Monday, September 9, 2013

Edward Lee Howard and Torture of U.S. Citizens by U.S. (9)

I am commenting on E.H.'s book "Safe House" and while doing so, remembering things about my own life.  So continuing from the last post...(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, and Robin Bechtold, is gone so if it seemed odd I brought up Kate Middleton out of nowhere, it was after I wrote about what I found between my parents and her)

I remember more of this with the Springers.  I’ve remembered before in the past but right now it’s pretty clear.  My parents were working with them.  It is possible it was one of the sets of twins (for my parents) but they were there and I was trained with the driving, there were guns, baseball bats, inducements to suicide, and Alan and my Dad had me do sexual favors for them.

The Springers had an unfinished basement and it was basically framed beams everywhere and a concrete floor.  If you were looking at the Springer's house, birds-eye view, and facing my parent's house, the room where they tortured me there was to the far left, which was near what became their garage or was their garage.

Their kids were not around except when Scotty was bringing me a brown paper sack lunch now and then. It started with someone asking if they could borrow my bed, and they took my bed out of my room and gave me another one while they had my other bed placed in the torture room at the Springers.  They also set up a steering wheel and a rounded kind of engine or rolled machine that was a car part of some kind.  I'm sure there was more before this, but going back to the training, this is more of what was going on.

They had me sit on a stool, like a low footstool, with my feet on top of a rolled kind of engine or machine and a steering wheel in front of me.  Then later they moved the stool and had me sit lower, with my feet there and the steering wheel.  I turned a key into the ignition and everything, so there was something with a key.  My Mom and Dad would come in, sometimes together and sometimes with Alan, and usually wearing baseball hats, and would sometimes hold a gun to my head.  I was being taken from my room in my house to go to the room over there and my parents over there tortured me and called me names and degraded me and then I’d get sent back to my house where the same parents (looked like same ones) would act loving or at least more normal and like parents.  So they were splitting me up between extreme secretive abuse and then moving me back, which was obviously shocking.  I have no idea how I processed it as a kid, but like I said, I slept in the fetal position at night for a very long time.

If I didn’t make the right turn or have the correct response, under panic, I was electrocuted there.  I do remember some of the electrode type things were put on my head at that place, like a headband I was forced to wear, and then I was getting electrocuted to the head as well as to the feet.

I used to cry and say I didn’t want the headband on, and scream.  If I had been psychic before, I was probably not very psychic by the time the Springers got through with me.  There were wires or some kind of a wire that went to the headband and was connected to a box or knobs or something where I was getting zapped to the head.

Now that I remember, I am positive Mormon Geoff Rasmussen (many years later) knew about this history of mine because I remember how he looked when I turned back to look at him and he was staring at my feet on top of a rolled heater on the floor and looking at my feet with this look of hatred on his face.  This was right after a failed assassination attempt of me by “brake failure” and then I saw him and said, “What?” and he threw up at that race, which he didn’t do any other time.  I am also positive Mormon Roger Harris knew about suicide inducements used against me at the Springers house. (by the way, the font is getting changed a few times while I write this and I'm not changing the font, but I don't care to correct something like this at this time, so this is just to mention a computer quirk).

The other thing that was being done was I was being told did I want to keep living or would it be better if I just died, because they could help me die if I wanted to.  They asked me this question as they were blowing my brains out with electrocution to my head.  Are you sure you want to live?  The electrocution to my head was done with equipment there, not from a long-range distance.  My mother was applying the electrocution with Alan watching.They would electrocute me until I was too weak to sit upright and then put me in the bed and tie or chain me up there.

Sometimes I got too weak and other times I blacked out.  I was given an option of wearing sunglasses or not and I have no idea why but when offered, I took the sunglasses.  Then they would sometimes give me a lunch if it wasn’t a big torture day, and other times they gave me something to drink or pills of some kind or candy.  There was an inducement to taking “aspirin” to make it feel better or something but I don’t completely remember that part—just that they were degrading me and then only giving me relief when I downed a bunch of candies or juice.   I was told “I don’t love you” and discussion was made in front of me about how to get rid of me.  Then I was getting sent back to my house, when I wasn’t too weak to be in bed or after I woke up, and walking in dazed and scared of my parents and they would act like nothing ever happened, as if I was between reality and a horror movie.  It was real though, because the pain was very real, as was the abuse, and the scars are there. I didn’t know how to deal with it so I was taught to shift from fear and shock and anger to acceptance and disbelief or pushing the memory out and pretending like everyone else, that nothing was happening.  So then we’d hold hands at the dinner table and pray to Jesus to bless our food--that kind of thing.  And Alan was asking me if I wanted to help him and Scotty change the pipes out in their field and I did. 

