JFK Assignation

I was with President John Fitzgerald Kennedy in the ambulance after he was shot. below under ***This is that Story ***
I feel these are my last days, there’s nothing I can say to my daughters because my words will be intercepted and changed and then they will be tortured or killed, so I stay away from them.

I thought I’d talk a little about Jack Kennedy.
A short history of why and how I knew the Kennedys.
I was working in Hollywood at age 3 as Little Ricky in I Love Lucy. I started getting writing credits on the show almost every time I was on. I had a good insight, everyone thought. I was asked to help make Groucho Mark’s new show, You Bet Your Life, funnier. I met Groucho, who apologized for his foul mood caused by the news that his daughter had been denied entrance into their local beach club because she was Jewish. So I told Groucho to tell the press and we worked on two jokes because I said when you tell someone they’re doing something wrong, it’s good to use a joke so the medicine goes down easier. Groucho told the Press about his daughter’s plight, and added “Maybe she can go in up to her waist since she’s only half Jewish.” And he closed the meeting with, “I wouldn’t want to join a club that would have someone like me as a member.” It worked, and clubs country-wide became integrated.
News spread through Hollywood about me. Edward R. Murrow’s News Show was under fire during the McCarthy hearings. The News Show was threatened if they reported unfavorably about the political witch hunt. I was brought in to weigh in on what the show should do, and I thought aloud; “Don’t you have a responsibility to report the truth?” It was a simple answer to a difficult question. Someone there said I had writing skills, so I was asked to help the other writers and Mr. Murrow write what he told the American people about the Nazi tactics the government was using to derail careers in the name of Democracy.
John Fitzgerald Kennedy became the 35th President in Jan.1961. He was killed November 22, 1963. In that short time, he became one of this countries greatest Presidents.
In the fall of 1960, the Kennedys, who were opposed to Sen. McCarthy and his lying tactics, heard about me and they hired me to help Jack write his Inaugural Address. I suppose I was credited with what Murrow said on TV. (The Kennedy house looked a lot like the house in the old TV show, Bonanza. I pointed out the similarity, so Joe said he had had the house built for his large family and it was inspired by the Bonanza house.)
I want to point out that Joseph Kennedy Sr. was NOT a bootlegger. He was an importer who imported lots of different things from Europe. When Prohibition became law there was a loophole that didn’t include imported liquor, so Joe already had the connections to the European liquor exporters. Joe used all his savings and sold everything but his house, and gambled it all on imported booze. He was right, his plan worked and the Kennedys went from well off to filthy rich. I still read that Jack’s father was a bootlegger, though, and that bothers me. Everything he did was perfectly legal, and anyone who calls Joe a bootlegger is just jealous. Sour grapes.
Joe, Jack’s father sat next to Jack, who was at the head of the dining room table, and then an empty chair, then me. By this time I was eight years old. I could hear them wonder aloud how old I was, because I was about 4’11,” but I was under strict orders not to tell. If I ever messed up I was tortured, so I didn’t mess up often.
Joe and Jack had a small pile of notes and papers and Joe was saying things like, “You’ve got to say something about (this or that)” They had told me to speak up when I had something to add. I didn’t remember anything about the previous Inauguration, (I was four) , I never saw one on TV, so I had no idea how to help.
Bobby wandered in and introduced himself, listened in for a while, rubbed the back of his neck, turned slowly on his heel and walked back out. They’d been working on the speech for a week. I was the fifth writer they had tried, and all they had was a 5” pile of notes.
I put my head down on the table. It was night, I was abducted at night to work, because I went to 3rd grade at my local NJ public school during the day. I lived on 2 hours of sleep, even back then. I’d been listening, though, and when there was a break in their conversation, I helped to put the notes together in a way that made sense. I wanted him to say the things in the notes, but in a way that was good for his speaking cadence. I don’t think I had learned cursive yet, so Joseph Kennedy, Sr. wrote everything down. Jack had a chuckle about him sitting at the head of the table and his father was his secretary. A little more than half way down the notes I said, “And about here, I’d like to hear you say, “Ask not what your country can do for you. Ask what you can do for your country.’” I’m not trying to upstage President Kennedy, but I think that line and the speech in general, is what cemented our mutual admiration and friendship. I think of that phrase often. I think it’s more appropriate today than it was back then, and I encourage everyone to consider it.
I was called in for other consults, family functions and holidays throughout Jack’s Presidency. The Kennedy’s were a great family and I try to emulate them.

