After the opening of the Juarez border, I was kept actively busy according to the plan to "use me up" before my 30th birthday death sentence. I was subjected to a brutal (near death gang rape) "celebration benefit" at an identified Masonic Lodge in Warren, Ohio to "celebrate the free trade benefits" gained by involved East Coast politicos.
After Kelly’s ordeal in California, Dante and Houston were criminally exploiting her for literally "all she was worth". Subsequently, she missed an extraordinary amount of schooling. When she was in school, she was experiencing difficulty with her peers. These factors prompted plans to send her to a local Catholic school the next year, where her unusual behavior would be overlooked and covered up,
Soon thereafter, Senator Byrd came to Nashville to fiddle at the Grand Ole Opry and, as my handler. Houston, remarked, "fiddle around with me" at the Opryland Hotel. Byrd explained that close association with me had become volatile due to my roles in Iran-Contra and NAFTA, and therefore he would be distancing himself from me. He spent most of "our last night together" working on his memoirs for a voluminous book on the U.S. Constitution he was writing (now published at taxpayers’ expense), which focuses on his long-winded Senate (filibuster) speeches.
Byrd attempted to strengthen my programmed "loyalty bond" to him to keep me quiet "until death do us part". He told me, "If it was up to me, I would let you live". He talked at length about how our time together had been infringed upon by both de la Madrid and Reagan. Bitterness over their stronger controls on me was evident as he mocked their self appointed roles as the Wizard and Lizard of Oz.
Byrd had not distanced himself too far from me, though, where government operations were concerned. When I was "over the rainbow" in D.C. during the summer of ’87, it was business as usual with Byrd. I was escorted to Goddard Space Flight Center where Byrd was waiting for me in a sterile hallway near the brass-trimmed, mirrored elevators. He was loaded down with items, which he deposited on a small table as he greeted me.
Byrd spun me around to face the elevator’s mirrored doors saying, "Look deep into the mirror and be all that you can be by becoming infinitely lost in all that you see." Byrd timed his hypnotic induction so that when he ordered. "Step through the mirror," the doors opened and we stepped through.
As the elevator supposedly went "down 99 (taken from Aquino’s corny reversal of 66) levels to the depths of hell," Byrd told me the Earth "spins faster and faster at the core, causing us to spiral downward in a tornado effect." I dropped deeper in my hypnotic trance. The elevator doors opened to what appeared to me as an exact replica of the floor we just left. However, this floor’s hallway led to a computer room and sanitized-looking lab area.
"He’s taking me to your leader."
"I’m the Commander, here," the apparent director of the underground lab said. The workers again busied themselves as he stood, arms folded defensively across his chest, while his bespectacled intelligent eyes darted the room surveying the situation.
The Commander had a few, grey strands salting his short, dark hair, yet his build was surprisingly youthful and trim for his age. He and Byrd apparently knew each other quite well. Byrd strode over to him, dragging me along.
"Tom," Byrd called to his 50ish 6’ 1" friend. "This is your specimen of the day that I promised I would deliver. I will be most interested to see what you can deliver since diplomatic relations with Mexico depends on it. Not that I want to increase any pressure you may feel, but we need seven more just like her to stuff in the mouth of his royal Lizardry (de la Madrid) to keep him from spilling his guts on the project."
"It’s just as well, my friend," the Commander said, stroking his chin without uncrossing his arms. "That way he can’t talk without implicating himself."
"That’s the way the Chief feels about it," Byrd agreed. "He’s already in deep anyway, but this order (for slaves) hits him closer to home since they’ll be serving him personally."
I was then led by the Commander to a "backstage" entrance which was actually a glass-encased lab surrounded by seats in ascending rows. Scientists in NASA lab coats looked down on the lab table where I lay as the Commander wired me up to a computerized machine. A camera was positioned high in one comer of the room, filming all that transpired.
Since I was considered "used up" and my death was imminent, the Commander told the scientists to "feel free to fuck the lab specimen", "But first," he said, "before you satisfy your mental and physical curiosities sampling the President’s (Reagan’s) wares, we must satisfy El President’s (de La Madrid’s) perverse intellect with a little space humor." He turned to one of the technical workers and said,
"You’re going to have to edit this tape for de La Madrid’s benefit and take this part out while we prepare her for an ’off color’ chameleon joke."
"Now for the finished product, which in layman’s terms equates to the reproductive offspring of a Lizard breeding machine."
