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Mac O'Ciarrai
Not as funny as I look.
Not as funny as I look.


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I'm pinning this post. This is the single most important thing going on in my world right now. This is a timeline of my interactions with the police leading up to this issue. As a preface, I'd like to clear up a few things before I blow this situation open. I am not perfect. I am not a boy scout. I am not straight laced. The amount of big boy balls that goes into what's about to be said, should not be lost on anyone here.

I fit the description of nearly everything that could be used to attack my credibility or disguise my innocence in this situation. I'm on aregistry, with a history of mental illness and drug abuse, a long record of mischief, access to firearms and a documented problem with authority. A deeper explanation was posted here, for those who need more details:

So here we are. The timeline will be updated as best I can as the situation develops. This is me documenting an active situation and a live case of police overreach.

March, 2016: Raid #1 was conducted at my home. I was here. My dogs were still puppies. The police popped in while I was gaming, held me and my then girlfriend at gunpoint, questioned us about who was the subject. I didn't know him well at the time, so I let them know that. He was a friend of a friend, back then. I've since gotten to know him better, and he doesn't seem to be a bad guy, just another guy being fucked over by police harassment like me. He's had videos of traffic stops which turn into in depth searches. He's been targeted, and anyone near him seems to be targeted as well. He wasn't here at the time, and neither were any of his vehicles. The only items of interest belonged to another room mate. Marijuana paraphernalia. No one was charged. Several of the task force officers knew me. Conversation was friendly and peaceful. Man 1 through the door was Daniel Hundley. He is a good cop. He cleared a corner, around which he encountered me within spitting distance during initial breach. A great many other officers would have shot me. I'm glad he was the first man.

March 2017: Raid #2. I wasn't home. Hadn't been home in a while. My room mates and then girlfriend hadn't let my dogs out in some time and they'd made several messes in the house. Subject had been seeing a live in room mate at the time, and while he didn't live here, he was more of an associate to me than he had been the year prior. One of the officers pushed down a room mate, who refused to drop deck into a piss stained floor. I returned home to broken door hardware (Didn't push the issue. I'd been meaning to replace it, anyhow) and my dogs barking from the restroom. They confiscated two firearms. It was later revealed that one of them had been reported stolen by the person who sold it to me, and there's very little being done about that, despite that reporting a sold item as stolen should be treated as "obtaining property under false pretense." They also dragged my then girlfriend (same girl) out of our bedroom without clothing, laughed about it as the search was being conducted and cajoled people for information about my guns. NC is an open carry, no registry required state. The probable cause cited was a traffic stop of a friend after having left my home, and the paraphernalia from the year before. This warrant should never have been issued. The search didn't appear to be with the intent of finding drugs. They broke open many safes, ignored several boxes an other potential drug stashes and made the guns the primary subject of the raid. There were drugs on the premises. There was a medium amount of marijuana, personal use, and some "white powder residue" found on a room mate's dresser. They managed to drum up something like 9 charges across three room mates on this incident. I have every reason to believe the charges were overplayed as a means to cover the sketchy warrant.

The magistrate that set the bonds intentionally set the primary subjects bond to roughly 10 times the amount of money in his posession. There were items missing that were not part of the seized property list, including a guitar. They claim that the police didn't take it, and that it was likely stolen after the fact. That smells like bullshit, but whatever. The other items were negligible. A Harley Davidson pocketbook and about 30 Bic lighters.

Summer-Fall 2017: I cleaned up. I started making rapid fire changes in my life and lifestyle. I broke up with the girl. I removed the room mate amidst a bit of turmoil and I started focusing on building my character up a bit. Things were shifted around. Finances got tighter. Started a buy-low/sell-high gig appropriating electronics and vehicles to turn a bit of extra cash.

December 24th, 2017: Bought a Honda Rincon 680 for very cheap, was happy about the purchase. There was a middleman to the purchase as I didn't know the seller well.

