A subscriber asked how often I post. Once or twice a week, sometimes less. The question behind the question was probably: why not more?
Thirty years of media work, writing, producing, voiceover, audio for clients who paid me to serve their story, not mine. That’s the job. I got good at disappearing into other people’s purposes.
In 2022, a jury acquitted me of rape in about the time it takes to eat lunch. Friends and fellow producers said: you have the skills, you have the story, you have an unfortunate credential that nobody else has. Use it. So I started a podcast and a Substack, and began trying to think clearly in public about wrongful accusation, about how the machinery of media and criminal justice and online outrage actually works when it grinds someone up.
The constraint that shapes everything is this: I am still regarded by some people as a rapist who got away with it. There is no evidence that will move them from their position. That means every loose argument, every overreach, every moment of score-settling becomes a rope. So I work slowly. I check the material. I attack, even when I could, even when some subscribers want me to. A few have left because I won’t go after the people who went after me hard enough. One man invited me on his podcast assuming I’d show up ready to torch a political movement. I wasn’t, and we didn’t talk again.
It’s not temperament. It’s method. The work has to survive hostile reading by people who are certain I’m lying.
Each piece gets recorded and produced in audio. A subscriber once pushed back when I tried an AI voice. They wanted the actual one, the voice that’s been through it. I understood. You can’t clean-version your way through this material. It has to sound like somebody who means it.
And honestly? It’s fucking hard. Not just the caution, but the subject itself, the bias baked into coverage, the way accusation functions as verdict in certain precincts, the effort it takes to stay accurate and fair when you’re the one who got ground up. There is nothing trivial about sexual violence, in either direction. You do all that work, practice all that caution, and somebody still calls you a shill. From the left for being insufficiently penitent. From the right for not turning it into a culture war broadside.
Both of those miss what I’m trying to do. But they’re also just part of the deal.
More coming. Thank you for being here.
Authenticity is not supposed to be efficient or quick. As a result, it lands and is rooted in something real and personal. Thank you for the care you are taking with these topics.