This is my third book on experimental human subjects and microwave weapons. This book is a personal journey that began in 1994 and encompasses the current domestic Phoenix Program directed at dissidents, security risks and potential enemies.
Monarch: The Long Way Home
I Sacramento, Terry D’souza
II San Diego, Ramona Ayalla
III San Antonio, Elizabeth Navarro
IV Under the Volcano
V The Road Less Traveled
VI Microbiology Rat Race
VII Watch Him Run
VIII Bacteriophage
IX Time to Fight Back
X California Dreamin
XI Ground Zero
XII End Game
XIII Drink the Kool Aid
XIV Reform
I Terry D’souza
I drove into Sacramento in the late afternoon, it was a hot day in July, and I was trying to find a house I had never been to. I took a wrong turn as usual and wound up back tracking and finally found the place. I was about to make an illegal u-turn on a busy street when a California State Highway Patrol cruiser jumped in front of me and pulled the same maneuver I was about too. I followed suit and found the right street, it was a cul de sac that went back about a dozen houses or so on either side. It looked like any town USA, a quiet suburban neighborhood of one story homes with manicured green lawns and cars in the drive way. I went down to the end of the street and turned around came halfway back, and parked in the street on the right. I had met the owner and his daughter the day before at University of California, Davis and he had invited me out to visit. Terence D’souza was my age and about the same temperament, though he was an engineer and I had studied business management and then microbiology. He answered the door and asked me to wait a moment then he emerged followed by his family and motioned for me to sit in one of a number of lawn chairs under an awning they had set up in the front yard. Terry covered his hair with a blue scarf or handkerchief as did his wife and two daughters. He looked younger than his 42 years, dark brown eyes light brown complexion, short sparse facial hair made up a mustache and beard, and an expressive slightly oval face. When he spoke his eyes tended to widen as if to ask me to share in his amazement at this life. Considering what we all were going through it was appropriate and showed considerable restraint. He had been born in Pakistan but emigrated at the age of four and though I prided myself on my bookishness and complete lack of southern accent he surpassed me. His wife was pale in complexion and had sharp features that softened when she spoke, and though we had not met before she accepted me even under difficult circumstances. His two daughters were in their twenties, the daughter I had met yesterday at the university favored Terry slightly in complexion but they were both beautiful young women, college graduates who were highly intelligent and devoted to their parents. All four members of the family covered their long dark hair with a handkerchief or scarf, as I would later surmise was the custom of their religion. They were all even tempered, modest, and polite, which made them easy to be with and talk to. I was a little uneasy because I was a stranger from Texas who was unsure of the mores of California, much less the Bahia faith. The situation we were getting around to discussing was bizarre in nature and I wanted to move carefully and learn from them without offending or making them suspicious of my motives. It didn’t help my uneasiness that I was lonely and yesterday the oldest daughter Sarah had made quite an impression on me. She was studying her masters in aeronautical engineering and very attractive. I was offered food and drink as we sat in the shade of the front yard and waited for the sun to slowly fade. The water was sweet and cool the vegetarian food was covered in interesting sauces and spices that appealed to me. The women deferred to Terry in conversation and I faced him and gave him all of my attention. Yesterday initially I had focused my attention on Sarah and noticed that this displeased him so after a few minutes I had addressed myself mostly to him. She seemed hurt or let down at the time and I felt I had made a blunder but did not know who to speak to so I preceded to speak to them both as much as possible. It didn’t help that my neck was stiff and the muscles were fairly frozen in place from my illness and sleeping in my car. I had to turn my body back and forth to make eye contact with both of them. Tonight the body language at their home was different, as was their dress, the sari, traditional robes that were light and colorful. The proximity of where they wished me to sit was much closer to Terry than to the women of the family so I addressed myself accordingly without excluding anyone as much as possible. I waited for Terry to get to the subject at hand. Presently he said “Here they come, watch”. The neighbor’s cars came into the cul de sac in groups strangely each seemed to cross over from the right lane to the left to pass as closely as possible to his yard. They all made eye contact with us that was not friendly. It was like people gawking at a very strange creature in a zoo. Occasionally they would sound their car horns as they were even with his house. Several of them lingered in their drive ways and watched us for a few minutes before they went inside. One of the neighbors who lived directly across the street came out and stood on the sidewalk and stared at us. His hand went to his nose like he smelled something bad as he stood there for about 