"How have covert druggings been used by the participants in the investigation? What drugs have been used and why? Who do I feel are the main perpetrators of the covert druggings?"
When I first became aware of being the subject of an investigation, and when I first made some very public statements regarding this, is around the time at which I experienced the first and most severe covert drugging that has been perpetrated against me.
Since that first drugging, which has had no equal in it's severity, I have, literally, been drugged 10's of times, once with the same drug, that I later identified, and on other occasions, with other drugs that I only knew were different because of the physical effects they manifested.
This section discusses in detail the first and second druggings, as well as the period within which I was able to test myself and put a name to the substance which I had previously been unable to identify.
Around mid to late 2000, after first becoming aware of the gang stalking tactics of the investigation and after suffering a nervous breakdown of sorts related to that attention, I sought council with certain community members on how best to handle the circumstances I was experiencing; these were persons vaguely known to me, not immediate friends, but nevertheless some who I thought could get me in touch with others in the community who might be able to explain the obvious surveillance.
While following a short-lived process suggested by these persons, wherein I was to supposedly seek rest and recovery from my recent and very literal nervous breakdown, I attended a certain social function (in large part attended by the persons I first approached) and was covertly dosed with a drug that, at the time of this first incident, I could not identify from it's effects, but which later I would be able to obtain test results for. More on that, later. The drug was administered via a soda pop; persons at the social event were in various stages of having dinner and drinks and I remember clearly, the drink was from KFC fried chicken, medium sized or so, and I drank the whole thing.
I didn't feel the effects of the drug, whatever it was, until I had begun my journey home, to my mother's house, where I was staying at that time.
(In the early stages of these circumstances I was quite emotionally debilitated by what was transpiring in my community and had decided to stay for a few days with an immediate family member.)
I barely made it home.
It should be stated here, that I have had experience, during my teenage years, with psychedelics and other types of drugs such as various sorts of stimulants, so I know, without a doubt, what a drug feels like when entering my system. This was no anxiety attack or nervous response, this was a chemical hitting my system; it was undeniable, especially to a person who had done his fair share of mind altering chemicals as a young person.
As I drove the 30 or so miles back to my house, I began to feel, what I thought might be cocaine or some such substance beginning to affect me. At least in the beginning of the drugs effects, the first 10 minutes or so of being aware of a substance in my system, it felt like a stimulant of some kind.
The drugs effects grew and grew and grew in intensity until, by the time I got home, I began to become fearful as to not only what had been administered, but how much of it.
By that time, I certainly knew it was not a stimulant, as I was beginning to experience slight hallucinations and my arms and legs were growing numb. Also, and this is absolutely central to something that will be found out later, I attempted to induce vomiting, once home and in the bathroom, by using my finger to gag myself, yet I found that I had absolutely no gag reflex to speak of. Not being able to accomplish anything in the bathroom, I quickly retired to bed and resigned myself to simply ride it out.
Therein began what would be, without question, the most horrifying and painful night of life.
The drugs affects simply kept intensifying until I had become almost completely numb; I couldn't feel my hands or legs and I felt as though their were a block of ice in my chest.
Put plainly, I felt that I was most certainly dieing.
I crawled, literally crawled from the couch where I was sleeping and into my mother and her fiance's living room, around 1am or so, and very gently woke her and whispered, "they drugged me,' and again, trying to not breakdown altogether or otherwise make a ruckus,
"i can't believe they drugged me."
Of course, as with all other of my concerns and observations to date, she said I was probably just having a bad dream or was imagining things and should go back to sleep.
Talk about horrendous.
I returned to the couch and knew I'd have to just ride it out. I was terrified because I knew it was an overdose on something, again, having quite a bit of experience with drug usage from my teenage years. My thought processes were alternately chaotic then coherent, and interspersed, considering the emotional debacle I had already been through over the past couple months, were thoughts of simply committing suicide to stop the pain. Fortunately, reason prevailed and I didn't act on some of the more psychotic options that were occurring to me.
The following morning I was coherent enough to discuss the event again, with my parents; they, of course, reiterated that they thought I was imagining things or had simply made it up.
That time, I was never able to actually prove, via independent drug testing, that I had been drugged; however, upon being drugged the second time, with what perceptually felt like an identical substance, things were different.
A year or so after the first, most severe drugging, I was drugged a second time, with what felt like an identical substance. I will not discuss the details of how the drug was transmitted to my system but, suffice it to say, a certain friend of the family sent a plate of food home with my father after he had visited with them one night for dinner, specifying that it was for me; being the naive chap that I was at the time, I dug in. After all, it was friends of the family, right?
Needless to say, 15 to 20 minutes after consuming the meal, or at least a portion thereof, I began to feel the exact preliminary effects of a drug hitting my system that I had experienced before, some year previous. These were the exact same symptoms: very slight hallucinations, clearing of sinus passages, numbing extremeties and an absolute lack of any gag response (I of course tried to induce vomiting after realizing I'd been drugged a second time).
This time, having some experience upon which to establish a more calm reaction to the drugging, I sought the council of a friend who I knew had heard via the rumor mill of the investigation and who I had often times confided in regarding my ongoing circumstances.
This friend suggested we go immediately and have a 5-panel drug screen done to see if we could identify the chemical that had been administered.
I already knew that the drugs effects were not going to intensify to the point of the previous assault and so I agreed to go to the pharmacy to obtain the drug test equipment.
