When Kelly was around three years old, we were told to walk down to the 'end of the road,' which I knew to be Bob Hope's Jordan Ranch. Once inside the fence we were injected with drugs in the back of a limo and were told to start walking out onto the ranch. Somehow, all of a sudden, my little daughter was gone. There was a whole group of men in army fatigues who I later found out were playing war games. But in the drugged state of mind they put me in, I had no way to know this was just a game. Bob had a walkie-talkie that he used to radio instructions to the men in army fatigues. He told them what to do and say to us. I know because the guys would listen to their walkie-talkies while I heard Bob say directions like, 'Ok, rape her now.'
These guys were shooting their weapons and throwing hand grenades. As I revivified the memory I was able to realize that the hand grenades and gunfire were all fake, but the drugs I was subjected to made everything feel very real and very terrifying. While these men were shooting at me, I was running for my life, ducking under bushes trying to stay alive so I could find my little girl, and the drugs made it impossible to think clearly. They told me Kelly's life depended on me finding her quickly. A helicopter flying overhead landed nearby and I finally found Kelly, naked and huddling near a small scrub bush. She was very dirty and had cried so much that her little eyes were swollen nearly shut and her face was covered with dirt and tears all mixed together. She was crying so hard that she was shaking and had begun the involuntarily sniffling and jerking that infants do when they have cried for a very long time. I picked her up and took her, as directed, over to the helicopter. Due to the severe trauma, I was unable to retrieve the rest of this devastating experience. This is the type of activity these men needed to use in order to guarantee that, under national security, a mother and her baby daughter would never remember the perverted experiences for which they were being used by Henry Kissinger, Bob Hope and the agenda of our other high-level controllers. When I was deprogramming and really getting beneath my instilled trauma-based programs in order to retrieve my experiences, my programmed mother sent me a picture of Kelly that she had taken. In it, Kelly was crouched down, hiding beneath a bush. Most likely our controllers had my mother send that picture in an attempt to tap into this traumatic memory in order to remind me what my odds were, in order to keep me under control.
After I had my children, they always inflicted trauma on me and one or more of my kids (always with my daughter Kelly) before an assigned rendezvous took place. Those experiences were terrifying and horrific enough so, that my controllers felt very certain I would never gain access to memory of the experiences the trauma was meant to cover. The trauma they inflicted on me and then on my children in front of me, began when they were born.
The following is a vivid example of the kind of programming and torture my family and I had to endure before I was used with a President, Governor, Senator, entertainer, or whoever else they decided they wanted to send me in on. I have no way of knowing what the rest of my family might have been assigned to, in my absence.
This time, we were in Catalina and my husband told the kids that we were going to look at a new hotel complex on the island. When we arrived, three men in suits told us to go into a room where there was a single row of chairs lined up against the wall. We were told to sit down in the straight back chairs. Passively and robotically, we helplessly complied. Kevin our oldest son., who then was nine, was the first in the lineup; then Craig, me, and Kelly, who was seven, and last, at the far end, our youngest son Danny, who was three. One of the suited men took a razor blade or something similar and started with Kevin and slowly and deliberately ran it over the top of his legs, then onto Craig's, then mine, Kelly's and little Danny's. All of us were bleeding and traumatized, in a daze, physically frozen, staring straight ahead. I was terrified and panicked, but sat there, helpless to do anything to protect my children, as a result of years of abuse and mind control programming.
Craig could do nothing to defend the children or me. He couldn't even defend himself. All of us just sat there like zombies with blood trickling off our burning legs. One suited man informed us, 'This is just the beginning,' and they took Danny and threw him up against the wall. With the air knocked out of him and in obvious pain, he crumpled over and crouched up into a small ball, already, at three years old, knowing better than to cry out or make a sound. They always did something horrific and if the kids or I cried out or showed any reaction or retaliation, they would hurt another one of the kids or me even more. Craig simply took his seat and never moved until he was told to. He was totally and completely immobilized.
