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The Montauk Superman

[Introduction: Memories are a strange thing, there are tangible memories that can be proven factually, there are suppressed memories which are clouded recollections of actual events, memories that are a mixture of real and unreal events, memories based on imagination and possibly most frightening of all, memories that have been intentionally "programmed" within the mind of a person, which might consist of anything between actual real life experiences to entirely "designer" memories that may have been inserted to "cover up" experiences that are far more stranger than fiction. Just where in the spectrum the experiences of Andy Pero may fit, I do not know exactly, although many of the places and people he describes DO exist as evidenced by the links that I've added... so at least a good number of his memories are apparently accurate... but the question is, are his reported experiences with the alien time/space projects as carried out in the Montauk bases also based on fact, and if so to what degree? Others have made similar claims about Montauk {although these fantastic experiences do not appear until the last few sections of Andy's story} as can be seen by doing a search of the Internet for other writings on the Montauk Project. So here then -- for those very few readers who will view this page -- is Andy Pero's story... - Alan]

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This is my story, and this is my life. This is the time line in which events occurred as well as I can recall. As I slowly regain my memory this is my life as I can remember it. This is however just a rough outline and many of the parallel timelines which coexist during my life have been left out of this document. As time goes by more and more of the pieces will fall into place.

Here is my time line

My father graduates from the US Navel Academy class of '63 (Michael A. Pero Jr.).

Aug 1966-Nov 1968-
My family is stationed at the CB's Construction Battalion Center in Hueneme, California.

Nov 1968-
My family moves to Fallon Nevada. My father is the LT. Commander at the Fallon Navel Air Station in Fallon Nevada.

Nov 25th 1969-
I was born, in Fallon, Nevada. I am Michael Andrew Pero III.

July 12th 1971-
My father resigns his commission as the LT. Commander at the Fallon Navel Air Station and leaves the Navy. We move to New Jersey, and he begins work in the private sector.

June 1974- July 1976-
My father begins a new job overseas, and we move to Munich, Germany. {Note: capital of Bavaria, as in, "Bavarian" illuminati - branton}. I am 5 years old. I attended to two different schools at this time, the German kindergarten in the morning, and then the English kindergarten afternoon (kindergarten and then 1st grade). This is where the first discrepancies begin between my memory and my parents.

I remember living in Germany. I remember our apartment, and how our cat "twinkee" would not listen to anyone who called her in German. But if anyone, no matter who it was called her in English she would come running. I remember my best friend was a little girl with long straight brown hair and brown eyes. I ate dinner over her house and I remember after dinner she took two beers out of her parents' refrigerator and we drank them in her driveway. I was all worried we were going to get in trouble, but she said she drank beer all the time. I took about three sips and felt like I was going to throw up. I wanted to dump mine out but she didn't want to waste the beer, so she drank mine too. I remember my sister trying to teach me how to dance and she flung me around the apartment so fast I was thrown into the corner of the wall and cut my head open and had to go and get stitches. I remember all of this.

But most importantly I remember the German kindergarten. I remember the teacher and how she looked. She was very nice to me and had long wavy brown and gray hair, and looked like she swallowed a tire around her waist as she was heavy set. I remember being introduced to my first "gummy bear" and how I thought they were the "coolest thing ever". Being an American and being the physically biggest kid in the class I was a sort of the class celebrity, and the center of attention. I remember the mini pool they had outside, it was only about a foot deep, but we would strip down to our underwear and when it was warm outside go in for a swim. I remember all of these things, but when it comes to the "American" school I supposedly went to in the afternoon. I DON'T REMEMBER ANYTHING! I have no memory of another class room, I have no memories of another building, I have no memories of any friends, people, or teachers, no memory of even going to another school. WHAT I DO REMEMBER IS AN AIR BASE. I remember as I was walking up to it for the first time it was a huge place with a big chain link fence around it.

