Warning: this document is intended for persons over the age of eighteen years of age only and does contain mental and subconscious triggers for those who have suffered from the Central Intelligence Agency’s Mk-Ultra Trauma Based Mind Control Projects.
This Journalled Memory is about the time that I was tested for Pentagon Level CIA Black Operations. This event occurred August/September of the year 1995 shortly before I would enter my senior year in high school. The test was performed in my hometown of Nampa, Idaho at a local bar known as the Monkey Bar. The test involved the murder of a U.S. citizen on U.S. soil and was overseen by a man named Dick Cheney. The individual that I was made to murder was a girl from my high school and the Mormon community there in Nampa.
It was the late summer of the year 1995 and Bill Clinton was the President of the United States of America. Up until that time I had been United States government property and undergone extensive trauma-based mind control programming at various locations across the country, but I was not yet cleared for Pentagon Level CIA Black Operations of which some members of my family were deeply involved. It was decided by my grandfather that I was to undergo the testing required for my Pentagon Level Black Operations clearance even though I was underage and did not meet the minimum age requirement of eighteen years until June of the following year. It was a requirement at that time that one be eighteen years of age to be cleared for that type of work, but my grandfather had some influence in the Deep State, and I was to be moved through the system.
I was living at my parents’ house at the time and working as a delivery guy at a furniture store there in my hometown of Nampa, Idaho. The store was owned by my girlfriends’ father, Mr. Hales. It was my last day of working for Mr. Hales that year, as the summer was winding to a close and my Senior year of High School was about to begin. I can remember that it was a hot day there in southern Idaho and we had performed all our deliveries and only had one job left before we could call it a day and head home for the afternoon. Mr. Hales had said that there was a piece of furniture located at a local business there in town known as the Monkey Bar that we needed to go and pick up. He said that we had to bring it back to the store because it needed some repairs and some work done on it. He told Dan and I that it was awkward to move and would require at least three people to lift into the truck so that we might bring it back to the store for repairs. Therefore, all three of us were to go on the last pick-up of the day on my last day of working for Mr. Hales that summer.
The Monkey Bar was a seedy business located in the older part of Nampa on the south side of the main railroad tracks running through town. I had always heard about the place as a child where there is a bar with monkeys that are held in cages all around the room. This is supposed to be its main gimmick as an establishment, but it also doubles as a cover for human trafficking. The bar was known within the community for its violence and criminal behavior as the gangs in the valley such as the South Side Crypts and the North Side Bloods frequented this establishment. (As a note I was once told by my uncle and CIA handler, Gale Pooley that both gangs, the Bloods and the Crypts were propagated up by the Central Intelligence Agency for social engineering, drug smuggling, and murderous purposes; the Central Intelligence Agency helped to create these gangs.) At that time, I found it strange that Mr. Hale, an upstanding Mormon in the community, and my girlfriends’ father, would be going to a place such as the Monkey Bar and would know the owner of the establishment. But I figured he was a businessman, and he must not be picky about who was willing to pay for his services.
So, toward the end of the day we all three loaded up into the truck to head over to the bar to pick up the piece of furniture. Now, usually when we went out on deliveries it was only myself and the other delivery guy; I want to say that his name was Dan. Dan always drove the truck as he was a full-time year-round employee of the company and had been doing deliveries for years for Mr. Hales and I was Dan’s assistant that summer. I had spent all summer riding around the valley delivering furniture as Dan smoked cigarettes and we listened to Rush Limbaugh on the radio in the sweltering heat of southern Idaho. He was an older gentleman in his early fifties or so and seemed to know Mr. Hales on a personal level and they had worked together for some time. But on this day, I can remember that Mr. Hales came with us, and he drove the delivery truck; we all three loaded into the delivery vehicles cab and took the short drive down the road to the edge of town next to the railroad tracks where the Monkey Bar was located.
