Sunday, September 8, 2013

Edward Lee Howard and Torture of U.S. Citizens by U.S. (4)

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

pg. 43 still...

So anyway, the polygraph I remember, we used on the carpet, and while sitting on the carpet, not in a chair.  It was more casual.  Possibly later once or twice at a table but I remember being seated on the carpet.  When I was literally electrocuted, I believe I was in a specialized electrocution chair and I remember more of a hospital environment and there was some kind of box or kit that scared the living daylights out of me and made me want to run, because I remembered, subconsciously, how horrific the torture was.  I think there were knives and all kinds of things.  A whole torture kit.

pg. 44.  "lie detector".  I remember it was called this, and not polygraph around us, I think.  Maybe both words were used but the one to excite our imagination was "lie detector".

pg. 45.  the top of this page he says he asked "shouldn't I have a polygraph?" and he didn't need to remind them but did.  If he hadn't, he could have gotten by.  This comment is very familiar to me but I am not sure what I said something similar over.  I would have to think about it.
UPDATED 8/23/13

Before taking up the rest of this, I am under the impression there is a "class" being taught, or caught, involving "students" that sit there and tell their instructor what they think I am going to do next.  It's an adult man who is not my Dad and there are younger girls or young women younger than he is (he's over 30).  These women sit around and say things like "I'm going to Chinatown" (yesterday, over what I was going to make for dinner, right before I made one serving of sweet & sour sauce) and "She's reading his energy" (over a psychic ad that was going to turn up in the newspapers I put down for the guinea pigs this morning:  "psychic palm & tarot card readings" in springfield) and it's not about their own lives but about things I turn over in my house and their predictions of whether or not it occurs.  It gives me the impression there are hidden cameras in my house and they are watching, because otherwise, they wouldn't be saying these things out loud to somehow get "credit" for it later by another person.  Anyway, she said "I'm going to Chinatown" to refer to herself but she meant it as though she was me, and that I was going to make something Chinese next, which I did unexpectedly because I wasn't planning on it and I had rye bread and didn't think of rye going with that but wanted to use up some tomatoes and made a tomato sweet and sour sauce instead of just butter or a sandwich or oil and vinegar.

So basically, there is a whole "team" that has been doing this.  In the meantime, anything I try to accomplish or do that I want to do myself, is being blocked still.  I have spent time on looking for a normal sperm donor for one thing, and I'm getting government flakes.

pg. 45.  E.H. says he then took the polygraph after he brought it up.  I think what I remember mentioning myself, which I realized if I hadn't said anything, I could have gotten by, was possibly what time it was or about brushing our teeth.  I feel there is something else I've forgotten that was more important and which I'll remember later, but one time it was made a big deal when I said, "It's 9 o'clock!" and something about how it was past our bedtime.  So then my Dad would say, "Thank you for reminding me.  Go to bed."  I would say, "But we're in the middle of a game" (or whatever) and he said if you hadn't said anything I might not have known. 

Backing up a little, to the part about the "East Berlin" vs "Soviet" 'desk, there was a really bizarre game being played regarding Katie Middleton over this too, like some kind of a joke.  I didn't get it because I hadn't read this book and didn't know anything about E.H., but now I realize it had to have been partly some kind of inside game, as if I had dropped the "German" 'desk' for, or with, an interest in a Soviet or Ukraine one, so Katie took the German.  I mean, it has nothing to do with me--the whole E.H. thing, but a weird, "remember when...hahah....let's do this..." kind of "reprise" was being done over it and then I was constantly not just part of some joke, but seriously being tortured and degraded.  And then someone was always organizing to try to repeat the cycle, to constantly rub it in.

And speaking of desks, I remember exactly when a school decided to get rid of full desks and switched to half-desks.  They were little L shaped desks with a flap down until you brought it up and secured it, and half the size of a normal desk and I remember it because it was the same kind of weird symbolism with the teacher's studying my reaction as the year I walked into class expecting to see all brand new books on each of our desks and instead, I opened my up and it had curse words all over it and graffiti, on all of the books the teacher put my name on.  I remember the teacher and how she was so happy to see my shock over it.  She had a sadistic look on her face and then shook her face at me with a grim smile the same way little kids might when they say, "neener neener neener" to taunt you.  For me, it wasn't just the hurt over knowing someone was giving me a vandalized and dirty book when I had been taught to expect new ones, it was that they were deliberately traumatizing me knowing I had graffiti carved into my forearms with razors.  I didn't understand why it impacted me the way it did, but that teacher knew what psychological impact it would have on me and she was watching and waiting for it, and smirking haughtily like that was just the best part of her entire year--that moment.  I remember "that moment" well enough to know the lighting, and which desk I was at in what part of the room and what side of the room she moved to while taunting me.  For some reason, I forgot which teacher though, Mrs. Raugust or Rosenow.  I remember the expression and movement but I think I was too traumatized to want to remember the face but anyone in the school would have known because it was the year we all got used books.  Other kids had ones without lots of graffiti but mine had tons, and swear words, and deliberate triggers in it.  My desk assigned was to the left of the room if you faced the blackboard, and near the front.  My name was written above "God damn you" or something like that.  Damn you or God damn you, with my name close enough to it, any kid would read it as a complete sentence that was including your own name.

My Dad used to say me, at least once a day or every other day, "Don't be so sensitive."  This was said to me all the time when my feelings were hurt or if I cried and I cried about every single day.  I used to go to my room and cry.  I was told, "Don't be so sensitive!" and "You're too sensitive!"  I actually rarely cried when I was hurt physically, and instead might say "ouch" or nothing at all and reserve my words for trying to process through the pain, so I didn't cry when I was hurt except for sometimes spankings (bc that was emotional), but it was emotional hurt that I cried over, or if I empathized with something or someone I would cry.  We played lots of board games and if I lost, I didn't like it, but handled it okay.  Then one year my Dad got this game "Sorry" and when I lost a point or the whole game and someone was saying "SAHR-REE" and rubbing it in I would sometimes get mad or cry.  Or if I was teased and I thought it wasn't funny, like everyone laughing over my Christmas ornament they called 'the retarded angel', which I had made and put time into, I would cry.  So I was called "sensitive".

Sensitivity PLUS!

Random accidents or falls, nails in my foot, bumblebee stings, broken knees, broken arms, broken necks, splinters, slivers, tumbles, scraped up knees with scabs, shots to the arm...I didn't cry over any of that. 

I...("here's a thought!")...'cried with my heart and not my head' and then I was beaten with a yard stick over it.  Many U.S. government employees knew all about it and used whatever they could against me and kept me from the information, which is why my son and I deserve to be considered as U.S. political prisoners and hostages and released and which is why my son's "adoption" is a sham for kidnapping.

What a strange juncture now, between my mention of how I was called "sensitive" as a kid and then how E.H.'s polygraph testing went awry.  It's a test that measures sensitivity, in another way, of a particular kind.  Or one based on that at least.

E.H. says he passed but got a call where they said there was deception about crime.  So he tested a second time and they said there was still a problem area, and something he was "hiding".  So they told him to go home and write down every crime he'd ever committed.  He says he did this and adds he'd done this when he first joined and listed the time he stole carrot seeds when he was 9 yrs old and drinking a couple beers while driving.  The one thing that might stand out to me is I was given a stuffed rabbit that held a carrot when I was about 9, or actually, it could have been after 9.  Sometime between age 9-12 I think.  Also, maybe if he had a carrot-top kid (redhead, a "russ") and someone stole his kid, he'd mention this or if someone else had such a kid and he did something, possibly, but he brought this up.  Also, "too sensitive" would apply to redheads, who are more sensitive to hot and cold variances than other people because of a genome factor.  However, I cried all the time because of emotional sensitivity, not other reasons. 

So then he says the CIA trained him for 30 months, basically, about 2 1/2 years.  He says they were training him to commit crimes against the Soviet Union, so when they now asked it was possible it brought some feelings to the surface, but he said, he'll never know.

I know Canada is as guilty as the U.S., with my blood on their hands.  They even have pop stars writing songs like "Insensitive" after E.H.'s book came out in 1995, and then they tried to murder me with another one of their own:  Mike Nichols.  The pattern on the dress this woman is wearing is the exact same material my mother (Dicksie) had at our house in Moses Lake, WA.  It eventually disappeared but was enough for a dress for a child.   I've mentioned this song before but not having read E.H.'s book first or seeing that context and confirmation that others were aware of my situation and potentially trying to mix it with Katie Middleton.  I think in order to 'desensitize' me and destroy any connection with sensitivity to my name and file, when they didn't kill me, was to hire multiple rape hits against me.  I also think there was an urgency and desperation to try another assassination attempt against me in 1995 for the reason that E.H's book was public and pointed a finger at my parents, and connected me to the CIA and U.S. Army.  There were some kids and people who already had inside information about me and I know who some of them were, and they were around me prior to 1995, but having an entire book out there, made a lot of criminals extremely nervous about how their plans were going to be ruined if the right people found out about it, or I did, and defended myself.

