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  Mysterious Murder of Marilyn Monroe

  Ana Claudia Antunes

  Translated by Ana Bowlova

  “Mysterious Murder of Marilyn Monroe”

  Written By Ana Claudia Antunes

  Copyright © 2015 Ana Claudia Antunes

  All rights reserved

  Distributed by Babelcube, Inc.

  www.babelcube.com

  Translated by Ana Bowlova

  “Babelcube Books” and “Babelcube” are trademarks of Babelcube Inc.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Mysterious Murder of Marilyn Monroe

  1 | When you wish upon a Star

  2 | The Church of Satan

  3 | Mind Control and the Beta Program

  4 | UNITED ARTISTS

  5 | A Life Like Mine

  6 | CYBER ATTACKS

  7

  8

  9 | ALL SO FREAKING FISHY!

  10

  Dance As One

  http://dance-as-one.blogspot.com

  Author 's profile:

  https://www.goodreads.com/AnaAntunes

  Amazon's Author Page:

  http://www.amazon.com/Ana-Claudia-Antunes/e/B002DBHE30

  Ana´s Books

  http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/virtualbookstore

  It's time to put some light on a very dark issue which has the collective unconscious in a blast for quite a while now. This novel is based upon the Conspiracy Theories which involve the mysterious assassination of JFK, the September Eleven Tragedy up to the Sniper Case in Washington D.C. and beyond.

  Novel, Screenplay and film by Ana C.

  My most recent book that I just published on Amazon (now available on print at lulu and soon in Barnes & Noble and other major retailers) The Mysterious Murder of Marilyn Monroe has a very sensitive topic for it touches us even today, about the theory of conspiracies that remains until nowadays. I also talk about the assassination of JFK and many more issues that we inherited with the cold war. So I was afraid to let it out all open. At that time I had completely stopped writing and that had nothing to do with writer's block. I was simply denying the fact that I was too afraid of letting the matters being out in the light. My father then asked me why I stopped writing, and I gave him many excuses... but he knows me too well, then he said, "You are afraid of what people may think of it.' That answer touched me too deep. But I was still in denial. I couldn't figure out exactly why I had stopped with the book. So I started to write other books with much more "light" subjects, which was pretty fine since some sold right after I published them. It was after all these years that I felt comfortable to give the finishing strokes to that book and there it is, ready and in many people's lives now. I'm so glad I finally gave up and listened to my father's wise words. He knew it more than I did. I was afraid of what people might think of the things I wrote in that book. But now I'm ok with it, for now I know if I didn't put this book out there no one would ever do, and people wouldn't know about the things I say there. I never used a pseudonym, never felt like it, only made a pun such as "Ana Bowlova" for sometimes I feel like I love to bow (bow lover) to make reverence to life and also bowl over things... go figure.

  This book had many spins and turns until I felt ok to go push forward to let it breath and see the light, "The Mysterious Murder of Marilyn Monroe" that I have written in the end of 2011, it was a project that I was developing with another Mystery/Suspense writer in a writing workshop and we had to talk about the things that happened fifty years before the next year and that it would be the year 1962. So in my research I found out about so many things that happened then, and it was a revolution going on in my head.

  Many things that were not revealed or were never really being very investigated, that was all too fishy. So I divided the topics and decided to share ideas to write the book.

  But for some odd reason (that I can only conceive it now as a type of fear) a sensation of letting people read my own thoughts that froze me for about three years. I wrote many other books in the meantime, there was not actually a gap there, so I cannot even call this a writer´s block (I actually have no idea what it means, for me ideas pop up in my head all the time) so that was not even the problem of finishing the book. The thing was much deeper. It was that feeling of being rejected that I told you above, I was simply afraid of what people would think of my words, my work, things I reveal here. But hey, it was just in the end of 2014 when I decided to give it the last strokes and finish it and voila!

  In the year 1962, the year of the Tiger by the Chinese Horoscope, right in the middle of the cold war, a violent World Cup took place in Chile, and it was also a scenario of a strange crime.

  Before Brazil won the World Championship for the second time, Pele, already famous as the best soccer player of all times, got injured in the second game against Czechoslovak.

  Meanwhile, a high member of the Czechoslovakian football team was found dead in his hotel room in Valparaiso. He was forty-four years old. He was tall, elegant, a traveler as a government worker, with a close relationship with the Dalai Lama.

  A sculpture with a secret message that was left in the hotel's safety for the Ambassador of Chile in India was gone. It was a statue of an enlightened divine being with a somewhat alien appearance, representing Siddha, the most elevated form of being, surpassing all mundane matters, the highest point possible. It was also the symbol of a secret order believed to have existed, and still active, with members remaining somewhere in the Himalayan mountains of Tibet.

  The main suspected, a Chilean woman who became Czechoslovakian citizen for more than twenty years, and who supposedly worked for the Communist cause and kept private matters between the Russians until she met her deceased husband. Once in love with him, she decided to devote her life for him instead.

