Rogue intelligence operations—whether run by governments, private entities, or underground networks—frequently target individuals who exhibit signs of psychiatric fragility, such as schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, or PTSD. They also prey on those with addictive behaviors, deep social isolation, or a history of criminal or extremist leanings. These traits make such individuals particularly valuable as covert assets because they are easier to manipulate and more likely to follow orders or embrace fabricated narratives. Their instability renders them unreliable as witnesses, which conveniently protects those pulling the strings. And when the operation is over, these individuals serve as ideal scapegoats—easily blamed, publicly discredited, or quietly eliminated without raising further suspicion.
Use a person who can’t tell their story coherently—then bury the story in plain sight. Tore Maras
Historically, the use of mentally unstable individuals in covert or violent operations has followed a disturbing and consistent pattern. One of the most infamous programs exposing this trend is the CIA’s MKULTRA project, which operated between the 1950s and 1970s. Under the guise of Cold War-era national security experiments, the CIA targeted some of society’s most vulnerable: mental hospital patients, prisoners, sex workers, and drug addicts—people who were unlikely to be believed if they ever spoke out. These individuals were subjected to a range of extreme methods, including the administration of LSD, deep hypnosis, prolonged sensory deprivation, and psychological and physical abuse. Crucially, none of the subjects gave informed consent. Many were psychologically shattered by the experience, with some permanently institutionalized or silenced through more covert means.
A second, more public example is Sirhan Sirhan, who assassinated Senator Robert F. Kennedy in 1968. Sirhan claimed amnesia regarding the shooting, insisting he had no memory of pulling the trigger. Over the decades, various investigators and psychologists have raised the possibility that Sirhan may have been under hypnotic influence at the time of the assassination. Handwriting analyses, hypnosis susceptibility tests, and inconsistencies in the number of bullets fired have all added fuel to the theory that he may have been programmed or “triggered” by outside forces—possibly a classic case of a manipulated patsy in a larger, concealed operation. To this day, whether Sirhan acted alone remains the subject of deep contention.
Another eerie case is that of John Hinckley Jr., who attempted to assassinate President Ronald Reagan in 1981. Hinckley was mentally unstable, suffering from delusions and an obsessive fixation on actress Jodie Foster. What deepened suspicions was the revelation that his family had a casual connection to the Bush family—Neil Bush in particular—which has prompted some conspiracy theorists to question whether Hinckley was truly acting in isolation. Though no formal evidence has ever surfaced connecting the families in a conspiratorial way, the circumstances fed into long-standing concerns about elite networks shielding or utilizing mentally unwell individuals. Hinckley was eventually found not guilty by reason of insanity and spent decades in a psychiatric institution.
Lastly, there is the case of Timothy McVeigh, the perpetrator of the Oklahoma City bombing in 1995. A Gulf War veteran, McVeigh was known to suffer from PTSD and was disillusioned with the U.S. government. He found ideological refuge among the fringe-right extremists of Elohim City, a compound associated with white supremacist and anti-government groups. Some researchers have speculated that McVeigh may have been indirectly manipulated or allowed to proceed with his plan as part of a botched sting operation or infiltration effort. Though McVeigh took full responsibility for the bombing, numerous anomalies in the case—such as the still-unresolved question of “John Doe #2,” a second suspect seen by witnesses—suggest a possible wider network or complicity.
Each of these cases shares a disturbing common thread: an individual who is psychologically damaged, socially isolated, and ideologically susceptible becomes the focal point of a devastating event. Whether through direct programming, manipulation, or negligent oversight, these individuals have been used—wittingly or not—as tools in larger schemes, then discarded or buried in layers of confusion and official denial.
The recruitment and control of mentally unstable individuals by rogue intelligence handlers follow a calculated, multi-phase methodology designed to exploit psychological weaknesses and reshape the subject’s behavior. It begins with psychological grooming, where the handler carefully inserts themselves into the subject’s life by posing as a friend, savior, therapist, or even a kindred spirit on a shared mission or common hate for a person. This relationship isn’t accidental—it’s crafted to build dependency. The handler gradually introduces grandiose or apocalyptic narratives, often laced with themes of divine purpose, government betrayal, or cosmic battles between good and evil. These stories feed directly into the subject’s preexisting delusions, traumas, or feelings of insignificance, giving their suffering a new, seductive context: that they are chosen for something bigger than themselves. For someone already on the edge, this validation can be electrifying.
