Johnny Vedmore

I turned off the television. I’d made a cup of tea for bed, fed the cats, and I’d even planted a little Brie on a piece of toasted brioche with a couple of grapes resting atop. The dark red grapes almost tasted like pomegranates and apparently they had come all the way from Chile, according to their plastic label.. I was busy snacking on the midnight tidbit as I walked towards my front door to secure it for my intended sleepy night ahead. Suddenly there were a loud three bangs on the door just as I was only a few feet away. The cup of tea I was holding spilled over my wrist as surprise and fear rushed through my very soul. I automatically sprang backwards in an attempt to social distance myself from the person rapping on the other side. I glanced across the room for my face mask in a panic only to find my little tuxedo cat was using it for her catnap bedding. I whipped it off the chair in great haste, to the cat's severe dissatisfaction, and began wrapping it around my face as I walked towards the now silent door. I tried to say hello but the mask was encrusted with my cat's thick black and white hair that had begun to shed for the coming summer months. I pulled off the mask quickly and spat hair at the door, I had inhaled it into my nostrils and could feel some tickling the back of my throat. I spluttered and coughed at the door for a moment until my saliva was dribbling down my face. 

Nicole Junkermann is not just a hot shot angel investor and business woman. She is so much more than just that. But if it was up to the Countess Brachetti Peretti - as she is also titled - you wouldn’t know anything about her past. She is in almost complete control of her public image. However, Junkermann almost lost the ability to dictate the narrative virtually overnight as a result of my first article which exposed her links to Jeffrey Epstein and members of Israeli Intelligence, such as 10th Israeli Prime Minister, Epstein’s close friend and IDF poster boy, Ehud Barak. 

Somewhere, in the deepest recesses of the American Rust Belt, a man named Ron DuPont is filling his computer hard drive with dog porn. I have often thought about poor old lonely Ron, tugging away at his naughty bits to the sight of a woman and her canine lover. But alas, I am too busy to reach out a gloved helping hand to the psychologically bent Mr. DuPont at this time. And what would I even say to such a disturbed fellow? I just hope that Ron’s fetish remains in the virtual world for the sake of his own animal friends.

This is possibly the most ironic story that I’ll ever tell.

It’s a horrible place to be. I had been gazing at the various titles of the films being shared by I.P. 96.227.59.114 and I was sick to my stomach. Their username on the file sharing software that they were utilising was “Darkshadow”. I checked to see if I could locate the local internet exchange using the I.P. address. The results came back as Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, postal code 19125. Darkshadow appeared to be a complete idiot. He was sharing films exclaiming the sexual involvement of children between the ages of 8 years old up to 16 years old. Some of the worst titles that one could conjure up were being shared alongside two documents revealing the identity of the man who owned the computer. One document was entitled “PDCertificate.pdf” and the other was named “John Humenik Jr.docx”. This is something which I've witnessed over and over again since I began hunting sex offenders; people sharing their CV’s alongside child abuse films and images. You really have to be as dumb as they come to do such a thing but there are plenty of dumb paedophiles in the world. I opened up the other document. It was a Philadelphia School’s District certificate also inscribed with the name John Humenik.