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Your wife's brother's
girlfriend decides to stir up some fun, so she calls the cops to complain
that you are having an affair with your live-in teenage nanny, "who uses
drugs." The next thing, your innocent immigrant wife, speaking only
Spanish, with no formal education and believing what she is told, finds
herself facing the gates of hell itself, as a burly Deputy Patrick Barnes
explains how she must perform or lose her child.
He arrives at your home
with Deputy Robert Rose of the San Bernardino County, CA, Sheriff’s
Department, your competitor in the ISP business, after your wife follows
instructions to start a fight with he nanny. He leaves you outside with
Rose and later returns to explain, "We"ve searched, but cannot find any
evidence. We suspect, though that your babysitter is involved in drug
activity and we suspect that you know about it. So, we"re going to take you
both to jail if you don"t hand over the evidence." You are advised as to
how they "Will be back each day, until your neighbors get concerned, until
you kick her out." She lives with you and your family, and her eighteen
month old son.
They come back the next day. They search her room. They tell her, "You
could lose your son for this. I want you to get out of Big Bear
immediately." They explain how you can lose your daughter for not kicking
her out now, at night, in winter, with a baby - kick her out of her home.
And your wife, of course, is informed about losing her child if she does not
stay away from you.
Yes, this happened.
When she is not "allowed" to return home, you move from Sugarloaf into town,
as you are near-blind, do not drive, and hold a new concern regarding your
safety. Thus vacated, your house is now visited by the boys next door,
whose dad, Chuck, lives with a local court employee, Ruth. They trash
everything; turn the space heaters to high, turn on the washer faucet in the
kitchen. Totally trash your garage. Later, you pay US1,000.00 for clean
up.
You cannot accept what
you experienced, so you put it up on your website.
Suddenly, you get a
phone call from your old "friend," a school board official and dentist,
Kenneth D. Turney,. He wants to take you to hear a blues band in Sugarloaf,
at a "past school board presidents meeting." Between the Rusty Nails, you
meet the superintendent, a portly German gentleman who bilked your village
next door neighbor German tourist friend of her US20,000.00 inheritance with
the old "vibrating wristwatch for airline pilots patent" scam from the 60s,
and someone named (former Sheriff) "Floyd Tidwell." You don't believe it is
Tidwell. He does not approach, but merely freezes into a broadside pose
when named. Like an actor.
Later, your friend
takes you to the "Hook," where you are introduced to his friend alleged to
be a retired USMC Colonel and Los Angeles County Sheriff's Captain William
H. Alley. A party has just finished. You are presented, offered a drink
and taken to your temporary rental in town.
You become a nightly
invitee to happy hour, where you are entertained with war stories and spy
tales. Often, you realize that the conversation was pre-planned. The
ex-captain makes occasional remarks about "them listening to everything to
say," and plays with a hearing aid a lot, holding it out toward you as you
speak. He talks about training at Quantico, FBI profiling expertise.
One night, a regular
patron, allegedly a Cal-Trans worker gets up from the bar and approaches
your table to show you a new tool he purchased, something about a combo
laser and heat detector. He points it skyward and says, "Oh, I guess it
doesn't work. It is supposed to make a shower of lights."
A day or so later, you
are lying in bed, and notice a flickering on your wall across from an open
window. You get up to investigate, and find that little bits of Christmas
tree tinsel have been stapled all over the wall of your rustic little
rental.
Another happy hour and
you are treated to some expressions of, "I don't want a crazy man in my
house," "I keep forgetting I'm dealing with a blind man," and "I know
something he doesn't know." These are spoken in an exaggerated fashion by a
waitress and a bartender, who then quickly turn away, acting as if they had
said nothing, though the bartender has trouble keeping a straight face. You
find your board friend watching your face for your reaction.
One morning you stumble
from bed and suddenly, professionally mixed for impact, even to the
inclusion of that angry rip-saw roar of an old fashioned short wave AM
jammer/frequency marker, you hear a police radio call. It sounds like it is
right next to you. Then you hear something sliding down the side of your
A-frame. A voice outside asks, "What happened?" The reply: "I don't know,
I thought he was in bed sleeping." Then "Get that lift truck out here!"
