Wednesday, September 11, 2013

UPDATED: Edward Lee Howard and Torture of U.S. Citizens by U.S. (12)

UPDATED:  9/12/13  The ring was stolen first by my Mom/Dad, and then later police in Bonners took a necklace and watch.  I remembered this morning and had forgot last night because they were made to look similar events, with the police taking something in front of me to cover for the fact my Mom/Dad stole a valuable ring from me and said he was giving it to police.  I remember more, that he did go back and give it back to me and then in the car my Mom made me give to her again and that was who took it last.  After this, she was trying on ring sizes and talking about sizing, on the phone with someone and in the house.  When I was saying out loud what size it was and how it fit me, she was then getting nervous and trying to confuse what sizes were and I then knew she didn't want me to know the size of the ring or remember.  I think I hadn't told her when I measured it and then later when I brought it up she didn't like it.  It was possibly that I saw what finger it fit on me and then when I later asked about sizes or looked at charts, I matched it up and my Mom wanted to confuse it by 2 sizes, or, of a 2 sizes-off discrepancy.  Regardless, the U.S. had my house under surveillance the entire time.  They heard what size I said it was and which finger it fit and what I found that finger size to be.  The U.S. heard everything and allowed people to steal from me anyway.  I have not had one single valuable item that was stolen from me returned, and some of my property is heirloom quality, and not only priceless from a sentimental and historical value standpoint, worth something for the stones.  For people to have made such an enormous deal over that ring, to the point where suddenly after she was dead, the ring was stolen from me again, that she gave to me, I believe it has something to do with aristocracy of some kind.  Also, I think I said she was a Wooten but her maiden name may have been McQuarrie/McQuarry.  She was known as "Grandma Louis" to my Mom, and to me, her great-granddaughter, I knew her as "Grandma Connie" because Constance was her first name.  Louis was taken from one of the men she married because she married a Breigenzer and a Louis both, but her maiden name was either Wooten or McQuarrie and her sisters name was Queen.  Literally, her name had been "Queen".

Because it was already a small size and fit me, I thought my Mom was taking it to give to this "Katie" she was writing to.  When she made a big deal about calling up a ring person and talking about sizing I thought it was to have it sound like it was about her, not "Katie", and that the idea was a ruse to make it sound like the ring was larger than it was in size.  I had already seen the correspondence between them and since I didn't know of any other little girl she wrote to, I figured my Mom stole my ring from me to give to this "Katie" from London, England.  If I had not read the note already, I had overheard conversations about someone, or maybe I thought it was getting sent to the baby from the plane or a kid whose photo was in a locket when they tried to kill me out of the plane...I know when I saw the note from Katie, I figured that was who the ring went to, whatever age she was.  And like I've said, I already know the U.S. knows about it and allowed it to be stolen from me because I was very clear in what I said out loud in our house about it.  That was the entire reason my Mom then got on the telephone and talked to me out loud to "battle" against what information surveillance already gathered from my words.    There was one that was size 8 or 9 and one that was size 5 or 7.  Sometime if I think about it more I'll be precise.  The basic style I could sketch and I might do that.

Before I comment on E.H.'s book later, as I will do, I wanted to add something about "Those Squiggly Lines".  I will have to take another look at how he titles the chapters, because it's like the picture I drew that Lady Diana picked up and asked me about, to the horror of all around.

I am pretty sure it was her because there isn't any other reason for all of the massive assault against me my entire life.  There were other things involved, yes, but it was sort of made a "highlight" on how to focus on me over it, at least when I was little. I think she knew or knew I would remember, and mentioned it as well. 

The squiggly lines were tire tracks.  She asked, "What are those squiggly lines?" and I said something like, "Well the car is going very fast and then someone says stop!  stop!  Stop!!!! and the car can't stop!!!! and this is how it wiggles back and forth (or I said it was smoke but I think I said lines)."  I mean, I kept talking and talking as her eyes got wider and wider.

I didn't say "brake failure" but in my own little girl words, pretty much.  So then it became this horrific attempt by the U.S. and some others, to punish me when I was completely innocent and just drawing pictures, to find ways to kill me and then it was even a joke to say "stop! stop!" and have me not stop and use the wrong pedals. 

I remembered last night how I was also tortured at my Grandpa Bob's cabin in Bonners Ferry and police that were involved in it.  I will write about that later, and about more of E.H.'s book. 

I am going to write about my Grandpa's since it comes up, and involves a cop that stole jewelry from me and sexually molested me, along with electrocution.

I don't remember that many visits at the cabin.  I remember being there with my family, and then once just me and brother being there, and then another time, later, when he'd married Belinda.  There wasn't a lot to do there, so we'd walk over to get candy at the dollar store across the road, hike around, and then I mostly played drums.  I didn't know how to play drums, but there was a drum set there in a separate room that had been my Uncle Tom's room, and I played drums there and practiced "ballet" even though I had never had lessons.  In the room, pretty much, it was just the drum set.  Either another room had the bed or the bed was off to the side because there was room to sort of dance.  I listened to music and danced, sang "Somewhere Over The Rainbow" every day, and played drums, exactly like in the movie "Some Kind Of Wonderful".  Even though my brother was there, I hardly ever saw him and figured he was out with my Grandpa but then I am pretty sure one year it was some girl or boy he played with now and then but I did my own thing.  I read too, and looked at National Geographic and other magazines.

Before the Mormon Springers tortured me with that electrical box, I was tortured at the cabin with my Grandpa Bob there, but mostly a cop jacking it up.  I know he was some kind of cop because he was wearing his uniform when he came over.  He went by the name "Michael".  I don't remember my Grandpa Bob using the box a lot, but I do remember being in a very deep sleep at night and then wondering why my door was always cracked open in the morning, when I always closed it at night.  One time the bed was wet and I didn't know how or why and I think I was punished by having to stay in the outhouse, and be locked up there.  I don't remember a lot about the outhouse but that I was there for maybe an "hour"? every day if I did something wrong.  It was maybe an hour in the outhouse and then at night we saw an hour of "Star Trek".  My Grandpa brought out the box and would set it on the kitchen table and then I was tied to a chair.  I remember once some part of my body was broken because I heard the bones breaking, but it wasn't a big whack to my leg which was a different event.  This was more like, my hand or wrist got squeezed very hard and twisted and then I heard a breaking noise, but it was one hand and not the other.  I also remember him testing me to see how long I could go with having my thumb pulled apart from my other fingers.  After hearing the bones breaking noise when I had a part of my body fractured, as a kid, he would then imitate the sound again later by breaking up chicken bones.  So I would get paranoid and terrorized just hearing chicken bones cracking because I was worried he was going to break my hand again.  I even told my Mom one time, "Grandpa broke my hand" (or wrist).  She said, "Oh right.  No he didn't."  I said, "No, he really did, and I heard it breaking." 

He didn't do it behind my back but sitting across the table in front of me, and told me to give him my hand, and then he crushed it until I heard snapping, but it wasn't knuckles popping or normal sounds.  He had crushed some of the fine bones in my wrist and hand.  I screamed and there was no way I could get away.  There were no painkillers or drugs involved to make it easier on me.

During this time I met 3 different men.  One was supposed to be a cop and was shorter with dark brown hair, another was supposed to be a cop and was taller with lighter brown hair, and another man had a thick European accent and witnessed, smiled, and enjoyed watching torture of me.  I think with the men witnessing torture, it was two of them that sat on the couch while I was tied up.  One was older with gray or silver hair.  The torture they did was to tie me up in a chair and then use an electrocution box on me, and at first they just watched how I acted every time I was electrocuted and asked me questions to see how much I remembered.  Then one of them wasn't happy enough.  He had just gone into my room and sat on my bed and asked for a sexual favor and put his hands into my tights.

I remember more of what happened with some of my Grandma Connie's jewelry and her ring that she gave me, my Mom saw and said where did you get this? and took it from me.  Then my Dad overheard and said, "It's stolen, we have to give it to the cops."  I said, "No, it's not.  Nana gave it to me.  She wanted me to have it and told me to keep it safe."  I explained how she had given it to me and either of them could have made a phone call to check.  So my Dad ended up giving it back to me with a "shhh" and I had no place to keep it so I wore tights and had it in my underwear.  I kept it inside my underwear and then secured over with tights.  I figured no one would get it there.

When I got to the cabin, this "cop" "Mike" came over and said he wanted to see the bedroom and he looked familiar to me, like a man I knew from one of the planes and I wondered why he wasn't on the plane and why he was in Bonners Ferry and I asked him.  He gave some answer, and then gave me something to drink and while I was drinking it, with my straw, some kind of juice, I remember he reached into my tights before I could stop him and took out the diamond ring.  This was a beautiful antique ring with a real precious stone in it, given to me by my Grandma Connie and a "cop named Mike" went fishing for it.  Not only that, I recognized him from one of the private planes.

After he took the ring from me I said give it back, my Nana gave it to me, and he said, "You STOLE this, and I'm a cop and I have to keep it."  I started crying and said no, my Nana really gave it to me and it was a secret.

He marched me over to the other cabin where my Grandpa was and went inside as my Grandpa hooked me up to the electric box and tied me to a chair.  He kept saying he didn't want anyone to remember and he wasn't comfortable and some other accented man was there.  He was nervous but yelling at me the same time.  So they began methodically electrocuting me to have me "forget" he'd put his hands down my pants and stolen a precious piece of jewelry.  He looked like Gollum when he had retrieved it from my underwear, greedy and smiling like hell.

The older man with silver in his hair had a British accent, and a thick one at that.  The other guy "Mike" had a regular American speech and looked like the "Mike" my Mom was with on the plane, and sometimes I heard the name "Sean" or "Shawn".  If I saw photos of the cops from Bonners from that time, I could ID them because I remember how they looked.  I don't know if they were border patrol, Canadians BP, sheriffs or what.  The gray haired man didn't say he was a cop.  So then Belinda came over and sat next to them while I was being tortured.

Belinda is the woman my Grandpa Garrett married, from Malaysia.  She knew the one guy had stolen the ring from me.  Actually, I believe the European man and the Mike man were there when my hand and wrist was broken and the Mike man was there by himself after he stole the ring and that was a few years earlier.  Belinda was there on one of the occasions.  I thought, "Oh, here's Belinda and she'll stop them, the way my Mom acts like she'll stop my Dad from spanking me too long..." and she just smirked and sat down and watched.

So when the Mike guy who took the ring wanted to watch me being electrocuted, he sat there and then got impatient with it when I was responding too well, and told my Grandpa to put the metal in my mouth.  So he went over, Mike did, and forced my mouth open to put a metal object inside of my mouth and then cranked up the knobs on the electric box and I was blasted.  I remember only then, when I could barely mutter, was he satisfied and not looking like a sweaty guilt-ridden criminal.  I thought my Grandpa looked concerned at that point, briefly, at least for a moment, because he was turning it up so high.  He had his gun out the entire time.

So then when he was leaving, his partner was there, a taller man who showed up or something.  One of them slipped off a necklace from around my neck (the tall one) saying it was stolen, and they showed my Grandpa the ring saying they found it on me and they could take me to jail but wouldn't do it when I was so young, and then Mike told me to give him my wristwatch.  One of these cops, by the way, was referred to as "Ben" at some point.

When my Mom picked me up after my "vacation" she looked stunned.  I said, "What?"  Not only that, I almost forgot, while they were torturing me with the electrical box, the point that Mike was satisfied with was when my Grandpa said, "Call Penny" (the dog) and I called the other dog instead.  There were two dogs sitting there, on command to obey and the other thing I did there besides dance, sing, and play drums, was try to obedience train the dogs.  So when I had been electrocuted and followed my Grandpa's command to call "Penny" and reversed it for some reason, because of a hand signal or programming, then Mike was satisfied.  My Grandpa briefly looked defeated, sort of had this expression that fell slightly, as the other dog came running over to me.

It was the same kind of training they used for commands to have me open the wrong door to go falling out of a plane, or kill myself by brake failure.

Sorry, but electrocution boxes are not a sign of "dyslexia".

I should clarify, the European man with the accent--I should not say "British" because I definitely knew this one man's accent was British and that was a man I knew named Mike.  This other man could have been of another country and I know it was a thick accent.

Also, I should add that since yesterday, the U.S. has been torturing me to one side of my head again, to the top of the head, and causing one eye to enlarge from it.  They had quit most of their torture for almost a week or more and then started up again to the stent in my chest and to my head.  I also think it's odd that the U.S. would then perpetrate additional torture of me at federal sites after I first wrote about some of this information.  They did this to me in Tennessee, repeating an attempt to fracture or break my hand and then an idea of a woman in a room with me with a sack lunch as my mother was when I was being trained in the Springer's basement, and tortured.  So why would the U.S. continue to act out these crimes?  Overdosing me on Haldol was one of the worst things they did to me, along with surgeries to facilitate remote-torture.

pg. 102.  He says he tried to get some rest as the car bored along into the dark Russian night.

The other thing I remember, not to do with this line, was when my Mom picked me up, after I'd been blasted (I think the cop had actually put the barrel of the gun in my mouth for one of those times) is that my Mom asked me some things and I couldn't remember and she panicked.  I am not totally sure if she panicked because my jewelry was gone, or more if she knew I wasn't psychic anymore.  She asked me some questions that would test psychic ability and I didn't have it anymore.  I even remembered noticing something was different.  I didn't have a 2-way mode of access of communication to my Mom's thoughts anymore.  Before the cop blasted my brains out with the box, I didn't always have to talk to my Mom because I knew what she was thinking.  I could complete some of her sentences and she could mine and I remember playing a game of saying something only half-way and not having to finish the rest because it was unnecessary.  However, at the same time that I noticed a major loss of some kind of communication ability, that was telepathic, I remembered my Grandpa wasn't the only one putting an iron on my back because I remembered further back that my Mom did too.  When I got mad over this and brought it up, right after she denied anyone would break my hand (prompting me to think of other things), then I was getting blasted at Springers.  The box was in our car as we drove back to our house.  The first time I remember seeing the electrocution box was at my Grandpa Garrett's cabin and from there, it traveled to Moses Lake.

Also, on two other occasions surrounding pedophilia and electrocution,  "cops" were identifying themselves as FBI, and yet the FBI lied to me and has claimed they have no records about me.  From what I've heard, Alan Springer worked for FBI.

Two other very early memories, that have nothing to do with this or this post at all, but are memories I've wondered about, are one of being put through a large laundry chute to land in the hamper, and I did this with some kids...We treated it like a slide and I have no idea where this would have been. It was very long and square, not a round tunnel.  I remember going down that slide many times, and sometimes it seems I was bundled up some way.  The other thing is going into a secret closet and past a bunch of clothes and then there was a tunnel.  A horizontal tunnel, not a slide.

E.H. says he couldn't sleep and was concerned about his family.  He said he had 2 sets of parents to look "after them, but still I asked myself, had I done the right thing for them by escaping?...Maybe the FBI would be too embarrassed by my escape to proceed with the case."  He says he walked around a garden with others waiting for the General to appear when he awoke, and had fruit juice.  He says a lavish breakfast was ordered, including eggs, meats, and caviar.

I remember seeing caviar first on a private plane.

He is offered a drink and the General tells him it's good he doesn't drink before 2 and then they are going to Moscow and take the black Volga to the airport.  He wonders why the chauffeur "always drives like a maniac?" and wonders if there are any policemen around.  I would say this makes me think of Robin Bechtold because he was the one to go to visit Maiers with me, and he drank before 2 which I didn't approve of, and he was always expecting me to chauffeur him around everywhere, and if he wasn't driving like a maniac himself, in a pink Volvo, he was expecting me to pick him up and drop him off at airports.  I also think it's interesting he mentions police because Robin constantly violated the law and had a ton of cops that let him do whatever he wanted, even back in high school.