***This is that Story ***

In November 1963 I was around when Jack’s secretary went over his daily itinerary. (I had turned 11 in August) When she said Dallas, I got a vision of chaos. I told Jack something bad would happen. He laughed and said, “It’s nothing,” he talked about the trip, “So see, there’ll be no chaos.” The next day when his itinerary was read to him I saw the back of his head blow up, so I had to be more emphatic.
Jack’s solution was to take me on Air Force One with him because he had something to discuss. When we got on the plane, which is lovely by the way, someone told me to go upstairs. I explained Jack wanted to talk to me but I was shooed away by Security. What I didn’t know was some of his secret service men were in on the plan to kill him, and it was the thing he wanted to talk to me about that was the main reason for the shooting. I suppose if the secret service person had let me stay I would have been killed too, or it might have saved Jack. (I don’t like to play the what if/ if only game.)
Like I say elsewhere in this blog I was on the grassy knoll when I saw John Alexander and his rifle. I alerted the local police, but they were instructed to allow Alexander to stay.
I watched as the motorcade headed up to the knoll and I heard a shot from Alexanders gun. I immediately told the cop and asked him to feel Alexander’s gun because it should still be hot. When I felt that was under control I ran to find the quickest way down to where they had taken the Kennedy’s car. I jumped the 20 feet down and landed right in the middle of everything. Jack was being put on a gurney to be taken to the hospital. I started to get in with him because I could see Jacky was being taken elsewhere and no other Kennedy people were around. Someone said, “Oh, she’s okay. That’s his daughter, I’ve seen them together a lot.” So, without correcting him, I hopped into the back of the ambulance. Someone told me I couldn’t talk during the ride. I sat on the floor and put my hand on Jack’s ankle so he would know I was there.
Jack insisted he felt fine. His brain was exposed and was around his head on the gurney. It looked hopeless.
When we got to the hospital the attendants left us and I told Jack what his head looked like because he wanted to sit up.
He asked if I thought he would live and I said, “I don’t see how.”
He asked about Jackie and I said she was fine and I was sure she’d be around as soon as it was safe. He asked what happened. He told me to thank Jackie for him and to tell his family he loves them.
He said how weird it was that he was dying and he felt fine. He said he wasn’t worried, though, he said, “I told Lyndon about you, so if he was ever he was in trouble to ask you. You don’t mind, do you? Lyndon’s a good man, a lot of people don’t like him, but I do. You would help him even if you don’t like him?”
My head was swimming; I was trying to place Lyndon, and finally it clicked Johnson, and that he would be President when Jack died.
“Of course,” was all I could manage to get out.
“I wonder why this happened? Did you see anything in your dream about why I was killed?”
I shook my head, no.
“Maybe it was about what I wanted to talk to you about? Where were you during the flight? I looked for you.”
“Upstairs.” I answered.
“There’s an upstairs? I thought you might be hiding because of your premonition. You saw this? This is what you saw?”
I nodded.
“I wish I’d listened to you. I always listen to you. I do, you know. I should have listened. But everything will be alright, my family, this country because we have you. I want you to advise every President until you’re old enough to be President. I wish I could live long enough to see that.” He smiled at me. He perked up with a thought. “You were right you know? About the moon; that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
He had me there, my mind was all over the place, I couldn’t think past the immediacy of the ordeal: and my memory about the science stuff had been erased. Then, as if someone heard the shift in the conversation, it was suddenly urgent to get Jack inside the hospital.
I was shoved out of the ambulance. I was asked to wait outside. I sat down on a bench and Jackie came in and sat next to me. She said she was glad I was there, and asked how he looked. I said, “Not good.” I explained about how his head and brain looked, even so, when she went in she was horrified by the sight. They said some good-byes and a priest arrived to give Last Rites and they sent Jackie out of the room. I told her it was alright to stay when Last Rites are administered; but she cried and said she couldn’t bear it.

