January 2025

Furious emails to the UK police, and texts to the British embassy

• I’m terrified about returning to Spain on 5^th January with Qatar airways from Bangkok to Madrid.
• It’s clear I’m stalked by some very dangerous people who want me dead, but it’s even more clear that no-one cares.
• In fact, the powers that (used to) be are communicating directly with the criminal gangs via my X activity, as if I’m not even human.
• Is this how British women, children, and babies end up murdered for porn; with every security service helping the criminals as much as they can?
• Even though my heart is dismayed at the lack of activity from law enforcement, and my stomach turns in fear of the fate intended for me at everyone’s pleasure, I never give up trying to get help.
• I write to the British embassy in Spain on X yet again, and to the police on email explaining how much danger I’m in.
• Like all my emails and communications asking, not unreasonably for help, I receive no reply.

• It’s as obvious to me 18-months later as it was at the time that, if I did not attempt to get help, and in writing too, the British and Spanish porn-gangs that run our countries in place of our elected governments and our police services would have done away with me very quickly indeed.

Email examples

• Here are a few examples of emails I wrote to the police in the UK, Baroness Nicholson, and the British press in 2024-2025 asking for help.

  1. Email asking for help.
  2. Email asking Lauren Ott for help.
  3. Long email thread asking for help.
  4. Another email asking for help.
  5. The widow’s continued disappointments.

• Lauren Ott was one of the investigating officers from 2015 who looked into my complaint against Winston May and the North London rape-gangs - all pertaining communications being read online by British and Spanish criminal gangs who had hacked me since at least 2003.

• Jan Lovell is the East Finchley community officer who I complained about nearly being robbed (no doubt by a British criminal gang member who had access to my phone camera and knew I - unusually - had a wad of cash in my handbag).
• Jan was tasked with stalking me in East Finchley after I had written these desperate emails whereby she would show up at the library, for example, and glare at me without speaking.
• On one occasion, I decided to introduce myself to her, and I went over and said hi, and mentioned I had been writing to her and others (of course she knew), and she totally ignored me.
• I wonder if she was taking instruction directly from Adams at that stage, like they all were it seems.
• I never gave up trying to get help from the police in the UK.
• I was always wasting my time, however.
• British gangs such as the Adams family were obviously telling the police to ignore me, at best.
• I wonder what the motive behind the constant stalking in 2025 was; the confirmations of being watched online, the continued drugging, the vomiting bug seemingly set up by a gang member, the relentless attempts by Paul at getting me in another dangerous situation, etc.
• Were they hoping I’d get depressed and kill myself before I had a chance to remember the switcheroo scam at the music school in Spain, or the Bali work-colleague-rape-fest events they must have made a fortune on?
• It seems likely.

Qatar airways

• I upgrade to business class.
• On the Bangkok to Doha portion of the trip, I sit next to a man who appears to recognize me and takes video footage of me the whole flight.
• On the Doha to Madrid portion of the flight, the steward also appears to know me.
• It’s all too much to take.

An official checking up on me at Madrid airport

• Somehow, officials have been reading my multiple emails asking for help, but it appears they prefer to answer to the criminal gangs instead of their victims.
• On my arrival in Madrid, a government official appears to make sure I’m on the plane.
• Did the criminal gangs request this service from British embassy staff?
• The gangs, who believe they own me, have ordained I’m to go home, to the UK, where no-one will help me and, I guess, they expect they can persuade me to kill myself online like they do, or maybe they’ll make good on some of their threats of having me stabbed in the street, or whatever.
• Whatever the story, the criminal gangs are calling the shots and no-one is going to help me or the countless other victims of the porn-gangs.
• In fact, they’re so safe and comfortable with how things are - clearly certain of my demise and disappearance into obscurity along with the many thousands of other British nationals murdered without consequence - they tell me even more horrors that they’re involved with, as if they’re proud of themselves.
• They’re a bit stupid, I think.

Twitter translators

• Currently all my tweets are getting just a few views as usual and a large proportion of those views are translating the text.
• It seems that Spanish speakers are very interested in what is being said online.
• It’s obvious that the multiple English speakers (international law enforcement agencies and criminals) are simply reading everything going on with my hacked X feed directly.

A man I recognize bares his teeth at me

• The afternoon I’m getting ready to leave the Spa Resorts in Lamai and travel back to Madrid where I will meet my friend Inma who’s going to come with me to the gender-violence police department to augment the complaint I already made to them back in March.
• I’ve also organized that Paul will accompany me too because, perhaps if I bring a man along with me, the Spanish police might actually do something.
• I’m sitting in the restaurant having some food and reading the set of Psalms I’ve been reading every Sunday on my mobile phone.
• I become aware of a man hovering around.
• I’m immediately suspicious of him.
• He’s pale, white, British - I can hear him speaking with the waiters. They know him.
• He has long, very greasy black hair, and what seems to be a Spanish wife (from the accent) and a daughter of about eight-years-old.
• He glares at me baring his big, shining-white, well-dentistried teeth.

• It’s very threatening.
• But, I realize I know this man.
• He’s the man who tried to rob H. Samuel the jewelers with a fake credit card while I was on the till in Brent Cross in … you guessed it … the summer of 1989, just before the North London rape-gangs got hold of me.
• I knew that immediately; what I didn’t realize until later is he is also the man I dreamt about when I was seven, the man who imprisoned my brother with an evil matchbox mechanism that grabbed his forearm.
• Could he also be the same really nice geezer my brother met in Lamai in 2010?
• The man who gave my brother the drugs and instructions on how to buy them at the pharmacy, just before he totally lost his mind.
• The same man who it was really important my brother told me about having met - while he was grinding his teeth, still furious with me, when he popped into the Spa the last time I would see him relatively conscious in Thailand.
• My guess is the whole scam with my brother over the years with his new mates was about ensuring his woman-loathing was so intense, his disgust with my femaleness would mean he would never think once about helping me when, as it was so planned, I would really need it.
• Perhaps they felt they needed something even more given that, even though my brother was going through this woman-hating, pay-to-rape hell in Thailand, when I met him to hang out that Christmas we were friendly; the connection is strong and I don’t take things personally.
• In fact, my brother would be instrumental in doing as he was told by the gangs to ensure my return to Spain and the criminal porn-machine, and my eventual utterly assured murder.
• What was the evil matchbox mechanism, I wonder, and how does it relate to my brother’s forearm?
• Oh, and I see the same woman the following year when I visit, and she’s not Spanish and doesn’t appear to have a daughter either.
• She’s Brazilian maybe, and she smiled and said hello to me in a pleasant and familiar way.
• I think she was doing deals with my international security teams.
• I love these Miss Marple sections, don’t you!

The persistent widow

• After having thrown my toiletries away and completed an intense seven-day fast and detox in Samui, I am suddenly starting to see things more clearly.
• It’s obvious how badly my mind has been affected by drugs and poisons, and for how long too.
• I’m seriously concerned I’m going to be murdered by either Domingo Lopez Cano’s family working alongside Hazel Smith’s British criminal organization, or gitano and British criminal gangs anywhere in the world, or the Spanish police when I get back to Spain, or even the British police and UK government because they seem to be throwing me to the wolves.
• I’m scared and I don’t know what to do.
• I reach out to a Baroness at the House of Lords who is a strong support for women and girls in the fight against the abuses of trans ideology.
• I have had some communication with Baroness Nicholson previously.
• Significantly, I emailed her probably sometime in March 2024 after teachers and staff suffocated me with pillows and my own duvet while I was sedated at home and I became afraid for my life.
• At the time she responded with a note that I understood to mean we should expect certain cultures to behave in the way the people of Dénia have been behaving towards me, which perplexed me but I had no capacity to think about it further.
• This month, we have a long correspondence where I explain how scared I am, and why, and how I believe I’m going to be murdered.
• Here is most of the email thread.
• After she has a word with Lauren Ott from the Metropolitan Police - who I explained was the investigating officer on my North London rape-gang case from 2015 - she basically tells me I’m hysterical!

• I’m angry about her reply, and I tell her what I think.
• Later on, after some prayer and reflection, I decide that she must be telling me - without telling me - that there is a big investigation going on into the Spanish conservatories (music and dance) where children are in peril, and also into the medical professionals colluding with the gangs (doctor’s pills).
• I hold onto this dwindling certainty, without which my reasonable moral expectations for our world are in tatters.
• I reply to her, apologizing for getting cross.
• This is just one of a bunch of emails I sent to the Baroness and to the police in the UK, the last one dated February 2026.
• I’ve added some more of my communications in an earlier section on this page.
• Whenever things got really overwhelming for me, I would reach out to the police.
• After the first few times I got no response, I stopped expecting a response, but still felt compelled to try again to get help as any normal tax-paying upstanding citizen would do with the reasonable expectation that help would be forthcoming.
• As well as the Baroness, the emails went to Lauren Ott, a policeman sent to assist me while I was campaigning at the UK general election in June 2024, the election police lead involved in protecting candidates for general election in London, the local community police officer in N2 Jan Lovell, and anyone and everyone I had details for that I thought might care or be able to help.
• I received no reply from anyone.. ever.. apart from a couple of vague but pleasant responses from the Baroness, and Lauren Ott responding to me once directly telling me to call 999 when I get home to London, which I do: another spectacular disappointment for the widow.

A parable from brother Jesus Christ

• The persistent widow is a parable of Jesus about a widow who went to the judge again and again to get help with her adversary, and he ignored her again and again, but eventually did something about her problem because he was worried she might cause him a lot of trouble if he didn’t.
• Jesus points out that the judge eventually relents and helps the widow, worried about the woman’s predicament coming back to haunt him somehow.
• Jesus then asks what more might happen when the judge is God Himself and, indeed, I have been going to my God again and again asking for help with my adversary, which turns out to be thousands of rapists who thought sedating women meant they’d get away with it.
• My prayer today is that every single one of those men’s penises just withers away and drops off, testicles along with them.
• Oh, and even the penises belonging to the helper men who may have thought themselves safe because they didn’t partake.
• No, even those penises too, and sometimes especially if they’ve been paying for their expensive holidays by sharing the porn around.
• That outcome would be AMAZING!
• Thank you in advance Father, they don’t seem to care do they, perhaps a shock is what they need.
• May they experience the stress of being threatened with constant murder, and no-one giving a damn, at the very least.

