The woman became visibly startled behind the desk, stopped me and stated, "that's impossible. The girl is who rented the room and it was her that came down to pay the daily rent".
The Mormon lady went on to state that her and her husband were not even aware that a man was up there since it was rented as a single-occupancy room to the girl only.
I left the Mormon
Lady's presence and walked back to my room, noticing the
state-sponsored smashed-out window, the damaged door, the caution
tape, some holes from shots fired. The mess was evidence of
programming to the extreme, unlawful actions that hired men were, in
their best wisdom, taking actions to "ensure the safety of themselves"
(against two sleeping kids).
Then, while sitting on the edge of the bed, I began to again contemplate that for months I had been told from numerous family members and acquaintances from numerous states all across the country telling me that the FBI was looking for me. And now here they were, right out in the parking lot just the night before. I began to recollect also, placing it into context, that I had inadvertently told my girlfriend I was in the room directly above me, the room without a window, the room that surely had splattered blood over every wall and piece of furniture.
In fear, I left to a country park to pitch a tent, and considered what to do next.
It was while living in that tent, eating creative meals of dry cat food, too broke for people food, I again called my ex-girlfriend for more details about her encounters with the FBI.
Nothing she had to say gave a clue as to why they were still hunting me.
While at the park, the on-site parks-man and I struck an agreement that I would install a couple of masonry wing-walls outside of the restrooms for him. His recompense would be to letting me stay in the Park beyond the "lawful" allowable time-frame, of which I was already beyond.
He remained to watch and help with the unloading of the concrete block and mortar from his truck until he felt comfortable that I knew what I was doing.
While unloading the
materials, the Parks Agent and I spoke. I told him how I had recently
been released from jail, and of the outrageous reason I was placed in
their jail in the first place. I told him I was held in jail for
months but the facts are that I hadn't done ANYTHING wrong aside from
wanting to be left alone and not bothered anymore by the police. I
think my "crime" was disorderly conduct...phhtt....after they beat me
The groundsman inquired
more, and I told him. I told him how Tamara, my ex-girlfriend, had
pulled a gun and pointed it at me.I told him where it happened,
directly in front of the door of a"7-11" convenience store on
such-and-such street *AND THAT THE ENTIRE EPISODE WAS RECORDED ON THE
7-11 SECURITY CAMERAS. I told him of how I was incredulous at her
sudden explosive demeanor, how I walked toward her grabbing her by the
arms and shoulders and how I shook her into her senses. (Tamara is
Bipolar. Bipolar people aren't necessarily bad....just not always
predictable, even when medicated, in my opinion).
I told the groundsman
how I glad that she hadn't pulled the trigger (even if it was just a
BB-gun), and how quickly the situation had been quelled over whether
or not I slept with someone other than her (it's a ridiculous story
that I won't even bother to elaborate upon, coupled with the fact that
She and I had only known each other for a few months...maybe a year in
all, but I doubt it).
Suffice to say, Tamara became calmed down and we began to hear the sirens getting closer. I'm not certain that it was out of caring for my freedom that she told me to run; she knew about the problems I was having due to the government officials and their hunt for me prior to the Amenity Inn murders (which followed after my release from jail from this very incident). But when she said run, with a look that I knew was my last, I ran.
I didn't get very far
Back to the park:
The time came that the
Parks man could no longer hide me as a semi-permanent tented fixture.
God sent me an old farmer and his wife to take me to their house and expansive property. After placing me in a small trailer which was also on their land, I was told to tend to the place feeding livestock and obtaining eggs, but the real job was selling his relative's potatoes to the general public.
The potatoes were
delivered via Semi-truck and long trailer, beds full of un-bagged red
potatoes. My main job was everything from unloading, weighing,
bagging, marketing, and sales. I built large pyramids of bagged
potatoes stretching for probably more than a quarter-mile of frontage
beside the road. And with each hundred feet or so of road frontage
that a passerby on the fast-paced road drove, the driver had to see my
4 foot by 8 foot signs all painted up and leaning against the pyramids
of potatoes. Believe it or not, it soon became a pseudo-success
gaining much higher profits to the farmer (and me).This went on for
awhile until the old Farmer felt as though I were making too much
profit (* However, the deal was that I was to give him only what he
had initially asked per pound of potatoes. The fact that I was
voluntarily giving him more than what he had asked eventually became
paled when he learned of what my profit was, about double his
initial asking price). Those potatoes were the best potatoes anybody
that bought them had ever tasted. There were no culls like the potato
farm I worked in New York as a youngster. These potatoes were healthy,
looked good,tasted good, and were worth paying more for.End of story.
