Tuesday, 6 October 2015


"O believers, remember God Oft,
and give Him glory at the  dawn and in the evening."   The Qur'an

As I journey through internal discovery and recovery, it is challenging to be completely honest regarding my seemingly unbelievable truth..  This morning, I meditated and soaked in the bath , I thought about a daughter I birthed, whom I have not seen in many, many  years.  This daughter was inseminated against my knowledge and consent which I am sure most if not all who view my blog, will have a difficult time understand or a even more difficult time believing.  The factor of sharing  traumatic childhood experiences and, then, not being believed, haunts numerous survivors of childhood abuse, "Who will believe me?   While other often wonder, will peopll think less of me due to what was done to me?"

Fear, shame, avoidance, confusion and the feeling of being totally alone make for a volatile emotional interior backdrop for an abused child.  Yet, it is when a survivor of an  unfathomable   horror makes the statement,  "I am blessed," that I am in awe.  With that being said, may I say, void of awe, that I am a survivor who is truly blessed,

One evening two acquaintances introduced me to one of their friends.  Since both acquaintances knew that I ma a spiritual seeker they selected to bring one man who thought of himself as a Shaman and the other who professed no accolade identity. As we discussed variant subject over hot cups of tea, at a local Hookah bar. the man who acclaimed not identifying title made a most profound statement. He calmly asked then answered a question.

"Have you ever contemplated that if Adam had legal representation at the time of his disobedience, there is a very good chance that he would have never been removed from the Garden of Eden?

According to the untitled man, when God presented the logic to Adam, "I have blessed you with inconceivable fruits and a garden plentiful and rich.  "Why did you disobey Me?

Adam's responded. "So that I could taste of your mercy."

I don't know if that statement would have prevented the eviction, but it does give pause.

When in the relaxation of my morning ritual, I asked myself are you really going to talk about having been inseminated, then,when hesitation regarding the exposure of this personal  defacing humiliation seeped, I thought about the book, "The Franklin Cover-up", written by John Decamp and having read this extraordinary revelation of documented child abuse, I mustered the courage to share yet another almost inconceivable personal  truth.  

I had been in a Catholic convent for what I believed to be a few weeks for a high school retreat.  One day after having been our of the cone=vent for what seemed to me a few months, I happened into a high friend who made a statement which perplexed me.  "I see you didn't make it either?  She then continued, " At least you lasted longer than I did. One day, in a panic, after approximately nine months or so, I called my mother nearly out of breath and told her if she did not come and get m e immediately that I would find something to jump off of" . Within the hour, my mother was at the convent and very shortly thereafter, I was home ordering a pepperoni pizza."

My friends's name was Josephine  name and when I told her that I had not idea what she was talking about.  Her only remark was, "They must have really done a job on her."

Thursday, 16 April 2015

Excavation of Truth

The excavation of any concept of truth can be a most arduous task as the idea of truth is viewed through many prisms of thought.  A factual truth which I can share is that on April second of this year, 2015,  as I sat at my computer, I felt a notable trimmer.  The shaking of the building in which I live lasted maybe five or ten seconds.  However, since, in a nearby community, one less than ten minutes away,  such 3.3 or less earthquakes trimmers had been reported, with a fair amount of frequency.  In the previous six months the mentioned community had at least three such reports.  With that knowledge at hand, I did not panic or become frightened.  I did whatever stop what I was doing on the computer, (probably playing online scrabble), long enough to call a neighbor who did not answer her phone, consequently, I returned to whatever I had been doing that day.  That evening, I watch the news and the report of an earthquake ranging 3. something on the seismograph instrument was reported.  Since I live on the ninth floor of a sixteen floor building, I wondered if I should have felt the trimmer's force more or less than someone living on the first floor.  I did not ponder the location comparatives very long as I was somewhat unmoved by the incident. 

