Well, well. well.
Three years on bail.
$140 000 in legal fees.
A daughter’s missed birthday.
Three spells in prison cells.
Two armed raids.
Guns pointed at my baby grandson’s head.
The family home violated.
My kids terrorised.
Maggie stood over and abused.
Old friends lost.
New friends found.
Falsely painted as a fucking stalker, all because I wrote a few true stories about some bad guys in racing.
Well, well, well.
The terror show’s over.
All the faux charges have been dropped.
Fuck you to the grubs who laid them.
Nice shot dickheads.
Pity you missed.
It wasn’t the last dance after all, hey?
What was it Michael Jordan said?
I am too.
Thanks to all who neighbours when I needed them.
Blessings from the core of my soul.
I guess history will tell its own tale.
I wish them all well.