There were airplanes and miles and miles of cement. And I don't remember the man who was walking with me but I DO remember asking him "why are you taking me here?" and he answered "Because of your father!" "But my father was in the Navy, why are you taking me to an air base?" I asked again. And the man answers "Son, all branches of the military work very closely together." "But he is no longer in the Navy?" I answered. And he said "We are doing this as a 'special' favor for your father." "Why" I asked. "BECAUSE WE TAKE CARE OF OUR OWN!" he says as his tone has changed, and then he said "you sure do ask a lot of questions you little shit." I remember this hurt my feelings because I wasn't trying to be a little shit, I just wanted to know why there were taking me to this strange place. I don't remember being inside of the air base, all I remember is the inside of a doctor's room. An examining room. They made me strip down to my underwear and sit on this shinny metal table. I remember the table being very cold, so cold that I asked if I could move or get off it and a big booming voice shouts out "DO NOT MOVE AND DO NOT SPEAK UNLESS YOU ARE SPOKEN TO." So I sat there with goose bumps on my legs. I hear movement behind me and I hear "is this the kid" and a man comes over and starts examining me with his hands, with a stethoscope, and hits my knee with a rubber hammer. That's all I remember. I was 5 years old.

I never really thought about it much, but as I began writing all this down, I casually asked my mother for the name of the air base in Germany where I went to school in the afternoon.

She said "you never went to any military air base for school in Germany." "Really" I said. "Then where did I go to school in Germany?" I asked her. "Some school of the "Americus" at the university or something." She said. "FOR KINDERGARTEN!!" I said. "Mom that doesn't make any sense, I went to a military base for English school because Dad was in the Navy, right???" "Don't be ridicules, I'm your mother and I know where and when you went to school!" she says. "OK; Then what was the name of the school in Germany mom!" I ask. And she thinks and thinks and she can't remember the name. We then proceed to have a huge argument about this. She finally walks away and says she doesn't want to talk about it any more.

I had always just assumed that I went to the German kindergarten in the morning and then the air base in the afternoon, because of the connection through my father and that is why I was there. If I never had asked my mother for the name of the air base, I never would have thought twice about any of this. I never really thought about it much, but now that I do think about it. I clearly remember the German kindergarten, and clearly I remember the air base and the examining room. I don't remember ever going to any other school or having any other friends from that school or even being there. I do remember the conversation with the man as to why they were taking me there, and I do remember the examining room. It is like a 5 second clip of a 10 minute movie. Just a couple of seconds and then it stops, and yet you somehow know there is much more.

When I asked my father if he knew where I went to school in Germany. He replied "sure" the McGraw Kaserne Army Troop Air Base. When I asked him about the examinations. He replied "we were told by a doctor that you had a "heart murmur or heart noise", it was nothing serious but they wanted to examine me several times anyway." The thing is later on after I graduated college I went into see a cardiologist. I had been having chest pains for years from the massive steroid injections they had given me my freshmen year in college, I had developed arthritis in the cartilage between my ribs from my rib cage expanding so fast from the steroids.

When I asked about my "heart noise" the cardiologist showed me my print out and showed me that my heart beat was absolutely perfect, and there is absolutely no sign of ANY "heart noise" what so ever!

Aug 1976- We move back to New Jersey, I begin 1st grade, again, in the local school system. My mother held me back believing that I would do better in my schooling if I was one of the "older" kids in the class rather than one of the "youngest" (I guess my birthday was right on the border and it could have gone either way).

Sept 1979-
My parents have been belligerent toward each other for some time now, and decide to get a divorce (at this point they separate). I am now 9 years old and am entering the 4th grade. As children, the school system tests all children's IQ levels; I remember being told that I was an "absolute genius". I don't know what my IQ was but this was met with utter disbelief and I was mocked and ridiculed by the parents and teachers because I was the "Big dumb Jock". As I was by far the biggest kid in the class, and the best athlete. However I had a severe stuttering problem. I was considered to be the class idiot, because I never spoke, and I never did well in school. So the fact that I was this "genius" must have been wrong, and the parents of one of the most affluent areas in New Jersey would not accept that this big stuttering idiot could possibly be smarter then their sons and daughters so it was dismissed. I had had the stuttering problem for as long as I can remember and all throughout my childhood I literally could not speak a complete sentence, many times I could not even speak a word. The thing is I cannot remember when or why I started stuttering, but I do remember being able to speak German fluently without any problem at all and having no speech problems German or English at all. I stuttered severely from about the time we got back from Germany up until the age of 25.

