Sunday, September 8, 2013

Edward Lee Howard and Torture of U.S. Citizens by U.S. (3)

...(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)

E.H. says the Soviet division was not as social as the European one he'd been assigned to and says it was a "cold, sober" place.  I can say at that time in my life I was made to freeze, and there was no drinking.  Even water was scarce.

We went from having people over for dinner parties to having no one over, ever.  If I met anyone, it was at their house and they did not come to my house.  I was encouraged to "play over there" and not bring them over.  I began to develop a fear over how clean my room was and unless my room was perfect, I didn't want anyone over.  So then my mother was saying something like this, that the house wasn't clean enough and she didn't want company over, but this was why I didn't have kids over, and previously, she'd never made any comments about having to have things clean. 

He says the managers of the Soviet division were bitter and some seemed straight out of the White Army Corp.  I don't know what the White Army Corp is so I have no idea.  He says they suspected everyone and everything.  My only connotation was that I was suspected of breaking everything or ruining it.  If anything happened to anything, I was asked, "Did you do this?" and if something was missing, "Did you take that?"  and "Don't let Cameo touch it" or "I don't want you anywhere near this" or "Can't you do anything right?"  "So how come the lawnmower only breaks down when YOU'RE supposed to mow the lawn?"  "What happened to the lawnmower?"  "Dog-gone-it, get out of the way."  My response was usually, "I didn't DO it!"  "I don't know!  I didn't do it!"  I became the first one to say very quickly when accusations were made between me and my brother, "I didn't do it."  Then I was told, "If you didn't, who DID" or "Right.  You never do ANYTHING wrong." So when I was asked, "What happened to the lawnmower?" I usually said, "I don't know.  It backfired."  I was asked if it was filled with gasoline and all of that, and oil, and I did these things, but then it started to backfire all the time and sometimes, wouldn't start at all, or would start and then break down in the middle.  At first, I was really upset over it and then, I got a little inside smile thinking, "This keeps breaking down and I'm not even doing anything!"

pg. 40. E.H. says when something went wrong in Moscow, it was always blamed on the KGB.  Where I lived, everything was blamed on me.  He says he was given DAOC, Denied Areas Operations Course, which was training on how to escape surveillance.  If I think about my life here it would be that I was sneaking around our house all the time.  I had been asking for a doctor kit for awhile too, and I finally got one.  I don't know if the acronym DAOC was pronounced "dock" but I did get a doctor's kit, in a case, at this time.  I wasn't allowed to keep it though.  I had for several months and then it was taken away from me.  With the doctor's kit, it had a bunch of doctor's things like a plastic stethoscope and ear checker, tongue depressor, eye checker, and then some tools and bandages and things.  I possibly had some thought of kid's "play" in a "thermometer" in the "other" place but I never did that.  What I remember was that I practiced bandaging up and checking my brother, in my room and our living room.  I do remember telling him I was cutting him open and pretending I had a knife to cut into him for "operations".  I think that was about the time my Mom took my doctor's kit away.  I pretended with my hand and with a butter knife.  I know I said some things out loud like, "Okay,  now I'm going to cut you open."   I remember I always checked him by telling him to lie down on the "doctor table" (the floor).  I never used a knife as a weapon or pretended or had an instinct however--it was only for "operations".  I know we had steak knives that cut really well and we all ate steak until suddenly just my parents did and then no one did and our steak knives were gone.  I said, "What happened to all of our steak knives?!"

The other things at that time were since we were told to go to bed at 7 p.m., and I wanted to stay up, I would sneak out of bed and crouch around a corner, and then either stand there, or sit, or lie down to listen to them whispering.  I quickly realized I needed to be able to get on my feet in case they heard me so I didn't lie down there often and was in a position to run at any moment.  Sometimes I listened to them talk, other times I took a book out to read by their light from around the way, and then I also practiced sneaking in and out of my brother's bedroom.  My mother would say dramatically, "Shh!  I think I hear Cameo!" "Cameo, are you out of bed?"  I would say just about every single night I snuck out of bed.  This continued for years, and wasn't just one season or one year.  I was also seeing the doctor all the time then, for my broken arm.  So I was back and forth at the hospital and the clinic in Moses Lake, WA, about my broken arm from the time it was broken May 31, 1982 and a few months after as they kept looking and deciding whether or not to give me a 'mechanical' arm or if it was healing in the sling.  When they did my operation, they put 2 metal pins in and then they waited to see how it was healing because they were talking to me about giving me a robotic arm from the elbow-down or a partly "assisted" mechanical arm somehow. 

