2013: The Invasion of the Human Race

by Gary Stollman

I never planned out my life to wind up on the set of KNBC in Los Angeles LIVE, standing behind TV consumer advocate David Horowitz holding a toy gun to his head, demanding that he read a statement about how space aliens and the CIA had replaced my father and family with clones. I had only planned on becoming a computer programmer and a good citizen. At least that was before I discovered I had somehow stumbled onto a vast plot to overthrow the human race. I realize the implications of what I am about to say and how impossible it may be to believe, but the truth is that unless something is done and quite soon, the human race as a species will cease to exist!

Naturally, I didn’t get this idea overnight. Actually it
took quite a few years for me to realize exactly what was going on.
By that time, I had been through so much brutal assault on my
senses, I didn’t quite know what to make of it all. However, as it
gradually became all too obvious, I became terrified, and vowed
that I would take some action to try to halt or at least impede the
apparent problem. The end result of this was my jumping onto the
set at the NBC studio in LA, in a last-ditch hope of scaring them
so bad they would go back to wherever they came from. I think I
should preview you from the beginning, when I first discovered that
something was rotten in Dixie.

In the summer of 1981, I was in my new home, Tallahassee,
Florida, preparing to enter Tallahassee Community College (TCC) in
the fall to finish up my long-put-off AA degree. I was sitting in
my apartment awaiting a shipment of belongings from my parents in
California. Suddenly, the phone rang. My mom was on the phone,
and she asked me whether I had received the packages. I told her
they had not been delivered yet. She said she would check up on
it, and the phone line abruptly went dead. I was concerned because
I had sensed real fear in her voice about the shipment not
arriving. I was certain something was up, but I couldn’t put my
finger on it. I didn’t quite know what to make of it at the time.
That was the start of a series of bizarre events which seemed
like something from the Twilight Zone. It would last for 6 long
years, up until the day I sat in the studio at NBC in LA with the
toy gun in my jacket pocket, waiting for my chance to leap onto the
set to hopefully put a stop to what had become a living nightmare.
However, I have learned recently that my efforts at bringing my
experiences to the public attention did not stop them, although it
may have slowed them down just a little.

During the summer that followed, I continued to receive calls
of a strange nature from many people, including my parents. I knew
something was REALLY wrong when my dad called me up one night, and
began asking me questions about some hotel we had all supposedly
stayed at with “huge” marble staircases. Since none of us had ever
been at such a place, I didn’t know what the HELL he was talking
about! When he realized that I was totally confused and worried,
he acted like because I didn’t “remember”, he was going to be shot
or something to that effect!

Calls like that continued for weeks, including some really
wierd ones from the operator, where she repeatedly questioned me
about people whom I did not even know. The nature of the calls
convinced me that my phone was tapped, and being monitored by the
phone company or “someone!”

When September rolled came, I went to TCC to register for
classes. The day I walked in, almost ALL of the kids had dropped
the classes they had signed up for the day before. A lady
counselor (who was to play a part in my later demise) told me that
it had NEVER happened before and never would again! She tried to
assure me that it was all just a simple clerical error, but I
thought at the time there was more to it than just that. I signed
up for 5 classes, enough to complete my degree. I sure had an
“open” list to pick from!

After a week or so of classes, I realized that something was
terribly wrong. Some of the kids in my classes were acting real
funny, and I do mean ACTING! It was as if they were playing parts
out of a movie, the way they were carrying on during class.
Something just wasn’t right. It seemed like they had been assigned
various “roles”, and their actions in the class made me believe
that they had been put there for some specific purpose.

I came to the gradual conclusion that some of the kids in my
classes were either with the CIA or the FBI, what with the type of
stuff they were doing and saying. And it seemed like they were
there for the express purpose of keeping and eye on ME. I know
that sounds paranoid, but it was the only assumption I could
ascertain at the time, with the things that were going on.
Gradually, those thoughts began to affect my class work to
the point where I was having a hard time studying, and my grades
began to slip in some of my classes. Fortunately, because of my
strong will, I was able to keep my attention focused on getting
done, and wound up passing all of my classes except one. However,
the process by which I got through those classes was a pretty
roundabout one, as it involved the first of my many unwilling
hospitalizations for treatment of my supposed paranoid delusions.

