My story is considerably different from that of the typical trauma-based mind control (TBMC) survivor, although there are many commonalities.
I was born and raised mormon in Utah. I'm not sure that someone who was not can really understand what an oppressive theocracy Utah actually is (especially if one is not an “active” member of their cult). From my observations, because Brigham Young allegedly said “this is the place,” mormons from the Salt Lake Valley consider themselves as somehow superior to other mormons. It is also curious that mormons refer to non-mormons as “Gentiles,” but they are a rather curious bunch in general..
As a matter of clarification, because of the abuse and trauma I received from them, I do not have enough respect for mormons, freemasons, shriners, satanists, or luciferians to capitalize those words (although the Substacks editor apparently keeps trying to force me to).
I am not going into the occult roots and other problems inherent in mormonism here, as so many others have exhaustively covered them elsewhere. An interesting book that covers this is Free at Last by Dr. A. True Ott (it also touches on TBMC and some biblical stuff at the end.)
More information including experiences of former mormons may be found at
https://www.exmormon.org/
http://www.utlm.org/
A more humorous treatment of this subject is at
http://www.salamandersociety.com/
Possible Family Connections
Aside from mormonism, my father's was the “normal” side of my family. I remember hearing that my grandfather may have been a “master mason” at one time, but I don't have anything concrete here (and he died in a head-on collision when I was only 3 years old). Strangely, I have more childhood memories from ages 2 through 5 years old than I do from 6 through 10 years old or so. This is probably a fairly good indicator that someone or something was messing with my memory circuits later in my childhood.
I do not remember any masonic bullshit going on at my grandfather's funeral, but I do remember the military guard and 21-gun salute in the cemetery (he was a WWI veteran). I remember picking up several of the shiny, hot brass cartridge casings from where they landed in the bright green cemetery grass. For a long time after that, those shell casings were my most prized possessions, really the only physical objects that I had to remind me of my grandfather. I would smell the gunpowder residue in those casings for a long time.. until the smell eventually faded away.
Because both of my parents worked as school teachers, I was essentially raised by my grandfather for my first 3 years. My life was pretty much one big adventure in the mountains and deserts of Utah, on the ranch and fishing with Grandpa. That is until a day in July when he went through that windshield and died on the shoulder of US-89, a few miles north of the Manti mormon temple (Grandpa died about 4 or 5 miles from his home in the weeds beside a 2-lane highway)…
On to one of my uncles. I was told he worked as a “translator” for the CIA. He pretty much abandoned all ties with his father and brothers after he retired and returned to Utah. I don't have much more information on this uncle, so I suspect the CIA thing could be fairly accurate. It's kind of difficult to keep secrets in a small Utah town, but my uncle seems to have mastered it for decades.
Definite Family Connections
My mother's was the much “less normal” (and incidentally much MORE mormon) side of my family. The youngest 2 (of 5 total) siblings were/are bisexual and one of them died of AIDS. This may not seem unusual today, but in a Utah mormon small-town farming community of 40 years ago, 40 percent is ridiculously high! This is often an indicator of sexual abuse (and there were DEFINITELY other types of abuse going on in that home).
My maternal grandfather was also a sheep rancher, but he was much wealthier than my father's dad. My maternal grandmother grew up poor, “married upwards,” and never looked back. In fact, my grandmother would get furious when I visited her own poor “shut in” mother who only lived about 6 blocks away in a half-tumbled down tiny 3-room house. She was extremely competitive, to the point of cheating in order to beat her own grandchildren at board games. She was also very verbally abusive to nearly everyone who “displeased” her for whatever reason.
My mother's older brother was a cruel, sadistic monster, even as a child. My mother told me that he was constantly trying to “play doctor” with her from the time she was 7 or so (he would have been 8 or 9 at the time). When she was 8, she “accidentally” fell out of the back seat of a car with “suicide doors” on the highway and she was comatose for several days. From what she told me, she was visited by what could best be described as an angel during this time. My mother is “certain” that she wasn't pushed out of the moving car, but she has no idea why she is so “certain.” (Sure sounds like post-hypnotic mind-control programming to me). My mother also has memories of being rolled up in a rug and being thrown into very cold water (drowning/”simulated” drowning are classic satanic Ritual Abuse [SRA] tortures). As a child, her older brother would give her the choice of watching him torture one of her pet kittens to death, or else he would put ALL the kittens in a bag and drown them (again, classic SRA no-win, double bind trauma). My uncle absolutely LOVED to kill and/or torture animals, and he was awfully mean to children as well, including his own. This uncle would always mis-pronounce my name in a belittling, mocking “old world” manner. Looking back, this may have been programming reinforcement or the name of an alter.