Another thing I think I was possibly trained in, with the firearms training, is checking the bridges.  I remembered today when I went for a quick walk and turned around after crossing a bridge, and then went the other direction, on the other side of the freeway across the bridge and I saw 2 people coming up from side I'd been on as I crossed over the bridge on the second side.  I went across the road, in front of them, over the bridge on that side again and then to the other side and over the bridge, and flipped a peace sign to a van that was oncoming with people who looked like hippies in it (after I crossed over in front of the 2 behind me).  I realized that I had circled a bridge, in a hunt-surveillance mode.  I had looked over the side of the one the second time and then sensed to go to the other side and then back and I could sense I'd done it before, and that it was "checking the bridges".  Checkmate!

Basically, you walk down one side of the bridge and cross to the other side, walk down the other side, and then cross back over to the first side and then to the other side continuing on.  The shape of that circle on the bottom of a safety pin is the full circle you make, and it's a safety check. 

Then, after I did the safety check, when I next saw a sand dollar on the ground, I didn't pick it up.  You don't pick up those things if they're not yours.  It might be an explosive.  So as I was walking along the road, like I said, there was this sand dollar on the ground and I saw it, in that context, as something on a "field".

Later, of course, at the beach, I was encouraged to find and pick up sand dollars but there are many ways the U.S. and Canada create layers to cover over what they trained you for or how they tortured or abused you, and also, sometimes they want to reduce the "trigger" factor so they go over it with other things. 

Potentially, I checked the bridge and avoided the explosive in the field, after reading about how the CIA was always thinking every wrong thing was from the KGB.  KG is close to KT too ("kay-jee" and "kay-tee") so it is possible later when I was hanging out with Katie Fallon, it was with something in mind, with regard to training for E.H.

Anyway, after I "checked the bridge" and avoided the "landmine" I saw the pin or clip on the road next.  Right before I got to the landmine (or sand dollar) I also remembered a feeling of gripping a gun with my left hand.  Whatever kind of training field I was on, or site I was at, it wasn't a homespun militia place--it was classified government.  What I find disturbing is that the U.S. has had all this information about me and used it against, encouraging their employees to abuse and rape me as well.  For example, Mike Tancer, drugging my drink and then dropping coins behind himself for me to pick up and mocking me over it as he continued to do so--he had access to information about me that he used for purposes of publicly degrading me.

E.H. says their training was so demanding they had to give up their pet dog ("Whiskey", a German shepherd they brought back from Colombia).   I am not sure when my guinea pig "Squiggy" disappeared, but around this time or earlier.  I didn't get a kitten until after I had broken my arm, later.

E.H. also says after they completed this training for operations, he was considered to be "in the pipeline" and got the desk for the Soviet.  As for me, the U.S. had possibly wired me further with my arm surgery but I believe there were plants from when I was an infant-kid as well.  However, my arm operation gave them inside access to my arm again, for pins and any other wires and "surveillance technology" at a time he and Mary were taking surveillance ops at DOAC (doc).  Then my Dad ran a wire through our house to "pipe music in" through speakers that were installed in my bedroom, and then went out to the living room where it was controlled.

When I was upset about something, he'd pipe in Maranatha Christian music or other Christian music.  I liked Maranatha on a normal day, but it was deliberately forced into my room, to be played, when I didn't want to listen to the singing.  They used to try to drown me out with it.  I might be crying for example, in my room, and I'd hear, "Quit your crying!" and then someone would turn the Christian music up in my room and force me to stay in there.  This is the main connotation I might have for this time, with the idea of a pipeline, would be my arm (the strategic arm reduction of breaking my arm trained for use in firearms to be a "surveillance arm" instead).

