As I go through this investigation, I’ve received the government’s files. There are so many that even standard AI like ChatGPT can’t easily process them all. So I’ve broken them down into smaller pieces—tiny fragments—just trying to understand what the actual case is against me.
I’ll say this: I highly recommend you look at every file. That’s all I’ll say about that. You may be amazed at what’s there.
I remember something from long ago, back in church. I’ve always believed in creation, and I used to debate evolutionists. As a young man, I’d argue my understanding of the Bible, trying to make my case. But it always felt like they dismantled my arguments with their so-called facts. Then, one day in a college history class, I heard a phrase I’ll never forget. The professor said: “Their evidence is our evidence.”
That line never left me. And now, in this season of my life, I’ve come to embrace it in a whole new way. I’ve been using that same approach—looking at the evidence not just as an accusation, but as a path to understanding. Ironically, the very evidence I need has come from the government’s own submissions. One day, I hope I can explain it all in a book.
But for now, I just want to encourage everyone: look at your evidence.
I’ve approached this case with a simple philosophy: What have I done wrong? And what have I done right? I don’t shy away from admitting wrongdoing. If I’ve made mistakes, I’m more than willing to own them and make restitution where I can. That’s a life philosophy I’ve tried to live by. It’s helped me stay grounded as I try to understand and justify—or not justify—myself.
I see the complaints. And I believe they deserve an answer.
Let me close with a story.
I was under eight years old. We had a small grocery store in our little “hometown USA.” It was called Jesse’s. Jesse ran the place himself, always there, always friendly. Everyone knew him.
They used to have grapes laid out in big bins—just clumps, open for the taking. Right next to them were tall stacks of Brach’s caramel candies. That day, I don’t know what came over me. I took a couple grapes, ate them quickly, trying to crunch them down before my mom noticed. Then I slipped a caramel into my pocket.
But my mother caught me—right in the act of unwrapping the caramel. We left the store, groceries in hand. But she didn’t let it go. She took me by the arm and walked me back inside. She marched me up to Jesse and made me confess what I’d done.
Jesse didn’t seem angry. If anything, I think he thought I deserved the grapes and the caramel. But he saw what my mother was doing—enforcing the real law, the true law.
That moment stuck with me.
I haven’t stolen grapes or caramels since.
