posted on Feb, 25 2006 @ 05:01 AM
When trying to explain to people the facts
surrounding the control of most of our planet by an
occult, super-rich cabal, and their nearly completed
attempt to form a one-world governmental, religious
and financial system, there seems to be one thing most
people can't accept. Folks have a hard time believing
that their leaders could be evil enough to perpetrate
the kind of atrocities necessary to carry out such a
plan, despite history being replete with examples of
just such behavior on the part of rulers and
governments. I would like to relate to you an
experience I had many years ago which has followed me
down to the present day. I believe it will serve as a
window into the deeply ingrained spiritual corruption
which infests our governments.
It was in the late 1980's when I began to
investigate the outrageous corruption evident in the
US government. I had been incarcerated in the Federal
Correctional Institution in El Reno, OK since 1986,
and had learned among many other things that the CIA
was running coc aine into the US to fund their black
budget projects. (projects that the then DEM congress
would not fund without knowing the details thereof). The
largest of these at the time being the funding of the
Nicaraguan rebels, of course. Now I knew that the
Federal Prison System was full of political prisoners
because I had met several, read their cases and had
seen the clear evidence of it. These were people who
were railroaded into prison for failing to be
sufficiently obedient to the powers that be, getting
in the way, or attempting to expose the crimes of said
powers. I thought, in my youth and naivete that I
might be able to get the attention of such a one who
was connected to this CIA drug-running and so learn
the truth of it. My little expedition was to lure a
much bigger fish than I was prepared to land.
My method was quite simple, but turned out to be
more effective than I could ever have imagined. When
asked what I was 'in for', the single most asked
question in any prison, I would reply that I was
running guns to El Salvador and trading them for
coc aine which I would fly back to the US. Soon I was
to be forcibly introduced to a man that had been doing
just that. Some eight or nine months after I had began
my little ruse I was attacked by a normally docile
co-worker in the prison industries where I worked. I
was later to learn that he was paid off for this act
with a long requested transfer to a prison closer to
his home. The resulting fight landed us both in "the
hole", meaning disciplinary segregation, the result of
which is that you lose your job, your cell, whatever
clothing you had accumulated, and when you are
released back into "general population", in this case
after 60 days, you are housed in the oldest building
on the compound, which originally was the only cell
house, (circa 1927; think shawshank redemption)until a
bed becomes available in your regular unit. When
released, I just happened to be placed in the cell of
a recently arrived CIA captain who had worked under
Admiral Poindexter and had caught a beef while
involved in the Iran-Contra dealings. The story he
told me was among the saddest things I ever expect to
hear.
I suspect the two names this man used in prison
were pseudonyms, as a search of federal inmate records
turns up results for neither, and since to reveal a
CIA agent's name(real or invented)is probably a crime,
(unless you're King George or The Duke of Oil Cheney)
I will proceed without naming him, other than to call
him Jim. The first night I spent in a cell with this
man is printed indelibly on my mind. He was very
unimposing in stature, probably 5'10'' and 150lbs.,
but with a quiet confidence and piercing blue eyes
that seemed to cut right through you. His intelligence
was immediately evident, and I was later to find that
he had a photographic memory. He didn't ask about me,
but instead began to tell me about himself. He was 30,
a Captain in the CIA and worked for Adm. Poindexter. I
avoided the obvious news-related Iran-Contra questions
and asked how a 30yr old makes it to Captain. He
smiled without mirth and replied that you have to have
an early start. Our conversation was interrupted by
the evening count and then chow. We took chow together
and afterward had a long walk around the enormous
recreation yard during which time I brought him up to
speed on the various characters on the compound (both
convicts and guards)and then showed him the locations
of the different departments. After a trip to the band
rooms for a jam session, and to let my band-mates know
I was out, we returned to our cell for the night. I
had gotten the impression that he was not at all happy
about his situation and so, emboldened by this and his
earlier candidness, I decided to try some more
questions.
