(You can buy my book Persecuted But Not Forsaken at Amazon, but if you hang around here long enough, you may be able to read the whole thing as I post chapters occasionally.)
Chapter 3: Targeting
I don’t remember dad being at the house much after we moved in. I can remember us watching some television together — shows like Bonanza on Sunday night, and of course the Green Bay Packers and their playoff games. And oh yes, Dad and I would watch the Saturday afternoon baseball game the only and first year he was there.
And I remember watching and learning how to play cribbage, which he and mom played at the dining room table.
Other than that, my memories aren’t much, other than a couple of times he picked me up and took me to his apartment after him and mom separated.
Dad began to be gone more than he was at home, because his business for one thing.
The programming puts many talented people into vocations such as pest control, plumbing sewage, janitorial, housecleaning, and nanny jobs – anything to keep the victim out of jobs that influence public opinion.
Then dad was poisoned when a waitress gave him household ammonia in place of ammonia spirits for a headache. His esophagus was burned up and he would be fed through a tube for months.
I do remember visiting him in the hospital and seeing all the tubes hooked up to him.
In order to follow dad’s programming, a similar thing would happen to me twenty-six years later – poisoned at 33 years old.
That’s what the programming does: tries to get the kids to follow the actions of the parents and blame maladies on genetics, regardless of personal character.
Years later, the perpetrators would do a similar thing to my daughter, sending her to a school 1500 miles away from home right near the military base where I was stationed twenty some years earlier. That was absurd, when there were plenty of great schools right in Virginia, but she didn’t know any better.
For another example of programming, Dad had earlier cooked for a living, and cooking would be the one merit badge I would later earn in the Boy Scouts. I really didn’t have that much interest in cooking, but there I was cooking eggs and bacon for the group of scouts while on a camping trip.
But anyway, my mother became paranoid about this time when Dad was gone a lot; she did not trust the food, her sister, and especially dad. She started withdrawing from society.
Where before we went over to my aunt’s house every Sunday night to play poker, talk, and have fun — all of that stopped because mom and my aunt stopped socializing.
It’s difficult to understand mom filing for divorce because she was a regular church attendee and took me every Sunday.
For what it’s worth, her divorce lawyer’s last name at the bottom of her decree was Abrahav. Years later, I tried to research this lawyer’s name but found nothing on Norfolk’s city register.
But I suppose it was Abraham, and like many lawyers who are ashamed of their filings or don’t want to be known, their name suddenly becomes illegible or they send one of their interns over to the court to do the dirty work.
Now dad was popular with women, for he serviced restaurants and met quite a few women.
Maybe that’s the reason mom filed for divorce, but she wanted financial security, and dad’s business was going to take time to grow.
About this time is when her mother’s estate was being divided in Cherokee and the Baker roll revision made her an Indian. So she started working her way back home.
My brother, who was living with us at the time along with his beauty queen of a wife, began to feel stressed from his draftsman’s job at a time when stress was not a household problem.
His wife got pregnant, and then they moved out of our house into an apartment near my aunt.
I babysat my nephew for some time, and un-coincidentally enough later found he was dancing in one of those skimpily dressed shows in New York.
But MK-Ultra is partly designed to make sex slaves out of its victims. Many a victim has complained of sexual attacks from electronic targeting. Manipulating the electro-magnetic fields around a victim to push the blood to sensitive areas will cause sexual stimulation.
The victims chosen are good looking, which reminds me of such biblical characters such as Daniel and his friends who were fair to look upon and enslaved to serve the king. They had no blemish upon them and were intelligent.
My brother quit his job because of stress, and got some kind of compensation as a result. He was definitely targeted.
I heard some kind of story the FBI was chasing my brother because he was involved in a shootout. He eventually landed in Memphis, Tennessee, where he re-married a nice Christian woman and had a second child. He was awarded disability and would not work another day in his life as far I know, choosing to play golf.
The last time I saw him was in a Cherokee Courtroom when he threatened me shortly after I filed a caveat to a copy of a testamentary will my mother had not signed: the original copy had been destroyed.
It’s my opinion mom’s remote targeting started when she was on the Reservation, but she started showing the signs of being targeted just about the time of the divorce here in Norfolk in 1965 — just shortly after we all had to moved to the house in Fox Hall, which would be an event the perpetrators like to blame their activities on.
Many victims at first think a particular incident has caused their targeting, but as time passes, they find that the targeting had been from birth.
Because of mom’s paranoia, and wisdom I might add, for dinner each night, I would have to ride my bicycle up to a grocery store one mile away to get food.
I didn’t mind, because I kept the leftover change and bought comics.
I enjoyed the trips to the store, traversing the sloped ditch behind trucking company, and continuing across neighborhoods to the grocery store.
Mom would hardly ever cook anything out of the refrigerator. That was a no-no in our targeted world: there was never no more than three items in the refrigerator.
Mom stopped socializing with her sister, stopped working at her new job at the water department downtown, and went to work as a secretary with Colonial Stores credit union, which was actually closer to home.
Shortly after the divorce, mom met an old friend by the name of H. Wenton.
Howard wasn’t too charming, and he had a drinking problem, but he did work and bring home money which is something we lacked for some time.
I never had more than three pairs of pants and a couple shirts, but this is also representative of the targeting, and if I do acquire something nice, the perpetrators will put holes in it or make a tear. This wasn’t too common in the first years of targeting but it escalated in the last twenty years.
This clothes tampering happens to nearly all victims.
I wish the perpetrators would not have torn the quilts I made later on in life.