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?

I think the best thing i can be right now is absurd. Absurd in my feelings, my decisions and my desire to free myself of this shithole pain I find myself in where I just want to hurt the people who hurt me. Being stuck there is a horrible place to be, its lonely, its disgusting and its where some obsessive people I know live ---and I dont wanna --sooooo i need to be asburdly funny, rauncy, snarky, stupid, hilarious and me so i can free myself and move the fuck on. Heres to that and this seciton to give me the fucking freedom I need Andrew Jang Funniest fucker alive

I will keep this short You can go to my personal website andrewjang.com if you need ;ore of the backstory. I built this site to be seen, not by the world but by three specific people, Tim Christine of the NFL PLayers Association, Andrew Beaton of the Wall Street Journal and Jon Humbert who used to be with KOMO 4 News in Seattle. The odd reality is that by doing such and admitting it, I effectively handed them my power. But my writing across each section I felt the need to create on this site doesn't reveal that. They each in their own way from the series parts where I present facts to clear my name to the absurd ones where I act like a child all work together to say something else. That I got hurt, and I'm upset. And the only way for me to get out of this mess is to get through this mess - in my head. What is true. What is not. What can I live with. And what can I not. I won't know until I express it all, say it all and feel it all, one last time--and after, who knows. maybe this site can do something good for someone else. Until then, this is nothing more than me figuring it out loud publicly Andrew Jang

I had nothing else. Except more homelessness. More drugs. More falling further and further down and more chances to attempt suicide. Someone explain to me, why I would stay for any of that. Now I knew if I left, and had a safe place to sleep for a while, to collect my thoughts and figure shit out, I could get back up on my feet. This picture should should be all the proof anyone needs that I made the right fucking call. So fuck you for telling people otherwise. You werent living my life, you werent in my head you werent the one motivated to make his life better. But thank you for showing me what a piece of shit journalism looks like from a brand that used to matter in the format of truth. Your Legacy is nothing more then a name that used to be. And your decline isnt from the loss of profits, but in the non existence of integrity, character, honesty and treating Americans with more respect then the manipulation that you call the news where the only thing you report on is the people and the brands you dont like. And that isnt news, thats called a scheme and is the equivalent to teenagers talking shit abuot the one who just lef tthe bathroom, as they inhale the fumes of their own ass, while they hear nothing but the echos of their deceipt. Yes, fuck you and the toilet you print from as you flush your ratings and trust down the drain. ----- I have no adult response from me on this article i just wrote. its real, its raw its how I feel given my personal experience and i will not stand down or explain myself to feel anything different because the fact is. i used to look up to the Wall Street Journal and valued them as the brand that was above legacy. And maybe I should find a way to forgive them. But that part of me that was willing to believe in them blindly is the same that will never forgive them easily. In many ways I feel betrayed by them, which is odd, because technicaly they owe me nothing ---but the reality for me is that if i give you blind trust, that was dedicated, then the very least you can do for me, is to never lie and manipulate and I guess, either be perfect or own up when you aren't ---- and that level of standard is not only fair it is expected for that kind of exchange. But i see the WSJ for what it really is --- nothing special, and in there is the betrayal, because they made me bielieve they were.