Upon the subsequent testing, the results of the drug test showed a strong positive for PCP.
The next morning, I tested myself twice more in the presence of family members in order to have a witnessed account of the results of the test; each time, the results came up immediately for PCP.
PCP! Phencyclidine! Angel Dust for christ's sake!
I could not believe what I was seeing in the way of the test results. I had no idea PCP could even be bought or that it was something that was real. The only thing I knew about it was the stuff I heard as a kid, back in the 70's, of people jumping off buildings and wrestling 10 cops at one time when they OD'd on the stuff.
The amazing thing here is, even after personally witnessing the drug test showing the presence of PCP in my system, my parents still thought I was crazy or otherwise wanted to rationalize it away as something innocuous! I mean, come on, PCP for crying out loud! Where in the hell does one get PCP, anyway?
Later on ... I'd find out the answer to that last question ...
That's the question that immediately began to eat at me. For nearly a year prior to that drug test I had walked around wondering how in the world I would ever convince anyone I had been covertly drugged, much less be able to come to know what that drug had been, and suddenly, I had a name.
The first PCP overdose had been an extremely traumatic experience.
During the months after the first drugging, I literally questioned every meal and every drink that I partook of, for an entire year, before being able to, ultimately, lay a name to the drug that was used. In many cases, hundreds really, I somewhat chronically would even have freak outs and not consume meals at all.
The post traumatic stress like symptoms were really that bad.
I would liken it to someone who had been violently assaulted on a regular basis, and whose assailant was always able to escape, suddenly finding themselves able to identify that assailant from a lineup.
Put simply, I was ecstatic that I now had some information to work with for further investigation.
My subsequent investigations into the nature and effects of PCP were the most important beginning steps towards undoing a situation wherein, up until that point, I had been simply a victim; once I began to study PCP and it's hallmark effects, I began to have a degree of control over my circumstances, especially in understanding the investigations tactics and strategies insofar as pushing the myth of mental illness and why they had chosen to use PCP in their assaults on me.
I acquired any and all data from my public library on PCP and spent a full day devouring it; what I found was unbelievable in the sense that it supported all of the operations, to-date, that had been leveled against me, especially the desire to create the illusion of mental illness and memory dysfunction.
PCP, I learned, claims as hallmarks, the causing of severe amnesia and other nervous symptoms "near identical to clinical paranoid schizophrenia." Every book on the subject I read reiterated this.
Every book, without exception.
In fact, just as a window into the prevalence of amnesia as a byproduct of PCP usage, here's a predefined google search:
In fact, having poured over the contents of scores of books dedicated to the discussion of Phencyclidine (PCP), I would have to say of utmost importance to each was discussion of the occurences of memory loss and comparisons to clinical schizophrenia.
Whole chapters of certain books were dedicated to discussing the drugs ability to cause amnesia and psychotic symptoms indistinguishable from 'clinical paranoid schizophrenia;' furthermore, every one of my symptoms from the first night, especially the apparent anesthetizing of my extremities and the overwhelming feeling that I were dieing, were cited in most books as common symptoms of severe "PCP psychosis," or overdose. One book even mentioned, specifically, the extreme diminution of gag reflex, due to the drugs anesthetizing effects.
Most important, however, were the bits about memory dysfunction, as it has been known to me that a primary objective of the investigation is to create the illusion of my having a memory impairment of some kind in order to buttress the behavioral science goal of total discretion in extensive psychotherapeutic investigation of my entire personal history.
Another topic discussed in the various books I read on PCP dealt with the protocol followed within hospitals and law enforcement when dealing with PCP overdose cases, that when such cases are admitted to emergency rooms or are apprehended by the authorities, the first action taken is an immediate search of that persons premises and immediate belongings, due to the fact that so many of such persons simply can't remember when or if they took the drug (or perhaps they might, "psychotically" believe they had been drugged by someone else!)
I could almost hear an audible click as certain, if only a few, of the pieces of the investigators puzzle began to make sense.
I'm sure that if I had gone to the authorities that first night, or had fled to an emergency room, the above mentioned (and read) sort of protocol would have been followed and if so, there's no saying what might have been found in the way of planted evidence once such searches were performed.
One other interesting note: PCP was introduced to hospitals as a very real world drug as an anesthesia, it was post this introduction that it hit the streets in the early seventies and thereabouts. The drug was rather quickly discontinued due to it's discovered tendencies to cause psychosis, severe amnesia and often times violent behavior.
Today, the drug is still produced for "special applications," as one book described it, by one source and one source alone: the US Federal Government.
Suffice it to say, I have not been drugged with PCP since those first two, early druggings and especially since the last instance of such barbarism when I was able to have witnessed tests performed. I have, however, been drugged a number of times with other substances, which, though not tested (it gets expensive after 5 or 10 times) were still quite identifiable to me as either some sort of stimulant such as speed or cocaine.
The reason the covert druggings continue is this:
My estimation is that the most likely means of pulling off a detonation event of some kind, which has as a goal the introduction of myself into the legal system, would most conveniently be built around the use of elicit drugs as this is something that, historically, can be indicated in my true, albeit distant, past.
I talk in great detail of detonation events in another area of this site.
The reason I think PCP was never used again:
Because I tested myself on numerous times in front of witnesses to demonstrate that PCP had indeed been administered to my system and because I made such a vocal stink over what I discovered regarding PCP and it's effects and especially how it factored into building a false case against me.
"To name is to know, to know is to control," as someone once told me.