Monthly Archives: November 2019

Ramola D/Constant Comfort: A Story for Gaza

Story | Ramola D |November 15, 2019

This story was written many years ago, after bombs dropped on Gaza at the end of 2008 and into and past the New Year, when whole families were killed, when apartment complexes were demolished, when children taking refuge in UN schools and compounds were targeted for evisceration, when phosphor bombs and depleted uranium were reported in the news, when Israel said it was the fault of Hamas, when Obama said the “security of Israel” was “sacrosanct.”

Israeli Massacres: A Brief and Shocking History/Philip Weiss, Mondoweiss.net/If Americans Knew

That Gaza Massacre of 2008-2009 was repeated in 2012, in 2014.

Israeli Massacres: A Brief and Shocking History/Philip Weiss, Mondoweiss.net/If Americans Knew

Richard Falk, former UN Special Rapporteur for Palestinian Human Rights wrote then, in July 2014, while once again the international community of governments did nothing to sanction or stop Israel: “As with earlier massive Israeli military operations carried out against the people of Gaza 2008-2009, and 2012, the defenceless Gazan population is again being cruelly victimised. If an adversary of the West was behaving as Israel has since July 8, it would be branded an aggressor whose leaders would likely be held accountable before the International Criminal Court (ICC) or some other tribunal with the authority to prosecute persons accused of international crimes which have distressed the US government and its allies.” 

During that summer, award-winning novelist Ru Freeman (author of A Disobedient Girl, On Sal Mal Lane) began work on an extraordinary anthology of writings, poetry and prose, non-fiction and fiction from American writers communicating in a group on Facebook and others she knew or contacted, on the subject of Israel and Palestine.

Oregon Books/Extraordinary Rendition: (American) Writers on Palestine

As she wrote later in her foreword to Extraordinary Rendition, published in 2015 by Oregon Books, where this story was first published in very partial excerpt:

“The impetus to ask a group of writers to reflect on the ongoing assault on the thin and shifting borders of Palestine, and the people who are confined to that tenuous landscape, became impossible to set aside in the face of the 2014 assault on Gaza, an assault in which Israel claimed it hit 5,226 targets within the 139 square miles that constitute Gaza, and one which left 2,104 Palestinians killed, including 495 children, and 10,626 injured, many critically. Parallel to the bombing of Gaza was the simultaneous incursion into Palestinian neighborhoods in the West Bank which went unmentioned in the American press. It resulted in the largest land-grab by Israel since 1948, with the seizure of $3.5 million worth of Palestinian property within and surrounding Jerusalem. In the face of such numbers, and the fact that we as Americans, willingly or not, fund the perpetration of such violence through our taxes, but more so by our silence, I felt that we needed to confront the reality that Cunard articulated in 1937: it is impossible any longer to take no side.”

Ru Freeman, Foreword, Extraordinary Rendition: (American) Writers on Palestine

Image from Twitter/Nov 14, 2019

In the last few days from November 12 to the present date, the 15th, news has trickled in through the silence of larger media about the bombs being dropped on defenseless families, about whole families killed, about babies and children and youth being murdered again in Gaza. Many have woken today to the pointless horrors of war, to the one-sided nature of the attacks on Gaza, where those who seek even minimally to defend Gaza are made impotent by the ferocity and disproportionality of the force used against them.

Image from Twitter/Nov 13, 2019

I received news of the Gaza bombings this week from Twitter, from various sources, a few vital ones below.

 

I am as saddened, as disheartened as all of us witnessing these massacres or hearing about them from continents away, while our own Western governments pour money and ammunition and protective policy support into the bottomless pit of Israel’s budget for bombs to kill babies and their mothers and fathers. I have some thoughts on what could be done, internationally, to address these actions by Israel, to stop this carnage–I will publish them shortly.

For today, I offer my story “Constant Comfort” in full, dedicated to the people in Gaza–rejected by many literary magazines in the USA, no doubt because many have a strong Israeli or Zionist supremacist faction installed in-house, as much of US literary and news publishing unfortunately does, I have learned–and part of a collection of stories on war and children I hope to complete soon. (Publishers are welcome to contact me for this collection if interested: ramolad@everydayconcerned.net.)

I send my prayers to the people in Gaza: May this incredible siege on your lives come to an end. May Israel’s Occupation and targeting end soon. May people  worldwide wake up and take significant action. Millions of us worldwide who care about humanity send our love.

Constant Comfort – Ramola D – PDF

***

Constant Comfort

by

Ramola D

 

Tender Spaces

Daniyah was sucking a sweet red cherry lollipop when the ceiling caved in on her, the weight of several stories of concrete, brick, mortar, and steel whistling down to avalanche on her skull, so her hand involuntarily released the lollipop stick and her lungs, choking with fine grey dust, released the world. A breath had passed, maybe two, in which, believing she was still alive, she had raised her lollipop hand to the back of her skull where the wrenched concrete slab which had once held up a bedroom wall had impacted, and incomprehensible wads of tissue and blood leaked onto her fingers, and dripped into the tender spaces between her fingers. She withdrew her hand, marveling at the stickiness of life, the ease with which parts of the body could crack blindly open, spill their most secret contents, even the youthful crimson glaze streaming out of her five-year-old self thick with its own burden of wants and unwants, long threads of memories, viscous friendships, slow pools of regret.

The Bomb had arrived like a freight train, a tornado, a cataract, from deep inside a fighter jet. She had heard it ripping through the cauldron of space just above their building in Gaza, hissing its intent as it tore open the walls. For comfort, she had been sitting on her sister Aaliyah’s bed.

Beyond the sound, beyond the ungainly explosion of brick and concrete in large, unmanageable confetti all around her, streamers of ash rose like cirrus and floated. Now she noticed she was still sitting on the bed although the room entire had been demolished. Debris had torqued her feet inextricably into a devil’s arabesque. Ash still rose. It feathered the shattered brick, stopped up childish nostrils, climbed the torn-open curtains, sought out the glottis of every child and settled inside the moist alveoli of childish lungs.

Come to the Ball

Her sister Aaliyah had been reading a book, lying on her back in bed, flipping through pages of illustrations: fairies with tall butterfly-edged wings, fairies with pixie caps, fairies rising out of flowers, their legs stemmed and petalled, their thighs subsumed in bright corollas. Laboriously, words being sounded: She whispered to him, it was permitted, he could come to the ball. Aaliyah held inside her mouth like an unbreachable crevasse a learning disability which had once held her back in school. Words she could not pronounce pirouetted inside her. Words whose meaning eluded her flickered like constellations visible on rare occasion through blowing cloud. Some phrases and juxtapositions flummoxed her. Often she slipped into verbal transpositions and transgressions lucid only to those, like herself, who could not read in straight lines, word upon word. Because of these matters, she had only recently learned how to read in ways that could infallibly disperse inside her the certain seeds of story. This, astonishingly, had excited her to the point of undiminished hunger. Now all she wanted to do, in between eating, sleeping and going to school, was read.

Seven-year-old Aaliyah was reading when the Bomb tore through the upper stories of the building and exploded in a fireball that set fifty-six rooms above them ablaze, collapsed hundreds of walls, shattered windows, and tossed numerous body parts and dreams along with lullabies for infants, fabric from curtains and clothing, house pets, once-enclosed bricks, and just-made evening dinners into the pulverized air. The book was dragged from her hands, as were her hands from herself. Parts of her limbs scorched and melted, parts of her limbs disintegrated. Her eyes, still scanning a line of text, followed the exit of her unclad feet through the newly-exploded window, into the night-lit air, into the shuddering vibration. Black smoke and white ash plumed abruptly around her, obscuring vision. Coughing, she leaned forward to tilt a cup of bedside water to her mouth, her reachings with a phantom hand suddenly visible even to herself. Bone stood out white inside a shell of macerated flesh scorched to coal on the skin. Burning dreams from floors above fell with building debris on her desecrated limbs. In the whitening that ensued, of skin, lungs, and breath, a part of her still floated on butterfly wings, wrapped in diaphanous silks and glittering with rare crystalline stones, toward a fairy ball in an enchanted forest. Other parts of her reached for parts forever gone with an unregistering insistence.