The trumpet teacher’s real name

• The original commit of this section is when a sudden memory returned about something Hazel Smith told me in 2007 at dinner with her mum the night we went out dancing, a few nights before she tried to murder me by poisoning.
• At the moment I remembered this, I believed the trumpet teacher’s real name must be Paco Sendra, the married man Hazel Smith told she was having an affair with back in 2007.
• I still believe there is only one trumpet teacher at this stage; not the six or seven, or more that I have been recognizing as the same one man due to brain-damaging poisons.
• It turns out Paco Sendra is the name of a famous footballer, but probably Hazel Smith would not have known that at the time.
• Sendra, it turns out, is the name of one of the crime families in the region involved in destroying women and children and babies for porn, and is likely the name of the trumpet teacher who has been helping me all these years too.
• I added this section as a sort of eureka moment when it happened, but it wasn’t really exciting other than I remembered correctly something very specific Hazel Smith said nearly twenty years previously.
• This, on it’s own, shows the veracity of my memory function and was the beginning of more memories returning about things that had happened to me, even while sedated, that I have added to this police statement and should have been taken very seriously and not ignored in the hope that … they’d eventually murder me and everyone could get on with their criminal porn addictions in peace.
• It is the only explanation for the total lack of British police and government action against serious crimes against British citizens in Spain and North London, and against humanity in general - as I see it and no doubt others do too.

Max Power

• I am continually informed on X while I’m in Thailand, and on into January, that one of the porn brands they are using to distribute whatever porn they make of sedated women in their own homes in Spain is Max Power.
• This makes Samuel’s email from 2022 even more interesting than it first appeared.
• They were telling me, as early on as September 2022, that I was starring on criminal porn networks live and sedated from my own home.
• They were also telling me, in that foolish way they seem hopelessly addicted to, that an adult male student at the conservatory who spends a lot of time with minor girls works for porn distribution networks.

• Again, the only way these criminals would be so stupid as to tell me everything, is if they were certain of my murder, or demise some other way, just like the hundreds of British and Irish women, and other foreign nationals already dealt with over many decades.
• Google searches confirm the Max Power theme in January 2025, with multiple results on the search term 1frgvn x related to porn channel Max Power.
• It’s worth considering that these references were just another attempt to throw someone under the bus, in this case a petty porn distribution company, suggesting that the more mainstream companies such as PornHub, etc, are up to their necks in criminal porn content produced in Dénia and Las Marinas, maybe even brokering special requests for victims from their loving tech-bro audiences.

How pissed I am!

• It’s extraordinary that I have detailed hundreds of British and Irish, and other nationalities, murder victims targeted over many many decades, with photos, and it’s years later, and I’m still alive (up yours British and Spanish police and governments!) and I’m still writing about the blatant criminality in Dénia and North London and nothing has been done!
• Extraordinary!
• The scoop of the millennia gets scoopier and scoopier with every delay.
• Feels like the total collapse of society is coming when we find out what men are doing to women, and have been doing to women for decades, and how, apart from some token arrests, they are totally protected indeed urged to carry on regardless.
• Feels to me like the UK is worse than Afghanistan for women and girls.
• At least there you never bump into the evil bastards cos you’re not allowed out of the house, or to speak to anyone either.
• I’m thinking about developing mutism for myself.
• I might as well be mute, don’t you think.

Paul

• Paul Pompeus is an old friend of mine and I hadn’t seen him since I was living in Hastings with my ex-boyfriend Brian in the Autumn of 2001.
• I’m terrified, however, and desperate for someone to accompany me to the police in Madrid and help me move my belongings from Dénia, but I struggle to ask people for help, for obvious reasons.
• After Nicos says he’ll help me then ghosts me, Paul seems like a good option.
• Nicolas made a huge fuss of being concerned about me.
• He’s the man I visited during EthCC, a family friend of my dad, in fact, who incidentally became ridiculously jealous about my mother and Nicos’ father Patrick on an occasion they visited.
• Now that the mask has slipped, never to return, I do wonder what was really behind that.
• When I message him a few days later to ask if he’s coming like he said he would be, he says something vague about having to take his children to school.
• Are the Belgian family-friends criminal-porn subscribers too?
• Have they all masturbated over me being raped by groups of black men when I was a child?
• It would not surprise me one bit.
• You might like to check on how he makes his money (i.e. masses of European funds paying for a rock band no-one’s ever heard of..).
• Anyway, I did mention I’m pissed off.

Asking for help

• When a sexual abuse victim asks for help they are typically ignored, fastidiously disbelieved, sometimes even attacked, rarely heard.
• Before it became obvious to me that I had been mass-targeted by British and Spanish criminal gangs for decades, I used to think that Hazel had tried to poison me back in 2007 as an unconscious and irrational attack on a similarly sexually abused person.
• This urge would have come from her belief in the lie that attacking someone just like her would somehow help her heal from her own experience - or deflect the guilt rather - the human mind is very insane after all.
• I told people I had been physically attacked by someone because I was a victim of sexual abuse for that reason - without telling anyone the fuller story.
• This was how I understood what had happened to me at her hands in 2007; criminal psychopathy triggered by someone reminding her of her own experience of sexual abuse.
• I guess I’m still right about that - without the fuller story.
• It gets to the stage you realize you have to do everything for yourself.
• It’s exhausting, but can you imagine how exhausted I am, the most sedated-and-raped woman that ever walked the planet?
• You just stop asking for help, as it is a waste of time.
• It seems like the cult of the sexual predator is so powerful, so thoroughly protected, and controls everyone’s minds, that even your own family ends up despising you, even when the men in your family are complicit.
• They probably believe their own BS.

• I’m not enjoying any of this, by the way.
• Paul was very friendly with me online in June 2024 when I was campaigning for the UK general election and fighting the British criminal gangs who endlessly stalked me at that time, with the help of the police and government, but I never saw Paul in person at that time or I probably wouldn’t have bothered asking him for help.
• Nevertheless, there is no-one else, so I ask Paul if he will help me go to the police in Madrid in the first week of January, and if he will help me move my belongings back to London from Dénia in February too.
• He agrees.
• What I don’t know immediately is that he’s working for the British criminal gangs, in fact, and they are paying him in drugs to keep an eye on me and keep me topped up with hallucinogens too so I don’t remember the switcheroo scam or any of a plethora of other sexually-humiliating events directed by the gangs for me over many years in my homes, at my jobs, everywhere.
• I do suspect him however, especially once he starts telling me about his very best friend Lucy, who I suspect is one of the Adams family, but I let him dig his own grave and he obliges most kindly.

Paul is a victim of sexual grooming too

• And everyone knows it, except Paul.
• Paul and a group of his mates were groomed over the CB radio by a gay man called Dennis in the 70s.
• CB radio was the first ever social media and, as you might imagine, pedophiles and predators immediately made use of it to get close to their chosen targets.
• The mass online grooming going on today would have blown their minds.
• Dennis groomed the boys into believing that he was a replacement for their parents, convincing Paul of the utter uselessness of his own father.
• This group of 14 year old boys would go and hang out with this gay adult male at his house and elsewhere.
• Paul told me they would masturbate each other, and that a pedophile tried to get into bed with one of the other boys.
• He said these things as if they proved nothing was wrong with the situation, but I was truly horrified at what he was telling me.
• Paul’s parents were horrified too, and rightly so, but groomers know very well which children to target and whatever they tried to do about the situation failed.
• Dennis had turned the boys’ minds against their parents.
• Paul never got over it and, to this day, he believes Dennis was a force for good in his life.
• In fact, I believe this is what drew me and Paul together as friends in the 90s - aside from the pedophile porn I was starring in that everyone knew about except me.
• Our shared child sexual grooming experiences made escape with drugs and alcohol very appealing.
• I wasn’t to know until late 2025 that Paul knew all about Ugly and my ex-boyfriend Brian’s criminal sex-offending activities in Amsterdam in 2001 (Paul and Brian were very close mates at the time), and I suspect there was a potential repeat of the sedating-and-raping in Hastings with the boys not long after.
• In fact, the last time I ever saw Paul was that night he turned up with the boys and Brian became apoplectic with jealousy about something he wouldn’t tell me about, and the boys left before anyone else got up and I never saw any of them again.
• Did they scurry away ashamed; unable to face looking me in the eye the next morning?
• Seems likely.
• It is a common MO with these sedating rapists after all, cos, mainly, they’re total cowards.

A child sexual abuse survivor gets retraumatized

• I tell Paul later that it is extraordinarily common for people who have been groomed and abused as children to become retraumatized as adults and have breakdowns; specifically when their same-sex kids get to the same age they were when they were groomed by a predator.
• I believed this is what happened to Paul, propelling him into a ravaging drug addiction that took his life from him.
• Paul denied the abuse and repeatedly stood up for this random man who had destroyed the relationship these boys had with their parents.
• I told him there wasn’t a planet in the universe where what Dennis had done was OK.
• Paul was a great guy, one of the best I had thought.
• He, like me, never had any real support from family as they didn’t seem to know what was going on for him, and, like me, he was blamed by them for everything that was happening to him that his child’s mind couldn’t really comprehend.
• It was unfair for him, and me.
• Paul went to pieces around about the same time his second son who he was parenting reached the age that Paul was groomed.
• However, Paul also lost his bearings at the same time as my ex-boyfriend Brian and his family and friends were sedating and raping me.
• Brian never recovered from the evil secret-he-couldn’t-tell either although his brother Niall, and his friend Chris Ludwick, are always putting him first.
• Niall had a go at me when I left Brian!
• Chris tells me he’s worried about Brian (the sedating rapist) and doesn’t want to upset him.
• Interesting.
• I guess the sedating-porn sort of evil-doing has disastrous outcomes too, for all, particularly those making a lot of money from their sedated and raped friends, one prays for FULL and complete justice so that the world might know what men are really like (not that we don’t already know very well).

Ritzy

• I call Paul from Thailand the night before I fly back to Spain to arrange to meet him at Madrid airport.
• He says he’s with Ritzy.
• He’s laughing and exuberant over the phone.
• It’s the first time I’ve spoken to him in nearly 25 years, and so I don’t understand this to be unusual.
• I don’t know who Ritzy is, however, and I worry it sounds like a gang name and could be someone dodgy.
• Later, I expect lil Lucy Adams has told Paul to tell me about Ritzy.
• Ritzy was a nightclub in Tottenham where the rape-gangs would go looking for little white girls, and everyone knows it.
• I tell Paul not to speak to anyone at all.
• He laughs and says, oh, it’s just Ritzy.
• She’s in her 90s and he does odd jobs for her, all the time.
• Paul will do a few odd jobs for my elderly parents over January and February.
• His exuberance quickly shifts into seething, I think when he realizes I’m not going to be giving him any drugs money.
• He deliberately does his own thing, ignoring my mother’s requests, and breaks things on purpose, doesn’t clean up, then charges £100 an hour.
• He really pissed my mother off, and me.
• Is he taking advantage of Ritzy too?
• It seems likely.
• It’s how drug addicts operate, isn’t it; what they do.

