When I was 29, I had to hire a lawyer. It was not a criminal case for the record. Encountering odd behaviors and paying for promised results, where little work took place, I lost. I learned at the end of the day right before Thanksgiving. I ran to the courthouse fueled with severe anxiety. I begged and pled. I had a few days to draft a legal letter and had to represent myself. He had stolen my money. I prevailed and won. I almost went to law school.
I knew something was wrong and always gather evidence with everything. I ended up doing a bit of research and sent all of my documents, dates, and a letter in to the Superior Court to call him out on misconduct.
Fast forward, I got him disbarred for a little over a year. I cracked open a can of one giant leech. After doing so, complaints poured in after I exposed him. I am not sure if he will practice law again. This city I am stuck in for now, has hired him. After all, why wouldn’t we? We are the most miserable city in the country and the home of Kids for Cash.
Now, it is with due diligence that I go after the injustices of self-publishing. I have enough evidence and can maneuver around the internet. I am not just an author or a writer, I can dig in the trenches because I am also an investigator. All of my personality tests confirm.