I Can See How Christine Died

At 9:54 P.M. on December, 18, 2025 the damn broke. I own a picture of how my sister Christine Rosamond Benton, died. I was so close, I had visions with in a week of her death. I have the whole picture, now. I am reading Cian O’Brian Presco’s mind – and the words he spoke to me, and exchanged with me in text.

Cian was there for the funeral. He did not speak. No family member did. Why? He had to be Christine’s house – before the funeral – where covert plans were made. The foremost plan, was to hide the sober birthday party that Rosemary told me took place. It is mentioned in Tom Snyder’s biography by mistake. Why was the party hidden? Everyone on the invite list, and on their way, or, already there – can be questioned.

The reason I was psychically attacked last night, is Cian, and others know he really blew it when he called me and made a case I had no reason to write a autobiography. How – stupid can you be!

Mark Presco did not want Christine – to publish her autobiography. I believe Drew Benton owned a copy of the rough draft that Vicki showed me parts of. I am searching old e-mails far messages from Drew, who may have wanted me to write her biography.

There are celestial events going on.

“The truth will set you free!”

EXTRA! When I arrived for Christine’s funeral, there were several old friends that had spent the night. They drove ip from LA. One was an old lover. I am searching for her. I told Cian the looting account was the hinge pin that will crack the case open. This is when he got nervous. Mark read the draft of Tom Snyder’s book – and insisted I sign the NA that Snyder sent me to sign. I refused, Snyder threatened me with attorneys. This paragraph is a THREAT to our friends, to keep their mouths shut – on another illegal matter.

“Before the service, Vicki had taken the trouble to go through Christine’s bedroom, putting her jewelry and intimate belongings out of sight. As matters turned out, it did little good, for the funeral was not long over before family members and others were ravaging Christine’s house, taking whatever could be carted away. The artist’s closet, a veritable mother lode – took the worst beating. World-class spender that Christine had been, much of the clothing had never been worn. So whatever still bore price tags was hauled off to be exchanged for money. Jewelry disappeared, as well as other personal belongings. Gallery employees and close friends of the family, along with Vicki, were doing their best to staunch the flow – the estate had not yet been inventoried – but to no avail.”