With my perceptions distorted and Catholic Jesuit programmed «understanding» instilled, I was prepared to "religiously accept" any and all I was told. I believed that the revolution in Haiti was a holy war, never capable of realizing it was a test run battle for the minds in this 4th world country.
The devotion I felt toward the Haitian people was more than a religious understanding of these alternately Catholic-Santeria[66] voodoo worshippers. I was actually subconsciously recognizing other tortured mind-controlled slaves in this human created hell called Haiti. Consciously, I now know it was due in part to the visible stun gun/prod marks, plastic ever-present smiles that never quite reach their dead appearing eyes. The children clung to their wide-eyed mothers, as they performed their tasks in robotic servitude. I had recognized these characteristics in other slaves throughout the years, but never had I seen a whole country entranced. My compassion for the Haitian people penetrated into the realm of the spiritual, into a part of me that mind control and manipulation of religion could never touch,
Casey and I had been walking through the garden, guarded by more armed men than the President, It wasn't that I was a threat, I couldn't even think to save myself. It was that Casey and his World Vision were a threat to humanity that so many guards were needed. The men appeared to be U.S. Secret Service officers according to their attire, weapons, and earphone headsets. One guard conspicuously placed his hand to his headset, listening as though it were remote control. He walked briskly over to Casey, who signaled me to leave with an escort who instantly arrived at my side awaiting instruction.
"Take her to my chambers," Casey told him, "Clear her mind. I have something I need to instill," Robotically I followed my escort into Casey's office library. The room was barren, dark, and hot — just as described in a book I had been given to read in keeping with You Are What You Read programming. It produced a sensation of having somehow stepped into the novel Chameleon by insider William Diehl. The mind scramble of the book and reality instantly commenced,
"It's warm in here," the agent said, unbuttoning my while eyelet blouse. "Bill (Casey) likes to keep it this way in case-he (Casey) gets a chill and his blood runs cold. Chameleons[67] are naturally cold blooded. Make yourself comfortable white I turn up the heat. Mr, Casey doesn't want to hear a peep out of you, so I'll warn you now-be Silent." He deliberately triggered and activated the Jesuit programmed part of me that believed in my Vow of Silence[68]. The walls have ears and the plants have eyes, so your silence is tantamount to success. I'm going to leave you to reflect in Silence, Bill will be along any minute."
Had I been capable of "reflecting," I would have questioned the validity of Casey's dramatic position of "religious overtones" on Haitian policy. Like Reagan's, Casey's sincerity did not ring true considering the fruits of his labor, But then, I could not consider any more than I could reflect, and I sat in a state of what felt like suspended animation awaiting my instructions. I could not anticipate nor dread what was about to happen as futuristic thinking was left in the hands of my controllers. Had I realized the scramble of reality with William Diehl's book, I could have «psychicly» predicted what happened when Bill Casey strolled in.
Casey walked over to his highly polished, dark wood desk and opened the top drawer. Casey's desk was one of the few furnishings in the large, airy room. The dark, polished, reddish-wood paneling seemed even darker with the midnight blue carpeting curving slightly up the wall. Heavy, gothic maroon velvet drapes blacked out the sun from the windows behind his desk, "I can see quite clearly that you have taken a Vow of Silence, Maintain it. Maintain it and Lisssten," Casey hissed, using preset triggers. He reached into the drawer and took out a foot-long, maroon box with a diamond embossed on the top.
"I received a box, quite anonymously as I do from time to time," Casey said in keeping with the book scramble. "The box has your name on it. I expected to open it and find the usual pierced chameleon and found, instead, a weapon intended for one."
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.
I 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." Casey used excessive high voltage to compartmentalize my memory. I recall being nauseated and ill from his stun gun as I departed his Long Island compound/home via ferry programmed with messages to Cedras and Babv Doc.
Haiti had recently been dropped from the NCL itinerary as a Port of Call, but the Dominican Republic side of the island remained open to tourism. When Houston and I debarked the NCL ship in Puerta Plata, we walked past a World Vision cargo ship that was being unloaded at the dock. I recall that a soft ocean breeze gently lifted the hem of my white, gauzy dress as I weaved my way through the dockload of World Vision freight to a waiting automobile.
Religion and politics apparently mix in the Dominican Republic as evidenced by the inseparable mixture of Catholic Missions, old forts, statues of Christopher Columbus, and Catholic Shrines. As we drove past the mountain tramway that takes tourists up and down to the rustic Citadel and Catholic Shrine at the top, Houston perpetuated the «Chameleon» book scramble. Dually referring to Cedras and the short donkey ride from the tram to the Citadel depicted in Diehl's book, Houston threatened to put me on the rickety tram saying, "Some Jackass will see you at the top."
In an area reserved for covert activities, out of view of tourists, I met with General Cedras in his Citadel office. Dressed in the eerie, Jesuit, dark, hooded robe, Cedras completed Casey's «Chameleon» book scramble scenario as we walked through the ancient structure to his office. Cedras' demeanor made him appear more as a militant than a "spook," despite the corny monk's attire. With his hood down his back, Cedras' sharp, craggy features and darting steel blue eyes kept my full attention. I had seen him at a monastery in Santo Domingo as ordered before[69], when Haiti was still being used by the CIA for Operation Watchtower to transport cocaine and Contra weapons from Cuba.
66
Since the Catholics had joined forces with the United Nations to overtake the world through mass mind control, the Jesuit influence on Haiti was complete. By maintaining much of the ceremony, placing literal interpretation on "eating the body and drinking the blood," and providing a mirror reversal of good and evil, Catholicism and voodoo, like Catholicism and the United nations, became one in the same.
67
The term «Chameleon» is a term used to describe spies who are expertly trained to blend into any environment at any time unnoticed-just as an MPD mirrors the one they're with.
68
The Jesuit Vow of Silence was installed through the Rite to Remain Silent of my childhood. Now I know, like so many others in Intelligence, that "Silence Equals Death". Knowledge is our ONLY defense against mind control.
69
Byrd 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.