My Satanic Ritual Abuse Testimony

It’s been very challenging for me to publish this, and I know it will be triggering to read, so thank you for being here. When I began exposing the evil of this world, I decided I wanted my work to talk for me, not my abusive past or my Satanic Ritual Abuse testimony. I could have gained traction with this when I started in 2017, but I decided to wait until I felt ready. It was never about attention or clout, it was about my mental health. Still to this day, I have second thoughts about speaking out, and it wasn’t until 2024 that I would officially publish my story. Before that, it was reduced to private conversations and a couple of ambiguous posts on my social media, without much detail. My full name is Alessandro Valerin Castellón, and I was born in San José, Costa Rica, on July 10, 1986. First off, I want to make it clear my family had nothing to do with the abuse I suffered as a child. On the opposite, they were instrumental in my survival and helping me to not kill myself or harm myself further than I did.

My mother was born in New Jersey, and her family descends from French/Spanish migrants. My father was born in Costa Rica, and his family descends from Italian migrants. I am the first born child. As I have come to learn, the former is a factor in how victims are chosen and preferred, but bloodlines are as well. In mysticism, bloodlines are often viewed as conduits for inherited spiritual energy, ancestral wisdom, or divine essence that transcends mere biology. In Zoroastrian influences, bloodlines represent purity and a mystical inheritance from prophetic or heroic figures, symbolizing a chain of innocence and spiritual authority. This extends to concepts like “spiritual crowns” passed through maternal lines, where the heir inherits esoteric knowledge and power, bypassing unworthy generations if needed. Secret societies’ obsession with bloodlines often ties into themes of exclusivity, power consolidation, and esoteric superiority.

On my father’s side, I can trace my bloodline to Girolamo Valerino Bosana. He was born in 1635 in Voltri, a district near Genova in Liguria, Italy, and died in 1705 in the Spanish colonial province of Costa Rica. The surname appears to have evolved from “Valeri,” a noble house with ties to military and religious roles. Voltri was part of the Republic of Genoa during the 17th century, a maritime power known for trade and exploration, which might explain Girolamo’s migration to the New World. Records confirm he married Francisca de Esquivel. As a prominent settler, he became a major cattle rancher and was involved in the mule trade to Panama, a vital economic activity for transporting goods across the isthmus before the Canal existed. He also engaged in cacao farming, which was a booming export crop in colonial Central America. In colonial Costa Rica, Cartago was the capital and administrative center from its founding in 1563 until 1823. He was appointed as a ”Captain” of the city, a very important distinction.

The title “captain” typically referred to a military or militia leader responsible for local defense, especially in frontier regions like Costa Rica, which faced threats from indigenous groups, pirates, and rival colonial powers. The Valeri family surname directly derives from the ancient Roman Valeria clan, one of the most prestigious and enduring patrician families in Roman history. The name originates from the Latin verb valēre, meaning “to be strong,” “to be healthy,” “to be vigorous,” or “to flourish.” The gens Valeria traced its roots to the very earliest days of Rome, during the transition from monarchy to republic. Ancient historians like Dionysius of Halicarnassus, and Plutarch, describe the Valerii as having Sabine origins, an Italic people from central Italy who merged with the early Romans. The eponymous ancestor was Volesus Valerius, a Sabine noble said to have accompanied Titus Tatius to Rome and settled there.

One of his descendants, Publius Valerius Publicola (often called simply Publicola, meaning “friend of the people”), played a key role in the expulsion of the last Roman king, Tarquinius Superbus, in 509 BC. Publicola became one of the first two consuls of the Roman Republic in that year, alongside Lucius Junius Brutus. He was renowned for his populist reforms, such as lowering taxes, allowing appeals against magistrates, and advocating for plebeian rights—earning the family a reputation for balancing aristocratic privilege with concern for the common people. The gens Valeria was patrician from the start and ranked among Rome’s elite clans, producing the third-highest number of magistrates (consuls, praetors, etc.) during the Republic—behind only the Cornelii and Claudii. They held rare privileges, including special seats in the Circus Maximus and the right to burial within the city walls.

