bumped into' Dutch Schroeder, his Baylor University coach, who just happened to be vacationing on Maui during the exact same time we were writing the FBI chapter in Starshine. When we had lunch with he and his wife, he told us he was one of Bill Sessions' friends. At that time, William 'Bill' Sessions was still the Director of the CIA.
At other times, men in suits found me in homes of acquaintances, beaches, restaurants, hotels and cabins alike and made their threats; physical and verbal. My car tires were slashed, my mail was tampered with, often held back for months, only to mysteriously arrive in bunches up to two years after the postmark date! Phone messages, powerfully, cryptically encoded and laced with programming intended to keep me under control were played over the phone or recorded on my answering machine. Shrill sounds and/or tones were also played over the phone to tap into my programming. Disturbing written "triggers" intended to either frighten me into submission or keep me from remembering, were sent by mail. As I ran for my life from state to state, two separate individuals rear-ended my car on the same day, within hours of each other. I was set up and programmed to pose for compromising photos in an attempt to blackmail me should the need arise. And, as I mentioned earlier, during 1993, in my quest to get Starshine into print, I was threatened and warned to cease with its self-publication. And, when I didn't stop, I was raped.
The CIA Lends a Hand?
Tennessee Bound
But a breakthrough occurred. Ted Gunderson called to inform me that he had just heard from
another woman who lived across the nation, who had also sent him her memory work about being used
as a sex slave to Ronald Reagan. Although it was a terrifying time for me, it also was an amazing time of
discovery for all of us. Mark Phillips, her so-called therapist and deprogrammer flew across the nation
and told me that "Jimmy Carter's people" had called him in an attempt to stop him from meeting with
me. I flew Mark and Cathy O'Brien to California to meet with me for the first time and I put on a seminar
where they were the featured speakers. Mark Phillips knew all about my programming. Looking back on
it now, he seemed to know way too much. He asked me if I had "a twin sister who was two inches shorter
than me." This was a very powerful key and code into the programming of my "inner twin sister,"
Sharon, and this seemingly simple statement controlled my body in a very intimate way from the
outside, showing me while in normal consciousness that I was indeed a robot, and not in control of my
own body. Shortly after Mark and Cathy's arrival and seminar, a series of events occurred including an
accident and ensuing hospitalization of the person that was living with me as my safe person. Mark
Phillips explained that I was not safe in California and once again I ended up running. I paid to fly Mark,
Cathy and I back to his mother's home in Charlotte, Tennessee where we began my process of what we
then called "deprogramming." Several weeks later, with nearly 10 years of recovery behind me, this so-called "retired?!" CIA operative made dramatic changes in his living arrangements just to "help me deprogram." After relocating across the country, to a home in Arab, Alabama where I paid all domestic expenses for the three of us, a large sum of money for traveling expenses for both he, his girlfriend Cathy, and myself, and a large 'consulting fee,' this renegade CIA operative read my lengthy journal entries daily for a year and a half and agreed that in his own words, "the memory work contains absolute elements of fact laced with verifiable details." But one and one-half years, forty-two journals, and $50,000+ traveling and living expenses later, Mark Phillips informed me that nothing had ever happened to me ...nothing what-soever!
Cathy O'Brien said, "Well, you should be happy that nothing happened and that your children have not been abused!" I couldn't believe she was saying that, after all the common details of our histories we had shared.
I was devastated and went to bed and could not eat for three days and remained non-communicative and totally subdued for nearly a month afterwards. After all this time of intensely focused attention on my history, Mark informed me that I had never even been abused, and that I just had a big imagination. But, he had seemed to appreciate that I was around to cover all of his expenses.
I suspect that Mark is some kind of "containment agent" who is being directed through his "handlers" whose motivations ultimately serve the New World Order. Through his containment expertise, the information I have conveyed to you in this book you are now reading was delayed in reaching you by nearly seven years. After I moved, I found out that Mark had initially told Walter Bowart (author of Operation Mind Control and eyewitness to my use with Bob Hope in Palm Springs) that I was schizophrenic, and since then, I have uncovered a string of lies he told others in an attempt to discredit me. I also reconnected with another Kissinger survivor that Mark Phillips had worked with for a time. Mark Phillips told her the same thing he told me - "THIS NEVER HAPPENED TO YOU!" With my trust shattered, Ted Gunderson, Catherine Gould, Margaret Paul, Walter Bowart and many others supported me in what I knew to be the truth of my life. I left that home where I had paid all expenses for Mark Phillips and Cathy O'Brien and went to live in Carbondale, Illinois. I had a slower pace there and life was sweet while the situation lasted. It was a time of rest and recuperation as the final integration I had achieved in 1996, solidified into even greater strength and unification while I remained safe.
Baby Monarch Breakdown
After a suicide attempt and hospitalization in California, Kelly was released to me and even went
to high school for a short time in Carbondale. My heart was broken when in June, after only being with
me for a few months, she announced that she missed her Southern California lifestyle and the rest of her
family, and told me she was leaving. Due to her unrecovered, still programmed state of mind, Kelly was
not free to make up her own mind, and was often puppeted by our controllers and the inner web of
programming that dictated her actions. After she left, an opportunity arose and I moved once again, this
time to South Carolina in a quest to open a healing center. All the while, I continued writing my sequel to
Starshine, the book you are reading now.
