…Redemption…

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 a time when I was used in the Wood River Valley as an assassin for Uncle Sam; this Journalled Memory is about the time that I was made kill the man who had been the target in the failed assassination attempt in Boise, Idaho in the spring of 2000 A.D.. But I will tell you that in this government sponsored murder not only the man who was the target in Boise would lose his life on that day, as I would also be made to kill this man’s family. At the time that this incident occurred I was working for Loomis Construction which is a company based out of Ketchum, Idaho and serves the elite of the world. This position of Loomis as a general contractor was used by the Central Intelligence Agency and the Pentagon to set up this assassination/murder under the cover of a remodel project.

After the failed assassination attempt that I had been involved with in Boise, Idaho I was moved from my hometown of Nampa to central Idaho, where I began working for a general contractor in the town of Ketchum. The company that I would be working for was called Loomis Construction and was owned and operated by a man named Mike Chandler. Mr. Chandler was a member of the Mormon Church and was involved with the bishopric there in the Wood River Valley. Many of the employees who worked for Loomis were also members of the Church, though not all. I say that I was moved into this position because I had acquired this new job with Loomis through my uncle and CIA Handler, Gale Pooley. I can remember that my uncle had called me on the landline at my Nampa apartment after the failed Boise operation and he told me that he had gotten me a job working for a general contractor in Ketchum; he said that it was exactly the kind of job that I had been looking for as we had discussed my work options during the Boise operation. When he called me and told me of this opportunity, I could not remember the suicide programming I had endured only days before, nor our failed assassination attempt in Boise; these memories had been compartmentalized. So, when he told me that he had just talked with a friend of his up in Ketchum who was a general contractor that needed help with his projects there in the Wood River Valley, I was excited about the opportunity. Gale told me that the job would expose me to high end carpentry and would be a good experience for me. This contracting firm focused on serving the housing needs of the world’s most elite, but I did not understand at that time that I was being placed with this company for a reason, and that this was the location that Byrd and the Agency wanted me to be.

After getting off the phone with Gale that night I called his friend Mike Chandler there in Ketchum as I had been told to do; he was expecting my call. I was able to talk with Mr. Chandler that night and we set up a time to meet in his office there in Ketchum. Ketchum is only about a three-hours’ drive from Nampa where I was living at the time, so I made the drive and attended my interview. My interview went well, or so I perceived, and I was offered a job as an apprentice carpenter for $13.00 an hour. This was about $6.00 more an hour than I was making as an apprentice finish carpenter in the Boise Valley at that time. In order to give us time to find a place of our own there in the area my wife and I were able to stay with Kate’s mother at her home just outside of Gooding Idaho, which was only about an hour’s drive south of Ketchum. Everything was in place, and we got ready for our move.

A day or two before we moved from our Nampa apartment to Kate’s mothers’ home, I was packing up our belongings and getting things ready to go when I received a phone call from the father of a good friend of mine; this man’s name was Daniel Kline. I was surprised to get a call from Dan as this had not occurred before in my youth except when he was trying to find his son, Hansel when he was out past his curfew; Dan had never to my recollection called me to just chat before. He said that he wanted to stop by my apartment for a short visit before Kate and I made the big move out of the valley, so that he could say goodbye to us. I told him to come on over as I was just packing up our things for the move and not much else was going on around the apartment that evening. Kate and I had an argument before Dan got there and she went and took a bath as she needed some quiet time alone; I watched our newborn son, Dylan while I was packing things in the living room and waiting on Dan to show up.

Daniel stopped by and I answered the door and I let him in. He was very polite and friendly as he always was, and we sat and talked for a short spell. He asked me about the move and how Kate and I were doing covering all the pleasantries of conversation. But Dan had not just stopped by to say his farewells that evening; as we were talking toward the end of our conversation and his visit, he intentionally used a verbal trigger and switched me into another personality; he used the phrase: Going over the rainbow, and he did this as though it was just in normal conversation and when I switched, I could see a light go on in his head with the knowledge he had just gained; when he did this, he could clearly see that he had triggered me into another personality, and he shook my hand, and he said goodbye. This left me in a dark place in my mind and I immediately went to the telephone and called my grandfather and told him what had just happened.

My grandfather made sure that he understood who it was that had just triggered me into the personality I was in. He also asked me if I felt that Dan had done this intentionally or by accident, and I told him that it seemed as though he had done this intentionally. My grandfather then told me to go to bed; he told me that I needed to get into bed and go to sleep as when I would awaken, I would be back into my base personality again. I hung up the phone and I immediately got ready for bed. I took our son Dylan to my wife there in the tub and he joined her in the bath. Then I got into bed, and I went to sleep. I would not see Dan again in this life after that evening. Dan had not completely understood what he was getting into that night; he did not understand the danger of his actions.

Kate and I made the move from Nampa to Gooding, and we put our things in Kate’s mothers’ garage while we looked for a home to rent there in the area that would work for us. We found a nice older house in the town of Fairfield, Idaho that we were able to rent for a good price from some nice older local landlords. The house was located on a quiet lot near the city park there in town. We only lived with Kate’s mother, Karen, for a few weeks before we found the house in Fairfield and moved into it. But my mother-in-law was always a nice person to stay with and both Kate and I felt at home there in her house in Gooding during our stay. 

I started working for Loomis right away when we moved in with Karen, and the first project that I was to work on for the company was called the Ski House. The Ski House was a large multi-million-dollar residential home project located up on what was known locally as Knob Hill, overlooking the city of Ketchum. The Ski House was being constructed for a man named Mickey Drexler; this man was the CEO of the Gap Corporation at that time. The building itself was designed by the Office of Thierry W. Despont based out of New York City. The home was dug into the hillside and much of the structure was composed of one-foot-thick poured concrete walls and steel. It was our job as carpenters to frame in the wooden walls and drop ceilings inside of the concrete and steel structure. I was placed working on this project at the beginning phases of the interior wood framing portion of the building, and much of the concrete building shell had already been poured and was in place when I came onto the job. I would spend over a year assisting in the carpentry and general labor tasks on this project.

