My life took an unexpected turn when I discovered a pedophile ring through a an old Yahoo Answers account that my ex-wife was using—she was a minor at the time of the posts discussing student-teacher relationships in the public school system, involving individuals in positions of power and influence. The subsequent investigation raised more questions than answers, as groups connected to my past mysteriously disappeared, and I found myself the target of harassment and attempts on my health.

The Move to Florida:

Following these revelations, I sought refuge in Florida. News from there, along with an email from Sidney Powell, appeared to offer hope. An event called "The Renewal" seemed promising, giving me something to focus on, especially since I was already considering leaving Georgia and needed direction. I arrived in Plant City, Florida, optimistic. Florida is beautiful, with some incredible parks, but I soon realized that escaping the shadows of my past was more complicated than I had anticipated. Within an hour of leaving The Renewal, I stopped by Firehouse 92 Bar to reflect on what had happened there. Two mature women passed by, catching my attention. They ordered drinks, and I was trying to decide where to go next—I had no plan but was tired, so I chose Lakeland because the roads led north. I initiated a conversation, asking if they suggested any places. It took a moment, then one said, “They said Mount Dora.”

Post-Divorce and Uncovering the Truth:

The period after my divorce was tumultuous. I was targeted by different groups, aware of my trauma and childhood, following me with cameras, encouraging me to get myself shot in Blairsville so they could kill another American—attack white people, threaten the Second Amendment, and supposedly push us toward WW3. As I peeled back the layers of a potential pedophile ring and their murder plot against me, I faced disappearances, poisoning attempts, and associated groups trying to undermine me. My sense of healthy paranoia grew. The harassment intensified—attempts to poison me and manipulate my health, especially after I was falsely charged and jailed in Montgomery County, with Mack Mason and Judge Joy Parks. They fabricated a charge of "Conduct on a 911 phone call," even though I never called 911; I called the Sheriff's office multiple times to speak with Mack Mason, as advised by my retained attorney, Janna Akins. Mason hid, plotted, schemed, and asked for help. I was arrested on false charges—he used a masonic dog whistle, broadcasting it through law enforcement channels on the internet. These experiences profoundly changed my worldview and made me question the motives of those around me.

The Role of April and Henry:

Amid this chaos, April and Henry emerged as both friends and potential accomplices. Their involvement was complex and ambiguous, adding layers to the web of relationships surrounding me. They orchestrated my parents' divorce—plotting against Orville, my father—and they murdered him, plotted his financial ruin. Henry married April, moved in, spied on me, and manipulated my environment to harass and control me.

Life in Central Florida:

While in Haines City, trying to reach Lakeland, I took a job at an FFA property under a manager whose behavior raised red flags. Jonathan B.'s presence turned what should have been a promising opportunity into a hostile environment. His adopted children seemed drawn into the chaos. After being run out of Polk County—either for not complying with gangstalkers’ demands or for other reasons—I was later invited by the Vevay gangstalkers from Mount Dora into their trap (see elsewhere on this blog). Then I was falsely arrested on charges linked to Blairsville, Georgia, via a warrant from Governor Brian Kemp—charges that were fabricated and linked to gangstalking. After jail and poisoning—courtesy of April and Henry—while awaiting a court case that was never held or was hidden, I managed to reach Ruskin. There, I was harassed in social scenes across St. Petersburg and forced into poverty in an RV, with no escape from the watchful eyes following me across America—retaliation for exposing a child rape ring and voter fraud involving Freemason-like figures and their spouses with adopted children. Thank you, Florida. Thank you, Grady. And thank you to those genuine people who talked to me. Thanks, too, to the frauds, gangstalkers, and sideline photographers—go film the North Georgia Child Grooming Ring instead!

The Shift to Ruskin and Mount Vevay:

Seeking change, I moved to Ruskin, where I found a measure of peace working on crafting eyeglasses by hand. This job gave me a sense of normalcy, but I soon sensed that my interactions were part of a larger orchestration. The camaraderie that once felt genuine now seemed forced, as if each person had an ulterior motive. A couple of my bikes were stolen, I was run over once on a bike, but the scenery and food were amazing.

The Decision to Leave:

The original goal was Lakeland. The people I met there seemed friendly, but nothing materialized. I grew tired of waiting and gravitated toward those who would talk—though most, I now realize, were just part of a massive setup—gangstalking in the “Blue County” of Red State Florida, a hub of trade ports. The decision to leave Ruskin was inevitable. Lakeland had always been my destination. Someone seemed genuinely interested in me, but I repeatedly faced harassment. The constant pressure, combined with difficulty securing stable income, took a toll on my mental health and living conditions. I started to notice hearing loss symptoms—probably from explosions or working in machine shops—that I hadn’t previously recognized. The realization that I was being set up and manipulated by vested interests led me to leave Florida and seek a new beginning elsewhere, instead of waiting for whatever scheme Grady or others might have been plotting.