Constant Comfort

A long time ago, their thirty-seven-year-old father, asked by a visiting Dutch journalist, what his children meant to him—he had five of them then, and the sixth on the way—said, tentatively (he was a shy man, unwilling to draw attention to himself) in his usual, retreating way: they were a constant comfort to him and his wife. They were the creation of family succeeding the death of his own parents. Children, he explained, were the meaning of home.

Womb-Like

In the moment the Bomb hit, their mother, holding the seven-month-old baby, in the room furthest from the one in which the children played, had bent down to rummage beneath the bed for a new blanket for the baby’s crib. Joists crashing around her miraculously shaved a womb-like space surrounding her bent-over body. In this she froze, bent-over. The screech of matter ignited abruptly to oblivion around her cascaded, rippled, echoed. Walls crashed and fell, smoke and ash unwaveringly rose. The baby choked, she coughed, for a moment she held a still-whole hand to a still-whole mouth, deathly afraid for her children’s lives.

An Instant’s Ravaging

The second-youngest, three-year-old Isra, was on the carpet playing with her doll, a gangly mini-skirted Barbie with unruly golden locks, narrow lips, blue eyes, and red Mary-Jane stilettos, combing the knotted hair with a doll-brush, bending the legs sideways and forwards, backwards and back, readying her for school, she said, smoothing down the upturned sequined collar, when, in an instant’s ravaging, concrete confetti from the explosion needled through her spine and out her abdomen, crushing vertebrae, slushing together spinal fluid, blood, muscle, intestine, and intestinal contents in one gory mass that extruded beneath the doll’s golden hair and lay, for a brief moment, steaming before her eyes as the greater mass of the ceiling pounded all over her.

The oldest, Hadiya, was sitting by the window, staring into the deepening dusk, yellow window lights coming on all around them, dim swathe of stars above, dreaming of lean, handsome Fuad, the brother of her friend Mariam, with whom she had recently exchanged a series of letters, tentative and breathless, when she noticed the ominous congealing of sound around them, saw the fighter jet plummet and loosen its dark, silvery load of terror directly above, heard the raw Doppler crunch of its coming and going, and half-rose, shaken from her windowseat, when the end of the world sliced her sideways and with glass and metal she was blown to the center of the room, bleeding profusely from head and neck, legs paralyzed in one instant, and covered the next in the flaming, smoking debris that descended from above and kept on descending.

Her seventeen-year-old body slammed into the second-oldest, Malaika, the sleeping one, who had been sick that day and not ventured to school, curled in a ball on her bed, a single cotton sheet over her fourteen-year-old limbs, which boiled instantly to flame and sealed her skin at roiling temperatures into its fibrous threads, delving deep through layers of epidermis, dermis, muscle, to reach the hidden bone and surge against it. Flame, ash, bone, and shards of metal embedded. The weight of the rooms and objects above thrust onto shoulders, ribs, ankle bones. When she opened her eyes, blinking past the ash coating her lashes, weighting her lids, Malaika believed she had transformed in her dreams into a caterpillar’s tight cocoon, so fully was she encased in ashen, fallen plaster, and brick.

One Moment to the Next

Except for Hadiya, who had, for an instant, observed the blinding arc of terror dislodged from the roaring fighter jet, none of the girls had had an inkling of the enormity of what was about to happen to them. None comprehended what had occurred either, after it happened. The desire to move, from one moment to the next, within one’s own footprints, is rife in all of us. The girls blinked their eyes, touched their heads with shattered fingertips. Aaliyah wished to turn the page. Isra wished to clean the doll’s suddenly bloodied hair. Hadiya longed for Fuad, to reach down and lift her up to her feet. Daniyah wanted the sweet lick of cherry once more on her tongue. Malaika wanted merely to go back to sleep.

Supernatural Lift

Instead, they rose, five slaughtered sisters, holding their parts together, or striving to, Daniyah pushing back the mass of extruded brain and blood as best she could, Isra tucking in stringy layers of intestine, Aaliya grateful for the supernatural lift which obviated the need for limbs, the burned Malaika still able to smooth scraps of burnt skin away from mouth and eyes, Hadiya, floated above the bed with its cover of smoke cloud, still paralyzed but able to see, rotating her head, where they were heading. Stars drifted loosely above. Smoke occluded parts of the night-time sky. Lights in buildings below flickered, went out. Other Bombs were flaring fiery mushroom clouds into the sky. Other balls of smoke rose, other streamers dissipated into the weedy blue of dusk the ashen white of burning phosphorus. Low, violet hills duned to a dim horizon from where artillery shells arced destruction. Missiles flew about them, bodied and silvered, making the air sing. Everywhere, cries could be heard, of people attacked or bereaved, of fear or terror, of unstoppable grief, first plainly, then muffled, as great heights intervened between their bodies and the earth. Date palms and olive trees, for a moment so close, diminished in size steadily until miniscule rivets of green waving timidly from below were all that was left.

Now clouds approached, and more of them, fluffed-up columns and roofs and porticos of silk-shower cloud, endless galloping battalions of styrofoam cloud, stained the colors of battle—blood-red, earth-brown, gunmetal-grey. Cool mist dampened burned skin as swiftly the ascending children pierced layers of soaring cloud, into a sudden vertical sea of calm. Night skies stretched out here, starry and clear. Now they could hear the thrum of the speeding jet, the singular roar of powerful engines already past the sound barrier and booming their shifted velocity into the violet atmosphere. Their bodies lifted naturally toward the sound and dusk-lit metal sight of it, sleek, tearing beauty of the long-nosed jet, the very one which had discharged its artillery over their building, and so easily secured their death.

Sand Angel

As she rose, Daniyah felt as if she were floating on sea-green waves on a safe golden beach lit with evening sun. Around her shone white cone shells, narrow spirals of rose-petal augers, softer bluegray coquinas, half-buried in the sugary sand. She made wide arcs with her arms and thrust fingers into the half-damp sand and let the blue heavens pour liquid honey on her skin. She remembered the horses by the water, and the children flying kites, and the sound of laughter. She remembered how often her father would take the children to the beach near Dayr-al-Balah. She tasted sweet nut and honey confections in her mouth, crunch of roasted peanuts, long, strawed sips of fresh mint lemonade. They had often used to picnic on the beach, in the days when it cost less to get there.

She rose from the sand angel she had made and ran forwards, into the water. The feel of it on her feet smooth and foamed, a spread of coolness, like vanilla icecream melting in the mouth. She held her sister Isra’s hand, drew her to the water. Ancient Mediterranean seas rolled long toward them and back, gently in thinning waves and foaming forward in sudden gushes. Long she gazed at their side-by-side buried feet in the sand, tiny bits of shell that hid between their toes, scraps of seaweed that touched their ankles.

Slowly the sun was going down. Everything—sand, water, shells—was glistening a mother-of-pearl pink.

Paper Houses

From the sheer glass of his bubble canopy in the speeding F-16, the thirty-eight-year-old IDF pilot, Raphael Even-Zahav gazed steadily into the future: clear navy skies to left and right, starry foam of the Milky Way above, distant surround of coastline, dune, city lights, white memories of clouds below. These long-gone clouds had come already between his past and his future, or so he believed. He was flying at thirty-six thousand feet and climbing. Behind him sat his buddy, thirty-nine-year-old Doran Ben-Ami, with whom he had grown up on the same street in Tel Aviv and with whom he had trained once at flight school. A long time ago, they had been boys together, flying paper houses on strings. Now they were IDF men in fighter planes, several years of frenzied adulthood behind them.

Many things having happened in those years.