The other thing they did was blindfold me after I was in bed, and gag me sometimes.  Alan would go in and watch or participate and sometimes he wasn’t there, but he often brought in a pen and notebook to write in.  Then he quit doing this and just watched.  I thought, as a kid, if he doesn’t want to write about it anymore, maybe he just wants to kill me now.
They repeated an idea of inducing terror in me from behind me and to the side while I was “driving” so this was all part of “brake failure” training to get an instinctive reaction that was developed off of adrenaline and panic over-riding newly taught information to revert to an instinctive response based out of training with torture.

I remember most of this being done after Katie Middleton was born, when I look back to wonder about the timing, and there are a lot of people who did some really crazy things over their plans.  My Mom either got her baseball style "30" shirt at this time or after.

Then my Dad was going in and sitting on the side of me, on the bed, and having me do sexual favors for him.  Alan got instructions on the same thing and was doing the same thing.  Pretty soon, it was just Alan and he was becoming more obsessed with getting sexual favors from me than anything else.  He was wanting to visit me constantly, and it became a whole sexual thing, with his son Scotty bringing me a sack lunch afterwards, to eat in the room.

From what I understood, Tammy made the sack lunch but maybe my Mom had it sent over from the house.  I never saw Tammy, at least not much, at that time.  She didn’t want to look me in the eye until she started getting “jealous” about the amount of attention Alan was paying to me, and I am sure she knew he was engaged in pedophilia.  How would a wife not know?  She had no reason to be angry with me either.  So she was going down into the basement and confronting him about it, sometimes partly in front of me.  He made me kneel on my knees.

First he sat on the bed next to me but then he was forcing me to kneel.  This is, of course, the Moses Lake school psychologist for some school there as well as his illegal “government” “work”.

I think they wanted to kill me but figured if they blew my brains out enough, I wasn’t as much of a threat and they could reduce me to sexually servicing them.  The Springers gave us a trampoline after Alan was done using me, pretty much every single day, and sometimes more than one time a day, but usually once.

One of the other things they did was all get baseball bats and beat me with them while yelling at me.

I would say I was definitely still extremely smart, but I wasn’t psychic anymore. 

I was never mentally ill either.  I didn’t become psychotic or delusional, and I didn’t have multiple personalities.  What I did, which is why I went into periods (and sometimes still do) of forgetting and remembering or pretending like it didn’t happen, is compartmentalize.  If I pretended I hadn’t been violently assaulted, I didn’t have to deal with it.
 I would also say, I don’t remember specifically what I did for my Dad or Alan sexually because I saw them and Alan was telling me to get on my knees and kneel in front of him every day, but I also remember he stood over me and then mocked me.  I think he was even telling me to kneel if I wanted my sack lunch.  I might remember more about that later.  Okay, I remembered more exactly.  Alan brought over canned whipped cream and made me lick whipped cream off of my Dad and off of him.  So I remember I was forced to do that and it may have been forced from my parents possibly, but they didn't tell me so.

I know at one point, Alan was watching my Mom electrocute me with the box, to the head, and he wasn't satisfied with how much electrocution I was getting so he took the box from her and did it himself.  My Mom said, "No, no..." and looked upset and he cranked it up and electrocuted me so I blacked out.  I remember Alan was not passively watching at that point, but became the worst offender and he didn't want to experiment but to make a vegetable out of me.  Alan was this nice, calm-mannered person who seemed easy-going and hard to upset but I saw him maliciously violent twice (electrocution and breaking my leg with a golf club) and degrading (forcing me to give him oral sex, to lick whipped cream off of my Dad, and to kneel in front of him on my knees as he stood over me and mocked me while handing me my lunch, saying, "kneel" and "beg"). 
At one point they broke my leg.  Literally.  I was never taken to the hospital like I was when I broke my arm.  When I broke my leg it was kept a secret.  Alan had a golf club, from what I remember, and he whacked me with it.  I became paranoid after this, at the sound of a stick breaking in half because I was afraid I was going to have a leg broken again and it was used in a threatening way over me.  I heard stories about a cousin “Billy” who I wasn’t technically related to, and how he broke tennis racket after tennis racket, in a rage, and this is what I remember someone doing with a set of golf clubs.

After Alan did this, it was covered up as if someone else had broken their leg for some reason and needed crutches, but I was using crutches around my house after my leg was healing.  I remember being in my bed at my house, in my bedroom, and I had my leg up in a sling, and an IV and everything.  They had everything coming from the ceiling, through beams and hooks and then when it was over, my Mom refinished the ceiling so it looked like nothing had ever been there except for 2 hooks she put there later “for hanging a plant”.

