Targeted Individuals Fight Back

Reign of Terror – My Story

In 2017 I lived in the United States. I attended a political libertarian festival called Porcfest. At this meeting, a man approached me and we conversed. I spoke about a technology called Mesh Networks I believed could help protect people’s privacy online. He became afraid of this and asked how it could be stopped, if satellites could see it, or if the police  could go door to door. He told me “they do very bad things to people  who do this sort of thing.” After this he began to do things suggesting he was collecting my biometrics. He bought me food when I said I wasn’t hungry, and when I didn’t eat it, he told me to carry the bowl. He bought me almond milk and unsealed it in front of me. Because it was almond milk I couldn’t say I was allergic, and because he unsealed it in front of  me I couldn’t say I was afraid he had put something in it, so it was as if he was removing excuses I might have had for not eating. He even yelled at me “You have to!” as though I had to eat something he fed me. I poured the cup above my mouth so I did not get my DNA on it. He later said he saw me eating out of a can and wondered what can it was.

He also got my fingerprints by handing me his notebook as he went off to the bathroom and studied my face worriedly when he took it back.

There was a man who came to take my photo. I hid behind my notebook, but he kept trying to take it, telling me he needed my “profile  shot.” The man I was with told me it was okay. The photographer ducked down to take the photo, but was sorry for bothering me.

I tell you this because it was apparent to me that this man was collecting my biometrics as part of something like an investigation that was meant to be a secret from me, and that the reason this was being done to me was not because I was a spy or terrorist or criminal, but because I wanted to support a legal technology to protect people’s privacy.

This man also attempted to kiss me twice after these efforts. I had just told him there was no chance that we were going to have a sexual relationship.

At first I thought they would watch and see that I was no threat and  would leave me alone. Instead was an escalation of surveillance, sexual predation, and censorship.

A few months later I attended a meeting for Bitcoin, another technology popular among libertarians. We were discussing the problem of phones being tracked even without SIM cards. A local businessman who worked in technology suggested there were ways, to which the man who had approached me in the last bitcoin meeting goaded him, saying he must  have something like that in the works. His demeanor was mocking and sadistic, and the complexion of the businessman changed to defensive,  quiet, and nauseous.

I got a job in Maryland, and while working there the photograph on the driver’s license of one employee we hired was almost totally scratched  out, so I didn’t have much to scan in as I worked in the office. Before Valentine’s Day 2018, the #MeToo movement was brought up at work. I ranted against creeps in my journal at home. The next morning at work I receive a series of flirtatious texts from a different employee which continued after I firmly and clearly explained I wanted a professional relationship and not a romantic one. The employee who had had the scratched driver’s license photo later comes in and persistently asks me about a stack of resumes, asking me to comment on their age or race. He seemed enraged. It is illegal in the United States to hire based on  those reasons. He also asked me about employee’s salaries, and told me how upset an employee had become when he learned of what someone  else made.

I used to enjoy reading the Humans of New York Facebook page. At one  point I noticed the themes change to almost consistently relate to my life. One time, the shower curtain slipped so that I was visible to the rest of the bathroom. I wondered if there were cameras. A few hours later I see my mother post a verse about not worrying about what to wear because God even clothes the lilies of the field. The boy who lived in the room next to me was on the phone, speaking very energetically and loudly for hours, talking about himself in a psychoanalytic way. One of the things I had enjoyed doing while I lived there was listening to  lectures on psychology. This was the only time I heard him speak this way. On Humans of New York the entry was about a person in  excruciating emotional pain that she was only a little physical with a friend who she wanted an intimate relationship with. The Facebook entries continued resemble another person’s attempts to communicate  with me through analogies.

