January 2023

Hiking with the English ladies

• The first Saturday in January I go hiking with the English ladies as normal.
• I mention falling in love twice; once with a gay man on holiday and once with the trumpet teacher.
• Everyone’s interested in the gay man I met on holiday, where he lives, what he does for a living, etc.
• Whenever I try to talk about the trumpet teacher, no one wants to know. Patricia and Christine, especially, go silent and tongue-tied.
• I have a vague feeling that all my English friends know what’s going on at the conservatory somehow, and it’s not good.
• Their reactions add to my near-constant apprehension and stress levels.
• One of the other ladies says something like; “you wanna be careful, he might put you in the movies”, but whenever people said incongruous things like this, I thought it was just a joke.
• I notice everything and file it away.
• My mind could not, at that time, possibly comprehend that a female student of the conservatory could be terrorized by teachers and staff there, and be ignored by the school board and police when trying to get help.
• For my cultural ignorance, perhaps, I didn’t fully understand why Patricia and Christine would be so unusually reticent.
• It’s so weird, however, I don’t forget it.

Oh, Patricia’s done porn

• This was the day that Christine made an off-the-cuff remark about Patricia being in porn.
• “She’s done porn”, she said.
• Patricia shrugged and brushed it aside in an annoyed way, and said nothing.
• I thought must be a joke.
• It was extremely weird.

• When we are alone a little later, I mention to Patricia that the trumpet teacher is the same guy we saw in Benijembla at the end of November.
• Patricia gets angry and changes the subject.
• She tells me she has a younger Spanish husband who makes her a cup of tea every morning.
• Later, I wonder what happened to her British husband, the father of Toby and her daughter.
• I’m never invited to walk again. In fact, I’m cut off completely from the English ladies walking group. It’s shocking to me actually and I can’t figure it out at all.
• Not only that, I go for a walk on my own a week or two later and “bump” into them; Patricia, Christine, and the others. Christine tries to talk to me like I’m an idiot.
• I’m offended and upset.
• I still see Christine now and then for lunch, however, and she behaves as if everything’s fine.

Reporting back

• Having successfully removed my only (apparent, probably not) support network, the criminals will have required someone to report back on me.
• And that must have been Christine in her ‘let’s have lunch’ capacity, even though she had completely stopped inviting me out to walk.
• It’s funny how everyone treated me as if I was an idiot.
• I wonder what the conversations were like between Christine and whoever she was reporting back to, Patricia probably, Hazel Smith eventually.
• Were there discussions on how likely it was that I would have a nervous breakdown or commit suicide, if I would be terrorized sufficiently to leave the conservatory and enter a honey-trap relationship, the likelihood of having to murder me if things worked out a different way than planned?
• As the horror continued into late 2023 and then 2024, were they surprised that I had managed to avoid whatever the trumpet teacher, Domingo’s family and the Smith’s had been planning for me after June 12^th 2023?
• Who are they targeting now, I wonder? A wealthy ex-pat new to the area with no knowledge of the extent of criminal corruption that controls even the schools your children might go to? Or a beautiful foreign minor child they’re keen to quickly get up on the porn networks and start earning for them?

• They must have seen no option but to exclude me, as they were surprised about how much I had noticed already, and would not want me going along each week babbling on about the terror, drugging, and poisoning they were likely well aware was coming up, set up for me by local people they knew.
• It would be embarrassing for them and they would have had to keep it quiet from other members of the walking group, some of whom had been complaining about weird and unusual health problems I now wonder about in a different way, as you might do if you had my experience, or were hearing about it.

Chamber music classes continue

• The chamber music classes continue on a Monday evening, whenever the trumpet teacher can be bothered to turn up.

Attendance

• The trumpet teacher’s attendance is extremely poor. He has missed nearly 3 months of classes before he arrives, and only turns up to maximum 50% of the classes scheduled to the end of the school year.
• I wonder now if his sketchy attendance was more about a group of men’s availability on Monday evenings, and not just his alone.
• Or, even better, if there were normal periods between each class, was I more likely to notice two separate men playing the part of the trumpet teacher?

• I vaguely remember on one occasion Pablo asking the trumpet teacher that turned up one evening where the other guy was.
• The trumpet teacher flirts with me more and more, but his behavior is garish and ignorant; phoney.
• Nevertheless, I believe he likes me because he looks at me in a certain way, he cannot hold eye contact with me, and some of the things he says and does - outside of him behaving like an immature and sexist brute - make me quite sure he is sexually attracted to me.
• It also starts to feel electric in the classroom when I’m with him. I feel breathless and flushed, and my whole body is vibrating.
• I wonder if he feels it too.