The mysteries and wonders of nature are profoundly complicated, profusely exquisite,  while being continuously miraculous.  At this point, I may be a bit repetitive were a previous post is concerned but I once again want to share the events of a most exquisite and miraculous day in my life.

As a Mk-Ultra survivor during the periods of my programming there were no ordinary days.  For me, awareness of a day could start at noon or perhaps at eight in the evening or perhaps, not at all.  Since, during this period, I live in a place where there were no mirrors, my rudimentary visual concept of how I look vanished like the memories of my biological family and my birth name. 

However, on this particular day, awareness seeped into consciousness as I heard phrases like, ' She's coming our of it.' "Act like she's been at the table all the time."  Other statement made by the children who sat at the dining table where we were all seated when slowly, then suddenly, I became consciously aware of the day.  Any conversation prior to my alertness, I had no concept regarding.  Any jokes,  or friendly banter, any affectionate remarks or family reports, nothing of what had occurred before my eyes opened were recorded in my mental space.  What my mental space did record as I became a part of the day was other children smiling and talking at the table.  Some of the conversational statement ground into my subconscious during the psycho-driving segment of my programming took life.  Someone asked for the salt to be passed.  A statement which had been often repeated in the massive amount of tapes which I had been forced to listen to continuously while in a sedated state.  Other innocuous statements like where's the sugar or pass the bread were sometimes gigged from the mouths of the children at the table.  The statements made were in voices familiar to me as they were the voices I heard on the tapes.  I have surmised that using the voices of the children in the household was done so that once I was allowed  to spend more time awake, these ordinary occurrences would seem familiar, also they would seem to have been occurring for a long period of time.

The only person seated at the table whose voice was not on the types and who had shown me compassion was not an immediate member of the family I was forced to live with, but, instead  a first cousin who had come to live with the family for a period of time.  For the purpose of this post let's call him, Chancy.  In any event, once I was alert, I felt a little comfort at seeing him at the other end of the table directly in front of me.  Chancy once warned me when he came into the apartment very early one morning finding me awake and seated on a platform opening that lead to the second floor of the apartment.  I was seated directly in front of a long vertical window, watching the sunrise.  Chancy warned me not to let the people who lived in the house know that I sometimes got out of bed without their knowledge.  He further stated, that if the people in the house found out that I got up without them knowing they would do something to cause me to sleep longer.  He also told me to try and realize when I might be waking up and to try and train myself  not to move my eyes.  He told me that my eye movements were one of the ways that they knew that I was coming out of it.  As a child of perhaps six or seven when the statements were made to me I did not quite understand the why behind the warning but I did remember it and prior kindness by him and on that day I took comfort at him being at the table.

Chancy was older than the other children in the house and very capable of cajoling them.  When around, he often took the lead in any conversation spoken at  lunchtime.  When he was at the lunchtime table, he did not allow the other children's constant taunts.  I don't remember seeing him at dinner.  Actually, when I think of that time, I remember eating few, if any, dinners in that household.  But on this afternoon, after only a short period, perhaps, less than half an hour, an inner nudging urged  me to turn around.  Had I  turned, I would have been facing the vertical window where I sometimes had watched the sunrise.  The dire complication of a seven year old child having been kidnapped then stripped of personal memories did not elicit this child trusting a inner urging, no matter how gentle.  A peculiar uncertainty draped. I look toward Chancy and saw a look of fear and terror on his face.  He stood then immediate reseated himself.   Chancy pointed toward me seemingly shouting for me to turn around, but I could not hear his voice.  Peripherally, I  saw the other children still seated at the table but my awareness of them became minimal.  With my eyes focused on Chancy, he repeatedly pointed toward the window frantically telling me to turn around. He then Continued the anxious gestures several more times before he inhaled deeply, then exhaled a  tremendous sigh of relief, he statement, " He wants you not me.  I thought that he was coming after him me."   Telepathically,  Chancy repeated, "He's coming after you."