In late August 2018, while living in Tennessee, I prepared burritos for myself and left them in the fridge. After the first one I had I slept for four hours, though I did wake up briefly when the dogs barked. After I woke, I felt shaky and strange. I tried another a week later and only ate a half and tried to stay awake. I felt hot and flushed and ended up sleeping for  two hours. Later, over a period of days, I noticed I felt unusually blank and dizzy. It got to the point that as I tried to study, all I wanted to do was lay down and let my head spin. I was not sure of the cause, so I began to make sure that everything was in order. I got enough sleep, exercise, vitamins, fresh air, and healthy food. I had up to that point regularly taken a half a pill of Melatonin to get to sleep. I cut that out of my routine and felt better quickly. The next day, the air conditioning was broken in the house. The main floor was uncomfortably hot where an  older patient lived, but upstairs, my air conditioning worked. The next morning, I felt dizzy again. I made sure to drink lots of water and felt better some hours later. The vents were blocked off in one room, and I put my foot by the bottom of the other door upstairs and did not feel any cold air. I taped up my vent and opened my windows. The air conditioning was broken for one more day. I had generally not had any more of the same symptoms for some months afterwards. Besides this, as I recall there were two instances when I left my food in the  microwave both at home and school and had a painfully upset stomach  afterwards.

While I was visiting my family in the fall, my father got a request for an interview every day I was there and got a job on the last day that I was there. He was unemployed for over a year despite being an experienced software engineer in a booming job market. They say it was maybe six interviews in a year he had gotten before my visit. In the spring of 2019, my unemployed brother got two callbacks during the first two days I had been there.

While I was in my CAD class a boy I don’t know stopped at the door with his friend and looked at me. He started to gesture at me, “cut it out” with his hand at his neck. Then he mouthed, “It’s all a lie,” gesturing to the classroom, and then left out the door.

Before moving into my room in Tennessee there were no holes above the shower. By the time I moved in, there were two hastily placed  brackets that had been put up and then moved, leaving four holes above the shower. I blocked those off. Later the drain was very clogged even after Draino. Towards the end of the year I blocked off some holes in the wall and ceiling, and over a series of days more kept appearing in the walls and chair rails as I would continue covering them. I put a canopy over my bed with the top open. The coverings on the holes that could see into the canopy had fallen off by morning. Then I learn my cat had died. My mother posted a story about the military and hypnosis next to that post. Before this, at a club at my college a boy at the club mentioned military brainwashing. I had looked up in interest. On my drive home, as I pulled into the gas station, on the radio there was a story about a method the military uses to get to sleep in two minutes. She started describing steps to be hypnotized. I had acted very shocked to hear that story. That is the first time I inferred that my car radio was hacked. When I went into the station, the cashier was laughing to himself. I asked him “What?” He shrugged as though he did not want to tell me. Then after he reflected for a moment, he told me that I spaced out for a minute there and asked if I was okay.

There were a series of cases where I had been sexually assaulted in my sleep. In November 2018 I stayed after class to work. A man acted  frustrated his computer wasn’t loading and moved to a computer closer to me. I could see his screen while he worked. I ignored him. He let out a strange belching noise and I smiled. He left the room for a while, came back, and made the same noise. I didn’t react. I went to a library computer and when I coughed a man nearby instantaneously made an extreme sneeze. The next morning, I woke up and showered. I felt a searing pain in my genitals when I touched it. I thought there is no way for anyone to get through my locks and get out and put them back. Then I see the nail I used as a bolt not in the lock, but other part of my lock was in the door. In December the air was stuffy, so I opened the window around midnight. I woke up I think sometime after 6 am with the same pain in my genitals.

On December 15th, I opened the window and fell asleep again for two hours. There was a tarp draped over my bed. As I sat underneath that morning, I saw an expression in the folds and shadows of the tarp. It was something that had been so strangely absent for so long. At the time, it seemed the whole world was cold to me, and what was being done to me meant nothing to them. It was like the world was empty. There I saw what should have been natural to people, recognition of the horror of what I was living through. I saw sympathy.

