Things About Me
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Five people pushed me to the point of ending my life. I hated them, until I didn't. But a forever-pain lingers as their actions still cast long shadows which highlights the cruel power we can impose on one another. Though most of my scars are internal, the physical ones are reminders of what I had to do to survive, when they drove me to homelessness. The truth is I've had major impacts in major communities like Seattle, New York and Chicago helping more people as a whole than all of them combined; but that meant little as they stripped my life's work and my life from me, twice. Yet, I ask this world to bless them and wish only the best for each of their futures.
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From birth, life seemed to dislike me. My father left when I was born, my mother gave me to my grandmother, my grandmother dropped me off at an orphanage, all before I was one.
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Shortly before turning five, I was adopted into an amazing family, a home overflowing with ten siblings; but fitting in, just wasn't for me.
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As I grew, my talents accelerated, as did my flaws. A top sales producer, a tech entrepreneur, a fashion leader, a constant advocate for women of abuse, rescue pups and the underserved, I was a rising star. However, my need to appear perfect and the willingness to take short cuts to get ahead lead to repeated poor choices in myself, my actions and the people I let into my life. Everything I achieved, all the good I had accomplished, eradicated from existence like I never mattered; and every impossible success I earned just seemed like a reminder that from birth, life has proven to me that I don't belong.
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Haunted by the trauma of failed suicide attempts, the complete destruction of my morality when I was homeless and the unresolved anger from all that was lost, I still wrestle with the urge to give up. But one unfinished thought keeps me going... Is my life a lesson on what not to do... or ... the greatest comeback story that has yet to completely unfold... Verdicts still out.
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Things I Desgn
Beyond fabric and thread, I see stories. As a full-range fashion designer, I've had the privilege of crafting bespoke garments for more athletes than any other brand. It's not just clothing; it's an obsession. Suits, dresses, jackets, coats, casual wear – for men, women, and children. Every piece, a unique expression.
Things I Survived
Suicide and Homelessness
Homelessness was...interesting. The first time, I bounced between couches, the streets, and the physical scars that riddle my body are a testament to just how violent being homeless can be. The second time, I went from Motel 6 to Motel 6, barely keeping my head on straight. And though I didn't have food most of the time, I had a bed and a roof over my head, which felt like a five-star penthouse to me and my pup.
Suicide, is control. I know this won't make sense to most people, but for those who suffer, it does. My life phased between not wanting to die, but unsure of how to live to wanting to die, but being afraid of death, to wanting to live but also wanting to die to just wanting to die. This circular deterioration of my ability to attach to life is the reason I sought the control to end it; and the harsh reality is that suicide will forever be in my life now and that's part of the daily battle.
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I know I've survived so much, but these experiences stand out the most for me. And as difficult as it is on my hard days, I am proud to say I survived these things most.
Things I Love Most
DOGS. When I was homeless on the streets, my pup Hyphen kept me from being alone. When I was fresh off my last suicide attempt, my pup Seven gave me routine which, kept me alive. Though my pups are special, all dogs have a place in my heart.
SUICIDE SURVIVOR
Things I Am
My life has been reset so many times, I can barely piece together which version of me is waking up each morning.
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This last fall broke every last ounce of life out of me. Completely betrayed and humilated, I wasn't even healed from the prior time at rock bottom; so the weight of the old and the new crushed me without mercy. I honestly don't know how I made it back on my feet, but the shell of a man that crawled out of that pit had nothing left, and I barely kept myself from reattempting to take my life right away. Five years later, I'm finally finding some stability but I've only managed to build three pillars to my identity: a gym rat, a junk food lover, and owning the fact that I'm a suicide survivor.
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It's weird to have these as my only stable identifiers. But that's the funny thing about time. If we can gain control of it, we can use it to make our lives better.
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GYM RAT
JUNK FOOD LOVER
Things Said About Me
From 2016 to 2019, I clawed my way back to life through a rare chance to become professional fashion designer. At the NBA draft in 2016 I made clothes for a first rounder and the designs I made ESPN said was the best they ever saw. Shortly after, I went global. It was one helluva comeback as I went from a nobody to making more custom clothes for more professional athletes then any other brand as major publication after major publicaation kept debuting me as a world leader. The story that was never told; just months prior to 2016, I was eating out of trash cans.
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Before my mini-run at fame, I was a top sales rep winning all of the awards at a major corporate REIT in my early 20's, just because I thought it'd be fun. Then, I decided I wanted to build a tech company because it looked interesting and did so from the ground up. It quickly exploded into a travel and tech company that Google and Intercontinental Hotels called one of the best new startups of that time.
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Then came the collaborations. Nonprofits, city halls, corporations – they all wanted me, the following I amassed and the creativity that made me stand out. I made events that stuck with people, like a recreation of the Lady and the Tramp alley scene for a private dinner, and Seattle's first dog fashion show with adoptable fur babies called "Hot Men and Cute Pups." The ladies truly loved me for that one.