Spiking with aphrodisiacs

• I had no clue at all I was being spiked with drugs in class.
• However, everything I wrote about my feelings over this period supports this - in letters, emails, and tweets.
• More damning perhaps are the things I told my therapists such as a list of health problems that correlate with poisoning, about how I had never felt anything like what I was feeling in the chamber music class before in my whole life, that my whole body was vibrating in class when I was with him, how my PTSD levels were fever pitched before going to class but seemed to drop off once I was there, and other things.
• Most especially, I always mentioned the debilitating aftereffects of class each week, particularly on my kidney health, and how I would come home and go straight to my bedroom and lie down I was so exhausted.
• Then, of course, there was the class in January after which I had rhabdomyolysis.
• Was this the moment, Monday evening after class with the trumpet teacher, that I was sedated and filmed with men who had access to my apartment?

Swapping trumpet teachers

• Somehow, these two men swapped places during classes.
• Possibly when going to the photocopier.
• Possibly when my back was turned away from the door and my eyesight exceptionally blurred with drugging.
• Certainly, this will have happened in the presence of Pablo and others.

Noises upstairs after Monday’s chamber-music classes

• After every chamber music class, I arrive home feeling dreadful; my kidneys ache, I’m exhausted, and I have to lie down.
• I fall asleep and wake up late, lying on top of the bed in my clothes.
• I put my pyjamas on and get into bed, but I am kept from going back to sleep by loud noises from the upstairs apartment; scraping chairs, loud TV, and loud laughing voices, men and women.
• Did those people upstairs have anything to do with the conspiracy?
• It’s curious they were only ever there on a Monday night.

My boots are destroyed

• At one chamber music class, I look down and notice my rather expensive Hush Puppy boots are completely falling apart.
• The plastic soles are coming off and they look tattered and old.
• At the time, I think I have only just noticed something that has clearly been the case for a while.
• I throw out my boots and get a new pair.
• While I’m looking for a pair of boots online, I cannot seem to find any I like.
• I search again and again for similar boots, but the only option that comes up is a pair I’m not all that keen on.
• I buy them anyway.
• In the summer of 2024, I see one of their targeted women wearing similar boots to those which I bought around this time.

• When I first wrote this section, I wondered if gypsy sedating porn gangs destroyed my boots on purpose for some sick reason, and if Carmen Cano liked my taste in clothes and simply wanted my things for herself.
• Now it seems that the porn gangs intentions for me were set very early on, and their total control of my online activity, including what items I bought, to prep the future with little signs and symbols like this, were to inform me of my downfall incrementally while they closed the bear trap around me.
• I wonder how long it will be before we start seeing the lists of victims.
• If you’re reading, and you think you are or have been a target, or think you know of one, or indeed if you know who this lady is, I’d be happy to receive any information for the book.

Ganesha

• I print out a copy of Ganesha on an A4 piece of paper.
• Ganesha is a Hindu god who removes obstacles.

• I take it to chamber music class in my folder because there is something sinister going on that I don’t understand which is a major obstacle to my peace of mind.
• The trumpet teacher grabbed my folder in class that day.
• He started to look inside my folder as if he was annoyed about something. It was weird and quite aggressive and, at that moment, it seemed to me he had information about something I had put in my folder that he shouldn’t have.

Yoga

• I do yoga three times a week online at home.
• I started to have the distinct sensation that the trumpet teacher was in the room with me whenever I did yoga.
• It was very bizarre but there was a sense of a dark figure standing watching me, and it was him.
• I can’t explain this.

What on earth to make of this?

• After I find out in August 2023 that all my devices have been hacked to an extraordinary extent; key loggers, root access, full access to cameras and microphones, and for a long time too, this memory is startling as it is highly likely cyber-stalkers were literally watching me do yoga.
• After I realize I was being drugged continuously, this memory is even more concerning.