It was Monday, May 29^th of the year 2000 A.D. and I was working on the interior framing of the Ski House when the project foreman, Bob Davis came and told me that he had just received a phone call from one of our other foremen whose name was Kendall, and Bob had been told that I would need to go and help Kendall with another project there in the valley for the remainder of the afternoon. (As a note, I can remember that Kendall was Mormon and was a member of the Church; Bob Davis was not.) I asked Bob what I would need to take with me, so that I would be prepared for the job with Kendall, and Davis told me that I just needed to bring my tool bags along. I went back to work there at the Ski House until Kendall arrived. From where I was working in the building I could see out of the front of the building and down onto the driveway area where Kendall would most likely arrive. Kendall got there and I could see his truck pull in below in the driveway area of the property and he parked next to the portable outhouse. I gathered up my things and headed down to meet him. I can remember that I met up with Kendall and I said hello to him and asked him if there were any other tools that I would need to get from the Ski House before we left. He told me that we had everything that we needed at the other job, and he said that I was to load up my tool belt into the bed of the truck and sit down in the passenger seat until he came back out of the building; he said that he needed to run inside to talk to someone else there on the site before we could leave, and that he would be right back down in a few moments. I gathered up my things and put my tool bags in the bed of the truck and sat down in the passenger seat as I had been instructed to do. Kendall arrived shortly thereafter, and we headed out to the next project. I asked Kendall where we were going, and he told me that we had some work to do on one of our other projects there in the valley.

Kendall took us north on the highway and past Earnest Hemingway’s grave there on the right side of the road before the golf course. He turned right onto Saddle Road and drove U.S. up toward the resort town of Sun Valley. We went past the ice rink and the dam and turned right onto Prospector Road. We drove up the hill and turned right again onto Wedeln Lane. I can remember that we drove past a house there on the right side of the road which Kendall told me was Clint Eastwood’s house and Kendall made sure to point it out and tell me who’s house it was. I do not know for certain if this truly was one of Mr. Eastwoods homes, but this is what I was told. The house we were heading to was at the end of Wedeln Lane and Kendall pulled U.S. up the driveway to the home.

The home itself was an interesting bit of architectural design and the driveway and entry were at the top of the multi-story building. The home was made of concrete as was typical with the standard construction of Loomis homes, and it looked as though it simply emerged from the side of the hill from below. The driveway was circular with parking available in the center of the drive or on the edges. But Kendall pulled his truck right up to the front entry walk of the home as though he owned the place, and the client would not be bothered by him doing so; I was a little surprised that he did this and did not simply park in one of the parking areas, but this was Kendall’s job, so I asked no questions. Kendall was in a hurry as he got out of the truck and began to head towards the front of the truck and the front entry of the home. I got out and I asked him if I should grab my tool bags from the truck before we headed inside. He stopped and told me to go ahead and get them, but he said something about my not really needing them for the work we were going to be doing that afternoon. This confused me, but I got my tool bags from the back of the truck and followed Kendall down the entry walk leading to the front door of the home; Kendall led the way and he seemed to have a lot of energy and was in a hurry. The entry walk was about thirty feet long or so and stepped down from the parking area to the level of the front door which was lower than the parking area. There was some kind of key code pad for entry to the home and Kendall entered the correct code to open the door. When it opened, we walked inside and closed the door behind ourselves. We were standing in a dark entry hallway.

I can remember that inside of the home it was quiet, and most of the lights were off. There was light coming into the hallway from some narrow, horizontal windows high in the wall, but the interior had a dark feel to it. We went down a hallway that led further into the home. The hallway got slightly wider as we got closer to the living areas of the home. There was an elevator door on the right side of the hallway before we reached what appeared to be a living room and kitchen area. We stopped in front of the elevator and Kendall told me to push the elevator button for going down. I did as I was told. Someone else was in the home toward the end of the hallway. It was the maid/housekeeper, and some kind of interaction took place here which I cannot fully recall at this point. I can remember that the elevator pulled up in front of U.S. and the doors opened, and Kendall motioned that I should enter. I stepped inside and it was a nice small elevator box large enough to hold maybe four people or so max. The elevator doors closed after we had entered, and Kendall told me to push the button leading to the basement of the home. I pushed the button for the bottom floor and the elevator began to move downward into the bowels of the home.

When the elevator stopped, and the doors opened Kendall stepped out into the hallway and I followed closely behind him. I can remember that the hallway was dark and dimly lit with track lighting of some kind behind a layer of trim along the wall. There was a steel mechanical room door next to the elevator there in the hall. Kendall stood in front of the door and said something that instantly pushed me into another personality. I can remember that he said something to the effect of, “the captain is waiting to take you on this journey over the rainbow. He is behind this door. Will you turn the knob to start the journey?” When Kendall said this, I began to switch personalities as this entire scenario was far too familiar to me. When I switched, I became angry and serious inside and knowing that this was certainly not carpentry work waiting for me behind the door I reached down, and I opened the door to the elevator mechanical room and I stepped inside determined to see what was going on.

The lights were already on when we entered the room. The room was not large but was also not small and it had a tall ceiling that stretched the entire height of the building from that point; this was the mechanical room and elevator shaft. There was mechanical equipment spread throughout the room such as the elevator mechanics, large water heater, HVAC equipment, etc.