10 minutes, making the occasional exaggerated gesture. His stare was constant and his body language was both strange and slightly menacing. I had seen it all before, but this was confirmation. This family that I was sitting with so pleasantly was being targeted. The term Targeted Individuals had been coined by someone and had stuck. These people were all Targeted Individuals or TI’s for short. Yesterday in Davis we had talked for several hours and I had tried to share as much of my accumulated knowledge with them as possible. Now I came to learn from them. “When did it start”, I asked. “Right after 9/11”, he replied. I did the mental arithmetic in my head. It was July of 2004, so nearly three years had passed. His eyes grew wider and he held my gaze as if he still couldn’t believe it. His wife spoke in a soft voice, “We documented over 200 instances of harassment”. She handed me a spiral notebook that meticulously documented the date and time of verbal assaults, vandalism, trespassing, group stalking, false complaints to the police, the litany was very familiar to me. They had suffered everything from throwing trash in their yard to a physical assault against their youngest daughter by two of the larger male neighbors. From the progression of entries in their notebook it was constant and escalating. The police would come out and take down their complaints but no action was ever taken against the perpetrators. Quite the contrary, the family was treated with increasing disrespect and disdain by the police who occasionally threatened the victims themselves with charges. In order to protect themselves the family had begun filming the perpetrators at their “work” and this was when the youngest daughter had been surround by two “perps” and punched in the face by a 6’2” neighbor. The police were called, they took down the report and were initially sympathetic but within a few minutes a police woman showed up on the scene and took over. She took the girl aside and began blaming the young woman for the assault, who despite a bloody nose had retained her composure up to that point. When it became clear she was to be blamed and possibly prosecuted by the hostile officer she began to cry. After this attack on the most vulnerable member, the very close knit family retreated further into isolation and fear, as this despicable form of psychological warfare is designed to make the targeted individual do. After a cursory flipping through the pages of entries that formed the death of a thousand cuts I shook my head and looked at Terry again. “Is it always like this?” “They arrive in groups when my wife and daughters return from school or work in the middle of the day”, “They don’t appear to have regular working hours”. “I’ve lived here in this house for 26 years and these people have all moved in very recently”. “Some of them have second houses in other parts of town”. “These homes may not be their primary residences”. He was looking at me with his head tilted to the side as if speaking to me in confidence and trying to gauge my reaction, if I believed him and what significance this information had to me. After all I had been through personally and after talking to him yesterday I believed him. I had already met about two dozen “TI’s” who had similar stories. My own experiences had been fantastical in themselves, and I believed that after the last several years nothing could surprise or amaze me, yet every new day brought continuing revelations that stretched my imagination. I prided myself on my discerning eye when it came to human beings. None of the 8-10 “perpetrators” I had seen in the last two hours seemed to be college graduates. “How do they afford two houses if they don’t work regular hours”, I asked. “Wait”, he told me with a grin. In about thirty minutes the sun had gone behind the trees for good and hung just above the horizon. Terry looked at me and motioned with his head. “Here he comes, watch”. An oversized pickup truck not so common in suburban California pulled into the cul de sac and drove by at about 20 MPH. Inside sat a Caucasian male, late 50’s, early 60’s, medium build, brown hair, white western button up shirt. He uncharacteristically did not make extended eye contact with us, but as he passed he slowed further. Then I noticed the man who had stood on his sidewalk and gestured and stared earlier had now come outside as did about half of the other people who I took to be perpetrators by their behavior when they had driven by earlier. They did not wave but stood in silent salute to him as one might greet a Raj or a lord of the manner. They stood in awe and gratitude or walked slowly with the direction of his truck, maintaining eye contact looking happy to see him. He acknowledged their homage to him without waving either, but with a barely suppressed grin and a few slight nods as he slouched down looking small in the huge pickup truck. He was slowing not to glower or honk at Terry and family as the others had, but to accept the unspoken gratitude and fealty of the perpetrators who acted like serfs. I watched him pass and pull into the fine house at the end of the circle that he lived in alone. After he and his truck disappeared into the garage the 5-6 perpetrators who had emerged gradually melted back into their houses. Terry looked at me and raised his eyebrows and characteristically widened his eyes in an unspoken question…well. I had met 20 or more TI’s and seen many more perpetrators at