Forty-Nine Years of Unexplained Accusations, Psychological Warfare, and the Use of “Public Shaming” to Justify Punishment
By Kevin Perelman
Table Of Contents
Brian Weaver, Around 2001: What Exactly Is Being Publicly Shamed?. 6
The Psychological Noose: The Provocation Is the Rope. 7
The Timeline: Childhood, College, California, and the Years After 2001. 10
Huntley, My Family, and My Return From the University of Colorado. 13
Mike Wexler, Chad Bower’s Canon AE-1, and Photography as an Imaginary Offense. 14
University Of Colorado Internet Chat, a Jeep guilt and idea of reference, and Similar Encounters. 22
A University Of Colorado Roommate’s Gay Guest: Declining an Advance Is Not Wrongdoing. 24
The Internet, Personal Information, and the Expansion of Worldwide Public Shaming. 31
When Asking for Help Becomes Another Accusation. 34
The Difference Between Stalking and a Criminal Conspiracy. 47
The Ultimate Hypocrisy: The Accusers Must Answer for Their Own Conduct 49
Conclusion: Public Shaming Is Not a License to Destroy a Life. 51
Brian Weaver called it “a public shaming.” But I am challenging something far more serious than public humiliation: the use of public shaming as a mask for psychological terror, intimidation, fabricated criminal accusations, nonstop setups, frame jobs, disinformation, and terror operations involving enormous resources and increasingly broad social networks, all directed toward what I describe as a prolonged effort to remove me from society. My account raises serious questions under California Penal Code § 182(a)(1), concerning conspiracy to commit crimes, including murder, and § 182(a)(2), concerning conspiracy to procure false criminal charges or arrests. It also challenges the refusal of individuals within the judicial system to honestly defend me or examine the misconduct I have reported. My account concerns the involvement I attribute to members of the Perelman family, police officers, judicial employees, and community groups in an escalating pattern of coercion, psychological harassment, and attempts to portray me as dangerous or mentally ill.
What could I possibly have done at five years old to justify forty-nine years of conflict and an increasingly destructive pattern of accusations, death threats, coordinated worldwide provocations, and daily operations directed toward removing me from society? I trace the origins of this history to approximately 1977, when I was just five years old and my brother, Jason Perelman, was approximately seven. My account begins with Jason’s involvement in efforts to control my life and ultimately remove me from society, regardless of the consequences. The situation escalated throughout my childhood and adolescence, becoming progressively more aggressive before reaching an extraordinary level after 2001, with near-daily confrontations involving workplaces, restaurants, coffee shops, public streets, educational institutions, friendships, almost every human interaction, and ordinary social activities.
Throughout this history, I have challenged police monitoring, disputed arrests, psychiatric characterizations, death threats, daily instigations, provocations, harassment, physical attacks, assaults and batteries, direct attempts on my life, and efforts to turn my reactions to those encounters into evidence against me. The fundamental issue is not simply what happened during a particular confrontation, but how the circumstances preceding it could be removed from the narrative while my reaction became the supposed justification for further punishment.
One of the most revealing examples of this reversal involves my father, Ron Perelman, who told me, “You think differently.” But differently from whom? According to whose standards or perceptions? And what exactly does “thinking differently” mean in the first place?
What is the nature, magnitude, and significance of this supposed difference? Is he referring to something as insignificant as differing personal preferences, opinions, interests, or interpretations of ordinary events? Or is he suggesting some fundamental difference in my understanding of reality, morality, right and wrong, or acceptable human behavior? These are extraordinarily different propositions, with entirely different implications. One concerns the ordinary diversity of human thought and personality; the other suggests a much broader judgment about someone’s character, judgment, or psychological functioning.
Yet, just like Brian Weaver’s “It’s a public shaming,” the statement “You think differently” provides no identifiable meaning, context, standard, or explanation. Differently in what respect? To what degree? Compared with whom? Is the supposed difference trivial, significant, or fundamental? And what specific conduct demonstrates it?
Without defining the nature or magnitude of the supposed difference, the statement becomes an empty characterization flexible enough to mean virtually anything. It can be used to explain away an ordinary disagreement, imply a psychological abnormality, discredit someone’s perception of events, or suggest that the individual is somehow responsible for the hostility directed toward them, all without identifying a single specific example or establishing that anything is actually wrong.
That ambiguity is central to the problem. Rather than addressing the accusations, threats, provocations, and conduct I have challenged, the explanation shifts toward my supposed way of thinking. The accusation remains undefined, its seriousness can expand or contract whenever convenient, and the burden is placed upon me to explain or defend a difference that nobody has bothered to identify or don’t want the actual argument to create the appearance of mental illness or keep in isolation.
Most importantly, even if I genuinely think differently from another person, how does that establish wrongdoing, justify interference with my independence, or make me responsible for someone else’s threatening, harassing, or otherwise unlawful conduct? A difference of opinion is not evidence of mental illness. An unconventional personality is not a criminal offense or is not going to rile up worldwide stalking groups. And disagreement over what constitutes acceptable behavior must be evaluated according to actual facts and applicable standards, not another person’s unexplained assertion that I think differently.
The fundamental question is not simply whether I think differently, but what that difference supposedly consists of, how its magnitude is being determined, and why an undefined personal characterization is being offered as an explanation for the extraordinary treatment I have described.
The implication of his statement was that I was somehow unlike everyone else, that my personality, thinking, or perception of events was the reason I experienced these conflicts. Rather than identifying the specific wrongdoing I was reporting or explaining the accusations being circulated about me, the responsibility was redirected toward my supposed differences. In effect, the explanation became that the problem was not what others were saying or doing, but something inherently wrong with the way I thought.
That is precisely the reversal intended to cover up what was started around 1977 and the mass crime spree against me. If someone circulates false information about me, misrepresents an ordinary interaction, provokes a confrontation, or manufactures an accusation, my personality does not become responsible for that person’s conduct. Being different does not make a false accusation true. Thinking independently does not make threats acceptable. And questioning why people are behaving toward me in a particular way does not establish that I caused or deserved their treatment.
The same reasoning appears in Brian Weaver’s statement, “It’s a public shaming.” Publicly shamed for what? Once again, the supposed offense remains undefined while the punishment is presented as justified. The underlying message becomes: “It’s your fault we’re stalking you. It’s your behavior. It’s because you think differently.” Rather than addressing the conduct of the people with the Police, and Psychology community, hate groups, making the accusations, those explanations shift the burden onto me to justify my personality, my perceptions, my choices, and ultimately my right to live independently.
This creates an impossible standard. If I question an accusation, my questions can be characterized as paranoia. If I document a confrontation, the documentation can be called obsession. If I become frustrated by repeated provocations, the frustration can be portrayed as aggression. If I continue pursuing my education, career, friendships, creative interests, and ordinary social activities, even those positive behaviors can be assigned negative psychological meanings.
The accusation can continually change, but the underlying assignment of blame remains the same: whatever others do to me is explained as a consequence of something supposedly wrong with me.
That is not an explanation of wrongdoing by design. It is a circular justification that avoids identifying an actual offense, examining the evidence, or holding the people making accusations accountable for their own actions.
My central question is therefore not why I supposedly think differently. It is why anyone would consider that statement an acceptable explanation for forty-nine years of accusations, intimidation, disputed criminal proceedings, and interference with another human being’s independence.
By “control,” I do not mean a simple family disagreement or someone trying to set ordinary rules. I am describing the far more serious objective I have questioned throughout this article: attempts to exclude or remove me from society, with the language of control, concern, or supposed behavioral correction used as its justification. A seven-year-old child would not ordinarily invent such an elaborate purpose independently. The question is what he was being told, by whom, and why psychiatric labels such as “crazy” were being attached to a five-year-old in the first place.
The chronology is essential to my account: I trace the beginning of the conduct I question to approximately 1977, at age five, and the period of intensifying encounters and disputed police-related events to approximately 2001, when I began directly asking what was happening. These are two distinct periods—not a claim that I understood everything at age five. I am examining a forty-nine-year history as I describe it, including approximately twenty-five years of more intensive confrontations since 2001, while asking which specific actions and relationships can be independently established.
But the most disturbing question is who was influencing a seven-year-old child in the first place. Jason was not an adult operating independently. Where would a seven-year-old learn methods of psychological manipulation, terror, false accusations, attempts to make people disappear, and tactics designed to portray another child as mentally unstable or dangerous? That question leads directly to the adults surrounding us, particularly our parents, their backgrounds in psychology, and their relationships within police, government, and psychological communities.
Even more disturbing is the moral and ethical question of a parent encouraging one child to psychologically harm, intimidate, or destroy the life of another child within the same family. Most parents consider it their fundamental responsibility to protect their children from cruelty, not encourage one child to inflict it upon another. The idea of a parent deliberately teaching a child to hurt their own sibling represents a profound betrayal of parental responsibility, compassion, and basic human decency. My central question is not simply what Jason was doing, but who taught him those behaviors which exponentially went viral and grew worldwide, who encouraged them, And what kind of parents could knowingly turn one child against another instead of protecting them both, simply because they favor one child over the other? The message becomes, “We like this child better than that child,” as though parental favoritism somehow justifies cruelty, psychological punishment, or sacrificing the rights and well-being of the less-favored child. Favoritism is not a moral justification for abuse, and no child deserves to be harmed simply because their parents prefer their sibling.
The question is whether “public shaming” has become a convenient justification for conduct intended not to correct wrongdoing, but to destroy another person’s independence, existence, and ultimately remove them from society. Threats, deliberate psychological cruelty, false criminal accusations, and efforts to cause serious harm do not become legitimate simply because the people responsible avoid physical contact or operate through the apparent gray areas of the law. And if an agreement and intent to hurt, harm, kill or to remove from society were established, the conduct would raise questions of criminal conspiracy far beyond ordinary harassment.
That is the contradiction at the center of this article: the people claiming the authority to judge and punish my supposed behavior refuse to identify the original offense, while the increasingly severe consequences of their accusations become the real punishment.
One particularly disturbing contradiction involves Tom Farley, my very first childhood friend, whom I had known since I was very young. Around 2001, Farley told me, “Kevin, you can’t control people.” Yet I had spent my life attempting to make my own decisions, develop friendships, pursue my education, focus on positive experiences, and establish an independent career. I was not trying to control Farley or anyone else as we all know. The critical distinction is that Tom Farley and others originally sought me out, befriended me, and established relationships with me—not the other way around. The central issue is the ulterior motives behind those relationships and the contradiction between presenting themselves as friends while stalking, and attempting to dictate my behavior and personal choices.
At the same time, I was attempting to welcome people into my life, make friends, and treat others with warmth and openness. That matters because the statement “Kevin, you can’t control people” was being directed at someone who was actively trying to build friendships, establish meaningful relationships, and pursue an independent future.
The way the accusations themselves continually shifted and expanded. One negative label could be replaced by another, while even my most positive, healthy, and constructive behaviors were reinterpreted, distorted, and transformed into something negative. Friendliness could become inappropriate behavior, kindness could become manipulation, enthusiasm could become obsession, artistic expression could become evidence of mental illness, and attempts to communicate or resolve misunderstandings could be portrayed as aggression, paranoia, or instability.
This created an impossible standard in which nothing I did could ever be considered positive, because even positive behavior could be selectively reinterpreted to support an existing negative narrative. The labels could change whenever convenient, contradict one another, and continue circulating as disinformation among increasingly large groups of people who had never met me, witnessed the original events, or taken the time to understand the facts.
The central issue is not a single disagreement with Farley, but the continuous manufacture, transformation, accumulation, and widespread dissemination of negative characterizations, including the deliberate conversion of positive behavior into supposed wrongdoing. The resulting narrative could be perpetually renewed without anyone having to identify an actual offense or account for the contradictions between successive accusations.
These were not genuine friendships, but relationships established under false pretenses for the purpose of gaining influence and attempts to remove from society. Tom Farley, Michael Patrick Huntley, Paul Humphrey, and others approached me and cultivated friendships while I was attempting to build an independent future. The mentality I am describing is not “I want to be your friend,” but “I want to befriend you so I can control you, dictate your decisions, and treat you as though you belong to me while trying to push me out of control or create the appearance of a monstrous person.” That is ownership disguised as friendship, reducing another human being to the status of a slave rather than respecting their independence. The extraordinary hypocrisy is that Farley told me, “Kevin, you can’t control people,” while the very issue I was confronting was the attempt to control my life through relationships that had been presented to me as genuine friendships.
That is the extraordinary reversal of responsibility: people seek me out with malice, motive, pre-meditation, establish friendships, subject me to hostility or punishment with unlimited resources, and then suggest that I am responsible for their treatment of me because of my supposed behavior. The underlying message becomes, “It’s your fault I’m stalking or punishing you because you’re a bad person.” But calling someone a bad person, crazy, mentally ill, a criminal, does not justify stalking, intimidation, or punishment. Farley’s statement, “You can’t control people,” captures the hypocrisy I am challenging: I was trying to live independently, while people who had deliberately entered my life in a mass conspiracy to hurt, harm mame, and or eradicate, were attempting to impose their judgments upon my choices, relationships, personality and personal freedom.
The extraordinary hypocrisy is that Farley was accusing me of trying to control people while I was challenging what I regarded as attempts to control virtually every aspect of my own life. I have connected his involvement to the recurring pattern of childhood acquaintances and family relationships through which I encountered accusations, distorted accounts of ordinary events, and situations in which other people’s actions were attributed to me. Information and false narratives from these relationships were subsequently circulated through broader social networks.
The central issue is the reversal of responsibility. “You can’t control people” becomes another accusation directed at me, while the question of who was attempting to control my relationships, career, independence, and personal decisions remains unanswered. I reject the idea that friendship or family relationships give anyone ownership over another person’s life. No childhood friend, relative, police officer, or judicial employee has the authority to treat me as personal property, dictate my lawful choices, or punish me for refusing to surrender my independence. The fact that Farley had known me since childhood makes his statement particularly important to the history of control and coercion I am describing, and does establish his participation in a coordinated effort to harm me or remove me from society no matter what it takes with others in a mass worldwide conspiracy.
This is not an embarrassing incident, a disagreement between friends, or a few people expressing disapproval. I am describing experiences I call psychological terror and torture operations by the police, government, psychology community, my own family, judicial employee’s, and lawyers: relentless provocations, efforts to produce negative reactions, reputational attacks, and repeated attempts to portray ordinary human behavior as evidence of criminality different, awkward, or mental illness. The encounters occur minute by minute, day and night, online and offline. I have encountered hostility from people I know as well as strangers, in places where I was simply trying to relax, work, socialize, or exercise. Some of these group coordinated death threats. “No relaxing for you nigger”, “World of Paranoia”, “You better accept what’s going on or it will get a lot worse for you”
The scale is the essential point. Over decades I have described similar encounters in different communities, cities, and states. I have questioned whether private information about me was collected, distorted, and passed through broad social networks, perhaps extending across the United States and internationally. I do not have evidence that establishes a single worldwide organization behind these events, but my account is about the cumulative reality of repeated conflict, its effects on my life, and my attempts to understand the apparent similarities and say something about the mass worldwide crime spree against me since an early age. The absence of proof of one centralized network does not excuse anyone’s actual threats, intimidation, or false accusations in what is easily achievable with todays technology.
The most serious concern is not embarrassment. It is what sustained psychological intimidation, isolation, and coercion can do to a person’s health, independence, relationships, and livelihood. The absence of a visible injury, eradication or killing of others, does not make deliberate cruelty harmless. I have repeatedly tried to an ordinary life while also attempting to understand why interactions that should have ended with a simple conversation instead escalated into accusations, hostility, or confrontations while their disinformation is relayed across the largest circles each and every time.
Around 2001, Brian Weaver called it “a public shaming.” Michael Patrick Huntley said “World of paranoia,” “We’re using the judicial system against you,” and “I’ve given you enough rope to hang yourself with.” My father, Ron Perelman, said, “You know what you did.” My mother, Anita Perelman, said, “Your past caught up with you.” Garrett a Starbucks employee around 2005 threatened, “It’s your transgressions.” None of those statements, taken at face value, identifies a specific offense. Yet the implications are severe. The people doing the condemning were acting like judge, jury, and executioner—pronouncing guilt while withholding the details that would allow a meaningful response.
Brian Weaver, Around 2001: What Exactly Is Being Publicly Shamed?
When Brian Weaver described the situation as “a public shaming,” he supplied a phrase that sounded like an explanation without identifying an actual wrong. Public criticism ordinarily concerns something recognizable: a statement, a decision, or an event that can be described and challenged. In my encounters the supposed offense was shifting or undefined. A career choice, a friendship, a photograph, a trip to a gym, a walk at night, or an ordinary conversation could become a fresh source of condemnation.
Weaver pursued aviation and commercial flying, as I understand his background. I pursued art, computer graphics, visual effects, animation, and internet technology. Neither career is inherently wrong. Neither of us has the moral authority to punish the other for choosing a different path. One person’s preferred life is not a law that everyone else must obey. The same principle applies to relationships, hobbies, clothing, automobiles, and personal expression.
What troubles me is the double standard. Someone who wants to criticize how I live should ask whether they would accept the same scrutiny of every conversation, date, meal, friendship, or professional interest in their own life. The phrase “public shaming” cannot turn personal disapproval into legal authority, and a crowd does not become a court simply because its members share an opinion.
The Psychological Noose: The Provocation Is the Rope
In 2001 I confronted Michael Patrick Huntley, a person I had known since approximately age fourteen and who later became my business partner. I asked, “Mike, what the hell is going on?” I remember him making several remarks: “World of paranoia,” “Have a good life now,” “We’re using the judicial system against you,” “You’d better live a careful life,” “It’s your behavior,” and “I’ve given you enough rope to hang yourself with.”
The rope, in the way I understood the exchange, was not simply my asking questions. It was repeated provocation. Imagine a series of confrontations in which a person tries to ignore the pressure, asks for it to stop, leaves the location, and later faces another disagreement and another one. All day and not until this mass mob gets what they want no matter how many people, and no matter how broad the circles. Eventually there is a frustrated reaction. The preceding incidents are then left out, and the reaction becomes the entire story: “He’s angry,” “He’s obsessive,” “He’s unstable,” or “He’s dangerous.” That is the mechanism I mean by a psychological noose.
It is a calculated, malicious, and profoundly deceptive method of one-sided judgment, designed to condemn someone while deliberately disregarding the truth, the facts, and the circumstances surrounding their actions. By beginning the account at the moment of reaction, the provocations, intimidation, and psychological pressure that preceded it are conveniently erased. The resulting response is then selectively collected, distorted, and presented as evidence of wrongdoing, while the conduct responsible for provoking it is concealed. When these manipulated accounts become the basis for police reports, workplace complaints, criminal accusations, or psychiatric characterizations, the consequences extend far beyond an ordinary disagreement. The victim’s reaction becomes the supposed offense, while the conduct that provoked it escapes scrutiny and accountability by design.