Also, about the response to the polygraph, I had a similar thing done to me by people who seem, now, in hindsight, to have wanted to make a game and joke out of me.  When I took the MMPI and passed, and there was nothing wrong with it and it was normal, I later had someone saying it couldn't be true, that it was "normal".  So the psychologist, who I had contacted by asking the Oregon State Bar who they felt was reputable, told me he wanted me to take a "harder" test to check it against the MMPI.  I did, and still passed, but then he didn't want to give me the results.  Later, when I was forced to take a MMPI for "Washington State" when it had nothing to do with CPS or my "parenting" it was, again, "normal", but this time, they played into this entire game more heavily, with the psychologist saying "there is some deception somewhere", exactly as the CIA accused E.H. of.  So they made it into this huge joke which the Judge and other "professionals" passed between themselves and out loud and laughed over.  My test was normal and she had even told me it was normal and then added, well there might be some deception.  If there is "deception", that turns up in the test, and in that case, the results are not considered "normal".  If there are a few questions to go over, that is a normal part of testing and she never went over anything, and instead, said she didn't know what the problem was, but I maybe I could go on "trial medications".

There is no problem.  The "problem" is the United States of America.

p. 46.  So E.H. says things continued to deteriorate and he was called in for a 3rd test and was nervous about the call-backs.  This was at the same time I was taken to Big Bend Community College to try out for a play called "Annie".  Or, it was possibly after "Annie", which was my parent's idea, and at this same time I was trying out for the next one, which was "Wizard of Oz".  I remember for "Annie" the costume person decided we would all wear pink except Annie would wear the red dress, and the color of pink was the same as on my stuffed rabbit with the carrot.  I was the orphan "Duffy" they said, "Scruffy Duffy".  I felt insulted but glad to be in the play so I did my best.  At the end of the play, there was footage and a commentary that was suggestive of child porn--it sounded like some kind of blackmail idea.  Why was I suddenly getting "outfitted" to be an "orphan" anyway?  First I was chipmunk in a church play singing "If you ask him to (God), he'll take care of you/doo-tee, doo-tee, doo-tee, doo-tee" and then in 1994 Ken Kargman (Jew) was enjoying himself as he exclaimed, "Danit made a DOODY!" and then having me or someone clean his daughter's diaper, never forgetting to think to himself how funny my life was. Then there wasn't a play until around the time E.H. talked about big things and call-backs and my mother took me to try out to be a public orphan.  Her entire family, almost, showed up for the play and I remember from the stage, at one point, wondering why they were all narrowing their eyes at me and looking at me like they didn't like me.  Then after it was over, and we took our bows, then they were all happy and cheerful and talking excitedly and everyone was very nice to me and I thought they liked me very much and were proud of me.  I still remember the difference between their expressions and how they whispered when they thought I didn't notice as much and then later, and it confused me.  I felt panicked--"my family doesn't LIKE me?!!"  Then I thought why would they pretend to like me when I was off-stage?

Then I found out this was this huge footage of me in the back, with me flipping up my skirt in the back, which was only something I did because someone showed me there and encouraged me to do it and all these adults were praising me and being nice and joking over it--giving me positive reinforcement for something that wasn't great.  One did try to pull me away but that was it and they all knew some of the triggers anyway.  For whatever reason, even though I liked working on a script and play, I sensed a very bad feeling when I went there.  Every single practice, there was something depressing, sad, and not "right" about it but I couldn't put my finger on it.  I was left there by myself and wondered what my mother was doing with my brother the whole time because it was in the Summer and took up all of my day.  I also had a feeling she was doing something with another kid and I can't remember how it came up but I asked.  It's possible I was more depressed in the Summer too, because that's when most of my torture occurred against me I think, outside of school.  So there I was, as an "orphan" and I went home one day and said to my parents, "If you die I want Wayne Freeman to adopt me."  I don't know why I'd say this, but it was around the time I looked for adoption papers and thought my parents were hiding them somewhere, and I was being isolated all of a sudden, so that is what I said and I said it was because he was nice.  I had the impression they could just give me to whoever they wanted, whenever they wanted to and I don't know how I had this idea unless it was overhearing talk.  Wayne Freeman was a Jew and I didn't know him well enough to make such a comment and I certainly wouldn't say that now.  I thought because he was nice I liked him but actually, he was most likely just another person trying to get close to figure out how to ruin my life later.  Then, after all the practice they told me, the Directors, that I was the one who should have been "Annie", not the professional they'd trained and brought in from another state.  As a kid, I had thought it was a very nice compliment and I hadn't asked for it, but I had secretly known I was a better actress and singer than the one they chose.

I decided I loved doing plays.  Even in this weird depressive darkness around the area, or timeframe, or "something", I began learning other people's parts along with my own.  I knew all of Annie's lines and cues even though I wasn't Annie.  I went from learning my part and then going around with the kids and playing until it was our turn on-stage again, to skipping the playtime and sitting there to study "Annie" and the other characters.  I didn't do it because someone told me what a "study" was, or because anyone suggested if she got sick someone would need to take her place.  I did it because I loved it.  It never crossed my mind that I might get to play her part, but I realized by the last shows, that if she did get sick, I was ready and knew everything by heart.

So then I was told about Wizard of Oz and tried out to be a "muchkin" because there weren't larger little kids' parts.  They passed over me as a munchkin so I tried harder, to be the ugliest and meanest looking "flying monkey" there and I was picked. It wasn't as much fun for me because there was no other part or larger part to learn.  It was either packs of munchkins or packs of monkeys and they didn't allow kids around the stage for other parts, even when I tried to sit-in anyway.  It was basically like the CIA cafeteria with one lunch for "known" employees and a second lunch for "unknown" employees.

I said I wanted to be an actress.  Then, some adult or group that probably already knew about my "programming" and church guilt trips and my "sensitive" nature and desire to make "God" happy, gave this big sermon or lecture about "being a living sacrifice".  The lecture went on and on about making sacrifices and how it doesn't mean anything if you don't give up something you really love.  I was told God is only happy if we make a real sacrifice and once you make a promise, you can't break it.  I had already been vocalizing how I was going to be an actress and I loved acting and singing and this is when I was wanting to take dance too.  So up came this lecture, after I said I loved acting more than anything and I was told we should only give God something you love.  So I told God I wouldn't act.  I kept it between myself and God and then I ended up telling my Dad, who, I believe, was the one to give me the big lecture about how God only wants a sacrifice that means something.  I'm sure anyone could have manipulated my Dad or a church person to drill that into my head, and wait for the outcome, but they already knew they could count on me to "do the right thing".

So they quashed my acting and began giving welfare to Middletons in the UK.  Truly.  Did you notice, by the way, what James Middleton focused on in his little speech?  "Living Sacrifices".  It was sort of a "thank you for all you've done to the beating bag through the decades so we could come this far."

After I told my Dad I made a promise to God that I wouldn't act anymore, or try out for anymore plays, and how I'd said if I could have one more part in the Wizard of Oz, then I'd quit, my Dad said, "Now you've told me and I have to hold you to it."  Basically, I said it out loud so the NSA surveillance people and those bugging my house heard it too, and made sure they could make the most out of manipulating a little kid.  When I said, a couple of years later, maybe God didn't care that much and I had been young and probably He'd understand if I really wanted to act and felt pressured, my Dad said, "Nope! YOU PROMISED!" and my parents refused to take me to any casting calls and there were no more "call-backs". 

I did feel spiritual about it when I prayed, but considering the fact I was an MK Ultra victim and the torture and abuse, programming and manipulation of me, it was like a tactic of the enemy to keep me down.

When I therefore hear someone like James Middleton talk about "being a living sacrifice", I don't see "God" in what he's saying.  I see evil.  I see the culmination of decades of killing and torture and hypocrisy to get to where they are.

I never backed out of that promise until much later, when I tried out for a play in Livingston, NJ.  ("Living Sacrifices" with James Middleton pitting his fingers together chanting, "My sister is going to be the Queen").  Believe me, I never thought I had that role, but to see how they've been connected and have feared me to the point of stalking me my entire life to then gloat over me, proves they thought I would be their future competitor in some way.  So look at what they've done, to quash competition of any kind, even if all I would have done is sing a little, get married to someone nice and have a normal family?

