Perhaps nothing better sums up the tragic life of my little brother, Mike Beal, than the fact that he died about one month before his two favorite teams, the Chicago Bears and the Indianapolis Colts, played in the Super Bowl in February 2007. That would have been an important event in his wretched life.
He loved the Bears because we grew up in Niles, Michigan, during the 1960s, when Gale Sayers and Dick Butkus played for the Bears, and all the Bears' games were on local television every Sunday. Our dad used to make us work in the yard on Sunday mornings, so there was even more reason to like the Bears, because we would always knock off in time to watch the Bears on TV.
After he moved to Indianapolis in the early 1980s, Mike adopted the Colts as a second favorite team, mainly because he could no longer get the Bears' games on TV with any degree of regularity. Instead, he was consigned to an inferior product -- indoor football on artificial turf under the Hoosier Dome.
In so many ways, Mike was absolutely my best friend in the whole world until I got "targeted," and then, like everyone else, he became my worst enemy. After I was forced out of my career by the illegal covert operation in August 2004, Mike invited me to live with him at his house in Indianapolis. Unfortunately, it was so he could subject me to a thousand different petty humiliations, not out of brotherly affection or any sense of duty.
Acting on his orders from the satanic cult we were born into -- the one that rules the world -- Mike tried to get me to commit suicide, but it didn't work, and he died in vain. He supposedly died of liver cancer, but I believe it was a condition deliberately caused by the CIA to silence him because he knew too much and was starting to talk too much. Or perhaps they wanted to remove one of my last remaining sources of support, feeble thought it was by then.
He was only 49 years old.
You see, Mike's so-called "girlfriend" introduced him to Corona beer around 2004, and since he was an alcoholic, he drank himself to death in the last few years of his life. I don't know if he didn't realize he was drinking poison or if he just didn't care anymore. How would you feel if you were forced to drive your brother to suicide because you were a member of a multi-generational satanic cult, and your brother wasn't?
I know this is possible because my food and drinks have been contaminated by employees of grocery stores and restaurants for the past 10 years. In the fascist police state in which we live today, everybody just does whatever the CIA tells them to do and they don't even bother to ask themselves if it's right or wrong.
When the CIA wants to assassinate someone and make it look like natural causes, they place you under illegal surveillance and then notify the grocery stores and restaurants when you're on the way there. Employees then switch out some of your favorite products with contaminated ones.
I know those Coronas were contaminated because I drank a few of them myself before I realized what was happening. They didn't taste right, and now I recognize that same taste in the beer I buy at the grocery store. Needless to say, I pretty much had to give up drinking beer because of that.
See these posts:
Gigantic Celestial Wrecking Ball Headed Toward Earth
Bizarre Masonic Atrocity Exposed, Part 1
Mind Control References in My Life
The Fugitive: From a Satanic Cult
References to Me in the Movies
At any rate, Mike was about two years younger than me, and like many brothers, we often fought when we were young, but when we moved to California in August 1970, we became the best of friends. We remained that way until 2004, when I was first "targeted" by the illegal covert operation that destroyed my life.
I'm not sure why Mike agreed to participate in the conspiracy to destroy my life, but I have a feeling he was blackmailed into it. Perhaps he was threatened that there would be dire consequences for his children if he didn't cooperate. At any rate, he made it clear to me in thousand different ways toward the end of his life whose side he was on.
Both my dad and Mike were alcoholics, and I think one reason why was that they couldn't live with the fact that they had betrayed me and sold me out to the CIA. I believe Mike was my "handler," which means his job was to pretend to be my friend while constantly informing on me and betraying me.
I think it's entirely possible that he knew he was being poisoned to death toward the end of his life, but that he willingly continued to drink himself to death to escape the horrible reality of the world in which he was forced to "live."
At one point during the time we lived together at his house in Indy, probably in 2005, I expressed to Mike that I believed in reincarnation. He told me that he hoped it wasn't true.
Could there be any more damning indictment of the "life" he was forced to live?
Mike was not the first person in my family to be murdered as a result of the mind-control project that ruined all our lives. My mother was murdered 15 years earlier.
You see, when I was working as an editor at the South Bend (Ind.) Tribune in 1991, I was presented with a rare opportunity to put my beliefs into action. Now I realize that it was all a set-up, but it was a golden opportunity just the same, and I seized it.
Back in 1974, during my sophomore year at the University of Michigan, I discovered that President Kennedy was assassinated by a conspiracy and that Lee Harvey Oswald was framed for the crime by the CIA. By 1991, I had read many books on the subject and was well-acquainted with the facts surrounding the case.
So when one of our book reviewers gave a favorable review to "Conspiracy of One," an absurd book that backed the lone-gunman theory, I responded by writing a series of book reviews that praised some books that exposed the conspiracy, including "High Treason," "Crossfire," "On the Trail of the Assassins" and "Plausible Denial."
Seven months later, my mother, Joan Beal of Indianapolis, died suddenly and unexpectedly at age 62 -- allegedly from a heart attack. It may indeed have been a heart attack, but since the CIA has long been able to induce fatal heart attacks by various methods, I believe she was murdered by the CIA to begin the process of dismantling my so-called life.
My mother was murdered on Oct. 3, 1991, exactly three years after Mae Brussell died. Mae was also murdered by the CIA for exposing their crimes, and so was her daughter, Bonnie. I named this blog after Mae because of her efforts to expose the JFK conspiracy and various other illegal activities carried out by the FBI, the CIA and lots of other corrupt government agencies.
I believe my mother was murdered on the three-year anniversary of Mae Brussell's death to send me the message that her death was not the result of a random heart attack, but that she was murdered in retaliation for my efforts to expose the JFK conspiracy.
For more about all this, see my Brussell Sprout blog.