work, but I had never seen anything quite like this. I said, “He is obviously the handler, he must pay the bills”. Normally I didn’t commit myself to TI’s and instead let them explain their situation, but this was all too much. I had seen handlers before who worked for the feds and ran entire towns, but I had never seen anything quite like this. “What do you know about him”, I asked. “He works for the State of California”. A short time later, perhaps thirty minutes had passed when a short distinctive toot on a horn sounded. “Did you hear that horn?” He gestured with his index finger beside his ear. “Yes’, I replied. “Listen’ he said. The few neighbors who were outside immediately without hesitation all went indoors. I heard the sound of more doors being shut and presently they shut three or four windows with a distinctive thump. “When the horn sounds they all go inside until there is an all clear horn, and then they re-emerge”. The sun dropped down below the horizon and they continued to feed me and bring me water to drink. We all collectively relaxed as the neighbors seemed to disappear and the evening cooled with soft California breezes. The stars were coming out in silent witness. I was very tired and switched to tea and enjoyed their company. His family was generous and intelligent. The youngest daughter had just finished her sociology degree and was headed to law school. The oldest daughter was beginning her masters in aeronautical engineering. Terry’s wife was going back to work in an office as an executive secretary. Terry was experiencing ill health and was unable to work. It bothered him, but he did not elaborate on the state of his health. Despite his obvious burden he did not feel it necessary to complain. I spoke about my journey from Texas and my meetings with other TI’s along the way, leaving out the most hair-raising details. I tried to talk about common interests and happier subjects. They were glad to have company, someone that understood what they were going through. The hours passed quickly as we smiled and laughed together in the dark. Some of the laughter was heartfelt some of it was incredulous and even macabre due to the situation and subject matter. The short distinctive horn sounded again and one or two neighbors came back outside to tend their yards or just gaze at us as one looks at a two headed calf. “Watch”, he said. Two neighbors came out with high pressure nozzles on their garden hoses and washed down their cars, the sides of their houses, and even the sidewalks near their houses, then went inside. “They always wash down their cars, sidewalks, and even the sides of their houses”. He looked at me as if I might hold the answer to the riddle, but I was at a loss.
Terry and his family were very open and welcoming but they had not invited me inside their house. The inside of their house was exemplarily of what I found in most TI houses. The members of the TI community were all ashamed to some degree of what they had to go through and what they did to try to stay alive. Their notebook recorded the daily assaults that ran from verbal taunts to physical attacks but these thousand cuts were not all that had to be endured. In fact these torments were the least of their torture. Like most TI’s the D’souza family, besides being harassed with organized gang stalking were being attacked with nonlethal microwave weapons. The first recorded mass attacks using microwave “nonlethal” weapons had been against anti-nuclear protesters in Greenham Common, England. The protesters were mostly women and children who surrounded the US air base and tried to block the deployment of nuclear tipped cruise missiles on UK soil. The Reagan and Thatcher Administrations were adamant that the missiles be deployed and the peace marchers were even more adamant that they would not be deployed. They camped out around the perimeter of the base for several years and in the end were successful. They also collectively became targets of microwave weapons from inside the US base in an effort to drive them away. Even though these were invisible bullets, the medical evidence that this was happening was confirmed by medical authorities, electronics experts, and Nobel Prize nominated scientists. One woman nearly died and many were debilitated and remain so today. The majority of the TI community were not only targets of gang stalking and street theater; they were also being attacked with these state of the art microwave frequency “nonlethal” weapons. I was determined to find out why and more to the point by whom. The earliest work on the effects of electromagnetic fields on human beings was done by Nikola Tesla; the earliest scientific paper was an Italian publication from 70 years ago. Japanese scientists had used prisoners of war in WWII to experiment on, the lab notebooks referred to the test subjects as “monkeys”, but it was plain that they had used people in the lab and that these POW’s had been cooked to death in terminal experiments. The US Navy confiscated the Japanese biowarfare and electromagnetic warfare knowledge at the end of the war and had classified it, jealously guarding it for their own use. The US evaluated the Japanese microwave and radio frequency weapon as being capable of killing unshielded human beings at a range of 5-10 miles. The equipment was just too large and unwieldy to be fielded at that time. The scientific literature really took off in 1958 when Dr. Allen Fry made major breakthroughs. His