March 1981-
My mother enrolls me in the "Silva Mind Control" course, and this is where I first remember meeting "the men in uniform." The Silva Mind Control method is sort of a self hypnosis course where you learn to dive down into the different levels of your mind. You learn things like how to heal your body with your mind, relaxation techniques, ways to focus your concentration, and melt spoons with your mind (things like that). You may have heard of it? Anyway, while in the course we learned to go to our "level" (a relaxed state of mind which is the bases of the Silva method). I was extremely good at all of the things we were doing for some reason right from the start. Children who are 11 years old are very cruel to each other. And what happened was the whole class as a group would close their eyes and practice "going to your level" but as I came out of my "level" I would open my eyes and find that the WHOLE class was turned around in their chairs and they had been watching me for 15 to 20 minutes. They had been watching my rapid eye movements, my body and my technique. As I came out of it, they all began laughing at me. The instructor however, was praising me like I was the next god's gift to mankind. Telling me that I was the greatest student he has ever seen etc. etc...

During one of the breaks (about six weeks into the eight week course) the instructor asks me to go outside to meet some of his "friends". I go outside with him (and let me tell you, when you are 10 years old and you are in a class room for two hours at a time on your Saturdays and Sundays for eight straight weeks you ABSOLUTELY live for your 15 minute breaks) so needless to say I was not very interested in wasting my "break time" talking to whoever these people were. We go out the double doors and there are two men waiting to talk to me.

THEY BOTH WERE WEARING MILITARY UNIFORMS, one was wearing army green, and the other was in blue (possible air force but I can't be sure). The instructor states to the men "this is the kid" and they make some small talk. To be honest I really didn't pay much attention to them (I was looking at the other kids on the play ground and wondering why the hell I'm over here and not over there). But here's the main point; The man in green bends down on one knee and says to me "I hear you have some very special abilities" and I said "I do"? In a very confused response. He stands back up and speaks to the instructor some more, then kneels back down and says "It was very nice meeting you, YOU KNOW YOUR GOING TO WORK FOR ME SOME DAY!" As an 11 year old you don't quite grasp what is really going on and I remember laughing and telling him that I didn't quite understand, but it was nice meeting him, and I ran off to the play ground. But when I looked back, the three adults were still standing there looking at me, talking about me, and sizing me up.

I just seemed to have an uncanny ability to do what ever the teacher instructed the class to do. Everything he instructed us to "envision" in our minds I could do better that anyone else in the class. Bending spoons with your mind, going to your "level", anything. I am now 11 years old and about to enter the 6th grade.

Sept 1981-
I enter the 6th grade. I had been playing organized sports for a few years already (T-Ball, parent slow pitch etc...), but now was the time for the first REAL challenge "the 8th grade school soccer team." When the school soccer tryouts came I tried out for the 8th grade soccer team as a 6th grader. The coach was against that because he didn't think I could play with the older boys, but he let me tryout anyway. Well, I made the team, but I was so good I turned out to be the best kid on the team, and we were the best team in the county. I just had an uncanny ability to do what ever the coach asked me to do. For example, the first day of tryouts the coach kicks the ball to me and jokingly says "I want you to take this ball, go down the field and score a goal" The thing is, I PICTURED IN MY MIND MYSELF GOING DOWN THE FIELD AND SCOREING THE GOAL. THEN I TOOK THE BALL DRIBBLED THROUGH 4 GUYES AND I DID IT! I didn't think about doing it, I just did it.

It was like it was mind over matter. It is funny because honestly I could do things that were so unbelievable on the soccer field. You have to see it to believe it. Here is how; I honestly didn't know any better. I didn't know that I wasn't supposed to be able to do that, just take the ball down the field by yourself and score EVERY TIME! But in my mind, I could do it, so I did it in real life EVERY TIME. When the opposing teams coaches asked how old I was, when I told them they didn't believe me, after the games were over they would thank me for not running up the score and humiliating "their boys". That's how good I was and I do have video tapes of the games to prove it!

I not only made the team but started at left wing, and I was exceptional. Later in the year I also made the 8th grade school Basketball team and the Baseball team. I didn't start as a 6th grader in Basketball or Baseball but I did play. Just making the teams as a 6th grader was almost an incomprehensible feat, we were by far the dominate school in the county in almost everything (always the team to beat). I was very good for my age at Baseball and Basketball, but for what ever reason I was untouchable when I was on the soccer field.

It's funny, how can someone do things, they are not supposed to be able to do? Whether it is a feat of physical strength or skill, or it is a feat of great intellect or will, such as an actor or a professional athlete beating the odds against them and "making it", when all others said that it couldn't be done.

