In Williamson County, Texas, a man alleges he was subjected to psychological and physical torture while in custody—treatment masked as mental health care under “suicide watch.”
The individual, currently under home arrest following a medical writ, describes a six-year ordeal marked by harassment, retaliatory charges, SWAT presence, and being unable to see his daughter. He contends the county’s suicide watch protocol was weaponized to punish, not protect.
“They stripped me naked, deprived me of sleep, and placed me in a solidary confidment for almost a year, engineered to destabilize the mind,” he says. “The lights never stopped flashing. The temperature swung from freezing to sweltering. The silence was deafening—except when shattered by sudden, disorienting noise.”
Medical records confirm he emerged blind and physically disabled—conditions he attributes to his incarceration. He also claims to have been digitally erased: social media accounts deleted, his name flagged on federal watch lists, and his reputation destroyed by charges he maintains are retaliatory.
Currently facing two counts of pedophilia, he asserts the accusations are part of a broader campaign to silence him. “This isn’t just about me,” he says. “It’s about a system that knows how to bury people without ever putting them in the ground.”
Over six years, he reports being followed, harassed, and threatened. Every attempt to speak out met retaliation, every plea for help buried under bureaucracy.
“I died in that place,” he says. “Not in the literal sense—but in every way that matters. What survived was a shell, forced to rebuild from the ashes.”
His forthcoming book, Buried Alive: My Fight Against Williamson County, aims to expose what he describes as a hidden machinery of abuse—naming deputies, federal agents, and mental health professionals who, he claims, enabled or ignored the mistreatment.
“This is not a memoir,” he says. “It’s a reckoning.”

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