Mr. Hales was very talkative on the drive over to the bar and he seemed to be in an especially good mood. I sat in the middle seat of the truck and Dan sat by the passenger window; he was nervous and was smoking a cigarette while Mr. Hales drove and talked. Mr. Hales parked the vehicle on the west side of the bar where there was a parking area and a fenced off area to the back. The entry to the bar was at that time around the southeast side of the building. We got out of the truck and walked across the front of the building to the entry door on the opposite side of the bar. It was an extremely hot afternoon, and the sun was reflecting off the building and making the world that much hotter for us as we headed for the entry to the bar. I had a pair of sunglasses on which I was glad to have with me as my eyes have always been somewhat sensitive to the sun, but they were red in color and did not keep as much of the sun out as I would have liked.
When we got around to the front entry of the building there was a sign on the door that caused me to stop before entering; it read, No One Under 21 Years of Age Allowed. I told Mr. Hales that I could not go into the bar because I was not twenty-one years old. He looked at me a little perplexed and asked me what I was talking about. I pointed to the sign on the front door of the establishment and told him that I was not old enough to enter the bar as I was not twenty-one years old; I was completely serious about this with him. Slightly frustrated Mr. Hales told me that because we were here on official business and because I was with him and Dan as chaperon’s it was ok to go inside because we had a job to do there.
This all made sense to me at that time and we all three went into the front entry of the Monkey Bar; first Mr. Hales, then myself followed by Dan. I had started to take my sunglasses off when we went inside, but Mr. Hales told me to leave them on. He said that I was going to want my rose-colored glasses on, and he said that I looked good in them. This was a mental cue/trigger to my subconscious, and I began to switch into another personality. Inside of the bar it was a stark contrast to the bright exterior of the summer sun outside; inside it was not dark, but it was not bright either as it had been outside. I looked all around the room as I wanted to see the monkey’s that I had always heard about. The bar was basically one really big room with cages hung from the high ceiling all around and some occasional small cages spread throughout the room and on the bar.
Mr. Hales walked across the bar and walked up to the bartender who greeted him with a sidelong look. Mr. Hales told the bartender that he was there to see the owner because there was some furniture that the owner had called him about. The bartender told him to go to the back of the building to find him if he liked. Mr. Hales told Dan and I to stay at the front of the bar and to wait for him to return. I stood and talked to Dan and the bartender for a moment while we waited. I asked the bartender where the monkeys were because there were none in the room. He told me that the monkeys were away in their cages. He said that they would bring them out again in a little while when it was the right time. The bartender made fun of my wearing sunglasses there in the room which made me feel somewhat foolish for wearing them, but I had been told to keep them on. The bartender also said that I seemed somehow familiar to him, and he began to get a little bit too interested in me for my comfort; he pushed this issue, and it began to make me quite uncomfortable. I have heard this often throughout my life as I have been used extensively in child pornography and more people have seen my face than I am even aware of or would like to imagine. I was relieved when Mr. Hales emerged from the back of the bar and told Dan and I to follow him into the back.
Dan and I followed Mr. Hales to the back of the bar. The ceiling got lower in this area of the building, and I can remember that there was a small monkey cage at the end of the bar as we approached the door to the office. The sight of these cages was causing me to experience flash backs of my time in Disneyland where children are the ones held in cages underneath the surface of the park. We stopped at the door to the office and Mr. Hales acted as though he was going to open the door but then suddenly, he stopped as though he had remembered something that he had forgotten. He looked at me and told me that I was to be the one who would open the door and turn the knob to our future. He said that once I went through the door, I would go over the rainbow. He did not say these things in the way I was used to hearing them, but my subconscious mind understood enough of what he said; when he said this, it was a trigger for me that it was time to switch, and I changed inside of myself to another personality. I became somewhat angry as at that moment I understood that Mr. Hales was taking me into something that would not be good. I was accustomed to this procedure, though he had not seemed well versed in how he presented it, and I reached down slowly and began to turn the knob. I was moving too slowly for Mr. Hales and he became impatient and as I opened the door, he told me to hurry up and get inside of the room and he pushed me into the office.