Anything that we do as human beings, whether it be a sporting event, starting a business, going to college or simply deciding to venture out on your own away from home for the first time. ANY TASK YOU CHOOSE TO UNDER TAKE, OR ANY FIGHT YOU CHOOSE TO FIGHT. 90% OF WHAT IT TAKES TO ATTAIN YOUR GOAL, NO MATTER WHAT THAT GOAL MAY BE, IS ALL MENTAL. AND FROM THAT FEAR IS THE KEY TO IT ALL! IF YOU CAN CONTROL YOUR FEAR YOU CAN CONTROL YOUR MIND, AND IF YOU CAN CONTROL YOUR MIND YOU CAN CONTROL YOUR LIFE. If you can understand that everything we do as human beings is 90% mental, and 10% physical, you understand the secret to life. And you will do well, at what ever you choose to do! For myself, somehow using the Silva Mind Control methods, I had the ability to picture myself performing extraordinary feats on the playing field, and then somehow accomplishing them in reality with ease, just like it was second nature. Don't think, just do.

June 1982-
My parents, when they were still together, had invested in several houses in the area, and rented them out as supplemental income. In June of 1982, my mother, my self and my sister move into the house we used to rent out in Ramsey, and put the house we just left on the market for sale (basically my father moved into one house we owned in Waldwick, we moved into the other house in Ramsey , and my parents sold the "big" house in Ho-Ho-Kus we all used to live in and split the money in the divorce). Our "new" house in Ramsey was located only about 10 minutes from the old house in Ho-Ho-Kus but it was in a different school district. I am 12 years old and going into 7th grade. Also starting in a new school.

July 11th 1983-
My mother had been dating a man who's name was Walter Johnson. They had been seeing each other for the past 2 years or so and were engaged to be married. My parent's had finalized their divorce earlier that year; he had been separated from his wife for about 4 years. On July 11th 1983, Mr. Johnson went over to his soon to be x-wife's house to sign and finalize their divorce papers. Unknown to Mr. Johnson, his soon to be x-wife (Sally Johnson) had stolen a .357 magnum pistol from her brother.

What happened next was the following, as Mr. Johnson was hunched over at his desk in the basement of his old house signing the divorce papers. Sally Johnson came up behind him and said "If I cannot have you no one else will" and shot him in the back of his head. He died instantly, and when the police finally found him two days later his head had been completely blown off his body. EVERY WORD OF THIS UNFORTUNATELY IS ALL TRUE. His name again was Walter Johnson. He was the Director for Senior Executive Personnel for the EXXON Oil Corp. New York office. He was killed on July 11th 1983 in Ridgewood, New Jersey. He was my mother's fiancée.

My mother, for the next several years was beyond any rational means of description in terms of hysteria, and grieving. Her German friend Astrid was a great help in her time of need. What this did to me however was the following. As a 12 year boy, coming home from school and seeing and hearing your mother crying EVERYDAY, AND ALL DAY and then ALL NIGHT, AND EVERY NIGHT is very hard on a 12 year old boy. She was beyond the word devastated. So, obviously at the time, I'm not too anxious to go home after school. For a while I got into some trouble (hanging out with the wrong crowd that sort of thing). Then I discovered my new passion, working out and WEIGHTLIFTING! It became an obsession. In the 7th grade I began working out everyday. I would ride my bike up to the high school every day and workout for hours, and I mean 2 to 3 hours EVERYDAY (anything to avoid going home)!

Dec 1983-
From the start I was an exceptionally strong kid. Again, somehow I just had the ability to picture doing something in my mind (see my self doing it) and then do it in real life. Using the Silva mind control I would lay in bed and mentally go through the next day's workout. For example, I would go to my "level" and concentrate. I would picture myself bench pressing 195 for 10 reps, then 205 for 8, 215 for 6 etc... I bench pressed 305 pounds in the 8th grade. This was more than anyone in the high school could do. Needless to say I was HATED by all the high school upper classmen football players before I even got into high school. I am 14 years old and in the 8th grade. I also set the grade school high jump record (5'-10") and tied the 60, 100, and 200 yard dash records.

Aug-1984- 1987-
My first three years in high school were NOT typical. I played football in the fall. Specifically did not play Basketball in the winter so I could workout everyday. Threw the shot put and the discuss in the spring (track and field) and then would workout like a mad man in the summer to get ready for football in the fall again. I excelled in all the sports in which I participated in.

