Gang Stalking and Directed Energy Weapons Torture - Part 3
Chapter 3: Creating The Great Deception
The Victims’ Diary: “The insight of a man certainly slows down his anger.” - Proverbs 19:11
I came home from work that day’s end full of apprehension and fear. What was the “Scowler’s” next move? As I entered the Pavilion’s lobby, all seemed unnaturally quiet. It was empty except for the usual security guard. No “Scowler”. . . no onlookers . . . no drama.
However, before the evening passed, I received my first clue regarding the identity of my antagonists. I imagined that the management of my residence was harassing me for some unknown reason. Perhaps they were converting to co-op’s, and wanted tenants to vacate their apartments. . . Maybe someone in management simply did not like me. . . Was a slanderous rumor being spread about me by a hateful neighbor? These were the only plausible excuses I could come up with.
“Hey man, how’s it going? Listen . . . stay clean, because they are out to get you in the worst way . . .” So began the brief but revealing conversation that focused my thoughts on the source of my persecution. I was the target of a criminal investigation! For the past few months more than a few among the Pavilion management and fellow tenants were aware of this.
Living in the starkly postmodern Pavilion Apartments, sheathed with floor-to-ceiling glass windows was like living in a literal glass house. However, I “lived in a glass house” in the metaphorical sense as well. People knew your business pretty well here. They knew when you left for work and when you came home; who your friends are; what you do on the weekends . . . If you indulged in any vices they certainly knew that too. Yet, within that small community I had rightfully earned a good name. I worked honestly, and lived quietly. I believe that it was my good name that prompted this acquaintance to warn me of law enforcement’s interest in me.
The idea that I was the target of a criminal investigation was actually a bit of a relief. I was relieved that my landlord had nothing to do with this. I loved my apartment and did not want to move. I had no worries about a criminal investigation. I had never engaged in any form of criminal activity. I was certain that their investigation would only validate that fact.
The evening proceeded quietly. The dark drama I experienced earlier was like a strong dose of caffeine that began to wear off. At around 11:30 that evening I went to bed hoping to capture some of the sleep stolen from me the night before. All was quiet . . . but not for long. At exactly 12:00 midnight I was rudely awakened by a sudden eruption of clamor from the apartment above! They’re back! The Scowler (or his henchmen) had returned!
This assault was a perfect replica of what I endured the night before. The noise, stomping, and loud profane voices bounced off my bedroom walls. I now faced a second night of stolen sleep and harassment. What should I do? If law enforcement agents are my antagonists, what would happen if I called the police to complain? I did not want a confrontation, just a good night’s sleep.
Forced to lay awake for the second night in a row by this assault, I began to analyze my situation. This scheme was not the improvised efforts of a ragtag group of local police officers. I sensed that it was a well-crafted, thoroughly rehearsed technique that reflected expertise in psychology and surveillance. The participants knew their roles well and stuck to a script.
Rather than beat me physically, they were seeking to beat me by attacking my emotions and injuring my pride. I had been rudely deprived of sleep for over 36 hours. Also, I was subject to a series of actions designed to humiliate me and provoke an angered response. They had also provided a target for my anger . . . the “Scowler.”
Sleep deprivation and psychological conditioning are techniques usually associated with the military, not law enforcement. I did not imagine that this was something taught in Newark Police Academy to local officers . . . However, it would probably be well known to Federal law enforcement agents . . . such as those in the FBI or DEA, two Federal agencies with branch offices in Newark. In fact, the New York Times has referred to the FBI as “quasi-military” in culture.
But why is this happening to me? Based upon what I was told, I was the target of a secretly conducted criminal investigation for at least six months (it seems that it was only secret to me). I don’t know why I was their target, but I do now what they found. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. In a rather odd way this situation was a source of great pride for me. I routinely lived by a standard of conduct higher than that required by law. I was not perfect, but I never engaged in unlawful activity. I took great pride in knowing that any scrutiny on their part would only confirm that. Perhaps this new “stage” of the investigation was born out of their frustration in finding any evidence of wrongdoing.
