More on The Wreckers: The Destruction They Have Wrought
I publish this testimony for the public record. I now face another brutal winter, living in isolation and destitution. As of today, January, 24, 2006, I have been snowed in for three days; cannot afford to call for a plow; cannot get my vehicle out.
In case any of my family or friends wonder why they have not heard from me, it is because attempting to survive under these conditions of extreme hardship takes everything out of me, and takes up all my time.
The rest of my time is spent working on my new website, building my archives, exposing as much as I can, as fast as I can, about the Government Rat Bastards and their minions.
More on the Wreckers, The Destruction They Have Wrought:
Personal Testimony of Barbara Hartwell
In desperation, this past September, I made a last effort, an urgent appeal to the few family members and friends with whom I have been able to remain in contact, to some degree, asking for "Christian charity " (the only form of donation I am able to legally or morally accept.)
I explained in some detail that I could not survive another winter under the unhabitable conditions and safety hazards in my home; or without firewood; with pipes freezing (as they have done every year due to inadequate heat and insulation) and unpaid bills hanging over my head. It may only be a matter of time before my phone service is shut off (and with it, dial-up Internet service) thus severing all connections to the outside world, nor can I predict how long I will have electric power.
For those interested in some of the gory details of the brutal persecution for which I have been targeted (which I will not repeat here) they may read my affidavit of July 2005, a comprehensive overview of the many years of political persecution and the extreme damages which have been a direct result.
Another report which outlines government persecution of high-profile targets, COINTELPRO Revisited, may be found on this site.
At this point, I see no indication that the help I need will come. For the most part, the responses from family and friends (or lack thereof) have told me all I need to know. Most people simply do not understand and/or do not care.
But before it's too late, the one thing I can hope to accomplish in what time may be left to me is to document as much as possible about the crimes and the persecution perpetrated by these workers of iniquity.
This about THEM and their evil, far more than it is about me. I am but one of their targets, among many whose lives the wreckers have destroyed.
After the living hell these government rat bastards have put me through, which will doubtless result in my demise, I refuse to minimize the brutality of my situation in any way. I refuse to pretend that my heart is not broken beyond repair, or that I have much faith left in humanity. A little, for a few decent people who cared enough to provide concrete assistance, but that's all.
There are plenty of uninformed, callous people already attempting to discredit me and the veracity of my reports; there are those who just don't give a damn; and worst of all, the many enemies who are part of the criminal conspiracy to destroy me, just as they wish to destroy any decent, truthful person who stands up to defy and expose their evil.
It is because I have stood my ground, held to my principles and refused to compromise with evil in any way that they have become ever more vicious in their attacks, their sabotage of every area of my life and in the outrageous lies they have fabricated, the libelous falsehoods they have disseminated, which have already ruined my good name.
As for the reports on the criminal psychopaths, spanning over a dozen years, I am past caring who believes in the veracity of my reports and who does not. As I have said many times, all my reports are FOR INFORMATION PURPOSES ONLY.
They are written for the general public. The readers may make of them what they will. Caveat Lector. But I will continue to expose these lying criminal rat bastards, by name, for as long as I may live, and let the chips fall where they may.
Getting my website back online (offline since August 2004) after over two years of various attempts, involving much hard work, ended in defeat due to continuous sabotage, lack of funding and support.
[I speak of the "real" website, with a domain name which I purchased but could never get online.]
This past year (2006) has also been rife with sabotage, as yet another computer was destroyed (computer # 7 since 1994) by government perps. A blog is no substitute for a "real" website, but under the circumstances it is better than nothing and it is all that is available to me.
As for the archives of many years of work, that remains to be seen; I may or may not be able to get all of them online.
In February of this year (2006) a series of events occurred which pushed me to the limits of my endurance. Freezing weather, snow storms, freezing pipes, broken down water heater, burned-out electrical heater in my cellar, all in the space of a week.
Stranded, snowed in, unable to afford to hire a plow. No money for repairs. No family or friends I could call on for help.
Then, the bastards started with the power surges into my electrical system. Smoke alarms going off for no good reason, and surges through my computer.
Stress and trauma I simply could not handle, especially considering that I have PTSD. One night, when the noise of the power surges was too much to bear, I unplugged all my computer equipment. I also unplugged the phones.
Harassing hang-up calls had been a plague for weeks, either from untraceable numbers (read: government rat bastards); or from impudent Bush cronies who called from their listed home or office numbers, apparently to taunt me by letting me know they had my phone number.
Once again, I changed my phone number, unlisted in another name. I was too ill and exhausted even to talk to family and friends. I was off-line for over two months, after I found that the bastards had indeed destroyed my computer.
During this time, I decided to destroy all my personal journals, handwritten over a period of many years, ending in 2002.
I lit a fire in my fireplace and burned them, one by one. The reason was, I wanted to make damn certain sure that no one could get their hands on my private writings after my death.
Privacy violations have been one of the worst transgressions I have been forced to endure throughout my life; I was not going to allow this final outrage to happen after my death. I value my privacy second only to my liberty and anyone who would engage in privacy violations (including but not limited to the rat bastards from the goverment) are among the most despicable persons on the face of the earth.
While stoking my fire with these journals, I took a quick look through some of the pages. On almost every entry, I had written about the outrages perpetrated by the bastards: 'Today, the bastards slit the tires on my car...yesterday, the bastards sent thugs to my house...last week, the bastards deployed a military fighter jet over the roof of a safehouse where I was staying...today, the bastards cut my brakelines.... the bastards sent a CIA agent posing as a lawyer'....and on and on it went.