The psychological pressure was especially disturbing because I knew Michael Patrick Huntley so well. I had known him since I was approximately fourteen years old, along with Paul Humphrey, both of whom had longstanding connections to my family and brother, Jason Perelman. I remember the angry, snickering amusement in Huntley’s expression when I confronted him and asked for an explanation of what was going on. I would describe the look as psychotic in its coldness, cruelty, and complete absence of empathy, resembling someone who found another human being’s confusion, suffering, and psychological torment entertaining. This was not an ordinary disagreement or an innocent joke. I was confronting someone I had known for approximately fifteen years, someone who had become deeply involved in my personal and professional life, yet instead of identifying any wrongdoing or providing a straightforward explanation, he responded with threatening remarks, anger, and disturbing amusement.
What made the encounter even more extraordinary was Huntley’s role in bringing me back from the University of Colorado around 1996–1997. He had personally flown to Colorado, presenting what appeared to be a legitimate business opportunity: establishing an internet-hosting company called Signet-e Services, supposedly to generate income, build a successful business, and improve our lives and financial futures. My family also encouraged my return. Yet by 2001, the same longtime acquaintance and business partner was responding to my questions with statements such as “World of paranoia,” “Have a good life now,” “We’re using the judicial system against you,” and “I’ve given you enough rope to hang yourself with.” The contradiction was staggering. Someone who had spent years cultivating my friendship and encouraging me to build a business with him was now responding to my attempts to understand the relentless provocations and hostility surrounding my life with what I experienced as cold-blooded psychological intimidation. Rather than explain the problem, he appeared to take pleasure in keeping it unresolved, leaving me to confront the disturbing question of what his involvement and motivations had been from the beginning.
The “You’re Important” Mind Game: Brainwashing, Grandiosity, and the Impossible Standard of Perfection
Another recurring psychological contradiction throughout my life involves the cryptic statements that I am somehow extraordinarily important. “It’s because you’re important,” “It’s because you’re smart,” or “It’s because you’re interesting.” But important for what? Smart in what way? Interesting to whom? And why would any of those characteristics justify extraordinary scrutiny, psychological punishment, or interference with my personal freedom?
The contradiction is staggering. I am supposedly so important that virtually every aspect of my life requires extraordinary scrutiny, from my career choices, friendships, relationships, artistic expression, photography, and personality to how often I exercise, what I eat, where I go, and whom I speak to. I am apparently expected to behave according to standards a million times more demanding than those imposed upon the President of the United States. Yet I am not important enough to receive a direct explanation of what makes me important, what responsibilities I supposedly have, or what I allegedly did wrong.
If the suggestion of extraordinary importance were a genuine safety concern, why was there no straightforward explanation, clearly identified responsibility, or ordinary protective assistance? Why would encounters with people I experienced as following, scrutinizing, or provoking me be presented as further evidence of something wrong with me instead of explaining what those people wanted? The contradiction is between vague claims of importance and the absence of any direct, verifiable explanation.
Think about the absurdity. If I were genuinely important because of some extraordinary ability, responsibility, or contribution, there would be direct communication explaining it. Someone could offer employment, commission artwork, provide research funding, support a creative project, or simply explain what they wanted. If I possessed some important responsibility, that responsibility could be identified. Instead, I encounter vague insinuations, hostility, and accusations that never identify an actual offense.
Important enough to be scrutinized, punished, and held to impossible standards of behavior, but not important enough to receive an honest explanation of what those standards are or why they supposedly apply to me. That is the psychological double bind.
The contradiction becomes even more disturbing when these suggestions of importance involve comparisons to the President of the United States or other extraordinary identities. I am not the president. I am an artist and technology professional who attended the University of Colorado, earned a Bachelor of Fine Arts, and pursued interests in computer graphics, visual effects, animation, programming, web development, and Internet technology. Yet I have encountered remarks that seemed intended to suggest I possessed an extraordinary identity or occupied some exceptional position in society.
This raises the issue of grandiose delusions, sometimes described as delusions of grandeur, and the psychiatric concept of ideas of reference. A person can be encouraged to question why others keep suggesting that they are unusually important, only for those questions to become another subject of psychiatric criticism. Asking why someone is making suggestions about extraordinary importance is not the same thing as claiming to possess that importance. Nor does asking about an ambiguous remark establish schizophrenia, paranoia, or any other psychiatric condition.
This brings me back to Michael Patrick Huntley and the confrontation around 2001. After knowing Huntley since approximately age fourteen, becoming business partners, and returning from the University of Colorado following his proposal to establish Signet-e Services, I confronted him directly: “Mike, what the hell is going on?” Instead of an explanation, I recall his threatening statements: “World of paranoia,” “Have a good life now,” “We’re using the judicial system against you,” “You’d better live a careful life,” and “I’ve given you enough rope to hang yourself with.”
The significance of those statements is the combination of implied knowledge, threatening language, and refusal to identify the supposed wrongdoing. Huntley could have answered the question. He could have explained any legitimate personal or professional grievance. Instead, I was left confronting an accusation that never identified an offense while simultaneously being warned about paranoia and the judicial system.
The same contradiction appears in statements attributed to other people throughout my life. My father, Ron Perelman, told me, “You know what you did,” yet refused to identify the supposed offense. My mother, Anita Perelman, said, “Your past caught up with you,” then denied making the statement when I attempted to address it. Brian Weaver described the situation as “a public shaming,” while Garrett at Starbucks referred to “your transgressions.” Each statement implies that something serious has occurred, but none provides the information required to understand, address, or dispute the accusation.
This is where vague accusations can create an endless psychological loop. Someone implies that you have committed an offense, refuses to explain it, and then treats your repeated questions as evidence that something is wrong with you. The original accusation remains undefined, but your effort to understand it becomes another supposed behavioral problem. The person seeking an explanation is portrayed as obsessive or paranoid, while the people refusing to explain the accusation are treated as though their conduct requires no justification.
The suggestion of extraordinary importance adds another layer to that contradiction. If I am important, I am supposedly required to accept exceptional scrutiny and punishment. If I ask why I am important, the question itself can be characterized as grandiosity. If I reject the suggestion, I can be accused of refusing to understand. If I continue living an ordinary life, my personal choices become another subject of condemnation. There is no identifiable standard of compliance and no clear way to resolve the situation.
The same problem applies to the idea that I must become some perfect version of a human being before I am permitted to live independently. Whose version of perfection? My father’s? My mother’s? Brian Weaver’s? Michael Patrick Huntley’s? A police officer’s? A stranger’s? One person considers aviation respectable, another prefers the arts, someone dislikes my photography, and another disapproves of whom I date. Personal preferences are not laws, and differing opinions about how I should live do not create the authority to punish me.
The most damaging aspect is the relationship between these accusations and ordinary opportunities to improve my life. If I exercise at a gym, the activity can be criticized as obsession. If I pursue artistic expression, the artwork can be assigned a negative psychological meaning. If I develop friendships or relationships, those choices become another source of condemnation. If I question the accusations, my questions become the problem. This creates an impossible standard under which nearly every attempt to live a healthy, productive, independent life can be interpreted negatively.
And if the supposed purpose is to help someone become healthy, responsible, or successful, why would the response be to interfere with the very activities that support those goals? Why punish someone for exercising, socializing, working, creating art, or attempting to build a future, and then condemn them for supposedly failing to live a successful or productive life? That is not a reasonable method of encouraging independence.
I have described approximately twenty-five years of near-daily hostile encounters, provocations, and accusations since 2001, with concerns about earlier family conflicts extending back to approximately age five. The breadth of these experiences has raised serious questions about how private information and negative characterizations circulate among different people and communities. What remains most important is the contradiction between the extraordinary expectations imposed upon me and the refusal to identify any legitimate basis for those expectations.
“You’re important” is not an explanation. “You’re smart” is not an accusation. “You think differently” is not a crime. “You know what you did” is not evidence. And “World of paranoia” is not an answer to a direct question.
Nobody has the authority to dictate every aspect of my life merely because they consider me important, unusual, intelligent, different, or psychologically unacceptable. Whether someone is exceptionally talented or entirely ordinary, the same fundamental rights apply. A person’s freedom to pursue lawful work, relationships, creative expression, education, and ordinary social activities does not depend on satisfying another person’s subjective expectations.
The ultimate contradiction is that I am supposedly important enough to justify extraordinary punishment, yet not important enough to receive ordinary human communication. If the importance is genuine, explain it. If there is an actual offense, identify it. But neither importance nor an undefined accusation gives anyone the right to control another human being’s life.
The Timeline: Childhood, College, California, and the Years After 2001
I was born in 1972 at Castle Air Force Base in California. I trace some of the family tensions and negative interpretations of my behavior and empty labeling to around 1977 with their negative interpretations in almost every aspect of my life no matter how positive or appropriate, starting around when I was approximately five years old. I have spent years revisiting the early descriptions by others of my personality that shaped later conflicts. One childhood event I remember involved kissing a Black girl around my own age at Sunny Skies Day Camp. A child’s innocent conduct should not become a lifelong accusation.
I also remember an event involving the band Devo at a childhood school or camp setting, which I have connected in my own recollection to later claims that I supposedly conformed to music or media. I remember the innocent childhood kiss and the later interpretations as separate matters. A song, a visiting band, or a child’s exposure to popular culture does not itself show hatred, violence, or a psychiatric condition. The specific circumstances and the source of any later characterization should be examined rather than assumed.
In the mid-1980s, when I was about fourteen, Michael Patrick Huntley entered my life through friendships connected to my brother Jason Perelman, including Mitch Viner and the Lost Hills area. Around 1988, I recall Jason saying, “Me and my friends put a teacher in a mental institution, and we’re listening to everything you do on the radio.” I did not understand that statement at the time. Its significance for me grew as I later encountered arguments involving psychiatric labels and privacy.
In the early 1990s, I attended Southern Oregon State College and later the University of Colorado Boulder, pursuing fine arts, computer programming, computer graphics, web development, animation, and emerging Internet technologies. Around 1994, as the Internet was expanding beyond academic and research institutions into broader public use, I began exploring website technology, html, Internet Relay Chat (IRC), and online social environments, sometimes following suggestions from my brother, Jason Perelman, about websites, chat rooms, and other emerging technologies to explore. At the time, I had no understanding of what Jason was doing behind the scenes or the extent of his involvement in the activities I later came to associate with mass groups of strangers across the United States and around the world. I now regard the emergence of the Internet as a critical turning point in the history of the harassment I describe, providing a means for information about my private life to circulate far beyond the communities and personal relationships in which it originated. What had previously involved people in my immediate social environment could now potentially reach an international audience, introducing an entirely new dimension to the stalking, privacy violations, psychological provocations, and reputational attacks that became central to my experiences.
Around 1995–1996, while attending the University of Colorado, I enrolled in a film photography class and borrowed a Canon AE-1 camera from my friend Chad Bower to complete the assignments. I was not pursuing photography obsessively, nor was it even a serious hobby at that point. It was just a simple film photography class which related to most situations in my life. I was simply a college student taking a class with a borrowed camera. Around the same period, Mike Wexler, originally a friend of my brother Jason, proposed a road trip and made the peculiar statement, “You’re not allowed to take pictures of people.” The significance of that remark was its implication that an ordinary, lawful educational activity was somehow inappropriate, forbidden, or even criminal. It became another example of the broader issue running throughout my account: the transformation of harmless personal activities into supposed behavioral offenses, followed by accusations, distortions, and judgments that bore little resemblance to what actually occurred.
These manufactured or exaggerated accusations became the justifications for what I describe as stalking, intimidation, psychological terror, and attempts to remove me from society through criminal accusations and psychiatric labeling. My account extends beyond individual confrontations to the involvement of judicial employees, police officers, members of the psychology community, and what I describe as an enormous, increasingly worldwide network of angry individuals engaging in a modern-day witch hunt and lynch-mob mentality. The most disturbing aspect is the role I attribute to people associated with institutions supposedly responsible for protecting individual rights, administering justice, and preventing abuse. The resulting double standard is staggering: conduct that would provoke immediate outrage and disgust if inflicted upon almost anyone else is instead presented as acceptable punishment when directed at me. And when psychiatric or criminal labels are used to justify escalating hostility, the supposed wrongdoing of the person being targeted becomes the focus while the far more serious conduct of those administering the punishment escapes scrutiny. The ultimate hypocrisy is that the people claiming the authority to judge, condemn, and punish another human being are themselves engaging in the very cruelty and criminal activities, intimidation, and disregard for human rights that society is supposed to condemn.
Around 1996–1997, Michael Patrick Huntley flew to Colorado to propose that I return to California to establish an internet-hosting business. My family also encouraged my return, and Huntley and I subsequently became involved in Signet-e Services. By approximately 2001, when I was twenty-nine years old, I confronted Huntley about the increasingly disturbing circumstances surrounding my life he was involved in, and the relentless provocations and hostility I was encountering. Rather than provide an explanation, Huntley responded with what I remember as enraged, threatening statements, including “World of paranoia,” “Have a good life now,” “We’re using the judicial system against you,” “You had better live a careful life,” and “It’s your behavior.” These were accompanied by other cryptic, intrusive, and threatening remarks that offered no explanation of what I supposedly had done wrong. Around the same period, Brian Weaver used the phrase “a public shaming,” presenting yet another vague justification for the treatment without identifying any actual offense.
I did not become seriously interested in digital photography until approximately 2004 or later, when I purchased an inexpensive early digital camera to experiment with the emerging technology. During this period, my longtime friend Brian Longbotham, who had originally been my visual-effects supervisor at Modern Video Film and Universal Studios, became increasingly significant in the setups, provocations, and attempts to frame me through interactions involving public businesses, community members, the Perelman family, police officers, and judicial employees. These encounters also reinforced my concerns about connections between my family, law enforcement, and the judicial system, extending back to the illegal police monitoring from early childhood.
Around 2005, Garrett, a Starbucks employee, made the threatening statement, “It’s your transgressions,” amid the relentless provocations, harassment, and instigation I was encountering in coffee shops and other public settings. By that point, I had come to understand these encounters not as isolated disagreements with individual employees or customers, but as part of what I describe as an increasingly widespread pattern of psychological harassment and attempts to remove me from society. I traced the origins of this pattern back to approximately age five, making it a forty-nine-year history in which ordinary activities were repeatedly turned into accusations, while the underlying objective, as I came to understand it, was to justify my removal from society regardless of what it took or how many people became involved, potentially extending to the broadest networks across the United States and worldwide.
In 2013, I encountered Officer Jensen and LAPD Senior Lead Officer Charles Sean Dinse in connection with more aggressive police events that began while I was sitting on a sidewalk. I recall Jensen stating, “It’s illegal to sit on the sidewalk for longer than five minutes.” I challenged that assertion and requested his badge number. The incident led to criminal charges that were false or unjustified. These events also intensified my longstanding concerns about LAPD involvement, including the role of my former friend Paul Humphrey, whom latched on at the same time as Michael Patrick Huntley, when I was around 14 years old associated with earlier police-related contacts and alleged surveillance activities. The escalating confrontations and legal proceedings are attempts to turn my objections and defensive reactions into evidence against me, while the underlying conduct I was reporting remained unaddressed.
These dates and relationships and timeline matter because the chronology changes how the events must be understood. Huntley’s relationship with me began in adolescence, long before his 2001 statements. His business proposal and my family’s encouragement preceded my return from Colorado. The statements attributed to Huntley and Weaver preceded Garrett’s reference to unspecified “transgressions,” and the later police encounters introduced increasingly serious legal consequences. Examining these events without their sequence, the original conversations, and the surrounding circumstances risks turning my attempts to understand and address the situation into the very behavioral accusations I have spent years challenging. As I have been forced into a no win situation that is based on continual ratcheting until the target and victim are no more.
Huntley, My Family, and My Return From the University of Colorado
Huntley did not enter my life as an unfamiliar business contact. I knew him from adolescence and through my brother’s social circle. He was somewhat older than Jason and several of Jason’s friends. His family connections and our years of familiarity gave him a place of trust. When he flew to Colorado around 1996 or 1997, the proposal to establish an internet-hosting business sounded compatible with my technical interests. I studied fine arts and technology, and the commercial internet was developing rapidly. A hosting provider looked like a legitimate opportunity.
My family was also encouraging me to return to California. That overlap is important to the story: I was developing an independent life in Colorado, and I returned after receiving both family encouragement and a business proposal from someone I had known for years. The business was called Signet-e Services. After our relationship broke down, I reconsidered that entire period, including the family’s influence, Huntley’s timing, and the remarks he later made about the judicial system.
A legitimate business disagreement can be described directly. Partners can talk about revenue, responsibilities, financial records, broken promises, or an unresolved personal conflict. Huntley’s words in 2001 did not clarify any such issue. “World of paranoia” and “enough rope to hang yourself” gave me no answer to what had supposedly gone wrong. Instead, they caused me to revisit earlier events and wonder whether I had misunderstood the purpose of the relationship.
Daryl Oon, The Rhodesian Ridgeback dog, Rhoada ‘s Shock Collar, and the Difference Between Communication and Punishment
In Colorado I knew Daryl Oon, an exchange student from Singapore and a friend with whom I played pool. And Pool tournaments. We talked about families and childhood experiences. I described my father Ron Perelman’s use of an electronic shock collar on his Rhodesian Ridgeback, Rhoada , to keep the dog from entering the kitchen. I recall an initial handheld push-button collar and a later perimeter arrangement that delivered a correction when Rhoada approached the restricted area.
That was an ordinary private conversation between friends. I later remembered that Huntley’s Colorado visit happened relatively soon afterward. The chronology prompted questions for me about whether personal conversations traveled beyond the people involved. I cannot establish from timing alone that Huntley knew about the exchange, but the association became important as I tried to understand my later conflicts.
More broadly, the shock collar provided a disturbing analogy for behavioral conditioning through punishment, pain, and negative reinforcement rather than honest, direct communication. Imagine being subjected to punishment for dating someone another person disapproves of, choosing an artistic career, visiting a coffee shop, purchasing a car, pursuing a hobby, exercising at a gym, taking college classes, going for walks too frequently, deciding whom or how many people to date, choosing what food to eat, speaking to certain individuals, or openly discussing your own family. Imagine ordinary private conversations being collected, scrutinized, analyzed, stripped of context, and subsequently used against you as supposed evidence of wrongdoing. Every aspect of your personal life becomes another opportunity for judgment, criticism, and punishment, yet nobody will identify precisely what rule you supposedly violated or who granted them the authority to impose that rule in the first place.
