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 ///have psychotic breaks."
 UK: U.S. Use of 'Psychic Spies' Reported (Take 4 of 5)
 J RI   LD27a814i095~
 ^EaT      ~FBIS Transcribed Text]  Lt ?- recovered, and remains on active
 duty but Stubblebine retired from the Army in 1984 to become an
 executive at BDM Corporation a ;~tashington-area defence and
 intelligence contractor.  He left BDM a few years ago, and now lives
 in New York, where he is married to Rina Laibow, a controversial
 'psychiatrist who has claimed that she is a UFO abduction victim. eut
 the damage had been done. "Bert gave re:tote-viewing a bad name,
 because of all the other stuff he was involved in," says a former
 senior Pentagon official who knew him.  And although the unit never
 left its offices at Fort Meade, by 1985 it had been expelled from
 the Army.  It still had its supporters, notably Jack Vorona, chief
 of the DIA's science and technology directorate, who had since. 1978
 been the overall head of the remote-viewing programme.  The DIA took
 the Fort Meade unit under its wing, the project was renamed Center
 Lane, ,and later, Sun Streak, and Vorona now exerted more direct
 control of the Fort Meade unit.  For the remote-viewers, this was a
 fortunate development. Vorona was a man who was widely respected
 throughout Che intelligence co .unity, and with him watching over
 it, the unit seemed safe from outside threats.
 3ut what of inside threats?  Although Stubblebine was gone, his
 spirit lingered, and in the mid and late 1980s, the unit seemed to
 take on a garish tinge.  In its first few years under DIA management
 the unit included the "witches,", two women called Angela Dellafiora
 and Robin Dahlgren.  Dellafiora eschewed remote-viewing and instead
 "channelled" her psychic data through a group of entities with names
 like "Maurice" and "George".  Dahlqren practiced tarot-card reading.
 In the eyes of Ed Dames and Mel Riley, Angela achieved an undue
 influence on the unit when she began to give personal channelling
 sessions, featuring advice on the most intimate matters of their
 lives, to Jack Vorona and other officials. "Jack Vorona would sit at
 one end of the table, and Angela at the other," recalls Dames. "She
 would say, 'Good morning, Dr Vorona. Maurice says hello!'"
 "Their eyes would be shining when they came out of those
 sessions," recalls Riley. "They were told all the nice things they
 wanted to hear, which reinforced Angela's-position within the unit."
 "Psychic blowjobs," says Ed Dames, referring to the activities of
 Angela and Robin.  To witness them, he told me, and the other antics
 of "the witches", was "too much to bear for professional military
 officers".  But Dames as much as anyone was caught up in the
 transformational dynamic of remote-viewing.
 A linguist - his forte was Chinese - and former INSCOM
 intelligence officer, Ed Dames was one of the group that had been
 trained in the early Eighties by Ingo Swann at SRI.  With his blond
 hair, California accent, and preternaturally boyish face, he looked
 more like a teenage surfer than a soldier.  Although widely    Approve  for Release
 considered intelligent and creative, he also seemed, like                ~1~
 Stubblebine, to have an impulsive streak.  "Everybody sort of looked
 at Ed as a loose cannon," says Mel Riley. "I was in trouble all the
 time, anywhere I went," agrees Dames. "I was always pushing the
 envelope."
 Certainly, despite his professed distaste for the New Ageishness
 of Vorona and the "Witches", Dames was Frustrated by the increasing
 000212889
 scarcity of operational taskings.  In his ample share time at the
 unit, he began to use remote-viewing techniques to exercise his own
 *spiritual and extraterrestrial interests. "Under the guise of
 'advanced training, "' he says, "I began to see carat (remote-viewing]
 could do.  You know what I mean?"  Dames's advanced training
 "targets" included apparitions of the virgin Mary, the demise of
 Atlantis ("it's at the bottom o Lake Titicaca," says Dames), the
 ?Loch Ness monster ("a dinosaur's ghost"), and a great many flying
 'saucers.  "He would tell me a lot of things about Martians,"
 remembers Dames's now estranged wine Christine. "I didn't want to
 hear about it."
 Whfle  D~+nes  was at  the Fort b:eade unit,  stories began to
 circulate about certain "unusual experiences" during remote-viewing
 sessions, particularly those engaged on "advanced training" targets.
 "I think he had some kind of experiences, same kind of disturbances
 from unknown spirits," remembers Christine Dames.  "But he didn't
 care -- he welcomed the challenge."
 "We thrived on adventure," Dames remembers proudly. "You get men
 of action -- we're not satisfied with sitting around and twiddling
 our thumbs year after year," says Dames. "Unless something happens,
 you're going to lose our interest.  But there was enough happening
 in there to hold our interest."
 Dames left the unit in 1989, and formed a company, Psi Tech, to
 make commercial use of his remove-viewing skills.  Sut his clients
 were few and far between.  He separated from his wife and moved to
 Albuquerque, New Mexico, believing that the nearby deserts harboured
 a hidden Martian civilisation.  a wilderness prophet for our time,
 he predicted to the local media that in August 1992, the aliens
 would arise from their desert dwellings, shocking the world.  when I
 saw him in 1994, Ed Dames was almost out of money.
 MOST OF the remote-viewers I've talked to are willing to admit,
 when pressed, that their craft does have its psychiatric hazards. As
 with any prolonged and forced alteration of consciousness, it
 promotes altered states and a general mental instability, and thus
 can be dangerous for those who are inherently unstable.  They also
 point out that in the absence of regular independent verification,
 remote-viewing can quick)y become a generator of idiosyncratic
 fantasy.  As Mel Riley says, "i~ithout feedback, your remote-viewing
 turns to shit."
 And without proper oversight, it seems, the remote-viewing
 programme turned foul, too, slowly strangled by its own isolation.
 Following the Irangate scandal of 1987, Defense Secretary Frank
 Carlucci had instituted a wide-sanginq review of potentially
 embarrassing Pentagon programs, and in-1988, a Defense Department
 Inspector General's (IG)??team descended on the remote-viewing unit's
 offices, demanding to see the files.
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 2? AUG 16IOz   -