AN OPEN LETTER TO MY FELLOW MAN
One Woman’s Story re: HIV and AIDS

An error can never become true, however many times you repeat it.
The truth can never be wrong even if no one hears it.
~ Mahatma Gandhi ~

My name is Kim Marie Bannon. I was born in Topeka, Kansas, USA, in 1962,
and moved to Wichita, Kansas, with my parents in 1970. I attended Goddard
Schools where I was the salutatorian of my graduating class in 1981 and
was also a member of the Honor Roll, National Honor Society, Quill &
Scroll, Captain of the Roarin’ Wheatchix Drillteam, and participated in
many other sports and activities.

Immediately after high school graduation, I enrolled in the court
reporting program at Wichita Business College. Completing the 2-year
program, I passed the Kansas State Certified Shorthand Reporter
examination and began work as a freelance court reporter in my family’s
business.

In April of 1992 I was twenty-nine years old. I was a well-respected
business woman and an accomplished freelance court reporter in Wichita. I
traveled frequently for business as well as pleasure. I spent a lot of
time at the gym and in outdoor sports, and I took good care of my diet. I
was attractive, healthy, intelligent, successful and energetic. Even
though I’d been seeing a certain young man exclusively for a few months, I
referred to myself as “happily single”. I was financially and spiritually
independent, and my sense of well being was off the charts.

Then the certain young man in my life, Don, went to the local county
health department for a sore he thought might be herpes. When he told me
the nurses there had confirmed it as herpes, I thought the responsible
thing to do would be to find out if I had it as well. At the health
department, I was told that since I didn’t have a sore that could be
cultured, they could not test me for herpes; but how would I like to have
an AIDS test? They were offering it to everyone these days.

I was embarrassed and confused. I felt that a refusal of this AIDS test
would be tantamount to a confession of illicit drug use or promiscuity. I
had heard that anyone can get AIDS, but I still felt I was in a very low
risk group. I agreed to the test and was told to come back in a week for
my results.

A week later, I sat in the waiting area for two hours waiting to get my
results. I was finally taken to a private exam room by two women. They
apologized for making me wait for so long and then explained that the
reason for my wait was because they were trying to figure out how to
handle the situation. My test was positive. Almost everyone who tests
positive is either gay or on drugs or suspects they are positive for some
reason. Here I was a heterosexual female, non-drug user, non-prostitute,
and I was really giving them a problem.

Then they told me it was just a “screening” test, which was called an
ELISA. They said I was not in any risk group, and it would most likely
turn out to be negative when I was given the “confirmatory” test. They
wanted to know if I’d been recently pregnant, but they didn’t inform me of
anything else that could cause a false positive result.

I said, “I have a live-in boyfriend. I don’t want to scare him
unnecessarily, but I don’t want to not tell him either. And we have sex
practically every night.” I was told to buy some condoms on the way home
and to tell him nothing. This advice was abhorrent and absurd to me. It
upset me as much as the test did at the time.

I went straight to my most trusted friend and told her what had happened.
She advised I should tell Don, which I did immediately when I got home. I
also told her that I would kill myself if the positive result was
confirmed. I’m not sure what she said to that. I was uncontrollably crying
my eyes out at the time.

While attempting to have an otherwise normal life, I spent the next two
weeks calling the county health department every day trying to get my
“confirmed” diagnosis. They kept telling me they didn’t know yet. Finally,
they admitted that they had to have a certain quota of blood samples
before they could send them off for confirmatory testing, and mine hadn’t
actually been sent yet. They didn’t even know when it would be sent.
That’s when I went just a little crazy. I decided I would do nothing else
but try to find out the truth until I finally got it.

I started calling people on the phone and found a hospice nurse who wanted
me to immediately come see her. She then sent me to a home for indigent
AIDS victims where I met a nun who was also a nurse. She knew another
nurse who worked for a doctor who specialized in internal medicine and
HIV/AIDS. I called that nurse and got an appointment with the specialist
right away.

Two days later on May 1, 1992, the specialist, Donna Sweet, M.D.,
“confirmed” my positive diagnosis with the results of a Western Blot test.
She called it “classic.” She set me up for blood tests and office visits
every two months, which I later negotiated to every three months, and then
to every six months. Finally I starting returning only once a year and
then only because I wanted to get my oral contraceptive prescription
refilled. More about my doctor visits later.

