Duncan O’Finioan: A Real Manchurian Candidate?

Paraphrased from a Project Camelot interview with Duncan O’finioan:

They wanted me because I’m half Native American and half Celtic. The reason is that these two races are more imposed to paranormal or psy-abilities. Both of these cultures practice it. Its in the genetic memory. I thought that’s what it was. But two year ago I found that my father was ex CIA. Now it all fits. In 1966 I was six years old. My parents loaded me in a truck and  took me to town. It was cold, dark, snowing. Why are we going to a hardware store this late in the afternoon? My parents are not fighting but they’re not getting along. We go to the back, there is a door there, if you didn’t know it was there you wouldn’t notice it. We go in, there’s six or seven other kids my age, sitting at these tables like kindergarten tables. They all had the same thing it looked like puzzle pieces. This lady came in that did not fit, she’s tall, she’s elegant, fur coat, c’mon. She plays a prominent role there on out, in several of my memories. She sits me down to play with this stack of blocks. “Make me a picture.” There are suits with clipboards, they should not be there. But at six years old I don’t question too much. I play with the pieces, she comes up and smiles, says “we got one” and that’s when it started. They gave me something to drink. I felt tired. Went to sleep. Whatever they gave me put me out. My next memories were from nine to twelve years old. Some memories have came back. I have bits and pieces, some vivid, some with documentation. At nine I had to take a stint in the hospital at the Univ. of Kentucky. Some type of procedures that no one has been able to explain to me. No one released the records. From there a couple years things seemed ok, but with paranormal activity. Then at fourteen I’m gone again. “Gone to hospital?” No, gone. No memories. “You were trained as a soldier during this time.” Yes.

Imagine Project Talent being sent to school. I have vivid memories of 15-20 of us in a group with adults; and they trained us as adults, no kid gloves, you get your butt kicked off, they beat us tremendously. But we learned. The paranormal training started as well. That’s where they were weeding out who’s good at this who’s good at that. Who’s gonna be a soldier who’s gonna be a psychic spy.

8-9 years ago I had a automobile accident, ruptured some discs in my neck, when they gave me the MRI, I found a cranial implant, don’t know how I got it. When I was in the machine, imagine tremendous pain and imagine 1000 TV screens coming at you, and each one was a memory, just coming and coming. I was screaming, the machine itself caught on fire. That’s what brought me out of it, I was in nothing but my underwear and a gown and screaming bloody murder, and I smell smoke. So they pulled me out of there.

The implant is still there but its not working because I haven’t been used anymore, (the blackout spell and being gone for 3-4 days to week). They stopped. This one is dead center in the brain and the size of a grain of rice. I’ve checked with independent sources and they think its gonna kill me. I tell them its fine. But I don’t tell them what it is.

“Back as a child, in the hospital, did they change something to your body?”

I remember going through a procedure, and waking up, the machine was the size of the table, it would get hot, and I wasn’t supposed to wake up, I was drugged, but one time I woke up in the middle of it, tubes, being plugged in. I’ve always been stronger faster, more endurance then anyone around. They want the super soldier to be beyond normal. Physical stuff I’ve kept. The paranormal comes up when I switch to one of my alters. I have witnesses saw me bust heavy bags with one punch. More than heavy weight boxers, and I was 175 pounds. “what psychic abilities?” being able to get in someone’s mind, foresee events, I don’t mean read thoughts, it’s more what we call picting. We see pictures of their thoughts. If someone is thirsty, craving a soda, I’ll look at them and see a Pepsi can. Think of the edge this gives a soldier. “Do you become that soldier now?” I have witnesses yeah. See, I’m not supposed to remember anything. The people who start to remember are usually late 50’s early 60’s, too old to do anything, people write you off at that point. I’m 46, I know I don’t look it, it’s the longevity. When they get the memories back it’s when the personalities or alters start to mesh. They go nuts. Most commit suicide. The ones who didn’t end up in asylums. “could it be possible they were programmed to commit suicide?” Absolutely.

After the car accident we moved to Jersey. I was never supposed to lift five pounds. again, that’s how serious the neck injury was. I heard this little voice in my head say, what the fuck is wrong with you. Get up. You’ve been a fighter all your life. That night I started doing pushups, a year later I was OK.