I can remember that there was a man standing in the mechanical room as we entered; he was wearing a black suit with his back to Kendall and I as we entered the room. He seemed somehow familiar to me. Kendall closed the door after we entered the room and the man in the suit turned to face U.S. both; it was my grandfather. Time stood still for a moment, and he looked so old and out of place in his suit there in the basement mechanical room. I started to say hi to him, but he quickly snapped at me to “bee silent” and to “stand at attention”, both phrases were deeply instilled triggers on the severity of the situation at hand and I did as I was told. Kendall addressed my grandfather and told him that he had to go and pick up another member of the team who was still at the Ski House and awaiting his return. Then he said that he would be going to the target house after picking up this individual and he would oversee the apprehension of all the targets in the target home. He then told my grandfather that our ride was on its way and would be arriving shortly; he said it was critical that we arrived at exactly the right time to the target house as this was when all members of the family would be present at the home; school would be out, and all the children and the adults would be at home. Also, most of the neighbors would still be at work. My grandfather told Kendall that he understood, and we would be at the site at the correct time; he said, “I am the one who planned this, of course we will arrive at the correct time.” Kendall turned and opened the door and stepping into the dark hallway he closed it behind himself and left me there in the mechanical room alone with my grandfather. This was all very bad.

I stood silently at attention as Kendall left the room and my grandfather stared at me. We could hear Kendall as he entered the elevator and pushed the button to return to the top floor of the home. The elevator box was in the room and located directly behind me. The elevator equipment in the room turned on and fired up and the sound filled the space with noise. The elevator took Kendall to the top floor, and we could hear as he exited the elevator, and everything fell quiet again in the room. My grandfather began talking and he told me how handsome I looked as a carpenter. At that time, I took pride in my appearance, and I can remember that I was wearing a pair of dark green Carhart logger pants, a button up collared shirt of some kind, Georgia Giant leather boots and a green and worn ball cap with a Mr. Potato head on it. I also still had my tool bags there with me. My grandfather told me to put the tool bags down on the floor there in the room.

I put my tool belt down next to some of the equipment by the door and my grandfather told me how he had missed having me around the Boise valley and my hometown of Nampa since I had moved away. I can remember that he began to move me into a deeper state of disassociation and another personality, and he started talking about how sexually there was no one there in the valley to please him as only I could. He said that he could not get such pleasure from my grandmother. He approached me and reaching up he touched me behind the left ear which is a trigger point location, and he told me I was to perform “felattio” on him. This was a trigger that had been instilled in me from my youth to perform the act of oral sex on him. I got on my knees, and I performed oral sex on my grandfather there in the mechanical room. This act was not simply for the sick pleasure he enjoyed from a such a thing, which he did as sick as he was, but also to begin to move me deeper into a state of disassociation and the personality that he would need me to be in for the operation to follow.

After I had performed oral sex on the man, he told me to stand up and he wiped my face of the residue of the work I had just completed for him. He told me that I would have to change from the clothes that I was wearing into something more appropriate for the current operation that we had to perform that day. He told me that although I looked great as a carpenter, I had a job to perform for Uncle Sam that would require a different uniform. There was a large paper grocery style bag in the room on the floor behind my grandfather and next to some of the large mechanical equipment. He told me to open it up and get out the suit and put it on. Inside of the bag there was a neatly folded black suit coat, black dress pants, a typical button up white collared shirt and a tie; he did not have any shoes for me to wear and I would have to wear my work boots for the operation.

I removed my street clothing and began to put on the dress suit. My grandfather talked to me as I got dressed and he told me that the suit had come from my father and that it would probably be a little large for me, but he said that it should work. He told me that he and my father had tried to get a suit from my older brother, as he was a closer fit to my size, but he said that my brother had not relinquished his suit as he had just bought it and did not want to let anyone else use it. My grandfather said that my older brother had asked too many questions and the subject had to be dropped on this matter. My grandfather told me that my older brother was not to be trusted with the kind of knowledge and work we carried out and performed for Uncle; he told me that I could not trust my older brother.  He also told me that I needed to buy my own suit so that I would have one ready when Uncle Sam came to call on me again in the future. He told me to take care of myself and to always keep my hair cut and to keep myself well-groomed, as appearances were especially important in our line of work.

Guilt is one of the tools in a Mind Control Programmers tool belt and my grandfather also told me that a lot had happened in the Boise Valley with my absence. He told me that there was still work to do in my hometown, and he said that others were having to do my job for me while I was away. He got right to the point, and he told me that Daniel Kline had been figuring stuff out regarding the Project and the Mormon Connection, and he was talking to a local FBI agent about it. He reminded me that I had called him the evening that Daniel had stopped by my apartment there in Nampa and intentionally triggered me into another personality. He told me that Dan had also stopped by Kristopher Cahoon’s house to visit with him as well that same evening, and that he had intentionally triggered Kris; Dan was onto the Mormon faction of the CIA MK-Ultra project in the Boise Valley. My grandfather told me that my family and I were at risk of being exposed by Dan and the FBI. All of this was hard to take in and I was driven ever deeper into the personality that my grandfather needed me to be in for the afternoon. I asked my grandfather what had happened, and he told me that they had killed Dan the previous day, and that my father and Mr. Cahoon (Patrick Cahoon) had taken my younger brother Tommy, and David Cahoon, Kristopher’s older brother, with them to take care of Dan. I can remember being shaken up by this and asking my grandfather who it was that had carried out the execution. This was important to me because it would indicate the amount of pain that Dan would have endured before his death as some are more skilled than others at this task and it was important in my mind to move the living to the world of the dead, as quick and painless as possible. This is how I had been programmed to be by my CIA handlers and Human Bio Programmers. My grandfather told me that David Cahoon had performed the final task of killing Dan. The thought of this horrified me as I could remember the time in Nampa when David and I had been made to kill the luggage handler from the Boise airport and his daughter, which had been more than a nightmare. My grandfather told me that David had performed well, but he said that they had used a gun in this execution and not a knife. He said that they had used a handgun that my father had brought for the job which was a .380 caliber Berretta. He said that they had made the whole incident appear to be a suicide and made it to look as though Dan had shot himself with his own pistol. I asked my grandfather about the possibility of the police and officials finding the bullet from the .380 and learning that he had not killed himself with his own gun. My grandfather rebuked this and said that the ballistics were similar enough, and he said that the police could never find the bullet there in the woods near the lake anyways. He said that the FBI agent that Dan had been talking to was now scared shitless from the event and would not be a problem for U.S. in the future; the FBI agent that Dan had been talking to was going to move away from the Boise Valley after this. All of this was extremely traumatic to hear and understand at that time and it drove me ever deeper into a dark personality capable of dealing with such situations and events.