I apparently had been selected as the prototype for the seven programmed slaves de La Madrid had requested. De la Madrid was interested in NASA programmed staves that would be vaginally mutilated like I was. He was sexually obsessed with the hideous carving. I have no way of knowing what, if any, technological advancements were actually provided to de la Madrid via the film. I only know that deliberate misinformation tainted the methodologies depicted, and that I had never experienced programming or testing before or at the time by any such methods.
This video created for "his Royal Lizardry" was one of many cryptic lizard themes that NASA used in its Mexican operations. All of my programmed roles in Mexico involved the prolific, local, iguana lizards. De la Madrid had relayed the "legend of the Iguana" to me, explaining that lizard-like Aliens had descended upon the Mayans. The Mayan pyramids, their advanced astronomical technology, including the sacrifice of virgins, was supposedly inspired by the lizard aliens.
IN THE INTEREST OF TIME AND SPACE
Senator Patrick Leahy (D-Vermont), who served as vice chairman on the U.S. Senate Intelligence Committee in 1985-86, was a "friend" of Senator Byrd. Leahy’s position on Byrd’s Senate Appropriations Committee, coupled with his former position in Intelligence, afforded him an inordinate amount of power and influence. While I had cause to have contact with Senator Leahy on numerous occasions, Kelly was apparently more familiar with him than I. This was evidenced by our meeting with him in Vermont in the late summer of 1985.
Alex Houston was booked to "entertain" at the State Fair in Rutland, Vermont. The entire trip proved to be a whirlwind of covert activity for me, during which time I obtained a packet of papers from an unidentified operative with orders to hand deliver them to Senator Leahy. Kelly had been kept as busy as I, since Boxcar Willie and other CIA operative pedophiles were in abundance at the fair in Leahy’s home state.
President Reagan had given me specific orders to carry out while in Vermont, which included delivering a message to "Patrick" for him. He also told me,
"When you go to Vermont, be sure and go by ("buy") LL Bean."
Literally interpreting what he suggested, I asked, "The whole store?"
"No," Reagan laughed. "I meant stop by there. I didn’t mean buy the whole store. I already own it. Just buy a few things, like an LL Bean Swiss Army Knife." 1
The LL Bean outlet, located near the fop of supposedly the highest mountain in the pristine forest, appeared to be a store front for CIA covert activity. When I asked the ’clerk’ assigned to Kelly and me for a black, Swiss Army Knife, his response was indicative of familiarity with government covert operations. Using the old familiar statement (trigger), he ordered Kelly and me to "Walk this way," as he led us through a storage area and out the back door. There, a black, unmarked helicopter was waiting on a pad for us.
The pilot flew us a short distance to the top of a mountain, where we landed in a clearing next to a house that appeared to have no other access. The place was run like a fortress, and two guards in suits met us as Kelly and I emerged from the helicopter. The guards escorted us into the house, keeping Kelly while I met with Senator Leahy.
I walked into an office-type room that had a panoramic view of the wilderness, where Leahy was leaning against a highly polished, wooden desk. He was wearing an orange flannel shirt that lost its purpose in crispness. It was my experience that Leahy’s surroundings, like his appearance, were as sanitized as possible.
I delivered the documents and message as ordered. Leahy then proceeded to explain that he was aware that my death was imminent due to my groundwork participation in NAFTA, and that subsequently Kelly would be traded to the West Coast pornography operation. Not only did he obviously want to join in on "using me up" before my 30th birthday, but he had "tracks" to cover-up where Kelly was concerned.
Most of my traumatic encounters with Leahy were alien-themed, but be often relied on my Catholic upbringing to drive his points into my mind. From my perspective, Leahy was unquestionably one of the most intelligent criminals of this entire Shadow Government. His carefully contrived chameleon-like characteristics provided him the latitude of appearing to share the principals and beliefs of whomever he was masterfully manipulating on both a national and international level.
Kelly and I had been given what felt like a sophisticated variation of the NASA CIA-designer drug, Tranquility, which turned us into the robotic mind- controlled slaves that Senator Leahy preferred. As the drug was overtaking me, I attentively listened to what Leahy was saying.
"God condones that one," Leahy said, referring to both my role in NAFTA and his pedophile abuse of my daughter.
"Of course, God is not the one you need to be concerned with. He is a passive God, One who’s passed on and lives only in a Bible. The God you need to be concerning yourself with is the all-seeing, all-knowing God. That great, big, Eye in the Sky. It sees all, records all, and transmits the information right where it’s needed.
