Senator Robert C Byrd was an owner and programmer of Monarch mind control sex slaves, as Cathy O’Brien makes clear in her book TranceFormation of America. Cathy O’Briens Transformation of America download [6]

He also liked violent sadistic sex and had a small penis.

Cathy also was forced to sleep with Hillary Clinton who liked her vagina which had been mutilated into a Baphomet figure.

Listed here are most of the snippets about Byrd.

These snippets also reveal some of the crimes that sex slaves were used for and the crimes of the Clintons.

Cathy says Hillary knew she was a mind controlled sex slave, and she must have known Byrd owned her.

Tranceformation of America Cathy O’Brien

I was prostituted by my father to, among others,.

pedophiles Jerry Ford, Guy VanderJagt, and later U.S. Senator Robert C. Byrd

–

When my father brought me to Mackinac

Island for routine prostitution at the Political Retreat, VanderJagt introduced me

to a new friend he had made now that he was in Washington, D.C. as a U.S.

Congressman-U.S. Senator Robert C. Byrd, Democrat from West Virginia.

Byrd had been a U.S. Senator as long as I had been alive, serving as Senate

Whip and later as President Pro Tempore of the Senate and as the all powerful

Senate Appropriations leader. Byrd commanded attention and respect from all

who came in contact with him, particularly from my father. When we were left

alone in his room, he loomed over me in a threatening stance. His cold, blue

slitty eyes locked onto mine. I undressed and climbed into his bed as ordered.

I was momentarily relieved to find that his penis was abnormally tiny—so small

it didn’t even hurt! And I could breathe with it in my mouth! Then he began to

indulge himself in his brutal perversions, talking on and on about how I was

“made just for him” due to the vast amounts of pain I could withstand. The

spankings and police handcuffs I had previously endured were child’s play

compared to Senator Byrd’s near death tortures. The hundreds of scars on my

body still show today. With VanderJagt, sex was a matter of “how much I

could give,” whereas with Byrd it was “how much I could take”. And I was

forced to take mote pain than any human could logically withstand. I was

dedicated to Byrd at age thirteen which meant he would be directing my future

in Project Monarch, and my father would raise me according to his

specifications.

–

The pornography I was forced to

anticipate in became much more violent immediately after Byrd, switching me

from predominantly pedophile and bestiality themes to torturous versions of

sadomasochism (S&M).

–

“Birds (Byrds) fly over

the Rainbow…” was a theme that became a part of my life.

–

My father also instructed me to watch Alfred Hitchcock’s horrifying movie

The Birds with him. This reinforced in my mind the movie’s theme that there is

“no place to hide from the birds/Byrd”.

–

Of course, Senator Byrd remained my “favorite” fiddler as ordered. He

played train songs like “Orange Blossom Special” while making train sounds on

his fiddle. Sometimes I was his captive audience, bound and gagged, while he

played his fiddle. Other times he instructed me to spin round and round like a

music box dancer in order to add “new dimensions to our sex”.. These new

dimensions included more and more physical pain through “kinky” torture

–

Senator Byrd’s plan for building my physical endurance

through Catholic Central’s coaching methods proved successful for allowing me

to survive his intensely torturous sexual perversions.

–

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.

–

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!

–

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 1 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.

–

(Peter) Pan knew how to stay

a step ahead of the game and stop the inevitable process of becoming gator bait

himself by offering to give him a hand now and then.”

Cox dismembered his murdered victims and distributed the “Hands of

Glory” to fellow Satanists and occult traumatized/ Peter Pan theme programmed

mercenaries, while feeding “left over” body parts to an alligator that lived in the

Swamp behind his house. This was indicative of Cox’s twisted, murderous

response to Johnston’s traumatic Peter Pan theme programming… a

programming that I was about to experience “first hand”.

Cryptically instructing Cox on Senator Byrd’s orders, Johnston continued,

“I’ve got to hand it to that Pan. His livelihood of creating hookers for the

Captain (Hook) was indeed lucrative. And speaking of creating hookers, a little

Byrd told me that a shift from routine hand-ling to a theme that is alien could

prove lucrative to you.” Revealing his intent to ensure my military mindcontrol

programming, Johnston told him, “I’ll lay a little groundwork and set

the patten for countdown. Then I’ll send her out to launch for you, and it’s

your job to man the craft from there…”

–

“I got a Tinker-belle and a Peter Pan here to see you, Sir,” the driver called.

“Send ’em in.” Cox and I walked into the suite where then Governor of

Arkansas Bill Clinton was shuffling through a briefcase. Clinton and Johnston

were cohorts in illegal covert operations that emanated from Tinker Air Force

Base.

Cox spoke up. “Senator Johnston said a little (Senator) Byrd told him that

you are one of Ours.”‘

“So what does that make you?” Clinton asked impatiently.

“A Chosen One,” Cox nodded his head toward me.

Clinton asked me, “Chosen by whose order?”

I cryptically delivered the proper coded response, which cued Clinton to

proceed. “What brings you here?” he demanded.

Interpreting his question literally as is “natural” for programmed MPD/DID

slaves, I answered, “I rode the light, Sir.”

Clinton rolled his eyes, and looked back over at Cox who was nervously

rocking back and forth as he so often did. “State your business,” Clinton

ordered.

“Uh,” Cox cleared his throat, habitually picked his nose as he rocked back

and forth and said, “Well, uh…” Clinton looked disgusted.

“Get him the fuck out of here!” he ordered the driver. Cox was immediately

escorted out,

“That’s better,” Clinton said. Using standard Jesuit hand signals and cryptic

language, he triggered/switched me and accessed a previously programmed

message.

“Senator Johnston sent me to give this to you.” I handed Clinton a thin,

large brown envelope, “And I have some fairy dust guaranteed to make you fly

high.” I took the personal stash of cocaine that Johnston was sharing with

Clinton from my pocket.

Clinton snorted two lines of the coke immediately. He smiled. “Tell Ben

I’m impressed.” He showed me to the door.

