9-11 Director CHENEY RAPES CHILDREN and has a history of playing HUNT THE HUMAN in Wyoming
author: excerpt, testimony
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This whole neocon monstrosity of America is a sick place. Its shallow media lets these type of people into power here. SUMMARY: Cheney is involved in 'testing,' hunting, and raping children who were Monarch Mind Control Slaves when he was the sole Representative for Wyoming in the 1970s. Below is some testimony from one of his child victims. Well, this certainly explains how he could have the composure or sang froid to be the Bush Administrations's 9-11 Director as he oversaw the deaths of thousands in the World Trade Center, told the military planes to standdown, and let the plane hit the Pentagon (without ordering the evacuation of it as he could have over 30 minutes earlier, and without ordering the evacuation of the fourth plane hit location, the Congress, either). Cheney ordered the fourth plane shot down as well, even according to nimrod Bush. Cheney is one sick asshole who deserves the electric chair. Please pass this around to Congress. This helps explain how America ended up with a bunch of white collar criminals, who are sadistic sex pedophiles to boot, in a coup that led to 9-11. SO, STILL THINK THE NEOCONS ARE "CONSERVATIVES," OR SADISTIC POWERMONGERING PEDOPHILIC MURDERERS? GIVES A WHOLE NEW MEANING TO THE NICKNAME 'DICK' CHENEY. Read it and weep: and then get Cheney in the electric chair.
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excerpt from book's testimony, dealing with Cheney:
Project Monarch
Dissociative Identity Disorder ~ DID (formerly termed Multiple Personality Disorder) is the mind's sane defense to an insane situation. It is a way of dealing with trauma that is literally "too horrible to comprehend". Incestuous rape violates primitive instincts and surpasses pain tolerance. By compartmentalizing the memory of such horrendous abuse, the rest of the mind can function "normally" as though nothing has happened. This compartmentalization is created by the brain actually shutting down neuron pathways to a specific part of the brain.
These neuron pathways are triggered open again when the abuse recurs. The same part of the brain that is already conditioned to the trauma deals with it again-and-again as needed. As a child, I was dissociative of my father's abuse. I was totally unable to recall his sexual abuse, even in his presence, until I saw and felt his penis. As quickly as I felt the terror from conditioned response, I was remembering the abuse and how to deal with it. My neuron pathways opened up instantaneously to the part of my brain that previously endured the trauma. This part of my brain developed into a personality of its own - which belonged to my father - which he 'rented' out and later sold to the U.S. Government as will be explained and detailed in the following pages.
My father's sixth grade education had earned him a job as a worm digger for local sport fisherman. By the time I was six years old, however, his pornographic exploitation of my older brother Bill and me had provided enough income to move us into a bigger house nestled in the Michigan sand dunes. My father was right at home there. The tourists and drug dealers who littered the eastern shore of Lake Michigan further supplemented his income by paying for perverse sex with us children. My father also became involved in illicit drug sales.
Soon after we moved, my father was reportedly caught sending kiddie porn through the U.S. Mail. It was a bestiality film of me with my Uncle Sam's Boxer dog, Buster. My Uncle Bob, also implicated in manufacturing the porn, informed my father of a U.S. Government Defense Intelligence Agency TOP SECRET Project to which he was privy - Project Monarch. This Project Monarch mind control operation was then, as now "recruiting" multigenerational incest abused children with Dissociative Identity Disorder for its "genetic mind control studies°. I was a prime "candidate", a "chosen one".
I had learned to read at the young age of four due to my photographic memory, which is the result of DID. Government researchers involved in MK Ultra Project Monarch knew about the photographic memory aspect of MPD, as well as other resultant "super human" characteristics. Visual acuity of an MPD is 44 times greater than that of the average person. My developed and unusually high pain threshold plus compartmentalization of memory were "necessary" for military and covert operations development. Additionally, my sexuality was primitively twisted since infancy. This programming was appealing to perverse politicians who believed they could hide their actions deep within my memory compartments cliniticians refer to as personalities.