Let me give you some sound advice-Keep your mouth shut and none of this need be known anywhere. Only your Vice President (Bush) will know for sure, and he’s been keeping secrets all his life. I’m not suggesting George Bush is God. Oh no, he is much more than that. He is a semi-God, which means he is straddling the heavenly and earthly planes in order that he take action on what he sees with his ever watchful Eye In The Sky."
Kelly was standing quietly and robotically just outside the door with the two guards. They ushered us down the hall, through an ornately carved door, and into Leahy’s bedroom. The room was highly effeminate for a man, decorated in pastels, white eyelet, and huge billowy pillows. When the Senator walked in, Kelly groaned, "Noooo, not you again", Leahy signaled Kelly with his hand, thus switching her into total silence and submission.
I had seen and experienced basement "spy conditioning" torture chambers before both in the U.S. and Mexico, and Leahy’s "torture lab" looked more like a NASA lab. His access to the latest advancements in electronic/drug mind-control technology was consistent with his ability to use it. I was immediately strapped to a cold, chrome and stainless steel table by the two guards. Leahy began reciting, "Cross your heart and hope to die, Stick a needle in your eye".
While I was literally out of my mind from intense pain, Leahy utilized the opportunity to program me with what he said was financial information to deliver to Byrd. This required no "personality", therefore the shattered fragments Leahy had deliberately shifted me into when raping Kelly would be ideal to "computer-eyes" his message. He told me that my body was a conduit to link him up to the Eye in the Sky, where he was transmitting the information for storage until such time as Byrd accessed it. "Only the tiniest little prick can access the computer-eyesd’ storage bank," Leahy said, laughing at his own double meaning mockery of Byrd’s penis size.
This was not the first time Leahy transferred apparently sensitive U.S. Government intelligence information to Byrd through me. I had photographically recorded numbers in my mind’s "computer banks" ever since Leahy prepared me for the task some months before at White Sands Missile Base in New Mexico. It was there in the TOP SECRET mind-control area of the base that Leahy subjected me to extreme tortures and high-tech programming.
In spite of his tortures, intelligence, high-tech methodism, and sophisticated mind manipulations, Senator Leahy failed to cover his "secrets" ~ including his sexual abuse of Kelly. He did succeed, however, in causing Kelly and me to be hospitalized from his torturous abuses upon our return to Tennessee. I had suffered excruciating pain and irreparable damage to my right eye, while Kelly psychosomatically suffered respiratory failure due to his extreme traumas. The physical manifestations of the psychological devastation wreaked on us by Senator Leahy failed to raise questions from outsiders as to the cause.
Equally worthy of mention, are numerous other high profile perpetrators that Kelly and I had exposure to over the years. These individuals, in spite of the CIA’s "need-to-know" M.O. of maintaining "the left hand does not know what the right hand is doing," were in positions to be knowledgeable of Kelly’s and my victimizations. All of them accessed our programming either for drug distribution, banking/message delivery, mind-control demonstrations, or, most often, for their perverse sexual gratification.
These too numerous individuals and events are significant chapters in my life who, in the interest of time and space, will be fully exposed in a forthcoming book. Rather than point a finger at these individuals for reasons of "vengeance" (there is none comparable), they must be publicly identified for all our sakes and, above all, for our children’s sakes.
1 Black LL Bean Swiss Army Knives were a coded indicator of White House-level operations. Red LL Bean Swiss Army Knives, and regular Swiss Army Knives were a standard CIA indicator with which I was also familiar.
2 Please support us in this effort by writing your Congressmen.
THE KING AND EYE
Saudi Arabia threaded in and out of most operations in which I was involved, primarily due to their purchase and routing of weapons, drugs, and blond-haired, blue-eyed programmed children.
While plans were being finalized for a clandestine 3:00 A.M. meeting at L’Enfante Hotel which I would be attending, I was rushed around D.C. gathering last minute messages and information. I had no choice in leaving. Kelly at Bush’s Residence Office where Houston had dropped us off earlier in the day for my initial briefing.
VanderJagt look Kelly by the hand and led her upstairs while Bush and Cheney began giving me my instructions. Bush joked about working "grave yard" in the "shadows" for "the White House night shift" of the King and Eye operation. Cheney began my instructions with the usual threat to Kelly’s life, and was interrupted by a phone call ordering me over to the White House.
As I made my way through the crowd, Cheney saw me and started across the room towards me, I spotted VanderJagt nearby, who had been drinking excessively, and anxiously asked him where Kelly was. He said, "Upstairs sleeping, George is expecting you". I wanted desperately to go to Kelly, but Cheney, who was drunk as usual, had reached me by that time.