The atmosphere around me began to change.  A quietness, a silence enveloped me while the strong attraction to turn around still prevailed.  I felt that I was being gently pulled away from other children in the room. Briefly, I saw the children around me anxiously talking, yet, I could not hear their voices.  My hesitancy in turning around was not out of fear, but by this time, at age seven, I had experienced brainwashing, (What a gentle term for such a diabolical action, especially when this action is committed against a child).  I still don't understand the reason for the hesitancy, but after a time of resistance, I turned and faced the platform and the window.

When I turned toward the window whatever it was which had caused Chancy's fear, was not visible  to me. The ethereal persuasion permeating me caused me to feel as if I were gliding as I advanced toward the platform.  As I moved forward, awareness of other diminish.  I did not remember the fear on Chancy's face nor my initial resistance.  It just seemed to me that I  flowed across the room  unconnected  to gravity.  Once near the platform, toward my right, the appearance of the archetype of the fallen angel was visible.  The fire engine red creature with its short black horns leered.  I did not equate the image seen with evil for this might have been the first time I had ever experienced the image.   Following, a few more steps, I noticed a second image.  The second image was of a small figure with a round flat grayish looking face and a stick figure type body; he stood to my left.  I found this second image much more attracting and amiable.  Telepathically, I began to communicate with the grayish figure.  This incident happened many years ago and exactness is not possible at this time.  I do recall the grayish image telling me that something was about to happen.  He further told me that I had nothing to be afraid of and that he was there for a reason having to do with energy.  The matter he told me was too complicated to discuss at that time. 

I was immediately fascinated by the extremely intelligent creature who stood to my left.  I found his unusual features and characteristics  intriguing and thought that he was someone I could communicate with , have fun with, play with.  This excitement felt, was very short lived before it seemed to me that the sun was coming too closer to the second floor apartment.  I had been so mesmerized by my newly found friend that nothing else around me held any of my attention.  Yet, as it seemed that the sun was getting nearer and nearer the apartment, I mentally questioned if it would cause the apartment to caught fire.  I wondered if the children in the house would be harmed.  Just as I was becoming more concerned, the intelligent figure assured me that there was no reason for concern.  For an undeterminable amount of seconds, I quietly watched the appearance of the sun graduate closer to the window.  Even at seven, logic caused me to wonder how whatever it was, would be able to get through the thick brick wall of the apartment.  Soon, the concern as to the safety of the children in the house was usurped by a celestial radiance.  This enormous glow of yellow light began to take form.  After a while, I could see the intense light penetrate through the brick wall.  Still,  in a mesmeric state, I watched as the light took form and once the image stood before me,  in total awe, I immediately started to kneel. The completed image now standing before me looked apprehensively upward and slightly toward his right shoulder before he vehemently instructed me not to kneel, when he stated, "I did not tell them to worship me." 

I don't know how much time has passed when the figure to my left told me that he was leaving and that he had served his reason for heralding.  I became sad and disappointed at the fact of his leaving.  I guess without realizing it due to the techniques used in mind control that I did not realize that I missed my friends and having someone to communicate with on my age level  or for that fact, any levels at all.  Before leaving the grayish figure told me to give my full attention to the image standing before me.  The red image languished for a while then cowed backwardly away.  Before leaving it stated in a vile, angry manner, "You would protect her."  then he disappeared.     

The extraordinary figure left standing before me explained to me that when I learned of him on this side of the globe how he looked that day was the way he was perceived on the side of the world where I was now living.  He further stated that he had been perceived in many different way through many different cultures for many years.   Other event of the vision are vague but I do remember being told that it is not good for a person to know too much about their future.  I was told that for a while I would forget about the vision but that these things would come back to me in time.  I was told that I would experience many hardship in my life but that thing would turn out all right in the end.  I think that I was taken on a journey that day before being returned to the platform. 