Inside of the room there was a man sitting behind a desk looking down at some paperwork and there was another man standing next to the desk, but he was turned around with his back to U.S. The room was not well lite with only one light on in the area of the desk. Behind the desk was an office style divider or short wall separating the front and the back of the room. There were windows at the very back wall of the room that were all closed and had paint, or something put over them to obscure the glass and make it difficult to see inside of the building. The man behind the desk greeted U.S. as we entered the room, but he did not seem to be friendly, rather all business. He was working on some form of paperwork that he seemed intent on finishing up. The man behind the desk looked familiar to me in some way but he was wearing an ugly country western style outfit that made him look like he had stepped out of a bad western film with a leather vest, collared patterned shirt with metal pull buttons, and he had a hazel bowl cut mullet haircut; to top it all off, he was wearing thick eyeglasses that made the whole outfit look rather ridiculous and out of context with the era he was trying to portray.
Mr. Hales addressed the owner of the bar when we entered the room and all attention seemed to be aimed at me. Mr. Hales told him, “Here he is, we have brought you Johnny Sweet. He said that he would like to see the monkeys.” Mr. Hales sounded almost proud of himself with all of this. The man behind the desk did not stand, but looking up at me said, “This is the guy?” When he said this the man who had been turned with his back to U.S. turned around; it was my grandfather. He looked at me after he turned to face U.S. and he said to the man behind the desk that I was indeed his grandson, Johnny. I had tried to say hello to my grandfather, but he snapped at me to “Bee Silent”, and he told me to “Stand at Attention”. This all appeared to be a serious matter of a military nature. I did as I was told and I stood at attention, eyes forward, arms to my side, and I did not move. The man behind the desk finished up what he had been doing with the paperwork and then he stood up and he walked around the desk and approached me.
The man with the mullet walked up and stood directly in front of me. Angrily and with a look of distain he told me to, “Take the damn sunglasses off of your face.” I took them off and I put them on top of my head and out of the way. The he yelled at me to again “Stand at Attention”. I did as I was told. The man with the mullet stared hard at my face; I can remember that he stared into my eyes, and I did not move a muscle as my body was frozen in time; it seemed like a long time that he stood there affixed on my face and eyes with his. He seemed to me to be a cold and hard man. He stepped back just a little, not much and he told me to give him my left hand. I lifted my left hand up to his level and he took my forearm in a firm grip and turned the inside upward so that he might see it. He looked hard at my wrist and at the scars that Byrd had carved into my skin years before in the flower garden with his pocketknife. I knew what he was looking at. When he was satisfied that he could clearly see the scars he let my arm go and I dropped it down by my side and stood at attention. Then he told me to give him my right hand. I lifted my right hand for him to see and he again took my forearm in a firm grip and handling it roughly he turned it so that he could see what he was looking for. He looked hard at the scar that I have there on my right wrist which was again given to me by Byrd a few years prior. This scar is a little smaller though and harder to see as it was the result of Byrd pushing a nail through my wrist rather than carving it with a knife. When the man with a mullet was satisfied that he could see this scar he let my arm go and my hand dropped back down by my side. Then the man with the bowl cut and the mullet and thick glasses turned to my grandfather and said, “his record indicates that he has been used as a courier pigeon for the Agency and should therefore also bear the scar on his chest; is that correct?” My grandfather told him that that was correct and told him that I had been used as a courier pigeon by Gale Pooley, Charlie Pride, Senator Byrd and others in the past. Satisfied the man with the mullet turned and told me to unbutton my shirt.
Although I was standing there in the room the man with the ugly mullet acted like I was not really a person, but rather a robot or some form of equipment or asset. I was wearing a collared button up shirt that day as I often did, and I did as he told me to do, and I slowly reached up and started unbuttoning my shirt. I had only unbuttoned one or two buttons before the man with the mullet became impatient and knocked my hands out of the way and began unbuttoning my shirt himself. I put my hands at my side and again did not move while he did this. Once he had my shirt unbuttoned enough to see the scar at the center of my chest he stopped and simply held my shirt open with both hands and stared at my chest for what seemed to me a long time. Finally, being satisfied that he saw what he needed to see he let go of my shirt and he told me to button it back up again.