When I got the “confirmation”, I felt my life was over. I can remember
looking at my then 8-year-old cat and wondering what would happen to her
when I died. (“Kitty” passed away in September 2001 at the ripe old age of
eighteen, and I cared for her in her last illness.) I was contemplating
about to whom I should give my possessions. I wondered how I could
possibly even be remembered on this planet or leave any type of legacy at
all, being unmarried, childless, and hopelessly doomed to stay that way
for the remainder of my painful, pitiful days. I thought I must find a way
to just fade out of sight and suffer a lonely, slow deterioration of my
body and eventual death in solitude. I mentally envisioned myself becoming
grossly deformed and weak and covered with sores until my skin fell off
and my insides turned to puss that oozed out of ghastly, bloody
ulcerations in my torso, face and limbs.

And then I told my parents. My father was extremely overdramatic. His
exact words: “This isn’t the way it happens in the movies.” (sob, sob)
“How could you do this to me?” And then my mother’s seemingly unaffected
response was she would worry about it when she had to, that she thought it
was probably just a mistake; yet she bought this cheesy, golden, glowing
supposed artwork image of a woman who sort of looked like me kneeling and
bowing. She gave it to me but insisted that she needed it back… when… my
mother didn’t finish the sentence.

And then there was Don. Suddenly I was deeply attached to this
relationship with a man that I would not have given the slightest thought
of marrying before the positive HIV test. Much to my surprise he wanted to
continue the relationship! He even had unprotected sex with me the same
day I was “confirmed,” just as he had been doing all along, even after the
ELISA screening had come back positive! I was amazed! He said he would
stay with me and even assist with euthanasia if it came to that! But what
was most amazing, he didn’t even believe I had HIV or that I would ever
even get AIDS!

WOW! I thought God had sent me an angel, and I prayed and prayed about how
could I continue a sexual relationship with Don when I was killing an
angel sent to me by God! And God answered and told me to “Help Don”.

Don and I were married August 8, 1992; and I spent the next nine years
living my life for Don. I thought I was helping him, probably in many ways
I was, but the guilt I felt over our sexual relationship was ever present.
It caused me to put up with abuse that was mental, emotional, financial,
verbal and physical that would have never been tolerated by my previously
HIV-negative self.

But the guilt wasn’t the only hold HIV had on me. I knew I could never
have anything resembling a normal dating relationship. My doctor, my
parents, and Don all agreed the HIV had to be kept a secret. If word got
out, it would ruin me socially and financially, creating stress,
stigmatization and isolation that my doctor warned would all help HIV kill
me even faster. So I hid from men in my marriage – better to tell them I’m
taken than admit that I have a sexually transmitted deadly virus. And I
also feared turning Don loose on the women of the planet. His attitude
toward HIV was nonchalant and, I felt at the time, in danger of spreading
AIDS. I felt very responsible for containing the virus within our
relationship.

Yet as any attractive woman knows, a wedding band doesn’t totally keep the
men at bay. Anytime a man even just warmly complimented me, I felt as
though I was hopelessly and helplessly singing the siren’s song, luring
any and all interested men to their death. Even my good health and good
looks had become a source of guilt, and I felt like the perpetrator of an
enormous lie. I felt contaminated and contagious. My social and
professional life on the outside were nothing like the true life I had at
home, or the true feelings in my heart.

So I worked… and worked and worked and worked. The more money I spent on
Don, the less I got beat up. The more time I spent working, the less time
I had to contemplate the anguish of illness that would soon befall me. The
more successful my career, the less I had to face the fact that personally
my wants and needs meant nothing. I basically had no goals except for
somehow trying to save what I thought would/could be the only intimate
relationship for me.

Despite all the evils deservedly attributed to Don, he remained undaunted
by the HIV, and thus continued to be my savior. Together we questioned
many aspects of the popular AIDS dogma such as: “How did I catch this
virus when I don’t have any risk factors?” “Why am I always so healthy?”
“Why are antibodies bad?” “If the only test is for antibodies, how do we
know that the virus is not cured?”

Which brings me back to my doctor visits. Never during the first four or
five years did I have a T-cell count lower than 700. I caught one flu that
was going around and that’s it. I never even broke out with any herpes
sores, the fear of which started me down this interminable path. The only
thing I was ever treated for was warts that the doctors never were able to
cure.

