CHAPTER 3
- THE RECLAMATION OF
CATHY’S MIND
"The greatest gift anyone
can give another is a good memory." 4
It was now the week after Christmas 1988. I was fulfilling half of
my pledge to the Vegas mob. With all of our remaining personal
belongings containerized and secretly in transit on a different ship,
I, my "new family" and pets were ferry-bound for Anchorage, Alaska.
The sixteen hundred mile trip through ice and snow would take about
three days to complete. Unfortunately, it gave me time to think.
Due to our negative cash flow situation, realistically I knew there
was no place to run or hide from the CIA. Cathy and Kelly seemed
happy and believed they were safe. This was my number one priority!
For me, I had to trust that my escape plan would convince interested
CIA personnel that we no longer represented a threat to their
security. The plan was based on an ancient psychological warfare
formula developed by the Romans, I wanted to portray myself as akin
to a character in a bad Reagan (western) movie and ride into
the sunset never to be heard from again.
Thinking to myself that
where we were headed geographically, there was no sun to set, at
least until spring. Late one night about mid way into our voyage, I sought the solitude that the outside forward deck would afford me. I
was thankful for the wind-driven sleet and snow that stung and
closed my eyes and opened my mind for focused thought. At the time,
I was psychologically "strung out" from a combination of rage and
unbearable emotional headache.
To safeguard my precious teenage son, Mason, from being hurt
and/or unwittingly used as a pawn to force me to remain silent, I had
virtually destroyed our father/son bond. I loved and missed him very
much, and still do. The resultant emotional pain from the deception
and separation seemed to be compounding within me and was
consuming-my being.
I had, in the course of rescuing Cathy and Kelly, shunned and
insulted my son, collapsed my company, simultaneously orchestrated
two divorces and sold all personal treasures. I worried I would
never see my elderly mother again. Her health was deteriorating. The
tailored clothes I wore no longer fit me, as I had lost over forty
pounds and looked skeletal. Chronic insomnia, a symptom of the severe
depression I secretly fell, was slowly driving me mad. My own
short-term memory was beginning to fail. I had noticed for the first
time in over thirty years that I was stuttering when enunciating
certain words. I knew this was just the beginning of a long and
dangerous expedition in search of answers.
As I stood alone, with eyes closed, on the ship’s ice-covered steel
deck, a strange feeling of relief washed over me. I had somehow
managed to remember from where I could draw "emergency strength." I
began silently praying for inner strength and guidance through a
meditation technique I’d learned years ago. Immediately, I
experienced a feeling of peaceful self-assurance that we would
survive to tell our story.
Suddenly I became aware that the icy wind was freezing my face and
hands. I was elated that I could feel again. Apparently I had
repressed my tactile
senses along with my emotions. For the first time since I learned of
Cathy’s and Kelly’s mind-control existence, I felt functionally
alive.
I opened my eyes to discover I wasn’t alone any more. A voice was
coming from somewhere. I looked around and saw, crouched down and
wrapped in a dark green blanket almost beside me, the source of the
voice. Again I heard, "Hey man, you OK?" This good man whom I later
came to know and respect was Mark Demont. He was a classic example of
what Alaskans term a "sour dough". Roughly defined, a sour dough was
anybody from the "lower 48" (states) who was disenchanted with their
home and low on money. We were both sour doughs and refugees from a
sick society gone mad from CIA drugs, media violence, and
uncontrolled greed.
I offered him a cigarette and my hand in friendship, something I had
not done voluntarily in almost a year. We agreed to stay in contact
after our arrival.
About two days later, we landed safely at the Juneau docks. We were
told by the ferry’s Captain that it was the coldest day of the
decade. The ship’s thermometer read a minus forty degrees
Fahrenheit. For me, this was an anticipated weather condition, and
for Cathy and Kelly, a physical challenge.
I had spent about two years in Alaska around 1980. It was then that
I helped my former boss from Capital International Airways,
George Kamats put a new carrier on line known briefly as Great Northern
Airlines. I left Alaska back then, not because of the environment,
which I loved, but due to my inability to cope with Kamats’ daily
tirades. This rigid fellow had a long, colorful history working for
other CIA controlled airlines. Among other jobs, he had held top
executive positions of authority with the infamous air support
section of the U.S, Forestry Service, Air America, and
Evergreen
(CIA) carriers.
Now I was back in Alaska, unemployed, and knowing I was being
tracked like an animal by the same organization I had previously
indirectly worked for, the Central Intelligence Agency. Having slept
the past couple of nights, I was feeling much better and the
thoughts of being tracked did not concern me. I recall having more
productive things on my mind. I could not allow raw fear to become
any part of my daily diet of thought process.
Cathy and I dedicated every possible moment to locate a house we
could call home. We finally found a fourplex apartment that was
inexpensive, with two bedrooms and a heated garage. We had to have a
heated garage for my three beloved pet raccoons and two dogs. Our
new home would never have furniture beyond a TV, two beds, and a
table and chairs. This inconvenience never was discussed. We were
comfortable.
After settling into "our place" in the remote rural town of Chugiak,
we immediately began doing normal things. We enrolled Kelly in a
great public school, met our new neighbors, and played in the snow.
All of this was being enjoyed in a traditional family way-something
Cathy and Kelly had never before known.
Our remaining meager resources were disappearing before my eyes. The
cost of asthma medication that Kelly now required to keep her alive
was over $400 per month. I strongly suspected that much of the
reason for her declining health resulted from the two weeks "in
hell" she had recently spent with alleged serial killer, Wayne Cox.