The man with a mullet and the thick glasses then turned to Mr. Hales and told him and Dan to go and get the monkey from the basement. Excitedly, Mr. Hales walked to the west side of the office where there was a door. He opened the door and went through it and Dan followed close behind him. I stood at attention there in the room and I did not move as this is what I had been told to do. The man with the mullet turned to my grandfather and he asked him if he had brought the weapon. My grandfather told him that he had, and he pulled his suit coat away to reveal a shoulder holster and a 1911 45 caliber Colt pistol. The mullet man turned and said to me, “So you want to see the monkeys. Well, there is one monkey here that you can help us with today.” There was the sound of a train rumbling in the distance and getting closer. The Monkey Bar was located very close to the railroad tracks running through Nampa. Then we could hear Mr. Hales and Dan coming back into the room. I did not understand what was going on and was by this point under a very deep state of mind control; I was in a dissociative state and another personality and my actions and even my thoughts by this point in time were not my own. This event was becoming pure trauma.
Mr. Hales emerged into the room and was pulling a girl through the door by the arm. This girl was not a monkey at all though Mr. Hales was rough on her and he did not seem to me at that moment in time to be a nice man. My grandfather told him to calm down with the girl as there was no need for him to be so rough with her. The girl was brought over and made to stand by me. I took the liberty of looking at this girl as I was confused with the situation unfolding before me. I knew this girl; she was from my high school and was a member of the LDS church I had attended in my youth; I had grown up around her and her family. I had had a crush on her for as long as I could remember but she had never shown a return for my affections. She looked rough; she was wearing a short sun dress, and her hair was black but was not naturally this color, and it was cut just above the shoulders into a short bob style cut. I was assuming that we were to be used in a pornography video as had occurred before in my past. But that was not the case here.
Most of the men in the room seemed to be looking at her with faces of distain, particularly Mr. Hales. Dan had the appearance of sorrow as though he did not like anything that was taking place or about to take place in this room and this bar. The mullet man looked at her with hard eyes as did my grandfather. They all acted as though this girl did not have a right to live. In the distance I could hear the rumble of an approaching train.
The mullet man told the girl to get on her knees and he forced her to the ground. She did as she was told and there were tears in her eyes, but she seemed as though her spirit had been broken by these cruel men. The mullet man addressed my grandfather and told him to give him the gun. My grandfather opened his coat and produced the pistol from his shoulder holster under his coat. He handed it to the man with the bowl style cut and the mullet and he told him that the pistol did not have a round chambered. The mullet man took the weapon and switching the safety off he pulled the slide back loading a round into the chamber. He then put the safety back on and walked up to me and handed me the weapon. He told me that in order fire the weapon I would need to deactivate the safety, which he demonstrated with his thumb. I took the weapon into my hand, and I was frustrated at mullet man for chambering a round for me. I felt that this was not necessary as I understood how to use such a weapon as I had been trained to do so. And I did not need him to tell me how to use the safety. By this time, the train was getting close and the noise from it was beginning to fill the room. The mullet man told me that I was to shoot the girl in the head that was there in the room on her knees, when I was told to do so. He told me that I would be given the order as soon as the train was behind the bar so that it would help to cover the sound of the shot.
During all of this I will tell you oh reader, that I was not in a normal state of mind. I had entered a personality that was made specifically for dealing with these kinds of situations and was not acting of my own volition or free will as I was under a very deep and power spell that is trauma-based mind control.
It was all incredibly sad, but I took the pistol that had been loaded and given to me by the man with the mullet and I pointed it at the girl’s head who was there on her knees before U.S. The train rumbled up behind the building and as it began to pass, and I was ordered by the man with the mullet to shoot the girl in the head. I did as I was told as that is what a mind slave does. When the weapon discharged the sound was extremely loud and deafening as it was fired in an enclosed room. I had been concerned that the blast would break some of the windows in the room, but it did not. When the weapon discharged the girl collapsed to the floor and was dead instantly; it had been a quick and painless death for her. After this I moved deeper into myself into yet another personality to deal with this whole disgusting situation. I can remember that I stood there for just a moment in time, and I looked at the poor girl lying there dead on the floor before me. There was a bullet hole in her head and blood was beginning to pool around her. I could not process what I had just been made to do by these men, and what I was seeing with my own eyes. The man with the mullet told me to put the safety back on the pistol; I did as I was told. The man with the ugly mullet told me to give him back the gun; again, I did as I was told, and I handed him the weapon. He took it and he handed it to my grandfather who unloaded the chamber and put the weapon back under his suit coat.
