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.

UPDATED: Adams or Peters and Rasmussen: Assassins

I know one of the vehicles involved belonged to Shannon Adams or Alicia Peter's parents.  I am talking about the assassination attempt against me that involved Tony Roos.

The reason I don't know which one is because I don't remember which of them had the smaller sort of sporty black or dark colored sedan.  One of them did, because I later saw either Shannon or Alicia's Mom or Dad driving it and was shocked because it was the same car.

It had to have a car owned by the Wiltbanks, Bournes (Aaron Bournes parents), Peters or Adams but I had thought later that I saw Alicia or Shannon's parents driving it.

There was a state patrol sort of cop car nearby too but he didn't stop.  When others showed up I said should I call the police, but the police had been right there and didn't stop to make a report so I thought well if they don't care maybe I shouldn't either.  So I let it go and it ended up being just me, Robin and the tow-truck driver staying there as it was taken down from the telephone pole.

I don't know what the Peters family did.  The Dad traveled all the time and the Mom stayed at home.  Her daughter, one of them, worked in Washington D.C. at a government job, and the other sister, worked internationally as a runway model.

Shannon's Mom stayed at home, I think, and her Dad was some kind of a doctor or psychologist I thought.  The mother was best friends with Kelly's mother, who bought a house from my Mom and then tried to sue her claiming there was cat pee smell in it.  Kelly Stalder was the one who asked me to go with her to the U.S. Navy recruiting offices in 1993.

Erica Wiltbank's family had a smaller dark sedan I thought, but I think most of the time they were in an SUV.

I just know when I saw it, it was on the road coming from the direction of Peters/Adams house, towards Sherwood, and I saw who was driving and it was the Peters or Adams family, and I didn't see this until probably 1993.  I had seen them in other family cars and the dark sedan wasn't brought out of the closet until a year or so after the assassination attempt against me and I was moving to the East Coast to work as a nanny.

I don't know how Roos would coordinate with Peters or Adams except Adams were connected to U.S. military through Kelly's interest, and Roos went into the military as well.  Shannon went to college in Oregon and Alicia went to college in Pennsylvania, where FBI S.S.A. Laura Laughlin is from.

Alicia and Shannon then made a sign for the tree and nailed it there and took a photo, posing on either side of it, the way Geoff stood in the middle for a cross-country photo and had me and Monica on either side.  And then a poem was included and given to me, written by Geoff Rasmussen, about "I never did see/someone drive up a tree."

I never heard about "Satan", by the way, or mention of that name, until I met Robin Bechtold.

Laura Laughin, for her part, may be an FBI employee who is directly connected to assassination attempts against me going back to the early 90s, which puts her in a defensive position of wanting to make sure any report of "hate crime" from me was deterred or used to smear me in the internal records.  She is also connected to Boston mafia and to the Middletons.

UPDATED: 
I'm pretty sure it was Adams.

It was the entire Adams family that was in the car when I saw them connected to that car, and I was shocked, and they were driving from the location of their house into town.   I remember they were smirking and I was not only shocked to see them as owning that car, but shocked they were smirking about something, like they didn't like me but had some kind of an inside joke.

What had surprised me was that I never saw their car and if I had ever been around them or they'd pulled up or something, it was in a different car.  It was like, after a year or more had gone by and people thought I'd forgotten or didn't know or wouldn't think of it, they passed and I realized, "It's that car".

I also remember all the deliberate looks the day they passed me, with even Shannon's sister making a face at me.  I never forgot it.  I thought what did I do wrong that Shannon's little sister was coached to hate me and make a face at me?  She was a disabled girl that was much younger than me and wasn't even at my school.

I don't know that much about Shannon's parents.  They were shadowy figures.  I asked what their background was once and she said Irish.   She told me she hated me for "stealing Robin" from her when she liked him and thought it was rude I went out with him when I knew she liked him.  I hadn't known and I never really got very involved with him except emotionally.  I was given the silent treatment for a month over "stealing Robin" and then they had Monica attending to me as my only friend at that time, so she had a way to befriend me I guess. 

Aside from South America, George Bechtold's other interest was Lebanon.  He was very good friends with owners of a Lebanese restaurant in Portland, and either Robin and Erik Lund went there a lot or it was George and maybe Erik visited once.  Possibly, it was a place introduced by Lund, but my understanding was that George had business with the Lebanese.

I don't know anything about Lebanese really.  They have good food and that's all I knew until I was visited by a Lebanese woman while I was a tutor for ENNL at PCC.  She didn't like me at all, and had bright blue eyes and black hair and fair skin.  She was fairly beautiful.  She stood out because she was obviously not there to take lessons or work on language (which is the reason I was there).  She was seriously sizing me up and I sensed hostility from her so finally, after so much staring, I asked nicely where she was from and she said, "Lebanon" and left.  I thought, "Why would anyone all the way from the land of Lebanon act like they hated me without even knowing me personally?"

As for Kelly Stalder, my mother knew her mother because she sold a house to her.  Judy Roark (deceased), Shannon Adam's mom, and Joy Stalder (deceased) were all best friends.  My Mom said something about it and how she was being accused of lying or fraud, for selling a house that had stained carpet smell that didn't go away after purchase and my Mom was saying she didn't know about it.  I told Kelly, Shannon, or my Mom, when they asked, about it and I said I thought my Mom would lie because she lied about taxes so I was sure she'd lie about other things too.  They were already suing my Mom and then my Mom's real estate place paid for the lawyer to defend her. 

Well it's the truth isn't it?  It's not like my entire life hasn't been a lie.

It's possible one of them thought I betrayed my mother and so they tried to kill me.  They would have already had to hate me and want to get rid of me, but it's possible.  And it was Tony Roos who was involved and I noticed how the Roos's are ambassadors to Japan now, when Japanese-American Judge Alicia Nakata slept with my fiancé and met with him when he was in Wenatchee.  She also knows the Guzmans and Avilas.  The other vehicle was the Adams or Peters vehicle and it was going in the direction of the Adams house.

Next, it was Mike Nichols, born in Canada and adopted in the U.S., who was trying to kill me.  The U.S. had government and law enforcement present both times at the locations and they chose not to make reports, like normal.  Why is that?

But they THINK they can kidnap my son from me and force me to marry Alvaro to seal their full-of-shit-and-holes case.

The U.S. has lost their right to even wave a flag.

I then had my cars being stalled deliberately by military, a joke maybe, to reference "Kelly Stalder" (Kelly stalled her), and my car towed away from me to block my travel.  I was victim of another assassination attempt and hit-and-run.  Then, another attempt in Washington D.C. and then all of a sudden, someone wants me to marry Alvaro Pardo for them--a whole bunch of people from Wenatchee, Washington and Seattle, Washington.  Come on Cameo!  Be a patriot! repatriate voluntarily and show us by marrying Alvaro.  First Michelle Erickson was literally asking me if I would work with them, not "cooperate" but suggesting I should take a job and work next to them, on cases.

Can you even imagine.

Alvaro was the one having my hair cut off, when I told Wenatchee they'd defamed me as a drug user or using THC when I didn't.  So he had my hair cut for them.  He also told me to change what I wrote in my blog and say "It's all in my imagination and nothing I've written is true."