Sample The Hartwell Genius


Legal Defense and Research Fund
PO Box 7487
Ocean Park Maine 04063





"Labor to keep alive in your breast that spark of celestial fire called conscience."

--George Washington


I think every well-informed person reading this is more or less familiar with the true nature of the Central Intelligence Agency. It has been called the Cult of Intelligence, a pretty accurate description. The CIA, officially formed in 1947 from its precursor, the Office of Strategic Services (OSS) has been wreaking havoc, inciting madness and mayhem around the globe since its inception. Among the CIA's most nefarious operations were those which tampered with the human mind, using drugs, psycho-surgery and high-tech psychotronic weaponry,a hideous form of psychiatric abuse known as mind control. Not surprising, considering that the original core of CIA was heavily staffed with Nazi scientists and doctors brought into the USA under Project Paperclip, at the behest and the expense of the U.S. government.


For those unfamiliar with the term "containment" it describes an intelligence operation designed to control the flow of information on a sensitive issue involving an illegal or iniquitous government-sponsored project. The agents cast out the dragnet and choose their targets. After weeding out the crazies or delusional wanna-bes they identify those persons who were actually involved in the operations and who may have some evidence to support their authenticity. Next, they focus on those deemed most likely to go public, or who already have high profile cases. They decide what will --and will not-- be "allowed" to be exposed to the public. Most important, they decide what spin will be placed on the information exposed: How they can "contain" the situation for maximum damage control. How to sanitize the information to continue the cover-up. Or perhaps how to discredit those who come forward by impugning their sanity; turning their true story into a sensationalistic parody; or creating a diversion by focusing on a similar, but bogus "case" which will draw the public's attention away from the true survivors and the true nature of the operations.


In this particular report, I will focus on one such containment operation targeting victims and survivors of the infamous MK Ultra mind control operations. As usual, I will be naming some names and exposing some perpetrators. It's always wise to remember that these perps are not just a nebulous "they"..."They" are committing this or that crime..."they" are getting away with murder..."they" have us under surveillance. No, no, no. Each criminal perpetrator is an individual. As I like to say,"they" each have a name and an address. Until "they" are named and exposed "they" cannot be stopped.



Stonebridge Associates is a CIA cut-out with divisions in several Eastern U.S. cities. As a matter of fact, some of my relatives who still work for CIA are involved with this very front company, in the state of Maryland. I got it from the horse's mouth. Here, from a google search, some "official" background on its founder, Mr. Donald W. Stacey.

Mr. Stacey is Chairman of the International Association of Investment Bankers (IAIB), which he founded in 1994. The IAIB is composed of middle market investment banking firms located in Europe, Asia, Australia and North America. Mr. Stacey had previously founded Stonebridge Associates in 1986, a middle-market investment banking firm located in Boston. Prior to that, he managed PaineWebber's investment banking operations in Boston for 15 years. In addition, for two years he held senior management positions in Painewebber's New York office. Mr. Stacey has served as a general partner in several venture capital partnerships. He practiced law in western Colorado for eight years before moving to Boston. Mr. Stacey holds a J.D. from the University of Colorado and an M.B.A. from the Harvard Business School.

Impressive credentials, but let me get right to the point: I am getting very tired of receiving reports written or compiled by Mr. Don Stacey, forwarded to me by those who are not aware of his true identity. Just last week, a new one arrived by e-mail. I'm also tired of seeing his reports plastered all over the Internet on message boards and websites such as Free Republic, where Stacey poses as a "conservative", a "patriot" or "concerned citizen". I'm damn sick and tired of seeing that so many decent people believe this man to be legitimate, causing them to post or forward his reports to others, in good faith. Up until now, I've limited myself to giving private warnings to friends and professional colleagues. I've waited quite a few years to expose him, but it's high time for the truth to be told and there's no time like the present.