"Walk this way," Cheney slurred. He imitated the Oz Scarecrow’s walk as he led me through the middle of the crowd to Bush’s office. Bush was busy behind his desk, and his tension was apparent.
He said, "Phil Habib is doing a number on his highness’ (Fahd’s) head, I want you to do a number on his ’dick’".
"Please," Dick Cheney groaned at the term. "That means give him a Royal fucking. Wear him out. You’re going on a magic carpet ride tonight, little Genie, down through the rabbit hole, through the mirror and we’ll meet you on the other side."
"Good. He’d better have a smile on his face when we walk in (to the 3:00 A.M. meeting)," Bush told me as I went out the door. "If you do your part right, he will."
As I stepped out the door, Habib was impatiently hopping up and down like he was energized from cocaine. Using his role as White Rabbit, he said in Wonderland cryptic, "We’re late! We’re late! For a very important date!" He led me downstairs to the entrance of the hotel, where Bush and Cheney had just walked in looking ridiculously conspicuous in their trench coats.
Bush immediately ordered Habib, "Call in" and gestured to the phone across’ the lobby. Habib turned and hurried for the phone. Cheney dashed up the stairs, leaving me alone with Bush. Bush said, referring to Habib, "Don’t you love to see the wabbit hop?"
When Cheney returned a moment later, my (identified) Secret Service escort led me to the boutique area of the hotel to wait while the meeting in Habib’s suite got under way. I had endured water deprivation for some time, which my escort noted as we sat near a fountain. He told me his orders were, "You can lead a whore to water, but you can’t let her drink." He teased me further, stating that he knew I could "suck the humps of a thousand camels dry." At last, he took me on to the meeting in Habib’s room, where Bush, Cheney, Fahd, and Habib were in the midst of discussion.
Bush accessed the messages and bank transaction details I was programmed with at Shasta, and ordered me to relay an account of my meeting with de La Madrid and subsequent opening of the Juarez border. The complexities of this meeting, compounded by my being privy only to certain parts, should not be documented here out of context.
"Greetings to King Fahd from President Reagan. The negotiations you are about to embark on are not only critical to the world peace process, but may solidify U.S.-Saudi relations beyond your wildest expectations. You have my word that what appears to be the building up of forces in Iraq is but a mirage in the whirlwind. And when this operation is completed and the dust finally settles, you will see that the sands have shifted in time, running out on our adversaries and shifting all power and control to our unified effort.
United we stand to conquer all in the name of world peace and world order, and I am confident that together we cannot fail. The more Saddam destroys is that much less for us to do and deal with when we implement the Order. In the meantime, we all have much to gain and not a moment to lose."
1 The Alaska state-appointed child sexual abuse physician’s exam and photos corroborate that, for once, Bush may have told the truth.
A PLACE TO RUN, NO NEED TO HIDE
Alex Houston had maintained his capacitor distributing business cover throughout the years, routinely changing company names and customers. By summer’s end in 1987, Houston had stumbled onto a legitimate sales inquiry from the Peoples Republic of China, Unable to profitably manage a legal business, he look on a partner whom he said checked out to have a curious but inconclusive association in U.S. Intelligence.
I sensed right away that Mark was very different from the other men I encountered routinely. He treated me as though I were a person, and his eyes revealed no sexual interest in me at all. Instead of discussing world domination, slavery, pornography, drugs, and genocide like the other men I knew, he introduced me to the raccoons he had years ago rescued from certain death and then tamed. I was deeply impressed with how his "wild" pets loved and trusted him. I could not think to trust, ask for help, or even question at the time what it was that made Mark different.
In the fall of 1987, Kelly was enrolled in Nashville, Tennessee’s St. Pius Catholic School. Her unusual behaviors were addressed in school counseling, but their causes and/or origins were never addressed. Kelly still laughs at the absurdity of being counseled to vent her "anger" by scribbling the source of her anger on a piece of paper and then jumping on it. With her "anger" being caused by extreme physical and psychological tortures and sexual abuse, it could not be so simplistically relieved.
That, as evidenced by the near death asthma attack she endured, further proved that Houston’s tortures were too much for a seven-year-old child to co- exist with. In retrospect, that remaining part of her mind that could question why her existence was too horrible to comprehend was locked away ~ And so it goes in the "life" of a mind-controlled slave.