Serious poisoning at chamber-music class

• On Monday 30^th January I go to my chamber music class at Dénia conservatory as normal for 8pm.
• The doctor, Joan, from the Dénia hospital attends his class which is scheduled before ours at 7-8pm.
• I’m a little early so I wait outside.
• No-one is around.
• Pablo, my 14-year-old classmate, has not yet arrived.
• There is no sound coming from inside the classroom; no music, no talking, nothing.
• Eventually the doctor comes out with the trumpet teacher and they leave together; the trumpet teacher returning after a few minutes.
• Class is relatively normal except I believe there is an electricity between myself and the trumpet teacher, a chemistry.
• My body is vibrating.
• After class, I’m surprised to find I cannot walk down the stairs of the conservatory as my calves are in excruciating pain at every step I take.
• I have to hold on to the banister the whole way down.
• It is very strange and concerning, and when I get home I look up my symptoms on Google and discover I have acute symptoms of rhabdomyolysis.
• I consider going to A&E after reading that it is very serious and a person can require dialysis and die even, but I decide not to when I next read that it can cure after a few days on its own.
• The severe pain goes on for about 5 days then disappears.
• I have some other unusual symptoms too: sudden dark rings under my eyes, aching in my back at the kidney area, and particularly the right kidney; and my urine is frothy, especially after eating anything containing albumin such as eggs or dairy.
• I notice an enormous dramatic bump and discoloration on my left thumbnail, remnants of which are still apparent to this day (time of writing), and similar but less on the right thumbnail. It’s ugly and very noticeable.
• Maria Hontanilla notices my traumatized thumbnail. She grabs it and looks at it closely at my piano class that week.
• All these symptoms tie in with a rhabdo diagnosis which requires major trauma to muscles and internal systems.
• Rhabdo is something you get when you:
  • Are in a car accident.
  • Run a marathon dehydrated.
  • Get hit by lightning.
  • Are poisoned.
• I put it down to a hike I did at the weekend - and I do a lot of Google searching to that effect to try to figure out what on earth happened - but there was nothing extraordinary about the hike other than I had sweated a lot and it was extremely cold at the summit.
• I had very recently done far more strenuous hikes in the Pyrenees.
• There was no other explanation for it at that time, however.
• It’s not clear at what point that evening I was drugged; whether it was some pharmaceutical the doctor had given the trumpet teacher and shown him how to apply; soft dissolving skin-patches maybe?
• I lost a lot of weight after this, probably 10kg or thereabouts, and 15kg in total since the seizure in Thailand.
• I had no idea I was being drugged continuously at home every day and that this was a euphoric top-up to further embed the love-and-romance myth in my mind every time I saw one of the men posing as Vidal Sastre Sanchez Hornero, a man listed all over the Valencian region as having worked for the Generalitat in numerous (porn?)-schools for many decades.
• I had just done an intensive detox in Thailand and my system was extremely sensitive.
• Whatever drugs and poisons I was ingesting daily at home, and while traveling via tampered-with bathroom products, topped up at that night’s chamber music class (and at every other class I attended at the school) with whatever other substances they commonly use on targeted students, children included, overwhelmed my body completely causing extensive injury to my kidneys and endocrine system, as well as brain function.

Tweets related to rhabdo

• I didn’t tweet about rhabdo at the time but I did Google search it extensively.
• Given I was continuously monitored online, teachers and staff at the conservatory will have been very aware of what I was experiencing and its ramifications, as well as my self-diagnosis.
• I mention rhabdo in August 2023 at the time the “conversation” with hackers really began.

• The doctor never comes to class again.
• He came to two classes in total. Of course, he may have been more regularly present at my apartment after class without my knowledge.
• When Pablo and I asked what happened to the doctor, the trumpet teacher (number two) told us he was at the hospital as he was a doctor.
• Incidentally, the porn-gangs may have taken my Google-search self-diagnosis very seriously as it seems they may have gotten the police to block the road so that I cannot go hiking again in the mountains the following weekend.

Going to my doctor

• I go to my GP at the clinic on Calle Beniarmut on a few occasions over the next months after the rhabdo incident because I am extremely concerned about my kidney health.
• I never mention my specific concerns, or the rhabdo experience, because I do not want to influence them.
• I ask for a full blood work up including kidney analysis.
• They send blood and urine to the lab in Alicante, except when the results come back I see they skipped the kidney tests.
• I ask why.
• The Argentinian GP doesn’t know and doesn’t offer another solution or to repeat the test.
• He does organize a scan for me.
• I go along and another doctor at the clinic performs a scan on my abdomen.
• I’ve never experienced anything like it!
• The doctor takes the machine pad, and rubs it over my stomach very quickly - after first pushing my panties down very low in a meaningful way so that my pubic hair is visible.
• He rubs the pad around quickly for about two minutes, not looking at the screen, or even looking at my abdomen even.
• He can hardly look me in the eye.
• When he’s finished, after about two minutes, he says everything’s fine and tells me to leave.
• He didn’t once look at the screen, or if he did it was a couple of quick glances.
• He is overtly not doing what he’s been tasked to do, and I wonder if he’s trying to tell me something.
• I start to become suspicious about my GP clinic.
• I try to do a kidney test myself at the local chemist; their pamphlet says they have them available.
• They never have the test whenever I ask for it, and they never seem to know why they don’t have it, or when it’s coming in.
• One of the pharmacists tells me vaguely, “Oh, I don’t think we sell the kidney tests anymore.”
• My GP tells me I have a bacterial infection in my urethra and explains how to wipe my bum from the back, giggling a little.
• He gives me some antibiotics which I don’t take until August in France, and I now wonder what was really in them.
• When I get back from Thailand in July, I have a shoulder injury.
• My massage therapist, after seeing Hala on my recommendation is furious with me and hurts me.
• I attend the clinic again but they want me to go on the big scanner machine and I’m so suspicious of them now that I refuse.