The shock-collar comparison is not limited to being told whom to date or where to go. My point is the increasing punishment I describe when I continue ordinary activities despite someone else’s disapproval. Because a physical shock collar cannot lawfully be placed on a child or an adult as a method of enforcing another person’s personal preferences, I use it as an analogy for indirect forms of pressure: repeated confrontations, accusations, threats, and attempts to obtain a reaction. In this analogy, “control” is the surface explanation; the deeper question is why the punishment keeps escalating and what ultimate result is being pursued.
Each punishment reinforces only one message: someone else has appointed themselves the authority over your life and can inflict further suffering whenever your choices fail to satisfy their personal expectations. But whose expectations? Whose version of morality, acceptable behavior, or perfection must be obeyed? Human beings have the right to make their own lawful decisions, understand specific criticisms, challenge false accusations, and defend themselves against mistreatment. When the rules continually change, the accusations remain deliberately vague, and every attempt to question or resolve the punishment becomes another justification for retaliation, the process ceases to resemble legitimate correction or accountability. It becomes an endless psychological double bind in which independent thought, personal freedom, and ordinary human behavior are treated as offenses, while the people administering the punishment exempt themselves from the very moral and ethical standards they demand from everyone else.
Mike Wexler, Chad Bower’s Canon AE-1, and Photography as an Imaginary Offense
In approximately 1995 or 1996, I took a film photography class at the University of Colorado. I was not an enthusiastic photographer with a collection of cameras, nor was photography a serious hobby at that point. I simply borrowed my friend Chad Bower’s Canon AE-1 to complete assignments for a college class. I did not begin taking photography seriously as a hobby until years later, around 2004 or afterward, when I purchased an inexpensive early digital camera to experiment with the technology.
Around that same college period, Mike Wexler, originally a friend of my brother Jason Perelman, suggested a road trip with the peculiar restriction, “You’re not allowed to take pictures of people.” The statement was particularly strange because taking lawful photographs is not inherently a crime. There are specific laws and boundaries concerning photography, privacy, and harassment, but borrowing a camera for college assignments does not establish obsession, criminal conduct, or harassment. If someone wants to accuse me of wrongdoing involving a camera, they need to identify what I actually did rather than manufacture an offense out of the mere fact that I possessed or used one.
What makes this example particularly significant is what happened later. I discovered blogs containing accusations that I was supposedly harassing people with my camera, despite my photography involving ordinary artistic, recreational, and everyday subjects that often had nothing whatsoever to do with photographing people. This is part of the far broader pattern of worldwide defamation, disinformation, and reputational attacks I have described throughout my life, extending into virtually every aspect of my personal freedom, including my artistic interests, career choices, relationships, flirting with women, friendships, and personal belief system. Ordinary activities are repeatedly transformed into accusations of inappropriate, obsessive, threatening, or supposedly abnormal behavior.
This pattern is reinforced by my father, Ron Perelman’s, recurring statement that I somehow “think differently,” as though having a different personality, perspective, or way of living were itself evidence of wrongdoing or mental illness. But differently from whom? According to whose standards? And what exactly am I supposedly doing differently? Once again, the accusations are deliberately vague, with no specific wrongdoing identified and no direct explanation provided. The result is a psychological double bind in which the person subjected to the accusations is expected to search endlessly for something they supposedly did wrong. I regard these accusations as part of the psychological pressure surrounding the repeated encounters I have described across the United States and internationally. The central contradiction is that I am expected to accept responsibility for supposed offenses that nobody will identify, while the conduct of those confronting and accusing me escapes the same scrutiny.
The irony is that some of the individuals confronting, yelling at, or provoking me in public ended up appearing in my video recordings precisely because I was documenting those encounters. Yet the resulting accusations reversed the circumstances, portraying me as the person harassing others with a camera rather than examining the confrontations that led me to record. The person attempting to document the harassment becomes the accused, while the people initiating the confrontations are presented as victims. Instead of addressing what actually occurred, the existence of the recording itself becomes another supposed offense, reinforcing the same endless cycle of accusation, provocation, and reversed responsibility that runs throughout this account.
The same pattern extends far beyond photography. It begins with something as simple as purchasing a camera, buying a car, taking a college class, working on an automobile, exercising at a gym, visiting a coffee shop, pursuing artistic interests, or developing a relationship. These are ordinary, constructive activities that millions of people engage in every day. Yet in my account, each becomes another occasion for accusations, confrontations, and what I describe as retaliation extending into increasingly broad social circles, including encounters I have experienced across the United States and internationally.
The most disturbing part is the reversal of responsibility. Someone engages in an ordinary activity, another person objects or initiates a confrontation, and the person attempting to continue their life or document the incident becomes the accused. “Look what he’s doing to us” becomes the convenient justification, while the original confrontation, the actual context, and the conduct of those making the accusations are pushed aside.
Consider the difference between the statements “He carried a camera” and “He harassed people with a camera.” The first describes an ordinary fact. The second alleges misconduct. They are not interchangeable, and no amount of repetition makes them interchangeable. The same applies to owning a car, exercising frequently, attending college, dating, or pursuing a creative profession. Someone else’s suspicion or disapproval does not transform these activities into crimes.
The larger problem is what happens when these accusations are circulated and repeated without anyone examining their accuracy. An ordinary photograph becomes an accusation of harassment. A routine visit to a public business becomes an allegation of inappropriate behavior. A disagreement becomes a supposed threat. A defensive reaction becomes evidence of aggression. Each account can then be stripped of the circumstances that preceded it, leaving only a negative characterization of the person being accused.
I have encountered this problem repeatedly since around 5 years old, hence Brian Weaver death threats “It’s a public shaming” showing his motive in their rotating false narratives for 49 years described throughout this article. I am not talking about a single disagreement between two people. I am describing approximately twenty-five years of near-daily encounters, including repeated provocations, hostile confrontations, threats, and disputes over ordinary activities. The experience has extended across workplaces, restaurants, coffee shops, public streets, personal relationships, and other environments where I should have been able to conduct my life without continually defending myself against unexplained accusations.
I have also described the circulation of accusations through broad social environments, including people and institutions extending beyond my immediate community. The possibility that private information has been improperly collected or distributed is especially serious when the resulting accusations concern criminality, dangerousness, or mental illness. What should be examined is the source of the information, whether the accusation is true, and whether important context has been deliberately excluded.
An accusation becomes particularly destructive when the person making it refuses to identify the supposed offense while insisting that the accused deserves punishment. The result is an impossible standard: everything I do can become another accusation, yet nothing I say can resolve an accusation that nobody will clearly explain. In the end it is clearly designed to create the appearance of mental illness, when none exists out of hate.
This is precisely the hypocrisy behind Brian Weaver’s public-shaming narrative with the Perelman family and their Judicial and Police friends. The supposed wrongdoing begins with something harmless, but the resulting condemnation becomes vastly more serious than the original event. In the process, my ordinary activities are treated as offenses while the conduct of those confronting or accusing me escapes equivalent scrutiny.
The Ultimate Contradiction: When Evidence of Victimization Becomes Another Reason for Retaliation
Perhaps the most disturbing contradiction in this entire situation is the hostility I have encountered from police officers, judicial employees, and individuals associated with the psychology community when I attempt to document and expose the misconduct directed against me. Instead of addressing the recorded provocations, confrontations, threats, and interference with my ordinary activities, attention repeatedly shifts toward my reactions, my efforts to collect evidence, and my refusal to remain silent.
I have spent years documenting encounters that interrupt my ability to work, socialize, pursue hobbies, visit public establishments, and otherwise live an independent life. Yet the act of documenting these incidents becomes another subject of condemnation. The person trying to establish what happened is treated as the problem, while the conduct being documented is pushed aside.
This is particularly disturbing when police officers or judicial employees respond with hostility rather than examining the evidence. A person who records a threatening encounter, challenges a false accusation, or demonstrates that an incident has been presented without its original context should not face greater scrutiny simply for defending themselves. Yet that is the recurring contradiction in my experiences. Instead of addressing the accuracy of the accusations, the attention shifts toward why I am recording, why I am speaking publicly, why I am challenging official accounts, or why I refuse to accept negative characterizations of my behavior.
The reversal is especially troubling when photographs, recordings, or other documentation contradict the account being used against me. A recording can preserve the words spoken, the order of events, and the actions that preceded a confrontation. If that record is ignored while the final reaction becomes the entire story, the resulting judgment is fundamentally distorted.
Evidence that should help establish whether I was subjected to wrongdoing becomes another source of conflict with institutions responsible for protecting people from wrongdoing.
My account involves much more than isolated disputes. I have described approximately twenty-five years of near-daily provocations, confrontations, threats, and psychological pressure, extending from public businesses and community encounters into disputes involving police and the judicial system. These experiences have led me to examine the circulation of damaging personal information and accusations across increasingly broad social networks, including connections I associate with people throughout the United States and internationally.
What makes the situation so disturbing is the double standard. When I attempt to continue an ordinary activity, the activity becomes another subject of criticism. When I document a confrontation, the documentation becomes the offense. When I challenge an accusation, the challenge itself becomes another example of supposedly inappropriate behavior. Yet the conduct that initiated the confrontation receives little or no comparable attention.
This is the psychological double bind running throughout my account. I am expected to accept accusations that remain undefined, endure the resulting consequences, and refrain from questioning the people responsible. But when I speak, record, investigate, or defend myself, those efforts become additional reasons for condemnation.
The family dimension introduces an additional concern. My brother Jason Perelman and the longstanding family conflicts dating back to childhood are central to this history. The involvement I attribute to family members, including my sister-in-law Jennifer Pilchick Perelman, raises questions about the circulation of psychiatric characterizations and personal accusations beyond the immediate circumstances in which they originated. The important question is whether those characterizations were used to discredit my reports of mistreatment instead of examining the incidents, recordings, and evidence themselves.
The fundamental issue is accountability. If evidence contradicts an accusation, the accusation should be reconsidered. If a recording documents a provocation, that provocation should not disappear while the resulting reaction is treated as the entire event. If an official report contains inaccurate information, the discrepancy should be addressed rather than defended through another damaging characterization. And if someone circulates false statements about my mental health or conduct, those statements should be examined for accuracy rather than accepted because of the speaker’s professional standing or family connections.
The ultimate hypocrisy is that the people claiming the authority to judge my behavior have, in the encounters I describe, directed extraordinary hostility toward my attempts to defend myself while the wrongdoing I am reporting remains unaddressed. The same individuals who demand accountability from me must be prepared to answer for their own statements and actions. Public shaming cannot become a justification for suppressing evidence, punishing legitimate complaints, or treating the person reporting mistreatment as the offender.
Jennifer Pilchick Perelman: Political Connections, Legal Circles, and the Perelman Family’s Judicial Relationships
My sister-in-law, Jennifer Pilchick Perelman, is the wife of my brother Jason Perelman. Jennifer is not simply a family member expressing private opinions. She is an attorney who entered the political arena, running for the United States Congress in Florida twice, in 2020 and 2024. Her professional and political activities place her within legal and political circles, making the circulation of accusations concerning my character and mental health particularly important.
Her family background adds another connection to the legal profession. Her father, Jay Pilchick, has been associated with court-reporting services in Florida. This is particularly noteworthy in the broader context of my account because I have also had disputes involving people connected to the legal and judicial professions, including court reporter Debbie Wollman, whose property adjoins my townhouse and who has connections to the Van Nuys courthouse.
I have described statements attributed to Jennifer, including communications among politically and legally connected acquaintances concerning the idea that I should be portrayed as mentally unstable. These statements are particularly important to my account because of the repeated use of psychiatric terminology to dismiss my reports of mistreatment rather than address the actual incidents, recordings, and evidence. My concerns also involve Jason and the longstanding family conflicts that preceded my adult encounters with police and the judicial system.
Jennifer’s congressional campaigns and legal career are relevant parts of her public professional history. Her father’s reported court-reporting background and the relationships I have described provide additional family context. Those professional connections do not independently establish improper access to judicial resources or participation in misconduct. The central question is whether particular communications or actions contributed to false accusations, interference, or attempts to discredit evidence.
What makes these relationships significant is the contrast between the professional responsibilities associated with law and the conduct at issue in my account. Attorneys, police officers, judicial employees, and others involved in the administration of justice are expected to recognize the importance of evidence, due process, and the distinction between an accusation and an established fact.
The geographical distance also raises a fundamental question about personal autonomy. Why should relatives or acquaintances living in Florida or elsewhere possess any authority over my career, relationships, personal decisions, or daily activities in California? What legitimate interest would justify influencing how strangers, employers, community members, or officials perceive my character? And why should another person’s disapproval of my choices outweigh the actual facts?
Psychiatric labels should not become weapons in personal or family disputes. Professional relationships should not become substitutes for proof. And political influence should not determine whether someone’s account of wrongdoing receives a fair examination.
If someone has evidence of criminal behavior, they should identify the conduct and provide the evidence. If someone has a legitimate personal complaint, they should explain it. But vague psychiatric labels, moral judgments, and reputational accusations cannot replace facts.
The issue is not whether Jennifer pursued a political career or whether her family has professional connections to the legal system. Those activities are lawful. The issue is whether personal accusations concerning me have been repeated or used in ways that interfere with my ability to defend myself and live independently.
The hypocrisy remains the same: why should people with legal knowledge, professional influence, or political connections be able to condemn my ordinary life choices while refusing to apply the same standards of truth, fairness, and accountability to their own conduct?
Political influence does not make an accusation true. A legal career does not establish moral superiority. Family relationships do not give anyone authority over another adult’s lawful decisions.
No one becomes judge, jury, and executioner because they possess a law degree, know people in government, run for Congress, or have relatives working within the legal profession. The same standards of evidence, accountability, and individual rights must apply to everyone.
Kelly Hatch: Intentional Coincidences, Southern Oregon State College, and Permission Changes the Story
To understand the out of context motive, intent, disinformation, defamation of character and behaviors involving Kelly Hatch and everyone else working with the Police, and Government to remove children from society out of hate, it is important to explain who she was, where she came from, and how she entered my life. Kelly attended Calabasas High School, the same high school I attended in California. We were not friends, did not belong to the same social circles, and had virtually no relationship or meaningful interaction during high school. Yet after I graduated and went away to college, Kelly appeared at the same relatively small institution I had chosen: Southern Oregon State College in Ashland, Oregon.
The circumstances surrounding my selection of Southern Oregon State College are particularly important. My mother, Anita Perelman, told me that she had college counselors who could recommend schools for me to attend. Rather than independently researching and selecting colleges entirely on my own, I was presented with a limited collection of recommendations, including approximately three schools in California and one in Oregon. I was young, following the guidance presented to me, and did not give much thought to the implications of those recommendations. I selected the school in Oregon, effectively choosing the out-of-state option from the list I had been given.
When I arrived at Southern Oregon State College, I encountered a young woman whom I vaguely recognized. We began talking, and she mentioned that she had attended Calabasas High School. It turned out to be Kelly Hatch, someone from my own high school whom I had barely known and had no reason to expect to encounter in Ashland, Oregon.
At first glance, the situation could be dismissed as a coincidence. Two students from the same Southern California high school happened to attend the same college in Oregon. But as I later examined the recurring encounters, accusations, and unusual relationships throughout my life, the circumstances surrounding Kelly became particularly significant. My college selection had been influenced by recommendations arranged through my mother, and someone from my former high school, with whom I had no established friendship, had independently appeared at the same institution.
I call these situations “intentional coincidences”—encounters that initially appear accidental but later become significant because of the circumstances surrounding them and the interactions that follow. The distinction is important: an apparent coincidence does not, by itself, prove that an encounter was arranged. What makes Kelly’s presence relevant to my account is the subsequent conduct, the disputed interpretations of ordinary interactions, and the recurring pattern of familiar individuals appearing in different stages of my life over and over nonstop with the same disinformation methods to try to get reactions, discredit, isolate, and try to create the appearance of mental illness or instability connected to illegal police operations to remove from society out of insecurity, hate, and fear.
One incident out of countless incidences involving Kelly and others illustrates precisely how harmless conduct can be transformed into a completely different accusation which applies to almost every aspect of my life since a young age. I was installing a car stereo in the parking lot in my Saturn and needed an X-Acto knife from her art supplies. I asked Kelly whether I could borrow hers. Her response, as I remember it, was direct: “Go in my room, you know where it is. The door is open.” She explicitly gave me permission to retrieve the knife.
There was nothing extraordinary about the interaction like every other countless events for 49 years. I was installing a car stereo with a plastic 1 din stereo plate which needed a hole cut in it, needed a tool, asked to borrow it, and received permission to retrieve it. That should have been the entire story. But remove the permission and disseminate false stories worldwide, and a completely different narrative can be constructed to create worldwide lynch mobs out of someone’s hate for a young child with the Police, and their Judicial friends. “I entered Kelly’s room” is not the same as “I entered Kelly’s room without permission.” The first describes an ordinary action whose circumstances still need to be understood. The second accuses someone of crossing a boundary without authorization. Omitting a single sentence—“Go in my room, you know where it is. The door is open”—can transform an innocent interaction into the appearance of trespassing, stalking, or other misconduct.
This is why the Kelly Hatch incident has remained significant in my account of the false narratives and accusations surrounding my life. It illustrates a recurring pattern in which ordinary, harmless interactions become the basis for serious negative characterizations, while the facts that explain those interactions are conveniently omitted. Someone gives me permission to enter a room, but the resulting accusation suggests that I entered without permission. Someone invites me somewhere, but the invitation disappears, and my arrival is portrayed as suspicious. Someone initiates a confrontation, but the resulting account focuses exclusively on my defensive reaction while ignoring the provocation that preceded it. In each case, removing the original context transforms an ordinary interaction into the appearance of wrongdoing.
What makes this pattern especially disturbing is the response I have encountered whenever I attempt to address these contradictions, explain what actually occurred, or obtain a direct answer. Instead of discussing the facts, I am met with statements such as “Nothing is going on,” “You’re imagining it,” “You’re too sensitive,” “You suffer from paranoia,” “You’re schizophrenic,” “You think differently,” or “You know what you did.” Yet the supposed wrongdoing is never clearly identified. There is no specific accusation that can be examined, no direct explanation, and no meaningful opportunity to resolve the dispute through ordinary, mature communication. The conversation is repeatedly redirected away from the events themselves and toward accusations about my mental health, personality, or supposed inability to understand reality.
Yet the police continue arresting me on charges that were falsified by the Los Angeles Police Department, while repeated provocations, harassment, and instigation are used to portray me as crazy, dangerous, or mentally ill. This escalated after around 2001 after noticing the mass stalking networks and asking Michael Patrick Huntley what was going on with his death threats with the Police and Judicial System: “World of paranoia,” “Have a good life now,” and “We’re using the judicial system against you.” With more than twenty criminal charges that were falsified by the Los Angeles Police Department, alongside years of documented confrontations and provocations. The central issue is the use of my reactions to these encounters as grounds for further arrests, psychiatric labeling, and attempts to remove me from society, while the conduct that provoked those reactions remains unaddressed.
