Warning: this document is intended for persons over the age of eighteen years of age only and does contain violent content, as well as mental and subconscious triggers for those who have suffered from the Central Intelligence Agency’s Mk-Ultra Trauma Based Mind Control Projects.
This journaled memory is about the execution of the luggage handler at the Boise Airport who had burned me with a cigarette when I was being transported to Japan for the assassination of Masaru Takumi. The murder of this man took place in the fall of the year 1997 A.D.. The CIA operatives/handlers involved with this murder was my grandfather, and one of my friend’s fathers there in Nampa, Idaho. His name was Patrick J. Cahoon. Pat’s son David and I were made to kill the luggage handler and his daughter. Their bodies were dismembered and fed to hogs at a hog farm outside of Nampa, Idaho which the CIA controlled and had access to. This work will help to explain why it is that the CIA use Trauma Based Mind Slaves, as no healthy minded soldier nor agent of the Intelligence Community would perform the tasks that we were made to commit on that night by our CIA handlers.
Growing up my family was deeply involved with the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints and my grandfather and grandmother had been on a mission for the church in Texas when I had been used for the CIA/Pentagon level black operation in Kobe, Japan. They had left on this mission for the church shortly after I had passed my Pentagon Level Testing in the late summer of 1995 A.D.. My grandfather had heard about not only the success of the operation in Japan while he and my grandmother were away in Texas, but he had also heard about the luggage handler who had burned me in the chest and tortured me with his cigarette while I was in transport. He was very angry about what the man had done to me, because not only had he burned and tortured his grandson, but he had also talked to another man openly about the Project and he had intentionally scarred a CIA Chosen One. Through this man’s actions the luggage handler could also have jeopardized the entire operation in Kobe. On this night, this man would breathe the air of life no more.
It was the evening my grandparents were scheduled to arrive back in the Boise Valley from their mission for the church in Texas. I had not seen them yet, nor had to my knowledge any of my other family members as they had just arrived back in Idaho. We had expected to see them the next morning at church as it was a Saturday evening. I was living at my parents’ house at that time and was hanging out at home for the night. My father came home from working at his store there in the valley, ABI Computers, and told me that I needed to go to the Cahoon’s home that evening because I was to be involved with some missionary work for the church that night. The Cahoone family was also involved with the Project and connected to the Central Intelligence Agency. My friend’s father, Patrick J. Cahoon was CIA and had raised his children in the Project as well. There were two brothers in the family, David and Kristopher, with David being the eldest and Kristopher was his younger brother. David was a year or so older than myself and Kris was about a year younger than me. I was at that time good friends with Kris and we would often hang out together and go climbing, camping, etc and he was a member of my group of friends back in high school. I was also friends with his older brother, David as we had all gone to school together there at Nampa High School and were all members of the same church. So, I knew where this family’s home was. I was also at that time personally very heavily involved with the church and was accustomed to doing church work for our ward.
So, that evening I did as I was told and I got dressed into my church clothes, which included black dress pants and a suit coat, with a white, collared button up shirt and a tie with leather shoes. Mormon missionaries look a lot like spooks, and there is no coincidence in this. It was dark outside as I drove my car over to my friend’s house that evening as I had been instructed to do by my father. It was dark and quite out on the streets of Nampa that night and I went to their house at around 8:00pm – 8:30pm or so. When I pulled up to the house that night, Kris’s car was not there, and it did not look like many of the family were at home. I parked in the driveway and walked up and knocked on the front door. There were some fall themed crafts at the front door of the home as is typical of many Mormon families. When I knocked on the door it was not answered by any member of his family as I was expecting, but rather by my grandfather, Mark D. Sweet. I had not seen him for some time as he had been on a mission for several months for the church, but he was now standing at the door of my friend’s home. He told me to come inside and when I entered the home it was quiet and only a few lights were on inside. At that time, I was excited and glad to see him, and we greeted each other with a hug as close relations do. It was good to see him, but things also seemed to be serious, and he led me back to Davids’s bedroom there in the house.