I was in a complete state of trauma, but nothing slowed down around me. I was told to go with my grandfather and the man with the mullet did something more with the paperwork. He told Mr. Hales and Dan to clean up the body and the mess on the floor. I was taken back behind the desk area with my grandfather and there were office style dividers separating the room as though it had at one point been used for an office space of a larger scale. My grandfather hypnotized me there in the back of the room. He had his pocket watch which was on a chain, and I can remember him saying to me, “You have been down the rabbit hole, but now it is time to come back. You must remember to forget. It is your part to forget.” He told me that I would remember none of the events that had just occurred, and I believed him. When he had finished with the hypnosis process, he pulled out a taser from his suit coat pocket and he told me to lift my shorts around my right thigh. He told me to hand him my sunglasses from off my head, so that they did not get broken when I lost control of my body from the electrical shock and fell to the floor. Then he hit me with the damn thing; I went out and down in a flash of white light and numbing pain.
My grandfather helped me back onto my feet and got me walking again but I was very disoriented and confused; I felt sick and thick. My grandfather gave me back my sunglasses and he told me to put them on as he led me out of the back area of the room. When we got to the front of the room Dan was looking for a mop to clean up the blood and the man with the mullet had just finished up with his paperwork. The body of the girl was no longer in the room. Mullet man began talking to my grandfather and Mr. Hales told me to follow him outside so that we could locate the piece of furniture that we had come there for. I was led to the west side of the room where there was a door leading to the back and side of the building. It was hot outside, and I was confused as to what was going on, and I felt a numb kind of ill all over my body that was somehow familiar to me. The shelving that we were supposed to be picking up was on the opposite side of the fence from U.S. so Mr. Hales started back toward me and said that we would need to go back around through the building in order to get to where it was. I turned around and we headed back toward the door. My grandfather met U.S. at the door, and we told him that we were going to head around back through the building because we could not access the shelving unit through the fence. I was confused as to why my grandfather was there in the bar with us. I followed Mr. Hales into the office and Dan was just finishing up mopping up the blood on the floor. I was confused as to why there was blood on the floor. The man with the mullet was still in the room and we said goodbye to him, and we left the office through the same door we had come in.
We walked through the bar toward the area where we had waited for Mr. Hales and talked to the bartender. There were more people in the bar now sitting around the large room at some of the tables. We turned toward the door, and I recognized one of the people sitting at a table there in the bar. He was a young Hispanic male who attended Nampa Senior High School and was involved with the gang culture. He looked at me as though he recognized me to, but I left the building with Mr. Hales and Dan through the front door and did not speak with him.
We stepped outside into the heat and the sun and walked across the front of the store to the side of the building where the shelving unit was sitting on the outside of the fenced off area. It was bright from the sun, and I had wished that I had better sunglasses for keeping the sun out as the ones that I was wearing seamed more for appearances than for protection from the sun. I also hoped that no one from our local church saw us as we came out of the bar because I had thought that this would not look good and would take some explaining on my part if we were seen. We walked around to the back of the truck and my grandfather was there and greeted us as we got ready to load the shelving unit into the truck. Mr. Hales asked my grandfather how he had gotten around the fence and there was a gate that Mr. Hales and I had not seen.
We went to work loading the shelving unit into the truck and my grandfather chatted with us as though nothing had just happened inside of the bar. I asked him why he was there as I could not remember what had just occurred inside of the bar and he told us that he had been driving by when he saw the van here. He said that he had wanted to talk with me because he wanted to invite me over for the evening so that we could watch a movie together; he asked me if I would like to come over after dinner and watch a movie with him. I told him that I would love too, and I felt like it was such a Small World there in Nampa Idaho. My grandfather said goodbye and he left as we finished up with tying down the shelving in the back of the moving van. Dan, Mr. Hales and I all loaded back up into the truck to head back over to the furniture store.
