'No Mom,' Kelly said, 'I'm tired.'
'Wake up now!' I commanded, snapping my fingers drawing my 13-year-old daughter into a wideawake state. I held her hand all the way to the rental car we drove when I first arrived onto the island. We drove to Stallone's house in Anini Beach and parked in the drive. He said that since it was a rental car it would be fine. Kelly and I went into the house and out to a oval room where there were other girls waiting. One was Japanese and another brunette. At first we all just sat and looked at each other, smiling in awkward embarrassment. Sly walked in with a white towel around his otherwise naked body and held his hands out to us. He told us we were waiting for the 5th wheel but she never arrived. He laughed and directed us into the bedroom. He pointed to Kelly and said, 'I want her first.' He told her she had the Bo Derek look and he kissed her before she began her trained, skillful sexual repertoire. Stallone was snorting cocaine and during the group sex it was my job to remember to offer him more. He had a small spoon that he stuck up his nose to snort the white powder. Kissing Kelly he said, 'Bob has good taste.' Pulling her hair back and kissing her more deeply he added, 'and it's getting better all the time.' When he was finished sexually satisfying himself with her he rolled her over and said, 'rest little baby,' as he went to the other girls in turn. We never spent the night, stayed just a few hours and after Stallone went to sleep I kissed his cheek, took Kelly's hand and we tip-toed out.
Stallone once said, 'There's nothing quite like a slave. I love getting them from the underground. You're all so cooperative, don't give me no shit. This is the life I tell ya'. No bitchy, demanding women, not when I can have beautiful, sweet, white women who set me free. It's all about freedom,' he rambled, while laying on his back in a seemingly drugged stupor, about 'America the Beautiful and the home of the brave.' He was high on cocaine. The higher he got the better the animal lover he was to become. That was his code name, 'Animal.' And when they told me, 'the Animal' wanted Kelly and 1, then I knew it was Stallone. I also gave him massages, often in open air areas.
Sly thought the dolphin porn was the greatest new combo and he directed a lot of the porn videos. It was filmed at areas at the North Shore, Poipu or, he had us helicoptered into remote areas for filming. Large cameras were taken out to these remote island areas. I delivered some money from Stallone and from other less prominent men on the island to Ken, the wealthy attorney who had a big beautiful house in Kilauea. I believe it was his job to see that the money was sufficiently laundered.
Sly wore a wet suit but we were always naked in the water. There were trained dolphins that we did water ballet and swam with. When we swam gracefully the male dolphin got excited and started nudging us. We grabbed onto them and went for the ride; if we didn't, they told us, 'one wrong move and you could get ripped to shreds.' The dolphin actually remembered us over time and the same male would consistently choose the same girl, even when the group size changed from small to large. They got to know us and didn't forget in between. When my sons were on the island they were filmed also. One day after the filming, Sly said to Kelly, 'You come back soon, ya here?'
During other visits, where I was supposedly allowed to see my children, Kelly and I were prostituted to Charlton Heston, and I was to Kareem Abdul Jabaar. Taj Mahal, the jazz musician, was on the island to keep other slaves in line through satanic rituals. One time I was programmed to drive to Secret Beach at night to attend a 'gathering' where, unbeknownst to my conscious personality, I was raped in a ritual.
Consciously I thought, as my programmed reality dictated, that I had escaped from my controllers in California and I was now safe. I believed I had rescued my children, and as the summer came to an end, I began the process of enrolling them in island schools. I moved from house to house, attempting to keep our whereabouts anonymous, only to have my stillprogrammed children call back to their father in California and report our current location and phone number. It was terrifying. And I thought I would die of grief and terror when Craig told the kids and I that if I didn't return them to California he would be sending in a police escort to bring them home. Devastated and panicked but not knowing what else to do, I returned my children to their father in California. Shortly afterwards, my attorney notified me that if I wanted to ever see my children again I needed to attend a court hearing in California. Frightened of the danger of being accessed, I called Ted Gunderson (retired FBI official) who helped me hire a bodyguard. I flew to California, where behind the judge's closed doors, I lost custody of my children. My attorney, Doug Wolfe, let me in on the news when he informed me in the Courthouse hallway, 'You're lucky to be alive, just get back to the island and get a job.'
