Survivors of MK-Ultra: Carol Rutz and Kathleen A Sullivan

by Mary W Maxwell

The 2018 Adelaide Fringe Play “My Best False Memories” had, as its audience, about 30 survivors (I’m guessing), and one retired judge. And a couple of ladies who misunderstood the ad in the Fringe catalogue but enjoyed the play anyway.

The article below is basically Scenes 1 and 2  of  Act I of the Fringe play. It is aimed at mocking the crowd of naysayers who do business under the name “False Memory Syndrome Foundation”.  There is an FMS group in Oz as well as in US.

I know these two gals, Carol and Kathleen. They are terrific. Born to lead, and they do lead.  At the Fringe they swashbuckled across the stage. (I mean actresses playing their roles did so.) Their “script” below is taken almost verbatim from their speeches and books.

Note to Survivors: The Program we handed out at the Fringe said “Acts I and III may be very triggering.” So please read with due caution. 

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Hello. I’m Carol Rutz.  I was born in Michigan in 1948.

I have DID, Dissociative Identity Disorder – it was once called multiple personality. In my family, pedophilia was passed down through the  generations. It was around the age of two that I first had a need to create a split-off person in my brain — to cope with the abuse I was receiving from my father.

We call these little people in our heads ‘alters’ — the Latin word for ‘other.’ It allows us to survive intolerable trauma.

When we create an alter, it comes with amnesia. So that whatever that “person” experiences is cut off from my conscious recall. I split off another alter when attending a Satanic ritual. That was before age 3.

From that point on, splitting became standard procedure.  Disassociation was my way of life. Happily, though, I married a wonderful man in 1987. He supported me during the recalling of what had happened. My long-held secrets began to surface through flashbacks, and body memories.

You may ask: how could I have “people” living inside me?  I asked that, too. I doubted what I was uncovering. Did I imagine everything? But finally I came to see what every victim sees – that my life was a lie.

Because my therapist showed me how to keep a journal,  I could let my alters write and draw the details of their abuse.  I would simply sit down and let whoever needed to talk come forward. But in those early days, I was afraid — all of the time, 24-7.  The cult might find out I was talking and exterminate me. Fear was my biggest issue.

Sidney Gottlieb, of the CIA, worked on me. He was  in charge of the MK-Ultra mind-control program. He would bottle feed and hold one of my inner people, my baby me, and bond with that part. I believed that I depended on him for food and love.

Those who programmed me had codes to access the baby part, and you had to go through in that order. Baby first, then access various other alters. No matter what Gottlieb did, I would love and remain loyal to this him since he was, as a real parent is, the supplier of the necessities of life. It is significant that when Gottlieb died, in 1999, my programming immediately began to deteriorate.

The CIA had purchased my services from my grandfather in 1952. Maybe they paid in money or maybe they paid by assuring he would not be arrested for selling child porn. Grandpa packed my little suitcase while my Mom was giving birth to my younger sister.  On that day I was driven to Detroit to board a plane to New York, ending up in a place where they do covert experiments.

Since I displayed psychic abilities, they trained part of me to use these abilities in a way they hoped would benefit the agency. I was trained to use “RED FIRE” — the energy I stored away during trauma, the hatred and fear that accumulated over the years each time I was assaulted. I was taught how to access this energy and use it to psychically kill.

Luckily I found out I could send for Freedom of Information files. One CIA proposal said “Drugs and psychological tricks will modify his attitudes.  We will be particularly interested in dis-associative states — an attempt will be made to induce this, using hypnosis.”

My heart practically stood still the day that I read this.  It described perfectly what I had remembered when I was taken, at 4 years of age, from grandfather’s home.   The CIA could control me sufficiently by hypnosis once the triggers were in place. I only had to go for tune-ups, usually at Wright Patterson Air Force Base. (Did you ever take your car in for a tune-up? Imagine treating a human being in such a way.)

In my journal I drew this picture of electrodes attached to parts of my brain:

The CIA made me a compliant slave.   They used electroshock, sensory deprivation, and drugs.   Here’s a list I found of what the CIA hoped to accomplish. It was written as recently as 1977 by Carter’s Director of Central Intelligence, Stansfield Turner. He asked them to find the answer to three questions:  

1. Can we in one hour, induce a hypnotic condition that will make an unwilling subject perform an act for our benefit?

2. Could we seize a subject and by post-hypnotic control, have him crash an airplane, or wreck a train? [Think about it!]

3. Can we change someone’s personality; if so, how long will it hold?

In 1999, my friend Karen Wiltshire spoke on “Ethics” at the National Institute of Health – 18 days later she died. She obtained her 1960s files Johns Hopkins. Her father worked for Hopkins’ Applied Physics Lab.

One of the plans, she explained, was to eliminate emotions and feelings by using torture and other techniques.  Just think about that – to eliminate emotions. We can only guess that they did not want us to be normal humans experiencing such feelings as anger, or pride, or love.

The people who carried out these experiments believed our programming would never break down, and if it did, they were sure the insane-sounding nature of the experiments would totally discredit us

What they did not foresee was the indomitable fighting nature – which perhaps they themselves had unintentionally instilled in us.   A need to find the truth turned out to be much larger than fear.

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Hello. I’m Kathleen A. Sullivan, MSW, born in 1953.