(I would seriously love to talk to someone who went through the same training I did as a kid, who has realized some of the subconscious programming done before age 3 and who was involved, and what operation name they were using for the various things, in B.C. and the U.S.  I mean, I'm sure I'm not the only toddler who was taught how to "check a bridge" and there must be others who remember training, like with the button overhead, or range and firing, and putting a hand on something that glowed or was lit up--not just a few times, constantly.)

E.H. states he began language studies at Georgetown U in Washington and continued in fall of 1982 in Arlington, VA.  He says it was a difficult language and if he leaves Russia it slips away.  I cannot remember when I picked up Russian to study, but I was probably age 11 I think.  I could have been younger though, because by age 11 I got my own books and things and at the time I studied, I was going with my parents and picking out books I wanted while we were there.  So possibly I was 8-9 but no older than 11. 

He says by January 1983 he was finished with most of his language training.  For me, this is when I had learned most of the basic English language and writing, with cursive writing lessons completed and moving on to creative works.  I remember being criticized over my handwriting, which wasn't bad at all.  My mother would praise my brother in front of me, for his print, and then rail on me for having "sloppy handwriting" and this was around the time I was suddenly a "slob" and "kept a messy room" and that kind of thing.  I was horribly confused as to why my handwriting was deemed to be so horrid and my brother's was okay, when I could see with my own eyes that there was no great difference, and then I was hearing too, "For a boy, it's very good."  I specifically recall a lot of attention made to the letter "x" in cursive and I thought I made very good ones, and I was told to repeat, repeat, and work on the "exes".  I also remember when I broke my arm, I had to use my right hand and I had been using my left.  I had thought I was taught to write with my right hand, but I am pretty sure I first was using my left hand because then when I tried to still write with my left, after my arm was broken, I wasn't able to and had to use my right.  Alternately, I was taught to write with my right and used my left for everything else.  I don't exactly remember.  I know when I am looking at Russian on a keyboard for language and using my right and left hand both to type in letters, my left hand moves to the left more quickly than my right and takes off first as well, if I'm not thinking about it but realize it later.

I was also thinking, where he says if he leaves Russia for any extended time, the language slips away, I broke my arm from my hands becoming suddenly slippery with sweat on a tree branch outside the window. 

If E.H. really had a "fall" inside his own house that killed him, in 2004, if it wasn't accidental but deliberate, it was possibly to say the fall occurred in his own house, i.e., where he should have been safe, he was not safe.  Which I mean to say, could have been symbolic for something occurring in the U.S., not Russia specifically.

pg. 40.  He does mention he was chosen for a "ultra-high" priority assignment.  This makes me think of MK Ultra but it's just a word.

pg. 41.  He says the word "sensitive" again, for the second time, closely together.  On page 33 he talks about a "government bidding" and mentions it twice.  Then on pg. 40 he writes about a "sensitive, ultra-high priority assignment" and then pg. 41, about "For this sensitive job, the CIA wanted somebody that the KGB would never suspect".

What comes to my mind is that when I was crying all the time, I was told I was "sensitive" and that I had a "soft heart".  I even had music piped into my room and played loudly to drown out my crying.  Obviously, it was true I was "sensitive" myself because only that kind of a person would feel so guilty about cheating on one small word for a spelling test, they'd burst into tears and confess over it right after getting the winning grade.

E.H. says the CIA was looking for someone with a "squeaky-clean" resume and put themselves in the shoes of the KGB and asked "Who would you least suspect?"

Most people would least expect someone in their own family.  Right?  KGB or not.  He says the answer was Ed Howard, the idealistic former Peace Corps volunteer.  When he transitions from talking about a sensitive assignment to "For this sensitive job, the CIA wanted someone the KGB would never suspect" it sort of sounds like negotiation for an assignment to do a "hit" doesn't it?  Like a "job"--a bump-off, a whacking, a "job". 

This is after he repeats his comment about "a government bid" at the start of this chapter, a chapter entitled "The CIA:  Not Just a Bad Career Move". 

