the continuing story of a family’s conspiracy

I previously touched on this story recently here.

I have now been encouraged to reveal more of the situation as I understand it. The below is republished from my Instagram page, @mil_williams, with very few edits and none of deep substance.

Comments are welcome, either from those in the know or not, if given in good faith.

Part 1

T.R.A.C.K.: THE FIVE KEY PLAYERS IN A CONSPIRACY OF FAMILY

So T, R, A, C and K all conspired against me.

No one was on my side.

They are all privacy nuts, of a dreadful one-sided bent.

They believe in royally fucking family members under the cover of encrypted conversation and exchange. They refuse, however, to accept that I might use the same rights and tools to speak out in the only forum available to me (the public one I mean, given that internal family is so corrosive). In particular, and especially, when there is no alternative available for me to uncover their stealthy abuse.

They are the Williams family to a T (never better said), even when they will never share the same surname.

Angels to the street; devils behind closed doors.

Of bullying parents and backgrounds, only bullies can emerge.

I am not of their kind, and will never follow their path.

Part 2

THE FAMILY TREE OF T.R.A.C.K.

C was the face that launched a thousand tricks.

She’s the daughter of K.

I had a four-day affair with K in the summer of 2004. During that time, she strongly encouraged me to accept my misdiagnosis of paranoid schizophrenia, which dated from the previous summer. She has always been closely connected with the right-wing of the British Labour Party, whose media department in that same year of 2004 promoted a TV show which celebrated mental ill-health via artistic expression. I had a documentary made about me, and got to present at the Tate in London some months afterwards. The project was called Mad for Arts, and was fronted by the UK journalist Jon Snow. Mine discussed how the Iraq War of the time had helped deliver my illness. Labour was the party which came out in favour of that conflict.

I always said to K I didn’t feel comfortable with my label. She suggested I actually luxuriate in it.

T had a relationship with K before I did, confirmed by her to me, with some details. T is my brother. I suspect he had one with her afterwards, too.

I am not, however, indicating displeasure re the fact. I am 100% with a person when I am with them. But when I am not, I do not believe in an ownership of chattel.

Either way, for my brother, whom I know to be quite different in this respect, sufficient emotional motive to get involved on K’s side when in 2015/16 I started remembering key events in my life, via the writing of codified poetry.

C got visibly involved with my case around April 2016, via a Facebook connection. I met her in Dublin on my birthday, where I was – that same night – intending to read this poetry in public to a significant Bloomsday celebration of writing, both old and new.

C ensured I did not attend that celebration, by pretending to enjoy a meal with me (she actually said she’d had the best time for weeks); a meal which in truth must have dragged on for her and which had a massively stupid impact on me.

I assume the latter was in the design of the thing.

C, btw, is K’s daughter.

R, meanwhile, is K’s sister, and so therefore C’s aunt. They all come from an extremely clannish family, as befits one of Irish origins. A priori, this is neither fab nor bad: as always in these things, it’s the people concerned that make the real difference to structure.

Final point: R is literally the toughest cookie I have ever met. I still am unclear of the nature of her participation.

Part 3

STRAGGLERS

Re the previous two installments, four people I didn’t give detail about, but who must also have been playing a part, do now need to be highlighted.

The first, A, whom I briefly touched on in Part 1, is the partner of one of the others. Like him, she is occupied by a need to fiercely maintain her privacy. She read, as he did, a five-part online story (one part of which was previously published in a charity collection for the British Heart Foundation). It described my experiences of family. I first told him about it, and he then showed it to her with my permission. On reading, she assured me she’d get back to me within a few days.

She never did.

That was around 2014/15.

The second person was a member of the British Labour Party, with the initials of ME, who met me in a coffee shop in Chester one day, and threatened me with the displeasure of wealthy people, on whose behalf he was clearly acting as a messenger.

The third person is a recent client of mine, who half-shares a surname with ME, and with whom I suspect might enjoy some broad connection of sorts. This third individual framed me financially not long ago, and confirmed this reality to me in so many words. He has played a key part in my current business challenges.

Equally, he has done everything he can to ensure I cannot work with the British security apparatus: something I would love to deliver on. My integrity re the real interests of the UK, and my manifesting of a real patriotism of proud cannot be in doubt.

Finally, someone so important she is not even allowed a LinkedIn profile (this I was told a while ago by tough cookie R mentioned in my last post, whose sister she coincidentally happens to be) has – from her position of information privilege – known everything, I am sure, about these series of actions against my person. I will be charitable, however: she has done little to stop these people and those circumstances, but her security personnel have helped me avoid certain suicide when it was within their means.

I would, however, have preferred a discovery process and proper prosecution of the actions, which would have served to help me far more.

She goes by the initial of J.

And I am conscious of how serious this is getting. I am getting very very angry that this situation has been left to fester for sixteen years, at least.

A long time.