Ritzy’s with Geetha and Winston May

• I’m not sure if this is in my 2015 police statement about the Tottenham rape-gangs.
• I guess it probably is given the need to “remind” me of it.
• Anyway, this event is interesting because of how they treated Geetha - a black and posh little girl from the suburbs - versus how they treated me - exactly the same but white and with an evil father everyone wanted to get back at.
• Geetha and I, together without anyone else, went to Ritzy’s nightclub on a Wednesday night.
• Geetha’s mum was in Antigua at the time.
• It was after I had been sedated and gang-raped at Plevna Crescent by Winston, Busby (who anally-raped me), and the boys sitting on kitchen chairs (just like they “reminded” me in September 2023 on Las Marinas beach).
• Winston had total control of my mind by that time using fear-aggression-violence-interspersed-with-kindness, and other animal-training techniques no doubt he got from the gypsies in Spain when he popped over for the sedating 101 workshop with Nicky not long before.
• I think I was likely sedated in the nightclub that night; there was weird stuff going on that night and I don’t even remember really being in the nightclub apart from about 5 minutes after walking in.
• I remember being outside though, after it had closed, with Geetha and Winston May, feeling quite sober (relatively so for a sexually-traumatized child).
• Winston put Geetha in a taxi to get her home; he may have even paid for it.
• Then I was alone with him, yet again, for more of the same to add to the pedo-rape-porn collection no doubt.
• Curious isn’t it.

Meeting Paul at Madrid airport

• I meet Paul at Madrid airport.
• He looks like an Ouderkerk ghoul, like someone who has chosen drugs over food for many years, like someone who does a lot of seriously hard drugs all the time.
• He’s borrowed clothes from the man he is apparently living with (it’s a lie, he lives in his car) and it looks like the man leant him rags.
• He reminds me of how Busby, Winston May’s rape-gang partner, looked outside the Rape Crisis centre in Hornsey in 2017.
• I tell Paul he looks like a beggar man.
• The day before I meet Paul at the airport, I collected the car which I had parked in car park B close to departures.
• My car was at the airport garage in Madrid for two months.
• Hackers had been warning me not to get in the car at the airport, not to drive, and when I do get in the car after two months I immediately start feeling symptoms of unwellness: scratchy throat, rheumatic pains in my hands.
• This hand-pain becomes a recurrent theme from criminal gang members stalking me in 2025, and the wheel and gearstick appear to still be poisonous to the hands even in March 2026.
• I book a Eurostars hotel on the outskirts of the city for a few nights.
• I go to pick up Paul the next evening.
• I bought him his ticket with British Airways from London.
• I asked Paul to bring masks and gloves because I believe the car is poisoned with pesticides.
• He does so, but he’s not taking anything I’m telling him seriously.
• In fact, when I meet him he won’t shut up, as if he’s speeding, hard.

Paul avoids coming through to arrivals on his own

• Bizarrely, Paul did not come through to the arrivals hall at Madrid airport.
• Instead, he waits at the shuttle train station for about an hour until I phone him.
• When I arrive, I call him.
• He’s been there over an hour and he sort of pretends he doesn’t know where he is or how to get out, and I tell him to come to arrivals as I’m collecting my bag.
• Paul is far from stupid so this behavior concerns me enough to write about it - informing the law enforcement agencies who are also hacking me - in an earlier commit on the same evening.
• I delete the content later on as Paul does help me a lot and I feel a bit guilty about thinking badly of him.
• This tendency has been problematic for me and I wonder if I just hated everyone like normal people do in this world, things might be very different.
• I make a comment on the text I delete.

Deleted commit content

• Regarding deleted commit content, I’m now unsure of who I can trust anywhere in the world.
• I believe my fears are exacerbated but given my experience over the last 3 years literally anything could happen.
• Anything that might be a risk to my life, I have to take measures against, even if the risk appears to be low.

• I’m justifying to myself why I don’t trust Paul, as if it was needed.
• I’m also horrified to notice how much I gaslight myself, and understand this is mostly caused by attitudes from the people around me and anyone I ask for help.
• Paul talks non-stop like a machine gun.
• He seems to be on drugs.
• I’m convinced he’s doing serious drugs and has drugs on him, and that he didn’t want to come through to arrivals on his own in case he was stopped.
• I’m convinced he waited for me so that he would look more legit walking through with me.
• I also believe he was told to do that by the gangs, cos I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t think up such a scheme himself.
• Paul looks like one of the drug ghouls that used to roam around in a junkie shoal around the Oudekerk in Amsterdam.
• I tell him this, that I cannot have him at the police looking like he does, and I rebook his return flight to return to London the next day.
• He is offended.
• He has already told me he has diabetes which I believe, but diabetes doesn’t make you look like he does, or shout incessantly about nothing.
• He is doing my head in.
• And I’m trying to think.
• I tell him to shut up.
• I feel like someone has told him to distract me constantly so that I do not have a chance to think rationally or collect my thoughts about anything.
• I’m right about that. Lucy.
• I tell him I believe the gangs plan on raping me to death and live-streaming it throughout the criminal porn networks.
• I’m pretty sure that was their end goal from way back in 2007 even.
• He calls them the c word.
• From time to time, he seems to be on my side, but never for too long.
• He tells me he is sharing a flat with a man in North London. It turns out he’s sleeping on the sofa, the flat owner is an opium addict, and he’s really been living in his car for years.
• I find out later he’s living in his car and has been for years when he starts telling me about how he manages not getting cold at winter, about avoiding the police, about where he can use the free wifi, etc; he kept his car-house quiet for as long as he could.
• He tells me he is not a heroin addict but everything about him screams otherwise.
• Nevertheless, I have to take his word for it, but it’s hard to believe.
• Even so, I have no choice but to send him home and go to the police in Madrid without him.
• I give him my coat and a decent woolen jumper and tell him not to sell them.
• I think about the many good people I know in North London whose lives have been destroyed by rampant criminal gang activity that the police will do nothing about.

Paul promises he’s not doing heroin

• It seems obvious to me Paul has been doing heroin, but he’s adamant he’s been off the drugs since July 2024, and tells me he was only doing crack then, no heroin!
• Mk.
• I take my handbag to the toilet in our hotel room I’m so concerned about him.
• I explain I’m sending him home because he looks like a drug addict and I wanted someone to attend the policia offices alongside me who would command a bit of respect, a male essentially.
• He goes into a massive meltdown about how he’s never done heroin and it’s all my fault for suggesting it, and how I’m always telling lies about everyone, and how dare I.. that sort of thing.
• It’s quite a performance, so I tell him fair enough, and I let it go, and immediately change his flight.

Writing about Paul’s weird behavior

• Switching off from Paul’s perma-rant temporarily, I take the opportunity to write a few notes in this police statement about Paul (knowing that everyone is reading everything I write, and assuming there’s a massive investigation going on - there bloody well should be and, if there isn’t, SHAME!!!!) because I’m so concerned about him.
• God help us all if I was only ever talking to the criminal gangs - seems likely though doesn’t it.
• I commit a description of him arriving at Madrid airport on his BA flight but not going through to arrivals and instead waiting where the little train stops until I call him.
• It’s the sort of thing you’d do if you didn’t want to walk through customs/border control on your own looking like he does.
• I wonder if he had some drugs on him.
• Did someone tell him to do that; to wait for me?
• After I send Paul home, he tells me when I next see him that police at Heathrow had searched him and even taken a DNA swab from his mouth.
• I take this as more proof of the big investigation going on, but probably he’s been told by the gangs to lie about this to me.

Dinner at the hotel in Madrid

• Paul and I sit down to a late supper at the hotel.
• He won’t shut up talking.
• For some reason I decide to call home, and talk to dad for a while. He’s not long out of hospital I guess but I need a break from Paul too.
• Dad tells a racist(ish) joke about Indians and tells me to tell Paul who is of Sri Lankan heritage.
• I find myself giggly, high.
• I’m laughing inappropriately.
• I apologize to Paul for being giggly.
• Why was I giggly?
• I think Paul managed to spike me at some point.
• I also think there was some understanding between my dad and Paul that kind of emerged over the dinner table that night, in that curiously intuitive way things happen to me whenever criminal gangs are spiking me with drugs.
• Was Paul aware of what my dad had done in Dénia to me and my mother?
• The better question is, is any male porn-addict worth his subscription unaware of it?

Paul tells me he’s proud of his ten-year-old son telling him he’s bisexual

• At dinner, and over the next couple of months, we talk about family a little.
• Paul is upset with his family because they wrote him out of the will because he spent 10k (possibly a low estimate just for me) on drugs that was supposed to be for doing his parent’s house up and selling it.
• It seems he’s always involved in one scam or another to drum up drugs-funds.
• I understand why he lives in his car now… money for drugs.
• His older son was living with a violent crackhead over twenty years his senior, apparently.
• I’m even more concerned about his attitude towards his younger son and how proud he was when his son told him he was bisexual.
• I think Paul said the boy was 10 or younger at the time.
• No-one seems to realize that they’ve all been manipulated by North London and Spanish criminal gangs into believing the most outrageous things concerning sex and children, just so these non-humans can sell more criminal porn to even more broken minds at extortionate prices.
• And they’re mostly gonna be too arrogant to admit they were tricked!
• Makes me despair.

Paul’s lies about the Royal Family, and other things

• Paul tells me a lot of stories, most of them lies I expect, I hope.
• He mentioned repeatedly that he had met both Charles and Diana because his grandfather had been the chief librarian at the Times and they came in when he was there and they knew his grandfather by name.
• He told another story about Diana bumping into him in Camden High Street somewhere when she was being hounded by paparazzi and he had caught her as she fell backwards, and she remembered him by name.
• Oh Paul, Paul said she had said!
• Paul told a great deal of porkies while we were together.
• Some were really nasty stories about people I knew, and you could tell he was trying to “get them back” for something.
• The story he told about Niall Higgins dressed in stockings and suspenders was a bit upsetting.
• The stories he told about his grandfather, mostly, I really wanted to be true.
• He told those again and again, especially to my dad for some reason.
• He liked to tell the story about how his grandfather paid for prostitutes to come round to their house in Clovely Road and his mum would be angry.
• He thought it was OK for his grandfather to do that and that his mum had been out of order!
• I started wondering if this really was the same person I had known all those years ago.. or was I simply zombified about men like everyone else due to sexual trauma at the time.