In order to be allowed to finish school, I was forced into
signing myself into a small local mental hospital for treatment by
the counselor who I had met while signing up for classes. When I
discovered that that hospital was just a front for the CIA from the
events which took place after I had signed in, I tried to sign
myself out, but instead of being released, I wound up being sent to
the main mental hospital here in town by the doctor in charge. I
had friends with some authority who really cared about me, and
after a few days and a visit from the public defender, I was
discharged. But the fire of anger from that first wrongful
admission to a mental hospital still burns within me.

After I finished school, I went to my grandparents in West
Palm Beach for Christmas vacation. There were some strange things
going on down there as well, but I didn’t make anything out of it.
I then went up to Atlanta for New Years. When I got back, my mom
called me at my apartment. But it was not my REAL mom! I couldn’t
explain it, but I knew instinctively that it wasn’t my real mom’s
voice on the phone. The tonal qualities were different. When I
told her I had been to Atlanta, she practically exploded at me.
She told me that I was confused and she was coming to see me. She
hung up, and the next day, she arrived at my apartment.

From the moment I laid eyes on her, I knew that it was NOT my
real mother. Her voice was different, her manners were different,
and she didn’t know what my mom knows about me. I know, cause I
checked her out on little details about my past life. I didn’t
know what was going on, but I was mad and I was scared.
After determining for certain that this was a clone of my
real mom, I threw her out of my apartment. That night, the police
came by, and tried to get me to open the door so they could grab me
and take me back over to the little mental hospital. But I was
smart back then, and wouldn’t take the chain off the door. So they
left. After they were gone, I decided I had had enough, and so I
got in my car and took off into the night, terrified.

I got on the interstate and started driving. I figured since
my “fake” mom didn’t like the idea of my going to Atlanta, that it
would be safe up there. So I drove back up to Atlanta, and wound
up getting trapped in the city overnight in a blinding snowstorm.
I tried going to the FBI office there for help, but only got the
runaround, although they DID act like it was very important
information I had about one particular person the operator kept
asking me about all the time over the summer.

I wound up spending the night at one of the local college’s
student centers. I called my dad from there, and he knew where I
was calling from without my telling him, so I figured somebody was
able to trace the call pretty good. I also knew, from what he told
me, that he was being held against his will somewhere. He told me
to go back to Tallahassee and go into the hospital, or he wouldn’t
send me any money to get back there, as I had zoomed away without
enough cash to get back. I knew I would need the cash, so I just
said I would. I hadn’t planned on going back there no matter what,
but I didn’t know exactly where I would head to yet. So I lied and
said I would go pick up the cash if he would send it by Western
Union. He agreed to this, and wished me good luck.