Going to Carolina to
Open a Healing Center
Over the years of my escape, Kelly's programming began to further break down, partially due,
perhaps, to the lack of contact with me. In turn a series of suicide attempts landed her again in the
hospital. Twice I flew to California and brought her back home with me. During these intense times,
Kelly had lucid moments where she told me she knew everything that had happened. She talked to me
about white vans, limos, being in London, hand signals, being sexually abused, and made me promise I
would write about the drugs and how the doctors drugged her, which she told me was destroying her
brain. These medical doctors felt my daughter was psychotic, because they were unaware of her
programming. Kelly thanked me in a card on Mother's Day (see photo section) for her freedom, and as
we spent time together she relayed more and more events that she remembered, which validated my own
experiences
. Knowing what a crucial step it is for mind control victims to wear a watch, I bought Kelly a new watch. One day while we were swimming in a nearby lake, Kelly looked me right in the eye, took the watch from her wrist and purposefully dropped it into the lake. I bought her several other watches and she did the same thing. She was not "allowed" to monitor the time and her programming dictated that she lose it, quickly, before she got hurt for disobeying her program.
My move to South Carolina to plan and coordinate a healing center for mind control survivors fell through but God was not to disappoint me in my desire for the healing center. Although I could not yet see the perfection of the Divine plan, I was soon to begin on a path that would lead me to the creation of a healing center for survivors, a center furnished with the latest, state-of-the-art technology, with the capability of bringing survivors into recovery and whole brain synchrony in a more efficient and quicker manner than my years in 'talk therapy' ever could. The psychotherapy I received, although helpful, didn't touch or recognize the powerful programming that ruled my every action, and couldn't help me learn to not dissociate. EEG Neurofeedback helped me learn to not dissociate and to be more present and attentive.
By April of 1997, Kelly was diagnosed Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID) by two separate therapists, one in North Carolina and one in South Carolina. In previous years, since 1988 I had attempted to get Kelly informed, qualified help in and out of California, but her father denied her right to see any therapist who had any awareness of the one thing she needed in order to heal. He interviewed each therapist I recommended, and if they had any knowledge of DID or ritual abuse, he would not allow her to see them. But, once again I created a home and in my attempt to help my daughter, I began studying and training to become a certified EEG Neurofeedback Clinician. I bought an EEG machine and began working with Kelly at home. She responded well to the neurotherapy, but was re-accessed and soon became completely catatonic.
But by the summer of 1997, when my daughter's worsening condition rendered her totally catatonic and non-responsive; unable to eat, drink, walk, talk, use the bathroom or move, I was forced to hospitalize her. Luckily, I found a female psychiatrist who had read my book, was familiar with MPD, ritual abuse and government mind control, and was willing to admit my daughter to the hospital while enacting the security required to keep her safe. While she was hospitalized, another recovered survivor and I gave an inservice training for the hospital staff. I also completed further EEG Neurofeedback training and opened my own business.
One time when I visited Kelly in the hospital, my car window was smashed, my briefcase, mind control literature and the electronic equipment I used to speak publicly was stolen. And to top it off, New Year's Day, 1998, the Holistic Health Care Clinic that housed my new EEG Neurofeedback business and the EEG Spectrum equipment that I used to help victims and non-victims alike, was totally destroyed by fire. Although the official fire department report was that the fire was the result of faulty wiring, I felt the fire was due to arson. To validate my suspicions, and just in case I forgot and needed "re-minding," two bags of the ashes from that fire were mysteriously delivered to my home.
Later in the year when another Bob Hope survivor visited me, I had to call the local police to report a man who was surveilling us late at night outside my home. And, as recently as February 1999, as I sent out the initial copies of this manuscript, my phone lines to my office were cut and I was tailed.
Each time I am harassed, instead of silencing me, it spurs me into greater action, and the result is another radio interview, another book or article, and more speaking engagements. I still stay as public as I can, speaking publicly whenever I am asked, so I can continue to share the truth.
This harassment cannot and will not stop being used against victims attempting to live free, until this dark system of mind control is exposed and brought to light.
"For if you forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father also will forgive you."
-- Matthew 5:14
"But I say to you that hear, Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you."
-- Luke 6:27
Chapter Thirty-five:
Secret Societies
What's the Secret Goal at the Top of Freemasonry?
Answer: A Luciferian New World Order
Living in and amongst those planning the New World Order as their programmed mind file,
meticulously recording their deeds and activities, has allowed me to be here now to report their plan to
you. Their agenda includes keeping the populations of the world under control as they hold the key to
secret knowledge. Knowledge is power. If you are uninformed as to their secret agenda and especially of
their use of advanced mind control technology in order to bring about their plan, then you can't protect
yourself or begin to work toward stopping this plan.
If there is any one thing I could tell you about the inner workings of the New World Order it's that
it is subtle, organized and calculated. This plan has an agenda that spans generations with obvious long term goals--as long term as the intergenerational abuse pattern that was passed down through my family
creating within our generational line Multiple Personality Disorder.
And, I can tell you that the New World Order plan serves a belief system that is based on power
and control, confusion, greed, and the use and manipulation of others, most often without their consent.
The system's "cogs" are well oiled and greased, and are interlaced and protected by men's secret societies
like the Masons, who have at the pinnacle of their organization a belief in secret knowledge. The Masonic
order is funded from the bottom up by first through third degree Masons, hoodwinked and mesmerized
into working for the agenda of those members at the top-an agenda they work "toward" knowing but
they aren't allowed to know until they arrive at the top through oath and initiation to possess the elusive
"secret knowledge."
