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Excerpt for A Nonfiction Robert Kraft And The NFL! Help! A Book To Save Lives by , available in its entirety at Smashwords

A Nonfiction Robert Kraft And The NFL! Help! A Book To Save Lives

by Lawrence Yudowitz

Copyrighted 2018




































Cheapter One: As Time Continues













































The author gives this to the public domain, so the public may freely copy and distribute it in any form without the author’s written consent. Note that this book is being updated as time continues. Robert Kraft and I met briefly in his kitchen in 1979 during a time period in this autobiographical account.

I tried to explain my best and to answer most questions that the reader may have, my hope is that to file a necessary police report there because police have warned me not to to avoid the hit. I leave myself available for anyone interested in being that good Samaritan. I cannot afford to hire lawyers or investigators but can work out a reward upon arrests and convictions of my family and whomever they hired. The officers working for the State department are varied and some should be punished such as the law officer who invited me to the Manila consular the day poison nearly killed me, and when that embassy denied me twice to speak to the officer, they pushed me out the door to my nearly certain death. The reader needs to determine who these people are that are trying to kill me. Is it the agent from the 2008 Olympics security detail named Jonathan Benny who hold two foreign passports, one Nigerian passport, and one Taiwanese passport, his friend American Elissa Russel is featured in the Taipei Times, whom I met, and she confirmed his identity as an agent of the US State Department Was it Sasha, the Ukrainian double agent famous at the electrics market for asking that custom made spy ware be built, or was it my family who have been acting guilty and somehow leading me to my own murder ever since 2008. Pardon me for saying but their work is not so important to kill me and others for, so let’s get to the bottom of this before more murders. Sasha and Benny had both been undercover agents in South Asia drug stings (I know this as a civilian because they were saying so near me and it is important to note that later in this statement (The attempted murders began with these two agents and continued with the likes of these agents) is n American named Jerry (or Gary) who carried a police identification and his fingerprints from his arrest can lead to more arrests of these killers). The attempts on my life began after the security agent took me aside to explain to me he was on assignment as a diplomatic security agent, however he verbally regretted his confession to me and afterwards consulted his black associate what to do and was recommended to deputize me, but he could not due to my past criminal record, now deleted forever. He gave me his telephone number and it was during that week upon first calling him, that mercenaries threatened to kill me and attacks began, but also that time my father was able to know exactly what was happening without my saying so. I need the reader to find out how my father had so many connections to these attacks, and who poisoned me several times while I stood in line, and were the people claiming to be American spies for real or pretending, and how did these people know details only family or from inside the state department could possibly know. The murder for hire began not only upon calling this agent,but at the same time I took a house mortgage which I was told was a gift, there was also a 1979 report from my childhood sexual abuse that I confronted my mother about, which she told my family I lied but I did not. My family is connected enough to manipulate the state department just as much as any agent could. Someone is trying to make me look bad or crazy but I am not.

Numerous investigators harassed me and my pregnant girlfriend. My girlfriend was a criminal and a drug abuser which I had not known about because she flew to me in Davao from Cebu and I never saw her life except for the dinners we had. Both her father and stepfather had been murdered previously but nonetheless I was stuck with her.

For a moment let me say something about the night my grandfather died around 1990, for him. I found at after my grandfather’s death that my father ran to New York just before I had telephoned my grandfather and he was happy to hear from me, but someone took the phone from him and hung up, it was an analog phone and my grandfather had shaky hands from Parkinson’s, so I know his hands did not hang up the phone and he would not have hung the phone up. I then went to investigate, and he was in a wheelchair leaving the house and being put into an ambulance, he was perfectly fine, but he couldn’t talk to me because he wore an oxygen mask. I followed him to the hospital and spent four hours with him, and I still could not talk to him because his mask was on, so I just held his hand. He drifted into unconsciousness. Later my father said there was a no resuscitation order enforced so why was there an oxygen mask on him? My father said after that his father had told him he would die that weekend, so why had my father run to New York and not told me to stay with him? I believe he may have been euthanized. My father went to a doctor’s appointment by the way.

I could not do anything to stop my child from being killed and I had done everything possible to stop it from happening, just as I am trying everything from stopping these people from killing me. No one expected me to survive the attempts on my life and there were some very real reasons I did survive which I cannot share now. Now that I have, my family has been out of touch and even certified mail asking for related documents gets returned. Not only did my family admit and confirm verbally exactly what the assassins knew at the times of my assassination, but also during the attempts on my life I called my family for help and literally my mom said she’d only “think about it”, and another attempt she said I “have nothing to do with that”. After a different attempt or two my father said to me “you are very brave” with a snarl.

The people who tried to kill me in Baguio at the hospital included the Americans in Cebu who came to the house at 26 C Imus Highway when I applied for the repatriation loan. My father had said about those Americans (The gray haired American agent with two local policemen) “that’s what you get for writing the letter”. That letter was specifically one I wrote to the state department (with my application for a loaned ticket back to USA) writing that my life was being threatened and that my father was involved, so they relayed to my father what I had written and without a privacy waiver signed. In it I accused my father of hiring two other men who threatened my life in Hong Kong which was common sense, but my father’s reputation preceded him, and he had much influence.

My sister, during the month before the baby and I were almost simultaneously killed, told me “that month would be the last time I spent with my girlfriend”, Mike, eight years older, my eldest sibling, said that I would be “locked up or put in a hospital if I said anything about past abuses”. In fact, after a violent attempted break-in to my apartment just before the murder of my baby my father told me to “go to a hospital” for no reason, and not the police station.

