The Crime. The Cover Up. The Curse.

This Is not a child's game. Tricks are for kids.

As sacred as The Truth is the supply is always in excess of the demand.

Rayford Hobbs Controversy

January 1 2026, ... To be continued.

April 4 2026, .... The Seriousness of the matter has not diminished any since earlier this year.

Life has changed drastically just as predicted in both positive and challenging ways for some of the main charcaters in my Trilogy each begging for immediate attention. So here I am again. Just as determined as before with the same chant "As sacred as The Truth is the supply is always in excess of the demand."

The subject matter at hand today is deep and complex and reuired much thought before deciding to release the most pressing thoughts on my mind today. How would I handle a situation that I was not directly involved in but had friends who have dealt with this change in American lifestyle. Narrowing the scope to a very specific group saved time. I have sought a few different perspectives which have broadened my outlook which has made me more open to accepting some things unlike the past where the door was simply shut forever. This subect matter, these questions, this interest was born out of journal notes for "The Crime. The Cover Up. The Curse."

This is the burning question. "How does a Manipulative Individual Construct a False Persona to Conceal Their Sexuality ?"

Stay tuned, .....

Your Enemies Made a DEADLY Mistake. THEY ARE LOSING IT -You Exposed Every Lie. Every Tear You Cried Is Coming Back to Drown Them. THEY PLAYED WITH YOUR HEART. God Let You Be Silent. They Tried to Destroy You. People Who Played You Look Real Dumb Now. It Was the Last Time You’d Be Disrespected. You Shut Down Their Sneaky Tactics. Why Detachment Makes You Irresistible. 7 Questions to Ask Them, When They Want You Back. How to Truly Heal From Your Traumas. The Psychology of People Who Cut Off Their Family. When You Stop Explaining Yourself, Everything Changes. You’re Seeing This Because It’s Finally Your Turn To Win. Do This Once… and Watch Toxic People Quietly Fall Away. How to Make Them Deeply Regret Losing You Listen Carefully. The Loneliness of Outgrowing Everyone Around You.

This Is Why Silence Scares People. How THEY TREAT YOU When They KNOW THEY’VE LOST YOU. When People Attack, Reality Strikes Back Hard. They Will Crave Your Presence the Moment You Do This. How to Act When They Ignores You (Destroy Their EGO). Why the People You Help Hurt You the Most. Forgiving People In Silence and Never Speaking to Them Again. 10 Types of People You Must Remove from Your Life Immediately. Never React First — The Rule That Makes You Untouchable.

Letting Go Is the Final Act of Self Respect. 7 Silent Signs You’ve Outgrown Toxic People. Be careful of People Who Say These Things To You. You’re Seeing This Because Your Biggest Comeback Has Begun. When You Stop Fearing Rejection, Everything Changes. Something About You Broke Them More Than You Realize. Focus On Yourself And Stay Silent In 2026. If You’re Always Hard on Yourself, Watch This. Do This & They Will Come Crawling Back To You. They Thought You Were Naïve (YOU PLAYED THE SH*T OUT OF THEM). Your Absence Is Destroying Them. God Is About to Announce Your Breakthrough. Everyone Knows They're A Liar. They Paid Witches to Destroy You. They Threw You Away. They Will Suffer the Consequences. They Did You Dirty. You Were the Target.

The Insane Guilt They Carry. The Sender of the Curse Is Paying Back With Interest. Karma Is Coming for Them. They Had No Idea. Divine Justice: How God Wipes Out Your Enemies. You Played the Game Brilliantly Now They Fear Your Mind. Every Betrayer Will Reap What They Sowed. Karma Is Ruthless to Betrayers. Your Strength Is Shaking Their World.

They Are Haunted by What They Did to You. Their Evil Plan Backfired Horribly. God Is Letting Them Taste the Bitterness They Served You. Their Disrespect Was Too Much. They Never Expected You to Be This Ruthless. You Flipped the Script . They Let the Devil Use Them. Now They Know You're Not To Be Played With. They Built Traps for You. The Crime. The Cover Up. The Curse. This Is not a child's game. Tricks are for kids.

I once was a garden of wildflowers and weeds, .. The growth of God's wind-blown pilgrim seeds, . With the gift of the Sun and the Springtime rain showers, It was easy to grow both my weeds and wildflowers, ..

But in time the weeds took over the land And changed the design from what I had planned, .. So I called in a Gardener to clear out the brush And leave just the flowers, so lovely and lush.

He worked on His knees, With his hands and his heart- He could tell the weeds and the wildflowers apart- And He cleared out old weeds, And created new room. For every bud to expand into… A full fragrant bloom.

So now I am quite a sight to behold- New blossoms emerge as the season unfolds- And what name shall be given to my garden bouquet? Well, I believe the rain clouds have taken to calling Me Ray, ..

The drive to the farm in the middle of the night, in the darkness in a car with someone you have conversed with for hours but just met face to face is an experience in itself. What made it more interesting with each turn and every next mile was that We were entering a place in America that few ever visited, gated communities, secluded homesteads and a lifestyle of peace and tranquility.

There were no streetlights along these rolling hills but there were illuminated nameplates of the family that resided at the gateway of each “farm”. In the darkness as we drove up the hill off the two lane road the front of a modest brick home became apparent in the moonlight and I finally felt a bit relaxed as We had reached my new sanctuary, my new refuge.

Entering Nancy’s home was like walking into what I thought was a mid-western America farm museum, all kinds of artifacts and interesting paints, objects, farm tools, things from nature, canned goods, tools and utensils of all kinds. Each room unfolded into another and everything was original, an antique, historical and many one of kind, the finest woodwork and craftsmanship represented in every piece of furniture. The appearance of a quaint little farmhouse had faded away and I was now walking through a Better Homes and Gardens Classic.