Actually, in high school, in 1993, after someone tried to kill me, I tried out for a part in a play and got the leading role.  Then the play was cancelled.  Next, I was in Livingston, NJ, and was told I was very good but try out for a different role in a different play and I never did.  I always felt slightly hesitant about it, with this U.S. government bondage around me that wasn't from God.  I mostly focused on singing, because it wasn't acting, and I could still sing.  But I did sense it might be okay to try acting as well, and out of curiosity more than anything, with zero prep and going in cold for a cold call, to get the script, memorize and think of a character and present for an audition was sort of a thrill and a way to overcome public fear on a small scale.  I did not go back to try out for the play that was recommended and instead, in Portland, Oregon one day I sang a song at an audition and experienced extreme harassment.  It was probably around 2000 or so, after I'd been raped, and I walked into the same environment that had greeted me after Josh Gatov took me out in public to have my enemies gloat over me.  I was being forced out of auditioning at all, and told, "NO.  You CAN'T."  I said "What do you mean, I can't?"  and he kept saying YOU CAN'T.  Then finally I found someone else who said write your name down and they'll call you.  I always had people smirking and asking me, "Cameo.  Is that your STAGE name?"  So I did sing a part of a song but they wouldn't let me sing the section that showed off my voice and range, just a plain short few measures and then that was it.  It was discouraging enough, with all of the hatred fomenting in that place, to never try it again.  Anywhere, and it really has nothing to do with acting but with this country and repeated acts of crime against me in addition to everything from pressuring me out of acting competition, to stealing my homework to keep me from intellectual competition, to ruining my singing voice to prevent me from singing to keep me out of that.

This country is full of hatred.  Not only that, they took religion and knowledge of my sensitivity and sensitive nature and prayers to God, and manipulated me solely for leverage for their mediocrity.  From the age of 8 to 18 I felt imprisoned by a "promise" that was coerced and extracted from me when I was a kid susceptible to programming, when the only purpose was not to "please God" but to please a bunch of people who wanted me out of their way.  As long as a UK/Canadian/U.S. group could guilt-trip me, they had me caged.

Of course I made vows and promises to God that I kept.  My virginity for one, which was fine until I was 24 and the U.S. and a bunch of pithy Jews wanted to go after me on that as well.

What really tips the balance however, is not to allow people like James Middleton and Co. to insult you and accuse you over not faithfully keeping promises to God that actually, they themselves inspired (not God), but to realize it wasn't about concern for my spirituality or relationship with God at all, or a prophetic inspiration or a command from God.  It was from wolves and those who seek to kill and destroy every good gift that God gives someone.  What they preyed upon, was my "sensitivity".  No one said, "Did God put this idea in your mind and heart as something you feel like you should do?"  or "Making a sacrifice as a kid should come from God, not grown-ups".

What I had in my heart to do, was to be an actress.  Even if it meant plays, not movies or t.v.  I always thought about plays, and wasn't jumping to the idea of other things.  I wanted to sing, act, dance, and paint and be happy. 

This country wants living coals on a stake to show off for rich imbeciles.  Every argument against "religion" that could be made by a communist country, was made through extortion of me using a combination of religious brainwashing with U.S. military and CIA programming. 

When you realize how they got mixed up, by introducing their own ideas of "what God wants" with raping me of what I chose and believed for myself, you can clearly see how it is impossible to give even 'religious consent' to another person to raise your own child when there is an establishment of government corruption behind the impetus.  If someone was told it was "God" and you find out it's "the government" how does that work with someone you're told are your parents, and then you find out are not.  Who is the real mother?  Solomon says I am, when it comes to my son Oliver, and God has told me I am and this is what I know with my heart and know was given to me by natural right.

Corruption and lies from the U.S. and Canada are not grounds for invalidation of this right.  I just might get what I want, because I asked God for it, not the United States military or CIA.  Don't you forget it.  There is no way the U.S. can pull this kind of "fast one" without answering for it and I am gaining on them.

All of this to say when he uses the connotation of "sensitive assignments" and polygraph and asking to be tested and the "call-backs", I know that while E.H. was getting polygraph call-backs, I was bitten by the acting bug, after the U.S. targeted me for a "strategic arm reduction".

How nice.  Maybe the U.S. just picks out kids all over and zaps them for fun, for "strategic reductions".  And then you wonder why people like Carmen Wilson go in for "liposuction" of a minute amount of fat on the insides of their thighs. 

E.H. says when he was called in for the 3rd test, he asked his mother-in-law to prescribe a mild tranquilizer and he took one before the test.  I remember picking up some small white pill from the carpet around this time, or earlier, and getting LSD's out of my mind.  It was left there, for a kid to find, and I found it, and put it in my mouth, thinking it was candy or a mint.  One of those tiny pastilles Granny got or something.  Well, later in Canada when they falsely arrested me they had some guy that worked for them throw a similar pill (not identical at all) my way under the grate so was it from the U.S. or Canada?  E.H. probably knew he'd be questioned about it and wanted a chance to say yes, he had a pill and didn't know it was illegal before a polygraph.  I don't know what kind of pill it was in my house but I remember it just like I remember some tranquilizer shot to the back of my neck when I was older.

So I had been given these pills and then I was targeted to fall from a tree and break my arm and the Maiers gave me (so my Mom could see) an empty pill box shaped like Granny's mint box that was English, and a lipstick holder that looked like a grill under ceramic with a mirror, which fit over a finger.  I don't know if the message was "Pills and Thrills", "Pills and Grills", or "Pills and Kills".

He says the third test was administered by a "real, hard-ass son-of-a-bitch" they called "The Hammer".  (I remember that ride from the fairground.  "The Hammer")

I write about this later, but when my Mom held a weapon against me and I was looking the drawer for a “hammer”, around this time,  after I had asked my Mom out loud why she did this, there was an effort, I had thought, to conceal my comment that I made out loud

After this there was some phone call I was supposed to pick up and answer, “God?”  I was told to address the person as “God”.    The person on the other line sounded distressed.  The person on the other line sounded distressed.  Both my Mom and Dad were at the house and my Dad was recording me from in the house with some kind of recording device.  I remember at the time that I thought they were going to try to change the word “Mom” to “God” because I had said out loud, “Mom, why do you have a gun?” or “Why do you have a gun Mom?”

This happened right after someone took me to Alan Springer’s house and they electrocuted me with a headband they made me wore, and had some kind of a ball or bit put into my mouth at the same time.  I notice on pg. 55 E.H. mentions he shot a hole in the roof of a car, and I actually have a round scar on the roof of my mouth from the torture at the Mormon Springers house with my parents involved.  It was also done to me at my own house, while I was chained to my bed and the scar at the roof of my mouth is about the size of the top of a pencil eraser, the same size as some of the other round marks (scars) I’ve found on other parts of my body.  I was told to hold a battery inside of my mouth on at least a few occasions that I can remember, while I was electrocuted.

UPDATED 8/24/13

I'm starting off today's comments with some things I remembered when I woke this morning, to add to previous comments.  One thing I've wondered too, is if I'm looking (or should be) for someone who is in jail somewhere in the world that cares about me, I mean in there for political or other reasons, because I've had this sense of the depression and sadness from someone starting around 7 p.m. at night and then until getting up in the morning since I was about 8 years old.  If my "bonnie" (a dear one) lives "over the ocean" I'm not sure if it's a full 12 hour time difference, a 6 hour one, or what.  I sense it sometimes when I wake up, and then it's like it's there until it lifts, all of a sudden, as if someone was just let out of a cold dark cell.  Then, I was told more recently, within the last year when I commented about it, "It's probably just something that you will have to get used to and you will have to deal with the rest of your life."  It isn't a sense of my own depression, which I understand and have experienced, like anyone, for a time, for natural reasons.  It's a sense of a lost twin.  Like a lost twin, or if not a twin exactly, some 'dear' person, related or not, that I am connected to .  I also do believe that sometimes the sense is from a cycle I was in of government abuse, probably, as an infant or toddler, but I think there is something else because I sense it's from another person.

Aside from this, things I remembered something about the acting in plays and call-backs and one with regard to being "peppered with questions" I remember when I was playing with Annie production kids, they all circled around me one day and asked question after question after question, rapid-fire, and then the girl named "Molly" whose real name was Molly but who played a different orphan, older than me, showed me a bottle of mace.  She told me I should get mace to protect myself (pepper spray), and then those kids that had been friendly, began a game of whispering about me loudly so I could see them whisper, laugh at me, and then run away.  So I was running after them to play and be included, and they kept running from me and taunting me.  I didn't realize it because to my face they were saying, to come over next to them and play, but then they'd smile and run.  So this is another reason I quit playing with the kids, and decided to sit in the auditorium and study the actors, and learned all of Annie's lines.  I knew all of Annie's lines, and most of the other adults as well and sat there listening and memorizing everything.  When I realized I liked this, and had just memorized almost an entire play, I tried to do it, on my own because I wanted to, with Wizard of Oz and they deliberately blocked me from studying.  They had known I had memorized the Annie play and they, for some reason, didn't want me memorizing another one and said, "No, you can't watch the other actors practice" and I explained I wanted to just sit quietly and watch and listen and they told me no and pushed me out.

So pretty much, in every way, this was a direct reflection of the United States of America and the exact same politics and anti-competition was obvious in every stage of my life, with everything I tried to do, from the time I was a kid, or maybe, from the time I was born.  If it had been one instance of anti-competition, that would be chalked up to a specific group, but it wasn't.  The exact same thing was done with a group stalking me and trying to control and oppress my life, regardless of what town or state I lived in.

