Canton Cover-Up Part 279: Turtleboy’s Prison Journals Part 3, Turtleboy Detox

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Today is my 35th day in jail. Last week, we filed a Petition with the SJC asking them to do a number of things:

1. Reduce my jail time from 90 days to 60 since bail in Superior Court can only be revoked for 60 days, according to the law.
2. Overturn the bail revocation, which is only to be used with dangerous criminals. I am not violent or dangerous, and the lies that Lindsey Gaetani and Brian Tully conspired to make up about me was that I pushed her onto a comfortable couch, resulting in no injuries.
3. Get rid of the unconstitutional Paragraph 14 in Lying Lindsey’s restraining order, which says I can’t publish “confidential DCF documents or court records.” Although her DCF documents are likely voluminous, I don’t have any of those, nor would I publish them. However, the public court documents we do have, which can be accessed by anyone in Norfolk County Probate Court, are not confidential. It is unconstitutional to tell an American citizen that he can’t publish court documents because it proves that Lindsey is a substance-abusing liar who falsely accused her own father of domestic violence.
4. Give me my phones and computer back.
5. Throw out the witness intimidation charges completely.

We asked for immediate relief on 1 and 2, which will be decided by Justice Kafker, the same Justice who ordered Jen McCabe’s phone records be given to Karen Read. We have asked for a decision in the next 7-10 days, since every day of incarceration is irreparable harm. The Karen Read case is falling apart and there is no chance of me being convicted, therefore any time spent in jail, robs me of my freedom. We will post the whole SJC petition shortly.

Last week I came to the realization that God put me in jail for a reason. I am not a criminal, I have not intimidated any witnesses, and I certainly never hit a woman. I don’t belong here, but I kind of needed it. The fact of the matter is that although my professional life was good, my personal life was shit. Not that it’s anyone’s business, but when Lindsey Gaetani decided to file a false police report and take abortion pills for a fake baby, because I wouldn’t spend the night and cuddle with her, my personal and sex life became public record.

Although I didn’t break any laws, the reality is that I chose to associate and fornicate with gutter-trash like her, because something inside of me is attracted to fast women with loose morals, no matter how dangerous they are. I will explain the whole story when I’m out of here, but December 23rd was far from the first time she pulled a stunt like that with me. Yet, I kept going back. If Lindsey never called the cops and made up a lie, I definitely would have been back over there a couple days later despite the fact that she held me hostage, threatened her own children and caused me to crash my car. I was addicted to the thrill of it. If I had given her what she wanted and stayed the night, I’d be stuck in the perpetual cycle of the mentally-abusive relationship I was in. The only way it was going to end was in dramatic fashion.

You guys look up to me because I’m good at journalism, not because I’m good at relationships. Tiger Woods, and greater men than me, have had their personal lives upended for similar reasons. Being in jail has given me a chance to detox on my personal life, and examine why I end up messing around with women like LG and LG Part 2. I can safely say I no longer want any women like that, no matter how skilled they are at … certain things.

I get hundreds of uplifting messages a day and have built new friendships with people on the outside, who I know are healthier people. I look forward to starting fresh when I leave here. Everyday during morning rec, I look out at the front door and imagine what it’s going to feel like walking out. I know there will be Turtleriders and my new puppy, Rider, waiting for me. My parents will likely bring me home and I’ll get to surprise my kids, as I don’t plan on telling them I’ll be coming. I told them I’m going to be bringing a surprise home with me, and my daughter keeps asking, “Is it a puppy?” She is intuitive like that. I just really can’t wait to hug them more than anything.

I won’t get into details about plans for my personal life, but let’s just say I’m finally doing something that I should have done a while ago, instead of living the way I was. I know that I will be better off and healthier for that. I will no longer have the cloud of this double life, that led me to be held hostage by a crazy woman in Medfield. I don’t know where I’m going to go, but I do know that it’s better than living the way I was living. I will still be getting the kids on and off the bus every day, going to all their games, and telling them how much I love them before they go to bed.

I am the happiest prisoner in jail history. I’d like to get out early, but I’m mentally prepared to do the full 60. Last week, I found out they’re not moving me out of the isolation of medical, and I’m at peace with that. I’d rather be in a housing unit, but I’m so overcome with optimism for the future that I don’t even care.