Found in Morals and Dogma, the cornerstone of every higher Mason's library, in the 32°d Chapter
(Sublime Prince of the Royal Secret) are subtle hints of the character of this 'secret knowledge,'
specifically geared toward the 32°d Degree Mason (Master of the Royal Secret). Here, in the guise of
acknowledging a Universal Equilibrium between good and evil, as the natural balance and harmony of
earthly existence, it promotes the acceptance of the belief that evil actions are a necessary counterbalance to good ones and asks the aspirant to accept this dichotomy in human affairs. From this sublime
seed of half-truth, evil is allowed flourish within the protective secrecy of the organization.
To gain this knowledge, a man must go through a series of Luciferian initiations and, as he
progresses toward the top, he finds that he is trapped into keeping the secret, through threat of
consequences, including death. Once gaining the upper levels, he believes that he or his family will be
killed if he should ever divulge the secret knowledge. This initiation where he is ultimately compromised
involves blood ritual and rape. Now many of these men have had to "sell their soul to the devil," taking
an oath through satanic ritual to serve and protect their fellow lodge brother regardless of the deeds
done in order to accomplish that. Through the secret handshakes and signals they give to each other,
they alert one another to the needs of a brother and thereby this fellow member who may be in court for
charges of criminal activity, or apprehended by the police for breaking the law, is protected by his
"brother." It may be a judge, who when a case is presented before him, sees a brother in trouble, and
looks the other direction, allowing the lodge brother to go free or with light sentencing. Or, it may be an
attorney who finds himself unable through the court system to really "defend" his client, as he secretly
serves the system in which he is oath bound. Often in court cases throughout the legal system, children
who are sexually or physically abused are sent back to live with a perpetrating parent while the other
parent seeking protection of their child is sent away, alone and powerless to do anything to protect their child. All this happens because a judge or an attorney is part of an organization that has at its very
foundation, protection of its members, right or wrong, and sometimes protection at all costs.
Are you aware that many of our Presidents have been Masons? In fact, the majority have. This
means that they have taken an oath to serve their organization and the brothers who belong, without
question, even above and beyond God and country. Instead of justice we have camaraderie. Instead of
protecting citizens, especially our youngest ones, we have a system of individuals who serve each other,
blindly I might add, without question of right or wrong, good or bad, without consideration for the
Constitution and the high spiritual ideals set forth for our country. We have instead a "boys club," where
many men join in order to belong, to be a part of a group that they may believe furthers civic interest,
financial gain, and offers security.
Our nation is undermined by this group that operates in the dark, shrouded by secrecy and
serving to protect their fellow lodge members above all else-including truth and justice. A man cannot
serve the Lodge and at the same time serve God, for the good Lord calls us to love one another, to uphold
one another, to love and serve our fellow humans, to protect and love the children, and cause no harm.
This Masonic Order, this secret men's society, as harmless as it may seem to it's members teeming at the
bottom, demands an oath to allegiance over truth, brotherhood over justice, and it often serves a need to
protect a man's financial assets. There is no way a man can choose God's values when he is bound by an
oath to protect and defend his fellow lodge member without question. Even if a first-degree lodge
member doesn't find himself "called upon" to protect a brother, he is still serving a master at the top of
the pinnacle, without knowledge of what the top directors-the 32°d and 33rd Degree Masons--are doing.
Yet these worker bees at the bottom fuel the deeds and goals of those brothers at the top, who possess
the secret knowledge, and use that secret knowledge. I can tell you from personal experience of being
there, that it is not of God but is evil in nature. It seeks control for power and ultimately it wreaks havoc
and destruction upon the innocents that may be in its path.
A man cannot serve two masters. Those who are Masons are taught secret handshakes and hand
signals that pass secretly between members without outsiders' knowledge that a subversive agenda is
occurring, right there before the public's eyes. This secret communication between lodge brothers
guarantees that the members are protected. But I guarantee you that unless a brother rises through the
ranks, he won't find out that what he is supporting at the top of the organization he has sworn allegiance
to, is the highest evil known to man. To possess this secret knowledge, men allow their morality and
conscience to be stripped away; they have to, because the secret knowledge has to do with bringing in the
New World Order through atrocity that comes with power and control, certainly not love and service. It
is pure evil, shrouded in secrecy, and masked as a service organization. It's quite the opposite, as the
many emerging victims of satanic rituals at the hands of high-ranking Masons and Shriners will attest to.
If you are currently a Mason, you may want to know that the secret knowledge at the top of your
organization entails the ritualized abuse of young women who are raped on an altar as part of an
initiation process. I know because I was there. It happened to me. I was taken to outdoor places in the
50's and 60's and subjected to satanic rituals performed by various men's fraternal societies, including
the Masons and Shriners. I have also known and listened to other women who were healing from this
mind control abuse, whose father's were Masons and through that affiliation came to be young members
of Job's Daughters or the Eastern Star, and were healing from the mind control abuse they suffered in
secret.
"For this reason I bow my knees before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on
earth is named, that according to the riches of his glory he may grant you to be strengthened with might
through his Spirit in the inner man, and that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith; that you,
being rooted and grounded in love, may have the power to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ which surpasses knowledge,
that you may be filled with all the fullness of God." -- Ephesians 3:14
Chapter Thirty-six:
The Council’s Plan
I began passing messages to and from the Council early on, and in those days my use at that level
had to be earned. On an occasion where I was sent to deliver messages adroitly to a group of men aboard
a ferry in Canada, my reliability and security was finally proven. After the debriefing from that trip,
Henry learned where and how this group would covertly funnel funds into Canada. He clapped, shook
my hand and said, "Congratulations, you've passed this level!"
