a good friend of his and would let us in.
At the Opry, my friend and I sat in the audience watching as Jack Greene introduced his 'special guest,' U.S. Senator Robert C. Byrd. At the sight of Byrd, I went into a pre-conditioned deep trance and robotically went through the motions of following Greene's instructions. Once backstage, Greene pointed out his dressing room, which he was sharing with Senator Byrd, and ordered me in. The personality that had been sitting in the audience had perceived Byrd as an entertainer and could not, or would not, think further. But as I walked into the dressing room and saw Byrd perched on the edge of the mirrored vanity in his boxer shorts, I switched into the child personality that had known him as a U.S. Senator on Mackinac Island since age 13, and responded sexually. Afterward, Byrd was claiming me as 'his,' excitedly telling me that he had 'always wanted his own little witch'. I soon learned the enormity of this statement.
Jack Greene's band member, Wayne Cox, later told me that playing music behind Senator Byrd at the Opry was not the only way he 'backed him'. He also backed him politically and in Freedom Train operations. Cox then made arrangements for my friend and me to stay the remainder of our trip at his trailer in Hendersonville, Tennessee. There was no choice but to comply. The following night, after Jack Greene completed his show at the Black Poodle, he drove my friend and me to a nearby participating after-hours club, the Demon's Den. There, Cox was to pick us up and take us to Hendersonville. Instead, we were slipped a drug and taken 'on a tour' of Union Station, Nashville's then abandoned train station, where supposedly the only train still running through there was the Freedom Train.
Senator Byrd's attempted cultivation of superstition through my Catholic schooling should have maximized the impact of the occult ritual I was subjected to in the tower of the old stone and slate turn-of-the-century train depot. But the pain and horror was sufficiently effective in itself — even without my adhering to superstition-to produce the intended mind shattering results. Cox took my friend and me on a 'flashlight tour' through the rubble of Union Station, until we came to a homeless man sleeping on the ground. Cox ordered me to 'kiss the railroad bum good-bye,' then shot him between the eyes while I was still only inches away [13]. He then used a machete to chop off the man's hands, which he put in a zip-lock bag. He then led us up the rickety stairs into the lower of the old depot. There Jack Greene, his band members, and others dressed in black robes were gathered around a black leather alter in a room lit by candles and draped in red velvet. In total shock, I was laid on the alter and subjected to rape and torture while the participants indulged in sex, blood, and cannibalism ritual.
The next day I woke up on Cox's couch, vaguely aware that I had suffered a 'bad nightmare'. When I stood up, I passed out from blood loss. I was bleeding profusely from the vagina. It was all I could do to prepare to drive back to Michigan, and my friend was certainly not in a stable frame of mind to help. I did not know what happened to me, nor was I able to question it. I had a new «obsession» on my mind. I had been programmed at the ritual to move to Nashville and marry Cox, as ordered by Senator Byrd.
Back in Michigan, I made the announcement to my parents that I was moving to Nashville to marry Cox, as it was «predestination». What they would not tell me was that my father had just literally SOLD me to Senator Byrd in exchange for lucrative military contracts that made him a millionaire overnight — a millionaire on a sixth grade education — a perverse, child exploiting criminal, immune from prosecution, working as a CIA operative for the U.S, government! That mind shattering occult ritual I endured in Nashville marked a new life of wealth and prestige for my father white thrusting me into a new phase of my torturous existence-and I had no choice in any of it!