What took place after that would make a good story in itself!
Suffice it to say that I picked up the money okay at the Western
Union office, but then I wandered around in the city, with some
VERY interesting results. When I got back to the student center,
it was real late, and I laid down on a couch like the other people
trapped there for the night, and went to sleep.
When I awoke the next morning, the snow had cleared enough
for me to leave. I decided that there was just too much nonsense
going on for me to return to Tallahassee, and so I just continued
driving north on I-75, planning to head towards Washington, D.C.
On the way there, the snow was still coming down on a long
section of freeway, and I slid out of control and slammed my car
into the retaining wall. There was some damage to my car, but I
was able to continue. Fortunately, I have a lot of experience
driving in rain, and I was able to control the swerve so the damage
was not too bad.
I pulled off the road near Cinncinati, Ohio to get a bite to
eat. I made an illegal U-turn near the restaurant, and a cop
pulled me over. He let me go with a warning though, and I went to
have some dinner and coffee. Although I had been driving all day
and most of the night, I was still in pretty good shape.
When I finished eating, I decided to ask for an escort to
Washington, as I was afraid because of stuff happening around me
while I was driving, of someone trying to kill me on the road
before I got there. I know it was a stupid idea, but I went ahead
and called the Highway Patrol for an escort, telling them I some
sort of a spy, and I had vital information needed to save the
country from an enemy missle attack. Eventually, they sent a
highway patrol car and a regular police car to the restaurant.
The highway patrolmen were considerate as to my situation,
but the regular police acted like I was some kind of criminal for
reasons I couldn’t understand. When they checked my car, they
asked me about the damage, but I wouldn’t say what had happened,
and so they took me into protective custody.
They took me to the police station, and then something
happened that made me wonder just how far the situation with alien
clones had gone. The police called my father and told me that he
was flying in to pick me up, but then some very wierd stuff took
place, and instead they took me over to Cinncinati General Hospital
for supposed evaluation.
The next day, I was transferred over to a nearby mental
hospital, and placed in a locked ward for the next 4 weeks. The
people there acted extremely bizarre, and the whole thing was a
total sham. But I was trapped, and I spent a month in misery
walking the halls, biding my time for the day I would be released.
During the time I was there, I was so distraut by what was
going on in the place, I called the FBI office in Cinncinati and
told them that the hospital was a sham. They asked to speak to one
of the people there, and I put the social worker on the phone, who
gave a false name to the FBI agent. After that, I didn’t screw
around with them, but swore an oath that someday I would expose
their fraudulant hospital to the world.
At the end of the month, my REAL dad flew in to drive with me
back to Tallahassee. I knew it was my real dad, and I also knew
that he was pretending to his best to give the impression that
nothing was wrong. I had the impression that he was being watched
somehow every minute we were together, although I didn’t know
exactly how at the time. I just played along with it all, as I
wanted OUT of that nuthouse. So we started driving back to
Tallahassee that day.
When we got back to Tallahassee, I began to understand just
how serious my dad’s situation really was. He was not acting
“normal” at all, for him. When he covered up the story I had told
to the police with feigned tears, I knew something was terribly
wrong. I can tell when someone is faking anything, and I KNOW my
own father, so I was able to discern that he was only “pretending”
to cry. Then I realized that he was pretending because someone was
somehow WATCHING him at the time! My dad was trying to fool THEM!
I didn’t know what to make of that at the time, but I swore I would
someday find out what was going on.
My dad found me a different apartment, one closer to FSU,
where I live to this day as it is the best apartment complex in
town. He had wanted to stick me in a halfway house, which is what
I had promised him I would do in order to get out of the hospital,
but I wouldn’t go for it. So we moved all my stuff from my
previous apartment, and the next day I took him to the airport to
fly back to LA. I was mad as hell at whatever was going on, and so
I treated him pretty poorly as he left. When he once again feigned
crying, I knew it was to protect himself from whatever, and so I
didn’t say anything. He got on the plane and headed back.
The next few weeks were hard on me, because I didn’t have any
classes to attend, and so felt lonely. I did have the FSU Plato
system to learn from, but it just wasn’t enough support, and
gradually I began to slip backwards again. It ended up that I went
driving off into the night in terror for a second time, this time
from things that were going on around me in the town itself. I got