Christmas morning the bolt was once again not in the lock I made. I had noticed recently the hole for the screw in one of the doors was wider, and I no longer had to turn the screw. I have a skin condition that leaves patches on my chest. The treatment is topical lotion or a strict diet. I saw several ads for lotion online. The girl in the other room yelled outside my door, “Mom, I think you need new lotion!” My mother messaged me that my brother had been offered a high paying job, and if he was really  good for a week, they would keep him. I went to the library shortly after listening to a guy on the radio talk about the military. In the library, a girl talked about needing a wheat or sugar free diet. Back in my car, the same program had a guest speaker talking about a wheat free diet. Then it goes back to talking about the military. These types of messages lasted for a few days. Over the next few months some of my favorite junk food was missing from the shelves with nothing else put in that spot. Beef Ramen at Aldis. Buttered popcorn at the Dollar Tree. One day I bought pop tarts and a day or two later there were zero pop tarts. They had been well stocked before. I believe it was in January I had left the window open. I woke up a little and heard the sound of a nut turning around 4 am. I had beefed up my lock to have a nut and bolt. I fell back asleep and dreamt and felt a large weight slowly pressing down on the mattress next to me. I heard something like metal on metal or a turning screwdriver by the window, then the girl in the next room rushing downstairs to let the dogs out who barked voraciously. That was around 7:30 am. These types of assaults continued when I moved to Canada in June 2019, after I had just arrived while staying at an Airbnb, then later in July in my room when I had left my window open and was struggling to breath from heat exhaustion and passed out.

In December of 2018, I tried to download a privacy software called Tails via torrent. As I attempted to write it to USB, I had an error. I reformatted the USB, then had some issue mounting it. I eventually succeeded. Then I was either unable to load the USB or to write to it. I couldn’t find the software I had always used to write an operating system to a USB on Synaptic. Then the USB did not want to mount. Either it wouldn’t show or had “operation pending.” After many clicks, I could load it and put images on it, but those disappeared. I downloaded the Tor browser, which is a way to surf the internet anonymously. Shell couldn’t find it to install, and the icon wouldn’t do anything. I went to the website to redownload it. The page that worked before had an error message. Both 32 and 64 bit had error messages. Changing VPN server had no effect. I attempted to look up distrowatch.com. It never loaded  after multiple attempts.

This is from a screenshot of my laptop. It is a file on a loaded flash drive. I sometimes found I was not able to delete files off of it. There are several binary files on it I did not put there. What is interesting about this one is its modification date.

In the spring of 2019, I walked out into the main hallway of my college. A boy came in the main doors holding a cell phone about five inches away from his ear on the side facing me. We were the only two in the hallway for most of the time. He sighed out of irritation. He kept the phone at about that distance the whole way down the hallway. No sound came from it, and he said nothing. I followed behind him and observed the screen. It was blue, with a large pink circle and the letter R in the center, with small white words around the top and bottom, and a red circle near  the bottom. It is a pretty common thing for me to see people holding  their phones with the cameras facing me, even at awkward angles.

March 15th, 2019. This was a Friday. I had gone to campus, which was mostly empty. I went to a room by myself and pulled out a spare cell phone I had. I factory reset it. I attempted, using the college’s WIFI, to connect to The Intercept’s website. The Intercept is a news website that has done some politically controversial stories. The site would not load. I tried to load CNN to test. It was taking a long time. I looked at my  MicroSD card that I had installed, and it was corrupted, and the data  destroyed. That evening I read a story on Ramsey Orta by the Verge.  This is the man who filmed the infamous death of Eric Garner, who was choked to death by police during a stop for selling untaxed cigarettes. Eric Garner famously said “I can’t breathe” as he was suffocating to death, and the slogan became a popular cry against police brutality. Ramsey Orta happened to be arrested on other charges, and the story was about the constant abuse that he suffered in prison. When I finished the story the first time I read it, it seemed to end on a dark note. Later when I looked at the story, it continued on to a success story on filming police and holding them accountable. I suspect that the story was cut short so as to threaten me. When I checked, the spare phone I used was not in the bag I put it in and had gone missing. On Monday I went back  to the college and checked another MicroSD card, which was also  destroyed. When I got back in my car, there was a story about a woman who was in charge of data for MySpace. The story said she lost the data, and could have put a USB stick in a safety deposit box or something. “You had one job.” the announcer said. Then, as I recall, the song “Nothing feels better than this.” Given that I had liked this song, and it was played after I had slept a few hours with the window open on the 15th of December, it was like the meaning was he believed he had destroyed my copies of the evidence, and now I had been defeated and he could have me sexually as he liked. I did not react to the song. I changed the channel to a Christian one, “Your Love Defends Me” and brightened up. God has been my anchor and North Star. This seemed to be taken as a sign that he had not found all of the copies. The next song that played was about forgiving each other.