People called me a leader, sucessful, talented, a creator, a trusted advocate and selfless. Terms I earned the old fashioned way by outworking everyone and giving my life to everything I put my focus on.
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I'm not sure what I'll be called in the future, but from the book and TV show offers, to podcast guest requests and the attention I still receive, I'm simply grateful to just be called at all. Because, I still remember when I was fighting for my life and no one would answer, even when they knew I wanted to die. And this realization will always stay with me.
Things That Were Lies
Three organizations saw fit to intervene in my life; publishing their narrative as if it were fact creating a new identity of who I was and who people til this day still accuse me of being.
The NFL Players Association. The Wall Street Journal. KOMO 4 News in Seattle changed my life in ways I never knew faceless organizations could, without a care for me as a human being.
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Like a coordinated hit played out over several years, I had no chance against these institutions. I lost everything, including nearly my life.
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These things still hurt. I have carried this burden for too long. I cannot change what was said — but through my words, my voice, my point of view and my social media, I will address them. Not obsessively; but as a man trying to heal.
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For The Record
This section is my healing zone. Each week I will add a screenshot to what I call my Recipe to Heal. Each new topic is an ingredient of sorts, something said by the NFL Players Association, The Wall Street Journal, or KOMO 4 News in Seattle that I need to address, drop into the batter, and leave there. The point is to take something that hurt, say my piece, and never have to carry it through pain again. After each entry I will follow up on TikTok and Instagram.
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Now what follows may seem long. It is. But it is important.
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This is about my former business partner, Gary Buckley Woolever, and my side of a story that has followed me for over a decade. His nickname is Buckley. His aliases include Adam, D. Wilson, SCIOB, D. Meisner, and his personal favorite, Carma Izzabitch, along with at least ten rotating email addresses built from my name or the names of businesses I once owned. On TikTok I called him my stalker. That was emotionally accurate but not precise enough. So this is the one place I will be completely precise, and after this I will never feel the need to defend myself against him again. If I mention him anywhere else it will only be to give context to something I had to survive, and how I kept moving anyway.
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Here is my point of view on our long, messy, unfortunate history.
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He invested $440k. Our business failed. He had far more involvement in that failure than he will ever admit. He sued me. And honestly, I cannot fault him for that. In the beginning I believe, in my heart, he just wanted his money back. But after losing early and repeatedly in his own lawsuit, something shifted in him. He decided he was willing to do anything to win, which meant he stopped being accountable for his own part in any of it.
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But I was exactly the same way. I was scared out of my mind and too embarrassed to be honest with anyone, including myself. I lied when I should have been honest. I was honest when I should have said nothing. I said whatever I needed to say to escape the discomfort of facing him, his attorney, and the truth that I had not just failed to live up to what he hoped for. I had failed to live up to what I hoped for myself.
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I had a real chance. We both believed I was going to be some badass hero who made us both rich fast. And look, I am not going to belittle what I was. I was a fucking badass. Top sales person at 22. Then five years ranked nationally in the top five as a lead account executive for a major wholesale finance company. Hundreds of millions in sales. That track record made me believe I knew everything, and that arrogance, the same arrogance that once made me unstoppable, turned me into a dreamer chasing ideas I was not equipped to execute. Coffee shop stands. A reading program that handed out health supplements instead of pizza. I was not a liar. I was not a fraud. I just was not ready for what that moment required of me.
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What Gary Buckley Woolever deserved was this version of me. The one writing this. But if he is going to accept my failures from back then, he has to find the courage to face his own as well.
After he decided to stop playing fair, he and his attorney coordinated with KOMO 4 News in Seattle to execute what they told me directly was a plan to ruin my reputation, remove my ability to defend myself, force me into prison, and win the lawsuit. Those are nearly their exact words. I do not know if I was too arrogant or too afraid to believe them but I chose to ignore it and that decision cost me everything.
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I never defrauded Gary Buckley Woolever. If the proof were as clean as he claims, his case would not have needed a news crew at every single court appearance. What I will say honestly is that half the money can be clearly accounted for. The other half sits in a genuine disagreement about what we agreed upon together, and that disagreement is exactly why years later I still tried to work things out. Even after everything he had done and everything I had lost, I wanted resolution. Because I cannot say with one hundred percent certainty that everything I did would have looked acceptable to an outside eye. That kind of honesty cost me something to write.
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One specific note. I have no issue with his attorney, Bruce Danielson. I met him several times early on and I genuinely believe he was trying to find a peaceful settlement. In some strange way I think he even had my interests in mind. But I was too squirrelly to let him help me. I respected him so much it made me afraid of him, and fear made me say whatever I needed to say just to get out of the room. I was not trying to lie. I just had no idea how I would follow through on anything I promised. He was hired to do a job and he did a really fucking good one.
