Sunday, September 8, 2013

Edward Lee Howard and Torture of U.S. Citizens by U.S. (1)

...(9/10/13:  also, someone deleted a whole section about my parents holding a gun to my head, and my finding correspondence between my Mom and Katie and Mike Middleton and Edward Howard, so I have to go back and write about this again, and my section about the attempted assassination of me and who was involved, including Judy Roark knowing about it, is gone so if it seemed odd I brought up Kate Middleton out of nowhere, it was after I wrote about what I found between my parents and her)

I had my post about Edward Howard's book "Safe House" deleted yesterday in part and then obstructed so I'm unable to publish it in the format it's in.  So I am saving that post which I started on 7/30/13 at 1:13 p.m. until it can be straightened out and putting up the information here.  It would be very important for anyone interested in use of international flights and government properties for torture of children, to get the cached archive of that post.  I'm going to copy and paste what I have in another file in sections.

I checked out this book again, this time with the knowledge I'm biologically related to him.  The first time, I skimmed it quickly in the library in one sitting and didn't want to pay $3 for the shipping fee I was going to be charged.

Throughout this entire book, and I only skimmed a couple of parts again, it is obvious U.S. employees used his book as a template for how they were going to rape me, and get revenge against Edward Howard.  Several phrases directly from Howard in this book, were even mimicked and repeated by U.S. government officials, one of which I know specifically had a CIA contract.

I feel everything and everyone is suspect at this point, including wondering about one or more of the twins and triplets that have raised me here.  I don't know if even I was related to them, if they'd betray their own daughter over spy games.

"Spy Games" that movie, the entire title was taken from a comment by Edward Howard's father, Peter, who is quoted in a NY Times paper as saying he thought the CIA was playing "some kind of strange game".

I don't think, or can't imagine all of the Bob's and Dicksies who took part in raising me are involved, but I have to think it is not impossible at this point.  I also have further evidence those who raped me did premeditate it and coordinate it to occur more than once.

Another reason I wonder about some in my family (sometimes, vaguely...not wanting to believe anything bad and being hesitant to even consider anything) is that even though we had fights, arguments, and silent treatment times, it wasn't until after Howard was dead that people really dug in to ruin my life.  Both my Grandpa Garrett and Howard, which makes me wonder if even my Grandpa Garrett was on a different page than some of his own relatives.

I also think it's strange that aside from raped first by a Jew, I was then raped by men who suddenly had Jewish women showing up to support them.  Which is really odd, to me, but it's like some of them must have felt they were doing some political revenge act and supporting the men who were involved. 

There is no possible way for the U.S. to excuse themselves at this point.  I don't even know how to approach the UN or such a committee anymore, now that I know about Edward Howard. 

I haven't even read the whole thing.  Just one chapter and then skimming to another section, and in between I have Beowulf I'm reading with some books for the OE grammar (thanks to someone loaning them) and I decided to get The Satanic Verses by Salmon Rushdi for some reason, though I'll read that later.  I looked at it and it's not about witchcraft or occult from what I can tell but I want to read it because I remember hearing so much about it when it came out.  I specifically recall my parents discussing the news generated over it when it was first published.

So I haven't read the whole book Safe House yet, but I know without any doubt that raping me was a U.S. plot.  This explains why the FBI and even police and all of the people supposed to "do good" and prosecute, went to extreme lengths to cover it up and tip off their rapist to leave the country.  They were paying him.  This country paid for me to be raped.

They did horrendous things to me and the entire time knowing I had no idea what was going on.  They seized upon my innocence and vulnerability and committed the worst possible crimes one can commit in this country or anywhere in the world.
Updated 7/30/2013

I am still reading "Safe House" but it's not especially fun, considering it's about a dead man who I've been made fun of over.  I can't really imagine what his son is like or feels like, and it sounds like he was all over the place for awhile.

Some of the things done to me, to make sport (or fun) of me regarding Edward Howard have been snidely telling me to let others know I'll "take a polygraph" for things; and, for example, in D.C., the CIA contractor who gave me a bag for a computer said something about "getting some of you together to have a real bitch stew."  At the end of one of the chapters in the Safe House book, Howard talks about "many ingredients in the stew".  I had not even heard of his book, but I remember this comment and now I can see what the joke was being made over.

In his comment about "government" and many ingredients in the stew, again, he touches on something that references Stephanie and how she was always looking at cooking books with me.  My family had dinty moore stew, incidentally, at our house (or "Vegetable/Garden Surprise", which was, I was told, a little bit of everything), but Stephanie was the one planning to be a chef.  Her full name is Stephanie Michelle Maiers (SMM).  Pretty Smmple. 
One thing that stood out a little, was when I sincerely (God knows) went to visit Pamp Maiers in the hospital, after hearing he'd had a major back surgery or almost died, he took my hand the same way this neighbor who lived next to me in St. Johns did, who had a koi fish pond.  He seemed fine but Joy was hostile and almost flipped out--acting very jealous and I wouldn't say protective, but on edge.  It is most likely, since he was at the window the time I was told to go naked down the slide, that he is a good actor, but it's remotely possible he questions the motives of his own children, or one of them.  He was acting like the koi fish man a year after Stephanie went out and had a smoked salmon on sundried tomato bagel, and made fun of me telling me I probably just wanted a plain one.  For all I know, his favorite daughter would smoke her own Dad.  That doesn't seem likely because she was doing things for him, with the convincing me to go naked down the slippery slide but who knows? maybe he thought about that and thought there is something really wrong with them.

It's pretty disgusting, this country.  Edward Howard also writes about bad things coming from "my own kind" and makes a few other allusions I'll get into later.  Then there's a chapter about trouble on the horizon and then "the fall" and after this "putsch" which is almost what Stacey Stubblefield was mocking me over--of course, in labor, you tell someone to push, but it was excessive and beyond the point of rationale and she knew I was "pushing" all along.  All it's been is harassment.

His treatment by Sweden explains why I didn't get the response from Swedish I thought I would when I contacted them.  I had contacted them for assistance and spoke to someone from their embassy and all of their correspondence to me was making fun of me and mocking me.  I had assumed Sweden was peaceful and neutral and I couldn't figure out why they acted contrarily until I read they work closely with the FBI.  To me it makes more sense if they mocked me or didn't want to assist if they were ready to hand over Howard to the FBI and didn't want him there.

Supposedly his book title was going to be The Enemy of my Enemies.  I'm not sure what this means aside from the prayer about "in the house of my enemies" or in the "presence of my enemies" from scripture. In the Presence of My Enemies is a book written by Gracia Burnham.  "Thanks for burning the pig" or "Thanks burn pig".  Or "burn pig".  I guess I'll have to read the rest of the book to see if I figure it out or not.  He says he started writing it in 1988 and I was 14 years old at that time. 
UPDATED 8/12/13:  Okay, I stopped reading Edward Howard's book at chapter 7.  Basically, it was exhausting.  I'm still going to finish reading it, but while I was reading information, and realizing how many horrendous things the United States has done to me, and where some of the inside jokes with rapists and others were, I took a break here and there.

So I am going to start back from Chapter 1, even though I haven't gone past 7 yet.  I'm going to take apart each part that stands out to me as potentially a link or coincidental, or something others have tried to "tape over" or match for a cover of what they were doing.

Intro.  On the title page I see he has part of his name but the CIA or he, for whatever reason, left out the other part of his name, "Victor".  My middle name "Loree" means "Victory" and coincidentally, y brother's name is Levi which is both Lee and the first part of Victor but I haven't heard my brother is related to him, just me.

It is edited by Richard Cote.  The perfume I wore most often as a pre-teen was "Emeraude" by Coty.  It is published by National Press books, and I had a flower press.  The box for National Press is square, which is how my flower press was, which I kept inside of a hardback book.  My flower press was two square hard glass or hard plastic covers, and then on each of the 4 corners, were screws.  You put a flower or leaf or whatever, inside, and then you screwed down the screws and the more you screwed it, the more it was pressed down.  I bought it for myself--no one bought it for me.  I wanted one and bought it.  I had pressed flowers inside of books before or with books on top of them to weight it down and then I bought one.  I pressed leaves and flowers, but mostly flowers.  So the National Press books next to a name like Richard Cote is like flowers pressed for a perfume.  I also pressed and crushed flowers, trying to make my own perfume.  Rose petals mostly.  I used to crush them and let them steep in a bottle for awhile to see if I could make perfume.  Then when I read they use alcohol, I tried rubbing alcohol too, not realizing it was a different kind of alcohol.  Also, Richard is my mother's father's name, Richard ("Dick" Baird) and the Emeraude perfume I wore by Coty was my mother's and then she gave it to me, after she took the cap off.  It had the cap until she went into my room and gave it to me without the top (cap).  I said, "Where's the cap?" and it bothered me because it was pretty and my Mom acted like I could have it, but not with the cap.  Years later, Stephanie was giving me a "lipstick case" and when I asked what it was, she said it was to keep the cap on my lipsticks.  I didn't have any lipsticks with caps that came off.

Pg. 12.  The intro is by Joel D. Joseph which means nothing to me unless I think of Joel as pronounced "Jewel", like my name meaning for "Cameo".  Because the CIA edited so much and Howard would have known this, I can stretch to think of possibilities.  Also the mention of Kate Martin is close to Katie and Marty, the Fallons, who I played with and who gave me the book Clan of the Cave Bears, though that wasn't a coincidence chosen by Edward Howard.  If anything, it might suggest some in the ACLU have always known what was going on, which is possibly why I've had a hard time with them.

Pg.  13.  Edward Janovitch.  A housemate who decided to rent from me was named Jan, and I was photographed a few days after birth in a witch costume.  The photo of me and my cousin Rory, as a witch and clown could be, instead of clown witch, Jano Vitch.  Of course I know Edward had a son, has a son, Lee, so I'm not trying to take from any meaning, but what I'm thinking is that Lee was known, and if it's true I was in "hiding" or not being disclosed, I was unknown and he could have attempted to refer to it in other ways.  He then uses the word "apparatchik" right after Janovitch, which is close to the English word "apparition" which is also "ghost" and he refers to ghosts later, and I was later photographed for Halloween as a ghost instead of a witch.  "apparat-chik" or apparition chick, i.e., "girl ghost".  The only two times I had full costumes for Halloween were as a witch when I was a baby and a gypsy ghost (a girlish ghost wearing jewelry) in elementary school.

He says he was fired by the CIA and thrown on the street in 1983 over several polygraph tests and it was in 1983 Mrs. Rosenow kept saying I should be "tested".  He says he fled the U.S. in 1985 and defected to Russia in 1986.  I was pulled out of public school and hometaught after 1985 (5th grade) in 1986.  I was also having my homework stolen in 1982-83 at this time and was suddenly being discouraged in my academics and punished.  (I didn't really learn anything in 1986 except I liked science.  The only things I remembered were clouds and how precipitation was formed and genetics and I asked my Mom to teach me more about genetics because I loved it, but she didn't have anything to add.)

* I am going to stop here for tonight because my computer is being disconnected every minute or so and then taking forever to reconnect and it's no one at my house or my parents or anyone.

UPDATED 8/14/13

I suppose I might also think, at pg. 13, "Janovitch" of my mother's reading series by Janette Oak.  Jan-O.  Anyway.  Of course, I'm stretching whatever I might know or think of in case it fits something, and most likely, since I'm uniformed in the 'spy world', I miss a lot.

Pg. 14.  He says the U.S. blamed him for being responsible for the "murders" of many Russian spies, and he probably means in the U.S. or from here and over there as well.  E. H. says this is false, and he has a right to suggest they are wrong.  Defecting to another country is not the same as working as a spy and divulging all info to another country. It's like asking for political asylum, which is what I did with my son and I never gave secret information to anyone.  I think the entire idea of saying "defection" implies wrongdoing or that secrets were given away that could kill people, but it's a technical word like political asylum. It must be about as misleading as my use of the word "psychic" when some think of "psychic" as a term for fortune tellers but not "prophets" when I mean it to generalize all of the same ability.  However, if the U.S. accused him of this, or someone in Russia did, this would be motive to hunt me and try to kill me and to torture and rape me, even if I had nothing to do with any of it, true or false. It's also not a legitimate motive for the U.S. to use, and when they have been sitting on a 1977 government document about ME, when I was only 3 years old, how DARE they tell anyone, anywhere, I am "mentally ill" to cover for their own crimes?  No child in the U.S. has a file made by the U.S. government about them, when they are 3 years old, without a major reason, and this is what the U.S. has concealed from even me while they encouraged some of their employees to go after me, when I was innocent, and how could I be anything but innocent in 1977?

I have put up a photograph of that document from the FBI, which states a "government agency" had a file about me, an entire file, which was "destroyed" (supposedly, and I don't believe it) in 1977.  I was not kidnapped and rescued in the U.S., nor did I have some kind of government-worthy-of-notice sex change or anything of the sort.  The file was made about me and the U.S. sat on it while torturing and drugging me.

So my question to my Dad tonight was this:  "How can you support a country that hand picks babies to torture their entire lives, who have U.S. citizen papers and rights and yet have every law disregarded with respect to their rights?"  How can anyone tolerate this?  The U.S. did this with my Mom and Dad, literally, and then they did this with me, I know for sure because I never consented to anything prior to, during, or after the age of 3, and then my son was tortured next, and he was NOT tortured with my consent.  He and I were both tortured in Wenatchee, prior to my contacting anyone from military anywhere, or going to Canada, where we still tortured, even in Canada.