Raphael had married, had one child, divorced. A bitter divorce, with his wife refusing joint custody, citing abuse. In the throes of ego and passion, he had hit her once or twice. Raised his voice to her, that was only as much as he had grown up with, from his father. Never hit the child. Didn’t drink that much. Combat pilots had more sense than that. But he’d come home late a couple times, drunk. After the baby, things had wrenched apart between them. She said she had no time to herself, all day at home with the baby. He had laughed. After the baby, he thought, she’d had no time for him. She had gone off to America, to live with her mother in New York. From seeing his baby girl everyday, he saw her once in two or three years. His wife remarried, had other kids. He had never wanted to marry again. He lived in a one-bedroom apartment and changed his girlfriends when they mentioned any possibility of future. Raphael, whose name meant Angel, did not practice being angelic.

Doran was not that much different, although he had not married young, like Raphael. He married in his early thirties and his first child, Aviva whose name meant Springtime, had been mown down at age six by a bunch of drunken men in an oversized SUV on New Year’s Eve, two streets from their home, near a neighbor’s house. He had a second child, she was two then. But the marriage cracked and splintered. Too much grief can paralyze, he learned. His wife became depressed. He stayed out with Raphael in bars. There were nights the two-year-old was not fed, nights he came home to nonstop crying and frantic searching in the refrigerator for something to give the child. It was a relief when his wife’s sister took the child and his wife in to live with her in Haifa.

Children, Sitting

Raphael did not witness the steady rising because his eyes were on the upper skies. But he was the first to notice the motley crowd of figures on the nose of the fighter jet, as the girls sailed onto the smooth curved fuselage and wedged themselves in upon its metal curve. He rubbed his eyes, he had been awake until the wee hours the night before, prey to his latest curse, insomnia. The round, childish figures did not dissolve or disappear. A mirage of paper lanterns, he thought at first. Light reflected into shapes of conch shells. Desert pottery. Dolls. From this he progressed. Not mirages of dolls but dolls themselves? The figures had childish limbs. Children, he saw finally, his mouth inside the oxygen mask agape. Small children. Teenagers. And the masses attached to parts of their heads, stomachs, chests, were body parts, extruded. That was blood, in jagged streams. That was skin, burnt and mixed-in with flesh. That was bone he saw, and brain, and the insides of a person’s guts. That was stiffening and rigor mortis, the waxen look of death.

That was a small group of children, sitting where no-one could sit, forty thousand feet above the earth’s crust, in icy cold, thrust forward at tremendous speed, on the nose of his fighter jet. All dead.

His hands slipped on the throttle then, disbelief pocking holes in him. His entire body, clad in his heavy G-suit, tingled. But he was a combat pilot, trained to take evasive action. Doran, he called. Doran!

Doran, who had been momentarily asleep and dreaming of space travel, white-hot neutron stars, cold burn of space, jerked his head up and saw Aaliyah, reading a book, streaks of red pouring down her forehead. Behind her, stars glittered. Aviva, he whispered. Are you here?

A Vision for a Day

When the Bomb had fallen, its target guided by lasers, its moment of release planned and executed with supreme precision, a small jerk had rocked the aircraft for a small period of time, smaller than a minute. Then the Bomb had plunged, the noise of its going masked by the tremendous thrust of the engine and afterburners. Visually, a large occluding mass of metal became a sleek and noiseless silver shape lit by the rays of the dying sun, a plummeting noiseless bird, a rapid speck, erasure. The jet thundered forward. All things below seeming to happen in slow motion, in a world of no sound, so distant a world, untouched and untouchable by the two motionless bodies in the Bomber jet. The roiling fireball, rounder and larger than any synagogue. The tremendous plumes of smoke. The dust and cloud of explosion. The building flattened. All sealed in a capsule of silence. Over Raphael’s shoulder and below the plane’s landing wheels it hung, jeweled in an upward-arcing container of space, the remote, unfurling Target.

He was a fighter pilot, he did not need to hear the sound or see the explosion. The discharge was smooth, anticipated, on plan. The sight was a bonus, and always surreal, as if it were happening in another dimension. It was a vision for a day, and then to be forgotten. In his career, his cachet of wars, sorties, target airstrikes, he had seen many of them.

But this—what was this?

Do you see it, he asked Doran.

Yes, said Doran, briefly.

He did not know what Doran was seeing. He wanted someone to explain the vision to him. What is it, he fumbled, what are we looking at?

Doran was silent for a long minute.

Beats me, he said, finally.

A Layer of Happiness

Meanwhile, the girls dreamt.

Isra, gathered up in a cloud of pink frosting, was dreaming of birthday cake: fresh pineapple on a bed of cream sandwiched between soft vanilla sponge cake.

Malaika was swimming in shining blue ripples in a lake. Snow geese swooped above her, and swans gracefully bent long necks as they floated.

Their parents were not far. Hadiya, dazzled by textures and colors, was shopping with her mother for her eighteenth birthday, they were hand in hand in a large department store, they were choosing transparent, flyaway scarves. Aaliya, lost in dream, was reading a story to her father, sitting in a wicker chair, rocking on the balcony. A story with unicorns and spiny-tailed dragons and princesses growing long yellow hair.

Every dream had music or singing in it, a layer of happiness. The Wiggles were singing in Isra’s dream, about Dorothy the Dinosaur. Wild birds in Malaika’s.

Positive Gs

Suffice to say they tried everything. They thrust vertically up, the positive Gs almost flinging them backward so they were forced to press their legs together, embark on the Hick maneuver, tensing legs, thighs, abdomen, to keep the blood from constricting in their lower parts, and send it back up to the head. They did a roll, an inverted roll, a sashay to the right, left, forward, back, they spiraled, did a spin, a torpedo, a cache of spins.

The girls clung stubbornly to the nose and seemed indeed to find no trouble in doing so.

None wobbled or slipped or dropped.

Each, engaged with her own particular trouble, smoothing a coil of intestine back into place, or reconstructing cerebellum and nerve ends from indiscriminate mass, seemed absorbed, and unconcerned about the plane’s repeated, desperate maneuvers.

Raphael plunged a ninety-degree plunge. Nothing happened, save for the loss of his own equilibrium, a wave of nausea. Then one upward. Positive G again.

He wanted to duck. He wanted to wake up. He wanted, irrepressibly, to clamber out of the cockpit and onto the plane, crawl to the nose, and push them off, even as he felt melancholically certain he could never push them off. He wanted most of all, not to have to look upon them, for the sight of the unlined, ravaged faces, the dripping blood, the silent masks of death, was making him think of things he had never before contemplated nor indeed been asked to. Was this truly the Bomb’s doing? Had these kids come from that ball of flame and coal-colored smoke he had created? He felt tormented, and shook his head, even as he oscillated the plane, climbed steep, banked, turned, plunged, all in an effort to shake them off. He wanted not to think about it. He would not think about it.

Doran, behind him, shouted instructions. He too, wanted the sky clean once more, the nose cleaned off, the children gone. They needed to land, he thought, they needed to get at that nose with a hefty broom.

Baby-Hands

Behind Daniya’s head, her hair now sticky with blood, her brain tissue recalcitrant in its determined slide downward onto her neck, a trillion stars shone. Distant nebulae cast a faint halo around the tangle of sticky blood, brain, and hair that now jointly adorned her neck. Her body distorted into an unimaginable curve. The burned, mutilated Aaliya painful to look upon. Burnt, her face unrecognizable as human. Eyeholes peering out from a jelly of flesh and skin. One step from the cockpit, legs drawn up, as if in the middle of some gymnastic curl, her feet and ankles nonexistent, the bloodied stumps with raw glimpses of bone—Raphael shivered, looking. The sight of Isra worse: the damaged spine, the central part of her three-year-old body burst open like a flower to reveal the intimate, unflowerlike insides of abdomen, blood pooling in abandon, smooth pool of blood on the steel dark enough to reflect starlight back upward into the black canopy of space. Hadiya could not move. Raphael observed the two halves of her existence—the upper bloodied and broken, the lower bound as we are bound to earth, flopping like a wounded seal on her side, stuck like a harpooned fish. And the burned Malaika, whose sheet, half-welded to her skin, rose like a wing around her, studded with reddest flesh, reddest blood, gray matter of nerves and cells, stringy white muscle, coated with ash and concrete debris.