So for what it's worth, let me tell you who this man really is. He works for the CIA in Psy Ops, mostly in the area of "containment". Don Stacey is a penetration agent who infiltrates groups and individuals who have sensitive firsthand knowledge of highly classified gov't black operations, in particular those who may have been utilized as military assassins (manchurian candidates) or intelligence operatives under the MK Ultra program. He then attempts to manipulate and influence these individuals in order to place the desired spin on any information they may come forward with. If after reading this report you choose to continue your association with Mr. Stacey or keep him on your mailing list, that's up to you. It's a free country (well, sort of).


I first encountered Mr. Don Stacey in 1998 when I received an unsolicited e-mail message from him, out of the blue. He claimed he wanted to offer his "support" for my work exposing CIA mind control operations. He described himself as "a semi-retired investment banker with no connections to government". It was the "no connections to government" part that raised my hackles, so the first thought that popped into my mind was, He's CIA. I wrote back a terse reply, something like, Thanks for your interest, I'll get back to you. A few e-mails were exchanged in this manner, in which he continued to express his interest in my work and to offer various forms of "support", all of which would entail his own involvement (one way or another) in my activities, such as lining up a webmaster to design a website to disseminate my material or advising me as to the type of reports I "should" be writing so that he could post them on Free Republic (one of many "conservative" sites where he is on the CIA inside track, searching for new recruits and planting cleverly crafted disinfo).



I didn't accept any of his offers, thinking maybe he'd take the hint and just go away. For awhile, I lost track of Mr. Stacey. Then, after a few months he popped up again, this time sponsoring some private lectures by survivors of gov't mind control and investigators of the subject to "educate" a select group. The audience was allegedly to be comprised of business people, attorneys, investment bankers and their ilk, mostly Eastern Establishment types. He said he was interested in having me as a speaker at the event, to take place in a Boston suburb in the summer of 1999. Although I declined his offer to be a speaker, I agreed to come and listen to the talks to be presented by others, namely ex-FBI agent Ted Gunderson and mind control survivor Susan Ford aka Brice Taylor, both of whom at that time I still considered to be friends and professional colleagues, though by the end of that year I had broken off my association with both of them.

I told Mr. Stacey I would be driving to the event with a bodyguard, since I never travel without one. For this occasion, I asked a male relative, trained by the military, to accompany me on the trip. Though I was pretty sure what kind of an operation this was, I thought I might as well take a closer look so I could gather more information about Mr. Stacey's agenda. As I soon learned, my intuition was right on the money, and then some.


The event was held at a ritzy hotel on the outskirts of Boston. Mr. Stacey offered to pay for a hotel room and invited me and my bodyguard to be his guests for dinner in the hotel restaurant before the lectures. As it turned out, Ted Gunderson cancelled his talk at the last minute, leaving Sue Ford as the only speaker. How convenient. As I heard it from Ted, someone made him an "offer he couldn't refuse", a well-paying case for his P.I. firm. Yeah, I'll bet it was.


I won't forget my first sight of Don Stacey. You've heard of love at first sight ? Not quite. In this case, it was spook at first sight, not an unusual occurence in my life. I have a finely tuned radar for these people, and I've rarely been wrong. From minute one, when my bodyguard and I walked into the hotel's cocktail lounge, we took one look at Mr. Stacey and exchanged a knowing glance, confirming what was obvious to us both. Mr. Stacey had been made. In fact, he actually looked so familiar to me that when I shook his hand to say hello, I asked him if we'd met before. No, he said, turning on the charm, he didn't think so, he "would have remembered a beautiful woman" like me.


Add to this that there were pairs of spooks posing as the classy "businessmen" attending the lecture, wearing expensive suits, strategically stationed at nearby tables in the lounge, their ears out on a pole to catch every fragment of our conversation.