If I am not really my Dad's biological kid, let's say, and he's a Jew secretly, and wants to disturb a spy (Edward Howard) he thinks is responsible for supporting Palestinians or killing Russian-Jewish spies, then yes, I see a motive for potentially using me and torturing me to "get to" him and others, and encouraging others to rape me.  If it's not that, that neither my Mom or Dad work for Mossad or are secretly one thing or another, I don't see a motive strong enough for torturing me and keeping it a secret unless someone decided they really hated me later or were so worried about mistakes made before I was 3, they were worried I'd want to kill them (or something) over it.  I've considered one of them having some "tie" to Katie Middleton and wanting to defend that at the risk and stake of my own life, and then the only other thing that might make sense, is government forced control and blackmail which would have to be more severe than anything anyone ever saw in the Godfather movies.  It would have to be 10x worse than that.  So I do believe this one man who told me, "It's bad.  You don't want to know."  I believe him, because it has to be "that bad" to be possible.  I mentioned this to my Mom once, and she went into her 'protective' mode of suddenly hardening and looking suspicious which isn't typical or often for her.  I thought, "I think she'd find a way to kill someone if she thought they'd expose something she didn't want exposed."  But then again, I love my Mom and Dad, and I feel sympathetic for them regardless of what is true, which they know, and have to think maybe it's just one of the triplets and maybe I read into it wrong. 

So all this to preface pg. 14 and then he signs it May 23, 1994.  I just got a police report from one of the offices I wrote to, and they said they have one incident report involving me from September 23, 1992, and I notice E.H. made his comment with the 23rd as a date.  It is possible he wanted to allude to knowledge of someone trying to assassinate me (if that is what this date was about, that hit and run to run me off the road in 1992, though if so, it's showing up in a different place).

Pg. 15.  The first thing he talks about, after listing the 23rd as a date, is how he was concerned rumors he was a 'spy' and 'traitor' affected his family in the U.S.  Of course he meant Lee, his son, and his wife Mary, but if I am biologically related and was unknown to some, including myself, he could have also meant me.  I have explained I don't mean to detract from Lee, his son, at all, but my thoughts are that if he knew Lee knew he was his son, it was in the open, whereas I was not, so writing a book with coded language for me to find eventually, might have been a motive for writing.  Also, I will add this--not one single person, anywhere, through all of the trauma, rapes, and crimes agasint me, ever ONCE pointed this book out to me, or mentioned his name, ever.  This is while I can look back and see how many people already "knew" and thought they knew, and they used this against me, but not once, did someone try to save me or enlighten me with any information.  The FBI endangered my life, all of my life, and even after I asked for FOIA to protect myself, they continued to withhold information I needed, as they THEN used false information to KIDNAP me and my son out of Canada.  This is a serious crime, when the FBI already knew I had a right and a reason to political asylum, and where I had already been asking THEM for documents to help me prove it, and instead they LIED and defamed me as "nuts" to make a false arrest against me and kidnap my son.

The FBI is 100% guilty.  They not only had employees harassing and abusing me in THIS country, they deliberately caused intentional infliction of emotional distress and irreparable harm to me and my son.  Because of this, this major crime they committed with absolute forknowledge (shown by their own agents) they owe me and my son, a duty of correcting their harm against us.  The FBI is responsible for the damage and they had 100% control in how it was handled.  They knew if I had that document and FOIA I had asked for, I had proof on paper of a U.S. government problem which increased the likelihood of chances for political asylum and belief we were being persecuted.  The FBI also knew we were being tortured.  The FBI knew there was no legal cause to have my son removed from me.  The FBI not only allowed my son to be removed from me, they lied to authorities and to the public about me, to the point of defaming me so badly police were saying I was "known" by law enforcement across the United States, and those who had no firsthand accounts with me, assumed the worst or took advantage of that position and had me assaulted, falsely arrested, and forcibly drugged to a point from which I have NEVER recovered.  The FBI had full authority to investigate, if they had wanted, any organization for violation of human rights, any institution, and any employee, and yet they did not do this and Annette Sandberg was instrumental in screwing me over because she and her family have been mafia since I was a kid.  She lied about me and her mother lied about me, and went along with suggestions I was nuts when they had been involved with my family since I was 2 years old, which means they knew all about the government "file" being made about me and they took part in that development.

Later on this page E.H. says he thought about ranching, and had enjoyed the idea of being a cowboy on a ranch.  I have no cross-reference for that.  The closest thing to ranching I saw was Chandra, next door to my house, riding her horse around barrels and roping.  Josh Rose had a cowboy motif in his bedroom but that was when I was asked to work for Lorraine Rose that I noticed and it gave me no impression because I had no knowledge of why I was persecuted and abused.

Another thing I'll add here, which I've mentioned before but maybe not very clearly--out of all the spies I've been around, and houses I've worked inside, I was never a snoop.  I was one of the most trustworthy and unintrusive individuals you could ever hope for and my entire philosophy was based on the fact that I hadn't liked it when I found out my mother was reading my diary when I was 13, so I never did it to anyone else.  I had access to all kinds of information and snooping if I'd wanted to.  A few times, after a long while, if I came across something, I might have been curious enough to "wonder" what was in that or this drawer or looked at a few photos, but nothing more than that.  Ever.  I didn't take "secret photos" or steal anything (one time I left a CD in my car but that was it) and I never snooped or made secret notes for bribes, an employee, or anyone.

After all of my extremely diligent work, I realized, no, I was working for the "snoops" and several of them were not good people and did nothing but try to harm me and my son.

Pg. 15, he says his father was "Kenneth" and mother was "Mary".  My thought is that I was asked to work for a "Kenneth" and "Mary" in New Jersey who were reform Jews, as a nanny.  Possibly, with that name "coincidence", as a cover, but it also means people knew who I was connected to.

Pg. 16.  It says his mother's last name was "Jaramillo" which makes me think of "Milo" one of the dog names my mother gave a dog I gave her, and Milo & Otis, and then it also makes me think of sinister people who knew Chris Dabney who came into the Post Pub and pretended to be interested in giving me a job in "Amarillo, TX".  Amarillo, instead of Jaramillo.  I had no clue what they could have been trying to touch on, but all they did was feel me out like spies do and then harass me and insult me later and never gave me work.  This kind of thing shows me, once again, how many predators sought me out, with information THEY had about me, which the FBI had refused to give the person (me) whose life was most endangered.

I seriously think Lee Howard should get ahold of me, because I want to talk to him, but I can also completely understand why he wouldn't want to, and by now, I have even made myself sound nuts in places, where I've been tortured and I'm writing about it.  However, he has a lot of information he could probably share and that I could share with him, about his Dad.  Actually, I don't have anything to share with him about E.L.V.H. because I didn't know him but what I can do is fill in gaps or answer questions about what things were done to me or who approached me that seemed to know about him and that kind of thing.  I would like to talk to his son for this reason, to fill me in on why I've been tortured along with my son.  I am not expecting to have him accept me as a "sister" at all, and I think of my Dad as the one who raised me, and I'm not looking for inheritance money or anything like that.  I feel my son should be raised by me, and the U.S. kidnapped him and has tortured us and I want this to end and that is my reason.  So Lee, if you read this, this is why I want to talk with you.  Also, to my knowledge, it is true I am biologically related.   I am not a spy and have no reason to make that up, but even if I'm wrong, the U.S. has not thought so because they've targeted me over this and made that much clear, now that I look back on it. 

Pg. 16 still.  He says his father was stationed at Hollowman, New Mexico.  This is possibly why Chris Dabney called me a "hole", possibly why FBI agents joked about the "hole" in my knee, possibly why FBI Mike Tancer bought a copy of the Legend of Sleepy Hollow after raping/drugging me, for me to see he was reading, possibly why a dozen references about Sleepy Hollow were made to me all at once; is possibly a reason for my Dad to say, when I was a kid, if I ate a lot, "You must have a hollow leg!" and is possibly why Natalie Holloway chose to disappear right after my hair (DNA) was left in FBI/DOJ Christa Schneider's bathroom after I showered at her apartment. 

The New Mexico location is familiar because my Dad's family was raised there and lived there a long time.  My Mexican step-grandmother Rosella had her whole Mexican family there in Alburqurque, and like the Jaramillos, had been established in the U.S. a long time.  My Dad and his brother and sister and Dad all lived there for years.

He writes he was born in Alamogordo, NM, October 27, 1951.  My Dad, Robert Garrett, was born a couple of days later, Nov. 1, 1951 (I believe, or 1950).   My Dad stood up for a woman who was being discriminated against because she was "fat".  It was a lawsuit against a company and he testified for her.  I am sure it was for her and not with reference to "Alamo-Gordo (fat), NM" but who knows about the signifiers.

He says his parents named him Edward Lee Howard, but elsewhere he is officially named as Edward Lee Victor Howard, so why leave out "Victor" unless the CIA thought it was too sensitive and would lead to kids who had a connection to that name?  It says he was in the Catholic church.  I was not raised that way, but my parents never once said a bad word about the Roman Catholic church, only saying, "They're Christians too, and we have a few things we believe differently". 

He says his father was on duty in the Air Force at Tachikawa in Japan and I was raised next to an air base/airport with Japan airlines.  He says he had a white dog named "Ricky".  I was being encouraged to date a man named Ricky when I was 16 years old.    He says he lived on a ranch, and my parents grew up in orchards and national wilderness--I grew up across the street from cattle.  He says he grew up feeding cattle and chickens and I fed our horses everyday and Granny had chickens, lots of them (10-20) that were pets and free-range and laid eggs when I was a girl.  Then he says he moved with his family to Victorville, California, to George Air Base. I  have no reference for this aside from living near a small town we went to and looked at antique houses at, called "George" (in Washington) and being told we were related to George Washington (the cherry tree 1st sort-of President man). My Dad was the one who said this.  I had thought my Mom once said she was too, but I know for sure she is related to Lincoln.  I say this because I know and saw paperwork once that showed one was related to George Washington and the other to Lincoln. 

Pg. 17.  He says his sister Debra was born.  I never knew any Debras.  I know the back of my bra was snapped all the time in jr. high and high school even.  I didn't know any Debbies or Deborah or Debras really until I worked next to Debbie Cooper at CTR in 1996.  That's about it.  As to his comment about standing up and saying what he thinks, I was told to raise my hand first before talking in class to give the answer because I spoke up without asking permission.  I was reprimanded to raise my hand before speaking.  Then, I always knew the answer right away and wanted to give it, so I always had my hand up and was told to allow other kids to answer the question and "I know you know the answer Cameo--let's let someone else have a chance to say it."  I remember I thought since I was the one who raised her hand first, the teacher should call on my first, because I beat everyone to it. 

I will stop here and resume at the part about his first interest or recollection of politics.

Fitting isn't it?  It really does go, very well, with ideas down to when a child should raise their hand or not, doesn't it?  One would think, in a "capitalist" political system, where competition is encouraged, I had a right to be acknowledged for being first every time, instead of pushed back out of resentment over it. Or maybe that is more of a commentary about America's anti-intellectualism.  Very nice, how this man who writes flippantly, should easily connect the two paragraphs and ideas, from politics of when to be called on in class and commentary, to politics.

Not everyone would realize how interconnected they are.  Determinants of the entire social fabric and temperament actually.  Predictors of whether a society will hate and punish a particular child or not.  Hmm.

Too bad there are so few "real analysts" in the U.S.  Tooooo bad.
UPDATED 8/15/13

pg. 17.  Where E.H. mentions politics here, between Kennedy and Nixon, and that he was on the side of Kennedy and campaigned for him in class, I cannot think of any connector aside from wondering why President Nixon wanted to make a 2 finger "V" for Victory sign with both hands, around the same time I had marks of a V carved onto my thighs.  When I once looked up who was around during my torture as a baby and toddler, through MK Ultra and other politics, it was during the Watergate time of Nixon and I have seriously wondered why he wanted to make this "V" sign so strongly, when for me, it was not a victory.  I was tortured as an innocent baby and whether Kennedy or Nixon had something to do with it, I'm not sure--but E.H. was for Kennedy.  Right after Watergate broke, MK Ultra senate hearings were held.

He then describes his conception of Russia as a child and no reference for me there.  I suppose later someone was always making comments about "Sunny D" juice but I can't say it has anything to do with what he writes about the sun here at all.  I just wondered why it was brought up.  I drew suns all the time, in all of my pictures there was either a full sunset that colored the entire sky or a sun standing out.  I drew whole suns, half suns on the horizon, and with rays sticking out and without rays at first and swirls.  I learned to make rays when I saw other art that had suns with rays so I added this later to my art and I remember the exact moment of my childhood artistic decision to include rays for how I made my suns.  I remember I made mine differently from the other kids and then I decided to make them like everyone else.  I made my suns as round balls, glowing orbs, the way I saw them in the sky, sometimes with a glow emanating or light haze as I saw in the sky, but never with defined rays sticking out until later.  It was such a drastic decision, I remember not only my teacher noticed but my parents did as well.  It is one of my earliest memories of adults really watching me and what I did, more than typical perhaps.  I also notice that on page 17 Edward Howard mentions the sun and then on the next page, at the top, he writes about "when the Cold War was heating up" which is interesting because he just finished mentioning the sun and then he transitions to "heating up" which is sort of what it appeared I did with my suns, by adding rays and sometimes, well, only once or twice, I made the sun bright orange with even red to suggest hotter heat.  I also made a kind of lions mane around my suns, but the defined 'rays' were when my parents looked disappointed.  I had traded in my artistic uniqueness for peer pressure of making a sun the way everyone else did.  At the same time I was adding "rays" to my suns, my own life was becoming more miserable because of the "cold war heating up".