On my mother’s side, I can trace my bloodline to Pedro Castellón from Spain and Tanneguy Du Chatel III from France, as both bloodlines joined as Tanneguy Du Chatel V married Ana María Castellón in 1621, in Valencia. Pedro Castellón was a Murcian knight, during the reign of the Catholic Monarchs (Isabella I of Castile and Ferdinand II of Aragon, who ruled jointly from 1474 onward). He joined the Order of Santiago during this period. This was a prestigious religious-military order, and admission required proof of noble lineage, “purity of blood”, and often military or administrative merit. By the late 15th century, the Order had shifted from frontline Reconquista warfare to more administrative, economic, and governance roles, as the major conquests (ending with Granada in 1492) were largely complete. The order’s current Grand Master in Portugal is Satanic Jewish pedophile Marcelo Rebelo (president of Portugal), and treasonous wimp King Felipe VI in Spain.

The Knights Templar and the Order of Santiago were both founded as religious-military orders during the medieval period, embodying the era’s fusion of chivalry, faith, and warfare. They began as “honorable” institutions—dedicated to protecting pilgrims, defending Christendom, and participating in crusades or the Reconquista—with papal approval and a monastic structure emphasizing vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience. However, their evolutions diverged significantly: the Templars were dramatically suppressed, fueling centuries of myths about secret survival and occult transformation. Rumored to be involved in the founding of Freemasonry, The Jesuit Order and even engaging in British piracy, the Knights Templar were officially dissolved by Pope Clement V in 1312 after accusations of heresy and alleged financial envy from King Philip IV of France.

The heresy accusations stem from the Templars claiming divine authority all the while indulging in Satanic rituals and homosexual activity through their use of Kabbalah (Babylonian Talmudic black magic). The infiltration of Satanic bloodlines ended up corroding mostly all military orders and even the Vatican into a boys club consisting of usurers, traitors, murderers and pedophiles. The Order of Santiago was established around 1170 in the Kingdom of León (northwestern Iberia, modern Spain) by King Ferdinand I. By 1171, it adopted its current name, honoring St. James the Greater, Spain’s patron saint and legendary warrior against Muslims (as in the myth of Santiago Matamoros, “Moor-slayer”). Modeled after international orders like the Templars and Hospitallers, it combined monastic vows with military duties: protecting pilgrims and combating Islamic forces in the Reconquista.

The surname “Castellón” (or Castelló in Catalan) is habitational, deriving from places named after castles (from Latin castellum, meaning “fortress” or “big castle”). It originated primarily in eastern Spain, especially the Valencia region, during the medieval period. The family’s connection to Castellón de la Plana (founded in 1251 by King Jaime I of Aragon as part of the Reconquista) aligns with this, as the city was established on conquered Muslim lands and named for its hilltop castle. Noble branches of the Castellón family emerged in the 13th–14th centuries, blending Catalan, Aragonese, and Castilian influences. Ties to French nobility (e.g., via Tanneguy du Châtel V’s 1621 marriage to Ana María Castellón in Valencia) suggest intermarriages during periods of alliance, such as the Hundred Years’ War or Habsburg rule. Heraldic sources highlight Pedro Castellón in entries on the family coat of arms and nobility, portraying him as an exemplar of the lineage’s service to the Crown.

Many sources trace the earliest branches to places like Castelló d’Empúries (in Girona). Aragonese census-like records from 1495 document multiple solar houses (family seats) owned by Castellón individuals in places like Zaragoza, Teruel, Huesca, and Alcañiz. The name expanded to Galicia, Castilla, Portugal, and to the Americas. In regards to the French side of the family, Tanneguy III du Châtel (born in 1369 in Brittany, died March 14, 1449, in Paris) was a prominent Breton nobleman and knight from the House of Châtel, a family with deep roots in Breton nobility. His life intersected with major events of the Hundred Years’ War (1337–1453), the ongoing conflict between England and France, as well as the Armagnac-Burgundian Civil War (1407–1435), a factional feud that weakened France amid English advances. As a young knight, Tanneguy participated in battles and sieges, aligning with the Armagnac party led by figures like Count Bernard VII. 