As a Freshman, I was one of the best running back in the county. We were division champions, and the head varsity football coach (Coach Hyman) asked me to practice with the Varsity squad for the Thanksgiving Day game. The quarterback and captain of the football team (Peter Bebei) when he got word of this cornered me in the hall with about six other football players and he told me that if I showed up to practice for his final game that he and all the other guys were going to beat the shit out of me in the parking lot. He did not want me "stealing his thunder" for his final game. I didn't go out for the Thanksgiving game and this really annoyed Coach Hyman since he believed that I had turned him down. Track season comes in the spring and I go out for the track team. I go out for shot put and the discuss as well as the 100 yard dash and the high jump. Coach Hyman coaches the "weight" throwers and won't allow me to throw with the varsity even though I am the third best thrower on the team. I confront him about this and finally he lets me throw. In the 100 the fastest kid (I forget his name) tells me after the first day of track practice that if I beat him again that he is going to kick my ass. So I don't try my best. Why does every one hate me? I keep asking myself. I earn a varsity letter in track anyway.

In the fall Sophomore year Coach Hyman is having real problems with his marriage and being an utter ASS Hole to everyone (teachers, students, and athletes). One of my talents, if you will, is that I can judge a person's character within minutes of meeting them. By their body language, gestures, personality etc. I can size up the person's worst fear, what they are feeling, what they want all in a matter of moments. It's like reading a person's soul as easily as you are reading these words. I just seem to have a "knack" for it. Anyway, I walk into Coach Hyman's office during one of the breaks and say to him "don't worry Coach; everything will work out with you and your wife." Trying to be helpful. He freaks out and starts yelling "get out of here you F*CKING piece of shit and don't come back because YOU WILL NEVER PLAY HERE AS LONG AS I AM THE COACH." The next day he brings me into the dean's office and tells me to "quit" because I will never play at Ramsey High school. I never quit but for the next two years everyday at practice he would scream at me to "get off his field" and I wouldn't. Not for any great love for him or the game by any means. It was simply stay and get yelled at or go home to my hysterically crying mother. So I stayed and took his abuse but he felt so violated that I knew what was going on in his life he didn't want me any where near him, and of course I was right next to him for everything because I wouldn't quit. This made him extremely hostile towards me.

This continued all through high school. The thing is, every now and then, whether it was going into the locker room at half time or after the game getting back on the bus, or at the track meets I REMEMBER seeing the same two military men (Mr. Green and Mr. Blue). I would play in 10 football games per year and throw in approximately 20 twenty track meets a year. Thinking back I only saw these men 2 or 3 times a year. To be honest I only remember seeing these men twice at football games during my four years in high school. Both times I was walking off the field after the game and I started looking for my parents and I looked into the crowd, and they were, just standing there in the middle of a sea of moving people looking right at me. And I said the same thing "that's odd, what the Hell are those two guys doing here." And again I would just dismiss it. I would mainly see them at the track meets. Let me explain, in High school track there are two types of meets. The track team schedule consisted of 10-12 "Bi or Tri" meets, when our school competes against another school, or two other schools, in which case it is a tri meet. These are small meets and I NEVER saw these men during one of them. The other types of meets are the county meets, relay meets, and state meets. These meets consist of 20 to 30 TEAMS being there. As such these are huge events. I would say between 5,000 and 10,000 people would be there (I mean some of these things were HUGE events). Anyway, how did I pick out these two men among 10,000 people? The way these meets work is everyone sort of goes to their own area. The pole vaulters go to the pole volt area, the high jumpers go to the high jump pit, and each area has it's own crowd which then forms around each area (all the coaches of those athletes, the parents etc. etc.). So, the shot put circle usually is over and off to the side somewhere, basically clear of everything else. As we began to throw, all the competing athletes, the coaches, and the parents would all sort of gather in the same area to watch the event.

At least once a year at one of these big meets my eye would just catch the odd site of these two men in uniform at these meets. I honestly convinced myself that at least one of them had to have a son that was competing or something. It wasn't unusual to see men in uniforms at the track meets because other kids were going to go to school at the military academies and as the meets transpired I occasionally saw other men in uniforms walking around and talking to people. For example the shot putter from Lodi was going to go to West Point, and I saw another man in a green uniform over talking to him. What made this all so weird was the two men I'm talking about were looking at me and I didn't know why. I didn't put it all together until years later.

May-1987-
Track season junior year, at one of the major relay meets, it was announced the prior week that there was going to be a "clean and jerk weightlifting contest" sponsored by some guy I had never heard of. I of course was all excited, and trained that week on my technique.