I can remember that my grandfather brought up the failed operation in Boise that I had been involved in with my uncle Gale. He said that he had heard about this, and he made me explain to him my version of what had happened to cause the failure of that operation. I told him how I had not been dressed appropriately for the weather, and how it had been cold on that night. My grandfather told me that this was no excuse and then he asked me about my having been smoking marijuana. He told me that Gale had told him that I had been smoking marijuana. I can remember that I was honest with him, and I told him that yes, indeed I had been smoking marijuana with some of my old friends from Nampa before the operation in Boise. He told me that I was not to ever smoke marijuana again as it effects my programming and he said that this was part of why there had been a problem in the Boise operation. My grandfather also said that he knew that Gale had performed suicide programming on me after the events in Boise. He was angry at Gale for having done this, but he told me that my failure in Boise had put my life and the life of my wife and child in great jeopardy. I can remember that my grandfather said that because of this failure and malfunction in my programming the CIA and the Pentagon were considering my value as a live asset. My grandfather was getting old, and he said that he could not leave this world knowing that he had left me and my wife in such a predicament as we were in with Uncle. I can remember that my grandfather explained to me that he had personally planned this current operation and cleared it through the CIA and the Pentagon. He said that if I was successful with the current operation, I would restore my name with the Agency and the Pentagon; this was my opportunity for redemption in the network. I changed into the suit while we talked about these things.

I can remember that we heard something in the building. Some of the elevator components started up again and we could hear the doors open to the elevator above. We listened as we heard what sounded to be a single individual step into the elevator box and then the doors closed. My grandfather told me that this was probably our driver, but he said that he was not taking any chances. He told me to go and hide behind some of the mechanical equipment there in the room and he said that there was a pistol there for me hidden behind the equipment. He told me the pistol was loaded and I was to stand by in hiding until he told me to come out. He told me to be ready for anything that might happen. The room got loud from the mechanical equipment as the elevator started up and began moving down toward the basement floor. I can remember that I did as I had been instructed and I moved to a location hidden behind the mechanical equipment. There on the floor was a revolver and a leather shoulder holster; this was the same weapon and set up that I had used before in my hometown of Nampa on the night that we killed the luggage handler and his daughter. The elevator moved down through the home with the sound of the motor engulfing the space. It stopped on the basement level and the room quieted down and we could hear as the doors opened to the hallway outside of the mechanical room. There was a knock at the door, and then someone opened it. I could hear my grandfather talking to someone who had entered the room and I could tell that it was not a hostile situation. My grandfather told me to put my gun away and to come out from behind the mechanical equipment as it was clear; it was our driver. I put the revolver back into the holster and I put the holster on as I emerged and said hello to the man who had entered the room and would drive U.S. to the target site.

When I came around the corner, I instantly recognized the man that my grandfather was talking to; he was one of the local neo-Nazi skin heads there in Ketchum that I had seen around town. I had met him before at a small restaurant and pub called Lefty’s, when one of my friends from work and I had been getting lunch there one day. He was not tall, and he was not short; he was stocky but not large or fat, just fit. The man shaved his head and looked like a Nazi skin head. He was wearing a black leather jacket, dark grey button up shirt, black pants and black leather shoes. I said hello to him, and my grandfather introduced me to him. I told him that I remembered him from meeting him before at Lefty’s, but he told me that he had no recollection of our meeting. I did not push the issue but got started with putting on my tie and he and grandpa started talking.

My grandfather asked the man if everything was in order, and he told him that everything was going as my grandfather had planned it. The driver said that we would need to be leaving the basement in a short while in order to make it to the target site at the correct time. My grandfather told him that we were almost ready to go, and time should not be a problem as he turned and helped me to finish tying my tie. I have always had trouble with getting my tie done up just right. The skin head lived up to his persona and he began to nervously talk about the target family in a very racist and derogatory fashion. He said that he was glad that we were going to be killing a black man, a “nigger” he called him, and especially a nigger who was married to a white woman. He went off on a very hateful tirade and said a lot of very mean and derogatory things about people of color and it was all very shocking to hear. Now, my grandfather was also a racist man, but he did not feel that this was the time nor the place for such talk as this and he told the skin head that he should have some respect for those that were about to pass from the world of the living to the world of the dead. At about that time the elevator mechanics in the room began to start up again and all three of U.S. just kind of stood there for a second and looked at each other in surprise. We could see the elevator move back up through the building to the upper floors of the home before it stopped, and someone entered, and the doors closed again. The elevator started moving downward and we all three drew our weapons in preparation of the unexpected. We had no one else who was to join our party at this location. The elevator stopped on the floor directly above U.S. and we could hear as the doors opened and someone exited into the space above. Some of the tension left the room and my grandfather whispered, “Cleaning Lady”. We listened as the elevator equipment went quiet and the house went still again, and we heard footsteps leading away above U.S.. We stood there in the silence of the room as some moments passed; we were all three as quiet as a mouse. Then we heard someone come back to the elevator on the floor above U.S. and open the doors again. They stepped into the elevator and the room that we were in got loud again and the elevator moved back up toward the top floor of the home and again stopped. We heard the doors open and someone exit the elevator on the main floor. The room went quiet again as the equipment shut down.