On the drive back, Dan sat next to the window and he smoked a cigarette; he seemed all shaken up by something. Mr. Hales told him that he should not be smoking in the truck, but Dan just started talking about what had just happened in the bar. He told Mr. Hales that what had just occurred with the murder of the girl was not right. He said that it was not right what I was made to do in there. Mr. Hales said that it was not up to any of U.S. but had been a decision of my grandfather and Mr. Cheney. Mr. Hales said that the topic was closed to discussion. It was difficult for me to understand what had just happened inside of the bar and what they were talking about, Cheney? Part of me understood, but another part of me had been told to remember to forget. I can remember looking at Dan and telling him that I was “ok”. A part of me at that moment could remember and did not want to appear weak or frail. But Dan had been right.
When we got back to the store, we parked the truck out back at the loading bay door. We did not unload the shelving unit, but Mr. Hales and Dan said that they would be able to handle it themselves the next morning. It seemed to me that it would have made more sense to unload it then and there as there was three of us for the job, but Mr. Hales would hear none of my protest in leaving the shelving in the van. So, I said goodbye to them, and I left work that day. It was my last day that summer, and I would not be working with Mr. Hales again.
I can remember that it was swelteringly hot as I walked across the street to my Toyota station wagon to make the short drive home. The car was parked directly in the sun, so it felt like a sauna when I sat down inside of it. I was glad that it was my last day of working at the furniture store because I did not feel well and was feeling rather sickly and short on energy. I thought that it was just the heat, and I did not understand that I was suffering from the effects of trauma and being hit with a taser. I started up the car and drove home to my parent’s house there on the south side of Nampa.
When I got to my parents’ house there was no one there but my mother. I parked my car outside and I went inside. It was much cooler in the house than it was outside as my parents are big fans of air conditioning. My mother was home and, in the kitchen, doing something. I walked into the kitchen area, and I said hello to her. My mother seemed excitable and nervous about something. She told me that I was not to go anywhere but was to stay home until my father got there. She said that he was on his way home and he wanted to talk to me when he got there. I told her that I was going to go and take a shower because I was dirty from a day’s work. She told me to take my shower in the back bathroom. This is the bathroom at the back of the house in the master bedroom. She said that my father would come and find me when he got home. I found this strange, but things were always strange around our house growing up. I went back to the back bathroom and started taking a nice hot shower. For some reason, the hot water felt very relieving even though outside it was well over a hundred degrees.
I was not long into my shower before my father got home and came back to the master bathroom to “talk to me”. He gave a knock at the door as he entered the room, and he locked the door behind him when he was inside. Now, I understand that it is weird for my father to be in the room with me while I was taking a shower. If he wanted to talk with me, he should have waited until I was done. But at that time, I did not understand as this was how I had been raised. He told me that my mother had told him that I was back in the shower, and he removed his clothing, and he got in the shower with me. I was confused by what was happening but disassociated and was pushed into another personality that was capable of dealing with such things. He knew what had happened that day and that I had taken my test for the CIA and the Pentagon. He seemed so proud of me, but he also knew that a girl had been murdered in this test. My father is a sick man and he anally raped me there in the shower and further traumatized me to help compartmentalize the memory of the murder that had just occurred in the confines of the Monkey Bar. After my father had finished raping me, he got out of the shower, and he dried off and got dressed. He told me that I was to get dressed and was not to go anywhere until evening when I was to drive to my grandfather’s house after dinner to meet with him and watch a movie together. My father hypnotized me to remember to forget what had just happened in the bathroom and then he got out a taser. He hit me in the right thigh with it as he had been doing since I was six years old, and Byrd had given it to him. He helped me to get up onto my feet again after hitting me with the taser and then he left the bathroom as though nothing had happened. I did not feel well and could not understand what was going on with me. I got dried off and then went and got dressed in my room.