Watching my children get hurt was always the worst; nothing they ever did to me was ever as bad. Then one of the men took a cotton ball doused with alcohol and dabbed the blood off our legs. It stung badly.
Then the men in suits took me away, and told my family, 'run along and play at the beach. Your mother will be along in awhile. You will never even miss her, never even be aware she is gone.' Without reaction, Craig stood up and robotically walked out the door with the kids following in like manner.
After my family was gone, they took me to an empty room, ordered me to strip naked and they began slapping me around until I sank into a shivering, naked ball in the corner of the room. The rest of the day, all night, and part of the next day, I was left in isolation. Food and water were deliberately withheld until I was reunited with my family, which could be up to three days. A man in a suit would come to get me out of isolation and take me to get ready for Reagan or Nixon, or Pete Wilson or whomever. I was instructed to shower and dress in the clothes they provided. Outfits, complete with accessories just my size, were left for me.
After the sexual encounter was completed, I was taken back to the room and ordered to put on my own clothes. Hypnotic commands were given to, 'simply walk out and sit down with your family on the beach. You will not notice any lapse of time, but will resume interacting with your family normally and naturally.' On this occasion, I was told to sit down next to Craig on my beach chair and it was as if I had never been gone! No one mentioned another word about it. The experiences were supposedly wiped away from all of our minds as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
Each time I was taken, there was similar trauma before they could «safely» use me and be able to insure that my programming and amnesia would remain locked up tightly. All of this for a Governor's or President's sexual perversions, or for the fulfillment of the New World Order agenda.
We owned a large family camper that was fully self-contained and we kept it stocked and packed, completely ready at anytime should we decide that we wanted to get away for a long weekend or week vacation. We traveled regularly on Thanksgiving holidays and during summers, often driving up Highway 1, winding up the scenic and beautiful California coastline. We went to Ojai Valley, Big Sur, Carmel, Monterey, San Francisco, Oxnard, Paso Robles, Santa Barbara, Leo Carrillo State Beach, Emma Woods State Beach, Pismo Beach, San Luis Obispo, and Napa Valley. At other times we went up into the High Sierras, to visit Mammoth, Sequoia, Tahoe, Reno, Yosemite National Park, Big Bear, and Crestline. We also took the children to Six Flags Magic Mountain and, of course, Disneyland.
Bob Hope showed up in many of these locations. It seemed like he was everywhere. I had a number I called to let him know my vacation plans or he would make the suggestion of where to go. When we arrived at our destination, I wouldn't consciously know to expect to see him but the part of me that was programmed and readied for the rendezvous was instructed to walk towards him when he appeared. Sometimes he would snap his fingers in front of my face or jingle his keys in front of my eyes to get me to respond. He often liked to meet for sex or information exchange in mountain cabins. He would say he needed some time away from the hustle and bustle of city life and I was his plaything. He said I was better than «Jeanie» (the genie) because all she did was come out of a bottle. He said with me he could rub my magic spot and it was magic-he'd come! He usually spoke in clever little lines and phrases. I met him aboard yachts, also, even when I thought Craig and I were simply going sailing with friends. What actually occurred often was a rendezvous with Bob or some leader they needed to get information to. Sometimes Reagan was brought out on a little ocean excursion and ended up navigating right to us. I was then transported aboard with him for sex and messages. Sometimes I stayed all night with him on his transport and then was put back on the sailboat I came on the next day.
I was with President Reagan in Mazatlan, Mexico. In fact, my husband and I acquired a timeshare, the 'Presidential Suite,' at the El Cid Hotel, in Mazatlan, where we went in later years.
One evening in the early 80's, while we were 'vacationing' in Mazatlan, Craig and I dressed to go out and I became panicked because I put my contact lens on inside out and couldn't get it back out. From my attempts my eye was becoming red and ugly. Craig's father was with us at the time and the two of them thought I was acting
