under the color of authority - continues

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 For one individual, a cycle of harassment and defamation has spanned over three decades. Despite holding a graduate degree, he became homeless a year ago, driven to the margins by relentless persecution. His only hope lies in hiring private investigators from outside the region to gather evidence and end the abuse. Yet, without the financial means to do so, pursuing a defamation case remains out of reach.

The obstacles he faces are as elusive as they are calculated. There are no clear names to accuse, no one to hold accountable. Those who may have been enlisted to spread falsehoods remain silent, likely under instructions not to disclose any information—an effort, perhaps, to avoid accusations of obstructing justice. And so, the cycle continues.

In the latter part of 2023, his circumstances worsened. There have been attempts to have him fired from his current job as a substitute teacher - a recurrent cycle that seems to never end, and in summer of 2023, Uber deactivated his driver  account,  which provided an income during summer and Christmas vacation when school is off and substitute teaching is not an option, claiming his driver’s license was fraudulent—the same license he has used for over a decade. This comes on the heels of another four-month deactivation last year, after fraudulent accounts were opened under his name - it happened at the worse time, rendering him homeless.

Speculation points to law enforcement as the source of these actions, allegedly to uncover hidden or undeclared income. A letter from a Los Angeles City office once accused him of receiving a large sum of money while conducting business without a license—a claim that seemed to justify the intensified scrutiny. Yet no evidence has surfaced, leaving these accusations hanging in a cloud of uncertainty.

Now, he stands once more on the edge of a precipice, his present a treacherous path and his future uncertain. Those operating under the guise of authority seem to act without accountability, wielding power with impunity. Without the financial means to fight back, his options are limited.

Latest Accounts:

Currently, he works as a substitute teacher. In February 2025, another substitute teacher, affiliated with a different agency, referred him to their organization. This referral came with a financial incentive—$2,000 for the person who made the recommendation—part of the agency’s effort to recruit more substitutes to meet demand.

The agency quickly confirmed the referral and showed great eagerness to receive his application. For several days, they persistently urged him to submit his resume and apply for the substitute teaching role. However, this position was not a guaranteed placement but rather an on-call role, where substitutes are available to cover for absent teachers on a day-to-day basis.

Before submitting his application via email, he was assured that the onboarding process would take only one or two days. However, as time passed, no response came. When he followed up with the person who had insisted he apply, he was told that his application was likely still in the queue and that someone would contact him if he was a suitable fit. Despite these assurances, nearly a month has passed, and it seems increasingly unlikely that he will hear from them. Notably, he already works for a different substitute teaching agency that, according to the person who referred him, operates in exactly the same manner.

This experience mirrors an incident from about a year and a half ago when he interviewed for a teaching position at a school where he had previously worked for a few weeks. At that time, he was well-liked and respected for his effective teaching methods. In fact, the school itself reached out to encourage him to apply for an open position in his field. Everything seemed to be going well until an unexpected shift occurred during the interview process.

The interview, conducted over Skype, had not even begun when the hiring official—who had initially been eager to bring him on board—suddenly became condescending. It quickly became apparent that something was off. The interviewer questioned his motivation for applying, insinuating that he was interested in the position due to the presence of female students in the classroom—an unfounded and deeply troubling implication.

Due to the covert nature of certain actions taken by authorities—often involving defamation and hidden maneuvers—fully understanding what is happening remains challenging. However, patterns like these have occurred far too frequently to be dismissed as mere coincidence. Coupled with instances of surveillance and harassment, the situation suggests that there is more at play than meets the eye.

Update:

As I write this in March 2025, it has been about a month since I first posted on the Shadow Layer website. Since then, the harassment that has persisted for over a quarter of a century has diminished, especially after what appears to be a recent change in private investigators overseeing the operation. Though the new group employs similar tactics—likely due to standardized training—it is clearly a different set of individuals. They initially acted aggressively, but only for a few days, presumably long enough to find the website and read its contents.

At first, these individuals behave as if they are preventing a crime, possibly because they are misled and encouraged to engage with biases against their target—me. A recent incident at a tennis court illustrates this pattern. A few days ago, I was waiting for a court to become available. Two courts were occupied by women, and one by a man. I was the only one waiting, ensuring I secured the next open court. A woman, who appeared to be Russian and had seemingly followed me there, parked on the street for a while before approaching me. She walked directly toward me with an angry expression and asked if I was waiting for a court. When I said yes, she responded in a derogatory tone, “I just want to make sure,” implying I was there to watch the women rather than to play. This was despite the fact that I was looking away from the courts. Observing players is a normal part of the game—people watch to learn techniques, and no one assumes it to be inappropriate. Yet, private investigators, or those working for them, often manipulate such situations to cast me in a negative light, portraying me as a predator.

When she asked which court I was waiting for, I replied that I would take whichever became available. Before I could even finish speaking, she turned and walked back to her car, then drove away. While one might assume she was a tennis player assessing wait times, she was wearing work shoes and clothing unsuitable for playing.