After dinner that evening, I took the short drive over to my grandparents’ house there in Nampa. Night was beginning to set in and the light of the day with the heat that it carried was turning its eye on other parts of the globe. I parked my car in the driveway on the east side of the house; I was accustomed to visiting my grandparents and simply entered the house through the garage door as the man door on the south side of the garage was usually unlocked. My grandmother was in the kitchen when I entered the house, and she greeted me and was glad to see me. She gave me a hug and told me that she knew that I had taken my test that day. She told me that I had passed the test, and she said that my grandfather was very proud of me; she said that he was waiting upstairs and said that I should just head on up as he was eager to see me. She told me that they were all very proud of me. She told me that she was going to make some popcorn for my grandfather and I and would bring it up as soon as it was done.
I can remember that I went up the stairs and found my grandfather there in the guest area living space there on the second floor. There was a bed at the far end of the room, and he was sitting on the end of it and was looking at some kind of paperwork. He recognized that I had entered the room and he greeted me and said hello. I asked him what movie we were watching that night and he told me that we were going to watch Unforgiven. I did not want to see the film, Unforgiven as the last time that I had seen this movie some very bad things had happened to me. I will tell you that the first time that I had seen the beginning scenes of this film was in the summer of 1993; July 4th to be exact. I was with my younger cousin and my grandparents, and we had gone to Mcall, Idaho to visit and stay with some relatives there for a night. I can remember that on that night we rented a movie for us all to watch which was Unforgiven. The film turned out to be much too violent for my grandmother and the other woman there at the house/cabin that night and we had instead watched the film Bennie and June. But on that night there in Mcall, I had been tortured and raped by my grandfather; through all of this he had cut me up with a large knife and had given me a terrible wound between my anus and my scrotum where he was going to cut a vagina into my body. I have a large scar in this location from this event. At that time, he had also told me he was going to remove my male genitalia as he wished that I was a girl. This was all very traumatic and so the film Unforgiven had very bad connotations associated with it; but I could not remember these things at that moment in time. I just felt a flash of panic as he said, “I thought that we could finish it now that it is just you and I. You did want to finish watching it didn’t you?” I told him that I did want to finish watching it as this is what he had wanted to hear and what was planned for the evening. He said that the movie was sitting on the entertainment center near the television, and he said that I should go ahead and get it ready to play in the VHS player. I walked over to the shelf and picked up the film. He then told me that he had had quite a time trying to find the film as it was not available at the rental store, and he ended up having to buy a copy in order to attain it. I got the TV and the movie ready to play while grandpa finished up with his paperwork and put it away.
This room had an L-shaped sofa that sat in front of the television and my grandfather came over and sat down in the middle in front of the T.V. and I sat on the edge of the couch on the L section away from him. I could not understand why but I did not want to sit close to him. I fast forwarded through the previews so that we could get to the movie. My grandmother came up the stairs with the popcorn in a large bowl. She gave my grandfather and I each a small paper bag for individual servings. She mentioned how my grandfather liked to have his popcorn in a paper bag. My grandmother asked U.S. what movie we were watching and when we told her Unforgiven, she said that she had no interest in seeing the rest of that film. She told U.S. to enjoy our movie together and then she left turning the lights off as she went. I was left alone in the dark with my grandfather.
One of the first scenes in the film, Unforgiven is of a whore house in the old west. It is a graphic and awful scene where one of the men at the whore house enjoying their services, gets angry and begins to beat one of the women. My grandfather knew that I did not like this scene and during this part of the movie he made me perform falascio on him. He acted as though he was doing me a favor in giving me something else to do during this part of the film. He also used this as a means of moving me into the personality that he wanted to talk too and watch a movie with that night. After this scene ended and I had finished my task for him, I sat up and ate some more popcorn as though nothing at all had happened; it was all very awful and is horrible to recall.