We walked back to the bedroom which was on the left side of the bathroom if you were walking through the living room in that direction; my friend’s room was on the right side. My friend’s older brother, David as well as his father, Patrick were both in the room as we entered, and I said hello to them. All of U.S. were dressed in suits. No introductions were necessary as we were all familiar with each other and we were made to stand at attention and bee silent by the closet door there in his room, and someone closed the bedroom door; there were formalities that both my grandfather and Patrick wanted to cover before we began the evenings operation, which I will add was not doing typical “Church Work”. When my grandfather had told U.S. to stand by the closet at attention, I began to change personalities/switch as this was a trigger to do so, as one does not stand at attention for the church but rather for the state and in a state.
Much had happened in my grandfather’s absence from the Boise Valley, and he did much of the talking, and this seemed to be some form of awards ceremony as both David, and I were active CIA Pentagon level mind slaves and we were both actively used in the field by the CIA and the Pentagon; we had both been used in CIA Pentagon Level Black Operations while my grandfather had been away on a “mission” for the church. My grandfather explained to U.S. that David had performed an operation overseas for the Agency and the Pentagon that year, in which he had been awarded a medal for his services to our country. Patrick and my grandfather were both very proud of him for his Serve U.S. and this award was the highest honor given to members of the civilian population, though I cannot remember what it was called. (In technical terms, which is how the law, the Agency, and the Pentagon works, neither David nor myself were CIA affiliated operatives, but rather CIA Trauma Based Mind Slaves used to do the Deep States dirty work. In this way the Central Intelligence Agency can say that it does not kill people, because rather their non-affiliated slaves do the actual killing.) I can remember that my grandfather had a medal in a small box which he took out and ceremoniously pinned to David’s chest on his suit coat there in the room as we stood at attention.
My grandfather then talked about the operation that I had recently been involved with in Kobe, Japan a few months earlier and how I had been put in for the same medal which David had received, but he said that I had been denied the award as my services had not been deemed sufficient for such an award as this. My grandfather told me that I would have other opportunities to earn the prestigious award in the future. Then my grandfather told U.S. all that I had been tortured and burned by a man while on the operation to Japan and said that I had also been put in for the award of the Purple Heart for the injuries that I had sustained while in the service of my country; he said that this award had been given to me and that it was in my records. All of this was done in a manner very similar to a military awards ceremony; again, my grandfather got into a small jewelry like box and produced a Purple Heart medal, which he then pinned to my chest on my suit coat. When my grandfather had finished discussing the awards that we had received that year, he took the medals from our coats, and he put them back into their respective boxes, as neither of U.S. were allowed to keep them. All of this took me even deeper into another personality/personalities as I was allowed to remember the things that my grandfather was discussing.
After this the conversation changed and my grandfather told U.S. that we had some work to do that evening, and he told U.S. that we were going to go and pay a visit to the man who had burned me with a cigarette; we were going to pay a visit to the luggage handler from the Boise airport. He said that this man was dangerous and was a threat to the Project and a liability to the Agency and the Pentagon. My grandfather got into a small black leather duffle bag that was there on the floor in the room and next to the bed. My grandfather told David and I to take off our suit coats as he produced two black leather military shoulder holsters from his bag and handed one to each of U.S.. We both took off our suit coats and began to fit the holsters to the correct size of our bodies and to put them on. My grandfather had two, 38. caliber U.S. service revolvers, which he also produced from the bag. He had a box of bullets there in the bag and as we put on our holsters, he loaded the weapons and then gave one to the both of U.S..
