Like literallly. I looked up his family heritage through 23andMe and wouldnt you know it, listed next to can't think and talk at the same time was a photo of Andrew in all his glory... and you know this made everything make so much more sense now. All this time, I thought Andrew Beaton was just some elite, douchebag liar. And he very well may be, but the lying wasn't intentional because now I see it is actually genetics because he is literally just a fucking clown and cannot help himself. Well jokes on me for being so angry, losing everything, and not being able to get hired because of him. All this time, I thought he was an arrogant Duke gradate prick, but he was really a shoe in for Dukes affirmative action requirement of 6-7 clowns a year. And speaking of shoes. --ladies, I do need to clear something up. His big feet mean nothing --- in the clown world, bigger the feet means smaller the meat. So, his shoe size may be clown, but his Pete size is zero and ----no wonder his smile looks fake and painted on, like his penis, its not real. Now you are going to have to take my word about his clown genetics. It was in a report I read about him. But promise you, just as he was honest, I am too. ---------------------------------- Penis jokes are classics in belittling other men. We have all done it, and when you do not like someone it is a natural reaction. Now, I admit I just do not like Andrew Beaton. It could be his face, it could be his name, or it could be the fact that he took away someting dear from me and tarnished it. Andrew Beaton for the Wall Street Journal wrote that I was a fugitive, wanted by federal authorties and told people I changed my name to evade capture and the courts in Seattle. All of these were and are lies, but the name change is the one that really fucking upset me. I told Andrew and his editor, who by the way were never going to call me for their hit piece, I called them as I heard they were creeping behind my back to gain more people to their side of the story ---interesting from a thousand athletes clients and all of those teams, not a single one said anything bad--- Anyway. I explained to them, that yes, I needed a fresh start. And yes, I was in a new city, Chicago and was afraid to death of people googling me. But I also had a stronger emotion, this was a fresh start and something I have always wanted was to have my birth name. The only thing I have from my parents. I dreamed of this since I was a teenager and it felt like the right time. I knew that if I could have a fresh, clean start, I could get myself back on my feet. And guess what, the fact that 18 months after being homeless, leaving Seattle and taking my fresh start with my birth name, the New York Post and Bloomberg among a dozen other publications wrote about how I skyrocketed to be the go to clothing guy for pro athletes. I had never been in fashion. I had never been in New York. I had never been in the pro athlete world and yet there I was, bright as a fucking star as Andrew Jang ------- fuck I was so proud of me and my last name ----- and then Andrew Beaton and the Wall Street Journal ripped that away from me. For what, some clicks? I built a company, a brand and was continuing to grow and doing great things for the community and for my clients ---and was also finding ways to get myself over the shit I had just gone through; the humilation of homelessness, the hunger of eating out of trash cans, the pain of sleeping on a bench and the disbelief of two suicide attempts. I had a lot to get to over and my fashion brand, wasn't just an outlet, it was a healing mechanism. So fuck you Andrew Beaton and the Wall Street Journal Who claimed you as the profiteer of peoples fates. Had I been an athlete, my past and rise up would have been an inspiraiton story, a fluff piece you would have written to make yourself and the athletes you drool over feel good about yourselves. But as an Asian, orphan, came from nothing, raised in Iowa, without a 4 second 40, I guess I don't get the same application of admiration. ---makes sense. Rules and support for thee, but fuck you, stay down and in control for we ----- ok. Now I know where you and the Wall Street Journal stand, it makes it easiser for me to know who to rally against you. and fuck------- the anger that still persists years later is intense---and in writing this, I realize that I am not ready to let it go yet. Because I need more. I need to know I hurt you in some way. Pulled someone away from you, embarrassed you, and made you regret the shit you did ---- onepublished article bringing to light your micro dick and your punchable face does not fill this pit that I dug. You may be my downfall, as I bury myself in the thoughts of revenge, but that is a pain I am willing to accept ----because unlike you, having had everything handed to him from the cocksucking you pleasure yourself with, I have had to earn everything the hard way--- blood, struggle, suffering and need to pick myself from rock bottom, alone, in the dark with thoughts of suicide ringing my ears ----------- Andrew Beaton performing in his Clown show with the Wall Street Journal