Which means I am going to talk about crimes committed by Robin, and his attempts to get away with murder more than one time.  First, the car they had, at their house, was an orange Volvo and their house was pink.  I said the car was pink but the house was, not the car. 

Of the sections deleted from my post about E.H. and crimes of torture against me, my mention of weapons and the section about Robin Bechtold and Erica Ballinger and the approximate ages of children involved was removed.  That, and his comment to me when he committed rape against me.  Josh Gatov's comment was "What would your Dad think to know you were taken by a Jew?" and Robin's was "That was awkward."  (Robin is part German and he knew what "ach-ward" or "acht-ward" would imply to someone who took audio of his comment to another.  It means "oh my God", "eight" and with "ward" for Howard would be like saying, "That was Howard."  Robin later knew his comment could get him into trouble, which is why he later attempted to be known more for "acht" in the sense of "proscription" and twisting it instead to call me up to try to frame me to allow him to buy narcotic prescription pills from me.  When he was exchanging things with my brother at the end of my driveway, prior to killing me, giving my brother a CD, with "music" on it, he was already leaving indicators he was part of the assassination attempt against me.  So for him to try to make it look like a deal was over drugs instead of murder, would be important, and he is most likely involved in more than one murder against more than one person.

He was friends with Geoff Rasmussen and Wiltbanks and they the Mormon Springers who tortured me and had psychological information about me.  Robin and his Dad were working for the Mormon group.  He also became acquainted with the Maiers, who I hadn't realized at the time, were also involved in plotting my death.  Robin didn't have kids for a long time and maybe he does (publicly) now, but the woman he was visiting all the time, his senior year of high school, who he was attracted to and who his family lived, was Holli Reverman.  I always thought it was possible her kid, "Lily", was Robins.  E.H. mentions his 2 yr. old son, and telling people he'd get a lawyer, and that church people are hypocrites and that is all right up against Erica Ballinger's 2 yr. old son and Robin Bechtold's 'friends' 2 yr. old daughter:  Jordan, and Lily.  Erica Ballinger set me up to be raped by Mike Tanzer, who was part of the same group that included Josh Gatov and Robin Bechtold, who premeditated rape and assassination, and carried out the rapes and assassination "attempts" as well.  Erica went to prom with Bechtold and she and others were very involved in figuring out how to kill me, in that kind of "provincial" town where Middletons had relatives, were connected to my parents, and the government influence was extremely high-ratio.

Also, the woman who had the porn photos and asked me to ID them at Barbara Maiers' house, told me she was from the FBI.  I could tell she was not an honest FBI person and she showed up after Barb and Sharon McGuire or Joy Sterling sat together and looked at them with me there.  They had been coaching me to mix up the faces so I wouldn't state accurate information, after years of committing acts of pedophilia against me.

So when I think about Robin and possibilities he was connected to some Russians through the Maiers and doubled-back against someone, it is not hard to imagine at all.  Even the cop from Bonners Ferry had an Irish and a Jewish connection so it's not surprising he would be tapping into the same pollution.  He used to drive around Sherwood and all the cops smiled and waved at him, and smirked, and he would deliberately speed and drag-race in front of them, with the cops sitting back doing nothing, just to show me he had a free pass with the FBI.

He also thought he could use his contacts between his Dad, my parents, the Maiers and Springers and even people I was on a plane with, i.e., Georgie Porgie Pudding Pie Bush.  After all, Robin wanted to go to Texas to be closer to the CIA director's son for "protection".  Sorry, but I never saw Bill Clinton on that plane I was on, showing me his bush or black forest or anything like that.  I DID see George Bush Jr. and the second group that was coming along to mock me, and pushed the bowl of cherries with stems at me, are part of Robin Bechtold's group.

In high school, he made a big deal in bringing a jar of cherries with stems to have everyone try to tie them with their tongues and the first one was a winner.  I never had maraschino cherries with stems as a kid, that I recall.  Unless a few times on a dessert.  I had maraschino cherries without stems and then regular cherries with stems.  And then when the "bet" was on with Canada and the CIA to have someone ruin my virginity when I was 16, Robin Bechtold was the one always bringing up cherry themes and ice cream.  It has been pretty sick, actually.

Another thing I remember is that once on the plane, before I was punched in the stomach and gassed, and then threw up everywhere, was that "Mike" on the bed wasn't Mike, and it wasn't my Dad, and the man's hands were tied behind his back and he was lying facedown on the bed, and then the woman next to him, who I thought was my Mom, from the back, wasn't responsive and her hands were tied up behind her back.  So this man had tears coming out of his eyes, literally, with his face to the side, facing the right wall of the plane room, and I was trying to untie them when someone came in and beat me up.  I don't even know what happened to those people because I don't remember seeing them again.  I sort of thought maybe it was my Mom, or one of the Dicksies, and then the man I didn't know, but I didn't see them again.  If it was all acting, I just don't know...I can't imagine trying to kill me off of a plane is acting, or training me to kill myself, and I really did have my leg and hand broken and I was really electrocuted and it ruined my ability to read my Mom's thoughts.

This is what happened on the plane I was on when these people tried to kill me:

I am realizing that the reason the plane dropped and became unstable to the point of needing everyone to shift weight to a different part of the plane, and I think they even decided to drop fuel tanks, was because I opened up the emergency door and it created a rapid decompression.  In addition to this, I think everyone stalled in assisting me at that door because they wanted me to die and then finally having to go over and shut the door to protect everyone else, meant someone had to go to the door and close it.

If you look at how JFK Jr. and Caroline Bessette died, it is not impossible to think they were trying to send a message.  The slogan on the ship they had their ashes cast off of looks like the emergency door I was being told to open to go to my death and it says DD on it, and not only that, she looks exactly like Stephanie Maiers, who was part of conspiring against me for brake failure later, and they had their bodies cremated at the Mayflower Cemetary which is the only thing Stephanie ever had to tell me about her background--that her family came from the Mayflower (one of the first ships to the U.S.).  Most people do not commit suicides of themselves and I do not encourage it, and in fact, I have resisted efforts by many to have me kill myself.  Yet, there are some things which point symbolically to other crimes and it is not impossible that if a gang of 1 million is willing to collaborate and plot to kill and torture one little girl, a gang of 2-5 is willing to die to expose the 1 million for what they have been getting away with.  The gang of 1 million takes risks themselves, of being murdered upon discovery of their crimes, or put in jail, but they rely on political and government favors to keep them safe.  Premeditating rape against one innocent woman multiple times, is not going to be an act of "heroism" to the rapists, though they may feel a personal sadistic satisfaction, and in my case, the rapists never worried about being killed or murdered or did it thinking they'd go to jail for it.  When people like that are protected, then, it is not impossible to realize there are few others, but some, who will even die to confirm a message is true.

My message is that the United States of America is rotten to the core and embracing punters like Middleton for ...?  anyone's guess.  I have every right to target Middleton when I am fully aware now that the U.S. and some others have targeted ME over her before I even knew who she was.  The U.S. always tortures me the most when I am hitting on the facts that hurt them the best.

Also, the electrical box that was an electrocution box, used to torture me with, was primarily held by the Springers family, with Alan Springer, who was a psychologist that lived next to my house.  I saw it at my Grandpa Garrett's house, with a European man there eagerly and excitedly watching use of it.  His accent seemed British but was not a clearer variety like British Mike's had been because his voice was deeper and British Mike's voice was more of a tenor.  I thought one of the cops that showed up to steal from me was Jewish as well.  He looked Jewish, and when I was still psychic as a kid, I intuited or knew he was Jewish.  I have no idea how, because I was young.  I also remember the box being used on me at my house when I had my leg broken and a doctor there (Fallon I believe) and since that was earlier, I think it is possible it was being moved back and forth earlier than I realize.

I have evidence of fractures in the bones I have claimed were broken as well, on x-ray, which proves I am not delusional and that my memory is not distorted.  They are old fractures, not fractures of 1-2 years old at the time the x-rays were taken. 

The response of doing the reverse of what is indicated by vocal command is not what some think.  It is not an alibi for liars to claim if someone orders from a menu, I remember it wrong.  When I refer to this specific technique, it is specifically MK Ultra and Monarch operation-specific.  What this means, is it not some "random" thing I automatically do, at any given time, for no reason, even if I am under stress.  I never do it unless it is a very specifically programmed response to something.

So for example, the planned "brake failure" programming, took a decade. It wasn't like someone thought, "Oh, she'll just do the reverse of what she's supposed to do" or "she doesn't do well under stress and will probably kill herself."  It was methodically organized and planned and involved the cooperation of dozens of individuals, hands-on, with training materials, and torture of me, and constant repetition.

The exact same thing was done when it was planned I should get sucked out of a private plane to my death, but like the failed "brake failure" plan, where I instead drove up a tree and not into a tree, I was able to reach out and grab ahold of something as my body was literally moving out of the plane into the clouds, and I held on.  The force of the suction from that entry was strong enough, and I was left there on my own without anyone running over to even shut the door long enough, that the entire plane was almost downed.

I just checked some photos and the man it looks like, who was at my Grandpa's house the day I was tortured, looks like Prince Philip, Queen Elizabeth II's husband.  I looked at his photos from the 1980s and it looks like the same man, and then I listened to his speech and it's a thick kind of accent like I remembered.  However, he was not saying he was "Philip", that I recall, but sneering and said, "Charles".  Then he was very satisfied with what he had seen there and left.  The only thing different from seeing him in photos and on youtube and in that cabin I think, if it really was him, and I think it very well may have been, is he was sneering and more cruel.  I have always had this impression or thought of him as a good or kind-hearted man, from general impressions.  However, when I think of that day and who was there and what was said, it was over English royalty and mocking me about it, and I was being electrocuted in front of witnesses, for their satisfaction  in some regard.

I didn't see what car or vehicle he arrived in because I blacked out eventually.  The "session" was over, and I was taken to a bed and almost passed out on the way there and was extremely sick.  The other man next to him was one who I recognized from one of the planes as "British Mike" but I don't remember him speaking in an accent, maybe because the other one was so much more pronounced.  It was very private, and very dark in the room.  No lights on, secretive, and dark.  The light that was there came in from the windows, through sheer fabric or openings or a lamp in the hall, but the main room was very dim and sort of a yellow hue, but we could all see each other.

I almost think a man who looked like Charles could have been there, but then stepped out or something.  I remember Charles' name being said and that I was being mocked over it, like how dare you).  They were very close and chummy, sitting together there.  I was in shock, but I wasn't drugged.  I knew who was there and what was said and how long, approximately, it lasted. 

I should add more about the drawing I made and talk of Charles.  This man, Charles, had been coming to my room and he sometimes took the pilots seat but wasn't the regular flyer.  When he did one day, I said, "I didn't know you could fly!"  I really liked him because he was good at joking and putting someone at ease and he made me feel special, like a special little girl.  I didn't know anything about royalty or what it meant, I just thought he was a nice man.  Then he was coming into my room at night and stroking my hair or rubbing my back.  He began to do a few other things when he came in but I was always on my stomach almost asleep when he came in so I'd see him and then he'd sit on my bed next to me and talk a little.

If the headboard faced North, ^ , I was always on the left side and he would sit there on the left.  He never went around the room to the right side.  I had satin sheets or silk sheets at that time as well.  Everything was very nice.  Others knew about it, what he was doing, and were getting upset.  The women glared at me like I was competition and I was just a little girl.  Then one night he said something to me about would I like to be Queen one day?

I have to stop here because I can't really breathe and I need some air right now.

UPDATED 9/12/13:

The man who looked like Philip, looked like him in the face, but wore a hat.  I could see some hair but not a lot and they kept their hats on most of the time they were there.  I can write more about this a little later.

Another thing I remembered, before I continue about the "Would you like to be Queen one day" part, was about once time when I was cut on a private plane. 

I almost went out of the plane because I'd been told to open that door (window) and I was taught to do that sort of thing kneeling, because it's how I put the crown away when it was taken out and put back.  I didn't sit back on my heels but knelt in front of the drawer and then put it away or took it out when asked.  I once saw it put away in one of the drawers higher up, when I was not kneeling and the woman did it, on the plane.  I would kneel and then stand up.  So I knelt in front of the emergency door and opened it and in that position, I was unstable in position and I stood up but the door knocked against my arm and then almost was out the plane. 

When the men came out behind me on the plane, one of them was the one who shut the door and when he next opened his mouth, he had a British accent, and that's when he said "That's the Queen" indicating at the woman who came out from around a way.  I will think about the order of events later, but at one point they took me to the bathroom like they hated me and when inside, said they had to cut me.  They said we have to cut you now okay? and I said something like "Okay, but not on my burned side or hurt side (arm)".  I would have to remember which I referred to and one man looked shocked about something and then they cut me and I ran out of the bathroom because the plane was going down.  In that one specific moment of having them ask to let them cut me, it was not exactly like being jumped, but more like, "We need to cut you now and can you cooperate with us?"  It was slightly like a doctor saying, "I have to give you a shot.  Where do you want it?"  But that was one time they let me choose where I was cut.

So anyway, when I was asked if I would like to be Queen one day, I said, "I don't know, what's a Queen?"  What I personally remember is saying something like that, or it is possible I just said, "Yes please" and that he then said, laughing, "Do you know what a Queen is?"  Whenever they offered me something I was taught to say yes please or no thank you.   I possibly think I said "Yes please" and then was asked if I knew what one was and then I said no, what is it?  He explained to me what a Queen was, some basic things they did and I am not sure if he mentioned the crown, because I think I was already familiar with that item, and yet I hadn't connected it to a position.  I didn't know what a Queen did, at least, even if I had been around someone like that.

I know that around the woman who looked like Diana, when I met her she was introduced to me by Charlie as a new girlfriend or fiancé.  I had met Charles before I met the woman and then she was on the plane with us and sitting next to him, and I remember someone who looked like Charles Spencer getting upset when Charlie still paid attention to me.  The Charles Spencer look-a-like visited my Mom a couple of times, and I looked at photos and the man, at that time, in the 80s, looked like Charles Spencer or William Clinton.  I never saw them in bed with my Mom at all--it was very secretive and I thought they were consulting with my Mom about something.  Or, this man was, not "they".  Because I remember this man getting upset when Charlie and the woman who looked like Diana were together and I was still paid attention to, I have assumed it was closer to being someone like Diana's brother than Clinton.

There were two different men who asked me about being Queen as well.  One was Charlie, and the other one asked me about it and got furious.  I mean, livid with rage.  He had put on a whole Charlie act to induce me to talk freely with him and then turned on me like a snake.  I think he even faked an accent and everything because at first I thought it was Charlie and then I found out it wasn't.  He had approached me in the same way, doing the same things, and then imitated his voice and speech.  And Charlie was gone and I never saw him again on the planes.  I still saw Diana but Charlie never went on the plane anymore and someone said he was working or elsewhere.  I remember he wouldn't let me talk and was telling me to say "yes" or "no" to his question but used programming and torture to have me say what he wanted and then he was glad about it and left.  They tried to kill me after that.  He had said something like maybe he could get rid of or divorce his wife and make me Queen faster, and that it was going to be a long time to wait or something.  He asked me what I thought about divorce and I didn't agree but then he worded something in a way I knew was a trick later.  And then, I also remember the real Charlie quit coming over to see me at night, to just talk mostly, after I had been instructed by another adult to tell him I wanted to be Queen.  Charlie laughed about it and then was put off, and even as a kid I realized the other man had set me up to say something he knew Charlie wouldn't like. 