She told me so, by detailing the hideous satanic rituals she
and her four-year-old step brother, Jacob, had been subjected to.
Fortunately, I had held onto my expensive Nikon camera, guns,
and personal jewelry items. These were the last real assets I had
remaining to sell. I sold them and the proceeds paid our living
expenses for five more months until Kelly’s health needs and
circumstances forced us on welfare.
During this five-month period, with Kelly in school and no telephone
to distract us, I began intensifying my deprogramming efforts with
Cathy, Most stays, our work started the moment we returned home from
taking Kelly to school. As soon as Kelly was in bed at night, after
dinner and homework, we resumed our "session". We worked like this
day and night, seven days a week, focused intensely on the
deprogramming process, until I would pass out from exhaustion around
three o’clock in the morning.
The deprogramming formula for pulling Cathy’s fragmented mind
back together was inherently free of problems. The small problems I
did experience with the formula stemmed from having to "expertly"
apply it based on my educated memory of almost twenty years
previous. I had no communication with any recognized authority other
than Cory Hammond to guide the initial therapy. My single greatest
challenge was to learn how to control Cathy’s constant state of
trance as she journaled her memories.
In spite of reporting to the FBI that I was a hypnotist, I knew that
if the FBI and CIA could prove through my admissions I was using
hypnosis on Cathy, her testimony in court would be worthless.
Therefore, the threat of reprisal from the CIA was averted. In fact,
through my own intensive research of hypnotherapy I learned how to
control Cathy’s trance states. T regarded it as unhypnotizing her.
Eventually I would be regarded by mental health physicians as an
"expert" in the application of this little-used clinical tool for
recovering memory.
Aside from my learned deprogramming skill, the balance of the
formula I used consisted of elements which are actually rules of
ethical therapy conduct. Those therapy rules were strictly enforced,
Cathy understood and agreed that, in order for her to have absolute
control of her mind, she must place total trust in me and the therapy
regime.
I maintained a constant vigil to ensure Cathy’s physical and
psychological safety from all outside influences.
No memories could be verbalized by Cathy until after they were
written by her. The only questions I could ask were history oriented
and directed to Cathy’s presenting personality that was recovering
the memory. Those questions could only address the who, what, when,
how, and where of the memory. Even if I could have known the answers
in advance, I could not inject. Our perceptions would have differed
radically and could have created more memory barriers between
personality fragments.
I fundamentally explained mind control to Cathy and she then
understood that what happened to her was not her fault. However, she
understood she was becoming responsible for her actions here and now.
Through therapy, she was asserting control over her own mind.
We devoted many hours to "intellectual discussions" of Cathy’s
learned religious beliefs and they were "logically" debunked, just
as if I were explaining how the illusions of a magician’s tricks
worked lo confuse reality.
No expression of emotion by Cathy would be permitted during the
memory recovery and journaling process. I never asked her "how does
that make you feel?" This is as important as the safety issue for
the rapid recovery of memories.
I provided Cathy adequate food, vitamins, water, and sleep to
restore her failing physical health.
I taught Cathy how to view her memories on a "mind movie screen"
rather than re-experience them through the mind’s "virtual reality"
mechanism.
I instructed Cathy how to trance herself and control the depth of
her trance state through a self-hypnosis technique (some regard as
meditation). This was put in place to avoid possible contamination
and/or confusion of her memories, which might have happened had I
used a hypnotic induction technique known as guided imagery.
Cathy was not allowed to read books, newspapers, or magazines,
to watch TV, or to discuss with Kelly anything she recalled. Cathy
had experienced a lifetime of information control and therefore had
minimal contamination of memory to sort through. This rule was also
understood and respected by Kelly, whose memories were beginning to
surface.
All behavior patterns and social habits Cathy exhibited were
re-examined through logical discussion between us. All
pre-established behavior patterns, including daily routines, were
re-scheduled or stopped completely.
I required her to wear a wrist watch twenty-four hours a day, to
alert me of any "lost time" she felt she was experiencing. Losing
time, without trauma, is a strong indication that personality
switching is occurring. Whereas being able to account for time is an
indicator that recovery is occurring.
The memories Cathy was recovering were horrible beyond anything I
had ever heard anyone speak about, I often wondered if I had fallen
in love with Cathy as a result of my developing the psychological
malady known as the Stockholm Syndrome. Those thoughts never bothered
me for I knew I had grown to love Cathy. I had heard enough horror
from Cathy and Kelly to know I was now suffering from Post Traumatic
Stress Disorder (PTSD). The symptoms of this disorder went unnoticed
by Cathy and Kelly because they too were PTSDed, and had been all
their lives.
My own health began to deteriorate rapidly. My regained body
weight began to melt away once again. I was experiencing incredible
stomach pain, vomiting, and diarrhea. I was literally living on a
patent medicine known to ulcer sufferers as Maalox. A "secure" phone
call to a doctor friend in the "lower 48" produced the name of a
local internal medicine specialist I could trust.
Aware of my
predicament, my physician friend made the appointment on my behalf
for this doctor to prepare certain in-office tests. One of the
tests, using a fiber optic stomach tube, showed that as a result of
a water borne parasite, there were holes in the walls of my stomach.
He recommended emergency surgery. I replied, "No. How much longer can
I live with this before surgery?"
He said, "It depends on how well you can follow my instructions" "No
problem," I said. Within a few days of feeding myself intravenously
and taking the prescribed medications, I began to recover.
