USC Professor Dr. Dohwa Kim Sends Me A Message Of Hope. She Hopes I'll Soon Be In Pain.
"The end is near for you the transmitters in your head will soon cause such a ringing you'll beg for death!" - From Dr. Kim in 2017. I wouldn't find the neural equipment in my brain until 2019.
So after mushrooms growing up out of the Kester apartment’s closet, vocalizations inside noise, the Coetzee’s chasing me around with a magnetic field generator’s antenna and my remodel of the kitchen with an axe, it turns out my surmise was correct in the end. Someone simply wanted to guide me out of my own home and into the million dollar property owned by Dr. Dohwa Kim. Dr. Kim’s husband was my long-time friend Keith Breeden. You know, they could’ve just asked. Eventually Keith would. But getting there took a few more incidents that, frankly, didn’t quite have me looking too very sane.
SDI’s new CFO, Dave Paneiko, having my signed agreement to leave my apartment, wanted to meet there with a mold inspection guy. I didn’t expect to see the five or six guys from SDI’s metal shop there wondering why there was an axe in the floor surrounding by splintered pieces of kitchen cabinets. I told them I had been redecorating. At some point Dave pulled me into the bedroom and closed the door. He spoke softly when informing me that he knew I owned a shotgun. I told him it had been given me years ago by an SDI employee in trade for a computer I’d built for him and I wasn’t even sure if it were fired it wouldn’t blow apart. It was old.
He wanted it. He made a demand that made me pause. He demanded I surrender it to him and he made clear that if I didn’t, it would be a “deal breaker” in regards not only to the $5000 deal I’d signed onto at my boss’ behest but as far as being employed altogether. He didn’t say those words. He didn’t have to. I knew what he meant. I also knew this was not only highly unusual for any company to demand of their employee but incredibly illegal. I had no sentimental attachment to the gun whatsoever but the demand itself made me uncomfortable. I handed it over and Paneiko took it out to his car, putting it in his trunk. When I would later leave to Arkansas in September, SDI not only never reminded me about the weapon they had of mine (actually I don’t know where it was stored and didn’t care) but I only later remembered and had to remind them after SDI and I parted ways.
Once I’d gotten to Arkansas I’d also began trying to collect evidence wherever I could find it. I thought to ask Paneiko for a copy of the legal agreement between myself and the property owners of the Kester apartment.
Before we go back to early 2013, I thought it important to mention here that two things you will never find your employer doing is: A) Demanding any weapons in your possession to them and B) Having a legal document between you and your landlord ready to pay you to abandon your home for a cool five grand while you’re still trying to figure out what the fuck’s going on - then losing that document by the time you realize it’s damning evidence. The email from Paneiko on both counts will suffice since he acknowledges having a hand in them.
We must now travel back to early 2013 where I’m out of the apartment where I’m young, single and a free agent. “Free Agent” is also what Agent Raper’s colleagues call him because they can’t imagine him earning a salary wasting a year and a half on investigating how Dr. Damani goes to so many Seahawks games but lives in Arkansas. It confounds him. I said, “HE FUCKING LIVES IN SEATTLE!”
I moved around cheap motels in the Valley. I realized early on that every time I moved to a different one of these shitholes, I would predictably be met with one of several outcomes. Noise campaigns to rid me of sleep. No technology required. Slight vibrations in my body I would come to believe were brought on by old electrical wiring, their antiquated shielding allowing power to be released due to overpowering. And I would learn, very quickly, to abide by a single rule when moving into a new motel anywhere - never stay in a multi-level building. To do so would ensure that some a-hole wielding a magnetron zap gun would be above me, shocking me relentlessly until I would be forced out and into some single story trap down the street. It was tiring. It was expensive. And it was far too easy for the people who needed to constantly be next door to me to pay off the managers of these places to situate them just so.
