Daniel Keith Austin

My name is Daniel Keith Austin. I'm one of four autistic siblings. Four. All born just a few years apart. All on the spectrum. All vaccine-injured. My oldest sister Catherine was born in 1986 - *the same year* President Ronald Reagan signed the law that took liability away from vaccine manufacturers. After that, the vaccine schedule exploded. Our lives were never the same. Catherine is high-functioning, but social settings drain her. She can’t keep steady work. She struggles with basic day-to-day tasks and relationships. She wants a normal life, but the world doesn’t make it easy. Then there’s me. I was born in 1988. Also high-functioning Asperger’s. But as a kid, I was moderate—echolalia, hand flapping, meltdowns in school, couldn’t sit still, couldn’t focus. I needed a para to sit next to me just to get through a lesson. I had no idea why I was different or why I was the only kid like that in the room. We thought I was born this way, that all of us were born with autism. My younger brother Joshua, born in 1990 - is moderate-to-severe. He lost his speech as a toddler and didn’t get it back for years. Today, he can’t reason through basic situations. He confuses reality with fantasy. He’ll never live alone. Never drive. Never hold a real job. He needs support around the clock. And then there’s Jeremy. Born in 1991. He’s the most severe of all of us. Jeremy’s nonverbal. He has screaming temper tantrums and bites his arms daily. He used to smear feces. He used to run away. But the worst part? When he was 13, after a doctor insisted on one more vaccine - supposedly mercury-free - Jeremy’s condition exploded overnight. Seizures. Violence. Aggression toward all of us. Toward himself. He went from difficult… to dangerous. Our mom was pregnant with our youngest brother at the time. She had no choice but to place Jeremy in a facility. And I’ll never forget visiting him there. Seeing him alone. Separated. Isolated. A child punished for what *they* did to him.

My name is Daniel Keith Austin. I'm one of four autistic siblings. Four. All born just a few years apart. All on the spectrum. All vaccine-injured. My oldest sister Catherine was born in 1986 - *the same year* President Ronald Reagan signed the law that took liability away from vaccine manufacturers. After that, the vaccine schedule exploded. Our lives were never the same. Catherine is high-functioning, but social settings drain her. She can’t keep steady work. She struggles with basic day-to-day tasks and relationships. She wants a normal life, but the world doesn’t make it easy. Then there’s me. I was born in 1988. Also high-functioning Asperger’s. But as a kid, I was moderate—echolalia, hand flapping, meltdowns in school, couldn’t sit still, couldn’t focus. I needed a para to sit next to me just to get through a lesson. I had no idea why I was different or why I was the only kid like that in the room. We thought I was born this way, that all of us were born with autism. My younger brother Joshua, born in 1990 - is moderate-to-severe. He lost his speech as a toddler and didn’t get it back for years. Today, he can’t reason through basic situations. He confuses reality with fantasy. He’ll never live alone. Never drive. Never hold a real job. He needs support around the clock. And then there’s Jeremy. Born in 1991. He’s the most severe of all of us. Jeremy’s nonverbal. He has screaming temper tantrums and bites his arms daily. He used to smear feces. He used to run away. But the worst part? When he was 13, after a doctor insisted on one more vaccine - supposedly mercury-free - Jeremy’s condition exploded overnight. Seizures. Violence. Aggression toward all of us. Toward himself. He went from difficult… to dangerous. Our mom was pregnant with our youngest brother at the time. She had no choice but to place Jeremy in a facility. And I’ll never forget visiting him there. Seeing him alone. Separated. Isolated. A child punished for what *they* did to him.

My name is Daniel Keith Austin. I'm one of four autistic siblings. Four. All born just a few years apart. All on the spectrum. All vaccine-injured. My oldest sister Catherine was born in 1986 - *the same year* President Ronald Reagan signed the law that took liability away from vaccine manufacturers. After that, the vaccine schedule exploded. Our lives were never the same. Catherine is high-functioning, but social settings drain her. She can’t keep steady work. She struggles with basic day-to-day tasks and relationships. She wants a normal life, but the world doesn’t make it easy. Then there’s me. I was born in 1988. Also high-functioning Asperger’s. But as a kid, I was moderate—echolalia, hand flapping, meltdowns in school, couldn’t sit still, couldn’t focus. I needed a para to sit next to me just to get through a lesson. I had no idea why I was different or why I was the only kid like that in the room. We thought I was born this way, that all of us were born with autism. My younger brother Joshua, born in 1990 - is moderate-to-severe. He lost his speech as a toddler and didn’t get it back for years. Today, he can’t reason through basic situations. He confuses reality with fantasy. He’ll never live alone. Never drive. Never hold a real job. He needs support around the clock. And then there’s Jeremy. Born in 1991. He’s the most severe of all of us. Jeremy’s nonverbal. He has screaming temper tantrums and bites his arms daily. He used to smear feces. He used to run away. But the worst part? When he was 13, after a doctor insisted on one more vaccine - supposedly mercury-free - Jeremy’s condition exploded overnight. Seizures. Violence. Aggression toward all of us. Toward himself. He went from difficult… to dangerous. Our mom was pregnant with our youngest brother at the time. She had no choice but to place Jeremy in a facility. And I’ll never forget visiting him there. Seeing him alone. Separated. Isolated. A child punished for what *they* did to him.

