Truth & Advocacy By Calvin-Lee Hardie – Inverness

They thought I would get tired.

And honestly? I did. I got tired of waking up and seeing lies resurface like weeds I already pulled. I got tired of the comments, the subtle digs, the way people whispered and assumed and never once thought to ask me what was real.

But tired doesn’t mean I gave up.

It just means I got smarter. Sharper. Strategic.

I’ve been told to move on — to “let it go,” as if my name isn’t still being dragged through search results. As if the harm ever had a neat expiry date. But here’s the truth: I did move on — I just chose to carry my story with me. Not the version they posted. The one they tried to erase. My version.

And if that makes me “obsessed,” so be it. I’m obsessed with being misrepresented and watching people profit from it. I’m obsessed with clearing my name not just for me, but for the next person who gets caught in the same web.

Because this isn’t just about an article. Or a post. Or a video. It’s about the entire machine that allowed it. That fed on it. That still refuses to take responsibility.

You know what they won’t show you in the headlines? The letters I’ve written. The deadlines I’ve set. The legal notices. The data protection reports. The copyright claims. The line-by-line, receipt-by-receipt effort of someone who refused to stay a headline.

I learned to navigate systems I was never meant to win in. I taught myself the rules, then found the gaps they never expected someone like me to spot. I made noise in places that prefer silence. And I don’t care if it’s uncomfortable — it should be.

Because what they did wasn’t fair. What they published wasn’t accurate. What they allowed to spread wasn’t harmless.

I live with it. Daily. I still see the damage echo in job applications, online searches, and public perception. And still — I rise. Still — I fight. Still — I tell my truth, even if I have to repeat it louder every single time.

I won’t shrink to make liars comfortable.

And I won’t stop until the harm stops.

You might not know what it feels like to be publicly reduced to a rumour. To be mocked, dissected, judged by strangers with no context. But if you do — if you’re reading this and your name’s been twisted, too — then know this:

You’re not alone.

And you don’t have to wait for permission to speak.

You are allowed to protect your name, even if others don’t think it’s worth fighting for.

Because your silence is not the proof of your guilt.

And your fire — the one they tried to smother — is the very thing that will light the path fo