NOTE: Again, due to length, this report will be posted
in numbered segments.
PART 1:
There are only two (2) questions given here,
along with an anecdote.
QUESTION: Aside from what you have exposed
publicly about CIA and related government operations, black programs, etc. what
are your personal feelings about what they put you
through?
This is a question for which I could never plumb
the depths, and would not want to elaborate on, at least not for the public
record. This song by Pink Floyd does give some insight into my
feelings though, as every time I hear it, I think of the soulless bastards who
in their arrogance and hubris, thought they owned me, who for many years had
control of so many aspects of my life.
As you look around this room
tonight
Settle in your seat and dim the
lights
Do you want my blood, do you want my
tears
What do you want
What do you want from
me
Should I sing until I can't sing any
more
Play these strings until my fingers are
raw
You're so hard to
please
What do you want from
me
Do you think that I know something you don't
know
What do you want from
me
If I don't promise you the answers would you
go
What do you want from
me
Should I stand out in the
rain
Do you want me to make a daisy chain for
you
I'm not the one you
need
What do you want from
me
You can have anything you
want
You can drift, you can dream, even walk on
water
Anything you want
You can own everything you
see
Sell your soul for complete
control
Is that really what you
need
You can lose yourself this
night
See inside there is nothing to
hide
Turn and face the
light
What do you want from
me
---Lyrics by David Gilmour, Richard Wright,
Polly Samson
QUESTION: What was your family background
like?
This is a question I will answer with caution,
and only in general terms. I respect the privacy of my family, and due to the
massive libel campaign against Barbara Hartwell, members of my family have
also become the Targets of malicious slander/libel and monstrous invasions of
privacy. Their names have been defamed; the nature of the family relationships
between them and me have been falsely defined; they have been falsely accused
of offenses and crimes they did not commit.
Some have passed away (including both of my
parents, all of my grandparents and some uncles and aunts), some are still
living, and a number of them did (or still do) work for CIA. However, I am the
only one among them who has gone public as a CIA
whistleblower.
This is probably the only regret I have in going
public, that my family (and others close to me) have also been damaged. However,
there was no other way for me to proceed, and I can only hope they don't attach
too much blame to me, that they can some day forgive me, if they haven't
already.
And I should say up front that in my
descriptions and recollections here, I speak strictly for myself. I'm aware that
various members of my family may see things in a different light. I believe that
the perceptions, memories and viewpoints may differ widely among family members,
as well as being influenced by the individual courses of action they chose for
themselves, or which were chosen for them, either with their knowledge and
permission, or not.
As I've previously stated in my reports, members
of my family, on both sides, have been involved in the intelligence community,
the military and the legal profession, over the course of generations. They were
certainly there from World War 1, World War 2 and the inception of the modern
era CIA and its precursor, OSS.
Many people have made unwarranted assumptions,
based not on anything I have ever said, or written, but apparently only from
their subjective perceptions, such as that my family, due to a certain
"bloodline", were wealthy.
My immediate family were not ever wealthy, far
from it, but probably would be defined as "upper middle class" by the general
view, though they often travelled in circles of "the rich and famous",
the "Beautiful People", as I ironically and disparagingly call them. Some were
"Hollywood celebrities", actors and musicians, or "Theater People", as I
remember calling them. And of course, there were the spooks, the covert
operatives, some of whom I later was able to identify as well known, even
infamous characters of the black ops world.
(I will decline to name any of these
individuals, at least in this report.)
I did not like these people much, most of my
parents' friends (there were a few exceptions) and by the time I got old enough
to make my own decisions (at least in parts of my life not controlled by CIA) I
refused to participate in their social events or attend their gatherings. In
fact, I rebelled against the cultural and social standards set by "polite
society". (Not unusual, I suppose, for a young person who resented any form of
authority.)
There was an inherent snobbery among these
people, who believed they were of a certain elite "class", and they would look
down on "uneducated" or "working class" people, for no reason other than that
was the mindset inculcated from birth.
Both my parents were highly educated. Both were
professional classical musicians as well. So I grew up with a love of classical
music, including opera and ballet, which has stayed with me for my entire
life.
