Brent Spiner's 2002 Statement Against Loree McBride in Court
MY LIFE FROM 1998 to 2001 (Brent Spiner used this statement in court against Loree McBride). Both my son and I (Gail Chord Schuler) suffered terrible allergies that debilitated us, and in June 1998, because I was so dizzy, I tripped and fell over a dog gate in front of my bedroom (at the bedroom doorway). My knee landed hard on something sharp (on the top of our dehumidifier) that cut me to the bone on my left knee. “Son go get the first aid kit now. I’m bleeding bad and have hurt myself. I’ll need stitches. Blood’s coming out fast.” My son rushed to get the first aid kit. With lightning speed I put pressure over the wound, because blood was gushing out, and wrapped the gauze securely around my left knee. It was only me and my son. I limped to the phone, and asked one of my church friends (a warrant officer in the Coast Guard) to take me to the emergency room. The preacher of the small church we attended had brainwashed every one in that church against me. So, this warrant officer, took me (the lunatic, demonic woman) to the emergency room. I received nine stitches and a tetanus shot.
Right after I fell and injured my knee, about two or three weeks later, someone started making thumping noises around my home at night, dumped my garbage all over my yard and set it on fire. Every morning I’d wake up to a new surprise. More work for me to do. I was in crutches and I had to go out there and clean the mess.
And what did the police do? They just showed up and did nothing. They only patrolled the area. They said, “Maybe you should stay up all night and see if you can catch them.” This was about the best help I got from the county Sheriff’s Department in South Carolina.
Finally, I figured out that they were working for Loree McBride. That they weren’t on my side. She got the police. I thought, “Boy, this woman’s good. I mean, she’s good. What kind of connections does she have?” I told Brent, “You need to do something about that girlfriend of yours. Man, she’s really getting out of hand.”
I could tell that Brent was not happy about this. He was getting very upset with his girlfriend. I think he agreed with me that she had something to do with this.
That was very stressful. I was in crutches. My son and I were getting very severe symptoms from the mobile home and in the hot summer months we were dizzy. Then on top of all that, my church was against me. The police department was against me. They were hiring juvenile delinquents to dump my garbage all over my yard and set it on fire, and I had to go out there and clean it up.
Then I noticed when the preacher from my church came over, and I was in crutches, when he came over to mow our lawn, he was very snooty towards me. He treated me like I was some mental case, and he was far above me. So I concluded, “Wow, that girlfriend’s got some connections. She put this preacher on my phone, brainwashed his whole church against me.” You see, I could tell by the sermons this preacher preached that he somehow got added to my phone’s wiretap. That church had a clique mentality any ways. I thought, “Loree McBride got the county Sheriff’s Department against me.”
And then I remember I called up an engineer, “I want to order some formaldehyde test kits.”
He said, “They cost six hundred dollars.”
“Six hundred dollars? To get a formaldehyde testing kit? I think I’ve got extra formaldehyde in my kitchen. It can’t cost six hundred dollars!”
He said, “Oh yeah, it costs six hundred dollars.”
“Forget it. Isn’t there someplace where I can get it cheaper than that?” He said, “I don’t know. . .”
So, I thought, my gosh, this woman’s really good, she even got the engineer. I looked all around to try to find a formaldehyde testing kit, I think I finally located a source on the Internet, but it wasn’t easy. And I did use it, and I found out my kitchen had formaldehyde– a pretty high exposure. But then I concluded, “Who’s going to believe me?” They’d probably think I made it all up or that I’m not a scientist, so, therefore, I’m not suffering from formaldehyde exposure in my kitchen. I could tell that somebody was out to get me.
And whoever they were, they were good. I figured it was Loree McBride and her friends. I thought, “Those Hollywood connections she has, she’s got some powerful friends, that they can do this. Boy, things can’t get much worse than this.”
My son almost flunked fourth grade, because of illnesses, though we made it.
Finally, the stitches came off, and after a month, I was able to walk. My family doctor took the stitches out for me. He was very upset that this happened to me. He’s a nice guy.
In the month of August 1998, I started thinking about studying law. I said, “You know what? With all the problems that I’ve had, dealing with police and corruption–I think I want to be a lawyer. I don’t think these people, whoever they are, are going to leave me alone.” I started thinking about law.