on I-10 and started heading back to LA, in the hope that being
around my family would pull me out of the fear and loneliness.
I wound up losing my car in a crowded airport parking lot at
the Houston Intercontinental Airport. I was in such a poor state
of mind, that I believed that a computer fault I had come across on
the government computer system I had spent many years on was
somehow responsible for a sneak missle attact on the United States.
It was at this point in time that I came across the fact that
people were being replaced. How this was proved to me is shown
later in the book. Suffice it to say that I wound up being
incarcerated against my will in another mental hospital for a
month, only this time they FORGED my NAME on the admission form to
do it!
At the end of the month, my dad flew in again, but this time
he flew me back to LA with him. My mom got me a shrink in West Los
Angeles, and I started taking injections of an anti-psychotic drug
called Prolixin. I spent a happy, though angry, spring with my
parents, and even went with them on a trip to Hawaii for a week. I
had NO thoughts that these were not my real parents at the time,
and I eventually put off the events with my mom in Tallahassee as
misguided assumptions, although in the back of my mind there
remained the fact that I am not ususally wrong when I think
something funny is going on.
As the summer came around back then in 1982, I said goodbye
to my real parents and drove back to Tallahassee to return to
school at FSU. My mind was at peace, because my parents WERE my
real parents back then, and I was pretty confident that nothing
would change that fact. I did not know how much more WRONG I could
have been!
The next two semesters at FSU went well, and I did good in my
classes. However, as the summer appoached, my mind began to slip
back to the events that had unraveled the year before. I found
myself becoming more and more angry at myself for not having taken
steps to file charges against the hospital in Houston that had
forged my name, and I still didn’t know what had really been going
on at that hospital when I discovered that people were somehow
being systematically replaced. Around August, I wound up getting
throw into the local mental hospital again.
This time around, I had proof positive that something VERY
wrong was going on here in town. The stuff that was going on in
the hospital was insane. It had no logical explanation, except to
confirm my suspicions from the year before. I was physically
abused this time, and had to placate my captors immensely in order
to be released. This time though, being released was like merely
being turned loose into the world of the unknown outside in the
town. I didn’t have my parents or my family to fall back on, and
in fact, I felt that both my parents were being held prisoners in
some CIA base somewhere.
Although getting back to classes in September helped some, I
still felt like a stranger in a strange land. The teachers I had
were acting funny, and wierd things were going on all the time in
class. As the weeks progressed, I found that I could not
concentrate on my classwork very well, and gradually I had a
complete breakdown. The end result of this was my running out of
gas on the freeway, and getting smashed from behind by a pickup
truck.
When I woke up from being knocked unconcious, I was in the
hospital, and my mom was standing there at the foot of my bed. I
had been damaged pretty bad, and it was a miracle that I had lived.
I lost a piece of my nose, and my face had been smashed pretty
badly, but fortunately I had a real good plastic surgeon. Then my
mom (not sure to this day if it was my REAL mom or not at the time)
did something that convinced me that the aliens wanted me on a
platter. From that moment on, I have been VERY careful as to what
I say or do, or even think!
After I got out of the regular hospital, I had problems
dealing with reality even on the simplest of levels. So I wound up
being thrown back into the mental hospital again, this time by my
mom. This time in there, I discovered that people were indeed
reading my mind directly as I had suspected. I also learned for
the first time that God himself or his angels were trying to help
me in my plight. I know that sounds even more incedible than
aliens invading us, but my conclusions were drawn from logical sets
of events.
I was flown back to LA again for a third time, only this time
I knew that BOTH my parents had been switched. I spent a fearsome
time, but I had planned ahead and drawn enough money out of the
bank before I left, so I could go back whenever I desired. Most of
the time there was spent thinking I was on another planet, due to
the kinds of things that were happening around me. I realize now
that most of it was imaginary, but there are parts that were as
real and unexplainable as can be. After only a few weeks, I drove
back to Tallahassee without a word to my “parents.”
Despite the fact that I felt very much alone, I put myself
back in school, and tried to finish up the classes I had to drop
because of the accident. I did all right for a few months, but
then things began to happen in my classes again at FSU. I tried to
ignore them like previously, but this time I had nobody supportive