Growing weary of moving hotel to hotel coincides with the reappearance of a friend who had grown quite distant after getting married. Confiding in him what had happened with the apartment and the Coetzees should have seen him saying, “Well, it was nice seeing you - so long!” Instead he invited me to move into his home with himself, his wife and their five year old son. Keith Breeden turning up to ask me to move into their million dollar home in a gated community sounded too good to be true. And by this point my ears pricked up at the slightest odd behavior by friends or family. Keith’s wife is an Associate Professor of Medicine at USC’s Keck who I only knew as someone who worked hard at USC as well as the multiple sites where she had rosters of patients. When she married Keith, he moved into her home and I, as well as Keith’s other raft of friends across the Valley, rarely saw him, if ever. I heard from Keith once every couple of years but other than that, he and his wife were quite happy alone with their son on the hill in Silverlake. So it was a surprise when I asked Keith if my moving in with their family was okay with Dohwa and he said she thought it was a good idea.
Bad sign number one: Keith turns up out of the blue and offers me a place to stay after the spectacular events at the Kester apartment. Bad sign number two: Dohwa is on board with this idea at all. As soon as I moved into their home I realized that the Coetzees’ driving me out of my home was so Keith could then guide me into his own. One would think that after all the chasing me around with a magnetic field antenna, me taking an axe to the kitchen cabinetry and my sawing through two live high power cables which could’ve killed me, Keith could’ve started out by asking me to move in.
Not long after I moved in, the glint of a silver battery hanging behind my car’s steering wheel caught my eye. As I gently traced the wiring up under the dash, I noted Keith hurrying into my car. I told him I’d found a battery and he asked me to move aside while he dropped into the floorboard and jammed his meaty arm up into the car’s wiring harness. “I used to build car stereos, so…” Thank God, a specialist had arrived. He pulled a device with blinking lights that had been mounted under the dash itself out and handed it to me. He spoke nervously as I took it from his sweaty hand as I noted the shitty wiring job someone had performed on the GPS unit’s connections. I’d seen it before many times and was the hallmark of Keith’s lazy electrical work. My guess from that moment was that Keith jumped in front of me to take out the tracking device he himself planted in case LAPD stopped all detective work to focus on trying to discover fingerprints on it. I just wanted it and wanted it working.
I put the SIM card in a cell phone and found there was no voice service but the SIM had text capability. This gave me the phone number of the service. With this kind of evidence, I was sure that in a month or so conspirators would be cutting deals with prosecutors to stay out of prison. I call it evidence but Agent Raper would call it, “You still believe people are tracking you?” I found that device in 2013 - it’s now 2021 and it sits in the same zip-loc bag I stuck it in all those years ago. I thought perhaps the number could be traced by law enforcement back to those whose name it was in but it wasn’t part of Agent Raper’s year and a half plan to gather zero evidence. He’s known around his office as “The Closer”. He’s closed more cases than any other agent in all of the OIG. He doesn’t solve them. He just closes them and moves on to the next one.
I moved into Dr. Kim’s home in late March and would eventually leave in late August 2013. The fact that I’d explained to Keith the hard-to-believe events surrounding my life, he and his wife suggested I move in with them and their young son so that if I were losing my mind, I wouldn’t have to be alone while doing it. This is opposite of what one might expect intelligent people to propose and it was just the beginning of people in my orbit acting this way. It seems that people near me the conspiracy required obliged and then acted as guides in this direction or that. The lengths the Coetzees, the owners of the Kester property and a handful of SDI employees had to go to push me out of my apartment and into homelessness seemed quite an undertaking. Then there would be those enlisted to get near me in the hotels so as to rob me of sleep, thereby keeping me moving from place to place. This all leads to Keith and Dr. Kim inviting me to live in their home. Besides guiding my direction out of my home and into the home of Dr. Kim, the outrageous tales of electronic attacks served as useful tools to paint me as losing my mind. When Keith invited me to move in I was nearly certain he was involved. Moving in cemented the fact of the matter.