Around November 1998, we found out our next duty station would be Seattle. So I wrote to the University of Washington Law School and asked for their bulletin. I thought maybe I could study law in Seattle. I decided with all the trouble I got, I might as well become an attorney.
I told Brent and Franco Nero, “I think I want to become a lawyer.” That was November 1998. And this school year I was also home schooling my son. In 1998/1999 he was in fifth grade. Again, I was by myself. I got the most lovely Christmas present for December 25, 1998.
My son was with me. This was a month after I decided I wanted to become an attorney. Apparently, somebody didn’t like that decision. My son said, “Mother, there’s a fire outside our kitchen door.”
It was about a waist high fire, maybe about three feet away, like a little bonfire. “Oh, put it out.”
So, my son got a bucket of water and he put it out. Then there was another fire by the front door. And, did you know, somebody was setting fires, and so we put out the one by the front door.
Then there was another fire by the kitchen door. As soon as we put out a fire by the kitchen door, then there was another fire by the front door. So we were going from one end of the house to the other, putting out fires. I was filling up buckets with water, handing them to my son and we were. . .I think he must have put out about twenty fires.
In between breaks, I said, “I’m going to call the police. We’ve got to find who’s doing this.” So I called the police.
Man, it took them forever to show up. They didn’t show up right away. For three hours, My son and I were running from door to door, putting out fires. I said to myself in my head, “Good grief, this Loree McBride, she’s going too far. They need to put her in jail.”
Three hours, it was a blitzkrieg of fires. One by the front door, one by the kitchen door. They were all by the doors. And we put them all out. Finally, the police showed up and there were these black heaps where the fires had been. . .
I was exhausted when the police officer showed up. That was stressful. We lived in a mobile home. You know how quick a mobile home can burn down? The fires were close to our home. My son was good.
So the police showed up. I got asked the same question, “You must have made someone awful mad, that they’d set all these fires around your house. Do you know who they are?”
I said, “I have no idea.” No way was I going to give away that Brent and Franco were on my phone. I knew Brent and Franco didn’t do it. I figured it was Loree McBride and I wasn’t going to help her one bit. I could tell she was trying to kick Brent and Franco off my phone, and my family doctor, because he was on, too. So I said, “I don’t know. . .”
He said, ”Those fires were only about waist high. We’ve had a lot worse cases than that in our police department. This really isn’t that big of a deal.”
I looked at that man square in the face. “Who’s paying you to do this?”
He got real huffed up. “Nobody.”
I said, “You’re telling me that waist high fires, we just had a blitzkrieg of fires. And you’re telling me that this is not a big deal? Our house could have burned down.”
He said, “We get fire reports like this all the time.”
I said, “Who’s paying you to do this?”
He said, “Nobody, ma’am.”
I said, “I want to study to become an attorney and I can tell by the way you’re behaving there’s something fishy about you. And if I was a lawyer, I’d probably drag you into court. Who’s paying you, officer, to try to frame me with these questions? You shouldn’t treat these fires so flippantly. This could be very serious, officer.”
Irritated, he said, “Nobody’s paying me to do this.” He then left.
I told Brent about that incident.
I decided I wouldn’t mess with the Berkeley County Sheriff’s Department. I could tell that they weren’t on my side. They were on the criminal’s side.
You know what happened? Everybody said my son did those fires, but he was with me putting them out and I know he did’n’t do those fires! My neighbors claimed they saw my son doing those fires. This made me so angry, that I threatened to end the marriage.
Actually, I don’t think the Jesuits wanted the marriage to break up. They decided they pushed me a little too far. So, since my son wasn’t punished, I decided I’d stay in the marriage.
And we got ready to move to Seattle.
As a result of the medical problems we had in the summer of 1998 with allergies, I started seeing a specialist in Allergy and Environmental Medicine in South Carolina.
I think they tested me for formaldehyde and they found a sensitivity, but they were kind of reluctant to divulge it. Apparently, it wasn’t severe.
I do know that in the mobile home in the kitchen, I was getting some pretty severe symptoms. I think it was formaldehyde. But it was getting kind of scary to me at this point. I thought, “This Loree McBride. . .she’s just too good.”