Since as a young child, I was somewhat
sheltered, and had almost no contact with the 'blue collar' segment of society,
it took me many years to overcome the elitist attitude of the
people who surrounded me, or even to understand how misguided it was. Children
form their own conceptions of the world from the world they are brought up in.
They think to themselves, this is life, this is the way it is for
everyone.
"Class" doesn't come from having money or social
status. "Class" is not dining at the finest restaurants (which had been my
experience for so many years, I took it for granted); attending the most elite
functions and dinner parties, knowing what fork to use, what wine to drink; it
is not what kind of car you drive (my father drove a Porsche, and later a
Lincoln Continental), how expensive and fashionable are your clothes (Brooks
Brothers, Hermes, Gucci, etc. etc.) what you wear to the Yacht Club, or where
you go for a vacation, or how rich and famous are your friends.
Nor is class conferred by your education or how
many degrees you hold. Class is certainly not determined by the "bloodline" of
your ancestors, and this is about the most idiotic thing I ever heard! But I
heard it many times, accompanied by genaeology charts, discussions on "superior"
genetics, a "family legacy", and advances in eugenics.
Hogwash!
By my way of thinking, having "class" is the way
you treat others with respect and courtesy. It is having good moral character
and refined sensibilites, not just about "the arts", but where they really
count. Class is, in the words of Jesus Christ, "loving your neighbor as
yourself" --and showing it by your actions. It is also standing up in defense of
the downtrodden, and calling out the bad guys, "Nest of
vipers"!
Aside from the affliction of being from a "CIA
family", and having been recruited into their black programs as a small child, I
had the "advantage" (if it could be called that) of being born into an
atmosphere of cultural and intellectual privilege. I would have to say that I
was "spoiled" as a child, brought up in the belief that I was "entitled" to the
best of everything.
I can remember my father admonishing me as a
teenager that I should never shop at certain stores. He would rather pay twice
the price, than walk into the "wrong"
places.
My views have changed drastically, as a result
of "the school of hard knocks", once I realized that if I was not willing to go
along with the agenda which had been planned for me, there would be no more
resources to pay for "the best" available.
As part of the "government program", as it was
called by "friends" of the family, certainly a euphemism (which I was unaware of
until many years later), I received the first training at home (no, this was not
the typical "home-schooling", far from it). I was taught to read and write at
the age of three (3). One thing that stands out in my memory is that I was
given a large wooden puzzle of the United States, each piece a separate state,
and was made to memorize the locations of states and State Capitols. These
"training exercises" and "drills" often took the place of how a normal child
would "play". Aside from "training tools", the only toys I got at my own
request were stuffed animals, of which I had a large collection. (Tigers were my
favorite, as well as other big cats. The stuffed animals of my childhood are
long gone, but over the years I collected more, many of which I still
have.)
My parents did take me to Central Park (we lived
on Central Park West at the time I was born), to the Bronx Zoo, Museum of
Natural History, The Cloisters, and other "normal" places of interest to a
child.
My life was choreographed in such a way that,
looking back on it, I never had a chance to be a child, at least not in any
normal sense. I was given ballet lessons, music lessons, drawing lessons,
horseback riding lessons, etc. not because I requested them, but because that
was "the way things were done" in grooming me for my future, which had been
"decided" by others.
As a child, I had no say, no power to refuse.
(Except to occasionally throw a temper tantrum, which was ignored. My parents
didn't "punish" me, or discipline me, because, as I later learned, it was part
of the child rearing standard for "the government program". Which didn't work
out at all well, as far as I was concerned.)
I also had archery lessons, fencing lessons,
and was trained in martial arts, some of which were obscure systems, as I found
out much later when I enrolled in a Black Belt martial arts
school.
ANECDOTE OF GOVERNMENT
PERSECUTION
Here, a story which gives some insight into the
way I was treated, once I had broken out of CIA black
ops.
I was cited by the sensei at the school where I
enrolled for using "unauthorized" moves to defeat my opponents. "Where did you
learn THAT?", "How did you know to do THAT?" I was careful not to hurt anyone,
but I could still win the sparring matches with little effort, even against men
twice my size. But then, it is skill that matters, not size. Also, most systems
of martial arts are based on knowing how to use what I can only call
"non-physical" energies. (But that is beyond the scope of this
report.)