Then the viral load test came out in 1996, and I was told that they were
now able to test for the actual virus. My viral load was 20,000. The next
year my viral load was still 20,000 and my T-cells were still 700. But
most important in my mind was that any detectable viral load must mean
that I still have the virus in my body. My ultimate doomsday was once
again confirmed by medical science.

Under the mounting stress of my life which was no longer my own, my
relationship with my father/employer became more and more tense until I
had to stop working for him. This meant losing the health insurance I had
had for most of my life, and I was unable to get another health policy
because of my HIV positive status. I decided the tests were just too
expensive and were telling me nothing I was interested in knowing.

I was always physically very healthy despite working up to seventy or
eighty hours a week, managing all the responsibilities of the home, eating
fairly poorly, drinking too much beer “to help me fall asleep at night,”
and getting virtually no exercise. If I were immunocompromised, surely I
should be catching some opportunistic illness on such a regimen. I wasn’t
about to take any AIDS medicines based on the information I’d heard about
side effects, and I discontinued the use of oral contraceptives in 1999.
So having no further need for my doctor, I decided to stop seeing her in
March of 1998 when I got my last birth control prescription.

During this whole time I sat up a lot of nights crying and reading Psalms.
I also sought a lot of advice in the course of trying to save my marriage
– a goal solely determined by the presence of the HIV label.

I went to my Methodist pastors who told me to get divorced and wanted to
have me put on Prozac when I said I would rather continue to work on my
then 8-month-old marriage. I refused the psyche drugs. I was then referred
by my HIV doctor to a licensed clinical social worker who kicked my folks
and me out of her office when my father exploded during a session.

Don and I also saw a clinical psychologist, also recommended by my doc,
who told me I was addicted to my marriage and actually convinced me to
file for divorce which I did on Valentine’s Day 1994. I was completely
destroyed by what I had done in filing for divorce and begged Don to come
back to me. He did, and I continued to search for solutions to our
problems.

Since the chiropractor I had been seeing threatened to call the police if
I came in beat up by Don one more time, I went to see a friend who was a
massage therapist in hopes of getting some non-threatening pain relief.
She told me she was a Scientologist and that Scientology could help with
troubled marriages. My trek with Scientology is a story in itself, but I
want you to know that I spent over $100,000 from 1994 to 1998 with this
group in an effort to find peace in my marriage. They had me completely
convinced that they could “fix” Don and that the “next step” would do it.
They also told me that my eternity was doomed if I didn’t follow the path
on their “Bridge to Total Freedom”.

The story of my troubled marriage and my dealings with Scientology began
to leak out. The people who knew me but didn’t know about the HIV couldn’t
believe I was doing all these dumb things, e.g., staying in this insane
relationship and spending a small fortune with a cult. They thought I was
being controlled by an abusive husband and a pseudo religion, and they
also knew I was just plain too smart for that. Remember, on the outside I
was still maintaining, or attempting to, that image of the successful
happy camper my friends knew and loved pre-May 1, 1992. They knew I was
financially secure on my own and seemingly capable of achieving about
anything I wanted. So the lie had to continue, and get bigger, and HIV had
to remain a secret.

In 1996 the Scientologists adopted a policy that was very discriminatory
against HIV positive parishioners. This started causing some problems.
They wanted a doctor’s note every six months stating that I was not on the
verge of kicking the bucket, and I had trouble trusting my soul to someone
who couldn’t look at me and easily see that I did not have one foot in the
grave. Round and round we went, and I eventually walked away from the
church even though they had over $20,000 of my money in their account and
were refusing to return it.

In February 2000 I heard of a group of ex-Scientologists in Texas who were
using some of the Scientology techniques but were expanding them and using
them in a more ethical manner. They called this practice Knowledgism, and
a friend of mine from Scientology highly recommended them. It was at the
Knowledgism Ranch in October 2000 that I began to regain my self-esteem;
and in March of 2001, I was strong enough to confront Don about our
situation.

Don and I were in a lease together downtown in Wichita where both our
businesses were located. The lease was to expire in October 2001, which
gave Don seven months to figure out something new to do. I would no longer
pay for my assistant to do his work, nor would I do it myself. His
business must become self-sufficient by the end of the lease, as I was
moving my business to our residence.

By now I had learned how to block out the verbal abuse; and the physical
abuse had been abated simply because I asked nothing of Don at all, not
even the simple, polite niceties one would expect in the most remote of
encounters with another. But the threat of losing his meal ticket brought
on a new wave of violent behavior, and for the first time I was more
frightened of Don than I was of HIV. This led to discussion of a
post-nuptial agreement which evolved into a divorce petition I filed on
October 20, 2001. And this time I felt strong enough to go through with
it.