CHAPTER 5
TINKERING WITH THE MIND
It was 1977. I was a 19-year-old mind-controlled programmed slave in the CIA/DIA Project Monarch Freedom Train operation, literally owned by U.S. Senate Majority Leader Robert C. Byrd, who was then a 20-year incumbent and on the Senate Appropriations Committee, As Byrd's 'own little witch' (sex slave), I would also become involved in covert government operations. I now understand that this required more memory compartments/personalities than I had developed. Hence one more reason for the mind shattering occult ritual, and my «predestined» marriage to Cox. In typical Project Monarch structure, Byrd was my «owner» and in control of my life, while Cox became my primary «handler» and followed Byrd's orders to ensure that I was at key locations and events at appointed times and to maintain me under mind control. Cox reportedly was not paid cash for his role like my father was. Instead, he either followed orders or would be prosecuted for distributing drugs and being the occult serial killer that he was and is to date. Cox's primary role was to shatter my mind further through repealed occult trauma as well as father my daughter, Kelly, to be raised in the genetic mind-control studies of Project Monarch.
I moved to Nashville, as ordered, to marry Cox, who took me to the backwoods of his hometown swamp in Chatham, Louisiana for months at a time for occult traumatization. Cox had been brought up in witchcraft by his mother, and admittedly longed for her sexually and ritually. Together they subjected me to their beliefs, which included what equates to a weakened version of mind control used by witches for centuries, anchored in superstition rather than scientific fact. These superstitious beliefs seemingly conflicted with Cox's mercenary training to the point that his killing raged out of control. For example, Cox would murder a human through repeated stabbing with a knife, believing that the 'departing spirit' and splattered blood gave him power to control my mind. In truth, it was my aversion and subsequent traumatization by the event that caused me to dissociate and trance, leaving my subconscious open to his suggestions and those of others. During the three years I was with Cox, he ritually impregnated and aborted me six times, consuming several of his own offspring and preserving the others shaped in ceramic for sale in his interstate occult body parts business. Cox's M.O. for murdering always included removing the hands with a machete, as the 'Hands of Glory' he kiln-dried in the ceramic shop of his and his mother's house were in demand and thus distributed throughout the occult underground supply network. Cox's protected cocaine and body parts distribution routes included Texas, Arkansas, Mississippi, Tennessee, and Florida.
Cox and I traveled to Florida on several occasions as his mother's parents lived in Mims, which is only minutes away from the NASA Kennedy Space Center in Titusville. Cox, like my father, made sure I was there for mind-control testing and programming as ordered. Cox perceived me as a 'Chosen One,' and often used this CIA Project Monarch term when referring to me and for proudly «justifying» his leaving me at the NASA installation.
Cox had a variety of belief systems that he applied to various situations, all of which were superstition based. He believed in spirit communication or 'divine guidance' through nature spirits and demons, that Satan must be appeased, that Jesus is an alien, that the Bermuda Triangle is a door to another dimension, and that the end of the world is near. He 'religiously' carried a Bible with him everywhere-including to occult rituals-quoting scripture like a theologian. He justified 'eating the body and drinking the blood,' 'being washed in the blood,' and even 'murdering children' according to the story of God testing Abraham by ordering him to murder his son, Isaac, by knife on an alter. Jim Jones was one of Cox's idols, as was Charlie Manson, and he touted the Jonestown massacre as a prime example of the 'power of (CIA) mind control'.
Cox demanded I become a Mormon in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. This was to «prove» that Satan was everywhere-particularly in the Monroe, Louisiana Mormon church where he led occult ritual, and in the Hendersonville, Tennessee church that the so-called Freedom Train rolled through[14]Cox's determination to instill his religious superstitious beliefs in me was side-tracked by J. Bennett Johnston in his Shreveport, Louisiana office early in the summer of 1978.
Cox's mother, Mary, had driven us to Johnston's office near Barksdale Air Force Base as ordered. As she knocked boldly on the obscure metal door, I read the attached metal sign: 'General Dynamics Research and Development'. A smaller sign near the doorknob read; 'Unlawful to enter premises without prior authorization. All violators will be prosecuted under penalty of federal law.'
Johnston, wearing a light blue, leisure suit and smelling strongly of body odor, opened the door. 'Well, hey Senator,' Mary drawled in her backwoods Louisiana dialect, 'I brought the children to see you like you said.'
Johnston looked at her with annoyed disgust. 'I see that,' he said matter-of-factly. He then proceeded to
