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STONE-911 WonderGrid Pulse Gate Post-Quantum 911 Architect • Dad • SAG-AFTRA Actor • Male Talent • Civil Rights Leader • 9/11 WTC First Responder • Investigator
Las Vegas, Nevada
Joined July 2012
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PROJECT STONE MEETS THE GHOSTBUSTERS: THE LABYRINTH BUSTED.
The Ghostbusters are standing there looking at me after listening to Docu 86, and I can tell they’re starting to regret taking the call. Ten minutes of the same growling sound. Ten fucking minutes. Same location. Same spot where I’ve stood doing documentary voiceovers again and again and again. Same Project Stone location. And I’m standing there with my recorder, my cameras, my files, my SpyHawk RF detector and a pile of records that looks like somebody dumped an entire government archive on the fucking floor. Ghostbuster number one finally looks at me and says, “Jamie, we came here because somebody told us there was something strange in the neighborhood.” I say, “You found it.” He says, “We thought maybe it was a ghost.” I say, “Maybe.” He says, “We thought we’d investigate a paranormal event.” I say, “Maybe.” He says, “We thought we’d identify the entity and get the hell out of here.” I say, “That’s where you’re going to have a problem.” He looks at the mountain of Project Stone records and says, “What the fuck is all that?” I say, “That’s the part you don’t understand. Docu 86 is only one piece of Project Stone. I was 21 years old standing in the ashes of the World Trade Center on 9/11. I was down there in the aftermath, and when you’ve stood in the ashes of something that enormous, you don’t look at a system the same way again. You start thinking about what happens when the system is supposed to work. You start thinking about 911. You start thinking about dispatch. You start thinking about CAD. You start thinking about records. You start thinking about the people who answer the phone when somebody is having the worst moment of their life. You start thinking about how that call becomes a CAD event, how the CAD event becomes a record, how the record can become part of an RMS, how reports and evidence can move through systems, how vendors build those systems, how contracts pay for those systems, how governments authorize those systems, how private companies maintain those systems, and how twenty years later some asshole named Jamie can sit down and say, ‘Okay, show me the record.’”
The Ghostbuster looks at me and says, “Okay, that’s already more than we expected.” I say, “We’re not even at ASFA yet.” He says, “What the fuck is ASFA?” I say, “The Adoption and Safe Families Act. Then CAPTA. The Child Abuse Prevention and Treatment Act. Then Title IV-E. Then state implementation. Then county child-welfare systems. Then private providers. Then contracts. Then reimbursements. Then federal funding eligibility. Then RFQs. Then amendments. Then the actual names on the contracts. Now you’re in the Project Stone child-welfare side of the labyrinth.” I pull up RFQ 604131-16 and say, “Let’s start here. Clark County RFQ 604131-16, Foster Care Services. The county records identify the providers and the contract history. We’re talking 180 Community Wellness Centers, LLC; Apple Grove Treatment Center, LLC doing business as Apple Grove Foster Care Agency; Bamboo Sunrise, LLC; Eagle Quest; Greater Hope Foundation for Children, Inc. doing business as Greater Hope Foundation; National Youth Advocate Program, Inc.; Olive Crest; Sandria LLC; Shining Star Community Services LLC; Specialized Alternatives For Families And Youth Of Nevada, Inc., SAFY; and St. Jude’s Ranch For Children Inc. doing business as St. Jude’s Ranch for Children Nevada Region, Inc.” Clark County’s records show the original RFQ 604131-16 award at $28 million and subsequent amendments; one amendment specifically added contract services eligible for federal Title IV-E funding reimbursement. “Now look at RFQ 606777-23. Specialized Foster Care. The county’s 2026 record identifies 180 Community Wellness Centers, LLC, Apple Grove Treatment Center LLC dba Apple Grove Foster Care Agency, Bamboo Sunrise, LLC, Eagle Quest, National Youth Advocate Program, Inc.,
RAW PROJECT STONE DOCU 86 👻
If there’s something strange in your neighborhood, who you gonna call? Ghostbusters.
But what the fuck do you do when the ghost apparently has a microphone and decides to growl for TEN FUCKING MINUTES?
Welcome to Project Stone, Docu 86, where apparently the devil showed up and said, “You know what? I’m gonna growl. And I’m gonna keep growling. For ten minutes.” Bro, we get it. You’re pissed.