You run down the stairs to the phone, and hear a female spotter: "He's
downstairs in the living room with a handheld phone." You call 911 and
gripe that somebody is possibly messing with your phone (the noise was near
the demark outside). You then hear another police radio call: "See the man
at ... he is heavily armed with semi-automatic weapons." You know the
audio is being faked, but THAT is scary. You run outside and lock the door,
waiting in shirtsleeves in the cold, so there would be no mistake. FIVE
cars show up. You get jacked and provoked, and then told you need to show a
key that fits your house to prove you live there. You do, and are
immediately embraced around the shoulders and steered from the door you just
unlocked. You note that the short little quiet female deputy with dark
hair, whom you always liked, rushed into your house. After she sneaks back
out, they leave. You realize that you have just been introduced to the
entire station complement, probably because they wanted to know what you
looked like before "Strange Things started Happening" and you got "crazy."
You call your business partner, and get a sarcastic remark about drug
usage. You've known him for ten years; he was your best man. You stop
cold, then chuckle, "I see, the old psychological prison. I can't talk
about what's happening without discrediting myself."
You remember a friend talking about
a conversation with Deputy Robert Rose. "You wouldn't believe the things we
trained in to make [suspects] think they were going crazy. Lasers,
speakers..."
The next day, you hear what appears to
be one side of a telephone conversation faintly audible from a gas wall
heater. The voice is that of William Alley. He talks of taking his boat
out on the lake, then says, "Well I had planned on going down, but decided
to stay until I knew what Dennis was going to do."
Your house is entered at least three
times in your absence. A ceiling fixture is opened and screws left on top
of the closed toilet seat. A note is left outside the door with the name
"Alex" and a phone number from the nearby high desert. One day you stop on
your walk and return back home. You notice a youth hurrying away on a
bicycle, and find the kitchen window screen removed. You have noticed the
youth show up many times as you left home, regardless of how irregular your
schedule.
One night at happy
hour, the room quiets suddenly. At a far table, a man and woman are huddled
speaking. Then her voices rises, "He'll die. Of course he'll die. But
he'll die doing what he wants to. Suddenly, a radio carried by the man came
alive. You heard chuckles from the bar, and realized that the entire room
had been watching and listening to this skit. The man responds to a quote
for changing some locks. Thinking back, I realized that this same small
group of people had always been in attendance when I was brought in.
Several times, remarks had been made suggesting FBI presence.
No more trouble at
home, but you get some office fun. Somebody has rigged the furnace duct,
probably with a bass speaker coil, so you can suddenly hear it rumble out a
threatening message now and then. Then you hear some more crap from the CPU
fan of a computer you are servicing. During the next week, three office
servers are found overheating with charred and seized CPU fans. One night,
they tried out something on the Mitel SX-100; get the whole enclosure
vibrating and the internal temperature sky high. You borrow a spectrum
analyzer from a friend and set it up in the office. The fun and games stop
abruptly there until you return it weeks later.
On many occasions, during telephone
conversations with a spontaneous new "friend" of hopelessly confused and
contradictory "stories," you hear the old 2.6 kHz tandem-available chirp of
a long distance disconnect. You doubt such lines are used domestically any
more, and accept that you were supposed to hear this. When questioning her,
she just replies, ""Hell, I don't know what that was."
Eventually your wife
and child manage to return, and the harassment continues. You overhear
discussion of private conversations and events from your room while at happy
hour. Your wife and daughter complain about the "voices" from the
refrigerator and fan motors. You have not said anything, but you've been
keeping track of the crap. "We're going without you - you'll have to stay
home." ‘You have to be crazy to go through with this.’ "Call this number
when you figure out what [name snipped] is trying to do." I believe the
number was (707) 474-4333. Northern California; disconnected, may have once
been owned by Best Communications. You remember that the refrigerator was
the first source of this stuff. Then you remember how a friend, back around
"90, cautiously queried you about your "belief in demons" while driving down
to San Bernardino for supplies. When you expressed your polite skepticism,
he went on with apparent sincerity to explain how he did. "I can even hear
them over the refrigerator sometimes when I go into the kitchen."
One day your daughter
tells you how the police came to her grandmother’s house. ‘They said they
were trying to make you crazy,’ she says. And then she continues to explain
about ‘suicide.’ You understand that they were being prepared – you
understand that you are the subject of a homicide attempt.
The pressure eventually
causes your separation again.