The farmer ultimately called a halt to the whole operation, but he was very old and I knew that he had just hit a geriatric moment or phase, so there was no use in disputing the matter. The reason for it's success was also due to the fact that the old farmer owned so many hundreds of acres of land. The cattle had to be "found" (seriously), but luckily the old farmer cued me in on their grazing habits and I could find them readily and bring them in. But while four-wheeling the plains looking for the cattle, I found skulls and cool rocks and dead twisted timber and stuff that looked like movie-props. If something looked unique, it was picked up and the stuff brought to the side-of-the-road trailer which the farmer allowed me to reside in.
Would you believe
people were buying the stuff!? ROCKS! BONES AND SKULLS, DEAD
BRANCHES,making collages and other garden-art finally earned me enough
money to buy my own food and hygiene items, etc.
Weeks or months prior to the murders at the Amenity Inn, Tamara and I had under happier moments, rented from the same Amenity Inn Motel. In fact, I was still growing in hair that she had helped me to shave a week or so earlier. At one point a relative had informed me that the FBI came to their home and startled them as they inquired about my whereabouts and were told lies in an effort to obtain my whereabouts. Some what angry because I knew I couldn't possibly have done anything that warranted being searched the country-over, it was then that I ordered every solitary hair in every conceivable place of my body, including eyebrows and arse-hairs, to be shaved by myself and Tamara. The hair was packed into a large manila envelope addressed to the FBI.
(*Sorry about the lack of order, I'll get on that later)
The FBI also went and questioned my acquaintances in Atlanta Georgia asking where I was and if I were capable of murder.*There's a good selling point for me to aspire toward rectifying.
One person was asked if
I were capable of an assassination.
Then in Dallas Texas, while entering a home without a warrant, the best apology the agents could give to the victimized dwellers was to plant false seed to the extreme, of how I may have killed a child and that's why they bust in the door (sad justification, not just because they told a lie)!
This is the audacity of
the programmed ones. That stunt they pulled in Texas ALONE
almost cost me my life! *Note to self, add the strangling episode to
the list below.
While in Provo Utah,
the first of two meetings with the FBI, initiated by my having called
to inquire about a cease-fire against my person, an agent agreed to
pick me up the following day.
I was escorted into a
brick building of an office parking lot full of similar other brick
buildings. Taken up the steps into the building and then into a large
room on the left, with a larger than common table and some seats only,
It was obvious that the large mirror in the wall served as a one-way
I was introduced to an agent from the east coast who had flown in from Washington, DC just for this very occasion.
However when he insinuated that I was being questioned about a possible murder, that suddenly had me rising out of my chair reminding him that the only murderers in the room was them!
The next day I attended another meeting with the FBI, and this time I was given some liquid that may have made me a bit giddy. I remember giggling, it was kind of bizarre actually, my spirits were at an all-time high (no pun expected). Again, they gave me another lie-detector test.They asked all sorts of questions, and many of them were repeated questions from the day before. I was reminded several times that I could only answer "yes" or "no" to the questions. The interviewer on the second day was the only one in the room with me throughout the whole visit, but I knew there were others behind the large glass/mirror because at one point I answered a question inappropriately and could hear the sounds behind the large mirrored-wall. It may have been laughter and a slap against the table, but just in case, I apologized to the man asking the questions(realizing that my giddy state might not be appropriate).
The history of this
started sometime ago, but in relation to the aggressive visits FBI
made to friends, acquaintances, and family all over the country, they
defamed me to my sister's home in NY (at that time), they questioned
my mother and her husband in Ohio (at that time),they went to my
father's in Florida and planted bad seed there also, they even
bothered a man whom I barely knew, a resident of a hole-in-the-wall
town called Castor, LA. (I felt sorry for his situation and obtained a
phone in my name for his use and this was the cue for the FBI to alter
his peace), they bothered people in Texas, NY, TN, GA, FL, UT, LA, and
there were probably other states, too.
was being tracked,terrorized, defamed, and the only thing I could
conceive doing at the time was to stay far away from anybody I might
It was there in the FBI's unmarked low-key building that I learned who I was, what I was.
I'm very appreciative
of that FBI agent for his honesty in the regard to my mental
capacity,for helping me to understand something that any normal person
would probably have picked up on earlier in life.