A Note Before This Piece I've written and rewritten my side of this story more than a hundred times over the last ten years. It changes almost every time, sometimes within hours of me calling it finished. I'm telling you that upfront because I want you to understand this was never something I could write about cleanly. Even now, I don't fully know what I feel about Gary Buckley Woolever, except that it's some combination of pity, anger, and a hate I'm not going to pretend isn't real. So I have decided something. Unless I need to bring up his name to outline his involvment in some other form of harrassment scheme, I will not speak another word, write another section, publish any more articles on Gary Buckley Woolever until he passes and the only last words ever, will be mine. In the meantime, the published article below written by a third party will suffice. The Partnership Gary invested $440,000 in a business venture with Jang. The business failed. Gary had more involvement in that failure than he has ever publicly acknowledged. He sued, and by Jang's own account, that decision was understandable, at least initially. Gary appeared to genuinely want his money back. But after losing early and repeatedly in his own lawsuit, his approach shifted. He became willing to do whatever it took to win, which meant abandoning any accountability for his own role in the business's collapse. The Other Side of the Failure Jang was not without fault here, and this file would be incomplete without saying so plainly. At 22, he was a top salesperson, and went on to spend five years ranked nationally in the top five as a lead account executive for a major wholesale finance firm, with hundreds of millions of dollars in sales behind him. That track record convinced him he could execute on a business idea he was, in reality, not equipped to run. He was not a fraud. He was, by his own admission, unprepared for what that venture demanded of him. One unresolved financial question remains central to this file: how much of the spending in question was clearly authorized, and how much relied solely on Jang's recollection that Gary had verbally approved it. Jang estimates roughly half falls clearly into the first category. The other half depends on memory alone. He repaid Gary a substantial sum afterward, and years later, once he had stability again, attempted to fully resolve the relationship financially. That offer, detailed further below, was rejected, and what followed it is the most relevant part of this file. One exception is worth noting directly: Gary's attorney, Bruce Danielson, appears by Jang's account to have acted professionally throughout, attempting a peaceful resolution that Jang himself was too afraid to accept at the time. How the Default Judgment Actually Happened This is the section of the file most frequently misrepresented by outside reporting. Gary did not win his case on the merits. He won it because Jang had no attorney for most of the proceedings and, once KOMO 4 News became involved, had no resources left to continue fighting. The resulting judgment included the word fraud, language Gary has since cited publicly as though a court weighed evidence and ruled accordingly. That is not what a default judgment is. Under civil procedure, if one party fails to respond, a judge has no choice but to enter judgment based on the unanswered claims. It is a procedural outcome, not an independent finding of fact. It reflects an absence of response, not a verdict on truth. A bench warrant followed the same pattern: requested by Gary's attorney rather than law enforcement, and written in language closely resembling a criminal arrest warrant. KOMO 4 News, the Wall Street Journal, and the NFL Players Association each later cited that warrant publicly as evidence that Jang was a fugitive. The judgment itself totaled $970,000, growing to nearly $2 million with interest within a few years, entered while Jang had no income, no stable housing, and had survived two suicide attempts in the preceding period. A Decade of Pursuit What followed extended well beyond the original lawsuit. Gary and his attorney located Jang within months of him obtaining a new, private phone number. Jang entered a payment plan and paid close to $200,000 over the following year, while Gary simultaneously told the court Jang was uncooperative and secured a bench warrant regardless. When Jang requested a pause due to unsustainable payment increases, Gary refused. Shortly afterward, the Wall Street Journal published the story that would shape public perception of Jang for years. When Jang later attempted a final resolution, he offered a $1 million settlement over ten years through a professional mediator, raised to $1.5 million, along with an offer to co-author a book and sign over rights to a television opportunity Gary claimed to have access to. Gary declined every option. His only non-negotiable condition was a non-disclosure agreement that would have permanently barred Jang from discussing him publicly, with no equivalent restriction placed on Gary. The Pattern That Followed In the years since, Jang reports additional forced depositions, the use of a friend's suicide as a pressure tactic during legal proceedings, and what he describes as a coordinated intimidation attempt inside a courtroom. That specific claim of coordination cannot be independently verified and is presented here as Jang's account, not as established fact. What is documented: thousands of messages and emails spanning twelve years, continued contact as recently as June of this year, and outreach to Jang's family members, including his father and a sister, that Jang characterizes as an attempt at isolation. One additional claim in this file is held to a higher evidentiary standard: Jang's assertion that Gary's wife has played a role in this campaign, based on email registration records he says he possesses. This file notes that claim will be retracted publicly if further investigation does not support it. Where This Leaves Things Jang has reported elements of this case to the FBI, citing limited confidence in local law enforcement's ability to respond to a sustained pattern of this nature. This file's conclusion: Gary Buckley Woolever and his obsession and mental stability should be questioned.

