“Remember to use code…”
“Use code down below…”
“And remember to sign up with the code below for…”
“Not financial advice!”
“And remember guys, this is not financial advice!”
“This is what I do but it is not financial advice!”
“And together, let’s all go to the moon!”
Your silkensmooth voices deliver the so called amazing deals in such a seducing way, it’s like music to the ears. Here you sit, the shephard of your flock, the one we all look up to, to protect us, little do we know you were the wolf all along.
Count for yourself how many influencers you know. Now look at howw many of these influencers have been involved in one scam or the other. Be it lootboxes, NFT’s or Crypto, the blockchain tells that the vast majority of them have been involved in at least one rugpull.
Although if they had been involved in one they were most likely involved in multiple. Why stop at one? A sponsership, an insider-deal, a few tweets to your impressionable fans and a couple hours to set up dummy wallets to cover your tracks. Easy 50.000$.
Oh sure your fans may be upset when you’ve scammed them three times but that’s nothing that an apology video and six months of so-called “redemption” can’t fix and suddenly you’re back on top, able to rip off the people who build the throne you sit so comfortably upon.
I bet you didn’t ever consider the consequences that your greed resulted in. Why would you? You were never the victim of the consequences. But I am changing that…
I’m leaving this script here for people to know my story. I know the feds are on my trail by now and it is only a matter of time before I’m apprehended and sentenced to live the rest of my life in a cell, that is if I escape death row. I suppose I should start out with “Not murder advice” as a similar wording apparently works to prevent facing judgement of law in financial crimes, although I doubt it will work.
So let me start at the day my hatred started to blossom. I had known of influencers promoting several shady deals for a long time, deals meant to rip off the fan-base, but I didn’t think much of it. “Don’t be an idiot, why would you believe them?” I would ask myself. If a deal is too good to be true, well it probably is.
To think that every influencer on YouTube, Instagram, TikTok etc. would overnight change from selfish entertainers to Mother Teresa herself and be all about giving, would be a foolish thought. Now while I was adamant about enjoying the entertainment that online social media provided without ever believing their lies and buying into their scams.
My brother on the other hand, had faith in an influencer. “One of the good guys” he called him. And when the influencer promoted a crypto-currency for three days straight, my brother bought in with everything he had. Any spare penny, any last saving was thrown into whatever scam-coin this influencer was promoting. And for the following two weeks my brother was ecstatic about the investment opportunity.
That was until he looked up the market-cap of the coin and its value had dropped 97,2% from the day before. His were, reduced to but a fraction of what they once were. Things took a turn for the worse shortly after. My brother fell into a great depression and the anxiety over the monetary loss was too much. After trying to contact him for half a day I drove to his apartment.
As I opened the door my heart sank. My brother, hanging from a cord in the ceiling, pale except for the purple bruises around his neck where the cord had crushed his windpipes. And on his open laptop an apology video from the influencer. Trembling with fear and sadness I moved over, sat down on the chair and replayed the video.
The apology was bullshit. Utter. Fucking. Bullshit. All he spoke about was “Personal accountability” and “Don’t invest more than you can lose”, not even a SHRED of responsibility for goating the people he trusted into a scam. In that moment there was no sadness. There was only hatred and disgust. I slammed the laptop shut and called my parents, not even knowing what to say.
I don’t recall much more of that day, or the following days. All I remember is the hatred, the spark that turned into a flame that turned into a blazing inferno. And a vow that they would feel the consequences as well.
The killing didn’t differ much, but it is not as entertaining as you may be hoping for. You’d think I would be government contracted to find the address of my targets but no. It was plain simple and I’ll spill my secret right here.
All you need is time. Time to go through their vlogs, streams, uploads. You see the influencers who are careless enough to play with peoples livelihood are oftentimes also careless enough to get themselves doxxed. All I had to do was watch videos to find either an address or a street I could cross-check in Google Maps and I had the location.
All I had to do was park near their house, pull up their live-stream and wait for it to be over, knowing that the chance of the murder being recorded would be significantly reduced. The killing itself isn’t even that entertaining. You may be hoping for some gory blood-porn or macabre justice being executed but I don’t take any particular pleasure in the act.
I do what I do because it sends a necessary message. I don’t talk, I don’t grin, I don’t laugh. I break in, I find them and I overpower and kill them, usually with a blade, although I am carrying a firearm on me if I experience sudden movements.
The look in their eye tells me they have no clue why I’m doing this, which only feeds the flames of hatred. To be so ignorant about the pain you are causing the people who adore you, you do not deserve to be in the position you are in.
One guy pleaded that he had made mistakes and would make amends. I found if aggravating that he was only willing to repent when the consequences were dire. I placed a hard punch in his temple and slit his throat before he regained full consciousness. There were times to make amends. Now it is too late.
I’ve killed eight so far and I do not intend on stopping till I’m brought down with force. I understand that leaving this here will narrow the search even further and I will be found within too long. But not here. When they get here I’ll be gone with the wind and all they will find is but another dead influencer.
So why am I leaving this here? Why paint a target on my back? Well for two reasons. For two outcomes.
Firstly; to let the loved ones of the victims of influencer scams know that you are not alone. And if the government wont fight the fight for you, I will.
And secondly; to let all you influencers know what YOUR consequences will be for being a bad influence…