I didn't have any preconceived ideas about Russia except what I learned in maybe 4th or 5th grade, about their being "communist".  I cannot remember any other reference than that, and then I was, for some reason, all on my own, wanting to study Russian.  I became interested in foreign languages and I think it was in 2nd grade because Katie Fallon was in ballet and I got a book with a bunch of ballet terms in French.  I did pick up ballet in kindergarten or right before, and then it was renewed in 2nd grade and I checked out a book and taught myself some of the ballet positions.  I think this led to my getting a French book for kids, which I practiced to, as it had the way to sound it out in English even without a tape or CD.  Then, while looking at French, I got a Russian dictionary and taught myself the alphabet.  This was all in 2nd and 3rd grade and no one suggested I do it--I did it myself.  It is possible I saw the movie Dr. Zhivago played at my house too, but aside from this, there was no mention of other countries by my parents (except for Mexico bc I had Mexican cousins and we got Mexican food products and things from my Aunt).  There were no kid's books for Russian, so I had the dictionary and learned the first page and then I was stuck.  I didn't know how to pronounce anything and I didn't realize I could check out CDs or tapes for such a thing and no one told me.  So I was only able to teach myself how to say a few words in French from what was available to me.  The only ones I used all the time at my own house were si vous plait, bonjour, a la mode, pardone moi (never exuse-moi), and adieu.  I did also use "nyet" (no) and "dah" (yes) in Russian which I found somewhere.  I also knew how to count to 10 in French, Russian, and my mother taught me the Spanish, and to say colors in Spanish, but that was the only instruction she gave me in language.  I remember that at the time I was teaching myself Russian, I can look back and with hindsight say I think I was being targeted with U.S. technology while I was teaching myself this.  Kids don't notice, or have a harder time, figuring out the source of their pain or sudden odd loss of concentration in the middle of a task.  I didn't blank out or have extreme pain, but there were other things done to me which made it necessary for me to keep going over the Russian even though I picked up French instantly.  The Russian I even wrote out, and made a notation for translation, but I forgot all of it.  It was like a complete white-out of my memory.  I looked up how to pronounce all of the letters as well, but I didn't know how to conjugate anything or pronounce the words and felt extremely frustrated because I was highly motivated to learn.  No one would show me.  I even remember the paper I wrote the notation on was white and my pen ink was black.  I remember this because I went over the alphabet many times. It was all lined up on unlined paper, like a list and in a small book or notebook which disappeared.  I think I also had some alphabet in pencil.  I know for sure it was black ink and pencil.  I never did this with the French.  The French I learned directly from memorizing what I practiced in the book and I never wrote it down, or if I did, a few times, on regular paper and then it was gone.  Spanish I learned verbally without writing anything down.  Russian was the only language I wrote down aside from English.  I never had any feeling of my efforts being appreciated at all.  I was not encouraged to do it, rewarded with emotional comments, or anything else.  I just enjoyed using it on my own. If anything, I had the impression it was looked down on, and a reason to call me "weird".  "Don't be weird".  The French was looked down on as impractical and frivolous and the Russian was just eyeballs, an intake of breath and slow shake of the head.  That was the reaction.  The only language aside from English remotely tolerated or encouraged was Spanish.  So it was my own break from my family's practices to try to learn and I had no friends that spoke other languages.  I was never interested in any other language as a kid--never German, or Italian, or Latin, or Asian (aside from a few Japanese words), or anything.  After I realized I couldn't go any farther than "dah" and "nyet" I gave up.  I actually think it is possible I once obtained tapes in Russian but there was no book with it.  So I tried.  I threw my language around my brother knowing he didn't know what I was saying. 

Pg. 18.  He says his Dad worked at Hahn air base in Hunsrk and before this at Kirchberg.  I can only think of mostly my introduction to Kathy Kirchser, which is the connection to a name, and it was in 1994-1995.  He says he studied German and learned about Germany.  The main German comments around my family were my parent's trip to Munich, Germany, and Granny had a German Shepherd named Gretchen and our next-door neighbor Herm Danielson had a German Shepherd. 

He says he became a boy scout at age 8 and I was in Blue Birds and then in Brownies.  I loved Blue Birds and hated the Brownies order.  I remember even though I loved Blue Birds, I was discriminated against by the adult leader and my mother picked up on it and didn't like it so canceled me out of it because of the harassment.  I remember clearly how mean some of the adult women were to me, even when I was only in the 1st grade.  They were mean-spirited, bitter, and haughty women and said horrible things to me and made it clear they didn't like me but liked the other little girls.  The meetings were all at Pelican Point, in "snob part of town" when they really had no right to even think of themselves as snobs.  They had more money but less instinctive sense of culture.  None of them were smarter than I was, and I never said this or acted that way, but I know they were very jealous of me and I couldn't understand why big grown up ladies were jealous of ME.  At any rate, I liked the crafts we did and I was pretty quiet because of the treatment.  So I had one year with them and then my mother had had enough.  It was like the Pelican Point was the Point of No Return where they never wanted to go.  Sometimes I went there, all the time to see Katie later, and then past there to see Stephanie and I visited a red-haired girl named Carrie there.  But even though all the kids told me they gave out the big candy bars and full-size treats for Halloween at Pelican Point, we skipped them and went to the neighborhood of  Mont Lake for trick-or-treating instead.  On that subject, I never wanted to stop.  I could have trick-or-treated the entire neighborhood, until they were all out of candy and never tired, but my brother did, and we always went back home because Levi got cold or tired.  I was die-hard.  Nothing could stop me.  Seriously, my energy level was phenomenal. 

E.H. says they spent days camping in the woods.  We also did this when I was a kid.  First it was vacation to Canada and air planes all the time, and then it was camping and air shows at military bases.  When the U.S. wants a kid to forget something they did with them, they try to stagger it down from the memory and replace it with a similar but different idea.  So if they drugged you by telling you to eat a poisoned slushy, from a sno-cone, later they would phase out sno-cones and replace it with a scoop of normal ice cream as if all you ever had was ice cream and it was never poisoned.  Maybe after vanilla ice cream so long, they might reintroduce the color of sno-cone you had that was poisoned.  Let's say it was red.  So no red colored ice cream or sherbert until they felt you were distanced from the memory and then they might reintroduce red sorbet or something and then feel the "mask" over the trigger to your memory to how your very own country tortured you and tried to murder you, was no longer "fresh".  The U.S. did this with hundreds of things in my life.  It was like when you go to the eye doctor and are fitted with glasses and a fuzzy one is placed in and then a different one and they say, "Which one is better?"  click, click, click, click...they keep layering the truth over with their fuzzy navels and lies.  I know my parents were forced to do it, because they were not themselves reading professional 'programming' books.  They were following orders.

pg. 19.  He says he's glad his son Lee became a boy scout.  I guess after Brownies, which I hated, I did become a girl scout because I was selling their cookies for years.  I don't remember any activities though.  Which is sort of odd.  I remember everything about Blue Birds, from 1st grade, most of Brownies, which was short-lived, and I remember nothing about Girl Scouts or Campfire except for selling their cookies. It's like the rest of the time I was drugged or hypnotized because I remember nothing.  I sold their cookies for something like 2-3 years.  This is also around the time I was throwing up all the time.  My brother Levi was in Boy Scouts and I remember him in his uniform and going to events.  He seemed to like it a lot at the time.  First he was in Boy Scouts and then he was in Royal Rangers, which was a church version of Boy Scouts.  I was in the Royal "?" whatever program for girls which was sort of like a church version of the Masons Temple Order.  I sensed depression at that time in my life, emanating from someone. I didn't feel depressed, but I sensed a bad vibe, some empty and depressed feeling around that time.  The meetings were at the Assembly of God church and the feeling was from my parents probably, somewhere.  I became disenchanted with the whole program because of it.

I was crying, almost every night, around the same time.  Right about 7 p.m. or so, I would burst into tears and cry.  I think a few times I remember pain in my knees and legs which were described as 'growing pangs" but I also remember it was just always the same time, every night.  When I was younger, I cried and was told I was tired and it was time for bed.  When I was older, I would burst into tears and then say with bewilderment, "I don't know why I'm crying!"  Obviously, there was some trigger for it to occur so routinely and then later in life, I was told it would probably always be that way when I said I sensed a depression feeling around 7 p.m. or so.  So I used to wonder who felt bad when I did, that I would cry over it? or maybe what happened to me around that time, all the time, to make me cry?  I know Young Life groups were gathered at my parent's house about that time from the time I was 2 years old to 7 years old.  I only remember going to sleep at that time.  Later, I was awake, and instead of sleeping, I was crying. 

He says his interest in church waned when he was about 15 years old.  I always went to church but I remember around that time, when we first moved to Sherwood, Oregon, and I was 15, I asked to not have to go to church anymore.  I said "I don't want to go" and I was told, "We go to church as a family" and was told I didn't have the option of not going.  I argued I was old enough to make up my own mind about it but it went nowhere.  I still believed what I did and read my Bible, but I no longer wanted to go to church, and I asked many times, and the first times were at age 15. I think I thought if I mentioned it enough, they'd let me stay home, as they finally did by not forcing me to go to Vacation Bible School Camps, but it wasn't an option.  They made such a big deal out of my not wanting to go that later, when they quit going, I was extremely worried about them and kept asking them why they didn't go to church anymore.

He mentions growing "distaste" for military and their "ultra-conservative" views and I would say maybe he is alluding to MK Ultra.  He mentions Brandon, England and the only thought is that one of my cousins was named Brandon while E.H. was still alive.  The high school of Lakenheath has no connection other than maybe that I was given Healthcliff and Garfield comic books and a stuffed animal when I broke my arm at age 8 in 1982.  I don't know if the name was supposed to be Garfield or Barfield, because all I did, was throw up.
UPDATED 8/16/13

I am tired tonight and probably not going to write much.  For one thing the U.S. is doing something to my heart with the metal stent and it's the burning sensation that started up after I met Chris Rozollo, who is an undercover cop and a Jew.  All day today I've been tortured to the top of my head on one side, though I took enough OTCs to go out for a walk earlier and then tonight, but as soon as I was back to my place it started again.  So I'm tired.  There is also the odd odor coming from the vent in my ceiling tonight, which bothers me.  Other than that, I'm fine.

I should add, I do remember with languages that my Dad was interested in my learning Russian at the time.  I had forgotten.  He either helped me get the cassette tapes or brought them to me when they were in at the library and then when I had no book or couldn't use them, I do remember he seemed disappointed.  I think he was proud of me for wanting to learn something like that all on my own. 

pg. 20.  He says he graduated 8th in his class in high school and went to University of Texas in Austin. This is really not far from Washington state. Mostly, I thought about FBI agents Bujanda and Garza from Texas when I read he went to school here, and how the SLC Hospital president moved there too.  Seems a little strange.  Robin too, moved to Texas.  Just recently I noticed the tires on my Dad's (Robert Garrett) truck say "SteelTex" which made me wonder briefly, but anyway.

He says he was almost "5,000 miles away from home" and this I think of along with his comment I read from FBI files online where he was said to have approached U.S. state department workers and told them "5,000 lives are endangered in Iran".  To me, this seems to suggest 5,000 is used to indicate home or relatives, possibly.  He was telling the U.S. people to notify the U.S. Marines, and my grandfather was a U.S. Marine.

Pg. 21, He says the Kent State U shooting impacted him.  He was maced by state police and then the comment that stands out is how he writes next "It was the best of times and it was the worst of times".  I think about this because Janet Bechtold always brought up this saying and Charles Dickens and asked me if I'd ever read "Great Expectations" because she thought I should.  Along with this, her son Nathan became a state policeman.  I personally believe Bechtolds had some kind of proximity to E.H. and that they did him in.  They did a few things even with me, that appeared to be on one side, but they were an extremely duplicitous and 2-faced family.

He writes he was fond of the writings of John Locke and Thomas Jefferson, and I found this surprising because when I took a political writers class at PSU, I found I adored The Leviathan and some of the writers of that time as well.

E.H. writes about the "domino theory" conservatives pushed about how leaving Vietnam would lead to the fall of Asia.  Nothing comes to mind here except that we did have dominoes and never really played the actual game but a few times, instead, being taught to set them up on edge and then push them over.  He mentions something about National Security prior to this.

pg. 22.  He says he stayed in a German house to learn German and then graduated in 1972 (Texas).  I was conceived in 1973.  He says he developed a distrust of military.  The next thing I notice is that he went to Dublin, Ireland in 1972 and worked for Exxon.  What comes to mind with this is that Nathan Bechtold, who knew me, traveled back and forth from there a lot and his family had a high interest in me of a government nature.

He then leaves a blank for the year he was in the U.S. and I was conceived.  He says he was offered a job in Ireland but declined and went back to college.  He doesn't say where or which college, but that it was graduate school.  This was for 1 year (to fill in the gap) and then according to records I found online, he left for Latin America.  In his next chapter he says he joined the Peace Corp in 1972 and it makes it sound like he left right away, but according to records online that are public, he didn't leave until later.  So he was back in the U.S. at the same time I was conceived.  He also mentions how he was, in fact, a "military dependent" which means the U.S. always had "his number" and would try to use him or family for their own purposes.  They were linked to him, regardless of whether he was signed up with them or not.

In chapter 2 it sounds like he left for Latin America in 1972 and wasn't in the U.S. again until 1976 but this is not the case.  It is maybe how the CIA or someone wanted him to make it sound for purposes of their own covers.

Pg. 25.  He says he was in Puerto Rico and then Costa Rica.  Costa Rica and Brazil were where Robin Bechtold's dad George went all the time.  E.H. says he had to learn to say in Spanish, pass the rice or "pass the beans" and what comes to mind is the saying my Dad made all the time around our dinner table, aside from "pass the ___please".  He would chant, "Beans, beans, the musical fruit, the more you eat the more you toot.  The more you toot the better you feel, so eat your beans for every meal."