Written from Sevens point of view, because why note I am not quite certain how to count yet, but I believe my human and i have now lived together for a week. Andrew is a really sad person. I can see it in how he talks about things. I know i haven't been alive long, but to see someone so sad so often is a hard thing. I try to do my best, by being me and making sure he knows that I am around. You know, the occasional, pretend I to pee inside, the nudge when i want a snack and the contstant squeek of the toys he has littered around our home. I do see him smile occasionally, usually when he is doing some design on his computer, or when he sees sonething in a window when we go for walks. I hear him say things are fine a lot, mostly to himself, but I have fallen asleep on his chest, I know how his heart beats ---and it doesn't beat to be alive ---it beats just because it has too Later that night as we were winding down from our days errands and play time, Andrew sat in the corner crying. But the tears were of anger. It was scary seeing him be that way. Huddled tight against the wall, shaking and beating his fist into his chest----I could not understand his words, he somehow was screaming without a sound and it muffled the pain he was trying to let out. Unsure what to do, I went into the area he calls his closet, which was just an area by the bathroom and grabbed one his green socks. He had said it was one of his faveroties, I took it and jumoed on his bed and sat, waiting for him. I then did my loudest bark -- once---twice---there he is. He looked at me a while, oh shit, I did not think about him being upset about his best sock, what should I do? Crap, look cute, look cute ----- he smiled, crawled over to me and said thank you --- then we played tug of war with his sock ---until i ripped it --------- i mean I am a dog and he did pull back. As we fell asleep, I buried myself into his arms--- listening to his heart beat--- there wasnt a change in what it was say!ing, but give me time, I know I can change that. As he dozed off he hugged me once more and said the one thing I have always wanted to hear ---- I love you Seven. I love you to Andrew -----now move over i neeed more room. Thoughts from Andrew ---This was a particualry trying time. I had to recently put my dog of 14 years down. He had survived everything that I had and this apartment was our new start. Having slept on the floor of my friends studio for the past year and boucning around between motel 6 and motel 6 plus eveything before, that pup had gone thorugh hell with me. I thought Id finally be able ot make up for all the promises I made him --- instead w e only had a few weeks together here. I wa also still struggling with my last suicide attempt just months prior. I was an emotional wreck, afraid, and just barely hanging on most of the day ---and more frequently then i like to admit, I would break, ---all lf this anger and want for revenge would flood me, but i was weak, and felt powerless---so I just broke over and over again in the corner of our little studio, just so i could hold myself together. Seven came into my life at a pivotal time and I one hundred percent know that she saved my life --as she settled into her new one, while helping me with mine. She is the greatest dog of all time and that says so much given how I felt about Hyphen ( previous dogs name).