I can remember my friends father asking my grandfather where it was that he had gotten the holsters and the pistols that we were to use that evening. My grandfather had told him that he had simply requested them from the Agency, and they had been given to him. My friends father did not like that we were being issued weapons and he told my grandfather that he did not like it and that he did not think that we should have them or that we would need them. My grandfather looked at him and said that we were both U.S. Government Property, and that we needed to have the ability to defend ourselves given the circumstances of the situation we were all about to go into. Before we put the pistols into the holsters and put our suit coats back on over them, we were instructed on the simple functions of the weapons. Having been trained in the use of firearms from my youth I was familiar with the weapon very quickly. I do not boast at this as for myself there is no pride in the understanding of the tools of death and pain, rather it is just a simple fact of life.
My grandfather explained that we were going to be driving two separate vehicles to the target site area, and he said that David and I were to take my car, and he said that their father and himself would take another vehicle. We were told that we were to leave the house first and he said that they would be shortly behind U.S.. I can remember that my grandfather told David and I where we were to go, and he explained how we were to drive to a small trailer park there on the north side of town across from the small local airport there in Nampa. We both understood where this was located, and we were told to park on the side of the target house. We were told to wait at the car until my grandfather and his father had arrived, and then we would all go into the house together. This all made sense to U.S. and we left the house and loaded up into my little car and we left his home and headed toward the Nampa airport. I had cigarettes in my car as at that time I would have one on occasion having been made to smoke them since my youth by my grandfather, and when David saw them he was surprised that I had them as we were both supposed to be good Mormons. He asked me if he could not have one as he also enjoyed smoking; he actually loved smoking tobacco at that time. I gave him a cigarette and got one out of the pack for myself and we both had a smoke and talked about how we both enjoyed the habit of smoking. He questioned me on my morals as I was supposed to be Mormon, and I also questioned him in the same manner. It was humorous for U.S. in this awkward situation as we were both not in our right minds by this point in the evening.
Nampa was quiet that night and we drove to the trailer park located on the north side of the airport. The trailer we were looking for was at the back of the park and at the far north edge. We wound around through to the back area of the property and parked on the east side of the target home. When we parked my grandfather, his father was not yet there and so David asked if I minded if he had another cigarette; he asked me this as he was already taking one of them from the pack. I told him to help himself and he took a cigarette and lite it up and waited for his dad and my grandfather to arrive. I also had another cigarette so that he would not be caught smoking alone. We did not talk much while we waited, just smoked our cigarettes quietly there in the mobile home park. It was quiet outside of the target house and in the trailer park all around U.S. and I observed the homes and the neighborhood as we waited, and I will tell you that the park was not a place for the rich and the wealthy; the manufactured homes were all tightly squeezed into their spaces, and they were all older and from another era of human existence. I can remember a car pulled slowly through the park from the south and we could see its headlights coming toward U.S.. We quickly put out our smokes as he did not want his father to see that he had been smoking though he probably smelled of cigarettes. We got out of the car and walked around and stood in front of it as my grandfather and his father pulled in and parked next to my vehicle. They had driven his father’s car.
My grandfather and my friend’s father got out of the car and my grandfather asked me if everything was quiet in the neighborhood to which I responded that it was indeed a quiet night, and I hadn’t seen anyone outside. My grandfather told David and I to go and knock on the front door and to tell the man who answered it that we were there to share the Gospel of Jesus Christ. He said that we were to ask if we could come inside to talk with him and my grandfather told me that they would be right behind U.S.. Things began to move very quickly at this point in time. We did as we were instructed to do, and we both walked up the steps to the front porch of the home and the entry door. There was a small deck/porch in front of the door. I knocked at the door, and I could hear someone inside come quickly to answer it. David was standing behind me and to my left when the door opened fast and there standing in the doorway was a large man a couple of inches taller than myself and he was wearing a white wife beater t-shirt and some dark sweatpants. It was the man from the luggage facility at the Boise Airport who had burned me with his cigarette, and his face was red and he looked as though he had been drinking. I started to say hello and to tell him that we were with the Church and had come to share the Gospel of Jesus Christ with him when before I could even get much of a word out, he blurted out loudly, “You, you’re the son of a bitch that got me fired!”, and with that he punched me right in the face with a hard left hook. (As a note, this man was left-handed.) I had not expected his greeting and I did nothing to respond but received his blow full force as he moved with much speed. When he hit me, everything went black and the last thing I remember thinking was, “oh no, not this again”, as I did not want to be struck unconscious as had occurred months early while I was in The Mountain; my skull had been damaged in The Mountain and I did not want anyone doing it more damage. But this man knocked me clean out with his blow and everything went black.
