JFK mine field

A police car pulled up to the apartment and stopped. Two men got out and came up the stairs where I was. They grabbed me and stuck me in the back where there was three life-sized figures. I had my hat pulled down over my head and a cigarette behind my ear, which they didn’t remove. After the officers started driving again I realized the two men were not talking to each other. The three dummies bore striking similarities to high-level figures and shone a strange resilience. They moved up and down with each bump. We drove up to the jail where there was a yellow line on the ground and it went straight into the back side of the benton county jail. They got me and put me into one of the bays where there was a place to handcuff and cuffed me there. I had gotten out of the car with little help and not a word from the officers where I had to carry the three of them. They didn’t take up more than one person’s space and were light as air. I sat in the bay where the three disappeared into the bright fluorescent light above. I was again alone and free of the dummies and was taken to a cell, where i was denied a phone call.

I sat alone for 3 days before I saw a homeless man cover himself with his feces to protest the officer’s actions. The 8 guards stripped him of his clothes and put him in a wooden chair covered with straps and secured him in. One of the guards brought out what looked like a rectangular clock radio--but it wasn’t. The man put a clip on each testicle and started the electric current, where as it was increased the man began to shout and yell in pain. A bucket was placed over his head and the female guard beat the bucket with the handle of a broom and began to spray pepper spray into it. A cloud rapidly formed where i began to fall down and have seizures and had to be taken to the infirmary. I could hear the man’s shouts continue down the hall as I was carried and hardly remember the rest. I wouldn’t see him again anytime soon and awoke in the infirmary with a shaken feeling. I found out later he died.

The days passed slowly in the jail and i was getting my medicines, luckily. These guys wouldn’t wait a second to kill me and leave me to be cleaned up. It was at day 15 when a pretty girl was transferred to the infirmary across from me. We were allowed to eat together and watch a movie everyday for two hours outside of our cells and beyond this i could smell the rapid decay of those around me, but i couldn’t hear any more of the commotion. I received a 75 mcg fentanyl patch every three days and 150 mgs of methadone every 24 hours plus other meds. I was very lucky to get these and i was told a kind man from my Church, The Cathedral of Joy, had me transferred to the infirmary--he was a Republican named Claude Oliver, and was a very good man. I would have died there without his help.

After day 60 I had grown a scraggly beard and long nails, due to the psychiatric hold and not having things to cut myself with. I was finally transferred to Eastern State Hospital, where I was to be evaluated for another 15 days. They were afraid, due to young people being held indefinitely and not having any place to go, that i would “fall through the cracks.” I was not to see the dummies that i had to carry from the police car for a long time, but began to hear voices and see things that were not there. I was evaluated for a 6 hour exam and the meds i had been on were used as “physical meds only” and no psychiatric drugs were needed, and my results were cleared. I was to be sent home. The pace was slow and the food became better, I was healthy and certainly not dead yet.

I didn’t know how much those events would shape my future. I had come to find that the three dummies weren’t just three. And i was used since 2003 to reach new people and make copies of them for their selfish and brutal purposes. Each family is protected by federal law where it’s just easier to use a point person or it is a more major violation. First, they follow you home from me, and then they are raping you by the end of the week. Also, to brainwash me it was important that i wasn’t sexually active, and my having sex was race mixing to them. They have devices to point and other capabilities so they made girl in my vicinity disappear and she wouldn’t even look at me again. I first went to Amsterdam in 2003 with my father. We went to a few fun places, such as Madam Tussad’s wax museum and the Sex museum. Tussad’s i was followed by a bunch of American’s but i didn’t know it at the time. I photographed as many as i could. American’s always look like schoolteachers to me when we travelled. I got several good shots of which i was certain would be helpful. The Sex Museum had interesting artifacts that were representations of the past and its sexual eras. One was a plate which had a third dynasty depiction of a sexual orgy with accentuated sized penises. After my dad departed home to the states, I spent my first three days in Amsterdam alone and my first time in Europe alone. I went to Rotterdam Square and had coffee with Hash at The Bulldog Cafe. This used to be one of the first coffeeshops opened after the end of the hard line approach to drugs ended in the 1970’s. It had pictures of many of the first police who opened the coffeeshop, including hash and marijuana entrees as well as coffee and good music. I noticed that in addition to cannabis from the cannabis cups there were twelve kinds of mushrooms which were hallucinogenic. I tried a few philosopher’s stones (psylocibe tampanenses), smoked a joint and travelled to the torture museum. The mushrooms didn’t work until i made a strong tea. I finally found another good coffeeshop and asked out the waitress. I was supposed to meet her that night at a nightclub called Ocean but couldn’t make it. I went back to my hotel and found it was searched and messily tossed. The clerk had given my key to the police from Washington State, who had also followed me. He obviously thought I was a terrorist and gave them my key. I noticed a strange sound as I noticed the room had been bugged with a sound device. I had also been followed by a branch of the police from Benton County called the metro drug task force, who searched my room. I went to the train station and brought my luggage, checking out from the monstrous hotel. But I knew I couldn’t make it to Ocean that night. I walked in and a Dutch cop came up to me and stated that it was a drug and crime area, also writing down my passport number. Clearly, he was in touch with the American cops who treated me like a mule. I went to the airport after seeing there was no choice but to go home right away. I was searched numerous times along the way and was sure something electronic was following me through the airport; also it could have downed a plane and they would have lied about it.

It didn’t feel good to be home. I was picked up from the airport by my dad--who was frantic.

I took my cameras and hid them well, leaving out one camera to take pictures with. I didn’t think I would need them aga

in.