I was not in my right mind through any of this but was in a personality made for such work. I was observant and had noticed the type of weapon the skin head was carrying; it was a Walther PPK in stainless steel. I had not seen many of these pistols in my lifetime and having been indoctrinated by endless James Bond films throughout my youth I was interested in the weapon. I told the skin head that he was carrying a nice piece and I told him what it was. He looked at me with some surprise at my talking of such a thing in such a circumstance as this but took it in stride and he held it there for a moment for me to see. Then I asked him if I might hold it to get a feel of it as I had never been able to hold one before; his expression changed to concern, and he asked me why I would ask that in such a place as this. He was clearly angry and shaken up as in this kind of work one never really knows who the target “really” is or could be. My grandfather immediately stepped into the conversation and apologized to the skin head for my asking to take his weapon. I can remember that my grandfather told me to be quiet and said to the skin head that I just genuinely had a fascination with firearms, as I had been around them my entire life. The skin head seemed to accept my grandfathers’ story, but he was clearly nervous from the whole encounter. Nonetheless, he put his pistol away in his holster under his jacket. I felt somewhat stupid for asking such a question in such a place, but this is the way of a mind slave.

I can remember that while we waited, I took a moment to comb my hair as I had been wearing a ball cap all that day at work. My grandfather had brought a comb for the event as he always seemed to have one in his pocket. The skin head got into his coat pocket and pulled out a small wooden container that held a small metal pipe and a small amount of marijuana; these pipes are typically called a one hitter. He stood there in the mechanical room and pushed the metal pipe down into the marijuana in the wooden container and loaded himself a small bowl to smoke. I can remember that he did this right there in front of U.S. as though it was really nothing at all. My grandfather looked at him and said, “What are you doing, you can’t do that in here – someone will smell it”. The skin head did not even slowdown in his process of getting high and he said to my grandfather before lighting up the pipe and taking a hit, “This is the best place to do it; would you rather that I smoke it on the drive? I don’t think you want the cops pulling U.S. over with me smoking marijuana in the vehicle do you. Besides, no one will smell it in here”. All of this clearly frustrated my grandfather and for a moment I wondered if he would be able to contain himself, but he remained calm.

After the skin head lit up the pipe, he blew the thick cloud of smoke up into the taller expanse of the room and upwards into the elevator shaft. I stood and watched as the cloud rose through the space and I can remember that a part of me also wished that I could take a pull from the pipe. The skin head did offer me a hit from the small pipe, but with my grandfather there in the room and having had him already scald me on the use of marijuana I said, “No Thank You”. My grandfather was clearly frustrated at the whole situation, and he pulled me away from him and said that I was not to have any marijuana, “No, do not give him any marijuana!”. The skin head loaded up another bowl of weed and looking at my grandfather he said, “Well, you aren’t going to be using any of that voodoo shit on me. I know this stuff helps to prevent that!” Then he lite up his pipe again and took another pull of smoke into his lungs, holding it and then blowing it out into the upper portion of the room and the elevator shaft. My grandfather looked mad as hell at the driver, but he dropped the subject and seemed to accept the situation. When the skin head had finished smoking his marijuana, he put it away in his coat pocket and he looked at his watch; he said that we had a couple of minutes before we needed to leave for the target home. We stood quietly for a few minutes, and I watched as the smoke from the skin head dissipated into the air above wondering if anyone in the home would smell it.

I can remember that finally it was time to go, and we exited the mechanical room and all three of U.S. went out into the dark hallway and to the elevator. Our driver was acting nervous and when we were about to get into the elevator, he said that he did not want to ride with my grandfather and I; he did not trust U.S.. My grandfather told him to ride up alone then before U.S. if he wished and it would make him feel better. He told the driver to make sure that it was all clear on the top floor before we got there. The skin head stepped into the elevator and closed the doors and left my grandfather and I there in the basement. We waited a few moments before pushing the button to bring the elevator back down.

My grandfather and I rode the elevator back up to the top floor of the building. When the doors opened our driver was standing outside of the door there in the hallway waiting for U.S.. I can remember that as we stepped out of the elevator I looked to my right and there in the living room of the home was an old thin man with grey hair sitting in a chair and looking right at U.S.. I nodded a hello to him, but we did not stop, and we turned and headed toward the main entry door down the hall. I told my grandfather that there was a man sitting in the living room and told him that he had seen U.S.. My grandfather told me that it was the owner of the home, but that I should not be concerned about him; he said that the man thought that we were simply ghosts, or “spooks” if you will. Somehow this made sense to me then and we left the house and walked out to the vehicle which was in the parking area. The skin head had moved faster than my grandfather as he was getting old, and I walked behind with him up the concrete stairs and out to the vehicle. The skin head was already at the vehicle and waiting for U.S. by the time that my grandfather and I reached it, and he opened the back-passenger door on the driver’s side for my grandfather. My grandfather told me to sit in the front passenger seat of the vehicle as he sat in the back. We all loaded up and headed down the hill and back down into Ketchum.