During dinner, we met Mr. Stacey's partner in the operation, one Hank Amstead from New Hampshire. Mr. Amstead's cover was that he was a "retired land surveyor". Stacey and Amstead were a tag team who played the roles of Good Cop/Bad Cop. Amstead was the Bad Cop. In stark contrast to the tall, polished, clean-shaven and well-groomed Mr. Stacey, the younger, short and stocky Amstead had a 3-day beard and sported the rumpled look of a disgruntled, aging campus radical. Amstead started off with a string of provocative anti-government outbursts aimed at myself and my bodyguard. He spoke with derision and outrage about the government's atrocities at Waco, Ruby Ridge, the Oklahoma City Bombing; his support of various militia groups, all the old favorites. I and my bodyguard mostly just sat there and listened without responding. Stacey tried to engage us in conversation of a different nature, asking pointed questions about some of the black operations I had been involved in, showing particular interest in those involving psychic warfare and the paranormal. Though I knew who he was and why he had invited me there, I spoke openly about some of these projects, while purposely throwing in some juicy disinformation. He was all ears.

When Amstead failed to provoke us into joining in with inflammatory statements against the government, he resorted to more blatant tactics. He loudly complained about the incompetent people at the hotel failing to set up enough chairs for the audience. He turned to me and said, "Why don't YOU go up to the front desk and tell them to get a move on! You look like a take-charge kind of gal. I'll bet you're used to making 'em fall into line!" I refused to be provoked and went to see about the chairs without a word.


During Sue Ford's talk, I sat in the front row with my bodyguard, the place of honor reserved for us by the semi-retired investment banker and his land-surveying cohort. Behind me, the room had filled to capacity with spooks of every stripe, mixed in with a few working class types, just regular folks, whom I assumed were added to the mix for authenticity. A nice touch.


The interesting part came after the lecture. Sue Ford was engaged in doing a video interview for a local cable show, Constitutionally Speaking, hosted by Paul Ingbretson, presumably a colleague of Mr. Stacey's. My bodyguard and I went upstairs to the cocktail lounge to wait for Sue to finish the interview, as she had agreed to join us for a drink. We waited...and waited...and waited. No sign of Sue. Finally, lo and behold, Don Stacey appeared at the bar and told us that regrettably, Sue would be "tied up" and would not have time to meet with us. It was clear he was nervous about Sue spending any time alone with me and my bodyguard. He tried to cover himself with a magnanimous gesture, reaching into his suit pocket and pulling from his wallet a twenty dollar bill, which he handed to me, saying he imagined we could use it to help pay expenses, gas and tolls. It wasn't much, he said apologetically, but the most he could afford. Yeah, right. (Check out the business and financial reports from Stonebridge Associates.) Just a little something to show his sincerity and appreciation that we made the trip to show our support for his educational event. A real prince, that Mr. Stacey.

I did not buy in to Stacey's ill-disguised charade. I waited a few minutes, then went back down to the lecture room to check on Sue Ford. No sooner had I approached her than Don intercepted me with a harried look and said they were "running late". They had a long drive to their next destination, a conference on mind control in Connecticut, scheduled for the next day. Yes, he had a long way to drive that evening, so he was sure I understood that there was not a minute to spare for Sue to join us.

I wasn't about to just walk away. I also assumed Sue could speak for herself, so I asked her directly if she could just come up for a moment and say goodbye to my bodyguard, who had enjoyed meeting her. But before Sue could respond, Stacey was right on the case. As I perceived it, not a moment of unsupervised time could be allowed away from the watchful eyes of Don and Hank. I looked on in stunned silence as Don Stacey literally grabbed Sue by one elbow, with good old Hank moving quickly to grab her other arm, and they frog-marched her out a back door, looking for the nearest exit. I stood there, astounded, as I watched them hustle Sue into a dark corridor, then spun around, quickly reversing direction when they realized it was not an exit, so desperate were they to get her out of there before I could say another word. I followed them up the stairs and called out a goodbye to Sue, addressing her back as she was steered up to the lobby, flanked by the two spooks. They passed the open cocktail lounge where my bodyguard sat, without even glancing his way, and manhandling Sue out the front door, they disappeared into the night.


