I experienced many, many episodes of brainwashing, mind control, electroshock and tortures of the mind at the University of California at Los Angeles, Neuropsychiatric Institute in Westwood. Their involvement was the government's insurance that I would remain functional and amnestic of my use. Dr. Louis Jolyon 'Joly' West's horrific expertise was involved so that I could be used at the highest levels over the years without risk of my breaking down and remembering. Henry sent me with messages to give Dr. West, with instruction in regard to things within me that he wanted checked out. Bob Hope didn't have that connection, only Henry had access to West. I reported there for years but began going regularly after Craig got into University of Southern California Dental School in 1973 and we made the connection in Westwood with Dr. Milo Brooks, my original childhood pediatrician.

Nurses there checked me and wrote notes in regard to my pulse, eye movement, foot responses, etc. In an attempt to scramble and confuse my conscious mind as to who Dr. West actually was, he would cross his arms and point in both directions saying, "Is it east or is it west." And even now when someone asks me for directions and mentions east or west I become momentarily confused and can't give them the directions. Dr. West also programmed me to the red and green freeway on and off ramp signals, by hypnotically suggesting that when I saw the sign upon entering Westwood it would make me switch to the personality who had the information and knew where to go to report into the hospital. After my visit, when I saw the signal on my way home, the sign was to remind me to forget what happened.

I was never allowed to walk near or ever act like I knew Dr. West when I saw him walking in the corridor of the Neuropsychiatric Institute. I was instructed to walk by him with no recognition whatsoever. He was a very large, heavy man, the "big wig" around there, and seemed to be in charge of everything and everybody. I was programmed to report there to see his doctors for many years. There was a younger doctor who put me in an examination room and did lots of neurological testing on me and checked my responses to make sure I was still reacting within the normal range. He also directed me to walk into the hall and go into a bathroom and wait for him. When he arrived he had sex with me and afterwards gave me the suggestion that I wouldn't remember.

There was a room with a two-way window/mirror. After awhile I knew there were others watching from the other side of the two-way mirror, since the doctor testing and asking me questions would occasionally glance up at the window/mirror as if to communicate to those watching — "see, I told you," or "pay attention." They asked me lots of questions and at times I was displayed so other doctors could see how I worked. I was seen as a high-level success since I was so split that I could be used in many different modes without conscious awareness. I had actually been directed to enroll in the study of psychology at Pepperdine University in Malibu. They were concerned that, if what I'd been privy to hearing there at the NPI leaked into my conscious mind, they could have problems. So they had me get my degree in psychology and study enough to make sense should my vast reservoir of psychiatric knowledge and jargon leak into conscious awareness.

They had to check me more often after my accidents in 1985 and 1987. During the time I was a student at Pepperdine University, I was more accessible to the Malibu and Point Mugu areas, and so, available to Reagan at a moment's notice in the Malibu area when he was in California. Occasionally Dr. West would slip into an examining room when the younger doctor was examining me. He explained that there were some things he wanted to see for himself. He was arrogant with the young doctors and very authoritarian. I heard him make condescending remarks about psychiatrists and clinical psychologists as being beneath his level of expertise, since he was an MD neuropsychiatrist. He thought my therapist in Westwood, Stuart Perlman, Ph.D. was uninformed and easily controlled in my therapy in 1988-91, since Stuart didn't consider the biochemical aspects of my case. I reported to NPI on an irregular basis when I was told to report and I took Kelly there when instructed. As my functioning level decreased when my early childhood memories began leaking back into my conscious mind, I was instructed to report more often to UCLA-NPI. They knew the chemical combinations to shut me down at night so that I couldn't access certain portions of my brain and memory during dream state, which I had begun to do. That was why they had me take halcyon with a glass of wine every night during my term of therapy with Stuart. Whatever this chemical combination was, the nurse told me to, "take 1/2 or 1/4 of a halcyon tablet followed immediately with a glass of wine, preferably white, and you'll notice immediate sleepiness and will fall into a very deep, peaceful sleep."

Then a doctor came back into the room after the nurse left, and said, "Repeat the directions to me." So I did and he said, "Exactly right. You're to follow these directions every day in every way in order to feel better. You will not, I repeat, you will not jump off of any building. You will not harm yourself in any way. Do you understand my directions?"

Eyes closed and listening intently to his instructions from a deep trance state, I nodded yes.

He said, "Fine, you may go home now."

And I got up, walked out of the hospital and all the way through the campus to my car that I parked near the library. When I drove past the stop sign on the freeway on-ramp it reminded me to "tuck this experience into the deepest recesses of your mind," and I returned home.

When the memory of events I was programmed to forget began flooding into my conscious awareness, I began responding by wanting to cut, burn myself or jump from the top of a high-rise building in Los Angeles. I just thought I must be really psychologically disturbed to want to do something like that. I simply could not fathom what was wrong with me and why these selfinjurious commands continually caused me to feel like compulsively hurting or killing myself. And I had no way of knowing that my controllers were not actually ready for me to do myself in, at least not until my assignments with them were completed.

There was a surgeon at UCLA who instructed me to drive to the hospital to have sex with him. He had dark hair, lightly dark skin, brown eyes and hairy arms. He was 6 tall, of good build and on the young side. I was instructed to meet him at the doctors' cafeteria. Usually he had on his surgery greens or blues and we would have lunch together. He was a vegetarian, and I watched him eat and later he had sex with me in a small bathroom in the Neuropsychiatric Institute. The bathrooms in the NPI were unisex and he would open the door, wave his hand for me to pass inside, and then he would quickly slip in behind me and whisper, "shhh," so I wouldn't say anything. He switched the light off and began feeling me all over and he usually preferred entering me from behind. As programmed, I smiled and laughed and acted pleased no matter what. He liked for me to give him oral sex in his red sports car, but not when the top was down. For programming purposes, he jingled keys in front of my face and then he'd take me out and sometimes we walked in Westwood or went to lunch in a back booth at The Bratskeller restaurant. He had a good laugh when I told him about my therapy with Stuart. He said, "Dressed in little shorts like that and looking innocent like you do, how do you think he can keep his mind on business?" I laughed and told him Stuart didn't understand. Truth was, Stuart wasn't sexually addicted.