📁 05-24

The people in the image above are Jennifer Nestor and possibly Raymond Yuan (Chinese American–his family owned a Chinese restaurant in Palm Beach County). Nestor (aka Nessie) specialized in human resources while working for the local movie theater chain of Palm Beach County before going into karaoke hosting. Which is how I became 🔗 blackout drunk at least once. They were some of the worst influences of my life.

After mimicking her roommate in 2008 (I think her name is/was Lenny), she taught Nestor how to host karaoke events and Nestor used her to act like someone I might like to spend company with. She (Lenny?) also dated a guy named Rufus. After long distance dating for a few months, Nestor talked me into living in South Florida (Spring of 2008). While we were still dating (and her persona faded), she dated Yuan (he used my razor–she bragged about that) as I worked 90 hour weeks at Pompano Park via United Tote vendor. Operator by day and technician by night.

Yuan favors glocks, possibly hollow points (more stopping power, less likely to pierce threw walls), and probably has it concealed. He plays games like Oblivion, but he consistently appeared inpatient while attempting to extract information.

Nestor’s new ‘friend’ is most likely someone from Boston (hence the Boston Red Sox earrings). Her telltale sign is when she occasional drops her persona or momentarily acquired accent. Ask her about her family’s chicken and rice jingle. She may still have a large satellite group from Broward County that she conferences with for brain storming. Her hand flapping may be a technique used to seem less threatening for when her Scottish temper flairs. She also has a passion for spreading rumours or lying to her ‘friends’ which she uses to get responses, blackmail, extort, and exploit others kindness. In The Apprentice days (2008) of South Florida she would toss trash out of her vehicle while driving. They’ll also hire people with impressive sound systems, limos, etc. for intimidation. So uh, yeah, I don’t envy Yuan at all. Good luck dude.

They have created at least six fake names: Chris J. (not me), Adam (not my cousin), Max (not my cousin), Kc (not my brother), Jackie (not my sister), and Ronald Schammert. Novak may also be a last name of interest. Knowing jackals have infiltrated my family with their military draft dodging tendencies is something I’ll die for to correct. They’ll create more if they get an inroad into the Linux world. The houses those individuals have were purchased with money that does not belong to them.

Christopher J. Schammert (not me, 🔗 this guy: FB, 🔗 this guy: Insta), and Max (not my cousin) married significant others and had children. Which is very unfortunate for the children. Well, that’s my assumption anyway. Any number of ’their children’ could be for hire actors. They have the money and the spare time. They thought I would be looking at a life I’ll never have. I don’t care to look to be honest. I don’t spend a lot of time on social media. And I block the fake Schammerts as I see them too. If they hadn’t placed me through two years of hell I may have been able to take pity. You’ve help mold the person I am today. My trust is now earned through varies levels of tests. Schammerts are not lazy people. That’s a difficult test for these people to pass. I’ve earned my living arrangement. They have not. Regardless of what they tell their friends and family.

I wouldn’t doubt that they bought the house across the street. It was part of an attempted homicide investigation (local TV news was on this street). They also spent a lot of time remodeling (basically gutted), so it was probably really affordable. Officers were on the property for a few days. Random tortoise shell calico cat showed up after that and had 3-4 litters of kittens under our deck before I 🔗 removed the deck. The mama cat passed away under the deck, which is part of why I removed it. Had to pry up a bunch of boards so she could get a proper burial (May 29, 2022). Anyway, it’s a block home, long but not wide front yard, and newly installed solar panels. They even 🔗 recently installed three small flood lights on the 4x4 fence posts of their wooden fence (Edit Jan. 3rd, 2025: They installed three more on top of the other three shrugs). Lots of little signals too. Some cute, some less cute. Why 🔗 three cheap solar powered lights when one decently priced flood light would be a better choice you know? There are several neighbors with motion activated flood lights in this area. And honestly, what neighbor would actually care enough to say something about an 🔗 orange King Ghidorah shirt? They’re the ONLY neighbors that have spoken to me directly since the beginning of the Pandemic too. She said it in such a snide tone. Like she was already disgusted about something. Probably saw the Geekhack post. Maybe plain ole fashioned hate. One of their goals might be to dissuade me from interacting on the internet. If my theory is true, they’d want me to disappear from the internet like a scared little puppy so that CJS appears when potential employers look me up.

I’ve been made fun of all my life, so it’s not like they hurt my feelings. They’ll never understand me. And I scan while I’m everywhere, much like baby proofing and keeping a house baby proofed. My family does the same. If a neighbor comes up to me, while I’m out I’ll be curt but polite. My mannerism will scream, “I’m busy. Leave me alone.” It’s difficult to tell based on how these fraudsters exchange information whether or not the people in the house next door are involved. There have been several 🔗 shootings nearby since 2015. The one investigation I’m thinking about ended in Oak Glade Apartments, Gainesville, FL (2019?). I stayed there back in 2009. Nice cinder block courtyards. Take all this as you will. If anyone in this area was in charge of tracking my movements and digital footprint (cyber stalking), it would be from that household. My reputation never got me anywhere, so I’m not too worried about that particular aspect of all of this. At most solar panel three light house functions as a relay station. Compared to what I experienced in the past their presence is just annoying. Nothing compared to the fire engine sirens off 20th Avenue (next to the pawn shop). About as annoying as all the questions Cindy Johnson use to ask me when I worked at the Tote Room at Pompano Park, Florida. Constantly underestimating our family is going to be their downfall (if of course they are a relay station). If they’re not a relay station then they’re nosey as fuck and live lives so unfulfilled that they take meaning from thinking they’re making life miserable for a few people that meant no one any harm. Like I said before, it could be hate. And if the white people living in that place hate the white people across the street, who else do they hate in this area? It doesn’t surprise me one bit. And if I take a look outside of myself for a second, those lights simply imply fear. And trust me, in this instance that fear is not a two way street. No one in this neighborhood is afraid of those lights. Birds don’t always make good neighbors.