to fall back on. Slowly I began to break down again from the
stress, and wound up getting throw back again into the mental
hospital around the middle of December. This time I decided to go
back to LA, and so they released me on my own recognizance in order
to fly back there.
My FAKE father met me at the airport, and this time I knew I
was going to be framed up bad. My REAL mom and my FAKE mom were
being interchanged continuously throughout the time I was there,
which consisted mainly of my being forced into signing myself into
two more mental hospitals for the duration of my stay. I was
released from the second one and flown back to Florida one day too
late to register for classes for the spring semester of 1984. I
COULD have late-registered, but at the time, I wasn’t quite sure of
which DIMENSION I was residing in! So I got back into Plato, and
learned all the computer languages I could from that.
I enrolled in Lively Vo-Tech that summer, and took up
Electronics Technology. I really enjoyed it, having fallen in love
with electronics some time back, and having learned most of it
already on my own, I breezed through the courses. This was where I
met my electronics teacher, who confirmed that the United States
government did indeed have little alien bodies on ice at Hangar 18,
now known as the Environmental Control Building. He also told me
about the other strange things that the Air Force had in that
building, and that it was the most highly guarded building in the
world. Unfortunately, he too was replaced sometime after I had
told him my story and he told me he was going to try to help me.
After that, I thought twice about telling other people about my
problems.
Things went smoothly for me through the fall. I enjoyed my
class at Lively and was doing quite well in it. Then, around the
first of the year, something happened that disturbed my brief
period of stability. I got into a conversation with a girl on
Plato, which has inter-terminal communications capability, who told
me that seven of HER friends had been replaced! I was shocked and
terrified. I had thought that only those people in direct contact
with me were being affected, but it turned out that complete
strangers were being replaced as well. I was determined to put a
stop to it.
I got in touch with Dr. Allen J. Hynek, the leading authority
on UFOs at the time. He told me to keep a low profile, and NOT to
go public with the information until I could build up a dialog of
communication with him. I started to sit down at my computer and
write him about the things I was experiencing, but stopped after
the first paragraph. How could I put into writing the unbelievable
events that had taken place over the past FIVE YEARS!? I was at a
loss, and determined that I would go see him in person at his
headquarters in Chicago while on a trip to see my sister in Kansas.
I drove to Kansas that summer, only to discover that my
younger sister and my brother-in-law had been replaced as well. I
was dismayed, and left there in a complete state of despair, and
headed for Chicago, praying that Dr. Hynek could help me. But when
I got to his office, I discovered that he was gone on a vacation
and his partner, too, had been replaced. I was wrought with horror
and anger, at what had transpired on the trip, and how worthless it
had been. I made a vow to myself, that if ever circumstances lent
themselves to give me a chance to expose the goings-on to the
world, that I would take it!
After I got back from the trip, I threw myself back into
schoolwork to try to forget what had happened. I did all right for
the fall semester, but then around Christmas vacation I began to
feel depressed again. And AGAIN my “mom” flew down and threw me
into the hospital! This time I learned that God was trying to help
me personally, and that there were a lot of other “beings” trying
to save us also. I was so confused by all this that I almost
couldn’t function on a rational level anymore. After two weeks in
the hospital here, I was flown back to LA again.
This time, they weren’t taking any chances, and drove me
right from the airport to UCLA Medical Center, and threw me into
the psychiatric ward. Some interesting things occured there, but
basically, it was a turnilng point for me in the sense that I began
to fight back. I filed a writ of Habeus Corpus after two weeks,
and went to court and got the judge to release me. From that
moment on, I knew I could defeat their plans. They didn’t know
anything about law, and that was in my favor.
I spent a couple of months with my REAL mom and FAKE dad over
the spring. My REAL dad was locked up in the alien prison camp, so
I didn’t have much to do with the fake one. My real dad had shown
up for just a few minutes at my court appearance, but then he was
whisked out shortly before the judge released me, and replaced by
his clone. I assumed by this that they were afraid only IN the
courtroom. I swore to myself that I would get my fake dad into a
courtroom, only this time over a REAL case. I didn’t know how
truthful it would turn out to be.
I went to a computer class at Santa Monica College during
this time period, and I planned out my revenge. I knew that my
fake dad was doing a live show on KNBC as the Friendly Pharmacist,
