The following is an email I sent to the one person I trust in the world. I call him Dickhead. Not just for anonymity purposes, either. We have called each other Dickhead since we have known each other. He is like the cool, adopted uncle I never had. He is someone who has known my mom and I since I was twenty years old. He is the only person I know who has some kind of connection with the F.B.I. The Fuzz would be interested in what I have to say. At least, I think so. So, the best way to get to The Fuzz is through Dickhead.
***Note: I fixed the grammar that I neglected to fix when I sent my friend the email. I also removed the identity of the person entering my house. Other than that, it is pretty raw.***
04-10-2023 1:00 PM MTN
I will begin with a few facts that made me begin looking into this the last few months:
1. I knew something was up when I texted my mother that I thought it was odd that there are no pictures of her pregnant with me. She had no response.
2. Dad’s biological father was in the military. Texas. He never knew him. The man he knew as his father, I was told, was Steve Torres-his stepfather. Recently, after I began putting pieces together, I texted Dad to ask what his stepdad’s name was and suddenly his stepfather’s name is now Raymond Michael. A lie. That is brother’s name who just passed away.
3. Mom told me when I was born, Dad took me to Texas for two weeks to stay with a woman because Mom says she was having trouble or some shit. When I asked my mom who the woman was, more recently, she said she could not remember. She said that she thinks it was my dad’s grandmother. She is lying. She never once told me it was my great-grandmother Tila. She forgot who it was because it did not happen, I called my Dad to ask who the woman was and he told me he could not remember. How do both parents suddenly forget who they gave their newborn to for a few weeks? Then, about six months ago, I noticed the extra door at Paul’s house that was never there before. A single door in between his apartment and his neighbor. It just appeared one day. The pharmacy at our local grocery store, John Brooks, boarded up and closed. It was open just two days before. Then there is the Sands Motel on California Street. It was old and out of business, but it was there. Suddenly, it was gone. Like, gone. Police told me it was bulldozed two months prior. (Um, no. It was not.)
3. Someone has been in my house when I am not home. His name os Stephen A. Carrasco. He has a key. I do not know how he got it He was the new Chef at New Mexico Tech. He is also an undercover police officer let me know they are there by leaving certain things out of place. Once, the door was wide open and my kitties were chilling, like the he had just been there chilling with them. Thinking I had an idea who was violating my privacy, I started leaving messages for Chef Stephen once I left my house. This was the best way for me to get information to authorities without my going to the police department. We had a system. I would write down information on a piece of paper and leave it on my desk. I would leave the house for work or the bar and tell him to roll a piece of the notebook paper back to let me know he had been there to take pics of the information so that I could get rid of what I left them. I would leave a Post-It note on Chef’s desk saying “messages” or something like that and he would find a reason to leave the work, go to my place and get them.
Someone began downloading my browsing history about a year ago. Maybe longer than that, but I noticed a year ago. I communicate with them through coded text messages and emails. What I did not realize, is that if I make an agent, they must quit their assignment. Three undercovers, Louie-police officer, Tania-pysch doc, and Chef. Oh, and a bunch of agents assigned by a fake website called Chefonthefly.com. Chef Mike knew I made him and even informed me one night that our conversation was begin recorded. I told him I already knew. The agents that I make at the bar, I make by showing them with the pendulum. They never deny it. I tell them I know why they are there, and I thank the ones who are there to make sure I am safe. The ones I know who are there just to try and get information out of me, I tell to suck it. They leave shortly after. I used the pendulum through a magnet. I never touch the chain that moves. Why can I move things with my mind?? I found out about all the fraud, I called my mom to confront her. I got silence. No, “Wait, what are you talking about?” or ‘You’re talking crazy.” She was silent because she knew I was right. She always told me I was sensitive. I did not know that ‘sensitive’ meant a fucking medium. Her and my father know I have these powers because of my blood. She made up a story about people going to visit her for dinner. These two people live in Arizona. Before confronting my mom and dad, I called my godmother Barbara Ann Reskin. Husband was Frank Reskin. 2664 Trenley Court. Simi Valley, California. Telephone number is still 805-583-2248.
I do not remember Frank other than one picture I have seen of him and Barbara holding me outside the church when I was baptized. I guess he passed away a long time ago. Mom and I lived with Barbara and her and frank’s daughter Shannon Ruth Reskin from Pre-Kindergarten to age 8 or 9, I think. A few months ago, when I was putting things together, it drew me to the conclusion that my godfather Frank just disappeared. My gut tells me not legitimately. So, I called Barbara a before calling my parents a few months ago. When I called, after asking how she was, I asked what had happened to Frank. She immediately got defensive and asked why I was asking. I asked why she was getting defensive when I was merely asking what had happened to him. She told me she did not want to discuss it with me. I told her I knew why and hung up. That is when I called my parents…like, a few days later.
Now, you are probably wondering why all the hush hush over being a medium? What’s the big deal? Well, here we go:
When I moved out here in July 2019, my medium abilities and intuition amplified. All that time I thought it was bipolar disorder. We all did. After stopping the medication and doing research, I confirmed I was misdiagnosed. I am a medium with attention deficit disorder. It explains all my symptoms. After doing some test readings for friends who had loved ones who had passed on, they all confirmed I was legit. They said I knew and told them things there was no way I could possibly know.