I have no memories of my maternal grandfather being involved in any of this abuse, but what “love” was in that home was on a conditional basis, and “duty” and keeping up appearances were the primary, possibly only priorities. Either way, this grandfather died from complications after open-heart surgery when I was 6. I think that after both of my grandfathers were buried and my father was soon to be “out of the way,” my grandmother and uncle had much more access to me, as well as much more “rope… “
Within about a year of losing my 2nd grandfather, I was told that my parents were getting divorced. Because of how they had been arguing, I already knew this, but I somehow blamed myself for their divorce (as 6/7 year olds do). This is about the same time that my childhood memories started to “disappear.” For whatever reason, my mother kept me from seeing my father for about 2 years after the divorce, possibly on the “advice” of her mother and older brother. When I finally did get to see him, I was a completely different kid, and I had forgotten how to even TALK to my own FATHER! I had also been baptized into the mormon church right after my 8th birthday (as was expected) by the mormon bishop, as my father was in the process of being “excommunicated” from the mormon cult.
My father was a very kind and loving man though, and I am certain that neither he nor my mother were involved in the abuse and trauma-based mind control programming (TBMCP). Because my mother was going to graduate school after the divorce, I spent much of my summer “vacations” at my grandmother's house in Ephraim or at another uncle’s house in Moroni or Spring City to play with my 2 cousins and help with chores. Strangely, I only have 2 or 3 conscious memories from any of this time which now leads me to think my memories of those times must be locked in my subconscious mind. It is also worth noting that Sanpete County is mentioned heavily in the Hamblin case, so SRA was definitely going on in the area where I would spend weeks or a month during the summer as a child.
Both my grandmother and the sadistic uncle (Mom's oldest brother) ended up being business partners in both my mother's and in my father's real estate after my parents’ divorce, so these 2 were kind of always “lurking in the woodwork” during my later childhood. The sadistic uncle was a professor at Brigham Young University (BYU) in Provo and VERY high up in the mormon church. He also had a habit of randomly showing up during the day where I was home alone, some 50 miles north of where he worked and lived. Again, I have no conscious memories of WHY my uncle was doing this, but I remember several random “visits” from my uncle at my Salt Lake City home. Because my mother was in graduate school, I was alone a LOT after the divorce. It is interesting that this uncle is who taught me to ride a bicycle rather than either of my parents, so he must have been around quite a bit during that time.
It is also curious that years later, his BYU email address was a jumbling of his actual initials as MKS@byu.edu. He seemed to consider this as some “clever” personal secret code, although he attributed it to the metric Meter, Kilogram, Second system of units. It might be a coincidence, but I think the readers here are probably aware of the “MK” connection.
Somewhere during this time, my mother got me a puppy, a GORGEOUS blue-eyed, cinnamon colored Husky. I was SO happy! One day I RAN home from school to water and play with my new puppy (it was probably very early in my 2nd grade school year). I unscrewed the nut and removed the bolt from the gate latch, opened the gate, and…
there was no puppy in our 6-foot high chain-link fenced back yard (again, there was a bolt holding the gate latch shut). I looked everywhere in the neighborhood, made flyers, everything. Needless to say I was heartbroken. It is possible that someone simply stole my puppy (it was a BEAUTIFUL dog) while I was at school. But looking back, would my sadistic uncle who LOVED killing and torturing animals and who just randomly showed up at our house during the day possibly be involved in my puppy's disappearance from a latched, fenced yard? I have always wondered who put the nut and bolt back in the gate latch after taking my puppy. Strange.. and it should have been a padlock, not a bolt.
As a consequence of being divorced in a mormon Salt Lake neighborhood, we were suddenly “that family” of rumor, and my school friends were no longer allowed to play with me. So no friends, no Dad around, no new puppy, just a weird sadistic “gun nut” uncle who drove 100 miles out of his way to randomly show up every so often when I was home alone. That, my books, and long stays in Sanpete County with Grandma or Mom's other, younger brother (who was about to have a divorce of his own) and his 2 kids (my first cousins). My grandmother remarried, and I spent much of one summer at her house in Preston, Idaho. I have maybe 4 conscious memories from about that many years during these times.
Thankfully, my mother decided to sell our house that my grandmother and BYU uncle were financially entangled in. We moved to a new Salt Lake suburb where I could actually have friends, I was able to get much more distance from my grandmother and uncle, and Grandma promptly sued her own daughter to take away Mom's inheritance (which Grandma and my uncle did). I remember my grandmother just randomly showing up at the new house one day and me running away down the hill in my football uniform (headed to little league practice when Grandma showed up). That was nearly the last time I had anything to do with my grandmother. I was either 10 or 11, and she eventually died when I was 38.
