WHEN THE TRUTH HITS A NERVE

“Unmasking the Falmouth Whisperer,” huh? Cute title. Almost sounds like a Netflix documentary, except this one reads like a half-drunk PTA rant stapled to a corkboard in a dying laundromat. This is really bad btw, did Marty ghost write the cyberbullying article with you, because they match.

Let’s start with the obvious: when you can’t dispute the facts, you attack the messenger. That’s a tactic as old as corruption itself and just as pathetic. You don’t deny the broken hydrants. You don’t deny the shady land deals, the vote-rigging, the taxpayer-funded buddy system, the criminal backgrounds of your officials. No. You skip right over all that and write a hit piece on us.

Because we dared to speak.

Because we dared to lift the veil.

Because we dared to remind you that small towns don’t mean small minds.

You want to talk about records? Fine. Let’s talk about them. Yes, I’ve got a past. So does damn near everyone worth a damn. You think bringing up old charges discredits me? All it does is prove I’ve been through the fire and came out swinging. Unlike the sanitized crooks you defend, who hide behind titles, throw money at PR firms, and pretend they’re pillars of virtue while robbing this town blind.

See, I own my past. I don’t pretend I’m a saint. But I’m not the one cashing checks off the taxpayers while dodging transparency. I’m not the one letting hydrants rust, funds vanish, and addicts die without accountability. I’m not the one voting behind closed doors and spinning lies to cover my tracks. I’m the one telling the damn truth.

You call us “troubling,” “criminal,” “untrustworthy.”

Funny, those are the same words people used for journalists, whistleblowers, and revolutionaries throughout history. Until it turned out they were right all along.

You don’t like that we give names. That we show receipts. That we dig.

You call it “attacks.”

I call it journalism.

Your whole article is a deflection, a coward’s prayer for the pitchforks to turn around before they reach your porch. But it’s too late for that. The town is awake now. And while you’re busy clutching your pearls, we’re pulling every rotten root from this soil.

Let’s be crystal clear:

We don’t answer to you.

We don’t kneel to your fake outrage.

And we’re not going anywhere.

So keep screaming. Keep smearing. Keep pretending you stand for decency while defending everything that’s killing this town from the inside out. Because every post like yours just confirms we hit a nerve and every whisper gets a little louder.

And when the real truth finally blows the door off its hinges, you’ll wish all we did was write articles.

Also, why is the only friend I can see you have Mark Hart. How far did he have to reach before the voice box? Oh btw, now that we mention it, I know you didn’t hop on the internet and find all my charges. Even though I laid them out for everyone in a video. That wasn’t where your tone led. You had some information only a Hart to Hart could have given. Let me tell you the nice era of the whisper is over. In the words of Kevin Hart ‘It’s about to go down!!!!!’

Whisper One Out

The ONLY ONE Out. You want the fucking receipts. Trace the IP of every post. You will find my tired old laptop or my broke ass phone at the end of your journey.