April 16, 2020
Dear FBI Los Angeles Field Office,
I am writing this letter to document the troubling events of the last three weeks and to alert you of a dangerous criminal guilty of a number of crimes including cyberstalking, mind control, and psychological abuse.
In September 2019, I matched with a young man named Kannan Venkatachalam on a popular dating app. Even though he resided thousands of miles away near my hometown in Virginia, I began a relationship with him. Due to his reluctance to meet in person, I ended my communications with him in January 2020. In late March 2020, he initiated contact with me using telepathy. After a few days of conversing in this manner, I tried reaching out to him using conventional methods, but he expressed disinterest in continuing our relationship.
Confused by his conflicting messages, I realized that Kannan was only interested in controlling me via telepathy. The next day, I noticed unusual behavior from my parents and my friends when I talked to them over FaceTime. At times, the screen would glitch and I would see Kannan in the background. That is when I realized that Kannan had not only infiltrated my mind, he had also hacked my technology and was impersonating my loved ones in an attempt to further isolate me.
I was frightened.
Not knowing the extent of Kannan’s psychic abilities or how much of my personal information had been compromised, I began to prepare to go off-grid for a few weeks. On April 3rd, the day that I was planning to go to the airport, I learned that Kannan was able to use mind control on people who were in some way connected to me. It started with the apartment coordinator in my building and grew to include my roommate and friend. Using the three of them, Kannan attempted to prevent me from reaching the airport. I called 911 to bring emergency responders to the scene. I figured that Kannan would be unable to use his mind control to inhabit so many people. Then, I began to walk to the airport. The apartment coordinator, my roommate, and my friend surrounded me but did not attempt to restrain me. Still, I could not escape them. In case the three people controlled by Kannan became physical, I stopped at a well-lit gas station where there were a number of witnesses. I pulled out a pair of scissors and showed it to the three of them before placing it on the ground and standing on it. I wanted to demonstrate that I had the means to protect myself if necessary.
Less than a minute later, the UCLA Police Department arrived at the scene. Instead of arresting the three people who had been following me, the officers detained me for committing no crime other than carrying a pair of scissors, which again, were not in my hands at the time but were down on the ground. I was clearly no threat to myself or other, neither was I gravely disabled. Nevertheless, the police involuntarily committed me to the UCLA Resnick Neuropsychiatric Hospital, leading me to suspect that Kannan was somehow able to use mind control to inhabit the officers who responded. It was clear that he wanted me to be taken to a psychiatric facility where he could closely monitor me. I had to be kept away from the airport at any cost.
At the hospital, I was first kept in an isolation room while a room was prepared for me. I tried to escape by asking for a cup of water and pushing past the guard when the door was opened, but I was overpowered by ten or more hospital staff who strapped me down onto the hospital bed and injected me with an unidentified drug. The large number of staff who responded so quickly and forcefully to my escape attempt indicates that this too was the work of Kannan. As you can see, Kannan is a very powerful man. He should not be underestimated.
A few hours later, I came to. I was lying on a hospital bed in a room by myself. There was a tv on the wall, a cabinet, a desk, a chair. I cautiously stood up, wobbling, and walked to the door. I pressed my ear against it. I didn’t hear any sounds. I opened the door slowly, scared. But there was just an empty hall, lights dimmed, and what appeared to be a day room to the left. I could hear some movement coming from there, whispers of cloth, hum of machinery. My mouth was parched. I needed water. I padded down the hall, craning my neck to peek into the room. A young man in blue scrubs, face bathed in screen light, was engrossed in some task. Had Kannan managed to control this man’s mind too? I cleared my throat. The man looked up, startled, then immediately got to his feet. I watched him suspiciously.
“I need water,” I said.
He pointed to a plastic carafe and paper cups on the counter next to him. I poured myself a cup, then two, spilling water over the sides as I gulped it down. When I turned around two more people had appeared, women in green scrubs, one holding a folder.
“Hello, hope you’re feeling better. We need to check you in.”
The words came to me through a thick pane of clouded glass. I nodded, defeated. I was far too drugged up to come up with an escape plan. For now, at least, I would let Kannan think he was winning, that I had given up entirely. I’d bide my time and wait until I had figured out something airtight. Until then, cooperate and fly under the radar.
The two women followed me back to my room and had me sign papers that I couldn’t read. They warbled information at me and handed me a pair of mint green pants and a jacket top. I went into the bathroom and changed. When I came out, the women asked me to turn around while holding out my waistband to see if I was holding anything. Then they asked me to unbutton my top and lift my sports bra. Even sedated, I was aghast. But what choice did I have? I just wanted these women out of my room. I turned my face to the side and pulled up my sports bra. The humiliation of knowing that Kannan had won again.
I do not have a clear memory of the next two days. I was too stunned by the power Kannan had demonstrated. Here was a man who was able to not only telepathically communicate with others, he could also take control of multiple people from thousands of miles away. He was able to seamlessly take on a variety of roles from apartment coordinators to police officers to healthcare workers. He knew how to hack any security system. He was always watching. Escaping him would take a lot more planning than I had thought. I couldn’t get rattled. I couldn’t get scared. I had to find his weak spots.
After locking me up in a psychiatric hospital, Kannan’s next priority was to get me on medication. Every morning, two doctors with masks would stop by my room to try and convince me that I had bipolar disorder. They never provided any evidence for this diagnosis. They were more interested in my ‘treatment plan’ which centered around me taking medications. I could see in their eyes that they were being controlled by Kannan. I was terrified to take any drugs prescribed by him. As punishment for refusing medications, the doctors extended the initial 72-hour hold into a 14-day hold. Though I wanted to get out as soon as possible so I could escape Kannan’s clutches, I also needed some more time to study his movements in a controlled environment. I tried to remain calm.