I can’t be certain why this conspiracy required me to spend months at Dr. Kim’s. After a month of my living there, the house was to be tented so it could be treated with poison for a termite infestation. When we all returned after being forced out for three days, things slowly started up again. Keith had replaced the feather mattress in my bedroom with a brand new metal coil spring mattress and since I’d associated metal coil mattresses with the sensation of vibrations in my body I looked at the change as my being right once again. Before you poo-poo the notion of metal coils in mattresses being used to create vibrations in one’s body, I offer the following patent, held by USC’s Dr. Frances Richmond:
My experience at the Kester apartment, you’ll recall, included nervous system stimulator implants being used as motivators to get up and run for my life. Many times in the hotels I would experience slight vibrations I always felt emanated from the bed itself. I don’t mind saying I cut open more than one or two mattresses looking for some type of wiring or power source. I would only later realize the vibrations weren’t coming from the bed itself but from my body. The illustration above shows power lines connected to induction coils inside the mattress some poor dolt is sleeping upon. Once the vibrations began in my room at Kim’s house, I knew that changing out the mattress was necessary to achieve this. Though the sensation was so slight I don’t believe it’s something anyone wanted me fully aware of. The tenting of the house was done after it must have been concluded I felt safe in the house and wasn’t going anywhere. Once the tent was over the house and nobody allowed inside, new electrical wiring could be put into place below the floor in my bedroom. A high power line. To prove this, I waited until I was alone and went looking for it. I found a shiny new metal conduit leading to under the floor of my room and out to the home’s mains power supply. The conduit, I learned, could not be breached so there is no video or photographic evidence of the power lines themselves. But there are, however, audio recordings I created by securing a microphone to the floor under a cup and enough electrical tape to dampen any outside noise from ruining my recording. An alternating buzz of electricity can be heard going from a high pitch to lower. I’m not sure I needed hours of it but if you want a sample, I’d be happy to supply it.
I feel that Dr. Richmond’s magnetic wave induction mattress was nearly a perfect representation of what had been assembled for me at Dr. Kim’s home. But only a simple change would be needed to keep the wires from having to be connected to the coils in the mattress and that would be raising the amps of the power to drive the induction into the coils through the wood of the floor below the bed. I decided to record video of my iPhone sitting on top of the bed with a Magnetometer app running to see if I could capture abrupt changes in the bed’s magnetic field. Done and done:
Of course, if I had construed all this while living at Kim’s house I would’ve tried and found a history of electric bills past and current, so to speak. As to why the induction to stimulator system was required is something I still cannot answer. Testing wirelessly powered stimulator implants or recharging a stimulator implant’s battery through induction may have been the motivation as to they why. The slight vibrations caused by this system wasn’t enough to drive me out of Kim’s house. It was the fact that it happened at all that was upsetting. And the truth that my best friend in Los Angeles and his wife were fully fledged bought and paid for conspirators I had to feign ignorance around was just sauce for the goose. Since I’m touching upon being paid agents of an illegal endeavor, it should be noted that USC Professor Dr. Dohwa Kim, in the decades she’s been practicing medicine, made more money outside USC and her practice(s) in 2013 than at any other time since organizations kept track of such monies. These entities came into being to keep physicians and scientists as honest as possible. I’ll begin with an easy one:
Dr. Dohwa Kim was paid more than $50000 from 2010 - 2012, mostly for a clinical trial that ended, coincidentally, in October 2013:
It’s also listed on the government’s website www.clinicaltrials.gov as being the only clinical trial Dr. Kim has ever been associated with.
But since outright payment seems too bold for an illegal scheme, perhaps the IVF treatment she had then for some reason didn’t need, touched upon in her online diary that seems to exist only to make this odd non-point, at USC’s Fertility facility was payment enough. USC scholarships and fellowships can be nice bonuses when enlisting conspirators into selling their souls, for want of a better word.
When I first moved into Keith’s home I put a webcam out on the balcony of my second story room. I recorded as much as possible to my laptop on a daily basis and poured over the video - eventually hundreds of hours - looking for any type of clue. A couple of incidents involving a few people on the street stuck out as strange. When they happened I yelled, “AHA!” as if I’d found something. Just people acting weird to give me something to mull over (and over again) I supposed.