The severe torture and mind-control programming that I was enduring at

Tinker Air Force Base had prepared me for this simple “mission” and many

others. Although Cox’s out-of-control occult serial killings polyfragmented my

multiple personalities as intended by Byrd, it was Johnston’s alien theme mind

conditioning that locked me into absolute robotic helplessness. After all, had I

been capable of rationalizing, I would nave found that the thought of

interdimensional travel and aliens was no more bizarre to me that Cox’s

murderous actions or having found out pornography king Jerry Ford held the

office of President.

When my daughter, Kelly, was born in February of 1980, Cox’s former

employer. Jack Greene, traveled to Louisiana to meet with me in keeping with

his role as Nashville’s CIA Freedom Train “conductor”. He took me aside and

explained that since Cox had fulfilled his (genetic) role in producing Kelly,

Senator Byrd had ordered me back to Nashville. Greene talked at length,

hypnotically reviving my original programmed “obsession” to move to

Nashville. He told me that Cox had proven too insane to follow orders

anymore as was evidenced by my extremely poor health (much of my hair bad

fallen out) and by the stench of decaying human flesh that permeated the area

surrounding his remote Chatham, Louisiana swamp house.

If I had had a mind of my own, I know in retrospect I would have felt as

though 1 had been released from a prison dungeon. But I could only respond by

telling Cox matter-of-factly that I had received “divine guidance” to move to

Nashville at once to a home that awaited me. Cox had no choice but to comply

with Byrd’s orders.

–

Soon after moving to Tennessee, I learned that Senator Byrd had simply

exchanged one living hell for another for me. My new mind-control handler,

CIA operative and country music ventriloquist/ stage hypnotist Alex Houston,

seemed only to pick up where Cox had left off. As “destined,” Kelly and I

moved into a run-down old trailer on Houston’s property, which adjoined Jack

Greene’s farm in Goodletsville, Tennessee. I was subjected to further occult

ritual on Greene’s farm, and was ritually impregnated and aborted again, this

time by Houston.

–

Irby Mandrell, the Mandrells’ father and manager,

reportedly sexually abused all three of his daughters and eagerly thrust them

into their mind-controlled existence much the same way my father had sold me.

His daughters, too, were owned by U.S. Senator Robert C. Byrd.

–

He quickly dispelled the

Cox influence, and began programming me according to Byrd’s specifications

as his “own little witch” for sadistic sex, covert CIA drug muling, black mail,

and prostitution operations.

During the three months I was back with Cox, a muscle in my upper vaginal

wall was cut and dropped in preparation for Houston to flesh carve a hideous

witch’s face4 for Senator Byrd’s perversion. Aquino provided the ancient

instructions on how to mutilate me, and Houston used silver nitrate and hot

exacto knives to carve the details of the face without any form of anesthesia.

By flexing the muscle downward, the face protruded out of my vagina. Not

only did this surgery give Byrd a vagina suited to his minute, underdeveloped

penis, it also provided an equitable “curiosity” to be displayed over and over

again in both commercial and non-commercial pornography and prostitution.

–

I was forced to

“marry” Alex Houston for appearance sake. Earlier that month when I had

been taken to Washington, D.C for prostitution purposes, Byrd informed me

that I would actually be “marrying” him when I “pledged my vows” to

Houston.

“It is a covenant between the two of us,” Byrd had said, “It is me that you

will honor and obey ’til death do us part,” Byrd then instructed me to pick up

my wedding dress from a nearby D.C. store.

–

Alex Houston’s “best man,” Jimmy Walker, was also a photographer for

Larry Flynt’s sexually graphic commercial pornography magazine, Hustler.

When I met Byrd after the ceremony at Nashville’s Opryland Hotel as ordered,

he presented me with a “wedding gift”—a rose patterned crystal crucifix

deliberately designed to anchor “our wedding” in my Catholic/Vatican instilled

beliefs. The Larry Flynt photos depicting me in my wedding dress with the

crystal crucifix to “commemorate our wedding night,” was standard lock-in

procedure for all mind-controlled slaves I knew who were forced to “marry”

their handlers/owners.

–

In 1981, Byrd personally joined Aquino in Huntsville, Alabama during one

of our programming sessions. NASA cooperated fully with Byrd on any and

everything, since it was Byrd’s Senate Appropriations Committee that

determined how much and/or whether NASA received government funding. I

lay naked on the cold metal table, tranced and photographically recording every

word and detail of my programming and every word that Byrd and Aquino not

so privately discussed. Byrd was providing Aquino with specific details of

certain perversions he wanted me equipped to fulfill or perform. Additionally,

they talked about scrambling my immediate memory with two private porn films

they were arranging to have produced locally. These were titled How To Divide

a Personality and How To Create a Sex Slave.

–

The part of my mind containing “knowledge” of the original abuse

by my father learned to “like” painful, sadistic sex. Senator Byrd wanted me

programmed in such a way that he could decide if he wanted me to scream and

cry when he whipped me, or if he wanted me to become sexually aroused and

“beg” for more. After programming, when I met with Byrd, I would “dance”

like a music box dancer, twirling round and round until Byrd’s fiddle music

stopped. My mind precisely calculated how many revolutions I had made

whether I was capable of conscious counting or not (much like a normal person

wakes up at a particular time without an alarm clock), and the desired results

were produced as accessed.

This is but one simplified example of sex programming, and I was

programmed for more than sex. But this particular incident of programming at

the U.S. Army Redstone Arsenal would change my existence entirely and set

the stage for my role in covert government black, budget-type operations as a

“Presidential Model”.

Seeing and/or knowing that Kelly was being tortured and programmed

proved to be a detriment to my own mind-control programming, such that the

common “cross-programming” of mother and daughter was rarely viable. In

the fall of 1982, Houston was scheduled to perform at the State Fair in Senator

Byrd’s home state of West Virginia, Byrd arrived at our hotel with LT. COL.

Aquino, who took Kelly with him, supposedly for programming purposes, I

was left alone in the hotel room with Byrd, whose KKK affiliation fueled his

rage over my having been recently prostituted to black entertainer and CIA

operative Charlie Pride. Although I had had no control over the situation to begin

with, Byrd expended his fury on me rather than on Houston who was

ultimately responsible for the incident. He took out his whip and began beating

me as he had so many times before. Only this time it seemed to last forever,

Byrd was still whipping me when Aquino returned with my tranced and

traumatized daughter. I regained consciousness enough to pull myself up off

the floor when 1 heard Kelly’s hysterical cries. Byrd ordered me to the

bathroom for a cold shower to stop the bleeding. My body could not carry out

his orders, and I collapsed again in the bathroom, smearing blood all over the

floor. Kelly’s cries again revived me, and I crawled to the door to find Byrd

sexually assaulting her and Aquino disrobing to join them. One small window

in the bathroom appeared to be a possible means of escape to obtain help, but

Byrd caught me and knocked me to the floor. The whole bathroom was smeared

in blood by the time he threw me into the shower and turned the cold water on

to slow the bleeding.

