When we left in the limo, I couldn't see where we were going, because Bob pushed my head down on a man's lap for me to perform oral sex. The rest of the day was a blur. I didn't know where my boyfriend Craig went or if I would ever see him again. I was exhausted when we finally got 'home' and that night I 'slept away' all memories of this experience just like I had been programmed to do.

During my teen years, I remember Craig and I would lie around my backyard pool for hours, swimming, talking and playing. At the time, that was all I consciously remembered. But, when I woke up to reality years later and began recalling what fully happened, I remembered Craig holding a small brown bottle with a dropper in it. He put some of the clear liquid from the bottle onto a piece of celery and peanut butter and gave it to me to eat. After I did, everything kept moving, like a movie, except each frame was moving in a fractured, uneven, hazed way. It was hard for me to even walk to the pool. I bent over, my stomach cramping and everything was spinning. I wasn't suppose to notice that he had given it to me, but I did, and later I remembered other tunes.

By the time I entered William Taft High School in Woodland Hills, my life began to change even more dramatically. Due to the mind control I was under, I constantly had a smile plastered on my face whether I was happy or not. The ritual abuse became minimal during this time, done only on occasions that were required to maintain my mind control. Through a vast array of the latest in human programming technologies, I was well on my way to becoming a total and completely compliant, efficient and multi-tasked robot.

Looking back now, high school felt like one big blur to me. I remember having only one close friend at a time, and knowing that I was «popular» but never feeling that way. Instead I felt ugly, stupid, awkward, shy and set apart from the other kids at school that were my age. I was made part of the Student Council so that I would have a public school image. Often my picture was posted on walls to announce upcoming events, or to announce contests I was entered into. My presence leading and organizing certain school functions served to allow many of the students to know who I was; yet very few students really knew me or were close to me. A whole strategy was devised to keep me popular in the eyes of my schoolmates and most of the faculty by making me a continual face or body by plastering pictures of me all over the school; yet, I was not in attendance on a very regular basis. Henry said it was for my protection, so others would feel below me and many wouldn't even approach me as if I was a celebrity, and I was instructed to «act» that way also. I was known in school, without ever really «knowing» anybody because of the projected image that was publicly created for me. I felt isolated and alone, in a daze, like I really didn't exist.

I was programmed to act snooty and too good for people, to remain very aloof. Yet I was deeply locked into my own inner world, constantly mentally working to keep all data filed correctly in all the areas Henry created. I was so inwardly focused that I had a very hard time in the physical world, hence the reason my mother did everything for me at home. Henry told me to spend all my time tending to the mental files. And while my mother did all the domestic chores, I did as Henry commanded, often floating on a raft in our backyard swimming pool, sorting mind files all the while in a trance state. I had many mental exercises Henry assigned for me to perform at home. The system he created and used during my 16th to 22nd years was extensive and required mental work to keep organized, cleaned and neat. Henry said it took mental muscle to keep the files in complete order.

I was elected Vice President and then President of the Girl's League Association at school, and was part of the Student Government. I was voted 'Princess' at the prom, was paraded in a convertible at a football game and had my picture pasted all over the school for fashion shows and contests I was in. But, I never felt like I belonged; I just felt like a robot, living in a complete fog, and looking back that is exactly what I was.

As Girl's League President, I was in charge of a fashion show that was called "Tivoli Gardens," a foreign affair that was so named in order to scramble a lot of the international work I was doing with Henry abroad. They even used times I was supposedly buying flowers in downtown Los Angeles at the flower mart as a scramble. My mother reluctantly accompanied me on the stage at the fashion show to introduce the models. She was so shy and embarrassed but she did it for me because I asked her to. Henry had already taught me to see the audience in totality as one person I was comfortable speaking with and to begin my speech as if the two of us were alone. And I was instructed to wear my speaking dress to give me confidence and poise. Armored with these inner crutches, I could speak with no hesitancy, no shyness, and no apparent problem at all.

I also spoke publicly for Henry at other occasions where he would load me up and book me a time slot on stage. Sometimes it was a debate between fellow robots on political issues but I wasn't trained like they were — I was trained only to deliver. Many others were adroit at debating, but I wasn't. So I'd go up on stage, deliver my pre-programmed speech, everyone would clap and later Henry would say I did a great job. But I had to have on my speaking dress, and no matter what I was really wearing, it became "my speaking dress." If he was present, Henry commented before I went on, "My, you look lovely in your speaking dress," and then my speech would be internally engaged and I'd be ready to deliver. I performed in these ways for many "show your latest technology in robots" shows. After I passed those, I got to move on to more diplomatic matters.

Henry used me to warm up groups that his constituency was going to speak to and I often wore several different disguises and always looked different. Henry was the puppeteer and I was his puppet and at anytime he wished, he could pull my strings and make me change into a different puppet, with a different face with which to meet the public. And like Mr. Potatohead, he could order what kind of face he wanted me to put on. "Squint your eyes a bit, curl up the ends of your mouth, flair your nostrils, pull your jaw forward"…all sorts of different facial mannerisms and contortions that I was programmed to perform, combined with wigs, glasses, body padding, hats, etc. It was all quite effective as I played my role creating different faces to present to the public. Not many people know about this technology yet and Henry said we had a definite edge on the others. He said that it was always important for us to strive to reach greater and greater knowledge and awareness, to stay ahead of the pack in being the first, the best, and the brightest in our latest endeavors. He was constantly experimenting with me and adding things like archival information and classified documents, in order to have the latest information to draw from.

Henry said, "You're the leader of the pack in this diplomatic endeavor and as such we will continue to update your system in order to insure that you stay "the leader of the pack." In a hypnotic session, he said to me, "Each and every time you hear the song, "Leader of the Pack," on the radio, you will think of the motorcycle bikers only and will remain in the dark otherwise." The word «dark» was internally linked in my system to all sorts of ritual horrors and terrors, thereby plunging this information that was subliminally linked to it deeply into the recesses of my subconscious mind. I could not consciously retrieve it; yet it ruled my actions. In this way the ritual tortures that I had endured as a child and as a young adult at my church were linked to these other memories. They tied the ritual trauma to these memories by saying, "If you begin to recall such and such, you will immediately recall the ritual, and they would go into great detail to remind me of the tortures that happened at those rituals. They used the ritual tortures on and off at strategic, necessary times to either bring to the forefront an old group of personalities, or to create a new group. A traumatic ritual could effectively create a whole new group of alternate personalities, since it was such an extensive trauma. Henry often spoke to his colleagues on this subject, advising them when and where to use trauma. Henry consulted with other men who needed guidance as to how to create and maintain a robot or group of them, as in Bob Hope's case.