Going through some of the video I’d shot just prior one day, I heard a familiar voice speaking. A voice that didn’t belong with video I’d shot facing the street Kim’s house sat on. It was the quite noticeable voice of Don DeSanctis, the founder of SDI. In the video’s audio I could hear him talking but just barely. When a car passed on the street, Don’s voice grew louder. It was anytime noise became present that Don’s voice, along with others of people I worked with at SDI, would appear. When the noise ended, so did the voices.
Keith had built Dohwa a koi pond and with that pond he added a series of water jets that created the noise of a small, but loud, waterfall into the small pond. The jets were on a timer and began at 10AM and ended at 6PM. It would be inside those hours of my video/audio surveillance I would find a gold mine of evidence. But first, I would have to find a way to remove the noise. But the voices were inside the noise. I couldn’t afford to hire an audio forensics scientists so I worked for months to try and figure out the best denoising solution so I could play the original video/audio for someone then play the same clip denoised to reveal what appeared to be a looping audio program created for reasons I could not yet realize.
The voices created via destructive waveform interference grew louder and louder still. To the point where I stood with Keith in his kitchen and said, “You can’t hear that? Don DeSanctis’ voice booming out of your koi pond?” Loud enough where anyone standing anywhere near Dr. Kim’s garden would have heard it which also meant it was quite audible to human hearing and not limited to the scope of the webcam’s microphone I captured so much of it through.
I can’t say much else happened to note during my stay at Dr. Kim’s house. Keith obviously knew at one point that I already understood he was involved and would say odd things such as, “THEY just want you to keep your mouth shut…” telling me outright that those in charge of this program wanted me to shut up. I had news for Keith - a great many people in my life have always wanted me to shut up so this wasn’t any stunning revelation. And I guarantee you, reader, that the people named in these articles wished I had never begun divulging their roles in these matters and they all wish I would shut up. So it became apparent it was time to depart Keith and Dohwa Kim’s home. I took my audio and video recordings and new I wouldn’t need more than a month to reveal these vocalizations to the world, put all the clues together and go to law enforcement so the arrests could begin in earnest. I left for two weeks, feigning an emergency with SDI, to Arkansas where I could stay with a friend while I put it all together. SDI summarily fired me upon my arrival in The Natural State and the investigation would take not weeks or months but years to unravel.
This section takes us to 2017 but since it involves Keith Breeden and Dr. Dohwa Kim, I feel it belongs here to present to you and the public the kind of people they are when they think people aren’t recording their words. Immoral. Soulless. Greedy. Worms.
In 2017 I found myself lacking in the evidence department so I developed a plan that was shocking in its success. I would attempt to get Keith and Dr. Kim to hand me evidence by publicly poking them. I knew of an event in Keith Breeden’s life that happened just before he married avid shoe collector and soulless Dr. Dohwa Kim. I would purchase Keith’s criminal record from Los Angeles and create a website around it. Dr. Kim never discovered that her husband had, just prior to their honeymoon in Rio, been arrested for trying to pick up a hooker on Sunset Blvd. I had to create a mugshot from photos I had of Keith complete with him holding his booking number so that his face was out there for that certain kick in the nuts I knew he’d feel when he saw it. Under the photo, Keith’s only criminal act during his entire time in Los Angeles (besides the one he and his wife signed onto with me as the target). Then, a second page for the website. All it would have on it would be a simple comments form. It had to look simple and benign enough to look untraceable so that Keith and Dr. Kim could use it to direct their hatred my way. I rewrote the code behind the form so that anytime anyone filled it out and clicked the SEND button it would capture their IP address data, connecting the sender with an IP address that could be used in the future by the FBI to trace the comments directly back to Keith and Dohwa’s home and even the devices they used to send the comments. I truly didn’t think they’d fall for it but I couldn’t imagine how good the evidence of their involvement in this conspiracy could be and all because of a mix of their sheer stupidity mixed with flashes of rage.