Later that afternoon, Kelly and I stood hand in hand in the afternoon sun at

the State Fair where Senator Byrd was about to make a speech to his.

constituents. My blouse stuck to my freshly whipped skin as Byrd walked onto

the stage, and the crowd cheered. Although Byrd periodically sexually abused

Kelly throughout her Project Monarch victimization, the horrific incident in-

West Virginia was the last time 1 was able to instinctively think to respond at

all. Aquino’s mind-control programming further insured it, as did Byrd’s

access to high tech mind-control equipment via West Virginia’s Jesuit College,

where he claimed the role of “Head Friar”.6

Kelly has reported enduring much sexual abuse by both Byrd and Aquino.

Aquino apparently incorporated sexual abuse with his mind-control

programming and sex training of her, and shared more such events with Byrd.

It was also my experience that Byrd’s sexual perversions were heightened when

Aquino shared in the assault. Traumatic events such as this one in West

Virginia reinforced my own programming through conditioning, and further

locked me in to Byrd’s seemingly inescapable control.

–

Charm School was reportedly operated by an identified member of the.

Mellon Banking family (Byrd’s Endowment for the Arts’ largest contributor).

–

During the course of my training/conditioning, I was routinely prostituted to

Senator Byrd in Washington, D.C., at the West Virginia State Fair, NASA in

Huntsville, Alabama, and at the Opryland Hotel in Nashville, Tennessee. One

such night when 1 was to be prostituted to Byrd at Opryland Hotel, Lt. Colonel

Aquino was scheduled to join him in perversely assaulting me. Much to my

horror, Aquino arrived early, in full army dress uniform, backstage at the

Grand Ol’ Opry. When I saw Aquino talking with the Vatican based Project

Monarch slave runner, Kris Kristopherson,4 whom I had known since 1979, my

personality programmed for Opry events “short circuited”.

–

Under

circumstances such as this, a multiple without programming would have

switched personalities autogenically, whereas I could only switch upon

command, I backed away, dazed, right into a soft drink machine.

Kristopherson saw me as 1 backed further between the wall and the machine.

“What are you doing in there, little lady?” Kristopherson asked. The

Colonel wants to see you,”

Aquino had walked over and sarcastically asked, “What are you doing in

those machine wires? That could very well be a shocking experience for you.”

All experiences with Aquino or Kristopherson resulted in high voltage electric

shock torture, and apparently neither had any regard for human life.5 Aquino

used the opportunity to reinforce his belief that I “had no where to run, no

where to hide” from his “power”- his stun gun.

While I untangled myself from the wires, Kristopherson and Aquino

continued their banter at my expense, Kristopherson held up his key ring and

jingled it, catching my undivided attention as conditioned, while he told

Aquino, “You’re gonna need the Keys to the Kingdom to work with this one

right here.”

“Keys to the Kingdom,” of course, referred to my previously instilled

(Enter/Inter)”Inner-dimensional” Catholic programmed personalities. Since

Aquino was my primary mind-control programmer at the time, Kristopherson

was informing Aquino of programs previously instilled in childhood via the

“Rite to Remain Silent”. By jingling the keys, he was demonstrating his control

over me and his momentary edge on Aquino.

“I got ’em,” Kristopherson was saying as he jingled the keys. “She’s mine

unless you wanna play ball. Besides, you have to. The Byrd sent me.”

“I’ve been expecting you,” Aquino said with a smile. Events later that night

proved that Aquino had been supplied the keys to my previously established

Jesuit based programming, which he and Byrd used and altered to suit their own

perversions.

Byrd monitored all of my programming “progress,” and often tortured me

with his whip and pocketknife. He picked up where my mother left off, to

destroy any self-esteem I might have inadvertently developed. He said, “There

is no place for you to turn because if you could think to talk no one would ever

believe I would have anything to do with the likes of you.” He often threatened

me that I was considered “disposable” because, after all, “The first Presidential

Model, Marilyn Monroe, was killed right in front of the public eye and no one

knew what happened.”

Byrd’s threats and cruelty were unnecessary as I could no longer think to

seek help anyway, but he loved to hear himself talk and would often drone on

and on and on in his infamous long-winded recitations, while I was

photographically recording every word he said. He detailed the inner

operational structure of the world domination effort, including psychological

warfare strategies, and explained how he had and would utilize his “expert”

knowledge of the Constitution to manipulate it and the so-called U.S. Justice

System, and more. His loose lips provided me yet another means of surviving

and staying a step ahead of “the game” once Kelly and I were rescued from our

mind-con trolled existence.

Senator Byrd revealed his “justifications” for criminal activity to me as well.

He used me as a sounding board even though he knew 1 was incapable of input

or response. He rehearsed in keeping with his motto “The only way we can

fail, is to fail to think of an excuse.”

Byrd “justified” mind-control atrocities as a means of thrusting mankind into

accelerated evolution, according to the Neo-Nazi principles to which he

adhered. He “justified” manipulating mankind’s religion to bring about the

prophesied biblical “world peace” through the “only means available”—total

mind control in the New World Order “After all,” he proclaimed, “even the

Pope and Mormon Prophet know this is the only way to peace and they

cooperate fully with The Project.”

Byrd also “justified” my victimization by saying, “You lost your mind

anyway, and at least you have destiny and purpose now that it’s mine.” Our

country’s involvement in drug distribution, pornography, and white slavery was

justified” as a means of “gaining control of all illegal activities world wide” to

fund Black Budget covert activity that would “bring about world peace through

world dominance and total control”. He adhered to the belief that “95% of the

(world’s) people WANT to be led by the 5%”, and claimed this can be proven

because “the 95% DO NOT WANT TO KNOW what really goes on in government”.