As it turns out all it was, was a guy with some rubber mats and a Olympic barbell set in the middle of a grass field. I took second place with a lift of 265 lbs power cleaned to the chest and then pressed over my head. The kid who won was a senior and did 275. It was just sort of a "friendly" contest. I am 17 years old and in 11th grade.

July-1987-
It's summer time and I am training for football. I get a call from a coach I had never spoken to before, coach Himmel? Humle? Burle? I can't remember his exact name or his phone number but I do remember that he is from somewhere in Colorado. Anyway, he is the United States Power lifting team coach and he wants me to drop everything that I am doing and move to Colorado on a whims notice, to go train for the clean and jerk. I asked him in confusion why he was calling me, I finished second in the contest? He then says to me I finished second but the guy I lost to was a year older but more importantly he was also 50 pounds heavier. So pound for pound I was much stronger and as it turns out that in my age group and for my weight (17 years old and between 201 and 229 lbs.) I was ranked fifth in the country, in this one particular lift. This may seem like a dream come true for me, but let me tell you. Just like with anything you do, even if you really enjoy it, there can be things you really hate about it as well. The power clean and the clean and jerk were my absolute least favorite exercises. To be blunt, I loved working out but I despised those particular two exercises especially. This along with the fact that I could not just "get up and leave my mother." She was doing much better, but by no stretch of the imagination could her mental condition be considered to be "stable." I am 17 years old and about to enter the 12th grade and I do not go to Colorado to train for the U.S. power lifting team.

Aug-1987-
Football camp senior year, I test in the bench press 390 lbs, in the squat 505 lbs, and in the power clean 280 lbs. We finish the season 6-3 and are division champs. I begin working out again and I start to think about college.

Dec 1987-May 1988- My workouts continue very well. However I develop a "new idea". Now when I go through my workout mentally at night I have added a new "twist". When I am down on my "level" in my mind I have added a huge chair in the room in which I am standing. Using my Silva mind control I sit in the chair. On the left hand side of the chair are some "air hoses" like you would find in a auto garage. I imagine, that on both of my arms there are these "air hoses" coming out of my arms. Like an I-V hose coming out of your arm. This is my "pump up chair". In my mind I connect the hoses coming out of my arms to the hoses on the side of the chair. I push a button located on the right arm of the chair with my right index finger and the chair activates. Like an air station I can feel the vibrations as I sit in the chair. As I sit there I see my entire body start to swell. Like blowing up a balloon. I mentally tell my muscles to grow and swell like balloons, AND THEY DO! I do this for about six weeks.

This works so well that many of the parents and teachers think that I am now doing steroids. I am not, but the situation snow balls into some kind of "witch hunt" and they make me take a steroid test. What happened was as I am working out one day Father Jack (the local priest who is always hanging around the kids and the football team) comes into the weight room as I am working out. He says to me "Andy, there is a lot of talk about your steroid usage, and if you admit it to me right now every thing will be all right." "Father Jack" I said "I don't use steroids." He says "I'm going to ask you one more time to admit to using steroids." I look him right in the eye and I say "Look Father, I DON'T use steroids." And he got very angry and says to me and I will never forget this "Don't ever speak to me again you f*cking liar, they are going to hang you by you balls and I am going to be there to watch!"