two papers were entitled “Microwave auditory effect and applications” and “Human auditory response to modulated electromagnetic energy”. The unclassified scientific literature was very revealing up to a point when major breakthroughs had been made and classification made the publication of the scientist’s major breakthroughs go black. Things just seemed to have stopped in the 1970’s, but had they really stopped, or was someone guarding these technologies as one would guard the family jewels…and if so, why. I kept searching and reading books and scientific papers to find out where this promising weapons technology had gone. The unclassified papers had diminished to a trickle, but they were there. The scientists, their papers, and the patents for weapons of these sort were there to be found, but where were the weapons themselves. It was as if the moon had moved in front of the sun and blocked out the light of day. Everything was there that one would expect to find except the hardware. Who was hiding the hardware from all of this expensive government funded research, and what were they doing with it. Just like the women protesters of Greenham Common, England, I had found a population of credible people saying they were experiencing certain effects that lined up perfectly with what one would expect to see had these weapons been fielded, yet where were the weapons, and why use them on these American citizens. I needed answers and that is what drove me into the library to read dozens of books and scientific papers. Now I had found part of the puzzle, it was probable that the weapons existed because the work of the scientists and their patents existed. Likewise I had found a large group of people who described exactly what the women in England had described, the physical and emotional effects you would expect from the use of microwave “nonlethal” weapons. Symptoms include nausea, vertigo, sleep disturbances, physical heating, sensations of pin pricks, shocks, burns, blurred vision, eye damage, changes in blood chemistry, hair loss, panic in non panic situations, and ultimately physical disability, cancer, brain tumors, and death. Most TI’s were individuals in great distress but they did not strike me as people who suddenly went crazy in middle age. Now I had seen with my own eyes that something bad was happening. This family I was visiting and another family with a similar story were very credible witnesses. Mass hysteria did not explain their claims of being attacked with microwave weapons. The organized gang stalking was very real. The more I learned the more possible it seemed that the attacks with classified weapons systems were taking place on innocent people. But how were they accomplishing the attacks and who was chosen to be the human guinea pig, by what criterion were these people chosen to be experimented on. The first mass use of microwave weapons in Greenham Common had been aimed at anti-war protesters. In the USSR in the 1950’s these weapons had been aimed at the US embassy and more than one US diplomat had eventually died as a result. There were precedents for this type of thing, but many questions remained. I had to find out who the targets were in the self described “TI” community.
Terry was hesitant to show me his home. He was the 24th TI that I had met in the last 6 months so I didn’t press him too hard. The gang stalking and electronic harassment tended to make people suspicious of others, if not outright hostile. I couldn’t blame them for being wary, they were suffering terribly every day. The pressures both physical and psychological were incredible. The evening was pleasant and including our meeting yesterday he had now spent about 5 hours in my company. Terry brought out a gauss meter and some other measuring equipment and showed me what normal readings should have been and the elevated signals that he routinely recorded in and around his house. “It is coming from the neighbors”. He had showed me in his notebook the documentation of the concerted campaign by the neighbors to drive his family out of their home of 26 years. I had seen with my own eyes the activity by the neighbors that was consistent with behavior by other perpetrators I had witnessed harassing and stalking other TI’s. These were very sober, down to earth people I was with, individuals not given to exaggeration. Because he was an engineer his understanding of the electromagnetic spectrum was superior to mine. He gently and painstakingly explained what the different sensors meant and what was normal and what was abnormal. The readings would change depending on where one stood and what direction the device was pointed in. It appeared that elevated readings were coming from next door and across the street. I had seen the pattern several times before with similar measuring devices and some diagnostics that were different from his. It is important to note that these different people, these TI’s that I had met were not contaminating each other. By that I mean that they had arrived at the same place on their own. They were telling the same story without going online and getting the same idea from each other. We walked around the edge of his house and he pointed to burns on the vegetation. The burns on the bushes next to his house were rather linear and horizontal and ran about 3 feet off the ground. The line of sight led back in the general direction that the readings from his EM monitoring equipment had indicated. The burns