He says he lived in Bogota, Colombia, and this is where my "fiancé", produced to me by the U.S. government, was from.  The U.S. thought they could just hold me hostage or introduce whoever they wanted, knowing my background, but continue to withhold all of my own information from me. 
UPDATED 8/17/13

I listened to Shakira's "Hips Don't Lie" song today and watched the video.  She must be my favorite pop dancer.  She isn't a bad singer or songwriter either, but her dancing is incredible.  When I watched the video this time, I saw the Halloween costumes as my Grandpa Garrett's wedding in a way, and noticed the child in the mummy outfit for the first time.  It made me think about myself being dressed as a ghost at that age, with only my eyes showing.  I like how this is in the background and where the child can barely move, then she is dancing freely and when he says "let me see you move like you come from Colombia" she goes into "walk like an Egyptian" routine, and this with the white "bandages" as a free-flowing gauze of dress instead.  I also like how they switch it from the expectation of 'Colombian" or "Spanish" dancing, when he says this, and instead, she breaks into Middle Eastern belly dancing, and then adds a flair of the Spanish to it.  The end, I think, symbolizes the idea she is more than one person, in one.  For the first time, I thought about the idea or play on words of "en la embassy by the sea side I see se---h!"  I think he's saying something in Spanish but in English it sounds like he's saying he saw someone have sex (?) in the embassy by the sea...then of course, we see the child.  I think that's partly my imagination but who knows--they mention lies, hips, and CIA...what else?  It's Shakira with the Wyclef gene.  It slightly made me think of that saying, "Sally sells seashells by the seashore"  That is a saying my mother used to teach me to say as fast as I could.  She made me repeat it the same way I was told to repeat numbers and colors in Spanish.  I later brought up "peter piper picked" but she was the one to bring up "sally sells seashells"... Anyway, we used to go to the beach and every time, I would find and take home sand dollars and other shells.  Then we quit going to even the beach, about the same time Edward Howard says, in his book, he visited Seattle, WA and went to the coast and saw "ghosts".

pg.  20.  E.H. says he studied international business and economics.  This is not significant to me except that in college I was being encouraged to study economics and I sensed there was something "unusual" about the interest in me at the time.  I didn't feel that way in the other subjects or courses I took, but it seemed to be a shock to some that I was taking economics.  I also sensed this when I took the political writers class, and another writing class about culture and high vs low context styles of communication.

pg.  25.  I have already explained where I think I might have fit into this, if I'm his biological child as my mother told me I was and I believe my Nana (Ruth Howard) also confirmed to me.  Even my great-Aunt Mary, for whatever reason, misunderstood by me at the time possibly, kept hinting to me I was related to Katherine Howard, a mistress to Henry XIII (England king).  I assumed she had been hinting this bc of the maternal "Howards" in the Garrett family, but it's possibly a whole different thing entirely.  I guess it was Kathryn Howard, to be exact.  She didn't use a "C" for Catherine.  Anyway, when I read into this next chapter, it is almost impossible to find where he went back to the U.S. to visit or to an embassy or whatever, but I did see references here and there.  I haven't had the impression at all that I am Mary Cedarleaf's daughter or biological child--just Edward Howard.

Recently, like in the last few weeks, something was done with technology, like some of the spots on my face and discoloration from torture the U.S. has done against me, and it was done to the tip of my nose.  It made it appear more like my Dad's (Robert Garretts) but that's not how my nose is or ever was.  Why the U.S. would try to do this is odd.  They made a line like a y shape at the end of my nose, on the tip, and indented it so it appears there is a natural crease there and my nose is not like that and has never been and I can see exactly where the mark was made.  The tip of my nose has always been, and is, naturally rounded and smooth without any indentation or cleft in the nose.  I have a very slight cleft in my chin, but never have on my nose, but Robert Garrett does.  So someone evidentally thought it was "very important" to do this to me.  It was done right after I was online and the painting of Kate Middleton (which I never looked up or searched for or read an article about) came up in a byline on a page for news.  I remember this because I thought her nose looked weird and then all of a sudden, the U.S. used technology to distort my own nose to make it look like Robert Garretts.  Edward Howard does not have the same thing on the end of his nose as Robert Garrett.

So, he says he went to Puerto Rico.  No connection for me.  I was told I sounded "Portugeuse" by Olga Strong from Wenatchee, WA, who is from Argentina.  She sort of smirked and said my Spanish was like Portugese.  I think Portugal and Puerto Rico are different however.  So then he was in Costa Rica.  He says he remembers small shoe factories where everything was done by hand and "accounting procedures were archaic".  I'm not sure here, but my Dad used a shoe horn for everything, so this is like it was done by hand, and he worked as an accountant.  E. H. makes this comment right after saying the hospitals were no better than American bus terminals.  He says he can still remember 8 and 9 year old children starving, and that was about the age I was when I was being deprived of food.  He is speaking about a time before I was born, but the relevance in the age matches the age when these things were occurring to me because of the U.S. government's retaliation against him.  I had to use a shoe horn to put my shoes on because my shoes were all too tight for my feet as well.  I remember being shocked when the shoe horns all disappeared.  It wasn't until we moved from Moses Lake, WA to Sherwood, Oregon.  He also brings up Colombia right after mentioning the name of Marta, a tutor he had in Costa Rica.  Marta was the real name of the youngest of the Von Trapp children from Sound of Music.  I not only loved the movie and it was one of my favorites, I had the true story which is how I remember Marta (Martina) is the real name for "Gretl".  Robert Wise directed the movie and was the one who changed the name (Gretl was played by actress Kym Karathers).  So E.H. transitions from mentioning "Marta" to comparing Bogota to an American bus terminal (I rode the bus and was picked up and dropped off at my house).  This closely relates Nazi conditions of Germany to my life, and what the U.S. was doing to me in America.

Obviously, if E.H. is my biological father and knew my Dad Robert Garrett, and if my Dad Robert Garrett read this book in 1995 or knew about it coming out, it sounds like a reason for my Dad to not like E.H. very much, or that the feeling was mutual.  It would be too veiled for most to "get" but of course my Dad would get it, just as I can read this and think of a few things.

E.H. says he worked in Colombia and went dancing every night.  First he was in Bucaramanga and then the second year in Cali.  His comment about Bogota was not about living there, but how horrible it was to see 8 yr old and 9 yr old kids sleeping in the streets there.  This is where Alvaro Pardo was from, and I was forced to sleep in his room the first time I was at his house and that man worked for the U.S.  He told me there was an extra room that was empty that I could sleep in and he lied, and when I got there, I was forced to sleep in his room.  So it's like right from the very start, the U.S. was still in a pissing-match with Edward Howard.  The U.S. was continuing their attempts to degrade and humiliate me through their employees. 

He says he lived on a hill near Calle Sexta and my only thought is about how Wells Fargo decided to have Matthew Sexton transferred to Nashville, TN when I was there to be my personal banker and how Chris Dabney made a big show about texting all the time, even at work, often for sex calls.  Calle Sexta also means "Sixth Street" translated from Spanish, and I had a crown made for me on my 6th birthday, by my Mom and Dad, with 666 around it and Katie decided to honeymoon in Buckingham on 6th.  It's not like her parents didn't know who Edward Howard was.  He says he had 2 housemates there, Freaky Freddie and Alfonso.  The only connection is I had the movie Freaky Friday, which I liked, and later, a lot of people made comments to me about "Freddie Krouger" and horror movies I had (and have not) ever seen.  No connection to the name Alfonso aside from "The Fonz" from "Happy Days" shows and then Alvaro having a name close to this, phonetically.  He then says "Burt" was another friend of his, who was a marine biologist and no one had heard of him in Buenaventura.  The only idea to my mind with that is that Buenaventura is a movie company that produced the film "The Rescuers".  Also, when I was a kid, I was being likened to "Ernie" and my Dad was pretending to be "Bert" from the Bert & Ernie characters on Sesame Street.  My Dad's Dad, Robert Garrett Sr. was a U.S. Marine, but not a "marine biologist" though since my Dad Robert Garrett Jr. exposed me to government biochemicals (LSD at least), he might be considered to be a "marine biologist".  He's admitted he went to U.S. military offices and signed up with them when he was 17, with his Dad's signature.  He said 'Army' but his Dad was a Marine and I don't see why it would make any difference to Robert Garrett Jr. which unit he signed up for.  So then E.H. goes on to say no one had heard of "Burt" at Buenaventura ("Department of Marine Biology") so he took a job as a volunteer "fireman" during the day and "bartender" at night.

Then E.H. goes from this to say, professionally, he was getting "exposure to doing business in Colombia" at firms with less than 100 employees approximately.

He says he met Mary Cedarleaf in 1973.  I have no association with this name other than that I was given a cedar hope chest for my 16th birthday by my parents, who later told me, after E.H. died in 2004, they never gave it to me...ever.  It had been my only present for my birthday and I had it with me at the house I owned in 1996, and afterwards for a long time, and then asked them to store it for me while I was moving around and when I asked for it back, I was told I couldn't have it, and it was "never yours" and it was also supposedly never given to me.  A LOT of things changed for me after 2004.  Just imagine.  A few dead people worked out!  Yayyy!  Now we can say we never even gave it to her and who knows???!!!! I mean, what is wrong with this country?  The other association maybe with the name Mary Cedarleaf might just be that we had an oak diningroom table in Moses Lake that was rectangular and for parties and we had people over and then one leaf was sold and then I believe the other one was too.  I think there were 2 leaves, but definitely one.  And then no one came over to our house anymore either, except for women who were there to buy dogs or puppies from my mother, and my brother and I were never allowed around them.  By that time, we were told to go outside and stay outside and don't come back except for lunch. Some of the money that was stolen from me when I was forced to work as a newspaper girl, I think was being sent to Katie Middleton.  I am not even kidding.  I was 11 years old and all these things were being paid for and then given to someone else.  In fact, I think I was the one who paid for her cabbage patch kid doll if she got one.  I know Kate Middleton was given one of my dolls, because of how my mother acted when I accused her of giving one of my dolls to Kate Middleton.  I am not positive which one it is, but I am positive it was done.  The main ones I can think of were the cabbage patch kid doll that was bought and put out of my reach and then disappeared over a month later, and my ceramic-porcelain doll from Granny which I have not seen in awhile, and then I had many barbies and other dolls, and a 2 foot tall doll with blond hair and blue eyes I had named Crystal.  Crystal was the "dummy plastic doll" I used in a few of my escapes from my house.

Mary Cedarleaf would also potentially bring to mind the name of Erik Cedarberg, who said he'd work on the guitar part of my music as I wanted (I directed it and I was the one who composed the guitar part, and he just played it) and then stole an entire professionally made CD demo from me (this man is a volunteer "church pastor" at a Christian church in Portland, Oregon).  It was not like half of the rights or music was his.  I wrote the lyrics and I wrote the guitar and then I showed him how I wanted it played.  He owned nothing and created nothing.  He was a performer, not an artist and not a director or composer or writer.  All he did, was play how I asked him to play and then he agreed to record a demo at his Dad's house and stole the entire thing.  His Dad continued to go to the same church and lead "worship" in a church setting, and his son went on to be a "pastor" at another church.  Both of them are criminals and when I tried to report theft to the Portland police, they refused to do anything or even give me a case number. 

There is nothing else that was ever mentioned, that I can think of, about or referencing Mary Cedarleaf or her name.  I suppose, since the CIA gets weird when they pick people, Cedarleaf is like "See'd her leave" or "See'd her leaf" where "Sally sells seashells by the seashore" could be like "Saw Lee sells seashells", and I remember having to shuck a lot of corn, but aside from really trying to think of connotations someone might make, I don't know.  I was invited to "Sedars" (pronounced the same as Cedar) by Jewish people later and I really resent the Jews for what they did to me.  I got stuck in several positions working for Jews who, looking back, did nothing but spy on me to plot how to harm me.  Also, my Dad made some quiet comment today as I was leaving the house that brought back a very bad memory and it's the way he said it, and he's said it in the past before and then Josh Gatov later mimicked the exact same thing.  Josh Gatov, Jew, would have no way of knowing how to say it without hearing my Dad say it.  The word was "push".  They way it was said gives me a feeling of disgust.  Also, Robin Bechtold was acting disturbed one day when he called me and said he "had a dream" that I was in a wedding dress on a balcony and he was watching from below and then I fell over and he woke up.  When he told me this, it didn't sound like the truth but like something he wanted me to think was true or to have someone else hear.  I think it was possibly because I actually did have a dream about him with Amy Nelson once when he was actually out with her and I didn't know it, and it spooked him.  However, I think it could be mentioned here what he said because he is connected to Josh Gatov, and both of them are rapists for the U.S. government.

pg. 28.  He says he was asked to leave 2 Puerto Rico posts because someone thought he was recruiting for the CIA (in 1974).  In January 1975 he says he enrolled in American University in Washington D.C., which was 2 months after I was born.  To register possibly, he may have been in the U.S. before January 1975, but he does not specify.  The FBI chose to assign Don, from Palo Alto, CA to my case when I reported FBI agents, and his college was American University, as was true for Br. Ansgar Santogrossi as well, and it is not impossible they did not know who I was related to.

He writes he had culture shock when he was back in the U.S. and longed to return to Latin America where life was "simpler, more romantic, and less materialistic" (or national defense security controlled I would say) than the U.S.   The only thing that stands out to me here is that in my diary from when I was 13 years old, if someone photographed it or let him see it at some time, I had cut out a dress from a magazine I liked and wrote, "simple, romantic" --something like that next to it.  It was a dress that basically looked like a ballet top with spaghetti straps and fitted satin V-neck solid-color bodice, and then a tulle kind of sheer material in a few colors over the satin bouffant skirt.  It was sort of a peach-dusty rose color.  I think I liked it because I wanted to be in ballet.  I was also writing about how materialistic some people were, in my diary. 