Paul the famous chef

• It’s another one of his scams.
• I realize he wants to cook everywhere and talks about cooking as if he’s a famous chef so people will let him cook in their kitchens and he’ll be able to eat.
• He clearly chooses drugs over food and has done for years.
• I guess it must make you think up ways to eat.
• He told me he stole packets of rice from time to time.
• I was horrified, upset, but he didn’t seem to care.

Madrid policia

• In Madrid on 6^th January, without Paul.
• Paul alarmed me so much the night before, I have had to send him home.
• His drug-addiction has made him look like a beggar man and I can’t possibly bring him to the police station in Madrid looking like he does.
• They’ll probably nick him!
• I had wanted a man to come with me for support, but it turns out Paul needs more help than anyone else.
• He also seems to be on something because he cannot shut up; or the North London porn gangs, still panicking about my continued survival, have instructed him to distract me, to not let me think, and so he’s shouting continuously at me.
• I expect he’ll confirm that.
• I buy him a plane ticket and send him home.
• So, only Inma and I attend the police station in Calle Huertas to report malicious poisoning and bring samples and a timeline of events; our second visit to amplify the denuncia I already took out on teachers and staff at the conservatory a few days after they smothered me with pillows and my duvet while I was sedated in my own home; actions which made me certain I was going to be murdered.
• I didn’t know they had the Bali tech-bro sedated-rape line-up organized and so they had no intention of murdering me until October when Paloma gave everyone the OK to go ahead and finish me off.
• The Madrid police at Calle Huertas - apparently gender violence experts - in January 2025 are totally disinterested in my assertion that criminals working as teachers amongst children at a music school have been poisoning me in my own home.
• I tell them I have samples of poisoned items for testing; including water from my taps and bathroom products.
• Just like they told me I had to pay to privately prove hacking before they’d investigate hacking, they tell me I have to pay a private laboratory to confirm poisoning before they’ll investigate poisoning!
• I explain I have been terrorized for three years by these people and become emotional.
• They’re not interested.
• It seems to me the police in Spain, just like the police in North London, are working for the poisoning pedophile and sedating-rape-pornographer thugs who have set up pedo-porn-studios in Spanish music and dance schools.
• Someone has told them I’m to be ignored, completely.
• I’m not surprised.
• I hand them my 200 page printed report (an early draft of this statement and the original intention for writing it)…
• The chief throws it on the table in disgust - he’s behaving in a very defensive, angry, and guilty manner.
• He instructs his officer to “send it to Dénia”.
• But not before flicking through it and pointing to some of the women - photos I have printed in high resolution - including Elsa, Domingo’s minor student in clear peril and the innocent woman groomed (and drugged) into doing porn and having a child with Gloria the music school receptionist’s brother and one of the multiple switcheroo-porn trumpet teachers Bruno.
• The chief barks, “who’s that?”, pointing to the girls.
• I tell him that Elsa is Domingo Cano Lopez’s piano student at the conservatory and I don’t know who the innocent woman is.
• The chief says nothing.
• They want nothing to do with me.
• I suspect the report goes in the bin once we’ve left.
• Later that evening over tea, Inma talks about how I used to be interested in Haitian spiritual practices (I wrote a multi-universe romance novel in Lourdes using Haiti as a part-theme) in a semi-condemning manner.
• Was she trying to upset me, maybe trigger a suicidal depression - they weren’t aware I’d been through the British and Spanish porn-gang suicide manipulation tech-ringer for years already, family and colleagues assisting at every opportunity, and survived, so they’ll have to do a bit better than projecting their guilt onto me.
• I explain that Mother Mary introduced me to the Haitian religious practices, and her doing so provided the strongest psychological protective barrier against my fear of the Jamaican rape-gangs from 1989.
• Thank you Mary.
• Interestingly, the gospel of Mary Magdalene talks about Mother Mary sending her angels to help people and I firmly believe that is what happened with the lwa, and with Archangel Michael, and with Hanuman too.
• Thank you Mary.
• Inma goes into the kitchen and returns after a while with a slice of Reyes cake.
• I bite into something hard. It’s a little figure of the black wise-man of the three kings.
• Oh, it’s the negro, she says (using a more derogatory term), but she’s telling me something else…
• I think she is trying to tell me that everyone believes I’m the guilty one because I was raped by black men when I was a child!
• It’s astonishing.
• Is she really telling me that whatever I have uncovered about porn-industry infiltration of Spanish schools is irrelevant because I was sedated and raped as a child by groups of Jamaican men in North London?
• A few days later, Inma tells me that the poisoning laboratory told her they will not test my samples without an order from the police.
• I must be one of thousands of victims in Spain.
• I’m horrified to understand that Spanish officials are just ignoring the fate of their own children by blaming a victim.
• It’s more than astonishing and it was around this time I started to realize that the Spanish are sacrificing their own women, children, and babies to porn as well as the thousands of foreign nationals already murdered; Topheth style.
• God cannot let this go on.
• Please God sort them out IMMEDIATELY!!!!!

Inma still tries to contact me regularly

• I’m never sure what exactly she wants.
• It seems clear that back in October 2024, her and Paloma’s interaction with me was to decide whether to tell the gangs to go ahead and murder me, which they attempted immediately and repeatedly once I was also fired from my job at Polygon a few days later.
• They failed, of course.
• The other times I heard from her, it seems like someone was about to try to murder me again; certainly in July 2025 in Lourdes that is exactly what the Spanish woman calling herself Taya who also appears to be involved in multiple other murders intended for me.
• Another spectacular fail.
• What could Inma want by continually contacting me?
• I hope it’s Spanish government anxiety.
• That would be most welcome.
• Brazen pervert-and-pedophile protectors!

• There was an updated police report written that morning. They write it for you.
• It said absolutely nothing, and I’m not sure what I did with it.
• It’s shame if they have a copy, shame if they’ve “lost” it.
• It’s a shame-total situation for the powers that be.

Paul’s best friend Lucy

• Paul tells me again and again about how I’m one of his best friends in the whole world, that he has only three best friends in the whole world, and that I’m one of them.
• He tells me this repeatedly.
• It’s weird.
• I haven’t seen the man in twenty-five years.
• Is he trying to butter me up?
• One of the other best friends of Paul’s in the whole wide world is an Irish woman who lives with her mum and is probably a prostitute he works for from time to time (I forget her name), and a woman called Lucy.
• He goes on about Lucy the most.
• I don’t know who she is, but something rings suspicious.
• Something reminds me of X stalker-account Lucyfer Adams and I suspect this woman Lucy, Paul’s best friend who I have never heard of, is one and the same.
• In early 2026, this is confirmed online that Lucy is indeed the youngest Adam’s daughter, criminal porn-enterprise manager and online tech-manipulator, amongst other evils no doubt.
• I ask Paul how long he’s known Lucy.
• He says a few years.
• He talks about how they often go on 50k bicycle rides up to Cheshunt and back, stopping at the pub to drink a few pints.
• Lucy would drink three pints and carry on. Paul would only manage one, he said.
• The thing is, Paul couldn’t walk more than about twenty metres without his ankles giving way and he was talking about these bike rides happening just a year or so before, maybe even the previous summer while he was on the crack.
• He’s talking shite, but why?
• Is she telling him to tell me things, with a promise of some drug or other?
• Whenever I’m with Paul, he seems to be in constant communication with Lucy on WhatsApp; he calls her too after a text, and chats laughingly and exuberantly.
• Paul shows me a picture of Lucy on his phone.
• It’s her WhatsApp profile pic.
• The same woman stalks me outside the Elephant pub in North Finchley later in the year shouting, there’s something in the water, repeatedly; a blatant reference to the Cano Lopez’s adding drugs and poisons to the water mains at their brain-damaged-then-murdered-for-porn victims’ flats in Las Marinas and elsewhere in Spain.
• Do they do the same in North London now too?
• Seems likely.
• I expect none of them expected me to recognize her due to the brain-damaging, even though I’d seen a few pictures already, but God tells me everything I need to know.

Lucy gets Paul to show me her new girlfriend

• Lucy texts Paul instructing him to show me her new girlfriend.
• I have no idea why anyone might think I would be interested in such a thing, or why this Lucy character thinks I’d be interested in anything she has to say, but Paul does what he is told.
• I’m shown a photo of a long-and-dark-haired woman who is semi or fully naked in front of a full length mirror beside a bed.
• There is plastic sheeting covering the floor, and I’m reminded of Mike Wenham murdering Carolina.
• I wonder what this woman is about to do; it seems like some sort of self-harming is about to go on, at best.
• I realize that this Lucy is manipulating the woman into doing porn for her, that she’s proud of it and feels the need to show-and-tell, and I feel quite unwell.
• Do you think she was so sure I’d be murdered, or perhaps that my mind would be mashed into pieces like they’ve done to my cousin Leah, that she could tell me anything she liked and just couldn’t help herself?
• Amazing.

The gay bar

• I return to London for about a week before going to collect my belongings from Spain in early February.
• I also have a Transforming Touch course to attend in Dublin.
• When I’m back in London, I see Paul a lot.
• We use his car as mine is in Madrid.
• I pay him to take me to the airport and pick me up.
• I buy him meals; he’s obviously not eating.
• He’s helpful.
• He’s around a lot.
• One Sunday, we’re in the Old White Lion in N2.
• There’s a menacing bloke at an opposite table.
• He gets a WhatsApp and suddenly suggests we go somewhere else.
• We head to a bar in Highgate Village which is apparently a gay bar.
• There’s no reason for us going there.
• He explains it’s a place he often goes to with his best friend Lucy who’s a lesbian.
• He suggests we sit on the raised table in the window.
• I say no.
• Two women sit close by us.
• I’m pretty sure one of them is his friend Lucy, I recognize her from the WhatsApp profile pic Paul showed me.
• I’m told online in early 2026 that this Lucy is the youngest Adams’ daughter and that she has been stalking me online since September 2023 with the rest of the gang - thousands of them - using varying X accounts: @LucyInBetween being one such account.
• How does Paul really know her?
• At the time, I’m certain he has been instructed to take me to this pub so I can be “viewed”.
• From the way the bar staff are glaring at me angrily, then smiling sweetly, reminding me of Ana and the teachers at the conservatory, everyone seems to be involved with the scam.
• Could I be that famous from sedated-rape-porn and gender-humiliation at work and while studying the piano at a music school?
• It’s an appalling thought.
• Does Paul get a payment for his services while I’m in the toilet?
• He did seem to go quiet that night, which wasn’t unwelcome.