It was the look of the trusting, questioning child in all their faces, underneath the blood and burning, the soft peach-bloom of child-skin, the tender, growing ungainliness of child-limbs, that proved, in the end, his undoing. Swept on a tide of unprecedented need, Raphael experienced a passionate yearning to see his own eleven-year-old daughter in New York again, touch her soft child-face with his hands, reassure himself she was still alive.

He fumbled with the joystick but hardly knew what he was doing.

The sky pulsed in front like a neutron star. The breath scraping him raw in the throat.

Raphael spoke urgently to Air Control.

He needed to land, he said, Abort Mission. There were other Bombs to be dropped, other Targets to be found. He could not drop them, could not find them. Because he appeared to have some trouble getting his message across to his commanders, he found himself screaming. He could not fly this plane, he screamed, which, across the distant airwaves, arriving in a darkened Control Tower, proved at least materially comprehensible. Less so his second announcement, delivered in tones of high-pitched panic: He could not get rid of the dead children!

Behind him, Doran was seeing once more the crushed face of Aviva, his six-year-old Spring. The pain he had withheld for years, the stowed-away, stepped-on pain, rushed to his head like sudden blood. Aviva, he cried, my Aviva, why did you have to leave us! Memories of her baby-face, her toddler-face, her little-girl face, her pouty, three-year-old “big-girl” face swept through him.

When she was two, she had used to jump and stamp her feet when met with the word “No.” When she was three, she was still sticking out her lower lip when she cried. When she was four, she was singing Honey Honey and Mamma Mia from the Abba movie remake.

She had wanted to be a ballet dancer, a child actress like Shirley Temple, a fighter pilot like Daddy. She had wanted to be a baker of frosted cupcakes, a fashion designer, a model like Mommy. She had wanted to sing like Taylor Swift and act like Marilyn Monroe. She danced without thought at folk music festivals and open-air concerts. She held wildflowers up to her face as if they were the greatest creations on earth. She had wanted to fly to the moon.

And her baby-laugh! He heard once more the crazy, tinkling tones of her baby-laughter the first time he leapt, lion-like, into the room when he had pretended to mimic the animals in Lion King. Her baby-hands, curled comfortably in his. My baby, he wept, oh my baby, where are you now?

Each child on the plane’s placid, speeding nose rose damply into view.

Doran Ben-Ami remembered his angel, and wept.

Cast Lead

Now dropping rapidly, the children did not move.

When the plane halted, an emergency landing on an emergency runway in a remote airport, lights flashing, fire engines thrumming, ambulances at hand, the entire cabinet of the government waiting on the runway, including the prime minister, the media held back by police, news of the situation on the fighter jet having spread already to news rooms, web sites, iPhones, iPads, iPods, Droids, Raphael Even-Zahav and Doran Ben-Ami, dazed, faces wet with tears, able to speak only in jumbled fragments, were led away toward psychologists.

Aircraft maintenance technicians, firemen, police, cabinet members could all now see what they had flown with: on the F-16’s aerodynamic nose, the twitching tableau of five dead girls, unconcerned by observers, striving to stitch themselves together with their own dead hands or memory of hands, absorbed in this.

The plane was hustled into a hangar, select elite from the IDF summoned. Everyone stood back, and the soldiers in a group, with some hesitation, approached the children. One reached out, touched a child, leapt back as if stung or burnt, screaming, They are alive, they are alive! This the others confirmed. Multiple hands reached to touch. The children appeared to be made of flesh, of human blood and bone.

It is not possible, said the members of the cabinet.

These are apparitions, said other members of the cabinet. Chimeras.

Others did not speak, having no explanation.

Feel for yourself, said the soldiers, who had retreated.

Confirm-kill! shouted the top shot in the crew of the elite.

The prime minister sent him a nod, the top gun stepped forward and pointed his weapon at the children. He fired, once, twice, five times, at the tender, bloodied foreheads. There was still movement. He pointed his gun at hearts: once, twice, five times. Still movement. Again he fired, at heads, hearts. Nothing happened. The group of preoccupied children remained oblivious to every new violence.

Because of what they perceived as unnatural, the people in the hangar had, imperceptibly, started to move back from the plane.

The soldier was still firing, compulsively, at the children. One member of the cabinet spoke, his voice like cast lead: Tell him to stop, he said. Tell him it is not possible to kill a dead child.

This plane must be condemned, said a technician, speaking his thoughts aloud.

Where are the pilots? The prime minister called for back-up. Where are the techs? We are not condemning any planes. Arm the jet, he directed. Fly the plane. Make those targets!

Those among the pilots who felt they could fly the plane along with its supernatural cargo came forward. Those among the crowd who had seen the obvious signs of violent death on the children yet could carry the sight inside their craniums and not break, as Raphael and Doran had done, returned to their work.

There is no time to waste, said the commander of the armed forces. We must return to the Bombing.

Night Journey

From another life, that evening, on television, Raphael witnessed the removal of five burned and mutilated bodies from the wreckage of a building. They were the bodies of children, and he did not have to see their faces to recognize them. One father, one mother, and one baby wept and threw themselves on the ground. My children, cried the father. My girls, wept the mother. The father explained what the names of each girl meant, in Arabic. My Daniyah is Close or Near. My Aaliya is Exalted. My Isra is Night Journey. My Hadiya is Gift. My Malaika is Angel.

The bodies were wrapped, over and over in white cloth.

At that moment, Doran spoke to his wife on the telephone, asked for his second child, Meira, whose name, in Hebrew, meant Illuminates.

A father belongs with his child, he said.

Above the city, the F-16 rose, gaining height. The five dead children held on in starlight, blood streamed down their bodies. The new soldiers manning the jet looked through and past them. Then the jet dropped its fresh cargo on the besieged city, another Bomb exploded.

***

Constant Comfort: Copyright: Ramola D.

Open Travesty in David Noakes’ GcMAF Case as UK Judge Ignores All Evidence of Perjury, Reveals “Her” Judgment of Extradition was Handed Down from Higher Up: Report from Neelu Berry

Ramola D/Posted/11/10/2019

NEWS UPDATE from Neelu Berry, 11/11/2019, with text of Judge Nina Tempia’s 20-Page Alien Handed-to-Her Judgment From Higher Up, 11/7/2019

Fear of the UK’s health regulatory body MHRA being fully exposed and being forced to acknowledge culpability for refusing the human body’s natural cancer cure GcMAF to thousands of UK cancer patients may be behind the peculiar actions and words of Judge Nina Tempia on Thursday, November 7, at the Westminster Magistrates’ Court, where she handed down an extradition order to David Noakes, CEO, Immuno Biotech, saying she could not take into account any evidence of perjury being presented, since it was too late and she had just “received her judgment” that morning.

Clear evidence that this UK judge–if not all UK judges–is not, apparently in charge of her own critical faculties as a key representative of the judicial system, Judge Tempia confirmed with this action that this UK court is apparently being commanded by shadowy figures behind the scenes, whom Neelu Berry, tireless whistleblower and activist, pinpoints as the organized crime syndicate behind the MHRA/OCLAESP persecution of David Noakes and Lynda Thyer.

David Noakes with Neelu Berry and supporters at Westminster Magistrate’s Court, Nov 7, 2019
Westminster Magistrates Court Rubber Stamps Perjury in France to kill 3,500 Cancer Patients per day/Video

At question here is the very wrongful set of nine charges recently set out by French Judge Gadaud, at the behest of the French regulatory body OCLAESP acting on behalf of the MHRA, which David Noakes has shown to be fully imaginary charges, based on no evidence whatsoever, which led to the creation of a European Arrest Warrant and the arrest, extradition, and incarceration of Immuno Biotech scientist employee Lynda Thyer, now being used also against David Noakes.

