STATEMENT
In the neighborhood where I once lived in Seattle, I began to notice that several of my neighbors had gone missing. Concerned for their safety, I reported what I observed. On one occasion, I called the police to request a wellness check at the house next door. I had not seen my neighbor or her children for several months, and one evening I heard what sounded like a young girl’s scream being muffled by the noise of a blow dryer.
Not long after, I began experiencing what I can only describe as harassment and electronic torture—tactics that appeared designed to drive me from the neighborhood or discredit me. This campaign of intimidation coincided with my eventual arrest, the filing of a protection order against me, and repeated claims that I was “delusional.”
After being forced from the home I was renting, I looked into the situation further. What I discovered was alarming: emergency response logs showed 911 calls to nearly every house across two blocks of the street where I had lived. Soon afterward, those same homes were vacated, sold in rapid succession, and slated for redevelopment. The entire area was rezoned from single-family residences to multi-family condos, and demolition for new construction is now underway.
Around the same time, the county publicly announced it was scrubbing "racist language" from housing deeds—a move positioned as a gesture of equity. But I believe this served another purpose: quietly altering deed records to cover the unlawful transfer of homes taken from missing residents.
From my perspective, what has been presented publicly as urban renewal conceals something much darker: a pattern of disappearances, forced turnover, and possible real estate crime. These homes—and the families who once lived in them—must not be erased. Their stories deserve recognition, and their fates deserve a thorough investigation.