My name is Daniel Keith Austin. I'm one of four autistic siblings. Four. All born just a few years apart. All on the spectrum. All vaccine-injured. My oldest sister Catherine was born in 1986 - *the same year* President Ronald Reagan signed the law that took liability away from vaccine manufacturers. After that, the vaccine schedule exploded. Our lives were never the same. Catherine is high-functioning, but social settings drain her. She can’t keep steady work. She struggles with basic day-to-day tasks and relationships. She wants a normal life, but the world doesn’t make it easy. Then there’s me. I was born in 1988. Also high-functioning Asperger’s. But as a kid, I was moderate—echolalia, hand flapping, meltdowns in school, couldn’t sit still, couldn’t focus. I needed a para to sit next to me just to get through a lesson. I had no idea why I was different or why I was the only kid like that in the room. We thought I was born this way, that all of us were born with autism. My younger brother Joshua, born in 1990 - is moderate-to-severe. He lost his speech as a toddler and didn’t get it back for years. Today, he can’t reason through basic situations. He confuses reality with fantasy. He’ll never live alone. Never drive. Never hold a real job. He needs support around the clock. And then there’s Jeremy. Born in 1991. He’s the most severe of all of us. Jeremy’s nonverbal. He has screaming temper tantrums and bites his arms daily. He used to smear feces. He used to run away. But the worst part? When he was 13, after a doctor insisted on one more vaccine - supposedly mercury-free - Jeremy’s condition exploded overnight. Seizures. Violence. Aggression toward all of us. Toward himself. He went from difficult… to dangerous. Our mom was pregnant with our youngest brother at the time. She had no choice but to place Jeremy in a facility. And I’ll never forget visiting him there. Seeing him alone. Separated. Isolated. A child punished for what *they* did to him.

My name is Daniel Keith Austin. I'm one of four autistic siblings. Four. All born just a few years apart. All on the spectrum. All vaccine-injured. My oldest sister Catherine was born in 1986 - *the same year* President Ronald Reagan signed the law that took liability away from vaccine manufacturers. After that, the vaccine schedule exploded. Our lives were never the same. Catherine is high-functioning, but social settings drain her. She can’t keep steady work. She struggles with basic day-to-day tasks and relationships. She wants a normal life, but the world doesn’t make it easy. Then there’s me. I was born in 1988. Also high-functioning Asperger’s. But as a kid, I was moderate—echolalia, hand flapping, meltdowns in school, couldn’t sit still, couldn’t focus. I needed a para to sit next to me just to get through a lesson. I had no idea why I was different or why I was the only kid like that in the room. We thought I was born this way, that all of us were born with autism. My younger brother Joshua, born in 1990 - is moderate-to-severe. He lost his speech as a toddler and didn’t get it back for years. Today, he can’t reason through basic situations. He confuses reality with fantasy. He’ll never live alone. Never drive. Never hold a real job. He needs support around the clock. And then there’s Jeremy. Born in 1991. He’s the most severe of all of us. Jeremy’s nonverbal. He has screaming temper tantrums and bites his arms daily. He used to smear feces. He used to run away. But the worst part? When he was 13, after a doctor insisted on one more vaccine - supposedly mercury-free - Jeremy’s condition exploded overnight. Seizures. Violence. Aggression toward all of us. Toward himself. He went from difficult… to dangerous. Our mom was pregnant with our youngest brother at the time. She had no choice but to place Jeremy in a facility. And I’ll never forget visiting him there. Seeing him alone. Separated. Isolated. A child punished for what *they* did to him.