If they could push me to commit an act of public rage, preferably directed toward a law enforcement officer (the “Scowler”), it would create the perception that I was indeed the person they claimed me to be. It would appear to onlookers that my anger was entirely unprovoked. I would look like a dangerous nut! Were they putting themselves and fellow officers in harm’s way with such a scheme? No, not really. From their surveillance, they knew that I had no weapons of any kind. Nor was I a trained combatant. I was simply one unarmed, innocent man. Also, as I later discovered, there are a number of plainclothes and uniformed officers never more than seconds away who would respond to any foolish act on my part with overwhelming force.
I needed a strategy to successfully cope with this scheme. Therefore, I made two key decisions that evening that have proven to be extremely wise over the past six years of harassment.
First, I decided never to view my antagonists as enemies. In fact, I determined never to allow myself to develop any anger towards them. Why not? Because, a primary objective of this harassment was to condition me to adopt an adversarial view of law enforcement officers. I refused to do so. I have always respected law enforcement officers and would continue to do so.
If I allowed anger and bitterness to overcome me, it would only be a matter of time before I lost control. Indeed, exploiting this basic human frailty is a central component of their psychological harassment. They sought to distress me until I responded in a fit of rage. Any hostile act on my part would instantly be met with incarceration or overwhelming force. They had the law on their side. They had to right to “retaliate” with deadly force–I did not. Therefore, I never allowed myself to feel any anger toward them. It would only be self-destructive in the long-run.
My second decision was this: No matter how far my antagonists stepped outside the law, I would not follow. As you will see, this investigation is conducted in a way to make it almost impossible for me to gain relief under “the rule of law.” I would rather undergo persecution than do anything illegal to end the suffering or retaliate. I had to show respect for the law, whether they chose to, or not.
Anyhow, let’s get back to the “Scowler,” who was hard at work harassing me in the upstairs apartment. As morning approached, I knew that I had to face him again. But I had a plan. If the events of the past morning held true, the “Scowler” wanted to make a spectacle of me . . . again. Fine, I will be a spectacle! But not quite the way the “Scowler” imagined . . . At 6:30 AM I began to prepare for another day’s work, not having slept for two nights in a row.
I decided to dress for my audience with the “Scowler” and his onlookers. I choose my best suit, a well-tailored lightweight charcoal wool pinstripe that I usually reserve for important meetings or interviews. Along with that I selected a perfectly starched white Pima cotton shirt and a silver foulard silk tie. I also took a bit of extra time polishing my best cap-toe oxfords. I completed the outfit with a white handkerchief carefully folded in my jacket’s breast pocket.
As I left my apartment and approached the elevator that would whisk me to the drama waiting in the lobby, I began to smile to myself. The “Scowler” wanted an out-of-control Black thug. Instead, what he would get is a smiling, well-spoken, well-mannered, tastefully attired Black professional. And what’s more, I was going to be shaking hands, kissing babies and working the crowd like I just won an election!
The elevator stopped at the lobby and the doors slowly opened. And, as expected, there was the “Scowler!” I strode from the elevator with a big smile, ready to work the crowd. But, there was no crowd . . . the “Scowler” was the only person in the lobby. He quickly averted his gaze as I strolled past him. I was a bit disappointed. I really expected an audience like yesterday . . . not just the “Scowler.” I said nothing to him and proceeded on my way to work.
I was feeling good. As the day progressed, I thought about what could have happened had I lost my temper that morning. Even though the “Scowler” appeared to be alone in the lobby, I’m certain he was not. His fellow officers/agents were no doubt hiding in the background ready to pounce if I “acted up.” Also, surveillance cameras were carefully recording every nuance and gesture. I had won the battle for that day. By keeping a cool head and thinking things through, I had avoided danger.
I never saw the “Scowler” again. Yet my trials were just beginning . . . What I have experienced over the past six years revealed a side of law enforcement you never see portrayed in the movies . . . and for good reason, as you will soon discover.