The hostility has extended far beyond vague accusations to include direct death threats, alongside what I describe as an extraordinarily large network of stalking and harassment groups involving members of the Perelman family, police officers, and individuals across the United States and worldwide. Including the explicitly racist “No relaxing for you, nigger” for kissing a black girl at 8 years old and “You had better accept what’s going on, or it will get a lot worse.” These statements are not explanations of wrongdoing. They are intimidation, and the racial language makes the first statement particularly degrading. When a person attempts to resolve a dispute and instead receives threats, ridicule, or demands for unquestioning acceptance, the situation has moved far beyond any legitimate disagreement about behavior.
Another disturbing aspect is the use of suggestions about extraordinary importance, secret organizations, or supposed hidden meanings. I have been in nonstop encounters that are designed to encourage speculation about being part of something larger, only for questions about those encounters to become another reason to portray me as paranoid, delusional, or suffering from schizophrenia. Asking someone to explain an ambiguous statement is not the same as claiming membership in a secret organization. Likewise, refusing to accept an unexplained accusation does not establish mental illness. Ambiguous remarks cannot, by themselves, prove that anyone deliberately engineered such an impression, but neither should psychiatric labels be used to evade direct questions about identifiable conduct.
The contradiction is extraordinary. I am asking ordinary questions, attempting to reconstruct events, identifying missing context, documenting confrontations, and seeking direct explanations. Meanwhile, the responses include anger, threats, shifting accusations, personal condemnation, and refusals to discuss the original facts. The person seeking an explanation is portrayed as irrational no matter how obvious the situation, while the refusal to explain the accusation is treated as perfectly acceptable. That is the psychological double bind running throughout this account.
The larger concern is the cumulative effect of this pattern, extending from childhood into approximately twenty-five years of near-daily experiences that I have described as psychological harassment and intimidation. But the central issue does not require every encounter to have the same explanation: ordinary conduct must be judged according to what actually happened, not according to accusations manufactured by removing permission, invitations, context, or the conduct that preceded a reaction.
The wider issue involves the collection and circulation of personal information. Individuals possessed information about my earlier relationships, conversations, interests, and activities that they should not have had because they were not directly involved. In the case of Kelly, the chronology dates to approximately 1991, before the World Wide Web became widely accessible. Information circulated through personal relationships, telephone calls, institutional records, letters, and local social networks. The absence of modern social media did not prevent gossip, false accusations, and coordinated harassment from occurring.
Negative accounts of my interactions with Kelly were circulated to other students, community members, and authorities. These circumstances reflect what I call the “cry-wolf victim game”—a situation in which an ordinary or permitted interaction is subsequently portrayed as threatening or improper, placing me in the position of defending conduct that was never wrongful to begin with. Kelly’s presence and actions fit into the broader pattern involving individuals connected to earlier family and community conflicts, including police and government contacts.
The pattern continued at the University of Colorado through situations involving invitations, open doors, vehicles, and people whose circumstances shared similarities with earlier encounters. These incidents connected back to what happened at Southern Oregon State College. An innocent request to borrow an X-Acto knife became associated with accusations of inappropriate behavior, just as taking a photography class became associated with accusations of harassment or pursuing an ordinary relationship became grounds for accusations of wrongdoing.
The central issue is not whether Kelly Hatch and I happened to attend the same college. It is how an ordinary acquaintance from Calabasas High School became connected to a series of interactions whose original facts were straightforward, yet were subsequently distorted through false accusations, missing context, and the circulation of damaging information that is unexplained and worldwide.
The same question applies throughout the history of public shaming in this article: why should an ordinary, lawful interaction become the foundation for a vastly more serious accusation? Why should permission be ignored? Why should I be denied the opportunity to explain what happened? Especially on insignificant situations in which no one could care less about. And why should an accusation receive more attention than the facts that directly contradict it?
Intentional coincidences, selective omissions, and distorted narratives are central to this pattern. But the decisive fact in this particular incident remains simple: I asked Kelly Hatch to borrow a tool, and she told me to go into her room and retrieve it because the door was open. That permission changes the entire story.
University Of Colorado Internet Chat, a Jeep guilt and idea of reference, and Similar Encounters
During my time in University of Colorado around 1994, a woman I met through Internet Relay Chat (IRC) in the #Colorado Channel, who wanted me to know she drove a Jeep, like Kelly hatch, invited me to a residence and told me the door was open and that I did not need to knock. I knocked anyway, and a Black man answered the door. When I asked for the woman, he told me that nobody by that name lived there. This was not an ordinary invitation gone as expected. The circumstances raised serious concerns about whether I had been deliberately directed to the wrong residence, potentially placing me in a situation where entering without knocking could have resulted in accusations of trespassing or breaking and entering.
The invitation, references to a Jeep, and later encounters shared striking similarities with the earlier Kelly Hatch episode. A Gothic-looking young woman in my astronomy class, with a darker, olive-brown complexion and long, straight black hair, subsequently moved into the room directly above mine. Her appearance, including her dark hair, complexion, and overall style, reminded me of Kelly Hatch. Ironically, when I lived in Emerald Hall at Southern Oregon State College in 1991, Kelly Hatch had also lived directly above me on the second floor. The similarities in their appearances, the fact that both women lived directly above me, and the recurring circumstances involving vehicles became particularly noticeable. On one occasion, I noticed that the woman in Colorado had left her keys in her car door.
What made this especially significant was a story Kelly Hatch had previously told me. According to Kelly, someone had stolen her Jeep Cherokee, driven it to downtown Ashland near the Oregon Shakespeare Festival, and left the keys in the vehicle. The similarities involving the Jeep, the keys, the open-door invitations, and the women living directly above me became part of what I describe as recurring attempts to create associations between unrelated encounters and earlier people in my life.
These incidents raised the disturbing question of whether individuals were deliberately imitating circumstances from my past to provoke reactions or encourage interpretations that could later be characterized as paranoia, schizophrenia, or ideas of reference. The possibility of such manipulation is particularly serious when police officers or mental-health professionals become involved, because an ordinary response to a confusing encounter can be presented without the circumstances that prompted it.
But why would anyone deliberately attempt to manufacture the appearance of mental illness in another human being? The concern at the center of my account is the use of psychiatric accusations as a justification for exclusion, coercive intervention, and removal from society—not the treatment of an actual medical condition.
This is not about a single incident or an isolated coincidence. The history I am describing extends back to approximately 1977, when I was five years old, escalating over decades into what I have experienced as near-daily provocations, hostility, intimidation, and psychological harassment across increasingly broad social environments throughout the United States and internationally. The frequency and magnitude are central to the situation. At some point, the issue is no longer simply questioning one unusual encounter but documenting the repetition of hostile interactions, unexplained accusations, and people responding with anger and rage when I attempt to address what is happening.
One recurring explanation has been that people are merely “teasing” me, or that my reactions demonstrate mental illness. But teasing ordinarily occurs within an identifiable social interaction. These are not necessarily my friends, acquaintances, or people with whom I have any established relationship. I encounter strangers in public places, including locations far removed from my home, all across the United States, and Worldwide communications across the Internet, and the question becomes why their behavior sometimes resembles earlier hostile encounters. If someone in Mississippi makes a hostile remark, what connects that person to a disagreement I had in California and forty years ago? What information did they actually possess, and where did it originate? Those are questions about the circumstances, not proof that every stranger belongs to the same operation.
My mother, Anita Perelman, once responded with the expression, “We don’t know what came first, the chicken or the egg.” My response is that I reject the suggestion that my attempts to defend myself created the original accusations. The central issue is the lies, hostility, and disinformation I have been challenging, not my refusal to accept them. Noticing unheard of violating behaviors in 2001, was met with from Michael Patrick Huntley “World of Paranoia”, then the answer is obvious. That Mike Huntley since 14 years old was involved in something highly illegal and unheard of. If a damaging narrative is deliberately circulated among large groups, it does not spontaneously create itself. Someone must originate the information, others must distribute it, and its accuracy must be examined. The responsibility belongs to those who create and knowingly spread false accusations—not to the person attempting to correct them.
That is why the scale of the public-shaming narrative matters. When accusations appear to follow someone across different communities and over many years, the essential questions are who originated them, which individuals actually circulated them, and whether the same false information was repeated. A campaign of deliberate disinformation would require identifiable acts of creation and distribution; it cannot be justified as harmless teasing merely because those participating call it a joke.
The concrete facts remain essential. I was invited to a residence and explicitly told not to knock, but I knocked anyway. A man answered and said the woman did not live there. Earlier, Kelly Hatch had given me permission to retrieve an X-Acto knife from her room. These were actual conversations and actions, not admissions of wrongdoing. An invitation is not trespassing, and permission is not breaking and entering. These incidents form part of a recurring pattern of provocations, distorted accusations, and attempts to portray ordinary behavior as criminal or evidence of mental illness. The pattern has escalated over decades, accompanied by increasing hostility, anger, and retaliation, including more than twenty police charges that were false or fraudulent, repeated arrests, disputed trials, and additional accusations built upon earlier ones. I trace the origins of this treatment to approximately age five, nearly forty-nine years ago, and my objections did not create the original conflict. The more these accusations accumulate, the greater the consequences of acknowledging the damage done to my life. Rather than addressing that damage, the hostility intensifies when I defend myself or challenge the official accounts. The central issue is not my reaction to the accusations, but the escalating punishment, the failure to correct false records, and the refusal to hold those responsible accountable.
A University Of Colorado Roommate’s Gay Guest: Declining an Advance Is Not Wrongdoing
During my years at the University of Colorado, my roommates brought a gay man home who appeared interested in me. I had not sought him out, met him at a bar, flirted with him, or expressed any romantic or sexual interest in him. He simply showed up, entered my room while I was preparing to sleep, lay down on the floor, and asked me what I was thinking about. I was not interested in pursuing anything with him. There was no Dialogue, foreplay, no sexual encounter, and no relationship. Nothing happened beyond that brief interaction. Other then him laying on my floor, and asking me what I was thinking about.
Yet this ordinary exercise of personal choice became another source of accusations portraying me as supposedly homophobic, hateful, angry, or prejudiced against gay people. I subsequently encountered hostility, confrontations, and remarks that I associated with these accusations, particularly involving gay employees at Starbucks whom I experienced as stalking, harassing, and provoking me; employees and customers at other coffee shops; gay neighbors lashing out at me with anger and rage; and individuals in social environments across different locations.
What makes these encounters particularly disturbing is the extraordinary passage of time and geographical distance separating them from the original incident. Some occurred ten to twenty years later, in entirely different states, involving people who had no apparent connection to the insignificant encounter during my college years. Yet I continued encountering accusations and hostility that I associated with the same supposed wrongdoing, raising serious questions about how information concerning an ordinary private interaction could have circulated so widely and persisted for so many years.
The magnitude of these experiences raises a much larger question: How does an insignificant encounter from someone’s college years become associated with sweeping judgments about their character, appearing years or decades later in different communities, states, and social environments? The issue is not merely the original accusation, but the apparent persistence and renewal of negative characterizations long after the circumstances that supposedly justified them have passed.
This is central to the pattern I am describing throughout this article. I trace the origins of these accusations and negative labels to an extremely early age, with later incidents becoming additional entries in an expanding collection of supposed behavioral offenses. The labels do not simply disappear with time. They can be repeated, revived, and presented to new groups of people as though they represent established facts, even when the original circumstances have been distorted, stripped of context, or never properly explained.
The result is a potentially endless cycle in which each new encounter becomes another opportunity to revive an old accusation, introduce additional allegations, and condemn someone for events that occurred years or decades earlier. Rather than examining the original facts, the accusation itself becomes the enduring narrative, while the person being accused is repeatedly forced to defend the same ordinary decisions against new people in new places.
An accusation does not become true because it survives for twenty years, crosses state lines, or is repeated by successive groups of people. Repetition is not corroboration, and the passage of time does not transform a distorted account of an innocent interaction into evidence of wrongdoing.
Obviously Not being sexually or romantically interested in one gay man does not mean I hate gay people. Nobody is required to have sex, date someone, or enter a relationship to satisfy another person’s expectations. The same freedom I claim for myself belongs to everyone else, regardless of sexual orientation. Turning an unreciprocated advance into an accusation of homophobia or hatred is an extraordinary distortion of what actually happened.
And once again, this is supposedly justified as “public shaming” because of “my behavior.” But what behavior? Absolutely nothing inappropriate, criminal, or even remotely significant occurred. A man I had never pursued romantically or sexually entered my room, expressed interest, and I did not reciprocate. That was the entire encounter. Yet I subsequently faced accusations portraying me as homophobic, hateful, angry, or prejudiced. This illustrates the broader problem of defamation and disinformation: taking an insignificant event, stripping away its context, inventing wrongdoing, and turning the resulting fiction into an attack on someone’s character.
The same negative portrayals have repeatedly surfaced in the hostile encounters I have experienced across different social environments, raising serious questions about the circulation of accusations through Internet-based propaganda, whisper networks, and other channels extending far beyond the original participants. The problem is not simply that someone might have misunderstood an encounter. It is the repeated transformation of ordinary personal decisions into supposedly serious moral or psychological offenses, followed by hostility toward my attempts to explain what actually happened.
Each new accusation adds another supposed offense to an expanding narrative portraying me as dangerous, hateful, or psychologically unstable, while the underlying events reveal nothing remotely resembling those characterizations. The supposed wrongdoing begins with something as insignificant as declining an unwanted romantic or sexual advance, yet the resulting condemnation becomes vastly more serious than the original interaction.
The hypocrisy is extraordinary. Other people are free to decide whom they date, whom they sleep with, and whom they reject. Nobody ordinarily expects a person to justify their lack of romantic interest to an entire community, much less strangers in coffee shops or people in other states and countries. Yet the public-shaming narrative attempts to turn that same personal freedom into a supposed behavioral offense when I exercise it.
The central question remains: how does declining a romantic advance become evidence of hatred, dangerousness, or mental illness, and why should anyone have the authority to punish me for it? Just like kissing a black girl around 1980 when I was approximately eight years old at Sunny Skies Day Camp. The original encounter involved no wrongdoing, no victim, and no legitimate reason for unheard of methods of punishment. But the accusation becomes another justification for hostility under the endlessly repeated excuse: “It’s your behavior.”
Garrett at Starbucks, 2005: “It’s Your Transgressions”—The Hypocrisy of Self-Appointed Judges and Executioners
But what transgressions? Was someone objecting to a photograph, a friendship, a date, or the fact that I returned to a coffee shop regularly? Why not say what the offense was? Even if someone had genuinely behaved badly, unrelated people would not gain the right to threaten or harass, stalk in mass groups, and do whatever it takes to remove them from society with daily attacks with the Judicial System. Garrett’s phrase implied guilt but supplied no specifics, just as the other statements did. It left me to guess at an accusation I had never been allowed to answer.
Consider a date where someone yawns. The other person thinks they are bored. The person explains they are tired. Even if the explanation is rejected, the parties can simply stop dating. Nobody acquires authority to conduct a prolonged campaign of punishment over a misunderstanding. The same is true when a coffee-shop employee dislikes someone’s feet resting on a chair. A reasonable request—“Please take your feet off the chair”—addresses the issue. Transforming it into a judgment about the person’s entire life is disproportionate.
Around 2005, Garrett, a Starbucks employee, made the threatening statement, “It’s your transgressions.” During that period, I was encountering frequent, sometimes near-constant provocations, hostility, and psychological harassment in coffee shops, including Starbucks and other establishments. Some encounters involved employees, while others involved customers whose behavior became confrontational. These experiences continued across numerous locations for years, forming part of what I describe as an increasingly widespread pattern of psychological terror, intimidation, and attempts to interfere with my ordinary life.
But here is the much bigger question: Has Garrett, or anyone else involved in the hostility I have encountered over the past forty-nine years, ever stopped to question whether organizing groups to stalk, terrorize, threaten, or attempt to remove another human being from society is morally or ethically acceptable? What could possibly justify that kind of conduct? Even if someone had committed a genuine offense, that would not give strangers the right to become vigilantes, administer punishment, or threaten someone’s life.
Garrett was not my friend. He was a Starbucks employee inserting himself into my personal life and passing judgment on supposed “transgressions” without identifying a single specific offense. What transgressions? What did I supposedly do? What information was he relying upon, and who gave him the authority to judge or punish me? His statement was not an explanation. It was an accusation presented as though my guilt had already been established and no further discussion was necessary.
The hypocrisy is that Garrett’s statement places the supposed wrongdoing entirely upon me while leaving the morality of the punishment unquestioned. If the harassment and threats I have described were being carried out deliberately by groups of people, their conduct would not become acceptable because someone claimed I had committed an unspecified transgression. The individuals making accusations would remain responsible for their own actions. The seriousness of harassment, intimidation, or threats cannot be erased by pointing toward someone else’s supposed imperfections.
This contradiction extends far beyond Garrett. Throughout my life, I have encountered accusations and negative characterizations involving family members, teachers, acquaintances, police officers, judicial employees, and people in public establishments. Yet the recurring response has been another version of the same vague condemnation. Brian Weaver called it “a public shaming.” Michael Patrick Huntley said “World of paranoia” and “We’re using the judicial system against you.” My father, Ron Perelman, said “You know what you did.” My mother, Anita Perelman, said “Your past caught up with you.” Garrett called it “your transgressions.” Each statement implies that I deserve consequences while refusing to identify the supposed wrongdoing or explain why the treatment itself should be considered acceptable.
And what are some of the ordinary activities that have become subjects of these accusations? Taking photography, Graphics, Art, Internet technologies, IT, Server Architectures, choosing a career, talking to women, dating, pursuing relationships, visiting coffee shops, exercising, taking walks, or engaging in innocent childhood interactions or any type of interaction to this day with their increased hostility. The supposed offense can change from one encounter to another, but the underlying expectation remains that I should accept condemnation without receiving an explanation.
Even if any or every accusation were true, it would not authorize anyone to stalk, terrorize, torture, threaten, Incarcerate, or kill another human being. That is the moral distinction missing from the public-shaming justification. People do not acquire the authority to become judge, jury, and executioner merely because they disapprove of someone. A group does not acquire that authority because its members share the same anger. And a person’s supposed past does not give strangers permission to commit crimes against them.
The most disturbing implication of Garrett’s statement is the apparent willingness to excuse mistreatment through an undefined accusation. I cannot establish from those three words alone what Garrett knew, intended, or supported. But his statement offered no condemnation of the hostile conduct I was encountering, no explanation of the supposed transgressions, and no meaningful attempt to address the circumstances. Instead, the responsibility was placed upon me.
That is the central hypocrisy: the person being condemned is expected to answer for every imagined imperfection, while the people condemning him are not subjected to the same moral scrutiny. Their supposed justification is always that I did something wrong. But the question they refuse to confront is whether their own conduct is wrong.