Media discussion last week of the extensive perjury committed by Judge Gadaud and the MHRA in attributing wrongful charges of money-laundering based on inflated bank balance figures with journalists Andy Devine and Neelu Berry as well as historian and common law expert David Johnson can be found here:

RT Pod 6: Round-Table UK-US Media Focus: Perjury in David Noakes & Lynda Thyer’s Cases & Remedy

At heart of this entire travesty of course, covered here earlier, is the frankly outrageous bid by the pharmaceutical industry controlling the MHRA to suppress a proven and inexpensive cancer and autism cure GcMAF from reaching the people of the UK and the world — going to every length possible to persecute those who helped make it available to people, in hopes that GcMAF can thus be shunted out of sight and people can go back to the never-ending manipulations of the cancer-drug industry in “searching for a cancer cure” and relying solely on the billion-dollar-profit-pulling-drugs which ultimately seem to be decimating people with “chemotherapy.”

To this end, mainstream media continues to distort this story, in the interests of the powerful crime syndicate running the MHRA. The truth, however, is not being reported in these accounts which seek to smear David Noakes as an “unlicensed drug seller” “quack” and money-launderer. For complete coverage, see all the many Newsbreaks and articles here at ECC and at Ramola D Reports, see also the interviews David Noakes and Lynda Thyer have given with Ian Crane, Andy Devine, Jason Lisiatos, among other penetrating media analysts and journalists unafraid to cover the truth.

One primary development of note is the admission by Judge Tempia that her judgment wasn’t hers, but was handed down to her. One must ask: who handed it to her, who authored it, and why is a judge handing down other people’s judgments instead of using her own critical faculties to examine the matter, as she is tasked to do? Especially when huge matters such as perjury and the complete and utter destruction of lives are at stake. Is everything at the Westminster Magistrate’s Court a farce?

Neelu Berry reports.

Report by Neelu Berry dated 8th of November 2019

Reference Westminster Magistrates court hearing on Thursday 7th of November 2019 in the case of citizen Noakes vs France + UK

I arrived at the Court Security at 9:55 expecting the hearing to be in Court 2 as per last week. I noticed the listings on the ground floor had a blank notice board for Court 2. David Noakes and his group of 30 supporters were standing outside Court 1 in a queue. There was a commotion with David standing at the end of the line because the security guard had been called and would only allow 9 people to enter to sit in the public gallery with 9 seats and no one could decide who the 9 people would be.

I handed David the document I had produced using the front page of the European arrest warrant and a paragraph from the top of page 4 superimposed with the perjury of the 11 million Euros being laundered which I instructed that he hands to the judge and all participants in the courtroom.

He bizzarely handed it to his supporters to pass around themselves. I retrieved it and gave it back to David. David put it in his briefcase. We did not have the document which I had produced using the front page of Mr Justice Supperstone’s judgement of 10th of May 2019, with the paragraph 3 correcting the 11 million Euros to be 11000 euros. We tried to look for it in his briefcase but were unable to find it. We decided to ask the court clerk to look for it in the court file.

I protested to the security guard to inform the judge that no hearing could take place until all the people were seated because they had come from hundreds of miles away. I mentioned the Nuremberg Trials when he pleaded Innocence of just doing his job and denied his active participation in the three-and-a-half thousand deaths from denying GcMAF.

The security guard then asked me to speak to the usher and within a few minutes the decision was made to change the location to court 1 to enable all supporters to be seated.

As I sat down in the public gallery, I noticed David sitting by himself, to the far left in the courtroom, without any paperwork in his hand. I managed to slide into the courtroom, following the CPS barrister, sat next to David and assumed the position of his McKenzie friend.

The Judge’s Clerk, Ms Pollin, with a very strong French accent, was extremely mechanistic, asking David, “Does the judge know about this?” which was bizarre.

David being an Englishman, responded equally mechanistically “Yes”

A younger security guard ordered me to sit in the public gallery as a McKenzie friend to which I corrected him on the procedures that the McKenzie friends normally sit with the litigants in person.

I handed Miss Pollin the copy of the edited page 1 of the EAW with the perjury evidence to make several copies. She refused saying she could not take instructions from me. I asked David to hand her the document for photocopying for everybody in the courtroom and she then ordered 5 copies be made and gave them to David rather than handing them out do the CPS barristers. I then asked David to pass the perjury document to Ms Pollin for the judge and serve the CPS. I then asked David to ask Miss Pollin to print paragraph 3 of the judgement of Mr Justice supperstone dated 10th of May 2019 from the court file.

We informed them that the documents were in the court file because they had been emailed to the court on several occasions. Miss Pollin prematurely decided to call the judge in to deny us serving perjury evidence in the Supperstone Judgement but omitted from the proceedings.

10.21 a young female CPS barrister was served with the perjury evidence

The case was called from inside of courtroom 1, not outside. The case of France vs Noakes. David gave his name as the living man David of the family Noakes. They read out his date of birth as 7th of March 1953

The judge entered and asked my name which I gave as Neelu. She stated that she had given full consideration to the proceedings of the previous week’s hearing under section 11 of the extradition act and made a finding against Mr. Noakes and had got her judgement to hand down.

She was ordering his extradition to France within 10 days, and he has 7 days to appeal the decision, which she wrongly stated gave him 17 days. She was very mechanistic that there would be a cost of £565 unless he had reasons for not paying it.

There was a public outcry from the public gallery. The Judge shouted at the public “Can you be quiet?”.

David explained that the MHRA had closed all his accounts, his benefits and his pension had been stopped and he had no income. The judge was very mechanistic in a pre-determination on costs to say that she was willing to reduce it by a percentage to £250 (which is not a %) which if it wasn’t paid by December there would be a collection order and a prison sentence; that he would be remanded on bail and he had restrictions not to leave an address at PL3 4DH water leave the country of England and Wales.

She asked David if there was an application he wished to make. I stood up and responded that there was evidence of perjury that needed to be considered. I referred to the document with the evidence of the perjury and demanded that the judge review her decision in light of it. The judge insisted that it was too late to review her decision saying, “I am unable to do anything at this late stage because I only received the judgement this morning”

I then asked her where she had received the judgement from and who wrote it. She responded by saying that I did not have the authority to address her or the court as a McKenzie friend. She appeared to panic and hand down the 20 page copy of the judgement to Ms Pollin to pass on to the David Noakes. The judge immediately got up and ran out of the court.

As the judge was leaving I stated “I am arresting you for the treason you have committed today”

I then went to the CPS barrister to provide her name which she refused to do. There was one older female behind her who ignored me. There were three other younger barristers, the male barrister in the middle told me he was from CPS but did not need to give me his name. The two females on either side said they did not need to tell me where they were from but they were not from the MHRA.

Surprisingly the judge did not ask who was in the courtroom from France if at all. I think it was Judge’s Clerk, Ms Pollin, who immediately telephoned for security to come to the courtroom to clear it to stop me communicating with the CPS staff.

The older female then told the male security guard, “Deal with her” to which I responded that those CPS staff were mass murderers responsible for 3,500 murders every single day

It was very clear that the judges Clerk was sent from France to orchestrate these proceedings in a private capacity and the CPS and the judge were just being recruited into the UK organised crime network on their first assignment or a promotion.

I took pictures of the judgement on my mobile phone and sent it by email to John Smith and Edward Ellis. I gave the original copy of the judgement to John Banks to pass on to Mr Ellis.

