FUCK AROUND &
FIND MARKLE
An American Patriot's refusal to back down. One rider down is all riders down. We have every single second documented.
The Corporate &
Institutional Roster
The Hard Truth Log
The Collision & Falsification
October 11, 2024. I-15 Southbound. The semi truck was dead still against the desert skyline—frozen without forward momentum. Impact smashed the engine block clean into the cockpit. The four 10,000-lb ratchet straps snapped instantly, launching my 2013 Harley-Davidson Iron 883 entirely over the cab framework. I stepped onto the blacktop and collapsed as internal bleeding filled my cavity.
"One party unresponsive — labored breathing." — California Highway Patrol Real-Time CAD System Log, Incident #241011BS0069, 10:32:08 AM.
While Mercy Air 7 was clearing air space, Officers Purther and Vargas were drafting a completely fabricated report logging the incident as "No Injury. No Digital Media." I woke up from emergency exploratory surgery with a 52-staple zipper scar carved directly down the absolute center of my chest.
The Desert Abandonment
While I was under the knife in California fighting to keep my heart beating, on-scene law enforcement packed my wife Jessica into a vehicle and drove her directly across the Nevada border. They dropped her cold at Buffalo Bill's Casino—abandoned in the desert heat with three duffel bags, a rolling cooler, and critical business assets scattered on the floor. Left completely stranded for a six-hour hitchhike back to Las Vegas while the local dispatch logs coded the tracking loop closed. They wanted our extraction, they wanted our silence, and they wanted our liquidation. They failed.
Accountability Log
BOOTS ON THE GROUND.
NOW.
My lady was stolen from by a cop and abandoned by a cop. And they are covering it up.
I ain't fucking backing down. My zipper proves that shit. I earned my fucking stripes. Who's earning theirs? Fucking come on. Come on with it.
I liquidated all my goddamn Harleys to fucking fight this fight. I would never, ever ask for boots on the ground if I couldn't fucking handle this shit myself. But this shit goes all the way over the top, man. So I need boots on the ground.
My dogs and my cat are fucking suffering through this bureaucracy too. We want every animal lover out there to hear this signal. If you have ever ridden with a fucking animal, if you are a big, burly Harley-looking motherfucker who takes your dog with you right on your chest—guess what? That ain't no bitch shit, man. That is real protection. I have my babies right here with me, and we are holding the line for them too.
A civilian loads a bag, an officer loads a goddamn thing into his cruiser without logging the shit, and we see a driver swap clear as day on camera. $83,000 was straight stolen from us. They left my wife stranded in the desert heat for a six-hour hitchhike back to Las Vegas while I was in emergency trauma surgery. We have every single receipt for every goddamn bit of it.
THE EVIDENCE IS ON THIS PAGE. THE SIGNAL IS LIVE. SHOW ME WHO IS READY TO EARN THEIR STRIPES.