My father seized the opportunity as it would provide him immunity from prosecution. He was hurriedly flown to Boston for a two week course on how to raise my brother and I for this off-shoot of MK Ultra, Project Monarch. Immediately after my father's return from Boston, I was routinely prostituted to then Michigan State Senator Guy VanderJagt. VanderJagt later went on to become a U.S. Congressman and eventually chairman of the Republican National Congressional Committee that put George Bush in the office of President. I was prostituted to VanderJagt after numerous local parades in which he participated in, at the Mackinac Island Political Retreat, and in my home state of Michigan among other places.
My Uncle Bob helped my father decorate my bedroom in red, white and blue paneling and American flags. He provided assistance in scrambling my mind according to Project Monarch methodologies. This was to confuse fantasy with reality when it came to fairy tale themes, particularly Disney stories and the Wizard of Oz, which laid the base for future programming.
The Most Dangerous Game [and Cheney as the Player, and this child as the hunted and raped by the Representative of Wyoming, Dick Cheney]
During Christmas vacation of 1974, my father flew us all to Disney World by route of Tampa, Florida. Ignorant of geography, it did not occur to me that Tampa was out of the way to Disney World until my father drove the rented van to the gates of MacDill Air Force Base. Military personnel met me there and escorted me into the base TOP SECRET high tech mind control conditioning facility for "behavioral modification" programming. This was the first in what became a routine series of mind control testing and/or programming sessions on government installations that I would endure throughout my Project Monarch victimization.
Whether I was in a military, NASA, or government building, the procedure for maintaining me under total mind control remained consistent with Project Monarch requirements. This included prior physical and/or psychological trauma; sleep, food, and water deprivation; high voltage electric shock; and hypnotic and/or harmonic programming of specific memory compartments/ personalities. The high tech equipment and methodisms I endured from that time on gave the U.S. government absolute control of my mind and life. I had been literally driven out of my conscious mind and existed only through my programmed subconscious. I lost my free will, ability to reason, and could not think to question anything that was happening to me. I could only do as I was told.
In the summer of 1975, my family drove all the way from Michigan to the Teton Mountains of Wyoming. I was ordered to ride in the back storage area of the family Chevy Suburban since I was forbidden to associate or communicate with my brothers and sister.
So I dissociated into books, or into the metaphorical, hypnotic suggestions from my father and tranced deeper as I watched the prairie's seemingly endless sea of "amber waves of grain" streak past my window. Once when we stopped at a gas station, my father took me inside to show me a stuffed "jackalope" mounted on the wall. Due to my tranced, dissociative state and high suggestibility level, I believed it was indeed a cross between a jack rabbit and antelope. It was 100+ degrees in the Badlands when it cooled down at night. The intense heat of the day accentuated my ever increasing thirst. My father was physically preparing me though water deprivation for the intense tortures and programming I would endure in Wyoming.
Dick Cheney, then White House Chief of Staff to President Ford, later Secretary of Defense to President George Bush, documented member of the Council on Foreign relations (CFR), and Presidential hopeful for 1996, was originally Wyoming's only Congressman. Dick Cheney was the reason my family had traveled to Wyoming where I endured yet another form of brutality -- his version of "A Most Dangerous Game," or human hunting.
It is my understanding now that A Most Dangerous Game was devised to condition military personnel in survival and combat maneuvers. Yet it was used on me and other slaves known to me as a means of further conditioning the mind to the realization there was "no place to hide," as well as traumatize the victim for ensuing programming. It was my experience over the years that A Most Dangerous Game had numerous variations on the primary theme of being stripped naked and turned loose in the wilderness while being hunted by men and dogs. In reality, all "wilderness" areas were enclosed in secure military fencing whereby it was only a matter of time until I was caught, repeatedly raped, and tortured.
Dick Cheney had an apparent addiction to the "thrill of the sport." He appeared obsessed with playing A Most Dangerous Game as a means of traumatizing mind control victims, as well as to satisfy his own perverse sexual kinks. My introduction to the game occurred upon arrival at the hunting lodge near Greybull, Wyoming, and it physically and psychologically devastated me. I was sufficiently traumatized for Cheney's programming, as I stood naked in his hunting lodge office after being hunted down and caught. Cheney was talking as he paced around me, "I could stuff you and mount you like a jackalope and call you a two legged dear. Or I could stuff you with this (he unzipped his pants to reveal his oversized penis) right down your throat, and then mount you. Which do you prefer?"