Paul makes a reference to Winston May’s statement, grands-a-night

• Oh, except for, that was the night I got angry at him because he told me he had told his family my crypto app makes grands-a-night.
• He had no reason to say such a thing, and I never said anything remotely like this.
• He was, however, using the exact words of Winston May, Tottenham rape-gang leader, that I had mentioned in my 2015 police statement that the whole of Spain and North London seemed to be leering over while I wrote it.
• She told him to say this, Lucy did, didn’t she, and he had no idea it had come from a known pedophile rape-gang leader as part of an official witnesses Metropolitan police statement about North London rape-gangs.
• Of course, Winston May said this about little white posh girls all the time, because that’s how much money he had been promised for sedating, gang-raping, and filming us.

I report hacking, drugging, poisoning, illicit filming, and everything else contained in this statement to the Metropolitan police

• When I return to London, on Lauren Ott’s only advice for me - the only advice I ever got from the Metropolitan police after sharing a goldmine of information about British and Spanish criminal gangs, people who are well known to have murdered hundreds - I call the police to report the numerous crimes I’m aware of that have been committed on my person while living in Spain at the pleasure of British and Spanish criminal gangs, and others.

• Two female constables turn up to my house the following morning: PC Richardson 1990NW and PC Patel 2669NW.
• They are totally dismissive in an aggressive manner.
• I tell them I was drugged and poisoned and I have samples. They said it happened in Spain so they’re not interested.
• I tell them all my devices are hacked and I have been surveilled continuously for years. They say it happened in Spain so they’re not interested.
• I explain it was happening all over the world, in London too. They don’t care.
• I explain it is happening now, this very moment, in North London, England. They don’t care.
• I tell them I’ve been to the police numerous times in Spain and they don’t care.
• Not our problem, they say.
• I tell them the Spanish were hacking my computer when I wrote my police statement about the rape-gangs in 2015.
• They don’t care.
• We can’t do anything about that, they said.
• I tell them I have been shown flashed images of rape-porn I was in as a child.
• They say, “show us”, and obviously I can’t.
• I tell them, “they’re not stupid, they’re not going to give me evidence for that but I know it was me.”
• If you can’t show us, we’re not interested.
• It’s as if they know I’m telling the truth, and they’re being as harsh as possible with me to offset their own guilt.
• I tell them I’m being continually threatened online on X.
• I show them some of the online threats I’ve endured, including the picture of my brother with RIP below it.
• They tell me nothing I have shown them is a threat.
• The blond one keeps cutting me off and saying, forcefully, “You haven’t shown us anything, just show us something”.
• I try to but everything I say is cut off as not being criminal.
• Whenever I try to slow them down and deal with what I do have methodically, they start to rush me, demanding I show them something, and change the subject while I’m trying to explain something carefully to them.
• They’re worried about my solid presence of mind - they weren’t expecting that at all - so they are not going to let me speak.
• It’s very unpleasant.
• I tell them British children are in danger in Spain. They’re not interested.
• I tell them many British women have been murdered in Spain. They’re not interested.
• I tell them the gangs are persuading people to kill themselves. They don’t care.
• I tell them I was stalked by North London rape-gang members while I was campaigning for election in July and I had already told the police about that.
• They want to know who I stood for in the election. I tell them; Party of Women.
• They roll their eyes and get decidedly more aggressive.
• They’re obviously working for the porn-gangs aren’t they, like everyone appears to be.
• It’s amazing!
• They tell me the criminal gang members can go wherever they like and it’s not a crime for Winston May, North London rape-gang leader, to turn up to my general election campaign alongside a story specifically told to me by someone who is probably a police man (Steve) to terrorize me - there is no other explanation for his behavior.
• I don’t mention that Winston May was probably in prison at the time and allowed out just to terrorize me, but they probably know very well and is one of the reasons I’m being shouted down.
• I tell them, look, item by item you can maybe discount, but the thousands of events I’m trying to tell you about constitute a mass stalking campaign at the very least, and this statement is a goldmine of criminal evidence.
• They’re not interested.
• The situation is so incongruent, I’ve clearly somehow gained a non-human status with zero rights in the UK.
• I ask them if they’ve been told to dismiss everything I’m saying by someone.
• They get annoyed.
• I take their numbers down on my hacked laptop.
• The blond one says, “Oh, wait wait, we’ll write it down for you.”
• I say, no no, let me put your numbers in here directly.
• She still wants to write the numbers down for me, as if she’s worried about whoever is hacking me seeing her details.
• I believe that’s why she doesn’t want me to write their details into my hacked laptop, they know very well who is watching my every move and they’re frightened of them.
• I realize the police are going to do nothing for me, as usual, so I let them leave.
• They were trying to get away from the minute we started to speak. They stayed 20 minutes.

• You can’t imagine how stressful it was for me, after everything I’ve endured, to discover I have no human rights in my own country and anywhere else in the world either.

My parents and brother appear to be working for the criminal gangs too

• I try to explain to my mother what’s been going on.
• She totally dismisses me, just like the police.
• It’s unfathomable and very hurtful, but not surprising.
• I remember telling Lauren Ott back in 2015 that my mother would probably make an excellent witness for the London rape-gang defense she hates me so much.
• Lauren didn’t respond to that sad-but-true statement at the time.
• I bet it’s pretty commonplace for mothers to hate their abused daughters. The betrayal, for me, is off the scale, but nothing compared to my dad’s betrayal.
• Robert my brother continues to seethe, continues to ignore what’s been happening for me, just like he has since 2011 when he lost his mind in Thailand and signed up for whatever the porn-gangs needed help with - conspiracy to murder me, or convince me to kill myself with the help of my work colleagues at WeAreAdaptive perhaps (I wonder what treasonous data processes they’re running in their massive server farms).
• Mother only got worse over 2025, and especially so when I remembered that my dad had starred in a sedated-anal-rape-porn video at my house in Joan Fuster in 2015 which caused me injury, and that he is pretty famous all over porn-world because of how he hid in the bathroom grinning and snickering when I saw him running out of my room after being injured enough to wake up out of sedation, and I ran after him and waited for him to come out of the bathroom, which he did with his hands over his face, hiding his snicker (although the spy-cams caught it to great applause across criminal porn-world, a legend they think of him).
• Dad didn’t say anything to me suggesting he disbelieved any of the information in this statement in January 2025, and in fact gave me heaps of information about the gangs and his own outrageous betrayals over 2025, including how he helped the North London gangs try to murder me, on request by one of them at the Red Lion pub in Barnet in July 2025 (except they failed again, of course).
• When challenged with his actions at two of my houses in Dénia, including when he brought my mother with him to the town and she had a panic attack and went to A&E, and when I remembered he had excitedly told my cousin to visit Dénia, because something very very good was happening there at my apartment specifically, that Igor kept mentioning to me, but I couldn’t understand what he was referencing cos no-one told me I was being sedated and raped there fairly regularly, and so my cousin Igor took his young family to learn Spanish with TLC for two weeks one summer on my dad’s recommendation (another sedated-rape conspirator organization like the rest of them), and he got so angry… he threatened, I’m going to phone Igor to tell him… but I wondered what he was going to say to Igor… just deny everything maybe? Like they do.
• No doubt Igor’s family will have been badly affected if they sedated them all, which seems likely.
• Why wouldn’t they? It’s what they do. They make a lot of money on the criminal porn.
• Better to make the money on unwitting participants, don’t you think that’s how they see it?
• I know that after this event, relationships did break down with Igor’s family, and there was illness, not unexpectedly.
• My mother was sedated and raped too in Dénia at the Hotel Costa Blanca and at my apartment in Joan Fuster with me in the same bed; perhaps it’s easier for her to throw me under the bus.
• During 2025, they’d send me pictures of her in her nappies that they were taking from her hacked devices next to her bed, but she has some kind of brain-fog that refuses to accept all this is going on, which is so weird.
• Perhaps they control her mind online too. It would not surprise me.
• Anyway, to go from everything in here, to my daughter makes it all up, is a gargantuan and monstrous effort, and could only be fueled by an intense hatred for me coming from a very bad press from the swarms of misogynists around her and an inability to accept that the men of my family are, in fact, monsters.

Harassment in UK

• I’m targeted constantly when I’m back in the UK, as you will read across these next months until October 2025 when I find something so appalling out about my father that I can no longer be anywhere near my family without feeling like I’m disintegrating.
• In fact, the attacks have been pre-arranged by the criminal gangs together with the police and UK government while I was in Thailand.
• I don’t realize any of this at the time - or I wouldn’t have stayed so long in the UK - but it’s pretty obvious looking back there were numerous hidden attempts at murder by poisoning - which puts July’s very obvious and open attempt at murdering me into a curiously interesting light.
• Something this morning while I write is reminding me of a picture from the General Election count in the UK on 4^th July 2024.
• Let’s see if I can find it.