The local chemist

• Incidentally, I was feeling very unwell one evening at home after the rhabdo event and I was worried about my heart and blood pressure.
• I went to the chemist to check my blood pressure and heart rate.
• Who should I bump into. Mercedes.
• Was it one of those nights?
• Did they ask Mercedes to go along check and see what was wrong with me?

Criminal gang cruelty

• Regarding my kidney injury and weakness, caused by constant poisoning and drugging over three years while living in Spain and then topped-up regularly in the UK; criminal gangs, up until very recently, tease me relentlessly about how I probably have a severe kidney disease, if not kidney failure!
• They do this any way they can.
• Often, I’ll see cruel posts online via fake accounts such as Catherine vonRuhland account you can see here; same name and even looks like me a bit.

• Note the sick porn reference in the URL which has strong overtones of the Christmas 2023 porn-extravaganzas filmed in Avila and Madrid.
• They also do this with sly in-person comments such as when Susan Hamill told me she has had kidney failure for 10 years and her doctors never told her.
• It’s never ending, until recently.
• The account above no longer exists (the time of writing about three months after first publishing this section).

Denia police close the road… for me

• I decide to go hiking in the Montgo national park again the following weekend.

• There is a bike crash on the mountain and a huge traffic jam.
• I wait for about 30 minutes but there is still a delay.
• I’m not in any hurry, and I’m just going to wait.
• Everyone starts to turn around and go back the way they came. I stay.
• As each car disappears, I creep up, closer to the front of the queue, and I wait.
• Eventually, I see a couple of cyclists on the road but nothing serious.
• Even so, a policeman tells everyone left to turn around and go home. There’s only about four cars left waiting.
• I wonder about this now.
• Given everyone who was hacking me (the whole town) knew about my rhabdo symptoms and my concerns that it could have come from the hike at the weekend, did the local police and the traffic police create a fake accident so that I wouldn’t go up again, and die or be hospitalized; any tests would have shown the sorts of substances I was ingesting.
• Or was it more likely they didn’t want to stop making so much money from the sedated porn they were distributing globally to the porn-addict tech elite (amongst others) with me in it, so I had to be kept alive and well enough for more abuse.
• It seems likely since there was no accident to see, and they told everyone to turn around and go home anyway, for no reason.
• This means the local police, and at least the traffic section of the Guardia Civil would also be conspiring in the porn network distribution of sedating and raping lone females in their apartments and/or hotel rooms in Denia and beyond.
• It puts my interaction with the traffic police the following July in a somewhat different light.
• It explains being shown the door by the Denia national police in February 2024 because I didn’t have a complaint, they told me, because the man who was threatening me online with violence might think I was ugly.
• And it explains being fobbed off and shown the door by the Madrid national police twice; once in March 2024 and then again in January 2025.
• It also explains why the Denia local police refused to speak to me.
• All in support of despicable porn networks including the global porn-addict engineering elite who were probably paying millions in subscriptions to porn networks to see me, and others, suffer, be sedated and raped, and goodness knows what else, perhaps even watching my activities at the conservatory; the concerts, the terrorizing, the drugging in class, the switching of protagonists, going to the toilet; everything I expect they have been doing to the children and teenage girls for some time too.
• There are at least four or five specific children I have names for listed in this statement that I have told the authorities I’m concerned about being in extreme danger.
• I am continually ignored. They even tried to make out the whole thing was all my fault.
• Nothing is ever done about it, and of course it just gets worse and worse and WORSE!
• I know it is just the tip of the iceberg, and I know Lorraine found something out so horrible - many years ago now - that it broke her to know about it, and to know nobody cared either.
• Was it that, along with everything else, men in Denia had started making women and girls pregnant - with the help of online manipulation - so that they could earn thousands on the baby and pedo porn they discovered could make them into millionaires?
• Or is it something even more horrible, if there could be anything more horrible.
• Do the global tech porn-addict elite know they’re funding the baby rape capital of the world? I guess they do, and I guess it must make them feel triumphant.