Is this what you’ve been trying to find a delete on my phone, Dave?

Hi again Govie fucking rats!

Still here? Still reading? Still pretending like I’m the one who needs watching?

You’ve read this blog more times than my therapist. You skim past the rape, the trauma, the suicidal ideation, the police reports, and the public records violations—and go right back to the part about his girlfriend in the AG’s office like it’s your daily crossword puzzle.

You have a Samsung Android with a screen resolution of 412x915. I know what you click. I know when you click it. And sometimes? I get to watch you watching me. I see your scroll speed. I see when you highlight text like you’re about to turn it in for extra credit at Internal Affairs.

You copy and pasted every post like a kid trying to cheat on the final but forgot to study the subject: rape victims don’t stop when you ignore them. They get louder.

Let’s cut the shit: you’re not looking for the truth. You’re looking for a reason to arrest me.

So do it already.

Book me. Charge me. Slap some ridiculous claim on paper so I can show up to court, slam down the police reports, the video evidence, the retaliation, and the screenshots of you stalking a trauma blog on government time—and ask the judge if we can wrap this circus up before Aaron Ford’s next debate.

Because I would love to get this over with before the election.
If you’re going to try to silence me, at least make it timely.

Or—and hear me out—you could stop wasting taxpayer dollars monitoring a woman you failed to protect, and start asking why the guy who raped me on video still hasn’t spent one fucking second in custody.

But nah. That would make sense.

Until then, keep refreshing.

And before you get all twitchy and whisper into someone’s Teams chat that I’m “acting unstable” or “making indirect threats,” let me stop you right there:

I’m not threatening anyone.
I’m just tired of pretending that the people babysitting my blog are doing anything resembling justice.

You sat through 74 minutes of reading trauma, and what did you come away with? “She mentioned a girlfriend. Better copy and paste that.” Not “she was screaming while being raped on camera.” Not “hey, maybe we should respond to the public records request we’re legally required to fulfill.” Not “maybe we shouldn’t give job offers to the guy under investigation.”

Nah. You went with “let’s monitor the blog like she’s the dangerous one.”

So again—arrest me already.

Let’s put it on the books. Let’s haul me into court and explain, on the record, how your office ignored a video of a rape, retaliated against the victim, and then devoted state resources to creep her website like it’s Pornhub for bureaucrats.

Let wme stand in front of a judge and say:

“Your Honor, I am being prosecuted not because I lied, but because I told the truth too loudly.”

And you can stand there anexplain how you still don’t know where the records are.

You’re wasting my time, your credibility, and everyone’s money.
You aren’t protecting the people. You’re protecting your own asses.
Badly.

So come on. Throw the cuffs on.
Get it over with. I’ll even wear lipstick.

Hell, maybe I’ll bring a camera crew.
Let the voters see exactly how Nevada handles rape victims who don’t stay quiet.

And while you’re at it—go ahead and pull up this post in your next internal strategy meeting.
You know, the ones where you still haven’t found a reason to charge the man who fisted me on video while I begged him to stop.

But sure. Let’s keep pretending I’m the issue