I didn't 'officially' begin working for the Council until I was 'of age' in 1969, when I turned 18. Up
until then, as I've stated, they were very cautious, watching and testing me from a distance as I
functioned at the White House and in other private settings where one of their contacts could report
back to them my progress. My involvement with them increased over the years as they witnessed my
reliability. I never violated that trust, couldn't think to, and worked amongst them for many years.
Henry was the Council's mastermind and I was his other brain so he could keep the whole plan,
and everyone involved, straight and organized.
One day, a group of powerful men met in a room in the Wrigley Mansion high atop the hill in
Avalon on Catalina Island. I was there supposedly to serve the men beverages and light snacks on silver
platters. Hours before the meeting I was kept in isolation in a side room. Two men in suits injected my
arm with drugs and I was readied, like always, before use. I was dressed in a very expensive white eyelet,
embroidered cotton dress that was provided for me to wear. One man that stands out was a tall man in a
dark pinstriped suit. He had thick white hair and sometimes wore glasses. He was often at these Wrigley
meetings. The meetings seemed very important and secretive.
Afterwards, I had sex with different men I was assigned to. I met with them on private yachts or
rooms in the Wrigley Mansion. Some of them were possessive of my time and didn't realize who I was;
they thought I was just a maid I guess. Some even tried to bribe me with money, jewelry or trips.
Jeff Foltz, Craig's best friend and USC oral surgeon, went with us, on occasion, to Catalina when
these meetings were being held. Craig and I sailed over with Jeff and his wife or flew on seaplanes. Jeff
cued me to different places at the Wrigley Mansion and other sites on Catalina Island. Consciously it
seemed that we were just touring the Mansion with friends, but at certain areas Jeff would say certain
words and press my hand in the middle and say a word or two and then we would walk on. I was a robot
and he talked to me like I was retarded. I followed closely behind Jeff as he walked us through the
Wrigley Estate. It seems like this was done to keep me from consciously remembering being there at the
Estate later on. Jeff took me into rooms that were all beautifully decorated in pastels. He held my hand,
despite the fact that Lisa, his wife, was there. No one really spoke and I felt like a very small child being
taken around by an adult. Of course, at the time my conscious personality wasn't present, so I was not
aware of these events. Later, on this same trip, I went to meetings to assist. At times, Henry was there.
He wasn't in office at the time but to him that only meant he "could do more with his hands less
encumbered," at least that's what he said.
During my use as a tool to coordinate liaisons between the Council and the President, when a
President was flown places, like aboard large military aircraft, I was briefed and sent along so that I
could apprise him of situations or 'key' reasons for his being in certain locations. For example, if the
Council deemed it necessary to control the attitudes of a certain branch of the military in order to have
their 'full cooperation' in a strategic military position or assignment, they would brief me in the complete
attitude required. They would supply me with the correct words for whomever (President, Vice President, Bob Hope, etc.) was delivering the speech to the troops. Then the troops would respond favorably because their programming would be reinforced, creating the desired effect - that is - their
full obedience and cooperation.
I accompanied Nixon, Reagan, Ford, Bush and others in these ways, bringing them information
from the Council. Later, I was debriefed about the results of my time with the President. I also reported
what the skillfully trained parts of me carefully recorded during the entire 'action,' including reporting
back what the President said, how it was received by the audience and any messages the President
wanted to send back to the Council.
As I explained before, the Council is made up of a secret and powerful group of men who are not
public and meet in the shadows. Their true power and ability to rule over the masses comes from the fact
that they are publicly unknown. They exist in their own environments, with little outside contact. But
they have many highly tested, tried and true programmed or aligned individuals who go out and do their
work, bringing back the information they need, making the contacts necessary to insure the success of
their mighty plan for world domination. They have the power to insure the election of a President, to
bring a celebrity to fame, to decide the fate of a nation, to bring about war, to incite riot, to bring down
whole cities or countries, to kill out a certain ethnic race, to introduce a new chemical into the food of the
masses for control, to loose upon a community a new virus, to decide which people are to live and which
are to die. They gave direction to people like Ronald Reagan, George Bush, Henry Kissinger and the
Rockefeller's, but they are not ignorant enough to allow a public identity to make them vulnerable to any
kind of investigation or public knowledge of their lives and their purpose. They seek people out in their
own time; people don't contact them. Sometimes the contact comes in the form of another person
slipping a message in or telling someone to be at a certain place at a specified time, but their
whereabouts is not ever known. And to report this to you, I had to dismantle lots of death programming
that was installed in an attempt to keep me from remembering any of this.
Geneva
There were times when the Council met in Geneva and I was taken there so they could send
information and messages, via my mind files, to people who weren't supposed to be publicly connected
with them. All this cross communication was sent safely through me and no one would have suspected
who I was or what type of secret information I contained. Henry usually put the information in my head
and sent me in with instructions - usually amusing ones - to the men at the meetings in Geneva and
other places. These men don't just want to control the world; they already do that to a certain extent.
The rules the Council had between its contacts was that they were never to have physical contact,
or talk by telephone. They decided where a message would be posted, via cryptic codes that only they
understood, and often placed them in a certain section of the newspaper. Like for instance, they would
weave the place and time of a meeting into the business investment section if one had to be called on
short notice. Otherwise meetings were set up ahead of time and there was no contact in between. In
cases of emergency or crisis they could use someone like me to deliver secretly coded messages. The men
they are networked into are some of the most powerful businessmen in the world - steel magnates,
furriers, oil and gas company owners, telephone company owners, media owners, munitions makers,
among others - and their business dealings are highly illegal. They break all the rules and laws set up to
protect small businesses from monopolies. They create huge monopolies. They control the world through
the economy. Most people who opposed them didn't have a chance. They simply ran them out of
business, got them prosecuted legally, or manipulated them in any way that was successful to insure they
maintained total control.
