Barbara Hartwell

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Independent Investigator, Intelligence Analyst, Journalist. Former CIA (NOC, Psychological Operations) Black Ops Survivor. Sovereign Child of God. Minister of the Gospel of Jesus Christ (Ordained 1979, D.Div.) Exposing Government Lies, Crimes, Corruption, Conspiracies and Cover-ups.

Thursday, February 28, 2013

Barbara Hartwell Vs. CIA F.A.Q. & Position Statements: PART 2

NOTE: Again, due to length, this report will be posted in numbered segments.
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 geneology 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.
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 "unathorized" 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 disabilty 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
PO Box 22
Old Orchard Beach
Maine 04064
Barbara Hartwell Vs. CIA