I had decided to go back into training to earn
the Black belt on my own, even though I already had the equivalent, but the belt
was never officially issued to me. Typical, because they were intent on keeping
me under their control by depriving me of any credit for my accomplishments,
even though they were the ones who trained me. This is a common practice,
especially under the MK Ultra program. They train their operatives in a variety
of disciplines (depending on how they are to be utilized), but then prevent them
from getting formal accreditation for what they have learned. "That's
classified". And could come back to haunt them.
But the government put an end to my continuing
martial arts training, with a vengeance. In 1998, while I was training at a dojo
in the Hudson Valley area of NY, they sent some of their goons to do their dirty
work. I was out on the floor in a sparring match when a tall muscular
military-type guy with a buzz cut walked into the facility. I saw him go
straight to the owner of the school, who was standing near the display case in
front of the room, and strike up a conversation. The military goon kept looking
at me, while keeping up the pretense of his conversation, and I knew "who" he
was and why he was there, but could not just walk off the floor, no matter that
I wanted to, as that would show disrespect for my teacher.
By the time I had changed out of my uniform and
came back out of the locker room, the goon had conveniently vanished. I asked
my teacher, Who was that guy talking to Master X? My teacher just shrugged and
said, Oh, just someone wanting to know about the classes for his son.
(Yeah, right. But my sensei didn't know that, so
I let it drop. To this day, I'm not certain about the owner of the school,
Master X, and will probably never know...
However, I did tell my teacher later on, after
the "incident", about my background and previous training. I considered him a
trustworthy individual, and he was understanding and sympathetic to my
situation.)
It was full dark by the time the class ended.
Shortly after I got on the road to drive home (about five miles away), I saw
the headlights behind me, not close, but from quite a distance back, keeping
pace, and knew I was being followed. I also knew that this had something to do
with the military goon who had showed up at the dojo.
I decided not to go straight home, because even
though I was certain they knew where I lived, I didn't want them following me
back to my house, which was in a somewhat isolated rural area. And I knew from
previous experience that there had to be a team operating, not just the lone
military goon.
So I took a detour through a small town, rather
than continue on the back roads, and thought I would stop at a convenience store
and maybe make a phone call to get some backup, if possible. No such luck, I
never made it that far. As I pulled up to an intersection at a traffic light, a
huge truck came shooting out from a side street and broadsided my vehicle, which
was a small foreign car. I managed to get control of the car and pull off the
road.
As I saw when I got out of the car, there was no
doubt, it was "totaled". The entire passenger side was smashed in by the
violent impact. And naturally, I was injured, though there was no blood and I
didn't feel it right away, as I was traumatized from the crash and glad to be
alive. But mostly, I was mad as hell.
There were now two more goons from the "team" at
the scene of the "accident" (which was anything but). I found a phone booth on
the corner, where I went to call the police. The goons strolled casually over to
where I was standing, asking me, "Are you okay?" No, you morons, I am NOT okay,
you just destroyed my car and you are completely at fault. What the hell is
wrong with you people!
(Actually my language was more colorful, but you
get the idea...)
At this, they actually started to laugh, yukking
it up as if this were the most hilarious thing they ever heard and giving each
other the "high five". They never apologized, nor made any admission of
fault.
When the police showed up, they asked for my
driver's license. A cop then said to me, Is this your license? Are you Barbara
Hartwell? Of course I am, I replied, Who else would I be? Well, he said, peering
at me intently, This license says you were born in 1951, and that can't be
right. Believe me, Officer, it is right, just check the photo, and if you don't
believe me, call it in.
At the time, I was 47 years old, but the
Officer kept insisting that I "must be" under 25. He continued on with this
argument, until he finally checked it out on the radio. When he came back, he
handed me my license and shook his head. Look, it's genetic, I said, and that
was the end of the discussion. (Genetic engineering, to be more precise. Thanks
to the "enhancement" technology used by the government, which most people would
think is "science fiction".)
As if I needed this nonsense, harassment by the
police, on top of everything else...