David was behind me when I had knocked at the door and when I was struck by the man, and he caught me as I fell backward. My grandfather and my friend’s father had been at the bottom of the stairs and when this had occurred, they both quickly moved in to contain the situation. The next thing that I can remember is the smelling salts hitting my nose and pulling me back into consciousness. When I came to my grandfather was kneeling over me and had been the one who had administered the smelling salts. I hated smelling salts and did not enjoy waking up to them as it is the most awful of things to inhale and wake up too. It all came back to me quickly but now my head and my face hurt, and my left knee was also sore; I was in some pain. At that time, I wondered why it was that I was always in such pain whenever we did these CIA things because it was a bummer deal getting knocked out like that. When I was conscious again, we were all in the living room and the front door was closed. I was lying on the floor and my grandfather got me sitting up. The man who had punched me in the face was standing nervously in the living room with David and his father both aiming their pistols at him. After I had sat up, I can remember my grandfather saying angrily to the man, “Now, what the hell did you go and do that for?” The man was not calm in his response but angrily stated that I had it coming. He said, “that little son of a bitch had it coming, he’s the little fucker that got me fired from my job at the airport!” I was at that time under deep mind control and was not angry at him for having punched me in the face and I even felt bad for a moment that he had been fired from his job. My grandfather angrily told the man that he had gotten himself fired from the airport because of his own behavior and he told him that he should not have just struck me as he had just done. I don’t think that this man understood that I was my grandfather’s grandson. I can remember this man saying something to the effect of my being a “messed up freak” as I was a Trauma Based Mind Slave as he had somewhat of an understanding of this. My grandfather told him that I was his grandson, and he told the man that there was nothing wrong with me. As I became more consciously aware I looked down at my shirt and there was blood getting on it as my nose was bleeding. My left knee also hurt badly, and I could not understand why. Someone got a towel from the kitchen for me to soak up the blood coming from my nose. I asked my grandfather what had happened to my leg, as my left knee was very sore at the joint of the knee, and he told me that it had gotten bent and twisted when I was knocked out and had to be pulled back into the house, unconscious through the doorway.
My grandfather told me to hold/pinch the top bridge of my nose to stop the bleeding and he helped me to get to my feet. I held the towel over my nose and pinched the bridge hoping that it would stop bleeding soon. My grandfather also told me to get my pistol out. He then turned to the man standing in the living room and told him again that I was not the one to blame for him losing his job, “All of this is your own damn fault. Who the hell do you think got you that job at the airport in the first place.” My grandfather continued, “If you wouldn’t have caused so much trouble you could still be working at the furniture store!” This man was defiant even with all of the guns pointed at him. He tried to defend himself verbally there in front of U.S. all, but my grandfather was hearing none of it. The man complained about his job at the furniture store, and this is where his story in relation to my ex-girlfriend’s family was fully revealed to me and it was very strange to hear these things.
