text: My name is Dennis Homer Love Jr. As a child in the 1980s I became the first underaged person recognized by the United States government for helping efforts involving the CIA during the Ronald Reagan presidency. Many other kids were recognized after me, but it seems there efforts were not life threatening as mine were. I was privileged to work with or along side of some of Stephen Shaffer's clandestine work involving such people as Barry Seal, Pablo Escobar, Manuel Noriega, Oliver North and South American people that were to be used in an army that would take over locations in various South American countries and create a new country governed by democracy that ultimately would be backed by the USA. Turns out it was a clandestine tactic used to trick Pablo into giving up all his cartel locations used in producing and smuggling cocaine and other durgs into the United States. The CIA got as much information as possible and the executed an airstrike destroying all the locations they knew of with the U. S. Navy from an aircraft carrier off of Peru. Of course under the permission of then president Ronald Reagan. Setting Pablo's cocaine industry back but not out of commission. During all the time I was involved I ended up getting left in South America for a more extended time than planned on. Long story short when I was finally brought back to America by my pastor Fred J Foster he dropped me off on a well known military base in Louisiana called Barks Dale Air Force Base. Truns out I had body parts and military documents of interest to national security at the time. Not really what anyone would call secret but compromising documents of military interest to say the least. I guess you could call me at that time a very patriotic kid as far as believing in the United States of America 🇺🇸👍 and as a man I still do. 😈🇺🇸👍Go Air Force. When I was a child in grammar school Stephen Shaffer of the CIA came and got me one day at Central Elementary School of Calhoun Louisiana. He took me to Mena Arkansas on Barry Seals land where there was a private airport. There was South Americans there who where training with the CIA learning military tactics for a war that never really got fought. Pablo Escobar flew in on a Cessna and Stephen and I where to fly down to Colombia South America to take pictures of the Medellin cartel's durg production. Stephen didn't trust Pablo and thought he would have a better chance at coming back with a kid going along. I had previously met Pablo at Mena with Barry Seal and other CIA and FBI officials. I was there with the boss of the water service company my dad worked for. We where there in Mena delivering a pressure tank to improve the water pressure on Barry Seals land. While in Colombia I met hundreds of kids South Americans staying on the cartels housing. Despite the horrible condition of drug slavery to Pablo Escobar. The South Americans that he had in his control actually had a better from of life with his cartel than they would on there on. However the majority of the drug slaves started out as bought or given from there parents four to five year olds that were kept in cartel housing consisting of a large building for shelter on top of a southern Colombian Mt top. That had dirt floor and a kitchen of sorts were they would make fresh tortilla chips and other simple but wonderful tasting food. It wasn't hard for it to be wonderful because that's all they had. Most all of the boys and girls there were skinny but they had a sick notion of death that is how they embraced looking at it. They were not scared of death as American kids were. There religious views gave them this fascination with death but it was more of a respect than fascination. Despite this and the condition of slavery these kids had the best and most beautiful spirit and attitude towards life. They were very loving and caring kids not like you would find in America due only to environment. I do wish they could have had a chance at freedom in America like all the kids I grew up with. But picking coca leaves and cocaine production and transportation is what life had in-store for them. As long as they followed the rules and obeyed the cartel killers they had a pretty good life but not all of them would be lucky even ones that obeyed were killed at the whim of the cartel killers when the killers were trying to make an example or just horribly wasting lives. The kids grew up in this environment and they were tougher than you could imagine and each one worthy of the best love and environment any American kid has received and took for granted I'm sure. It was a time that happened and I was there as a witness in the late 1980s in Pablo Escobar's Medellin Cartel housing on top of a southern Colombian Mt top with in walking and viewing distance of the equator. Which is were a sacrificial pit was carved out of the Mt top and were the cartel would burn and destroy bodies from the organ harvesting that was just as big part of the cartel as the durgs were. There was sex education there too. I know I'm not the only one who has went through this but I would guess people like me and my experiences in sex this way are very few and far between. While in Colombia South America in the compound Pablo Escobar used to house his drug trade workers as a grammar school child I was having sex with a Colombian woman and was almost at the peak of what a grammar school boy should have had for one of his first sexual experiences when a cartel killer that had his mind on doing what he did the whole time came up and pulled his pistol out and shot the woman in the head while I was directly on top of her and her face that I was concentrating on suddenly became something that would scar me sexually for the rest of my life with her precious smile turning in an instant to something that would horrify even the most mature. After this the cartel killer wasn't though messing with me and proceeded to cut her up exposing her internal organs and forcing me to help him cut her liver out completely