There is nothing dumber than Jon Humbert. And I’m not even gonna go there and call him Jon dumbert because that would be dum- Bert. He is so dum in fact, I made up this limerick so simple, even Jon can understand it - one day - There once this guy from Seattle he worked for a news station called KOMO they hired him to lie like a traitorous spy because hes a dumm dummy dum dum dummy DUM-BERT Disclaimer. The claudereport.com does not know the real intent of why Jon Humbert was hired or subseauently left, fired or parted ways. And this limerick in no way shape or form suggests that KOMO 4 uses deceptive hiring practices for ratings. And is meant for satire, humour and entertainment purposes only. -------------------- Coming back to the adult me, reading this a few times I recognize, the name calling and picking on his name is me lashing out against someone that I seriously am upset over. I don't even think I dislike him as a person, which may sound strange, but its his actions that I have a deep resentment over. You see, Jon didn't just do several hit pieces on me where he lied, distorted the truth or just had no real need to do the piece. He went ouf of his way to disrupt my life. He (along with Gary Buckley Woolever and his attorney Bruce Danielson) constantly called one of my landlords, harrassing him. I was behind on rent, but their calls to him were enough where he said he would forgive me if I just left. He wasn't tired of me, he was tired of them. And then later when I was bouncing between friends couch and friends couch, just trying to stay a float, I tried to take my love for fashion and try to make clothes for people. He found out and instantly started harrassing others and publicly kept outing me. But the part that I just cannot get over it seems, is this. I used to volunteer for a non profit called the Millionaires Club in Seattle. It helped homeless find jobs. As part of that they provided interview clothes. I not only donated, I turned to my network and my ability to rally people and rounded up nice suits, shirts, shoes, you name it for men and women and spent time talking to the people they helped understand the dynamics of an interview and early days on the job. He found out about this and harrassed the Executive Director until he asked if I would just stop volunteering. The Executive Director felt horrible, I could tell, but he was clearly tired of the incesent calls and emails from Jon asking why he would let me help. Not only did Jon lie about me. He ruined my reputation. Got me kicked out of my apartment, so I had no home. He then ruined my chance at supporing myself, so I wasnt a deadbeat. And under all of that stres and failure, the one thing that made me feel better about my situation and myself, helping others, he took that away too ----- that totality of everything he took from me is a lot. And because I have no recourse, and because no one will care, and tbh, because I was powerless to stop him, the emasculation from those experiences has morphed into this need to do the only thing I reallly do have control over, and that is my personal attacks on him --- not in the controlled or focused sense, because there is no outlet, or healing that comes in control --- but in the wild, assertive, intentionality that is absurd yet soothing name calling, belittling and shit talking that allows me to just vent, release and you know what move on. It may not all be at once or today, but I do need to say, I do feel better ---because in my own little world, I have no told the bigger world what I think of Jon Humbert and in doing so as Dum-bert, with each person that laughs or smiles, I win. Maybe not in adults points, but in some dignity and that works for me and that younger version of me that went through some shit on behalf of Jon Humbert, KOMO 4 and Gary Buckley Woolever.

i was raised in an era where you would call each other gay, a girl, a dip-tard, an erkel and a nimrod --and that was to the people you liked. At 16, I farmed and sold AT&T long distance services where I got to hangout with mexicans and redneck adults who showed me a side of humor i have never seen. Then around 17 through my 20s I worked in factories, sorting mail, building school buses and tractor trailers. My foreman at one of the places was butch lesbian, whom she always referred to herself as the HDIC = head dyke in charge. She wore cut offs, drove a fatboy and told me more rancid jokes then anyone. She was super hard on me too, but was the first person to ever tell me that I was something special and that she better not see me next year. Her razzing and all the razzing from every teen and adults was an example of how we showed affection and appreciation for the people you liked, looked up too, and valued. And in all of these relationships, bonds - tempoary, fleeting and influential, we interacted not with politness, politcal correctness, kid gloves or vague how you doings --- no, we threw shit, ate shit, dropped each other in shit, and rolled around in shit for, with and amongst each other. I have been talked shit to by every kind of American, from trailer trash to hood rat, including native. I have been slanged at by every kind of Asian from the eastern kind to adopted kind. I have been laughed with and at by Mexicans, Canadians, South Americans, Africans, the white and black kind, the irish, the british (properly) and every form of european, including every balctic state, except Slovakia. I have been preached to by every kind of christian from the real ones to the fake mega church ones and even followers of islam, muslim, hindu, buhdda have taken turns trying to make me laugh or get one past me. From sadists, tarots, gypseys and even accountants have made their way into my life for a joke or a shared moment of some form of shit talking - razzing - laughing - and connecting -- I bring all of these up because, when i tell you, i am well versed, highly trained, beyond experienced in all of the ways of the world - literally at making fun of someone, i truly fucking am. And for a moment, just a brief moment i am going to turn that part of me to full crazy mode --and will enjoy myself as i talk a little shit to releive me of my shit. And hey, just remember, we all are a product of our upbringing --- so for anyone who gets mad, you will have to blame everyone one of those groups qnd types of people who fed me --

Jury selection begins as Andrew Jang takes on KOMO 4 News, the Wall Street Journal, and the NFL Players Association in a CLASS ACTING LAWSUIT in a court of his own making In an unanmous deciscion the people of the world, all 8 billion, minus Andrew Beaton of the Wall Street Journal and Tum Christine of the NFLPA, filed a class acting lawsuit against these organizations. When asked why this is a class acting lawsuit and not a class action one, a spokeperson responded, because their performances were so bad, we might as well get them acting lessons. Plus if they can play with words why should we not do a play on words. When asked why Jon Humbert from KOMO 4 News joined the lawsuit against his own people, he smply responded, "I didnt quite understand the question, I thought I was in the drive through for Dicks Burgers--" Speaking to Andrews attorney, my cousin, Vinny, the acknowledgment was simple. Sometimes, idiots to stupid things. Sometimes, stupids do idiotic tings. Regardless, in the end, all you need is the trooth-uh and a fine trial lawyer. Lucky we have both over here. More updates to come as jurory deliberations begin. Article by John (e)Q-qulizer - Beat Reporter and Reporter of Beats