Secret Rendezvous in the Pacific
During the late 70's and early 80's the Council often met out in the middle of the ocean,
aboard yachts, where they could all come together anonymously. They sailed or motored around until
they connected with each member. They navigated to precise areas where a yacht would be waiting.
Everyone had to be expert navigators and Craig's dental friend, Jeff, was just that. He constantly read a
complex nautical map with special tools and combined that information with the placement of the stars
in the sky in order to deliver me to a preplanned destination. He had to navigate to different places
around the Channel Islands to areas we were supposed to go to. I was usually the first to be picked up by
the yacht the Council was to meet on, because I was the least important and they didn't want to waste
these important men's time. The captain pulled us in close, side-by-side, and the member aboard the
other yacht would leave his yacht and come aboard. Each man was picked up in this way. There were
usually three or four rendezvous after they picked me up. The men never arrived on the same yachts but
used different vessels and crews so as not to ever be identified. Once every member was picked up they
met in the largest room on board ship, and I was brought in to sit at the table during certain junctures
when they wanted to send a message back to the President, foreign leaders, etc. This way later, I just
delivered the message to whomever they directed me, usually during sex, and so everything remained
anonymous.
Reagan was a big receiver of messages during his presidency. I was kept very busy delivering to
him and he 'followed' orders to a 'T.' The group was "very pleased with his performance," were the words
they used. Pete Wilson was the same way and so was George Bush. Anyway, the Council met on board
yachts, had meetings, and then were navigated back to planned areas. They never met in the same place
twice and everything was done with precision. That was one of their favorite words -"PRECISION"- and
they always had the very best of everything. They even had "the chessboard" on board. They showed me
one move each time and I was instructed to watch VERY CAREFULLY because there was no room for a
mistake. Later I delivered the move on the chess board to Henry in New York. The chess move was
ALWAYS taken back to Henry.
Disguises To Protect Kissinger
Henry literally built me so I could be a safe arm to reach out and touch the Council. I flew to New
York regularly in the 70's and 80's. Just a quick trip to deliver the information to Henry. He had various
and sundry disguises for me that he used to protect himself. A man in a suit always picked me up at the
airport in a limo and gave me a bag. I knew to go to the restroom and change into everything in the bag,
which included clothes, shoes, wig, teeth overlays, make up, purse, everything I needed was there. Craig
had made me several sets of maxillary and mandibular overlays that I could just snap onto my teeth. I
looked totally different and the switch was to be total and complete when I looked at my image in the
mirror. "Become the image," Henry told me. So I changed my face, my voice, my walk; everything I was
told to alter, in order to fit the image. I took the bag filled with my clothes back to the man in the limo
and he put it in the front seat next to him and escorted me into the backseat. After I switched
personalities and dress, he closed the glass window between the seats and never had conversation with
me from that time on. He let me out at Henry's office, which was a large, older, very cultured building
and someone escorted me right to Henry's office.
I sat down in an upholstered chair across from Henry's dark wooden desk. He snapped his fingers
and ran his hand before my face to ready me for debriefing. I told him what the Council advised and the
final message was the Chess move. He was very anxious to get that and always had me double-check the
information so there wouldn't be any miscommunication. I was programmed that it wasn't possible for
me to ever make a mistake.
After I delivered the information to Henry, he walked me to the door and gave me a small piece of
folded paper to give the driver. I think it may have had my airline instructions on it or something. For
some reason I never flew with a round trip ticket, and always had the return flight booked under a different name than the one I used on the initial leg of the trip. The driver gave me the special bag
that now had all my original clothes in it, and I would go back into the public restroom and change. Then
he took me back to the airport in New York and I'd fly to LAX. Usually my Mom or Craig would pick me
up. It was a long trip but didn't seem like it because I was programmed to sleep. They were always proud
that the precision was so good that I could be back within 24 hours or less. Somehow they 'folded' that
amount of time and I never missed it. My assignments often began or culminated on Friday or Saturday
night but usually I was home by Saturday. These meetings with Henry usually took place at the end of
the work week. He liked to have the information delivered to him at that time because he would have the
weekend to mull it over, undisturbed and uninterrupted by any other business. He said, "That's the
secret to my success-FOCUS," then he would smile and take a cigar out of a case on the table. He also
had a separate apartment away from home where he did his best thinking and strategizing. I met with
him there, also, but always had to do the disguise routine before I met him anywhere.
When I returned home I was programmed to have cheese Danish to 're-mind' me to forget. Even
when I was having therapy sessions with Stuart Perlman, I was programmed to have cheese Danish on
the mornings I had therapy sessions with Stuart by phone. I was also cleverly programmed to misdial
Stuart's phone number by one number. Every time I dialed his number I would get frustrated and
wonder why I kept dialing the wrong number, and every time it was the same wrong number I dialed. My
controllers had me dialing a number that contained a code to remind me to maintain security. During
this period, I often met with Henry or others, so the Danish was the 'icing on the cake,' and served to
make sure I didn't ever remember. I was still meeting with Henry when I was in therapy with both Stuart
and Margie. My controllers told me they were trying to shore me up so I would make it to the end of my
job in the year 2000.
Jaws
My job was to be over in the year 2000, and programmed parts of me were told that I was to be
shot in the head and dropped overboard out in the middle of the Pacific where no one would ever miss
me, including the sharks. In order to impress me, they made me watch shark-feeding frenzies. One time
after Craig and I returned from a long weekend sail and scuba diving trip, another dentist friend of ours
came over and said, "You weren't scuba diving in the Channel Islands this weekend, were you? They were
having shark contests and were chumming the whole area!"