Incidents like this have happened repeatedly over the years. One particular case in 1998 at San Francisco’s Golden Gate Park Arboretum stands out. A woman suddenly approached me and asked if I visited the park often. As I answered, she turned and walked away as if I had said something offensive. The next time I visited that same area, I noticed what appeared to be law enforcement or undercover surveillance monitoring me. At the time, it seemed odd, but I didn’t think much of it. I was unaware that a long-running defamation campaign against me had begun.

This smear campaign appears to have originated from a disgruntled ex-girlfriend with narcissistic tendencies who enjoyed claiming ties to the Russian mafia. Perhaps she was truly involved. I ended the relationship in late 1995 for reasons I am not yet ready to disclose, but soon afterward, a pattern of harassment emerged. The first significant incident occurred in 1998 at a computer company where I worked as a field network engineer. My boss occasionally treated the team to lunch at a specific restaurant we also visited independently. I only interacted with male staff at this restaurant, yet one day, my boss and a female administrative staff member approached me, saying that a woman working there had accused me of soliciting her for sex. They asked me to confirm or deny the claim.

I was shocked. I had never interacted with any female employees at that restaurant. My boss and colleague found the accusation surprising as well since it was out of character for me. Nonetheless, the mere allegation was enough to create an air of suspicion. It became an issue my employer couldn’t ignore because I was suddenly perceived as a potential risk to the company. Three months later, I was let go under the pretext of cost-cutting—conveniently, I was the highest-paid employee at the small company.

Little did I know that this was only the beginning of a relentless defamation campaign that has continued for decades. This cycle seems to be fueled by a system in which private investigators fabricate cases to involve law enforcement, securing contracts from both their clients and the police. It becomes a profitable operation for them while leaving only one victim.

It stands to reason that I am not the only person targeted in this manner. Unfortunately, most people remain unaware of such schemes. Victims often struggle to piece together what is happening, left in a cloud of doubt without knowing who is behind it. They hesitate to speak out because they lack concrete evidence. In my case, aside from my boss questioning me about that restaurant incident, no one else has directly addressed these allegations with me. Instead, many employers opt to quietly remove employees to avoid potential liability. False accusations, even without proof, can make a company vulnerable to legal repercussions. As a result, distancing themselves from the accused becomes their safest course of action.

03/28/2025

Indeed, it takes but a moment to change everything; nonetheless, some people say - to make a problem go away , just through money at it, if you have it. Having no significant means to defend yourself is being at the mercy of environmental changes and without the tools to overcome it rather than adapt to it - take for example what has happened to our planet because of human presence. 

While there was no single seismic event that “caused” human evolution -  tectonic shifts, changing climates, and ecological pressures combined over millions of years drove the evolution of bipedal primates.

Although the African Rift did not happen overnight, it paved the way for a dramatic change in the landscape—from forests to a geological barrier that created savannas, where primates were forced to evolve bipedalism as an adaptation to that environment, thus paving the way for humanity as we know it today. In a way, it was a pivotal moment that forked the future of planet Earth.

Today, deforestation, accelerated climate change, demographic pressure, and other dramatic changes negatively impact the future of our planet because of human presence—a fork in the road that took place about 8 million years ago, a fateful time when the stage was set for humans today.

Similarly, my life experienced a fork in the road—one that resulted in my life today, unhoused and destitute because of a single event that set off a series of consequences more than a quarter of a century ago. Yet, even now, we are being slowly pushed toward an even worse fate—harassment on an almost constant basis, with defamation as the primary weapon used against us, seemingly with the intent to oppress and bully us until we are left pushing a cart on the streets, collecting food from a dumpster, or ending up in jail. A dire future for Earth, a dire future for us all, and a dire future for me and my significant other—as if being homeless and destitute were not already enough. Point being, without the means to change what is set on course, we are at the mercy of forces we cannot control such  as those forces that set the stage  to become what we are today as humans.

03/28/2025

Just today, as I write this, we were sitting in our car at a park when an individual attempted to intimidate us. They parked at a distance with their high beams flooding the inside of our vehicle—much like how a police officer uses their patrol car’s lights to illuminate a driver’s interior during a nighttime stop. When I didn’t react, the person moved closer, seemingly trying to provoke a response.

Recognizing this as deliberate harassment, I turned my car to face theirs, shining my headlights back. The individual hesitated, then drove away—only to return and repeat the same behavior. I responded the same way, and once again, they left. Fortunately, my car is equipped with a surveillance camera, allowing me to capture their license plate.

A short while later, they returned yet again, possibly believing they wouldn’t be recognized. However, my footage confirmed it was the same vehicle engaging in the same intimidation tactics. Eventually, they either tired of the game or were instructed to stop after failing to provoke the reaction they had hoped for—perhaps one that could involve law enforcement. The irony is that despite their behavior, they could still attempt to file a complaint against me, flipping the narrative to paint me as the aggressor.