Byrd believed that in order for this world to survive, mankind must

take a “giant step in evolution through creating a superior race”. To create this

“superior race,” Byrd believed in the Nazi and KKK principles of “annihilation

of underprivileged races and cultures” through genocide, to alter genetics and

breed “the more gifted-the blondes of this world”.

As Byrd’s captive audience (literally), I absorbed information that the other

so-called masterminds behind the New World Order would never have revealed

for security reasons. But Byrd regarded me as “his” object, a game-piece that

he could strategically move through life as though he were playing a chess

game. He perceived me as totally under his control with no possibility of my

ever being rescued, surviving, and recovering my mind and memory. Byrd

likely would have talked to a post, and I filled the role as his silent sounding

board.

–

Kristopherson nearly strangled me to death with his penis, which had further sexually

excited him, late in the summer of 1987 during another incident related to Byrd.

–

I ate “like a bird (Byrd),” following Byrd’s orders of 300 calories per daywith

no sugar or caffeine

–

In the early 1980s, this included passing messages to and from Senator

Byrd, Baby Doc Duvalier, my Cuban contact, Puerto Rican drug lord Jose

Busto, and others.

–

In keeping with NCL’s Caribbean operations, Byrd adjusted his use of

programming themes to include the mirror-reversal, interdimensional, Air-

Water mind-control theme used on me by NASA and the Jesuits. I often saw

dolphins playing in the ocean while being transported from port to port via the

Cruise ships, but the popular “whales and dolphins” mind-control theme was

avoided in favor of a theme more suitable to my experience-that of the Sea-

Bird-Robert C. (Sea) Byrd.

–

Senator Byrd proudly claimed Loretta as his mind-controlled slave and told me, “I

literally made Loretta what she is today, and she is maid to order”. Loretta’s son and secondary mind-control handler, Ernest Ray, told me, “I know what the Byrd did to my mother. I can get away with murder… All I gotta do is call him and I’m free as a bird/Byrd.”

–

My mind-controlled existence became more complicated after Senator Byrd

introduced me to then President Ronald Reagan in the fall of 19821 at a White

House political party. Byrd told me, “When you meet the Chief, imagine him

with his pants down. He’s most comfortable knowing you are imagining him

with his pants down.

–

That night. Senator Byrd acted in the capacity of a pimp and prostituted me

to Reagan. Referring to me as though I were a machine, Reagan asked Byrd,

“Does she run on chemicals?” meaning specific CIA drugs.

Byrd answered, “She takes it in spurts”. 1 noticed that Reagan’s eyes lit up

with perversion and understanding of Byrd’s statement, which meant that I

“shared” whatever drugs were in his system through his urine. Reagan later

told me he preferred sex slaves equipped for this task since he, as President,

should not have to get up in the night to urinate,

“Well,” Reagan said, holding up his glass, “All I’ve had to fuel her with is

alcohol. That’s not much of a jolt from a “whiz of a Wiz(ard).” Byrd

chuckled at Reagan’s Oz cryptic joke and removed his gold cocaine vial from

the inner pocket of his suit. He and Reagan discretely turned their backs to the

party while Byrd “spoon fed” Reagan the drug up his nose.

–

My appearance was not the only “make over” I endured after meeting

Reagan. Aquino and I were called to Washington, D.C. to revise my base core

programming to override Senator Byrd’s control for security reasons. Since

Reagan had been shot, he took extra precautions to ensure his safety which

included directing Aquino as to how he wanted me programmed.

–

This effective safety measure infuriated Byrd the first time he saw

me instantaneously switch out of his control in Reagan’s presence

–

Although Hollywood’s Dante rivaled Larry Flynt for the title of “Chief Pornographer”

producing video versions of Hustler’s stills, Flynt was unequivocally the official White House

Pornographer. Dante’s covert filming of political perversion for blackmail purposes failed to

gain him the international notoriety Flynt maintained through his New World Order collogues

such as Presidents Reagan, Bush, and Ford; CIA Director Bill Casey; U.N. Amhossador

Madeleine Albright; Senators Byrd and Specter; Congressmen Trafficant and VanderJagt;

Governors Thornburgh, Blanchard and Alexander; and various World Leaders such as Prime

Minister of Canada Mulroney, President of Mexico de la Madrid, and Saudi Arabian King

Fahd…to name a few…

–

As he lit his cigarette, I slowly regained focus enough to realize I was in

pain. The back of my head hurt from being thrust into the studs on the chair,

and I slowly lifted my head. My owner, Senator Byrd, had just walked in and

realized Cheney had already completed the “audition”. Referring to

compartmentalizing my memory via stun gun high voltage, Byrd asked, “Did

you fry her?”

Cheney, ‘cocksure’ of himself as always, answered. “She can’t have fucked

all of Washington” (indicating that no one would believe me anyway, even if I

did reach this point and talk). Cheney put out his cigarette and said as he went

out the door, “She’ll work. Tell Ronnie she’ll work.”

When Byrd saw that my lips were bleeding, he called Cheney a “son of a

bitch” under his breath, as this damage would prevent my fulfilling other

assignments that were planned for me. Byrd touched his finger to my swollen

lips and tasted the blood (and Cheney) several times. Then he slapped me hard

across the face, which re-aligned my jaw but caused more blood to flow down

my chin. He took a box of tissues from the desk and threw it at me, the corner

hitting me in the forehead. “Wipe yourself up. You’re just getting started. I’ll

see to it you get what you’ve got coming to you.”

Fortunately for me, Byrd had cause to return to the formal cocktail party

and did not have time to brutalize me further. My face was battered, mouth

torn, and my throat felt torn and stretched. I had difficulty swallowing for

some time, and could not speak. I certainly was in no condition to return to the

cocktail party, and was escorted out by agents/guards.

Before I could leave Washington, Byrd made good on his threat and

arranged for me to meet with Cheney in a blue bedroom in a part of the White

House so remote that “no one could hear my screams and moans”. But Cheney

implemented Oz theme “Silence” conditioning anyway as he proceeded to

brutally sexually assault me.