I moved my office to home, hired a new assistant, and was genuinely
looking forward to starting over with a new dream, albeit single; but HIV
still had to remain secret, especially in my professional circles. I think
the years without intimacy during my marriage convinced me that celibacy
was tolerable. At least I had my career and I could finally spend my
hard-earned money on me instead of Don – or maybe even finally have a
savings and even retire early.

But Don fought hard. He was going to make me pay. No matter the sum I
offered him to settle the divorce, he wanted more.

On November 28 the weather turned cold, and Don came over to pick up some
warm clothes which were still at my house, previously our home together. I
tried in vain to get him to name a sum that would appease him. We were
slowly and steadily spending a small fortune on our attorneys. His
response was, “I’ve got a whole new twist on this, Kim, that you haven’t
even thought of yet.” Then he was out the door with the last of his
parkas.

The next evening I went to sleep around midnight. At approximately 1:40
a.m., I was awakened by a man on top of me with his left hand on my mouth
and nose and his right fist in my throat. All his weight, over 200 pounds,
was on me. His exact words were, “Your husband wants you f*cked and killed
and I’m just gonna kill you.” We struggled and he strangled me repeatedly,
alternating suffocation with breaking most of the bones in my face with
his fists. I later learned that while I slept he had busted my skull with
a 5-pound steel jackhammer bit. But then he stopped and said crying: “I
can’t do this.” “I’m not a murderer.” “Why does your husband want you
dead?”

At that time my life insurance was worth around $150,000. There was about
$70,000 in our joint bank accounts. I later sold our 5000-square-foot
house for $210,000. And with our cars and other personal belongings, Don
stood to inherit about half a million dollars if I were to die.

The man who tried to kill me is Michael Greer. He is now in prison for
several more years, having been convicted by a criminal trial jury of
premeditated attempted first degree murder. At his trial he admitted to
telling me that Don hired him. Basically my story and his are exactly the
same about what happened that night. Except now he says he just made up
the part about taking money from Don to kill me.

Don was picked up, jailed, and questioned for four days before being
released without charges. He paid the attorney who got him out of jail
$20,000. I’m told by the district attorney that no hard evidence of a
connection between him and Michael Greer was ever found; although, I have
never been allowed access to the police file. Don presently owns and runs
a small hairstyling salon in downtown Wichita, Kansas.

I managed to survive the attack with a slightly dented skull and a barely
visible scar over my right temple. I even escaped a brain surgery that
some of the doctors wanted to perform. I gave my assistant her final
assignment from my hospital bed on the morning of the attack: “Cancel
everything -- the business is closed indefinitely.”

On the seventh day after the attack, I drove myself five hours to the
Knowledgism Ranch in Saint Jo, Texas, where a little stone cabin became my
home for the next seven months plus. This is where I first learned that
there were some very reputable scientists and doctors disputing the HIV
theory of AIDS.

On April 18, 2002, a friend of mine emailed a link to Nexus Magazine,
asking me to check out an article about the benefits of coconut oil. As I
scanned the magazine index for the title, I noticed another article
entitled “The Yin and Yang of HIV”, and I clicked on it. It was long, it
was technical, it was heavily referenced and footnoted. I decided to print
it out after reading only a few paragraphs, and settled myself onto the
sofa in the lodge to study it.

I emerged from the sofa several hours later in a state of amazement. I
began with my friends at the Ranch, telling them what I had found. Then I
emailed Dr. Valandar Turner of The Perth Group who had written the
article, and at last I started searching the web. I could do nothing but
read for hours and hours each day all of this enormous volume of
information which confirmed the suspicions I had had about my own supposed
“diagnosis” as well as giving support to the holes I perceived in the
prevailing AIDS dogma.

Since that time I have done a tremendous amount of research into this
subject, first for the purposes of my own health, then in outrage, and
finally in an effort to help as many people as I can who find themselves
in a similar situation as myself. Now, nearly thirteen years after my
diagnosis, I remain healthy and have never taken any AIDS medications.

With the help of my attorney, I have filed a lawsuit on the issue of
whether the HIV or AIDS tests are really showing us what they purport to
show, i.e., that a person is infected with HIV, which is still considered
the probable cause of AIDS.