It was during this recovery period that I began my telephone search
for answers to speed Cathy’s recovery process. Again I was told by
my former "well connected" associates that I knew it all. I was not
convinced. However, my persistence soon paid off as one particular
phone call resulted in my striking proverbial "pay dirt".
The medical books on clandestine experimental research for treating
dissociative disorders mysteriously appeared "on hold" for me at the
Eagle
River branch of the Anchorage Public Library. I was covertly alerted
to pick
them up on a certain day at an exact time. I complied.
As I was leaving the library, a middle-aged woman with a grocery
sack in her arms approached me. She asked if the library was open. I
thought this odd since I was walking out the opened library
entrance. My curiosity was short lived when she asked,
"Have you
read any good books by Dr. Milton Erickson
lately?"
I replied, "No, but I am checking one out by (psychiatrist)
Dr.
William S.Kroger entitled Clinical and Experimental Hypnosis,"
"Oh, yes," she said. "I’m a real fan of Dr. Kroger and he is a real
fan of
Dr. Erickson who you know is considered the father of subliminal
mind-control
(theory) research. She began walking away and turned, smiled and
said, "Enjoy
your books and use the book, Mark."
I assumed she was addressing me by name while referring to the book
itself.
I also concluded from this comment that she was obviously the person
responsible for delivering the books to the library. Soon I learned
she was
referring to a bookmark placed inside one of the books which
provided me a
desperately needed communications vehicle. Recorded on the
book-mark" was
a toll free 800# with a time and date to use it. I used this 800#
and many others
similarly provided me for a communications vehicle to covertly
access the
spooks’ (spies) subway to information. For two more years, this
method provided me with telephonic guidance through a maze of mind work with
Cathy.
When I called the bookmark "800" number, it was answered by
an electronic voice which said, in part, "Please enter your employee
number now". I complied, using a series of numbers that I had been
previously "assigned" by someone who must remain anonymous because I
do not know their identity.
The next sound I heard was that of a
phone being rung. After exactly eight rings, my call was answered by
someone I did not know. He asked, "What’s the problem?" I fell like
a vacuum cleaner salesman with his foot in the door, delivering a
canned sales presentation. I began nervously emphasizing my
desperate need for a quicker therapy regime for Cathy.
The voice asked, "Have you read the books?"
"Yes," I replied. "But many of the clinical terms were foreign to
me."
The voice then instructed me to go back to the library and "pick up
a psych reference book on term definitions". I then interrupted his
instruction to ask if I could speak with somebody who could make
this deprogramming process go faster. He said,
"Well, there are only
two deprogrammers in this country - one in Boston (Massachusetts) and
the other in Phoenix (Arizona) and neither one could be of much help
or be trusted with the kind of information you are getting (from
Cathy)."
He hesitated, then said,
"You’re going to need a referral, which I can’t provide. But you know how to do it"
I asked, "A referral for what?"
"To have the chance to speak with a doctor who knows about this and
might be of some value," he told me,
"OK," I said. "Who’s the doctor?"
"Cory Hammond, out of Salt Lake City (Utah)."
"Gees," I said. "That’s Mormon headquarters, and that was the last
religious trauma base for Cathy."
’Yes! - the voice continued. "But you can trust this doctor if you’re
careful and don’t give up too much (information) on yourself. He’s
paranoid like all the rest (who know about mind-control atrocities)
but he could be of some help. Oh, be alert. Everybody’s watching this guy so anything you say,
they (the bad
guys) will know."
"Thank you very much," I replied.
Somewhere in the process of finding a referral professionally
acquainted with Dr. Hammond, I telephoned dissociative disorders
specialist, Dr. Bennett Braun, a well-known and published
psychiatrist in Chicago, Illinois. I learned from our conversation
that he had an entire hospital unit dedicated to therapy for people
like Cathy and Kelly. I wondered at the time why his name
wasn’t previously provided to me for a consultation.
As a result of
this brief telephone encounter, I learned that Dr. Braun had a number
of patients on a long waiting list for a "bed" within this facility.
The doctor then provided me the name and telephone number of a
"friend" he confided in, People Magazine senior
investigative
reporter Civia Tamarkin.
Contacting this People/Time Life magazine reporter was to be my
biggest single judgment error in the pursuit of helpful
information. I would soon learn she was indirectly responsible for
nearly costing me my life, and did indirectly cost Kelly her chance
for "expert" therapy - which is another book in itself.
When I first spoke with Civia, she dropped important names like a
maple tree drops leaves after a frost. I audio tape recorded
practically all conversations with this seemingly well informed
source, then and in the years to follow, Civia first provided me the
name and phone number of the Boston "deprogrammer," an ex-Moonie
programmer by the name of Steve Hassen.
Next, she provided the name
and phone number to contact Jolyn "Jolly" West at UCLA. Reluctantly,
she gave me the referral I needed to communicate with Dr. Cory
Hammond. The later contact being the only "briefly helpful"
one with
whom I would speak.
Maximizing my PTSD impaired judgment, I telephoned programmer
Steve Hassen, for advice on how to help Kelly (only), which resulted
in his coming to our home in Alaska, Apparently, his agenda was to
traumatize Cathy by using a well-known code to trigger her to run
for her life—from me. The method he employed could have been
effective, but fortunately for Cathy and Kelly, his robotic delivery
like his moral ethics was very poor. I learned that Hassen’s voiced
and recorded professional respect for his UCLA psychiatrist friends,
Dr. West and Dr. Margaret Singer, derived from sinister reasons.