The other thing I remembered, was about the same time Diana of Wales was singing "Uptown Girl" on stage and performing, I was being teased about being an "up and then down" girl, emotionally.  I would burst into tears and cry and then my Dad would say something funny and I'd laugh and I would cry and laugh at the same time, and say, "I don't know why I'm crying and laughing at the same time!"  For awhile, it was every night, I would start crying and then thinking about how I didn't even know why I was crying, I would start to laugh.  It struck me as hilarious to hear myself cry and not even know what I was crying over when I couldn't think of a specific event for my tears, so I would just laugh and then get started giggling to where I couldn't stop and then all of a sudden, this sorrowful break in the laughter and my sobbing turned to crying again and felt even deeper than it had before, total and complete anguish.  A few times, it was lighter and I'd keep laughing, but most of the time it turned to tears again, after the novelty of laughing over myself wore off.

No one brought it up to me, outside of my family, until after Princess Diana died.  After she died, my housemate Jana said to me, "I think you're manic-depressive."  She said this, just to say it.  And her reason was not that I was emotionally up and down because of subconscious triggers from things done to me as a toddler, or the piling up of a day's events to be tired and then sensitive, but instead, she was on the government trajectory that wanted to say I was a "slob" and not orderly and clean and so she wanted to say my cleaning my stove in detail was "manic".  It wasn't.  It was natural and what was sadistic, is that the U.S. did what they could to change the story about me.  I thought it was so odd of her to say this and then I didn't hear it again until a roommate from Japan lived with me in 2002 and told me she was manic-depressive and then at the sink, while I was washing my dishes (cleaning again) she said, "I think you're bi-polar".  When I look back at these two events, it stands out to me that out of the blue, these "unknown" housemates would come into my house and then when I was cleaning, or straightening up my place, tell me I was "bi-polar" or "manic-depressive" and why?  The only thing it would contradict is some desperate attempt to claim I was a slob and slovenly.  I was a perfectionist actually.  "Up and down" never had anything to do, in my childhood, with being clean one minute and organized and then making a creative mess.  It was always about my laughing and crying at the same time--which showed, more than anything, that I had a sense of humor and was able to not take myself seriously even when I was sensitive and the tolls of the day were upon me.  The other thing I remember is that sometimes when I was crying, when I was younger, someone would then tickle me to make me laugh.  So I'd be crying and then laugh and then cry again.  A man who gave more than one indication of having government information about me which he tried to use against me was Mike Tancer, who said snidely the first night he met me, "Have you always been a short-haired girl?" and the way he said it, out of the blue, I knew he was making some kind of internal joke about the up-down comments in my personal file.

Also, the U.S. programmed me with triggers to self-destruct and they hoped to use it to kill me.  I will explain this in a moment and then go back to the book or what I remembered from this morning, but basically, the U.S. used reverse signals and tortured me if I didn't do the exact opposite of what they told me to do, but used specific triggers for when they wanted this done. For example, telling me to put on the brakes, said with a trigger, was to tell me and train me to step on the gas. Don't touch the stove, was to have me "touch the stove".  I was not just trained to do or say things with words but by coached repetition.  You should have seen me at the sewing machine...with my foot on the pedal. 
"Stop!  stop!" and wow, what an incredible speedy Gonzales of a stitching line that was.  A real Rush!

Get lo bus...jack rabbit, i'm not  (if you watch the Touch It by Buster Rhymes (official and remixes) you can sort of see what I'm talking about. 

Also, before I go to that, pushing the red button with the palm of my hand that was above my head, before running, and then pushing it again when I stopped--my Mom marked our calendars with a red pen, with a red dot to 'start' her period and then a second red dot to mark the 'end' of her period.  It parallels the training I received, though later, I wasn't the one getting that training.

But let's see.  The U.S. is still too stupid to return my son to me and admit to the entire world they're liars.  They've lied about me and they kidnapped my son from me. 

I will go into this part later, but I was trained at one point, as I said, to stomp on the gas instead of the brakes when someone told me to "stop" and to touch a stove when it was hot even if they said "stop" and while later they switched around the emphasis, I was being told, "Why you keep doing that, even after we've told you to stop?!"  Over and over, all the time.  One of the most commonly used expressions from my Dad to me was this, "Why do you keep doing this? even after we've told you to stop?!"  and my Mom would say, "I told you to quit and you kept on doing it."  It sounds normal enough until you realize they used me as a toddler to reinforce, with torture, having me do the exact opposite of what they said to do.  If they told me to "stop" I was rewarded if I did not stop or quit.  Later, when I was an older child, they reversed this and began to "mean what they said" so to stay "do this", meant to do it and to not, meant not to.  They beat me in the 'transition' phases, blaming me for continually being 'disobedient' after this is what they'd taught me to do.

So when, for example, E.H. describes how for 30 months the CIA had trained him to break the law to "commit crimes" they then gave him a polygraph and expected him to be honest and not nervous and he says possibly it picked up on some feelings he had.

For me, as a kid, it was more psychological torture, because my parents and others trained me to disobey them and be rewarded for repeating it, and they used physical responses, triggers, and training with it.  Then when they accused me of disobeying them, and beat me, they beat me knowing I was only doing what they asked me to do.  So it got to the heart-wrenching point where I was in my bedroom reading Romans where Paul says "Why do I do what I don't want to do but don't do what I do want to do?  I see there is this law working against me."  My Dad must have been reading my mind and freaked out, because he came into my room and asked me what I was doing.  I said, "Reading my Bible."  He said "What are you reading?" and I said "Romans 9" so then he sat down as and talked with me, giving me extra attention, as tears were rolling down my cheeks and I said, "He is saying exactly what I do," and here I was, this vulnerable and impressionable girl, who was being brainwashed and tortured by my own parents and the U.S. government.  So my Dad was saying that it was just the "sinful nature" at "war" with the good nature.  So I was supposedly a "big sinner" when this is what they were coaching me to be as a toddler, to disobey and do the opposite of what I was told to do.

So I was Satan.  I mean, what else were they trying to imply?  They taught me to break the law, and to disobey them, and to do the mirror-reverse of what I was asked to do, and in some things there was physical training and triggers to go with it.

So when my Dad later, when I was 15 years old, took me driving and I was confronted with the "flight simulator" or car simulator of a vehicle, and then told to "STOP!" as we approached a RR track bridge, I gunned it.  Instead of hitting the brakes, I hit the gas and the more my Dad said "Stop!" the more I pushed the pedal to the metal. 

Before this was ever "tested" with my driving, my mother tested me on our sewing machine.  She wouldn't allow me to sew but to see how my response was to earlier training, when I was about 9 years old, 8 or 9, she allowed me to sit at the sewing machine which had a pedal and she tested the same thing to see what my response was if my foot was on the pedal and she told me to stop.  My stitching from the machine took off at the highest speed and after she tested this a few times she told me she wasn't going to teach me to sew.  The only reason she didn't teach me to sew is that they didn't want me to learn to use the pedal properly and wanted me to revert to earlier programming so that when I was in a car, I would gun it and kill myself.  This was WHY she refused to "teach me" to "sew" with the sewing machine.  So instead, I was sewing by hand.  I made a bean bag and Barbie clothes, by hand.  So then a few years later, when my Dad took me on my first drive, he was testing this reaction again and when he saw it worked, he said he was never riding in a car with me again.

I could kill myself of course, but not him or my Mom.  My Mom never let me drive when she was in the car, and my Dad never let me drive, and they never let me drive my brother around either.  I had always wondered why my mother wouldn't ever let me drive her around or my Dad and even when it was long drives and I could have helped with the driving.  I had also, as a kid, wanted to do something nice and of course, drive them around to show my driving and feel proud of it.  They both never let me drive them around because they knew exactly how I'd been programmed and while they never bothered to let me know I might kill myself, they protected themselves.

So are they really my Mom and Dad?

I know there are 2 Bobs, because I saw the other one today, driving past, who was different from the one at the house yesterday and yet one of the Dicksies told me my biological father is E.H.  So even with twins or whatever, were they thinking I was going to be a kill-sacrifice, or that if they didn't like me one day they could get rid of me? or is the motive for money or politics over-riding that of love? or is even my mother my mother?  maybe one of them is and one isn't, and I look like them, but both of them were previewing whether or not I might kill myself in a car with "sudden brake failure".

It's the kind of "brake failure" Diana was talking about, but one would think it meant the brakes went out or were bad instead of "failure to use the brakes" because of being trained and programmed to do the opposite instead.   That was one specific thing I was trained for:  "death through an accident by sudden brake failure". 

I wasn't a nanny jeopardizing kids' lives because I wasn't trained to do it with someone in the back seat, like a kid, but someone next to me or by myself, with the right cue of being hit or pushed off to the side from another car.