“Byrd tells me you need a good whipping. But I’m not certain which

instrument you prefer, so I brought them all.” Cheney had a riding crop, a

whip, and a cat-o-nine-tails laid out on the bed. He beat me quick and hard as

though he were releasing his tensions rather than savoring my pain like Byrd

did. I regained consciousness when Cheney slid a pillow under my neck,

steered me by the hair, and bent my head back. Survival instinct kicked in

when he positioned himself above my head, I hoped to satisfy him before he

became deadly brutal again. But he quickly pulled out his liquid cocaine

sprayer, sprayed my throat, then proceeded to get rough.

–

I was routinely escorted arm-in-arm “Oz style” by two agents to Cheney’s

downstairs office in the Pentagon. Sometimes Byrd took me in. Other times

Cheney walked me through the building, particularly if we were going to his

“Bunkhouse” personal quarters. Cheney’s office was equipped with black

leather furniture, a huge messy brown desk, massive book shelves, and an hour

glass that he always used in keeping with Oz programming, to assure me that

my life was on the line under his command.

–

(I was aware she had entertained

there as Houston relayed information to Riley pertaining to his recent trip to

Panama to meet with Panamanian Dictator and CIA operative Manuel Noriega

in order that Riley deliver the information to Reagan during the Inauguration

party.)

Loretta and I switched personalities spontaneously as we inadvertently

triggered each other with the shared cryptic language to which we were

accustomed. We discussed forbidden subjects including Noriega and Byrd until

J Riley and Houston caught us and separated us as though we were a couple of

naughty kids.

–

The term “Pigeon” is one with which I have been familiar since the early

1980s when I first began delivering messages between my “owner” Senator

Byrd and Puerto Rican drug lord and CIA operative, Jose Busto. Houston had

simply explained to me then, as we fed the flock of pigeons roosting at the Old

San Juan Cathedral, that Pigeons were used as messengers. The DIA’s U.S.

Army Lt. Colonel Michael Aquino often activated my Pigeon programming

during the Hands-On Mind-Control Demonstrations.

–

I found myself at the White House with Byrd, attending another small

cocktail party of about 20-30 people. After we spoke with Reagan, Byrd

pointed me in the direction of Philip Habib and sent me over to him. My eyes

were locked on Habib’s as he hypnotically said:

Melt into your melted mirror

for an electrifying ride.

Look deep into the black

of my melting mirror eyes,

See you reflecting me, reflecting you,

reflecting me–you-me–you-me

until we melt together and sink deep

into the other side.

Habib took me to a quieter spot in an adjoining room and held up another

wonderland Wafer as he said in Alice In Wonderland cryptic, “Welcome to

Wonderland, Kitten. This is a very important date. I haven’t time to explain.?

He gave me the wafer and continued, “Eat it, and I’ll take you through the

door.”

Habib took me by the hand and led me to the doorway of another room. It

was a dining room of sorts where an informal array of guests was gathered. As

soon as Habib appeared in the doorway, King Fahd of Saudi Arabia quickly

excused himself from the table and approached. He was wearing a multicolored

robe and headwear with a black-brown rope band. I was instantly repulsed by

his “wicked” lecherous gaze, I stepped back into the other room in fear. Habib

introduced him. “This is one of ‘my friends’ I mentioned in my letter.”

I robotically responded, “It’s a pleasure to meet you” and extended my hand

as taught in Charm School. Fahd bent over to kiss my hand. As he did, his

evil black eyes bore into mine as he softly said, “Your beauty warms my

embers. See them glowing deep within the darkness of my eyes-igniting into

flame-black flame.” He laughed wickedly at the effect of his use of NASA

hypnotic conditioning,

–

Prince Bandar Bin Sultan’s reputation for sex and drugs was widely known

in Nashville. But much of my information pertaining to his activities came

from one of my closest Project Monarch friends. She is an entertainer’s

daughter who was prostituted regularly to Sultan when he was in town, which

was often.

When Cheney was through with me, Byrd escorted me to the White House

to see Reagan, who also cautioned me about the Prince. Reagan was aware of

Habib’s having activated me sexually with King Fahd, and made it clear that my

scheduled rendezvous with Prince Bandar would not include the usual sex.

Reagan joked in Byrd’s presence, “Birds (Byrds) may well be eaten by a

Kitten. (Reagan’s pet name for me), but not Homing Pigeons.

–

Aquino hit me with a cat-o-ninetails

and I shrieked in pain. Noriega jumped, Aquino hit me with it again, this

time activating me to respond sexually as though pain were pleasure-a mindcontrol

concept that Noriega more readily grasped. Then Aquino pointed out

that the baphomet had disappeared. While Noriega looked, Aquino used Byrd’s

Hypnotic induction as he cut me “between the breasts with a knife saying, “In

like a knife sharp and clean, I’ll carve out what I want.” My trance had been

deepened to the extert that my circulatory system was slowed. Therefore I did

not bleed until Aquino hypnotically changed my trance level. He then told

Noriega that the baphomet carving had “retreated to the depths of my body and

soul, possessing me and inciting the heal of hell.” He commanded me to show

any “face”, the vaginal mutilation carving of the baphomet face. As I did,

Aquino offered Noriega my sex. As predicted, Noriega’s eyes bulged in terror

and revulsion. While Aquino told him his “rejection of me had killed me,” I

ceased breathing and moving as conditioned. Noriega was dumfounded as

Aquino laughed wickedly and threatened, “Even death will not permit her-or

you-escape from the Wizard’s power.” He explained that I was the “Wizard’s

own” and “under his spell” and could therefore “re-energize myself and come

back to life.” He put a vaginal prod in my hand and ordered me to masturbate

myself with it, pushing the button to electrically jolt myself internally upon

command. Noriega’s eyes were enormous. He paled to a sickly grey, his

mouth fell open and he ran out the door while Aquino assured him that he had

“NO where to run, no where to hide from Reagan’s powers.”

–

“Well, come on in,” Houston invited. “I have enough (cocaine) to put us all

into orbit.” I walked into the dressing room with them as Houston was saying

to Clinton, “I suppose there are no limits for you since you’re across the (stale)

line.”

“What line?” Clinton feigned surprise and ignorance. He looked at Hal

Meadows as he continued, “You mean I’ve left that state of mine? In the state

of mind I’m in, there are no boundaries anyway.” He walked over to the table

and snorted a line of cocaine. “I come here to get away from it all. This kind

of business is pleasure.”