Each book on a shelve and every painting that adorned a wall had a personal story of its own of which Nancy played a role and the life of this woman was much more than what she had shared with me in letters and conversations. In the darkness of the night and tall tree blinds that buffered the winds what appeared to be a nice little piece of Earth was expanding into much more with each ray of Sun as the morning came. The hills covered with hay, fruit trees everywhere, imported grasses and plants from around the world meticulously laid out in zones from decades ago, well groomed well cared for. It was a garden paradise.

The Farm was a little over 35 acres and it was a wedding gift from Nancy’s deceased husband, a descendent of the first settlers in the area that would become the state of Illinois, a wealthy land owning family. Her husband fell in love with her at first sight, found out that she loved gardening and made her an offer she could not refuse. He promised her fertile land and whatever labor or help she needed to create the gardens of her dreams and to live the rest of her life there.

And so she did. There were many massive gardens spread across the farm that included wooded area, streams, ponds and over forty years she imported trees, plants and grasses from all over the world. Rocks were trucked in from surrounding states to create walls and terraces, pathways and waterfalls.

When the Sun had fully risen I had to get out early to see more of where I was at and my first view out the bedroom window was stunning to say the least. Rustic barns, chicken coops, hay bins, tractors, semis, trailers, a lake not a pond a lake down the walkway out the back door and farmland as far as I could see. Nancy took me out to the nearest barn and there was here favorite toy, an off road mini vehicle that had all of her gardening tools and supplies. As we quickly took off up the trail into the wooded area the I looked back into the rear of the barn and there were rows and rows of antique tractors, plows, and old trucks. I wanted to see the farm and the gardens but I could not wait to get back and into those old trucks.

Once out on the trail and deep into the woods different gardens began to appear and it was easy to see which had been planted ten years ago and which were planted five years ago, there were different themes and color schemes, plants arranged so that at all times of the growing season something was blooming. There was a lot of planning and effort put into building these gardens and with the help of year round laborers and her late husband fulfilling his promise, Nancy had created a hidden gem, a masterpiece. In the summer local gardening groups and out of state visitors would tour the farm.

It took most of the day to drive the entire farm and we barely had time to stop and spend time at each and every gardening zone but it was enough to convince me that this woman, Nancy Bonner, was exceptional. Coming over the last hill the small quaint farm house was really a rambling estate much larger than it seemed at night and it was dinnertime. It middle America, farmland USA, dinnertime is a special event every night and every meal is made from only what farm provides.

The Kitchen. Next to her gardens The Kitchen was Nancy’s favorite place to be, it was her domain it was where she excelled and so after I cleaned up I found my way to The Kitchen. She was preparing many things from vegetables to breads, baked chicken fried fish deviled eggs etc. The main dish though that she wanted me to indulge in was the dessert. From her fruit trees that she had planted were pears and apples of which were her pride and joy, and now they were going into her famous Apple Pear Cobbler. It was the closest creation of a cobbler that I had ever tasted second only but just as delicious as my Mothers.

The Kitchen itself was a museum, a display of every imaginable utensil a chef could possibly use, a huge butcher block table that seated eight and served as a waiting area and observation deck of The Cook in action. So all was good that first day there on The Farm and after divulging in a divine meal it was time to sit down in The Great Room and have an after dinner conversation. Hitting the remote caused the ceiling to floor drapes to pull back from the massive window through which the lake in the backyard hosted several deer feeding. It was an unreal but idyllic scene and now I was thinking how miraculous it was the transition from one place to another, from one deeply introspective friendship/relationship to the possibility of another.

Within 24 hours all nervousness about this not so typical meeting had settled for the most part. I was comfortable with what I had seen so far and there were no major surprises or red flags. Nancy was a honest woman of her word, she was still very curious and had tons of questions but they were valid for the situation and did not make me uncomfortable in any way.

Prior to arriving at The Farm Nancy and I agreed the duration of my stay would be “open” and We would determine how long that would be based upon the way things went as time passed on. This was good for me and for her, and there were a few times when the conversation strayed off into some unexpected areas or expectations were corrected but all was still good. Nancy had an active schedule that involved several drives a week into the nearby town to meet her friends for lunch as she always did for over thirty years and belonged to many craft and farming clubs

It took several days to finally realize that consistent dependable internet service had not yet reached this area and the best that was available was a shaky service from Verizon. Shifted everything to eliminate the reliance on The Internet to offline and did the best that I could with what I had to work with. When the weather was cooperative and the mosquitoes were at a minimum I walked the fields and trails of the farm in silence at times and at other listening to audio books. Rarely did I encounter anyone from a nearby farm but it was deer hunting season during the summer and caution was a prerequisite.

This visit became a retreat. The unavailability of the internet served a greater purpose and caused me to be more introspective and less distracted, less wasting of time. By now I had become accustomed to being out of contact from my children for awhile and resolved myself that all that I could do was done and they were adults now. I hoped that one day one or all of them had the desire to reach out in some way and express an desire to reconnect. It did not happen though and it was not for many years later that I became aware of some of the reasons why.

Social media was not what it is today and I was certainly behind the learning curve of sites like MySpace, Facebook, Pinterest, Twitter, etc. I had no idea what was going on with The Childless Aunt or any of my children. I trusted that with maturity my children would have some interest one day and giving them space at that time was the best thing to do.

Towards the end of the summer Nancy’s family was making plans for an annual family trip and that year it would be to Costa Rica for a few weeks and initially Nancy wanted me to go with them but after much thought and discussion it was agreed that I would return to Denver and return in a few weeks or month.

The Gardens of Antioch

July 19 2025, ... To be continued.