What I can say, looking back, is that several U.S. government kids and people knew about my training and didn't tell me, waiting for me to be killed, but protected themselves or pretended not to know by working around it.  For example, my Mom and Dad never let me drive them around, ever.  Not except for the one time and then I think one other times briefly, just to say I did, in a controlled state.  I was not allowed to drive my brother around--in fact, when I told my brother I'd give him a ride, my mother interjected and said no.  They all knew.  Not one time in my life did I drive my brother anywhere because first my mother or Dad would say no and then soon after, he was piping up saying "I'm not letting you drive me anywhere!" but there was no reason for it.  I remembered thinking it was very odd my parents didn't want me to spend any car-time with my brother "Levi". 

So here I am, faced with the realization my son Oliver is adopted out to people who tried to kill me.  Not only that, more than once, and in a country that has been backing the killers.  I could have ended up even marrying one their Bozos.

I've had about 9 hits put on me, through vehicular "accidents" and collisions and that is not including druggings/overdose or poisoning attempts.  Two of the "hits" were programmed so that I would do the wrong thing and "accidentally" kill myself.

So when I think about how I wondered why my Mom and Dad didn't want me to drive my brother anywhere or "bond" with him that way, prior to any kind of accident, when I think about how they previewed the effects of programming first--my Mom with the sewing machine and my Dad with the car, I know without any doubt, they have lied to the entire world about me and have protected my brother, but apparently they thought I was expendable.

So I asked my Mom today, "How is my son doing?" and when she said fine I said, "Well, I just wanted to make sure he's not being trained to kill himself or anything."

I was trained or programmed to do this with specific triggers, so for example, when someone was sitting next to me giving me a word, or when I was alone in panic mode after someone did something psychically like tried to run their car into the side or push me off the road.  I was specifically trained not to do anything when people were in the back of my car, like kids.  So people who knew either avoided riding with me or worked around it, to cover for it.  Some of the people who knew were Shannon Adams, Alicia Peters, Robin Bechtold, my brother (eventually was told), Erica Ballinger, The Thebaults, Ken & Mary Lynn Kargman, Carl and Mary Del Balzo, Lori Cartright, Alvaro Pardo and Henry,

(by the way, someone is repeatedly disconnecting my internet and it's not from the house because that signal is steady and it's somehow being interrupted while I write this at 8 p.m. and since 7 p.m. or so)

So all the people I was nanny for knew I wasn't endangering their kids because they were in the back seat. Some of them put on a pretense however, to make it look like they didn't care when actually they wanted to limit how much I drove even with them in the back.  But I was programmed not to do anything with people in the back, which is why Shannon Adams and Alicia Peters told me one day I could drive them home but only if they sat in the back.  So no one sat next to me on the passenger side.  Which was odd, when you think about how we were all in high school and a bunch of high school girlfriends don't usually say they will only let you drive if they sit in the back.  Robin Bechtold never wanted me to drive but put on a show to let me occasionally, so it looked like he didn't know, but he did and there are ways I could explain he knew and how I know this in hindsight.  Alvaro and Henry knew and didn't want me driving anywhere and then it was only on my own.  The one time I drove and he was a passenger, he was so paranoid and nervous he had white froth out of the corner of his mouth and dry-mouth the entire time.  I kept wondering what his problem was.

The person who tried to assassinate me by pushing my car off from the left did this in 1992 and then the person who tried to assassinate me by pushing my car off from the right, did this in 2003.  And then there was the "roll" in 1995.  No one was getting back at me because they thought I had deliberately endangered their life, at these times, because I never put anyone in a wreck situation or did anything to harm anyone.  It was just attempts to have me kill myself with a brake failure based on toddler programming, and then to keep trying to kill me by other means.  It's possible that psychological basis to have me commit a self-"directed" suicide attempt with pills was also programmed at that time as an alternate means for me to kill myself and keep the CIA and military looking "clean".  My guess would be, if that is true, something like candy was given to me in large amounts or I was given access to it, after being tortured or emotionally distraught with some trigger.  I know I ate almost a whole bottle of baby aspirin on my own when I was older and remembered, and it's possibly because even earlier than that, I had been programmed to destroy myself by "pills suicide" at specific triggers.

So yes.  The U.S. has been trying to kill me and used employees to rape me and my own parents to facilitate programming of me.  They didn't care if I died and this country violated international laws about political asylum to steal and kidnap my son from me, who is endangered as long as he lives in this country.  I was later tested about whether I'd still take pills later too, under trauma or certain triggers.

Mother fuckers.

I know when I saw this woman "Shelly" who died young, in her open casket, she had some kind of a rosary or necklace around her neck.  She Lee.  After I saw her, I began hanging up my long necklaces on the right side of my mirror for my dressing table.  I had a bunch of necklaces and there were two clear plastic tabs or hooks that held the beveled mirror to the frame in the back and I started draping them over this hook.

So again, when Stephanie Maiers is giving me an empty pill box and a "lipstick clamp" that rolls, what do you think the symbolism was?  Maybe death. The mirror was a nice touch to show how reverse meaning, and after I was targeted to fall from a tree, had a nice mechanical arm look to it as well.   The front was white like a sling and the back was a metal brace.  Uh oh, now my foot is getting stuck to the gas instead of the brakes!  Pedal to the metal, Oh My!  It also shows that when Alvaro Pardo was worried about my driving with him next to him, coming from NY where Steph's friend "Karin" was, with the FBI, it leads to Maiers and their knowledge of how I was programmed and collusion to arrange for me to kill myself.

Ca-ching...because it's cold hard cash baby.

With the pills, for programming me as a baby and toddler, to commit suicide later as an adult (if I didn't kill myself with "brake failure"...oops..."F" for hitting the brakes), I would say the few cues I have are someone saying I got into powdered donuts and was eating them all when I was a baby and no one knew how I'd been able to crawl that high or far.  Something like that.  I was also told I was found with one in each hand and I'd take a bite of one and say "num-num!" and then a bite of the other and "num-num!" 

What makes you numb?  Cocaine.   I got onto a table as a baby somehow.  Then later I remember seeing a bottle of baby aspirin and eating them all, thinking they were candy, but also, I remembered thinking if I was sick or didn't feel good, and was crying, that's what I was supposed to do.  So I remember crying first and then finding them and eating all of them.

For this, I believe I was somehow trained to do it outside.  Like, die outside from overdose, not inside a house.  I was programmed and trained to take a bunch of pills and wait outside to die, or maybe as a toddler, fall asleep or get picked up or something.  But it was to be outside.  This is where I took the bottle of asprin in Moses Lake and I also went outside when I was in Cashmere, WA and sat down in an orchard and waited.  So it was to be outside if I killed myself with overdose.  Then, to cover over this with a more benign idea, my brother and I were given $1 and told to "Get out of the house" and go buy some candy with it.  So we would walk outside to the store, buy candy, and eat it outside while walking home.  It was just sort of a cover for getting programmed to overdose on drugs outside sometime.

I am going back to this book to comment on more material, but also, around this same time of call-backs and when I was around 8-9 we also had a car stolen, some kind of a 72' or 70s Chevy and it was a classic sportscar my parents really liked, olive green, and I had to sit on their lap in the passenger side because there wasn't always room in the back.  It might have been a 74' Impala.  It was stolen one day and when it was found or returned, trashed up and had beer cans with beer all over and I remember the bag of Doritos.  I asked if I could have some of them and they said no, they didn't know where they came from but they were original Doritos and I was so hungry then I remembered wanting to eat them.  Someone had also taken a few cassette tapes and pulled out the ribbon so it was all over (or it was one cassette tape maybe but with all the ribbon pulled out) and left them there but mostly I remember the beer and the Doritos and how dirty it was inside.  There were also a bunch of oil cans inside and I was told someone had been pouring oil in and burning it up and pouring more in.  Maybe just a couple thrown in that were empty, but I remember that too.  Then, it was either that car or a different one and I think it was different, stolen when we were at the sand dunes and we had to walk around looking for it for a long time and then finally found it.  My Dad said, as he handed me the tape, "You know what you can do?  Get a number 2 pencil and roll it back up".  If he didn't say it about that tape it was about another one, because it was shortly after.  If there were more tapes, one was pulled out and then I did listen to part of one and there was a man talking on it.  This car vandalism occurred in 1983 or 1984 if I remember correctly.  It was after we were being made to be hungry.  I'm pretty sure the tape with the man talking on it was from that car, and I liked listening to it because he had a nice voice and said nice things but I didn't know who it was--it was an American I think but I'm not sure if maybe there was an accent.  It sounded like he was talking directly to me, to give me a message so I played it over and over and then one day it was gone.  I kept trying to make out one part of it.  I would rewind the player, play, and rewind, and play, and listen to it over and over.  Then my Dad either parted out the car or impounded it.  They left the keys in the ignition all the time but they also hot-wired it to start too.  It's the only car I remember being hot-wired.  It was also the one that a hanger was used on to "jimmy" open the locks through a crack in the windows.

