22/06/2026
There is a particular kind of grief that has nothing to do with death. It is the grief of finding out that someone you let into your life was never quite who they said they were. We gave this person what we give to few: trust, name, and the people we love. We did this because we believed them and wanted to believe that good faith is returned in kind. Most of us do, as people who genuinely stand on community, transparency, and quality of relationships.
We won't list every claim that has reached us. We will say this: the concerns are not from one person but from several, and they are not small. Some transactions, it seems, were carried out in our shadow, with our name lending a credibility that was never authorized.
There is no triumph in being betrayed, only a quiet, specific ache of having believed in someone who, as it turns out, may have counted on being defended. But silence has its own cost.
If people trusted this person partly because they trusted us, then our silence becomes part of the deception. We would rather speak plainly now than let that continue. So let us be plain: this person does not speak for us. They do not act on our behalf. Nothing they have promised, sold, or agreed to carries our endorsement now and before.
We are not asking for outrage. We are asking for care. We are living in an age that confuses accountability with spectacle, and we want no part of the latter. What we want is simpler: that we ask questions, that we verify, and that we extend trust thoughtfully rather than automatically.
Trust is still one of the better things we give each other. But it should walk hand in hand with discernment, not instead of it. We did not want to write this but we have learned that the things we least want to say are often the ones most necessary to say out loud. If this spares even one person of the damages we’ve felt, it will have been worth saying.