By this time, it was clear that Stacey was functioning as a handler (apparently in more ways than one) for Sue Ford. Out of concern for her, the next day I called her at the hotel in Connecticut to warn her that Stacey was not who he claimed to be, a benevolent "sponsor", a "concerned citizen", who wanted to expose government mind control, but rather a CIA agent hell-bent on damage control. What Sue told me was the final tip-off, in a chain of building evidence, that she herself was not out from under mind control, as she proudly claimed in her books and her public talks. She said, "Oh yes, I know who he is. I knew it the moment he came to meet me at the airport. I even told him, "You're a Fed!" She actually laughed, as if this were greatly amusing. I didn't bother to say anymore. The fix was in and I knew she would stick with him, despite her knowledge of who and what he really was. I wished her well, told her to be careful and hung up the phone. That was the last time I ever spoke to her.



As it turned out, Ted Gunderson had been deemed persona non grata at this particular event, the annual SMART conference in Connecticut, due to the fact that the sponsor, Neil Brick and several of the participants did not trust him. At that time, I was only a few months away from reaching the same conclusion, after having worked closely with Ted for almost three years. Since Ted had been disallowed to attend with Sue, I guess Mr. Stacey acted as a stand in, just to make sure she followed the script. And to this day, Sue Ford still endorses Ted Gunderson.


But the story doesn't end there. In fact, this was just the beginning of Mr. Stacey's machinations as far as I was concerned. He continued his attempts to interfere with me and to influence my behavior, though as he found out eventually, it was an exercise in futility. I never let on that I knew who he was, never confronted him directly, but I do wonder if he thought he had me fooled. I stayed in contact with him and played the game until I had collected enough solid evidence and testimony of witnesses about the real nature of his operation.


You see, Mr. Stacey was/is a Ted Gunderson crony and at that time, though I had my suspicions, I had not yet decided to cut Ted loose. Realizing that the two were allies, I needed to find out just how deep the connections ran. I would get occasional phone calls from Stacey with his suggestions as to how I could "gain credibility" and find a "wider audience" for my work. For instance, he suggested I edit my articles so they would be "suitable" for publication on Free Republic, a site where Stacey had his own "conservative" following. Stacey tried to persuade me that I should not talk about the persecution being directed at me by the CIA and FBI, as that would not help my case. No, he said, what I "should" be doing was to focus on exposing the actual operations I was involved in, with emphasis on the "paranormal" stuff. Of course, I knew full well that out of all that I had been involved in, forays into the weirdness of the psychic realm would be the least "credible" to the general public. A great way to have people dismiss me as a flake.

And so in this way, his offers of "support" and his helpful suggestions continued. Each suggestion he made, I thanked him for his concern, but politely refused to comply with. I told him that I knew exactly what I was doing and after all, I was just telling the truth. That I would continue to do things my own way.

Finally, in apparent desperation Stacey called Ted Gunderson, I suppose under the false impression that Ted wielded some sort of influence or control over me. One day Ted called me, making the same suggestions and giving me the same unsolicited advice Stacey had. So I asked him, "Ted, did Don Stacey call you and ask you to talk to me?" Ted grudgingly admitted that yes, indeed he had. So I explained to Ted, "Don Stacey is CIA, I don't need his kind of 'help' and he had better stay away from me if he knows what's good for him. If he thinks he can send you like his errand boy to tell me what to do, he should think again." Ted just muttered, "Well, I don't know why I bother, you never listen to anything I say anyway. You don't listen to anyone. You always just do whatever the hell you want to !" Damn straight, Ted. You finally got the picture.