December 26th, 2017: Vehicle was taken by the sheriff's department. The seller reported it stolen after the fact. I was cooperative with the authorities, but I declined to give the name of the middleman. The responding deputy was James Matthews. He's a clean cop. He did his job without bias.

The theft report cited that the vehicle was still at the shop from which it was purchased well after the photos I had taken of it in my driveway on the back of the vehicle belonging to the sketchy seller. Those photos were turned over as evidence and they were likely the only thing that kept me from being charged. I'm keeping communications with these investigators in hopes that the investigation will be handled as a legitimate sale/false police report. This was a financial hit I couldn't afford. My fiscal security spiraled.

Early January, 2018: My friend had some back and forth beef with a former room mate and another associate, after the latter two disappeared into a drug bender. The same friend being accused of selling drugs, trying to encourage people to stay away from drugs. Crazy, right? Well there was turmoil, and in the confusion several statements were written against him, he was tossed into jail, and quickly made bond. The arresting deputy is familiar but I didn't get his name. He's very cool with us, he allowed us ample time to bundle up before he took my friend in, handcuffed in front, willingly. He allowed me to follow behind in another vehicle to pay bond. The charges stated that he'd been threatening and vandalizing vehicles at the residence of the other associate. Unnecessary bullshit, but the kind police love.

January 11th, 2018. Raid #3. No one was home. Two doors were breached. Poorly. There were several small items broken along with the doors, and a 70'' LG flatscreen I'd been planning to re-sell. I posted images of the damaged items for reference later, here:

There was a warrant at the scene. I didn't see it at first, because it was laid among mail. The focal point of this search was clearly the guest room. It was implied that the initial subject was living in it by the warrant (He doesn't. He lives in another nearby neighborhood. The only personal items he has here were clothing and court documents. The guest room is filled with games, movies, televisions, piles of spare hygiene supplies and snacks, because I use it to ENTERTAIN GUESTS WHO OCCASIONALLY SPEND THE NIGHT. There is a dresser in the guest room, containing clothing items of several different people and some unclaimed items. In the guest room they found four painkillers and a medication for opiate withdrawals, left by a guest. They charged the same guy with these items, despite him not being on the scene. It was released to a local online news site, including several statements about my home that could be deemed as slanderous, considering there's never been any substantial proof of drug trafficking at my home.

They state, and have stated that they have made several arrests for crack, on people after them leaving my home. They've never found, charged or convicted anyone on the premises for crack cocaine, nor will they. Nearly every time this happens, they make a big to-do of any minor thing they can spin as paraphernalia. Last time they made an issue out of Ziplock bags in the kitchen and blunt wraps. This time, they did not. There were both in the home. I used to be a big ganja smoker, and a few of my friends still are. Yes, I'm aware this isn't legal activity, but it still doesn't constitute the level of force being used to conduct high profile trafficking raids which keep turning up peanuts.

I begin seeking advice, and continue to post updates to protect myself from further fuckery.

January 13th, 2018: The third party from the vehicle issues showed up at my house late in the evening. He was carrying a weapon, I could identify as a Mossburg 88 or 500 model shotgun, five shot, camo print, no stock, ambidextrous black safety. He seemed extremely nervous, potentially jumpy, claiming that he wanted to payback the friend/subject, by damaging his vehicle with it. I work on these cars, myself. I talked him down. Reminded him of how dangerous it would be to open fire on something in my yard, told him to leave before he got himself hurt. He left without a fuss. I didn't think much of it.

January 15th, 2018. Owner of the vehicle comes in. Apparently the girl who filed the initial papers contacted him. The third party told her that he'd vandalized one of the vehicles here, PRIOR to interacting with me, and she put two and two together. She's expressed interest in dropping the charges, and says we need to check the cars for damage. One of them appears to have had several TV monitors inside broken, some paint and body damage, et cetera. We file a report with insurance, follow up with a police report.