Shortly thereafter, you are watching
CNN headline news when suddenly the picture is replaced by that of a man
sitting on a bar-type stool with guitar, singing a amateur and hokey
cheese-ball verse about "the father I didn't have to be." Similar
injections of custom "context specific" lyrics were also noted via the local
radio station. Whether any or all of these were produced by actual signal
injection, or just an innocent employee thinking he was helping with a
"birthday surprise," you never determine.
While dining at a restaurant, you find
yourself suddenly aware of phrases spoken with emphasis for your attention,
referring to private conversations held inside your room, and even an
automobile, once. Your turn toward the speakers to find two women staring
at you, waiting for your response. This type of occurrence was repeated on
several occasions.
Then one day, you are
slipped probably a rapid onset, short term sedative along with a slightly
slower onset stimulant. While briefly asleep, you are introduced to a
prepared audio clip about an old acquaintance that is visiting town and
staying at a nearby lodge. As you awaken in a stupor, the message, though
not really remembered verbally, is simply accepted. The sensation is
somewhat like awakening in the midst of a conversation, with a vague
awareness, and acceptance, of statements made or issues resolved prior to
the awakening. So you are suddenly waking up, with the knowledge that your
old friend is awaiting your visit. At this point, the audio projection
device comes into play, as you are led around the back lot of the lodge.
You gradually suspect you are the object of a demonstration, as you are
instructed to climb a fence, try a door, etc. Somebody is showing not only
your capacity under the drug, but also your resistance to suggestion or
instruction that who also be resisted un-drugged. You also gather that the
back lot has been used for this activity before, based upon is preparation.
You are also instructed to enter a parked automobile (which you recognize)
and told to "drive it around the lake." You decline, referencing your
vision, the traffic, the twilight conditions. "Then park it," you are
ordered. I can do that, you reply, intending to move it to another parking
spot. You find, though, that the keys left in the car for you do not fit
the ignition. Eventually, you are told, "Dennis, you'll have to give up the
drugs." You are angered by this; you have; for the last couple of years,
attenuated a life-long infliction with morbid obesity by prescribed
amphetamines. Your condition developed in pre-school years; you approached
200 pounds in elementary school, close to 300 by high school. Over three
decades of your life were stripped of normal social interaction by this
condition. You angrily reply that you will choose what you put into your
body.
You remember that the
back lot area is owned by a local businessman whose wife once told you how
he had worked in some area of law enforcement or investigation. You also
noted that the audio was delivered in various syntheses of voices belonging
to people you know. There is also a noticeable composition delay - probably
indicating a computer-controlled device.
A day or two later, you
are drugged again. While asleep, you are introduced to a prepared audio
clip, "The armed guards holding your wife and daughter in an adjacent motel
room have slipped out to buy some cigarettes." So you are suddenly waking
up with the knowledge that your wife and kid are unattended for a few
moments, and you have a chance to free them. Vaguely aware of your
compromised mental state, you proceeded unarmed, locking yourself into (and
the alleged threats out of) a fenced compound before approaching the door.
Though your gut screamed "Setup!" as you broke the window (the kind of act
you refused during the "demo"), the reference to family in danger was
something you could not dismiss. The empty interior confirmed your fears,
as did the ready "transport," who was far to familiar with this "assisted"
scenario. You remember the orders to climb a 12-foot fence in the dark,
which would have produced serious injuries, or more.
You realize that you
have just experienced a modification of an old narco-hypnosis technique,
easy to understand and quite intriguing. In this case, a suspected
sarcastic revenge ploy by the unhappy cops who got their names published on
your web site, in a mocking response to the "spy tales" socials at the Hook,
and some CIA and NSA business cards in your stolen wallet.
You are charged with
malicious mischief. At the court office, the clerk knows you. As she is
pulling the papers for your signature, an obviously disguised officer walks
into the office and takes the papers from her hand. "Uh, I guess I won't,"
she steps back in confusion. He puts them in front of you, covering the
Miranda statement intentionally with his hands He makes you sign two
copies.
You walk out toward the court room where two men are waiting. They stand up
on either side of you and accompany you into the court. They move ahead and
sit down, partially blocking your way. One leans back and says, "If he says
anything then we'll...." He rolls his eyes in an exaggerated fashion which
you later suspect was a mocking gesture representing the so-called "high eye
ball roll, considered a good indicator of biological trance capacity." You
assume you are being threatened. You know what you will face if you plead
innocent. You cannot plead guilty, so you plead no contest, which
frustrates the judge and officials. The prosecutor is grossly overweight.