and I knew that he had access to the studios. I didn’t plan yet to
enter the studios with a toy gun, but I was determined to use that
access to my advantage. I merely went to school and bided my time.
When the summer of 1986 rolled around, I had completed my
class, and drove back to Tallahassee. I had it in my mind to take
some action before the next summer. I had no idea yet what it
would be, but I was keeping all my options open. I knew I had to
find out more information about the situations that had taken place
at all the mental hospitals, so I went about getting ahold of my
records. I was unable to obtain them all, because they broke the
law and refused to give some of them to me, but using subterfuge, I
did obtain a good percent of them. I rented a safe deposit box, to
protect them from anyone’s eyes but mine, in case what I was
planning failed and my apartment was closed out again. When I was
getting all my records, I realized that I had to get back inside
one of the hospitals to see if there was still nonsense going on,
and to have a backup plan ready in case I wound up there if my
plans went awry. I picked UCLA, which was convenient, seeing as I
could ask to go there if something went wrong. So, in January of
1987, I drove back to LA and checked into the hospital, for the
first time of my own choosing!
I spent about three weeks in UCLA, observing what was going
on with great intent. I determined that I could handle a couple of
weeks in there, if the plans I were making backfired. I noted
everything that went on, and kept a mental log of all the staffing
assignments. I “interviewed” the patients that were there, so as
to see how much of a problem I would have if I returned under less
desirable circumstances. When I left, I was satisfied that there
was nothing anyone could do to stop me.
I took up another computer class at Santa Monica College
while waiting for my chance to strike. I was going out with a
sweet girl from New Jersey, when Joan McCaughey stumbled into my
life. I met her at the beach one day, and we became very close
friends. It turned out that she had a problem with fake parents
herself, although not of the cloned variety. It also turned out
that she had had intimate contact with UFOs in her past, and I
spent a couple of weeks with her, trying to track down the mystery
of her family. It turned out they owned half of LA county.
It was at this time, around June of 1987, that I bought the
toy gun. I kept it under the passenger seat in my car, waiting for
the chance I would get to use it. I was keeping close track of my
fake dad’s schedule at the studio, and was going to go in with him
and hold the gun on him, and force HIM to read the statement over
the air, when everything fell apart. He lost his job there, and I
didn’t know exactly what I was going to do. So I decided to take
Joan back to Florida with me, and make my play from there, leaving
my fake dad to think that I was out of the way.
Joan and I spent an enjoyable “vacation” in Florida. We went
all over the state and had a great time doing it. It was all part
of my plan to make my fake dad forget all about me. I didn’t know
what he had told the people at KNBC about me, and it turned out
that I had made the right decisions. I believe now that had I
walked in with him, I never would have gotten “on the air”, so to
speak.
After we got done traveling around, I started planning for
the trip back to LA. It turned out that I took out just enough
money from the bank to get there with about a gallon of gas to
spare. My mom called us in Tallahassee, and Joan accidently told
her we were coming back. She couldn’t understand WHY I was coming
back, and she was understandably worried. I just let Joan talk to
her, as she wouldn’t be able to interpret MY hostilities through
Joan.
The trip back was like a non-stop adventure. Although we
stopped at Carlsbad Caverns in New Mexico for some sightseeing, the
majority of the trip consisted of my driving at top speed toward an
uncertain future. I knew I could get into the studios, but what
then? Would I be shot dead by the police, and would my message go
out LIVE so nobody could edit it? I did not know the answers to
those questions as we drove on through the night.
When we got to LA, I dropped Joan off, then went over to my
parents apartment. My fake dad answered the door, and he was
pissed! Why had I come back, he wanted to know. I wouldn’t say.
I just took my suitcases into the spare bedroom, and went to bed.
I could hear him arguing with my REAL mom outside for a good while.
It turned out that my fake dad wasn’t going to let me stay there
past one night, so the next day I took the spare mattress over to
Joans apartment and stayed the rest of the time there.
The next two weeks were spent planning out exactly how I
would compromise the studio. I made contact with the TV newswoman
who would get me onto the set. I made sure I did this from a pay
phone, as I knew my parents’ phones were all completely tapped. I
started writing up what I would hand the person on the air to read,
although I didn’t get to finishing it until one hour before I was
to be at the studio because of procrastination. That has always
been one of my shortcomings.

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