A few days later Jeff Brown (one of the kids on the team) comes in to the weight room and tells me that Father Jack wants to see me at the grammar school as soon as I am done. When I finish my workout I go up to the school and Father Jack is waiting for me impatiently. He grabs my arm and I get brought in front of some kind of panel in the basement of the grade school located down the street. There are four members of the panel and the rest of the room is filled with teachers and parents. Dr. Purrizzo who is the chief orthopedic surgeon at valley hospital in Bergen county New Jersey. Bergen county is the third most affluent area in the country, and the towns of Saddle River and Ramsey are in the top towns in the country in terms of wealth. Dr. Purrizzo is a heavy heavy hitter in the area if you know what I mean. When President Nixon, who resided in Saddle River before he died, hurt his knee playing tennis Dr. Purrizzo was the surgeon who performed the operation, and for a while was on the Presidential list of referral surgeons. I am standing in front of the panel and he starts pressing me to "admit" that I am doing steroids. And I keep answering that "I DIDN'T DO IT!" He keeps pressing me saying that among the panel they hold seven PhD's and he thinks they know what they are talking about so "make it easy on yourself and just admit it". And I keep telling them that "I DON'T GIVE A SHIT WHAT YOU SAY AND I DON'T CARE WHO YOUR ARE AND WHAT YOUR CREDENTIALS ARE, I DIDN'T DO IT!" He tells me to take off my shirt to the show the acne on my back, but there is no acne. This sort of thing goes on for a while and he finally tells me to "take off your shorts or admit to doing steroids". What could I do, so I took off my shorts and I volunteered to give a urine sample? I had to piss in a cup in front of the panel as well as everyone else wearing only my sneakers. He is very pissed at me and does not give me my shorts back for quite a while. This whole time one of the other members of the board is Dr. Purrizzo friend. He is a Psychologist and between the two of them they now start saying that they are going lock me up in for being mentally insane if I don't admit to taking steroids. And again I say "LOOK, I DIDN'T DO IT!" This goes on and on. I had gone through a whole defense proving that I didn't do it and no matter what I said and no matter what proof I presented I was going to be hanged whether I did it or not. Finally I say "Tell me how you know that I take steroids, what's your proof, do you have a camera in my house or something, how do you know?" Finally after much persuasion from the crowd and from myself reluctantly, he begins to explain that he has a degree in genetics, and that he has been studying my genetic code for years. He then goes on to explain how his son's genetic pattern is superior to mine in terms of dominate DNA markers. He had been doing a private "thesis" study showing how through superior genetic breeding and steroid usage he could create a superior human being. He had a test subject and a control subject.

His son was the test subject and I was the control subject. He had been injecting his own son with steroids for years and since his son's DNA pattern was superior to mine, his son, in theory, should have been more physically developed then me. And since he wasn't, Dr. Purrizzo's only explanation was that I must have been taking steroids as well, and he must prove that I was or else his life's work would have been wasted.

This was all a great theory; however the fatal flaw where he had made his mistake was that he had assumed that I was of Italian background because my last name is "Pero". So he was comparing my DNA patterns against the same ones he had used for his son who is Italian. He never bothered to ask if I was Italian, I am NOT. My background is Hungarian, Romanian, and Czech. This makes all the difference in the world, and I manage to get out of there unscathed.

When the test comes back, it is negative, and I tell all those involved that they can go "stick it where the sun doesn't shine." The whole episode is quite funny as I turned their "witch hunt" into a circus, especially my defensive strategy. For the rest of the school year all the people who were at the trial all gave me the dirtiest looks imaginable. All because I had the utter nerve to stand up for my self and say "I didn't do it!" This was Ramsey New Jersey, and the feeling in the air was that they didn't care if I was falsely accused they would not stand for a child talking to them in that manner.

It was all videotaped, and at one time there were several copies floating around. Anyway, as a result of this, I stop using this technique for the present time. But that was far from the end of Dr. Purrizzo. I am 18 years old and in the second half of my senior year of high school. This experience was very scary for the reason that I saw the "adult" world for what it really was. As a child you grow up believing that all adults are "all knowing" and are on top of things. But as I stood there and Dr. Purrizzo is telling me that if I didn't admit to taking steroids that he was going to have me committed to a mental institution and have a lobotomy performed on me. As I looked around ALL the other adults just stood around like scared sheep. Not one of them said a word in my defense. This was the strangest feeling, seeing the adult world as a child for what it really was for the first time. I realized then that adults are exactly the same as the children, only they are bigger. There is one bully that runs the show, and everyone else just stands around scared to say anything. Just as they do as children.

Now and for the past several months college football recruiters have been in contact with me both by mail and personal visits as the selection process narrows. I should have been already "signed" by a major University. But since Hyman made me disappear from the college scouts for two years by not playing me. I had fallen out of the "Blue chip athlete loop" and I am now scrambling to find a school. I am talking to two or three smaller division two and division three schools as well as Penn State. Penn State had been where I wanted to go all along but Hyman was trying to cover for what he had been doing to me by lying to the Penn State coaching staff, sending them the wrong films, telling them different statistics things like that, because he didn't want to have to explain why I didn't play at all as a sophomore and hardly as a Junior. Finally he gets exposed, and Penn State offers me a scholarship for my first year and then a "full ride" after that. I was going to get free room and board; all I had to pay for was books and classes (an out of state student was going to be about $3000).