  Soon after China ceased fire in the Sino-Indian Border Conflict War, the mysterious woman disappeared. Would she also be involved in the conflict or was she working as a spy the whole time? Was she a member of the black order which was not only related to Marilyn Monroe mysterious murder but also to what became the most undercover case of conspiracy from all times history, the assassination of JFK?

  “I'm selfish, impatient and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I am out of control and at times hard to handle. But if you can't handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best.”

  ―Marilyn Monroe

  1

  When you wish upon a Star

  Juno, the first Goddess of the Pantheon, thought it was a good idea to come down to Earth. So she decided to take the form of a human being, the most enchanting one, just to compete with her counterpart Venus. It was then that on a hot day, the first of June 1926, in the year of the Fire Tiger, a baby named Norma Jeane was born in Los Angeles, California.

  Thirty-six years later, more three times the year of the Tiger would pass by, and in the same city of the Angels, after becoming a sex-symbol and a bombshell, then internationally famous and acclaimed movie star, Marilyn Monroe dies in the same year of the Tiger, only it was ruled by the water tiger, somewhat an iconic irony having water putting out the fire. And she was blown off like a candle in the middle of a hurricane.

  After all, she knew too much and she was already pulling the buttons of anymore and any less than the most important figure in the world history, the President of the United States. And she kept all her/(and his) secrets on the diary, the same one he did spell during their love-making and that she wrote the annotations in a small red book, as her doctor himself told her to do.

  It´s then when she decided to reveal it all to the press, after many rejections an
d humiliations from both the president and his brother, Bob Kennedy. In the middle of the night, when she had just announced to a close friend, to whom she had been talking on her only true friend, her phone, she received an unexpected visit from both her doctor and the Senator, who was accompanied by his brother-in-law. This one she knew too well, an actor whose participation in her life included the many ventures and adventures of a self-proclaimed “Rat Pack”.

  The weekend previous to her assassination, she was invited to spend at a friend's house in Lake Tahoe. It was anyone else but Frank Sinatra, the mastermind of all things related to the Rat Pack. When he invited her, he had already introduced her to the Mob. And he had planned to make it an incidental encounter between her and Sam Giancana, after taking his private jet to Cal-Neva Lodge.

  Giancana talked to her in private and told her about the perils of overexposing herself the way she did in May when she sang the most gossiped event of the year, a “Happy Birthday, Mr. President” in her utmost ironical futility tempered by her hyper-sexually charged tone. Of course, the idea was to provoke. At least, that's what Peter, the president's brother-in-law and also member of the Rat Pack, had in mind. But what he didn't expect it was the reaction from Marilyn when she insinuated herself towards the issue, with the entire crowd in an ovation during the Birthday of the President, with her dress sculpted in her voluptuous body, upsetting him to the bones. That's when he have decided that she was getting way too close to his own business and it was time to call it quits. He left the matter to his brother's hands, since his brother-in-law, Peter, was too scared of her other friends and way too involved with the diva to be left on taking care of her moves. Apparently Frank was the first to try to warn her about the dangers if she continued to behave the way she did towards the Kennedy's.

  “Yes, I remember every word that he told me like it was yesterday. “Listen, baby”, he said, “I would hate to see you in trouble. Why don't you just stop now? I don't see what the point of you being involved into Politics is.” You don´t see what is the point? I should have shouted out and laughed at his face.

  And then I told him. “Mind your own business. It's not about Politics, it's about Love.” I know he's in love with me. He told me so. He didn't say that he would leave his wife or the Congress for me, but hey, I didn't expect anything else from him. It is not that we had planned to get married or stuff. Besides, he's way too shy to even try to give the first step. We did make love once, and he left me, he didn't want to answer my calls. I'm just—-it's just that I couldn't talk to him. I so want to talk to him about so many things. He wouldn't listen to me. I guess that it isn't fair for me.

  Now I got all this information inside my mind and I cannot stop thinking about this, that I've got a mission here. I just have to get all this information out there. People deserve to know. I always believed I belonged to the world, to my public. The stuff, the secrets I know, they cannot be kept private for too long. I must tell— I ought to tell everyone about this. It's burning me inside. And I've got to get this out of my system one way or another.

  Frank was trying to protect me. I know it. But I was too stubborn at that time; I knew it was hard to help me like that bit I know he tried to persuade me to shut up. So he took me to Sam. It was his last shot. And he was all kind to me at first. But as I didn't agree with him he simply told me, “Do whatever you have to do. I'm cleaning my case here and washing my hands. I would hate to see you suffering, and I would try to avoid you getting hurt in any way possible. But if you insist on telling people about this story, I cannot do anything but leave.” And he left that very evening. It was the last time I saw him. It would be the last time I would see anyone. If I could have only listened to what he had to tell me... I was really too stubborn. At least I wouldn't be dead by now... that's for sure. Besides, I would rather live until I could feel safe enough to reveal the secrets that I was so eagerly waiting to burst out than to be shutdown and out of the way just like they did to me. But I guess that was also part of the plan. I'm a firm believer things happen the way they do for a purpose. If what happened to me would have any significance it was to show to those who thought that making me shut up would stop people from loving me, they were completely wrong. It was then that my fans and admirers really showed all their support to the woman I was. And that for me was worth the whole show. Don't be sad, I'm glad I had lived a life where I was a victim and a femme fatale at the same time, just like the anti-heroines that I've been portraying in the movies. I wouldn't expect anything less than this. And that would include a tragic end? Why not! This part I wish I could erase, but I guess they all have a significant role for the collective consciousness. The public needed that to reaffirm what's like to be victimized by society. I know for sure that it was all written before I was even born Norma Jeane.”