My grandfather told this man that he was very ungrateful for everything that the Satanic/CIA Network had done for him there in the valley. He told him that it was they who had gotten him the job at the furniture store in the first place as he had needed work. But rather than behaving this man had learned/knew that my ex-girlfriends father abused his daughter sexually and this man had also taken to abusing her as well; my ex-girlfriend and this man had some kind of a relationship together and she had become pregnant with this man’s child. But this man was the one who raised this child and I do not know that my ex-girlfriend was even allowed to remember that she had indeed given birth to a little girl. My grandfather talked about all of these things there in the living room and as they talked this man became quieter and less defiant by his words. This man’s actions had caused much trouble for my ex-girlfriend’s family and this man had learned much of the Satanic CIA Network in the Boise Valley. This man had been allowed to keep the child and he was supposed to be raising her in the Project, but my grandfather told the man that he had not been abusing the girl enough and he was too soft on her. All of this was very dark and disturbing to hear. After all of this went down at the furniture store the man had been moved to working at the Boise airport and he was to stay away from my ex-girlfriend and her family. Though it is interesting to note that her father was the one who had purchased the trailer that we were standing in for him and the little girl to live in. My grandfather told this man that the Network had done much to try to please him and to keep him under control but said that he had finally crossed a line.
My grandfather told him that he had lost his job at the Boise airport not because of my actions, but because of his own. In his actions he had burned me with a cigarette and could have jeopardized the entire CIA operation that I was involved with at that time; he had intentionally scarred a Chosen One. My grandfather told the man that this was the last straw that they were willing to take with him as he had been causing the Agency and the Community nothing but trouble, and they had been doing everything that they could to help him. He was made to get onto his knees and David and his father set about tying the man’s hands behind his back so that he was bound as well as his ankles. Having all of this laid out before him and understanding his situation he began to ask for forgiveness. But, there was no forgiveness in the eyes of my grandfather nor that of my friend’s father on that night.
My grandfather asked him where the little girl was in the house and the man told him that she was back in her bedroom sleeping; he begged my grandfather to leave the girl out of this and to have mercy on her, but my grandfather was hearing none of this. My grandfather turned to David and said, “Go get the girl, she is in the room down the hall on the left.” He followed his orders and started to go down the hall to look for the girl as my grandfather walked into the kitchen and to the kitchen knives that were there on the counter. These were not butter knives. He pulled one of the knives from the knife holder; it was about ten inches in length and an inch and a half in width. He tested the blade with his thumb and looking at the man in the living room he said, “didn’t you sharpen your knives for this, I told you to sharpen your knives”. The man in the living room on his knees seemed confused by this statement but them seemed to remember something. He shook his head and said that he had not and that he was sorry. He started to just say it over and over again that he was sorry, I am sorry, I am sorry, I am so sorry for all of this, as the events of the evening were becoming clearer to him.
How do I tell you oh reader, about the events that unfolded that night; what was done that night was inhuman, Satanic, and psychologically insane. We killed both of these people in the house, the man and his daughter. The killing was done in the manner of the Mormons ritual of Blood Atonement which the CIA Mormon faction have taken hold too in an effort to justify the endless, incestual pedophilia and killing they perform in the name of God and Country. I will tell you how this happened so that the people of this world may know and understand such things, though for me this memory carries nothing but pain.
My grandfather got two knives from the kitchen, one for myself and one for David, as we were the ones who they would make do the actual killing. My grandfather also got two large bowls from the kitchen, and he gave one to my friend’s father and he held onto the other. I can remember at that time being completely out of my mind and in a personality which was programmed to deal with such things as this. We all had our guns out and I can remember that my grandfather had his Colt 1911 that evening. I commented on this as I preferred the weapon which he was carrying. I also took note of the weapon that my friend’s father was carrying but I cannot remember what it was though it was a newer weapon. My grandfather told me that this was no time to talk about guns and my friend’s father looked at me with a bit of a confused but stern look. After a short period of time David returned from down the hallway with the little girl and my grandfather asked him what had taken him so long. He said that she had been asleep when he had gone into the room to wake her. He said that she had looked so cute and sweet sleeping there in her bed that he had not wanted to wake her. He said that he had sat down next to her on the bed and talked to her for a moment before bringing her down the hallway to the living room. He said that she was a sweet little girl and he seemed to be genuinely fond of her, but my grandfather and my friend’s father were hearing none of it; all were now present in the room.