What is morally acceptable here? I had some people really do some fucked up shit. Some say I dseserved it I say I paid the price already. You can only hang someone once for something. to do it over and over and over again for the same thing is too much and now I want revenge. These asshole pieces of shit literally keep quoting, justice, karma and we will get you like they are the fucking witch of the west. I just want to punch them each in the face. Ruin their lives and figure out how I can be standing over them screaming justice, karma and I got you bitch. I want this so fucking bad. Tell me its ok. (my head the very next day) I am going to say the one thnig no one will. But yes and in fact. Plan it Plan your revenge. Spend each day letting your anger out. Let it consume you, move you and become you. Keep saying what you need to say and let it fill your lungs. Your heart. And your mind. Let it suffocate you until you cannot breathe, only consume more anger until you do one of three things. 1) die -possibly alone 2) go to jail - because you went to far 3) free yourself of all of that pent up anger and hurt that one day you finally are able to move forward. The choice is yours. But you will never know which choice you want to choose until you are at that fork in the road. SO, got at it and report back later on who you are. Personal notes from 2025

written from my dogs Sevens POV - for no other reason except I like writing for her in a way I think she would be if she could tell the story of our lives together. Now this day is special. Andrew in one of his numerous conversations to me has let me know, he finally has my new name picked out. I had been named Molly, but even I knew that didnt fit me --- Sitting patiently, I was expecting him to tell me this grand reveal, instead he just scratched my ears and walked away. Am I supposed to go with him, sit here, wait did I miss the comman, crap, maybe I should do that just so he knows to come back. Yes, that is what I will do. Oh, now you're back. I swear you have a nose as good as mine. Now, tell me my new name please Oh, so you're not going to tell me, ok. How about I bite your ankle, your foot, and now your hand as you pick up mu poop OH and meeeeee. I actually like when you carry me down the stairs, my tongue refuses to stay in as I and it squirms. Now before I get distracted, tell me my nay----- what is that smell. (20 minutes later) --- There was something I needed to talk to you about Andrew. What was it? Damnit. So much going on, so let me just squeak this toy, throw it at you and I will remember after this nap. (After dinner 2 days later) Seven, Look! I see it, its a damn bird coming at me! (laughing) Oh Seven, you're so funny and adorable and a scary-dee cat. I am not certain what that is, but you need to take it back or I will eat something of yours tonight because I am Seven of Andrewwwwwww. Wait, how did I know that? Oh, wait a minute, for the last two days Andrew has been over indulging me with tasty little snacks, each time giving them to me as he says the name Seven. And wait even further, now that I think of it, that day he told me he had a new name, he didn't not say it, I had just never heard it before and he kept repeating it over and over and over again for the last two days. Whoa. How do you go from not hearing your name to knowing it --those snacks have some kind of magic in them. Must be creatine.

there are some people where I wish it was legal to call someone into a duel, or a cage match. You strap up or strip down to just blood, guts and glory. I dont care about the rules, just that i get to make some people feel the physical brutality that I can inflect for the shit they did. Its not about being right and i know this weakens my stance in some human ranking of righteousness but its a real emotion i feel and one that does not go away just because I hide it. I admit that if given the chance, there are 9 people I would like to fight in a cage match, all at once if need be. and i hoe it isnt easy. i hope it is brutal, painful and takes time --and yes I am talking about the pain i would receive too. i am willing to acept it, even if i get hurt. that is not the result i am covering against. its the action, the chance, to inflict something, anything under my control and to see it land---even if it had no major impact, it is the opportunity that matters ----- and i want it. and if you want to see where this part of me comes from feel free to read a part of my past notes ----- Gary Buckley Woolever asloutely broke my brain. his constant harrassment, his endless pursuit, the way he thratens qnd just shows up, or sends other people to show up. The way he alienates me by harrasing my friends so that i am alone, qnd it is there where he just does not leave me alone. --and i can do nothing to stop him. beat him to a pulp and i go to jail. ignore him i am imprisoned. the only thing that can be done is to watch him pick away at me little by little, taking, stealing, manipulating like the piece of shit scumbag he deserves to be know for but will never be. call me now i will get you your silence means everything, and i will find you call me now call me now i will never stop hunting you this fucker deserves to die a horirble painful death, yet he will never have it. not by my hands. i know now the only way out of my prision is to do the thign that sends me to prison, or the thing that sets me free from his. ----- - 2020 before third suicide attempt Me and my dog Hyphen, a day before my third suicide attempt

The RV accident is an odd experience in that it involves what I believe to be fate, unfortunate circumstances, serious physical injuries to two people, a third walking away with nothing physical, a move from America to France, betrayal, and the stalker Gary Buckley Woolever, all while I tried to build a new life and heal with my dog in Europe. I have to address the accident to talk about blame, incidents involving theft accusations, fraud accusations, and what would amount to a small collective of people surrounded around a single message: stop Andrew, or Drew, depending on who you spoke to. This accident didn't just change my life. It changed the trajectory of it and I still am unsure if I changed or am changing. What I know is that I could not sleep at night without waking up to the smell of gasoline and the sight of a red semi truck coming at me. I had to learn, in real time, the next day, how to be okay with oncoming cars. And in a time when I should have been able to heal, I didn't have time, as I dedicated nearly every waking hour, except for one gym day a week, to the passenger and my dog. I passed on a six figure work contract and had made plans to settle into Lubbock, Texas, to care for someone else while I put my life on pause. So when I got the chance to leave America and start over in France, I took it. Little did I know that this accident, which should have killed me but instead gave me a chance at a fresh start, would be the last, final attempt by a handful of people to prevent me from moving forward in life without their approval or control. I will outline the RV accident in order, as well as the effects and the people involved and their actions a year later. Everything from my point of view will be provided with evidence, which you can find in the Evidence Locker or within the article itself.