lined up to the house directly across the street and to the house next door. To me this was merely circumstantial evidence, but I had seen this before as well. He motioned me towards the front door and I followed him into the front room. There was a bed that was elevated off the floor and it was draped in insulating blanks, red on one side and silver on the other. The reflective silver side was turned outward to deflect the microwave and radio frequency radiation that bombarded the house. He went in the back briefly and presently brought back a similar insulated reflective blanket and showed me discolorations and burns on the silver surface as well as curious looking pin holes, tiny holes that he said were perforations from the microwave weapon that attacked them in their beds. Oscillating fans swung back and forth moving the air around as they hummed. “The temperature in here is 10-15 degrees Fahrenheit above what it should be”. “By using air convection and the collapsing magnetic fields of the fans we mitigate the microwave attacks somewhat”. I had seen TI’s use fans and humidifiers as well as the reflective blankets. These types of blankets were very commonly used. I did not believe that Terry burned his vegetation, held up bic lighters to discolor the reflective blankets, or used pins to punch holes in them for my benefit. I had seen all of this before in the homes of desperate individuals who were sober, educated, sane, and in great distress. But those other people had all been alone. This same story was now coming from a family of college graduates, the gang stalking and harassment campaigns by the neighbors, the EM measuring equipment readings, the burns and holes in reflective blankets, the health effects. I couldn’t ignore their suffering but I didn’t know what to do about it. The eldest daughter Sarah gave me a CD that had their story on the local news. This was a new one on me, how had a family of TI’s managed to get on the local news. We sat down together and watched the video on my laptop. Sarah had an engineering degree but she wasn’t going to beat me over the head with it. She explained to me in layman’s terms what they had done and why. “We figured out that the microwave radiation could not really be block but that there was an angle of deflection for the microwave frequency being aimed at the house”. “If we used corrugated sheeting at an angle of 15 degrees it would deflect much of what was being aimed at us”. I couldn’t understand how a human being under such pressures as constant gang stalking and vicious electronic harassment could have the fortitude to complete an aeronautical engineering degree. I would be hard pressed to do so with all my support systems in place. I was in awe of this young woman who seemed so matter of fact. “We placed corrugated sheeting all around the outside of the house at an angle of 15 degrees more or less”. “The temperature inside the house came down appreciably, it gave us some relief”. The video was from the evening news in Sacramento the first part was an on camera interview by Sarah describing what the family was going through. The interview cut to a news helicopter that circled the house and filmed the outside of their home surrounded by large pieces of corrugated sheeting at a slight angle. I was not surprised that a house in suburban Sacramento surrounded by corrugated sheeting had managed to attract some attention but from the video it appeared that every news helicopter in that part of the state had managed to make the trip to their outwardly quiet street. “You and your family are absolutely fearless”. She smiled and laughed which seemed to bring me back to life. Dealing with human suffering and evil on a mass scale seems to drain the joy out of you after a while. “Some of the local coverage didn’t let us explain much, it tended to cut off our explanations and show us in a light that was designed to make us seem crazy”. “One station seemed to be more balanced and sympathetic and on the whole they let us tell on camera what was happening to us and why we had used the materials”. “We made the news for two weeks, until the city made us take it down”. “The city building inspector had come out and wrote us up and wouldn’t listen to us, but we were at least able to get our story out there in the public domain”. You had to admire it, most TI’s would have been afraid that the authorities would have them committed to a mental institution and forced to take medication after protesting so loudly and successfully. Most of the TI’s I had met personally had grown wary of attracting the attention of the authorities. These were isolated individuals who when they reported the neighbors for gang stalking and electronic harassment had either been threatened with forced incarceration or had actually been hauled off and made to take anti-psychotic medications. None of the TI’s I had met or talked to by phone had gotten any relief from being forced to take medications. Normally 20% of the mentally ill patients in the general population don’t respond to the meds but in the case of the TI community I have yet to meet or talk to one person who got “relief” from the stalking and electronic harassment after they were forced into taking anti-psychotic medication. They had however learned to keep their mouth shut or risk incarceration. This seemed to be by design in order to discredit the TI’s and to shut them up, but here were four obviously sane, sober, educated adults