The Cold War

When Friends Become Weapons

Once I realized the Triads had compromised my devices, and could eavesdrop on every phone call thanks to the SS7 protocol vulnerability used by all carriers; I knew it was only a matter of time before they’d try to use people around me as pawns. With access to my call logs and contacts, it was easy for them to approach anyone I spoke to and offer money in exchange for “help.” Over the years, I saw the same pattern play out again and again: colleagues, acquaintances, even friends trying to set me up, sometimes without even realizing who they were really working for.

Here are just a few of the more obvious attempts:

• The “Free” G-Drive
  My former sales guy, who I hadn’t spoken to in years, suddenly started calling me twice a week. Out of nowhere, he asked if I’d buy a guitar for him on my credit; something I refused, since I was in survival mode. Then he brought up a G-Drive NAS device, retailing for $1,200, and offered to give it to me for free. The logic didn’t add up: why would someone desperate for a $2,000 guitar gift me a $1,200 device he could easily sell? The answer was obvious; the Triads wanted a compromised device on my home network. The “gift” was bait.  

He also offered to help me find an agent for my story; a tempting offer, given everything I’d been through and my goal of seeing this story reach a wider audience. But the moment I told him I’d insist on an exit clause, making it clear that if they couldn’t get the project produced within six months, the rights would revert back to me, he backed away immediately. The enthusiasm vanished. Just like that, the “help” evaporated as soon as I asserted control over my own story.

• The Relentless “Bro” Check-In
  In 2020, a guy I’d hired as a speaker at my 2008 CreditCRM conference, someone who was always combative with me online, especially about politics, suddenly went quiet on hot-button issues and started calling to “check in.” He wanted to strengthen our “bro” connection, something he’d never done in over a decade. When I ignored his calls and texts, he kept at it for six months, calling once or twice a week. I couldn’t help but wonder how much he’d been offered to get close.
  
  

• The Identity Theft Angle
  A woman who’d bought my CreditCRM system in 2007, and who’d always seemed like a straight shooter, came back into my life with new intensity in 2019. She pitched a business idea using identity theft claims to clean up credit; even though, by her own admission, none of her clients were actual victims. She wanted me as the company’s figurehead, claiming “no one respects a woman owner.” The scheme was pure fraud, and when I cut off contact, she kept calling, relentless.

• The Insurance Scam Set-Up
  A longtime friend called me, claiming his apartment had been broken into. Over the phone, he told me he wanted to scam his insurance company and asked if I’d help fill out the paperwork. I was stunned by how blatant the request was and immediately said no. A week later, he called again, repeatedly apologizing but refusing to say for what. I later found out he’d made an affidavit stating that I advised him on the scam and believed a warrant for my arrest was imminent. That warrant never materialized. I can only assume the Red, White & Blue had my back on that one, quietly making sure nothing came of it.
  
  

• The Model and the Forged Passport
  A model once hired me to help correct her age online. She claimed her age was being reported as ten years older than she actually was. She sent me color copies of her passport, driver’s license, and birth certificate, and everything matched her story. After months of work, I managed to update dozens of sites, except one, which refused. Their attorney even called me, insisting they believed she was lying because of a photo linking her as a celebrity's girlfriend in the past, which would have made her only 14 at the time if her documents were real.
  
  Two years later, she called out of the blue, asking if I could help her get a forged passport with her “younger” age. I asked if the documents she’d given me were forged. She admitted they were. I hung up immediately, realizing I was being set up. When I checked that stubborn website again, I saw her birthdate had finally been changed to make her ten years younger. There’s no way the site agreed to it; the only explanation was that the Triads had hacked the site, likely offering her this favor if she helped frame me for a crime.
  
  

The common thread: each person had something to gain, and their sudden interest lined up perfectly with the Triads’ ability to monitor my every move. Trust became a liability. Survival meant seeing through every angle, every “coincidence,” and never letting my guard down; even with people who once felt safe.

The Upstairs Stalkers

In 2022, we moved into a first-floor apartment with neighbors above us. For the first six months, it was blissfully quiet; barely a sound from upstairs. Then, almost overnight, everything changed. The new neighbors began pacing back and forth, nonstop, for three to four hours straight every other night. The timing was no coincidence: they only started once we turned off the television and went to bed, even though our bedtime varied every night. It was clear; they were listening, waiting for the signal.

I confronted them several times, but they always gave the same excuse: “We’re just getting ready for bed.” But this never happened during their first six months, and once it started, it was like clockwork; three times a week, always when we were trying to sleep.

I later learned the truth: the Triads were paying them to harass us, hoping I’d snap and do something they could use to get me arrested. This went on for eight months, until we finally convinced the landlord to let us out of our lease early.

When we moved out, I still had two weeks left on the rent; so I got creative. I made an audio file that blasted a bullhorn for 15 seconds, paused for 9 minutes, then blasted again for 15 seconds; over and over, on repeat, for two weeks straight. The idea was to mimic a snooze button from hell, but connected to Bose speakers on max volume.

The maintenance guy told me the cops finally busted in my door the day before I handed in the keys, after endless complaints from the upstairs neighbors. But the police never called me; supposedly because Team Red, White & Blue made sure they didn’t. They could have tried to charge me with harassment, but I never heard a word. Sweet, poetic justice.

The upstairs neighbors weren’t the only ones in on it. Across the hall lived a trashy couple with mini-blinds that looked like they’d been through a blender. As soon as word got out that we were leaving, the woman rang our doorbell, gushed about how “amazing” we were even though she didn't know us, and insisted on bringing us free Chipotle since she worked there. I refused, knowing what “gifts” from strangers have meant for us in the past. I don’t know what the Triads offered her, but it was enough for her to try and help kill us.

We were elated to leave that apartment behind and finally settle into a house surrounded by longtime homeowners; real neighbors, not Triad pawns.