These two, for some reason, think I truly believe a group of shadowy mercenaries are on their way to harm me and try desperately to instill fear in me using this idiotic rouse. Referring to me as a ‘test subject’ is what Keith, in the message above, does knowing it’s something we both know as a truth in regards to the conspiracy we’re both involved in. Then a message came in and, upon inspecting the device’s MAC address and IP data it was sent from Dr. Dohwa Kim.
Who could ever believe that a USC Professor - A physician with a stellar record in the medical community would include information about the implants in my body I would only discover years later. I thought she was trying to frighten me. Turns out her anger at my publicly displaying her husband’s dalliance was great enough to drive her to reveal the fact that RF radio gear had been installed in my brain. I would only realize she was using truth to lash out at me after the CT scan series in 2019 at the Fayetteville VA revealed what she claimed and far more. The ego it took to couch this intimate knowledge of what the VA, USC and Medtronic had done to me in 1999 inside what she thought was an untraceable message is stunning. And idiotic.
One final message came in later. It was sent as part of the limited series of messages started by Keith that spoke to a group of wet work spooks were coming to do me in.
But the message’s IP address wasn’t related to Keith or Dohwa and was not located in Los Angeles but in Little Rock, Arkansas. I thought, “The jokes on them, there’s no freeway between Little Rock and Fort Smith which gives me time to escape.” Then I remembered it wasn’t real and a scenario set up and delivered to me by morons.
I traced the IP address and endpoint data to my friend in Fort Smith’s wife. She happened to be at that exact location at the very time attending a sporting event with her daughter. When people on the internet talk about “Gang Stalkers” I must admit I’ve never seen them. I have encountered them, such as the sender of the message above, and they always turn out to be people in my orbit. Family members. Friends. Colleagues. Co-Workers. One must realize that the message above required my friend’s wife to go to the website with Keith’s mugshot and enter that message into the form fields in order to send it to me. So there is no mistake she coordinated with Keith and Dohwa to try and create this illusion, paltry as it was, that hitmen were not only on their way to kill or torture me but they were making sure to update me now and then. I guess I was supposed to believe the mercenary sending the message above sent it when they all landed at the airport in Little Rock. Idiotic.
I found so much success deriving evidence from Keith and Dr. Kim that I used the same idea using YouTube as the public arena to post videos of what scant physical evidence I had been finding, such as Medtronic’s drug-eluting microsphere array. I would post the videos and wait for analytical data to come in to see who was turning up to view what I was posting. Without fail, Medtronic always turned up. USC sometimes. When YouTube ended their offering posters analytical data I thought my run of evidence collection was over. Then I found that LinkedIn offers analytical data for any links posted that garner over a certain number of views. Again - Medtronic, even today, will always turn up to look at what I’m posting and I don’t know a soul in that place. To derive specific IP addresses I tried to trick interested viewers into clicking a fake link that did end up going to my YouTube videos but along the way collected IP data and - Medtronic, Medtronic, Medtronic. I’ll post that data later when we get to 2018. Now we must return back to 2014 where I’m struggling with denoising audio.
Below - Links to unedited surveillance video from August 21, 2013 and a denoised version of that same clip.
When I landed in Arkansas I continued to struggle ridding the best clips I selected of the koi pond noise (at that point in Aug 2013, Keith had begun leaving the koi pond waterjets on 24 hours a day to, I suppose, make sure I was capturing enough of it). Before we move to the next part of the story it should be noted that after toiling on audio files every day for weeks, I realized that this wouldn’t have been my first effort at denoising audio. Years prior my boss, Mary Adams, came to me with a request. She asked if I could possibly help her father-in-law who was in prison, put there by the FBI, and who would be coming up for an appeal or a request to get out early because he was too old to be in prison for robbing the retirement fund of the pension he oversaw for a union he represented in New Jersey. She handed me a catalog of CDs, telling me they were FBI original surveillance audio files the agency used in their evidence against her corrupt father in law. This was asked of me in 2004, long before 2013 set things off with a bang. I had no idea how to denoise audio and soon Mary’s husband was asking for the CDs back. I would eventually surmise that this request was made long before the 2013 set-off date to make sure I had absolutely no skill at removing noise from conversations couched therein.