I can remember that the target house was located in a subdivision between Ketchum and Hailey, Idaho. It was about a fifteen to twenty-minute drive from the waiting location on Wedeln Lane to the target house. We had an uneventful drive through Ketchum and then on the highway heading south out of town. We drove for about five or six miles and turned left into one of the neighborhoods there; this would have been east off of the highway. We wound around through the streets to a place up on the foothills at the edge of the subdivision. As we began to wind through the neighborhood and get closer to the target house my grandfather began to talk to me about what we were going to be doing when we got there. He did this as though it did not matter that the driver heard our conversation and the driver sat and listened to my grandfather talk as he drove. I can remember that my grandfather reiterated that I had screwed up really bad on the last operation in Boise and that on this operation I was to do exactly as I was told; he said that in this operation there was no room for error, hesitation or discussion. Then Grandpa went on to say that a lot of work had been done to set up this operation with the exact timing of the execution being critical to its success as the CIA wanted this man who was the target and all of his family present at the home dead.  This was the time when they would all be at the home as it was just shortly after school had ended and all the children had gotten home with both parents also present. He told me that I was to show no mercy in our work as all of the family was to die before we left the house that day. Uncle needed this entire family dead, and it was my job to ensure that none of them would be breathing when we left the building. My grandfather told me that when we reached the target house, I was to exit the vehicle immediately and was to enter the home through the garage door and ensure that all of the targets were subdued, and the situation was under control. I was under a deep state of mind control by this point in time and I told my grandfather that I understood my orders and was prepared to do what “Uncle” needed done. Our driver pulled U.S. into the driveway to the home.

When we pulled up to the house there were several vehicles there at the site with some in the driveway and garage as well as some work trucks and vans parked around the house. I recognized all the work vehicles because I had seen them at the Ski House before and I knew these people as I worked with them, such as the van used by the crew of drywall installers and finishers, Richard one of our laborers was also there, Chad Ward of Richfield, Idaho was there as well as Kendall. All of these people aside from our neo-Nazi driver were members of the Mormon Church there in the area. To the average passerby or the prying neighbor’s eye it appeared that the home was simply undergoing a remodel project. But more than the home would be affected by the events of that day.

Our driver pulled U.S. into the driveway of the home and pulled right up in front of the garage and stopped the vehicle; the garage door was open. I got out of the vehicle, but I did not wait for my grandfather because he had told me that I should get into the home and analyze the situation as soon as we got there. As I walked into the garage, I can remember turning to see the driver helping my grandfather from the passenger door; my grandfather now appeared a very fragile old man. I walked directly through the garage past the owner of the home’s SUV sitting there in its place and I stepped through the fire door separating the home from the garage. As I stepped through the door, I can remember looking down at my boots and finding that although they were work boots, they did look good and were a good substitute for leather shoes though I did find that the suit was slightly too large for me; I was in a disassociated state.

When I stepped from the garage into the house, I entered a small pantry area. The lights were off in this room but there was an open door into the kitchen; I stepped into the kitchen. The house was quiet, and everyone was there in the dining room just across the room; I could see that the target family was there, and they were all on their knees and being held in place by several people that I recognized standing around them. They all had a cloth tied about their mouths so that they were gagged. The people that were there standing over the family were various individuals from the Loomis crew and sheetrock crew members who subcontracted for Loomis.

Kendall was there and he was standing near the adult male and father of the family. He was a black man that was large in stature and had a clean-shaven face. His wife was next to him; she was a young woman in her late twenties and was a white girl from Idaho who was familiar to me. I knew her as she had grown up in the Nampa area and was a friend of my older sister. The children were also all lined up there in the dining room. There was a newborn child in the family that cried loudly through all of this. Kendall greeted me as I entered the kitchen, and I walked across the floor to the other side of the room to where the family was being held. When I got to the other side of the kitchen there was nothing left to my soul: it was gone; I was gone.

I remember looking at each member of the family that was about to be executed individually and with great callous and apathy; I was a monster; we were all monsters on that afternoon. As I looked at each of them Kendall spoke and told me that all the target family were present and were there in the room. No one moved but the little boy who had a strong heart, full of defiance, who squirmed and tried to break loose from the man that was holding him there bound by his hands and his feet and his mouth gagged. I can remember that Brian twisted the boy’s arm and got him under control, but I told him sternly not to be too rough on him. I could see defiance and a tear in the child’s eye. At that time, my grandfather had entered the room with the driver, and he walked through the kitchen and addressed Kendall. The driver stayed near the door where we had entered the kitchen near the pantry and only stood and watched the events of the evening unfold before him; his job was to provide U.S. security and transport. Kendall told my grandfather that all the family was present and accounted for and said that everything had gone according to plan. Kendall said that the only one who had given them trouble was the young boy who was still defiant. The boy squirmed when they talked about him, and the entire scene was nothing short of a nightmare as I reflect on these events. My grandfather told Kendall to ready the kitchen for the ceremony and with that the older gentleman that was a sheetrock subcontractor, and his two employees went to work laying plastic down in the kitchen area on the hard surfaced floor. When they had finished laying out the plastic the family was made to move into the kitchen area and line up based on age with the younger always being to the left of their elder.

Once the family was in the kitchen area and lined up on their knees on the plastic my grandfather talked to the man and the woman about why they were in the situation that they were in at that moment in time. They removed the gages from the man and the woman, and my grandfather was cold and hard and there was no mercy in the conversation between them. Looking at the man he asked him if he understood why he was there on his knees such as this as he was. The man nodded his head that yes, he did understand. Next my grandfather asked the woman, his wife if she understood why they were there on their knees in this situation. She said that she did not. My grandfather talked about what the man had done to earn this position: he was leader of some kind; I am not sure if this was a country or a corporation or both. But, this man had left his country or corporation in ruin, and he had fled the country and stolen a great amount of money in the process. This man had done something against the order of things in the world of the elite and he had stolen quite a sum of money from the elite world order in the process. This man’s wife was shocked and horrified by what my grandfather told her of her husband. The man tried to defend himself there in front of his wife and children, but my grandfather rebuked him. He told the man of all the things that the Agency and the Pentagon had done for him in the past. This woman here on her knees in the kitchen with him was not his first wife as all of the children in the room except for the newborn child were of color such as their father and were from his first wife. The infant there in the room was of a much lighter complexion and was her child with this man. My grandfather talked about how the man had been displeased with his first wife and he had murdered her. This had been covered up and he had been allowed to marry his current wife with whom the CIA had hooked him up with: the white Mormon girl from southern Idaho. This was all horrifying for her and the children to hear.