• Surprise, surprise, Adams got the police/UK security services to delete all my general election files when I was back in the UK in January 2026, as well as everything else they thought might be too condemning such as my katharinejchardwood@gmail.com account in its entirety, and my Facebook account which they managed to very easily get completely deleted while I was in the UK too.
• Anyway. Everyone knows everything I’ve done has a million copies around the world in a trillion different interested hands, thankfully, so let me explain it and then we can pop it back in when the time comes.
• See me there at the count at the Royal Airforce Museum in Hendon (I love the military and independence day connections) standing with my dad (porn-world legend who anally raped his own sedated daughter in her own home in Spain, and snickered endlessly about it, and told all his perverted mates too who would leer over her whenever they saw her afterwards), my brother (man hell bent on following Adams instructions to ensure his sister would be raped by thousands over many years in her own homes in Spain by making her so miserable at her family home in London - which I will be reacquiring thank you - she couldn’t live there for very long at all), and little Steve (undercover police officer/detective tasked with causing Kellie J Keen and her supporters endless trouble, and supplementarily tasked with making sure I never realize the Adams porn-world family have been controlling my life for decades with the help of all the men and women they also control through criminal porn-subscriptions and other methods, including the Metropolitan police service and the British government).
• Interesting, isn’t it.
• They can’t have expected me to survive Dénia, then Thailand, then London, then… well, there’s evidence everywhere now isn’t there.
• Somehow, I’m totally high and confused all the time while I’m back in UK, more so than I was even in Spain or Thailand.
• Apart from a few obvious moments, such as the two Cambridge-Ugly women in Harlow doing their distract-and-drug thing and Hamill going to the toilet in my hotel room in Aberdeen in March 2025, for example - every failure made a retry even more obvious I guess - it’s not clear how people are managing to spike me with drugs and poisons in England.
• I realize later that they’re powering up the dosage too because I’m still foggy about those times and I still have pretty solid clarity on events and dates prior to attempted murder by poisoning in October 2024.
• Did my job with Polygon ensure they kept the dosage down to barely obvious?
• Certainly, firing me was the go-ahead for murder, there’s no question about that and I wonder who gave shaking and terrified Gabriel Silva the order, and I wonder if anyone at Polygon didn’t know I was going to be murdered and they could all breathe again - well, that was the intention.
• Just like in Dénia, it seems that every time I leave the house while I’m in the UK some rare event occurs.
• I’m certain it was criminal gang activity, especially considering Paul’s sudden “popping up” and his erratic behavior, dishonesty, and obvious hard drug addiction, never mind his friendship with lil Lucy Adams, and even going to school with other Adams family members.
• This is going to be soooo exciting on Netflix…
• Was the frenetic activity from criminal gangs in London… even getting a junkie involved - the most disloyal people in the universe - and all the harassment at that time early in the year, and during the general election the year before… and conspiring with my father to make sure I’d be murdered successfully in July in Lourdes… except they must have known I’d survive that too.
• It’s so interesting. We start to wonder who’s double-crossing who while I was walking around in a drug-induced haze.
• Or perhaps they were panicking and drugging me harder to make sure I didn’t remember the switcheroo men working as pedo-porn-studio teachers for the Generalitat Valenciana.
• And no doubt they were also holding out on the hope they might be able to get me into a situation where I’d part with my not inconsiderable finances.
• My renewed and urgent interest (God tells me everything) in protecting my money from my brother on the event of my death and him giving it all to Adams like he did before by rewriting my will was born from this very obvious criminal gang plan that I could practically see written out in front of me it was so obvious.
• My guess is no-one had a clue what to do about this strange, quiet, loving, beautiful, smart, funny, God-fearing woman with some very very interesting back-stories, who they were unable to kill.
• As you can see, we’re going all out now, and then, when the great and unbelievable silence descends upon me again, as it seems to do quite regularly, causing me so much upset, I guess I’ll have to get a job as a short-order cook, or a librarian, or something. I’m so sick of this..

The state of my mind

• From January 2025 in London, my perception and thought processes are foggy and confused.
• I’m high actually, all the time.
• I don’t even start the DESO account till April and it’s so obvious I’m on something while I dream up that marvelous story about the lucky Forg with the help of God and my new bible study.
• I can see all this in (totally unexpected from the people trying to kill me) retrospect.
• I have clearer recall from my extended-drugged-and-poisoned life in Dénia and until I returned to the UK.
• Somehow, the gangs are managing to spike me very consistently and very regularly.
• Could my brother or dad be helping them out?
• Is it Paul?
• Or is it random people “bumping into me” in the street or while traveling.
• Somehow, they’re keeping me very confused, but my faith is so strong I know that they will have shot themselves in their giant two-left-feet, continuously, without me even knowing it, then and now.

I’ve been injected somehow

• In my bedroom one night at 31 Trinity, I notice a bump on my right arm close to my elbow.
• I scratch it, just a little, and it starts to bleed.
• Not a little, a whole lot; in fact it does not stop bleeding rather profusely for hours.
• I have a whole bin of bloody tissues I was using to try to staunch it, which didn’t work at all.
• It was so bloody I felt I had to show someone; and I did. I showed my parents but we understand now they are 100% working for the porn-gangs so they’re utterly unreliable.
• You could ask them about it. They’re old so they may not remember. If they deny it, however, we will know for sure how evil they are…
• It feels like I was injected here without my knowledge, quite deeply too.
• I have a vague recall of a pain in my arm at this area one night, and I’m thinking it was when I took a flight back to the UK from Spain or Ireland.
• Could Paul have done this when he picked me up one evening?
• Could it explain my mind’s continued fogginess - was it a long-acting hallucinogen or similar?
• Or was it another failed attempt to murder me?
• In June 2026, there is still a little raised bump at this spot on my arm.
• I believe this was yet another early murder attempt; something they had formally and secretly - everyone commanded to ignore my every plea for help must know though - intended for me on my return to the UK.

Michael from Wearyall Hill

• I contact Michael to tell him I’ve written about the dream I had while I was staying at his house in July 2022 while on detox there.
• He is FURIOUS with me.
• He wants to know why I’m telling him this.
• His rage over my hacked phone is irrational, unsettling, and very, very curious.
• I try to explain it to myself as pure misogynistic gaslighting, but there’s something more to it than that.
• I start to wonder about Michael’s poor health and paralysis, and I remember how unusually rough Fiona was with me while administering my colonics, as if she disliked me intensely for some oddly irrational reason.
• Certainly most people brought in to conspire against me for the gangs were unusually angry with me (my landlady Beatriz, participants on the Transforming Touch courses sent to keep an eye on me or try to engage me or others in yet another honey-trap maybe, the overweight manager at the Hotel Costa Blanca forced to let bunches of rapists into guest-rooms where sedated women were about to be filmed for porn, for example - one wonders if all the rooms are spy-cammed up at Spanish hotels these days - seems likely).
• I explain, gently, to Michael that perhaps if a reporter was to come and do a detox with him, he might like to mention my book which includes a short yet very interesting occultist’s description of my stay at the end of July 2022.
• The description of the dream I had at that time is not condemning to Michael or his business; somewhat the opposite in my view - just what his target audience might appreciate, in fact.
• However, Michael’s behavior over the phone is somehow condemning; certainly of me, and this is utterly irrational - a projection perhaps?
• Did the Adams family give Michael instructions for me too?
• Did they tell him what cards to pull on the readings he gave me about the trumpet teacher relationship I ask him for over the next two summers?
• My visit there was just prior to yet another switcheroo-porn scam running at a conservatory music school in Spain - children very much involved and included - that porn-world in its entirety must have been so excited about, and I was away from Spain and my poisoned water-mains for over three months.
• Was Michael instructed to be furious with me - another note from my 2015 police statement about Winston May being angry with me, then kind, then angry, and how this broke my child’s mind?
• Had Michael been assured of my certain demise like everyone else?
• Or was he trying to tell me something without incriminating himself to the gangs he knew were listening?
• Or was he genuinely fearful, becoming full of rage because he knew how involved he’d been in targeting me, and he knew also, like everyone else, exactly what the end goal was for me?
• The gangs definitely needed to keep me topped-up with the brain-damaging substances that summer of 2022… and perhaps my three-month trip away from Spain explains the reason the trumpet-teacher(s) waited till November before they turned up at the school to star in the porn-network-live-streamed classes.
• I guess we’ll find out all of the truth, very soon.

Seonaid Dawn and Granny Smith

• Seonaid Dawn stalked me endlessly alongside Hazel Smith, lil’ Lucy Adams, and the rest of North London’s finest from September 2023 or before.
• Seonaid Dawn then ran for election with Kellie J Keen’s Party of Women in July 2024 - which in retrospect was a little silly but they all expected me to be murdered and forgotten like hundreds if not thousands of other British women - many of whom I have published photos of in this police statement.
• Imagine being able to gaslight that away!
• You’d have to be extremely insane and full of hatred for women to expect to get away with it.
• Granny Smith is very obviously Sandra Smith, Hazel’s apparent mother (but not really her mother, probably more likely her lover and willing slave).
• Both these suspect accounts are mentioned in my earlier and very incomplete fake account list, and Hazel Smith references from May 2024, and elsewhere.

• I’m wondering still about @AllyBrisket… could this account be run by Winston May himself? Seems likely.
• I’ve started to block the criminal gang members and porn accounts, including these at that time, not that it made any difference - they popped up on other social media accounts in other guises as quick as you can tell the British police that women, children, and babies murdered for porn is not comedy.
• We wonder when they’ll get it.

Seeking asylum in Israel

• I am clearly unsafe in the United Kingdom as well as in Spain and France, and especially in North London where my family live; the only place left I have to go.
• I was followed endlessly in Thailand also so I’m probably not safe there either.
• I’m not safe at home at 31 Trinity; it’s an extraordinarily toxic environment and totally unsupportive.
• I’ve spent my whole life being gaslit by people pretending nothing has ever happened to me and my mother’s attitude towards me is especially upsetting.
• My dad was aware of everything that was going on, I had explained everything to him in September 2024 in Lourdes and he appeared to understand the nature of my situation and how much danger I was in.
• I wasn’t aware of his total and unconditional support for the porn-gangs.
• As I told him my horrific story, he kept saying: heavy, heavy; I thought it was just him taking the piss, as he usually does.
• He then told me to be careful as I could be beaten by a man and made to be a prostitute which suggested to me he knew exactly what was going on for me without offering any practical help.
• Did he pretend to be supportive to me to my face, and then tell my mother that I was not to be believed? Seems likely.
• I had also told my brother everything I knew in June 2024 about what was going on for me and how much danger I was in.
• We were tracked in the pub at that time by operatives, police I expect.
• He was spectacularly disinterested at the time, as if what I was telling him was nothing at all.
• He speaks to me like he thinks I’m a little fool imagining things when he knows exactly what is going on.
• It would be devastatingly hurtful if I wasn’t so angry and disgusted with them all! How dare they!
• He and my dad both took the piss of this police statement endlessly while I was at home writing it - trying, alone, to save my own life - throughout 2025; oh, chapter three is it now, they’d say in derogatory tones.
• If anyone needed a definition of evil, I just gave it.
• One evening, soon after my return to the UK, in desperation, I access the Israel website for asylum seekers and I try to make an application.
• I understand Israel to be the only country I’m safe in but perhaps Toby was right about Japan too; except clearly he was blocked from getting any help as would have been all British nationals in peril from the porn-gangs - a crime against the British people.
• The reason I understand Israel to be a completely safe place for me is because the whole country has been enduring mass sexual assaults and gaslighting over the last few years since October 7^th 2023, that I’ve been enduring on a daily basis for decades.
• I feel they’ll understand my predicament like no other nation might, and help me.
• I’m sure they would have helped me, except my web access to make the application is continuously blocked by hackers.
• I eventually give up trying.
• The British government will obviously not let me make an application to find safety for myself now, will they, and it’s clear they’re hacking me along with North London’s finest.
• Well of course not, North London’s finest control the UK completely and have done for decades: criminal murdering pedo-porn gangs and baby-rapists working closely with pornographers and drugging gitano poisoners and honey-trap manipulators in Spain, Portugal and anywhere else in the world these people might be available to pop-up and help silence anyone with a problem about the destruction of our world in the hands of millions of tech-bro rapists.
• And they’ve just been getting worse and worse over the years of total protection; and now, surprise surprise, they’ve set up porn-studios in actual schools.
• Who’d have guessed that would happen!?
• And what might they think up next, is the better question?
• To be fair, the British government are probably terrified of a mass-stampede of porn-gang-stalking victims to other countries - never mind the mass child rape-gang victims of Islamicist sex offenders - but from my perspective it would be very interesting to know just how many thousands of us have been silenced and are craving justice:
  • Certainly any sexual crime victim and their families, especially when its children or babies, where the investigation is very obviously blundered-on-purpose by the police are on the list.
  • Noah Donohoe, Madeline McCann, me, and many thousands of other women targeted for snuff porn or running around the field naked after the horse - something the British police just love to watch, and laugh about, the gangs made sure of that very early on.
  • Certainly Toby, Trish’s son, who they clearly have been terrorizing for years is on the list, and no doubt he knows about hundreds more just like him.
  • Alessandra and those like her who have been manipulated into the most outrageous acts of self-harm.
  • Mike Wenham even.
  • Victims of manipulated suicide like Lorraine, and some teachers at the conservatory, and any child (along with their families when in support) manipulated into sterilizing themselves.
  • Perhaps, even, the families of the tech-bros not so excited about running the caliphate AI systems or other treasonous criminal activity on their servers.
  • My guess is it’s going to be very, very eye-opening for the world and we might also find out about hundreds of female-tech-workers convinced they were hacked, and maybe even sedated and raped by their colleagues at work events - who reported and were silenced, or maybe even paid off (Alicia at Polygon after Bali).
  • If the rapists think they’ll get away with it, they’ll do it.
  • They are very, very stupid after all (thinking with an erection and not a brain makes for stupid, everyone knows that).
• As I was being stalked by porn-gangs all over the world it was more than clear to me these people have made something of an art form of the criminal porn-stalking, drugging and poisoning, and they have willing operatives on every continent.
• They could only get that far along with these crimes against humanity with total protection everywhere in the world.
• There must be thousands upon thousands of victims.
• I think we should find out exactly how many and how big the problem of porn-gangs owning the police and governments truly is.
• Anyone who has watched criminal porn can be used by the gangs in any way they like.
• It really is an army of darkness and ignorance taking over the world.
• I was all alone against a world of these f**kers, and you were all just waiting till they got me like they get everyone, weren’t you. Bas***rds, I’m British you know. HOW DARE YOU!!!!!
• And if Israel ever receives my request for asylum, I’d still love to live in the best country in the whole world.
• I’d be able to breathe normally again I reckon.