Clear patterns of threats, sabotage, and disruptions to my life would continue, and didn’t just affect me. Mid-April 2018 my laptop battery stopped charging. It had seemed there was a problem with the charger wire. I had just saved a copy of my evidence to a website based in Germany. The transmission went out on my Honda on April 15th, 2019. The cost to repair it was so high compared to the price of the car I decided to get rid of it, and this was something that obviously caused me some stress. On May 1st, I called my voicemail and entered my password, but forgot to turn off the speakerphone, so the password  tone was audible. Immediately my voicemail was erased and reset. While visiting my family my father’s car broke down twice. My father said that never happens to his car. He also said he was wondering if he should just get rid of it because of the cost of repairs as compared to the cost of the car. Also during this trip, my father’s voicemail stopped working. My mother said she thinks her laptop is done, but she suspects it is the wire that needs to be replaced. During my trip to Canada, the first bus was stopped for some issue and we were transferred. The  second bus coming out of New York City broke down in the middle of  the highway. Over 50 passengers waited for hours in the bus and on the side of the road, and traffic was backed up. In other words, my supposed weak spot of car troubles had been repeated four times within a few days.

I made it to Canada as a Refugee Claimant. I was required to submit my Basis of Claim form and went to the Montreal BAnK library to fill it out. There was a fortune cookie left by my screen, “Many receive advice, few profit from it.” It said my login privilege was disabled for one session, and another time that my card number was wrong. This perplexed tech  support.

One of my passports was seized at the border. They say that is normal. I had ordered another one, and it was sent to my previous PO Box and not forwarded after I had changed my mailing address with the post office. While trying to find out where it was, my phone turned off saying the battery was empty when it was at 27%. I waited an hour calling the US postal service, then put myself on a waiting list and when I was called I couldn’t hear anything. Then the call was poor quality and the service agent  sent the note to the wrong  post office who called me  and recommended I file a  claim online. I don’t believe that was the best advice for locating a lost package. I attempted to contact the US postal service via email and their email was down.

I attempted to call the correct post office directly and kept getting a busy signal. I unplugged my phone, then it shuts off due to low battery when it was at 27%. I called again, and the connection was breaking up and they heard only one fourth of what I said. I was put on hold, had more connection issues, and was hung up on. I tried calling back with headphones. It shut down immediately. I called back, got partially through, it broke up during the tracking number, and the phone shut  down again with 27% battery. I eventually succeeded when I borrowed a phone. Later I saw an article about the dangers of distracted parenting.

I also had difficulty getting my work permit. My address was initially a refugee shelter in the paperwork as I was staying at different Airbnbs. At first the man at the shelter said they would keep my work permit. On July 17th , I called the immigration agency, and apparently my previous attempt to change my address online had failed. I found that my work  permit had been mailed on the 5 th to the refugee shelter. I called them and they said they changed their policy and don’t keep them anymore. It should have been returned to the agency, but on August 20th when I called, they said they had not received it, and I ordered a reprint. On September 16th my reprint had not arrived. I called the immigration agency. The agent said the now void original had eventually returned, but if the reprint had not made it by now, something went wrong. She said I could not get another reprint. She said it was very rare that neither  the original nor the reprint got through. So I had to fill out a form and order a replacement of an immigration document, pay $30, and still depend on the mail. I could not get my SIN number without the permit. It was my essential document verifying my status in CA. The post office employee said it was not possible for it to have arrived there. The third work permit did arrive.