My children's programmed father and our controllers were now in even more total control of their lives.
Extremely sad and depressed, I returned to the island. The job I took when I returned was to begin to more fully document many of my memories and I began writing my first book STARSHINE. It wasn't an easy task because first I had to undo the endless programs that kept me from being able to use the word processor without a programmed part of me destroying the information I had just typed. But I was determined to do whatever it took to get eventual help for my children. Memories of a political and international nature often flooded my awareness and I documented them each time something new came to mind. Due to the vivid nature of flashbacks I experienced, I spent nearly two years stuck in the body memory part of my Kissinger experiences and had to live with the smell of this cigar smoke and listening within to the sound of his accented voice. Similarly, I flooded with sexual memories about Pete Wilson and Ted Kennedy. Talk about intrusion!
Since I had no money, I hired the 'ocean' to be my therapist and with God's guiding, I actually did some of my best memory recovery work alone on the beach, with the ocean holding the space of peace, love and strength for me so I could delve to the depths of my own mind. With the solid foundation built from years of memory recovery done while I was still in California, and after a year on the island retrieving still deeper layers of memories, and programming, I had a pretty clear picture that something was up — exactly what I wasn't sure. I couldn't imagine why I would be with Henry Kissinger, Nixon or Reagan, or what was so important about me that people were following me and overly interested in what I was doing. But all my memories, held together by the pages in my journals, began to neatly fill in the picture. In 1992, 1 purchased a light and sound machine of my own, and after mastering the fear associated with using some of the same technology my controllers had used on me, I began to more easily recover even deeper layers of memory. Soon I realized the programs that controlled me were broken and nullified as I became consciously aware of them.
But my other secret jobs didn't stop and with my family out of their way, I was now freer and more unencumbered than ever to work for my controllers. George Bush met me at Princeville Airport, a very small airport on the north shore of the small island. Then we would both be helicoptered to Barking Sands Missile Range. When we arrived he and a military officer saluted each other and then he was escorted to an outside structure that had glass doors.
At another time, George Bush met me at Barking Sands Missile Range, for a talk about 'getting back in line.' I was parked in my Lexus waiting near the entrance when Bush drove up in a military jeep. A military officer was driving him. Bush told me to start my engine and follow him. I followed through the gates that were opened for him into the missile site. He motioned me out of my car and stomped over to me. He stood and yelled in my face about being irresponsible. I had a hard time hearing or understanding him because it was extremely windy. I also think personalities inside of me were attempting to shield me from his barrage of programmed verbiage. He waved his glasses around while he yelled at me. In his cryptic mind control lingo Bush said, 'Get into line or Kelly will be on a #9.' He was referring to the well known freedom train mind control theme, of being thrown off the train, which cryptically meant her death. Angrily, Bush saluted and told me to get back in my car and get the hell home. He was very angry.
But 'category five' Hurricane Iniki changed many of their plans and this act of nature ultimately worked in my favor, freeing me a little more each day. I lost the home that I attempted to recreate on the island to the hurricane, and as I healed my mind, body and spirit, I realized more and more every day that I still wasn't safe. In order to have the electricity to continue powering my laptop, Patrick Stone, the man who helped me write Starshine, (himself an unrecovered victim of mind control), and I were forced to leave the island. Military planes evacuated us to the island of Maui, where we continued writing. There we were continually visited and harassed by men my controllers sent to the hotel that we later discovered was also a 'containment center.' True to the network containment strategy, our friends on Kauai referred us to this place and we continued writing while we were monitored. It frightened me because I was now conscious enough to realize that I continually ended up in