Blood and sweat became mixed with the dirt on my body and slid like mud down my legs and shoulder. I throbbed with exhaustion and pain as I stood unable to think to answer such a question. "Make up your mind," Cheney coaxed. Unable to speak, I remained silent. "You don't get a choice, anyway. I make up your mind for you. That's why you're here. For me to make you a mind, and make you mine/mind. [Is Cheney a present or ex-Illuminati sexual programmer?] You lost your mind a long time ago. Now I'm going to give you one. Just like the Wizard (of Oz) gave Scarecrow a brain, the Yellow Brick Road led you here to me. You've 'come such a long, long way' for your brain, and I will give you one."
The blood reached my shoes and caught my attention. Had I been further along in my programming, I perhaps would never have noticed such a thing or had the capability to think to wipe it away. But so far, I had only been to MacDill and Disney World for government/military programming. At last, when I could speak, I begged, "If you don't mind, can I please use your bathroom?"
Cheney's face turned red with rage. He was on me in an instant, slamming my back into the wall with one arm across my chest and his hand on my throat, choking me while applying pressure to the cartorid artery in my neck with his thumb. His eyes bulged and he spit as he growled, "If you don't mind me, I will kill you. I could kill you -- Kill you -- with my bare hands. You're not the first and you won't be the last. I'll kill you any time I goddamn well please." He flung me on the cot-type bed that as behind me. There he finished taking his rage out on me sexually.
On the long trip back to Michigan, I lay in a heap behind the seats of the Suburban, nauseated and hurting from Cheney's brutality and high voltage tortures, plus the whole Wyoming experience. My father stopped by the waterfalls flowing through the Tetons to "wash my brain" of the memory of Cheney. I could barely walk through the woods to the falls for the process as instructed, despite having learned my lessons well from Cheney on following orders.
 http://www.trance-formation.com/book_excerpts/game.htm
and see, on ritual abuse programming, Svali at:
http://www.suite101.com/article.cfm/ritual_abuse/89311
http://www.suite101.com/article.cfm/ritual_abuse/90019
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Houston's CIA orchestrated travels in the country music industry led me to a TOP SECRET military/NASA installation at Offitt Air Force Base in Nebraska. The "you can run, but you can't hide" conditioning was deeply ingrained in my mind there through a technique that was later used on my daughter Kelly, as well as on other mind control slaves. I was taken underground to a so-called 'secret' circular room where the walls were covered with numerous screens showing satellite pictures from around the world. These satellites are referred to as the "Eye in the Sky." An Air Force official explained to me that my every move "could be monitored via satellite." On a separate four-screen viewer, he demonstrated what in retrospect was a contrived pre-recorded slide show, with the scenes changing as rapidly as he spoke and typed it into the computer.
"Where will you run?" he asked me. "To the Arctic? The Antarctic? Brazil? The mountains? The desert? The prairies? The hills of Afghanistan? The city of Kabul? Would you try to run to Cuba and live among our enemies? We can find you there. There is truly no place to run and no place to hide. The U.S. Senate? The White House? Or to your own backyard? The moon? We got you covered. You can run, but you can't hide." This had been sufficient to convince me in my suggestible state that my every move could be monitored. Kelly still believes the "Eye in the Sky" is watching her. She continues to maintain silence in the institutions due to being denied rehabilitation, but frequently speaks to the sky as though her politically affluent abusers are watching and listening.
The Most Dangerous Game: Revisited
George Bush was highly active in the Lampe, Missouri and Mount Shasta, California retreat compounds. Just like Lampe, Shasta's cover was country music. According to everyone I knew, singer and songwriter Merle Haggard supposedly ran the show at Lake Shasta, diverting any and all attention from the nearby Mount Shasta compound.
Shasta was the largest covert mind control slave camp of which I am aware.
Hidden in the wooded hills, military fencing corrals an enormous fleet of unmarked black helicopters and more mind controlled military robots than I saw in all of Haiti. This covert military operation served its own agenda, not America's. I was told and overheard that it was a base for the future Multi Jurisdictional Police Force for enforcing order and law in the New World Order.
In the center of the high security compound, was another well-guarded military-fenced area that was regarded as a "Camp David" of sorts for those running our country. George Bush and Dick Cheney shared an office there, and claimed the outer perimeter woods as their own hunting ground where they played "A Most Dangerous Game."