AIDS is a government-identified and defined disease. In the early 1980s,
the Centers for Disease Control (CDC) reported that a growing number of
male homosexuals and intravenous (IV) drug users were experiencing a
mysterious epidemic of diseases, which included several odd types of
pneumonia, a rare malignant tumor called Kaposi’s sarcoma, lymphoma,
dementia, tuberculosis, weight loss, fever, diarrhea, etc. Officials at
the CDC called the epidemic “AIDS” (acquired immunodeficiency syndrome),
which this agency now defines as comprising 26 different diseases. From
1981-2001 they claim AIDS has afflicted 800,000 people in the US, 250,000
in Europe, and 1,000,000 (?) in Africa. In the US, it strikes young male
homosexuals (66% of all AIDS cases), male and female IV drug users (32% of
all AIDS cases, 75% of them male), hemophiliacs and other transfusion
recipients (1%), and children born to drug-addicted mothers (1%). Notice I
don’t fit into any of these categories.

In 1984, government researchers and most notably Robert Gallo proposed
that a sexually transmittable virus, now called HIV (human
immunodeficiency virus), is the cause of AIDS. In the US and Europe, a
person must have a positive HIV test indicating antibodies to the virus to
be diagnosed as having AIDS, along with one of the AIDS-defining diseases,
or, since 1993, a low T cell count (T cells are one of the types of cells
that make up our immune system) in an otherwise healthy person with no
diseases; but this low T cell count definition does not count as AIDS in
Canada, and people in Africa can be diagnosed as having AIDS without
needing to have an HIV test based on a ruling by the World Health
Organization (WHO). Anyone in Africa who gets pneumonia, for example, is
classified as having AIDS. Interpretations of HIV tests when given also
vary from country to country and even from lab to lab. Hence, you could
change your HIV and/or AIDS status simply by moving to another location.

Over the last twenty years the US Government has carried out a program to
eradicate the HIV virus that has engaged the efforts of more than 100,000
government-funded doctors and scientists and has cost the US taxpayers to
date more than $160 billion. They have found no cure, and they have yet to
save one life. And there is strong evidence that the premise upon which
this program is founded is wrong.

Although everyone is paying the price, it is the presumption that HIV
causes AIDS that is so injurious to those so diagnosed, many of whom are
perfectly healthy people like me. Those in non-risk groups do not progress
to AIDS unless they take the AIDS medicines prescribed by the orthodoxy,
which are all known to cause extreme side effects and death. Many people
have lost their insurance, their jobs, their homes and families. Some
commit suicide. Pregnant women are forced to take AZT, deliver by
C-section, and are prohibited from breast feeding. Babies are taken from
their homes and given drugs, even experimental drugs and vaccines, and
sometimes this happens even when the babies test HIV negative. HIV
positives have been prosecuted for having sex. The psychological effect
alone of being given an HIV death sentence is enough to kill you, one way
or another.

Yet my research has shown that the HIV tests all contain some sort of
disclaimer that they must be confirmed and validated by another test,
which test invariably has the same or a similar disclaimer, and that no
test is approved by the FDA to be used for diagnosis. There are also some
70 known conditions which will cross-react and give a false positive
result on the HIV tests. These conditions include TB, alcoholism,
arthritis, pregnancy, chicken pox, malaria, flu shots and warts. This
hardly seems a basis upon which to be issuing a diagnosis of anything!

Robert Gallo filed for a patent on the first HIV test on the same day he
announced he had found the probable cause of AIDS, a patent for a test
from which he has made an enormous amount of money. His proclamation was
made despite the fact that his research was previously unpublished – which
I have found would be the scientific standard – in order that it could be
verified by other scientists. Gallo has still not been corroborated.

Gallo also was found to have stolen the virus he claimed to be HIV from a
French scientist, Luc Montagnier; and the dispute was thoroughly
investigated and finally settled with the involvement of US President
Reagan and French Premier Chirac. My research has uncovered very
unsettling evidence against Gallo and his lawyers.

When I asked for copies of my own medical records, I found that the
“confirmation” Western Blot (WB) test that I was given when I was
diagnosed contains the following language which no one bothered to tell me
previously:

“Indicates possible infection by virus. Viremia may be present. Positive
results are not diagnostic of AIDS. Biologic false positives still
possible in some select cases… Follow up testing may be advised if
clinical findings are discordant with test results.” (emphasis mine)

This Western Blot test which allegedly “confirmed” my HIV positive status
has been banned from diagnostic use in the UK because it is so unreliable.
This same test is still being used in the US to “diagnose” and “confirm” a
positive HIV diagnosis in individuals every day.