When I was chained to my bed it was sometimes in an “X” shape and other times on my back with my shoulders up close to the headboard and then bent backwards with my wrists cuffed.  So for example, if you are standing and you bring an arm in front of you and then up straight above your head and then bend the elbow as if to touch behind your shoulder or to your shoulder blade, that is the kind of angle.  I used to ask all the time to have my hands and wrists chained and cuffed differently off and on because they got tired or hurt.  At one point my Dad asked me if he was holding up one or two fingers, after another man touched me under my nightgown and asked how many were inside of me.  Dr. Fallon saw me privately before I went to his house for driving lessons, when I broke my leg.  There was no clinic or hospital involved.  One night someone from Young Life snuck over to my room, saw me there and said he was going to try to help me get out and I just nodded.

Alan's daughters were the ones to later tie me and my brother up with ropes for babysitting.  I know my parents had to go over to that house alone or on their own too, and my Mom would come back crying, and would lie down on my bed with me, on her side, and cry.  She always cried coming back from the Springers though I'm not sure which Mom since there are twins or triplets of the Dicksies. 

When she asked me if I still wanted to live after being tortured by Alan, I finally one time shook my head and said no.  She nodded and then that's when they were telling me to open the emergency door on the private plane.  At Alan's house, in that bedroom, she kept looking at the basement window there.  I think all of the torture and sexual abuse by the Mormon Springers explains why the FBI got a Mormon S.A. to interview me and cover up facts, and why Mormons have tried to further abuse and exploit me, even when I assumed they had nothing against me.  It also means my son Oliver has been endangered by them.  Furthermore, they even used Mormon-controlled (and Jewish) hospitals and employees to do surgeries on me that would allow remote torture of me later, and wanted to control me. 

After they tried to have me sucked out of a plane to my death, the U.S. wanted to cover up my talk about it with “parachute jumping”.

I am pretty sure this was over the idea I couldn’t keep my mouth shut so if I talked, they needed to mix it up the best they could.  When I was told “Charlie is planning an accident”, Charlie told me himself and said it was our secret.

I don’t even think I knew what a “Queen” was or had heard of it, until Charlie said something to me.  I wasn’t around “talk” of royal things and no one I knew went around with mention of kings or queens or royal things.  So I said I would and I did, until I drew a picture of it and the woman who looked like Diana picked it up.  I didn’t say a word until I was asked to explain the picture, which had, I think, me with a crown on my head and some car crashing. It was either me with a crown on my head and a car accident, or another woman with a crown and an accident but I piped up and explained, chattering away glibly.  She said, “Who is this?” (with the crown) and “What is that?” and I explained “Charlie is planning an accident”… and that’s when things got pretty bad for me.  I am sure he was just joking or testing me, but I had a big crush on him by then because he was very friendly.  I used to sit on his lap while everyone was playing cards.  There was one man who really, really, did not like that.

I liked Andy and thought he was fun and he was one, or it was Edward, who indulged me to pick me up when I pushed ahead of Anne or the woman holding the baby to hit the good luck mark on the doorway.  I still remember this because I had thought maybe they don’t like me anymore and I was at least happy one man went ahead to pick me up because I wasn’t humiliated, and I was always being humiliated.
The man I remember having a crush on, and hitting it off with, was Charlie.  Even though I was little, it seemed like kindred souls in a way and I noticed.  I felt happy and he was always happy, and it’s just the truth.Would anyone torture me all of my life if it’s not true?  I don’t remember being trained to kill MYSELF in a car accident through “brake failure” until I drew a picture about it and talked about it on a private plane.   I was getting set up early, by some in my own family, that’s true, and being taught a reverse of things and programmed.  But the car accident training wasn’t until I drew a picture of it and then some thought it would be great to punish me, a little kid, with it.  Then I was being called “rotten” but I think that has to do with being tortured at the Pemberton Royal Hospital in Canada in Rotenburg or whatever it’s called. 

pg. 86.  E.H. says he made a jib dummy at home on the morning of the escape. 

My comment is, if I am his biological daughter, and talking about "an accident with Charlie" I had a double whammy against me.  E.H. says he put the dummy in the footwell of the car.  This is where Dr. Fallon had me put my foot to be electrocuted as he threw water my way.  E.H. says they set about planning the affair in detail.

pg. 87.  E.H. says he said good-bye to Lee and he sensed something was wrong and cried.  This makes me think about how intuitive my son was because he didn't like Malcolm Butler or my Mom and they've both tortured little kids.  He also doesn't look happy sitting on my brother's lap in a photo and my brother has punched me in the stomach and held a knife against me multiple times, and been involved with my parents and others in trying to arrange my death.  E.H. says Mary drove him to Alfonsos, a piano bar on Canyon Road. 

