My children's programmed father and our controllers were now in even more total control of their lives.

Extremely sad and depressed, I returned to the island. The job I took when I returned was to begin to more fully document many of my memories and I began writing my first book STARSHINE. It wasn't an easy task because first I had to undo the endless programs that kept me from being able to use the word processor without a programmed part of me destroying the information I had just typed. But I was determined to do whatever it took to get eventual help for my children. Memories of a political and international nature often flooded my awareness and I documented them each time something new came to mind. Due to the vivid nature of flashbacks I experienced, I spent nearly two years stuck in the body memory part of my Kissinger experiences and had to live with the smell of this cigar smoke and listening within to the sound of his accented voice. Similarly, I flooded with sexual memories about Pete Wilson and Ted Kennedy. Talk about intrusion!

Since I had no money, I hired the 'ocean' to be my therapist and with God's guiding, I actually did some of my best memory recovery work alone on the beach, with the ocean holding the space of peace, love and strength for me so I could delve to the depths of my own mind. With the solid foundation built from years of memory recovery done while I was still in California, and after a year on the island retrieving still deeper layers of memories, and programming, I had a pretty clear picture that something was up — exactly what I wasn't sure. I couldn't imagine why I would be with Henry Kissinger, Nixon or Reagan, or what was so important about me that people were following me and overly interested in what I was doing. But all my memories, held together by the pages in my journals, began to neatly fill in the picture. In 1992, 1 purchased a light and sound machine of my own, and after mastering the fear associated with using some of the same technology my controllers had used on me, I began to more easily recover even deeper layers of memory. Soon I realized the programs that controlled me were broken and nullified as I became consciously aware of them.

But my other secret jobs didn't stop and with my family out of their way, I was now freer and more unencumbered than ever to work for my controllers. George Bush met me at Princeville Airport, a very small airport on the north shore of the small island. Then we would both be helicoptered to Barking Sands Missile Range. When we arrived he and a military officer saluted each other and then he was escorted to an outside structure that had glass doors.

At another time, George Bush met me at Barking Sands Missile Range, for a talk about "getting back in line." I was parked in my Lexus waiting near the entrance when Bush drove up in a military jeep. A military officer was driving him. Bush told me to start my engine and follow him. I followed through the gates that were opened for him into the missile site. He motioned me out of my car and stomped over to me. He stood and yelled in my face about being irresponsible. I had a hard time hearing or understanding him because it was extremely windy. I also think personalities inside of me were attempting to shield me from his barrage of programmed verbiage. He waved his glasses around while he yelled at me. In his cryptic mind control lingo Bush said, "Get into line or Kelly will be on a #9." He was referring to the well known freedom train mind control theme, of being thrown off the train, which cryptically meant her death. Angrily, Bush saluted and told me to get back in my car and get the hell home. He was very angry.

But "category five" Hurricane Iniki changed many of their plans and this act of nature ultimately worked in my favor, freeing me a little more each day. I lost the home that I attempted to recreate on the island to the hurricane, and as I healed my mind, body and spirit, I realized more and more every day that I still wasn't safe. In order to have the electricity to continue powering my laptop, Patrick Stone, the man who helped me write Starshine, (himself an unrecovered victim of mind control), and I were forced to leave the island. Military planes evacuated us to the island of Maui, where we continued writing. There we were continually visited and harassed by men my controllers sent to the hotel that we later discovered was also a "containment center." True to the network containment strategy, our friends on Kauai referred us to this place and we continued writing while we were monitored. It frightened me because I was now conscious enough to realize that I continually ended up in places where I thought I was free, but I wasn't. This was due to the fact that I wasn't fully integrated and half of my programming was still intact and affecting me, still binding me hopelessly to my controllers. In many ways I felt free though, and continued to heal and dedicate my life to service and God. While I, Susan, wrote, my 'inner twin sister' Sharon took the heat and once again endured the physical and mental tortures so I could be free to write Starshine. My dissociative state was now being used in my favor, although it often wasn't easy.

One night while in Maui, I had a dream and saw a map with a check mark identifying Oregon. At that time I was unaware that I was receiving telepathic messages, often at night. I called Margie Paul and told her about the dream and that I felt guided to move. So she talked to a famous movie star that was also her client and asked her to recommend a place. Through that recommendation, I moved off Maui and took what few belongings I had left with me to Ashland, Oregon. I rented a home, referred to me by this movie star's realtor friend, and began writing. Kelly and Danny visited me at Christmas. Soon after, Kelly and I were prostituted as a motherdaughter sex team to Clinton, who had just been elected, but not yet inaugurated as President.

I didn't realize that I was still programmed not to notice when I was 'missing time. Healing, integration and deprogramming didn't come as quickly as I wanted it to. Healing took time. But my continued motivation to heal and figure out what this all meant kept me uncovering more and more in regard to my own programming and how the system all worked.

Months later I mustered the courage to move back to California. I desperately wanted to help my children, and felt I was recovered enough and safe enough to do that. I didn't know I still had layers of personalities and programs still intact that would keep me under control, and unfortunately neither did David Neswald, the therapist I worked with there in Southern California. To make matters worse, upon the completion of Starshine, as I readied it for print, my brother, Rick, who was one of my programmed controllers, and whom I had chosen not to see for years, was able to access me one last time. This accessing allowed him to gain entrance to my apartment in Calabasas and rape me, threatening that if I didn't stop with Starshine they would publicly display the compromising pictures that he then took of my children and me. The next morning, I awoke disoriented, terrified, and confused and had no idea the source. But later that day, I «remembered» the horrific scene and was grateful to have at least remembered it because, in the past, it had taken me months, often years to remember traumatic events.

In hysterical panic, I once again phoned Ted Gunderson for further advice on how to stay safe. He told me to get special locks for my doors, and a security system, and I had alarms that I bought for each door so if anyone, including myself, went in or out, they would sound off. I even purchased an alarm that I wore on my body and set it off if anyone of a suspicious nature approached me. It was terrifying, as I realized I was still not able to keep myself safe, due to programming that operated beyond my control. Soon I realized, though, that this traumatic event was actually another «gift» to me, without which I would never have known I was still under program. I continued working in therapy with Dave Neswald who, although well intentioned, was not informed in regard to how my sophisticated government programming worked. I had hired bodyguards in the past and now he and Ted were suggesting that for my safety I hire one again, only full-time now. With very limited funds, and enormous mounting therapy bills, I wondered how I could afford a bodyguard? I compromised and hired a live-in housekeeper who would at least be with me most of the time, as my therapist was afraid that my controllers would switch me with my "twin sister" and take me away. I lived in absolute terror, trying to keep the trauma from occurring not only at my controller's hands, but also at my own. I was scared all the time, because I couldn't even trust myself, not knowing if I would involuntarily switch and put myself or my children in danger. Most of the time, in those days during 1993, I couldn't even complete a sentence when I attempted to communicate and my mind felt confused and exhausted.