Once trust and influence are established, drug-based conditioning is often employed to increase compliance and dissociation. Psychedelics, amphetamines, or antipsychotic medications may be introduced either covertly—slipped into food or drink—or recommended under the guise of therapy or spiritual enhancement. The resulting emotional turbulence, hallucinations, and shifts in perception create a psychological terrain that is far easier to manipulate. In this altered state, the subject becomes more suggestible, more obedient, and less able to discern reality from implanted narrative. Though many rogue handlers that are willingly partaking due to obsessive hate are usually alcoholics or drug addicts.
Then comes trauma reinforcement, a stage designed to strip the individual of any remaining psychological defenses. This often involves enforced isolation, sudden betrayals, gaslighting, public humiliation, or staged traumatic events meant to push the subject into a state of learned helplessness—a condition where they no longer resist, no longer question, and simply obey. Once they are emotionally shattered and mentally adrift, they begin seeking direction and meaning at any cost. This is when the handler steps in once again, offering “salvation” in the form of a mission, a purpose, or a target. In that moment, revenge, redemption, or martyrdom becomes the only way the individual feels they can reclaim dignity.
The final layer is activation. Some individuals are trained to respond to specific triggers, a method that dates back to MKULTRA. These can be coded phrases, tones, hand signals, or visual symbols. In modern contexts, this has evolved into high-tech activations: a text message with an embedded code, a YouTube video with hypnotic elements, AI-generated voice commands that mimic the handler, or even anonymous instructions delivered through encrypted platforms and the dark web. The subject may not even realize they’ve been “switched on” until the operation is underway. To outside observers, their actions appear random or deranged—but to the architects behind the scenes, every step has been meticulously orchestrated. Even the handlers begin to publicly claim or alert that they have been warning therefore to cast doubt on their involvement and that their involvement was purely for observation purposes. This theory usually stands EXCEPT when the asset used has been used before by another rogue IC element that is connected to the new cheaper, free one using delusional people who are obsessed.
In today’s era of engineered perception, mentally unstable individuals are no longer just collateral damage in rogue operations—they are reusable tools, endlessly reinvented to serve evolving agendas. This modern exploitation doesn’t require a basement lab or a trench coat handler. Now, it happens in plain sight—online, on forums like 8kun, in encrypted Telegram channels, inside gaming lobbies, or lurking within algorithmically fueled “incel” chatrooms. These are the new recruitment zones. The prey? Isolated, angry, often young individuals drifting between resentment and identity crisis. The method is subtle and grotesquely effective: first you separate them from the world, then flood their feed with memes, dark humor, obsessive hate comments and berating of a person or group of people and doomsday ideologies that mimic their inner torment. It’s not always about politics or religion—sometimes, the goal is just chaos. No clear ideology, no manifesto. Just a broken mind acting out a script written by someone else and delivered through a JPEG or an anonymous voice note.
This leads directly into the realm of proxy terrorism. We’ve seen it: seemingly random “lone-wolf” attacks erupt across Europe and the U.S., often with eerie synchronicity to intelligence agendas or pending legislation. These attackers almost always leave behind the same pattern—online radicalization, documented mental illness, and warning signs that law enforcement ignored or downplayed. Why? Because in many cases, they weren’t missed. They were allowed to proceed. Take Anwar al-Awlaki, once touted as the “moderate imam,” then suddenly repositioned as the ideological engine behind domestic terrorism. Or the case of Omar Mateen, the Pulse nightclub shooter, who had been interviewed by the FBI twice before his rampage. These aren’t oversights; they are operational margins—intentional blind spots.
And then there’s what I call Psyops Theater—where these individuals aren’t just used to create terror but to simulate false flags, discredit activist groups, or draw attention away from real operations. Their instability becomes the camouflage. You can stage anything—a violent protest, a hoax shooting, a religious incident—and then blame it on a mentally disturbed person whose internet history is already a mess. Their volatility makes everything around the event feel hazy and implausible. That haze is the objective. Remember the Las Vegas shooting? The most surveilled square footage in America, yet we still don’t know how a lone man moved that much firepower or why there’s no footage. Or the countless “active shooters” who leave behind no meaningful digital footprint, then suddenly have their entire psychological history released within 48 hours. These events blur the truth, and that blur buys time, muddies dissent, and justifies control.