The viral load test that at one time I believed to be testing for HIV
antigens or actual virus is also known as PCR. The CDC has this to say
about it: “PCR is not recommended and is not licensed for routine
diagnostic purposes.” The viral load test manufacturer’s own literature
warns “the test is not intended to be used as a screening test for HIV or
as a diagnostic test to confirm the presence of HIV…” Yet this is the test
I was given by my doctor when I confronted her with all this science I had
found which is contrary to her prior advice and diagnosis. She is still
insisting that this is a test for viral antigens and that it is just now
time for me to “get sick and die”.

When I decided to see Dr. Sweet one last time on September 21, 2004,
asking her to change my “diagnosis”, begging her actually for my life, she
refused and wanted to put me on AIDS medication; yet she pronounced me in
excellent clinical health. I showed her HIV test kit inserts from the
tests she gave me that state they are not to be used for diagnosis or
confirmation, that positive test results should be “confirmed”, that they
should not be used as the sole basis for the diagnosis of HIV. She
patronizingly explained the testing procedure to me, knowing full well
that I completely understood it already, and then proclaimed, “I’ve done
everything I’m supposed to do.” She promised to send me a documented study
that proves heterosexual transmission of HIV and confirmed my mailing
address, but no study ever came in the mail.

That’s because as far as I can tell, no such study exists. I’ve asked
everyone for it. I’ve posted the question on the internet and I’ve asked
doctors and scientists and I’ve searched everywhere I can think to look.
No one seems to have the study. It’s just assumed one must have contracted
the virus through heterosexual contact in the absence of any other risk
factors.

Some scientists question that HIV causes AIDS, and some even question
whether HIV exists at all. They claim that what is called HIV is really
only cellular debris. There are doctors treating AIDS with detoxification
techniques and nutrition, and their patients are getting well. All of
these dissenting scientists and doctors are being squelched by the medical
and scientific orthodoxy. They are denied research grants and are not
allowed to publish in scientific journals.

I have uncovered a lot of disturbing information in the two last years,
and here is another example: Based on information provided by the WHO,
even if we assume that all AIDS cases were fatal in the year 2000, the
resulting global mortality rate of HIV positives (mostly untreated) would
only be 1.4%, which is 4 to 6 times lower than the 6.7 to 8.8% mortality
rate of HIV positives treated with anti-HIV drugs in the US and Canada.
What more statistical evidence do you need that it is the AIDS medicines
and not HIV that is causing people to die?

When you combine this with the fact that heterosexual, white females who
don’t use IV drugs do not get AIDS unless they take AIDS meds, it does
ease my mind to know I will never get AIDS since I don’t take AIDS drugs.
Virtually no one in my demographic gets AIDS. However, the psychological
effects of being so misled are even greater at this point. What would my
life have been like for the past thirteen years and what would it be like
into the future if I could only live it without the stigma of an HIV
positive diagnosis? And the burden of somehow reaching the general public
with this information that is so vital weighs heavily on my mind and
soul.

I’ve largely kept my HIV status a private matter to this point. The
atrocities that I’ve discovered cause me to reconsider this decision. It
would appear that I could very easily go on with my life as I have been
and tell as few people as possible of my “condition” or my more recent
research findings. However, this is impossible for me to do in good
conscience.

I suppose my background as a freelance court reporter has led me to the
avenue of the justice system to help me in my quest to spread the truth. I
feel it is only my excellent reputation in the local legal community that
enabled me to get a lawyer to take the case. The disclaimers the
manufacturers put in their kit inserts do not protect them under the Laws
of the State of Kansas if they don’t make certain the person buying the
test actually knows the disclaimers exist. Well, I didn’t know about those
disclaimers, and it was pretty difficult to get my hands on them after I
heard about them. I’m asking the court to not allow this to continue to
happen to people.

I am not a doctor or scientist or even a lawyer. I am merely an average
citizen who is making a conscious decision to be informed and responsible
for her own health – rather than relying on the opinions and advice of
supposed “authorities” whose very own expert status and pocketbooks rely
upon the continued existence of a theory that will no doubt turn out to be
the basis for the biggest snake oil remedy scam to which mankind has ever
fallen prey. Just follow the money.

Peace,
Kim Marie Bannon