Fortunately for me, there was a witness to the
crash. He came walking over as the police were taking information from me and
the two goons. He stated that he had seen everything, and described the event in
detail, just as it had happened. He saw the truck come flying out of a side
street and crash into my vehicle; he saw how I went skidding across the
intersection and finally managed to pull off to the side of the
street.
And he gave his statement to the officer, making
it very clear exactly who was at fault, namely the government goons. (I have
often had such an "angel" appear out of nowhere, at times when I most needed
help. Sometimes they were human, sometimes not. Praise
God!)
[Note: I did sue the goons later, and won.
However the amount of the award was negligible, and I certainly was not made
whole, considering the extreme damages.]
Long story short, they accomplished what they
set out to do. I had to suspend my martial arts training, due to a severe injury
to my spine. I had only the basic minimal insurance, so I lost the vehicle.
Since I couldn't afford to replace it, I was without transportation for almost
two years, until an ex-military supporter donated a used vehicle, an old
BMW.
As for the injuries, I was able to get only a
limited amount of treatment, which did not resolve the condition. The system was
stacked against me, as usual.
Due to lack of treatment, the injuries caused
chronic pain and disability, that is, added to the previous injuries inflicted
on me in 'arranged' car crashes and other assaults. In 1986, they had engineered
another crash, which resulted in spinal injuries, severe head trauma, temporary
amnesia, and the permanent loss of the vision in my right eye. In that incident,
there is no doubt my life was saved by divine intervention, but that's a story
for another time.
At present, I am seriously disabled, and suffer
from the cumulative damages of these assaults, for which I cannot afford
any treatment at all. And though I have letters from two doctors documenting the
nature of these disabilities, I am not 'eligible' for disability benefits,
because I have no official employment history. Nor can I collect social security
(same reason).
I refuse to give the government any more window
of opportunity to do harm. I do not use standard allopathic medical care, nor do
I use drugs. In any case, the system does not cover the types of health care I
do use (that is, when I can get them) which are only naturopathic, homeopathic,
Ancient Chinese medicine, and chiropractic.
So, even were I willing to fill out the
medical forms, allow the bastards to further invade my life, I still could not
get what I need. But then, that was the plan, all along.
I do not document all this because I am looking
for sympathy. No, but I want it known, I want it on the public record
exactly what these evildoers have done, and I hold them accountable, even though
I don't expect I will ever get justice --not in this world,
anyway.
I can only pray that God's swift and terrible
justice be visited upon them.
*******************
Back to the family.
Mine was a family who actually gave each other
"security clearances" (no, this is not a joke) and if there were a situation
where someone was deemed to have breached security, that person's clearance
would be downgraded or "revoked". You would ask a question, and the answer might
be, "I can neither confirm or deny". Or, "That's
classified."
It seemed to me that the reason nobody ever
trusted one another was because you always wondered, Who do you really work for?
Are you my friend, or are you really my enemy? This sounds bizarre, I'm sure,
and it took me many years, and much heartbreak, to finally understand these
"family dynamics".
And no, I still haven't sorted it all out. Maybe
I never will. The one thing I know for sure is that I love my
family, each and every one (the living, and those who have passed on; the ones I
still talk to and those from whom I've been estranged), no matter the heartbreak
and hardship which the government fomented in our lives. I forgive them all, and
hope they forgive me, including for the damage done to them by me going
public.
The government, who has only one purpose in mind
for their "people", to exploit your talents and skills for their own ends, to
use you until they use you up, cares nothing for the lives of those they are
utilizing. As for friends and family? Collateral damage, no
problem.
Just look at the way the government treats its
military veterans, most of whom served with honor in their hearts. Many are
destitute and/or homeless, many suffer from PTSD, many are driven to suicide.
They have been abandoned and betrayed by a government who sent them out to die
for a lie. Some of them know it, some are still under the illusion that the
government gives a damn.
If anyone thinks this is not the worst sort
of evil, they need to think again.
He who is
not angry when there is just cause for anger is immoral. Why? Because anger
looks to the good of justice. And if you can live amid injustice without anger,
you are immoral as well as unjust.
-- St.
Thomas Aquinas
***************
To be
continued...
Barbara Hartwell Percival
Legal Defense & Research Trust
Legal Defense & Research Trust
Barbara
Hartwell Vs. CIA