This is another personal confession of mine. I used a debit card without the permisison of the owner. I know what I did was wrong, but I also know that given the circumstances and what I believed and the reasons, it was not wrong. I still did it and stand behind my decision. There is an instance that I do think I took advatage of it, but the things I purcahsed were not for me, but looking back I could have waited a few days possibly. But that is me also grading the outcome and not the moment. Andrew Jang July 2025

a year ago today, July 19th i had what they say is a head on collision with this big red semi truck. The impact sent my RV airborne, where we landed upside down and slide until we stopped in the ditch. Somehow, i caught my dog and held her, upside down. As glass and the dark penetrated all around, i screamed, "come and get me" at the top of my lungs. I still have no clue why i did that. what i know is that when we stopped, i let go of my dog who ran out the gaping hole in the RV, and hung upside down. My seatbelt was locked and i was essentially trapped as I smelled gasonline over the sound of the dead silence. Ripping on the seatbelt, i never got it unlocked, but somehow slid out of it, falling to what was once the roof of the RV. righting my way and getting my bearings, i crawled to the back, one sandal on as i walked over glass, metal, wood, carpet, bags, food, stuff, just everthing that was once stuff --while i called for my the person who was in the back of the RV. Hearing her voice, i tore what was left of the RV apart to unbury here. Rolling her over, her frightened look told me to remain calm, grabbing her hand, i asked where it hurt. my back she said i have only seen fear like this once, from a man that i once had to defend myself against she begged me not to leave, why would i i stood over her, as gasoline dripped on my back and as thoughts of the propane tank and the potential sparks ran through my mind i calculated how long it would take to throw her out if need be as i warned people who were now coming to the RV to help to stay back ---they did for an hour, i kept doing the math as i reassured the person that she would be could, holding her hand, keeping my muscles tensed, ready to go at the first spark knowing if the propane tanks go, there is no running. When the sheriff showed up, other first reponders did too. It was then I was allowed to leave, and then i started to search for her things, preparing her bag, finding her wallet, phone --wondering where my dog was, as i started to wonder if i imagined holding her thinking she was thrown from the RV and that we rolled over her. Keeping my heart from breaking i focused on teh task, get her to the helicopter that was now landing and then i can find my dog. 5 hours later, a first responder asked, what vehicle were you in? the RV i said what the fuck -- you need to sit down then everyone swarmed, they thought the driver was dead because no one could get back into the cab and from the outside it was destroyed. how the fuck did you get out wait you were the helping the other person in there dude you have no shoes we will find your dog please stop running through the fields we promise we will find your dog will you get into the bus to get checked out please just sit down can you give us information on the other passenger we just saw your dog fuck come back please just let us take you to the hospital man your arm looks broken you probably have some internal bleeding how the hell did he survive that no fucking clue i thought the driver was dead with a bag for the other person, ,my ipad and my wrestling shoes, i finally left to the hospital. but that was the accident. One moment driving on two lane highway in New Mexico, taking my eyes of the road for a second to pet my dog, to feeling the RV pull to the left and looking up to see a huge Red Semi Truck right in my face. I jerk the wheel to the right and hear a sound i still cant describe,it is metal but it is more then that ---and the only thing after is complete darkness to then the wrecakge i stepped onto. Each night i still see the semi, i still hear the sounds. `i still hear myself. `i feel my dog, holding her and her running by, i smell the gasonline, i cannot stop smelling the gasoline and then i see the look of pure fear in her eyes ------ and then hours later i see myeslf for the first time in the mirror as I undress to shower, thankful mydog is with me, safe but uncertain of everything else. All i know is that the person that was zith me is in one of three hospitals and at 6 in the morning I only have a few hours to sleep, then i have to find a way there, teh closest being 2.5 hours away and after, i have no clue --- just figure it out as i go. fuck i hope i can move when i wake up --the look of disbelief from the police to the doctors and nurses is still a little shocking --- no one can understand how i survived, a nurse who was at the accident comes in to tell me this. they ran the same tests two times because from what they can tell i have no broken bones, no internal bleeding--nothing -----what is wrong with me? am i just dead? --- i will figure it out when i wake up --just close your eyes ------------- fuck the alarm is startling. photo of the semi truck we collided with