There was only one of Mr. Stacey's gracious offers I decided to take him up on and I had my reasons. This was when I agreed to be a guest on the cable TV program, Constitutionally Speaking, the same show Sue Ford had done the interview for in Boston. The interview took place at my home in Woodstock, NY in December of 1999. The producer/host, Mr. Paul Ingbretson, drove down from New Hampshire for the interview. As I understood it, Mr. Ingbretson normally was a one-man show, interviewing his guest with a single camera and lights set up beforehand. Live-to-tape, as we used to call it, with no editing. Not this time. I arranged for another man to be present at the interview, an old friend who had once been the director of my own CIA-sponsored cable TV program, during the late 80s and early 90s. I decided I could use some backup for this little operation as well as a witness. So when Mr. Ingbretson arrived at my home he was (unpleasantly) surprised to find a professional videographer and director to offer his assistance.

I had of course figured out that the purpose of this interview was to attempt to discredit me and I wasn't about to let that happen. My friend directed the whole show, instructing Mr. Ingbretson and myself where to sit, changing the camera angles periodically, calling for a break or a retake when necessary. He did a beautiful job, in more ways than one.


The long and short of it is that Ingbretson conducted the "interview" by repeatedly interrupting me; asking a question, then abruptly changing the subject before I had a chance to respond; all the while throwing in absurd comments and non-sequitors from left field, trying to derail me and throw me off balance. In a word, he was obnoxious, as everyone who later saw the tape commented to me. Ingbretson also made a point of repeatedly comparing my situation to that of Sue Ford, whom he had interviewed in Boston. He said, right on the tape, that people had told him that show was "destroying his credibility", thus planting the seed that MY credibility was also on the line. He kept bringing up Sue Ford's name, as if she were the yardstick by which all government mind control survivors were to be measured. As I told him more than once: No, I come from a very different background. No, I was never a "sex slave"; never involved in any form of "satanism"; never sexually abused as a child. Paul gave it the old college try, using every trick he could think of to trip me up or leave the audience with the impression that what they were viewing was just another disfunctional broad, whose outlandish claims should be relegated to the lunatic fringe.


Nonetheless, despite Mr. Ingbreston's antics, by the end of the 2-hour interview I had managed to present a fairly comprehensive overview of my personal background and of several of the CIA's black operations in which I had been trained and utilized. I was also able to tie in the NWO, the Illuminati and their conspiracy to enslave American citizens under the auspices of the United Nations and create a Totalitarian One World government. I can only surmise that Mr. Stacey, who had arranged the interview, was not happy with the result, since the phone calls and friendly advice came to a mysterious halt.


But the CIA spin doctors managed to get in their parting shot. When the tape was released the spooks had designed a lurid header in red and black letters which appeared on the screen: Barbara Hartwell [CIA] Black Ops Survivor ? The meaning of the large question mark was obvious, as was the word CIA in much smaller letters, contained in brackets. As if to plant the suggestion: If you believe THIS, you'll believe anything.




When Plan A (attempts to contain and discredit me) fell flat on its face, it seems Plan B was put into action. Let me go back in time. Right after the Boston event, the male relative who served as my bodyguard had written an e-mail to Mr. Stacey, letting him know, very politely, that he knew who Stacey really was and what he was up to. When Stacey did not respond, my relative got a little more blunt and called him a "CIA scumbag". Shortly thereafter, a very strange occurence took place in my relative's life. It seems that someone had made a report to his insurance company that he had DIED and a notice was sent by the insurance company to his home (where he lives alone) but addressed to the surviving family members he had named as beneficiaries. Can we prove the origin of this veiled death threat ? No, of course not. My relative, outraged, confronted the insurance company for the mental distress and trauma this caused to him. But no information was ever forthcoming from the company as to HOW such a grievous "mistake" could have been made or WHO was responsible for it.