An urgent need to update my will

• Something has made me realize I need to update my will and update it quick.
• I wonder if I’m subconsciously aware - while being high most of the rest of the time - of the constant attempts to bump me off.
• As it stands, I figure it’s likely the gangs will murder me, and because of the nature of my will as it stood at the time, my money could end up with my brother, and the gangs would then be able to extract my money from him very easily just like they did before.
• I explain this to my dad, and he doesn’t disagree; but he stays quiet, like he does.
• He only gets vocal when he’s lying about his involvement.
• But maybe he’s being thoughtful - trying to put two-and-two together - wondering how his own experience of being poisoned in North London by a Portuguese woman just a few years before - incidentally while the switcheroo porn-scam was running at the conservatory and Bruno-trumpet-teacher was planning a quick wedding and then a quicker funeral - could be connected into relieving his daughter of her money?
• Perhaps he’s quiet because he surprised about how clear I am on everything; perhaps it worries him.
• I hope so, in retrospect.
• He’s aware of everything that’s been going on - I don’t know this at the time - but I know he agrees with me about my money.
• I also want to leave the forgivenet to the whole world - I’ve changed my mind about that since then because I don’t think the world as a whole is responsible enough to take care of it, so I need to adjust the will once again and leave it to the State of Israel who I believe are the only people mature and responsible enough to take care of such an app.
• No-one will help me write a new legal will, and I speak to a few actual lawyers about this; firstly because of my wishes for the app which confuses things, and secondly because I’m not leaving anything to my brother which means my will could be contested, they tell me, and I find out exactly why I feel the urgency I’m feeling.
• I can’t explain the criminal gang involvement to random people in law offices without them saying something stupid like, why don’t you tell the police… so… after some thought…
• I write my own will and register it with the UK public will database and keep a copy with me.
• In my latest will, I explain that criminal gangs have been trying to find ways to relieve me of my not inconsiderable wealth for many years in the UK and Spain, with the help of police and government, and if I was to die and my money went to my brother, he would more or less hand it over to them just like he did with his Lockerbie compensation which he spent on drugs - with the help of North London’s finest manipulating-teams residing in North London and elsewhere, i.e. Samui - in just a few years.
• I’m very clear that this is something that must be avoided and for that reason I’m not leaving any money to any of my family.
• I also state clearly in this new will the nature of the criminal gangs I’m referring to and I even mention Winston May - to explain when and how the criminal gang interest in me began - and Lauren Ott - as someone who might be able to explain what’s been going on for me given I wrote reams of explanatory emails to her over the last years - if she’s not held up for treason ! (I know, amazing isn’t it) for doing so.
• But it’s all in here in this police statement anyway, isn’t it, replicated around the world a trillion times and read by thousands daily.
• Thank you folks!
• <3
• It is funny the way I say some things… even I am most often surprised.
• For You, my true and One-And-Only Father, anything.

Glastonbury with Paul

• I travel to Glastonbury for a few days with Paul on 16-18^th January.
• He’s driving as my car is still in Madrid at the airport.
• Paul talks and talks and talks; and some - not a lot but some - of it is very interesting.
• He spills the beans a fair bit.
• And he’s bound to hand the whole bean-tin over without much complaint… if he hasn’t already.
• He’s receiving a lot of texts from Lucy who appears to be telling him what to say to me.
• We talk a lot about how he’s going to come and help me move my stuff from Dénia back to London in a few weeks time.
• As I just mentioned, I intended to update my will and I had a will registered in Glastonbury which I wanted to formally delete - although I already made a new one just before the general election - another urgently intuited need no doubt.
• The lawyer in Glastonbury is one of the lawyers I speak to about all this.
• Paul tries to stay in the meeting we have to listen and find out how much money I have, but she kicks him out which I find amusing.

The Yew tree at Compton Dundon

• I take Paul to some places in the area that I like.
• He can’t walk very far (even though he’s talking about going skiing in France) without his ankles collapsing so we don’t do too much.
• I suggest we go to the Yew tree at Compton Dundon.
• We take a walk around the tree and Paul is looking at his phone.
• All of a sudden, out of the blue, for no reason at all, Paul starts rattling on about devil worshippers.
• And I’ve no idea why he would bring this up, it’s very extraneous, and he goes on about devil worshippers for a short while, then he stops.
• I’m not sure what to say to him.
• 18-months later, I remember a related event from 2008 where a woman, Susan McNaughton, tried to frighten me at the Yew tree and elsewhere with her devil worshipping nonsense.
• For sure it’s a gang connection, but for what purpose?
• Another pick at frightening and destabilizing me so that my mind hasn’t the space to figure out the switcheroo scam?
• Or to make a link to something ridiculous so that I could be discredited easily, just like Paloma had tried to do in Madrid the October previous?
• Perhaps that was the original plan in 2008.
• Even Paul sounded like he thought what he was saying was ridiculous, like he was happy to finish when his speech was done (he may have been reading lines for that one).
• I think he even sighed when he finished. And if sighs had words, this sigh said you stupid idiots.

Asking Paul what I should do about my pesticide-ridden car

• I’ve already told Paul about the poisoning in the car, probably pesticides (the irony is cramping me up, said Hazel once about me and squirrel… well… there’s far bigger and wider reaching cramping-and-crippling-pesticide ironies, isn’t there love).
• I ask him how I can clean the car of the poisons.
• He tells me to get my car detailed.
• I look for a car detailing place in Madrid where I’m going to be staying in February - I’m lured online to a particular hotel around the corner from the El Pais offices where I’ll see a very interesting sedating-and-raping poster advertisement it seems - are they telling me that rapists control everything in Spain? seems likely - and there’s a car detailer next door to the hotel too, who I will suspect work directly for the gangs once I get my car back from them and the space inside it seems to have been altered, lessened, in an unusual way as if they created a secret compartment behind the front dashboard for some reason.

Paul asks to borrow money

• Before we leave for Glastonbury, or maybe the week after (it’ll be on the card payments) I take Paul for pizza at Pizza Express in Muswell Hill.
• He asks to borrow money from me.
• I felt this coming, so it was probably before Glastonbury.
• I say no.
• A little later, I ask him how much he needs.
• He says he owes money on his car insurance and money on his phone.
• I ask him how much he owes.
• He tells me something like he’s paying car insurance monthly and he’s missed a payment.
• I ask him how much money he owes on the phone.
• He says £200.
• I exclaim “£200”! How do you owe that much on your phone.
• He says he spent £200 on online gambling on his phone.
• I tell him he’s an idiot and refuse.
• He gets soooooo angry but he’s pretending it’s not with me.
• He’s up and down, on the phone with someone, fuming.
• He obviously thought I was just gonna hand over £300+…
• He obviously thought I was an idiot.
• They always do.
• It’s their major failing, their achilles, let’s say.

Telling Paul what’s been going on for me

• At a service station on the M3, finally, Paul stops talking for five minutes.
• I have the chance to tell him what’s been going on.
• I explain what teachers and staff at the conservatory did; everything I understand at the time - which is not a lot and nowhere near the full scale of the mass crimes committed against me and other British and Irish, and Czech, and other women, children, and babies in the town.
• He asks quietly: How didn’t you go mad?
• And that is all he says.
• At the time I thought a statement like this was not entirely appropriate, but I couldn’t really figure out why.
• I think if I had been in Paul’s position, I would have reacted differently; alarmed, shocked, angry, upset, trying to think of ways to help.
• Paul’s quiet statement perhaps reflects a sense of knowing exactly what had been going on, and knowing way more than what I just told him including the severity of the continuous sexual and violent attacks while sedated, and just not caring much at all about it while being careful not to incriminate himself given he was well aware of the Ugly business from twenty-five years previous.
• Did Paul have a subscription to my sedated sex-slave stardom, or know someone who did who told him all about it?
• Was going mad a betting outcome for me for the porn-addicts worldwide?
• Seems likely.