After dusk I sensed a change in Jim. His
countenance had fallen from reserved to downright
dark. His gaze had grown even more intense but his
eyes were seldom meeting mine, now being directed
elsewhere on my person. As a young man in prison for
some years now I knew how to interpret this but
ignored it and asked again how he came to be a Captain
in the CIA at so young an age. He asked if I
disbelieved him and then reached under his bunk and
brought out a portfolio full of papers. He moved over
closer to me and produced from the folio several
letters from Adm. Poindexter, and some directives on
official CIA letterhead, none of which were of any
import of course but pertained to his incarceration.
Before I could address how convincing these might be,
he began to tell me his story. He told me that he was
born to very poor Appalachian parents who couldn't
afford to take care of him because of his hemophilia.
Now my mind was racing. A thirty year old hemophiliac
who was a Captain in the CIA??!! He said that after
his parents had consulted with a social worker about
what to do, that they were visited by a CIA agent who
offered to compensate them for allowing him to take
the child and "care for him". He was basically bought
by the CIA. Jim told me that his "Rabbi", which in the
CIA is what they call a mentor for lack of a better
term, used him as a sex slave throughout all of his
youth, and put him through "conditioning" which made
Jim ready for the different roles he would be used in.
Now I had read about "Monarch" mind control techniques
in which children are subjected to cruel tortures and
traumas which cause them to dissociate and break down
into multiple personalities. (ever see the movie
Sybil?) The individual personalities are then
conditioned to serve particular roles and are
programed to be brought up with certain commands. As I
gazed at the now blank face of my new cellmate, I knew
I had come face to face with just such a programing
victim, and that I had probably unknowingly triggered
his sex slave personality to surface. I tried to ask
about the specifics of his programing, but he grew
quite disoriented and I had the distinct impression
that he was flipping between personalities. I knew
then that I had triggered some programing device and
the words of a song from the occult influenced band
Led Zeppelin came to mind. The song is called Houses
of the Holy and the lyrics that came to mind were:
So the world is spinning faster
Are you dizzy when you stop
Let the music be your master
Will you heed the master's call
Oh-whoa-oh, Satan an' man
Said there ain't no use in cryin'
'Cause it will only, only drive you mad
Does it hurt to hear them lyin'
Was this the only world you had
Oh-oh
So let me take you, take you to the movie
Can I take you baby to the show
Why don't you let me be yours ever truly
Can I make your garden grow
You know-whoa, that's right
Keep in mind that triggers for such poor programed
souls are often hidden in music, movies, etc. I was
quiet for a while as he leaned against me, waiting to
see what would happen next. He slowly recovered and
then surprised me by asking what I thought of his
looks. Unsure of what to say, I muttered whatever
compliment I could think of. He then told me that the
reason he had such a square, strong jaw was that it
was artificial! He then proceeded to tell me how a
plane crash in Central-America had left his jaw
shattered, and I briefly remembered a news story about
such an occurrence, wondering if this was he. Now
there was a fourth part to Jim's mystery: A 30yr old
CIA Captain hemophiliac who had survived a plane crash
requiring reconstructive surgery! So I asked the
obvious question. How does a hemophiliac survive a
plane crash in the jungle? He told me that it was the
religion that his "rabbi", who I was to later meet
called "the whiz",had indoctrinated him into. He said
that his faith was called Santeria and that it was his
"communion spirits" that supernaturally preserved his
life in times of crisis. I laughed despite myself and
asked if Santeria wasn't a mix of voodoo and
Catholicism. Suddenly he was himself again and said
that the spirits were no joke and asked if I would
like him to call up a spirit for me to see. At this
point I had no doubt he could do what he claimed and
for the first time was a bit frightened. Now I've
always been a believer in Christ as Savior but was far
from Him at this point and knew what happens to those
who use His Name in presumption. I was also not about
to consent to some spell the result of which I was
wholly ignorant of. He could see my fear and let go a
low soft laugh that I never heard again and which I
never will forget. I did not sleep that night but
prayed more than I had the previous 10 years combined.