This makes me think of the grand piano at Fallons, and also the one at Maiers, whose house was close to Fallons and down a canyon.  I also think of the "Fonz", whose character from Happy Days was said to have had a father that told him "Don't go out in the rain in your socks".  I was in my socks when I had water dumped into the footwell where an electric brake and wires were at my feet, and on, when I also got electrocuted with something held by my Dad.  What were they thinking?  Just shock me? or kill me?  My Mom thought I had earrings on and I don't know how much worse it could have been with metal earrings.

When I was being trained to do the parachute jumping, it was in a major military helicopter.  We were supposedly there on sudden invitation by Scott Sandberg, and taught how to tie on a parachute and to check the lines.  We practiced many times and had different jumps and tying practice and Jim Sandberg was there, along with my Mom and Dad, and some other people, including Scott.  What I remember is I tied my parachute and then either my Mom cut a line or she tied hers and left a part undone and gave it to me.  I noticed, and I thought, “Oh my gosh, she’s still trying to kill me”.  She had just tried to have me killed from the private plane.  So I wouldn’t put it on or jump alone and said I was only jumping with someone else because I felt they wouldn’t put their own life at risk, even if they wanted to kill me.  I was called “chicken” and I didn’t say back to them, “Are you crazy?  You try to kill me and you think calling me ‘chicken’ is going to convince me to jump to my death with a broken parachute?”

They kept trying to push me out of the plane.  That was going to be, I guess, their desperate attempt to have me remember that instead of “opening the emergency door to my death” on the private plane.  They kicked my feet out from under me and everything and my Mom was right there and tried to push me out when a few others weren’t there and I grabbed the ring on her chute or something attached to her so that if I went out of the plane, so did she.  I figured she had on a parachute and if she had no concern, she could pull the string with me there and we’d both be safe.  She looked at me in this shocked moment of truth.  She knew I knew.  I was outside of the helicopter at this point, or military plane, and barely holding on and then my Dad said give me your hand and I did and they all acted like it was a big accomplishment.  I was taking the hand of the same man that jumped me in the cabin and punched me in the stomach and then hog-tied me.  Before that specific day, there was a whole line-up of soldiers inside and there usually was, but they had a baby on the plane the day they tried pushing me out on my own again.  Some guy named “Mike” was co-piloting the military heli or plane and there was a baby in a carseat up next to them with a woman standing there, glaring at me.  They had brought in a black body bag that day and had it on a stretcher where I could see it.  I got a sack there on those planes too, but I was tied up and didn’t feel like eating.  I had my arms up on the loops above,some kind of subway-style rack you could hold onto.

The soldiers saluted my Dad and called him “General”. 

Then when we jumped the last time, I knew we were supposed to cycle our legs in the air, because we had jumped several times already.  To hit the ground on your feet, and running, you cycled your legs in the air.  So we did and then my Dad ended up pulling me down and said, “Oops, we rolled” or something like that.  I was sort of upset because I knew he’d done it on purpose and knew how to do it the right way.  By that time, I was suspicious of both my Mom and Dad.  I thought he was trying to conceal how much they were aware of everything. 

E.H. says you like to know where your tails are and that at the restaurant they were too nervous and just ordered hor d’ouevres.  He says within 10 minutes an FBI car came by and a man with glasses who was blond showed up and then he felt it was under control again.  To me, this is like Alan Springer showing up to solidify the alliance against me with Maiers, Fallon and my parents.  I mean, who was I really going to turn to?  Sandbergs were cops, and then the principal of my school had beat me up too, and the “Queen” I was told (who looked like the same Anne I always saw, to me) was acting shocked I wasn’t overboard a plane to my death. 

Who was I supposed to think I could trust?  I still did try and I got electrocuted or tortured.My own country government is against me? And what of those Canadians and some of the British as well?  I mean, who was I seriously getting a normal life and right to pursue goals with?

Pg. 88.  E.H. says he was noting his watch, the sunset, the details of everything and ignoring the fact he was leaving the wife he loved, but he had to jump.

I remember I was a perfectionist when flying or trying to learn from the pilots.  I really did want to fly.  When someone once suggested military if I’d had to choose, it was always Air Force first, because I liked flying.  I went to a Navy station because a friend asked me too, and then considered singing for them which I thought I might like.  I am sure in some way, probably somewhere along the line there was one advantage or notice I picked up in my choices, maybe one person who looked into my case even from afar out of curiosity, but of course, no one could ever say anything, or if they tried, I was blocked from getting the message.