As a staunch supporter of the Armagnac faction, he served the French Valois Royal bloodline and even saved the dauphin (the future King Charles VII) during a violent uprising in Paris. Tanneguy played a pivotal role in the chaotic politics of the city, serving as Provost from 1417–1418 and again briefly in 1419. The knight remained one of Charles VII’s most loyal advisors, though his career was controversial. Tanneguy’s most infamous act was orchestrating the assassination of John the Fearless, Duke of Burgundy, on September 10, 1419, during a meeting at the bridge of Montereau. This event, intended to eliminate a rival and avenge the uprising, instead deepened the rift between Armagnacs and Burgundians, leading the latter to ally more firmly with England and prolonging the civil war. The assassination was a turning point, contributing to the Treaty of Troyes (1420), which disinherited the Dauphin Charles and recognized England’s Henry V as heir to the French throne.

After Charles VII’s accession in 1422, Tanneguy became one of his chief counselors and military commanders, leading efforts to rally French resistance. Du Châtel played a crucial supporting role in Joan of Arc’s emergence and the turning tide of the war. In early 1429, when the 17-year-old Joan arrived at Chinon seeking an audience with the Dauphin Charles, many at court were skeptical of her claims of divine visions urging her to lift the siege of Orléans and crown Charles at Reims. Tanneguy, a pragmatic and loyal advisor, advocated strongly for receiving her, using his influence to convince the hesitant Charles and his council. Joan’s subsequent victories validated his judgment, boosting French morale and shifting momentum in the war. Without du Châtel’s efforts, Joan’s access to the king might have been denied, altering the war’s course. Du Châtel was married to Guillemette de Villequier and had a nephew, Tanneguy IV du Châtel who continued the family line as a knight and served Charles VII. 

Considering that thick family history is only natural I was raised Roman Catholic and baptized in this church. But this institution caused me no harm, the abuse started in 1990 during at school when I was barely four years old. I was a sweet, bright, and relatively happy child. My parents both worked full time, so I was sent to Pre-K in the mornings. Then, I spent the afternoons with my grandparents until my parents picked me up at night. My mother was a publicist and former stewardess, and my father owned a car repair shop and dealership, and was a former motocross international champion. We lived comfortably as part of the middle class, and my childhood at home was pleasant. I ignore how I became a target, but as it often happens, I was made to feel it was my fault. I can’t remember misbehaving but I do recall being punished constantly. It felt unfair and unprovoked. I remember the abuse started by being scolded and humiliated in front of the other children, as I was a bit of a loner and liked doing things my way. 

My hatred for that school started early on as I remember begging my parents to take me out, but to no avail. The order of the events is still confusing to me, but this is what took place in that horrendous place: Kids (usually six or more, counting myself) were selected for the rituals that took place in the basement of the institution called ‘’El Nido Feliz.’’ The same kids were almost always present, but when, for some reason, one missed school, they had other kids who served as ”replacements.” Or at least that’s how it looks to me now. During the most extended recess, we were drugged with a green syrup that our teachers called ”green juice.” It was very spicy and bitter and I remember they told us that it was given to us as a punishment for cursing or disobedience during class. The feeling was that we were bad kids and deserved to be punished. I remember waking up naked, tied to a chair, as the other kids were instructed to cover my body with pins. My whole naked body was full of them, all over, including my intimate parts.

This happened as I sat in the middle of a pentagram drawn on the floor with what seemed to be red paint but could have been blood. Each of the five kids stood at one of the points of the pentagram as the adults gave them commands. There were strong odors, a very bad stench that I cannot describe nor associate with anything else besides death. The room was usually illuminated by candles while herbs and other things were constantly burned. Sometimes, I was made to witness how the masked adults took turns abusing and passing around the other children. The perpetrators wore animal masks as they recited spells and invocations from a large black book. Animals were sacrificed during these rituals; but black cats is what I remember the most. Bags with their beheaded bodies often hung in the trees past the fences of the Pre-K’s green areas, and I remember the blood dripping slowly from them.