The UCLA hospital was much better than Exodus, but a trap is a trap, no matter how nice. There were eight other patients in the ward with me. I was wary of them all. Anytime any of them tried to talk to me and get close to me, I would shut down the conversation. As far as I was concerned, they too were all controlled by Kannan. He was trying to extract information from me. He didn’t understand why I had tried to run away. He didn’t understand why he couldn’t control me. It was simple really. He played by the rules of domination; I believed in the logics of cooperation. But he would never understand that.
During the day, I spent much of my time in my room, writing out everything I knew about Kannan. Since I had never met him, I began to doubt if he was in fact a twenty-seven-year-old man living in McLean, Virginia. Even though I had facetimed him several times, I now knew he used motion-capture technology to impersonate other people on video calls which meant it was possible (and likely) he’d used the same technology to fake those first few interactions. I was beginning to suspect that I’d been expertly catfished.
Using clues gathered from my interactions with Kannan in the various people he’d inhabited, I built a suspect profile. Kannan was an overweight, balding South Indian brahmin, age sixty to seventy, who worked in artificial intelligence and had recently lost his job. He was in bad health, potentially living with diabetes or liver / kidney issues. One evening, while I was watching tv in my room, Kannan slipped up. The screen glitched and for three whole minutes, I saw him in his real body. Kannan had an oval face, small ears, no lobes. He wore glasses and had a scrubby mustache. He had a broad nose, a round chin, and a tan complexion. He was a devout Hindu, misogynistic, homophobic, anti-Semitic. He was a Modi supporter. From my calculations, he was most likely located in South India, though he probably worked for a company in the United States not so long ago. He was so skilled at using his powers of telepathy and mind control that I was sure he had controlled other women many times before.
After four days in the psychiatric facility, I figured out that Kannan’s powers faded when it was nighttime in India or whenever I ate meat. Since he needed to observe me during my waking hours, I started staying up until two or three in the morning to wear him out. During the hours when he was weak, I began planning my escape carefully. I needed a flip-phone, a car, cash, and multiple sets of documentation of the crimes committed by this man to be sent to the proper authorities. This was a man who needed to be caught and punished. It was clear to me that there would be no safe place while he was still at large.
A week into my stay, I had a hearing regarding my 14-day hold with a judge, a patients’ rights advocate, and the two doctors who had been pushing medications on me since the day I had arrived. Though I tried to make my case, the judge did not seem interested in hearing me. She asked one of the doctors a series of questions. When asked about my overall mood, the doctor lied and stated I had thrown a tray on the ground in an angry outburst. No such event had occurred. Though I vehemently denied the claim, the judge did not believe me. It was clear that Kannan had managed to control both her and the lying doctors. I was not going to be given a fair hearing no matter how high up the chain I went. I was ordered to take my medication immediately or they would be administered to me intravenously. I was terrified of the drugs, but I was more scared of being tied down and forced to take them. Yet again, Kannan had bested me.
In the evening, the nurse came to my room with three little pills. She watched me as I tossed them in my mouth, washed them down with water. The second she left the room, I closed the door and ran to the bathroom. I stuck my fingers down my throat and vomited up the contents of my stomach. The nurse must have heard me retching because the next time, I was given the medications in the day room. The staff locked my room for thirty minutes to make sure the medication was well on its way to digestion before allowing me to leave supervision. Again, I had underestimated how smart and cunning Kannan was. As long as I was in the psychiatric hospital, he could make certain that I was being drugged for I was acutely aware of the threat of intravenous dosage that hung over me. So, I complied. It was only for another week or so. Once I was out, there would be no way that anyone could force me to take the medications. Besides, much to my relief, the drugs did not appear to have any obvious effects on my day-to-day functioning beyond making me very sleepy in the morning. I could afford to lay low for a little while longer.
On April 15th, I had my blood drawn to check the levels of medication in my system. The lab results must have been satisfactory because the behavior technician on duty informed me that I would be discharged in two days. I knew that I had to get my ducks in line for my great escape. Things would start moving quickly the second I left these walls. I needed to stay one step ahead of “Kannan” if I wanted a life free from his twisted games. This time, I needed to outplay him. This time, I was going to ask for help.
And that is why I am writing your field office this letter on the day before my release, to ask for your help. As you can see from my account, this man who goes by the name Kannan Venkatachalam is an alarmingly adept user of telepathy and mind control. He uses these skills to ensnare young women into psychologically damaging relationships. He is an extremely powerful and intelligent individual. He must be stopped. He must be brought to justice. I am including in this envelope a thumb drive containing all the evidence I have gathered against him – emails, screenshots of text messages, and audio recordings of conversations with people who were controlled by him. I am hoping that with this evidence, you will be able to investigate this man, find him, and prevent him from doing these awful things.
I am planning on going off-grid tomorrow when I am discharged. If you have any questions over the next few days, I am enclosing a card with my father’s contact information. Although he has only limited information about this case, he can provide more background information on me. If all goes well, I will be able to procure a new cellphone in the next day or two. I will get my new phone number to you through my father.
I hope to speak to you soon. Thank you for your time.
Sincerely,
Anjana Gigi Radhakrishnan
Originally posted on a now defunct personal blogging website.