In December 1987, my 30th birthday launched the final countdown to my death. Houston was in regular contact with Michael Dante (as telephone receipts prove), and arrangements were finalized for Kelly and me to be transferred to California. There, I was supposed to be burned alive in a snuff pornography film and Kelly would become the property of Dante. But first, I had orders to conclude my part in Operation Greenbacks for Wetbacks by meeting with de la Madrid.
In reality, we were transported by automobile to de La Madrid’s tacky museum-style house nearby. There, Kelly and I were taken into his all too familiar bedroom by a uniformed matronly woman. De la Madrid’s bed was a king-size waterbed set in a dark wood canopy frame. This time the bedspread was a plush black-blood red, which de la Madrid pointed out to Kelly as he set her on the bed. It was my experience that de la Madrid’s bed was in itself a NASA technology adventure.
Mounted inside of the canopy was a movie screen where de La Madrid viewed porn videos and/or NASA-provided films. From his bed I saw replicas of the NASA Goldstar multi-screen monitors that were routinely used in "experimental" mind-control conditioning. By filming the actual NASA multi-screen grouped monitors, the resultant video provided the illusion of seeing a Goldstar multi-screen when shown on a (single) screen such as was built into de la Madrid’s bed canopy.
This time de la Madrid said, "Let us end where we began...," referring to my witnessing the rape of my daughter in Shasta. He ordered me to undress and recline against the headboard of his bed. At the foot of the bed, he began pulling Kelly’s jeans off as he said,
"You gave birth to her, just as you gave birth to the border agreement, and now your role is through on both counts. The tears she will shed as you burn cannot extinguish the flames of passion you have passed on to her. Your intense sexuality has been regenerated in her, and this hormonal experiment in genetics will successfully evolve for generations to come.
Your role is complete. And thanks to my friends in Washington, NASA has perfected the formula and given birth to the technology of mirrored procreation using recreated bloodlines. The only detectable difference makes the blood run cold. Reptilian. See for yourself"
When at last we were returned to the NCL cruise ship, Kelly and I were vomiting sick from de la Madrid’s abuse and the high voltage trauma that followed. An unusually large shipment of cocaine and heroin had been loaded, which was transferred into the walls of our custom built motor home once we docked at Key Biscayne, Florida. Houston supposedly stayed aboard ship for the next week of his engagement, while I drove the motor home full of drugs and my sick daughter to Houston’s farm where we resided in Tennessee.
By the time Houston returned to Tennessee from his NCL cruise, Ken Riley had already emptied the motor home and dispersed the drugs as previously planned. The only business Houston had to attend was implementing the final phase of trance-ferring Kelly and me to Dante and being updated on Mark Phillips’ latest successes.
Houston immediately began programming me to not take anything but Kelly’s and my clothes when sent to Dante. At the same lime, Mark Phillips and I had reached a level of communication that was new to me. Although I had no conscious understanding of what he was saying, the truths he spoke resounded throughout the depths of my being.
Just before Kelly and I were to leave for California, Mark asked me to help him force Houston out of business by providing him with the files on suspected (corporate) criminal activity that Houston kept hidden at our house. Not only did I gladly do so, but "somehow" I was able to ask for Help in return. I asked him to help Kelly and me get away from Houston before I was killed and Kelly was sentenced to a fate worse than death. Mark assured me that he would help.
The day Houston intended for Kelly and me to be transferred to Dante, I felt a strange compulsion to telephone Mark and notify him. That morning, Houston drove to Mark’s office believing he was going to meet with him later that day. But Mark had brought a team of movers to the house, and rescued Kelly and me. He had brilliantly intercepted us as we were being passed to our intended destination!
"Wake up, sleeping beauty," Mark said as he gently roused me with a cup of fresh coffee.
The time of day? No one had ever given me their time before. They only took mine. And I never wore a watch before. I did not even know what month or year it was, let alone the tune of day. I had no concept of time, which Mark explained I must always monitor from that moment on.
"You say someone is trying to kill you. Why?" Mark asked.
Mark understood that safety was tantamount to memory recovery. At the same time, none of us could be safe until I could recall who and what we were up against. Mark quickly sold everything he owned, including his DeLorean, retaining only basic necessities. He also sold the motor home which had been awarded me in my divorce from Alex Houston. Using these funds, Mark took Kelly and me to the peaceful wilderness of Alaska.
February 4, 1988 marked the beginning of life for Kelly and me, free from our mind-controlled existence. It also marked the beginning of a new kind of survival as we embarked on "The Most Dangerous Game" of international proportions. Despite death threats and attempts, intimidation and cover-ups, we have survived these past seven years by refusing to keep secrets ~ which is in itself "another story