I don't remember the balance of that day once returned.  I don't remember many days which followed as the programming continued.  I do recall being asked by a number of adults who I did not know to explain what I saw that day.  Many question were put before me.  Question like, "Where was his heart."  "Did he hold it in his hand?"  One would think that such an exceptional experience would be respected and valued but instead I was treated as if I thought I was better than others and harassed and badgered.  The many strangers who questioned me never treated me with kindness. 

Since the title of this particular post is; "Excavation of Truth"  it is not the ultimate truth of which I am speaking but indeed the truth of Mk-Ultra.  The truth regarding the deception and chicanery perpetrated against unwitting citizens by sources whom they most likely trusted.  The truth regarding the annihilation of an individuals inherent right to do God's Will due to finite interference.  Thy kingdom come Thy will be done is certainly a statement I completely understand.

Tuesday, 24 February 2015


Our Lord is
He Who gave to each
(Created) thing its form
And nature, and further,
Gave (it) guidance.

I have always been intrigued by the mysterious, the unexplainable,  the supernatural, the" Outer Limits," type riddles of life.  Years ago when the television show" The Outer Limits," aired, I was a weekly viewer, never missing an episode, and, always attempting to solve the  program's unexpected twist prior to its revealed.

One of the major appeals for me where the storylines in these programs were the subtle logic and moral overtones.  A consistent weekly attraction for me regarding the show was the unstated emphasis that there were consequences for unethical, amoral, or unkind deeds.  These reinforcements of social values were presented coiled within an unpredictable situations and maze of characters.

During the period in my life when the only knowledge I had of self was that which had been implanted, I questioned why curtained things interested me, attracted me, appealed to me or in some inexplicable way resonated within me.  While on a walk one afternoon, I passed a ladies upscale consignment store, properly named, "The Women's Exchanged."  The exchange store had an unique presence in the location, as it was a small business as compared to the others on this two block strip of extravagances.

On the almost daily jaunt, I glanced into the windows of stores  like Sak's Fifth Avenue, and Niemen Marcus.  The two things I knew regarding these stores at the time was that they sold very expensive items, according to the people in the neighborhood nearby, and for me, their display windows held a fascinating appeal while during the Christmas season, the entire area became beyond belief.

The children either those in the household were I live, or the children of the neighbors did not share my love of the opulent blocks of stores.  On the days when I would meandered alone "Maryland Plaza", which was what the area called, I always  walked  alone.   

The reality of the mind manipulated via psycho-driving and electric shocks,  is that the edifice which contains the brain and the neurons which were disturbed and altered function, as in a wondering void. At the time, I never questioned my attraction to the other side of the economic track.  The middle class or, for that matter, even the upper middle class members of society rarely if ever shopped at these very, very high-end stores.

While walking on the plaza, I never felt uncomfortable or out of place.  I was probably under eleven years of age at the time and clothes and fashion were of no particular interest to me. I think it was just that whatever was left of me, which was still contained within me, gravitated to the residue of me somewhere contained in the traces of non-remembered memories.

The brutality of Mk-Ultra with its physical, spiritual, and emotional invasiveness into the innate physiology of the mind, body, and dreams of a child.  Forever, altering the formed development and true nature of those who were exploited. 

The word love is one often used when one talks about the feelings parents have for their children  But what about the concept of being valued.  I felt valued by my parents.  In a home where collectable art and eclectic music, delicate pink crystal and the scent of vanilla pipe tobacco filled its inner structure; there were no contents, regardless of appraisal, more valued than its child.

I was not the neglected child of privilege.  Neither, my parents' ambitions nor their accomplishments waned attention or guidance toward me. 

Then, suddenly, abruptly, callously, the snatching.

I remembered an office where a man waved a heart shaped silver necklace in from of my eyes and he told me to follow his movement of the necklace.  There were times when this man would bring things like a small object from the top  draw of his desk and he would ask me if the object seemed familiar. Sometimes, I would look at the object with a vague sense of recognition.  The external non-verbal signs of raised eyebrows, then a squint, a sigh, a shaking  of the head, finally the, "no.'"