At one point I was being tricked into agreeing to a plan to have me become Queen, but it was a trick as one would trick a little kid in order to incite revenge against them.  The man flew back in a rage, said something like "I always knew you were a little shit" or something horrible to me of the same kind of caliber that would hurt my feelings, and most likely, he had it recorded too because why just incite revenge against a little girl for yourself?  At the same time, he did something to my body, like touched me in a private place or something.  It was strange.  Charlie had once touched me beyond my hair and back but I don't remember what and I don't remember it being a huge deal.  I almost remember him in a bedroom too, that was not on a plane at all, with wood floors, but I don't know why I would and it would be much farther back in my memory.  It wasn't my Dad in that memory because in that memory I was putting away a man's crown, not a woman's tiara or crown.  Since I can't totally remember it, I don't trust it as much as I know the other memories are real.  It was wood or marble floors and if you were looking straight on, as at a computer screen, the bureau was to the left and the bed was to the right with a lot of space in between and high ceilings.

On a different occasion, I had been talked to or overheard something, briefly, about a car accident, and it wasn't my idea or plan and I don't think it was part of the idea to trick me either, but something I overheard and then that's when I was drawing a picture of it and the woman who looked like Diana picked it up to look at it.

Adults were always looking at my pictures and I didn't hide any of them so one day she picked one of them up and a couple of other people were looking at them.  I remember I had several drawn and these adults had these weird, fearful, and puzzled expressions on their faces. 

The woman who looked like Diana said what is this? and I talked away about it and then she asked about the squiggly lines and then there was some kind of question about why one person was outside of the car if the accident was in the car or something like that.  And someone said, looking over it, "Who do you think that is?" and another adult shrugged and said, "Who knows, maybe Camilla."  And the woman who looked like Diana laughed.  Lady Diana was the one who joked maybe it was Camilla and I guess when I say laughed, not really laughed but eyebrow raised and a slight huff of a laugh.  I had the car crash scene and then Charlie and a woman with a crown holding hands.  I was talking about the picture and then I was asked, if Charlie is in the car, who is this person with the crown? or something like that and I got confused and didn't know what to say because I had drawn myself holding hands with Charlie and then the crash was involving him, but I didn't know myself why I didn't put  him in the car.  She asked, "Who is that?"  I said, "Me and Charlie!"  Well, wait.  I had a separate picture of me and Charlie and on the other one I didn't know myself because I had only drawn the idea I overheard and I actually didn't know why one person was in one place and not the other, which is why she said "Maybe Camilla". 

I'm not kidding.  And getting electrocuted to fry my brains out was not a joke and neither has any of the other torture been.

Also, of the two rings I mentioned, one was the real one my Nana (Grandma Connie) gave me and the other was something that showed up later and wasn't given to me (that I know of).  I was the only person my Grandma Connie was giving the real jewels to and I can't make any claim about anything else except for that and the spinning wheel.  Maybe there was more, but those are the things I have no doubt about and which were common knowledge.

I think the man who called me a name after trying to set me up was Mike or my Dad.  I had thought it was the Spencer look-a-like at first but I am pretty sure I found out it was my Dad or Mike and I can remember positively if I spend time to do it.  I also remember Mike did take my ring from me, along with a necklace, in Bonners Ferry because even though my parents kept taking it and giving it back, when Mike was looking at the jewelry, he wasn't excited about anything as much as that ring.  He was a cop of some kind, I was told, and he did wear a uniform, and was present when I was electrocuted.  I will have to go back and edit some of this as I remember more, but I'm not editing to make a better story at all--just as I recall more of the information exactly.  I know my Mom acted upset when she said, "He took your watch?" and I had wondered at the time why she acted more in tears about this than the other jewelry.  So all of it is stolen goods.  It is not just stolen by people in general but from me, specifically.  I've no doubt the U.S. tried to use me to traffick things back and forth now and then when I was younger, but I was old enough to know which things were given to me specifically and who they were from.  There was a ring, but it wasn't the original one.  He made a big deal about the other one, but it wasn't the original, the one my Nana gave me.

When I told my Mom what it looked like and described it one time, when I was a kid, she tried to say I was wrong and it wasn't true, but it was only to disguise that it really was "the ring".

If I am biologically related to Edward Howard, whose mother is a Jaramilla, I don't know if sometimes people were mixing up my name "Cameo" and "Camilla" deliberately, and then they had CEM which is Catherine Elizabeth Middleton and sounds like "Cam".  I have heard Diana called Camilla the "Rottweiler" and my Dad called me "rotten".  The other odd thing is that the Breigenzer who was Granny's father, "Henry Michael", had a mother named Angeline Gergen/Georgen and her crest or motto was "Neither East nor West".  Gergen also approximates Jordan in some languages, and the motto sounds like something about the "middle", which makes it even stranger I found notes from Katie Middleton to my Mom and Dad.

I just looked up my Grandma Connie's background, and her last name was McQuarrie, and according to something I just found online, the first mention of McQuarrie's is found on the island of Ulva, where a Kenneth McQuarrie was the 1st king of Scotland in the 9th century.  My Grandma's sister's name was "Queen" and it is possible the ring she was giving to me had an important history to it, which would have incited some to torture and kill over it.

The other reason I mention this is because Island of Ulva, or Ulva is sort of close to sounding like Volga, which is the kind of car Edward Howard was picked up in when he crossed the border to Russia.  It is not 100% but possible that when he refers to being given a large picture book of Leningrad, and gives the other person The Hunt for Red October, he is indicating one showed pictures and the other showed words.  Which again makes me think of Grandma Connie and some things she tried to show me, which included photos.

The photos that Grandma Connie showed me were of acts of pedophilia and torture. She gave me snapshots that had already been developed, and there were a few other things too.  She did this the same time she showed me bruises all over her body.  She showed me the photos from the right side of her bed, and gave me her ring from the left side of her bed and that would be her own left and right, not mine.  I mention this just because I remember exactly when she showed me these things and how shocked and scared I was, and she acted that way too.  Some of the photos were just faces of men, and she wanted me to remember who they were.  There were about 5-8 photos.  Not a full stack but more like photos of evidence.

I don't believe the ring she gave me disappeared for good until her death was announced.  At least a different one, to throw things off, was around until then, and then no one cared.  But they cared as long as she was alive.

I just looked up info on her and she died in Sayward, B.C.  So she went to Canada and died there and I am pretty sure the people who took care of her were her other daughter Waverly and her husband and they are also dead.

The gold on it was a very pretty and pale gold color.  It wasn't like typical U.S. gold or gold-plate or Mexican gold, which is brighter yellow in color.  It was a soft platinum type color of gold but not silver.  It was before a big "platinum gold" rage or fad hit the U.S. and I still remember that at the time it did hit, I thought it was really odd that such a cultural phenomenon would occur after a significant ring was stolen from me, and I was electrocuted and tortured and chained, even with bones broken, into silence.

I'm the owner.  It was described to me, by my mother, when I asked her what kind of gold it was, she called it "platinum". 

As to the man who tried to trick me about the plot with the Queen and who said he knew I was a piece of shit...and did something to me...I thought about it again, and I still have the Charles Spencer looking person coming to mind.  So I can't exclude him yet.

I knew right after it happened who it was and was so shocked I didn't mix it up until decades later.  It was very clear to me and I was scared so I kept it a secret.  But there were different men going into that room to see my Mom or to see me, and for me, it was mostly 2 different men, but a total of 3 went in that I noticed, at night.  Some of the men I remembered during the day of course, chatting.  But only 3 total, that I can recall, went into that room at night and since I'm not replaying the exact conversation yet or sorting through which time was connected to which conversation, I'm going to just leave it at that for right now.  I'm going to move forward with the chapters and then I'll think of specific moments.  The reason I think of the Spencer look-a-like, is because of what kind of venom, and one of them burned me on the back with the iron.

I had several different times where someone pressed an iron onto my back or tried to scare me with one, but it was mostly to terrorize me, and only at least one time did the actual severe burning occur.

There were other smaller burns, and I remember getting not just cut with a knife by the Diana woman, but burned with something by her once and I can't remember what it was.  One of the objects she used looked like one thing but it was something else, like a secret weapon.  I honestly don't remember what it was but it was something like a pen-knife where it looks like a normal thing such as a pen but if the cap is off, it is a blade or something else.  I remember getting cut by her and then later not wanting my Mom to confuse where my scar was, but I think it's possible another time I was burned with the end of something but I'm not sure what.  The time that she told me to hold out my hand, she cut me.  I once said burned, but I don't think it was a burn that time.  If it had been a burn, I wouldn't have remembered it was a cut as a kid, and talked about it until my Mom got mad enough to cut me on the other wrist.

I also believe I had been burned by the iron before they were all trying to kill me off of the plane.  It is possible they had some kind of idea of symbolism of marking someone before killing them.  If someone was taking photos, maybe it was memorabilia.

I was thinking just today, I have to come to terms with the idea that royals were trying to possibly kill me.  I like to think someone really liked me and wanted me along with them and trusted me, or that they felt in the future I would be honest.  But on the other hand, I also have to think about my family and those people and what was happening to me at the time.  I am trying to be as agenda-less and open-minded as possible because without doing so, I can't do anything for my son.  Pretending or even hoping a relationship was as I wanted it to be, or wishful thinking, is not an option, but I'm also not going to assume everything is bad either.  I liked to think someone marked me or set out clues about me as a sign of confidence in me, and then on the other hand, I may have been viewed as a problem.  It's very clear some thought I was a problem, but what is not as apparent is finding out which ones worked together.

It's been too long for me to remember the heirloom ring exactly but I will start by putting a couple of sketches out of possibilities.  I also remember its color as being palest gold, and I asked my Mom what shade of gold she thought it was because it was so light and she said "platinum" but then when I saw what was called "platinum" later, it looked more like sterling silver to me.  I thought she had meant platinum like a platinum blond, with the lightest kind of blond or yellow you could have, taking on some cool tones.  I remember it as having either one center diamond with a kind of filigree to the sides, or 1 center with a diamond on either side.  There was something about 3 stones together because I remember making my doilies in the shape of a triangle with 3 circles but not sure how that worked for the ring.  So I'll sketch what I remember.  I do recall someone trying to say "ruby" all the time or "rubies" and always attempting to have me think it wasn't a diamond for some reason.  When she gave it to me she said it had been her wedding ring, and she was married more than once, but she also said it had been in the family a long time and was antique.

Terrible drawings, but done quickly and sort of an idea.  When I got a ring from my Nana Howard-Garrett later, it was similar except it was silver and instead of the brackets to the side, on either side of the main stone, it had a thinner width looking from  the surface but a deeper design that was a kind of bridge beneath it.  The one from my Grandma Connie was wider on the sides looking at it from the surface.  It's also possible there were two smaller stones to either side or sort of arranged asymmetrically or with one on one end and another somewhere else, so 3 grouped together, but at different levels, but this was the basic design.  It was antique or pre-Victorian/Victorian in style.   

When, on pg. 103, E.H. says they drove on the runway to an Aeroflot plane, he says he boarded the plane with the General and said goodbye to Vladimir (the man he exchanged books with).  He sat by the window and they didn't talk and then says the jets had barely cooled before a Chiaka limo pulled up to the plane. 

I suppose if I were to juxtapose myself with this, I would think about going from planes to suddenly being approached at a cabin in the woods for official brutal torture.  I don't know why they would do this to me unless they thought if I hadn't died, I might remember too much or be "one of those psychics" and since they'd wanted to kill me, they figured blow my brains out and train me for another "accident".  I definitely know my communication line was cut with the torture, to being able to read thoughts of others, particularly with my Mom.  She got in the car and started asking me half-way questions again, expecting me to finish her sentences like usual, or think with her, back and forth, and there was nothing there.  Then I got back to my house and they did it even more and then I remember my Mom going on the phone and saying the communication had been cut.  She actually said something about it and I knew what she was referring to.  So when I think of this ring my Nana Howard-Garrett gave me of "green tourmaline" I almost think "green tore my line?" like jealousy tore my line? or Irish? or "queen tore my line".

So yes, I guess I could say, whoever I was related to, my Mom and Edward Howard, or Edward Howard and some other woman, or who knows...I was psychic but didn't realize it, until my brains were fried, and that was done after all the private planes business, and trying to kill me there, and talk about Queens and Charlie and so on.  I was being heavily tortured again in 2005, to a drastic extreme, and while with my son, but then I didn't notice a fear over whether I might be psychic or not again until about 2008 or so, when I suddenly wrote about tapping into what Prince William was doing and all of a sudden, or others, and then I was getting almost killed with Haldol and having my brain fried with Haldol drugs to quash me.

So the U.S. and some others never wanted me to retain any kind of gift and it has nothing to do with whether I can "hold onto" things or not.  I have every instinct and ability, even now, to prove everyone wrong and I know without any doubt I could, given the chance and without government torture.  I'm positive.  I'm not psychic, no.  But I am driven and I drive myself harder than anyone.  Instead of making millions with someone, the U.S. has thought it's fine to just photograph the zoo animals.  Left to my own free will, as this country "claims" citizens have a right to, I never have "down-times".  I never stop, my energy level is high, and I relentlessly pursue my goals and think of ways to improve and improvise.  There is no "manic-depressive" and instead, just a constant creativity some fear and want to cheapen as "mania".  If the U.S. can torture me, to force a "down-time" or "time-outs" or what appears to be a slack in productivity, they do and they have.  Without the U.S. interfering and torturing me, I most likely, realistically, would have gone to scholarships in distance running and possibly Olympic trials if I'd wanted to; I would have made at least one CD of my own original music and probably more; I would already be an attorney with a law degree; and I might have had at least one non-profit start-up and be raising highly productive and well-adjusted children of my own.  I would have then gone on to medical school and added a degree in medicine to my law degree while probably selling original oil paintings.

If I go back farther than that, to before having my psychic ability fried by the U.S., and acting interests quashed, I would have possibly made friends who were also somewhat telepathic and done some acting, to what degree I never really cared but I liked it and I would have continued if I had not thought I was supposed to make a kind of sacrifice.

Instead, the U.S. started this horrific "Head Start" game with me of "Okay, I'll be fair.  I'll give you a head start" and they'd give me a head start in a run for example, knowing all along they had a microchip in my leg they were going to blow up remotely while I attempted to pursue a dream through my own hard work.  Nothing like having a leg blown off by the U.S., on U.S. soil.  Another example might be they would say, "Go ahead and get started on your homework" and "I'll give you 5 extra minutes" and then they steal it.  Thanks for the extra "5 minutes" because that "head start" meant nothing but telling me to rev my engine as much as I wanted to, in a parked car with concrete blocks in front of it for good.

Thanks U.S.

You don't owe me anything, as a citizen right?  Well what's YOUR back-up plan?  I have a false identity?  This country is so paranoid over their own hate crimes against me, they have to devise ways of checking CT scans of my brain to make sure my psychic abilities and that part of my brain is as destroyed as they intended it to be. 

So when I read about E.H. then seeing a limo, I guess I think about the man who looked like Prince Philip watching me in a dimly lit house, having my brains fried.  Literally.  Hooked up to a basic electrocution box and tied to a chair and then taken to bed where I passed out.  The U.S. claims the electric chair should be illegal as a death sentence mechanism and yet they use it on me almost every day.  Now that they figured out how to inject and implant my body so they can torture me from a distance, they do, and this is after years of blowing my brains out with electrocution using squeaky clean looking people like my Dad, a pastor and Burger King layman, or Alan Springer, the quiet and pleasant elementary school psychologist.

As a tangent, I think at least my Grandma Connie tried to do me a favor by moving to Sayward, B.C. to die on Johnstone Strait.  I think she knew I was being accused of being a thief when I wasn't.  The gift of the ring with the precious stone was not because I was "crooked".  I was straight and the stone was straight, not stolen by me.  She gave me that gift.  Why she went to Sayward, if I'm related to a Howard, I don't know, but I suppose I could think of my Dad trying to tell me they would keep torturing me until I said the right "words".  My Dad used to twist my wrists and give me Indian burns until I said, "Mercy!"  He would say, "Say Mercy.  It's not stopping until you say Mercy."  I was told 2 things, and that was that the magic words were "Mercy" and "Please".  "Say please.  What's the magic word?  Say please."  Then I was told to say, "I Give Up!" and that was later.  Mercy, in French as Merci, i.e., "thank you".  Mercy and Please.   How shall I now bow to serve thee Mercy and Please thee Freiz?  Meanwhile, I had some of them uttering some bizarre phrase into my ear at moments of rape, torture, and terror, that was known to them and not to me, as they juggled me around so each could take turns pissing on me.  Oh yeah, and "Mercy" is really fun when my Grandpa Bob is breaking bones in my hand over it.