“So where’s that young wife of yours?” Houston asked, referring to Hillary.

“She’s with friends.” Clinton sniffed the coke further up his nose. “She’s

minding her own business. I’m just here to unwind, see the show, maybe do a

little hunting (referring to A Most Dangerous Game). I’ve got a bird

(helicopter) ready to fly me back when I’m through. Hey, speaking of ‘Byrd’

(he gestured my way) I hear she’s moved up to the big house (White House).”

Referring to his friend and mentor Senator Byrd he asked, “So what’s his

position now?”

“The same.” Houston answered. “Probably like this…” Houston

pantomimed a lewd sodomy pose while everyone laughed. “He still runs the

show.”

Clinton kept his eyes fixed on Houston’s “caboose” and said, “Why don’t

you show her (referring to me) me way out and show me that again?” If I could

have thought at that moment, I would have realized Bill Clinton was/is

bisexual. My personal sexual experience with Clinton was limited, but I had

witnessed him engaged in homosexual activity during an orgy at Swiss Villa.

Immediately following the Swiss Villa incident, Houston was scheduled as

usual to perform at the county fair in Benyville, Arkansas. There, Houston and

I had been visiting with long time Clinton Mend and supporter, H.B. Gibson,

when we parted company to attend a private meeting at the mansion of Clinton’s

bisexual friend and supporter Bill Hall, Hall had reportedly made his fortune in

the pre-fabricated log home business, and the Clintons were slaying in a guest

villa patterned after those at Swiss Villa. Hillary had taken toddler Chelsea to

the villa while Clinton and his aide/bodyguard attended the meeting. Tommy

Overstreet was also in attendance as this directly coincided with the recent

Lampe meeting. We all sat in Hall’s sunken living room on two couches facing

each other with a black mirror coffee table between us. Hall had cut numerous

lines of cocaine on the table, and everyone present—including Bill Clinton—was

inhaling it through $50 bills rolled into straws.

–

Clinton responded, “I don’t care. Get her the fuck out of here,”

Hall’s wife led me away and locked me in a back bedroom. After an

indeterminate period of time, I heard her telephone Hillary at the guest villa.

She then drove me up the mountain through the dark to meet with Hillary.

Although I had previously met Hillary we had very little to say to each otherparticulariy

since I was still dazed and tranced from the tortures I had endured

at the CIA Near Death Trauma Center in Lampe. Hillary knew I was a mindcontrolled

slave, and, like Bill Clinton, just took it in stride as a “normal” part

of life in politics,

Hillary was fully clothed and stretched out on the bed sleeping when Hall’s

wife and I arrived. “Hillary, I brought you something you’ll really enjoy.

Kind of an unexpected surprise. Bill ordered her out of the meeting and I look

her to my bedroom and made an interesting discovery. She is literally a twofaced

(referring to my vaginal mutilation carving) bitch,”

“Hmm?” Hillary opened her eyes and sleepily roused herself “Show me.”

Hall’s wife ordered me to take my clothes off while Hillary watched. “Is

she clean?” Hillary asked, meaning disease free.

“Of course, she’s Byrd’s,” she responded, continuing the conversation as

though I were not there, “Plus, I heard Houston say something about her being

a Presidential Model, whatever the hell that’s supposed to mean.”

“It means she’s clean,” Hillary said matter-of-factly as she stood up.

I was not capable of giving thought to such things back then, but I am aware

in retrospect that all Presidential Model slaves I knew seemed to have an

immunity to social diseases. It was a well known fact in the circles I was

sexually passed around in that government level mind-controlled sex slaves were

“clean” to the degree that none of my abusers took precautions such as wearing

condoms.

Hall’s wife patted the bed and instructed me to display the mutilation.

Hillary exclaimed, “God!” and immediately began performing oral sex on me.

Apparently aroused by the carving in my vagina,2 Hillary stood up and quickly

peeled out of her matronly nylon panties and pantyhose. Uninhibited despite a

long day in the hot sun, she gasped, “Eat me, oh, god, eat me now”. I had no

choice but to comply with her orders, and Bill Hall’s wife made no move to join

me in my distasteful task. Hillary had resumed examining my hideous mutilation

and performing oral sex on me when Bill Clinton walked in. Hillary

lifted her head to ask, “How’d it go?”

Clinton appeared totally unaffected by what he walked into, tossed his jacket

on a chair and said, “It’s official. I’m exhausted. I’m going to bed.”

–

“She knows the chain of command, Dick,” Reagan injected, referring to his

perception of who was in charge, and in what order. President, Vice President,

Habib, Cheney, Byrd, etc. may have been the chain of command in Reagan’s

mind, but Cheney’s definition was necessary to my understanding. From my

perspective, the chain of command was clearly Bush, Cheney, Habib, Reagan,

Aquino and lastly, on a par with my handler, Houston, Byrd, all of which was

subject to change at any given moment. Cheney just rolled his eyes at Reagan’s

comment and never slowed down as he continued, “Right now a stage is being

set and you will be directed by the Vice President on just how he wants you to

do your part in setting the stage for Mexico’s role in the New World Order.”

–

It was my understanding then that the North American Free Trade

Agreement was considered a significant step in implementing the New World

Order through mind manipulation of the masses. According to Byrd,

propaganda disguising the true purpose of NAFTA included the concept of “free

trade” which the U.S. and Mexican governments had long since shared. “Free

trade” of child and adult mind-controlled slaves, cocaine, heroin and businesses

has been not-so-secretly proliferating for years. My own father joined the “run

for the border” via U.S. State Department and Mexican subsidized business

incentives and opened yet another branch of his U.S. Department of Defensegiven-

business in Mexico. This was part of the “free trade” agreement that I

know personally has been operating smoothly from at least 1984. In an effort to

maintain the illusion that the agreement would not create a negative economic

imbalance between Mexico and the U.S., tourist areas of Mexico were

deliberately built up, enhanced and Americanized with U.S. dollars. These

funds were provided through CIA covert Black Budget operations of drug and

slave trading, as well as directly through the Senate Appropriations Committee

of which Senator Robert C. Byrd is chairman as of this writing.