I don’t remember being sexually abused myself during the rituals, but I was physically and psychologically tortured. On one occasion, I wouldn’t stop screaming, and one of the men punched me so hard in my ear that I ended up with an ear infection. Of course, they told my parents I got into a scuffle with another kid and that I started it. This man I suspect to be United States Army lieutenant colonel and psychological‑operations officer Michael Aquino, an open occultist who founded the Temple of Set after serving in Anton LaVey’s Church of Satan, and who was later named in some of the most notorious U.S. child‑abuse scandals, though he was never convicted of a crime. As part of the Presidio day-care center scandal, multiple children across Northern California implicated Aquino and his wife in molestation and described ritual abuse, including detailed descriptions of Aquino’s San Francisco home. I have memories of this man participating, but they are severely distorted because of the drugging.

The McMartin preschool case in Manhattan Beach, California (early–mid 1980s) was the most famous of the so‑called day‑care sex‑abuse hysteria prosecutions; it featured lurid allegations of underground tunnels, ritual abuse, and Satanic worship, many of which were covered up by authorities involved and led to acquittals or dropped charges.​ Aquino was not a defendant in McMartin, but in later commentary, documentaries, and conspiracy research, he is often mentioned as a likely participant. The drugging happened by itself sometimes, just out of spite, I guess. This is when my personality started to shift, and I became a different kid. Sadly, I don’t remember the teachers’ or classmates’ names. Sometimes it feels as if a lot of what happened there has been magically erased. I recall feeling so inadequate and unglued. The constant humiliation seems to be the most lingering sensation of that era.

Close to the end of my tenure there, we were to perform some choreography for the farewell party, dressed as adults. I was the leading performer among the boys, the prom king, if you will. I remember being kissed on the lips by my two female teachers during the rehearsals for this and groped in my intimate parts. This was their way of letting me know I was doing a good job, or so they told me. It mattered little that I squirmed and tried to run away as soon as rehearsals ended, they always caught up to me. This is what I consider my first traumatic experience in life. Why didn’t I ask for help and say what was happening to me? I honestly have no idea. Fear? Programming? Mind control? Sadly, there are no records of this Pre-K institution anywhere on the internet; it’s like it never existed. The only evidence I have of ever being there is my mother’s photos from my childhood, some of which were taken there.

I will be gathering some of these images in the next two months. From Kindergarten and up to 6th grade, I was enrolled in Sion Elementary, a Zionist Catholic school where horrible stuff also happened. There were strange events that I would not understand until decades later. I have firm memories of having a girlfriend and making out with her, almost as soon as I started classes there, which is quite odd. For years, I had no idea how that came to be psychologically, as I always questioned how or why a kid my age would have the initiative to get a girlfriend right away at age five. I recall the girl’s name, but I’d rather keep it private at this time. I remember her dad finding out about our relationship and wanting to kick my ass, as he saw us kissing. My parents got involved, and I still wonder why they didn’t think me being oversexualized at that age wasn’t normal. I feel a piercing memory is of utmost importance: After lunch recess, we had a ”nap session” where our teachers made us sleep on top of towels on the floor, side by side.

They insisted on silence and stillness. I always found myself restless during these sessions. In having spoken with other abuse survivors (including my wife), I have discovered I wasn’t the only one deeply disturbed by this memory. The worst part was the recurring experience of going to the restroom during these nap sessions; my teachers never wanted to let me go, and I had to beg for minutes on end. When I was finally allowed to go, I frequently found the same two children naked, playing with themselves in the restroom: a blonde girl and a dark boy. This happened on several occasions, and I recall being very puzzled by it. I remember the girl insisting I see her private parts and me almost running away from there. My wife has the same memory from Kindergarten. The odds of this being a coincidence are pretty farfetched, and I feel this is a standard grooming method used by these deviants.

Unlocking these memories is what actually made me decide in favor of coming out in public with my story, as I feel alarmed by the notion that these kids were made to have sex or even recorded and photographed while at it. I was able to unlock and segregate these memories during the 2023 holidays while conversing with my wife about our experiences. It was very powerful for both of us, yet disturbing. How could this happen without anybody noticing when two teachers oversaw forty children? There is no chance these kids did this multiple times without anyone noticing. Where did they get these filthy ideas from? Looking back, it seems my teachers knew what was happening in that restroom and stalled me the most they could so I wouldn’t see a thing. I remember the stench in that restroom and feeling like I was trapped in another torture-like scenario, although things were better than Pre-K.