The talking ended and my grandfather told me that it was time to send them all back to God. The man and his wife again had their mouths gagged. My grandfather had brought the knife for the ceremony in his leather bag, and it was given to me, and I was instructed to begin with the man and father of the family. A large bowl of some kind was brought and laid before the man on his knees; this was held by one of my co-workers at Loomis: a man named Richard. I stood behind the man with the knife and with my left hand I held his head firm, and I looked him directly into the eyes, which are the looking glass to the soul; his soul was going back to God. Then I took his head, and I turned it slightly and placing the knife to his jugular vein I slit his throat from the back forward as I was taught to do by my grandfather and my uncle Gale. When the cut was made the blood was drained from his neck into the bowl held by Richard. When he was bled out, I laid him on the floor and quickly moved through the entire family. I would prefer not to write out the details of the family’s death here in this work; it is all too awful. Nonetheless, let it be known that I was made to kill the entire family from the father and the mother, all the way down to their smallest newborn child; none of them were spared and it was nothing short of a nightmare.

I have been asked by friends why it is that the CIA and the Pentagon would have a need for or would even want to use DID multiples for assassination work, when there are plenty of red and blue blooded American warriors willing and ready to fight and kill for Uncle Sam. This is why oh reader, no red and blue blooded American warrior would find it in themselves to murder an entire family in the name of God and Country. Any healthy minded red and blue blooded American Warrior would stop and would question the objectives of the operation if they were asked to murder not only a man, but also his wife and all of his children. This is why oh reader; the targets of the American War Machine are not always middle-aged men who have done deeds worthy of death in a black and white world of good vs. evil.

After I had killed the entire family and had finished the last of my work for Uncle I was in a deep state of trauma. I was led to a bathroom that was down a hallway just past the dining room where I was told to wash my hands from all of the blood on them with soap and water. I was assisted in this by another of my coworkers, we were both in a bad state of mind. When I had finished washing my hands, we walked back into the kitchen area and Richard was there with the bowl full of the blood that we had drained from the family. He presented it to me and told me “Drink the blood”. He also was in a deep state of trance and when he said the word blood, it was as though he did not want to let the word go. I took the vessel, and I drank the blood while it was still warm as is the way of the satanic Mormon Blood Atonement sacrifice. When I had finished drinking from the vessel, I handed it back to Richard who continued around the room ensuring that all had consumed the blood of those sent back to God that afternoon. After this, I walked over and stood by my grandfather who was talking with Kendall about what was to be done with the bodies of this family. The driver was still standing by the pantry door and looked a pale white with his shaved head and black clothes.

My grandfather told Kendall that they were to take the bodies down south to Eden for disposal. There was a couple there in Eden that had some hogs at their home that they let the CIA use to feed people they had killed and thereby eliminate the evidence. My grandfather told Kendall to have the bodies cut up and then loaded into the sheet rockers van for transport. They were to drop the bodies off on their way home as they lived in Twin Falls which is somewhat close to the town of Eden. Kendall knew of the couple of which my grandfather spoke, and he looked at my grandfather and told him that the woman had said that she did not like it when we/the CIA brought children to feed to the hogs, and she had told them the last time that they had used their hogs for getting rid of children that she did not want any more children being fed to her hogs. Kendall said that she did not mind the adults but did not want U.S. sending them any more children to feed to the hogs. My grandfather told Kendall that she would do as she was told, as we needed to get rid of these bodies now and there was no room for discussion. Kendall nodded his understanding and began instructing the Mormons who had already begun to dismember the bodies. We left the house through the same door that we had entered with the driver holding the door for my grandfather.  

We walked out of the house as our work had been performed for Uncle Sam that afternoon. We got back into the vehicle and the driver wasted no time in pulling out of the driveway and leaving the target house. My grandfather told the driver to take him to the airport there in Hailey as he needed to catch his plane back to the Boise Valley before anyone noticed that he was gone; he told him to waste no time as we had been longer than expected there in the house. The driver simply responded with a “yes sir” as his demeaner had changed from when we had first seen him in the mechanical room of the basement. My grandfather told me that I would need to leave the suit and pistol in the house where my clothes were located up on Wedeln drive. He told me to put the suit and the pistol back into the paper bag and I was to leave them in the mechanical room. He said that Kendall would ensure that these items made it back to Nampa. My grandfather also told me that Kendall would be the one who would hypnotize me to remember to forget this operation and he said that he would also have a taser with him. I told him that I understood these things. I can remember my grandfather also apologizing to me in that with the murder of this family I had now killed over twenty people in my lifetime; my grandfather’s goal for my life had always included my having killed nineteen and one more. This is from a country song as my life was to be as a country song. These things are difficult to explain.

When we got to the airport the driver pulled into the parking area and he found a place to park. My grandfather told him to wait for me while I escorted him inside to see him off; he told our driver that I would still need a ride back to the house in Sun Valley. We all got out of the vehicle and the driver opened the door for my grandfather. I walked with my grandfather into the airport. He was carrying his black leather bag. As we walked, he told me to remember to keep myself always well shaven and to have a fresh haircut. He said that I would never know when Uncle was going to call on me again for my serve-U.S.. I told him that I would keep my appearances in order. When we got to the entry terminal there was an attendant there to check his ticket, but no one checked his bag; he was just a frail old man whose grandson was seeing him off. I cannot remember anyone checking U.S. in the airport as it is a small airport. He said goodbye to me and was already talking to another older gentleman who was also boarding the plane. I can remember him saying to the old man, “Hey there old timer, heading to Boise?” and I watched him walk down the small corridor to the plane and he looked so old to me at that moment in time. Turning I walked out of the airport and back out to the driver and the vehicle still waiting for me.