whole without any unnecessary cutting of the liver as a strict punishment if I did. After removing her liver he took it to the kitchen were he proceeded to cut it up as if it were a piece of meat for the market. He fried it up and placed it on the table that evening for supper needless to say I had lost my appetite and did not desire to be around him for some time. The other killers kept criticising me and tried to boost my confidence until I finally got the courage to do the same thing to him I caught him on top of another woman and before he could react I shot his woman in the head the same way except I didn't have any interest in her liver and he showed me his respect from that day forward promising not to do it again as long as I promised the same. Some life lesson I had been forced to destroy something as beautiful as sex by being exploited in death with the pull of a trigger needless to say I have a real hard time forming any kind of bond with a woman. Unfortunately it didn't stop there he noticed that I became very friendly with some mature young teenage Columbian boys that were working in the fields of coca trees and sleeping with them at night I formed a bond very quickly with one in particular that I grew a crush on and basically became his boyfriend and was sleeping with him every night one night weeks after the woman incident the cartel killer came up behind us and I could only think up he was choking him out while we were hooked up but as it turns out he didn't pass out his throat had been cut and I began to have the most tramadic sexually experience of my life he fell limp on to my back and the other boys w told me he was dead but I couldn't believe it I was a child I had no reason to believe it. As his blood ran down my back as I attempted to stand up and kept calling out to him but he wouldn't respond the blood hit the floor with a heavyness that will never forget it sounded like the empting of a full bucket being poured out at once and sent me into a panic that took some of the other boys working together to calm me down long enough for another one to get him loose off of me because rigamortous had set in and I was screaming as I pulled him like a slay back and for over there blankets and them trying to get free convinced he wasn't dead because he wouldn't let go. Then once calmed down the cartel killers demanded that his body be throwed in the pit and only one boy stepped up and offered to help me. As we proceeded to get it over with on the way to the pit it became to difficult to carry him together and the boy decided it would be easier to finish cutting of his head that was hanging by very little and kept slinging back and forth on to his grip he had on him. He decided it was too much indeed for both of us and said if I would carry his head he would carry his torso the rest of the way. By the time I got to the pit I had become carzy temporarily because of all the stress and began to kiss his head crying and sobbing turning into laughing as I tried to push it out of my mind that it even happened. But as I went back and took a shower with the boy who helped me we went back to lay down on the floor to sleep and I realized that I would never really get over it or the women that had been killed and attribute that to my main difficulties forming a bond with any one I love. Having my only sexual relationship with a friend who had a girlfriend and was just really putting me on feeling sorry for me though he never knew about my experiences in South America he would only help me out when I needed him the most and sadly in 2007 after he was having a break down of sorts he took his own life in front of me with a shotgun to the head I tried to get to him in time but he had already pulled the trigger and fell back I reached out to him only grasping a little of his body mass picking him up from the ground to hold him in my arms as I yelled into his face calling out his name he seemed to almost come to one last time and sincing that I was near as if he heard me his face began to smile then fade away into a motion less shattered version of it's original form. He spoke to me repeated before saying that his one wish in life was to kill himself in front of someone that really loved him I always thought he was kidding but it has been my experience in the past that there is never any joking around when suicide is concerned and I do not take lightly to the matter of people making fun of that type of comment. Your life is precious and beautiful no matter how painful or sorrowful it becomes stick it out and hang on. It will get better. It will never rain every day hold on to something stronger than you are. Reach out to the Lord and ask Jesus for help and he will get you though another day. One day at a time and every day is a good day if you don't believe me try missing one it just can't and shouldn't be done. The truth is something that people rarely embrace and even more seldomly tell anyone much less totally stangers but I feel what you hold in secret will destroy you and what you speak honestly about you will be forgiven and Jesus is the only one that I seek forgiveness from and the only person I owe all my life to. I pray to always be as honest as that about everything in my life but it's not easy when it's not tramadic when you see it as every day sin.During my time in South America with the Medellin cartel the killers who where experts at messing with my head. Threw me out of the compound and said I had to walk from Colombia where I was back to America. I took them seriously they literally killed who ever they wanted to in front of me. I set out headed towards America it was hot like you can't imagine on the equator. I walked during the night because the day was to hot. The Colombian women and children that would walk the 20 something miles back and forth along the Mt tops between cartel shelters would pass me everyday. They would leave me a water but refused to carry me anywhere. No food and just water makes you readjust