There is no one in my family fit to raise my son other than me, and it does NOT take a "village" when the village is as corrupt as the family.

So when I am talking about "torture" by remote methods and long-range technology by the DOD and NASA, I am not talking about some crazy spell that came over me in 2005, where I became delusional and imagine pain and have "issues".  I have been tortured, hands-on, and by prominent government officials, since I was a child.  What I have to my credit, is that I'm not nuts.  Imagine that.  Play your John Lennon song "Imagine" and imagine that.  And when I've taken tests for MMPI or parenting or anything else, I've always been honest, and they always came out "normal" which is impossible for some to believe, and why should they assume it's impossible unless they are conspirators.  The only thing I ever "adjusted" in taking an MMPI, in my life, was maybe with Lucretia Krebs testing where it asked, "Do you think people are following you around all the time?"

**** YES.   And that is the truth and completely "normal" given the fact I've been the hunted "Red October" since I was born.  I am constantly followed.  But am I really going to tell CPS-paid Lucretia Krebs that when she has no basis for knowing or understanding anything about my life?  No, I'm not so stupid as to think a rote question is best and most honestly served with a rote response.  Which means I am an honest person who has to make adjustments for f88888s.  The "Crazy 8s" people who only look for reasons to call a normal person crazy to kidnap kids and further government torture interests.

And is it "abnormal" to say on my other MMPI I sometimes wished I were a boy?  No, it's not.  I could have said "No" for the same reason I made an adjustment on a test with Lucretia Krebs, and instead I said, "Yes, I sometimes have wished I were a boy".  So making THAT response means all of a sudden my torture and drug injections are "hormones" and that I "might be lesbian" or have "gender issues" or "Is not really a woman and had a sex change as a baby and THATs the problem?"  No, that is not what that response means.  It means, as a normal person with an imagination, when I think of how I've been pushed down for being "too competitive" for a "girl" I have thought it might be easier to be a boy sometimes. 

This country will take one tiny speck that is on a piece of paper, and zoom in on it and blow it up to 1,000 times the original size and then drive airplanes in the sky to letter write secret messages to Alan Springer--the truly f***ed up person.

I have no problem saying "yes" to "Do you think you're being followed all the time" to a competent person who have time to go back and ask questions and sort out why questions are responded to the way they are.  I do NOT have time for CPS fuckers who lie and torture people in their own offices on test days and who are not going to do the checking up like they're supposed to, or gather my statements and what kind of conditions I'm under for an accurate assessment.  Like I need Lucretia Krebs to criticize me as "paranoid" or "delusional" or "psychotic" when guess what?  she gets a NORMAL MMPI anyway, and she still sticks to the government lie.

Did I lie?  No.  I did not lie on the MMPI for Krebs or anyone.  I had to think about the underlying message of the question:  "Do you think you're being followed all the time?" in the subjective and not objective context.  Subjective context would translate:  "Are you paranoid to where you really think you're so important that a bunch of people would FOLLOW you all the time?"  To that subjective question, being read by a government-paid subjective translator who has ZERO capacity for understanding what the U.S. is really doing and the level of hate crimes, my honest answer is "No".  And that is the truth.  Had I been tested in an objective context with an objective translator who says, "Yeah, we have your files and see you've been targeted in a number of U.S. so-called operations" and been asked the same question where it would be viewed in light of my surrounding circumstances, my answer might have been "Yes" and that would be the truth.

So don't fucking try to frame ME over your fucking idiocy.  If the U.S. "maybe" had a few intellectual or understanding psychologists and psychiatrists that were not sleeping with all their clients the way Nikki from the Post Pub does,  this country might be in better shape, but as long as this country is connecting...


Electrocution boxes to my HEAD, don't expect to get ahead in the "free world" of psychological assessments for "CPS", like Child Protective Services knows anything about kids when they support torture of them and get paid for it.

Judge Dennis Hotchkiss was good friends with my Dad, the same Dad who tortured me with an electrocution box, broke my leg, and had me chained to my bed, and HE is friends with Judge Hotchkiss, who lied in trial to give other people custody of my son. He also removed evidence from the court record and lied and supported the abuse of my son, in collusion with Mary Ann McIntosh, Anne Crane, and the cops when cops have supported torture of me since I was a kid.  Not only that, CPS, U.S. government-salaried employees were stealing jewelry I gave to my son, and toys, the same way they stole from me.

My son is kidnapped and this country doesn't deserve even B-level "credit ratings".  It's not like cops just stole from me, they had CPS employees stealing things from my son that I gave him and what has happened to me, in my life, in this country, is hate crime.  They are not doing anything different with my son Oliver, and the U.S. claim to "guardianship" is like allowing Ted Bundy to have his own orphanage.

Ted Bundy would have been a better guardian.  Ted Bundy, who was always depicted to me as "the worst of the worst" was 10x better than the United States.  And already, by 1978, there was evidence the United States had been officially torturing him, as is clear by several photos of him from even a wiki write-up where one of his eyes is bulged out and distorted by U.S. military technology.  Ted Bundy's rapes and murder of women were more "merciful" than the FBI employees, cops, and military who raped me, and premeditated doing so.  Not only that, he wasn't the one frying off kid's heads with electrocution boxes--that was the U.S. "guardians" citizens are expected to entrust their children to.  Is anyone surprised Russia might not want to have some of their kids adopted over here?  How about, NO country within it's right mind should allow the U.S. to adopt kids from foreign nations.

I am listening to this song by Joan Baez "Plaisir d' Amour" and someone used to sing it to me when I was a baby.  I recognize the song from when I was a baby.

pg. 104  E.H. says at the bottom of the ramp of the plane he meets Igor anatolyvivitch Batamirov, who is Chief of American dept. of KGB counterintelligence and he grabs his arm and then shakes his hand. 

I am really not sure what the U.S. was pulling with me, but they had some guy named "Mike" grabbing my arm at one point on the plane, and later my Dad was grabbing my arm to have me get into the car after a flight, and both of them beat me up on the plane and punched me in the stomach.

I would say what comes to my mind, when he then says "you're luckier that you avoided the FBI",

is that I think about this man who was supposed to be Prince Philip and acted like some kind of cartoonish 'evil-Igor' as he watched me being electrocuted, took off in a car that had tinted windows.  I said I was taken to bed but I do recall seeing them arrive or depart in a long sedan with tinted windows.  It was not a cop car.

I think the idea of a CD entitled "The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down" is slightly disturbing given the fact it shows a gang of men there looking like rapists, and knowing what the U.S. has done to me, why wouldn't they do the same to my Mom? Or one of the Dicksies.  I believe my mother was involved with one of 3 potential "Mikes", or one of the Dicksies was:  Mike Middleton, Forrest Tancer (going as "Mike"), or some Canadian cop named Mike.  Funny that I should hear the Joan Baez song "Henry Martin" now because the lot falls on Middleton.

My thoughts about avoiding the FBI are that it was no coincidence that I was electrocuted and then an FBI officer came over to cover it up and pretend like everything was okay.  The FBI.  Because we can all trust the "FBI" to protect our children from electrocution, pedophilia, and rape.  I don't know if anyone else likes this song, but if you haven't heard it I guess we never knew each other.  If maybe you heard it a few times in your youth....ya might have a cobweb thread.  This is a song about the Salt Sea!  I'll bet Angelina Jolie has heard it.  Well, upon looking, the fascinating thing is it's about an Edward Howard...???!!  Seriously, I hear it and think about how I almost went down into the sea.  So, if you look at the photo of me right above, you can see I'm so-so at least.  Slightly pretty--maybe nothing spectacular, but a certain-something for certain-someones and just IMAGINE how hot I was when I was 5 years old.  The FBI couldn't keep their hands off of me actually.  I mean, by the time I was 3...I had a fan club following.  "What a pretty girl", "Whose that girl?", "What a beautiful girl"...yes, so I got into the Federal Bureau of Investigation centerfold when I was a toddler.  It's been a lot of "fun".

Ya want my black book list of names?  Or would you rather take up pedophilia with one of my guinea pigs?  I have three.  Which one do you like best?  Actually, I am not a pedophile or animal abuser, but if you are looking for some, call 1-800-FBI-XXXx.  If you have an interest in rape, pedophilia, and torturing kids with electric boxes, please call the FBI because they are actively recruiting.  Please DO call.  Oh yes, let me not forget to say, into your ear as I hand over to you a box of silverware:  "Thank You".  Merci.  When is the last time you saw a butterknife stabbing at the CIA cafeteria for "covert" operatives?  I think the CIA is slacking because if they can't teach their assholes to stab people to death with plastic forks, what good is their operative training?  Leave it to the FBI to find a "way". 

So on the note of evading FBI, Igor tells E.H. his family can join them in a matter of days.  E.H. says "No! No!" because he needs his presence there to be kept a secret or it would destroy his family.  Igor tells him, the FBI will never let you return to them without passing through their jail.

(by the way...too bad for you clockwork orange hopefuls because you lied about me to put me in jail a few days, but you will never put me in prison. Never you fucking criminals)

pg. 104.  E.H. says they drove south on Moscow Ring Road and Igor tried to calm him down and not get upset. 

I think at this point, E.H. is panicked.  I suspect he already knows someone from Russia has notified U.S. persons to begin torturing members of his family.  I also think about how he mentions going south on Moscow Ring Road at a time where what is triggered for me is the cabin experience at my Grandpa's house near Moscow, Idaho, in Bonners Ferry, where I was electrocuted and had my ring and necklace and watch stolen by cops.  Regardless of whether it was the original ring or not, they were stealing from me.

My son Oliver is also being stolen from and has been ever since this criminal country stole him from me.  Many of the things I have given to him were stolen or "exported" to other kids, from toys, to clothes, to jewelry, to food and vitamins.  The U.S. is opening up all of my mail to my son as well.  I bought my son several necklaces and every single one was stolen by a CPS employee and one of them was Italian Tony Block. I bought over 3 necklaces with pendants of the same thing, to have from me and every single one of them was stolen.  Does this mean they were never intended for him or that they didn't belong to my son?  Or is THIS country so criminally corrupt it deserves to be flattened for good.  Stealing all of my property from me since I was a kid, by U.S. government employees, and then repeating the exact same thing with my son, who they kidnapped, proves this country has lost all privileges and rights to autonomy and must be managed by another country.  If the U.S. is this corrupt, to forget their claims of rights to citizens, they lose their right to exist at all.  It means the country has devolved to a state of corporate and plutocratic anarchy.  This also proves the thefts from me, have been initiated by U.S. government hate crimes, which are now being extended to my son Oliver.  I have never even worked for the U.S, signed up to be part of a gang or mafia, been a U.S. employee voluntarily, been another country's employee voluntarily...I've done nothing at all to deserve oppression and torture and kidnapping of my son from me and now the U.S. has their tentacles on my son, with zero excuse.  What if you woke up one day and discovered it's not that your entire life is a lie, you find out your country is a lie.

HELP.  Can the CIA help me now?  Will the truth set me "free"?  

When Igor says, on pg. 104, you can't leave without passing through FBI jail, I also think about the game of Monopoly.  I played this all the time with my brother.  It was something like monopoly money I put in his hands for a photo (but it was different).  I also think about Robin who had this odd obsession with wanting to have Monopoly associated with him, and not me.  He was really so incredibly competitive, against me even, I had no idea.  It wasn't just me though, it was Edward Howard.  He was willing to murder.

Igor tells E.H. time is on his side and he's sure his family can be reunited with him.  You know what would be horrible, is to be in another country as a defector from something like the CIA and then find out your wife or mother of your kid is going to torture your kid to get to you and you had no idea at all, that's the kind of person they are.

Pg. 105 E.H. describes the difference between the CIA headquarters and Russian ones.  He mentions physical characteristics such as the Russian one is in plain sight in Yasenevo and the CIA is wooded at Langley.  He says they got into the gates and a guard greets them and then he meets Sasha, and Igor says his name is Ivan Ivanovitch (Russian equivalent of John Smith), to introduce him, and says to help him get settled. 

This part makes me think about the interruption between "Anne" and calling her "the Queen" and also the mention of "Philip" and "Charles" at my Grandpa Bobs house.

As I write this, I have been listening to Joan Baez since E.H. mentions her as a singer at the start and I remember specific songs my Mom sang to me over and over.  Another one was "Donna Donna" which is something else Robin Bechtold got attached to, for using against me.  I heard "Bonnie" (My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean) but I remember my Mom singing this song more.  I remember it because I always thought about a cow or calf with a "mournful eye" and pictured it in my mind.  I hope the people who have tortured me, all of them except for those who have come forward with information to stop torture of me and my son, die.  God wills it.  (My own interjection here, directed to God in a public prayer and not as part of this post:  Every single person responsible for torture, may they be caught and captured, killed by others or die by accidents and illness.  And thank you God, for hearing my prayers.  Thank you God that you will take out each and every person, regardless of who they are and their religion, who have tortured me and my son and innocent persons who were forced into things they never chose.  God bless every single other person who has already succeeded and their families, and those who have tried.)  Seriously, there are some people out there who deserve an incredible amount of happiness for what they've done or tried to do even though they have less power in some areas (because obviously the persons in power over torture through remote means are the ones who must be targeted by infiltration and assassination.  Have a nice "happy hour" next).  I love some of these people for what they've done.  Even huge groups of people, doing incredible things, against the U.S. from other countries, to send a message, just because maybe they relate in some way or someone told them what is really true...they are heroes.  I don't even know who all of my enemies are and can't then possibly know who the friends are, but for the few who can just relate to me on some understood ground, or knowledge, or information they got that they know is true, whoever the invisible people are, I am very very thankful to them.  Even if I have zero friends I talk to every day or people I would call a best friend here, or social life at this point, I have an amount of emotion and love or indebtedness feeling to some unknown force of people out there that I know are trying their best.  So I seriously have no clue who they are and I seriously don't want to be wrong and don't have enough information, but I do "feel" a kind of universal love or "God bless you" kind of emotion for some I know who must care.  Not just for me, I mean, but my son too and others who maybe are being targeted.  These crimes being committed by the U.S. are the worst of the worst.  There is no war crime in another country that is actually worse than what the U.S. is doing.

Railroad Boy:

In the section where E.H. says there was an interruption in the introduction of names, I think of the "Anne"/"Queen" confusion.  I will think about it more on my own.

He meets a woman named Galinina who cooks for him at a dacha.  He mentions a large wildlife painting behind him.

Here I don't have instant reaction to this section, but who knows because I probably need to look up meanings of all the Russian names too.


A few things that came to mind today, before writing more about E.H., was of my Mom disconnecting the phone from the wall a few times when I was tortured at the house, and trying to call police.  I also have a new problem because I found out my parents gave my expensive clay pots to someone.  I was allowing her to use them and they were on the front porch and my Mom tied a red string around one of them.  First they were at the other house, and I saw them there 3 years ago and then they were at this house, on the front porch, when I got back from TN, and they stayed there until several months ago when my Mom repotted some things and my pots disappeared.  I know Jews are involved in stealing them as well, and the reason I know is because it was a Jew driving around me acting like they were going to get caught for what they did and worried I had photographed my pots before they stole them. 