I'm sure I could write a book about all of this, and make some money, but I don't believe I will be making money on a book deal in the U.S. because so far, the U.S. government has used people to try to intercept and control what I do and write.  There are things I can save for a book and put it together at some time, but the money I expect to have from the U.S., is compensation for the decades of forcing me out of work and lying about me to the entire world.  I expect compensation and the return of my son.  No one in their right mind will ever believe a word the U.S. has to offer again by the time I'm through.

pg.  46   E.H. mentions "The Hammer".  He says he had a military voice and told him to face front and "don't look at me".  My connotation to this is that  I used to say to my brother "Don't look at me" in the car, and my parents would laugh and say, "He can't hurt you by looking at you".  However, I was programmed and told not to look at the person, or one of them, who tortured me.  I was either told "Don't look at me" and tortured if I did, or I was programmed the reverse to not look at someone when they said, "Look at me when I'm talking to you".  I looked at everyone actually, even in lectures most of the time, but there were only a few I didn't look at and one was my Dad.  I was told, so often, not to look at him when talked to, and to keep my gaze lowered, that later when I was quizzed about the color of his eyes I said "Brown".  They're not brown.  Both of the Bob twins have green-blue eyes that sometimes even look slightly blue-gray, but they are not solid brown and yet that's what I said because I was never allowed to look him in the eye at close range.  Even when repeatedly told to look him in the eye or look at him when he was talking to me, I couldn't.  I would start, and drop my gaze down quickly.  I don't see why I would do this unless I was tortured if I didn't as a toddler.  My supervisor at Wendys and a doctor at a hospital commented about how "This is a patient who makes good eye contact" and I do, generally, right at everyone, but not with my Dad in his lecture tone and possibly not with a few others.  When E.H. indicates he was on drugs the day he talked to the "Hammer" it is possibly to insinuate one was drugged or on tranquilizers when in front of this person.  He says the Hammer asked him if he had taken any drugs and he said a prescribed tranq and the man hit the roof.  The other connotation I might have with a hammer, is that I used one to break open a can of blueberry pie filling when I was in a hungry mode.  I kept seeing it in the pantry, and instead of using a can opener and making a noise, I guess I followed the candy rule or drug rule and took it outside.  So I pounded on the can of pie filling outside and then hid the hammer by the shed, hoping I could find a convenient time to clean it off later, but I forgot about it.  I didn't want to make a mess in my room, so I took it outside and then I chugged it because I didn't have a spoon or utensils.  I was pretty desperate, and then my hands were sweating and I was nervous because I was afraid I'd get caught.  When my Dad found the hammer he said, "WHO has been using my hammer?!"  I didn't say anything and then when he showed it to me, I admitted I had and he said, "What's THIS?" and I said, "Blueberry sauce".

He said why did you use a hammer and the hand-held one was too hard to use, and the automatic was noisy, so I took it outside, beat it with the head and then realized the forked end would open it better and brought the hammer down on the lid with the forked end.  Then I chugged it.  All I can remember is I was starving and we never ever got sweets and maybe there was something programmed over blueberries, but I finally decided I'd open it up and I also remember I was mad at my parents for some reason, possibly crying, and honestly, it may have been a good reason, not to justify, but that's what I did.  What it really followed, was the same pattern of eating pills or candy like drugs, or drink, outside and not in the house, following emotional upset.  It was very drug-related in my opinion.  And what are blueberries but little blue "pills".  I still remember how it tasted--that is how acutely hungry or triggered I was.  I started to feel sick after over half of it was chugged.

E.H. says the Hammer questioned him again and again about drug use and drinking, and then on April 29, 1993, he gave him his final polygraph.  The book here has a typo of 1993 instead of 1983.  1993 is when I graduated from high school and left my parent's house.  It was right around that time, because the Seniors got out of school early if they had their credits and then took their diploma.  Actually, I think I first chugged some of it and then used a fork for the rest, just because I sort of remember maybe cleaning the fork but forgetting about the hammer.  The fork was instead of the spoon possibly bc it was the nearest thing or I didn't have to go into the house and open a drawer that might have been heard.  Of course I would have known a spoon was better to use, but I made do.  Possibly I had the fork because I thought I could try to puncture the top with a fork but it didn't work so I got the hammer. I know there were a bunch of indented little holes from trying and then after making all these dented hole impressions, I whacked it with the hammer and it went through.

So while he had his fourth test and I cleaned my fork, he says he was relieved when the ordeal was over.  I know I got spanked over it with a belt and wasn't shaking any hands.  E.H. says he then went to a grocery store in McClean and got snacks and champagne.  This makes me think of how my brother and I were coached to go outside and get candy at the grocery store after this.  We'd say, "We're BORED!" and my parents would say, "If you're bored, clean your room" but then they started to give us each a dollar and say, "Here's a dollar.  Why don't you walk to the store."  It was only on Sundays.  We were able to get a full lunch size bag of candy with it.  It was a plain brown paper bag and we'd walk with the tops pressed together, not folded over, because we had tall kinds of candy in them, so we had the two side of the bag pressed together and walked through many feet of snow for it.  We were able to buy many boxes and pieces of candy.  Franks Superette had lots of penny candies and individual pieces as well as boxes.  I always sensed a little depression around that time though, on the days we were told to go to the store, and before this I think is when I found a bottle of vermouth half filled and wrapped in a brown paper sack at the back of the fridge. 

He says May 2, 1983 he walked into the CIA and said "What's up?" and they told him to resign on the spot.  I don't know what was happening for me to relate, but possibly this was around the time I said I was giving up acting (what I loved most) after sort of pressure, or possibly I remember walking in after a candy trip with my brother one day and seeing a black eye on my Mom or some problem and I asked what was wrong.  I sensed something was wrong on some of those Sundays but I didn't know what. 

pg. 47.  He says the agency didn't offer him another less-sensitive assignment and just fired him immediately.  He also says he didn't get probation.  He says they asked him what he wanted his position to be named as because he couldn't say CIA for his resume so he said "Economic Specialist for the State Department" (numbly).  For me, I changed my aspirations to "teacher" and "singer" and I guess then we were allowed some candy, or if I understand numb and drugs or candy to go together who knows if there were medications involved at some point.  Our meds seemed to be the candy we got, but it was sort of replacing a programming for something else.

He says their attitude seemed to be they "stuck a knife in his back" but wouldn't tell him why and don't take it personally.  For me it would have been the whole pressure and lecture to give up something I loved, knowing acting was what I said I loved.  Also, we were tortured and no one would tell us.  I suppose finally, I think the car of ours that got trashed was a Chevy Impala, and then finally, around this time we were always told "maybe" and not "no" or "yes" anymore on anything.  It was always "maybe". He says he was required to return the CIA car and the keys to it.

Another thing, is E.H. says the agency didn't offer him a "less-sensitive" assignment, which, if he was talking about kids and I was "sensitive", could have meant custody in some way.  I know he's talking about country assignments but because some of what he writes is coded, I wonder.  I wouldn't know if the less-sensitive assignment an sensitive ones are to refer to myself, my brother Levi, Kate Middleton, or anything.

I should say, for me, commenting on all of this, nothing is other than what I say--no hidden meaning or use of sentences to say anything other than what I mean, or acronymns.

I was never told my brother Levi is related biologically to E.H.  I was told I am.  I know he was wearing Wranglers until I told my Mom other kids wore Levis.  I remember later, he was trying to sit on my face, or above it, as he farted which is most likely something someone told him to do.  As for programming of my brother when he was younger, I know he was taught to scan, because he uses his eyes back and forth to access both sides of the brain, and when he was on a soccer field with all the kids told to run to the goal, my Dad told him to run or get the ball and instead of running with the kids he dropped down to his stomach and started examining the grass.  The more my Dad yelled from the side to run after the ball, the more he stayed on his stomach as the other kids ran around.  So this was possibly an indicator of the same kind of reverse psychology programming.  I had thought it was odd and then someone said how nice to show he's not competitive or something but really, she knew it was about programming.