When I had just moved into my room in Montreal, I had negotiated a  term in the lease that would have required I pay up to $900 for a false fire alarm. The next day I get a ticket at my door for $914. It was to the previous tenant. Later in August, I had just read a story about Hepatitis A. I believe it was the next day when I was volunteering at a thrift store,  a man came in who looked homeless, asked to leave a trash bag with his things behind the desk, and proceeded to touch just about everything on the shelf where I was organizing. He may have touched a hundred things.

In one place I volunteered another volunteer showed up the same day.  He brought a notebook, and the only thing he wrote besides the title  was what I said I had wanted from them, which was a letter of  recommendation. Later he tells me it sounded like I had a Russian  accent. I attempted one which was very poor. He reacted to that like he had been kicked in the gut. He seemed to hope that I would have  familiarity with Russian. Later an artist told me when I spoke French it sounded like I had a Russian accent. I seriously doubt that. A few people have said I look Romanian.

On August 24th, I was sexually assaulted in my kitchen. A man who lived in our building was saying things like he wanted pussy and that he wanted sex with me. I told him “No thank you.” He continued saying he wanted sex with me all night. He asked, “Can I touch you?” I warned “If you do…” He reached behind and touched me on the backside. I said I guess you will find out what will happen.

I texted the landlady, explaining what happened right after. She gave me permission to get the surveillance video. When I went to speak to the man she told me to speak to, I typed into Google translate that something happened in the kitchen and I need the surveillance video. It “autocorrected” to “something happened to me in the kitchen and I loved it.” He had difficulty understanding, difficulty contacting the landlady, didn’t know how to use the surveillance software, and the man who did know was not answering the door. There  was another man who was able to figure it out. One man who lived in the building told me when he reported his crazy girlfriend she retaliated, and I wouldn’t have much of a case because I didn’t have audio.

On August 27th I took my journal notes, screenshots of the text messages to my landlady, and the surveillance video, and went to the police department. An officer  took notes as I described what happened, but another officer came to the door and said I did not have to fill out the form, and that they couldn’t take the video from me  because if they watched it they would contaminate it. The man gave me a card with my case number and the lady said the detectives would interview me maybe next week. On September 10th, I called the police department. The woman said I didn’t have a detective assigned and it could be several weeks but the officer I spoke with would call me this week to get the original surveillance video. On September  17th I went to the police department and an officer accepted the video and watched it to make sure it worked. She asked me if I had filled out one of the papers and I said no. That paper was the complaint form. She said I needed to. She said she was surprised they didn’t make me fill one out before. The police department sent me a letter on October 16th 2019 informing me that the case was still pending for lack of evidence, a letter on March 10th of 2020 that criminal charges were submitted to the Crown prosecutor for approval, and a letter on July 16th 2020 informing me the prosecutor refused to authorize criminal charges. I called the prosecutor, and he said it was because the police had not handed him the file within the 6 month time frame he would have needed to press charges for this type of crime.

I had visited a church, and as often happened, people asked me about what my status was here in Canada. I was being vague as I did not want to explain why I was a Refugee Claimant but I did not want to lie. A pastor asked me a question I later thought I had answered in a way that could have implied something untrue. I returned to that church and spoke to the pastor. I brought up what I had said earlier, about preferring Montreal, and said I didn’t want to mislead him, that I wasn’t indifferent about going to English speaking Canada or the US. That there was a reason I didn’t want to be in the US. He responded hurriedly that when he first came here, people thought he was crazy. He changed the topic back to economic climates and said he may have a contact for a government job, and asked for my email. I’m not sure why he brought  up the prospect of being seen as insane when I had barely alluded to my reasons for coming, other than implying I am crazy is standard practice when I seem like I may speak out. The technique is called gaslighting.

October 2nd , I went to get my OPUS (Metro and bus) card checked. He asked if the card was registered to my name (it wasn’t) and told me it  was blacklisted. He said that means I can’t use it anywhere. I asked if that could have been from something I had done. He said no. I got an  audio recording of part of that conversation. I have had around 10 flat tires on my bike in less than a year.