I guess for awhile I believed the idea I was told that Kate Middleton was responsible for cutting my Mom but I don't believe it unless it was one of the Dicksies specifically.  The reason I don't believe it, is because they've been too connected to torturing me and trying to kill me for Katie.  I think my own Mom and Dad would support torture of my son Oliver, and even poisoning, just to cause me distress and do favors for her.  After all, my Mom was trying to kill me off of a plane, and electrocuting me with a Mormon that was trafficking items over to the Middletons. I think it is their Jewish connection.  Carol Goldsmith is a Jew, which means Katie is, and if she is not really her mother, well who knows, maybe it's my Mom and she's the Jew, if it's not my Dad.  The other thing that is really odd is that I don't know why some of the Russians are into Katie, and not all of them are, or Ukraines, I know this...however, my great-grandmother Connie, who gave me her ring showed me some photos of Russians.  One of them, slightly looked like Gary Goldsmith and wasn't a Russian one, but there were different Russian men's faces and I thought this is really strange...why is my Nana Connie showing me a couple of photos of Russian men who she thinks are part of harming her or maybe me?  A couple of the photos were these up-close face shots of them. 

Also, the ring that I tried to draw didn't turn out very well.  I saw some man with a box and knobs on either side and thought I really goofed up with how I portrayed the ring, but it's hard to draw because it had depth to it.  It sat up like a cupcake on the band.  That was what I once said to my Mom, that it was like a "cupcake".  It reminded me of a cupcake with "sprinkles", like a cupcake and then the diamonds were the sprinkles.  Or, I said sometimes, like an ice cream cone.  So it is very hard to draw.  It didn't have handles on the sides like a clara, as one of the rings shows, and it wasn't one huge rock in the middle like several carats or anything, as another of my drawings shows.  It was very unique I thought.  I will attempt another drawing later, but I think my verbal descriptions are better than my drawing right now. 

After they stole my ring from me, I was given a necklace with an ice cream cone pendant on it.  And then later they stole that too.

I said to my Mom, "It's like a cupcake!  with sprinkles!" and then I later said, "Or sort of like an ice cream cone (with cherries on top)".  And then I decided, "'s more like a cupcake!"  So I was younger of course, and loved this ring, and it was something about how it propped up a little and the design that made me think this.  It's possible the clara with the hands holding a heart was sort of like a different symbolism because I had thought I was wearing a "cupcake" ring on my hand.  But it was the real deal.  It was very beautiful and the diamonds, even though not huge, were spectacular.  Even I could tell that much, as a kid.   While as a kid, I said it was like a cupcake, it was very sophisticated and elegant in design.

I guess, maybe my mother tried in a small way to make up for it or to cover up for it because after it was stolen from me, she got cupcake tins and started making cupcakes, like pastry cupcakes.  I then got a pendant of an ice cream cone, and it was another step away from what I had been given.  This sounds really, really weird, but I think I had my brother, or let him, lick my ring when I had it.  It wasn't to degrade him at all, because we were kids.  So I had this valuable piece of jewelry on and I would play with him sometimes and lick it myself saying, "It's a cupcake!" and then I let him lick it. 

So then later, when I had a pendant of an ice cream cone, and I was pretending he was a "baby",  I think that's why he grabbed it and licked it and my Mom was freaking out.  They wanted to distance me from remembering the ring.  So this must have been just fantastic to people who saw me at Helzberg Diamonds store later, in the mall, and taking their rings in "to be washed" or "cleaned".  I was in charge of the ring cleanings.

Of course!  (lick, lick)

It was at that store too, they accused me of stealing the most valuable and precious ring or diamond there, which I did not do.  I had no clue, why out of the blue I would be accused of such a thing, but it's maybe possible someone was worried I was going to talk about the ring stolen from me.   This is also potentially where one man on one of the private planes got the idea to ask me if I knew what a "French lick" was, which was a sexual act, but maybe he knew I had been given that ring and they somehow knew how I played with my brother, playing pretend with it.

Here is where it even gets more bizarre...potentially...When I was seeing these royals and non-royals on the planes, at one point someone asked me what I wanted and I said, "A dolly!"  I really wanted a dolly and I guess I didn't have one, or didn't have one on the plane.  I don't know whose baby the one was that a different woman carried one time, but I do know Charlie came back with the woman he'd introduced me to and she told me she was going to have a baby.  I remembered feeling sort of disappointed because all of the focus was on this baby coming up, but I still joked around her.  I would push my stomach out to look like I was pregnant and make people laugh.  This was after they'd all tried to kill me off the plane from what I remember, or around the same time.  I don't remember her being pregnant when I was getting cut or burned or asked about the crown.

Then, I barely remember this, but I think when she told me this, or close to one of the last times I thought I saw her, I saw my ring that was stolen from me.  I mean, I'm not sure, maybe just one like it and not exact, but I vaguely remember this and wondering what in the world...

The exact times of when what was done, I would have to think about more and order, because there was a pregnancy and then later a baby (by someone, not necessarily her).  I was disappointed in the baby and said, "It's not a dolly".  I was told, "It's BETTER than a dolly".  So I asked to hold it and tried to play with it and fed it a bottle or something but I remembered thinking I can't carry it around everywhere and into my house and put it in a cradle and a push cart.  I do not know whose baby it was at all, but I did see one.  Then I remember at the same time someone was making cake on the plane with a mix sometimes, saying, "Let's have a cake" or make a cake or something.  And then later someone else was making a cake and it wasn't a mix and I was told, "This is BETTER than a cake mix".  I didn't want a cake from scratch--I wanted the fun, faster, instant Betty Crocker cake.  Which is funny, to not want a cake from scratch or a baby instead of a doll--it's sort of like going after the "red herring" in a way, but some kids like to wear t-shirts with cartoons instead of polo shirts and that is the way it is, in some things, sometimes.  I think I liked a variety but I remember that what bothered me is whenever I began to enjoy anything, it was taken away from me. I do remember I was extremely picky about my sheets and I didn't even like cotton after silk or satin and then to later try percale when it was new and itchy was a nightmare.  It felt like sleeping in a bed of hay and my Mom said, "There's no ironing needed with percale". 

I don't know where I always had satin and silk but that's what it was, and I remember walks in a garden at night.  I mean, when I was pretty young, and I really loved my ring.  I think I saw the sapphire Diana got.  Because it was different from my ring, but had a similarity to it that I noticed and I commented.  I don't know why I'd be around them except that my parents were/are extremely gifted psychicly and are also connected to CIA and U.S. military.  I guess if I think "why", aside from some Jewish plan or something, it might be that.  I don't know why it was so important to blow my brains out so I wasn't psychic though.  Look at all the people the U.S. and royals and others want around, to remain "psychic" but not me?  why not?

Here's the other strange thing--maybe all the Dicksies collude together, but if not, maybe one is tortured and another isn't or supports Middleton for some reason and wanted me out of the way, for any reason--Diana, talking about secrets, stuff...I don't know (this is not excluding my Dad in being involved)...but I remember this one Dicksie playing Joan Baez records and crying and sing L Plaisir d'Amour over and over and it was like someone gave her the record and it wasn't hers and told her to play it and sing to me repeatedly.  I don't know if she wanted to or not, but what she said to me once was "I'm going to die."  I was very little, but it was at the house in Moses Lake, Washington and we were sitting in the sofa chair and she said "I'm going to die Cameo" and I said what? why? or got worried and she said, "They want to kill me."  It was either they want to kill me or they're going to kill me, and she was telling me to remember she said she was going to die.  It is the only time I remember my Mom or Dad saying anything like that.  My Dad used to say he thought he might die young, before he was 50, but he didn't, but he had a fateful thinking about it.  My Mom that sang the Joan Baez songs to me said they wanted to kill her.

pg. 106 After a meal E.H. agrees to a physical examination by doctors and they check to make sure he is in okay health.  He is told everything is quiet about his escape and that Secretary Gorbachev was informed about it all but kept it secret and E.H. says it would be hard to keep a secret and they say they're probably breaking down doors to find him.

My comment here would be that I remember my door being broken down.  I locked my door a couple of times and my Dad was in a rage about something and broke it down.  I remember being scared my Mom or one of the Dicksies was going to cut me so if she got mad I was running into her bathroom next to her bedroom that had the lock and locking myself in.  I did this on the plane when I could but I was tied up a lot.  My Mom began keeping an iron sitting out by the sink to remind me of the Fallon's iron and the plane iron and when I was burned.  They took the lock off of my door and changed my door knob so it had no lock.  I had zero privacy.  Someone would barge in at the exact moment I was undressed and getting ready for school or dressing for the day.  One time my Mom got scared.  My Dad or someone was expected at the house, to be angry about something, or it was someone else and we moved a heavy chest of drawers and the bed over against the door as a barricade.  Then I was told to get down on the ground.  I was also told not to ever stand next to a door or in front of it because anyone could shoot through it and kill you instantly.  So I was given advice here and there, but at the same time, I was set up to be killed, at least later.  So I began barricading the door to my room.  A few times I barricade my door and then I opened up the screen to my window and ran out and I didn't know where to go.  Sometimes I ran into the tall cornfield and hid in the cornstalks, and one time I ran to the Danielsons, of all places, and begged them to let me call the cops.

Ha.  Like that was going to solve anything.  Instead of finding Herm as understanding, he freaked out and got a weapon and they said I wasn't calling anybody.  I was so stunned that he literally got out a gun and pointed it at me.  It was some kind of gun with a metal barrel in style and his face was contorted with rage and he came out from his bedroom after saying "Just a minute, and I'll be right back with a coat for you" (because I was cold) and he had a gun pointed straight at my face and said, "Put the phone down."  Herm would come over to the fence between our property when I was an older kid, with his dogs that liked me, and were friendly, and he had this nice, mellow, easy-going attitude about him.  All of a sudden, he turned into this vicious, bright-red-faced man who was telling me he'd shoot me on sight if I didn't put the phone down and shut up.  I had run over there, to escape torture at my parents house and then I realized, "Oh my gosh, he's involved" and he was part of running the whole pedophile-electrocution-chained up schemes for the U.S.  I was cornered between him, Alan Springer the pedophile-electrocutionist, and a U.S. Army family with killer dogs.

I am pretty sure the gun he held against me was the same one I later found in one of our kitchen drawers that I touched and then was bagged up in a zip-lock with gloved hands.  I don't know if maybe Herm freaked out and was worried now I'd tell someone about his holding a gun to my head (from the front) so he wanted my fingerprints on his gun for some reason or what, or if he thought he'd have me kill myself "accidentally".  I also remembered seeing some pocket knives at his house that triggered memories, and he had rope too.  My parents wouldn't want my prints on his gun to frame HIM, because they themselves did the same thing with me first, so I can't imagine why they wanted my fingerprints on a gun.  I do know Herm was then telling me to pick up the gun or maybe it was knives and look at them.  I think it was knives.  He was still holding his gun and then told me to touch or look at some sharp knife or knives he had and I did because I was scared to death and my hands were sweating.

Another thing I remember, which is why I think I panicked after Patrick's parents told him to do this one thing on the ground to make kids laugh and then I was encouraged to do it...I have thought maybe it was a kind of humping the ground snake idea that was sort of reminiscent of electrocution and seizure but the other thing I also remember is being chained to my bed and left there and then a few times when I screamed and screamed and got mad and while on my back, I tried to use my hips, back, and legs, to buck off of the wooden board and try to get out.  I once did it just to make as much noise as I could, and screamed at the top of my lungs.  Of course no one in the United States government cared. 

Herm Danielson is related to Steve Mays, who I had to live with later, in 2009, in Wenatchee, and Steve Mays and people he knew including his sons, tortured my son Oliver.  Herm was also Swedish and related to Michelle Erickson, a CPS worker for my case, and I believe, Katie Middleton.  It was one or the other:  Michelle or Kate.  From him and his "Swedish" background and his collusion with the Mormon psychologist, I was then living in another state next, with Erica Wiltbank having the Sweden connection and Mormon connections with others that were funding Middleton.

The other thing Herm did is tie me up against his door with ropes.  He was some kind of a rope sadist and worked very fast, like a madman when he was upset.  He also once held one against my throat but I don't remember what happened after that, though I think there was a knife somewhere.  I know when I ran over there to call the police, I had blocked out past memories with him and I didn't notice until all of a sudden, some of it began creeping back to me and I saw the knife and the rope and then he said he'd be back in a minute and came back with a gun in my face and I remembered he was involved and I had just run to him for "help".  I vaguely remember doing this from the Sandbergs house too--running away from their house and thinking I have no idea who to go to.  Herm did not just have small pocket knives, though these were in abundance--he also had what I realize now must have been a "hunting knife".  It was a long silver or metal blade, slightly curved with a serraded edge just nearing the tip and extremely sharp. I kept touching the point of it, saying how sharp it was, on the occasion I was pretending I didn't remember anything and was attempting to appease him.  He did go hunting because I remember hearing he was on a hunting trip.

Ummm, I was the Red October they wanted to hunt and kill.  I was chained to my bed by my parents, trained to kill myself and electrocuted in a footwell by Dr. Fallon, had my leg broken by my Dad (I believe it was), my hand bones broken by my Grandpa, electrocuted until I had no psychic ability left by my Mom and Grandpa Garrett, and was being tested with my reaction to Crisco and if I remembered burn torture or "electric bathtime" by Granny.  All of my talent and ability, was going down the drain.  At the same time, I was introduced to royals who didn't care if I died, to my school "principal" who I said was the highest authority I could think of (over the "Queen" because I didn't get what that was all about) beating me and attempting pedophilia, to presidential and/or royal hopefuls on planes wanting me dead.  On top of that, my great-granny in the bed with the bed-pan, was getting whacked for giving me a ring and photos of Russians.

E.H. says they asked him "Can you give us your passport, coat, and a set of your clothes?"  because they wanted to fake his death or were thinking about it.

For me what I remember, as this is a trigger, is that Herm Danielson really wanted to kill me.  Literally--point-blanke and asked for my birth certificate or some document, and had brought out a coat along with his gun when he pointed it at me, on a hot summer day when I wouldn't need a coat.  My Mom's voice got shaky when I told her "Herm said he wants to see my birth certificate and he held a gun to my head."  I think he freaked out because when I walked in and saw a few "devices" I started remembering things done to me, and Alan Springer was involved too, the FBI, for one thing.  So it wasn't like they wanted to fake MY death to throw the FBI off of my trail, because the FBI was involved in trying to kill me and torturing me to start with.

For E.H. it sounds like yeah, they were really considering the idea, which isn't a bad one when necessary. 

I remember Herm was livid and freaking out over my birth certificate.  Then my Mom was acting really odd when I mentioned it.  I thought, "What is the deal with my birth certificate?!?"  He had been screaming and furious--red-faced, "I want to see your birth certificate!  TELL YOUR PARENTS I want (to see) your birth certificate!"  They were very nervous when I mentioned this and I asked what the deal was with my birth certificate.

I didn't see a nervous response from my Mom again, until over a decade later when I said something about it.  They said, "He didn't really mean to harm you" and I said, "No, I think he wanted to kill me.  He had it loaded, and he brought it out when he said he was going to get a coat for me."  They said, "He was getting a coat for you?" and I said "Yeah".

So here is the even sicker thing--in a visitation note with a visit with my son Oliver, Sue or Anne wrote down I had tried to put a coat on my son, when it was summer and hot and he didn't even have a coat with him.  It's not like Wenatchee isn't criminal.

Why even write a lie like that unless it's to try to confuse my family history and mix up a threat of murder by Herm Danielson against me with things I supposedly said or did with my son that sounded nuts.

Here I was, every May Day, chipper and cheerfully thinking, "Oh I know!  I'll give them a may flowers present!!!" and picking a bunch of their flowers to lay at their door, ring their bell, and then go hide as they found them.  I sometimes gave them a handmade card too that said "Happy May Day".

I remember one thing Herm was worried about, was if he was torturing an adopted kid.  I did remember that maybe around that time, there was discussion from someone about finding a way to give me a safer place or hiding but I don't get it, because all of them tortured me.  I mean, aside from some pedophilia and degrading stuff, or beatings, and the crazy Stephanie-Maiers-approved-plot-to-kill-me-by-brake-failure (my own 'best friend' as a KID), my brains were really, seriously, blown out with electrocution.