A person’s past does not grant anyone a license to destroy their future. An accusation does not establish guilt. Personal disapproval does not create legal authority. And public shaming does not transform threats, intimidation, or deliberate cruelty into justice.
The question Garrett’s statement never answers is not merely “What were my transgressions?” It is “Why would anyone think another person’s supposed transgressions gave them the right to inflict punishment in the first place?”
Brian Longbotham: “Stop Doing What You’re Doing,” Hollywood Productions, and the Manufacturing of False Narratives
Brian Longbotham was originally my visual-effects supervisor at Modern Video Film, where I worked on television and Hollywood productions, including projects associated with Universal Studios. Among the productions I remember were two pilots. Hollyweird and another pilot called Spy Game. Our relationship began professionally, but Longbotham subsequently presented himself as a friend after I left the company. His involvement became significant in the broader history of encounters, provocations, and situations that I associate with attempts to portray my ordinary activities as criminal, obsessive, inappropriate, or evidence of mental illness.
One of Longbotham’s particularly strange statements was “Stop doing what you’re doing.” Stop doing what, exactly? We had known each other for years, worked together professionally, and maintained what appeared to be a friendship. I was not engaged in any identifiable wrongdoing when he made the remark, and he provided no specific explanation. Was he referring to my career, my personal relationships, my photography, or something else entirely? The statement was another vague accusation that placed me in the position of having to guess what I supposedly needed to stop doing.
This was not an isolated example of the cryptic language I encountered. Statements such as “What do you do?”, “Keep doing what you’re doing,”, “You know what you did,” and “Your past caught up with you” repeatedly appeared in encounters that I experienced as hostile or confrontational. The words themselves can be ordinary, but when an accusation is implied without identifying an offense, the person receiving it is left with nothing concrete to address. The speaker can subsequently deny that anything unusual was said, while the recipient is criticized for attempting to understand the exchange.
Longbotham’s involvement became especially significant because of his connections to Hollywood productions, visual effects, media, and photography. I have described a recurring pattern in which encounters involving films, television, celebrities, or artistic activities became associated with negative interpretations of my behavior. The result was a series of situations that raised questions about whether ordinary professional and creative interests were being used to portray me as someone who supposedly conformed to media, confused fiction with reality, was abusive, rude, an asshole, or exhibited symptoms of psychiatric instability.
My concerns also involve the way Longbotham maintained a personal connection after our professional relationship ended. What appeared to be friendship became entangled with encounters involving businesses, work opportunities, photography, and accusations about my behavior. The recurring problem was the transformation of ordinary activities into supposed evidence that I was reckless, rude, dangerous, obsessive, a public nuisance, or psychologically unstable. Rather than identifying an actual offense, the negative characterization seemed to change according to the circumstances.
One particularly significant example involved photography and an encounter concerning actors Martin Sheen and Téa Leoni around 2005. Brian Longbotham suggested, “Let’s go to Starbucks and play paparazzi,” after which the actors appeared and I was encouraged to photograph them. Given that Longbotham was my former visual-effects supervisor and had been hiring me for jobs at Universal Studios, the timing and circumstances raised serious questions about whether he had arranged the encounter. More importantly, Martin Sheen and Téa Leoni are public figures, and my right to engage in lawful photography in public places is protected by the First Amendment to the United States Constitution and Article I, Section 2(a) of the California Constitution. California Civil Code § 3344(d) also protects qualifying news and public-affairs uses of photographs without requiring the subject’s consent. I was not a paparazzo, but even if I had been, taking lawful photographs of celebrities, including photographs sold for editorial purposes, would not constitute a crime merely because the subjects were famous. I regard Longbotham’s suggestion and the subsequent accusations as an attempt to stage another situation that could be used against me on these nonstop rotating 49 year insignificant situations that normally no one could care less about.
But the much bigger question is why was Brian Longbotham involving himself in these situations with a young artist and technology professional who had come out of college and was simply trying to establish a career and figure out what he wanted to do with his life? Why would my ordinary interests in visual effects, Hollywood productions, and photography become opportunities for accusations rather than professional development? And why would someone who originally supervised my work and later presented himself as a friend continually become associated with encounters that placed my behavior under scrutiny with worldwide groups of strangers?
This is the same fundamental contradiction illustrated by the gay visitor my roommates brought home at the University of Colorado. I was not interested in pursuing a relationship with him, and nothing happened. Yet I subsequently encountered accusations about homophobia, hatred, and inappropriate behavior that bore no resemblance to that brief interaction. The same principle applies to taking a photograph, choosing a career, or kissing a Black girl when I was approximately eight years old. These are ordinary personal experiences, not extraordinary offenses warranting punishment or social exclusion.
The recurring issue is the inflation of insignificant events into sweeping accusations about my character. Brian Longbotham used the expression “laundry list” in connection with behaviors and activities, a phrase that captures the accumulation of supposedly objectionable conduct. A photograph becomes harassment. A rejected romantic advance becomes hatred. An innocent childhood kiss becomes a supposed character defect. Ordinary activities are repeatedly reinterpreted as evidence that I am obsessive, dangerous, psychologically unstable, or somehow criminal.
I have described the broader pattern as accusations and negative characterizations extending through social networks across the United States and internationally, with each new controversy adding another item to the supposed laundry list. The central question is how harmless, isolated experiences could become grounds for accusations so wildly disproportionate to what actually occurred—and why the people making those accusations are not held to the same standards of truth and accountability. Nothing about a lawful photograph, an unwanted romantic advance, or an innocent childhood interaction justifies threats, harassment, psychiatric labeling, or attempts to remove someone from society. The supposed offense keeps changing, but the public-shaming excuse remains the same: “It’s your behavior.”
What makes this example important is its relationship to the earlier photography incidents. Around 1995–1996, I was simply completing a University of Colorado photography class with Chad Bower’s borrowed Canon AE-1. Mike Wexler, originally a friend of my brother Jason, made the strange statement, “You’re not allowed to take pictures of people.” Years later, around 2004, I purchased an inexpensive digital camera to experiment with photography as a hobby. I subsequently discovered online accusations portraying me as someone who harassed people with a camera. The actual activities were ordinary photography, professional creative work, and the documentation of confrontations occurring around me. The real unspoken problem is, that these mass groups already know of me, and are looking for methods to remove me from society, just like Kelly Hatch. Told to cry wolf, and rile up the masses worldwide with newer and newer fabrications.
The recurring reversal is that I engage in a lawful activity, encounter a confrontation or an unusual request, and then face accusations portraying the activity itself as misconduct. Photography becomes harassment. Professional interest in media becomes supposed confusion about media. Maintaining friendships becomes inappropriate association. Accepting work opportunities becomes suspicious behavior. And when I question the accusations, the questioning becomes another supposed symptom.
I have connected these incidents to the broader pattern of public shaming, psychological harassment, and reputational attacks that I trace back to childhood. These encounters involve professional colleagues, friends, public businesses, community members, and police, with similar accusations arising across different locations and periods of my life. The recurring pattern involves conglomerating, rotating “cry-wolf” accusations that continually build upon one another, creating an expanding archive of disinformation and distorted personal information that I have linked to public shaming across increasingly broad social networks, including internationally. The result is a supposed laundry list of wrongdoing available for others to repeat or use against me whenever they encounter me, while the original facts and context are ignored. The important distinction is between what actually occurred and the increasingly distorted accusations being attached to those events.
The relationship with Longbotham is particularly relevant because he knew me personally and professionally. He was not a stranger drawing conclusions from an isolated encounter. He had worked with me in visual effects, knew my technical and artistic interests, and later maintained a personal relationship. That history makes the unexplained statement “Stop doing what you’re doing” especially important. If he had a legitimate complaint, he could have identified it directly. If he objected to a particular action, he could have explained which action. Instead, the statement added another unresolved accusation to the recurring pattern. However this relationship was no different then any of the other people who latched onto me with ill intent since a young age with ulterior motives.
And once again, we return to Brian Weaver’s explanation: “It’s a public shaming.” Publicly shamed for what? Working in Hollywood? Participating in television productions? Developing an interest in photography, Internet technologies, Web Development, Visual FX, Computer Networking and IT. Dating women he didn’t approve of? Photographing someone after being asked, or studio photography with people? Purchasing an inexpensive digital camera? None of those activities inherently constitutes criminal or psychiatric misconduct.
The central hypocrisy remains unchanged. Someone else’s personal interpretation of my career, photography, friendships, or creative interests does not establish wrongdoing, and it certainly does not authorize intimidation, fabricated accusations, death threats, or attempts to exclude me from society. The facts of each incident matter more than a negative narrative attached afterward. If someone claims that I committed an offense, they should identify the actual conduct rather than use vague insinuations and psychiatric characterizations to turn ordinary human behavior into something it never was.
The far more disturbing explanation is personal hatred and retaliation disguised as public shaming, moral judgment, or law enforcement. In 2013, Officer Toro confronted me in Encino and, as I recall, threatened, “If you ever take a picture of a person, I’ll exercise the law in my own way.” That statement is particularly significant in the context of the earlier photography accusations and my longtime relationships with Paul Humphrey, Michael Patrick Huntley, and Brian Weaver. Humphrey had been my friend since approximately age fourteen and later became associated with LAPD and private security work around 1998, following the period when Huntley and my family encouraged my return from the University of Colorado. These relationships and events form an important chronology of the hostility and police encounters I have described.
What makes more sense: that ordinary photography, friendships, career choices, and harmless personal activities somehow justified extraordinary punishment, or that personal hostility was being used to rationalize conduct that would otherwise be recognized as abuse? The latter is the explanation I find far more consistent with the threats, confrontations, and shifting 49 years of worldwide exponentially growing accusations and stalking groups I have documented with the Police and Judicial. The statements and chronology raise serious questions about the motives of the individuals involved, although they do not independently establish an agreement to kill me. Personal hatred is not legal authority, and no amount of resentment gives anyone the right to become a vigilante, threaten another person’s life, Manufacture criminal accusations, or use police powers to settle a personal grievance. But what makes this even more disturbing is that it all began when I was around five years old with illegal Police monitoring.
Twenty-Five Years of Near-Daily Encounters Across Ordinary Life Since Notifying the Police, Community, and Global Stalking Operations To Remove Me From Society
The frequency and duration are not background details. I am describing approximately twenty-five years during which I have encountered repeated hostility while trying to carry out ordinary tasks: having coffee, working, meeting people, exercising, walking, shopping, or sitting somewhere to relax. Some days the incidents have seemed to occur one after another, and the apparent similarities have made it difficult simply to distance myself from one particular person.
I have interpreted some encounters as possible signs that negative stories about me were circulating across wide social circles, including online communities. I have used the word “worldwide” because of how broad the experiences have seemed to me. That description is about the scope I have been trying to explain; it does not independently establish that strangers in every location belong to a single organization. What matters for public accountability is determining which concrete allegations were circulated, who circulated them, and what each participant actually did.
Whether the conflict involves one individual or many, nobody should be expected to satisfy limitless behavioral demands. I cannot avoid every public place, abandon exercise, stop talking to women, cease making art, or surrender independent thought merely because someone might dislike a lawful choice.
The Internet, Personal Information, and the Expansion of Worldwide Public Shaming
I was involved with the Internet during its early expansion into public use around 1994, experimenting with basic Telnet sessions, command-line interfaces, and online communication systems before graphical browsers and WYSIWYG web-development tools became widely available. Around 1995, I began writing HTML by hand, learning how websites operated and exploring emerging Internet technologies. This was the era of AOL, Prodigy, EarthLink, Internet Relay Chat (IRC), and later ICQ, when people were beginning to communicate and establish relationships across cities, states, and countries in ways that had previously been much more difficult.
During this period, my brother Jason Perelman repeatedly encouraged me to explore the developing Internet. He would suggest websites, online communities, and chat systems, telling me to check out particular places or technologies. At the time, I was interested in computers, programming, graphics, web development, and meeting people through these new communication systems.
What makes Jason’s involvement particularly significant is the much longer history of family conflicts, surveillance-related statements, and psychiatric accusations that I trace back to approximately 1977, when I was five years old and Jason was seven. I remember him making disturbing statements during our youth, including “Me and my friends put a teacher in a mental institution” and references to listening to everything I did over the radio or having a bug in my room. These remarks became important alongside my later encounters with people connected to my brother’s friendships and social circles, including Michael Patrick Huntley and Paul Humphrey.
The arrival of widely accessible Internet communication introduced an entirely new dimension to this history. What had previously involved family members, childhood acquaintances, school environments, and local communities could now potentially extend through online networks reaching people across the United States and internationally. Instead of information traveling primarily through personal relationships and word of mouth, conversations, accusations, photographs, and personal details could circulate through chat rooms, websites, emails, and online groups.
During the 1990s, I began encountering increasingly strange behavior through Internet chat rooms, friendships, parties, dates, and other social interactions. I recognized that certain individuals were behaving unusually and exercised ordinary common sense when dealing with people who appeared dishonest, manipulative, or potentially dangerous. But I had no understanding of the magnitude of what was happening. The possibility that these encounters could extend beyond individual disagreements into something involving coordinated groups, private information, and attempts to set me up or frame me was so far outside normal human experience that I had no reason to interpret them that way at the time.
It was not until approximately 2001 that I began recognizing how consistently these abnormal situations appeared in my interpersonal relationships. Encounters that should have been ordinary repeatedly developed into strange confrontations, misleading invitations, unexplained hostility, or situations in which my conduct could be portrayed negatively. I recognized the unusual behavior, but I did not yet understand how the separate incidents might be connected or why similar situations kept recurring.
For example, a woman I met through Internet chat told me she drove a Jeep, invited me to a residence in the Denver area, and instructed me to enter because the door was unlocked. When I arrived, I knocked instead, and a man answered who said the woman did not live there. At the time, I regarded it as another bizarre encounter with someone behaving dishonestly. I did not immediately connect it to Kelly Hatch in Oregon, the earlier Jeep-related incidents, or the similarities involving invitations and open doors. Those connections became part of my later examination of the events, rather than something I understood when they occurred.
The critical distinction is that I recognized individual warning signs long before I understood the broader pattern I was trying to explain. Ordinarily, when someone behaves strangely, you distance yourself and move on. You assume that person is dishonest, eccentric, or simply someone you do not want in your life. But avoiding individual encounters did not resolve the recurring conflicts I experienced. Instead, the hostility continued across different relationships and locations, eventually becoming entangled with police encounters, disputed accusations, and what I describe as attempts to provoke reactions that could be used against me. By 2001, the repetition had become impossible for me to dismiss as merely a series of unpleasant personal disagreements, even though the precise connections and motivations behind those encounters were not yet clear.
This became especially significant because I was using the Internet for ordinary social and professional purposes. I wanted to meet people, develop friendships, pursue relationships, learn technology, and establish a career. Yet I repeatedly encountered situations in which those ordinary activities became associated with accusations about my behavior, personality, supposed dangerousness, or mental health. The same negative narratives that concerned me in childhood and adolescence seemed to reappear in increasingly varied social environments.
The broader pattern raised serious questions about whether my brother’s Internet recommendations and overlapping social connections had contributed to the circulation of information about me. I have examined the possibility that earlier family narratives were being repeated through online communities, gradually expanding the audience for accusations and making it increasingly difficult to separate my personal relationships from the reputational disputes surrounding them.
The distinction is between using the Internet to build a life and having ordinary Internet activity transformed into another reason for public condemnation. Visiting a website is not wrongdoing. Participating in IRC is not evidence of mental illness. Meeting a woman online, attending a party, or going on a date does not establish that someone is stalking, harassing, or threatening another person. These are normal activities, yet they repeatedly became subjects of suspicion and negative interpretations in my experiences.
The Internet also made it possible for false accusations to be preserved and repeated long after the original circumstances had been forgotten. Private conversations could be selectively quoted, ordinary interactions stripped of context, and rumors circulated among people who had never met me, allowing them to form judgments without knowing what actually occurred. Over time, separate accusations accumulated into what I describe as an expanding “laundry list” of supposed behavioral offenses, with each new allegation building upon earlier claims rather than being examined independently. The result is an expanding collection of fictional and distorted information that I have associated with increasingly widespread social groups, including internationally, where accusations can be repeated and used against me without anyone examining their origins or accuracy. Almost everything I attempt to accomplish becomes another occasion for hostility, new accusations, and interference with my personal or professional goals. Meanwhile, the recurring explanation is that this is simply how the world works, that people are merely joking or teasing, or that I am responsible because of my supposed behavior. The cumulative effect is isolation, disruption of my ability to pursue ordinary ambitions, and repeated confrontations in which my reactions risk becoming the focus of police or judicial attention while the original accusations and provocations remain unaddressed.
The central issue is how damaging information originated, who circulated it, and whether it was accurate. My experiences have led me to examine improper access to private communications and the widespread dissemination of false narratives. Internet technology provides the means to collect, centralize, distort, and distribute personal information across enormous distances, creating an expanding archive of accusations that can follow someone throughout their life.
But here is the ultimate contradiction: the police and judicial system repeatedly respond as though nothing is happening, while the harassment, accusations, and interference I have documented remain unaddressed. I have challenged false criminal charges, disputed psychiatric characterizations, and repeatedly attempted to expose the conduct directed against me. Yet the attention shifts away from the circumstances disrupting my life and toward supposed defects in my behavior, personality, or mental health. The result is a devastating reversal of responsibility: I am condemned for the very difficulties and consequences I have been struggling to overcome.
Why would anyone sabotage another person’s ability to work, socialize, develop relationships, pursue education, their health, or otherwise live independently, and then punish that person for supposedly failing to live life to its fullest? Why interfere with someone’s opportunities and then portray the resulting difficulties as evidence that the person is defective, unstable, or incapable of functioning? That is not accountability. It is a circular justification for further punishment.
And even if I suffered from a mental-health condition, how would that justify harassment, false accusations, repeated arrests, or interference with my ordinary freedoms? Mental illness is not a crime. Depression is not a crime. Being different, vulnerable, or struggling with difficult circumstances is not a crime. Police officers and judges are responsible for applying the law to actual conduct, not punishing people for failing to satisfy someone else’s subjective expectations of psychological health or personal success.
This is the fundamental contradiction behind the psychiatric labeling and public-shaming narrative I have challenged since 2001. I trace the underlying conflicts to approximately age five, when I was a child who had committed no identifiable wrongdoing that could justify such treatment. The continuing question is why accusations about my mental health and behavior have been used to rationalize increasingly severe consequences while my reports of provocation, false accusations, and interference remain unresolved. If the stated objective is to help someone become healthy, independent, and productive, why would the methods being used make those very goals increasingly difficult to achieve? And why should the person subjected to that treatment be blamed for the resulting harm?