It is curious that I discovered years later at the Salt Lake County Recorder that my grandmother had put several properties in my name right after I had turned 18 (still a senior in high school). I have absolutely NO conscious memory of doing it, but that sure as HELL looked like my signature on the notarized Quit Claim deeds! This also could have jeopardized my chances at college scholarships, but I was able to get 2 of them anyway (as well as have employers who paid for education) and graduate.
It is worth noting that the mind control programmers and handlers would take full advantage of all the very early losses I experienced, telling me that “I deserved it” and that I would “lose everything that I ever loved.” I probably suffer those scars to this day as I have been called “very emotionally cold” by my girlfriend. I'm still working on that..
On the Radar, but Whose?
I need to rewind about 15 years here, back to when my parents were still married and my maternal grandfather was still alive. I had learned to read around 2-3 years old (again, both parents were teachers). In (public) school, I nearly always got A's and I was repeatedly tested years ahead of my grade level. In 1st grade, I did so well in math that I was sent to a 6th grade math class to learn junior-high level pre-algebra. That was an absolute social disaster though and didn't last long, and I was assigned a private tutor by the school. I typically was tested in the 98-th percentile and was in whatever “Gifted & Talented” program my school district had put together. I remember many “experts” just randomly showing up at my (public) elementary school and testing me, but I can only consciously remember portions of 1 or 2 of those “testings.”
Fast forwarding: the divorce, a missing father, a missing puppy, then I am diagnosed with “rheumatic fever” (I'm pretty sure this was the first few months of 2nd grade). Within a month, my mother and older sister were also diagnosed with “rheumatic fever.” Strangely, 3 of 4 family members came down with the same disease within a month, which is NOT contagious as it is a blood disease! (My father did not “catch” it, but he had rheumatic fever as a boy). I missed most of that school year, and a private tutor was sent to my home. My sister and I were forced to go in once a month to get a MASSIVE “penicillin” injection in either buttock to “prevent us from catching strep throat again.” We also had EKG (and likely EEG in retrospect) “tests.” For me, this continued for just over 3 years, once every month. The shot was EXTREMELY painful, and it was difficult to walk or sit for about a week afterward. It felt like a baseball-sized rock inside my 7 year old buttock. I received about 40 of them in total. The “rheumatic fever” happened 1-2 years after the Church Committee, and about 18 years before the Human Radiation Experiments Hearings.
Years later when I was in high school, I worked at a gas station/convenience store. One of our regular customers just happened to be our GP, Dr. Richard Clover, the guy who had given my family all those PAINFUL, deep IM “penicillin” injections about 10-12 years before. He was now driving a “gray market” Mercedes two-seater that was only available in Germany. He had imported it to the east coast and hired a guy to drive it all the way from Pennsylvania to Salt Lake City! One night, I handed him back his credit card and let him know that he had been our family doctor years before. It took a LOOOONNG while, but he finally remembered us/me, and he “felt TERRIBLE for putting a little boy” through “all that..” He seemed genuinely remorseful, even insisting that we go for a ride in his new grey-market Mercedes 2-seater. He even insisted that I drive it, urging me repeatedly to push it over 100 MPH on the Salt Lake crowded freeway at night. It was a REALLY fast car-it accelerated maybe a little faster than my dirt bike.
Anyway, that was very strange night, Dr. Clover felt “TERRIBLE” for what he had put me through, and I would bet that car cost him at least a quarter-million dollars (back in the 1980s). That seems like a lot of money for a family doctor/general practitioner from Taylorsville, Utah.. I wonder where it came from.. There may have been some programming reinforcement too, as he was so insistent that I go for a ride in his Mercedes 2-seater.
Scouting and the “temple”
The mormon church was so closely entangled with the Boy Scouts then in Utah that they were more like one monolithic entity. I did pretty well in scouts and was nearly an Eagle Scout early on as I earned merit badges very quickly. (Of course, as the son of a divorced single mother in this quasi-masonic organization, 2 of the “creepy” scout masters kind of tried to single me out away from the group repeatedly, but I was having none of that!)