What is stated above is true to the best of my knowledge and belief

The websites mentioned by David in this video are:

thenhf.com

thenhf.co.uk

www.healnow.se

www.gcmaf.se

www.mhracorrupt.st

Apologies for the jingles on the live feed https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RWYGVBF_EGY

John Smith is appealing the decision, see www.commonlawcourt.com previous common law hearings and appeals

Equity Lawyer Edward William Ellis is on www.icj3.webs.com Mass Remedy Process

Neelu Berry, Neelu Chaudhari, Ved Chaudhari

Whistleblower Pharmacist

text 07868060083

Private Investigator for the Mass Remedy Process of the Equity Monarchy Trusts managed by Mr Ellis

My Youtube channel is https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCWDZvSpPR-nG8sEjDm0iGEg/videos

My Facebook https://www.facebook.com/victor.pc.589

www.icj3.webs.com Interviews by Mr Ellis

www.icj3.webs.com/health Interviews by Neelu Berry, David Noakes & Lynda Thyer

www.icj2.webs.com

www.icj13.webs.com

www.allto1.webs.com

www.mfn99.webs.com

My Research Interest Links

 https://www.british-history.ac.uk/no-series/acts-ordinances-interregnum/pp197-200  Satanic Structure Laws

https://www.ashtarontheroad.com/ashtarcommand.html Our Angels

Related:

Emergency Appeal: GcMAF Cancer Cure Scientist Lynda Thyer in Danger of Dying in French Prison, Urgent Action Needed

Extrajudicial Trafficking to Suppress Powerful Natural Cancer Cure: UK GcMAF Cancer Treatment Scientist Lynda Thyer Criminally Arrested, Extradited to France on Draconian European Arrest Warrant

Newsbreak 35 | August 16, 2019 | Extrajudicial Trafficking: David Noakes on The Extraditing of Lynda Thyer, Cancer Cure GcMAF Suppressed

1 Aug 2019: Testimony of Whistleblower Pharmacist Neelu Chaudhari in support of GcMAF on the NHS

Biomedical Researcher Lynda Thyer Traumatized by Extradition Threat, Narrowly Escapes Kidnap Attempt as Cancer Cure GcMAF is Demonized by MHRA and Pharmaceutical Establishment Protecting Chemo Drug Profits/Ramola D, 6/13/2019

Newsbreak 28 | June 18, 2019 | David Noakes and Neelu Berry on Latest with Linda Thyer | Research Scientist Genius Being Persecuted by MHRA, Courts, Police for Healing Cancer and Other Patients with GcMAF, The Body’s Natural Cure for Cancer

Newsbreak 27, June 8, 2019: Lynda Thyer Extradition Moved, MHRA Corruption, GcMAF Cancer Cure Withheld

Report #134, June 6, 2019: Lynda Thyer and Neelu Berry on GcMAF Benefits/Malpractice by MHRA, Media, Courts

Ramola D Reports/NewsBreak 30: Wave of Mental Health Frauds in UK, New Zealand | Queen’s Hospital Fraudulently Reports Edward Ellis as Absconded Dialysis Patient

Looking Closer At The Sudden Deaths of Several Holistic Doctors & the GcMAF/Nagalase & Cancer/Autism & Vaccine Connections

Holistic Doctors, Osteopaths, Nurses: More Deaths, More Questions

GcMAF, Nagalase, Vaccines, Autism & Cancer Cures, & Holistic Doctors Being Killed: What is the Connection?

Holistic Doctors, Sudden Cardiac Arrest, “Targeted Individuals,” & Remote Radiation Heart Attack Weaponry: How to Protect Yourself

Dr. Rima Laibow: These Dead Doctors Told No Lies, Is That Why They Are Dead?

Richard Presser: Dr Rima Laibow interviews David Noakes and exposes the Big Pharma fingerprints in the GcMAF/Nagalase health bombshell

GcMAF & Immune System Health/Nagalase in Vaccines/An Update

Public Notice: The Remote Access of Human Beings is a Crime Against Humanity

Notice | Ramola D | November 5, 2019

While it is clear that Offices of Legal Counsel at organizations such as the US Department of Health and Human Services, which houses the OHRP, Office of Human Research Protections–an office which appears to function in name only since it brazenly ignores public comment sent in to the SACHRP, Secretary’s Advisory Committee on Human Research Protection on the importance of Informed Consent in human experimentation, as reported previously here and as evident in their pushing-through in 2016 of a revised Common Rule rife with exemptions for Informed Consent, handed like candy to Intelligence agencies, the Department of Defense, and the Department of Justice, along with other government departments and Universities–who have essentially been thus (self-)permitted, by Deans of Universities, academics in Medicine, Law, and Bioethics, and government departments to freely prey on American bodies and brains without consent–basic humanity, common sense, and awareness of crimes against humanity from a general human rights point of view dictate the following:

  1. That the Remote-Access Bio-Hacking and Neuro-Hacking of humans without their prior Informed Consent (as in fully-consented-to medical health monitoring) is most definitely a Crime Against Humanity.

  1. That everyone who participates in such remote-access-of-humans with Covert or Stealth bio-hacking and neuro-hacking radio frequency/sonic/scalar/implant/neuro/bio/chemical technologies and equipment, on the instruction of another, whether within the context of a secretive or overt Intelligence/Defense/Justice/Fusion Center contract or academic grant as employee, contractor, student or as a volunteer in Community Policing programs involving Electronic Surveillance, all in the false name of Surveillance, Public Safety, and National Security, Public Health, Mental Health, or Medical Bio/Behavioral Research, is knowingly participating in this Crime Against Humanity being enacted without Informed Consent, as a modality of electronic and remote capture, suppression, and subjugation of another, and thereby engaging in Human Trafficking.

The OHRP is particularly responsible since it requires all agencies of the government engaging in research using human subjects, including military divisions with internal Institutional Review Boards to submit a Federal Wide Assurance indicating adherence to ethical principles embodied by a particular set of guidelines such as the Belmont Report, Helsinki Declaration, or Common Rule.

Human Trafficking is Understood Worldwide to be a Crime

President Trump’s Executive Order 13818 on Human Trafficking

UN’s strictures on Trafficking in Persons

UN OHCHR’s Human Rights and Human Trafficking Fact Sheet No. 36

Electronic Enslavement is Akin to Physical Enslavement Which is Understood Worldwide to be a Crime

World Notice of Crimes Against Humanity Using Energy Neuro/Bio Weapons

Non-Lethal” Weapons Cannot Be Used Indiscriminately & Criminally on Humans

The International Legal Implications of “Non-Lethal” Weapons by David Fidler/Michigan Journal of International Law

Non-Lethal Weapons Police Use to Suppress Protest are Killing People/Huffington Post

Less-Lethal” Weapons can kill and police misuse them for torture/Amnesty International

Today, as graduate students, neighbors, small business owners, private sector and Security service employees are increasingly drawn into chilling programs of Fusion Center community policing and monitoring as well as unethical medical or bio-behavioral research which include GPS tracking and electronic “anti-personnel” monitoring of people with wireless technologies, it is important to remind people of their base sense of morality, humanity, and integrity and ask everyone to think deeply about their own culpability in Torture, Electronic Enslavement, and Human Trafficking when they assent to participating in the remote-access bio-hacking and neuro-hacking of humans, often their next-door neighbors, customers, colleagues, employees, or family.

This notice was written a couple months ago specifically to inform work colleagues of the crime against humanity they were committing on an American woman non-consensually implanted who is still seeking justice, who reported (to this writer) she was being remotely-accessed at her workspot continuously, with intense pulsing pain signals being sent to various organs including private parts. It is this kind of remote access, for torture and sadism, that many people from all walks of life are reporting today, both in the USA and worldwide, and which needs to be fully outlawed, legislated against, and terminated.

This notice is being published in the hope that Human Rights, Common Decency, and Common Sense will prevail over the insanity of compliance to unlawful physical assault and battery on humans, achieved covertly and remotely—for whatever stated reason. The day will come when such crimes will indeed be prosecuted.

Notice of Crime Against Humanity in Remote Access of Human Beings in PDF Format (easier to print and share as a flyer): Notice of Crime Against Humanity: Remote Wireless Manipulation of Human Beings

PLEASE POST WIDELY, IN EVERY NATION OF THE WORLD, FOR THE PROTECTION OF ALL HUMANITY

***

NOTICE OF CRIME AGAINST HUMANITY

DO NOT PARTICIPATE IN REMOTE ACCESS OF HUMAN BEINGS

Remotely Vibrating, Pulsing, Burning, Manipulating Human Bodies

USING WIFI, CELL PHONES, BCIs, WBANs, REMOTE EMF/SONIC DEVICES

Without Full Continuously Verifiable Informed Consent is a Crime Against Humanity

& Criminal, Prosecutable Offense as Torture of a Human Being

By international law, every researcher/agent/student/contractor/employee accessing anyone without their Full Informed Consent is a Human Trafficker.