who all were telling the same story, so apparently the local news might paint them as crazy people if it wished but forcing them into an institution and claiming mass hysteria would just not work on them as it did on isolated targets. To my amazement the news stories featured the reaction of the neighbors and some of those interviewed were the very people who were engaging in the concerted campaign to drive the family out of their home. I recognized at least two or three persons who had stared menacingly, honked their horns, and had gestured in what were now recognizable signals of street theater and gang stalking. Whoever had designed this program of harassment was very familiar with the psychiatric diagnostic manual known as the DSM-IV. It is standard diagnosis that claiming to have strangers make gestures to you is a criterion for being judged insane, yet here were the neighbors standing out in front of their houses and holding their noses like they had encountered a bad smell and other exaggerated and standardized gestures designed to harass the target. Was it possible that this “program” of street theater and gang stalking had been designed by a mental health care professional? I tried to concentrate on the family at hand to understand why they had become targets. I wrote them up in my mind as case study number 24. They were numbers twenty one through twenty four to be precise. I was building a profile of the average target to find out what they had in common in order to find out why they had become targets. This was text book epidemiology. The method for discovering why people had become sick in outbreaks of disease was something I was familiar with. I had studied how scientists determined everything from the source of food borne illness to the foci of epidemics of the deadly Hanta Virus. Hanta Virus outbreaks had been my specialty a few years previously. I had been on the Hanta Virus Team at a major university where we had done complex field work trapping rodents in the wild, sampling their fluids and tissues, and then tagging and releasing them to follow their life cycle and the cycle of the virus itself. Several times a year we would return to the exact spot, trap the same animals and follow the rise and fall of the titer of virus in their blood. We had even tried to back track the steps of people who had died of Hanta Virus in order to figure out where and how they had contracted the disease. I was using the same methodology to find out who the average TI was how old, where they lived, what kind of work they did. All the characteristics of these human beings who had become targets would hopefully lead me back to the answers of why they had become targets in the first place. The use of the scientific methods of epidemiology might even lead me back to who was responsible. It occurred to me that I was still doing field work, only this time I was working with something man made, and equally insidious, perhaps leading back to even bigger rats. So far I had been very careful with whom I spoke with. I always asked people about their personal and family history of mental illness. I asked them if they had taken anti-psychotic medications and if so if these medications had given them relief from gang stalking and electronic harassment. I was very careful not to include the mentally ill. I was very cognizant of the fact that if I got a mentally ill person off of their medications then I was doing them and society a great disservice. I had only been contacted by 2-3 people who were mentally ill out of around one hundred who had phoned or emailed me. Some of the TI’s had been targeted for decades and were in very bad shape. I tried to avoid meeting and interviewing the TI’s who were in the worst shape physically and emotionally in order to get the most information for the amount of effort I put forth. Personal interviews provide more complete information than phone interviews and it became important to see what was happening to these people with my own eyes. I had to verify gang stalking and harassment campaigns for myself. As a scientist I can only believe in what can be observed, what can be measured, what I can verify, and even then I resolved to be skeptical to the extreme. Anyone who engages in science and has an axe to grind or a personal belief to validate will do so. By that statement I mean that for hundreds of years scientists who sought to prove their most cherished beliefs were always able to bend the statistics to prove themselves correct. I determined not to accept statements without verification and to use multiple sources. A primary error that many scientists make is to have too small of an experimental group. I would have to meet hundreds if not thousands of people to get this right. I had personally interviewed 20 TI’s in my investigation that started in Texas, through the southwest and into California. Now I was in Davis, California gazing into the eyes of a beautiful 27 year old woman who was an aeronautical engineer and a courageous human being. Rule number one don’t get emotionally involved with your patients or your test subjects. It had been easy not to fall for the little deer mouse (Perimiscus maniculatus). They were cute little creatures, kind of like a little four inch long Yoda with brown fur and a tail. I was a human being with emotions just like everyone else but I had to keep a healthy distance from this person. I thanked her, closed my laptop and went back outside.