And that’s the unsettling part—you never truly know the full extent of their intentions. Decades ago, I wouldn’t have even considered these types of occurrences to be anything more than coincidences. But today, after witnessing these tactics repeatedly, I recognize them for what they are. Even now, nearly every day, someone parks next to me with their headlights on—an intimidation tactic disguised as a show of authority, as if they are “monitoring” for potential crimes.

The harassment doesn’t stop there. Because we sleep in our car, we frequently experience another variation of this strategy. At 3 AM, in an otherwise empty parking lot, a vehicle will suddenly pull up next to us, blasting music at an extreme volume. These tactics are mixed and varied, likely to avoid establishing a predictable pattern that could serve as direct evidence of ongoing harassment.

April 4, 2025

In March 2025, I worked as a substitute teacher at two public schools in some of the most impoverished neighborhoods in the city. What I witnessed there wasn’t just disorder—it was a complete erosion of institutional authority. Rules existed on paper, but in practice, they were hollow. Administrators instructed us to enforce discipline, yet abandoned us the moment we tried. Security staff, tasked with maintaining order, instead formed bonds with the most disruptive students, treating them not as offenders, but as kindred spirits—misunderstood, perhaps, but not to be held accountable. The result? A toxic feedback loop where students quickly learned that blaming the substitute was the fastest way to dodge consequences. But what happened to me went beyond simple neglect.

At one school, I was told—casually—that students were allowed to use their phones in class. A direct contradiction of district policy, yes, but apparently not worth enforcing. During my final period that day, two students displayed behavior so extreme, so hostile, it felt rehearsed. I called security. When they arrived, I expected assistance. What I got was an interrogation. The guard showed little interest in the students' outbursts. Instead, he questioned me—I was stunned.

By the end of the day, I was no longer seen as a teacher doing his job, but as a problem. The administration filed a report filled with subtle jabs and overt condescension. My professionalism was questioned. My work was undermined. It wasn’t an isolated incident.

Weeks earlier, at a school in East L.A., I was treated with suspicion from the moment I walked in. Throughout the day, I felt watched. During my lunch break, a man I didn’t know barged into the locked classroom where I sat alone, asked if anyone else was with me, I said no, he said good, in a way that implied I could potentially sneak someone inside, scanned the room, and left without explanation. Later, I was informed I would not be welcomed back. The reason? I allegedly failed to follow a teaching program—one I was never given. I was told to improvise, and then punished for doing exactly that.

In my two years as a substitute, I’ve never seen anything like this. A pattern is beginning to emerge, and it’s unsettling. In struggling schools, where oversight is often loose and resources are scarce, it becomes frighteningly easy to target someone. With little transparency and no meaningful recourse, reputations can be tarnished in silence.

I don’t know if this is a case of institutional negligence, local resentment, or something more coordinated. But it raises a deeply uncomfortable question: in the shadows of broken systems, who is really pulling the strings? 

All I do know is this: in places where the system is already broken, it's far too easy for blame to find a target. And lately, that target has been me. It leaves me wondering, not with certainty, but with unease—is this simply hostility from within? Or is someone, somewhere, acting under the color of authority?

April 19th, 2025

Something happened today that I can’t quite shake. It may seem small to someone on the outside, but to us—it was piercing. You already know we're unhoused, scraping by on an income that’s barely enough to survive, let alone rent a place in today’s world. So we depend on the kindness of food charities, and there's a church in Orange County that’s been a quiet refuge for us, once a month.

There, we always saw the same two people. Month after month, they greeted us with familiarity, even warmth. They’d say things like, “I saved some nuts for you,” or hand us food with a kind smile, even when supplies were low. That simple recognition—that small gesture—carried more comfort than most people realize.

But today… it all changed.

They acted like they’d never seen us before. No smiles. No familiar nods. Just cold faces, blank stares, and the smallest portion of food they could give before ushering us away. It wasn’t just indifference—it felt like rejection. Like we’d done something wrong, without knowing what, and were no longer welcome.

This isn’t new to us. We’ve lived through versions of this before—subtle changes in tone, in attitude, in the way people look at you when they’ve been told something. Something unkind. Something untrue. You don’t need to hear the words when you’ve felt the aftermath enough times. It always follows the same pattern. No one admits anything, of course. And when I’ve asked, in the past—with other people, other places—I’m met with denials so carefully worded they only confirm what I already sense.

Today felt like one of those days. Someone—maybe someone with power—said something. Something that shifted the atmosphere. And now we’re left standing outside, hungry, confused, and quietly grieving the loss of a place we thought saw us as human.

I don’t think we’ll go back. Not because we’re angry, but because something’s been broken. And when you’ve spent years, decades, picking up on the subtle signals of being unwelcome, you learn to stop knocking where the door has already been closed.

There’s no proof, no evidence. Just the silence that follows, and the ache of being treated like a shadow.

This blog will be updated often to continue the saga.

If you have insights or solutions that could counter these actions, consider sharing them—anonymously or otherwise—on this site. Perhaps together, we can shed light on the forces that remain in the shadows.