Shark themes were used heavily, and I was continually reminded by the Shark diver's wristwatch
that I was given to wear.
My job as a go-between from the Council to others was my most important task. Bob was 'my
owner' and Henry masterminded their plan, but the Council always called the ultimate shots. They said I
was theirs until, "the end of time," and that time for me was supposed to be the year 2000. Then they
said I could sleep with the fishes. Deep inside I couldn't wait until it was over.
Although the Council didn't ever meet on the same yachts, when they did meet, there often was an
aquarium on board with sharks in it that was used to remind me what would happen if I stepped out of
line. Craig and I had previously been directed to the big theatre with the stars on the ceiling on Catalina
Island to watch James Bond movies. I constantly gazed upward at those stars per programmed
instructions to, "look at the stars to be safe and forget."
I also was made to watch while a man in a suit threw an attendant into the shark aquarium when
it was feeding time. He said to the man, "You wouldn't mind standing in for the fish this morning so this
young lady can see what her fate is if she steps out of line?" The attendant looked at him quizzically and
then the suited man threw him into the tank and quickly poured a pan of fish and blood all over the poor
man in the water. The sharks went right for him. He screamed and flailed his arms but it didn't last long.It was horrific and terrifying. The suited man looked me in the eye, and in a very quiet, soothing tone
of voice said, "There, see what happens if you step out of line?"
"Yes, I see," I agreed, wholeheartedly.
This type of life and death terror tactic is enough to dissociate a person for a very long time,
especially if they are under mind control. This shark theme ran throughout my victimization. After my
children were born, we were at a theme park and all donned wet suits to swim with the fish; some were
even small sharks. Danny and Kevin were even given small rubber sharks in order to remember the
experience. The message was always the same, "Step out of line, you will be fed to the sharks." By now
they probably only need to use virtual reality traumas.
Kauai Central Location
I was relocated on Kauai because it was a remote area with easier access to me, unencumbered by
my family. It was a two-year phase. Then they didn't have to coordinate things so carefully between us
all. I was free to go on their assignments and I was used heavily. They flew me to New York, England,
South of France, Italy (Rome), the Netherlands, even Catalina and the Channel Islands, except now I was
helicoptered to the yachts and tethered in on a chair. Often it was a two-seater helicopter, the 'glass
bubble' type. The helicopter pilot seemed connected to the yacht as they radioed to coordinate the
rendezvous with precision. When I lived on Kauai I was taken directly from the meetings of the Council
to Henry, going through the whole disguise bit, and then returned to the island. I was usually gone two
days (48 hours) or less, and when I returned I slept a lot because I had been without sleep or food and
the time difference caused jet lag. Although, they tried everything to nullify the jet lag so I could, as they
called it, "re-emerge into my life without stress or strain."
While I was on Kauai I even was reunited with Kelly (who still lived in California with her father)
in England and France to "sexulate" some members in the royal family and a violent leader in France.
Kelly has personalities that speak French, also. It was necessary for both of us to know French in order to
communicate with this man. Kelly was trained to step into my shoes in the year 2000 and take over and I
was supposed to give her a diamond ring to make this an initiation.
Further Council Adventures
I was programmed with personalities to emulate Jackie Kennedy's charm and dignity. Aristotle
Onassis was a powerful arm of the Council, with the ability to move business holdings around. The
Council poured money into these businesses and used people like Onassis as a front, since they had to
remain anonymous. That was how they used a lot of business tycoons. The men who operated
independently were the most ideal since they could maneuver without the oversight of a large
corporation or business partners. Some of the richest entrepreneurs in the world were used this way and
I was sent into them to have sex and deliver Council messages. I met with many of these men in the open
seas on yachts for anonymity and security.
I also was rendezvoused with Reagan and Bush out in the middle of the Pacific during Reagan's
Presidency. They were on separate yachts, and met with me during a three-day sailing trip with the
Foltz's. Jeff Foltz secretly brought the drugs necessary for my use on board the sailing vessel we rented
for sailing trips. He also brought electronic equipment, including a black box with wires that he hooked
us up to; all three of us, his wife, my husband and myself, for programming. This happened before and
after I was used. He probably got his 'tune up' before the sail.
The Council worked Reagan and Bush a lot, giving them instructions. Reagan went along blindly
while Bush seemed to know more but not as much as Henry. I always slept with Reagan on the yacht he
was on and then delivered the message to him. I was delivered to Reagan and Bush as Jeff navigated to a
precise destination and when we came alongside their vessel I crossed 'over the rainbow' as I came on
board. Sometimes I spent the entire night sleeping with Reagan after I had delivered the message because, he said he would, "prefer company while out in the middle of the lonely Pacific." So I stayed,
and the next morning Jeff came back and picked me up and transferred me back.
As soon as I got on board, Jeff immediately stun gunned me in the back. My husband and Jeff's
wife stayed down in the kitchen until Jeff finished with me, which meant drugs and the use of the black
box. In later years, instead of an injection, the drug was a circular, oral wafer, like a small water chestnut.
Then Jeff would announce to our spouses, "Time for lunch!" and they would start preparing lunch. After
we ate, I would go take a very long nap or lay out on the deck and sleep while we sailed to our next
destination. We often moored for the night in three separate areas; all strategically mapped and
navigated so I would be in place for the rendezvous. I always felt so out of it after these events and
consciously felt embarrassed that I was too tired or couldn't think to communicate with our friends. Now
I know why.