One day the man, who I now assume was a doctor, stood in front of his desk and opened the necklace which he had often dangled in mid-air from side-to-side while instructing me to follow the object with my eyes.  The frequently seen piece of jewelry turned out to be a locket that once opened displayed its content, a small intimate photograph of a woman and a child, a mother and a daughter, a segment of my past, something at the time my mind could not remember or excruciation stopped the memories. 

During this period of time in my abduction, wherever I was held, there were no mirrors in the location.  I don't recall how I got dressed in the mornings nor do I remember changing for bed at night.  I don't recall breakfast, lunch or evening meals nor was there conversation with others.  The few things I remember at this time when I was not yet age seven, were the movement of the locket, the squealing sound of a tape-recording rewinding, and the nothingness which lay between.

The audacious, adventurous, lively, loving, creative child who loved the out-of-doors and the color yellow; who often had tea parties with her favored dolls, who played an imaginary violin when listening to classical music;  this vital and vibrant being's torture placed amnesic cells in her reality.

Monday, 15 December 2014

Recognizing Blessings

Sura 93:1-3

1.   By the Glorious Morning Light,
2.   and by the Night when it is still-
3.   The Guardian-Lord hath not forsaken Thee, nor is He displeased.

When I think of the devastation and the exploitation which I received at the hands of a cruel and indifferent government, for many years, I was stunned, stuck, submerged in an emotional and spiritual level far below my innate capacity.  I became coiled in a suspended emptiness where in journeying through life I became like a zombie enduring an out of body experience.  There were no tears, nor was there laughter, no anticipation peaked, nor were there feelings of disappointment, hope, or joy.  

One day I was child, a daughter, an individual who belonged to a family, a culture, historical lineage and heritage which dating back centuries; then, what felt like the next moment, I was snatched, grabbed, kidnapped.

It was a sun filled day in London, England.  The bellowing white clouds were so pump and fluffy that while seated in the out-of-doors, transformed by the beauty of the day, awaiting the decision of whether or not myself and another child would be allowed to attend the annual Piccadilly Parade,  momentarily, I did not experience the childish anxiousness of jumpy anticipation.  

My fellow cohort did not share my calm appreciation of the day and he had paced throughout the palace like an animal of prey hunger for a conquest.  My father was in diplomatic services which yielded the fact that the family knew people from all over the world some of which actually lived in palaces.  As a child rather you live in a modest home, a mansion, a hacienda or a bubble when there is a parade in town, there is the uniformity of the wonder within a child's imagination.    

I had retreated from the palace in consequence of my friend's nervous pacing and constant questions as when the adults would make a decision.  Being a reticent person naturally, My friend, (well, let's call him John), might as well have been disassembling my emotional components.

"They always wait till the last minute to let us know anything. Why do they constantly take away any enjoyment of fun things that are planned?  A parade, it's just a parade.  What bad thing could  happen at a parade?"

I, of course, did not have the answers to the flurries of question directed toward me, the walls, the floor, the many rooms, or, any other person or object within John's vocal range, which he most certainly knew; nevertheless, there seemed to have been an expectation of me.  That being that I should have been as frustrated and  as annoyed as he where the wishy-washy decision-making adults were concerned.  

The adults did make a decision and John and I were allowed to attend the parade.  And the answer to his question as to what could happen at a parade is contained in the second paragraph of this posting; Snatched, grabbed, Kidnapped.

For well over twenty years I did not remember any part of my life prior to being subjected to the technique of Mk-Ultra.  The complexity and mystery contained within and behind the internal walls of amnesic cells.   I am astonished at what was forgotten.  Amazed that I still have a great deal which I do not remember and graceful that again, I am able to feel hope, joy and the prayerful anticipation that one day, be it the will of God, and my own personal determination, all will be returned to me. 