Someone "squeaky clean" would be highly honest or appear ethical and without a record against them, or it could possibly mean someone Jewish (i.e., "clean" vs "unclean").  My thought would be, if he is suggesting I was blamed for everything, if something went wrong, like the KGB, and is suggesting I am the sensitive person, and that there was a sensitive assignment and the CIA had a "sensitive" job they wanted done by someone no one would suspect, why does he say then, a few paragraphs later that his real problems were going to come from his own kind?  His own kind, is close to saying, his own "kin".  It's almost like he is suggesting someone in my own family negotiated a government contract or bid, to monitor me and then put a hit on me.  Or use me and then put a hit on me.

pg. 42.  He says they wanted someone mature, with international experience.  He says some said a of a former drug user "the CIA should never have given me the sensitive, Moscow assignment."  The CIA didn't think it was unusual and he says both the CIA and FBI allow alcohol abuse.  He says his background was perfect, his training results outstanding, and his former drug use not unusual, and this is why he was picked to be a "deep-cover" intelligence officer at the U.S. embassy in Moscow.'  His cover was as second-secretary.  He says he worked with the State Dept. and they didn't know he was CIA.

He says he began to dread going to the Soviet desk in Langley and wanted to transfer to the State Department after his 2 years in Moscow were over.  He says his wife noticed the difference in the two groups too.

I would say here, I would think of his mention of noticing the difference in two things.  In this chapter, I noticed twice he mentioned "government bidding" and then "sensitive assignment" and then "for this sensitive job, CIA wants someone no one will suspect".  Also, I'm not sure what he implies but the only difference on pg. 33 is he adds "big" to the second statement, and then when mentioning 2 cafeterias, the first is for "known" employees and second is for "unknown".  Then he mentions "sensitive, ultra-high assignment", and then "sensitive job" and "Moscow" interchangeable for sensitive assignment.  He states on pg. 42 his son Lee was born, a "big" event and that then many "big" things were happening all at once. He says he was leading an uneasy "double" life with the State Dept. and his normal friends in Washington and then they had a new member. I'm sure he trying to signify something but haven't studied it.  I don't know about an acroynm for his title, but anyway, TCIA: NJBCM, TCIA: NJABCM or? CIA: NJBCM.  Not sure. He says with certainty he had heard horror stories about the KGB and their harassment of U.S. diplomats but discovered the problems came from his own kind.

 I just looked up something about Edward Howard and found a shoddy shack-man by the name of Robert Eringer who claimed a Russian confirmed Howard gave secrets to them.  First of all, no Russian is going to talk just because they "don't know" the person is an FBI agent.  Secondly, all of the FBI I've met are criminals and liars.  I've never met one non-criminal or ethical one, ever.  He knew he was a reporter and wouldn't have given that information to him, knowing it would be public.  So this man had his own motives for lying.  Not only that, he put up lies claiming Edward Howard's information had "plugged up leaks" for Russia, and this FBI man disseminated this to everyone in 1998, which then led to my being attacked and raped and having the FBI premeditate further crimes against me.  So when Chris Dabney is making disgusting comments like "here's another one in the hole", we know what kind of FBI hate crime he is promoting.  More than half of the U.S. employees who raped me are Jewish.

pg. 43.  Those Wiggly Lines
E.H. describes the polygraph.  I have several associations with this.  The first would be that it was about this time he was taking the polygraph that we went out into the country, collected a bunch of pollywogs for a large opaque light green Tupperware bowl we had, and watched them grow into frogs.  It was probably before he ever had a polygraph we got the pollywogs but I remember it was a big deal.

I think he is also making a point about sperm, because he first wrote about having a new son and a double life and then the next thing he writes about is polygraph, and with the words "those wiggly lines" above it, when I said out loud while still in high school one day, "broccoli looks like sperm" and said the wiggly lines in the pot looked like it.  I then later wrote a poem about it, years later.  But my comment was while I was in high school, in Sherwood.  So the wiggly line after writing about a new son and then mentioning the polygraph, like pollywogs, which have heads and tails like sperm, is not "out there".  I think it's what he was deliberately transitioning from.  Most likely, if he got fired from the CIA it was probably over the "unknown" children and someone bringing it up to the CIA, although that wouldn't explain how some of the kids may have been government "bids" or negotiated first, unless it was highly secret.