Certain members of the American Dental Association have been heavily involved in this project
and many of the people from USC Dental School that Craig knew. Uncle Charlie made Craig's way into
USC, because Craig needed to be part of the project so he and Jeff could be "prepared," to ready me for
use at the highest levels with the Council. The Council stepped up their plans beginning in 1980 and on
into the 90's. Then it was supposed to be "clear sailing," as their plans snowballed and they began
reaping what had been earlier sown. Until in the year 2000, when they would be able to cinch the purse
strings shut, thus, being totally in charge of everything worldwide. But things didn't go exactly according
to plan, especially regarding my situation.
The Frontiers of the Mind
They began to target more heavily, and more often, people that had been put in place over the
years. They were bombarding them, certain individuals more heavily than others, depending on their
usefulness and power potential. People like Onassis, Iacocca and the Rockefellers who were part of 'level
two,' and others. Anyone who made big money was targeted. The Council was apprised of the wealthy,
and people like Henry went to great lengths to strategize how those with wealth could be brought into
their game for the highest effect or benefit to the cause. The Council saw this as a huge game to attain
total and absolute power by the dawning of the next century-the Age of Aquarius. As an Aquarian I was
told I was heralding the advancement of the planet-the global transformation to a new way of life
through advanced technologies.
They plan to "market" the mind/brain technologies they themselves have been using for decades,
to the general public, and are doing so already. This will allow them to make mega money in this new
market as well as allow them to begin to educate the masses in regard to the new technologies of the
mind, "The Frontiers of the Mind." But, while the public is spending vast sums of money on this new
technology, they will also be conditioned through advanced forms of electronics, harmonics, and
subliminal conditioning to accept this shift to a 'new existence.' The Council plans are to have a robotical
working class that won't cause any problems, but will simply work to supply the needs of the Elite-those
who by their breeding and intellect are deemed worthy of being allowed to be "awake" so they can rule,
live and create without any interference from the common man. They say that the working class already
makes non-thinking robots of their own everyday lives, and it might as well be more planned and
regulated so that others who want to create, invent, and otherwise use their minds, can do so without
hindrance from the common man.
They view the "common man" with great disdain as a lower form of the human species. And they
figure that by the time the year 2000 rolls around, when the purse cinches shut, and they are in full
control, that people will already be sufficiently conditioned and won't even be able to think to figure out
or even be aware that a change has taken place. They see it as the perfect cover up for the continuation of
the experiments in mind control they have participated in and feel very assured that the public will never be able to discover what happened because the more intelligent pubic has been sufficiently "tamed"
and conditioned to go along with the rest of the herd.
Society is being weeded out right now, as minority species are being eliminated very specifically
by biological germ warfare and other tactics meant to insure the elimination of those less genetically
favorable. They figure with the reduction of the population there will be sufficient natural resources for
the working class robots to support the genetically astute intellectuals who will be in power. Then, this is
supposed to lead into a new age of peace. They even unleashed New Age principles to target and control
the groups of people they previously programmed while they continued developing the mind control
technology, in order to maintain control until the year 2000 when, supposedly, no one would be able to
think to question or cause problems.
Our food is being tampered with, by the insertion of food additives and substances like aspartame
which can alter brain chemistry and affect our minds. Music and movies are another powerful tool used
to condition the masses. The Council views these measures as the kind, humane way to handle this
matter, instead of a direct violent takeover, which would just cause even more chaos and human
suffering. They envisioned that, this way, there would be no dissent and after the takeover there will be
no need for wars, ever again. These men don't believe in wars, but needed to use them to achieve their
goals. As they see it, the rest of the species will be living in harmony, able to create and enjoy while the
lower, now robotical, forms of the human species do all the grunt work they are accustomed to: common
labor, food production, and life maintenance for the higher forms of human species, the intellectuals,
those who matter and are deemed eligible to be awake.
The Master Plan is
Accomplished by Robots
There has been a master plan for years and many, including myself, were involuntarily enlisted to
work for it, as Dr. Henry Kissinger, 'Mr. Global Internationalist,' masterminded much of their plan. My
controllers viewed anyone with a small intellect as 'non-existing' anyway, so they will either be weeded
out or retained on the mind-controlled work force that's already been created. Masses of daycare centers
were targeted to insure the success of the takeover, where large numbers of children from normal
families were programmed because they will be the ones who will be of the age to resist or fight the
Council plan. But now, many won't be able to because their minds have been manipulated and
conditioned during childhood, so they will go along with the global program. It is all a carefully laid out
plan that has spanned decades and generations, with one generation handing down to the next their
inheritance. The children of the elite families, such as the Rockefeller's and Kennedy's will inherit a
guaranteed future on a planet that can survive due to the fact that the population and, in turn, pollution,
food supplies, etc. will be totally controlled. These intellectual, genetically 'worthy' individuals plan to
have their own guaranteed 'utopian dreamworld' after they kill off the inferior human species that they
believe are overcrowding a planet that cannot support us all. The Council feels that they are insuring the
future of the species of mankind by what they are doing. And, those from intergenerational ritually
abused families and others will be placed under total mind control, to become the planetary 'workforce'
so the elite doesn't have to waste their precious time on menial labor. The Council feels everyone 'wins'
this way because it puts the non-thinking and genetically inferior populations "out of their misery," by
taking their minds away, and insures a glorious future for the brightest intellects on earth. To them
intellect is everything and without it, they think people shouldn't be allowed to waste precious time on
earth, taking up space for those who can and will use their brains to create. They view this as a massive
genetic clean up.
Then, when their agenda has been met, the world will be free from ignorance and chaos.