The driver got out of the vehicle when he saw me approaching him and he asked if everything had gone ok in the airport. I told him that my grandfather was off and back on his way to Boise as I opened the passenger side door and got into the vehicle. Once I was seated inside, I told the driver to take me back to the house in Sun Valley. Without a word he started off and we left the airport and my grandfather. I can remember that we drove back north past the road that we had turned down to the target house and made our way back up to Ketchum and the Sun Valley area. The driver and I did not talk much; he had tried to talk to me about the events of the afternoon, but he was so disrespectful and racist that I had quickly told him to “Shut his Mouth” when he started talking about the family we had just killed. My response to his obscene conversation shocked him some as he did not expect me to respond in such a way and he went silent. As we drove north, I saw some of my co-workers from the Ski House driving south as work had ended for the day and they were heading home for the night. For a moment I was concerned that one of them might recognize me on the drive as I was heading north, but none of them were paying attention nor would they recognize me in this vehicle wearing a suit.

When we got back to the house on Wedeln Dr. it was quite there as it had been before. The driver parked in the parking area where his vehicle had been when we first left this place. We both got out of the vehicle and walked over to the house where the driver knowing the code to the door let U.S. in. Inside of the home it was quiet, and we closed the door and walked down the hallway to the elevator; there was no one in the living room now. When the elevator doors opened, we stepped inside, and the driver rode in the elevator with me. We rode in the elevator down to the basement level and when the doors opened, we stepped out into the dark hallway. When we got to the mechanical room it was empty and quiet. Our driver told me that Kendall was on his way and would be there shortly before he left the room. I could hear as he opened the doors to the elevator and rode it back up to the top floor.

I found my clothes where I had left them earlier that day in the back of the room behind some of the equipment and I changed out of the suit and back into my work clothes. I put the suit back into the paper grocery bag that my grandfather had brought it in, as well as the revolver and I left it there at the back of the room. I walked back around to the front of the room, and it was not long before I could hear the elevator doors activate and open above me before closing and the whole room going loud again as the elevator dropped down to the basement floor. The elevator doors opened, and Kendall wasted no time and he walked into the mechanical room and addressed me. I told him that I had left the suit and pistol there behind the mechanical equipment and said that I had been told that he would be taking care of it. Kendall said that he understood and then he told me that he had been instructed to hypnotize me before we left the house so that I would remember to forget the events of the afternoon. He hypnotized me there, but I do not think that Kendall was experienced at this as he did not seem to take it with the utmost of seriousness. When he was finished with the hypnosis process, he told me that he had a taser and he said that he had been instructed to use it on me; he told me to drop my pants there in the room. I undid my belt and dropped my pants. He took the taser and he hit me in the left leg, up high above the knee with it. I had tried to tell him that he was tasing the wrong leg, but he would not hear me, and I went down to the ground with a jolt of white light. Kendall helped me to get up off the floor and to get my pants back on. I felt numb and stupefied from the taser and could not understand what had just happened to me or why my pants were down. When we had my pants back on and I was stable enough to walk Kendall told me to pick up my tool belt and we left the room. We rode the elevator back up to the top floor and we left the house that day. When we got outside, I loaded my toolbelt back into Kendall’s truck, but I noticed that our drivers vehicle was still there on the site in the parking lot; a small black four door Dodge SUV. When Kendall and I had first arrived at the house there were no vehicles in the parking area. I found this odd as we loaded up into Kendall’s truck and headed out of the driveway, but at that time I could not understand why.

It was the end of the workday and everyone working at the Ski House had gone home for the day. Kendall drove me back to my car which was sitting below the Ski House in front of the building that we called the Break Shack because this is where we would take our daily breaks there on the job. When Kendall dropped me off, he told me that I was to call my father on my way home as he explained that my father had called the office a short time ago and was trying to get ahold of me for some reason. I told him that I understood and that I would call my father as soon as I got to the gas station on the south end of Bellevue where there was a pay phone. I got my tools out of the back of his truck and said goodbye to him and loaded my tools into the trunk of my car for the ride home. Kendall did not stick around but left after I had gotten my tools out of his truck. I got into my car, and it was nice to be in my own vehicle and to be heading home; I felt sickly and worn out, but I couldn’t remember what Kendall and I had done that day. I also wondered at that time what it was that my father would be calling the office to get ahold of me about. I started up my car and I left Ketchum and headed south toward Bellevue.

When I got to Bellevue, I stopped at the gas station, and I used the pay phone to call my father. It was a long-distance call and I think that it cost a dollar. When I talked with him, he told me that he had some bad news to tell me and he said that Daniel Kline, my friend Hansel’s father had killed himself the day before. He said that he had apparently shot himself down by Lake Lowell and it appeared to be suicide. I can remember that I broke down into tears with this news as I had already forgotten the events earlier that afternoon and was now moving well back into my base personality. It was a long and sad drive back to my wife and our home in Fairfield. When I arrived, I told my wife the news of Dan’s death and for a long time our home was filled with the sorrow at his loss.

That is what I remember of these events so long ago. I hope that I have been clear in my writing of these events as the pain which this memory brings is great and these events are difficult to write about.

May God bless this murdered family in the life thereafter.

May God bless Daniel Kline in the life thereafter and may they all forgive me for the actions I was made to make in these events.

This work is a Journaled Memory of the author: J.R. Sweet

All Rights Reserved.