Little did I know that Dr. West had worked for the CIA in Project
MK-Ultra mind-control research for decades, it seems some of Dr.
West’s CIA supported research had been exposed by a Congressional
investigator of the
MK-Ultra Project in the 1970s. However he
survived the public scrutiny because the U.S. Government had, in
essence, halted further investigation of him and his work under the
National Security guise. His only reported crime was for killing an
elephant with an overdose of LSD in the presence of school children.
These facts I would learn after Cathy and I spoke with him by phone
and subsequent disaster struck us, This too is another story in
itself
The phone calls between Dr. Cory Hammond and myself were informative
and supportive. He proved himself to be the single, most valuable
live information asset I would know in my quest for expert therapy
advice. Later Dr. Hammond delivered to the mental health community
through a symposium presentation in 1991, the whole truth as he knew
it on the topic of mind control. His advisory instruction to me on a
particular Erickson technique for painless, non abreactive memory
recovery, called "revivification", literally saved my predious Cathy from reliving the horrors as she remembered them. This
man is my personal hero.
Spring in Alaska was a very different experience from what I was
accustomed to in Tennessee. The Alaskans just refer to it as
"break-up". In place of hearing the sounds of chirping birds, I
listened to the drip noises from the ice melting off everything. The
streets had become an ugly brown mush. For spring as normally a
welcomed seasonal change, it was depressing to say the least.
The
only good news was that the days had slowly changed from darkness to
warm sunlight. With this seasonal change, a time bomb I did not know
existed began its countdown. Kelly’s asthma and behavior were
radically deteriorating for no apparent reason.
One Friday morning in May, Cathy received a call from Kelly’s school
principal requesting we pick her up as soon as possible and have her
examined by a doctor. The school nurse said Kelly was having a
severe asthmatic attack that did not respond to the medication she
had with her. We picked her up only to find that her condition
seemed to improve miraculously at the sight of us. But this
improvement would be short lived,
The following Sunday, Kelly’s coughing became almost constant. She
had exhausted our supply of an important asthma medication which she
regularly used in her respirator pump, I covertly substituted
distilled water and sat with her while she struggled for her breath.
Using an Erickson technique of guided imagery, I began telling her a
story about a little girl who huffed and puffed and climbed a
mountain.
The story I told ended with the little girl reaching the
top of the mountain only to be so tired that she fell asleep in a bed
of wild flowers, Kelly responded by breathing normally and actually
falling into a sound asleep for a few hours, only to awaken and
repeat her coughing spell. I returned to her bedside and I asked why
she coughed.
Kelly, somewhat agitated, responded, "I have asthma". I repeated the
water substitution trick and she responded favorably and said,
"Dad,
Wayne (the father and alleged serial killer Satanist) told me I was gonna’ die."
I said, "Well, he’s not a doctor".
Kelly continued, "He really did say that over and over and over
again."
I then asked, "When did he say this?"
"When school’s out," she replied.
I asked, "What do you mean?"
She robotically repeated, "When school’s out."
"Do you remember when Wayne said this to you?" I asked.
"In bed," she continued.
"He thought I was asleep and he was talking
on the phone to Alex (Houston) and then to me."
I knew then Wayne Cox
had programmed her to die using a clinical technique known as hypno-sleep.
Alex Houston was guiding Cox through the program.
I interrupted her (as I saw she was entering a deep state of trance)
and responded,
"Well, school’s not out and tomorrow you will be well
enough to go back to school."
As I suggested, Kelly did feel good the
next morning and returned to school. This day would be her last day
in Birchwood Elementary.
Only a few hours passed before Cathy and I again were called, this
time by the nurse who became agitated when Cathy truthfully answered
her question, "Didn’t you take her to the doctor?" Cathy said. "No.
but we will."
Later that evening, Cathy, Kelly and I would make the last of
our emergency drives to seek medical help for Kelly.
At Anchorage’s Humana Hospital, Cathy and I met with the young, very
bright and beautiful physician, Dr. Lorrie Shepherd, who seemed
perplexed and, perhaps, frightened as to Kelly’s unexplainable
deteriorating condition. I requested a private meeting and she
complied.
After about thirty minutes of my explaining what Cathy and Kelly had
been rescued from, I defined mind control for her. Learning this,
Dr. Shepherd then consulted with a local female psychiatrist, Dr.
Pat Patrick to evaluate Kelly.
The evaluation was completed and Dr. Patrick invited Cathy, and
eventually me, to her office for a consultation. This was to be
Kelly’s first official evaluation that indicated she suffered from
Multiple Personality Disorder (MPD),5 a serious psychological
disorder resulting from severe and repeated trauma.
I then asked Dr. Patrick if she could arrange for a sexual abuse
specialist to verify if Kelly had been abused. She complied. The
results were positive. Dr. Patrick and Cathy seemed almost relieved
at this validation. The result sickened me.
Kelly’s asthma stabilized at Humana and she was transferred to
Charter North Psychiatric Hospital for in-hospital care. Dr. Patrick
apparently provided the best care she knew. Unfortunately it was
inadequate. Months passed and the State of Alaska welfare
authorities began to realize Kelly was not improving and her
ineffective care costs were mounting by thousands of dollars weekly.