So don’t be fooled—today’s mentally unstable “lone wolves” are often the repurposed ghosts of MKULTRA, digitized and unleashed. They don’t need handlers in trench coats anymore. Now, they have influencers, avatars, obsessed alcoholics and drug addicts fueling it with encrypted whispers pushing them over the edge—again and again. And the system? It watches, counts the bodies, and writes new laws.
Let’s talk about the recycling loop—because in the intelligence underworld, a mentally unstable asset is rarely used only once. These individuals, broken by trauma or design, are cycled through a machinery that thrives on disposability. It begins with the first mission: maybe it’s a false protest, a minor explosion, or simply observing a target. Often, the mission is engineered to fail just enough to cause disruption or confusion, not necessarily success. Think about Aaron Alexis, the Navy Yard shooter in 2013—complained of voices in his head, even etched “My ELF weapon” onto his shotgun. That’s not random. That’s an operational signature.
Then comes the aftermath. The subject is either jailed, institutionalized, or heavily medicated—not to heal, but to contain. At this point, they’re chemically restrained, publicly discredited, and conveniently removed from public discourse. But here’s the sinister part—they don’t stay gone. After a few years, when their memory fades from headlines, a new handler appears. Different name, different cover, same playbook. The asset, now more isolated than ever and grateful for any human connection, is re-engaged. Sometimes, the original trauma is even referenced—used to rebuild loyalty under the guise of redemption or revenge. You don’t have to believe me. Just look into the case of Esteban Santiago, the Fort Lauderdale airport shooter. A veteran, suffering from mental illness, walked into the FBI office months before the attack claiming the CIA was controlling his mind. He was sent for a psychiatric evaluation—and then released.
Eventually, the loop reaches its endgame. That end might look like a suicide, an overdose, a prison fight, or a quiet disappearance into a psych ward with no visitors. Sometimes it’s framed as an accident—“fell from a rooftop,” “fatal car crash,” “found in the woods.” The point is closure, not justice. Their usefulness is over, and the people who ran them don’t want ghosts talking. It’s clean-up, not care.
And what allows this machinery to operate unchecked? A trifecta of denial: medical misdiagnosis, bureaucratic paralysis, and public indifference. Society would rather label these people as “madmen” than interrogate the patterns. That’s the real cover-up—not just the operation, but our willingness to accept the official narrative every single time. The system doesn’t need to hide its tactics anymore. We just choose not to see them.
The most devastating part of all this—the part no one wants to talk about—is the deep psychological damage inflicted on these individuals. These aren’t just pawns. They’re shattered people who genuinely believe they’re acting of their own free will. They see themselves as martyrs, warriors, prophets. Their internal compass has been hijacked. Paranoia becomes clarity. Violence feels like duty. And isolation isn’t punishment—it becomes righteousness, proof that they’re chosen, that only they can see the truth. But in reality, they’re being played on both ends. They are both victim and vector—a walking payload of confusion and collateral.
And in today’s world, this model has gone digital. With hyper-surveillance, AI-driven targeting, and psychographic profiling, finding and grooming these minds has become cheaper, faster, and far more deniable. You don’t need a black budget and an embassy safehouse anymore. Governments, intelligence networks, and even corporate actors now outsource this dirty work. They hire private contractors and freelancers who specialize in the four-step formula: identify, program, deploy, discard. That’s the pipeline. These targets are used for anything from psychological agitation to assassination. Think of Gavin Long, the Baton Rouge shooter—he believed he was fulfilling a righteous mission after being radicalized through digital networks. Or Alexander Treisman, who plotted to kill Joe Biden after being sucked into online extremist rabbit holes. These men were not just troubled. They were groomed, likely watched, and in some way—let through.
We live in a time where reality itself is weaponized, where mental illness is farmed for operational use. And those who pull the strings? They always stay clean, far removed from the explosion they orchestrate.