He says his best friends were Latin American and Asian students (at grad school).  For me in elementary school, I had several, but mostly Hispanic and a Japanese student was one of my closest friends in 1st grade.  Then in high school it was a 1/2 Mexican woman. 

In 1976, I was 2 years old and he married Cedarleaf in St. Paul, Minnesota and then went to Lima, Peru.  I believe my mother's family, Granny's side (Breigenzer) is in Minnesota and I think it's St. Paul where they settled (most of them).  So this is possibly how Granny knew of them in other ways aside from me and why she wondered how I had thought of the name "Edward" when I was going to name my son Oliver.  I also remember a very big deal being made about lima beans and I didn't like them as a kid (later) but I was told they were good for me and to eat them.  I was also made a dress by my mother with green dots all over it, the color of bright limes.  I was 5 years old, in kindergarten, and that same year Edward Howard and Mary were returning from Lima, Peru, in mid-1979.

He says he bought huacos, which were ceremonial burial jars, and several diplomats did and they didn't realize they were illegal.  If I take a quick look, this is one of many links about what they are.  This link says those who have them are called "huaqueros" which means "grave robbers".  It says they're usually buried with the dead but the ones uncovered are bought and sold, as E.H. and others did.  Obviously, there is a symbolic meaning to it.  He says he bought 6 of them.  Myself, I did not know that tortoise-shell was illegal to buy in the Dominican Republic and bought a wide headband about 1-1 1/2 inches width at the top, with a filigree design carved out of tortoise-shell and I wore it on the plane back to the U.S.  It was later broken (not by me) and stolen.  I never gave it away but someone stole it.  Actually, I take that back...the tortoise-shell one, the real one, was a solid band, and about that thick.  Then after it was stolen, I bought others that were as heavy and broad, and they were filigree and had cut outs in it (sort of lacy but solid) and I bought those headbands from a shop in Lake Oswego, Oregon and wore them all the time.  I had purchased the filigree one before I was raped by Josh Gatov and I remember a woman in the store watching me buy it.  It was a boutique that sold headbands I liked, that were wider, and sturdy and looked attractive, and I bought a couple of piggy banks there as gifts for others (3 total), and they had purses and bags like the one my mother has, a Genna bag, with the heart and lock key kind of clasp design.  So I did have filigree headbands but the one that was "illegal" and stolen, was solid.

 The other thing I bought, around 1996, or earlier, probably 1994 or 1995, were old pottery james beam bottles that were as tall as wine bottles, and as wide, but thicker all the way around and without corks in the top.  They had j beam on the bottom to mark them and were pale green, a chartreuse yellow color, a pale blue-gray one, and sort of adobe-stone ceramic colors.  They had the same texture as the huacos I see in the link I put up.  I bought 5-6 of them, if I remember correctly.  I used to set them up with 3 on one side and 2 on another and then I can't remember if there was one more and I had it separate.  I had them until I was about to sell my house and these people came in like thieves and were just frisking everything they wanted out of my house (1997).  I held a yardsale and then people went nuts and tried to buy every single thing in my house from me.  When I told a group of them no, they told me I couldn't tell them no and they were paying for them and leaving.  I was too shocked and timid to do anything about it.  From that kind of response to "no" people like Josh Gatov assumed they could rape me and get away with it.  They weren't "grave robbers" (though Diana and Mother Theresa had died by then), they were virginity robbers.  I couldn't believe how horrid they were--like wolves.  I told them they could not have an antique seat I had (an extremely heavy hide-a-bed that was from the early 1900s) and they rode over me.  They salivated and got creepy over the james beam bottles and asked how many more I had.  2 of them were gay and had affected gay accents, and 2 were a man and woman who were bitter, greedy, and cold.  It was very strange to see how they acted over my property.  I had the impression all of those people that came out to my place who acted that way were from the Pearl District in NW Portland.  One said she had an antique store and was going to resell them.

I'm positive I had them already by the time E.H. wrote this book and had it published.

It is 10:27 p.m. right now and for about the last 30 minutes or so I've been tortured by U.S. military to the metal stent in my ribcage/heart/chest. Possibly a little longer than that.

I don't think there is ANY question, at all, that the U.S. military is behind Princess Diana's death. 

It's still 8/17/13 but I just remembered Erik Cedarberg's Dad's name:  Russell.  So it was Russell Cedarberg and Erik Cedarberg.  Which is sort of strange when you think about "rustle cedar" and "cedar leaf".  I mean, Russell Cedarberg must be a government employee too. 

Also, separately, I remember when I got sand dollars and sea shells at the beach, I remember this weird depression and shift in things, when we quit going to the beach and I said I wanted to get some seashells and sand dollars and one day, my Dad handed over a big netted bag.  It was a net bag full of seashells, that had been purchased somewhere and I remember instead of feeling happy, I felt disappointed.  I wanted to "find" them "for real".  I said, "But you just bought these ones"...and he said, "Well?  So what! They're seashells!" and I said, "It's not the same thing."  But then I thought about it and was happy I got seashells and there were all different kinds but then I said, "There aren't any sand dollars."  No one said anything.  So THEN, I had all these seashells which I was happy about, and I had them on display in my room and divided them with my brother and then they began to disappear and I wasn't giving them away either.  Every single one of them was taken away.  And then this enormous concha shell showed up and disappeared.  I did like the shells but I remember there was a sadness when they were given to me.  I didn't know if my Dad was sad or the person selling them had been sad, or someone who knew I was going to get them, but sadness was on them.  Then, actually, I remember my Dad took them away, all at once.  They didn't disappear one by one like other things.  He got mad one day or acted mad and said he was taking them back and took all of them and I don't know who he gave them to instead.  I guess the other person had to find their bitch first and then he was able to give them to them there--who knows.  I mean beach.  Not bitch.  He put them all into the netted bag again, right in front of me and then took them out of my bedroom.  I never got any seashells, ever, after that and the next time I saw one was at the Del Balzo's house and their concha shell looked like the one I'd seen at our house for awhile.  And that was it.  I remember I said, "What are you doing?!!" as he was taking all of my shells.  By that time, everything I had was stolen, so it wasn't anything that new, just something that stood out to me as mean because he did it in front of me.  I asked where they were going and what he was doing with them and he said it was none of my business or something like that.  I can't remember exactly when it was, but I know I was between the ages of 9 and 13.  He just scooped them all up and then had his fist around the neck of the bag like a bag of dough.  The next thing I saw with "netting" were little demure hats, the kind that Kate Middleton wore after my mother modeled them around my house a few years earlier.  Now where did she want to honeymoon again?  Seyshelles?  Oh yes.  That is correct.  Say "Sally sells seashells by the seashore".  Maybe she's selling pin ups of her husband and his family.  Not drugs with Gary of course.  So then, the next time I saw a "bag" that looked like the one with shells that my Dad took away from me, was with the Pentagon's computer man who worked for the U.S. Army, "Mark", (the Irish man from Boston) who drove a truck and found me through the FBI in New Mexico.  He made this big deal of showing up carrying a bag by the neck that looked the same as the one my Dad had when he left my bedroom.  So he showed up, and the U.S. continued playing their game.  Next, and lastly, it was Chris Rozollo, stealing my coat in Wenatchee, WA and then telling me, "You should get a knap-sack or something and carry it over your shoulders" and this was something Jew Josh Gatov told me to do in 1998 as well.  All of these men are U.S. government men and all of them had a personal interest in who?  Yeah.  Why, might I ask?  Why was Katie Middleton important to THEM, and especially when I didn't even know she existed?

I have some major questions, and then E.H. goes into the ghosts and "spooks" who are typically "spooks" if they're English.  My parents act too weird about a few things now and then, like they worry occasionally I'm "onto them" or know "something" and I can tell when they're this way but I don't know what it's about.  For example, I got my Mom a magnet for the fridge, just something I picked up, not with a big symbolic meaning or anything and she acted so weird about it and said why was I giving it to her and what made me think of giving that to her, and a long time ago, I used to get magnets for myself or my Mom and it wasn't a big deal.  So then today I noticed, she had the magnet from me that said "Be Happy" and then she also had one that had this big "Lily of the Valley" bouquet like Katie carried for her wedding and it says "Flowers with Meaning" and then "The Return of Happiness".

Now, in hindsight, if my mother was concerned I might figure something out...Well, I am still confused.  You'll have to help me understand better because my homework keeps getting stolen and I'm tortured too.  This is in addition to really bizarre attempts to make me look bad or criminal, going back to when I was at least 11 years old or so, and which continued through to a trip to Coos Bay and then later, when I posted a particularly nasty blog post about Middleton and progeny, maybe several months ago, I noticed all these people coming out and looking at my mother in horror as if they couldn't believe it and my mother nodding as if to say, "Mmm hmm, that's how she is."  I caught onto it, and realized this is exactly the kind of thing that has been going on for DECADES and yet no one knew about it but me (to my knowledge).  It's this weird idea of how I am a slob and make messes and don't "take care of things" and how this idea is desperately reinforced however possible by my Mom (or someone) and then when reinforced, they get some kind of relief out of it as if to say, "See, it's not me.  I wasn't doing anything wrong.  I was just commenting on a fact or truth, and you have now seen for yourselves!"  It's a displacement of blame over things done to me almost my entire life that are of grotesque proportion. 

I do not even get to speak or hear from  my own son because of these kinds of lies, by my mother, my father Robert, and the people around them.  They've done nothing but lie about me!  So exactly how is my son kidnapped this easily?  literally kidnapped?  It's like my parents are not my parents and are Mossad agents working for Middleton, who they have some genetic tie to.  It's just bizarre and doesn't make any sense unless it's something like that.  How else would I have been set up to be raped by a Jew? Then initially, my Dad didn't even want me to try to report it again.  Like he's friends with Josh Gatov or something.  I wouldn't even be surprised at this point.  I would not be surprised by the most shocking allegations or facts because torture against me, is not supposed to be possible in this country and neither is official government gang-banging or kidnapping of a child.  My Mom just spent an entire week next to my son and I had only a handful of questions to ask about him, and the least that could have been done, would have been to let me know, and instead, all she told me was his favorite color and his favorite game, with 2 words total and that was it.  She said she had "other things to do" there.

This country has no excuse for existence.  I care about my parents and love them and wouldn't want them hurt, but I don't believe they feel the same way about me and my son.  There is no possible way, and it's impossible they have gone this long lying to the entire world about me.  Why should my Mom care if I gave her a magnet that says "be happy" on it unless she's paranoid I've found out she approved magnets being implanted into my body and head while she happily waited for Katie Middleton's next big step?  I don't have a crush on William of Wales; I never had a pin up or interest in William of Wales or 'celebrity crush'; I never followed the English royals, ever; I didn't watch even the news until 9/11; I had no thoughts about England aside from maybe studying there for my degree until I met a Lloyds of London person; I have no arbitrary reason to dislike or hate Kate Middleton--

All of the interest that has been generated by me in the last couple of years, is from finally figuring out what one source of the problem has been and where some of the interest with those surrounding me has been going.  Her!  So yeah, I have a major problem with that.  My son has been kidnapped from me, and my other sons murdered and she is certaintly not suffering.  For a woman as connected to my parents as Kate Middleton is, it's suspicious when I find I'm being tortured and drugged and suffer, but she is absolutely fine.  Why not target her on account of my parents?  Instead, my own country targets me, and they have supported HER professionally and financially.  My parents may choose to be "living martyrs" for their stake in it, but I didn't.  I am not Catherine Middleton's martyr and neither is my son Oliver.
UPDATED 8/18/13.  Before going through more of this book, I have to add, I looked at Egypt news and then about the man who committed suicide after his wife gave birth, Michael Nobles.  I have no idea why but thinking about all this Russian stuff and looking up Hamilton and some former U.S. Russian defectors from NSA and CIA, I thought about Belle.  It was Hamilton I believe, who married a woman with the name Belle and from the photo she looked really pretty.  What was odd is how much she looked like my Grandma Dolores when she was younger.  Then I found a news article that said this Belle woman found out her husband was in a Russian sanitorium and got him back to the U.S. and then she died in 2011 I think it was. What is weird, aside from looking like relatives, is that she had a friend by the last name of Schneider, same last name as the one of the woman who is connected to the DOJ and set me up several times in Oregon, who also happened to know the woman who bought my Mom's horse Lexie.  Maybe it was Mitchell who married her.  It was Hamilton or Mitchell and both were from Seattle, WA or lived and worked there and they had different stories.  However...relating to E.H., I read somewhere that he supported the PLO (Palestinian Liberation) and never heard he knew or met these other guys, but I think it was Belle (?)--one of them was either from Palestine or Libya or someplace where they were supporting the PLO.  So here's the other thing--if I'm related to E.H. and he was connected to PLO on his own and through others he knew, how did I end up working for Jews who HATED even the mention of the word "Palestine"?  I wasn't known by anyone, anywhere, for "snooping", so no one was getting info from me--it looks more like I was being used and proximity was used as a means to gain access to plotting against me to punish people they thought they could harm by harming me.  The most "snooping" I ever did, was one time at my fiancé's place, when I wondered what he was up to and if what he said was true and I searched the room.  Aside from that, I never looked through anything, at any other house or place or car or anything. 