As to whether he was taught to self-destruct, I don't think so.  I was, but I don't think he was and I never saw any indication for it.  I don't think he got nearly what I got prior to 1977 and even later. I also was told I could let him drive me around but not the other way around and then he told me this himself.  So I think he knew something at some point.  When I think about "sudden brake failure", the only "Charles" in my family would be my brother, who my Dad called "Charlie Brown" and later, "Buster" and "Mister".  I know Judy Roark one day looked at me panicked and said "Cameo, don't look at me" and I froze because I wasn't sure what was going on. My Mom was upstairs and had a cool tone and the only people who I didn't look at was mostly my Dad and then sometimes my brother and I said this to eachother (He's looking at me, she's touching me, don't touch me, get on your own side, don't look at me...).  I think it is possible my brother would be involved in trying to kill me because it's shocking enough to know my parents were and they protected him and yet never told me how I should protect myself.  It is possible the government began utilizing my brother.
UPDATED 8/25/13

When my brother then told me one day he'd take me for a drive, and said why didn't I go with him, I chose not to go with him, not because I didn't like him or because I knew about programming or plans to kill me, but because, as I told him, "When I invited YOU to ride with me in my car, out of all the times I invited you, you refused, so why should I let you take me for a drive when you never let me take you?"  It wasn't being petty, because he had made such a deal about it, it had hurt my feelings and I had also asked him why not many times.  Why not go with his sister as she takes you out for a drive?  He wasn't able to drive yet and he turned it down and acted weird.  Not only that, my parents acted weird.  So in hindsight, I believe he knew about my programming all the way back then, when he was in high school, and knew why he was saying he wouldn't let me drive.  The only way he'd know then, or back in jr. high for him even, was if someone talked to him about it.  My parents did the exact same thing to me.  I can't tell you how many times I said I wanted to take my Mom or Dad for a ride, or could they take me for lessons when I was learning, or after I got my permit, would they let me drive.  One time, they let me, just to say they did I guess, and after that, they refused and acted weird about.  It was so weird I used to say, "Why don't you let me drive?!"  and "Why not?"

Well, because they didn't care if I killed myself, because that was their entire plan apparently, for me to be a "Shelly" lying in her grave early.  She died of leukemia if I remember correctly, and I was living with the Hamilton part of Luke and the Peeping Tom.

Basically, what this means is, my entire family, the Gang of 3, took part in trying to kill me or have me kill myself.  My brother Levi knew about it, and kept it to himself and didn't tell me; my Dad knew about it and tested the results on a test drive in Moses Lake, right before we moved to Sherwood; and my mother knew about it and tested results with my reaction to a foot pedal for a sewing machine when I was even younger, in Moses Lake, and then wouldn't allow me to learn to sew with the machine to write over the programming.  They wanted to keep it as new and neat as possible, and having someone run into me from behind, on the side, hitting and pushing my car into a ditch, resulted in the panic reaction that was desired, from which sprang the programming that I was to gun it and slam on the gas instead of the brakes, which should have propelled me directly, head-on with a telephone pole and killed me.

Nice family.

I know they were all in on it, because all of them proved beforehand, that they knew of my programming and were performing "checks" to see if it was there and I was "operable".  Out of my Mom, Dad, and brother, not one of them said to me, "I have something to tell you Cameo.  I am telling you this because I want to save your life."

I am sure all of them said bad things about me to CPS "secretly" and to whomever they could, because as long as they thought they could keep me from knowing how they were defaming me and participating in the kidnapping of my son from me, they were protecting themselves and using "mental illness" or other suggestions as their defense for premeditated attempted murder.

Then, the first thing my Dad said to my Mom, after taking me out for the first drive to test how I confused the gas with the brakes (my ingrained brake failure programming), she said, "How did it go?" and he said, "You got a bottle of aspirin?" and something about "I need some aspirin".  So he went to the cupboard and got out the bottle.

Basically, it was a way of telling my Mom, who knew I'd overdosed on baby aspirin when I was younger, thinking, "I need some aspirin" that I had shown him the odds of a perfect "suicide".  I was tested, and "suicide-worthy".  When I was younger, at that house, my Dad used to grab my hands and hit me in the face with them saying, "Why are you hitting yourself?  Huh? huh?  Stop hitting yourself!"  That was supposed to be a "game", and he'd take both of my wrists, and start lightly slapping my face with both of my hands and say this. "Why are you hitting yourself?" I used to laugh and laugh...I laughed.

They plotted against me--my own family.

When my Dad went to the kitchen after saying he needed some aspirin, I followed him because I was excited about my first driving.  Then I saw he wasn't actually going to get aspirin and just said this and then when he saw me watching, he decided to get the aspirin.  So I stood there, by the cupboard next to the fridge, and he looked suddenly mean and annoyed and said, "What you are looking at?"  It hurt my feelings and I said, "I don't know."  Then he said "Go on" or get out of here or something.  But I remember this because I first wondered why he was saying he needed some aspirin and wasn't going to get any, but just said it, and then he was annoyed that I noticed and while getting 2 aspirin, asked me what I was looking at.  I think I might have even said, when he said this and didn't at first get it, "Aren't you going to get some aspirin?"

So basically, my family was plotting to have me kill myself, through their premeditated programming, while I was still a toddler.  They obviously didn't back away from their intent, because at different times they tested their results.  I know the Maiers family, which got federal contracts, was involved because of the gifts they gave me, intended to be "understood" by my parents, and by things they said around me or things they wanted me to do.  Later, Stephanie having me sit next to a social worker for her engagement party when my son Oliver was with me, was a way to have me know later she was involved in taking my son from me, but her motives for this, would go back to her family's collusion with mine in wanting to kill me off.

It shows Karin Whittemore was involved later in my life, as well as Christa Schneider, and that is not touching on the other assassination attempts where someone else took the wheel to try to kill me.  They tried to kill me by having me "put a hit on herself" using programming they'd forced against me, to trigger and facilitate my own suicide, and they then used themselves and became outright criminals who attempted murder against me themselves.  None of it was done in the "heat of the moment"--these were calculated, premeditated attempts of murder against me.

I do remember though, like E.H. says he didn't have to bring it up but did, "Shouldn't I have a polygraph?" and then was given one by the CIA and next he took a pill (tranquilizer)...I remember my Dad walked back into the house and in response to "How did it go?" said "I need some aspirin!" or you got some aspirin?  and then when he didn't get it, I spoke up and said, "Don't you need the aspirin?" or "Shouldn't you get the aspirin?" and he was miffed over it, that I verbally reminded him and then when I followed him into the kitchen, he was still mad at me.  If I was "wired" or under surveillance in some way, he knew it then came across that he was just using this phrase or making the comment, without actually following through on the action, which would mean it was a coded response, not a natural joke or comment.  "Don't you need the aspirin?"  "Aren't you going to get some aspirin?" and I said it because I was concerned but I was following him because I was excited I'd spent time with him.  Who knows, maybe they were giving me candy as a toddler after I repeatedly practiced their programming of me for "brake failure" and that's why I followed him over.

Anyway, it's not to be missed in the suggestions in the book Safe House!

While my family was premeditating my death, the other thing they wanted to work on, was seeing if they could put me in jail on false charges or by persuading me to do something wrong.

pg. 48.  E.H. says they kept trying to get him in for a physical and contacting Mary to do it and were calling the house.  He says he made calls to the embassy in Moscow after being fired and says they frequently make calls between the embassy and the State Department in Washington.  For me of course, I lived in the State of Washington at that time.  He said there was an "open" unprotected phone line used for routine conversations and they assumed the KGB listened to those.

The only connotation here is that there was a phone and I used to listen in from where I was, but also, I was wired myself and it's possible (probable) the house was bugged too.  I suppose it's possible if he sometimes refered to me as KGB, that I listened to open unprotected lines, might refer to the lines I was fed that didn't have anything to do with protecting my life.  No one was telling me how to counter the programming--it was being kept as tidy as possible for future effectiveness.  They also knew their best shot at having me kill myself by "brake failure" would be soon after I was driving, before I had more practice to over-ride the programming and had practiced the brakes and gas enough times, under enough conditions, to get past or minimize effects of the programming.  Their best chance at it was while I was between the ages of 15-17, and since driving at 15 was only permitted with an adult, it was going to be about 16 or if later, 17.  Which makes it even more interesting how there was a spinning wheel in Granny's attic, because it looks like I was supposed to be a forever "Sleeping Beauty" like Shelly, if I wasn't criminal enough to start house fires.  I was being set up to be killed and/or imprisoned from the time I was a toddler.

I didn't get any driving practice at age 15 with a permit and was told to wait until the driving instructor gave me lessons and then after this, I didn't drive but maybe once until I was 16 and got my license. 

My mother and father never intended to disrupt the programming and make it less effective.  All of the times I begged to use the sewing machine I wasn't allowed to.  And after the driving test, in Moses Lake, when it was shown it was successful, my mother waited until she knew I was reading one of my favorite books, and knowing how I loved to read and wouldn't be interrupted until I finished the book, she chose that time to once say, for a cover, "If you want to learn to sew, right now is your chance" and I said, "Wait! I'm reading." and said show me after I was done reading the book and then when I said okay, she said, "It's too late."  I begged her...begged, again, from that point, to teach me and she said, "You had your chance".  This was done after they'd also taught me to "do one thing at a time" and "don't start something else until you finish what you're doing".  I didn't practice multi-tasking until 1997, at CTR Business Systems and I realized I had to teach myself how to do it because I was programmed for intense focus on one subject, not a bunch of different things at the same time.  Actually, I think I was trained to do many things and multi-task as a toddler, and then it was "written over" with this "one-track" idea, and then I had to pick up the multi-tasking again on my own.