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Now let me explain how Gary Buckley Woolever got his default judgment, because this part matters.
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It was not because the facts were on his side. It was not because he had an open and shut case. It is because I had no attorney for most of the lawsuit, and once KOMO 4 got involved I had no willpower left to keep being publicly humiliated. They waited until I was literally homeless on the streets. Then they moved. They got a default judgment loaded with language including the word fraud, language they now point to as if a court made findings about me based on evidence. That is not what happened.
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Here is how civil court actually works. You make accusations. If the other person responds, the judge decides who is right. I did not respond. Not once in those filings did a judge look at their accusations and weigh them against my defense and rule against me. Every single thing in that judgment is there because they knew I was not showing up, they made their accusations into the silence, and the judge had no choice but to enter a default agreement. In civil court, a default judgment becomes a legal statement of fact as it pertains to that lawsuit. It does not mean it is true. It means no one was there to contest it. If that distinction confuses you, I understand. Imagine how it felt to live it.
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They also got a bench warrant. Not because law enforcement requested one. Because they knew they could ask for it, knew I would not be there to respond, and knew they would get it. They wrote specific language into that warrant designed to make it read like a criminal arrest warrant. KOMO 4, the NFL Players Association, and the Wall Street Journal all took that language and ran with it. They called me a fugitive. They called me wanted. They cited the bench warrant as an arrest warrant. They knew what it actually was. I know they knew, because of how carefully they chose their words. That is not a misunderstanding of the law. That is a choice to bend the truth, as a lie.
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I am not exaggerating when I say that KOMO 4 and Garys attorney coordinated to have a camera crew at my court cases and requested depositions not to gain new information, but to just record me as I answered humiliating questions. Their tactic worked, after a while, I hit my limit and stopped showing up for court. I could have shown up anyway and should have, but they found my weakness and exploited it. Despite KOMO 4 and their interference in my lawsuit, I should have stood up for myself, and I will hate that choice forever, because I would have won. Instead Gary was awarded a judgment of $970k that grew to nearly $2M in interest in just a few years.
I left Seattle with nothing. No support. No income. Two suicide attempts behind me. I went to Chicago just trying to breathe. Gary and his attorney reached out within months. Told me I could not escape them. Told me to start paying. And I did. I entered into a payment agreement and over the following year paid close to $200k. While I was doing that, they told the judge I was not cooperating and secured the bench warrant. I eventually asked to pause the payments because the plan they kept increasing was impossible to sustain. Gary said no. Shortly after, the Wall Street Journal called me a fugitive on the run, citing KOMO 4, which had cited the bench warrant as an arrest warrant, and the story circled and circled until it became what everyone believed. For about three years after once being covered by Bloomberg and the New York Post for dressing more professional athletes than any other designer, I could not get hired by anyone.
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When I finally got back on my feet enough to try again, I hired one of the best mediators in Chicago and offered Gary $1M over ten years. He turned it down. I went to $1.5M. I offered to co-author a book about how two people find their way through something like this. I offered to appear on a television show he claimed to have and was willing to sign over my rights to help him secure both the TV and book deals. The mediator was as stunned as I was when Gary turned all of it down. That was the moment I understood there was nothing left I could do for him. He did not want resolution. He wanted something else entirely.
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When he forced me into a deposition again after I moved to Des Moines and tried to have me arrested, I ran again. I am not proud of that. But Gary knows which pressure points push me back toward the darkest places I have ever been, and I am a three time survivor who was watching every effort I had made to rebuild fall apart once more, because Gary Buckley Woolever was sending people the news articles, escalating his threats, making sure that wherever I tried to plant something new, he was there to pull it out of the ground.
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The messages I have saved are a small fraction of thousands of emails, texts, and threats sent to me and to my websites over twelve years. The frequency of those threats, the timing of them, and the way he used every legal mechanism available to appear wherever I tried to build a life and strip away every ounce of safety I had managed to find, it broke something in my mind that took years to piece back together. That is not dramatic. That is the reality of how far he went and how far it pushed me.
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But here is the irony.
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His most recent actions, and the actions of the people around him, showed me exactly what I had been missing in my own life. And that clarity healed me faster than anything else has. Gary Buckley Woolever and the people in his corner may matter deeply to someone. I genuinely hope they do. But he does not matter to me anymore, and that is not spite. That is me finally understanding that some people cannot heal their own lives while spending all of their time focused on someone else's.
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If he reaches out to you, or if someone directs you to his websites, cityguruinvestor or investwithjang, read what he has to say. Every person deserves to be heard, including him.
The truth is Gary Buckley Woolever did not ruin my life. The NFL Players Association, The Wall Street Journal, and KOMO 4 News did, and my own choices helped them do it. He was a pawn. I was the subject. They broke me.
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But they did not beat me.
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