The 🔗 letter I sent to FBI HQ through USPS may have been intercepted. That or I sent the letter to the most over burdened office. If intercepted it would have been done by outsiders. Though the over burdened office might be the most reasonable assumption. These types of cases take months to process, if not years. I’ll keep trying. Multiple copies. Multiple offices. Multiple mail companies. People will know eventually one way or another. I’d rather go to jail for annoying the FBI then not try at all. If I or any of my family die, the investigation will lead here. I’d think twice before hiring someone to kill anyone. This ain’t even close to trench warfare. So I’m not worried about that. Covering all my bases. And my attitude is set thinking they might if cornered. It could be a romance scheme involving a distant relative that lived in Bradenton, Florida, but you never know with people willing to live assumed identities. Not just assumed lives, but as puppets for a puppet master. Letters sent so far: Chicago: Nov. 8th, 2024 via post office, Jacksonville: Nov. 8th, 2024 via post office, NYC: Jul. 5th, 2024 via mailbox. My other theory is that they lived at the same address as a Schammert, used junk mail to open up credit cards in a Schammert’s name (Diane Schammert), assumed an identity of someone that passed away (Ronald Schammert, Diane’s husband), and used their real identities to bank roll their new lives. I probably won’t know when the investigation starts to be honest. I’m ok with being a component of that game of chess.

The moral of this section of the story is to ALWAYS ESTABLISH MAIL FORWARDING. That and shred, burn, and or redact personal information. This goes for newer families as well as senior citizens. Must have seemed like Christmas day for these people. I sent a letter (November 2024) to CJS’s wife (ex-wife perhaps?) and apparently they don’t live their anymore. Dang. Don’t worry, unlike some people I know that would be incredibly fucked up for me to try to start anything romantic. Seriously. I haven’t dated anyone since 2012, but I have a pretty decent moral character. I’d say something dumb like, “She’s not my type”, but I’m not dumb, so I’m not going to do that. Even if it’s true. May the North Star guide your journeys.

This situation is a bit different from others, which is why I sent out letters. It’s recommended to call your local agent.

Jennifer Nestor’s uncle may have used at least one his properties (1 to 2 room flat) to host at least some of those brainstorming meetings. Also a wannabe enforcer/pusher dude by the name of Tommy (big ears, pale skin, creepy stare, probably a Nestor or Novak, likes the company of people afraid of him, preferred vehicles that make him look ‘gangster’).

Tommy (that’s what they called him anyway) was sitting on the couch of that ‘drug den’ house. He was also present when I went to the Deerfield Beach, FL Subway for a tuna sub. I remember this because Jennifer Nestor answered the phone while we were chilling in ‘our’ room, seemed irate (screamed into the phone like a jackal), and I thought maybe she needed a bite to eat. She was most likely on the phone with Tommy. This was another underhanded intimidation tactic. He said nothing to me at that Subway sandwich shop, nor did he lock eyes with me for long. She didn’t want half of my tuna sub.

The twin sized mattress I found still in a bag next to the dumpster at The Preserve at Deer Creek Apartments was probably an extra from the mattresses they used to stage that ‘drug den’ house. Same period of time (late spring early summer 2009) in which a limo appeared to drop stuff off. They had the password to enter that gated community.

I dropped Jennifer Nestor off at Florida Atlantic University (with her car), and she probably got a ride to that house (Oakland Park?) to brainstorm new tactics. I should have known something was up when she never had ‘homework’. Everyone studies. Midterms, finals, etc.. She randomly stopped going to class. And no white collared property owner (her uncle) would look as composed as her uncle did inside a ‘drug den’ (Palm Beach County / Broward County). Unless he was surrounded by accomplices. IIRC his personal home is close to A1A. They also exploit weaknesses in others (in private) like love (me), drinking, hard drugs, sex, and are not afraid to extort and exploit if the opportunity is present. Everyone in that room looked like they were waiting for a meeting to start. One woman was sitting at a small breakfast type dining table (one chair) near the front entrance doing nothing at all. No texting, no solitaire, just observing.

These individuals also have no issues using tragic news stories to make gullible or vulnerable people feel guilty about their actions. Coercion as well. And judging by the number of 🔗 hail mary moves ‘Chris’ makes, he probably has a gambling problem, and an addiction problem. Gonna be much more than a 🔗 Roughing the Passer penalty when the time comes. There was a dude at the Isle of Capri Casino bar (2009) that looked very much like ‘Ronald’. When I grabbed the microphone to sing that song, I was facing the bar. I believe ‘Ronald’ turned around on his barstool seat and looked at me with a smirk on his face. Like father like son eh? In this instance that particular 🔗 idiom seems to be relevant.

And hurricane displacement is no excuse for their behaviors (hitchhiking on the family name). They weren’t even displaced. And that $104,000 ‘Chris’ put down on his house (10-4) was the most passive aggressive thing I’ve ever witnessed. When the time comes remember that he was your undoing. I’ll keep this website up so that your children will know the truth as well. They didn’t deserve any of this, and you know it.

And why did all this happen? Beats me. Could be some kind of rat race bet. “My Chris will beat the original Chris.” Or maybe a bunch of people trying to make it seem like the rat race thing is happening. I’m not part of some reality TV show. And I’m not expecting something for nothing. I’m just existing. They can mess with my Github/social analytics all they want. That won’t change a thing.

🔗 Azure-ly you must be joking!