U.S. Bank Theft & Forced Starvation

Here's another thing I remember.

When I was a kid, U.S. Bank was stealing money from my account.

I had a bank account before I was 11 years old, if I am correct, for my "allowance".  Then, when I was forced to work on a paper route, I deposited some of my money into my U.S. Bank account and I was the one who noticed it was disappearing without my taking money out myself.

My Mom or Dad may or may not have had a joint account, but I remember it only being in my name.  I also don't believe my mother or father would be bold enough to make withdrawals themselves, from my account, when I was a kid and the entire small town knew who I was.

The U.S. Bank in Moses Lake, Washington shared a building with the U.S. military recruiting and it was right next door.  There is probably a reason someone decided to coin the phrase "overdraft fees" but in my case I was overdrawing money--they were stealing from me.

Right now, in the town of Coquille, Oregon, I found out the director of the branch goes by the last name "Middleton" and it was that manager and the one who works in town now, who deliberately humiliated me and kicked me out from their bank for no reason.  They didn't like the fact I asked them to give me cash without stamps and stickers all over it, when they were giving me cash that had marks on every single bill.

While it would be easiest to say my parents stole money from me, when I was 11, what is most likely is that U.S. Bank was not making "bank mistakes' but literally stealing my money and either giving it to someone else or keeping it for themselves.

I remember distinctly checking my account and noticing on my own and also saying something to my parents about it at least one time.

Later, my mother got a job working at a bank and I think it was a different one, and, symbolically, she was held up at gunpoint by an armed robber who robbed her, at the bank she worked and banked at.

This is what U.S. Bank was doing to me when I was a kid and they thought they could exploit me then and then punish me out of fear I might "talk about it" when I was an adult.

I definitely remember.  Believe me, and it's not a "new memory" or a "recovered" one.  It's one I've always had.

It is impossible U.S. Bank was making that many "mistakes" as well and I think it's very odd that that particular branch was right next door to the U.S. military.

I worked so hard.  I was forced to work, in what was basically child labor, and then this bank was stealing my money from me.

As I've said, around this time, my brother and I weren't allowed to eat as much either, as when we were little, and I was 75 lbs at age 13, at 5'3" 1/2 inches, and I documented this in my first diary where I regularly recorded my height and weight, including the 1/2 inch always.  I am positive this was because of military.  We ate so little, and were allowed to drink so little water, I remember I thought it was odd when I heard people went to the bathroom "every day".  I did one way, and the other way, was once a week at most.  I thought everyone went #2 only one time a week, or every 2 weeks, unless they were sick.  We didn't go more than that, because there was nothing to spare and we weren't allowed to drink enough water.  This is what the U.S. was doing their MK Ultra "projects". 

I thought it was normal to be hungry and quit noticing although I was so hungry, in class, when one kid was nibbling on saltine crackers in class, and my stomach was growling, I asked if I could bring something to eat too because I was hungry.  The teacher finally said, "Yes, but only saltine crackers."

There's your "salt".

So I told my Mom I needed to bring saltines to school and I sat in class nibbling saltines while we had our lessons.  I remember taking one section out at a time, one square, and making it last as long as I could, nibbling off a tiny fragment so small I could savor one grain of salt at a time.  I let it melt in my mouth first, and worked on it slowly, like a concentration camp prisoner.  I don't mean I nibbled off a "small" section like 1/16th of a square.  I tasted every single grain of salt on it, to make it last as long as I could, as if this would assuage my hunger pangs.  Thanks U.S.A.  This country kidnapped my son from me to do the same thing to him and they are criminals.

I started sneaking into the fridge at night when my parents were asleep, or the cupboards, because I couldn't sleep out of hunger.  It was at this same time, when I was 13 years old, Mrs. Dionne Boesel mocked me when I was at the Moses Lake Fairgrounds one year, coming up to me and grabbing one of my arms, and saying snidely with a fake sweetness and concern, "Cameo!  Are you ANOREXIC?????"  The person who was showing "anorexia" at that exact time was Princess Diana, but I was being starved by government employees and I didn't notice, ever, that it was about my parents.

She knew what was wrong.  And she was the one who told my parents if I missed the bus because I overslept out of exhaustion, to ride my bike to school, which took the entire day.

I can think back at how my mother's expression changed when I mentioned U.S. Bank in Moses Lake, or Dionne Boesel and I know without any doubt that her darkened expression of disgust because of the memories, is because of the crap they were pulling that they got away with.