He says he jumped, popping up the dummy and tried to hit the ground running but landed hard and into the bushes. 

Pg.  89.  Well, for me I can say, I met George Bush II.  He didn’t say Jr., he gave a number.  E.H. says when he was reunited with Mary and Lee, it was in Moscow.

Pg. 91.  Chapter 8 Run For Your Life


He says his arm throbbed with pain and that he had escaped.  He said there was a strong rivalry between the CIA and FBI and that he felt he’d beat the FBI counterparts.  He says he grabbed his overnight bag and typed a letter of resignation and it took about 15 minutes and then he ran out to catch the limo to the Loretto Hotel.  He says he was nervous about having to go by the Hilton again, where the FBI was headquartered.

To me this suggest Hilton, which is a German family that may have had connections to the Nazis that the CIA brought over to work for them, was closely connected to the FBI to allow their hotels as a place of interrogation and surveillance.  I also think about my own experience at a few Hilton-owned hotels while I was tortured and I would say most of the time people were polite, but I was definitely targeted there to be tortured and I always felt their cameras were on.  I could sense it. 

He says he was going to take SW to Dallas but his information was out of date and took United Airlines to Tuscon.  He thought going to Mexico was too obvious, South America was a possible option, and he’d lived in Europe and couldn’t decide so he went to a hotel to think and ended up in a hotel with red hair dye. He decided it would draw more attention.

I suppose to me, I think, if he’s really my biological Dad, and was looking at red hair dye, maybe he thought about me.  He decided to go with TWA to Copenhagen through NY and he knew the FBI would check all previous residences.

Pg. 93.  My comments about this are that if the man who told me he had a cattle ranching background and would like to do that most of all, who said he was my Dad when I met him on a plane, it is certain the FBI would have gone to check after he was there. 

Also, right after he mentions red hair dye, he brings up the book The Hunt for Red October, which I think is an allusion the FBI and U.S. was already hunting me out of hatred.  My birthday is in October and my hair is red.  He doesn’t have to place these things together but he does. 

His choice of going to Copenhagen and talk about playing with red hair dye also makes me think about someone, a man who played with me on the plane a lot one time in particular.

It is 9/10/13 and I remembered something about after I had my leg broken by a golf club.  My Dad also kept a set of golf clubs at the house.  Where he got them and who he got them from I don’t know, but he golfed on occasion until I was assaulted with a club and then the other ones were removed from the house and some of them broken.  I used to “golf” inside the house on the carpet with my brother until we had no clubs.  After my leg was broken with one, the clubs eventually disappeared and the cover, to have us forget, was to take us “miniature golfing”.  We went to a regular golf course a few times but later we’d go out and rent golf clubs for miniature golfing.  There was a standard size golf bag, full set of clubs, and golf balls in our house, which was usually kept in my parent’s bedroom closet on my Dad’s side.

My Dad used to terrorize and threaten me with a golf club until they were gone and then he kept a metal baseball bat by the door.  Alan Springer did the same thing.  It is possible it was my Dad that broke my leg with the club, and not Alan, because I remember we quit going to even miniature golf courses when I remembered something once, but Alan helped him, or tried to help him cover it up by threatening me in his basement with one as well. Alan was wearing a baseball hat when he wielded one against me at his house and it was done before he had a room set up for torture or driving training—it was just beams and framework everywhere and he had a golf bag and clubs kept down there.   If there was the room, he was outside of it in the larger room when he raised one against me.  I think he and my Dad were blackmailing each other into committing crimes against me.  The person I remembered breaking my leg, though, when miniature golfing one day, was my Dad.  They even lied about my broken leg later and my Dad pretended he had a leg injury once and that this was why we had crutches.  Then at Granny’s house, they wanted me to forget so they got rid of a croquet and ball set they had and it didn’t show up again until decades later, because before I was hit with the golf club, when visiting cousins we sometimes played croquet on the lawn.

When my things were being stolen from me, some of my property was being given to the Springers, who then passed it on to someone from there, and some things went to my cousin Rani in Cashmere (like hand-me-down clothes, which was fine with me).  Shirley Sandberg was always around my Mom, and then the Maiers got some things.  After it was expected I’d die on the plane and some other person was replacing me, I never got another poster for my wall.  I had an orange kitten poster from my Dad that said, “When God Closes One Door He Opens Another” and then Anitra Strickland, who was a military base kid, gave me a black and white poster of a man holding a newborn baby in his hands.






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