After midnight the ladies went inside to bed and Terry and I sat together in peace and quiet. I inquired about the man at the end of the street whom everyone seemed to defer to and Terry suggested we go for a walk. We walked the long way around and after about 10 minutes as we neared the home of the “handler” a car with two strangers turned onto the dead end street and proceeded at a high rate of speed to the man’s drive way and executed a 180 degree maneuver and took up a position facing us in front of the man’s driveway, effectively blocking our path in front of his house. The men in the car were Hispanic, mid twenties, and Terry said they did not live there. They both stared intently at us and I had the impression of worker bees guarding the queen. It was after midnight and nothing stirred on the rest of the street. We decided to not cross their path and instead reversed course and returned to his yard and sat down again. The strangers in the car waited about 10 minutes or more without stirring and then drove leisurely away. It was one more strange event in a cast of thousands. The two of us chatted a while and then I asked him what the strangest thing that had happened to him so far was. He silently laughed, “One day two months ago I was walking on the side of the house in the back yard”. He gestured toward the house next door where the strong EM signals had emanated. “I was walking near the fence when I felt a hot blast of air on my leg, I looked down and there was a large hose like an over sized clothes dryer hose placed under the fence”. “It started in the neighbor’s attic, came out in a concealed manner, down to the ground and ended up underneath the fence”. “I could hear a motor of some kind come on periodically and the warm air would begin to surreptitiously come out under the fence”. “It must have been there quite some time because I couldn’t see it and only discovered it by chance because it was on and I happened to be walking by just then”. “Show me”, I said. We walked around to that side of the house but it was dark and there wasn’t much to see. “They took the hose down, but I still hear the motor come on and I think the warm air still pushes into my back yard”. “Look, see all these trees”. There were 40-60’ trees in the neighbors yards on two sides of his back yard in a giant L shape. The third side had 30’ hedges, which was the side we stood near. Altogether the trees and hedges formed a giant U shape all around his house just outside of his property line. “The prevailing wind comes down the street toward the front of the house and creates an air pocket around my house because of the neighbor’s trees”. “Even on windy days there is virtually no air circulation in my yard”. “All of these fast growing trees and hedges were planted by the neighbors as soon as they moved in, and just before the harassment started”. “What did they say when you told them about the hose in your yard”, I asked. “I didn’t say a thing”. “Immediately I got two industrial size fans and pointed them straight up in the air and pushed all of the air out of the air pocket and in that direction”. He pointed directly back behind his house. “There is a school about a quarter of a mile or less just off my back fence”. “There was an emergency evacuation of all the school children less than forty five minutes after the very large, very loud fans started blasting the air out of the pocket”. “They said on the news that there was a gas leak”. It was plan from his tone and the look on his face that he didn’t believe it was a gas leak. “What do you think it was”, I asked. “I don’t know”. One more confusing event in a laundry list of strange. I was too tired and just plain overloaded to make sense of it all. I filed it away under case study number 24. Not to my credit I was waiting for an invitation to sleep over and head out in the morning but I realized that despite the generous hospitality it did not extend to male sleep over’s of non family members. It was 2 a.m. and I contemplated sleeping in my Dodge Caravan “mommy van”, but things had been too weird on this street by half and so I said my goodbyes as best I could to this surrounded and set upon good man and pointed my van in the direction of Davis, about 45 minutes away. As I left Sacramento and turned toward Davis the highway stretched out straight before me and I saw a CHIPS police cruiser pulled off to the right on the shoulder with its lights off. Just as I drew even the cop threw his emergency lights on and startled me. I wondered if he was going to pull onto the freeway and pull my tired ass over, but he just sat there with his lights on. About one mile or more farther on I came to a rise in the road, and just as I crested it, I saw another CHIPS police cruiser on the right shoulder, lights off, just about where the last one had been. Once again, just as I drew nearly even with him he hit the lights but no siren. I waited again for the cop to pull onto the black top and pull me over, but just like before he just sat there. It was 2:30 a.m. and there was not a soul on the road but me and the two cops for miles, nor were there lights coming in the other direction. Deserted was an understatement. His lights continued flashing red and blue but fading into the distance behind me so I let out a sigh of relief. Driving while exhausted was not strictly speaking a crime, but I was anxious to sleep in a cheap hotel bed or my car, not a jail cell. Again the red and blue flashing lights were nearly out of sight one mile back as I headed up the next rise. To my amazement there was another cop on the right shoulder in the same general spot on the far side of the hill, and just as before when I was almost even with him he flipped his emergency lights on, but did not budge. I was kind of shook up this time and wondered if anyone would believe it if I told them. “Holy shit”. Then something jogged my memory and I remembered what I had told Terry the day before back at U.C. Davis. The topic of a police state and fascism had come up. I mentioned that the Nazis had formed private armies as a spring board to infiltrate the German armed forces. Then very methodically they had infiltrated the police forces. Once the police forces had become infiltrated I told him that the die was cast and there was no going back. The fascist police state was complete and the disaster of a world war was unavoidable. This demonstration of police cruisers sitting on the far side of the overpass with their lights off, strung out every mile continued, I think I counted 14 in all. Who the hell would believe this demonstration, and was that what it meant. Were they trying to send me a not so subtle message of power like a psychological body blow? There had been people walking around us as we spoke outside but no one had stopped to listen to our conversation yesterday that I could remember. Like all street theater and gang stalking it seemed designed to send a message that there was nowhere to hide. In that 15 mile stretch of reoccurring cops and their sequence of emergency lights I wondered how they knew and why they bothered. Two questions I could not answer, but the demonstration made no other sense other than as an answer to my prognostication on the lessons of history. It looked like war on the horizon, and I was a solitary driver on a dark lonely road.