Anyway, he then describes what a polygraph is and I had one myself when I was a kid.  In fact, I think I had more than one but two scenes come to mind, one at an office with some stranger and one at my house informally with my Dad.  If that's correct, what I might remember with my Dad, I didn't have the tube and all of those extra things and it was a regular looking box.  It had paper that came out of it and a lever that moved and was portable and it was on the carpet of our house in Moses Lake, WA when it was brought out and laid down.  He had a tape recorder, which I was familiar with, but he also had a polygraph machine.  There was a larger stereo system, built-in, and larger speakers, with a cassette player and record player and then I had a little record player or used the one that played 45s and then there was a portable small, flat cassette recorder, and then separately from this, a larger bulkier machine in a boxy rectangular shape and it was a polygraph machine.  It had regular paper that came out of it.  I was fascinated by it and liked it and then one day we didn't "play" with it anymore.  Once we had a telescope in our living room too but that was later.  The polygraph was when I was maybe 5 years old or younger, probably younger, and the telescope was when I was in school.  We got to keep the paper from our polygraphs and then usually it disappeared somewhere but we were allowed to hold onto it.  I do know it was done while we were seated at our kitchen table one time, in the kitchen.  There was something with reels on it too, like movie reels but smaller and I don't remember any camera, just the reels of tape and they were larger than cassette tapes, about the size of the little records you could buy, the 45s or whatever.  I just looked it up and it's called reel-to-reel or open-reel.  There was one of those.

However, with his description of the formal polygraph, with all of the apparatus including electrodes, it sounds like the electrical chair I was forced to sit in where I was literally electrocuted by the U.S. and Canadian government.  My mother never liked wearing a shoulder strap seat-belt and I think now it's either because she was also briefly tortured perhaps, or saw it done and it brings back bad memories.  I also have seen deep cuts in my Dad's hands and acid burn marks, so I know some things have been done to them.  The polygraph described from the CIA with the electrodes on the temples and places to conduct "electricity" and to measure "sweating" was something done to me but there was a lot more to the torture of me than that.  I think I maybe witnessed people dying from it or their brains permanently fried for good and contortions and twitching of their bodies.  One of the things this horrific kid "Patrick" did when I was in 2nd grade, was not just act like a "snake" on the ground, he enacted a severe out-of-control twitching and contortions and choking sounds like he was dying after he first did this humping the ground kind of thing.  It scared me and because I was the kid who had witnessed torture of humans and suffering, this was done at the school to traumatize me, after their principal had beat me privately in his offices.  First he undid his belt and when my eyes got wide from some kind of signal he made that made me think he was going to force me to do something to him sexually, he got up and went to the yard stick and thrashed me with it.  He actually did the same thing, from his chair first, that my fianc√© later tried to do with me, or used to try to trigger me to do something to him, in Wenatchee, WA.  So it means Alvaro Pardo, who works for the FBI, was part of my abuse and had information about me the FBI continually used to terrorize me with.  What was even more sadistic and sick, is that the Wenatchee music station decided to play the Bette Midler song "From A Distance", a song about the "world" at that time, when he was doing this (Alvaro, Katie Middleton's pal) which was the same music we were singing in my class when the school principal was beating me, along with, I believe, Michael Jackson's "We are the world".  What Alvaro did was prove he is a U.S. government criminal that took taxpayer money to sexually assault me and hold me hostage and degrade me.  Not only that, he utilized triggers to traumatize me as well, and I believe he is a Jew and if not, I know most of his friends are.

I am positive Patrick's parents knew of my history or they would not have coached their son to do that in class, and ask to do it, knowing I'd see this.  It wasn't a "seizure" pretense...it was of torture I had witnessed and been exposed to myself.  Not only that the demonstrations and demands and positions of both the elementary school principal and Alvaro Pardo were identical and I recognized it as part of a ritualistic abuse I was forced into as a very young kid, which then FBI-UK Alvaro Pardo was exploiting.  I also know Robin Bechtold did the same thing but I didn't expect it because I had been trained to trust him after a couple of years.  These are men who work for the U.S. government and were paid to degrade me and rape me.  It has also involved entire communities of people who have made their living off of abuse and torture of kids.

No comments: