Lakeland’s ice rinks were a rare escape in the Florida heat — hockey games, open skates, and a strange sense of calm. But even those frozen floors weren’t safe from what followed me. After providing information to Sheriff Grady Judd and being told to wait for investigators, I found myself harassed again — this time at the Future Farmers of America facility. The people in charge there treated me with calculated distance, like they'd been told to avoid or watch me. That was the beginning of a deeper descent.
The property manager, J.B., seemed embedded in something far beyond facility rules. He made daily life miserable — not just for me, but for everyone around me, most likely on direction from the same ring of people I had reported. The same names from North Georgia, the same ties to Baptist congregations interwoven with my ex-wife — all circling back like clockwork. I saw the same pattern. The same pressure. The same cameras that shouldn’t be there or watched for fun.
Later, I was introduced to another group while in Mount Dora, Florida — people I now believe were actors in a wider gangstalking operation. Somehow, an invitation appeared: visit Vevay, Indiana. I went because no one else offered and sleeping in my truck and rando hotels was getting old, I want to settle and find my some friends that weren't told to hate me and pretend. And when I arrived, the stage was already set. It felt like a film — one where I wasn’t the director or the star, just a target. I worked for a short time at a machine shop across the river in Kentucky, but even the inside of the house felt wired. Observed. Performed. Studied. It was no longer paranoia. It was a pattern.
Work, Harassment & Holding On
Lakeland is a city of contrast — opportunity mixed with unresolved struggle. I worked in the kitchen at the Lakeland Ice Arena, and the owners were kind. But the pressure and visibility of the job started to wear on me. For years I’ve faced targeted harassment — the kind that follows you from one workplace to another, from Lakeland RV Resort to other jobs where I hoped someone like Sheriff Grady Judd might offer help instead of silence. But help never came. Just more watchers.
Some say it was because of my Social Security number, or the legal advice I followed from a CIA-connected divorce attorney — advice that led me to report child grooming and voter fraud in Union County, Georgia, where my own child went missing to the CLEO. That decision led to more surveillance, more interference, and still no answers, but assumptions.
I met some amazing people. Others? Not so much. I learned quickly who was there for support — and who was there for sport. Many seemed to be enjoying the show someone else directed, trying to provoke me into "crashing out" for someone else’s metadata or documentary.
I also spent time working at CoHatch and practicing my craft in a sweltering 22-foot RV — over 90 degrees inside so usually had to wait for the evenings — trying to master laser engraving, build websites, and keep my mind together. I was battling more than poverty. I was battling a history I hadn’t fully uncovered: fragments of MKUltra-style manipulation, identity distortion, and buried programming that felt like someone else’s fiction playing out in my reality.
Through it all, I keep working. I keep creating. Because I’m still here. And that, some days, is the win.
Personal Struggles, Truths & the Fight for Freedom
My time here was marred by persistent harassment, cyberstalking, and a series of love bombs that I now see as part of larger games played against those who seek truth. There I was sitting in the same places expecting people in uniforms to take interest in a grooming ring where elections were being chosen/stolen and I was able to reflect on most of my friendships and relationships, most were fake or intervened by outside harassment. Not that I am perfect but the childhood abuse and experience affects a lot of my intereactions, naturally. Reporting a grooming ring and voter fraud exposed me to targeted attacks, gangstalking, and manipulation. I wanted to love Lakeland and met a some amazing people with great spirits, like most of Florida, the Parks are gorgeous, but like most my life people have fun in ruining my relationships, I tried to embrace its community and opportunities as offered by a signed letter from Grady Judd, but the dark side of some local influences in grander schemes and the broader establishment made that difficult. Florida is an entirely different world, even though Central Florida was harrasment, I and determined to earn enough money to travel and enjoy it. Working was a no-go with harassment.