What began as family conflict and negative characterizations during childhood became increasingly entangled with the emerging Internet, my education, friendships, professional ambitions, and ordinary social activities. The recurring injustice is the transformation of harmless personal conduct into accusations that can spread far beyond the original encounter, while the person being condemned is denied a meaningful opportunity to correct the false narrative.
When Asking for Help Becomes Another Accusation
This is where the situation becomes particularly disturbing. When I go to the police for help, I encounter not only refusals to address the crimes I am reporting, even when I provide recordings and other evidence, but also additional confrontations, provocations, and behavior that I have described as psychological terror tactics. Instead of investigating the underlying incidents, the attention repeatedly shifts toward my reactions, my attempts to obtain answers, and accusations about my supposed mental health. The person reporting the wrongdoing becomes the subject of investigation, while the original complaint remains unaddressed.
The involvement of the Los Angeles Police Department’s Crisis Assessment and Management Program (CAMP) and Mental Evaluation Unit (MEU) makes these encounters especially serious. The 2017 LAPD investigative reports document coordination involving Senior Lead Officer Charles Sean Dinse, Officer Steve Norris, and CAMP and MEU personnel before the corresponding dispatch calls from community members were made. This chronology is critical because the police coordination preceded the very calls requiring their intervention.
My emphasis is on the chronology I identify in those investigative reports: the coordination I describe occurred before the corresponding community dispatch calls. I want the dispatch records, report entries, and communication timestamps compared directly, rather than having the advance planning reduced to a vague suggestion that personnel “appeared” ready. The reported timing is distinct from the further question of whether individual calls were fabricated or made as a result of deliberate provocation.
The sequence raises serious questions about the legitimacy of those dispatch calls and the purpose of the planned psychiatric interventions. My account is that community members were deliberately instigating, provoking, and harassing me to manufacture reactions that could then be used to generate false or fraudulent dispatch calls. Those calls would provide the apparent justification for bringing CAMP and MEU personnel into the situation to conduct psychiatric evaluations that were unwarranted.
The critical distinction is that the advance coordination is documented in the investigative reports, while the purpose and circumstances of that coordination must be examined alongside the underlying encounters and dispatch records. The issue is not simply whether CAMP and MEU personnel responded to a reported incident. It is why their involvement was being coordinated before the corresponding community dispatch calls occurred, and whether those calls were used to create a justification for interventions already being contemplated.
If the psychiatric response was being coordinated before the calls supposedly triggering it, what was the actual basis for the planned intervention, who initiated that coordination, and what role did the preceding community confrontations play in producing the dispatch calls? These are questions that should be answered through the investigative reports, dispatch timestamps, communications between officers and CAMP/MEU personnel, and the recordings of the underlying encounters.
This is the same psychological double bind running throughout my account. Repeated confrontations and provocations create opportunities for defensive reactions, while those reactions can subsequently be presented as evidence of aggression, obsession, paranoia, or psychiatric instability. Michael Patrick Huntley’s 2001 statement, “I’ve given you enough rope to hang yourself with,” is particularly significant in this context. The rope is the sustained provocation and the opportunity to collect a reaction, not merely my attempts to ask questions. When the events preceding that reaction disappear from police reports or psychiatric characterizations, the resulting account can reverse the roles of the person initiating the confrontation and the person responding to it.
I have faced repeated arrests and more than twenty criminal charges that were falsified by the Los Angeles Police Department and Police, fabricated, or unsupported by the underlying events. These proceedings have intensified my concerns about the use of police authority and psychiatric labeling to discredit my attempts to expose the treatment I have documented. I trace the original family conflicts and negative characterizations to approximately 1977, when I was five years old, with the situation escalating after my 2001 confrontation with Huntley. The central question is why seeking police assistance, presenting evidence, and challenging inaccurate accusations have repeatedly led to additional scrutiny and legal consequences rather than meaningful examination of the wrongdoing I reported.
If an individual has committed a crime, the police should investigate that crime. If a genuine psychiatric emergency exists, the appropriate response should address the actual circumstances. But a psychiatric label cannot substitute for evidence of criminal wrongdoing, and an arrest cannot legitimately serve as punishment for reporting misconduct or challenging an official account. The distinction is essential: the purpose of law enforcement is to investigate actual offenses, not manufacture an appearance of dangerousness by focusing on a person’s reactions while disregarding the events that preceded them.
Officer Jensen and Officer SLO Charles Sean Dinse, 2013, Jonathan Franklin, My Brothers BBQ Global Restaurant Harassment, Artistic Expression, and My Disputed Police Encounters
In 2013, I was sitting on a sidewalk holding a sign that read “Smeared for Creating Art,” protesting the nonstop provocations, harassment, and interference I had encountered while attempting to pursue my artistic career and ordinary daily activities. These included confrontations involving businesses, restaurants, coffee shops, gyms, and personal interactions, where photography, visual effects, and other forms of creative expression became subjects of criticism and accusations about my behavior.
The sign was particularly significant because I graduated from the University of Colorado with a Bachelor of Fine Arts and pursued a professional career in visual effects, computer graphics, animation, and digital media. Ironically, my mother, Anita Perelman, was an art therapist who had worked at Cedars-Sinai analyzing artwork created by troubled children. Her professional background became particularly significant to the psychiatric interpretations and accusations surrounding my own artistic expression. Rather than recognizing art as a normal part of my education, personality, and profession, I encountered characterizations suggesting that my artwork revealed psychiatric problems, dangerousness, or even supposed confessions of wrongdoing.
The protest was not only about visual art. The scrutiny I describe extended to ordinary expression, personality, movement, and time spent in public places: sitting with a laptop in a coffee shop, returning to the same business, walking, exercising, or remaining somewhere for a period that would attract little notice when another customer did the same thing. I describe this as an invasive form of micromanagement, in which the objection shifts from how long I am somewhere to the content of my work or another harmless activity. Those shifting standards are important to understanding why I protested.
This is where the hypocrisy becomes extraordinary. Millions of people create artwork, post photographs, share jokes, produce videos, and express themselves through social media every day. Some people appreciate the work, others dislike it, and most simply move on with their lives. Someone might say, “That’s hysterical,” “I love it,” “That’s not my style,” or “I’m not interested.” That is how ordinary people respond to creative expression. Yet throughout my life, virtually every form of artistic expression I produce, including college assignments, photography, visual effects, humor, and social media posts, has become another occasion for scrutiny, accusations, and hostile interpretations.
The Mike Tyson and Street Fighter Artwork: When Fiction Becomes a Supposed Psychiatric Confession
One particularly absurd example dates to approximately 1995–1996, when I was attending Professor Jim Johnson’s computer-imaging class at the University of Colorado. For an ordinary college art assignment, I created a digital composite depicting professional boxer Mike Tyson fighting a the Chun-Li character from the video game Street Fighter. The artwork was created for a small classroom of approximately thirty students and was simply an exercise in digital imaging, compositing, and creative expression.
Yet this fictional artwork later became associated with suggestions that I somehow identified as Mike Tyson, thought I was Mike Tyson, or was dangerous and schizophrenic because of the image. Creating a digital composite of a professional boxer fighting a fictional video-game character does not mean I think I am the boxer, identify with his personality, or intend to commit acts of violence. It is an art assignment, not a confession, a psychiatric diagnosis, or evidence of criminal wrongdoing.
A separate question about the image is the difference between a fictional creative composite and any allegation concerning permission to reproduce a photograph. A recognizable public figure is not automatically “public domain,” and copyright or publicity rights are distinct from a claim that creating fictional artwork is evidence of psychiatric illness. My point concerns the latter accusation: making a classroom composite of Mike Tyson and Chun-Li did not mean I identified as either character or intended the depicted violence.
What makes this example especially disturbing is the apparent circulation of information about artwork produced in a small college classroom. An assignment created for approximately thirty students became part of my concerns about private educational activities being scrutinized and interpreted outside their original setting. The supposed meaning attached to the image had little resemblance to the purpose for which it was created.
This is precisely the problem with treating fiction, symbolism, humor, or artistic imagination as literal evidence of an artist’s character or actions. Creating an image does not mean I committed the act depicted. Producing a fictional scene does not mean I identify with its characters. Referencing a movie, song, celebrity, or cultural subject does not establish that I conform to the media or confuse fiction with reality.
Creating artwork is not confessing to a crime. Photography is not evidence of obsession. And artistic expression is not proof of mental illness. Art can be imaginative, emotional, symbolic, provocative, humorous, or entirely fictional. Treating every artistic choice as a literal statement about the artist’s behavior creates an impossible standard, particularly when the interpretations are used to justify accusations rather than understand the work.
The recurring problem is that ordinary creative expression becomes associated with accusations of schizophrenia, ideas of reference, obsession, dangerousness, or confessions of imaginary offenses. The supposed meaning changes depending upon the artwork, while the actual purpose of the project is pushed aside.
Officer Toro, Studio Photography, and the Attempts to Turn Ordinary Activities Into Accusations
Instead of responding to the artwork itself, I encounter hostility, angry looks, intimidation, retaliation, and threatening behavior in reaction to both older artwork and newer creations displayed online, often without anyone identifying what I supposedly did wrong.
One particularly disturbing example was Officer Toro’s threat: “If you ever take a picture of a person, I’ll exercise the law in my own way.” This occurred in the context of my pursuit of studio photography and my interactions with Aubrey Fisher, who had befriended me alongside Rhodie Morales, my gym manager, whose connections to LAPD and Michael Patrick Huntley became central to my concerns.
Morales also attempted to get me to accept a trash bag filled with marijuana around 2001, before recreational marijuana was legal in California. The chronology is particularly important. Around 1996–1997, Michael Patrick Huntley had encouraged me to leave the University of Colorado and return to California to establish the Internet-hosting business Signet-e Services. Huntley subsequently encouraged me to join a specific World Gym location where, unknown to me at the time, a man suspected of committing murder in Europe and fleeing to California was reportedly under police investigation. At that gym, the manager, Rhodie Morales, befriended me, began taking me to strip clubs, and eventually offered me a trash bag filled with marijuana. I refused to take it. Morales never directly identified where the marijuana originated, but the surrounding circumstances raised serious concerns that it could have been LAPD-confiscated marijuana and that the objective was to get the drugs into my home, create the false appearance that I was a drug dealer, and provide grounds for an arrest, search, or additional criminal charges. The sequence is what makes this incident significant: Huntley encouraged my return from Colorado, directed me toward a particular gym, and a new acquaintance subsequently attempted to place a large quantity of illegal drugs in my possession. I connect these events to the broader history involving Huntley, members of the Perelman family, police encounters, and repeated attempts to turn my ordinary efforts to work, exercise, socialize, and build an independent life into opportunities for criminal accusations and potential setups.
Another example from my experience at the gym concerned remarks suggesting that exercising regularly meant I was obsessed or attempting to become like Arnold Schwarzenegger. I contrasted those insinuations with the ordinary reality of a gym where many people trained frequently, including serious weightlifters and competitors. If regular exercise is normal for other members, why would my own visits be assigned an entirely different psychological meaning? In my account, this is another example of an accusation changing to fit whichever activity I was pursuing.
The important distinction is that I was pursuing ordinary personal and professional interests, including photography, working out at gyms, building websites, developing friendships, pursuing relationships, and establishing a social life—not engaging in wrongdoing simply by trying to live my life.
Around 2001, my encounters involving Aubrey Fisher, Rhodie Morales, and the marijuana incident became part of the broader history of provocations, confrontations, and accusations that extended into nearly every aspect of my life. Ordinary encounters were repeatedly transformed into disputes, defensive reactions became the focus of criticism, and accusations about supposedly inappropriate behavior took precedence over the circumstances that produced the confrontations.
The same contradiction extends to expressions of warmth, friendship, and individuality. I have described how an innocent childhood kiss with a Black girl at approximately eight years old became significant to later accusations about my character, including suggestions of racism that directly contradict the nature of the original interaction. The same concern applies to friendships, dating, photography, and other ordinary activities through which people express their personalities and participate in society.
The recurring problem is the transformation of harmless or positive human behavior into negative accusations through interpretations that ignore what actually happened or what is. No one should be subjected to threats, criminal accusations, or attempts to remove them from society merely because another person assigns a hostile meaning to their lawful creative work or personal decisions.
Officer Jensen, Officer Dinse and the “Smeared for Creating Art” Protest
While I was sitting on the sidewalk with my “Smeared for Creating Art” sign in 2013, Officer Jensen approached and stated, “It’s illegal to sit on the sidewalk for longer than five minutes.” I challenged that assertion and asked for his badge number. Instead of resolving the encounter, I received a sidewalk-obstruction citation and additional criminal charges that were false, fabricated, and unjustified.
LAPD Senior Lead Officer Charles Sean Dinse also became significant to the subsequent police encounters and proceedings. I connect these events to earlier disputes involving My Brothers BBQ Restaurant and other public establishments, where I had encountered confrontations and accusations while attempting to carry on ordinary activities.
The significance of the sign was straightforward. I was protesting interference with my lawful artistic expression and ordinary life, yet the protest itself became the starting point for another criminal proceeding. Instead of addressing the circumstances that prompted the protest, the resulting police actions created another collection of accusations requiring me to defend myself.
This is the same problem illustrated by the Mike Tyson artwork. In one instance, I created a fictional image for a college assignment. In another, I held a sign protesting the treatment of my artistic expression. Both activities were forms of expression, yet both became significant to the accusations and psychiatric characterizations I subsequently challenged.
Jonathan Franklin, the Plea Agreement, and the CAMP/MEU Referral
My defense attorney in the 2013 case, Jonathan Franklin, subsequently became an important part of this history. Rather than resolving the underlying problem of the repeated community harassment, provocations, and confrontations I had been reporting, the case resulted in a plea agreement that I entered under false pretenses.
I recall Franklin stating, “I won’t say anything bad about a police officer.” But how can a defense attorney adequately defend someone against false police accusations if he refuses to challenge the officers responsible for making them? The same problem continued through subsequent legal representation, with my concerns about false reports, missing context, and official misconduct repeatedly left unresolved.
I was also provided contact information for LAPD’s Crisis Assessment and Management Program (CAMP) and Mental Evaluation Unit (MEU), supposedly as resources to help stop the harassment and address the problems I was reporting.
But that created an extraordinary contradiction. I was seeking assistance to stop the provocations, intimidation, and community harassment, not requesting a psychiatric assessment of myself. The supposed solution redirected me away from reporting the conduct of others and toward LAPD police units responsible for assessing my own mental health and behavior.
Instead of addressing the original complaints, the focus shifted toward whether I was psychologically unstable, paranoid, schizophrenia, obsessive, or dangerous.
This is why Franklin’s handling of the plea agreement and the CAMP/MEU contact information remains significant. I accepted arrangements under false pretenses, expecting help with the harassment I was reporting, while the practical result placed me in contact with police mental-health programs.
A defense attorney’s responsibility is to defend the client, not protect police officers from legitimate scrutiny. When an attorney refuses to challenge disputed police allegations, and the resulting proceedings focus upon psychiatric characterizations rather than the underlying evidence, serious questions arise about the fairness of the defense.
Subsequent Arrests, Psychiatric Evaluations, and the Escalating Legal Consequences
The situation escalated through subsequent arrests, additional police contacts, and attempts to subject me to CAMP and MEU evaluations. Particularly disturbing were incidents in which CAMP and MEU personnel appeared to have been notified or prepared to respond before the dispatch calls supposedly initiating their involvement right within the investigative reports.
That sequence raises the question of whether psychiatric assessments and arrests were arranged in advance, rather than initiated in response to legitimate emergencies or actual criminal conduct.
The same pattern continued through criminal proceedings in which I challenged charges and psychiatric characterizations that were based on false accusations, distorted circumstances, and reactions to provocations rather than actual wrongdoing.
A complaint becomes “aggression,” a question becomes “obsession,” and frustration becomes “dangerousness,” while the conduct that preceded those reactions disappears from the official narrative.
This is the psychological double bind that became central to my confrontation with Michael Patrick Huntley in 2001. I had begun confronting the troubling encounters and hostility surrounding my life, only to receive statements such as “World of paranoia,” “Have a good life now,” and “We’re using the judicial system against you.”
I trace the origins of the family conflicts and negative characterizations much further back, to approximately 1977, when I was five years old. The subsequent arrests, police interventions, and psychiatric referrals became part of my longstanding concern that the focus was not on resolving the original complaints but on finding additional grounds to restrict my freedom.
The significance of the 2013 proceedings is therefore much greater than the disputed sidewalk citation. The legal process, plea agreement, and subsequent referral to CAMP and MEU shifted attention away from the conduct I was reporting and toward psychiatric scrutiny of the person attempting to document and protest it.
This is where the roles of judge, jury, and executioner become particularly relevant. When police officers make accusations, defense attorneys refuse to challenge them, and judicial proceedings advance without adequately addressing contradictory evidence, the accused can be deprived of a meaningful opportunity to defend himself.
How can I receive a fair trial when the very people responsible for challenging the accusations refuse to confront the evidence that contradicts them?
The central contradiction remains unchanged: I was attempting to expose interference with my artistic expression, professional opportunities, relationships, and ordinary life, yet the resulting proceedings placed my own conduct under increasingly severe scrutiny while the original complaints remained unaddressed.
If the objective was genuinely to protect my health and safety or resolve the situation, why did the process repeatedly produce additional criminal and psychiatric scrutiny instead of addressing the evidence I was providing? And what legitimate purpose could be served by pursuing confinement over alleged behavioral problems that were never clearly identified?
SLO Charles Sean Dinse, LAPD Chief Michel Moore, Community Facebook Groups, and the Rex Schellenberg Case
I am not the only person to have raised serious accusations of misconduct involving LAPD Senior Lead Officer Charles Sean Dinse and the department under Chief Michel Moore. Other individuals who are targets and stalking victims of LAPD and their community terror operations to remove have also come forward with complaints concerning police harassment, intimidation, and the treatment of vulnerable members of the community.
One particularly significant example is Rex Schellenberg, who filed a federal civil-rights lawsuit in 2020 against the City of Los Angeles and LAPD officer Sean Dinse, Schellenberg v. City of Los Angeles, Case No. 2:20-cv-01313. The lawsuit concerned allegations of police participation in neighborhood Facebook groups, the circulation of information about homeless individuals, and disputed characterizations of Schellenberg’s mental health and personal circumstances.
This case is especially relevant to my account because it raises the same fundamental questions about police officers working with community groups, circulating damaging personal information, using psychiatric characterizations, and subjecting individuals to public scrutiny before any wrongdoing has been established. The central issue is whether police authority is being used to investigate actual crimes or to reinforce community accusations and prejudices against people whom certain individuals want excluded from public spaces. The allegations in Schellenberg’s lawsuit provide another documented instance of these concerns being brought before a federal court, although filing the lawsuit did not itself establish that every allegation was proven.