The Bastards. The wrecking rat bastards. All about the bastards...
Certainly, I had documented much of their harassment and persecution in public reports. But some of what I wrote about in my personal journals was meant to be private: my feelings about events and issues, my dealings with various people, by name, of course, including the bastards. And I certainly did not want to cause trouble for my family by having their privacy violated.
Surely, I lost much important information I had documented, which I can never recover. But I was sick and tired of having my life be 'all about the bastards' ...and so I sent out a prayer, that as the flames consumed over twenty years of my writings, all the evil the bastards had done to me, my family and friends, would be burnt to cinders, that I would be vindicated, that I would be avenged for the tremendous pain and suffering the bastards had visited upon me.
I must say it was a relief: one less thing the bastards could get their hands on, and burning the journals served as a catharsis, if nothing else.
When I told a few friends about this, I was surprised to learn that two of them (not named here, but both involved in past government operations) had done exactly the same thing, and for the same basic reasons.
FORMER CIA GOOD GUY TO THE RESCUE
This past spring, I was fortunate to finally find one trustworthy person (former CIA) who volunteered his time, efforts and considerable expertise to rebuild my computer. Since he has not gone public using his real name, and to protect his privacy, I will call him "Paul" and say only that he lives in the state of Maine, though a considerable distance away.
Having been targeted for the same kind of brutal persecution as myself after leaving the agency (and for the same basic reasons: he has a conscience and refused to be a "team player") he fully understands what I am up against, for it has been his story as well.
In fact, when he first read the two reports referenced above, he commented, "Same shit, different target." The parallels were amazing: He had been driven into financial destitution; had his health ruined; been stalked by goons; had his property destroyed (vehicles and computers, etc.); had attempts on his life...and on and on...which has also been the same basic pattern in the life of my good friend ex-FBI agent Geral Sosbee.
[See Targeted for Terror: Ex-FBI Agent's Gruesome Ordeal, on this website]
After ascertaining that the bastards had indeed destroyed my computer, he rebuilt it for me, installed a new hard drive and made the computer run just like new. Paul discovered that the government hackers has been getting access to my computer through a "local access" wireless portal. Which meant, he told me, that they had to be operating very close to my home.
RAT BASTARD SPY HOUSE
This came as no surprise, as I had already observed suspicious activity at a house directly across the street. No one "lives" there. The shades on the top two stories are always drawn. Though the house has been a "summer rental" for at least twenty years, suddenly, just after I moved into my home in June 2003, it was "for sale".
I don't have to wonder who bought it. Construction began on the house the following fall, turning it from a two-story to a three-story.
This same pattern has happened in every place I have ever lived, for the past fifteen years. There is always a spy house directly across the street. Not for sale, not for rent. Nobody lives there. I call it the Rat Bastard Spy House, as it is the command center from which the bastards ply their trade.
Among just three of us being spied on and harassed, namely myself, ex-FBI agent Geral Sosbee and former CIA, Paul, we have each estimated, independently, that the bastards must be spending millions over a period of years, just to keep up their surveillance/harassment/wrecking operation.
Why? Because we refuse to play the game and they know we will fight to the death against their tyranny.
But back to the Rat Bastard Spy House. During the summer, Paul made several trips to see me, and to do the computer work. Firstly, just like clockwork, each time he showed up at my house, so did a "team" at the Rat Bastard Spy House.
On the last occasion, when Paul had finished the computer work and delivered it back to me, I had walked him out to his car, as he was leaving. Right at that moment, as we were standing by his truck talking and saying goodbye, one of the goons in residence at the house across the street exited. This guy was a young skinhead with dark shades, very tall, muscular, with a military bearing.
Mr. Skinhead proceeded across the street, heading our way. My house is located on the ocean side of the main street, which means anyone walking to the beach on that street has to pass my house on the way.
I was standing in the street and Mr. Skinhead nearly ran over me, passing within inches of me, striding toward the cul de sac which ends at the beach. He didn't even glance at me or Paul, but we could easily read his threatening intent.
Later, after Paul had left, I took a walk to the beach, as I do on most days. I usually walk about a mile, to a place where a tidal river and salt marsh cuts between the beaches on two sides.
Sure enough, I saw Mr. Skinhead, still on the case. He was trying to look casual, as he appeared from behind a formation of boulders near the end of the beach. I ignored him, and turned to walk back home along the beach.
But lo and behold!...next, as I was standing in the waves collecting rocks and seashells coming in with the tide, I saw another man, heavy-set and middle-aged, aiming a video camera directly at me. I turned my face away and changed direction, back to the rock formation.
But there he was again, now following me, his camera still aimed right at me. So I turned, looking straight into his camera and said, What the bloody hell!
I climbed over the rocks and exited the beach off the roadway, and walked home by another route. Sure enough, the two goons, Mr. Skinhead and his videographer pal, were now back at the Rat Bastard Spy House, after sun and fun, stalking their target at the Ocean Park Beach.
Government Rat Bastards:
What is it you hope to accomplish? Whatever it is, you will do so only over my dead body.
Do your mothers know what you do for a living? Do your children know? If so, they must be very ashamed of you for stalking and spying on a disabled and destitute grandmother whose only "crime" is defending Liberty.
Liberty or Death. Don't Tread on Me.
Addendum, January, 2007:
More true stories about the persecution of my friends, ex-FBI Geral Sosbee, and ex-CIA Paul, will soon be featured on this site. They stand for Liberty! God bless them.