  On July 7th, 1962 a photographer arrives at her Brentwood home for what turned out to be her very last photo session, a shooting in her own house which was made for a LIFE cover. Marilyn was on the telephone, as she usually was, chatting with her VIP friends and colleagues. Eunice Murray, her live-in housekeeper and companion, was there then and when Marilyn died. At that fatal moment she was nude but for the photo shooting she wore, as the photographer later revealed in the film, “a tight fitting Capri pants and a dark V-neck sweater.” She was fragile and thin, and somewhat succumbed to the Hollywood standards of what a sex-symbol should look like. She looked sad. The interview was scheduled to be published on August 3rd. None would expect she would die two days later... or would they have known just to sell more copies of LIFE! Such irony... As if she would be there, anyway.

  And she would die in her house that she had just recently bought, a place that she thought she could finally call a home. A simple, not fancy place, with a private space away from all the glamorous life that was devouring her alive, and when she was still alive she still dreamed that she would live a happy peaceful life.

  The house had a Spanish style, built in the nineteen twenty, for a twenty-century family who grew too large and the family with children decided to leave, they were the first to live there, and they had to move. But it was perfect for her, and her dreams of having children, if not from her own, she would adopt one, and they will live happily ever after in that house in Brentwood.

  “Yes, I didn't like fancy cars, fancy clothes, super special events, or artificial stuff. I didn't look for a big mansion in Beverly Hills, a house at the beach in Malibu, but a nice one, away from the eyes of the paparazzi. And although my house in the end was all bugged by the secret service and I couldn´t stay away from the big brother with twenty-four hour surveillance over my back, I wanted a small house for me to invite my friends in and make private parties or to just chill out and enjoy their company.”

  But what she didn't know it was to choose her companions with caution. No one ever told her or helped her to look after herself. And she was alone, not lonely, only alone.

  A star... yet alone.

  *

  Just like a former lover of hers, a billionaire who also died alone, penniless and with no remorse of having had the time of his life, drinking, spending all his family fortune and sleeping with all the most glamorous women of this planet, and still at age 88 he remembers and dwells not on his pitfall but take great pride on his glorious past which includes a rubbed shoulders with Howard Hughes, Ali Khan and Nelson Rockefeller, and other more intimate parts with the likes of Monroe, Mansfield, Rita Hayworth, Ava Gardner and Lana Turner.

  When, in 1962, he flew to California to meet his former flame Marilyn Monroe and to escort her to the Venice Film Festival, he had in his luggage a topaz necklace that a jeweler friend had asked him to give her. But upon his landing there, on his triumphal arrival in Los Angeles, Guinle was shocked to learn from the papers of the actress's death.

  Having checked in to his usual room at the Beverly Hills Hotel, Guinle recovered his poise; he scanned his address book and telephoned the recently divorced Jayne Mansfield. When they met, he
gave her the necklace intended for Marilyn Monroe. Guinle remembered it very well.

  "She was delighted", he would say. "We spent the next two years together."

  That was the time the US government was worried about the Nazis taken over South America, so they decided that creating the illusion that only Hollywood could build in a few months they could sustain the idea of an America from North to South. But what they didn't expect it was that turning Brazil into a Banana Republic image with a cliché that says, “Yes, we have bananas... bananas for giving and not forgiving, and for selling and not excelling!”

  And that would only piss off their allies in the South, at least the intellectual class.

  Right when Lee Schubert, the Broadway producer and founder of the Schubert Theater, where Arthur Miller showed up with MM, appeared into the scene. And Sonia Henie was already making millions and her producers pocketing up another billion bucks, and Marilyn Monroe was still not even dreaming of becoming so famous.

  Schubert saw the talent and then he took Carmen Miranda to make movies, after the figure-skater Sonia Henie, who was in fact my great-grandmother´s cousin or, more specifically my grandfather´s mother Louise Henie´s cousin (and that will make her what? My fourth cousin?), had seen her presentation at the Casino of Urca in Rio, and they went together to contact her. Only that he would pay only for two of the boys in the band called Bando da Lua, which translated would be something like Moon Troupe, and who played for Carmen. She would feel scared and lost if they were not there to play the right tune for her to sing along.

  Finally Schubert conceded to Carmen's demand to bring along her own back-up band, the legendary Bando da Lua (like a Band of the Moon). At that time there were truly no musicians in the United States capable of rhythmically supporting or harmonizing Brazilian music with any stylistic integrity. Bando da Lua was the bedrock of her performances in the United States.