No ordinary girl, or boy

• While in Glastonbury, Paul and I wander around the bookstores.
• I’m looking for a new notebook.
• I find one.

• While I’m looking at the images on the notebook of a bookshelf containing hundreds of books about superhero girls, I’m reminded of the artist trumpet-teacher’s painting of the three pedophile-porn-horror siblings: big ole Bruno trumpet-teacher with a gaping vacuum around his lower chakras, Gloria music-school secretary, and their brother who blew in my face outside the tunnel before a bunch of them suffocated me, nearly killing me and certainly weakening a rib with the weight on me (I’m beginning to think that these weird injuries I have are, in fact, rape injuries), while sedated in my own bed, all reading comic books as children.
• The painting’s background was this notebook; except the superhero was male.
• This notebook features in extraordinary miracles later on in the year, and in the future too, none of them planned (it’s hard not to plan but when I don’t the miracles - memories returning from sedated states very much part of that - are amazing, oh yes Elon, be worried love, be worried - oh wait.. I already remembered that one while it was happening, didn’t I).

An excited bookseller

• While we’re in the shop and I’m looking at the notebook, the bookseller from the shop over the road, a black man in his late 40s, runs in excitedly, hopping around like they do, breathing hard, and looking at me repeatedly in glances that never catch my eyes.
• There she is, there she is, is he saying?
• Another horror-porn fan most likely.
• They’re everywhere these days.
• How long can the men keep it all secret… like they have been for decades. Not long now.
• Are we gonna find out that murder-porn is enjoyed by millions of men all over the world, every single day?
• I bet we do.
• We know already don’t we. Who are we trying to fool. Ourselves? Continuously?
• Humans are so insane we probably deserve to destroy ourselves and let nature enjoy the planet without us.

Transforming Touch in Dublin

• It’s Module 3 again at the Avila centre.
• I travel from LHR on British Airways and good ole Paul leaves me at the airport and picks me up on the way back.
• While I’m on the course, something prompts me to ask Steve if he needs an assistant for Module 2 in Israel in March.
• He says yes.
• I book my flights immediately.
• I believe God gave me a little nudge on that, and I’m so happy to be returning after all these years.
• Without this trip to Israel - breaking up the constant confusion I was experiencing in London - I may have been permanently crippled with the pesticides doused onto all my belongings, like so many others have been by the limitless Las Marinas porn-gangs.
• I also tell Steve that I believe I’m an international porn star and have been for decades.
• He laughs.
• Not just a little laugh; a resounding bellow that gets louder and larger with each guffaw.
• He’s laughing loudly into the space, all on his own.
• At least it’s not a snicker but I am utterly horrified; I do not understand it at all.
• Later, at the hotel, he appears to tell me in a roundabout way that he has a large penis.
• Again, I do not understand any of this and I’m rather horrified, but I love Steve so give him a hug and say goodnight.
• I cannot believe men have become so lost that they think sedating and raping women in their own homes is OK, normal, what they do, part of good-ole porn!
• But, there is yet another lie propagated by the British and Spanish porn-gang manipulators to the whole wide world, just like the preposterous idea that sterilizing children is a good thing, a vile lie that supports their criminal activities with an even more irrational and hateful view of women and children as porn fodder.
• And that lie is, sex work is work, yet another piece of astounding BS in support of criminal porn and sterilizing children.
• Yes, it’s that Las Marinas lot once again.
• And they’re not denying it.
• Is it possible to lose the arrogance that ensures this belief is never questioned, even though just ten years ago no-one in their right minds would have believed such things, in the same way they would have never bought into, and stood ready to defend violently, the born into the wrong body whopper?
• I hope so, and quick please.
• There is another explanation for Steve’s reactions towards me which is somewhat, no, a whole lot biblical; but I’ll leave that for the ponderers but just to say it involves irrational jealousy and two thousand years of severely psychopathic woman-hating that has not abated in any way at all.
• In fact, the hatred towards the female is so commonplace, so unquestionable, we hardly even notice its very obvious glaring ghoulish ugliness shaping our world.
• I mean, I was thinking about the Lord of the Rings, and how much Domingo loved those films, and how there’s no women in them, or girls, in these sorts of films, and how immature minds might very easily relate (unconsciously) the lack of women and girls they see to the pornographers (the boner’s) requirement to hurt women and girls, and thus go quite mad, which they clearly have done in their billions … while the rest of us have to smile and pretend paying-to-rape is normal behavior, just a bit of slap and tickle (euphemistic for often extreme violence against women and girls).
• God help us, it’s so embittering.
• To quote Helen a little… I believe these sections are essential concerning the right message… and the vile lies that have taken over our world; why we’re all here, now.
• You don’t get to choose or amend the mission if it’s coming from God, doing so is just delay and the amount of delay can be enormous here - especially when giving the sons of darkness so much time to consolidate and regroup.
• The mission will undoubtedly make us a little uncomfortable from time to time - there’s quotes about that too.
• I wonder who Helen was. Marta maybe?

An early dream about Helen and BKS

• Some time after I had been drugged, attacked, and made famous in pedo-rape-porn in 1989 by North London’s finest, I started to get into spiritual stuff; Castaneda, that sort of thing.
• I had no memories of what had happened to me while sedated with Winston May but clearly the trauma was huge as living a normal daily life without constant fear was impossible.
• I practiced dreaming techniques from Castaneda’s instructions, it was quite interesting and experimental.
• I was also getting interested in Hinduism (without realizing it) from some of the books I was reading.
• I read spiritual books voraciously (I don’t read at all now, apart from ACIM, and we know why.. intentional brain-damaging by poisoning since 2008 in Las Marinas… like so many others.)
• Anyway, one night I asked for a dream (you can do that) to show me my gurus.
• Two people turned up.
• The first was an old Indian man at the front door, which I opened. I didn’t recognize him at the time but he was, in fact, BKS Iyengar and I wasn’t to get into yoga practice with him for 10 years and I only realized it was him in the dream much later (cos my yoga practice was fiercely non-woo-woo for years).
• The other woman was Helen Schucman. I also had no idea who this woman was until probably 20 years later when I saw a picture of her and slowly remembered she’d popped her head around my bedroom door to see me sleeping.
• Cool, innit.

The great thing about Helen..

• ..was she was so academically rigid, let’s say careful, and quite sceptic, and this made her very believable.
• I used to be the same.. which as part of spiritual seeking was very helpful.
• But I think the thing which makes me an excellent course student has been my somewhat pathological inability to see the bad in people, particularly the people that I assumed loved me and would do nothing to hurt me.
• This ability to be totally bullied and gaslit meant no-one saw me coming, did they, least of all me! (Thanks to mother, I know ..but yes, thanks if it means saving the world.)
• HAHA! Up yours criminals and their evil helpers - is that the helped and the helpers, all falling together?
• We’re closing in now.
• 31 will fall. God has said so.

Justice is a miracle

• For all those many millions of men self-harming with porn, and destroying our beautiful world in the process, a reckoning is due, and that is a loving act, i.e. a miracle because it is unloving to let people hurt themselves through total madness.
• For all those many many millions of men and women who believe the lies fed to us by porn-gangs interested in making money off the misery of humanity, it’s time to get your heads straight.
• Yes, it might be painful, but that is just egocentric fear, and a very dangerous sort of fear as JC puts it in the course.
• Well, he’s right isn’t he.
• He came back in the nick of time, but I guess we needed a fuller demonstration of how mad our hatred of each other can get and the gargantuan evils it can persuade us to believe, not that we needed one having had so many recent examples.
• But these lies we believe today are something else, aren’t they, don’t you agree?
• The lies that we cannot mention or people will go quite mad and maybe get violent towards us.
• Are we gonna let it go on?
• Haven’t we had enough yet?
• Will the world be destroyed by bare arrogance?
• Does the lack of order in miracles mean we can save the world, easily, if we really want to?
• I need your help though.

Who’s gonna spill the beans about the manipulation tech

• My view is Hazel Smith and other women gang-members and helpers will be happy to expound on everything their manipulation tech does, including:
  • Persuading people to commit suicide (Lorraine, and a bunch of teachers working for the Generalitat who did not like what was going on).
  • Persuading people to commit homicide (Mike Wenham).
  • Persuading healthy and robust people to believe they’re ill enough to undergo life-changing surgeries (Alessandra).
  • Mass persuading children and toddlers to do DIY porn (multiple filmed evidence, my trumpet teacher friend might be happy to expound on this one and how the gangs expect their techs to target children, toddlers, and babies online these days and how a great many of these young men do not like this obligation which they cannot refuse - evil does end up destroying itself like this.. but it could take millennia).
  • Persuading the West to sterilize it’s own children (multiple examples, including a whole money-making medical industry newly formed, like we do); a sick manipulation technique that started life as an autistic 13-year-old girl self-harming porn genre which was then co-opted by transvestites as the same thing they were experiencing (definite porn-gang involvement in here, they make so much money off the transvestites).. and no one can say a thing about it!
  • To summarize that one: persuading the West that transvestite men (white, old, wealthy) are a new type of species of human, the most oppressed, and that the children convinced to sterilize themselves are somehow in the same set of new humans.
  • Proof enough of how perilous the lies we believe have become, I would say.
  • Persuading the West that vile women-hating, gay-hating, oppressive nations are the good guys! I mean… it’s extraordinary but follows quite easily from the rest of it.
• The way that everyone believed the opposite of these things just a decade ago, and had done forever, cannot be ignored.
• What have I missed?
• Oh, obviously, persuading women and girls that doing porn is good for them; the sex work is work fallacy everyone and his cat seems to have bought into, utterly insanely, quietly forgetting that the majority of porn-addicts are seeking to destroy women, children, and babies, and only violence, destruction, and humiliation will satisfy their boners … as any money-making only fans woman knows only too well.
• It’s no accident, of course, that the loudest and most violent voices against anyone daring to suggest all this is totally insane, and no good for humans, are masked porn-addict males.
• Sedating is all the rage due to this. They can’t get enough of it but are unable to look people in the eye afterwards because their whole beings know the truth of their mistakes.
• We all know them. They are our fathers, our brothers, our boyfriends, husbands, mates.
• They are all men including the ones who don’t rape, but know about it and say nothing.
• They use to get so upset with feminists saying all men are rapists… but it really looks like that they’ve done their best to prove it to us, doesn’t it.
• Our world’s security and safety is meaningless to these idiots.
• So yes, Hazel can confirm.
• I always knew she’d be our greatest help.
• She’ll be worried about getting murdered now! HAHA!
• I wonder how a whole bunch of people might like that horrible constant feeling… let’s hope the karma comes quick.