JFK Assignation

This is a re-post.  I was with President John Fitzgerald Kennedy in the ambulance after he was shot. I was on the grassy knoll when the shot was fired.  I got that man arrested, yet there was no mention of him in the press.  See the story below under ***This is that Story ***

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

I’m being abused by the NSA. My right to privacy is long gone. They have put a homing device and a microphone in my stomach, supposedly attached to my spine so there will be bone conduction. I have an X-ray picture of it. I was told if I take it out I will be killed. Our soldiers all have the same, but they agreed to it. If I go to the ACLU to complain, my phone call will be intercepted. If I confide in a friend about what’s happening to me, she’ll be killed. The NSA has brainwashed my daughters into not trusting me. They’ve been working on torturing them every week for the past 15 years. When I left in my RV they loved and trusted me, but now that I haven’t seen them in so long that now they’re afraid of me. When I was there, living with or near them, even though they were being tortured to hate me (that’s true), once they saw me again they were fine. But I can’t even call them. I know most of my calls are diverted, and I know when they try to answer, that’s diverted, too. But I don’t try hard and I can’t talk to them about anything meaningful because I know they’ll be tortured for many hours. And then they’ll be tortured, drugged and electrocuted to forget and when I talk to them again they’ll say, “It never happened.” Trying to be a good, peace-loving American gets me treated like a criminal. The military wants WW3 and I don’t, so to teach me a lesson if I get on a plane, twenty people get kicked off so I can get harassed during the flights, and then the flights gets delayed so the rest of the hundred passengers are inconvenienced. Every move I make, every breath I take, they are watching me, hurting me and hassling me. The Military already has their list of soldiers who are slated to be the first to die in WW3 and General John Kelly said they will do everything in their power to stop me from stopping them. I don’t know how delaying flights for three hours and inconveniencing dozens of people stops me from doing anything. The Military teaches its troops to be rude and inconsiderate, and to hate good people who pray for peace. They say I’m subversive because I don’t want war. Sometimes the airline has to send another plane to accommodate all the people they kick off a flight. That costs them money. Airlines should have the right to ask about fabricating excuses for changing seats, etc. They should have the right to refuse Military baby antics. You notice the way we left the Kurds to be annihilated and we released Isis into Turkey so when something starts up, we can send nuclear missiles. Notice Trump didn’t send our troops home, rather on to the next potential nuclear war site. There are potential wars in six other countries and three bogus attacks on our people, in this country, so we “have to retaliate,” just like Afghanistan. I knew about that, too. A country that attacks its own people as a pretense to start a war is subversive and traitorous. I wrote a memo and I told Pres. Bush about the attack on the trade towers at least a year before nine eleven. Three thousand people died that day and he has killed more than thirty thousand Americans since then just to keep his secret. The killing will get worse. I just want this madness to stop. Trump isn’t a pacifist, he’s an Annihilist. Pence is no better, he thinks Armageddon will resurrect Christ: the opposite is true. Christ will not come if we start Armageddon. That’s a myth and a lie, like everything else. Wake up America. About George Lucas- NSA Agents are doing the same thing to George Lucas. I was told no one really wants to hurt George, but they “have to.” George and everyone involved with Obama must learn he's not the man you think he is. But they think he’s a nice guy so they feel badly about it. Well that’s something, I guess. But the Government and other cults should not have round-the-clock accessibility to agents who are trained killers and have had their free will taken away through torture and electroshock. The best agents have had their personality split, so one personality takes over to carry out “orders” while the original personality watches helplessly. There’s a better way to run the military, and I was about to get through to put forth my ideas when the order came through to kill the three Generals who wanted to listen to me: and to kill six special agents who had been listening to me. I listen to these guys and I wonder if they have any feelings at all? I know they do even though they’re not “allowed to.” They’re not “allowed to” complain, either, under fear of death. If they try to retire, they’re not de-programmed, they are killed! I watched the Clint Eastwood movie American Sniper about Chris Kyle and I’m sure I commented on it a lot, but my readership has grown significantly and I know I’m monitored and it’s the guys doing the monitoring, who I’m trying to help. Even tough guys need a little help sometimes. I wonder if the death of Cris Kyle, played by Bradley Cooper, was planned the way it was to get me to say something about it. Everyone in the NSA knows what happened. Chris was killed because he got out. Tragically, Chris seemed to be capable of healing himself with the help of his family and still he was murdered. The man who murdered him was under orders. True! I have many, many confirmations on that