How to work with a victim of memory erasure or dampening as they call it?

 

I’ve been around them all my adult life, and I’ve learned how fiercely they defend the false narrative if you confront them directly.  Imagine the confusion that it sets off in the mind. The slightest tilt sets the whole thing tumbling, and this applies to all of us, in an historic sense.

 

 

 

A few days ago I posted these older black and white photos and mislabeled them as the Rankin family.  These photos were actually something I found on the internet.  Someone claimed they are rare photos of the young Paul McCartney and his brother Michael, with a lady and a man who were not identified, so I saved them to my files.  The boy looked so much like some Rankin photos that I have not published yet, that I confused them.  This is the woman whose face matches up with the woman called Nancy Oschsenslager, the elderly woman in the photo found on Taaffe’s page.

 

 

 

I submitted these photos to April’s stepfather, and this was his comment, which says so much about how we wrongly block out possibilities in the reasoning process if our knowledge base is faulty :

 

Suzanne,

I’ve not seen those photos before and I don’t recognize the folks in them.  At first I thought the woman might be April’s maternal great grandmother when she was young (because of her prominent nose), but that can’t be the case; she had no male children.

 

What I will do is take that immediate impression that he had and investigate the possibilities, since he may have been given wrong information about her having had no male children, and also because her having male children is irrelevant. 

It just so happens that I’ve been seeing that lady’s face in Elvis movies.  I first saw her in the movie  Blue Hawaii, as the lady who Elvis mistakes for a teacher and she calls herself Mrs. Ingersoll and which my paid rental has now blurred out.  It’s the outdoor scene at a restaurant in case you have the movie.  She’s there in other places in that movie, which coincidentally has the same furniture as the photo of De La Penta sitting in Frank Sinatra’s house. You’ll find that same black piano and bar stools in both. In fact, that woman in the photo of Paul and Michael McCartney is in the background of every Elvis movie. She is seen most clearly in the farm scene of the 1957 movie “Loving You” while Elvis is singing.  You can see her holding a child and also full face with the man who looks at her lovingly and holds her arm.  It’s a very quick scene so you have to stop the film to get a good look at her face. 

 

Elvis and Delores Hart are in that movie.

 

Suzanne Broussard Locates her Missing Evil Step Mother in an old Elvis Movie

 

As I focused on the background people in the Elvis movies, I recognized so many people I know, that I wouldn’t know where to begin except that one of them stands out so much that I need to throw it in here unexpectedly.

No one, and I mean no one, makes my blood curdle the way it does when I see my father’s second wife Caroline Rich.  And I saw her there, at that farm with Elvis in the movie, and she went by the name Delores Hart.  My ex-step-mother, a woman who is the most evil and heartless person I’ve ever known, is now pretending to be a Catholic nun.

 

You can’t make this stuff up, right?  I can’t put her photo on my blog, she makes me physically sick, but anyone in Loreauville who knows her daughter will see the resemblance. Yes, her daughter, the one who convinced my father that I was the enemy, the one who lied her way into my inheritance, yes, the most evil people I’ve ever known.

 

Caroline was the one that moved in on my father while my mother was in the Children’s Cancer Ward of Oschner’s  Hospital with my dying brother.  She called herself Caroline Rich and she chose that time to start having an affair with him, even visiting the hospital with him in New Orleans, to further upset my mother.  This was just the beginning, so you can understand why the sight of her photo makes me break into a cold sweat.  I haven’t seen her in a long time, not since my last brother died in an inexplicable accident so reminiscent of the GKN driveline remote control assassination method of the Mossad, and she showed up at the funeral, just in time to hop in the limousine before my Mother could enter, though we hadn’t seen her in years. 

She completely disappeared after having set up her daughter firmly in our family business, proud new owner of all that had been passed on to my father from previous generations, all that he and my mother had put together in terms of business and property.  She also arranged to take my own inheritance from my grandmother.  She and her daughter used the name of the famous pirate family, Rich.   

 

The person we know of as Delores Hart, using the name Caroline Rich nee Gill, from Waterproof, Louisiana, near Ruston, this red-neck woman moved into our respectable house with two card board boxes, the total extent of her belongings.  My mom had moved out with all five children.  Caroline Rich was new in town, and had one female room mate in a small shack in New Iberia.  I’ve never known anyone who knew them.  Except for the Rain Makers of Jones-Walker New Orleans who show up on cue…Ta daahhh…..

After busting up our family, the whole lot of them, Dotty Hebert, her husband, Maurice Sr., their children Marc and Maurice Jr., and Caroline and Robin Rich, all came to Loreauville together in a tidy package from Hell, just after my little brother Eddie died at Oschner’s Hospital in the mid 1960’s.

 

I wish I were just making this stuff up.

 

I’ll tell you why I’m certain it’s her so you can see for yourself.  For one thing she had bad teeth that were carefully covered up in her publicity photos but still noticeable.  The first thing she made my Dad pay for was her braces.  Not only did I now have a step-mother with a horribly spoiled little white poodle, but she wore braces besides and insisted on driving a Lincoln Continental which we all found to be very embarrassing.  She was working as a bar maid when my dad met her. She was also flat-chested as a pancake and it bothered her a lot.  She was so flat, that her padded bras would ride up and she had to do this squeezing movement with her arms to shove it back down again, which would have been hilarious if she weren’t so dangerous.  May God deal with her as she deserves, but for her to claim to be a Catholic Nun today is about as blasphemous and demonic as it gets.  I can’t even stand to think about it. 

 

I’m going for a walk.  This is what happens when the truth is known.  It’s a real physical reaction of revulsion.  I hope that once the shock wears off, that whoever has the power to carry out arrests and trials, does their job thoroughly. There’s no shortage of good leads here or evidence. There’s no excuse, and I’m still hoping that Donald Trump will take note and help get Cameron Rankin away from his kidnappers in San Antonio, TX.  

Remember, no one, not a single one of us, is immune to this kind of crime.

This is my father, and what was his business:  http://www.edbroussardmarine.com/