I am beginning to feel like the U.S. actually created a baby, ME, and had me inserted into a position or family or political group that was my enemy.  Then, it's like the U.S. used this access to me, as a means for torturing me and abusing me to get to those that they thought might care.  It wasn't like I was just tortured starting in 2005.  The U.S. had been selectively abusing me as a kid.  I mean, is the U.S. so sick and disturbed in the head they get ideas of how to trick biological parents into giving up their kids or having them born to enemies, and not know about it, and then twist the kid's arm their entire life?  When I read news about Egypt having a saying about "You are dealing with a highly trained terrorist group" I feel that is it.  You hit the nail on the head.  Yes.  I have been hunted, in my own country, by a highly trained group based in terrorism.  I'm not saying Egyptians are talking about me or referring to me at all with that comment, but it is the first time in my life I've realized, terrorism is a fact in the U.S., by U.S. employees and the crimes against me and my son are terrorist acts.  I remember when a lawyer mentioned terrorism once in court, and it didn't seem appropriate then and I didn't know what he was getting at.  I thought he was trying to suggest ideas he hoped I'd run with and make myself sound like a paranoid and unrealistic extremist or nutcase, but no, it is true.  The people who have been doing this to me and my son are U.S.-trained and sponsored terrorists.  They are here, in the U.S. 

Guess what?  of all the assassination attempts against me even, there has been no police record?  Who does that?  No one allows that many major collisions to go "off-record".  No one.  Why are these people cops?  and since when has it been possible to get that many cops to collude together, from Washington to Oregon to D.C. and elsewhere?  After the hit-and-run against me in 2003, the 2 cops that came out to investigate the scene, gave different ideas of who it was.  So then, what's bizarre, is a little over 1 1/2 years later, when I was making a report about FBI agents, the FBI Headquarters in D.C. (This is White House shit) sent out 2 S.A.s to take my report and of all things, those agents they sent matched the physical descriptions of the cops who took my prior assassination attempt report.  This means the FBI had their eyes on the entire thing.  It was no accident that they sent out agents who resembled the cops, because it was like some kind of law enforcement joke when I was given 2 different physical descriptions or IDs of the man who ran into me (one said Hispanic and the other said white). So they bring out the short brown haired cop with the tall blond or lt. brown hair cop, and then later, the FBI thought it was funny to repeat the idea.

This is over my LIFE, and my being not only targeted for assassination, but rape, multiple times, by their employees.  I don't think cops would hurry to be there at the exact scene, ahead of time, and knowing it was going to happen, to be able to cover or conceal a report unless they knew the assassins.  Alternately, who was so fast they got on the phone and called in just the right ones to make sure it wasn't documented?  That is U.S. government-sponsored terrorism, home-based, against innocent citizens in their own country.

Moving on to E.H., the huacos.  I remembered last night, that just like he wrote in his book he bought 6, I had bought 6 of the James Beam bottles that were of the same kind of textured material.  I didn't know who or what James Beam (Jim Beam) was at the time, I just noticed the bottles and thought they were interesting.  I liked the look, and I then designed the color palette and got a couch for my living room to incorporate use of those bottles.  One of the bottles was stolen--not bought.  One was bright blue, and I painted a wall in my kitchen that color over my laundry area.  One was pale blue-gray, sort of a slate gray with a blue hue to it.  Two were pale green.  One was chartreuse yellow.  The one that was stolen was a sand-peach-beige color.  Sort of like sand colored and it was stolen from me.  It wasn't medium or dark in tone, but light.  It was stolen almost right after I bought all of them, all 6 of them.  Then I sold the other 5 under pressure at the yard sale in St. Johns.  The bottles were all tall straight wine bottles.  They weren't half-size bottles but tall, and had openings that looked like probably they had corks originally.  On the bottoms of all of them, it was marked J. Beam.  I believe I noticed, and started looking around for the one that was stolen when the "nurse" Jan moved in with me.  I remember thinking it had to have been her but I was in too much disbelief to imagine anyone would steal it.  My only housemates at that time were Monica Allen, Shirina Edwin, Jan (the nurse), and Melissa Curtin.  It was sort of a white-cream color over sand one.  All of them had a sand sort of kind of texture or color underneath the colors, which were kind of like stucco paint over them, but the cream colored one it stood out more in light as slightly sand.  I remember I noticed when it was gone because it was one of my favorite ones and I had said so to someone and then I always had them symmetrical, 3 to each side and when one was stolen I didn't know how to group them.  I had put the white-cream one next to the bright blue one a lot.  I remember when I bought them, there were a couple of other colors there but I didn't buy them because they were brown and darker colored and I didn't like them as much so I only bought 6.  I had them on the railing that went around the dining room, on either side of a doorway and then I also had them on the fireplace mantle.  A few times I put flowers in them or branches, but usually there were bare.

Also, why was someone named "Jan" wanting to move into my house when Edward Howard, who is supposed to be my biological father, had taken the name "Janovitch" in Russia?  It is very obvious he was trying to indicate something by mentioning the huacos, which were very much like my bottles.  I didn't have a lot of "things" so it stands out and is noticed.  She was then picking on me, later, telling me "I think you might be manic Cameo" and when I said, "What?!" she said it was because I was scrubbing my stove top with a toothbrush.  It was a vintage oven and stove top and I meticulously cleaned the entire thing, and used a toothbrush for cleaning detail.  I did this every so often, to keep it up.  What Jan was doing, was trying to create an "overlay" of lies to conceal who I really was, what I was like in actuality, and a means for defaming me so others escaped with crimes.  I remember when she started saying this too, and it was after princess Diana died.  No one ever alleged anything wrong with me mentally prior to that time.  Then, just because I was cleaning my black and white stove thoroughly, she picked on me.  I always kept my house up and in order.  E.H. also mentions he liked the Lake Baikal region right before mentioning the huacos.  Before Jan got her new Subaru station wagon, she was riding a bike everywhere.  She rode her bike to work and to church and she had some kind of car but she rode her bike with her helmet on, more than anything.  Of course, E.H. mentions he got the huacos when his "tour" of Lima, Peru had ended. .  It sounds like "Lake BIKE-El" or Lake Mike-L with a cold.

So who do you think stole my J. Beam bottle that was white-cream? 

A nurse, a white nurse named "Jan" who tried to intimidate me and call me "manic" on her way out the door.  So in E.H.'s book he mentions one of the AID people handing him a hashish pipe.  He says a car was coming to take him to the airport and the AID person gave him a pipe.  In D.C. the pipe person was from Morocco, offering me hashish and then saying I was "insane".  He was the one to comment on caffeine in my drink and nurse Jan was the one who criticized me over not having a coffee pot.  I think what E.H. loosely implies is that someone picked up my J. Beam bottle from the woman who stole it from me and left on a plane with it.

If he knew someone who could predict 6 huacos and bottles, I'm sure they could also suggest the means for a departure of one of them.  It also shows Jan had read his book, before stealing one of the 6 bottles and then calling me a "whacko" or "manic".

"Huaco" is pronounced "wah-koh" like mor-wah-koh (morocco).  It is not like the U.S. doesn't owe me and my son everything. 

It is so sick, and so disgusting, I can describe for you what Chris Dabney must have had in mind the night he had sex with me in front of a window where, I have since realized, he must have known people were watching.  He used me, not just to rape me the first time, but later to implant me with a baby he knew would be murdered in my womb so that I could be the "huaco" joke.  I remember exactly what he did which would have been to suggest this to onlookers.  Let's remember his "girlfriend" is a Jew.

His first comment to me, when he raped me was "here's another one in the hole" and his next action in front of the window later, when I was incapacitated, was to make me into a "burial ground", a huaco, for onlookers.  So later, when Chris Dabney was playing Sade's "Lovers Rock" (you are the lover's rock, i.e., huaco), it was with deliberate disgusting plotting.   I remember he made a point to grab the back of my head by my hair and yank it back, the same way this happened to my head when my mother was yanking one of my hoop earrings from one of my ears in Moses Lake.  If the huacos mostly have those rings in the back, to me it looks like his symbolism was to make a joke out of positioning me to look like a huaco and then murder my baby to make me into a "ceremonial burial ground" for it.  I later realized he knew about the window because on a different day I was getting ready for work and some men approached me and said they saw me and indicated other things were seen, such as the time I am mentioning, even though it was dark with only moonlight.  He put my hair into a ponytail first and yanked my head backwards.  My hair had been in a ponytail the day my mother targeted my earring and yanked it and tore my ear.  Chris told me he was "Catholic" and I believe he was lying.  I think he was a Jew.  He was taking directions from Jews from Israel, who had just flown in from Israel, his girlfriend he acquired later was a Jew, and his best friends were Jews.  He was a Jew.  Maybe someone gave him a Catholic baptism as a 'cover' for something, but he was one more methodical, plotting Jew whose only motive was to harm me and my son.  His housemates were also a majority Jewish, and I saw a photo of him with something around his neck like a Jewish man wears at Jewish prayers.  Basically, one of those scarves or whatever, that the men wear, like a prayer shawl, with fringe at the ends.  He colluded with Mark, who was not Jewish, but Irish like Robin Bechtold, and Mark worked for the U.S. Army.

Also, Chris Dabney, with his "information", wouldn't have mocked me in this way, publicly, if he did not know about what was done to me as a pre-teen or teen in Moses Lake, and about E.H., and yet he was the one asking ME if I thought my parents would try to harm me.  He was fishing.  He wasn't fishing for me--he was fishing for people who were behind the assassination attempts against me and humiliation and degradation.  He just wanted to know what I thought or how much I knew about what was really going on, and his sidekicks were Jews and U.S. government.  This is no surprise how he is connected to Kate Middleton. 

Right after E.H. brings up the huacos and liking "Baikal" (bike-l) and then going to talk about how the huacos then went on a plane, to somewhere, he then writes upon his return to the U.S. he contacted the CIA, and then worked at James H. Lowry.  Which is close enough to mentioning James Beam again but it's also close to my name "Lowry" sounding like my middle name "Loree".  The acronym for this business was JHL (jill) and I was later tortured by a woman who told me her name was "Jill" and who was formally working for the Americorp.

I mean, the CIA is so hard-up, they use Americorp people to assault me.  Hahhaa.  I sensed she was Jewish and it turns out she knew Amy Goodman from Seattle, WA who is friends with Amy Roe the reporter that defamed me.  Jill and Chris Rozollo also knew eachother.  How much do you want to bet Amy Roe is also a Jew?  I never thought of it before, but I would bet it's not a stretch.

The other thing I notice, is E.H.'s mention of AID, and how I had "AIDS" being brought up, in 2005 after E.H. died in 2004, as a reason for denying me state-paid healthcare.  I had no diagnosis and never had an STD and they just decided to defame me for no reason, to prevent both me and my son from having medical care and to give the U.S. an excuse to say if the child's mother was such a problem she couldn't get medical care for herself and son, the U.S. should take my child.  There was an entire group of people who did nothing but try to make it appear I was incapable of caring for my child when literally, this country was funding terrorism against us.  When E.H. was repeatedly telling the FBI he was "part of the Royal Flyers club", at a time Princess Diana was reportedly running through an airplane with slit wrists and smearing blood all over the place, maybe he was hinting that he knew what the U.S. had done to me.  How many times did the FBI choose to repeat this information and then claim they didn't find any authenticity to it?  I think it was about 6 times.

Pg. 30.  He says he contracted with Ecology and Environment in 1980.  This was through the EPA.  The connotation for me would be simply that I guess we liked some of the same things.  I took environmental science as part of a graduation track option.  The other idea would be that maybe this is partly why there was an art contest at my school for an "environmental" poster.  I won.  I think the contest was in 1982 but possibly it was one year earlier.  Every student had to create a poster with ideas that supported taking care of the environment.  So I made a huge horizontal poster with a layout that had layers of roads and mountains and water and streams and I made detailed scenes of people and options for recycling, conserving energy and gas, and keeping water clean.  So I got the prize but I didn't want to wait to be awarded publicly in front of everyone and took the money before the announcement.  I didn't care about accolades.  I wanted the money because I was probably thinking about what food I would buy with it.  "I wonder how many Saltine crackers I could buy to nibble on while I'm in my United States torture chamber."  "Maybe if I give a package to the Principal, he won't beat me in private with English yard sticks".

He talks about his job (E.H. does) and how he was tasked with identifying and surveying toxic waste sites.  I suppose it's something I'd be interested in as well, or have been, in the past.  He says he was informed about hazardous waste dumps and what to do to clean them up.  At that same time in my life, we were being driven to dumps.  I don't mean, a wastebasket for the department or grocery store.  I don't mean a large "dumpster".  I mean, we were being driven to massive landfills with heaps and literal mountains of garbage.  Then, what did we do there?  You ask me.  I walked all over garbage and "climbed every mountain" of toxic waste and trash.  I don't mean we looked over the margin of the dump, but my Mom and Dad told us we were going to walk through it.  So we walked through massive amounts of garbage and I remember I was wearing flip-flops, which is what Jew Josh Gatov told me I should be wearing, after he raped me, instead of high heels.  Later in my life, we went to auto graveyards, where cars were parted out, but that was no big deal.  Going "to the dump" was a big deal.  We were too young to think about what was getting on our skin or in our hair and clothes.  I don't even know why we did it.  It wasn't like we took a bunch of garbage there and if we did, we didn't have to walk through all of it, to drop that stuff off.  We were just forced to walk through garbage dumps and then, of course, as kids might, I'd see a doll or toy or something and say, "Look what someone threw away!  That was a perfectly good toy!"  That was mostly what I did, walk around and point things out and say, "Look what someone threw away!"  and "What a waste!" and "Can I take this home?  there's nothing wrong with it."  This was a landfill that was miles wide and as high as 8 feet or more in places, deep.  I do remember it was legal to take things out of the dump or landfill.  My parents took a few things like furniture to refinish or something, but that was about it. 

Then E.H. writes he found the scientists to be childish over non-technical matters. 