Responding deputy is Roy Ball. He doesn't seem very sold on the account we give him, despite that I direct him to a third witness who was told about the damages, and that I could describe the weapon. He makes comments regarding the nature of "filing false police reports" and it seems to be implied that he thinks one of us has damaged the vehicles. He's associated with the other case, and so I attempt to ask questions and I'm brushed off. I'll be surprised if this report is taken seriously. He seems more interested in why I didn't call the police on Saturday.

Why would I? They seem to have it in for me, and obviously won't do anything to help. We are dealing with insurance on the matter.

January 16th, 2018: I've decided to go public with the matter following interactions with the investigators on the raid case. They were dismissive with me, and tried several times to shut my request for action down by using false info (warrants are proof of illegal activity, et cetera) and refuse to cooperate with the grievance about my doors. One of my dogs can no longer be secured inside, because my doors are broken. I have no way of closing them. It's fucking cold outside, and I'm a disabled, poverty bracket citizen without any mode of telecommunication. I can't contact lawyers, repairmen, transportation... nothing. I'm being told that it's "Not their problem" because rather than treating it as an issue they choose to keep repeating that I need to throw out a person who doesn't live here anyway, and stop "selling drugs" that they haven't found in three no-knock raids. I get irate with him. Probably shouldn't have, but fuck that guy. Whether or not they believe they're justified doesn't make them judge and jury and I want my fucking property replaced. I want them to leave me alone, and I want to be able to have safety and privacy in my own home.

I'm not going to achieve those ends by way of laying down beneath the boot of these assholes, though. They're not going to force me into complicity and make me give up my rights. I'm going to fight it.

Later in the day, I get a visit from another deputy on an unrelated incident. I guess since I mentioned an LG flatscreen that they broke, they're hoping for a break. Responding was Travis Clark. Very calm, very collected. Asked me if I bought a TV from a guy I don't associate with. I didn't. Apparently a 70" LG was stolen from the fire station nearby and he wants to check the serial on mine. They aren't a match. While he's inside, he hears me out on what's been going on, and seems to be the only reasonable person I've talked to in quite some time, on the matter. He's also close to the investigation about the Honda, and I tell him what I can to hopefully aid in a favorable outcome in that regard.

I'm still fucked, I still have no phone, it's still very far behind and damaged, can't be checked out with insurance until I'm back up to date. I'm still looking for help and I'm hoping to take this whole story public in a big enough way that someone will come forward and get behind it. I'm pushing for change that we all know is needed, and I feel very alone. The risks I'm taking here are huge and it's nerve racking. If anyone can help me with exposure, help me publicize this to the media, or aid me in putting a fund up to achieve both ends, please do so. I don't know if I'm even safe, once I put this info out, but I'm not laying down for state sanctioned bullies. That's not how I roll.
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So... what's the point of paying 20 extra for next day shipping if the item doesn't process through the mailroom for four fucking days?
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Got fitted for new boots today. Apparently I've been wearing a size too small for some time now.
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I always found it weird how many people spend their lives trying to make appearances. How many people think that some otherwise neutral set of mannerisms makes a person less worthwhile. You have this image of trashy that includes so many things that don't really measure a person. I was gutted when I cared for someone deeply enough to be myself and they said that they would not live with it. No, it's too important to impress your friends. Too important to live your life according to what others think is correct.

Well fuck propriety. I refuse to repress the will to be loud. I refuse to dial back that booming voice. I refuse to be unhappy because people don't like my laugh. I refuse to bury any joy that I may have behind the fear of what someone else may think.

No, curse, spit and drive fast. Live by your own standards. Love yourself. Drink what you want. Eat what you like. Be who you want to be. If people don't like it, they're not your people. Be a dork. Laugh. Fuck, just laugh. Laugh at yourself even. Squeeze every drop of happiness you can from this life and don't waste it away with anxiety over whether people will push you away when they see the real you.