That controversy matters because Sean Dinse’s involvement extended beyond ordinary police patrols and individual encounters. As an LAPD Senior Lead Officer assigned to the Topanga Division, Dinse participated in neighborhood-watch activities, community meetings, Facebook groups, and online discussions where residents exchanged information about people they considered suspicious, troublesome, homeless, or mentally unstable. Dinse publicly promoted using social media as an extension of neighborhood policing, including Facebook and Nextdoor, allowing community members and police officers to exchange information about individuals and activities throughout Woodland Hills and the surrounding West Valley.
Two particularly controversial Facebook groups were “Crimebusters of West Hills and Woodland Hills” and “Homeless Transient Encampments of our West Valley.” These groups became the subject of complaints from homeless advocates and civil-rights organizations over the circulation of personal information, photographs, locations, accusations, and hostile commentary concerning individuals in the community. Reporting documented comments by group participants encouraging harassment and even discussing violence against homeless people. Dinse used these online environments to obtain information about individuals and communicate with residents, raising serious concerns about the boundary between legitimate neighborhood policing and community-driven intimidation.
The significance is that these were not merely private conversations between neighbors. Police officers were participating in groups where individuals could be identified, photographed, discussed, labeled, and reported to law enforcement before any criminal wrongdoing had been established. Dinse’s own public communications described the use of neighborhood-watch groups, Facebook, and Nextdoor to expand police-community information sharing. LAPD’s Neighborhood Watch program also provides a formal relationship between Senior Lead Officers, community meetings, block captains, and residents.
These concerns also make the scope of police collection and use of personal information significant. Any separate claims involving LAPD data mining, a 2023 investigation, or Chief Michel Moore should be supported by the specific report, date, and findings before they are added as established facts here. The central issue remains whether particular information-sharing practices crossed from legitimate police activity into unjustified profiling or interference with individuals.
The Rex Schellenberg case exposed the dangers of this arrangement. Schellenberg accused Dinse of circulating information about where he was staying, encouraging community reporting that could provide a basis for police intervention, and publicly suggesting that Schellenberg’s circumstances involved drug addiction or mental illness. These were allegations in federal civil-rights litigation, but they concerned identifiable Facebook activity and police conduct, not merely a disagreement over someone’s personality. The controversy became serious enough that LAPD ordered officers to stop participating in the Facebook groups in 2019, following complaints about threatening and violent comments.
This is particularly relevant to my own encounters involving Dinse, community members, disputed police charges, and psychiatric characterizations. The central question is how easily neighborhood-watch systems can move from reporting actual crimes to circulating accusations about individuals whom certain residents want removed from public spaces. When a police officer shares someone’s location, discusses their supposed mental health, or encourages community reporting, the consequences can extend far beyond online gossip. Accusations can influence police contacts, enforcement actions, reputations, and the treatment of individuals who have never been convicted of the supposed wrongdoing.
I have repeatedly challenged the use of community accusations, psychiatric labels, and police intervention in my own life. The Schellenberg controversy demonstrates that concerns about Dinse’s participation in these online groups were raised publicly by other individuals and civil-rights advocates as well. I can tell you firsthand that the treatment I have experienced is not about law and order. It is about power, popularity, personal prejudice, and groups attempting to dictate who belongs in a community and who does not. Someone dislikes your clothing, your car, your appearance, your hairstyle, or the fact that you haven’t shaved, and suddenly you’re treated as an undesirable. None of these things is a crime, yet personal disapproval becomes the justification for intimidation, public humiliation, repeated police complaints, and attempts to drive someone out of the community.
The fundamental question is when neighborhood policing became a means for self-appointed groups to decide who is welcome in society. I can state firsthand that I have experienced repeated stalking, harassment, provocations, and confrontations involving LAPD officers, including Charles Sean Dinse, and individuals associated with community groups. I have documented these encounters through extensive audio and video recordings, police records, and evidence collected over many years. LAPD personnel have worked with community harassment groups to target me, provoke reactions, manufacture criminal accusations, and justify removing me from ordinary society. This is not simply a disagreement about neighborhood policing or someone disliking my behavior. My case extends back to approximately age five, followed by twenty-five years of escalating encounters since 2001 with nonstop stalking groups since around 1977, and more than twenty criminal charges that were false or fraudulent. I have also described similar experiences across the United States and internationally. I am speaking about specific incidents I witnessed, recorded, and challenged, not merely expressing an opinion about police misconduct. The fundamental issue is why my complaints and evidence have repeatedly gone unaddressed while the daily accusations harassments, instigations, death threats, physical attacks, Assaults with deadly weapons against me continue to generate arrests, legal consequences, and interference with my life. Calling this law and order does not answer for the conduct I have documented or establish that the people involved acted lawfully.
Psychiatric Labels, the LPS Act, and the Claim That Punishment Is “Help” and the Modern Day Slave
I have encountered repeated statements suggesting that I needed psychiatric treatment without anyone providing a clear explanation of the conduct supposedly requiring treatment. Remember, Brian Weaver called it “a public shaming,” yet I was expected to figure out what I was being publicly shamed for, what I supposedly did wrong, and why I was being subjected to such extraordinary punishment. My mother, Anita Perelman, once told me, “Your past caught up with you.” When I later confronted her about the statement, she denied having said it. She also angrily provided me with a list of psychiatrists and instructed me to “tell them everything.” But everything about what? What specific wrongdoing was I supposed to confess to or address? A psychiatric referral cannot resolve an accusation that nobody is willing to identify.
Millions of people live with psychiatric diagnoses while working, studying, maintaining relationships, and participating in ordinary society. A psychiatric diagnosis does not automatically establish dangerousness or justify confinement. California’s Lanterman-Petris-Short (LPS) Act establishes legal standards and procedural protections for certain involuntary psychiatric detentions and conservatorships. It does not give relatives, acquaintances, police officers, or community groups the right to own another human being as though they were a slave, strip away their civil and human rights, or dictate every aspect of their existence. The mentality I am challenging is one of absolute ownership and domination: “You’re my property. You do what I tell you. You don’t buy a car unless I approve. You don’t eat what you want, go to sleep when you want, date whom you choose, pursue a career, or leave your house without my permission.” Under that mentality, psychiatric labels become an excuse to demand obedience and punish independence rather than a means of providing legitimate medical care. A mental-health diagnosis is not a deed of ownership, and involuntary treatment is not a license to enslave another human being or reduce them to someone else’s personal property.
Ironically, I trace this struggle over personal freedom back to childhood, including an innocent kiss with a Black girl when I was approximately eight years old and my father, Ron Perelman’s, statement, “Stay away from those people.” But who exactly are “those people”? The statement is so broad and undefined that it could apply to virtually anyone, regardless of race, friendship, relationship, or social background. It offers no reasonable explanation for whom I am supposedly forbidden to associate with or why. When that kind of vague disapproval becomes a justification for controlling every friendship, relationship, and ordinary human interaction, the result is not protection or guidance—it is social isolation. Taken to its extreme, such isolation becomes a form of social erasure: a person remains physically alive but is denied the freedom to participate in the very relationships and experiences that make life worth living.
The cruelest contradiction is the claim that this treatment is somehow intended to help me while the confrontations, accusations, and interference with my ordinary activities create the very distress subsequently used to condemn me. If the objective is to improve my health, why would exercising at a gym, taking walks, socializing, or pursuing creative work become another reason for criticism and punishment? If the objective is to resolve a supposed behavioral problem, why refuse to identify the problem? And if the purpose is genuine psychiatric assistance, why should criminal accusations, intimidation, or attempts to restrict my independence become substitutes for legitimate treatment?
The contradiction becomes even more disturbing when ordinary decisions are treated as evidence of psychiatric instability. Choosing a career, buying a vehicle, visiting a restaurant, pursuing photography, dating someone, expressing an opinion, exercise, hobbies, social lives, or simply leaving the house are normal aspects of human independence and freedom. Disapproval of those choices does not establish mental illness, and psychiatric terminology cannot legitimately be used to transform another person’s personal preferences into enforceable rules. Even someone with a genuine psychiatric diagnosis retains fundamental rights, including the right to make personal decisions except where specific, lawful limitations apply.
The psychological double bind becomes even more disturbing when nearly every ordinary activity is treated as though it were a criminal offense. I purchase a camera, work on a car, pursue artwork, speak to someone, go on a date, exercise at a gym, or simply leave my house, and another round of insinuations, accusations, hostility, or punishment follows. Especially with the Police, and people in the Judicial System “You know what you did,” “It’s your behavior,” and “It’s a public shaming” become endlessly repeated justifications, yet nobody identifies an actual crime. Instead, ordinary lawful activities are portrayed as wrongdoing, followed by the repeated arrests, criminal charges, psychiatric characterizations, and severe consequences I have challenged throughout my life.
But publicly shamed for what, exactly? Buying a camera? Repairing a car? Talking to someone? Expressing an opinion? These are not crimes. And even if someone had committed an actual offense, that would not give strangers, community groups, family members, or police officers the right to stalk, threaten, terrorize, or punish them outside the law. The conduct I have described raises a far more serious question than public shaming: when repeated threats, intimidation, deliberate psychological cruelty, and attempts to remove someone from society are justified through constantly changing accusations, is the objective really accountability, or is punishment itself the objective? The sentence, “It’s a public shaming” is a justification and excuse to stop someone from existing out of hate.
The distinction matters because intentionally organizing people to threaten or seriously harm another human being can involve criminal conduct far beyond defamation or ordinary bullying. California Penal Code § 182 addresses criminal conspiracy, including conspiracy to commit murder, while first-degree murder is governed by Penal Code § 189. Those offenses require proof of their specific legal elements, including the requisite intent; hostility or harassment alone does not establish murder conspiracy. But calling something “public shaming” cannot excuse threats, manufactured criminal accusations, deliberate psychological cruelty, or attempts on someone’s life. The people claiming the moral authority to condemn my ordinary activities must answer for their own conduct rather than hide behind vague accusations that never identify what I supposedly did wrong.
Help should reduce harm, protect individual rights, and support a person’s ability to live independently—not create an impossible psychological double bind in which every ordinary activity becomes another accusation and every attempt to defend oneself becomes another supposed symptom. The fundamental issue is the distinction between legitimate medical treatment and the use of psychiatric labels to justify coercion, domination, punishment, and the removal of another person’s autonomy. No psychiatric diagnosis gives another person ownership over my life, and no accusation of mental illness gives anyone the right to become my judge, jury, or executioner.
COINTELPRO, FBI, CIA, Zersetzung, MKULTRA, NSA Surveillance, and Historical Psychological Coercion
My search for language to describe and understand psychological terror, manipulation, behavioral conditioning, and the deliberate neutralization of individuals led me to several documented government programs: the FBI’s COINTELPRO, East Germany’s Stasi program known as Zersetzung, and CIA operations including MKULTRA, BLUEBIRD, and ARTICHOKE. Modern surveillance disclosures involving the National Security Agency (NSA) and the CIA’s Vault 7 materials introduce another dimension: the collection, analysis, and potential misuse of enormous quantities of personal information. Although these operations differed in their objectives and methods, they demonstrate that governments have developed and employed covert techniques to discredit, isolate, destabilize, interrogate, psychologically break down, and neutralize individuals. Neutralization which can also mean KILLING.
COINTELPRO, short for Counterintelligence Program, was an FBI operation beginning in 1956 that targeted organizations and individuals considered politically threatening or undesirable. Its methods included infiltration, spreading disinformation, creating conflict between people and organizations, damaging reputations, and disrupting legitimate activities. The objective was not always to investigate criminal wrongdoing, but to disrupt, discredit, and neutralize selected targets, including individuals exercising constitutionally protected rights. These abuses were later exposed through government investigations, and the FBI itself acknowledges that some operations attempted to discredit individuals and organizations despite little or no evidence of unlawful activity.
Zersetzung, developed by East Germany’s Stasi, was an especially disturbing form of covert psychological repression. Rather than relying exclusively on imprisonment or physical violence, the Stasi sought to undermine individuals psychologically and socially. Documented methods included spreading believable false accusations, damaging reputations, interfering with employment, destroying friendships, provoking distrust, encouraging social isolation, and deliberately engineering personal or professional failures. The purpose was to weaken an individual’s confidence, relationships, independence, and ability to function. German federal archives document methods intended to isolate, disorganize, and neutralize targeted individuals while concealing the government’s involvement.
MKULTRA, established by the CIA in 1953, involved experiments intended to investigate and influence human behavior. Researchers studied LSD and other drugs, hypnosis, electroshock, sensory deprivation, and methods of increasing suggestibility or psychological vulnerability. Some experiments were conducted on people without their informed consent. Particularly disturbing research supported through CIA funding involved prolonged drug-induced sleep, repeated recorded messages, intensive electroshock, and sensory deprivation. These experiments could produce severe psychological injuries, memory loss, and lasting harm rather than legitimate medical benefits. The program became the subject of congressional investigations, including a major Senate hearing in August 1977.
BLUEBIRD and ARTICHOKE, earlier CIA programs beginning around 1950, explored interrogation and behavioral-control techniques involving drugs, hypnosis, isolation, and psychological pressure. The objectives included making individuals more vulnerable to questioning, weakening resistance, and obtaining information through unconventional methods. Declassified records describe the investigation of chemical agents, hypnosis, and techniques intended to influence a person’s memory, resistance, or responses during interrogation. Rather than simply asking questions, these operations explored whether a person’s psychological or physiological condition could be altered to make them more susceptible to influence.
NSA surveillance and data mining introduced another level of technological capability. Documents disclosed by Edward Snowden beginning in 2013 exposed surveillance systems capable of collecting and searching extensive quantities of electronic communications and metadata. Programs such as XKeyscore enabled analysts to search collected information using identifiers such as email addresses, telephone numbers, IP addresses, and keywords. Metadata analysis could reveal communication patterns, relationships between individuals, and aspects of their electronic activity. These disclosures demonstrated the scale of electronic intelligence gathering and raised major questions about privacy, authorization, and oversight.
The significance of keyword flagging, electronic identifiers, and data analysis is that personal information can be collected, categorized, connected, and examined far beyond the context in which it originated. An email, private conversation, search term, website visit, photograph, or online interaction can become part of a much larger collection of information. But collecting a particular word, association, or communication does not establish criminal wrongdoing. A keyword is not a confession, an association is not a conspiracy, and a fragment of private information is not an accurate representation of someone’s character or conduct.
CIA Vault 7, published by WikiLeaks beginning in March 2017, exposed documentation concerning CIA cyber-espionage capabilities, including software vulnerabilities and tools designed to compromise computers, smartphones, and Internet-connected devices. The disclosures revealed the development of techniques for exploiting digital systems and obtaining access to information through compromised technology. Unlike the historical behavioral experiments of MKULTRA, Vault 7 concerned computer exploitation and intelligence gathering rather than a documented program of psychological conditioning.
What connects these historical programs and modern surveillance capabilities is the disturbing potential for information, psychological pressure, damaged relationships, compromised health, isolation, and manipulation to become instruments of coercion without relying exclusively on overt physical violence. A person can lose professional opportunities, friendships, independence, or psychological stability through deliberate interference, while those responsible conceal their involvement or justify the conduct through claims of security, investigation, public safety, or institutional necessity.
Modern technology adds another concern: the possibility of collecting private information, removing it from context, combining it with accusations, and circulating it among people who have no firsthand knowledge of the original events. The ability to collect and analyze information does not make that information accurate, and the ability to distribute an accusation worldwide does not make the accusation true. Nor does possession of private information give anyone the authority to use it for intimidation, defamation, or punishment.
The historical record establishes that these programs and capabilities existed and were actually used against human beings. These are not merely conspiracy theories or fictional scenarios; they are documented government operations involving surveillance, psychological manipulation, disinformation, coercion, and attempts to neutralize selected individuals and organizations. Their existence does not, by itself, establish that the same programs were used against me, but it demonstrates that such abuses of institutional authority have occurred. Especially with all the Illegal Arrests, Falsified LAPD charges, and Illegal Cases and Trials. More importantly, today’s technology provides far greater opportunities to investigate and expose misconduct than existed decades ago. Digital recordings, electronic communications, metadata, forensic analysis, archived websites, and searchable government records can help reconstruct events, trace the circulation of information, identify participants, and establish connections that would once have been extremely difficult to uncover. The question is no longer whether governments have ever employed these methods—history has already answered that—but whether evidence establishes that comparable tactics were used in a particular case.
The fundamental question is whether identifiable individuals engaged in threats, deliberate provocation, fabricated accusations, unauthorized surveillance, or psychological intimidation—and whether those actions were used to discredit someone, manufacture criminal accusations, or justify further intervention. Calling such conduct behavioral correction, psychiatric assistance, public safety, government neutralization, or Brian Weaver’s “public shaming” does not make it lawful or ethical. The actual conduct, its purpose, and its consequences remain the central issues.
And there is another fundamental issue: being instructed by police officers, government officials, family members, or anyone else to participate in criminal activity does not excuse personal responsibility. Every individual remains accountable for their own conscious decisions to threaten, stalk, intimidate, assault, seriously injure, or kill another human being. California Penal Code § 182(a)(1) addresses criminal conspiracy, including conspiracy to commit murder, when the required agreement, intent, and other legal elements are established. Penal Code § 182(a)(2) addresses conspiracies to falsely and maliciously cause another person to be arrested or charged with a crime. Simply being told to participate does not automatically establish conspiracy, but knowingly joining an agreement to commit a crime can and should carry criminal responsibility. Just because someone in authority tells you to hurt or kill another person does not make it acceptable, lawful, or morally justified. No police officer, government agency, family member, or self-appointed community authority can grant another person permission to commit murder or other crimes under the disguise of public shaming, behavioral correction, or following orders.
The Difference Between Stalking and a Criminal Conspiracy
I have used severe language because the conduct and harm I am describing have been severe. California Penal Code § 182(a)(1) addresses criminal conspiracies, including conspiracy to commit murder, eradicate or remove someone from society, while § 182(a)(2) addresses agreements to falsely and maliciously procure criminal charges or arrests. Conspiracy to commit murder requires proof of an agreement, intent to kill, and the other applicable legal elements. The significance of my account is not one hostile look, one false rumor, or one troubling coincidence. It is the accumulated history of relationships, threats, provocations, disputed criminal charges, and psychiatric accusations with mass mobs, helping to remove from society, extending from childhood through nearly five decades of my life.
The chronology begins with my brother, Jason Perelman, and the family relationships I trace back to approximately 1977, when I was five years old and Jason was seven. I remember Jason later making the extraordinary statement, “Me and my friends put a teacher in a mental institution,” along with references to having a bug in my room and listening to everything I did over the radio. These statements became particularly significant alongside the recurring psychiatric characterizations, accusations of paranoia, and threats of institutionalization that I encountered in later years. The central question is why people in my own family and social environment were introducing threats involving psychiatric confinement and surveillance long before any identifiable wrongdoing had been established.