According to their reasoning, there will be no abortion issue because the genetically intelligent won't
bear children by accident. There will be no wars because they won't have a need to use wars to
manipulate people for power or money. There will be no famines because there will be plenty of food grown naturally by the robot class and the world will no longer be overpopulated. Then, they can
bring in their new form of world government and there won't be fighting or resistance because the Elite
will see eye-to-eye and will all benefit, and are intellectually capable of understanding how they can all
work together for the benefit of themselves. Crime will cease since the commoners, 'the robots' won't be
able to think to commit acts of violence or any other forms of crime. The Elite think of themselves as
intellectually above petty crime and will have no necessity of it since they will be getting their needs met,
royally, by all of their mind-controlled 'worker-bees.' No more disease will be brought in by the
'unwashed' lower classes. So there will be less disease all-around because the Elite will take immaculate
care of their bodies and won't have to deal with the stress and strain created by the problems of today.
These will have been eliminated by eliminating the source of these problems-the genetically deficient.
The Council has guaranteed survival and freedom for those at the top. What they have done to the
human species in this Twentieth Century is tragic and they justify it by the rationale that they are
protecting the future of the human species by insuring that only the best specimens survive.
The Council took a serious stand to clean up the environment as it served their needs for a
healthy, pollution-free, life-sustaining environment for their future progeny. Since they have access to, as
well as direct, major new discoveries in advanced technologies, they have disdain for the uneducated,
ignorant, common people who trash their own environment. They said that even animals knew better
than to defecate in their own sleeping area. But this would be remedied in the future when the
genetically deficient were weeded out and extinguished.
They also were very condescending to those individuals who didn't eat properly or exercise. They
take immaculate care of their bodies as far as health goes. They are fit and trim and they use natural
medicines. The American Medical Association is fashioned to prescribe drugs and perform various
treatments that although they may be unsuspecting, tend to weed out the weaker species. The Council
views the AMA's 'modern medicine' as barbaric. Their plans are to have mind-enhanced health
associates, like some of the USC medical and dental graduates, who will provide the new health care for
the Elite, after the takeover. Precision surgery with laser technology will make the so-called "modern
methods" of surgery obsolete. Miracle medicines and herbs (God's pharmacy) will keep the body healthy.
An understanding of the way the electro-molecular energy field around the body operates will allow the
healthy body to be kept in perfect alignment creating perpetual perfect health or it can be brought back
into alignment easily with the use of high-tech field variation equipment. This will be the modern
medicine of the future and upcoming doctors will be trained in these methods in order to further the
evolution of the Elite. The Elite plan to enjoy total and complete health due to their technology in
electromagnetic fields. They also have antibodies against the diseases they let loose and make sure they
are protected. Of course all of these findings came about by research and experiments on unsuspecting
groups of people.
The health care program they were attempting to implement in the United States was one they
were hoping would though so that the lower class robots would have a health care system to serve their
needs in the future, while allowing the government, the Council and those involved in the global takeover
to remain in control. As you can see, it is a system designed for control. It is all about further
conditioning the populace so that there won't be any drastic changes that would cause stress to the
nation or upset the apple cart.
They believe they have learned what form of government would work best by installing different
varieties of governments in different countries with leaders they chose, studied, and watched to see
which form would be likely to meet their needs in the year 2000 and beyond. They saw different national
governments as 'projects.' For awhile, they thought communism would be the best, until the mind
control technology showed them they could covertly rule the masses without communism. With this
technology, they believe they can rule the masses easily and effortlessly, and governing can be limited
because they feel all of the Elite will have much the same wants, needs, and goals. They already have the central banking system in place and have a master plan for the laws, rules, and regulations that will
govern those that are left.
Sons of the Elite are conditioned to be leaders in the New World. Robotic mind control won't be
necessary for their compliance. They have been conditioned to accept this new agenda without being
given all the information and will be allowed to be "free thinkers," unless they don't follow directions.
The Elite are used to having servants so this overall concept is not especially different for them because
they have been brought up to believe that they are born privileged, are of a superior genetic strain and
have a responsibility to lead. I was used, under mind control, to further many of these attitudes with the
sons of many world figures. It was just a matter of conditioning them with the beliefs, a little at a time,
which would support the changeover. The egos of these young men have been very carefully created and
conditioned. Prince Charles' boys are possibly doomed to the same form of conditioning.
The Council sees this as a planetary enhancement, with the globe entering a time of health, new
excitement, and abundance for those deemed capable of making a difference in the future of the human
species.
"And I saw an new heaven and a new earth; for the first heaven and the first earth had passed
away; and the sea was no more. And I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down from God,
prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a great voice from heaven saying, Behold, the
tabernacle of God is with men, and he will dwell with them, and they shall be his people, and the very
God shall be with them and be their God; And he shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there
shall be no more death, neither sorrow nor wailing, neither shall there be anymore pain; for the former
things have passed away. And he who sat upon the throne said, Behold, I make all things new. Then he
said to me, Write; for these are the trustworthy and true words of God. And he said to me, I am the alpha
and the omega, the beginning and the end. I will freely give of the fountain of living water to him who is
thirsty. He who overcomes shall inherit these things; and I will be his God, and be shall be my son." --
Revelation 21:1-7
Whats left at the source
Chapter Thirty-seven: What the World Needs Now,page 308 on the scroll
Chapter Thirty-eight: A Mother and Grandmother’s Sorrow page 316
A MOTHER'S SORROW: SUE FORD page 319
EPILOGUE page 321
SURVIVOR RESOURCES page 325
source
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