During the summer vacations between Kindergarten and first grade, I learned to read and write by myself. Once in first grade, I recall getting A’s all across the board with no effort whatsoever, always bored waiting for the rest of my classmates to finish the tasks at hand. This was when my school insisted my parents get me an IQ test to assess how feasible it would be to transfer me to second grade. I was considered a genius as I scored 145 IQ on the test, and arrangements for my transfer were started. However, I didn’t want to and was afraid of the move. I did everything I could to stop the transfer, including becoming a disruptor in class and even acting aggressively towards classmates. In the end, I succeeded, and my transfer was canceled. As the visits to the psychiatrist office continued, I made the mistake of telling the shrink about the ritualistic torture I had suffered years before.

This is when they openly started to target me, sexually and medically. Past this point, things got more severe as I was the object of attention of one of my teachers, and severe violations of my innocence took place. Later on, I learned that Satanic covens prefer young boys with high IQs for their rituals. These characteristics suggest a stronger mind/spirit, and youth/innocence means no karmic baggage or psychic defenses. They are the best vessels with the most substantial potential for black magic. Aleister Crowley’s infamous statement comes from his 1913 book Magick in Theory and Practice, where he writes: “For the highest spiritual working one must accordingly choose that victim which contains the greatest and purest force. A male child of perfect innocence and high intelligence is the most satisfactory and suitable victim.” Magic, in Crowley’s system, works by channeling and consuming a victim’s life‑force so you want the source with the maximum potential, unspoiled by age, experience, or corruption.

My parents were often late to pick me up at the end of school (sometimes even more than one hour), and this is where the most harsh sexual abuse took place. The memories were always toned down as some fantasy I had and to me being a little evil perverted kid. In recalling what happened and the taste in my mouth after the fact, I have no doubts these events were factual. One of my female teachers used me for her twisted desires; kissing and oral sex (both ways) happened often. The abuse lasted two years, and during this period, I was prescribed what I consider to be a murderous amount of lithium to ‘’treat’’ my ‘’inexplicable’’ mood swings and aggression. I learned years later that I was lucky to survive the amount of Lithium and other drugs I was given at school. In second grade, my mother was summoned to the principal’s office and questioned as I got caught selling erotic drawings to my male classmates until one of them was caught.

I recall making a small ‘’fortune’’ with my new talent and feeling insulted that my mother was humiliated because of it. Where was this kid learning these things from? Little did my mother know, the poor thing. At the same time, she got pregnant again and this left me more unattended, and open to abuse happening everywhere: school, neighborhood, friend’s houses. Predators have a radar to detect kids who are introverted and or damaged enough so they don’t talk. In my case, I was so horribly ashamed of ‘’being’’ a pervert I never said one thing to my parents. This was key: The abusers ALWAYS highlighted how much of a deviant I was and how much ‘’I wanted it.’’ The first red flag for my father came when they found a suicide note I wrote in third grade. He was gutted. By the time I was in 5th grade, I was a mess, smoking cigarettes and drinking alcohol at just 11 years old.

I remember having nightmares with the taste in my mouth after being forced to give oral to my teacher. As a kid, it was something that felt disgusting and evil. I felt evil. The first time that I engaged in that same activity as a teenager old enough to have a notion of what I was doing, the taste in my mouth instantly took me back in time, and memories started to flood my mind. It was the same flavor that had tortured me as a child. The abuse turned me hypersexual, and then, past some age I was actively engaging in improper sexual conduct, with adults and peers my age. I was always a target for older women, the pattern repeating itself during high school with two teachers, a 30-year-old lawyer from Mexico, the mothers of some of my best friends, and others, all of this by the time I was 16. In 2003, I partook in a Wiccan Blood Ritual as the girl I was dating was into that sort of stuff.

I didn’t take it seriously and felt it was some clownish edgy thing to do. Naturally, this further opened doors so demonic entities could cause rampage in my life. The abusive behavior, added to my avoidance of reality by using copious amounts of drugs and alcohol, made it so I was sentimentally unavailable and on the run for most of my early adult life. Running from myself and the memories. The shame and the guilt. The feeling of being worthless.