When I was sneaking into the fridge, in Moses Lake, I had to tip-toe into the kitchen while it was dark, and figure out how to open the fridge door without the plastic seal making a noise.  Then, I couldn't touch anything with a wrapper, because it would make noise and my parent's heard and would tell me to go to bed.  So most of the time, the only thing I could sneak out was chugging milk from the carton.  I couldn't get a glass, because of the noise, so I drank from the carton.  One exception was with orange juice.  There was usually a pitcher of concentrated orange juice in the fridge, and I was caught many times, pouring a glass because it was too large and round to lift up and drink from.  I would wait until I heard the clock at a certain time, thinking for sure that was when they were asleep (my parents) and sneak out. It got to the point where I was able to open the cupboard trying not to make a sound, selecting a plastic cup and hoping nothing clattered, and slowly pouring the orange juice, with only a sliver of light from the fridge because I'd shut the door most of the way again so it wasn't too bright.   I never quit raiding the fridge--I timed it differently when I was caught.  I was 75 lbs at 5'3 1/2 inches and that was WHILE I was sneaking food at night. It is possible I would have weighed even less if I had not been doing that almost every night.

First my parents would yell at me from their bedroom to go back to bed if they heard me, or they would come out of their bedroom and go down the hall and I'd run back to my room.  Then, later, a couple of times my Dad waited out in the living room for me instead, and grabbed my arm when he caught me and I got in trouble.  He grabbed my arm the same way Dione Boesel did when she mocked me about being "anorexic".
 
The only other things were I remember sometimes breaking off a piece of cheese if it wasn't fully wrapped, from a block of cheese, or I learned how to lift the jar off of the cookie jar and would try to eat cookies if I could.  Once or twice I felt lucky there were hard boiled eggs, snuck them into my room, and then cracked them open and ate them where I couldn't be heard.  A few times I did this, taking items into my room to open them and then returning them to the kitchen but not as often.

We were given the same amount in our lunches for school from the time of about 1985 or 1986, until high school, except instead of getting a whole sandwich, we actually got less.  We got a half.  So it was a sandwich, a piece of fruit, and a drink in a thermos and that was it.  Sometimes extra saltines or a few carrot slices or celery but nothing more.  So we actually got less food, from a whole sandwich to a "half" as we got older, and then sometimes a couple of cookies as well.  The sandwiches were mostly peanut butter and jelly/jam/honey but also tuna, bolonge (which I hated), cheese, and sometimes egg salad, and occasionally lunch meat but not very often, or leftover chicken made into sandwiches.

We had enough money and food in our house.  It was that the United States government was controlling everything we did, and using some with contacts to the UK as well.

We never even were allowed an after school snack for a long time and were told to wait for dinner and it would spoil our dinner.  Finally, I was told if I was that hungry, I could have a piece of bread and nothing more.  So I would ask sometimes if I could at least toast it.

This is why I spent some of my money earned from the paper route on food, but the rest of it was stolen by U.S. Bank.

Of course Jew Josh Gatov not only had 2 knives with him when he plotted to rape me, he made a big deal about selecting some "Dixie cups" first, the way I tried to find a cup in the dark from the cupboard for orange juice, and then took me to see "Clockwork Orange" with a bunch of hideous people waiting in line in Portland, Oregon to see me show up.

I am very sure I could pin it entirely on the FBI and I wouldn't doubt my own Dad is a cop.

No one who loves their child, does the things my parents did to me and then colludes to have my son kidnapped from me by defaming me and working with the U.S. government.  Josh Gatov is a Jew from Coos Bay, which is where the U.S. told my parents to move to.  I hope to God he dies.  The FBI and police protected him and the entire Jewish community defamed me over him and then set me up with another government rapist as well.  They had been spying on me my entire life and trying to ruin my life.

They were trying to set me up for failure from the start.  This country is illegally holding my son hostage and fraudulently had him adopted away from me, when they kidnapped him.  They have beaten him, abused him, hypnotized him, tortured him, and stole from him the same way they were thieves and stole from me when I was a kid my entire life. 

There is no way the U.S. stole from me when I was a kid, with a motive to have me hate them and try to use me as their enemy.  They stole from me, hoping I would never remember and doing it as secretly as they could, the same way they trafficked me and cut me up.  The U.S. wasn't openly stealing from me and hoping it provoked me.  They were secretly stealing from me.