Predicated on conversations I overheard between the two, it was this ***world police military background that earned Dick Cheney his cabinet appointment as Secretary of Defense with the Bush Administration.***
Houston stayed at Haggard's Lake Shasta resort while Kelly and I were helicoptered to Mount Shasta for our scheduled meeting with Bush and Cheney. The helicopter pilot directed our attention to the military fencing surrounding the outer perimeter of the compound. Rarely did pilots ever speak to either of us, but this one smiled wickedly as he told us we would need to know the outer limits for A Most Dangerous Game.
As soon as we arrived at Bush and Cheney's inner sanctum, noticed George Bush, Jr. was with them. It was my experience that Jr. stood by his father and covered his backside whenever Bush would become incapacitated from drugs or required criminal back up. It appeared that Jr. was there to serve both purposes, while his father and Cheney enjoyed their work-vacation.
Hyper from drugs, Cheney and Bush were eager to hunt their human prey in "A Most Dangerous Game." They greeted me with the rules of the game, ordered me to strip naked despite the cold December winds, and told me in Oz cryptic to "beware of the lions and tigers and bears." Kelly's life became the stakes, as usual, which resurrected my natural and exaggerated programmed maternal instincts. Tears silently ran down my cheeks as Bush told me, "If we catch you, Kelly's mine. So run, run as fast as you can. I'll get you and your little girl, too, because I can, I can, I can. And I will." Cheney, daring me to respond, asked, "Any questions?"
I said, "There's no place to run because there's a fence -- the kind I can't get over. I saw it."
Rather than physically assault me, Cheney laughed at my sense of "no where to run, no where to hide" and explained that a bear had torn a hole in the fence somewhere, and all I had to do is find it. He lowered his rifle to my head and said, "Let the games begin. Go."
Wearing only my tennis shoes, I ran through the trees as fast and as far as I could, which wasn't very far at all. Bush was using his bird dog to track me, the same one that had recently been used with me in bestiality filming as a "Byrd-dog" joke on my owner, Robert C. Byrd. When caught, Cheney held his gun to my head again as he stood over me, looking warm in his sheep skin coat. Bush ordered me to take his dog sexually while they watched, then he and Cheney ushered me back to their cabin.
I pulled on my clothes and sat in the office part of the cabin awaiting instructions. I had no idea where Kelly was, nor do I in retrospect. Bush and Cheney were still in their hunting clothes when the programming session began. Bush said, "You and I are about to embark on a most dangerous game of diplomatic relations. This is my game. You will follow my rules. I will have the distinct advantage of hunting you with my Eye in the Sky (satellite). I'll watch every move you make. As long as you play the game by my rules and make no mistakes, you live. One mistake and I'll get you, my pretty, and your little girl, too. You die, and Kelly will have to play with me. I prefer it that way. Then it will be her most dangerous game. The cards are stacked in my favor because, well, it is my game! Are you game?"
There was no choice. I responded as conditioned, "Yes, Sir! I'm game." The parallels to the Most Dangerous game that had just occurred in the woods were deliberate and intended to make retrieval of memory "impossible" due to crypto-amnesia scrambling.
"Good. Then let the games begin. Listen carefully to your instructions. You have no room for error." Cheney flipped his "game timer" -- an hourglass. Bush continued, "This game is called the King and Eye, and here's the deal. You will be establishing stronger diplomatic relations according to order between Mexico, the U.S., and the Middle East. Your role will require a change of face at each new place. I'll chart your course, define your role, and pull your strings. You'll speak my words when I pull your strings. There is no room for error."
Cheney was half lying across the plain military issue style desk in an apparent drug stupor as Bush talked. Still wearing his hunting coat and hat, Cheney aimed his rifle at me from the desk and threatened, "Or a-hunting we will go." Bush finished Cheney's threat by singing, "We'll catch a fox and put her in a box and lower her in a hole."
Bush looked at Cheney and burst out laughing. The sight of him dressed in his hunting clothes with a huge bore double-barreled shotgun to his shoulder inspired Bush to tell him he "looked like Elmer Fudd." Cheney, imitating the cartoon character, said, "Where is that waskily wabbit?"