The chore of removing noise from audio so the voices within are revealed was daunting. Not as daunting as some were about to make it. And not nearly as fun.
I found myself making headway in my noise removal work. Some days I could alter denoising settings in Adobe’s Audition application and find myself hearing clear, discernable conversation. I heard what sounded like a party setting with people arriving, including Don DeSanctis and his son, Barron. I don’t know why but I felt this party occurred in the house across the street from Keith’s home. Please remember that hours of work went into just getting this one file to where I could hear everything clearly. The first time I heard Don and Barron, they argued with someone who was one of the people throwing the party. This party celebrated the conspiracy around me, boasting video, slide shows and a hip MC. Don, upon seeing photos of me up on a screen, excoriated someone at the front door, calling them Nazis.
“What?” Did Don just stand up for me? Is this real?
The next time I edited that file, Don and Barron began a similar entry and stance but ended up being part of those in charge of making it seem a real event though actors had been hired and the entire thing had been staged. I heard Don hitting on one of the actresses after the event was over. So now Don isn’t on my side…
The next time I worked on the file, the party seemed to move across the street to Keith’s house. I heard Keith, at one point, lean in toward the microphone and say, “Hey, Matt, I’ll fucking kill you later. I have to serve drinks right now.” He did sound in a rush. The audio then focused on Don, his wife Karen and several others going into my room at Keith’s and going through my things. What the fuck am I listening to?
No matter which audio file I selected I began getting different variations on the theme of a party. Or a gathering. It will make sense soon, I promise.
The days after I would work a particular file for hours, thinking I’d saved it in its pristine, clear to anyone who listened to it, version I’d worked so hard on, I would listen to it again and it was a garbled mess. They never sounded anything like they had the day prior and all the work I thought I’d put into editing them had been a waste.
The laptop I had been using in this work was given to me as part of my separation agreement with SDI. It was the laptop I’d last used as an employee there and they didn’t want it back after firing me. Had someone tampered with the laptop’s security or OS and been coming in and altering my files? No would be the answer I would discover soon after asking the question.
I sat at my friend’s dining table ready to try again to commit to hours of removing noise from yet another hour long file. I clicked the play button in the editor then looked to read something. I realized no audio was playing. I looked up and saw that the file was not only playing but was a very loud WAV file. My headphones were on my head… The audio was turned up. What’s going on?
“Uh… Am I supposed to say something?” was spoken to me through my headphones. I didn’t know how to answer that, literally, as I watched the file continue to play. I don’t recall exactly what was said next but I do remember anger welling up in me as I realized someone was speaking to me live. The audio stream of the laptop had been hijacked and it began to dawn on me that all the editing I had done and all the crisp, clear resultant voices I’d worked so hard to coax from the noise had been live or prerecorded audio shows. And whoever had access to my audio stream, no doubt, had the ability to fade noise in and out into their broadcast.
As I said, I don’t remember what the person at the microphone was saying to me. All I remember was immediately taking my laptop apart and pulling all the wireless networking components out of it. Bluetooth card - out. WiFi card - gone. Antennas unplugged. And still the person spoke to me. Now knowing their penchant for humor the person probably suggested removing other components then said, “I’m just trying to help!”
And so my long relationship with those at the other end of our private communication loop began. And soon, I wouldn’t even need headphones but I didn’t yet know I already had a pair of RF-enabled cochlear implants mounted to my skull, courtesy of USC and Medtronic engineers with the assistance of VA physicians.