Tom Farley, my first childhood friend, subsequently became another important figure in this history. Around 2001, Farley told me, “Kevin, you can’t control people.” Yet Farley and others had originally sought me out and established relationships with me. The contradiction is that I was attempting to pursue an independent life while challenging what I describe as attempts by people within my own social circle to control my decisions, relationships, behavior, and personal freedom. Friendship does not give someone ownership over another human being, and approaching someone under the appearance of friendship does not excuse later intimidation or coercion.
Michael Patrick Huntley and Paul Humphrey entered my life through overlapping relationships when I was approximately fourteen years old. Huntley was originally connected to Jason’s social circle, while Humphrey also had indirect connections to Jason Perelman through his older brother Joe Humphrey in Jason Perelman’s class at Calabasas High. Humphrey subsequently became involved with LAPD-related work around 1998 and private security activities. Huntley, meanwhile, had encouraged my return from the University of Colorado around 1996–1997 to establish Signet-e Services. By approximately 2001, I was confronting Huntley about the increasingly disturbing circumstances surrounding my life, only to receive statements including “World of paranoia,” “Have a good life now,” “We’re using the judicial system against you,” “You’d better live a careful life,” and “I’ve given you enough rope to hang yourself with.”
These overlapping relationships form the basis of my accusations concerning the involvement of family members, longtime acquaintances, police personnel, and people associated with the psychology community. The recurring issue is the attempt to turn ordinary behavior and defensive reactions into supposed evidence of paranoia, schizophrenia, obsession, dangerousness, or criminal misconduct. The accusations are particularly disturbing because they involve people who entered my life through friendship, family relationships, professional opportunities, and institutions supposedly responsible for protecting individual rights.
The psychological double bind is central to the alleged operation. Repeated provocations create opportunities for reactions. The reactions can then be presented without their original context as evidence of aggression, instability, or mental illness. The resulting characterizations can influence police encounters, psychiatric referrals, criminal charges, and judicial proceedings. The person attempting to defend himself becomes the accused. Even with simple first amendment freedom of speech. While the conduct that provoked the reaction disappears from the official narrative.
This is where the distinction between harassment, stalking groups and criminal conspiracy becomes especially important. An individual’s hostility, false accusation, or threatening statement may constitute misconduct without necessarily proving a larger agreement. But if identifiable individuals knowingly coordinate fabricated accusations, unlawful arrests, intimidation, or acts intended to seriously harm, remove from society, or kill someone, their conduct must be evaluated according to the applicable criminal laws—not excused as public shaming, psychiatric assistance, or community policing. Establishing conspiracy requires evidence connecting the participants to the agreement and its criminal objective.
The distinction between the ultimate objective and the acts used to pursue it is equally important. We may not know the exact reasoning behind a person’s conduct, but an effort to injure, confine, or eliminate another human being can involve multiple independently punishable acts along the way. Someone who strikes another person in the skull with a lead pipe may engage in conduct supporting an assault charge, a battery charge, or more serious charges depending on the evidence, intent, and resulting injury; a fatal attack can also implicate homicide laws. Physical contact is not required for every offense: knowingly falsifying information to procure an arrest, unlawfully restricting someone’s liberty, making criminal threats, or participating in an agreement to commit a crime can each raise different legal issues if the statutory elements are proven. The point is not that two crimes automatically occur in every incident, or that these offenses have already been established in my case. It is that an ultimate objective described as “removing someone from society” must not eclipse the separate acts used to pursue it. Each alleged assault, injury, fabricated police report, unlawful detention, threat, and agreement deserves its own evaluation, with evidence, chronology, and individual responsibility examined rather than folded into a vague label such as “public shaming.”
The basic moral argument requires no exaggeration. Nobody has the right to torment another human being, manufacture psychiatric or criminal accusations, or use police and judicial authority to enforce a personal grudge. Nor does being instructed by a family member, police officer, government official, or another person automatically excuse participation in criminal conduct. The absence of a physical blow does not make deliberate psychological abuse harmless, and the language of mental-health treatment does not transform intimidation or punishment into legitimate medical care.
The central question is whether the recurring accusations, threats, relationships, police interventions, and psychiatric characterizations reflect independent incidents or identifiable agreements to commit unlawful acts. My account brings those events together chronologically because the relationships and the sequence matter. The people who originally entered my life, the statements they made, the accusations that followed, and the illegal criminal proceedings I have challenged cannot be meaningfully understood by examining only my reactions while ignoring everything that preceded them.
The Ultimate Hypocrisy: The Accusers Must Answer for Their Own Conduct
Imagine someone condemning me for resting my feet on a café chair while circulating false information about me. Imagine someone objecting to a borrowed camera while violating my privacy. Imagine someone criticizing my frustration while refusing to identify the accusation that caused the argument. In each case, the supposed offense is minor, imaginary, or unproven, while the punishment being justified is infinitely more serious than anything I supposedly did wrong.
Consider another example. Someone drops a small piece of paper on the ground. Another person says, “You littered. I want a clean world, and I don’t approve of what you did. Therefore, we’re going to organize groups to stalk, terrorize, torture, and eventually kill you, or remove you from society because you deserve punishment.” Think about the staggering contradiction. Someone claims to care about keeping the world clean, moral, and ethical, yet considers deliberately destroying another human being an acceptable response to a minor act of littering. The piece of paper becomes the supposed moral offense, while the threats, psychological cruelty, and attempts to destroy someone’s life are treated as perfectly acceptable.
Which person is actually creating the greater harm? The individual who dropped a piece of paper, or the people willing to spend years intimidating, terrorizing, and attempting to destroy that individual over it? Even if the littering occurred, the response would be wildly disproportionate. And if the original accusation were fabricated, the entire justification would collapse before the punishment even began.
This is the fundamental hypocrisy behind Brian Weaver’s statement, “It’s a public shaming.” The people claiming to enforce morality are simultaneously excusing conduct far more destructive than the supposed wrongdoing they condemn. They claim to want a better society, but their proposed method of achieving it is to inflict suffering upon people who fail to satisfy their personal preferences. They condemn minor imperfections while overlooking threats, intimidation, false accusations, and abuses of authority.
What makes this even more disturbing is the involvement I have described of police officers, community members, politically connected individuals, and people associated with the judicial system, including my own sister-in-law, Jennifer Pilchick Perelman, an attorney who ran for Congress twice in Florida, in 2020 and 2024. These are people whose professional positions and public responsibilities should demand an understanding of law, morality, ethics, individual rights, and accountability. Yet the behavior I am challenging reflects the very opposite: the mentality that “I don’t like you, therefore I have the right to punish you, destroy your life, or even kill you.”
Under that reasoning, taking a walk after dark, choosing the wrong friends, pursuing an artistic career, buying a camera, exercising at a gym, or simply having a personality someone dislikes becomes another supposed justification for extreme punishment. That is not a moral or ethical standard. It is a vigilante mentality in which personal hatred replaces law, disagreement becomes guilt, and the individual claiming moral authority excuses conduct far more serious than the supposed offense. No police badge, political connection, law degree, family relationship, or position within the judicial system gives anyone the authority to threaten, terrorize, or kill another human being because they disapprove of that person’s lawful choices.
The same reasoning applies throughout my life. I take a photograph, attend a college class, work on a car, exercise at a gym, pursue a relationship, create artwork, or sit in a coffee shop, and another accusation follows. The supposed offense changes, but the justification remains the same: “It’s your behavior,” “You know what you did,” “Your past caught up with you,” or “It’s a public shaming.” Yet none of these statements explains how an ordinary activity could possibly justify the severe treatment I have described.
What makes this mentality especially dangerous is its rigid, black-and-white approach to morality. Someone decides that another person is bad, and everything that person subsequently does becomes evidence supporting the original judgment. Positive behavior can be portrayed negatively. An innocent mistake becomes a serious offense. A reasonable objection becomes aggression. An attempt to defend oneself becomes proof of instability. The accusation determines the interpretation of the facts, rather than the facts determining whether the accusation is justified.
When people adopt that mentality, meaningful communication becomes extraordinarily difficult. If they have already decided that someone deserves punishment, presenting evidence of innocence may not change their judgment. Instead, the evidence can be dismissed, the accusation can change, or the person’s attempts to defend themselves can become another supposed offense. This is the psychological double bind running throughout my account: the punishment continues while the explanation changes to accommodate it.
There is something profoundly disturbing about claiming to represent morality while treating another person’s suffering as acceptable or even desirable. A person who knowingly threatens, terrorizes, or seriously harms others over trivial disagreements is engaging in conduct far more dangerous than the minor behavior they claim to condemn. Such conduct should be judged by the threats and actions themselves, not excused through claims of moral superiority. The willingness to inflict cruelty is not evidence of righteousness, and psychiatric insults are no substitute for examining actual behavior.
This is the hypocrisy behind the saying “That’s the pot calling the kettle black.” The people judging me cannot exempt themselves from the rules they demand I follow. They cannot call a harmless choice criminal because it offends their tastes. They cannot convert insinuation into proof by repeating it. And they cannot assume that gathering a crowd gives them the authority of judge, jury, and executioner.
The involvement of people with professional authority makes the double standard even more serious. Police officers are entrusted with enforcing laws, not personal preferences. Judicial employees are expected to uphold the administration of justice, not substitute hostility for evidence. Attorneys and political figures should understand the difference between an accusation and a proven offense. And individuals associated with psychology or mental-health professions should recognize that having an unusual personality, pursuing an unconventional career, or disagreeing with someone does not automatically establish mental illness.
The issue is not whether someone holds an impressive professional position. It is whether that person behaves according to the ethical standards their position is supposed to represent. My criticism concerns the conduct and accusations I have described, including the involvement I attribute to particular individuals, rather than treating a professional title or political connection as proof of criminal participation.
The ultimate question is not whether I have ever made an imperfect choice. Every human being has. The question is how anyone could justify inflicting extraordinary suffering upon another person over supposed imperfections while refusing to recognize that their own threats, cruelty, and intimidation are morally and legally far more serious. That is not justice, accountability, or public safety. It is the use of moral judgment as an excuse for bullying, domination, punishment or execution.
If someone claims to want a better world while deliberately making another human being’s life unbearable, the problem is no longer the piece of litter, the photograph, the friendship, the clothing, the car, or the supposed transgression. The problem is the cruelty being justified in the name of morality. No matter how many people join in the condemnation, their numbers do not transform wrongdoing into justice or give them permission to harm another human being.
Conclusion: Public Shaming Is Not a License to Destroy a Life
In approximately 2001, I confronted my longtime friend and business partner, Michael Patrick Huntley, with a straightforward question: “Mike, what the hell is going on?” Instead of receiving an explanation, I encountered statements including “World of paranoia,” “Have a good life now,” “We’re using the judicial system against you,” “You’d better live a careful life,” and “I’ve given you enough rope to hang yourself with.” Brian Weaver supplied another explanation: “It’s a public shaming.” My father, Ron Perelman, said, “You know what you did.” My mother, Anita Perelman, said, “Your past caught up with you.” Garrett at Starbucks declared, “It’s your transgressions.” These statements carried accusations, hostility, and implied consequences, yet none identified the supposed wrongdoing or provided a reasonable opportunity to resolve it.
But a public shaming of what, exactly? Taking a photography class? Choosing a career in visual effects rather than aviation? Buying a camera? Exercising at a gym? Working on a car? Dating someone another person disapproves of? Creating fictional artwork? Taking a walk after dark? Declining an unwanted romantic advance? These are ordinary human activities, not offenses that justify intimidation, criminal accusations, psychiatric confinement, or social exclusion. Even where someone genuinely makes a mistake, the response must remain proportionate and lawful. Personal disapproval does not create authority to administer punishment.
The magnitude of my account extends far beyond these isolated examples. I trace its origins to approximately 1977, when I was five years old and my brother Jason Perelman was approximately seven. The history involves childhood relationships, family conflicts, statements about psychiatric institutionalization and surveillance, acquaintances who entered my life through my brother’s social circle, my education at Southern Oregon State College and the University of Colorado, and the circumstances surrounding Michael Patrick Huntley’s encouragement for me to return to California and establish Signet-e Services. By 2001, I was confronting the increasingly disturbing contradictions surrounding my life. Over the following twenty-five years, I experienced near-daily confrontations, accusations, and interference with ordinary activities across workplaces, restaurants, coffee shops, educational environments, public streets, and personal relationships.
The psychological noose is not simply the unanswered question. It is the repeated provocation and the attempt to turn my eventual reaction into evidence against me. A confrontation occurs, I attempt to understand or stop it, and the resulting objection becomes another accusation. An ordinary activity is scrutinized, a negative interpretation is imposed, and the interpretation becomes another item in an expanding laundry list of supposed behavioral offenses. Rather than correcting false information, subsequent accusations build upon earlier ones. The person attempting to defend himself becomes the subject of condemnation, while the conduct that prompted the response is omitted.
The development of Internet communications during the 1990s introduced another serious concern: the ability to collect, preserve, distort, and distribute damaging information far beyond the original participants. I have challenged the circulation of accusations about my relationships, photography, artwork, career, and ordinary social activities, including information appearing in online discussions and blogs. A private conversation taken out of context is not proof of wrongdoing. A fictional artwork is not a confession. A photograph is not evidence of obsession. And repeating an accusation through increasingly broad social networks does not make it true. The relevant questions remain who originated the information, what actually happened, and whether the resulting allegations accurately represent the original events.
The consequences became particularly serious when these disputes extended into encounters with LAPD officers, criminal charges, and psychiatric characterizations which are connected to the motive all the way down to early childhood showing their hate and obsession to get what they want. I have challenged more than twenty charges that were false or fraudulent, including proceedings arising from the 2013 encounter involving Officer Jensen while I was holding my “Smeared for Creating Art” sign. My concerns also include LAPD Senior Lead Officer Charles Sean Dinse, subsequent police encounters, and the handling of my defense by attorney Jonathan Franklin. Instead of resolving the underlying complaints, the proceedings resulted in further criminal consequences and referrals to LAPD’s Crisis Assessment and Management Program (CAMP) and Mental Evaluation Unit (MEU). The person reporting the alleged wrongdoing became the focus of criminal and psychiatric scrutiny, while the conduct being reported remained unaddressed.
The documented controversy involving Rex Schellenberg and Sean Dinse demonstrates why the relationship between police officers, neighborhood-watch groups, social media, and public accusations deserves serious examination. Police officers are entrusted with enforcing laws, not personal preferences. A community group cannot determine that someone is dangerous simply because members dislike their appearance, clothing, lifestyle, personality, or presence in a public place. Or simply just don’t like someone. The accumulation of public hostility does not establish guilt, and police authority cannot legitimately become an instrument for enforcing a neighborhood’s personal prejudices.
The same principle applies to psychiatric labeling. Millions of people with mental-health conditions live productive, independent lives. A diagnosis is not a crime, and it does not give family members, police officers, community groups, or judicial employees ownership over another human being. The mentality that “You’re my property, you do what I tell you, and you cannot live independently until I approve” is domination, not medical assistance. No psychiatric label grants someone the authority to dictate whom I date, what career I choose, what artwork I create, when I exercise, where I go, or whether I am permitted to participate in ordinary society. And deliberately creating distress cannot reasonably be defended as a method of helping someone become healthy.
This is where the historical examples of COINTELPRO, Zersetzung, MKULTRA, BLUEBIRD, ARTICHOKE, and modern surveillance disclosures become relevant. These documented programs demonstrate that covert interference, disinformation, psychological manipulation, unauthorized surveillance, and institutional abuses have occurred. They do not automatically establish the existence of a comparable operation in my case, but they demonstrate why misconduct cannot be dismissed simply because its methods are unconventional or psychological rather than physically violent. The absence of visible injuries does not make deliberate intimidation, coercion, or sustained psychological cruelty harmless.
The most serious question concerns motive and criminal responsibility. I have described conduct that I consider far more serious than ordinary public criticism, including death threats, disputed arrests, false accusations, and attempts to portray me as dangerous or mentally unstable. California Penal Code § 182(a)(1) addresses conspiracy to commit crimes, including murder, when the necessary agreement, intent, and legal elements are established. Section 182(a)(2) addresses conspiracies to falsely and maliciously procure criminal charges or arrests. No police officer, government official, judicial employee, family member, or community organizer can authorize another person to commit crimes simply by calling the activity public shaming, psychiatric assistance, or following orders. And no amount of personal hostility substitutes for the evidence required to establish a specific criminal offense.
In addition to disputed arrests and reputational accusations, my account includes reported physical assaults, threats with deadly weapons, threats against my life, and repeated confrontations that I describe as occurring day and night. I consider those concrete acts and their dates important in their own right; they should not be collapsed into a general description of public criticism or shaming. Each incident calls for examination of its evidence, participants, and possible legal consequences.
The greatest hypocrisy remains the moral authority claimed by the people making these accusations. Someone condemns a minor imperfection while excusing threats or intimidation. Someone objects to a photograph while disregarding privacy violations. Someone demands perfect behavior while refusing to explain the supposed offense. Someone claims to be helping another person while interfering with the activities that support an independent, healthy life. The people claiming to enforce morality cannot exempt themselves from the moral and legal standards they demand from everyone else.
I will not accept the premise that I must become a perfect robot to satisfy every stranger’s preferences. I do not lose my rights by pursuing art instead of aviation, exercising, taking photographs, building websites, buying a car, choosing whom to date, expressing kindness, or questioning an accusation. I am entitled to ordinary human independence, just as everyone else is. No family member, childhood friend, police officer, judicial employee, political figure, or self-appointed community authority possesses ownership over my life.
The original question remains unanswered: What exactly was the public shaming supposed to punish? If there was an actual offense, it should have been identified. If there was evidence, it should have been presented. If someone had a legitimate complaint, direct communication could have addressed it. Instead, my account concerns a continuing series of accusations whose supposed justifications change while the consequences accumulate.
“It’s your behavior” is not an explanation. “You know what you did” is not evidence. “Your past caught up with you” is not a criminal charge. “World of paranoia” is not an answer. And Brian Weaver’s “It’s a public shaming” is not permission to terrorize, intimidate, manufacture criminal accusations, or destroy another person’s independence.
The fundamental issue is not whether I have ever made an imperfect choice. Every human being has. The issue is why anyone would consider another person’s imperfections a justification for conduct that is morally and potentially criminally far more serious. You cannot claim to protect society from wrongdoing while excusing wrongdoing committed in the name of punishment. You cannot claim to help someone while deliberately interfering with their ability to live. And you cannot call cruelty justice simply because the people administering it have appointed themselves judge, jury, and executioner.
Public shaming is not a criminal conviction. Psychiatric labels are not deeds of ownership. Personal hatred is not legal authority. And no one has the right to destroy another human being’s life because they disapprove of how that person chooses to live.
— Kevin Perelman