And then another strange thing happened to me. Right after the fires, my psychiatrist called me. He said, ‘I got an E-mail from your family. I’d like to see you. He’s concerned about you.”
See, what had happened was after the fires, when I went into the book room to split my books from everybody else’s books. I was ready to end the marriage over this. To protect my son, I said, “Brent Spiner’s girlfriend did those fires.”
I said, “What did you get an E-mail from my family about?”
“We can discuss that when you come into my office.” I thought, “Oh, no, what has that Loree McBride done?”
So I went to my psychiatrist’s office and this psychiatrist who I’d had a pretty good relationship with before, I had told him all about my Italian cooking and he was telling me about his cooking, he was a cook, too. All of a sudden, it seemed like he changed. He said, “Here’s the E-mail that I received. I’m concerned that you believe that Brent Spiner’s girlfriend. . .set fires. . .around your mobile home. . .”
I said, “Why would that concern you?”
“You really believe that Brent Spiner’s girlfriend set fires around your mobile home?”
“I really don’t care to discuss this. I don’t want to talk about my private life. This is not something I want to talk about.”
“We have to talk about your private life. That’s how I do my job.”
“I don’t want to talk about this. This is not something I want to discuss with you.”
“I’m afraid you are exhibiting psychotic symptoms and we need to put you on stronger medications.”
I said, “I refuse. I will not go on those medications. I’m not psychotic. And, furthermore, I think I was misdiagnosed with manic depression and that I never had it in the first place. I believe my problems have been nutritional deficiencies and allergies, and that’s why I’ve had trouble sleeping. I don’t think I ever was a manic depressive, and I’m not going to be put on anti-psychotic medications. I refuse.”
He said, “I can’t make you. I’m very concerned about you. I think you should be put on stronger medications.”
“What medications?”
“Would you at least please consider this?”
“What medications do you want to put me on?”
So he gave me the names of the medications and I said, “I’ll go home and think about this, but I’m pretty sure I won’t change my mind.”
So I went home and looked up the medications and found out they have some pretty nasty side effects, and they would have really messed me up. At this point, I was starting to explore natural medicine. No longer convinced I was a manic depressive, I determined I must get off those psychiatric meds, because I concluded that was a way for my enemies to manipulate and control me. However, I knew that in order to get off of what I was on. . .I was on Tegretol, which was very bad for me. I was also in lithium. Tegretol was the bad one. I made up my mind. I’m getting off of this stuff, as soon as possible. I don’t want to be at the mercy of these psychiatrists who want to get me all doped up and admit me to a mental ward, when I know I’m not crazy.
Just because I wanted to protect Brent Spiner and Franco Nero, I didn’t want to discuss my private life with this psychiatrist. I was in a bad situation. I decided I would wean myself off the psychiatric medicines by myself. I had been weaned off before by a psychiatrist in Miami, so I pretty much knew the procedure. I knew you had to gradually decrease your dose, or you could suffer bad withdrawal symptoms.
After this, I tried to find another psychiatrist. So I called around to try to find another psychiatrist. All the psychiatrists that were covered by my insurance were not available. The only ones that could see me were the ones I couldn’t afford. So I thought, “She’s really good. She got all the psychiatrists in Charleston. All the ones that I can afford with my insurance are not available. Boy, does she got a conspiracy against me. Well, I’m going to get off this medicine. I’ll just do it by myself.”
But I needed some refills. I came up with a game plan. I knew I could decrease the dose so much every couple weeks and by about May 1999, I’d be off everything. I had enough lithium, but I needed a little bit more. I needed a refill.
I called up the pharmacy and asked them to give me a refill of tegretol or lithium. I knew I needed to gradually wean off, because if I did it cold turkey, I’d get those horrible withdrawal reactions and I’d been through that before. My plan was to get enough refills so I could stock up on the medicines and wean myself off. But I was a little short on one of them, so I needed some more. I called up the pharmacy and they were having a problem filling my prescription.
Apparently, my psychiatrist had contacted that pharmacy and told them not to give me any refills. I said, “Why can’t you give me a refill. It says I have refills on my prescription.”
They said, “Well, your doctor just contacted us and said you can’t have any refills unless you come back and see him.”I thought, “What? This is ridiculous.” I said, “Alright.” So I went back to see him.