I certainly do not purport to understand international business, nor have I

attempted to “educate” myself through what 1 know to be propaganda slanted

and filtered periodicals. How money interfaces in world markets has been well

documented. For example, who supports whom in which financial endeavors

is apparently far too complex for even BCCI attorneys and investigators to sort

through. My personal perspective on Mexican, U.S., and Saudi Arabian

buildup of Mexico’s economy is limited to my own experiences. My understanding

is further affected by deliberate misinformation from the criminal

perspectives of those who were in control of my mind’s knowledge base and

actions. From time to time, Senator Byrd used me as a robotic sounding board.

He told me what he wanted me to hear, and this was structured more toward

stroking his own enormous, warped ego than it was to educate me in world

finance.

Senator Byrd claimed “the money game is simply a game of control,” and

lives by his adopted Golden Rule of “He who holds the gold makes the rules,”

He told me in so many words that “by appropriating funds to all (viable)

projects ushering in the free trade agreement, and allocating lesser amounts to

U.S. social systems such as our ‘criminal’ justice system, I control our country

and our place in world markets. All the world is a stage, and I own the

theater!…you can bank on it!”

Senator Byrd’s twisted reality echoed in my mind when America was bought

(stolen) and sold by Presidents Bush and Clinton in the recent passage of

NAFTA. “I would never run for President—Oh, I’d win if I did,” Byrd

bragged. “But why should I run for an office that is beneath me? I can make a

President look good, or I can make him look bad by strategically appropriating

funds.” Byrd and others I knew boasted that he was one of those (corrupt

power brokers) responsible for Bill Clinton’s being “chosen” and elected to the

office of Presidency. And the last minute bids and dealings with those

Congressmen holding NAFTA’s deciding votes proved “strategic

appropriations” indeed made Clinton “look good” in his NAFTA “victory”.

–

Immediately upon arrival at Andrews Air Force Base just outside of

Washington, D.C, I was taken to Senator Byrd who then escorted me to Dick

Cheney’s Pentagon office for a meeting with Vice President Bush, 1 was ill and

vomiting from the high voltage administered in Mexico to compartmentalize my

memory. I was allowed to use Byrd’s magnetic pass key card to unlock the

maze of doors that led to the Ladies’ Room. I was still wearing my

inappropriate-for-D.C. cruise clothes and carrying the heroin in my tote bag

when I met with Bush to confirm Mexico’s agreement to his proposal. Bush

took the heroin for himself, obviously pleased with the quality of the product.

Cheney laughed and told Bush he needed to “confiscate the Contra-band”

–

Soon after Kelly was inducted into George Bush’s “Neighborhood” through

horrific sexual abuse, Bush enforced his controls on me. Our mind-control

handler, Alex Houston, had taken Kelly and me to Washington, D.C. for

separately scheduled meetings with Bush. Kelly had already been escorted by

agents to her rendezvous with him that morning, during which Lime I had been

ordered to one of U.S, Senator Robert C. Byrd’s offices located in the nearby

FBI Hoover Building. There, Byrd reinforced his holds on me by claiming

control of the Justice Department and “proving” once again that I had “no

where to run and no where to hide”. My horror reaction was compounded

when Byrd looked at his pocket watch and notified me in Alice in Wonderland

cryptic language, “You’re late, you’re late for a very important date,” referring

to my meeting with Bush.

–

enforcement” officers

could rarely succeed in their bidding for Kelly’s video taped performances

unless directly ordered by Senator Byrd. Dante considered himself her future

owner as well as mine, and maintained control of our porn “business” ventures

through serious U.S. Government and international Mafia methodisms/

connections.

–

On one occasion I was instructed to meet with former

President Gerald Ford in the Underground where Lee Atwater was picking and

singing. As I waited through the smoke-filled room to Ford’s table, Atwater

interrupted his song to cryptically acknowledge my unwelcome presence by

singing choruses of “Over the Rainbow” and Byrd’s song for me “Country

Roads” while emphasizing the lines of “Almost heaven, West Virginia”.

–

Bennett also had manipulated my mind in accordance with

Vatican “Orders” via Byrd’s Jesuit College programming center in West Virginia.

He used his role as Jesuit programmer for the purposes of carrying out

his efforts as Education Secretary to implement Education 2000.1

–

When I met Bennett at a White House cocktail party in 1984, I was wearing

the rosy cross necklace that Guy VanderJagt and Father Don had presented to

me during my first communion, to signify the mode of program I was operating

under at the time. Byrd had ordered that I wear it for the occasion.

Byrd was already talking with Bennett when a White House butler led me in

to see Byrd.2 Byrd was saying, “I was just talking about you with my friend,

Secretary of Education3 William Bennett.”

“Bill,” Bennett corrected, sweeping his lecherous gaze over me as though I

were merchandise. “How do you do?”

‘”As I am told, thank you,” I said as I extended my hand as trained.

Bennett clumsily fingered the rosy cross necklace, blowing his alcoholic

breath in my face as he said, “Your necklace is as beautiful as you are, and no

doubt, as significant in purpose. Where did this come from and what does it

mean to you?”

“From my first communion,” I responded. “Guy (Byrd interrupted to

clarify ‘VanderJagt’) gave it to me to consummate my holy communion.”

Byrd corrected me, “Commemorate your holy communion.”

“She doesn’t need a translator, Bobby,” Bennett laughed, “I’m hearing her

loud and clear.”

Byrd left me with Bennett, who went into a long winded recitation on an

interpretation of the Bible deliberately..

–

with the program.”

In one of many White House bedrooms available for such purposes, Bennett

led me into bed. I told you we were going to beat it out of this dimension, and

that’s exactly what I intend to do. A little Byrd told me you like a whip. Since

I am not the Senate kind, I’ll just represent the majority by giving you what you

need most.”

Bennett apparently found perverse pleasure in whipping me. With my wrists

bruised and my body slinging with pain, Bennett lit up a cigarette and

cryptically asked, “Was that your first cum-union with an alien?”

He threw me my clothes, and ordered, “Make yourself presentable. Make

sure your wrists are covered. I’m not waiting around for you, I’ll see you in

THE morning.”