He says he had hoped the company would go international in 5 years and then he could go abroad.  I was given $5 for my environmental art prize for my "conservation of energy" poster.

Pg. 31.  He says he and Mary settled in Chicago.  Nothing stands out to me about it, except for now, in the town I live in a bunch of military pastors have backgrounds from Chicago.  I was living in Moses Lake, in the country, whereas for the first year I lived in Moses Lake we lived on Canterbury Lane.  Later we used to look at properties in Ritzville, in Warden,  and the Cansler (Cans-ler) house.  There was one house that was brick and had a large yard and was always vacant and I always had an extremely depressed and sad vibe from it and it was off of the freeway and where the air smelled like alfalfa.  He then says he was contacted by the CIA from Washington D.C. and was told to call a man named "Woodward".  I am not sure what names he had to change because at the beginning he writes the CIA told him to change some of the names to conceal identities.  So where this was done, I'm not sure, but probably "Woodward" is a name change.  E.H. says he met the 2 CIA men at a hotel room in Chicago in June of 1980.  He says one was named Bernie which makes me think of my Dad comparing himself to Bert and me as Ernie when I was a younger kid. He describes "Bernie" as playing with a pocket knife the entire interview. 

To me, where I have been cut up and have scars from it, this seems odd.  The CIA.  Really.  And that's how they recruit?  By flashing around or toying with pocket knives?  It sounds more like a stick-up to me.  Which is probably why E.H. used an alternative name for one of the CIA as "Woodward".

At this time in my life, in 1980, I was in 1st grade.  I had offended a girl named Jennifer Woods and not only her mother was offended but my own Mom (Dicksie) as well.  Actually though, I think I just knew her then because nothing came up until maybe 2nd grade for a jump-rope-for-heart.  It was a "jump-ropathon" but specifically called "Jump Rope For Heart".  So I said something mean and no one ever got over it, not even the adults.  So with "Woodward" I might think of the mean words I said to Jennifer Woods one time that no one dealt with like adults would be expected to.  The other connotation is that Woodward makes me think of Bob Packwood.  Woodward might also bring to mind Warden, a town we visited, or where Pamp and Barbara Maiers were from before Moses Lake, or ward, like a prison or jail warden.  E.H. says "the two men peppered me questions about..." and the loss of the word "with" (as in, the two men peppered me WITH questions) was either a mistake or deliberate to sound like an Irish slang from some kind of Darby O'Gill and The Little People movie.

Of course, when you think about it...Darby O'Gill and The Little People is about a man who ends up with a bunch of leprochauns (or elves, i.e., E.L.V.H., Edward Lee Victor Howard), a  daughter named Katie, and their search for the "pot of gold" at "the end of the rainbow".

So right after the "men peppered me questions" he says it was about overseas relationships (and he had worked in Dublin, Ireland for one place) and then his next title is "the CIA: not just a bad career move" where he explains how he was hired and fired through a "strategic cut" at the same time I was targeted from a window to fall from a tree and break my arm.  It was not "just a bad move" on my part, in swinging from a branch on the tree--I was targeted with technology to fall and on that same day the President of the United States made an emphasis about "strategic arm reductions" between the U.S. and Russia.  That is what comes to my mind.  The way E.H. organized this last section, with "peppered me questions" to overseas to 'tragedy and misery' by the CIA indicates he's saying it wasn't a personal responsibility problem or his fault or a "bad move" but a deliberate hit.
UPDATED 8/19/13.

I had a few thoughts.  One is that I possibly did have a pale peach-sand J. Beam bottle as well.  I still remember it, and remember the exact color, so it is possible 2 of the bottles were stolen, not just one.  I know there were darker brown and darker coral colored ones left where I got them and I didn't want those colors so I left them there.  I don't "feel" like I had 7 total though--I believe I only bought 6 but I'll think about it more. 

Other thoughts:  One about the name "Jaramilla".  It's E.H.'s mother's maiden name.  It sort of sounds like "You're a milla" (or, a million in English) without the Spanish pronunciation of "milla" as "mee-yuh".  I was wondering if it's possibly another reason Ruthie Ames started telling me, when I was 11 years old, "You're worth your weight in gold."

Another thing, about Anitra Strickland and my parents.  I have realized Anitra Strickland was never my friend but I had no idea back then.  I thought of her as a friend, as kids, but I didn't understand how they were political and potentially connected to Middletons.  Seriously.  Later, when I tried to contact her and be in touch, after 2009, at first she seemed fine and then got really weird and hearing her kids on the phone, they sounded like they were mocking me.  All of a sudden, it was like, "What the heck?  She is a Middleton supporter??!  How long has THAT been the case?"  It was really shocking for me, because to get older and then realize one-by-one how most of the people I was put next to, or who had contact with me, were enemies to me, when I thought "I have no enemies" is a wake-up after that many decades of secrecy.  I remember someone saying something to me about "your enemies" and I said, "My enemies?  I don't have any enemies!"  I couldn't think of one person I personally considered to be my enemy, even after being a target for assassination and rape bets.

Some of the potential "evidence" that would suggest Anitra Strickland was never a friend, and is also connected to Katie Middleton is this:  When I was being photographed in the window wearing a puppy dog shirt (that sort of had a cat face), my parents were later singing the song "How Much Is That Doggie In The Window?"  Then when I broke my arm, falling from the tree on "strategic arms reduction day" for the U.S. in 1982, wearing my rainbow shirt (my starring role as one of the "elves" I guess, or maybe after I fell I was being joked about as the "pot of gold"), I was given "Garfield".  Garfield, the orange and black striped cat, which was like "Heathcliff" the cat.  I was dressed and photographed as a witch after I was born, for Halloween, in black and orange.  And the "puppy" shirt had orange and black in it.  Then I was given a kitten, named "Mittens" (my Mom's name for it) and when it died, my Dad bought me a huge poster for my bedroom wall, the first I ever had, that said, "When God Closes One Door, He Opens Another."  It was an orange cat, like Garfield.  So then at the time I met Katie Fallon, and the name Katie was used all the time, after Katie Middleton was born, it was Anitra Strickland who gave me a poster.  The cat poster was taken down, and the new "door" was Strickland's poster, of a man holding a newborn baby in his hands.  Basically, it was like saying, I was being dumped by the U.S. and now Katie Middleton was born, they had a replacement for what they wanted to do.  Not only that, Anitra Strickland lived "on the base" which was a U.S. military base. 

Gee.  I wonder if Katie Middleton is connected to the U.S. military.

My entire life I'd thought of these posters as one I really liked, of the cat, and then getting one I didn't like as much, but it was okay and I put it up because the other one was stolen.  I never took it down myself--someone stole it from me.  So I had this odd "baby" poster there, and that was supposed to be "the new door".   I didn't realize what kind of political suggestion was being made between adults at the time.  But it explains how Anitra Strickland acted to me later, when I thought she was a friend, and how her associations and family go back to my childhood and U.S. military and Middleton.  What else could I have expected? but I didn't know.  Her Dad worked as a "cook" or chef somewhere on the base and her mother was a hair stylist if I remember correctly but first she was a waitress and that's how she met Dan.  Dan Strickland was Anitra's Dad.  Maybe it was "Dave" but I am pretty sure his first name was "Dan".  They were connected to military however, lived next to the military airport and in the jurisdiction of the military base.  Anitra wanted to be an astronaut or police woman so it's not like she didn't lean that direction.  I also know I was told to "shut up" for the first time in around 1982 or after I got this poster about when God closes one door he opens another.  All the time, my mother was telling me to "shut up".  And then I found out her brother Loren said this all the time too.  It hurt my feelings to be told to shut up all the time and then I picked it up and my brother and I told eachother to shut up.

Another thought I had was that when this young woman "Shelly" died and was buried, whose funeral I attended, I remember I was taking down all of the photos of people around the frame of my mirror after she died.  I used to look at all of the photos and think about her and death and understanding dying, and then one day, I took down the entire frame I had made, of pictures and snapshots that I had made around the border of my mirror.  It is possible this was a subconscious choice, and connected to my seeing someone else taking down photographs after a person died.  I know "Shelly" or "Shell-Lee" died about the same time my cat poster was taken down and my cat died, and then some anonymous man holding a baby poster was to be the other door.

Which is really more like adult politics than anything.  I had it up because it was a gift, but I never picked it out and then when I took it down, I never put up another poster or picture of any man.  It wasn't my style. 

Another thing I wonder about, is someone with brown eyes I might have remembered as nice when I was a baby or toddler or young.  Not a predator, but someone nice.  I think of this because one day at an eye shop, I tried different colored contacts.  It was after 1994, when I had an eye exam that said I needed a light prescription and had an astigmatism in one eye.  I got glasses to use occasionally.  However, I went to another eye place and they let me try on different eye contacts.  I tried blue, green, "hazel", and brown.  Of all things, I liked the brown ones on me best.  I liked blue, but it was the brown ones I kept staring at.  It was very odd.  I couldn't stop looking, like I was looking into someone else's eyes I knew.  The store person kept saying, "You should get the blue ones!" or "I like the blue ones best" and I said, "I know, but what's weird is I sort of like the brown ones because they look warm."  I thought they looked warm and soft, but I think what I might have also done is accidentally remember someone from a long time ago but I don't know who.  Most of my family (Mom and Dad; Dicksie and Bob) have green or blue eyes.  I ended up not getting any.  I thought it would be fun, but I decided not to buy any.  They didn't have any odd colors at that time or weird patterns.  I think there was one that was "violet" as well, but pretty standard colors.  I didn't just do it "for fun" because I was really thinking about buying some, and then after I thought about it more I decided not to.  I probably decided to be practical, but I considered it for a long time.  I thought I might get the brown ones and the green ones to make my eyes seem slightly greener, but I didn't care for the blue as much on me because it didn't look as natural.  The reason I wonder is because maybe I knew someone from a long time ago that made me pause.  It wasn't vanity...I thought I was noticing something or drawn to something because my eyes looked someone's I knew when I had the brown ones in but I didn't know who.  No one from high school or anything, so I think it must have been when I was very young.  I had actually thought my Dad's eyes were brown before, but then I looked again and saw they were green-blue.

Pg. 32

When he says his choice to accept the CIA brought the greatest "tragedy and misery" it makes me think of how Bechtold made a big deal about the movie "Misery" and thought I should see it.  I remember the knife scene and the bed scene being horrifying to me.  Mostly the knives, and obviously, this is what someone did to me when I was a toddler and I remember some cutting later, so this was part of my own misery.  I also think now, that seeing the red dot on this mans' face recently as he said the name "Meserlee" and how I wanted to throw up, probably indicates I remember some torture.  Mnsr. Lee, Miss her Lee? Mr. Lee, Mister Lee, Ms. Loree, ...not sure.  But some comment was made during torture to that effect--my opinion.

I have some idea I might have been caged like a dog as well, or near a dog and confined.  Instead of "Kathy Bates" it's more like "bath y crates".  How about some crate and barrel or grates and electrocution?  It's closer to the idea I was an infant tortured by someone like Kathy Bates, which is slightly like the MK Ultra place of torture for children in Quebec, Canada, where the CIA paid them money to torture orphans and infants and children were found in mass graves.

I also know that twice when I've seen a red box shaped car, I've had an instinct to follow it with my left arm and shoot, and I think this indicates I was around a shooting range of some kind when I was very young.  I've never had anything to do with knives, aside from kitchen use and a letter opener for opening my mother's mail and there's no way anyone "trained" me with one because I couldn't even cut open an envelope with a clean slice.  I was terrorized with knives--I didn't handle them myself for any kind of weapon purpose and I never cut myself except when learning to shave my legs.

pg. 33.  He says CIA even visited Horse Springs, NM, where he'd lived briefly as a 2 yr. old.  No connotation for me.  We got a horse at our house in Moses Lake around this time.  Prior to this we had lawn and garden space and then I helped build and paint a fence to enclose a pasture area and we got a horse.  The Danielsons, on the other side of the fence one direction, had 2 dogs, a white one named "cookie" I think and a German shepherd.  On the other side were the Coombs with a reddish maroon fence and behind us was chain link and electric wire and the Mormon psychologists.  I think we boarded 2 horses first.  First we boarded 2 horses for someone else.  Then my Mom got her own horse or had one she boarded and also rode, Aspen, and then it was Lexie.  I jumped on a horse that wasn't Aspen or Lexie but was a darker and broader horse but I don't know the name.  I also jumped on Aspen.  I coaxed them to the fence, and jumped on and a few times, got them to stand still as I held their mane while hoisting myself up and leg over.  I did it when no one was looking (so I thought).  Around the time my parents boarded horses for others, they brought up having "foster kids".  That was when I asked what a foster kid was, and they were saying it might be something they'd do and then talked about the money, saying it would be additional income.  They talked about it openly, around me, for months.  Then when I asked if they were going to do it because they quit talking about it,  they said they decided not to.

E.H. writes the CIA wanted to know about his company bidding on a big government contract.  He says the same thing 2 times.  Sounds like 2 bids (?) to me.  Bids...or kids

The bidding he speaks of, was in 1980 and there wasn't talk about foster kids from my parents until later, around 1984 or so.

With the horses, I was the only one who rode them.  I never once saw my mother, Dad, or brother, get on any of the first horses, and I was the only one who did.  I brushed them or petted and talked to them, and they allowed me to jump on from the fence, and until I was heavier, to hoist myself up from the ground with the horse standing next to me.  I was able to jump up, and then using the mane only a little, swing a leg around and they were 15 hands or more, all of them.  I was getting very interested in horses, and then all of a sudden, my Mom began subscribing to horse magazines.  I was made to feel I could no longer be interested in horses because it was my mother's "interest" and I was not allowed to detract from that.  I expressed the interest and had been the only one riding them, but then it was suddenly taken over with dressage magazines and then later, my Mom began riding.  She had a pony when she was younger, and another horse I think, but I felt pushed out from horses.  I still visited them, but I had wanted riding lessons and to develop my interest and instead I was made to feel I couldn't because someone else was taking over.  I was around 9 years old or 10, when that happened. 