As I stood in line at a gas station, waiting for my late night chili dog, in dirty clothes, and a hunting cap, muddy boots and a sweet tea, casually snacking on hot Martin's crisps, ready to drive home in the dark and have a beer, this all rushes to me. I like who I am. I'm happy with me. This is where I'm supposed to be, this is who I was intended to be. This is true. Fuck anyone who could possibly hate that simply to spite the fact.

"It'll all make sense when we grow up."
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So I'm thinking I'm just going to have to start popping a little bit of ancient grain protein into my drink on the way home, and call it a day.
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So, anyone who knows me very well knows that 2018 has been a shit show. I had financial hits, early and often, legal troubles that were not necessarily my fault, which were aggravated by poor quality, revenue driven police work and back to back to back issues with transportation, friends dying, slack work, et cetera.

So I caught a break. I don't call it a "Lucky" break because we know goddamn well there's not luck involved in shit like this. I worked hard for this. I made this shit work:

Some time ago, I overheard someone talking in the store where I go to eat sometimes. He was complaining that he had to shut down a job site because none of the employees were doing the work, and that his pay wasn't coming through until it's completion.

I wasn't trying to eavesdrop, but I leaned in and said "You need better workers."

So the dude puts his call on hold and asks me if I'm a carpenter. Carpentry skills? Maybe. Am I a carpenter? No. Dumb muscle. I can read a tape, set a jig, cut straight, swing a hammer, and I'm not a fucking retard, plus I'm ambidextrous, I'm feckin' huge, and I run through work like I'm powered by ethyl alcohol and caffeine. I don't complain and whine, and when there's shit to be done, I do it. I've got a license. I don't do drugs. I don't take smoke breaks. I don't need 35 minutes for lunch, and I don't need 40 dollars out of my pay to buy crack like half the people willing to do this kind of work-- but no, I'm not a carpenter.

So he tells me to call the number on the side of the truck, tomorrow. I called it, he sounded busy and he asked me to call again the next day. The next day, he said he'd give me a shot because he had one guy on a three man job nearby, if I can go in right then, on the spot.

So I did. I killed that shit. We put up three decks in the next 4 days. Turns out this guy works as a general contractor and between jobs he lands himself, he has a steady stream of work from another guy who sells custom land and home packages, that need to be built to new NC and VA code. Most of them require at least one porch, and some form of stoop or stairs. Some of them need access ramps, concrete, add ons, modification. The work rolls in. He can give me all the time I need. I LOVE this shit. I'm going to burn hours down until I can't anymore.

I'm getting 10, 12, 14 hours a day done, and I'm with it. I don't want more time off. I want more work. That's how I roll. That weak crybaby-ing shit doesn't run in my blood so I show up, do the work, get paid at the end of the week. I don't have to sweat how the hours stack since I can bill the decking differently from drywall, flooring, roofing, et cetera, and just roll hours all day long if I want.

I'm learning EVERY aspect of the trade. I'm the primary driver of one of the company vans. I'm replacing people who don't work like they should. I'm making a solid impression. That impression comes with connections, like the one to my contractor's brother who builds racecars out of Chevrolets like mine and has tons of spare parts laying around. Connections like the ones to the real estate end of things. Connections like investors and land developers. Connections who are recognizing me as a driven, trustworthy, intelligent person with no fear of labor.

There were people who doubted I'd make it this far. There are people who will doubt me in the future. I'll enjoy clapping their mouths shut without a word.

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So my mum gets two mothers' days a year, anyway.

There's a lot of shady shit in our history, and because of it I lost loved ones, years of my life. I saw some pretty shit situations, and it all took it's toll on me. Somehow it seems she handled the trauma even more poorly. Today I wanted to take her for food. She wanted me to drive the truck somewhere far so we could go fast.

..and I guess that works. NC is beautiful. At some point, listening to Ozzy, tearing through some backroad at 120 with the windows down it looked for a second like she was finally outrunning her troubles for a few minutes. I can respect that.

Happy second Mothers' day, everyone.
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I sat my phone down on some masonry immediately after responding to a snap earlier and accidentally took a pretty nice picture by bumping the timer.
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