Now, while out here, I noticed two things: Every other dude out here, who is from here, has the name Joe. Either a middle name or first name. Steven, Richard, Benjamin, Antonio or Anthony and Tom, too. My Dad’s full name is Robert Anthony Torres. Mom is Susan Angela Torres. Maiden name Sanchez.
There are way too many men out here who resemble my father and my uncle Ernie. Bone structure, mannerisms, everything. Why?
I started with a family tree and noticed some weird, fucking shit. It got weirder when I compared this tree with the oddly familiar people I know out here. Background reports of my father, myself, my mother, my mother’s ex Richard, my grandfather Dennis and my uncle Ernie are now in my possession. Names and alias my mother and father have used are listed. My mom told me years ago someone thought she was a Silvia Torres. That is one alias. Mom also told me years ago, that her and Dad, my Uncle Ernie and my aunt Toni had to go to New Mexico to sell some property that the four of them had bought out here a long way back. I could swear she said New Mexico, but something led me to the mineralholdings.com website in Texas. My Dad is from Texas. All my dad’s relatives are from Texas. Lots of testing in that area…radiation, you know…keep that in mind.
So, I go to the website and type in Robert Anthony Torres. I attached a copy of his report to this email. When I typed in his name at the mineralholdings.com website, I see this:
A little further down on the left with those names in blue, you would see ROBERT TORRES. But you see some of these other names? Like:
Roberts Holly Torres? Torres Roberto A and Mary Lou G? (Mary Lou just happens to be a good friend of my mother’s.) Roberts Holly Torres sounds and feels made up. So does Torres Roberto Miller M. Want to see what comes up when I type in Holly Roberts? I get this:
When I type in any combination of these names, I get people who own property in Texas that claim to be getting oil. If you have a notary as a friend, how hard is it to steal an identity once that person is reported deceased? Because I received links to two obituaries. One for my mother and one for my father not long after I confronted them about this. However, I guarantee if I drove there, they are both alive and well. However, they have already started to change their identities again. If I type in my Susan Burrell in Canyon Country, the name she had when she married Richard Burrell, I see this:
THAT is not my mom, and you know this. That is Heidi Popp. Her husband is John Popp. They adopted a boy named Kyle. We have been camping with them for years. The bio shows info about mom, not Heidi. Why?
Here is another website with info on my mother:
What is correct? Birth date 11/13/1954. She answers to those names, yes. She does NOT work at 24 hr. fitness, let alone an Operation Executive. The members of her family listed are no one I know, but the isaias is a son she has that I never knew she had. Her background reports shows an email address I never knew she had with the name Isaais. Ironically, it shows he lives not far from her in Canyon Country. Her attorney is Guy Smith. Her friend Kathy’s husband.
My parents and uncle had property they sold in Texas. What if they sold property that had oil wells that were no longer producing oil?
If I type in my mothers name on the mineralholders site, I get this:
Now, my uncle Ernie. He has a daughter named Nicole, FYI:
There is identity theft, bankruptcy and mortgage fraud and other shit going on. I must be close, because I am being monitored, followed and protected. There is someone here, Gerome Fountain but goes by Bam, who knows all of this already and has just told me not to tell anyone about this. He feels my parents would want me dead and I agree. I am their only liability because if I go to the FBI with this information, and I am trying to, they are all three, and more, who are finished. This town knows who I am before I know who I am. My birth certificate is fake, too. Using a certain filter, I was able to see all the areas where white-out was used. Everything whited-out, but the doctor’s signature. It is as if many were printed out with just the doc’s signature, then anyone’s name could be created. I will send you a picture of my birth certificate with the filter later tonight. Right now, I must go to work.
I think I can remote view. That is one of the reason’s any secret organization would be interested in those like me. Plus, I now know that Socorro New Mexico is a simulated city to cover up what is or what happened in Texas. Simi Valley, Pacific Bell and car dealerships. It all goes further, but my parents are involved with this. Everything points to it. If I am wrong, why would there be any need to download my web browsing history? Or send me random text messages like: www.jailuniform.com?
From my command prompt, his is what I see to show me when they are watching.
Without my phone plugged in to disable the hotspot, I get this below. Keep in mind, without my phone plugged in, I have no internet service.
They knock me offline if someone in the area is trying to hack me. When there is no threat nearby, I can connect. Ever since I began researching these things, suddenly there are new Wi-Fi networks available near me, but no new neighbors to explain where they popped up from.
Whatever capabilities I have were given to me because of screwing with embryos with more than one father’s DNA, and, alien DNA out here and/or Los Alamos, Texas and a facility in Panama doing stem-cell research on embryos. This is why when I arrived here, I now speak another language never documented and receive downloads to fix the damage DNA through telepathy. Crop circles have come out in my writing. Lats and longitude coordinates for some place in Antarctica. Why?
Bam tells me, today, I need to stop looking into this. At some point, someone is going to be hired to kill me.
However, I am letting you know anyway. I was told you were the person I was supposed to go to from the beginning. I just needed to get more information first. There is more, too. So much more.
***Dickhead thinks I may be on to something.***
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