Months later, you are watching a friend's appearance. The same prosecutor
is there, but he is a different completely man, using the same name. You
remember that the man who threatened you was wearing a stage costume of a
Cub Scout uniform as he spoke his threat and fled from the courtroom.
Though you cannot be sure, you suspect that a local ‘Internal Affairs
fixer,’ Watson, was one of the impersonators.
You remain the target
of such ongoing harassment, aimed at provoking you to self-discreditation.
The over-riding theme is to provide clues incriminating to a person,
business or group familiar to you, apparently attempting to invoke and
direct your anger toward an innocent party. Though occasional early slips
left you with a few legitimate bits of information, the originally clumsy
and amateur tactics, often vulnerable to verbal provocation, soon became
valueless as information sources.
Your assailant(s) has also identified your emotional needs in regards to
your wife and child, and has driven home the final nails into the coffin of
your marriage with a vengeance. The psychological prowess and tactics
remind you of the way the FBI was portrayed in a telecast of "Unsolved
Mysteries. "You wonder why the FBI might do this, then remember that your
dentist friend had once referred to his "brother" as working for the FBI.
You also remember the statement made by Deputy Rose to a friend. And you
remember a "theme" during your outing in the lodge back lot, and how it
related to an incident of serious negligence by local deputies, which you
had discussed at the "Hook" - in front of the victim's father, you later
discover, from whom that negligence had apparently been concealed.
When you complain to the local
Sheriff's Captain Bobby Phillips, he sends Internal Affairs Detective Watson
to take your report. Watson is professionally antagonistic. A few days
later, Watson calls to advise you that "They're not just going to come over
and settle with you."
"Oh," you reply, "You are just going
to shut up and deny it?" you ask.
"Uh, yup." he responds.
Your wife tells you during a visit how she was forced to move from a rental
because the landlord was afraid of "problems" after receiving several
calls, allegedly from Sheriff's deputies, during which she was "leadingly"
questioned about her tenants. Your clients report visits from an angry
female deputy wanting to know where I lived, and remarking that she needed
to "have a talk with that boy." Your residence is well known to them. Your
daughter is called into the school office and questioned by a female deputy
about her dad, then told to stay away from him. On at least two occasions,
you are followed into restaurants by a uniformed deputy proceeds to question
the attendant or hostess with accusations like, "Does he always come in with
young children?"
A few months thereafter, you receive a
visit from a Deputy Wayne Martin and a Sergeant Phil Brown, both remarkably
young in appearance, who claim to have been "sent up from the desert by
Sheriff Gary Penrod, himself." The visit occurs immediately following the
transmission of e-mail messages to the FBI via a cellular telephone. The
purpose of the visit was never clearly defined by spokesman Brown, who was
more interested in antagonistic joking, asking if I knew the date, and
playing mockingly with his ears while chuckling knowingly with Martin.
---------------------------------------
You tried to kill me.
Why? You looked up that old MKUltra stuff and tried to re-enact an
evidence-less murder. You destroyed my life, my family. You took
the futures of my child, my wife and myself. Then you tried to direct
my anger toward "the CIA," local businessmen and other innocents,
trying to make me look "crazy." Even if you succeed, you
will be tracked down. Did you think you would get away? You are
insane. Is this how you respond to being exposed in a past act of
negligence? And your experience indicates that you have killed before.
Just stick together and shut-up - and go down together. Any sane of
you will get in touch to talk immunity - or live in fear until brought to
justice. And then, live in prison.
Some of the technology
employed resembles that of American Technology Corporation,
www.atcsd.com, who claims HSS
International,
www.hssinternational.com , as their client. HSS International
trains the Sheriff's Department. See also
http://b5.boards2go.com/boards/board.cgi?action=read&id=1106332477&user=sbcs.
I
suspect that the assaults described above may have been perpetrated by the
same people who drove Robert Hoffman to close down his newspaper, the Bear
Valley Voice, and leave the country, after printing criticism of the
Sheriff's Department and then-Deputy District Attorney Michael Abacherli.
He was last known to be a correspondent for the Associated Press in
Trinidad/Tobago. Anyone knowing how he may be contacted is asked to notify
Dennis
R. Hilton. |