Notice to One is Notice to All

Please be advised that by International Law, Article 7 of the Rome Statute, the Geneva Conventions, and the Nuremberg Treaty,

  • You are prohibited from remotely manipulating the bodies or brains of any human being without their own vocal, witnessed, verifiable, public, open informed consent in that moment and prior;

  • You are becoming an accomplice to crime if you participate in such manipulation on someone else’s directive, whoever it is, whether identified to you as a researcher, an investigator, an officer or agent for any agency, military, government, hospital, or your own boss, and for whatever reason;

  • You are personally responsible even if you perform such actions of wireless, remote manipulation under presumption, belief, or notification from anyone of your subject having “impaired consent capacity,” or of your subject being a “participant in a research project for her/his own good,” or “needing therapy” which you are falsely told you are providing through such bodily manipulation;

  • You can be publicly named, shamed, and prosecuted by the subject of your manipulations;

  • You can be held publicly accountable by human rights organizations, courts, and councils for your own individual actions of harm to another.

The covert remote access and manipulation of a human being by means of a wireless, spectrum, sonic, neuro device such as a cell phone app, bar code reader, RFID detector, infra-red emitter, microwave emitter, or scalar wave emitter, whether sold to you as Surveillance or Medical Monitoring, used to pulse, vibrate, send electrical vibrations, shocks, spasms, skin-burn, and other human bio-effects, is, quite explicitly, Torture, and a Crime Against Humanity. Please use your common-sense: no-one wants their private parts or any other body parts vibrated, pulsed, or burned by you—whatever misapprehension of “therapy,” “research,” or “benefit” you may be laboring under. These are crimes, and you can indeed be held personally responsible. Therefore, please DO NOT PARTICIPATE IN REMOTE ACCESS OF HUMAN BEINGS. You can and must say No, to unscrupulous traffickers, which may include Universities & agencies. (Note that every researcher/agent/ student/contractor/employee accessing anyone without their Informed Consent is a Human Trafficker.)

World Notice of Crimes Against Humanity Using Energy & Neuro/Bio Weapons

Notice | Ramola D | November 2, 2019

This World Notice of Crimes Against Humanity Using Energy and Neuro/Bio Weapons, endorsed by leading human rights advocates in the United States of America and Europe, has been updated and is being reissued worldwide to put all peoples on notice that the use of Anti-Personnel Non-Lethal Weapons or Directed Energy Weapons or Electromagnetic Weapons or Psychotronic Weapons or Neuro/Bio Weapons, currently being operated without consent on populations by governments, criminal justice organizations and Law Enforcement groups, medical organizations, intelligence agencies, and militaries worldwide, which involve the non-consensual remote access of human bodies and brains, constitute Crimes Against Humanity, as described in Article 7 of the Rome Statute, which formed the International Criminal Court in July 1998, and came into force in July 2002.

All concerned citizens and reporting victims of these crimes being passed off, deceptively, as normative and legal Surveillance, classified research, or beneficial human experimentation are advised and requested to send this notice (printable form in PDF-link  below) along with Article 7 of the Rome Statute or the entire Rome Statute (also in PDF-link below) to their elected representatives, Senators, ministers, and members of Congress or Parliament, to their local city and county and state governments, to their local and regional fusion centers, Citizen Watch groups, and police departments, to their local Universities and research institutions, to all Criminal Justice institutions, to all militaries and military leaders, departments of Homeland Security, to all Intelligence agencies, agents, and heads, to all courts, systems of justice, judges, lawyers, and advocates, to all technological/security service companies and departments in Universities, to telecom and electric/gas utility companies, to human rights, civil liberties, concerned citizen, bio-ethics, neuro-ethics, philosophy, sociology, psychology groups and departments in Universities, to writers, poets, journalists and press freedom groups, to physicians, psychologists, psychiatrists and physician groups, to church and religious leaders and faith groups, to scientists of every kind, and to any other professionals and groups you can think of, to inform all of this true world crisis and need to ameliorate it immediately.

Humanity has become an endangered species in the face of a predatorial Technofascist Surveillance/ Criminal Justice/ Military/ Intelligence/ Medical Monitoring industry of managerial, supremacist Elites using insidious remote-access spectrum neuro/bio weaponry for Remote Neural Monitoring and Torture of all humanity, rapidly being trained and deployed covertly and sadistically using negative Artificial Intelligence algorithms–obviating the need for overt Social Credit systems as in China but achieving the same ends, and worse: Total Human Control–it is up to us all to turn back the tide.

World Notice of Crimes Against Humanity Using Neuro Bio Weapons in PDF Format

Article 7, Rome Statute in PDF Format

Rome Statute-English in PDF Format

Rome Statute-English in Doc Format


Notice of Crimes Against Humanity Using Energy & Neuro/Bio Weapons

Notice of Criminal Trespass

Notice of Theft of Intellectual Property

Notice of Impending Criminal Charges

Notice to One is Notice to All

Reissued: 28 October 2019

Originally posted: 28 August, 2017

…(T)he prohibition of crimes against humanity, similar to the prohibition of genocide, has been considered a peremptory norm of international law, from which no derogation is permitted and which is applicable to all States.” United Nations Office on Genocide Prevention and the Responsibility to Protect

By this Notice, dated the 28th of October, 2019, let it be known, to all individuals, groups, corporations, agencies, organizations, foundations, governments, militaries, and citizens worldwide and in every Nation State, that:

  1. According to Article 7 of the 1998 Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court, which established the International Criminal Court, and constitutes the primary treaty and “latest consensus from the international community” on this matter, the full text of which may be found online at the United Nations Genocide Prevention web site and elsewhere, and is enclosed herein:

A.) The following crimes which are being committed today by individual, group, and corporate members and veterans of Militaries, Defense Departments, Defense/Security contractors, Air Force and Army Bases, Justice Departments, Intelligence/Security agencies, Intelligence/Security contractors, Law Enforcement departments, Fusion Center organizations, Bureaus of Investigation, Citizen Watch and Neighborhood Watch groups, Community Oriented Policing programs, University “researchers,” and random citizens in neighborhoods, communities, and places of employment recruited to assist in programs to covertly target, surveil, stalk, “gang-stalk,” swarm, gaslight, vandalize, sabotage, and assault select civilians–

  1. With electromagnetic radiation, pulsed microwaves, wifi, radio frequency (RF) signals sent to non-consensual RF implants, sonic pulses, and ionizing radiation using sonic weapons, neuroweapons, portable Directed-Energy Weapons, cell phones, apps on cell phones, and other means of transmitting carcinogenic radiation;

  1. All in the guise of “surveillance programs,” “experimentation programs,” “neuro-experimentation programs,” “behavior modification programs,” “behavioral intervention programs,” “predictive policing programs,” “criminal justice programs,” “pre-crime programs,” “medical monitoring programs,” “public safety programs,” “social engineering programs,” “countering violent extremism” programs, and other means of hiding these deadly programs of sadistic and brutal assault under Secrecy, Classification for National Security, Biomedical and Behavioral Intervention, public safety, “legitimate” and “legal” military/Intelligence experimentation, and criminal justice covers;

  1. And conducted as State-sponsored “legal” domestic counter-terrorism/counter-proliferation/counter-Intelligence/suppression/pacification activities on whole swathes of civilian populations in towns, cities, states, and regions, with full “knowledge of the attack”

— are Internationally understood to be Crimes Against Humanity, and include:

  1. Enslavement—in this case, Electronic Enslavement, by virtue of Continuous ClandestineTracking and Locating via Non-consensually implanted tracking Microchips, Bio-MEMs, Nanochips, or/and Brain Prints or Brain Bio-Resonance Frequencies,and GPS/GIS tracking satellites; Continuous “Electronic Surveillance” or Assault with Electromagnetic Radiation; Punitive Physical and Neural Assault with Electronic Weapons; Continuous Audio and Video Surveillance with planted bugs and recording and tracking devices in homes and vehicles (Article 7, (c));