He said, “Have you thought about getting on those medications?”
I said, “I thought about it. I looked them up and they have terrible side effects. I’m not going to take them. I don’t think I’m psychotic, and I don’t think I’m manic depressive.”
He then said, “Well, I’m very concerned about you.”
I said, “I need a refill on some of my medicines. Will you give me one?”
He reluctantly gave me a refill. It was barely enough. He gave me a refill to last me about a month and a half. I didn’t tell him this, but in my mind, I was planning on decreasing. He gave me just enough of a refill. So I put my game plan into action. In January 1999, I started gradually decreasing my psychiatric meds. I never went back to see him or any psychiatrist again.
I did suffer some withdrawal symptoms because I didn’t get enough refills to space it out as much as I wanted. I figured if I decreased the psychiatric meds and increased my vitamins and calcium and magnesium, that I’d be alright. Because I figured out the reason I wasn’t sleeping was because I wasn’t getting enough nutrition, which was correct. So I started taking enzymes. I increased my calcium, magnesium and my vitamins. It worked. My sleep actually improved. I did suffer some withdrawal symptoms from getting off the psychiatric meds, which I expected, because I had to get off them faster than I liked, I didn’t have enough refills. I told myself, “Just go through it, because once you get off, it’s going to be better.”
By the time we got to Seattle in May 1999, I was off of all my psychiatric meds. I’ve never been on them since. I did it by myself, because I couldn’t find any psychiatrist to assist me, that I could afford.
About this time (fall 1999 in Mukilteo, Washington) my son was having trouble in school. He was coming home with viruses–about two a week. And I was catching every other one. One week it would be a stomach bug. The next week it would be, maybe one that hit the nervous system. I was putting him on echinacea, all sorts of good stuff. He’d get over it, then he’d come home with something else. Always sick. He said, “Mommy, the kids are making fun of me at school.”
And he looked like he was getting really stressed out. He was missing a lot of classes. His grades weren’t doing well, which was unusual for him because he was normally on honor roll. I thought, “Oh no, now they’re hitting me at the school!” He was out half of the fall school year–out sick.
Then he told me that all the kids in the neighborhood and all the kids at his school were teasing him. He told me, “You have no idea how much stress I’m under.”
I told him, “I could imagine.” And I thought, “Boy, that Loree McBride is good.”
Here I was, I was getting it from my doctors, getting it from my son’s school, getting it from the neighbors, getting it from the credit card company. I felt like I was dealing with a mountain of stress. Getting it from my family, getting it from that South Carolina preacher. The church in Lynnwood was alright.
But when I went to church, I had to be careful when I backed out of the parking lot, because there were always people trying to trick me and hit my car from the rear. Like one time I backed out of the parking lot at Open Door Baptist Church, and a car just sped out of nowhere and just missed hitting me, maybe by five inches.
They were trying to get me in wrecks. I would go out on the road and drive, and there would be ten police cars, hidden, waiting around the corner, hoping that I’d be speeding so they could give me a speeding ticket. I thought, “Boy, this cute blonde is good.”
I made sure I never went over the speed limit anywhere I went. Half the time I was driving I had a fever from one of the twenty viruses I caught in the fall of 1999 that my son brought home from school. It seemed like the pressure was ratcheting up and getting worse and worse. I told God, “I don’t know how much more I can take.”
So many things happened to me, I’m sure I’ll leave something out. Let’s just say at this point I was feeling very overwhelmed, very overwhelmed. I felt like I was in war. And I probably was.
I told myself, “I am not going to let that woman win. I don’t care if she kills me. I’m not going to let her win. This is disgusting. She’s evil.” I just made up my mind that I would do what’s right, even if I went down in my own blood. And I was going to stand by my friends.
But boy were they putting the pressure on me. Probably the greatest stress for me in the 1999/2000 year was to see what they were doing to my son. He wasn’t handling it as well as I was. I tried to explain to him that it was the Jesuits. I thought maybe if I let him know what was going on in my life, it might help. It didn’t work. I think it just made it worse. He thought I was crazy. I went in there and I’d hold him and I’d say, “You know, I know this is rough. I don’t think you’re imagining any of what you’re going through at school, and I believe that you’re being harassed. I don’t think you’re faking your illnesses. And I wish I could do something to make life better for you.”