So my premeditated murder where the "hit" was done by me, myself, was imminent.  They never intended to do anything to ruin their chances of killing me.  They kept it clean.  After the first attempt to trigger my reaction the way they knew was planned to kill me, I was driving more and it wasn't as likely I'd do the same thing, so instead individuals were hired to hijack my car and do hit-and-runs and put boulders in the middle of the road, and poison me.  And they tried to trigger to me to overdose with pills, which I did and it was Granny and my Mom screaming at me and saying no one was taking me to the hospital and not to call 911 and that I was just making a "cry for help".  This was after Barb Greenman coached my Mom to email me and tell me she didn't love me anymore.

So it's like the little red hearts all over Cindy Sandberg's room, which were like the tiny red hearts I used to pick out from small candies to give and keep for myself. "I don't love you" and torture to my head that was extreme, without painkillers, along with isolation, and of course, it's how they programmed my reaction to be.

So.  THIS country has their hands on my son Oliver.

What do you want to do about it?

I have enough information to put several people into prison for life, and I have no doubt there are some who are getting ready to substantiate my claims.

E.H. says at the Moscow end a Marine guard answered the phone and was the go-between for the embassy and Washington.  This sort of sounds like my grandpa Garrett, who was a Marine, talking to my Dad (Washington) and Mom (Washington) regarding me and others.  But who knows. 

He says he had a friend at the embassy named Jim Smith who was expecting him and he told them "those assholes don't believe me" (over the polygraphs).  Actually, he says he did not tell him about the polygraph tests but he was angry over the whole affair.

For me, a "polygraph" "test" was the wiggly lines I was expected to make if I slammed on the gas and killed myself.  It wasn't like Mike Nichols, refusing to stop my car, having over a half hour to do it and another person there and no pressure and I saw his expression first.  They based their programming of me on panic impulses after doing something specific.  I think I was literally polygraphed over whether I loved or hated my parents.  "Do you love me?"  "Do you hate me?" and I'm sure they'd do it just to see if there was any trace of my knowing what they were plotting against me.  I remember Jim and Shirley were told about my driving test but I don't know who else.  Stephanie Maiers wanted to know about it.

He says he knew the CIA suspected all Soviet employees to be potential spies, including the ones at the embassy, and that they were suspected to be KGB agents. 

I suppose I could wonder if someone is saying the CIA was worried there might be one person on my side that didn't want to kill me and would have alerted others about it.  E.H. says he wasn't in contact with a KGB person before he defected and he never would have been crazy enough to call a KGB officer over an open line through the U.S. embassy in Moscow.

He says if he'd contacted the KGB he would have done so secretly by contacting the embassy in Mexico City or through a pay phone, not an open line.  He says "No professional officer is that stupid."  He says when the CIA contacted him about a physical again, he said he'd let them know he didn't want it and called the open line and said "I'm not taking the physical" which he knew could be heard by KGB and might let them know he had been deep cover, not a regular employee.  Langley called him and the CIA called him disgruntled and that probably the KGB, knowing this, might have thought to talk to him.  He says he waited 2 years for the talk and then they talked.

I would say, when thinking about how he was accused of contacting the KGB in Switzerland earlier, and his mention of "Berne, Switzerland" (burn) I might think of how the 74 Impala smelled like burnt rubber and had burns and oil all over it.  I am not sure if this is when I heard a tape with a man's voice on it, but no one said who is was and I didn't recognize him but I liked having the tape, whoever it was, for some reason.  I might also think of how Stephanie Maiers later gave me, in 1988 or so, Toblerone chocolate, which was shaped like a triangle, and is from Switzerland, and was like the triangle shape of the opened Doritos in the car that I found.  Probably even the orange fish "Dory" from "Finding Nemo" has something to do with it--I mean, with being inspired by some earlier event.  Possibly. 

I think the other thing that comes to mind, back to previous spy training, but not about this section, is that I also learned how to make invisible ink with my Mom.  She showed me how to write on paper with lemon juice and hold it above a toaster and you could read it.  She used a toothpick I think, and I thought it was great.  It dried and you really couldn't see it and then if you put it above a toaster so it warmed, it browned enough to show the letters.  It was one of the best fun things to find as a kid.  So I made secret notes with lemon juice, and I also knew how to steam open the seal of a letter by holding it over a pot or kettle of steam.  That was all earlier stuff though, when I saw the lock picking.  I was then given or bought a bottle of disappearing ink that showed up bright blue on clothes and disappeared without a trace and when I did this to my Mom and brother they didn't like it.  It was more of a boughten gag gift, not a secret message. 

Also, when I visited Stephanie in Seattle I noticed she made a big deal about a bunch of scarves hanging over a hook to the left of a wall, which was like the necklaces I'd draped over my mirror as a kid after I saw Shelly's funeral.  I had a weird, bad feeling about it because I could tell Stephanie felt triumphant about something and I wasn't sure what it was but I knew it had to do with me. 

None of the Maiers ever contacted me again after the attempt to murder me, by triggering my programmed response to an attack with another car.  She called or wrote up to that point, and then I never once heard from any of them again after they tried to put the hit on me, and wanted to say I did it to myself.  I didn't talk to her again until 2004, and it wasn't until after E.H. had been declared dead.  E.H. and my Grandpa Garrett, the Marine.  There were definitely worried people around when I didn't die as planned so they worked at other attempts and then false arrests and defamation to claim I was mentally ill.  It was all they had, and it's still all they have, because my testimony, on the face of it, could put dozens of people in jail for life, and should be grounds for the return of my son to me and full Witness Protection.  But who in the U.S. would give me "Witness Protection" when clearly the U.S. government was paying some of these people and supporting it to begin with?  Did the U.S. and Canada collude to violate international laws regarding political asylum?  What do YOU think?  What's the U.S. going to do now, put all of their paid employees in jail?  Can I make a citizen's arrest?

It's not like other, totally random people haven't guessed or included inside jokes about what has been done to me and what my brother has done.  Our about our programming.  You can watch the Snicker's ad with the coach on the playing field to guess that much.  The coach gets his team in a huddle and shows them a playboard and tells them what to do and then they all say okay!  and nod and he yells, "Do it for Muther Russia!"  Basically, if they're all programmed like my brother was, they'll all lay down on the field and not move.  So everything in the commercial, as a pun, is the reverse, including potentially, doing it for Russia when it's for another country, not Russia.  The whole idea is that "snicker, snicker" it's all a lie.

The other thing the U.S. did, which they thought was a great joke was RPAW.  What's the reverse of that?  WAPR.  Like Whopper.  Num-num!  So it's from
Ring around the rosy
Pocket full of posies
Ashes, ashes,
We all fall down

It marks an "event" made deliberately every 2 years.  For me, it was bad things planned, and then the reverse for Katie, was good things.  It's been this ongoing joke intended to degrade me and my son and reward the efforts of people who have harmed us, including Bob and Dicksie Garrett.  Not only does it mark symbolic many ways can you die?  death was planned for me that many ways, while for Katie, they planned the exact reverse of it.  So I would say it's a very sick, sick, form of premeditated attempted murder.  I will explain this more later, after more commentary on E.H's book but he mentions the 2 yr. timeframe more than once as well.  I also know when I was held hostage in Nashville, TN and assaulted with injections and drugged, my mother either then or later said to me, "I said to him, 'Now Dr. Saw-Haw; now Dr. Saw-Haw" and she repeated his name in groups of 2. 

pg. 51.  E.H. says, in ch. 5, "Ed Howard, Ex-Spy" that as of May 3, 1983, he was out of a job. He says he was in a state of shock, disoriented, and angered and that they kept him on the payroll while telling him to see their psychiatrist Dr. Bernard Malloy, who was more interested in limiting CIA damages than helping him.  He says he had "fast decisions" to make, that the 2 yr long plans for Moscow were in tatters, and they had to come up with "Plan B".

I don't know how it really fits here, but I would add that around this time, while I was being newly called a "slob", had my homework stolen from me, and was forced out of acting, I was also being called the following names, out of the blue:  brat, ingrate, rotten, weird, baby, and told "don't be so sensitive." We also had food deprived at this time and were told to "keep your mitts to yourself" and "keep your paws to yourself".   We weren't humans with hands anymore but had cat mitts and dog paws.  They didn't want me to be 'sweet' or 'sensitive'.

I was  also very neat and was suddenly being taught to be messy, and right now, in the place I live now, I keep it a mess, yes, but that's because it's a small space, I don't live with anyone else, and it's not a normal situation for me.  Anyone who has lived with me knows I am, by nature, orderly.  Wanting me to be messy, out of the blue, along with beating me, and verbal abuse and calling me names, was all at once, all of a sudden.  I had not been called names before, every single day, and told to "shut up".   The amount of verbal abuse was sudden and extreme.  So for me, I was in total shock, disoriented, and angry.

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