I, of course, can not get back the years taken from me.  The years away from my parents,  children,  friends, my professions,  my rights, and in many ways my life.  I must believe or rather choose to believe that things happen for a reason in life.  As I have mentioned prior, I was a gifted child.  Placed in an accelerated education program at an early age.  My life of accomplishments started early and my contributions to the global society of which I belonged were becoming eminent, until the day that an entity called government decided that the gifts given to me by the almighty were disposable due to the entities' self-interest.

Although, I could and in my novel will tell of the unbelievable torments, traumas, exploitation that happened in my life.  I will also tell of the phenomenal spiritual occurrence  which have brought me back from despair, feelings of hopelessness and uselessness.   Regardless of the tragedies of life.  It is essential to recognize the blessings.

Sunday, 5 October 2014


     I have been negligent where posting to my blog is concerned.  It is not that I don't value the wonderful opportunity of having an international theatre for voicing my issues and concerns; the fact is that at times emotionally, spiritually and physical, I need to direct my energies toward creative healing matters like meditations, massage and prayer.

     With that being stated, I must also acknowledge the fact that avoidance and denial are still a factor in my attempt of full recovery.  One of the most important elements of progress toward recovery is having the ability to be grateful. It's a rainy day where I currently live.  A misty, drizzle which has lowered the previously scorching temperature.  Just yesterday, the extreme heat zapped my physical energy leaving many outdoor chores incomplete.  Early this morning with a wide smile on my face, I grabbed my umbrella, eagerly left my apartment, anticipating a favorable interaction with the day.

     I, of course, was very pleased with the thirty degrees decrease in temperature, especially since,  as a way of contributing to the community in which I live, two day a week, I volunteer and deliver meals for the Visiting Nurse Associations' Meals-on-Wheels program.  My volunteer efforts are also a way of me getting away from my personal introspection and viewing life from outside of a mental encasement.  Thoughts, like rain, can saturate. 

     Prior to being used in the Mk-Ultra Project, I was a very successful woman.  Since I possessed a very high IQ, I was entered into an accelerated educational program by age eleven or twelve.  I have only fragmented remnants of those educational years, but, oddly, I remember one lecture type classroom, one professor, one blackboard which occupied the entire front wall of the room and one classmate, a prior friend.

     Although, gratitude pulsates through my daily thoughts, on a secondary level, I question the injustice which is a constant seam in my life.  In the concept of recovery, it is impossible to regain the loss years. The years when I could not be one of the primary influences in raising my children.  The long period of time when my gifted talents lay dormant. The years away from precious friends to say nothing about parents, a husband and most especially self.

     For a while I was having sessions with a psychiatrist and he asked me one day who did I miss the most.  When I responded, "Me"'  after making the comment, I immediately enquired, "Does that make me sound self-center or vain."
     "No," Doctor Miller responded, 'That is exactly the answer you should have given."

     I am currently working with an editor with the objective of having my manuscript published within a year or less.  It is important, not exclusively for the survivors, but for each society that wants a civilized and humane management of its judicial system to know and to acknowledge governmental misconduct and inhumane practices.  Humanity has such enormous potential, I question why the masses  allow a demonic few to corrupt and deface our  ethos.


Wednesday, 29 January 2014


Today is January 29th, 2014 and it has been a while since I last posted a new article on this blog.  I started this blog to raise awareness regarding Mk-Ultra as well as to have an emotional outlet for voicing the fact of being a survivor of the experimentation program.  Recently, I found out that I had inadvertently violated a name criteria and was blocked from creating new post.  I am hoping today that Google had accepted my name consistency and allowed me back onto my blog.

I still have many emotions and situation to log on this avenue of international communication.  I want to express the mental, spiritual and physiological results of having been treated like a non-human, an unimportant being, an expendable gnat.