PERSONAL EXAMPLE
Back in 2021, I became aware of a particular individual—not because someone was concerned for my safety, but because someone had claimed that I had caused harm to them and that I was being “looked for.” This accusation surfaced while I was en route to Tampa, Florida, to meet with Millie, Gavin, and Patrick Bergy. At the time, I had made a small but crucial mistake: I accidentally packed my wallet inside my checked suitcase. By the time I reached the Atlanta airport for my layover, my flight to Tampa had already closed its doors. Oddly, the delay wasn’t typical—the plane I arrived on had a door that wouldn’t open, keeping us trapped long enough for me to miss my connection. My luggage, including my wallet, continued on to Tampa without me. All I had on me was my ID and five dollars. I wasn’t using Apple Pay then, had no charger, and my phone was dead.
Delta booked me on the next available flight, which wasn’t for another three hours. I sat in the Delta lounge nibbling on small snacks, trying to figure out what to do. I asked two people if I could borrow a charger, but was met with uncomfortable stares and refusal. I gave up—accepting I’d be phone-less for the time being. I boarded the next flight, still without a working phone. Luckily, the person seated next to me offered their charger during the flight. As we landed in Tampa and the wheels touched the ground, I turned on my phone. Before I could even call my children to let them know I’d been unreachable due to the phone and wallet situation, my phone rang. It was a Michigan number. The man on the other end identified himself as a Detroit police officer. Still seated on the plane waiting to disembark, I listened as he asked me to confirm my location. He told me they were investigating an incident where someone claimed I had caused them harm—an individual I had never met, seen, or spoken to. According to him, someone reported that they had picked me up from Tampa Airport three hours earlier and that we’d been seen arguing.
I was stunned. I calmly told him that was impossible—I had been stuck in Atlanta and had literally just touched down in Tampa. The timeline proved I couldn’t have possibly been with this person. I wished him luck with the investigation and was about to hang up when my phone rang again. This time, it was Patrick Bergy. He asked where I was, saying he, Millie, and Gavin were worried—they had sent someone (the same name the police had mentioned) to pick me up because he had volunteered, and now no one had heard from him. They thought it was unlike me not to answer calls or texts, especially with a meeting scheduled within 15 minutes. I paused, then simply replied, “That’s weird. I just landed in Tampa.” Silence fell on the line. Then Patrick replied, “Wow. I wonder who they were talking about then. So… he never came and got you?” I didn’t respond. What was I supposed to say? How was someone going to pick me up from Atlanta if I wasn’t even in Tampa?
That incident was the first encounter I had with this individual. It was also the first time I realized they were being used in an operation—an orchestrated effort involving false accusations, misdirection, and logistical confusion. Fast forward to today, these types of operations are now conducted on extremely low budgets, often relying on handlers who are alcoholics or drug addicts. One such handler was a woman known as “Lala Beamz”—a well-documented MOSSAD agent, who had a reputation for grooming people with disturbing skill. At one point, she even gave an interview where she accidentally let slip too much information—“too much tea”—and that content was swiftly scrubbed by whoever had taken over the handling of this target.
A low-budget handler—someone unstable, often an addict or emotionally compromised—will inevitably begin to unravel when the very operation they’re entangled in starts revealing its seams. This kind of handler might publicly claim to despise me, the target, while privately insisting they were only trying to help—offering information they never actually delivered, spinning lies wrapped in mock concern. Their behavior swings wildly between mocking contempt and obsessive fixation, often feeding off a twisted emotional attachment to the asset they’re managing—a person they both idolize and degrade. But now, as the pressure mounts and the asset spirals beyond their control, this handler enters full panic mode. Their contradictions become obvious. Their rage intensifies. They project, they double down, and they slip-even claiming they have “a team” on video—because deep down, they realize they’re not in control and portray untrue facts to justify fake concern. Why would an unemployed, barren addict have a team? They are not just puppeteers, but also puppets. The very people they call “friends,” the ones feeding them encouragement and subtle instructions, are their handlers—covert manipulators exploiting their weaknesses while convincing them they’re running the show- and some others fuel their manic hate and disdain to observe them and map out all the networks. Soon, they will be the fall person, and they don’t know it – but as I have said many times, evil consumes you. If you thrive on hating and expressing hateful things, it consumes you in the end. It’s a web of layered delusion, where the lies they tell are mirrored by the lies being fed to them. As the truth creeps closer to the surface, their desperation exposes the machinery: this isn’t just a chaotic individual acting alone—this is a decaying node in a much larger, more dangerous system.
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