Sound crazy? Let’s insult the engineers involved in creating this system by saying it’s so simple even USC engineers unmoored from morality could build one. Let’s go over the checklist of major components:
Two cochlear implants with RF reception capability - for binaural hearing: Check
This imaging provided by Fayetteville VA. 3D modeling performed by Matt Sutherland. Radiologist Dr. Damani omits these items from his report but when I called him he assured me I suffered from “Calcificochlearization” when calcium deposits assemble to greatly resemble cochlear implants and to stop calling him. When I phoned him to question him regarding my discovery of these units he never did go and amend his report because he didn’t want to sully a perfectly crafted fictional radiology report. He also knew I’d download many copies of my medical record with his amended report so his lies would be cemented into the record.
So two cochlear devices that have, somewhere in this wide array of components an RF radio receiver connected to them. This enables them to receive radio transmissions without the need for any external equipment.
Stereo radio receivers with cochlear implants directing the signals directly into my cochlea means hands free phone calls which is cool. It also means you have no choice but to take the call. If you could only hear the things I’ve heard. And still hear.
But for a fully functional bi-directional system, meaning RF signals can also travel out of the system back to the transmission/receiving station in real time, there must be a microphone. Wrong-O. Because using my mouth to speak on that network went out the window around 2015. To achieve this, a way to collect and transmit the electrical activity in the language parts of my brain would be needed. This would require a neural array and transmitter to send that neural data out as collected in real time.
Let’s start with one of the original 2D DICOM images that were found inside the VA’s CT scan of my brain, which consisted of nearly 400 single images.
Now some 3D models created from the scan series. The array of connected box-shaped components that run down the middle of my brain. The dense highly reflective objects in white in the 2D image above are displayed in red in the 3D image below. You can double click the image to enlarge it for a better view.
The dense object in my frontal lobe sits in what looks to be a port that has a multitude of wiring running to it. Perhaps it’s a battery. Maybe it’s the transmitter that Professor Dohwa Kim of USC spoke of that would cause such a ringing I would beg for death. But she was just being hopeful, I imagine. Note the rows of twisted wires beneath the dense component.
How they implanted it would be a question I knew I would have to answer since my investigation must be fulsome so when law firms go to extract a billion dollars from Medtronic for the actions of their engineers no stone will go unturned.
I found the entryway for the length of components that comprise the neural array. When I discovered it I had to pause for a moment so I could shudder at the thought of having a pocket sliced into the tough dura matter down the middle of my brain. After setting my 3D modeling application to view bone density the slit wasn’t hard to find. Probably cut out with a bone saw and filled in with surgical bone cement. The slit appears without thinning the bone because of its less dense nature.
I’ve given you a preview of the next article by explaining why a conspiracy exists within the VA system to ensure the secret of the system their physicians illegally implanted into my body years ago must never be revealed. The league of corporate and academic coconspirators have access to unlimited resources with which to bribe anyone I encounter as I’ve made my way through the VA system looking for answers. I was stunned at the revelation that so many professionals inside that system can be bought and paid for to not only keep in place a culture of silence but to forge bits of false information to be placed into my medical record so that I appear to be falling into madness.
I’ve decided to stay out of that system until I can route out the cancer of corruption that pervades VA hospitals and clinics from Los Angeles in 1999 to Fayetteville and Little Rock, Arkansas. And if you can’t tell by now I will never yield in my pursuit for justice for myself and for those the VA, at the behest of titanic corporate sponsors like Medtronic, would see turned into walking test platforms for their medical devices.
Stay tuned for my next Substack article which will detail the circle of physicians I found to be those responsible for initiating this conspiracy upon me. Dr. Wang, you’re up! I’ll also explain the how, why and who was involved in another necessary component for this neural communications system to function at all - building a vocabulary to match the electrical activity in the language centers of my brain.
I also am working on new entire CT scan series of my entire body that are not only far more highly defined than the VA CT series but focus on this system’s components so that I may find their serial numbers and chip on board design to identify manufacturers.
And someone please inform Geoff Martha, CEO of Medtronic that, like all the baby photos of those in his employ, he will one day see me in court wearing a “FUTURE CEO OF MEDTRONIC” tee shirt. That mutherfucker better get his house in order lest he be connected to those guilty within his ranks.
Until next time!