When I applied for the repatriation loan I told my father I was going to D.C to complain about the men harassing me and my father spoke as if he were disappointed in that plan; furthermore, he tried to stop me from going back to the states to complain about them, he also increased his slander of me to the state department that his opinion of me was “severely psychotic and a master manipulator” which is pure baloney, something completely without bases, but this is exactly when those people poisoned me with some very strong hallucinogen and it was no coincidence. I have never been diagnosed of anything more than a mild depression when I was a teen (except for the one month I was getting high with my friend Kevin and Nathan in 1989 and my father took me for a written test which I couldn’t pay attention to)

Another of dozens of unbelievable coincidences that happen in my story was at that time of the poisoning my parents sent a letter to an old camp mate whom I reached out to help because he owed me a favor. As a child he said he would do anything for me. That man five years my senior is Nathan Y. Gross and a real pedophile who asked me for a blow or “sick favor” at ten years old. My father referred to him over the phone to me while in Cebu as having taken everything away from me but in fact only my father had, and this escalated the people my father had hired to turn from stalkers to murderers. My parents went on to invite Nathan into our home.

I had asked Nathan and my rabbi Richard Yellin of Brookline to help by calling the police for me, but they didn’t respond only after speaking to my father, for unknown reason and I had few personal relationships back home to call on.

I sent an IP address which Google security had notified me about as accessed from Davao city while I was in Cebu the week before my baby’s murder to Martin the computer expert brother. Martin had also adamantly told me to stay with Lesly and to ignore the death threats.

Lesyl was paid money the week she killed the baby and helped to kill me. She did ty to warn me and insisted that we move to a new city before telling me about the killers. I noticed something bothering her emotionally. A neighbor had emailed to me about seeing her sitting with a suspicious man during the week before killing the child within her, already a fully formed child. All my family did not visit as promised for the birth of the baby not one RSVP. And upon the death of my baby two checks together were sent late to me so that they could cancel the checks and not lose money upon my death. The child’s death would sufficiently erase my existence and any money or inheritances would go on to another family member.

According to my bank statements for several years only that one time was a check mailed and not wired. I called my father that night the baby died, and he responded that he was terminally ill. I then read that fact in the Boston Globe, so I called the Boston Globe to have them correct that article, that it was likely a diversion of attention from my situation. For some reason I was never given one dividend check in my name of a realty trust, and whenever I wanted to pay taxes they went ahead and did so without my authorization form filled. Over time my father lied to me literally hundreds of times since 2009, including the time he gave a certain gift in form of a house.

After my loan for caring the baby was revoked due to some of these same stalkers telling this loan company that I had a different private trust account which I had not known existed except that I had seen a copy of a million-dollar trust as a teen which was displayed in a blue book throughout our house, but I had never asked about that until now 2018. During the two weeks before the child was killed and after my loan was revoked after already having been granted several times, I begged the embassy to call my dad for money, so I could take the baby to the hospital, because I caught my girlfriend trying to kill the baby. We were literally starving because someone in the group of people harassing and stalking me went to my loan officer who regularly gave me monthly loan. He revoked our loan the last month of her pregnancy.

Later, after the child’s death and I survived the hits then these people offered my girlfriend money, and “anything she wanted” to help set me up and then kill me. My girlfriend reported this with a lawyer for my safety in another city, and these people again came to this new city. More of those people came again to our home’s entranceway to sit just before the child’s killing, one of these three said he “would not shoot me” and the American one asked me if it was my baby and I said sure I she was. I carried my girl her five miles to the cemetery and buried her at night with a good Samaritan nearby. She looked just like me and with long red hair, but her head had been pressed in half. I hope the public takes me seriously when I tell you all that this was a very real situation in which others’ lives were also lost.

Martin, my brother set me up for bad to happen in Macao later upon my escape from the Philippines. My ATM card had been eaten by a machine, so I called him to which he answered my call with instant accusation as soon as he heard my voice and went on about how I needed help, or that my father had told him to” take care of me”. I explained my situation again about the people stalking me and he said that he would only loan for the hotel room while I waited for the new ATM card if I told him my exact address, but I told him that I preferred to keep the location private. As soon as I gave him the address two men on their phones came staring me down at which point he ridiculed my physical appearance as a reason for a hotel deposit without knowing I had worn a disguise. Those men must have told him about my appearance and Martin never kept his promise to pay the hotel, it was only his ploy to set me up after having my exact address. I believe he may have come up with the speech when I called to make me appear different to his family who may have been at his side

Martin had a strong history of violence and abuse against me as a child. Once, he chased me and my oldest brother out the window with his baseball bat, and then because of times like that we shared the same therapist. That therapist was proud of me and invited me to the Ritz Carlton to introduce me to his friends when I turned 20, and not Martin, but Martin won my father’s heart by attending the same university and working in Scotland at his company, also naming his previous consultancy Yudowits.com. I never knew Martin well as an adult expect except that he got high with his Scottish maintenance crew and they robbed him.

I had tried to stop the abuses against myself since I was a baby. These abuses, if stopped, would have, in the long run, prevented the deaths of my child, the one or more witnesses, and nearly my own assassination. Stopping the abuse in my own childhood would have by domino affect also stopped me from losing my home worth a million dollars, my education, friendships, health, innocence and more, but no one would dare to challenge my father who often paid money to help people and my jealous siblings managed to make me look bad with lies. During our first family therapy sessions to deal with our problems when I was very young my father yelled at me during the session not to say anything about my parents, right in front of the therapist, Onesti, who later became my mother’s psychiatrist.


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