What happened in Vietnam? I was in N. Vietnam twice. Memories are murky. I was twelve years old. In Cambodia. A navy seal team.  A black helicopter lands. Twelve kids come off the chopper. (he pauses hear, starts tearing up). Long story short, we came off the chopper formed a semicircle, we all held hands. Raised our arms and killed them all. “Who did you kill?” Every enemy soldier within twelve miles. “How was it that your power was able to kill only the other side?” I was the lead battery, but I didn’t do the aiming. One of the other kids did the aiming. I know one of the other kids. Its not that um, its funny. I’ve done lots of things that are not of my doing, my making. Some bring up an emotional response, and others not, I’m like so what. I can’t cry on command believe me I’ve tried. The way it was explained to me. Twelve kids. Imagine twelve batteries. One is nothing. Two you get a jolt, three you get burned. Twelve? Well…. “Do you have memories of trainers?” The lady in the hardware store figured, the next memory of her is in a lab coat. In this house described as a mansion. I have ideas where it is but no proof. I’m in a hallway. Green and white tile on the floor. I’m doing something that all of us that come out of it have the same trait. We don’t come down on one knee we squat, makes no sense in some ways in some ways it does, on the balls of our feet, like an animal. I have this water bucket, I raise it with my mind trying to turn it over set it down gently. I’m raising it turning it and its dropping. I’m not getting it. This lady is behind me with her clipboard taking notes. I try to get a response look at her trying to be nice, “I’ve almost got it almost got it!” She looks down snarls, and walks off. There was nothing nice about this.

The second memory of Vietnam was being shot down. We were taking off in a black hawk, got about ten feet off the ground took some fire and we went down. That’s when Dave Corso (navy seal captain) pulled me out of the chopper. “The witness to the Vietnam incident with the kids. In charge of the, where was he?” His whole family was CIA. One of the most decorated and had one of the best kill records in Vietnam. His abilities as a sniper were unparalleled. pulled five to seven tours in Vietnam. He has some memory gaps as well but not to the extend that I have. I went looking for him. I remembered his face. I knew being what he was that he would be in certain circles, I went to those circles and found him. We sat down in a casino and shared stories.

“Were you a remote viewer?” Not one of the best, but yes. My problem is that I fight the psychic abilities instead of let them flow, for whatever reason.

” You must see movies right?” No I don’t, I cant. They trigger memories. Violence per say no, I love wrestling. The last movie I tried to watch was the Bourne identity, I couldn’t get through it. My personality changes, God help whoever I’m watching the movie with. Anything involving CIA, covert killings I can’t do it.

“Do you remember other planets?” No, actually not. There is one thing a couple of us share. The deep fear and dread of the planet Mars. There is something about Mars that changes our entire attitude. One of said you better leave Mars alone. Don’t go, you’re waking something up.

“You’re still a psychic, so you must have some associations with Mars.” You develop headaches after these talks. Headaches are part of the conditioning. Fake, programmed headache.

“Special machinery?” Yes, underground. “Beings?” Yes in stasis, hibernation. Tall, long features, look like the Egyptian hieroglyphs.

“Can you describe the anger?” At one time it was pure rage, when these memories came back. Things I was forced to do, first impulse was to go to DC and go nuts. But I’m crazy but not stupid. As a fighter I was trained to channel my anger, don’t let it channel you.

“Is that why you started writing?” No, it was my own therapy. My book coming out is Deadly Awakening.

In 1966, there were supposedly 1000 kids taken. There’s only about twenty of us now. Our personalities were split. Any normal person would not do the things we did, in their right frame of mind. They had to make us a clean slate. To make what they wanted us to be. There were different technique’s for different kids. Its your treatments, they said. Almost medical terminology. Imagine being twelve years, strapped naked to wooden chair, arms out like this, your fingertips spread out, straps so you cant move them. they inserted needles underneath the fingertips. That’s bad enough, hook them up to electric currents. Waterboarding, strapped to chair, cant breathe, think your gone, then they bring you back. I’ve had my head dunked, that’s why I don’t swim. Once the body has tolerated enough pain it blacks out. Well the Germans brought over a cruel drug with them, once injected, it blocks those receptors. You cant black out, or force yourself to faint. Once the psyche has got to a place where it cannot take anymore, you have two choices, split off into another personality to save yourself, or die. A total separate individual that they can pull out at will.

“Have you seen Manchurian candidate?” No. I know what you mean. “Can you be activated by a phone call?” The last time it happened it was a phone call.

“Is it a tone? Words?” A combination. More than one. You have to have a system of checks and balances and failsafe’s.

I’m sitting in a Mexican restaurant. I hear someone laughing. There’s George Bush Junior, with secret service body guards, drunk as a skunk, with secret service trying to get him to calm down. That’s where I snap awake. I have one impulse. Kill him. Terminate. I had a gun in my pocket, and for whatever reason I fought the impulse. Didn’t kill him. I didn’t know who he was. Later on TV I saw him campaigning for president and I recognized him.