I never saw Jim's alternate personalities surface
again, but I knew one of them was the sex slave as he
had admitted to being used as such. Obviously his
dominant personality was the CIA agent, but were there
others? It was disconcerting to say the least to be
locked in a small cell with such an unknown quantity
every night, and I was quite relieved when beds came
open in our respective units and we were no longer
cell-mates.
In the months that followed, Jim got me a cushy job
in the business office in administration and suddenly
everyone on the compound, guards included, were
treating me with a new found respect. This, more than
any paperwork I was shown, proved to me that he was
who he said he was. I also saw the evidence of his
hemophilia when a spill on the basketball court sent
him to the infirmary for shots of clotting factor.
Eventually Jim told me that he wanted to recruit me
into the CIA. Now I was smart enough to know that the
only thing the CIA could want me for was to be a fall
guy to do their dirty work, who if eliminated was no
loss. However, I enjoyed my new found privileged
status and played along, pretending to be interested.
My conscience began to bother me concerning Jim and
his spiritual condition. I knew that he had probably
never been exposed to the truth and that spiritual
darkness was all he had ever known. Now I was
definitely on prodigal son status, but had always been
a believer, having received a love of the truth at a
young age. I broached the subject from a philosophical
point of view, asking him about good vs evil and his
beliefs. It seemed that he didn't believe in a
Creator, just a balance of opposing forces the
stronger of which was evil, which would eventually
prevail. I couldn't get him to talk of the practices
of Santeria much, but he did admit that it included
using sacrifices, both animal and human. He was
willing to listen to my views of biblical
Christianity, and seemed mildly amused by them, but if
I mentioned the name of Jesus he ended the
conversation abruptly. Eventually Jim let me know that
he wasn't interested in continuing that line of
conversation and that I should just drop it. Not long
after this I accidentally caught Jim's jaw with my
elbow during a basketball game, separating the hinge
of his artificial jaw. He spent the next four months
with his jaws wired shut. I had nothing but sympathy
for Jim and would never have harmed him intentionally,
but it seems that this incident, combined with my
attempts to share the truth with him has earned me
the unending enmity of the occult elite.
Some two months after Jim's jaw was healed, he left
FCI El Reno saying only that he was being transferred,
and that I would be contacted by his "rabbi" when I
was released from prison. I never got Jim to talk
about the drug running in the CIA, but from that day
to this I have been under attack from the occult
forces that control our government. Always the goal
has been the same; to force me to submit to their
illegitimate authority and accept their evil rule.
Since 911 they seem to have made their attacks "legal"
through the "patriot act" and have convinced the
populace through gross slander, demonization and
vilification of me that I deserve whatever they wish
to do to me. Those who do not agree with their methods
are intimidated into doing the beast's bidding with
the threat of similar treatment. Even those who claim
to know that the government is made up of lying,
slanderous, satanists are intimidated into obeying
those they claim to oppose when it comes to me. I can
only discern that the truth I have been exposed to is
truly dangerous to these filth-bags, and that their
slander of me is intended to discredit my testimony
and at the same time gain for themselves a poster-boy
for why the surrender of all rights and due process is
a good thing. Think of me what you will, just know
that whatever you allow the government to do to me,
you are allowing them to do to you, your children and
grandchildren. Also remember that whoever you give
yourself to, to obey, the same is your master. The
truest form of worship is obedience.
My struggle has ever been, and continues to be, one of
spiritual truth and physical freedom. I seek not that
anyone should think well of me for I know that I, like
every other, deserve no such consideration. My only
desire is that all those who have received a love of
the truth be exposed to all the truth that God has
made available to us. The rest is up to God.
Please know that the time is very short and that while
physical preparation is important, that your spiritual
condition is what really matters.
Struggling toward freedom,
Patrick Craig Lemmons