Operation The King and Eye would involve Reagan's #1 envoy Philip Habib (who cryptically played the Alice in Wonderland role of the White Rabbit with slaves such as myself) and Saudi Arabian King Fahd. So when Bush referred to the two as "Elmer Fahd and the Waskily Wabbit," he and Cheney laughed until they cried. Since both were already high from drugs anyway, they had a great deal of difficulty maintaining composure long enough to complete my programming.
CLINTON COKE LINES
I met up with Bill Clinton again in 1982 at a county fair in Berryville, Arkansas. Alex Houston was "entertaining" there due to the close proximity of the CIA Near Death Trauma Center (a slave conditioning and programming camp) and drug distribution point at Swiss Villa in Lampe, Missouri. I had just endured intense physical and psychological trauma and programming. Clinton was campaigning for Governor and was backstage with Hillary and Chelsea while waiting to make a speech. Clinton stood in the afternoon sun with his arms crossed, talking to Houston about him and "his people" (CIA Operatives) being booked into specific areas for the dual purpose of entertaining and carrying out specific covert drug operations.
.....Clinton understood that I had just been through "hell" in Lampe, and took it all in stride as he focused on his speech. He not only was well aware of the mind-control tortures and criminal covert activities proliferating in Arkansas and the neighboring state of Missouri, but he condoned them! Just as there are no partisan preferences in this world dominance effort, neither are there any strong individual state considerations or boundaries, either. I knew from experience that Clinton's Arkansas criminal covert operations meshed with the Lampe, Missouri center where he routinely tended business and claimed to "vacation," staying in the compound's resort villas.
In 1983, Houston took me to Lampe for routine trauma and programming while he was scheduled to "entertain" at the amphitheater. Also scheduled to perform were Bill Clinton's and George Bush's friends Lee Greenwook and CIA operative, slave runner and country music singer Tommy Overstreet. Greenwood and Overstreet were active in both the Lampe, Missouri and Lake/Mount Shasta, California CIA compounds. Clinton was flown in from Berryville, Arkansas by helicopter for the shows as well as for a business meeting.
Before Clinton arrived, Greenwood and Houston were in the backstage dressing rooms snorting line after line of cocaine. Houston, always eager to make an extra penny to pinch, attempted to prostitute me to Greenwood. "She's the real performer," Houston said. "She performs all kinds of sex acts upon command. For a small price, she's yours."
Greenwood laughed, and referring to my Huntsville, Alabama NASA programming said, "I've spent more time in Huntsville than she has, and I know full well who and what she is - "a space cadet" programmed for sex. She's a modified version of Marilyn Monroe."
Tommy Overstreet had walked in and heard what Greenwood said. "How much time have you spent in Shasta?"
"Shasta?" Greenwood looked arrogantly at Overstreet and smiled knowingly as he said, "You don't 'spend time' in Shasta, you maintain the concept if you can. I haven't lost any time there, either, if thats your next question. I go there quite a bit. Enough really to override Houston's suggestion with ease and take what I want, when I want, and how I want it."
Greenwood began expertly accessing my sex programming and told the others in the room, "You all can come and go as you please, but I've been made an offer that I am going to use." He ordered me to undress and bend over the desk where he roughly sodomized me as he said, "You're going to think it's daddy all over again".
When Greenwood was through with me, I was ordered out into the amphitheater concert area. During intermission, I met up with Swiss Villa manager Hal Meadows, Tommy Overstreet, and Governor Clinton in the hall. Clinton was wearing a cap that read "Diesel Trainer" which I was told to equate literally as "these-will-train-her". Puzzled, I looked at his cap and asked, "Are you a conductor?"
Clinton smiled and said, "Of electricity". Overstreet laughed as he continued, "Actually it means I check cabooses. How's yours?" I squirmed. Apparently Greenwood had bragged about sodomizing me. They laughed even harder as Clinton said, "Still running, I'm sure".
Houston stepped out of the dressing room to greet Clinton. "Hi, Bud." Houston extended his hand. "I heard you made Governor."
"I hear you deliver a hell of a one liner, " Clinton replied, cryptically referring to cocaine and NOT Houston's so-called comedy routine. "I'm always aspiring to achieve new heights."
"Well, come on in," Houston invited. "I have enough (cocaine) to put us all into orbit." I walked into the dressing room with them as Houston was saying to Clinton, "I suppose there are no limits for you since you're across the (state) line."