your priorities. After walking what seemed like an eternity I came up on the first little gathering of people along the Mt top road it was about 15 to 20 miles away from the cartel compound. I found out that I hadn't even made it out of Colombia and it took me a couple days to get there. I was starving and thirsty. They gave me something to eat and drink then I decided to give up walking home to America. Then started back to the cartel compound with desire to do what I had to for them to take me back. When I got there they made me do things that I would call anti-religious to say the least. They laughed at me and said they thought I was dead. Most kids they send out saying they can't come back only last 30min or half a day at most. I was gone four or five days I really tried to make it work. I was so embarrassed about what they made me do to get back in that I asked you tem to open the back gate and I wanted to walk down the Mt top trail from Colombia towards Ecuador then towards Peru and Chile. They laughed and opened the back gate to let me walk away again. As I walked away I was going over how I gave up on going home and basically was separating my so called family ties of what I thought was making me want to go home. I kept thinking that my family was surely missing me as if I mattered to them. Then walking away from the compound I came across a real Shaman from Peru that had walked on a spiritual journey from Peru to the Mt top in Colombia where the equator line runs across the bottom of the country. There was a pit carved out of the Mt rock and all kinds of paintings and markings along what seemed like a big rock coming out of the Mt. There was a whole lot of terraces going down from the top of the Mt to the valley down below. Right behind the cartel compound. It was beautiful. There was a stream going down the Mt top where I came across the Shaman and his two Shamans in training that were helping him gather herbs and stuff that grows naturally that where to be used in medicines. They were cleaning fish. I wanted them to take care of me and asked if they would if I could join them. The Shaman himself could not speak English well and the Shamans in training could speak just a little, but it was enough for them to gain my trust. They had food and knew were they where that's really all it took for me all on my own. They were very nice and allowed me to be with them. The head Shaman even took me on sort of adopting me as his son or apprentice. He was going to show and train me to become a Shaman. At first I thought he was joking but he was as serious as the initiation that I went through involving durgs I didn't know exsited. DMT is what I found out it was and that night wigging out my grammar school mind I watched them put on a show in full dress going over the various sprits and religious ways of the indigenous South American people he represented. It was scary intense and dramatic. I suppose everyone experiencing it for the first time would agree. DMT is not for kids but I soon decided it was for me. What time I spent with them was about a week or so then the cartel killers once again became involved. I wrote this early that best explains the dramatic ending. Some of what I have already said is repeated. Still at this time I choose to leave out the part about the Necrophilia that they involved me in maybe I'll write about that part another time. Anyway here is the ending of my Shaman experience. 👍I was asked by a shaman to finish what the cartel killers started he was doing a ceremonial dance on a colorful huge rock of the mountain top behind Pablo Escobar's cartel housing and it had a line painted by the shaman's that came as far away as Peru to this pit carved in to the mountain with a totom pole carved of rock as well. The whole thing maped the sun and the seasons the shaman would come and use fresh made DMT and walk back and forth along the line painted as the sun's path threw the seasons by the pit used to place the dead in to be offered up to the fowls of the air that was there way. But Pablo Escobar used it as a dump to get ride of the bodies left over from the organ harvesting going on one mountain top over the cartel killers wouldn't allow the shaman to do his ceremonial dance because he would do it as long as he could using the DMT and singing a ceremonial chant that drove the killers crazy day and night. He had become my friend when he noticed me going out to the pit day after day and I convinced the killers to let him do his dance for a day but he wouldn't stop and on the second or third day he was shot while I was standing beside him in the gut he asked me to help him in the pit but he got turned upside down and I had to climb in over the dead bodies that he was tangled upside down in and finally got him right side up. He complained about he wasn't dieing fast enough he wanted me to cut his throat but I wasn't strong enough so the killers suggested I use one of the automatic high powered machine guns they had and the shaman approved I counted down and was standing way to close as the count down ended the shaman gathered his last strength and tried to stand up as I fired the shot to the head that ended his life. A West Monroe grammar school boy in Colombia South America shooting a shaman in the head to ease his passing the cartel killers started by shooting him in the gut right beside me. It was no sight for a grammar school child to see or capable of talking about with anyone when I came back to the States and attempted to settle back into normal life as just another Grammer school child. Lots of people noticed a difference but had no reasoning for what it might could be. PS Thanks for listening to my problems hope you don't have any like mine in your life. My name is 🇺🇸Dennis Homer Love Jr.🇺🇸 Left as a guest on a flight from Mena Arkansas to Colombia South America by Pablo Escobar and Stephen Shaffer of the CIA in 1980s. Don't take your freedom and liberty for granted America it costs more than can be paid.💰💰💰💰