Hi Andrew, You've gone through so much, how can you trust people really again? Ramona from Tiktok Dear Ramona. You know, I've had a lot of time and a lot of mixed emotions to think on this very topic. To be honest, there is no real answer here. It's just a momentary shift in need and does that need outweigh the fear or anger that keeps me from wanting to trust people. If you asked me this nine months ago, I would have said, you can't. But then, seven months ago I would have told you, you have to figure out how, because that is what I had to do. Because, eight months ago, I had my back pressed so firmly against the wall, I truthly thought that was it for me. But in this time, I had strangers reaching out to help, almost everyday and from all over the world. And I trusted none of them, until I taught myself how to. Not because I was able to easily, but because I had no other choice. You see, the rock and a hard place I was in was that I had my ex business partner, who harrassed me for over a decade, teamed up with the owner of the RV i was in an accident with AND the woman who was in the accident with me. And they weren't just sending me private messages, they had created a tiktok account dedicated to saying that I stole from the woman, and tried to steal her insurance payout, they said i was wanted criminal and kept telling people that I was drunk or high or distracted and that I caused the RV accident. And between her family in France, the RV owner and her friends in the US, and my stalker, they had amassed people from my own community by sending them private messages saying everything i just told you plus more. Their intent was to alienate me, discredit me and prevent me from staying in Europe, while also trying to get me arrested. One of their people literally messased me saying I am here for you, while in that same hour, messaged over twenty of my community telling them to contact Gary, my stalker so he could show them that I was a wanted criminal. These actions and the loss of what i thought were my people because of these people broke me inside. And where it started was with my trust in everyone. Like I literally trusted no one. I was failing at figuring out my visa, until I had a small chance come to light, and I could get, but I could not do it alone. So my need was that if I did not figure out how to ge tmy visa in time, I would have to go back to the US, without any money to get me there, with my dog somehow, and the only thing welcoming me there was all the shit I left. But to just even hae the smallest chance to stay, I would have to do the thing i could not do ---trust people; again. And, I didnt know how, so I did it the only way I knew how---- to give it. Not to everyone, just a few that still doubted, but doubted less then others. I was upfront with each of them, I do not fully trust you, but I can't see any other option but too. And with everything I had, I leanted into trusting them. 21 days later, i had traveled across three countries. Received my visa approval and had a temporary place to stay to figure out my next steps. Seven months later, I have a home, a car, a few friends, a business I am building, have earned some money of my own, and the most important things -- provided safety for my dog and hqve given us a chance to really build a life here. I may not have much, but I have a billion percent more then I did nine months ago. And each week, I keep growing. And I can honestly say, all of this was possible, because I didnt find a way to trust people again, I just did, --- because I had too--- but now I trust people because I want too, and I can. So, you see, trust is never really the answer. It's the need. And you either need to, or you don't, before you want to and are willing too. Andrew Jang @sevenofandrew Andrew is an overthinker, world traveler, tiktok creator, dog dad and advice giver., but to address yours. How do you date when everything is so materialistic and superficial?