It is the track season, at the county track meet (the championship meet). I win the discus and set the county and state record with a throw of 167 feet and 11 inches. I finish second in the shot put with a throw of 57 feet and 3 inches. AT THIS MEET I VIVIDLY REMEMBER SEEING THE TWO MEN IN MILITARY UNIFORMS WATCHING ME. They were right there, for both events and watched me set the record.

Ever since I had gotten my drivers license I used to like to unwind a little before going home. So I would ride around the area and play music in my car. A few days after the trial while riding around a bronco type vehicle is flashing their headlights at me from behind, so I pull over. This happened on West Saddle River Road, and I pulled into a small parking lot right next to the red building where my step mother used to sell real-estate. It is Mrs. Purrizzo driving the Bronco; she is an incredibly beautiful woman (late thirties with a lot of plastic surgery). She was at the trial and during it lets just say that I had made her blush when I was standing in only my sneakers. There is another woman with her. A woman I had never seen before. She had long black hair and dark eyes she was even more beautiful that Mrs. Purrizzo. They tell me to get in the back of the bronco (when you are 18 years old and two of the most beautiful women you have ever seen tell you to get in the back of their car it is difficult to resist) so I play along and I do. Mrs. Purrizzo hands me a small plastic shot glass (like something you would see in a hospital) it has some kind of clear liquid in it and she tells me that it's water and I must be thirsty and that I should drink it. I'm thinking to my self "she has got to be kidding if she thinks I'm going to fall for that." I take the glass and pretend to drink it behind the high back head rest of the drivers seat but in reality place it still full on the floor mat behind the drivers seat.

The women then start to giggle and make small talk by telling me how handsome I am, and how big and strong I am. I know exactly what's going on and I play along. I return the complements by telling them that they are the most beautiful women that I have ever seen, and when I look in their eyes I become lost floating on a sea of dreams. I made both of them blush with that one. Then they ask me if I am ready to go with them. "Go where" I ask. "To the hotel room of course" Mrs. Purrizzo answers. "You can go to the hotel room if you want to but I am going home" I say. She asks me "are you sure you don't want to come with us?" she asks. "Positive" I answer and I start to get out of the bronco. "Oh yea" I say "Here is your water back" and I hand them the small plastic shot glass. They look at each other and cannot hold back their smile and look away and to the floor. I get out and say "see you later". I get in my car and drive home.

The next evening at about the same time, but in the exact same spot, and in the exact same car the two women pull me over again. And again I pull onto the same small parking lot on West Saddle River Road. I get out but this time I go only to the window. Mrs. Purrizzo has the drivers window rolled down and says to me "Andy, can you kill this for me" and hands me a coke can with just a little bit left of something left in the bottom. Again I am thinking to my self "who the f*ck does she think she is kidding with this." I say "SURE" and I take the can of coke from her and walk over to the dumpster and toss it in. I walk back to the car and I can tell from the look in her face that she is pissed off. I say "anything else" and I turn my back to her and walk away. I get in my car and drive away.

The next night the same thing happens, in the same spot at the same time. I pull over and get out of my car angry. As I walk over to her Bronco I say "Look this stupid game has gone on long enough". She interrupts me and says "Andy, PLEASE just get in because we have to talk." I say "NO", and she begs "Andy, PLEASE!" As she almost has tears in her eyes. Like an idiot I reluctantly get in. This time they have a bottle of Vodka with three small plastic shot glasses. The woman with the black hair pours the three small glasses full and hands me one. I had had enough and I say IN a rude tone "DO YOU REALLY THINK THAT I AM SO STUPID TO BELIEVE THAT THAT'S REALLY VODKA IN THAT GLASS!" She says to me "were sorry for fooling with you and want to make peace, will you have a drink with us?" I knew from the get go that what ever she was giving me had to be drugged with something, but at the same time I felt somehow that there was going to be no getting out of this. I was not afraid of Dr. Purrizzo because I really never did steroids and I had nothing to hide, I just wanted it all to be over. So I thought about what to do and finally I said to her ""MRS. PURRIZZO I WILL DRINK THAT GLASS OF WHAT EVER IT IS ON ONE CONDITION AND ONE CONDITION ONLY! IF YOU SWEAR, IF YOU PROMISE THAT YOU WILL NOT LET THEM HURT ME. DO YOU SWEAR YOU WON'T LET THEM HURT ME?" And of course she swears that she won't let them hurt me, and of course like an idiot I drink the glass of "Vodka". I am out with in seconds.

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