Dr. Patrick, Cathy, and I, with the cooperation of the Tennessee
Violent Crimes Claims Commission, began searching for a hospital
that would accept Medicaid insurance. Finally, one was located in
Owensboro, Kentucky which advertised a specialty in working with
ritually abused children.
Kelly was transferred to this facility and
the State of Alaska paid all the bills for her move there. Later we
would learn that this elegant hospital facility was nothing more
than a human warehouse that collected whatever fees the federal and
state governments would pay them per child resident. A pretty place
to see, but the care for Kelly would prove to be "less than nothing".
During the summer before Kelly was transferred to this Kentucky
hospital, and Cathy was recovering satisfactorily, I felt it was
safe to leave their side so that I could find work. We desperately
needed money to travel, to live, and to return to the "lower 48"
with Kelly in the winter.
I quickly secured a job at Alaska Business College as an interviewer
of prospective students. My sales "performance" resulted in my being
promoted in two weeks from an admissions representative to Director
of Admissions. I banked as much money as possible from my earnings
over the next five months to provide for our move, to be closer to
Kelly. The thought of the separation agony that would exist between
Cathy and Kelly served as a reminder of my ongoing separation from
my son, whom I had not heard from in almost a year.
Cathy, on ill advice from me, called her father and begged for
some financial help for Kelly’s sake. Her father wired $500 to
confirm our location and commented, "This is America. Unless you
come back to Michigan alone, no more money!" It was this statement
that triggered Cathy’s repressed memories of her own tortured
childhood by this alleged pervert and slave salesman, Earl O’Brien.
Soon the FBI telephoned Cathy and told her that she needed to
"voluntarily" conic to the Anchorage FBI office for questioning.
Upon arrival, Cathy was
informed that she was under federal investigation for attempting to
extort money from her father.
Cathy looked strangely relieved when she heard these charges. Later
I would learn that she felt better knowing for sure she was not
"crazy" or delusional and that her father did in fact do those things
to her and her brothers and sisters.
The FBI Agent was openly sympathetic and reportedly the DOJ
"inspired" investigation was subsequently dropped upon his
recommendation. This agent went on to secure a cash donation through
his Mormon church that enabled us to leave his jurisdiction.
It is noteworthy that during this same time; through another special
agent at the Anchorage FBI office, I was interrogated for "what I
knew" regarding an unrelated crime involving my ex-wife and her
lawyer boss in Florida. I knew nothing, I now know that the FBI was,
in effect, attempting to destroy my credibility as advocate for
Cathy and Kelly through their investigation efforts of me. Their
case against my ex-wife and her lawyer was solved, and her
lawyer accomplice was convicted of first degree murder. My ex-wife
became a state’s witness and was acquitted.
However, days later I would "see" my ex-wife being arrested and
processed on the popular national television show "Unsolved
Mysteries". That unfortunate case involved only one homicide and
made the national news for weeks to come. In contrast, Cathy’s
testimony, with proofs provided FBI officials, was filed and
deliberately covered up—For Reasons of National Security. The fall
season in Alaska was now quickly giving in to winter and
the "termination dust" (snow) was re-coating the surrounding
mountains. The air was definitely becoming nippy. The change of
seasons signaled another change within my new family. Kelly was
going to be transferred soon to the Kentucky Valley Institute of
Psychiatry (V.I.P.).
Cathy and I had been saving every dollar I could earn during my
brief tenure at Alaska Business College in preparation for our move
back to the "lower 48".
I realized now that Cathy had gone into a state of recovery known
as "fusion". She had long since stopped switching personalities and
had become a beautiful, intelligent, and logical lady. She was no
longer susceptible to anyone triggering her to go against or away
from me. She continued to journal her traumatic memories and was
professionally adjudged stable.
The passage on ships and ferries out of Anchorage to Seattle was
booked solid for months ahead. They would only accept freight and/or
vehicles. I purchased two, one-way tickets on Alaska Airlines and
brought our family car, a 1976 AMC Pacer, and remaining belongings
to the Anchorage docks for shipment.
Suddenly, as we packed our bags and were ready to board our flight,
a nearby volcano erupted and halted all air traffic in or out of
Anchorage for the following two weeks. We waited anxiously for the
airport to reopen. We would leave first and Kelly and her nurse
would soon follow. This would be the first step of what would be an
endless journey in our pursuit of justice.
4 Mark Phillips’ motto
5 The term Multiple personality Disorder (MPD)
Is now clinically referred to by mental health professionals as
Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID).
Back to
Contents
CHAPTER 4
- TRUTH AND CONSEQUENCES JUST US PURSUED AND JUSTICE DENIED
Our much anticipated arrival into the Seattle (Washington)
International Airport terminal heralded a new beginning. Cathy
appeared to be openly optimistic that perhaps, at long last, Kelly
would soon have her chance for recovery. Privately, I felt much less
hopeful, I knew from past personal experiences and through my
"insider sources" that mental health physicians from the private
sector of society had little acquaintance with secret U.S. Government
mind-control research.
The only mind-control information these
doctors
had access to for the most part was from the hysterical comments
supplied them by their troubled patients. Hysteria, in this case, as
a symptom of misinformation is highly contagious, and therefore
spread throughout the mental health profession. Many practitioners
displayed symptoms of the "ostrich syndrome" to me, their peers, and
patients through fear and chronic denial.
It was 1990, the beginning of the last decade of this century and
the millennium, and most mental health physicians remained in a state
of denial concerning the existence of mind control. Mental health as
a science is barely one-hundred years of age. Truly an industry in
its infancy in relation to the other recognized healing arts.