My grandfather asked me if I understood the events that had taken place that day. He told me that the experience in the Monkey Bar had been a test to see if I could be used for CIA Pentagon Level Black Operations by the federal government. He told me that I had passed the test and he seemed proud of my “accomplishment”. He said that the guy in the bar had been Dick Cheney, and he said that he was the man in charge of deciding who it was that was selected for such work. My grandfather told me how important it was that I should pass the test at that time, as Mr. Cheney would no longer be doing the tests as he had received a job at the Haliburton corporation and would no longer be available. He explained how Cheney had been the Secretary of Defense for the United States government, but no longer held that position. He said that the man who was the current Secretary of Defense: William Perry, was not friendly to the Project and that there would be no more testing for this kind of work until someone who was friendly to the Project took his place again. He explained to me that it could be years before the network was able to get another one of their people back into this governmental position. He said that I was supposed to be eighteen years old to take the test and to do this kind of work and it had been important that I be pushed through before Cheney left for Haliburton because he did not know when the opportunity would arise again for me. He acted as though he had done all of this for the good of my future.
My grandfather continued to talk as we watched the movie, and he went into some darker political topics. He told me that the United States government was not a Democracy as the people believed it to be, but rather he said that it was the powerful elite who controlled the government; he told me that the people are just made to believe that our government is a democracy because it is easier to control them if they believe this. My grandfather told me that the man that I had met that day would in a couple of years’ time become the Vice-President of the United States. He told me that the next presidency in 2000 A.D. was already planned out and that Bush Jr. would become the president and that Cheney would be his Vice President. He told me that in many ways the Vice-President has more powers than the president because he is not in the public eye as much. He said that this was the way things had to be and he said that the government and its branches were much too powerful to be in the hands of the “people” because they do not know how to control and use such power. My grandfather told me that only the wise and the elite know how to control this power and God has given them the power to control. He told me that the sooner that I understood this the better off that I would be in this world.
My grandfather also explained to me at that time that the military was moving into more of a privatized direction and that our military actions would slowly be taken out of the hands of the U.S. government and put into the hands of private corporations and contractors. He told me it was good to know this and to understand because I was one of those contractors now. He told me that it was expensive to have and maintain a fulltime military and by using private contractors the U.S. government was able to save on many of the costs associated with providing for and maintaining a standing military. He told me that the standing military would slowly be faded out and become a thing of the past.
At this time, I was only seventeen years old, and a lot of this stuff was way over my head. My thoughts turned to the girl in the bar that I had been made to kill that day; I asked my grandfather why I had been made to murder the girl, and why it had to be the girl that it was. My grandfather turned this on me, and he said that it had been I who had selected the girl for the test. He reminded me of how he had asked me who it was of all the girls at school and church that I would want to marry if I could. My mind was tortured by all of this. He told me that he had talked with the girl’s father about my affections for his daughter, but the girl had refused me and had no interest in me. My grandfather acted as though this was insulting upon the Sweet family name. He told me that she had become rebellious and difficult to control for her father and she had cut her hair and dyed it black in protest of her father’s abuses and demands. All of this was a mental bind and manipulation of my mind but, this incident also acted as a shockwave of fear and trauma throughout the entire community that knew and loved this girl. Though some of them never knew what really happened to her.
I asked my grandfather how it was that they were going to cover up the girl’s death as now she was gone, and I asked him what was done with her body. He told me that the girl’s body had been taken to the hog farm out south of town and it had been disposed of there among the hogs. He said that the body was gone, and no one would ever find it. He also told me that a story had been built around the disappearance of the girl which everyone would be made to believe. He said that her family and friends would be told that she had been seeing an older man there in the area and she ran off with him never to be seen again. It was that simple. He told me that everyone would forget her with time. This was all sad and disturbing to hear.
The movie ended and it was late. My grandfather was tired, but he took the time to hypnotize me there in the room so that I might remember to forget the events of the evening and the day and so that he might begin the process of returning me to my base personality. When he was finished with this, he hit me in the right thigh with a handheld taser as was typical. When I left the house, my grandmother had already gone to bed and the house was quiet and dark. By the time I awoke the next morning I could remember none of this.
This work is a Journaled Memory of the author: J.R. Sweet
All Rights Reserved.
Mormon Monarch 