Possibly because I had done well in scouting, I was selected for a “special mormon church program.” We had to go to church and scouts regularly, hold the aaronic “priesthood,” pay tithing, and have many very embarrassingly awkward “worthiness interviews” with the mormon bishop and be found to be “in good standing” in their cult. Several of us were “selected” to go to the Jordan River Temple for “services” (err-RITUALS) early one morning before middle school. I was either 13 or 14 years old, and we were picked up at the local mormon church at about 2:00 or 2:30 A.M. At the time, the Jordan River Temple was the newest one operating in the mormon cult.
I have only a few memories of what happened that night, but I remember having “hangover”-like symptoms for 2 or 3 days afterward, and I did not drink alcohol at that time. I was likely drugged and electroshocked heavily that night. I remember being led repeatedly through dozens of doors and curtains, and we COULD NOT have found our way out of that place if we were given a map! Then we were isolated from each other.
My “church clothes” were taken from me by a temple worker and I was forced to strip completely naked in a weird little gray “dressing area” that only had a pine bench bolted to the floor. One of the temple workers then brought me a “shield” to wear. This was a heavy, whitish fabric “poncho,” essentially a rectangle of carpet with a neck-hole cut in it. You can do an internet search for “naked touching” and “mormon temple” to find out what happened next.
I was led into a room and the door was closed, leaving me semi-naked in a room with an elderly man with bright white hair in a white suit and white shoes who was extremely tall, nearly freakishly so. It seemed like he was an “important” man as the temple workers seemed to be fawning and kowtowing over him. I remember him having absolutely HORRIBLE breath while he was behind me doing the “touching.” I remember repeatedly elbowing his arms away when he started getting especially “inappropriate” and he nervously left the room, closing the door behind him.
After a while, I was led to another “dressing area” and given a scratchy, white leisure-suit thing to wear. It was much too small and it dug into my scrotum area badly. We were then grouped back together, and some ritualistic schpiel was read and we had to repeat some of it. Then we were led to the font for the “baptism for the dead.” I think the font was on the backs of 13 oxen, and a temple worker went on about how 13 was a very special number. I was then forcibly “baptized” in EXTREMELY cold water (probably 40-45 degrees F), and I was held under roughly for a very long time. I remember twisting and kicking my legs and punching to get away from the man holding me under this extremely cold water.
After this ordeal I was led to another (maybe the same?) “dressing area” and left there alone for a long time, cold and soaking wet in this painful jumpsuit, presumably as a punishment. I actually started to wonder if I was going to ever get my clothes back or make it to school on time. It felt like I had been kidnapped (and in retrospect, that is EXACTLY what had happened). After what seemed like 3 hours, I was brought my church clothes, but my underwear was MISSING! I kept yelling to the temple workers, and they eventually brought me a soaking wet pair of underwear that were about 4 sizes bigger than me and they had someone else's name written in them! I had to wear these very baggy, wet underwear all day when I was eventually dropped off at my middle school.
That is really all I can consciously remember about that night, and there may have been more TBMC programming as well as ritual and sexual abuse that I cannot remember. Either way, I pretty much had my fill of the mormon church after being sexually abused and nearly drowned in super-cold water at the Jordan River temple that night, and I pretty much quit going to church and scouts after that. I have also not heard of anyone else going to mormon temple “services”/rituals while in middle school. Missionaries go to the temple, but they are over the age of 18, and they don't talk about temple rituals anyway. It is interesting to consider this Fritz Springmeier quote in my personal temple experience:
By the way, when giving the Patriarchal Blessing, the Mormon Patriarch if he has a Monarch slave will use hypnosis and triggers to convince the person what their future will be like. One can’t say this is happening in every case, but it is very widespread for the Patriarch who give these blessings to be part of the Trauma-based mind-control operations.
Leaving their cult and distancing myself from my grandmother and uncle seemed to work, and my life got much more normal for about 20 years. I spent summers and weekends working on my father's ranch and I did well in school and graduated from college, then shit started to get weird again..
The more I read, the more I’m convinced there’s deep intertwining. Though personally raised primarily under calvinism, I more recently felt stalked by a devout mormon. Regardless, they all act as if from the same ‘book.’
Looking forward to understanding more from you, THANK YOU for sharing a tiny slice of your own horrors. Seems to me that you/mormon escapees are leading quite a bit of our growing awareness.
No doubt it was your a-hole uncle that took your pups, too (imo).
The more I read, the more I’m convinced there’s deep intertwining. Though personally raised primarily under calvinism, I more recently felt stalked by a devout mormon. Regardless, they all act as if from the same ‘book.’
Looking forward to understanding more from you, THANK YOU for sharing a tiny slice of your own horrors. Seems to me that you/mormon escapees are leading quite a bit of our growing awareness.
No doubt it was your a-hole uncle that took your pups, too (imo).