I can remember that the little girl’s hands were bound and both her and her father’s mouths were gagged. I can remember the man begging for his life and the life of his daughter before his mouth was bound and all of this was as though it was a nightmare. But I will tell you oh reader that the CIA show NO MERCY, and this is one of the reasons that mind slaves such as myself are used by the Agency and the Pentagon for such work as this; no mentally healthy soldier or agent of any organization would do what we were made to do on that night. I can remember being made to stand over this man as I was responsible for sending him back to God; David was made to stand over the child as he was responsible for her same fate. My grandfather held the bowl to catch the man’s blood as I was commanded to kill him. I can remember turning his head and looking directly into his eyes as is the way of the Satanic Assassin and saying to this man, “I now send you back to God”. I was made to cut this man’s throat out and we drained his blood into the bowl which my grandfather held. David was made to kill the child in the same manner, and this was all much worse than any nightmare.
I can remember that after the killing we were made to drink the fresh blood that had just been caught in the bowls which my grandfather and my friend’s father had held for the executions for this purpose. This is a Satanic practice, and it is believed within the Satanic Network that the consumption of such blood adds longevity to one’s lifespan; or in other words this is what is believed to be the Fountain of Youth in Satanic Circles. After this my grandfather and my friend’s father talked about what was to be done with the bodies. My grandfather explained that all of this had been arranged and others in the network would soon arrive to dismember the bodies and take them out to a hog farm outside of town where they would be fed to hogs there. This was how the CIA would get rid of unwanted bodies as they would blackmail and control hog farmers in their area so that they might make use of the animal’s ability to consume the entirety of a human body. My grandfather also explained that a story had been built in the neighborhood that this man and his daughter would soon be moving. He said that this had been accomplished by sending Mormon missionaries into the neighborhood to visit with the people there. These “Missionaries” had spread the rumor that this man was interested in the Church and he and his daughter would soon be moving. In this way their disappearance was expected as well as our being at the home as we were dressed as Mormon missionaries on that night.
After these events I was instructed to drive David and myself back to the house and to wait in his room until my grandfather and his father had arrived shortly thereafter. My grandfather told U.S. to unload and put our pistols and holsters away in the duffle bag and said that I should change out my shirt with one of Davids as we were a close fit, and the one I was wearing was stained with blood from the bleeding of my nose after the man had punched me in the face. My grandfather told me that if anyone should see me and my shirt and black eye that I should tell them that I had been playing catch that night outside and had not been able to see the ball coming at me; I was told to tell whoever may ask that I had been hit in the face with a baseball that night. I did not like this alibi as it made me look like a fool for playing catch outside in the dark, but this was the alibi that I was given. We left my grandfather and my friend’s father there to attend to the bodies and we walked out of the house into the night.
Outside it was quiet and we walked over to my car and got in and started it up. We pulled away from the house as though nothing had just happened inside and as soon as we were around a corner from the home David reached down and he grabbed the pack of cigarettes, and he took one and lite it up. I looked over at him and I could see that he was clearly shaking and traumatized by what had just occurred. I was shaken as well, and I took one of the cigarettes and I lite it up to join him in his smoke. At that time, we could both still remember what had just happened inside of the home as we had not yet had our memories compartmentalized. He started to talk as he could not comprehend what had just happened and he said that he could not understand; he said that he could not understand why we would have been made to kill a little child like that, and why God and our Country would ask such a thing from U.S.. He did not cry but if he was in his right mind that night he would have; we both would have. Anyone in their right mind would weep at such a crime against the children of God. Like this young man I was also in a state of trauma, and I tried to console him, and at the same time myself, as I had been programmed to do so, and I said that the girl was now in heaven with God and that her existence there would be much better than what she had been made to endure here in this life on earth living with her father in the Project. All of this was complete madness, and he was little if any consoled by my words. When he had finished his cigarette, he wasted no time in lighting up another one and smoking it before we reached his house as this seemed to be one of the ways in which he dealt with his pain.