I’m a social worker now but in the past I have been a (high-end) prostitute, and an assassin.

I feel comfortable with knives, owing to my having been in occult rituals from childhood. My Dad taught me how to cut human bodies.  As an assassin I used a knife on special jobs. One time they outfitted me with a spring-blade in my forearm, tide to a leather contraption at my wrist, hidden by my long sleeve. Frankly I found it too awkward to use.

A typical assassination of a target called for me to carry a small plastic container of Vaseline. I was instructed to use a long hatpin – do you remember those big hat pins? I had to push the sharp point of it through the reinforced corner of my handbag, outward.

I would go into the Ladies Room, open the Vaseline container, and see a clear liquid floating on top of the petroleum jelly. I’d dip the hatpin into that, and give it time to dry. Then I’d walk up to a male target and pretend to accidentally bump him with my purse. He didn’t realize that he’d been fatally assaulted, so I had time to escape, unnoticed.

Another task I learned in the MK-Naomi program was called “Paint.” That meant I’d be sent into buildings to paint a liquid onto a doorknob that we knew the person would touch. Or I might go into a home and “paint” someone’s toothbrush.  My first alter that got that training in chemical poisoning emerged in the early 1990s when I was nearly 40.

She identified herself as Naomi. Unlike my other black-ops she was not full of rage. She just did the job as it was assigned. You understand that my alter states, my hidden personalities, are hidden even from me. They didn’t have my morals. Some of them were created through extreme torture to be blank slate alters.

Let me tell you how removed from the real me they were. I would be given a fake passport and when I looked at the name on it I felt “that must be me.” Yet I didn’t really relate to that name.

Are you wondering how all this stuff did not get exposed? They are so clever, they anticipate problems. What if I saw a person bleeding to death – I might want to pick up a phone and dial zero for the operator, right?

So they showed me someone bleeding – it may have been fake, actually – and I would run to a nearby phone. But the operator was in on the game. She would change the subject or say “We don’t have time for that.” That soon conditioned me not to expect help in an emergency.

Are you thinking How did I have the stomach to do the killings? I recall a very unpleasant assignment. If there was a botched job overseas, I had to dismember dead spooks’ bodies so they could be buried, undetected, in pieces. Local authorities couldn’t be allowed to know that the CIA was operating in their jurisdiction.

Since Dad and other men had taught several of my alter-states how to dismember bodies in rituals, and funeral homes, those parts became good at it. Yet at times it was unbearable so I forced my mind to do mathematical equations while carrying out the job. Even now, if I think of that task, my mind sees numbers and equations, not the real thing.

Pardon me, I am finding it hard to talk, give me a minute please…

[walks around and then looks more cheerful]

I want to tell you that we have made some progress. In 2010 I founded a Truth and Reconciliation Coalition, modelled on the one in South Africa. In 1990 when apartheid collapsed, the blacks and whites had somehow to be reconciled. An amnesty was offered if you’d come forward and tell the truth about what you had done, and show remorse.

I asked Mary Maxwell of Adelaide to join this TRC for mind-control victims in the United States. She agreed to join, and in 2010 she asked me to write a Foreword for her new book Prosecution for Treason.

At that time I was still not aware of the constitutional right to free speech. I’ll read you a remark I made in the Foreword. It may amuse you. I said:

“I was brainwashed to believe that any person who dared to speak out about such covert abuses would be killed. This is why, when I first met Mary Maxwell at a conference in August, 2005, I was confused by her willingness to boldly speak truth to power. How was she able to do it and still be alive?”

Now let me read a few snippets from a speech I gave in 2009 at the Lincoln Memorial. Most of the audience was made up of survivors:

Welcome to survivors gathered here today. My name is Kathleen Sullivan. I was once a slave. Many victims of extreme abuse are still being held against their will – usually it doesn’t require leg shackles, or prison bars. Although some are kept in cages and tunnels and basements, the majority are kept in a prison that is inside their heads.

Since the early 1990s, I’ve communicated with hundreds of survivors of extreme abuse. I consider every one of them to be a walking miracle, no matter what shape they’re in. Our legal system is not victim-friendly, so many of the victims weren’t able to break away. Sometimes they just had to wait till the perpetrators died, then try to start a new life.

The perpetrators really are afraid that we may talk. I have noticed that they often get the victim involved in committing crimes along with the perpetrators. My dad and his friends blackmailed me into silence that way. They used to say to me “You do the crime, you do the time.”

Many perpetrators of extreme abuse are skilled, resourceful sociopaths, not the kind of people you are likely to read about in the news, as they rarely get caught. Yet even though that is so, we must not stop working on behalf of their victims.

I have chosen to work with other survivors and concerned citizens towards the development of a North American Truth and Reconciliation Coalition, modeled after the South African TRC. But my group does not plan to offer amnesty across the board. Yes, we need reconciliation but we can’t sweep away what has been done. That would dishonour the deceased victims, and the many survivors who still suffer terrible wounds.  Thank you for listening.

[End of Kathleen A. Sullivan’s speech.]

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Mary Maxwell ends with this note to persons who are protecting the attackers of Fiona Barnett: Just remember: aiding and abetting is as much a crime as the crime that you are aid and abet. Yay!

The rest of Part I and part II will appear soon on GumshoeNews.com