So who is the devil? That’s the million dollar question. I’m not sitting here telling you I know who or what made that sound. I’m saying listen to the damn recording and decide for yourself.
If this was a Ghostbusters mission, I’d be Jamie, Ghostbusters 6.9. Not quite 7. Not quite 6.8. Just enough to get called when the other Ghostbusters are like, “Yeah, somebody else can deal with that shit.”
Ghostbusters would pull up, hear ten minutes of demonic growling, look at each other and say, “Who the hell recorded this?”
Me: “I did.”
Ghostbusters: “Why?”
Me: “Because I’m Jamie. I was digging.”
Ghostbusters: “Fair enough.”
So here we are. DOCU 86.
TEN MINUTES OF THE DEVIL APPARENTLY HAVING SOMETHING TO SAY.
Who do YOU think the devil is?
Or maybe the better question is: WHO THE FUCK GAVE HIM TEN MINUTES ON THE MICROPHONE?
PROJECT STONE.
Some of us never quit digging.
GHOSTBUSTERS MEETS PROJECT STONE.
Ghostbusters pull up to the Project Stone location.
“Okay, Jamie. Show us where it happened.”
I point to the exact spot.
“Right here.”
They look around.
“Here?”
“Yep. Same exact spot.”
“How many times have you recorded here?”
“About a hundred to hundred thousand documentaries.”
They look at each other.
“Okay. And this one?”
“Docu 86.”
“What happens in Docu 86?”
“I did the voiceover at the same exact spot. Then listen.”
I hit play.
The growling starts.
Five minutes later, it’s still going.
Eight minutes later, it’s STILL going.
Ten minutes later…
Ghostbuster #1: “Does this thing have an off switch?”
Me: “Apparently the devil doesn’t.”
Ghostbuster #2: “Who is making that sound?”
Me: “That’s the fucking mystery.”
Now the investigation gets serious.
Ghostbusters start pulling out their equipment.
EMF meter.
Audio recorder.
Paranormal detection gear.
Whatever the hell else they keep in that giant Ghostbusters toolbox.
I reach into my own bag.
“Hold on. I got something.”
Ghostbusters: “What?”
I pull out the SpyHawk RF detector.
Ghostbuster #1: “You brought an RF detector?”
Me: “Of course.”
Ghostbuster #2: “Why?”
Me: “Because apparently we’re doing Ghostbusters meets Project Stone.”
Now we’re standing there with an RF detector, audio equipment, surveillance detection gear, EMF meters, cameras, microphones, and enough technology to make the devil wonder if his privacy settings are turned on.
Ghostbuster #1: “Okay. What exactly are we looking for?”
Me: “I don’t know.”
Ghostbuster #2: “What are we trying to detect?”
Me: “I don’t know.”
Ghostbuster #1: “Then why did you call us?”
Me: “Because the devil has apparently been growling into my documentary for ten fucking minutes.”
Silence.
Ghostbuster #2: “Fair.”
So now we run the whole scene.
We check the audio.
We check the equipment.
We check the environment.
We check for RF signals.
We check the surveillance-detection equipment.
We check the recording.
And then somebody says the question nobody wants to answer:
“Jamie, who exactly do you think the devil is?”
I look at the recorder.
“I don’t know.”
Ghostbuster: “You don’t know?”
“Nope.”
Ghostbuster: “Then what do you know?”
“I know I was standing right here. I know I’ve recorded about a hundred or a hundred thousand documentaries at this same location. I know Docu 86 has that growling sound. And I know I’m not going to sit here and tell people I know exactly what made it when I don’t.”
Ghostbuster: “So what’s the conclusion?”
Me:
“The investigation continues.”
And somewhere in the background, the devil is still going:
GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR.
Ten fucking minutes.
At that point even the Ghostbusters are like:
“Okay, dude. We heard you the first nine minutes.”
Project Stone.
Same location.
Another recording.
One hell of a mystery.
And apparently one demon with absolutely no concept of keeping his documentary appearance under ten minutes.
The question remains:
WHO THE FUCK IS THE DEVIL?
Docu 86.
Listen for yourself.
The duck may money spread fronting at the treasury, but my daddy owns the treasury.