"What line?" Clinton feigned suprise and ignorance. He looked at Hal Meadows as he continued, "You mean I've left that state of mine? In the state of mind I'm in, there are no boundaries anyway." He walked over to the table and snorted a line of cocaine. "I come here to get away from it all. This kind of business is pleasure."
"So where's that young wife of yours?" Houston asked, referring to Hillary.
"She's with friends." Clinton sniffed the coke further up his nose. "She's minding her own business. I'm just here to unwind, see the show, maybe do a little hunting (referring to A MOST DANGEROUS GAME). I've got a bird (helicopter) ready to fly me back when I'm through. Hey speaking of 'Byrd' (he gestured my way) I hear she's moved up to the big house (White House)." Referring to his friend and mentor Senator Byrd he asked, "So what's his position now?"
"The same." Houston answered. "Probably like this..." Houston pantomimed a lewd sodomy pose while everyone laughed. "He still runs the show."
Clinton kept his eyes fixed on Houston's "caboose" and said "Why don't you show her (referring to me) the way out and show me that again?" If I could have thought at the moment, I would have realized Bill Clinton was / is bisexual. My personal sexual experience with Clinton was limited, but I had witnessed him engaged in homosexual activity during an orgy at Swiss Villa.
...Clinton added to what Houston said, talking in local colloquialisms. "Bottom line is, we've got control of the (drug) industry, therefore, we've got control of them (suppliers and buyers). You control the guy underneath ya' and Uncle (Sam) has ya' covered. What have you got to lose? No risk. No one's gonna hang ya' out to dry. And whatever spills off the truck as it passes through (he laughed and snorted another line of coke) you get to clean up.
...Clinton gestured to me and told Houston, "Get her out of here".
Houston didn't move and laughed. "She's a Presidential Model. She's kept secrets bigger than yours."
Clinton responded "I don't care. Get her the fuck out of here."
Hall's wife led me away and locked me in a back bedroom. After an indeterminate period of time, I heard her telephone Hillary at the guest villa. She then drove me up the mountain through the dark to meet with Hillary. Although I had previously met Hillary we had very little to say to each other -- particularly since I was still dazed and tranced from the tortures I had endured at the CIA Near Death Trauma Center in Lampe. Hillary knew I was a mind-controlled slave, and, like Bill Clinton, just took it in stride as a "normal" part of life in politics.
EPILOGUE
The safety and serenity of Alaska provided an atmosphere conducive to deprogramming, despite the pandemonium that ensued. Mark Phillips was the first man who not only did not abuse us, but cared for our welfare and well being. His patient, gentle manner was therapeutic, while his propensity for handling weapons and apparent intellect kept us safe against all odds. Through his noble actions, Mark taught Kelly and me that the world of human interaction in which we had existed for so long was contrary to most human behavior. We learned that goodness does exist on this Earth, and that there were those in Washington, D.C. who refused to tolerate the mind-control atrocities they witnessed us and others enduring.
As my eyes opened and I woke up to reality, I became enraged. Enraged for the traumas inflicted on my daughter.
Enraged for a lifetime of abuse at the hands of our country's so called "leaders".
Enraged that the American public had no idea as to who and what was/is running their country.
Mark helped me refocus my rage in a productive direction when he told me, "The best revenge is total recovery."
I began recovering at the rate of 18 hours a day through intensive therapy destined to restore my memory and, ultimately, my mind. I learned the ins and outs of my own mind and recovered my memories in a journal. The stack of journals grew as over a decade of White House/ Pentagon-level abuse flooded my mind and intruded on my thoughts. Pictures from my past flashed across my mind as neuron pathways opened in my brain. I was regaining access to my own mind and control over my future by recovering my memory of my past.
Best of all, I was falling deeply in love with Mark Phillips. Why wouldn't I fall in love? He rescued my daughter and me from certain demise, restored my free will, and was helping me recover in total safety, and was the polar opposite of my abusers. He treated me with love, respect, and thoughtful consideration . Equally as important, Mark proved to be an ideal father figure to Kelly. He provided here with unconditional love and deep understanding. Through him, Kelly caught a glimpse of how kind men could be--and how good life could be. I had long since ceased to know that such a man even existed.