You know what my son told me? He said, “My life is so bad, I wish I was dead.”
As if he whined for his last breath, his voice whined with pain.. .. “I can’t go to schooool. . .I feel teeeerrible. . .”
I said, “Oh come on, you can’t be sick this much.”
“But I aaaaam. . .” And he’d roll around in his bed and whine and cry like a helpless and depressed worm. “I have a stomachache. . .I can’t go to schooool.”
I tried everything. He was almost a teenage boy. The only way I could get him to go to school, was I’d have to pick him up. So, I couldn’t make him go. Most of the time, he didn’t want to take the bus, because he said the kids on the bus made fun of him. So I drove him to school half the school year, to protect him from the kids that were harassing him.
That was probably the worst part about the 1999/2000 year, to see what they did to my son.
As if that wasn’t enough, that he was flunking sixth grade.
In January, I got a letter from the school. They said, “Your son is charged with truancy, because he’s missed so many days of school. We’re concerned about this and we want to meet with you.”
So I met with the principal, and they were playing all these dirty tricks on me, where they’d send me these letters in the mail and I was given one or two days to respond, and I thought if I didn’t respond, then they’d consider me in default and I’d need to go to court, and have my son with me for truancy. I always met the deadlines. It’s a good thing I checked my mail every day.
I think the only mistake I made from a legal standpoint was that I should have got everything in writing from that principal. They played dirty tricks on me. The principal of that school was very friendly toward me, which was kind of deceptive. I met with her a couple times and she said, “I’m very concerned about your son because he’s missing a lot of school.”
It eventually got to a point where they tried to get my son to appear before a judge on truancy charges. I figured out why they were doing this. It was because of the fires in South Carolina. They had to blame my son for the fires, to cover their butts. That really made me so mad. I threatened to go to the news media over this and also got a letter from my son’s psychologist stating that for my son to appear before a judge would devastate his mental health, and so my son never had to stand before a judge for truancy. But my son did fail sixth grade, and my son is brilliant.
In December 1999, I was told that I had calcium deposits in my right breast. You can see there were all sorts of things going on. You can see why I’ve had to be a good multitasker.
When they attack, it’s like a blitzkrieg and they hit you from twenty different angles. So, in December 1999, I was told that I had calcium deposits and that I needed to go into general anesthesia, and have a biopsy done. They said, “It’s not an emergency, but you shouldn’t sit on it too much. It could possibly be breast cancer.”
I didn’t like the way they were trying to rush me into general anesthesia. So, I said, “I don’t think this is such a big hurry. I don’t want general anesthesia.”
Boy, did they try to rush me into that one. I remember going into the radiologist’s office, after they’d done the mammograms. And he came in with the X-ray report. I remember I was very flippant about the matter. I wasn’t worried about it at all, because I’d always gotten negative reports on my mammograms and I figured this would be the same.
It was dimly lit room and the radiologist came in looking really somber and serious, along with his nurse. He said, “Can you sit down, we need to talk with you about something. . .”
I sat down.
“We found some calcium deposits on your right breast. We don’t want you to worry about this. In ninety-five percent of the cases, it turns out to be nothing to worry about. But, however, this is something we don’t want to totally ignore. We want you to get this checked, because there’s a slight chance this could be breast cancer or a precursor to breast cancer. The good news is it looks like we caught it early, and if it is cancer, you’re probably fine. We want to do a biopsy, a needle guided biopsy on your right breast.”
I said, “What’s involved in a needle guided biopsy?”
“We’d have to put you under general anesthesia and you’d have to go in the operating room.”
I said, “Why does it have to be so complicated? Why do I have to be under general anesthesia?”
“Because that’s the way it’s done.”
“Can’t it be done any other way?”
“No,” he said. “That’s the way we do biopsies.”