If Elon so rich how come I never seen him do a money spread in front of the treasury? @elonmusk
Truth doesn’t need me to protect it. Before phones, algorithms, feeds, cameras, and every digital mirror, truth was still truth. I’m writing this for my whole family, my friends, my enemies, my daughters, my sons, believers, nonbelievers, parents, first responders, cops, social workers, neighbors, kids, pets, and every human being standing somewhere in this story. You don’t have to believe exactly what I believe to believe in freedom, family, human dignity, and the right to be heard. I ran into the World Trade Center because people needed help, and 25 years later I’m still trying to understand what real emergencies, real 911 calls, brotherhood, family, and standing together under God really mean. I’ve been digging, documenting, writing, saving records, and building the bucket brigade because someday somebody else may pick up what I started and take it farther than I ever could. I want my whole family, my friends, and even my enemies to see what faith looks like when you keep walking even when the mountain is still standing in front of you. And when that mountain moves, I want to put five carats in my baby girls’ ears, not because a diamond defines her worth, but because that five carats represents the love, the sacrifice, the family, the fight, and everything we made it through together. My family, my friends, and even my enemies will be standing there to witness it. That’s the swish. The man in the mirror. The records. The family. The faith. The freedom. The mountain. God Wins.
Making it swoosh. I’m making this swish from my past to my family, across every platform, into my writing, clothing, brands, photographs, videos, records, 911 calls, and every person and place connected to this story, because they’re all mirrors, and I’m looking straight into the man in the mirror asking what happens when one man refuses to stop digging; I ran into the World Trade Center on 9/11 because people needed help, and that taught me what a real emergency is, what 911 means, what brotherhood means, and what it means when human beings stand together while everything falls apart, and that is why I care about families, parents, kids, cops, first responders, social workers, and the animals we love; I’m putting the calls, emails, contracts, stamped documents, dates, cities, states, and paper trail on the table in my own voice because I lived this story, but I’m also building it so journalists, investigators, lawyers, agents, researchers, parents, and real diggers can pick up the bucket and follow the evidence wherever it leads; I’m not asking anybody to blindly believe me, I’m saying here are my experiences, here are the records, here are the questions, now look for yourselves; let the documents speak, let the evidence speak, and if I’m wrong about something, document that too, because truth doesn’t need me to protect it; before phones, algorithms, and feeds, we had block parties, schoolyards, backyards, woods, neighbors who knew neighbors, and people who showed up; they don’t care about us, Biggie knows, so I’m flipping the mirror back to human beings, because none of us are cash, kids are not commodities, families are not line items, and people should never become numbers before they become human beings; today I want to show my family what faith means, because I’ve been staring at a mountain for a long damn time and I still believe it can move, and I want to walk free, speak freely, love my family freely, and stand beside my daughter knowing I never stopped believing; when I put five carats in my baby girl’s ear, it won’t be because a diamond gives her value, but because I want to be standing there with her after everything we’ve walked through, knowing we made it; I’m connected to my family and everyone standing before me, cops, first responders, social workers, parents, kids, pets, journalists, investigators, neighbors, everybody who crossed this story, and I’m not claiming to know where every road ends, I’m willing to follow the evidence there; this is the bucket, the record, the mirror, the swish, and I’m passing it forward; I believe God connected us for a reason, and the knock knock joke I heard as a kid finally makes sense: sometimes the knock is the call, sometimes the door is an opportunity, and sometimes the bucket goes to the next person willing to carry it; I’m knocking today, not asking you to blindly follow me, just asking you to look, think, dig, verify, question, and remember who we were before the world told us what we were supposed to be; one nation under God, family beside family, neighbor beside neighbor, human being beside human being, standing together before that mountain; I’ve been asking for it to move, and now we’re about to find out who moved it.
Today, I want to show my family what faith means. I want to show them that when the mountain is standing in front of you, you don’t have to become the mountain. You keep walking. You keep believing. You keep telling the truth as you understand it, and you keep your voice.
I want that mountain to move.
I want to walk free.
I want to speak freely.
I want my family to see that faith isn’t just something you talk about when life is easy. Faith is what you carry when the road gets hard.
That’s all I want.
Freedom. Family. Faith. Free speech.
And one day, I want my family standing beside me on the other side of that mountain, looking back and knowing we never stopped believing it could move.