E.H. says he tightened his tie and combed his hair.  Christ, he says, he thought they didn't give him much time.

"Christ" is a word that Herm used.  When I was going out the door he had a rope in his hand and I got scared.  I don't know if maybe he wanted to help and inducing all the terror was getting to him, and that's why he wanted to see a birth certificate.  Maybe he knew.  It was at that time my Mom was torturing me every day at my house and had disconnected the phone so I couldn't call my Dad at work, if that would have even helped.  She was taking me to Alan Springers and they were blasting out my brains.  But then again, my Dad went over and did some things too.  My Dad was never around when my brains were being blasted out though he did other things.

The only times I can think of when I was given a choice in torture was possibly when my Grandpa Garrett broke my hand.  He said, "I'm going to hurt you until you say 'mercy' so see how far you can go."  He was breaking bones in my hand before I said "mercy" so look out Katie because I am a fucking MONSTER.  I didn't ask to be tortured anyway, but when he said this is what was going to happen and to go as far as I could, I didn't say "mercy" until he was crushing my hand and then he looked at me, shocked, eyes widening.  So I did say mercy at some point, but he broke my hand and it's not something I asked for.  When I was tortured with the box, it wasn't an option.  Charleine Garrett is a Katie Middleton supporter and was one of my Grandpa's favorites and her brains were never blown out.  She is still psychic, as is every single other member of my entire family except for ME, and I do remember when I was psychic and when it quit and why and who was involved in killing off that part of me. 

Oh here is a great song that came on...a Katie Middleton song..."I'm a Leader".  She is a fucking moron who got even my Grandpa to torture me for her.  To literally electrocute my brains out.  The only thing Kate Middleton and any of her children deserve, for what this country and murderers have attempted and succeeded at, is death.  She also had the assistance of Mike Tancer, Josh Gatov, Robin Bechtold and a bunch of other Mormons, I mean morons, and an entire Jew Crew, which is pretty much what Mike, Josh,and Robin and my parents and family were.  I can't wait to write about what my Dad wanted to talk about before Katie decided to name her brat.  It came to mind with the part in the song about taking your seat or something, because I heard a lot of that and of taking my bed, over this bitch, whose supporters are torturers, murderers, and rapists.

I am getting a DNA test from my family at some point.  It's not a maybe, but a definite thing, not that, as any mobster or spy family would know, genetics means you are protected from murderers who maybe favor another member in the family and promises of glory and story.

pg. 107, with the tightening of his tie I think about how I gave my Dad ties for his birthday and Christmas.  I don't know who got them.  I also think of Herm and the rope and being scared I'd get asphyxiated.  With not having time to think, I think about how I had such a short time and experience as a psychic person or "mind reader" and then I was out on my own.  My Mom didn't even talk to me the normal way after that, or the Dicksie I was around then.  I went from an exciting and fun ability that I thought was normal or assumed was true for everyone, of reading and relaying information back and forth telepathicly to being a dolt.

Some other things I remember, which are not necessarily relevant here, but I'll write about since I am thinking of it--I remember, like Aylah in Clan of the Cave Bears, catching animals with one hand.  Someone taught me to hunt with both of my hands, to be able to grab a fast-moving small animal with one hand. I don't know what in the world they were--maybe mice?  a bunch of rats?  rabbits? guinea pigs?  I have no idea, but I had to practice until I could snap one up with one attempt, and one hand. 

I did it last night, and it was very strange, because when I was totally relaxed and in the "groove" of what I used to do as a toddler (I guess), even after having something to drink, I was able to eye a guinea pig, and they practice being quick darters, and snatch one up without it wiggling out.  You go for the head.  I mean, they move forward, so you don't aim for their middle.  It's right at the head and they move and fit neatly into a neck grip.  Clutch.  It's the best clutch ever.  I realized I can do it with right or left hand but when I wasn't relaxed outside, they were getting outside.  Then last night, I had a couple of drinks, and was suddenly in this retro-state and reached over and snapped up each one of them, first try and they're not tame to my picking them up because I give them a lot of autonomy.  So when I snatched them up, one by one, first try, I remembered when I was doing this as a little girl, and trained and observed in my ability but I don't remember why or where it was. 

The other thing I remembered, which is something I did to try to remember, and I'm going to give some tips about how to remember...when I went up to this tower tonight to see if I remembered anything while thinking about my old treehouse, and I remembered a couple of things.  I remembered this one girl who I was so happy about because I had fantasized about doing a mid-air flip from the treehouse, and my dream came true through her.  I would go up and imagine oh how I wanted to jump out and flip quickly in the air and land on my feet.  It became this over-riding thought and obsession.  If only I could jump out, could I? and flip?  do a quick summersault in the air and land on my feet?  What if I didn't do it quick enough and landed wrong and broke my neck?  I kept wishing I could do it and one day this girl came over and did it right in front of me.  I was so thrilled.  I never attempted it because I knew I wasn't trained for it and I might end up like Joni Mitchell. I also felt the bars there and felt the old urge to twirl on the bars.  I really did a ton of bar work and loved it.  So I thought where did I first get the idea about a bar?   or barre?  and I think it was ballet or gymnastics before my school bar because the weird thing is there was a bar in my Uncle Tom's room or someone's room early in my life, with mirrors all the way around the room and it was like a ballet bar.  Why I was around one, I have no idea, but I was.  I also remembered there was some kind of connection to that--the glass and the bar and some woman so I am pretty sure, before the age of 3, I stood at a barre with a woman who practiced ballet.  No one in my entire family does anything like that so I have no idea who it was.

By the way, if anyone thinks that after all that's been done to me and the reactions forced and prompted from me, and the fact I have to reveal things without discretion to protect myself and my son, that I imagine I am 'seducing' a man, you're as fucking idiotic as you always were.

If you want a "trophy wife" woman, or actress, or woman who is keen on grooming her image before you so she is able to attain the position she wants in life, that is obviously not something that I am doing.

So think about it.  What is my motive then?  Am I writing about some facts from my childhood and present because I am desperately attempting to attract someone's attention?  how reasonable is that?  What is a fact is that doctors in Wenatchee, lawyers, and people who tried to rape and torture me since I was a kid, got worried that I was maybe looking like normal or attracting positive attention at some point.

What a pity it would have been to ruin all of their disgusting predictions.  Their Jewish hate crime predictions, the predictions from people like a woman I saw once again at the store with license plates 192 BHJ who was doing the same thing a year ago that she was doing tonight and I'm not saying she is Jewish, but she is among those who have only wanted to degrade me my entire life.  They got so desperate when their predictions were going awry and off-course, and dangerously close to failing altogether, they tortured me and ganged up against me using billions of dollars in the effort and I am not joking.  So it must have been a billion-dollar or more project they were trying to protect if they had to work so hard against one poor woman:  Me.  I care about my son and I care about not being tortured so if I have to put all of you in jail, every single one of you, near or far, whether you were a friend or not, and are family or not, I will be careful to do that.  My son does not deserve to live "The American Dream". 

Can I see some options please.

Options to "The American Nightmare".

pg.  107.  E.H. says his lunch guest was a short plump man with glasses in his mid-50s and was introduced as Anatoly Tihanovitch.

(...Umm. tangent again as I'm listening to Leonard Cohen's hits.  If this man can make a CD anyone can.  Bird On The Wire.  Then I hear the song 'The Partisan' and found myself crying.  Upon looking up the lyrics and history I see why--my enemies have fought me as if I was the person to press down, intimidate with knives, and rape.  To even see the name Lorraine or Gaulle associated with it disgusts me and brings up newfound hatred of criminal Jews.  I mean, I had no idea.  They even knew, and I had no idea how despicable they were, but they always knew they were the scum of the earth sucking up to me and attempting to degrade me to keep their superiority.  The last good Jew ate a kid in Brooklyn and went to jail for preserving his body in his tiny freezer.  The rest of the Jews are incredibly horrendous and cruel, but of course, they locked up the most merciful of them all.  God damn the Jews.  So be it.)

Well, I'm not sure about "Anatoly Tihanovitch" as a name to interpret.  It says Tihan or tiana means "follower of Christ" and since E.H. just mentioned the word "Christ", it's possible he wants it noted.  So then what would that be?  Anna told lee Follower of Christ is a witch?  Anna told Lee son of Follower of Christ?  I don't know.  I had just told them my mother, the Christian lady next door, was torturing me and disconnected the phone and my Dad too and I needed to call the police.

I was having my brains fried out of my head and no one in the U.S. did a thing.  What the U.S. did to me was as bad or worse as anything they claim is so terrible being done in North Korean prison camps.  They methodically fried my brain using an electrocution device, while I was alive, repeatedly, while I was an innocent kid.

Real nice Mormons.  Christians.  Christians?  Oh, Jews.  Military.  Real nice.  The U.S. has tortured me in the last several years, the same way except by advanced technology and implants and remote-torture or facilitation of torture by remote-operated means.  However, the United States of America was engaged in the most heinous and atrocious acts of torture against me when I was 8 years old and younger.  My entire life in the U.S. has been one of torture and oppression and this is what they are actively doing to my son Oliver.

So when I was running next door to get help, it wasn't because "they're spanking me and spanked me one time more than usual" or "I got a sliver and my Mom isn't taking it out".  I was being chained up in my room with police handcuffs and chains and bungee cords and tortured.  The electrocution box, which they referred to as Old Glory as in Old Sparky but for me, Loree, as "Glory", was being used against me by my Mom, Dad, Alan Springer, Herm Danielson, Dr. Fallon, and my Grandpa Garrett with royals and possibly some Russians involved.  Those men sitting on that couch watching were more like Prince Philip and Prince Charles than anyone else, though I did recognize some of the Russian faces my great-grandma Connie showed me.

So what if Diana was trying to kill me, along with my mother, because they all felt I was disposable and a threat and then someone later changed their mind when they found out Philip, Charles, and Mike made trips to watch my being electrocuted in a chair while tied up?  Or, what if she always knew and didn't like me and assumed since I didn't die in the plane, I'd die in a car accident and since she knew I could name her as having taken part in training me to kill myself, she decided to "disappear" into the U.S. in hiding with a faked car wreck in order to escape suspicion if I started investigating who was behind multiple attempts to assassinate me, last in 1995, prior to her accident in 1998?  Was she working for the CIA at that time?  Is this why her mother Francis said, "I thought at the time, let God's will be done" when this is the kind of prayer I used to pray every day?  Maybe Francis knew her own daughter had plotted with others, including my parents, to murder me.  I feel sorry I criticized Francis and then she died and now no one can ask.

On the other hand, it may be, if Diana really died, she left markers symbolically in an attempt to assist with the capture of criminals or those who planned to do harm and knew I might know who could be involved in a round-about-way. 

If she is alive, it doesn't look very good for her.  It would look as though the U.S. chose to hide her the same way they encouraged Josh Gatov to rape me and flee, as a good Jew should right?, to another country.  I have not even had it confirmed that Mike Nichols is documented as dead by police reports in Nevada.

Obviously, if the CIA is working that hard to murder me, they're going to hide people guilty of hate crimes.  In addition, do you really think they want me to succeed at all, in any way?  Or might they have their eyes set on a "prize" in Katie Middleton joining up with them so they can all be CIA sluts together.

I wrote a post about remembering things or techniques for it.  One thing that also highlights what has been going on with Katie Middleton, is that I have written about some of it before, but my brother tried to kill me for her.  Before any car wreck, in Moses Lake, he tried to kill me and told me to bow to her photo and said something about how I would never be "Queen".  I thought he was totally nuts because I actually never talked about "Queen" this or that as a kid, aside from once on a plane.  I wasn't obsessed with it at all, so for my brother to try to kill me and make some point about my bowing to Katie Middleton is seriously disturbing.  He didn't mean prom queen, he was talking about British royalty.  And that is actually the maybe second time I ever heard her name or she was mentioned, because before that, I only saw a note on the counter.  When I think about it now, if my brother was consumed with that idea back then, he had to have married a woman that felt the same:  Carmen.  It wasn't like my brother tried to kill me and made some bizarre comment--he forced me to be under Katie Middleton's photo.  I'll go into more information about it later, but I was very close to being killed for good by furniture varnish remover vapors.  I was shut in to be asphyxiated with it, and this name of Katie Middleton was brought up.  I think he expected me to die and these were like "in your face" last words because there is no way he would keep a secret like that all that time, and then just mention her, and expect to feel he was not going to be in trouble for it later.  He wasn't saying anything about Diana.  I had my neck stood on, was suffocated with furniture varnish, and almost strangled and that's when I ran to Herm Danielson's, who held a gun at my head.  I was getting suffocated many days in a row but there was one day, I could tell it was definitely intended to kill me for good and it went wrong.  It wasn't even acting and the panic or anger wasn't like, "That'll teach you a lesson" kind of thing.  It was like, "Oh .....s****.  What do we do now?'"  Then I told Herm what my brother said about Katie Middleton and when he was screaming he wanted to see my birth certificate to my parents, I didn't know at first if he meant my birth certificate or Kate Middletons.

I also remember being forced into a locked coffin.  I was being locked inside of a coffin and when they let me out I literally had to push up on the coffin lid.  The coffin stuff was earlier, but that was a lot of fun.  I had to lie down completely.  It wasn't just being in the trunk of a car--I remember a coffin.  I wet the "bed" in it and was horrified and I was punished for "going potty" in the coffin.  There was one, for awhile, at my Aunt Locklyn's house.  There was another at Herm Danielson's house but I can't remember how it worked because they lived in a trailer that was a permanent kind of one and I don't remember that there was a basement under it but I remember something about a coffin with them. I know positively, I was locked in one at my Aunt Locklyn's.  I was extremely distressed over it.  My having Rani sleep under my bed, at my house, which was something I even did myself now and then, was nothing compared to being locked inside a real coffin.  I remember being locked in it at night, for a full 12 hours, and being locked in it during the day with her kids playing around and making noise next to me.  She would go over with her keys, and make a noise opening it, or one of the kids would, and give me a sack lunch to eat inside of the coffin and then the Guzman's would lock me up again.

Sometimes I didn't get food and they would give me dog food or cat food to eat instead.  Some of the most depressing times, aside from wetting the bed in there, was hearing kids play around me and I couldn't play.  I was mocked about being a "Queen" at this time too and told this was my royal throne. 

While the electrocution box was seen on my Dad's side of the family and then with my Mom and others in Washington state, the coffin was mostly something I experienced in Moses Lake and Cashmere, WA.  I think further back it may have been the reverse and I possibly could have been tortured with the electrocution box or another electrocution device at Grannys, and that I may have seen something about a coffin on my Dad's side of the family. 

When I was being locked in the coffin at my Aunt Locklyn's house, they also dripped hot wax on me, and Rory stole a ring from me.  Rory was the cousin I had been closest to, so when he stole my ring, it was a huge trust-destroyer, and he and others also mocked me and told they didn't love me and just die.  The suicide trigger programming that was done to me on the private planes was also repeated at Locklyn's house and it was reinforced.  Then after Rory stole my ring, they put a bunch of dangling jewelry and necklaces that were costume jewelry and pretended like those could be my jewels and then later went in and took them back.  I know the Jew Kyle Flick was there for either when Rory stole the ring from me, coming over to look down on me after and smirk, or later, but he saw me in the coffin being locked up and did nothing.  I believe Miller was also involved.  Paul Cassel also paid a visit, if I am correct.

Rory had a girlfriend at that time named Jenny and he was engaged to her at some point and then married Jody.  Or, it was before he met her and then he met her but he was very serious with her and then they decided to go separate ways for reasons of partners-in-crime-convenience.  It's really easier to not get caught if you split up and go different directions.  Jenny still visited Granny on a regular basis, all on her own. 