Due to mental health’s infancy and the fact that it is rooted in the
archaic, mystical theories of Jung and Freud, combined with the
non-availability of government controlled research information, the
term "mental health" is viewed by patients and doctors alike as an
oxymoron. Patients I have interviewed who suffer from dissociative
disorders frequently refer to the profession as "mental hell," and
their well-intentioned provider as "the rapist".
Unfortunately for
all parties concerned, in many reported instances these cruel labels
are consistent with the quality of the care provided. Whereas I
strongly support, in concept, the healing arts existing in the
fields of mental health that could be applied in the treatment of
mind-control patients, I cannot foresee their application in meeting
the needs of these patients without some radical changes in our
National Security Act.
A found 1970, I recall witnessing a "mild"
case in point. I was overseeing the video taping of a TOP SECRET
psychiatric experiment involving a young man who had suffered brain
damage resulting from some type of severe head trauma. This patient
was ambulatory. He could not remember anything, express himself, or
for that matter, think. He was not brain dead. He was mind dead.
Through the application of a combination of experimental drugs and
hi-tech electronic technology involving harmonics, his brain was
being "retrained" to permit constructed thought processes to
commence.
The brain scar tissue that was inhibiting his ability to
think was being chemically and electronically by-passed. I equated
this experimental procedure to the "hot wiring" of an ignition
switch of an automobile to preclude the use of a key. The
extraordinary procedure and subsequent results of this experimental
therapy was meticulously recorded. The record, tape, and doctor notes
were dropped into a security envelope and were taken by courier to
Fort George Meade, Maryland.
What made this case so memorable was the event that immediately
followed. I overheard the experiment’s attending physician
complaining bitterly to his nurse colleague that "his" patient in an
adjoining ward, who was not a "DOD guinea pig," through application
of this method, could "probably recover". The doctor’s complaint
addressed his being prohibited from applying state-of-the-art
treatment for his patient by virtue of his DOD oath of secrecy.
This
doctor was frustrated at being forced to serve two masters. The DOD
being one master held control over his career through his medical
license, liability insurance, and the secrecy oath he had signed.
The second master was the doctor’s own moral and ethical standards,
supported by the Hippocratic Oath he had signed upon becoming a
physician.
Thus without benefit of the voluminous DOD research findings
and technology developments, the medical field of mental health is in
its learning curve for establishing models to provide patients
state-of-the-art care. In other words, mental health providers
themselves are quickly becoming the second group of mind/information
control victims.
The mental health profession is in a sate of crisis and his arrived
at the proverbial crossroads of failure and success. The road to
success through the application of available technologies appears to
be blocked FOR REASONS OF NATIONAL SECURITY.
As a direct result of DOD management of mind research secrets and
the resulting federal information containment practices, mental
health providers are on the defensive with their patients, the
courts, and more recently with certain special interest action
groups. These groups are attacking the mental health professional as
a target for destruction. Well-funded organizations with very
questionable agendas, such as the False Memory Foundation (FMF) and
the Church of Scientology, have publicly denounced mental health as
a profession.
The Church of Scientology has emerged as the apparent leader in
publicly denouncing the mental health profession. Through the
church’s Washington
D.C. based "human rights" lobby group, it has launched a massive
negative propaganda campaign accompanied by numerous lawsuits against
ethical drug companies and mental health providers.
Scientologists believe their church’s founder, L. Ron Hubbard, has
discovered a cure-all for mental illness through behavior
modification. Hubbard, a successful science fiction writer,
allegedly acquired knowledge of subliminal mind control through his
military service with U.S. Navy Intelligence. He named his
behavioral modification program Dianetics after his first wife,
Diane.
The False Memory Foundation is a lobby group which is primarily
utilized by persons charged with sexual abuse. The FMF is desperately
attempting to develop legislation that restricts therapy for persons
suffering from dissociative disorders as a result of trauma. This
organization’s stated beliefs include that repressed memory is a
myth. FMF has found the mental health profession’s Achilles’ heel.
To date, the model for developing an effective therapy regime for
dissociative disorders (which are as a result of repeated trauma)
has not been published by either the American Psychiatric
Association or the American Psychological Association. The
difficulty in developing a model is due to a number of factors. The
primary factor involves national security secrets concerning
classified mind-control research.
In the present climate, referring mind-control victims to mental
health professionals for treatment would be tantamount to subjecting
a patient needing delicate surgery to a surgeon who was blind-folded
and hand-cuffed. The knowledge of these conditions produced the
private opinion I withheld from Cathy when she professed optimism for
Kelly’s latest recovery opportunity. Nevertheless, Cathy was nearing
complete recovery and we both recognized we were doing all we could
at the moment to provide for Kelly’s needs.
Perhaps identifying "who" within our government is interested in
withholding vital medical research findings and technologies
information from the mental health profession could provide a
foundation of understanding. From my personal experiences while
working for Capital International Airways. I formed a strong
opinion that addresses this question. However, the answer that
mirrors my perception was later eloquently provided by a Washington
D.C. news correspondent and journalist, Linda Hunt, in her book
Secret Agenda. The historical basis for this book are the
declassified DOD documents identifying
Project Paperclip as being the
secret importation/relocation of Nazi and Fascist scientist into the
United States over a forty-year period.