statement. The judge sentenced Eddie Ray Routh, Chris’s murderer, to life in prison without parole. The movie writeup says - “U.S. Navy SEAL Chris Kyle (Bradley Cooper) takes his sole mission -- protect his comrades -- to heart and becomes one of the most lethal snipers in American history. His pinpoint accuracy not only saves countless lives.” Back to my dilemma, I can’t get in touch with anyone for fear they will be tortured or killed. You think, “I thought the US didn’t torture?” Well we do. My daughters and I are born and raised here. We are good people, we’re exceptionally good people and the NSA has a HUGE problem with that. The people who give the orders want war and we want peace, and they’re making us the bad guys? The only emails that get through to me are business and junk. Supposedly I get comments on my website that don’t come through, and I have to wonder if our military goes around killing anyone who tries to contact me? My phone rings all the time but not here. This was true when I was in NJ, too. Nobody got through to me. The call is sent elsewhere and other people pick it up pretending to be me and the women pretending to be me are nasty bitches. If I call someone and straighten something out, I find out later that the conversation never happened, I was really talking to someone in the NSA, and I have to get back to square one. Most times things are so impossible, I give up. I escaped my ex-husbands satanic cult only to find myself embroiled in the government’s cult. A much thicker, stickier web. They have kept my money from me so I can’t even get an apartment. That’s stealing, but they’re the military so nothing is illegal, not murder or theft. I feel if I call someone for help he or she will be killed or badly hurt. Just being my friend or talking to me can get you sick with cancer or dead. I think people who I have helped, or who have asked to help me, need to go to the press to tell them what a pickle I’m in . There are many people who have offered to help me over the years. Many have been killed. I don’t understand how a kid in a uniform can break into Steve Jobs’ house and inject his brain with liquid smoke, or some other carcinogen: and if he questions those orders his buddy will be told to kill him. They have to kill each other all the time. It’s so f_ked up I can’t stand it. Neither can the Agents. They don’t realize that “under orders” is meaningless. If they’re caught they’ll be tried for murder. Steve Jobs was a great man. No one, no politician, and no officer, has the right to murder any citizen, especially one who makes this country proud. If you know someone in the NSA it’s your responsibility to let your congressman know what this country is doing to him. They’re being treated barbarically. If you know my daughters please call them to lend an ear, because their memories are being erased in an attempt to make them cold and heartless and they’re suffering. Their memories are being erased and replaced with more horrible lies, and their ability to reason is gone. They used to be the smartest women on the planet. If you know George Lucas do the same. The man we were both speaking with, who George considers a friend, ordered some horrific things done to George. They are trying to change his personality so he won’t like me, or so I won’t like him, like that could ever happen, but in the meantime his health and his mind will be suffering. Listening to him will be helpful. He also has a homing device and a microphone planted in him. His whole house is wired because he knows me. If you’re a parent whose kid wants to join special forces let him know what he’ll be joining. I had someone with me get killed because he couldn’t kill his friend. I’m serious. Watch the Manchurian Candidate, especially the part where people are being murdered, but the men see themselves at a flower show. That’s what it’s like. A Clock Work Orange shows how it’s done. And Mel Gibson’s Conspiracy Theory shows the aftermath. NSA guys read my books and my blog because I may be the only friend you’ve got. I’d love to be able to take suggestions. I know I have to get all lawyered up, I’d like to sue the government for defamation of character and theft. That’s something I used to be able to do, but I’m powerless now. What you can do. God changed my name to Grace. I changed it legally in 2007. My slave name was Lynn. I was born Lynn Pezzutti, then I married Jay McDermott and I became Lynn McDermott, then I married Peter Mickelsen (now deceased) and became Lynn Mickelsen. Most of my friends in the entertainment industry think I’m Lynn Mickelsen. So now I’m Grace Gardener, and while I’m not a slave, I’m a prisoner of the state. If you’re a lawyer, see if you can get something going. I was thinking Amal Clooney could be very helpful. If you know someone in the ACLU ask them to read this blog. If you’re in my family, Doherty, Murray, Sullivan or Kelly and remember me from my Anti-War days and establishing Earth Day maybe there’s something you want to do. Let the NY Times know I’d like this published as a letter to the Editor. Publish first, contact later. Send a copy or link to your News. Good Luck, God Bless you. Rise Up! Think Peace. 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 12 YEARS AGO. I know 90% of what I know because plans for Armageddon were alwazs talked about at RAND. 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’ 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! 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. I‘m still trying to walk those 20 feet.
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