Rory's last name, for his "biological" Dad, is supposedly Scammelhorn.  I spelled it wrong, but that's how it's pronounced:  Scam-el-horn.  Ken Scammelhorn.  I grew up with all these stories about how Rory had such a hard life and was beat up by Valentin, and resented him and then one day, after he became successful, he told Valentin he forgave him.  Meanwhile, Rory was a crook.  It's like once Rory thought he'd achieved a measure of social protection for himself, he was going back to remind others he was "ahead of them" now and could give them his pity, but whether he worked with him or not, Rory was a criminal and he is still a criminal because he knows what he did and has not done one single thing about it.  He then, ironically, went on to marry an "heiress", Jody.  Rory is also a major bleeder.  I don't know what he thought gave him the right to steal from me but he did, having nothing more to offer than me than a higher level of visible hemophilia.  He had nosebleeds every day as a kid. 

Rory was a real Ted Bundy when it comes down to it.  He liked swinging cats around by their tails as a kid.  He was older than I was, and should have had a more developed conscience than me, but he was the one standing there on the front lawn, grabbing the cat and hurling it around and around like a cowboy swirls a rope up above their head.  I can't say he just played and never thought about how he was hurting or injuring a live animal or living thing.  I was younger than he was and I was the one who was shocked because I knew it hurt the cat and that he knew it did just like I did and he did it anyway.  What kind of an indicator is that?  It wasn't just something he did rarely.  He was constantly terrorizing the cats and hurling them around.  If people could chalk that up to bad parenting, by the time he was stealing my ring from me, he had no excuses anymore.  I still remember how he looked.  This cousin I had been raised in tandem with some of the time, and thought was my best cousin, and he suddenly looms over the edge of the coffin, and demands my ring.  It was on my thumb and he said he'd give it back and just wanted to look at it, and stole it.  They put the nail in the coffin then and now you have a nice reminder of what was done to me with "thumbnail drives".  When I tried to get it back from Locklyn, she screamed at me and they all lied and played and danced around outside of my coffin as they locked me back up inside.

I had my ear pulled hard, my arm squeezed with death grips, and I was given injections there at Locklyns.  She was my favorite aunt and she would go from taking me out on special rendezvous with her to torturing me with her other kids.  She also got rid of her iron and ironing room which was really fascinating.  At that house there was a room with a sunroom kind of effect and a dining room table was there, some shelves, and then the iron and ironing board and one day she wanted to revise the whole room and when I said, "What happened to the iron and ironing board?" she said, "I don't know what you're talking about" and I said, "Yeah, it was right here in this room" and she said, "I never had an iron in that room" but she did.  She moved it to another room later with a fold-out and out of the way, but she'd had it right next to a table and I thought why is she lying if it doesn't matter?

Before this, when I once went upstairs to "take a nap with Rory" I remember I got the idea to go down and say we already took our naps and now we were ready to play.  Then I looked at Rory and decided he didn't look as hot and sweaty as my Mom had during her "naps" with "Mike" on the private plane, so I put water on his hair at his brow and on mine and Vaseline all over our faces because then I thought we looked greasy enough.  Locklyn freaked out, getting really mad so then I thought maybe she'd think it was funny if I put on one of her negligees.  So I put one on and went down the stairs and she wasn't happy at all and yelled at me to take it off.  So then I asked if we could eat Cheetos like she was.  She said why did we keep coming downstairs and I said I wanted to see what time it was and if our nap-time was over so she gave up, gave us Cheetos.  The whole basis for my thinking Rory didn't look "nappy" enough was that he didn't look sweaty and flushed like my Mommy & Mike on the plane.  I had messed his hair up too and pinched his cheeks and mine for "color".

I remember when I went down with him while wearing the negligee, I had used scissors upstairs first to curl a bunch of ribbon and made "confetti" and then had ribbons in my hair and confetti on our heads and walked down saying we were done with our nap and ready for the party.  It was white ribbon and I don't remember which negligee I chose because she had a ton of them--short ones, long ones, all different colors, lace, satin, I had no idea. I was shocked to find out how many.  I picked out one that I thought was long and glamorous.  I had to pick up the edges so I wouldn't trip on it because it was well below my feet.  Who else would remember but Rory, the one who stole my ring, and Locklyn?

How is it Katie Middleton later wanted to parade around in a mock-show of the idea?  Unless there were cameras in the house, no one was present or saw except for Locklyn Baird-Guzman and Rory Scammelhorn.  If I remember, they remember.

The other thing I did was put Johnson's baby powder on our hands.  I told Rory to give me his hands and feeling they were sweaty I said, "They're too sweaty.  If she feels our hands she might know we're nervous  (lying)" so I saw the baby powder and powdered his hands and mine so our faces looked sweaty and flushed but our hands felt cool and dry.  It was Johnsons & Johnsons because I remember the exact bottle there.  Maybe great-grandma Connie moved to die on Johnson Straight knowing the Johnson Straight cousin was the one or would be trying to steal it.  It's funny that he has the great job and married the "heiress" while I was tortured and raped and even forced to live in despicable conditions.  It was me, grabbing the powder to conceal lying by both of us, and then he stole from me and I never stole anything from him.  All I know, is it wasn't for them or anyone else.

I think Edward Howard knew about all of this. I don't think he would have bought vessels from the graves of others if he didn't know people were, or were going to steal real jewelry that was given to me while locking me in a coffin.

Also, when my "line" was disconnected, my communication line psychicly, I knew at the time my Mom did this to me, she was covering up for what she discussed on the phone about it to someone by then disconnecting the phone line as if that's what the disconnection was about. It wasn't about that.  It was about deliberately breaking my ability to communicate telepathicly.  I also saw the box (electrocution one) at my Aunt Locklyn's house and when I noticed it looked like it, I wouldn't walk on that side of the room because I was afraid of it, even from a distance.

The other thing I'll mention, is that when I was being "fingered" by U.S. employees and government officials, it was combined with criticizing me and degrading me for "letting" them, so it was this attempt to abuse me and then displace their shame and blame me as worthless for "being an adultress" when I was what, ?  a tiny little girl?  This is what they did to me constantly, to the point of wanting me to kill myself.  I never went after anyone's husband as an adult, and the couple of times I got set up and drugged, literally, neither could be considered consensual and one was with Pentagon Chief Strategist James Cartright, who was working for Katie Middleton.  To go through torture for decades and rape that was premeditated, and have my son illegally stolen from me by corrupt government Mormons and others, and my own family, which I know used torture devices on ME, to allow them to have access to MY son, and then have the 2nd highest Pentagon man finger me sexually, was nothing more than their tally.

Not only did he put his finger inside of me, then he berated me saying, "I'm a married man" like I was the slut the U.S. had always known deserved torture and death and repeated rape and used this kind of propaganda over.   He had me in a hotel room with a bunch of soldiers bags like he was carrying around all of their equipment and bags and they had all put their betting chips on the idea that their leader would successfully violate me and humiliate me.

It is not like I just slept on the floor in his hotel room.  He sexually had contact with me and then wanted to say out loud, loudly enough for all surveillance to hear and mock me over, something about how could I think such a thing when he was a "married man"?    What is WORSE, is that this is what the U.S., Canada, and some in the UK did to me before I was even 8 years old, and then they carried that entire theme where they got away with abuse and torture of me, to Washington D.C.

What did I get for talking about Middletons and James Cartright?  Haldol overdose in Tennessee, after this country murdered my unborn child, at 3 months gestation.  Then he goes on to laud and applaud Middleton.  I had helicopters at my window again, in close-up, within my view of the Pentagon in Arlington, VA, and was being tortured and had telecommunication problems with my phones at that time and then my child was murdered.

There is nothing that should hold God back from totaling the U.S.

I hadn't written any details about what Pentagon's man James Cartright did, but that's something he did was what they've been doing to me since I was a little girl.   The fact he repeated something the U.S. has been doing against me since I was a toddler and little girl proves it's hate crime.

And I am being tortured right now at 11:28 pm. as I write this, by U.S. military technology and I'm sick of it.  This country has no legal right to exist anymore.  Like I said, I have a universal kind of feeling of love for people in general, and for some U.S. people as well, but this country violates every single law they have so that it has no meaning anymore. 

Mike Tancer is another one who committed really aggregious forms of deliberate attempts to distress me, and using information against me to cause distress to others, including, most likely, my Grandpa Garrett and/or Edward Howard or someone else.  He made mention that indicated he either was given full access to my CIA file or his family owned one of the planes I was on as a kid or one of them was present on one of them, which would explain his access to Middleton as well.  He also knew Miller and others from Wenatchee who were involved in torturing me as a kid.

Another thing, my parents said "No..." when I said, as a kid, I thought I remembered being in a coffin in Herm's basement.  I wasn't confusing the coffin at Locklyns, which got moved once to my parent's house.  At some point, that coffin or a different one was in my parent's house or close to my parent's where they had access because I remember them around it.  But I know that when I saw Herm, in his house, and the gun, and then ropes, I had a flashback of a true memory where I saw a coffin and remembered having to be in it.  It was in a basement of some kind and at our house on Potato Hill Road we did not have that kind of basement.  It was gray concrete all the way around, and basement-like, well-lit, and had a coffin there and I was forced into it.

Then when my Grandma Dolores took me to see Washington D.C., we stayed with people who owned a mortuary and the man had a bunch of coffins in his basement and he was a mortician with his own funeral home.  I don't know if the coffin was one of theirs, from Virginia, and that's how Dolores knew them, the Fitzgeralds, or if it was a royal house coffin I was taken to and I wouldn't doubt it because both U.S. officials and royals and Canadians were involved or around me at different times in my early life.

What I remembered was a snapshot angle of, as Herm turned around and walked straight down a hall to get a "coat", something about following someone or being taken down a hall that then had stairs which went to a basement.  From the stairs, there was a coffin right there at the bottom of the stairs, sort of to the side or up from the stairs.  I remember it, in this memory as being gray or silver.  Some kind of lighter color in a gray basement.  The one at Locklyn's was wood with a velvet lining.  The one in the basement was not perfectly square from what I remember but slightly rounded at the ends, like a torpedo shape.  I remember it as more of a long oval shape or if it was rectangular it had a raised oval shape over it, but I remember it as oval.  My flashback, before or after I saw him holding the gun, was of walking down a flight of stairs to a coffin basement.  I remembered that in Moses Lake, WA which was before I was ever introduced to the mortician in CIA Virginia. I don't know if the coffin I saw and remembered was one from there, one from Pemberton Hospital in their underground medical room I was taken to, I believe, through a tunnel in Canada, or if it was a coffin in another household (Middleton? UK? a royal?)  My grandparents have a basement but I don't remember it being exactly like that or as well-lit, though  it is possible there too, they had a coffin waiting for Grandma Connie or someone if someone asked them to store it but when I was a kid, they had a pool table there mostly. 

I also believe I had a series of men abusing me while I was in a coffin and ejaculating on me or peeing on me while I was in it.

I also remember someone either taking a coat out of it, or telling me to lie down in it with a suit of clothes and papers or something.  A full set of a man's clothing was put in there (not in Locklyn's but the other one), along with papers of some kind, and then they made fun of some man and forced me into the coffin.  I remember someone taking pictures of me in it. 

I do not specifically remember being ejaculated on or peed on in that coffin at the time I was made to lie in there with a man's suit and papers but a woman and others were taking photos of it and I thought "Why do they hate some man?"  My thought was that it was to scare some man, because why else would they take pictures of it?

Also, why would E.H. die on July 12, if this is true, when this is close to the date of when Jew Josh Gatov raped me?  Or I could think of July birthdays or other men that the U.S. used.  The date 7/12, combining numbers as maybe I was taught to do once, would be 7/3 with 7 and 3 being numbers my Dad once said were his favorite numbers, told to me in Moses Lake.  What is weird is that it says he died of a fall in his house and another says of a broken neck but I don't know what the official KGB report would be.  If my Dad is at all involved in killing E.H. and if E.H. is actually my biological father, there is a major problem which explains safety concerns with me and my son.  In addition to this, I don't even know if my Mom is my real Mom, or which would be, and her family tortured me too, and set me up to kill myself so my son is endangered by them as well, along with U.S. officials.  If I'm E.H.'s kid, it might be a reason for my Dad or someone else to have wanted me to abort him to get rid of a future challenge, or to torture and ruin his mind the way they did mine, for the same reason.

I think when I was photographed with a man's suit and papers, in a coffin, I was a slightly older kid but if not, that would put me back into some location derived from a possibly international flight where I was taken to a location, or even to the Fitzgeralds' in Virginia for the photos.  I don't remember if I was told to open or close my eyes but I don't remember closing them.  I think they told me to keep them open and that's why I saw the cameras.  If it was to fake my own death, I don't think they'd have me in a coffin with a man's suit and papers, unless it was to make a point of some kind, but I also remember a woman who wasn't my Mom taking the photos.  I don't think it was my Mom, though I have seen her and remember her with a camera at other times.  This was a woman who moved in and around like some kind of a forensic scientist.  There was at least one man too, but maybe up to 4-5 adults.

E.H. says, pg. 107, that he was asked how he had escaped from the FBI and he said, "La Trampa".  They had puzzled expressions.  He explains it came from the Spanish word hacer la trampa which means to trick someone or con them.  Then he tells them how he and his wife did the jib trick.  When they ask him if he wanted or needed anything he said a short-wave radio so he could monitor world news.  They say he'll have one tomorrow and copies of the news by International Herald Tribune, Time, and Newsweek as well, when they receive them.

Here I am not having anything immediately to mind and in the next few pages, it's more just reading through to see if anything sticks out.  I guess about the radio, I know my Grandpa Garrett always had one, my Dad had one, and I wonder about facilitation of torture with one.

If more comes to mind later, I'll write about it. 

Pg. 108  He says he and Sasha talk about life in the U.S. and Moscow and compare and then they played poker using strips of paper as chips and drank some beers and felt like he was back in college.

So he sounds, overall, like he's enjoying himself.  For me and what I think of is how Sasha is like a sash around the waist and I had dressing robes to go over my nightgowns and then someone was taking my belt that went around the waist.  It disappeared on all of them and then for some reason I wasn't given dressing robes at all and was given a housecoat with a zipper instead.

When I think of strips of paper I can only think of it in connotation with short wave and Stephanie Maiers putting rag strips in her hair for curlers and telling me to do the same but I don't know if she was intercepting what E.H. did so she could have come up with that after he was writing about something else.  I know one time I was told to chew up and swallow a bunch of paper.  I cried and said I didn't want to eat the paper and I was told to do it and had to tear it into pieces, and chew it and swallow it.

The ring that Rory stole from me, however, was not the original ring that was stolen, which Grandma Connie gave me--unless it was reintroduced and then taken away to conceal the first time someone took it from me.  It was another attempt for a cover, but he did give me the ring.  I am thinking, I don't think my Grandma Connie said that much to me when she was giving me things or showing me things because I believe by the time she entrusted the ring to me, I had already had an arm surgery for my broken arm and she maybe didn't trust that I had a microchip in me or some kind of surveillance was in the house.  So she was very afraid to say hardly anything.

When she showed me the photos of men she said, "Do you know about the Russian Revolution?"  She would only say something, about "Have you ever read about the Russian Revolution" or did I know about it or had I ever read about it.  Then I believe she indicated with one photo of a man, she said the name "Ivan".  The man whose face I saw was a modern photo, not an antique or older one, but I am pretty sure she said "Ivan" when she showed it to me.  Because she said something about Russian Revolution, I knew she was implying or this is why I thought she implied they were Russian.  And when I saw the photos I was scared because something looked familiar and then there was a torture scene or pedophile scene or something mixed in with normal face shots.  I don't know for sure if she said "Ivan" but I think she did, in a context of trying to mention an author's name but she pointed to a man's face at the same time.  She definitely gave me a valuable heirloom that belonged to her, as well, and she did not intend for anyone else to have it.  She was wearing it on her own hand and took it off and gave it to me.  There are many others in the family that would have been able to identify it and it was at first said I stole it and then affirmed it was not stolen and was mine but then someone stole it again.