These brilliant criminal scientists were primarily focused on two
areas of research, rockets and the mind. They were placed in
positions of authority in, among others, prestigious universities,
colleges, industries, and NASA. Over the years, these imported
criminals have directly influenced our society with advanced rocket
technologies and mind-control applications through U.S. Government
sponsored research. According to Secret Agenda, Nazism, as a
philosophy and form of government, is alive and destroying our
country, in part, as a result of Project Paperclip.
I can attest to this statement from personal knowledge gained during
my employment at Capital international Airways, which is named as one
of the primary transporters for Project Paperclip.
These were background facts for some of the thoughts that rushed
through my mind on our Jong drive from Seattle to the Southeastern
U.S. I was anxious to discover the end results of my telephone
campaign in the pursuit of justice I had waged while in Alaska.
Our first destination would be Huntsville, Alabama. This southern
U.S. city is famous for its tourism centerpiece, the NASA owned U.S.
Space and Rocket Center. The town also boasts of being home to more
Pentagon
black-budget,
U.S. dollars per capita than anyplace in America. Cathy harbors a
very different opinion of this town, its police force, and the NASA
research facility. For Cathy and Kelly, Huntsville had been a place
they were regularly taken to by Alex Houston for hi-tech torture and
the production of child and adult pornography films.
This trip to Huntsville would be different for Cathy, except for one
aspect of her previous experiences. Both she and I would receive our
first threat to our lives in our pursuit of justice from law
enforcement. This was surprising to me and "normal" for Cathy.
The lead-up to this threat began with my phone call to a Huntsville
based legal aid group known as the National Association of Child
Advocates. This organization publicized that it was formed through
the leadership efforts of the local district attorney ’Bud’
Crammer,
who is known to his constituents as "Gun Ban Bud". After supplying
this advocacy center with Cathy’s recollections of her past
experiences in Huntsville, we were contacted by two Huntsville City
Police Department "vice" detectives. Their names were Jeff Bennet
and Chuck Crabtree.
Upon our arrival into Huntsville, these two vice cops escorted us
and our trailer to a local apartment used for staging drug buys. The
place was
furnished, complete with audio and video bugs throughout every room.
When I
asked Bennet if the "place was bugged," he flatly denied it. From
this lie I
knew with certainty that Cathy and I were there to be specimens for
whomever to study, I knew "who," and we gave them our best
performance to mislead them. This action probably saved our
lives. After weeks of "delays," the two vice cops sat down with Cathy
and me for discussion.
She supplied them a myriad of testimony
including detailed physical descriptions of two particular
perpetrators, their names, and location maps of where they lived and
allegedly produced child and adult pornography. The two
perpetrators, themselves Huntsville policemen, were also helpful
assets in the campaign for electing District Attorney Bud Crammer.
Their names were Audie Majors and Sergeant Frank Crowell.
After Cathy had exhausted all of her recollections, Crabtree and
Bennet
ordered us to "leave Huntsville now while we were still alive, and
shut up if we
intended to stay that way!"
Later, Cathy and I would learn that Crabtree and Bennet had notified
every law enforcement officer in over five states to whom we had
provided information. They reported that we were a pair of
"professional con artist criminals". Perhaps they were able to
accomplish this discrediting tactic as a
result of police reports we filed in other states, which included a
reference to our "bud experience" with the Huntsville Police
Department.
In addition, the
Nashville office of the FBI was responsible for perpetrating
Crabtree’s and Bennet’s discrediting lies. This FBI action ceased
after resident-agent-in-charge Ben Purser was told by a friendly
district attorney that I now could prove the identity and prosecute
those responsible for the character assassination. The harassment
stopped.
It is interesting to note that ’Bud’ Crammer would in less than a
year, be elected to Congress. Within months after his election, Bud
was rewarded for years of alleged containment practices. Allegedly
Bud has been covering up investigations for the intelligence
community, DOD, and of course his number one financial supporter,
NASA. The wife of an Atlanta, Georgia physician, Ms. Faye Yeager, did
however survive Bud’s wrath in court. Her "crime" was advocating for
and protecting a
child who had been horribly abused.
This courageous lady had her day
in court and won. Now she has filed a counter-suit in Federal court.
Reeling from Bud’s "second hand" threats to our lives, we returned to
Nashville, Here we learned that the Kentucky V.I.P. hospital
administration had suddenly declared Kelly’s State of Alaska medical
records "to be in error". V.I.P. said she was "fine!" This statement
was supplemented by "you best come here now and pick her up or we’ll
give her to Kentucky Child Services and they will find
adoptive parents."
This was a terrifying development since Kelly could not function
outside a restrictive environment. She had been declared suicidal and
homicidal by three attending physicians and/or therapists. Cathy and
I were homeless. We brought Kelly back to Tennessee where she, Cathy
and I stayed in my mother’s tiny two-bedroom home.
This living
arrangement would not last. Kelly’s asthma (program), destined to
separate her from her mother, returned within 48 hours. We rushed
her, gasping for breath, to Vanderbilt Hospital in Nashville for
emergency treatment. Again Kelly’s condition worsened to the
extremely critical point, then returned to normal. Her attending
doctor thought he had seen a real miracle until he learned about
mind control.
Vanderbilt Hospital physicians who reviewed Kelly’s past medical and
psychiatric records recommended that she be moved to the worst child
warehouse we’ve seen so far, Crocket/Cumberland House, the "home
for broken butterflies" (see photo). Because Cathy and I were both
unemployed and Kelly only had Medicaid insurance, the State of
Tennessee demanded temporary custody. Their demands for custody were
legally legitimate and morally equated to extortion for they had no
intentions of seeking expert therapy for Kelly.