Wednesday, 19 December 2012

Objective Truth

Open Letter
The following is an open letter from two of our members. Please distribute it widely, to lawyers everywhere.
Dear Counsel,
As an attorney, you know how important the Constitution and the rule of law is. We've just suffered through years of attack on the system of laws and justice in which we practice.
Many lawyers are concerned about presidential signing statements, spying on American citizens, torture, and other challenges to American law and international conventions... As attorneys, we are not swayed quite so much as some people by ungrounded emotions. We have expertise in analyzing competing claims, weighing conflicting evidence, and reaching logical decisions about what really happened. Moreover, as lawyers, we know that people sometimes cover up and attempt to hide incompetence, recklessness, or crime.
We have all heard people say that "everything changed on 9/11", as if that were an excuse to disregard the Constitution as a "quaint", outdated document. Not many American attorneys believe that.
In fact, many high-powered attorneys have questioned the Bush administration's explanation for 9/11 itself, including why the Bush administration allowed the hijacked planes to inflict so much damage on 9/11. By way of example only, the following lawyers have publicly questioned the Bush administration's explanation for 9/11, or believe there might have been a whitewash and a cover-up:
· J. Michael Springmann, head of the U.S. consular official in Jeddah, Saudi Arabia, who witnessed first-hand CIA agents insisting that terrorists be let into the U.S., even though their paperwork was wholly inadequate
· John Loftus, Former Federal Prosecutor, Office of Special Investigations, U.S. Department of Justice under Presidents Jimmy Carter and Ronald Reagan, former U.S. Army Intelligence officer, and currently a widely-sought media commentator on terrorism and intelligence services
· J. Terrence "Terry" Brunner, former prosecutor in the Organized Crime and Racketeering Section of the U.S. Justice Department and a key member of Attorney General Bobby Kennedy's anti-corruption task force; former assistant U.S. Attorney for the Northern District of Illinois
· Francis Boyle, Professor of International Law at the University of Illinois, Champaign, a leading practitioner and advocate of international law, responsible for drafting the Biological Weapons Anti-Terrorism Act of 1989
· Burns H. Weston, Distinguished Professor of Law Emeritus and Founding Director and Senior Scholar, Center for Human Rights, The University of Iowa, Honorary Editor, Board of Editors, American Journal of International Law
· Richard Falk, Professor Emeritus, International Law, Professor of Politics and International Affairs, Princeton University
· Mark Conrad, assistant professor of Criminal Justice at Troy University; associate General Counsel, National Association of Federal Agents; Retired Agent in Charge, Internal Affairs, U.S. Customs, responsible for the internal integrity and security for areas encompassing nine states and two foreign locations
· Horst Ehmke, former Minister of Justice of West Germany. Professor of law, University of Freiburg;
· Ferdinando Imposimato, Honorary President of the Supreme Court of Italy. Former Senior Investigative Judge, Italy. Presided over numerous terrorism-related cases
The lawyers listed above, and many other legal scholars, have looked at the evidence and determined that a new, unbiased 9/11 investigation is needed.
We invite you to go to www.L911T.com, the website for Lawyers for 9/11 Truth, and look for yourself.
Burns Weston
Distinguished Professor of Law Emeritus and Founding Director and Senior Scholar, Center for Human Rights, The University of Iowa, Honorary Editor, Board of Editors, American Journal of International Law
William Veale
Former instructor of Criminal Trial Practice at Boalt Hall School of Law, University of California at Berkeley. Retired Chief Assistant Public Defender, Contra Costa County.
To contact Lawyers for 9/11 Truth, you can write to us at Email @ L911T.com (without any spaces). If you are a lawyer, judge or professor of law, active or retired, wishing to add your name to the petition, please provide proof of your qualification to practice law with your email. For example, if you are an Illinois attorney, you can send a link to the Illinois state bar's attorney database: http://www.iardc.org/ardcroll.asp. If you are a New York attorney, you can provide a link to this database: http://iapps.courts.state.ny.us/attorney/AttorneySearch.
Currently, Lawyers for 9/11 Truth is not engaging in any formal legal efforts as a group. Therefore, requests for legal assistance will probably go unanswered at this time.