I wrote down the times my sleep was disrupted over a 6 month period  from July to December 2019. Out of 184 days 151 had been disrupted  approximately 269 times. In 75 of these cases it was clearly due to noise. It is fairly clear the intention was to wake me. Often the noise would persist until I got ready to record it. Often it would be quiet until I just started to drift off to sleep, and then would be quiet again till the next  time. However, that doesn’t mean other cases were not due to noise.  On August 6th and 7 th , I woke up at 3:00 pm, then 3:00 am, then took a  nap and woke suddenly from a deep sleep, sitting straight up and feeling rough at 4:00 pm. I don’t normally do that. Ten days later, before my alarm was set to go off at 7:40 am, I was awake and heard a high-pitched mechanical buzz go off once, then a second or two later, then no more. I have frequently woken up right before my alarm clock has gone off and have not heard any noises to cause it.

I had been struggling with the heat. A neighbor asked me in a concerned way if my room got warm. He lent me a small swamp cooler. Around three months later he asked for it back, and then at least two places I worked had the heat turned up much higher than they otherwise were.

My dreams changed substantially perhaps around February of 2020. I  woke when my hips jolted back February 1st at 7 am. There didn’t seem to be a reason in the dream. It seemed sexual. That was the first time that happened. In one dream a pastor was standing outside my shower curtain, which I thought was very strange. When I woke it appeared as though this was a failed attempt to make me fantasize about something improper. In another, my sister was disparaged in shallow and superficial ways which were ways of thinking that were foreign to me. Since then there have been many things that suggested hypnosis or something like it was being used during my dreams. People enter a more  suggestible state called hypnagogia while entering and waking from  sleep. Altering dreams is called targeted dream incubation.

This is only a tiny part of what is in my journal. People might wonder if I regret getting involved in politics and fighting peacefully for people’s freedom. What I have been through has seared into me that work is needed more desperately than people can imagine. Countries committing political espionage against their own people is something that has a long history. Like the Stasi in East Berlin, the SDS in Britain,  COINTELPRO in the US, and so on, police commonly spy on and employ a “disruption strategy” against peaceful political activists.

After 9/11, the FBI has been emphasizing informant recruitment in numbers that dwarf the appropriately vilified former COINTELPRO program.1 According to the FBI document “CHS Assessing,” they can assess potential informants as “a means to induce him/her into becoming a recruited [informant] mainly through identifying that person’s motivations and vulnerabilities.” Even if they are innocent, the  FBI can threaten almost anyone to become informants. This includes children, doctors, lawyers, journalists, and clergy. They also operate in other countries.2

1) https://www.motherjones.com/politics/2011/07/fbi-terrorist-informants/

2) https://theintercept.com/2017/01/31/the-fbi-gives-itself-lots-of-rope-to-pull-in- informants/

What you may not see is that there is a war going on. Not so much a war but a slaughter. We are under attack. People are not prepared for this. They may not be able to see who is attacking them or how or how to protect themselves or fight back. That are joining, surrendering, and breaking, and the strength of the agencies only grows. What they may not understand is how much they are really giving up when they ask for terms of surrender. They may not understand that the agencies can decide what they are allowed to do, say, think, and feel. That they may be called upon at any time to betray, violate, and terrorize anyone they  love. That it never ends.

It is spreading like a cancer through society. They terrorize others so they can terrorize others so they can terrorize others. The result is a control so absolute it is unrecognizable. What was unthinkable becomes accepted, if not normal, if not celebrated. The idea that we are free, that we have a voice, that we can form our own beliefs and relationships and  define ourselves, that idea is becoming a fiction and a distant memory.

Don’t accept defeat. Defeat is not an option. Fight lies with the truth. Keep your integrity. Be trustworthy. If you’ve been made to wrong someone, confess it. Gather the evidence. Be courageous.

Let your life be for good.

© Sharon Clark 2nd Edition – Permission granted to reproduce without modification.

Download the PDF booklet here: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1_B1WlaSUByPgYLoyMUXFSEGhkM4WPr9j/view?usp=sharing

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