I also had asked to keep one of the puppies the dogs had and wasn't allowed to.  I was told I could have a cat and that was it.  My mother began buying at least 2 kinds of horse magazine, and I wanted to share the interest and she kept it to herself.  So sometimes my brother and I would look at them and talk about which ones we liked or would want most.  I was told I couldn't ride the horses anymore though.  One of them, I do remember, let me jump on from the ground, and then I got heavier but I practiced jumping just for the purpose of getting on a horse from foot.  I had no other reason to jump that way.  I jumped rope, yes, for school, but at home, I practiced jumping as high up in the air as I could from foot, to train for getting onto the horse better, springing up from my toes.  I mean, I sometimes spent an hour on jumping practice alone, for height, not exercise.  Then a decade later, in Sherwood, my mother was taking dressage and jumping lessons and I am really not sure what kind of odd thing the CIA was trying to obscure with that, if they were at all.  I am not sure with the one horse that let me jump up by foot either because it worked all the time and then it was moving sideways when I tried later and I suppose it's even possible someone was coaching it to move away while I was at school or something.  I guess I look back and think that is what happened, by the way the horse reacted.  It still followed me and I gave it treats and brushed it and scratched it but it acted like someone had trained it to "sidepass".  I almost want to say the first horse I used to hop on was "Sally".  I worked for a "Sally" that had horses and later rode Western with someone from work with that name, but I sort of think one of the horses we boarded that I rode was named "Sally".  I think there were 2 we boarded, then one (maybe Sally or Sally was split up from the 2), and then Aspen (owned), then Lexie (owned).

My brother and I looked at horse magazines the same way we looked at women's magazines.  I would  bring them out and put them on the floor and we'd lay on our stomachs or sit and look and I'd turn to a page and say, "Which one do you like?"  He would tell me and then I'd say, "I like that one" and I'd sometimes say, "Yeah, she's pretty" or "You like HER?!!!  Why do you like HER?  She's not even pretty!"  and I had fun thinking about why he liked the ones he did and which ones I liked, and then I'd do the same with horses, asking him which one he liked best and showing him which ones were my picks.  We'd go through whole catalogs (Sears and Pennys) and horse magazines.  It was always horses and women, never the dog magazines.  We never looked at Sheltie magazines and said which one do you like best, though I sometimes looked at those too.  It was always horses and women.  I did the same thing with cousins over a Ford Model (modeling agency) poster an Uncle had in a room, with headshots of models and would ask cousins which ones they liked best and why and we'd talk about it.  To me, it was fun.  I remembered wondering why my brother thought women were prettier who were so different from the ones I thought prettiest.  I figured out on one occasion, he liked shorter hair and big boobs.  As for horses, once I asked my Mom about some of them and said I thought one was really pretty (a stallion of some kind or other horse) and she didn't like it and I said why and she said she didn't like the head on it.  So I figured out my mother preferred one kind of head on a horse to another.  I wasn't interested in men's fashions so I didn't discuss male catalog models with my brother--just the women and horses.  As to the jumping again, in 1979 I practiced jumping up and spinning in mid-air for some reason but then with horses, it was jump straight up for height.  I do know one time I remember my Mom acting disappointed when I didn't want to look at the horse magazines with her but I also remember there was a deliberate psychological ploy involved in forcing me out of having anything to do with horses and then to reflex defensively to protect myself and my feelings and hurt by saying, eventually,  "I like cats.  Mom is the one who likes HORSES.  I am into CATS" so I had a feeling of ownership or control over something I could call my own.  It was really horrific abuse that the military and CIA did.  However, the truth was, I was the only one riding the horse.

I just remembered something too.  I did catch my Mom training the horse to shy away from me.  She was outside and with the horse and I wondered what she was doing and I saw her teaching it to move away when someone tried to get on the way I did.  I don't know if she wanted to be caught and have me remember this or not but I accused her of it.  I said, "You're teaching that horse to move away from me!"  It is possible someone instructed her to have me discover this, who knows, but I remember verbally saying something about it and wondering why she was ruining my riding.  She also used to yell at me to "quit jumping!" because I practiced jumping in the house about 30 minutes to an hour everyday.  When I would ask why she'd say, "You're shaking the whole house!"

(see my update on Gia Allemande post here with photos)

So then, because she didn't like the shaking in the house, I was trying to spring up from my toes and land as gently as I could without shaking the house.  I guess you could say if I got an idea, and I really thought it would work, I was determined to practice and follow through on it.  Then, when I was in school I suspected more mutiny-training of the horse.  So I did ballet twists in the air when I was really young, and then jumping straight up to gain height for hoisting onto a horse from foot with no stirrups, and then I was leaping across the kitchen floor trying to do ballet moves I read from a book (what a horrible way to try to teach myself ballet).

Today I realized something else, probably from being trained to shoot a gun when I was before the age of 3.  I had an instinct to follow red blocks to my left, with my left arm as if holding a gun, and then today I had the instinct to cross my left arm over my face as if shooting to the right when white blocks (of cars) passed me on the right.  It is all with my left hand and arm so I am guessing my left hand and arm were identified as the stronger one, until it was broken in 1982.  I was writing with my right hand already, but I did other things with my left.  I think, based on what I realized today, I was definitely at some kind of shooting range but what kind of a range is that???  It was obviously some kind of indoor range because I responded to the subconscious sight of the red blocks and the white blocks.  So let me explain better.  Let's say I am walking in a straight line down the road (not in the middle as they say in Karate Kid, or you get SQUASHED).  So here is the diagram:

     I    I
     I    I
     I    I
+   I    I o
+   I    I o
     I    I
     I    I

So you are the arrow and traveling north (up the screen) and the plus signs are red blocks and the o signs are white blocks.  As you are walking, the red blocks are passing you, as if driving or moving toward you from the left and then from the right, white blocks. Maybe they switched it up, I don't know.  All I know, is I felt the connection to raise my left arm, move it from in front of me straight out to the side, following and anticipating the speed of vehicle and velocity of the bullet.  When I saw 2 white blocks, traveling to my right, I felt the connection to raise my left arm in a crook over my nose with my hand facing those blocks, as if shooting to the right at the white blocks.

But for some "crazy" reason, the DOD is lying to everyone and claims I have to know which file they should look in to comply with my FOIA request. 

I have no sense of wanting to use my right arm or hand naturally for targets.  The other thing that came to my mind, was reaching over with my left hand to my right shoulder is possibly the motion of reaching for ammo strapped across my back.  So maybe it's possible I was trained with both hands and arms for and with different kinds of guns.  I think they wanted to use me for some kind of...I don't know...what YOU guys think?? 

I'll take a photo I guess to demonstrate what I mean.
Well, I do not have buck teeth but who would know, from this last one.  I am leaving it anyway because I sort of think it's funny because I look so Luxembourgish or Russian or something.  Who knows.  Anyway, I'm not using stiff militant posture because as the 'triggers' occurred, something like watching Laverne & Shirleys assembly line of products moving around, it was a natural idea.  Instead of being gored by a bull myself, I was being trained to kill the bull shitters.  Cheers to Queen.  Might shoot me some rabbit (just kidding).

Onto the book.

Pg. 33.  He says by September he was ready to hear status.  He was told things were looking good.  Pg.  34.  Nothing stands out much aside from the fact taking a bath or shower was particular in my family, and comments made about closing the bathroom door all the time.  I said why was I told to close the door all the time when everyone else left it open?

He says he'd like to "address that shot now" I take him to mean what he says, about addressing an insult, however...1()&*^*&%%*)(  he is still coding and I "get it".  It looks like all he's talking about is addressing CIA or other agency "shots" but right after this, look at what he uses to list things.  Blocks.  He's talking about the same blocks, or illustrating this, the same way I tried to describe how I was trained to shoot.  I was also tortured.  So his addressing "that shot now", I don't know how to understand it aside from thinking of instruction I was given on shooting guns and possibly arrows.  It is possible I was shooting guns with my left hand (as demonstrated by the 'blocks' E.H. sets up to the left, as I saw them when I sensed an instinct to shoot that way) and that I was trained to shoot arrows with my right or draw out the bows with my left hand and load, and shoot.  Something like that.  But never, as I've said--never knives.  I was afraid of them, not comfortable with them.  What is possible, is with all the "knife" lies and accusations made against me, I think they might have been wanting to detract from the fact knives and razors were used against me, to harm me, and also, possibly, to hide or conceal what actual weapons I did know.  Maybe they didn't want anyone to know I was taught archery. I was also taught to knit, I might add, but backwards, lefthand style, not right hand.  Maybe archery would put me into a different "category" for figuring out what I was being trained for and by whom.

So E.H. is definitely using a secondary meaning by saying he'd like to "address that shot now" and then putting blocks to the left.  He says did the CIA settle for a 2nd or 3rd rate man? and says the answer is no and that if you'd read the profile from the CIA in 1980 anyone would have known this.

Then he lists 7 blocks. 

Next, he says his educational and professional references were all "top flight".  So here he is alluding to military training or training in an airplane or at an airport.

This is very similar to what Princess Diana alluded to when cutting herself and running down a hall of an airplane, smearing blood on the sides of the walls.  It sounds like what I was trained to do or saw.  Also, what I notice is that possibly this is why E.H. kept bringing up, to the FBI, that he was "part of the Royal Flyers club". 

The other connotation to shots I might have is that my mother was trained to give our dogs shots and I watched her inject and vaccinate dogs all the time.  She was very very good at what she did.  She never let me, or taught me, but she did it like a doctor would--total expert.  I never went to the doctor at that time but I very vaguely remember getting a shot unexpectedly to the back of my neck or upper shoulder in the back once.  I feel like I can't be totally sure though so that is a "maybe" memory.  It also has nothing to do with my being trained to fire a gun or make targets but just something I thought of.  It came to mind because of the comment on pg. 35 by E.H.

He says he was hired by the CIA right after President James Carter's administration ended in 1981.  I thought of my Mom because her Dad liked Jimmy Carter.  As a little girl, I remember him always talking fondly of "Jimmy Cah-tah".  He didn't have natural slang or an accent so it was deliberate when he was using a southern accent to it to pronounce "Carter", "Cah-tah".  Of course I've mentioned how Kate Middleton looks like Lynda Carter before but it's also something to think about when I was introduced later to James Cartright.  So from James Carter to James Cartright, you know the CIA is attempting to conceal and mix something.  My Grandpa Baird always got this big grin and laugh when he said "Jimmy Cah-tah" or "Do you remember Jimmy Cah-tah?" He was always very happy about something when mentioning the name.

E.H. then says he decided to accept the CIAs offer and be a "spook".  Spook is colloquial for "spy" but it's more commonly used in England than the U.S.  He recognizes this by mentioning "Europe" prior to using the word "spook".

He says he was sworn in by John MacMahon and had a trial period of one year, called a "CT".  My thoughts would be of the acronym JMM (Jim) or like Gem.  My other thought is that if "career trainees" for the CIA were called "CT"s (like cuts or cats), what were the DODs?  "Dogs" pronounced with a stuffed-up nose?  Also, I remember my school teachers having loud conversations with my mother, with me present, about how well I did on my CAT tests.  In my school, the CAT stood for California Acheivement Test and was held once a year, where the CT for the CIA was a one-year test period.

Seriously, if someone reading this still thinks I'm the one who is "mentally ill" or paranoid and the U.S. is guilt-free, they are really confused.  And guess what.  I'm only on page 35 out of a book that's 299 pages long so there is still analysis and "reading between the lines" from here to there.

When I was talked about with regard to the CAT, I remember it being said "How is it possible you score so high on the CAT but can't even turn your homework in?"  Umm, right.  Well my homework was being stolen, and that sort of depresses the motive to keep trying after awhile, so you tell me.

Pg. 36.  He says they went to lectures and then rotated to desk assignments and then sent to Camp Peary for 18 weeks of intelligence training, in Williamsburg, Virginia.  Well, the man who supposedly ran into me with a hit-and-run in Tigard, Oregon in 2003, was Mr. Willenburg.  I am checking on this at the moment to confirm ID.  Aside from this, I can't think of parallels for me except for a few desk configurations by teachers and noticing their interest in it, and then Peary only coinciding with my mother's description of "periwinkle blue" in my crayon box and my memory of her selecting this color and pointing it out.  I also remember her talking about "periwinkle blue" over the phone to someone, enough to where I remember it.  Of all the colors I learned, the only ones which were described with more emphasis aside from colors in Spanish, were "periwinkle blue", "dusty rose", and that was about it.  Periwinkle blue was talked about with excitement and happiness, and was earlier in my childhood and "dusty rose" was mentioned as an aside, with a later disappointment sound.  Peri was pronounced like "pair-ee" and I think Camp Peary looks that way but is pronounced "peer-ee".  My mother was bringing up "periwinkle blue" around 1981-82.

He says he was told though it was a long time since he'd used cocaine (1974) or marijuana (1979) he'd be fired if he did again.  For me, to think about my own life, I know I was drugged with LSD about 1979 and I think other things were given to me later, that made me throw up, or it was from military technology.  I hadn't heard of cocaine but I know I was told one time I knocked over a large plate of powdered sugar donuts and was found, covered in powdered sugar and saying "Yum, Yum!" or "Num, Num!"  Maybe they were really donuts, but it's possible it was cocaine from somewhere and I was told this happened in 1974 within the first year of my life.

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