“I don’t know. I have to think about this.” There was something about him. I felt he was spooky and creepy. I was at the point in my life, where I sized up people and tried to determine if they were my friend, or working for Loree. I went home and thought about that thing. I just got the spooks thinking about it. I thought, “What are they going to try to do to me in general anesthesia?” They’d already messed with my neck, so I didn’t trust them. I found other physicians who did two biopsies (Feb. 2000 and Oct. 2000) for me using local anesthesia. However, before one of the biopsies, the Jesuits contaminated something I ate or ingested with blood thinners and I lost so much blood from the biopsy I couldn’t get out of bed for two weeks. I went to God in prayer. He told me I had cancer, but He’d take it away if I’d write for Him. So I wrote Emerald Towers, and God blanketed my heart with peace. I never worried about the cancer, I knew God would keep His end of the deal. Good news, both biopsies turned out negative for cancer.
Around December 10, 1999, I went to bed and woke up around 2 a.m. It was as if a thought came into my head, and I thought about that radiologist and how spooky he looked. I thought, “Boy, this Loree McBride is good. . .” It was like there was a thought going through my head. . .it said, “You’re enemy is the Vatican. Loree McBride is a Vatican agent.”
And I thought, “Oh, my GOD. No wonder she’s so good.”
I got Jack Chick’s book out, Smokescreens, and I read it. I realized that the way they handled me, the way they manipulated me, the way they were able to get doctors and police departments and get police cars to wait for me to try to give me tickets. I thought, “This is not the work of a crazy woman. . .This is a major conspiracy! It’s the Roman Catholic Church.” Then I remembered reading on the Internet, when I did my searches on Loree McBride back in 1996 and 1997, somebody mentioned that she was a Roman Catholic.
I thought, “Oh, my God.”
I got on the phone. I said, “Brent Spiner. . .that girlfriend of yours, Loree McBride, is a Vatican agent. She works for the Roman Catholic Church. That’s why we haven’t been able to stop her! Keeping her in your house hasn’t done any good, because she’s not running the show. The Vatican’s running the show.”
At that time I had that breast cancer scare and I went to God in prayer. “Lord, what do I do about this breast cancer?” He said I want you to start writing, in a thought that came to my brain. “Work on your writing”.
So in January, February and March 2000, I started writing again. I’d put it off since 1996. I worked on Emerald Towers (can read this on my Gail’s Life Chronology web page). If you want a really good victim impact statement, read Emerald Towers, because that person in that story is me. The only thing about this story that isn’t true is that I was not diagnosed positive for breast cancer. But everything else about that story is true about the emotions and what I went through as a result of the Jesuits.
So I worked on Emerald Towers (on Gail’s Life Chronology page) in the month of April 2000 I mailed it to the Writer’s Digest Writing Contest. I remember when I went to the Post Office to mail it, there was a very long line.
Also, in January they started contaminating my supplements. When I figured out the Vatican was my enemy, the pressure just got stronger. My son was still missing a lot of school.
After a lot of harassment and mess with my son’s school and after threatening to call KIRO news and expose this conspiracy against my son on television, and then making personal visits to the courthouse and complaining to the principal and basically making a big stink, I prevented my son from having to appear before a judge, by the skin of my teeth.
I also got the help of his psychologist, who did not recommend this. He said it would be bad for my son’s mental health.
That was very stressful for me. Because of the harassment my son got at his school, he failed sixth grade, when he was normally an honor roll student And he was sick all the time. Part of it was stress induced. Part of it was germ warfare launched against him and myself. We were catching all sorts of things.
We had a drought in the fall of 2000 and the winter of 2001 during Seattle’s rainy season.
I went through a very expensive divorce. You know why it was so expensive? They were disputing about everything. I was forced to go to an guardian ad litem because they were worried about my mental health. So I had to visit this guy and he was asking me all sorts of nosy questions about my personal life, that I really wanted to keep out of the divorce. I ended up opening a little bit about Brent Spiner and Loree and I got written off as crazy.
And then September 11, 2001 happened. I thought. . .my God, as if they hadn’t done enough to me already. . .What more could they do? I could tell that Brent was trying to find a way to use the airlines to meet me. I was making friends with my step-dad’s niece, who’s a stewardess. And I think Brent was planning on using her somehow to find a way to meet me. Also I was just about to get a job at Sears.