And speaking of veiled death threats, this tactic was not unprecedented where Mr. Stacey was concerned. For Mr. Stacey had been sending clever little e-mail messages about the topic of death to me, as well as to a few other survivors of military/CIA black ops, all of whom had refused to cooperate with Stacey's sub rosa agenda. One such message listed The Ten Most Stupid Ways to Die, apparently presented as some black humor. But it listed actual deaths which had occured, using statistics from insurance companies, all of which were attributed to the "stupidity" of the now deceased. I compared notes with one man, a survivor of one of the most ghastly military assassination operations, involving Manchurian Candidates, mind-controlled assassins whose memories of the operations were later wiped out through drugs and hypnosis. After hours of discussions over a period of a few months, we had figured out the connection between these cute little death messages, always sent at strategic times when the powers-that-be were not happy with our refusal to knuckle under and go along with the program. Very funny, Mr. Stacey. Ha, ha, ha.




Now, I'll address the strange case of Mr. Vince Lodato, another Gunderson crony and acquaintance of Don Stacey, who first approached me out of the blue in 2001. As it turned out, Vince lived in Kingston, NY, very near to my home in Woodstock. Like Stacey, his first approach was made by e-mail, telling me he was a friend of Ted Gunderson. He said he was a nuclear physicist at one time under contract to the government, in relation to the development of atomic weapons, having held a Q clearance. He wanted to meet me. I ignored him for about a year, not bothering to answer his e-mail. Then in 2001, I heard from him again, requesting a meeting, so I decided to find out what he was about. I agreed to meet with him for dinner at a local restaurant.


I explained to Vince that I had broken off my association with Ted Gunderson, and the reasons why. I knew damn well Ted had "sent" him, as he had so many others, hoping to get information about me or to draw me back into the fold, but I gave Vince the benefit of the doubt, since he seemed sincere and was a nice guy. Just after we sat down to dinner, there was a commotion at the next table. Vince was facing the back of the restaurant while I took my usual seat, back to the wall and eyes on the front door. There were three women arguing with the waiter, directly behind Vince. It seems they were insisting on sitting at the table directly next to ours. This was the smoking section, the waiter explained and there was a great view of a mountain stream at the non-smoking tables out on the enclosed veranda. The women refused to move and planted themselves right there. But two things seemed odd. First, the women were speaking Russian; and secondly, they did not smoke. Nor did they even order any food, just cups of tea. All talking among themselves stopped and they just stared at us, trying to hear every word that passed between us. It seems they were sent for show, as they didn't pass muster for covert surveillance. We sat there until we finished our dinner, but the conversation came to a dead halt. Vince seemed genuinely surprised, whereas for me this was a common occurence, especially when I would meet with someone formerly employed by the government for the first time.


But let me return to the point: Don Stacey's name came up in the conversation, brought up by Vince. I immediately told Vince the truth: Stacey is CIA and so is Hank Amstead, whom Vince also knew. Vince became quite agitated at this news and after I had heard his own tale of horror, brought on by the CIA, I understood why. Long story short, after Vince had left government service, not on the best of terms, the CIA burned his house in Kingston to the ground, causing his sister's death, after she jumped from the top story window to escape the fire.

Not long after my revelation about the two CIA agents, I paid a visit to Vince's office in Kingston where he ran a wine-importing business. I guess Vince was so outraged that his "friends" Don and Hank had hoodwinked him with their "concerned citizen" bullshit that he told me he had actually confronted them and told them "Barbara Hartwell told me you guys are CIA". At first they tried to deny it, but Vince was persistent and finally got a qualified "admission" from Hank Amstead.


On that day in Vince's office, he tried to convince me that we all should be able to just sit down over a bottle of wine and "discuss" these issues like civilized people. I burst out laughing and told Vince he was extremely naive to think such a thing would be possible. I told him,THEY are the ones who are not civilized. The only thing they would understand is if I kicked their doors down in a commando raid. Maybe that would make them talk, maybe I'll just pay a little visit to them at their homes and see what they have to say.


So Vince picked up the phone, despite my protests and made a call to Hank. Bottom line: Hank wanted to know, Where is Barbara Hartwell right now ? Vince did not tell them I was standing right there. The jist of the conversation was that, yes, Don and Hank were CIA, but they are GOOD CIA, while Barbara Hartwell is BAD CIA, a rogue operative who has to be stopped from her trail of terror and destruction.