My name is Daniel Keith Austin. I'm one of four autistic siblings. Four. All born just a few years apart. All on the spectrum. All vaccine-injured. My oldest sister Catherine was born in 1986 - *the same year* President Ronald Reagan signed the law that took liability away from vaccine manufacturers. After that, the vaccine schedule exploded. Our lives were never the same. Catherine is high-functioning, but social settings drain her. She can’t keep steady work. She struggles with basic day-to-day tasks and relationships. She wants a normal life, but the world doesn’t make it easy. Then there’s me. I was born in 1988. Also high-functioning Asperger’s. But as a kid, I was moderate—echolalia, hand flapping, meltdowns in school, couldn’t sit still, couldn’t focus. I needed a para to sit next to me just to get through a lesson. I had no idea why I was different or why I was the only kid like that in the room. We thought I was born this way, that all of us were born with autism. My younger brother Joshua, born in 1990 - is moderate-to-severe. He lost his speech as a toddler and didn’t get it back for years. Today, he can’t reason through basic situations. He confuses reality with fantasy. He’ll never live alone. Never drive. Never hold a real job. He needs support around the clock. And then there’s Jeremy. Born in 1991. He’s the most severe of all of us. Jeremy’s nonverbal. He has screaming temper tantrums and bites his arms daily. He used to smear feces. He used to run away. But the worst part? When he was 13, after a doctor insisted on one more vaccine - supposedly mercury-free - Jeremy’s condition exploded overnight. Seizures. Violence. Aggression toward all of us. Toward himself. He went from difficult… to dangerous. Our mom was pregnant with our youngest brother at the time. She had no choice but to place Jeremy in a facility. And I’ll never forget visiting him there. Seeing him alone. Separated. Isolated. A child punished for what *they* did to him.

My name is Daniel Keith Austin. I'm one of four autistic siblings. Four. All born just a few years apart. All on the spectrum. All vaccine-injured. My oldest sister Catherine was born in 1986 - *the same year* President Ronald Reagan signed the law that took liability away from vaccine manufacturers. After that, the vaccine schedule exploded. Our lives were never the same. Catherine is high-functioning, but social settings drain her. She can’t keep steady work. She struggles with basic day-to-day tasks and relationships. She wants a normal life, but the world doesn’t make it easy. Then there’s me. I was born in 1988. Also high-functioning Asperger’s. But as a kid, I was moderate—echolalia, hand flapping, meltdowns in school, couldn’t sit still, couldn’t focus. I needed a para to sit next to me just to get through a lesson. I had no idea why I was different or why I was the only kid like that in the room. We thought I was born this way, that all of us were born with autism. My younger brother Joshua, born in 1990 - is moderate-to-severe. He lost his speech as a toddler and didn’t get it back for years. Today, he can’t reason through basic situations. He confuses reality with fantasy. He’ll never live alone. Never drive. Never hold a real job. He needs support around the clock. And then there’s Jeremy. Born in 1991. He’s the most severe of all of us. Jeremy’s nonverbal. He has screaming temper tantrums and bites his arms daily. He used to smear feces. He used to run away. But the worst part? When he was 13, after a doctor insisted on one more vaccine - supposedly mercury-free - Jeremy’s condition exploded overnight. Seizures. Violence. Aggression toward all of us. Toward himself. He went from difficult… to dangerous. Our mom was pregnant with our youngest brother at the time. She had no choice but to place Jeremy in a facility. And I’ll never forget visiting him there. Seeing him alone. Separated. Isolated. A child punished for what *they* did to him.

Time for the masses to wake up to the truth they've kept from us.

My name is Daniel Keith Austin. I'm one of four autistic siblings. Four. All born just a few years apart. All on the spectrum. All vaccine-injured. My oldest sister Catherine was born in 1986 - *the same year* President Ronald Reagan signed the law that took liability away from vaccine manufacturers. After that, the vaccine schedule exploded. Our lives were never the same. Catherine is high-functioning, but social settings drain her. She can’t keep steady work. She struggles with basic day-to-day tasks and relationships. She wants a normal life, but the world doesn’t make it easy. Then there’s me. I was born in 1988. Also high-functioning Asperger’s. But as a kid, I was moderate—echolalia, hand flapping, meltdowns in school, couldn’t sit still, couldn’t focus. I needed a para to sit next to me just to get through a lesson. I had no idea why I was different or why I was the only kid like that in the room. We thought I was born this way, that all of us were born with autism. My younger brother Joshua, born in 1990 - is moderate-to-severe. He lost his speech as a toddler and didn’t get it back for years. Today, he can’t reason through basic situations. He confuses reality with fantasy. He’ll never live alone. Never drive. Never hold a real job. He needs support around the clock. And then there’s Jeremy. Born in 1991. He’s the most severe of all of us. Jeremy’s nonverbal. He has screaming temper tantrums and bites his arms daily. He used to smear feces. He used to run away. But the worst part? When he was 13, after a doctor insisted on one more vaccine - supposedly mercury-free - Jeremy’s condition exploded overnight. Seizures. Violence. Aggression toward all of us. Toward himself. He went from difficult… to dangerous. Our mom was pregnant with our youngest brother at the time. She had no choice but to place Jeremy in a facility. And I’ll never forget visiting him there. Seeing him alone. Separated. Isolated. A child punished for what *they* did to him.