About Grace Gardener

THE NSA AND THE MOOCS WON'T LET ANYONE GET THROUGH TO ME. THEY MAY EVEN HURT YOU IF YOU TRY. See the pages in the tabs of this blog, Grace Gardener, and, A Little About Lynn Mickelsen. If you know me and I don't get back to you, then the email was intercepted. Never talk to anyone claiming to be me without asking questions to be sure. All site posts beginning 4/1/16 will be on Grace-Gardener.org. I’m not doing this for attention. I have 107 broken bones, zero disks in my back, and I’m exhausted. I need to get through to the people who knew me for credibility: but the NSA blocks my every move. I have to have the same acknowledgement and respect for my judgement I had while I was a ghost director in Hollywood and when I was CEO of the Rand Corp. Rand has been able to keep my work anonymous and credited to other people so they can collect my pay and residuals. They figured as long as they’re erasing my memory, and taking credit for my inventions, music, acting and directing; they may as well keep the money I earned. Also, the money would be proof that I did the work, so they’ve kept me poor all of my life. The reason the conspirators made plans in front of me was because they were assured I would “Never Remember” them, their visit and the things they planned. They talked in a kind of code that I have since figured out. I would have turned them in after the meeting had I been allowed to remember. I have to operate the way I do to keep away from my captors. GRR taught me most of the tactics I use. (Now he won’t help because his memory of me is implanted.) I know it angers some corrupt NSA Officers, but it’s a fact that I was a prisoner and slave at the Rand Corporation, and the NSA helped and still helps to keep me that way. I have to make evasive maneuvers to keep me, my daughters, this country and the world safe. Meanwhile I have no where to turn. I still feel like a candle in the wind. https://youtu.be/uw6CIxD1pHo My name was Lynn Mickelsen while I was a prisoner in a blue house and slave of a “club” based in northern New Jersey. If you know me PLEASE DON'T TRY TO CONTACT ME THROUGH THE RAND CORPORATION OR ANY OF MY FORMER EMPLOYERS OR ANY CONTACT FROM MORE THAN 9 YEARS AGO. People who tried doing this are being killed. Some people know the cult know it with a name similar to The Builder Berg Society or the Skull and Dagger Society. There's a HUGE bounty on my head that the cult I escaped from has no intention of paying. The plan is to have me killed and then to kill the person trying to collect the bounty. I thought up the plan and the amount because I thought it was going to be the plot in a movie. I told the people who wanted the plan, "This is one movie no one will want to see." In short, anyone who kills me will be killed within 24 hours and will never see a dime. Now I'm RVing but I’m still a prisoner in that I can't get in touch with anyone, and no one can get in touch with me, except in person. I found out about the other life I’d been living during a grueling five-hour conversation I detail in my Book, ‘the Conversation’ The reason I knew nothing about my own life was because I suffered selective amnesia - induced by the cult that owned me - with drugs, torture and electricity. 'The Conversation' is available in paperback at Blurb.com. The ebook is free. I worked nights and weekends naming products, bands and internet services, or anything else the "club" wanted me to do. I would wake up in the morning and remember nothing about the work and meetings, and I never received ANY money. I could only remember my 9 - 5 job at a bank. I’ve written the eBook, ‘Garden of the Light,’ as a lighter, inspirational compliment to the eBooks – ‘the Conversation,’ and, 'the Truth about Lynn Mickelsen’ which are intended to shed new, totally different light on the current world situation and change the world for the better. Apocalypse is a Greek word meaning, ‘the Revealing of Ancient Knowledge.’ I consider the book, ‘the Conversation,’ as Apocalypse because it reveals the ancient knowledge. We'll have World Peace once we abolish child abuse. My view of Apocalypse has no battle, no war, no army. I believe the knowledge in ‘the Conversation’ is enough to save the world. The blog grace-gardener.org lists just some of the accomplishments I achieved as a slave, to let everyone I've helped over the past sixty years, who I am. I will finally claim my life! https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/380321 If you’re a George Lucas fan you may remember some of these strange stories that involve him. I met George on the set of American Graffiti; we got engaged when the movie wrapped. I was taken away and George was told I was dead. Five years later I was hired to figure out how to make Luke Skywalker’s farm vehicle fly. The people who handled me (owned me) forgot that I had worked for this director once before on American Graffiti and they told him I was dead. I arrived and solved Lucas’s problem for him and he tearfully remembered me and told me what had happened five years before. I stayed on the set of Star Wars long enough to name the Star Wars characters and solve another animatronics problem with Chewy’s costume. I was told it was time to leave and started to follow my jailers the way I had been programmed to, when George asked, “When will I see you again?” I began to say, “Oh, you’ll see me again,” but I realized I wasn’t certain of that because once before, when we got engaged, I never saw him again. So I turned around and started walking back toward Lucas and I asked, “How about now? Can I stay with you now? Because I don’t know when I’ll be able to see you again.” George thought a second and agreed that I should stay. As I was walking back to him I saw his expression change and looked over my shoulder to see the man I had been following holding a gun on me. I kept walking because now I was sure that the story Lucas had told me about what happened five years ago, was going to happen again and I couldn’t allow that. Someone had obviously been playing with my life, and I couldn’t have that, so I kept walking toward Lucas and away from the man with the gun. Lucas’s expression changed again, this time his face was filled with fear and horror. I turned around and now there were three men holding guns on George Lucas. There was only about 20 feet of desert between us but I had to go with them in order to save Lucas’s life. So, if you’re a fan of George Lucas you may remember someone being stolen off the Star Wars set at gunpoint. That was me. Years later I was abducted and stolen from the Academy Awards. You may remember that incident - that was me. Years later I was abducted and stolen from the Elton John’s post Oscar Party that benefits his AIDs foundation. You may remember that incident - that was me. Years later Harrison Ford and George Lucas devised a plan to steal me off of the set of The Fugitive. This time I was shot with a coma drug. They used a hypodermic needle that went through my coat and slacks and into my thigh. Two bogus ambulance men came in a stolen ambulance and took me away. The only other time I saw George face to face was during the making of Howard the Duck. George Lucas and Steven Spielberg made that ridiculous movie to try to rescue me again, in case you were wondering why they made that movie. I was supposed to see Lucas again on a set of Indiana Jones but this time it was George who was drugged and abducted. This makes 8 times George Lucas tried to rescue me. I’ve spoken with Lucas on the phone only a few times over the past 40 years, and those phone calls and the conversations we had while shooting American Graffiti, are what makes up Yoda’s philosophies and Star Wars 7 – the Force Awakens. The reason the people who owned me don’t allow George and I to get together is because they don’t want World Peace. War makes them rich. The greed of a handful of people keep the word in the turmoil it’s in. The people in the entertainment industry know me as the woman with no memory and no name. If you want to know more about me, check out my blog www.grace-gardener.org; or read my free ebooks the Truth about Lynn Mickelsen, and, the Conversation. I‘m still trying to walk those 20 feet.
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