When we got to the house, we both went inside and went directly to his room. It was quiet in the house, and no one was around. We did as we had been instructed before leaving the target house and we took our pistols and unloaded them and put them back into the black leather duffel bag which my grandfather had left there in the room. We also took off our shoulder holsters and put them away in the same manner. He gave me one of his shirts as a replacement of my own and we took the bloody shirt and simply put it in the trash there in his room. He said that he would empty the trash in the morning. Grandpa and my friend’s father showed up a short time after, and they both came back into the bedroom and closed the door behind them. My grandfather took David and I through the hypnosis process and told U.S. to remember to forget these events; for a mind slave it was comforting to know that I would be forgetting this nightmare I had been made to endure. We were then hit with a taser to compartmentalize the memories of the events that evening. About the time they had completed the process my friend who was the younger of the two arrived at the house and had gone into his bedroom across the small hallway. I can remember him knocking on David’s door as he had heard some strange sounds coming from inside of the room and was wondering what was going on and why the door was locked. After the compartmentalization process was complete my grandpa and my friend’s father left the room as though nothing had been going on that night. I had been instructed to go over to my friend’s room to talk to him before my grandfather and I left in order to begin to set the story line for the evening’s events. My friend asked me what I was doing there at such an hour as it was getting late in the evening, and I told him that his older brother and I had had to do some church/missionary work that evening with my grandfather and his dad. I had a black eye from the man punching me in the face earlier that evening and he asked me what had happened to me. I told him that we had been playing catch outside in the dark that night with a baseball and gloves and I said that I had not been able to see the ball coming at me in the dark and it had hit me in the face. He laughed at this and told me that it was stupid of me to have been outside playing catch at night. We did not chat for long as he was tired and simply wanted to go to bed and it was time for me to head home. I can remember my grandfather asking me if I might give him a ride back to his house as he did not have a car with him. I told him that I would of course give him a ride back to his house and we left my friend’s house together and loaded up into my car.
We drove back through Nampa to my grandfather’s house and talked quietly as we made the short drive. As we drove my grandfather told me how fond he was of my friends’ family. He told me that both of these brothers had been raised in the Project by their father, but the Agency had found David to be more useful at that time than his younger brother. He also told me about the competition and rivalry that took place between the two boys and how competitive they were with each other. All of this was interesting to hear but I would remember to forget these things as I had been told to do. I dropped my grandfather off at the house and he told me that he would see me the following day at church services and told me not to tell anyone that I had seen him that night. He got out of the car and took his black leather bag with him and said goodnight. I drove home and most of my family was already asleep in the house. I went to bed and when I awoke in the morning, I could remember none of the events of the evening before. My face hurt when I woke up and was swollen and it felt like I had a black eye. My left knee was also sore and felt injured. When I went to the bathroom and looked in the mirror, I could clearly see that I had a black eye and that something had happened to my face. I tried to remember what it was that had caused me to get such a shiner, and I could remember something about doing missionary work the night before with my friend’s father and his older brother, and something about playing catch with a baseball in the dark. When I went back to my room to get dressed for my day I noticed as I was putting my shirt away from the night before that it did not seem to be mine but was of a taller cut. David was a taller fellow than myself and he wore a taller cut shirt. This was all strange and confusing to me at that time and inside I knew that something was off, and something had happened the night before, but I had done as I was programmed to do, and I had remembered to forget these events at that time. But now, I remember. Now, I understand.
These are the events that I can remember from that night in the fall of the year 1997 A.D. there in Nampa, Idaho, and this was the fate of the man who had burned me with his cigarette earlier that year at the Boise airport.
This is a Journaled Memory of the author: J.R. Sweet
All Rights Reserved.