Through a lengthy two-year court proceeding, with five lawyers
opposing Cathy, we had a partial victory, Kelly was transferred to
Charter Hospital in Memphis, Tennessee where again she did not
receive MPD/DID therapy, but for the first time did receive genuine
empathy from a social worker, Abbott Jordan.
During this period, my life and liberty was threatened by the
Nashville Metro Police Department. This verbal death threat was
delivered by Metro Homicide Captain Mickey Miller and echoed by his
friend and subordinate Lt. Tommy Jacobs. Miller said,
"You best
forget this woman; walk away from all this now before your health
changes." Jacobs said, "There’s nothing wrong with that kid that her
father (Cox) can’t fix. She just has allergies. You’d best forget
you ever heard of either one of them."
I have all this conversation
on audio tape.
Within a few months of these threats came others threatening both
our lives and liberty from every branch of law enforcement within
the State of Tennessee. This included the Nashville office of the
FBI. The latter was in the form of a "clerical mistake" on the part
of the FBI that was to be a "frame up" for my supposedly threatening
the President of the United States, George Bush. This charge was
totally groundless and was subsequently dropped, but only after I
secured a lawyer
It was now 1991, and Cathy and I had determined that we must
proceed with "phase two" of our pursuit of justice through a well
organized information dissemination campaign. The funding for this
project would indirectly come from the assistance of Bill Ross who
also provided constant moral support,
Cathy and I have always fell uncomfortable exposing gentle persons
like Bill Ross to such horrific information as pertains to
trauma-based mind control.
However, we have learned over the years
through our public speaking engagements and consultations with
physicians and others that, generally speaking, people appreciate
knowing WHY they are no longer "at the top of the food chain," Bill
Ross like hundreds of others never gave up hope that we would live to
tell our story.
Five years have passed since we returned from Alaska. The lessons
learned through this trail-blazing effort in our pursuit of justice
should never be taught to anyone. No person should have to
experience the heartache, desperation, and grinding poverty that
Cathy, Kelly, and I have had to live with.
During the winding down portion of our information dissemination
campaign, Cathy approached me with an idea she thought could help us
win public support. She had repeatedly commented that she wanted to
rescue Seidina ’Dina’ Reed, daughter of actor/singer
Jerry Reed of
Smokey And The
Bandit fame. According to Cathy, she had been used repeatedly in
pornography productions with Seidina over the years and had bonded
with this once beautiful woman.
Seidina’s husband, David Rorick, aka Dave Roe, was then her alleged
sadistic handler. It is noteworthy that Roe allegedly received his
training on
how to maintain a slave, using specific tortures, from Alex Houston.
Roe lived and reportedly loved, with Houston before he met Seidina.
Cathy and I naively believed at the time that
Jerry Reed was not
involved in his daughter’s enslavement as was Cathy’s father.
Furthermore, we were convinced that Jerry Reed, with his numerous
connections into politics and the entertainment industry could be a
powerful ally. This was not to be.
I rescued Seidina and in minutes after the rescue, she began
talking, but not until I had discussed my plan in person with her
famous father and his agent at a Brentwood, Tennessee restaurant.
Reed had more Chan enough time to warn Roe that I was armed and on
my way to his house. All evidences disappeared.
Years later a U.S. Customs Enforcement officer informed me that I
had "somebody" connected to Reed, possibly Reed himself, suggesting
"I might be blackmailing him." This "clean" customs officer knew I
had rescued Seidina from Roe’s enslavement and that I had audio
taped all meetings with Seidina, Jerry Keed, and his wife,
Prissy.
He was openly concerned for my safety and that Reed was lying so as
to frighten me away.
Within two months after the rescue, Seidina and her mother filed
criminal charges, including sexual child abuse (of Seidina’s
four-year-old son) against Roe. A "spook informant" working within
the Nashville District Attorney’s office alerted me to these charges
and the anticipated outcome. No action was taken FOR REASONS OF
NATIONAL SECURITY.
Seidina had been prostituted to, among many others, heads of state,
and to the Arabian Ambassador to the U.S., Prince Bandar Bin Sultan.
According to an involved witnesses of one of her encounters with
Bandar (a friend of George Bush) she was one of his favorite slaves.
We’ve never heard from Seidina or any member of her family since the
rescue.
This trek through hell in our pursuit of justice taught
nothing to Cathy that she had not already been told by her abusers.
For me, I learned the hard way that our Constitution was only
a beautiful plan that had been stolen, plundered, and replaced FOR
REASONS OF NATIONAL SECURITY.
Today, Cathy, Kelly, I and all true patriots stand at the proverbial
crossroads of revolution or evolution. Through armed revolution, we
patriots will perish and the emergence of a totally government
controlled society will herald in another period of "dark ages". As
a proud gun owner, armed with inside knowledge, I know we are
technologically out-gunned.
Whereas if we choose to evolve through
the challenges to our psyche that developed communication
technologies present we can reinstate our Constitution and set our
people free. Revolution or Evolution - change in life as we know it
is inevitable.
Each of us must now take a stand to commit a portion of our
individual time and diminishing resources to support the action
groups and individuals who are not afraid to work at taking back our
government through mass exposure of its crimes. We must seek new
leaders who will be committed to doing the most with the least.
These
leaders share the battle cry that SILENCE DOES (indeed)
EQUAL DEATH.
6 Hund, Linda, Secret Agenda, St. Martin’s Press 1991
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