Bennett left. After awhile I was escorted back to Byrd, with whom I spent

a brutal, short night. On the way to his room, Byrd told me, “You’ve got work

to do come morning with Mr. Bennett. Working for him is like working for

me. We are working in conjunction with the state Governors in an effort to

implement the global 2000 education formula for the future.

–

Task complete, I went to Byrd’s nearby room as instructed. He was in the

bathroom preparing himself for bed, “Louise had her feathers fuffled over

Barbara’s collision with destiny and 1 had to smooth them down a bit,” Drying

his dough grey hands on a towel, he turned to me and said, “Looks lite you’ve

had your wings spread a bit tonight.”

“I wore a path up and down the stairs,” I stated.

Much to my relief he said, “I’m not going to fiddle with you farther. I just

wanted to give you something to remember me by–Bye.” He

compartmentalized my memory with his stun gun.

–

3Irby Mandrell openly discussed Senator Byrd’s direct involvement in the Project Monarch

government mind-controlled victimizations of his incestuously abused daughters with Houston.

“Having babies can be a lucrative way to feather your nest-that’s what the Byrd taught me.”

Mandrel! continued, “Louise was a little withdrawn, and she needed to come out of her cocoon

and spread her wings. I ran the idea by Byrd, and he said ‘If she doesn’t have a talent, let’s

make her one. What is a band without a fiddle?’ And viola,

–

He opened the box in front of me. Inside, laying on a bed of cotton, was an

elaborate dagger with a handle of the same rose crystal from which the crucifix

Byrd had presented me on “our wedding night” was made. My first personal

meeting with Casey promised to be torturous as I recognized Byrd’s

participation in the grisly ordeal.

1 listened, deeply tranced, as Casey said, “Is it a knife or a crucifix? I can’t

tell. Both symbolize martyrdom as far as I’m concerned. Note the rose pattern

cut into the crystal. Now, I wonder who would have sent me this to give to

you.”

Even under mind control I knew, as I was supposed to, that Byrd had

provided him with the knife. My worst fears were confirmed when Casey

began using Byrd’s hypnotic induction, “In like a knife, sharp and clean, I’ll

carve out what I want.” Casey sliced through the front of my bra, exposing the

area between my breasts where Byrd routinely cut me with his pocketknife. He

pierced into my breastbone deeply so that I believed I would split, and indeed

did split off a personality fragment compartmentalizing this event. Using

standard Jesuit-based infinity program, Casey instructed me and programmed

me with messages that I would deliver as though my life depended on it.

“You must go to the Citadel and warn our Dominican brothers of impending

doom to their neighbors in Haiti. From the Dominican side (of the Haitian

island) you will be flown to Port Au Prince where you will meet with Baby Doc

(Duvalier) at his Palace. He is already receptive to your word, and knows that

my words are your words and your word is Silence. You must tell General

Cedras his Order is from The Rose.” Casey touched the white rose in his lapel,

signaling me to photographically record his words verbatim.

When he was through programming me with his message, Casey told me,

“As quickly as you complete this mission, you must depart Haiti, never to

return again.”

–

6Byrd had told me that Cedras was “a strategically placed chess piece that the CIA, Jesuits

and U.N. moved around” to usher in their New World Order,

–

Bush was using his bird dog to track me,

the same one that had recently been used with me in bestiality filming as a

“Byrd-dog” joke on my owner, Robert C. Byrd. When caught, Cheney held his

gun to my head again as he stood over me, looking warm in his sheepskin coat.

Bush ordered me to take his dog sexually while they watched, then he and

Cheney ushered me back to their cabin.

–

Soon thereafter, Senator Byrd came to Nashville to fiddle at the Grand Ole

Opry and, as my handler. Houston, remarked, “fiddle around with me” at the

Opryland Hotel. Byrd explained that close association with me had become

volatile due to my roles in Iran-Contra and NAFTA, and therefore he would be

distancing himself from me. He spent most of “our last night together” working

on his memoirs for a voluminous book on the U.S. Constitution he was writing

(now published at taxpayers’ expense), which focuses on his long-winded Senate

(filibuster) speeches.

Byrd attempted to strengthen my programmed “loyalty bond” to him to keep

me quiet “until death do us part”. He told me, “If it was up to me, I would let

you live”. He talked at length about how our time together had been infringed

upon by both de la Madrid and Reagan, Bitterness over their stronger controls

on me was evident as he mocked their self appointed roles as the Wizard and

Lizard of Oz. De la Madrid’s fascination with U.S. mind-controlled slaves

reportedly inspired

–

Byrd had not distanced himself too far from me, though, where government

operations were concerned. When I was “over the rainbow” in D.C. during the

summer of ’87, it was business as usual with Byrd. I was escorted to Goddard

Space Flight Center where Byrd was waiting for me in a sterile hallway near the

brass-trimmed, mirrored elevators. He was loaded down with items, which he

deposited on a small table as he greeted me. He picked up a NASA ID badge

and clipped it on my nipple, the metal teeth biting me with their serrated edges.

When I (softly) cried out, he said, “Oh OK. I l l wear it,” removed it, and

clipped it on his white lab coat. He handed me a NASA lab coat like his and a

white hard bat.

–

that de la Madrid had

requested a video of the latest advancements in mind-control technique being

used to create his seven slaves. In reality, the camera was filming scientific

methodisms salted with “comic” misinformation as a humorous “no” to his

request.

–

Links

[1] Trance Formation of America Cathy O’Brien and Mark Phillips ISBN 0 96601 65 4 8 http://www.trance-formation.com/

[2] Books n Child Abuse 1 https://cathyfox.wordpress.com/2014/02/16/books-on-child-abuse/

[3] Access Denied. For reasons of national security. Cathy O’Brien and Mark Phillips. ISBN 9 780966 016536 http://www.AccessDeniedBook.com

[4] Cathy O’Briens Tranceformation of America http://ia600502.us.archive.org/10/items/TranceformationOfAmerica/tranceformation_america.pdf

[5] CathyFox Access Denied for reasons of national Security pdf https://cathyfox.wordpress.com/2015/04/07/access-denied-for-reasons-of-national-security-cathy-obrien-and-mark-phillips/

[6] Cathy O’Briens Trance formation of America download https://archive.org/details/TranceformationOfAmerica

Cathy O’Briens Transformation of America download [6]

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