Here's something to think about. Operatives from the CIA have pursued me with a vengeance since 1994 when I broke out of their control and escalated their harassment against me when I went public in 1996. Since that time, I have never known a moment's peace. They have destroyed or stolen most of my property, including 6 cars and 4 computers; they have sabotaged my personal and professional relationships; they have planted bugs in my homes; they have deployed SWAT teams, exotic directed-energy weapons and military hardware against me, my family and associates. They have raped and tortured my only sister.


I have no source of income. I am not capable of working at any regular job because I am seriously disabled by injuries from arranged car crashes; from battle wounds and from chronic illness and PTSD, all a direct result of the criminal abuses committed by the U.S. government. I have a medical doctor's statement to this effect, that I should be able to "retire" with 100% disability benefits. But, I am "not eligible" for disabilty benefits, nor even social security, since I have no official work history. I worked from 1969-1994 in the CIA's black ops, mostly through cut-outs and front companies who paid me under the table for my services. Naturally, they deny I ever worked for them. For years, I have been forced to live off the charity of family and friends or donations from supporters who find my work valuable. And despite this, I have still given away much of what I had to help others in worse circumstances than mine.


I now have a secure home in Maine, but no money and no prospects of future income. The donations to my Legal Defense and Research Fund have dried up as a result of the slander campaign against me. I have no family, no friends, no husband, not one person whom I can rely on for any financial or material support.

I have some questions for those who have persecuted me. Do you fellows from the CIA know what it's like to be alone in the dead of winter and run out of firewood to stay warm ? Do you understand what it's like to be in severe pain, day in and day out, for years on end, because you can't afford medical care and have no insurance ? To have to drive yourself to the emergency room while you're bleeding ? To not have one person you can call in any emergency, whom you can rely on to show up to help you ? What about having your phones and electricity shut off because you can't pay the bills? Having to roll pennies to feed your cats ?


Somehow, I don't think ya'll can relate to this lifestyle. As it stands now, being alone and financially destitute, it's not likely I will make it through another winter, unless God blesses me with a miracle. The way I see it, where there is faith, there is always hope. But if the Lord wills it, I'm ready, should God send the chariot to take me home.


But I will tell you this: I swear, on all that is sacred to me, as a matter of honor, that I will make it my mission, until my dying day, to hunt down each and every one of you who had any part in perpetrating the abuses and engineering the heartaches I and my family and friends have suffered these many years. To put you people out of business, once and for all ! Every night before I go to sleep, I pray to God Almighty that He will give me the strength and honor me with the privilege to serve Him as one of his Avenging Angels.

You people who work for the U.S. government are pathetic. It is the most corrupt government in the history of the world, excepting none. You may have millions stashed in the bank and wear expensive suits. You may be living the high life, off the fat of the land. You may have the resources and technology to destroy and subjugate everyone on the planet. You may be silver-tongued devils who can deceive and lie and manipulate to achieve your ends, no matter what the cost in human suffering. You may have deluded yourselves into believing you're smarter than the rest of us.


But here's the bottom line: Ya'll are nothing more than a bunch of intellectually, morally and spiritually bankrupt scumbags. You are spineless cowards, liars and traitors. If you're not ashamed of yourselves, you damn well ought to be. Not one of you has shown the guts or the decency to face me like a man and tell the truth or take responsibility for your crimes against God and humanity. You have no respect for the personal boundaries or spiritual integrity of others and you don't know the the first thing about the meaning of liberty or justice.


Government Rat Bastards: Mark my words this day. I may be disabled, I may be poor, I may be in emotional and physical pain. But I can still kick some ass if I need to. You can take that to the bank.


--Barbara Hartwell

May 13, 2004


For more from Barbara click here.


Top Of Page