  1. Imprisonment or other severe deprivation of physical liberty in violation of fundamental rules of international law—in this case, Electronic Imprisonment, by virtue of severeencroachment and criminal trespass into homes and onto bodies and brains with the use of electromagnetic radiation/sonics, continually or periodically applied (Article 7, (e));

  1. Torture –in this case, Electronic Torture, by virtue of assault, remote bodily access andmanipulation, regular sleep-deprivation, injection of synthetic dreams, images, voices, sensations, remote electro-shocking, remote electrical vibrations, remote neuro-takeover, biohacking and bio-robotizing, all induced with electromagnetic weapons, sonic weapons, neuroweapons, bio-communications devices such as implants and transponders, BCI systems (Brain Computer Interface), and other weapons facilitating covert or clandestine assault (Article 7, f)

  1. Rape, sexual slavery, enforced prostitution, forced pregnancy, enforced sterilization, or any other form of sexual violence of comparable gravity—in this case, Electronic Rape, Electronic Sex Trafficking, Electronic Sexual Slavery, Electronic Sexual Violence, and Electronic Enforced Sterilization, by virtue of sexual assault and violence aimed at the private reproductory and urogenital systems of women, young girls, men, and young boys, conducted remotely, at a distance, using radiation weapons, sonic weapons, and non-consensually implanted microchips, neurostimulators, transponders, and Wireless Body Area Networks (Article 7, g).

  1. Persecution…on other grounds universally recognized as impermissible under International Law—in this case, 1) Electronic Persecution, by virtue of continuous assault & torture withelectromagnetic weapons, remote bodily manipulation, remote brain and bodily control, remote EEG cloning and heterodyning (imposing others’ Brain Frequencies on one, permitting partial or full-body neuro-takeover), remote cerebral trauma, all induced with the weapons named above; 2) Psychological Persecution, by virtue of subjecting individuals to non-stop electromagnetic tracking and assault, non-stop physical stress creation, non-stop sensory stimulation, forced disruption of activities, non-stop sleep-deprivation, and non-stop COINTELPRO stalking, swarming, interrogation, vandalism, break-ins, gaslighting, employment sabotage, character ruination, social isolation, slander and defamation, public mockery and street theater (Article 7, h).

  1. Enforced Disappearance of Persons—in this case, Sabotage and Ruination of individuals’ Business, Reputation, and Character Assassination, by virtue of dissemination of lies, slander, libelous and defamatory statements about individuals within their own neighborhoods, work and life communities, areas and cities of residence and employment, often rendering individuals homeless, jobless, blacklisted, and unemployable (Article 7, i).

  2. Other inhumane acts of a similar character intentionally causing great suffering, or serious injury to body or to mental or physical health—in this case, Remote Body and Brain Access,Manipulation, and Assault using the electronic weapons described above, and effecting

    • Bio/Neuro-Hacking and the Theft of Personal Intellectual Property (one’s brainwaves—whether thought, emotion, sensation, memory, intention, cogitation, mentation, inner voice, or any other);

    • Bio-Robotizing—which is essentially the neural takeover of a person’s brain and manipulating a person’s limbs, organs, joints, and entire body from outside;

    • Continuous Psychological, Mental, and Internal Torture via Voice to Skull and Synthetic Telepathy running abusive monologues inside individuals’ brains, an intrinsic aspect of Trauma-Based Mind Control, and prelude to bio-robotizing;

    • Continuous Psychological and Social Trauma caused by non-stop assault of individuals with Psy Ops-defined inputs related to the individual’s life, picked up by intensive surveillance, including neuro-surveillance;

    • and the very act of Trauma-Based Mind Control, which is the effecting of remote control of people’s brains and bodily movements and behaviors by inflicting physical and psychological trauma on them (Article 7, k).

To repeat, these acts of extreme remote brain and body access, assault, and manipulation are internationally understood, as per Article 7 of the 1998 Rome Statute of the ICC—and understood by all seeking to investigate and prosecute those committing these crimes–to be Crimes Against Humanity.

2) These crimes are currently being investigated, and all those committing these crimes are being monitored. All individuals, groups, and corporate members and veterans of Militaries, Defense Departments, Defense/Security contractors, Air Force and Army Bases, Justice Departments, Intelligence/Security agencies, Intelligence/Security contractors, Law Enforcement departments, Fusion Center organizations, Bureaus of Investigation, Citizen Watch and Neighborhood Watch groups, Community Oriented Policing Programs, University “researchers,” and random citizens in neighborhoods, communities, and places of employment recruited to assist in the performance of these Crimes Against Humanity on the bodies of select individuals, presented deceptively by Nation State and military “authorities” of any kind as legitimate or lawful or legal targets of surveillance, monitoring, investigation, or experimentation are liable to being monitored by name, place of residence, place of employment, occupation, and association (to determine connection with Military/Intelligence/Law Enforcement/Neighborhood Watch/Community Oriented Policing Program if any.)

3) These crimes will be prosecuted in the International Criminal Court, in courts of Common Law, and in new, incorruptible People’s Courts and Tribunals to be focused on addressing Crimes Against Humanity.

4) Every single person or entity participating in these crimes in the smallest way, whether by pointing a cell phone issuing a wifi signal at a human being identified to them as a legitimate target or “test subject,” using an app on a cell phone to direct deadly radiation on such an identified human being, via the GlobalElectronic Control Grid (using cell towers, satellites, drones, sensors, air, space, ground -based and mobile tracking, sensing, and transmitting platforms), or using a portable directed-energy weapon or antenna system or transducer handed to them by an “authority” organization such as a Defensecontractor/military branch/Air Force Base/Intelligence agency/Security agency/Law Enforcement agency/Investigation agency/Neighborhood Watch group/Community Oriented Policing Progam is liable to being monitored, and will be documented by name and photographic or video/audio record.

5) Participants in these crimes (deceptively termed “legal”) are hereby informed they are participating inactuality in the crimes of Non-consensual Rape, Sex Trafficking, Sexual Assault, Enslavement, Imprisonment, Torture, Sexual Slavery, Persecution, Enforced Disappearance, Bio-Hacking, Bio-Communications, Neuro-Hacking, Psychological Trauma, Physical Trauma/Assault, and Criminal Bodily Trespass—all of which are Crimes Against Humanity, as described above.

6) Participants in these crimes are also hereby informed that Crimes Against Humanity they are recruited into performing, whether conducted and protected under cover of “National Security,” “in protection of the Homeland,” “legitimate military/criminal justice experimentation,” “research projects,” “socio-behavioral research,” “social engineering,” or “legitimate investigation,” are still, and primarily, Crimes Against Humanity, and will be prosecuted as such.

7) Participants in these Crimes Against Humanity—whether salaried employee of an organization as described above or paid/unpaid community volunteer–can both anticipate criminal charges, continuous written, photographic, audio and videographic documentation of their actions and words, and open publication at any time online and otherwise of their names, photographs, audio/video recordings and places of residence and employment.

Endorsed:

Ramola D/Dharmaraj, Journalist, Author, Publisher: The Everyday Concerned Citizen Ramola D Reports

Karen Melton-Stewart, Retired NSA Intelligence Analyst, Whistleblower

Dr. Millicent Black, Pastor, Researcher, Advocate; Doctorate: Christian Education and Social Justice

Melanie Vritschan, Founder and President, ICATOR (International Coalition Against Electronic Torture and Robotization of Living Beings)

Thomas McFarlan, Journalist, Visual Artist, & Innate Psychology Coach

Cassandra, Citizen Journalist, EFL/ESL Teacher

POSTED: 28 October 2019

Email: ramolad@everydayconcerned.net

PLEASE POST WIDELY, IN EVERY NATION OF THE WORLD, FOR THE PROTECTION OF ALL HUMANITY