Since Ginny has came into my life, I’ve been telling stories that…stand out in my mind of “wow, wtf”.
One of those is Adrian Lamo. I’m only using his name because he was murdered or died in some way and feel like he would appreciate me writing this.
So it goes like this, somehow I got a earlier crackhore follower in Philly which spiraled from Jeff to T to Adrian. He liked my site enough that he had it bookmarked on his laptop.
When he turned himself into the FBI.
I was living with Ian at the time on Haynes St. My mom calls and says she got a phonecall from someone claiming to be from the FBI. She thought it was one of my friends fucking around but took the number down anyway and wanted me to call.
I hangup with mom and walk to the kitchen and pour myself a everclear and koolaid. It was blue.
A fun internet fact, I registered crackhore.com in 1998 and since I was using my parent’s credit card, it had their address/phone on the whois data and it never got changed, how they “found me”.
I called the agent and said if I feel uncomfortable I’ll call back with a lawyer but I’ll talk to him. He asked about what I did and crackhore.com. They thought it was crack like hacking…it was more like crack like crack, I dunno, it’s just a funny name. After a while he says “okay after reading this it doesn’t seem like we should look into you further”.
The reason I’m writing this out is I wanna close the chapter on this post. I submitted a FBI FOIA request 15 minutes ago. I want so badly to read/post the notes from that conversation.
Not expecting a fast turn around time because the world is broken but at least it’s in the works, will be a happy surprise one day in the mail.