I’m going to miss morning recess a lot. I run seven miles a day on the basketball court now, and closing in on 50 pull-ups. Afterwards, I love putting my feet up, drinking coffee, watching TV, and reading messages. It’s like a ghetto vacation, where I have no responsibilities and everything is taken care of.

I used to hate going back to my cell because the 8.5 hours until the 6:30 recess would drag. But I keep myself so busy that I often run out of time. I call people on the tablet all day, including one person I’ve really enjoyed getting to know. I am no longer consumed with hatred of the people who put me in here and instead, my conversations are positive and talk about what a force Turtleboy is going to be when I walk out those doors.

Locking me up was the dumbest thing they’ve ever done. It’s made me a martyr for a cause, and got me national attention I otherwise wouldn’t have gotten. I’ve become a frontline soldier for the First Amendment, unwilling to back down or give into a tyrannical government. It’s gotten the attention of James O’Keefe, who I now message with on Twitter. He has expressed interest in interviewing me in jail. It’s been the greatest career move ever.

A few months from now, Karen Read and I will both be free, doing speaking tours, holding parties, writing best-selling books, and suing the pants off people. Jen McCabe will be in jail, or out on bail if she’s lucky. Michael Proctor and Brian Tully will no longer be cops as they face federal indictment, and Michael Morrissey will no longer be District Attorney. Lindsey will move onto a new guy, to ruin his life, and maybe facing charges of her own. Krusty Panties is being arraigned in Plymouth on 2/7 on a new charge of violating an HPO, and has a court hearing on 2/12 for witness intimidation against me. The tables are turned.

The crazy Asian guy, who ends every sentence with the n-word, was finally moved to Bridgewater Friday. But not before I walked by his room and saw him sprawled out naked on the floor, going to town on his Samurai Salami. He’s been replaced with a much less hilarious guy, who yells “You’re all retarded!” and bangs on his door, screaming into the void 24 hours a day. It’s a zoo in here, but I block it out by focusing on my work. I’m also reading To Kill a Mockingbird, which I think was too young to appreciate after being forced to read it freshman year.

I talked to one of the black kids at evening recess, who was put into SMU earlier in the week after getting into a fight. He said that I wrote about his mom in an article about the shooting at the South Shore Plaza. I didn’t remember the article, so I asked if his mom shot someone. He said no, it was him who was wrongfully accused of being involved. One of my favorite COs pulled me aside and told me the 21-year old was going away for life for shooting someone in front of their 3-year old. I remembered the article because his mom was a woke member of the Maynard School Committee, with Google trophies of her own. He was on the run for about a month. While she was lecturing others about diversity, equity, and inclusion, her son was shooting people in the face. It’s crazy how people like him and Brian Walshe walk around this jail with this aura of confidence, like they’re ever going to live outside of a jail again. These are the kind of people I’m in here with. I don’t belong here.

Not a lot of journalists can say they’ve been to jail, but I have. This makes the whole story so much more compelling, and drastically increases my street cred. I don’t even mind it that much anymore. Don’t get me wrong, I hate that I can’t go live, publish as many articles as I used to, and be with friends and family. But it’s made me appreciate the outside world so much more, and it’s going to make my return that much better.

I won’t be doing my show the first night back because I will want to spend time with my family. I will probably do a quick Facebook live on the way home, as I imagine I will be happier than I’ve ever been. But maybe I’ll do my show the second night. The first show, which I want to have at least 10,000 live viewers for, will be a recap of jail life, and my thoughts on developments on the Karen Read case that I was gone for. The next show will be a one-time exposé about the recent, detrimental period of time just before my bail was revoked. Then I will bury that part of my life forever. It’s a crazy story that I’d rather the world not know, but I think it’s important that you know the mental hell I’ve been dealing with, while continuing to put out content.

In the meantime, I sit here and wait for the inevitable day to come when the bad guys are arrested. Maybe my bail revocation will be overturned, but I will be OK if it’s not. It doesn’t matter when I get out because years from now, a couple extra days in jail will only make my return that much sweeter. Justice is coming, one way or another.