“Underground bases?” I know where one is. Right here in the States. The farm we lived on was situated in a valley. Logging roads around the valley. I had a 5 miles run around the valley. There were also strip mines to the east. One day I had a desire to walk around there. I felt these strange vibrations I put my ear to the ground the way my grandfather taught me to do. I hear this voice saying get out of here. As I’m running back up the hill a chopper lands. I haven’t been back since. A couple days later, two things happened at once. My father had a friend named Paul Preston. He’s somebody I would terminate with extreme prejudice. I don’t care to say that.

When I was fourteen I was working the fields. We had a cash farm. I was working with a tractor. We lived a mile up the road, a dirt road. I sensed a vehicle coming up into the driveway. A silver van with a UHA antennae, I hadn’t seen anything like this. This was Kentucky before the boom. People were lucky to make minimum wage. I had heard my dad talk about this guy. It was confirmed later that this guy was in the CIA. The guy calls my name, I had never met him before. I had the feeling to either take this guy out or run. My dad comes out of the house, and they get all huggy huggy, old friends. Paul says to my dad we gotta talk. My dad’s demeanor changes, they leave for about twenty minutes. They come back and Paul leaves in a real bad mood. He’s not talking to me then. I barely see my dad the rest of the day and when I did you want to avoid him, he’s one ticked off Irish man. That night, well my mother had a habit of sitting on the front porch at night. And I slept upstairs, she came in about ten, eleven screaming at my dad that there’s something over the house. When my dad gets out its gone. She said its bigger than the house, round, had lights around it. I don’t know anything about that I knew farming, I knew martial arts. The next night, I go to bed, I’m laying there don’t know how long but I feel like I’m on fire when I snapped awake. I can’t move all I can do is open my eyes, the whole upstairs is full of light. I can see a bipedal figure standing by the bed. I can see the head, the arms and it’s talking to me. Telling me something. The next thing I know my daddy shaking my shoulder cuz my brother saw the light and thought the upstairs was on fire. That’s all I remember between the age of fourteen to eighteen. I didn’t get my drivers license until eighteen, should have got it at sixteen. I think all of these go together. The visit of Paul Preston, the craft over the house, and me leaving again. “And your father’s anger perhaps?” Yes. I think he may have thought that I was clear of it, then Paul comes back and says nope. I don’t think he had a choice in the matter. The only anger I had with them is not coming out and telling me something, especially after I’m an adult and memories come back and I ask. I know this isn’t right, what gives. I deserve more than, “can’t tell ya,” and then leaving.

I had a job in Lexington at that time called the community kitchen. It was no kitchen, it was facilities for homeless, showers etc. but also a haven for abusers, rapists, killers you name it, they came there. We could have 60-100 people in the building at the same time. I was chief of security.  We had a fight that broke out, it was nothing we had 3-4 fights a day. But we had two girls get into it. They fight worse than men. I was holding one down, my partner holding the other. And when I say holding, I was just sitting with one arm on her shoulder, she was laughing about it. I look up and see an extremely large man standing over me with several friends with him. He’s giving this routine, I’m giving you till the count of to get off of her or I’ll do this and that. I snapped. I see I’m outnumbered. I stood up and started hitting. The witnesses say I didn’t hit him once I hit up to12 times. Broke his neck. His neck was as big as my legs. The whole facility went berserk. Half of them were coming at me and my partner, the other half using it as a excuse to hit who they didn’t like. And its like these moments that something happens I cant explain. I step outside of space and time. Everything turns black and white, slow motion. I have all the time in the world to go from point A to point B cuz this guy ain’t  moving. I’m just walking through, bam bam bam, guys going down. But then I’m grabbed. Some guy grabs my throat. I just snap sideways threw my hands palm down and I start screaming in my mind. The guy goes up and back, I never touched him. And that ended the entire fight. Cuz I’m standing there and suddenly aware that everyone is staring at me. At some point the cops were called. I talked to one of ’em, gave the report. Some were taken to jail. I went to the nearest bar. I sat there and didn’t know what to do. I knew it was real because people came up to and asked how’d you do that. And I don’t know. 

This entry was posted in Black Ops, False Flags, Illuminati, MK Ultra Mind Control and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Duncan O’Finioan: A Real Manchurian Candidate?


  2. Pingback: Disclosure Hiding in Fiction: ‘The Institute,’ By Stephen King | Upon The Face Of The Waters

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