So that morning on September 11th I had to show up for a medical appointment for Sears to determine I wasn’t a drug user and as I drove to the doctor’s office, I saw this water main, with water just going up like fifty feet up into the air like a geyser. And I said, “Boy, something major’s happened today. This is really strange. . .with litter all over the road”. I learned to feel the mood of the Vatican. I could tell something big had happened. The streets seemed eerily quiet. When I got to the doctor’s office, everybody was glued to the news.
I said, “Oh dear. . .something terrible’s happened.” They all looked pale. I said, “What happened?”
They said, “You didn’t hear?”
I said, “No.”
They said, “Two airplanes hit the World Trade Center in New York City and one hit the Pentagon, and all the firefighters and the police died.”
I thought, “Oh my God. . . this is World War III. Those Jesuits. . .they never give up.”
I was in shock September 11th. I hadn’t accepted that they would go this far. . . to keep Brent and I apart. See, he was planning on using the airlines. . .to try to meet me.
They found a way to eliminate that possibility. Besides my dad’s a retired airline captain. In rebellion, I just refused to watch the news for most of 9-11-01. I said, “I’m not going to give them the satisfaction of making me miserable today.”
So what I did, I thought to myself. . “I know they’re trying to intimidate me. And I know they’re trying to intimidate Brent. I’m going to watch Gladiator all day.”
I liked the spirit of Gladiator. So I watched the beginning scene of Gladiator over and over from about 9 a.m. till about 3 p.m. I said, “Okay, now that I’ve let them know they haven’t intimidated me, after they killed about three thousand people! Now let’s watch the news! I know this is going to be really interesting.”
So I turned it on. . .oh yeah. . .ah ha. . .oh yeah. . .
The next day I drove out on the road, and I screamed at the top of my voice, and said, “I know you want to kill me. . ” They had tried to use tricky vehicular homicide methods, using these big mack trucks. They tried to kill me. . . about ten times. . . on the road. . .I decided that when it’s my time to go, it’s my time to go. It’s by God’s grace they didn’t get me.
There was one time in Seattle (around 2000), I heard a gunshot. I heard the bullet ricochet off the tin roof next to my apartment. You know what I did? I was really getting fed up with this business. I said, “I know they’re trying to intimidate me.”
I went outside and walked my dog right after they shot the gun in front of my apartment. But I said in my bugged apartment before I went outside, “Alright, I dare you to shoot me. I know you’re trying to kill me. Alright go out there and KILL ME!”
I told them in my apartment (that had bugs) that I heard their bullet and that I would go outside and walk the dog, and that I’d take extra time. I said, “Alright, you can shoot me now. . .whoever you are, go ahead and shoot me!” Then I went out the door with the dog.
They didn’t shoot me. They didn’t shoot me. I came back after a prolonged walk with Henry, our collie.
When they tried to intimidate me, I’d just go out and dare them. I said, “Go ahead and kill me.”
September 12th, 2001, I screamed from the bottom of my lungs, I said, “I know you want to kill me! Why don’t you do it, so you’ll quit killing everybody else. Maybe if you kill me, you’ll quit killing everybody.” I was so mad, I said, “I just want to go out and move into an apartment, because I know that when I’m by myself, that you’re going to try to kill me. Why don’t you just get it over with, so you’ll quit KILLING EVERYBODY!”
When I figured out that the Jesuits were my enemies, they crashed the Alaska Airlines plane in January 2000. That was right after I told Brent that maybe he ought to expose his court case against Loree McBride on the Los Angeles news media. You see, Brent brought Loree McBride to court over all the harassment I experienced (the fires at my mobile home, the criminal doctors, etc.). The next day, the Alaska Airlines plane crashed head down into the Pacific off the coast of Oxnard, California and all died. Because this crash happened in Southern California, it would definitely eclipse any coverage of Brent’s case against Loree McBride on L.A. news. Apparently, Brent tried to go public over his case against Loree and the Jesuits decided to create a major news story to eclipse any coverage of Brent taking Loree McBride to court.
Jesuits started setting wildfires all over the country, probably to make it appear that the fires I put out at the mobile home in South
Carolina were just random incidents. All of a sudden, everything all over the country became contaminated.
I knew it was the Jesuits. And I knew they were trying to frame their crimes on somebody else.
Copyright © 2002 – 2018 Gail Chord Schuler. All Rights Reserved.