I remember I was getting punished by my family later for giving something to my brother or Mom or someone and then saying I changed my mind and I wanted it back.  So they called me an "Indian giver" and then I wasn't allowed to keep almost anything anyone ever gave me.  It was always taken away from me.

It is the most conversation I ever had with Grandma Connie, about books.  She asked me what I was reading and I showed her my book or told her what I was reading and then she showed me photos and said did I know about the Russian Revolution and then she mentioned the name Ivan.  She told me about this from her right hand, her right side of the bed, to me, it was my left, facing her.  Then she gave me her ring from her left side, and to me it was the right side of her bed.  She never came straight out and said anything, and even her words were chosen to conceal the ideas of what she was doing or showing me, and I knew then it was a secret but now I realize she must have known I was rigged up and wired with surveillance stuff or that the house was.  The only book or story she spoke of, to me, was the Russian Revolution.  I am pretty sure when she showed me the photos and mentioned Ivan, she also said something at one point like "Your Dad..." or "your Mom and Dad" and she implied something was bad about my parents but I was confused because I blocked out bad things about people I was bonded to.  However, first she was showing me faces of people that were not my relatives, and then some pedophile or torture stuff.  She kept pointing to one man's face as she was talking about the "Russian Revolution" and Ivan.  I remember what he looked like and I think he was/is Russian and it was a close up with him with a big grin on his face.  When she had barely said the words, "Your Dad..." or your "Mom and Dad.." my Dad opened the door and we were interrupted and I was told it was time to leave.  I think the book I showed her that I was reading was an Anne of Green Gables book.  I think I read the Bible to her, maybe, sometimes--I sort of have a vague memory of doing that with someone at least, but not sure it was her, and then when she wanted to know what I was reading one time I showed her my Anne of Green Gables book and she sort of listened and then shook her head or nodded and said, "Do you know about the Russian Revolution?"  Her transition was based off of what I was showing her, which was by a Canadian author and about "Anne".

I had to clarify something because I don't believe Ivan the Terrible were her words but someone else's later.  She just said Ivan and talked about the Romanovs because, probably, I'd brought in a book about an Anne and she mentioned Anastasia and the Revolution.  She brought up mention of the name Ivan but I don't know in what context, and another name she mentioned, was Sean or Shawn.  She was saying a Sean or Shawn was bad, and the only one I came across who seemed to have a problem with me was a Sean O'Neil in Wenatchee.  I also think the photos were closer to torture or electrocution style ones than pedophilia because I don't remember overt sexual images and I would have remembered that, if it was this little old lady showing me something like that.  It was more like gun and torture and people photos.  The only names I remember that she mentioned were Sean and Ivan, with regard to actual people in photos she had.  The sexual photos of penises and pedophilia type stuff that I saw were not from her but from Locklyn, my Mom, Barbara Maiers, the Diana woman, and people on the private plane.

I did meet a man who looked sort of like one of the men she showed me in her photos, later, at the Ukraine Baptist church.

She was starting to tell me, basically, not to trust my parents I think.  I don't know if she was saying to trust the people in the photo but I don't think so because when she showed them to me, I had a reaction and remembered they weren't good and then she was saying somehow my parents or Dad was connected to them. 

So going back to what E.H. writes, if he brings up how he talked to Vladimir, a man, about books and showed him his copy of The Hunt For Red October while he showed him a picture book of Leningrad (maybe Sean Lennon is close to John Lennon and I remember my Dad having to call a cop to our house in Moses Lake who wanted to take my ring away later)...the idea of a "hunt for red-head born in October" on a plane with a woman there named "Anne" as I was showing her my Anne book and she brought up her bruises and Russian Revolution, it might have something to do with that. 

I think it was Kyle Flick who took my ring because I believe it was given back to me and I was at Locklyn's and then Rory said he wanted to see it and when he wouldn't give it back to me, Kyle Flick then loomed over the coffin and smirked and then they locked me in again and he had said it was too bad it wasn't mine anymore.  I said I would call police and then Kyle, a lawyer, and another man who was a police officer, and was corrupt, came over.  The police officer then put me in hand cuffs.

I'm remembering more of it now.  It was the ring.  Someone in Moses Lake looked at it but then I had it back and then at Locklyns, Kyle Flick and a corrupt cop came to the house after they took it from me and threatened me.

I was thinking maybe it wasn't the original ring, but it was, because it was the diamond and the other things that were not original were the costume and junk jewelry thrown at me next.  They literally had a cop and lawyer to the house to accuse me of theft formally, as a kid, in Cashmere, at Locklyn's house.  I know it was the lawyer Locklyn worked for at the time and I don't think that was Paul Cassel but Kyle Flick.  It was the one she worked for.  The other cop had dark brown hair.

I screamed I would call the cops, when Rory stole the ring from me and Locklyn threatened me or something, or the men were already there.  I don't remember how the men got there but after I was locked up again, I remember Kyle Flick looking down on me and smirking and I know it was the lawyer Locklyn worked for.  I remember exactly where the cop handcuffed me and it was in the room that was close to where the sunroom was, or where the dining room table was, as you went from a back bathroom around the corner into the kitchen.  So under the doorway or arch of that door between the kitchen and dining room, the cop put me in handcuffs and threatened to take me to jail and then the corrupt lawyer stood there and said, "Well, you don't have to take her to jail--I'll handle it."  Then the cop un-cuffed me and I never saw the ring again and the lawyer smirked and gloated over me.  The cop they called was wearing an all-black or dark blue uniform. 

A decade later, that officer and the lawyer still had a motive for wanting to discredit me and put me in jail on false charges, because they knew I remembered what they did to me as a kid.  I do not remember the name of the cop that was called over, but I knew 100% it was the lawyer Locklyn worked for and a cop.  I sort of think the cops name was Sean, but I'm not positive. I also remember possibly someone with the last name Miller there.

Whether it was Paul Cassel or Kyle Flick, I recognized and knew them and had talked to them before and either way, it was a major conflict of interest later when they involved themselves in my affairs to ruin my and my son's lives. I remember it being Flick.  If it was Cassel, he later acted as my attorney for my son and was partners with the Judge and had motive to screw me over.  If it was Flick, he was Jewish and was moving things around to other people and possibly knew some of the other Jews who later tried to screw me over.  He was then seen lurking around the State Police offices when I went there to check on a DMV matter, and followed me around suspiciously and that was when I first showed up in Wenatchee, so I wondered why Kyle was spying on me or acting self-defensive. 

No one would bring a lawyer and a cop into it if the ring wasn't valuable and it was a diamond.

I know that of the penis photos Locklyn had, I recognized Paul Cassel, even if it was Kyle that assisted in stealing the diamond from me.  There were also Jews involved in stealing a ring from me (different one) in Bonners Ferry, ID because a cop came out to steal jewelry from there, including a necklace and a ring and then I was tortured.

The main thing is that U.S. government criminals used both sides of my family to steal from me and try to confuse where the stolen items were going.  A family member who knew Grandma Connie could identify the ring and it was definitely a diamond.

I later was shown Lady Diana's ring.  I still remember my impression of it.  I thought it looked very much like, or was similar in some ways, to my Grandma Connies ring, except it was larger and it was blue and I was shocked it was blue.  I remember I said it was pretty or made a comment about it but I thought to myself, "I don't like how it's blue".  I had thought it would be prettier if it was a diamond, but I also had felt this odd sadness like why am I being shown a ring after they're all stealing from me?  I saw Diana's sapphire ring after the ring that was given to me by Grandma Connie was stolen from me, so for me, I remembered thinking it was pretty, being sort of disappointed it wasn't a diamond and was blue, and feeling a reminder and sadness over being reminded my ring was stolen.

My Mom just told me to "think about it" after saying could she have someone pray for me and I, for once, said "No".  I asked her, around 3 p.m., if she and my Dad would agree to take a DNA test which would be for me, and both of them.  She said why and I said to see if I'm their kid.  So she said okay to if it's court-ordered and then maybe to if it's voluntary and asked me if I'd have someone pray for me.  I said no and said the reason I said no is because she's brought that up a hundred times and I always said yes and I wasn't going to play that game.  So she said "think about it" and I thought about how my blog posts where I say "I'll have to think about it" are sort of reminiscent to ideas of mocking me about how I wouldn't remember.

I do remember.  I remember my ring was stolen and that then I was being electrocuted with a box by my own mother over it, with Alan Springer, and also once with my Grandpa Bob.  I also remember that regardless of how many family members were involved, the last person who had it between my Mom and Dad was my Mom. I mean, before it was taken from another person.  I know my Mom was talking about how my psychic abilities were ruined, and I wouldn't remember things, and then I also remember when I started using a paper wall calendar to mark the days I was being taken over to the Springers to be electrocuted, I had my calendar questioned and confiscated.

Even the big deal made at Locklyns house was an attempt to have me forget who had taken my ring and how early-on it was. 

I started marking, with dots, every day that I was being electrocuted.  My Mom said, "What is this for?" and I wouldn't tell her so then she figured it out and they got rid of my calendar that I was saving on paper to document the days I was being tortured, and gave me a dry-erase board.  It was a board you write on with a marker and then it can be erased and you can't save anything or keep anything for a record.  I knew why it was given to me, and Alan Springer came over to look at it once and smirk at me.  Then I was writing a calendar and it was all getting erased. 

When I accused them, finally, of trying to destroy evidence of when I was being tortured and tried to run to the Danielsons, they tried to kill me with fumes from furniture varnish remover.  My Mom got a bunch of soaked rags once and then put them in a tight closet and made me go in there.  Then my brother tried to kill me, and almost did, and then was using all this talk about being a queen and to bow to Katie.

I think someone who should be having a public DNA test besides me is Kate Middleton because I think she's a liar and her entire history is a lie.  I don't see how I was the victim of this much torture over her, and then she ends up with a royal after people including my family tried to murder me, without proof and evidence to England that she is even who she says she is, because she is the one picking up a welfare check right now, not me.  Her means of support is from not only the U.S. which it has been since I was a kid, but the English public so why are they not entitled to a DNA test to prove her identity is a lie? 

Not only that, why would Lady Diana choose a sapphire ring after she burned me?  Or when she burned me, I suppose, as she may have had it for some time and I didn't see it until the last time I saw her. The last time I did see her, she showed me the ring.

Did she have some kind of a deal with my parents that she'd pick out Katie Middleton for some position as long as I got killed and went out the window or died?

It may be that she actually flipped or wanted to expose something and was on my side but I have to consider the other option, that possibly Lady Diana wanted me killed as much as my parents did and I do know she was coaching me on how to open a drawer prior to the effort to have me fall out of a plane.

I think the thing she maybe put in her mouth while opening the drawer on top was a key.  My mother later, at our house, would imitate getting something out of the bathroom medicine cabinet, and would put a pin, like a sewing pin, in between her teeth while doing so and I said once to my Mom, "That's not how she did it" or "That's not what she used.  She used a key."  I said something like that to my Mom.

If Diana did want me dead, why?  What would the motive be for all of those people to kill me?

pg. 108  E.H. says Galinina made breakfast and Sasha introduced him to blini and tworug (pancakes and cottage cheese).  This sounds like "blintzes" which is something my Mom used to order which is crepes with cottage cheese and cream cheese inside.  Blini sounds like 'bling' in a way, (jewelry) and tworug sort of like 'two rugs'.  He says he wanted to get a message to Mary and listened to the Voice of America.

Also, with the mention of paper strips, and poker earlier, I remember it was Locklyn that taught me strip poker.  Locklyn, and my parents.  Locklyn showed me a bunch of photos of men's penises of men we knew and then told me to give a color to each of them, and we would call them by the color and not their names.  Then she made a game out of it, set to music, and I had to have been around 4 years old or so.  Then my parents, at our house, taught me how to play strip poker and we all had to play, giving up one item of clothing at a time.

Pg. 109 E.H. says he found Mary was okay and that "she sends her love to you, Ed", according to Igor.  He says Washington is upset and the FBI is now "visibly displaying their guns".  He says they heard worse news on Voice of America and he listened for news about Mary and there was none.  He became angry and depressed.  Alarmed by his reaction, Sasha asked Igor to go visit him and calm him down.  He was supposed to focus on the positive news, that his wife was okay and with her family , and he was safe.

Safe fire or safe house.

If I seem more disoriented today or yesterday with some recollections it's because I was tortured, hardcore, at the public library yesterday and also for the last week the U.S. has been laying it on.  I wasn't being tortured prior to that, or most of it had quit and then the U.S. went at me.  I also had something put in one of my drinks and I don't know what but it tasted like chlorine and yet sort of metallic at the same time and there wasn't a real reason for it, so anyway...I have no problem or inability to sort out what I write and remember, it's that I'm putting down a variety of things that were done to me, now and I haven't made the location or time line specific at this time.  Nothing that I've written is imagined however.

Another thing I would add is that when a Philip was present to watch me being electrocuted by my Grandpa Garrett, it wasn't the same Philip as on one of the private planes.  So which one was the real one, not sure but the one at the house had the heavier accent and looks like him in the photos.  I know without any doubt Mossad has been involved in torturing me.  I'm not going to say all Jewish or all sects, because there is probably some very small minority that isn't hateful to me specifically, but I have been very delusional (figure of speech) for the longest time, thinking people were good or liked me or that I had no enemies.  On my part, I had no basis or motive to have an enemy. But for example, for my Mom to see me sitting next to Rory and Kyle Flick, after what they'd done to me, like nothing was wrong, even though she (or her twin) had done horrible things too, she cried.  Maybe because she knew I was blocking out the memory of what they'd done to me and possibly my biological father.

About the ring of Grandma was the only ring she wore on her hand.  So she gave me her only diamond that she wore on a regular basis.  I assumed it was her wedding ring but it was possibly another older ring she wore instead or for that purpose--whatever the reason, it was her signature ring.

If the lawyer that had looked in and mocked me was Paul Cassel or Miller, I knew it was a lawyer my Aunt worked for at that time, and who had extracted sexual favors of some type.  How else would I have known him?  I didn't know the lawyers from the law offices, or church there, or downtown.  It was in social settings and the ones I knew of that included them in sexual games. 

I was forced to stay in the coffin, locked up, until I pooped.  They not only had me wetting the bed in there, they told me they (my cousins, the Guzmans) were not letting me out of the coffin until I gave them the ring and pooped inside the coffin.  I refused to do so and then after so much of this abuse, I finally said okay I pooped.  So then the lawyer came over to the coffin, and I didn't know he was there and he leaned over when the coffin was opened and sneered at me saying, "I always knew you were a piece of shit".  It was the second time someone said that to me, but he said this to degrade me after forcing me to literally poop in a coffin.

So then a decade later, Jew Josh Gatov, after raping me, would go into my workplace and make comments like "Poop-poop-ee-doo" instead of boop-boop-ee-doo like from the Marilyn Monroe version of the song.  He did this in front of me constantly.

Pretty much, every single form of torture and abuse or degradation that is possible, was committed against me in the U.S. and in almost every case, law enforcement, military, and the FBI was backing it up.

There is no possible way my son is safe in this country.

Also, this was done to me as a kid, with a lawyer and a cop, right after someone coached me to believe a lawyer or cops could help me.  So when I brought it up, my Aunt brought them in and they did this to me, the same way that my trust was being destroyed over "it's illegal for anyone but your parents to spank you" and then being beaten up by the school principal in Moses Lake.

If you think about the amount of money for damages that was being generated by the time I was 15 years old, I could have gone after dozens of properties, assets, stocks and bonds, businesses, houses, and vehicles.  The money was there for the taking, if the right law firm had been interested.

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