The mentality that would use these weapons to torture and kill the innocent was not something I was sure that I had seen close up. My mother had been a district attorney and had prosecuted murderers and plenty of sociopathic personalities but I was out of my depth. In the past year my research had led me to read about the MKULTRA program that had used these very same Nazi Paperclip scientists to perfect the science of mind control. The MK stood for the German words for mind control. The Senate hearings in the 1970’s detailed how the CIA had slipped LSD on thousands of unsuspecting US citizens but what was revealed had only been a fragment. Richard Helms, director of the CIA in the 1960’s, had destroyed the archive of the experiments that had been run on people and what survived was only what they were willing to admit to under oath, which wasn’t much. I had attended a conference of MKULTRA survivors to learn more about MKULTRA because many of the same elements that were present in the microwave attacks were also present in the experiments that were done on people as part of MKULTRA. The SMART conference run by Neil Brick was attended by about 40 people who had been subjected to the MKULTRA programming as children in the 1950’s through the 1970’s. The ideal experimental subject for mind control is a female because they have a higher tolerance for pain and disassociate easier. The general idea behind mind control is to induce extreme trauma, to break the human mind in order to control it. The techniques were developed by Nazi scientists in places like the Dachau concentration camp where the men, women and children were going to be gassed and cremated anyway so the supply of human test subjects was virtually limitless and the Nazi scientists could do with them what they wished. Dr. Joseph Mengele had a PhD in Eugenics and an MD and he had perfected the techniques of mind control such as trauma bonding. By forcing one twin to kill another twin or forcing one child to kill a family member it was possible to split their personality and exert control over their mind. Some of the child victims of Dr. Mengele still refer to him today as “beautiful Joseph”. This powerful programming made them exhibit profound affection for the man who killed their closest family members before their very eyes. Dr. Joseph Mengele and later American scientists experimented extensively with children and adults using mescaline, LSD, electro-shock therapy, hypnosis, sensory deprivation, torture, rape, starvation, and trauma bonding. I read a book by Dr. Colin Ross, called Blue Bird that explained the techniques and personalities behind MKULTRA. The men who were trained in this methodology are termed programmers. The idea is to first create a case of multiple personality disorder (MPD) or using the modern psychiatric term, dissociative identity disorder (DID) by using severe trauma at an early age. According to MKULTRA documents and sources, the methodology of mind control works best when severe trauma is administered by the age of three years old. Severe trauma, such as rape, applied at the age of three will cause the personality to split or dissociate in an attempt to shield the mind from memories of events too painful to endure. The Three Faces of Eve is the story of multiple personality disorder or MPD that had been created by childhood abuse. The Palle Hardup case is an example of a purposeful hypnotically created case of MPD that was used to create a robot assassin. MPD can be created by a therapist in an effort manipulate the human mind. Psychic trauma and creation of multiple personalities may be caused by the above techniques and by ritual sacrifice of animals and humans, which is also a feature of satanic ritual abuse (SRA). The extreme trauma causes the dissociation. The programmer will use triggers and hypnosis to call forth the created personality, known as an alter personality. Not all people are hypnotizable, but trauma at an early age makes people vulnerable to dissociation, and thus hypnotizable. Typically the programmer might wear a rabbit suit and sacrifice a rabbit in front of the child victims. The image of the rabbit, a phrase from Alice in Wonderland, or similar paired images are used as the triggers to call forth the alter personality. Dr. Mengele reportedly used his violin to play a musical tr...
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