The love factor in my recovery is considerable. Not only did Mark Phillips save my life, but now I had a reason to live it! The love we share kept me going at times--like when Kelly was institutionalized in 1989 for homicidal/suicidal behavior. The loving relationship that Mark shared with Kelly during our short year together as a family was sufficient to arm here with the strength to survive her ensuing ordeal as a victim of the so-called mental health and criminal justice system.
Kelly, now 15, remains a political prisoner in the custody of the State of Tennessee where she is denied qualified therapy for the MK-Ultra Project Monarch Mind-Control abuses she endured. The state of Tennessee, under the politically powerful influence of Kelly's abusers, is in violation of numerous laws and basic civil rights in their determined efforts to keep Kelly from qualified therapy and the family she loves.
While many of those in positions to make a difference in Kelly's case operate on a "Need to Know" basis rather than deliberately conspire with the bad guys, a closer look into Kelly's case history should raise serious questions in their minds. Questions like; "What could a child have to do with the so called "National Security" of our country?" The Juvenile court judge presiding over Kelly's case closed the doors to the media and onlookers for "reasons of National Security" while gross and blatant violations of laws and rights ensued.
For over three long years, Kelly and I have been denied our right to an unbiased attorney while court-appointed advocates and so-called "guardians" join forces with attorneys paid off by my pedophile father.
My own court-appointed attorney, who doubles for the Juvenile Court judge when he takes a day off, has yet to represent my interest.
My interest is in Kelly's well being and future-- and if she will have a future at all.
While Kelly is still amnesic with regard to most of her past, she is deliberately denied therapeutical access to her past, due to who and what she will recall. I am denied access to Kelly for fear she would be triggered into remembering by my mere presence. As for my deliberately "triggering" Kelly to remember what she was supposed to forget, as her abusers fear, it has been my experience that recovery must come from the inside out. Not from outside input. I want no less for Kelly that the piece/peace of mind I have gained through qualified rehabilitation.
Which raises the questions: Why has the Juvenile court prohibited us from saying the name "George Bush?"
Why is the "Wizard of Oz" a taboo subject for Kelly while the State of Tennessee provides her with Stephen King horror novels?
Why are Kelly and I forbidden by the court to say the words "President," "politics," New World Order", and "mind-control"?.
In an attempt by state employees to "normalize" our relationship, Kelly and I are forbidden to discuss the past, my immediate efforts to affect her dire and desperate situation, or future plans as a family.
Most appalling and unjust in Kelly's view is the State of Tennessee's refusal to allow her any contact whatsoever with Mark Phillips. While I am hindered from having private conversations with my daughter due to court ordered supervisions and censorship, Kelly is denied the right to even wave to Mark across the parking lot. Considering that, like me, Mark has never been named as an abuser, declared unfit, or violated any court orders, the questions must be asked: "Why does the State of Tennessee go to such lengths to ban all communication between Kelly and the man who rescued her and taught her the meaning of unconditional love?"
Kelly has asked these questions for years to no avail. The State of Tennessee refuses to even acknowledge her request for"an unbiased attorney who will represent her interests instead of those of the state". Kelly's pleas for an attorney to represent her go no farther than the deaf ears of the assigned state social worker "managing" her case.
This social worker is operating on a "Need to Know" basis that has no basis, and she "Needs to Know" that she, along with the State of Tennessee, will be held accountable in the event that Kelly hurts someone or herself.
Kelly's frustrations have mounted beyond her ability to cope. I applaud Kelly for her determined but weakened efforts to stay in control of her own mind despite being denied qualified rehabilitation for the devastating results of Project Monarch Mind-Control abuses. Kelly's daily attempts to accomplish the impossible by psychoLOGICALLY managing her psychiatric disorder is proportionate to her high intellect and willful determination. But it is not enough to fend off the Psychological Warfare that has been waged against her through CIA Damage Containment practices designed to keep her contained in amnesic silence. She needs help. She needs a collective voice.
Kelly can be helped through public outcry and through abolishment of the 1947 National Security Act (and 1984 Reagan Amendment to same) that has destroyed the true security of our once great nation. You can write the State of Tennessee demanding to know why Kelly is being denied her right to qualified rehabilitation.
Thank you. - Cathy O'Brien