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This article contains documented facts, opinion, and satirical commentary. Sections marked with Satire or Unverified are clearly identified. Satirical content is protected political commentary under Hustler Magazine v. Falwell, 485 U.S. 46 (1988). Opinion and rhetorical characterizations are protected under the First Amendment. Documented facts are sourced from court filings, public records, sworn declarations, and verified journalism. See our Editorial Standards.
My Dear Litigation War Diary
My dear litigation war diary,
The undersigned has had better days.
Much better days. Days when getting out of bed didn't feel like climbing Everest. Days when attending a City Council meeting didn't require the mental preparation of a moon landing. Days when the undersigned's body wasn't conspiring against the undersigned's mind.
Jerry Creel and Peter Abide's black voodoo is working, dear reader. Whatever dark magic these municipal witch doctors have been practicing — the surveillance, the harassment, the manufactured stress, the death threats — it is taking its toll. The undersigned arrived at the December 16th Council meeting looking like something the cat dragged in, rejected, and dragged in again for good measure.
But the undersigned showed up. Because that's what the undersigned does.
And the undersigned will get better. The voodoo is temporary. The documentation is permanent.
Now, where were we? Ah yes — origins.
The undersigned has been thinking about beginnings. About how things start — and how they spiral into madness.
It is December 18th. One month since the November 18th inspection. One month since Jerry Creel's team waltzed onto the property, poked around, found absolutely nothing wrong, and... vanished into the Mississippi fog. No report. No findings. No email. No carrier pigeon. No smoke signal. Nothing.
The undersigned asked defense counsel Zachary Cruthirds — a man whose firm enjoys the warm embrace of municipal contracts — when this mythical report might materialize. "December 24th," he said. Christmas Eve. How festive. How convenient. How utterly meaningless.
A couple of days later? Different story. Different excuse. Different timeline. The goalposts moved again, as they always do. This is why nobody trusts lawyers, dear reader. And this is especially why nobody trusts lawyers whose paychecks depend on keeping the municipal gravy train running on time.
One month of waiting for a man to do his job. One month of watching these dinosaurs file federal motions instead of inspection reports. One month of learning that the Building Official who cannot "rise and shine" to produce a single piece of paper once could rise and shine — in very different circumstances.
Who knew, dear reader? Who knew that in the distant past, Jerry Creel could rise and shine after all?
Before we continue — an apology.
The undersigned owes responses to dozens of emails. Dozens. The tips are pouring in. It's crazy, dear reader. Absolutely crazy. People are talking. People who have been silent for years are finally finding their voice.
The undersigned apologizes for the delay in responding. Between the illness, the federal litigation, the City Council appearances, and trying to maintain some semblance of sanity — the inbox has become a mountain.
But the undersigned is reading everything. Every tip. Every story. Every piece of evidence people are sharing.
Speaking of which: the undersigned has sent an email to our contact at the Bureau, asking if they would allow us to share their correspondence. We will follow up on that. Stay tuned.
To everyone who has reached out: thank you. Your patience is appreciated. Your stories matter. The undersigned will respond.
The Holloway Connection Partially Verified
Jerry Creel — Building Official by day. Fuckboy by Saturday.
Let us travel back in time. Before the federal lawsuits. Before the Sunday surveillance. Before the undersigned ever heard the name "Jerry Creel."
There was Hattiesburg.
The undersigned has verified — through local newspaper archives, not rumor, not hearsay, but actual journalism — that Jerry Creel was once the Building Official of Hattiesburg, Mississippi. A different city. A different time. A different disaster.
And what a disaster it was. The newspaper records paint a picture of decline. Permits dropping. Development stalling. The kind of trajectory you'd expect when a building department is run by a man whose primary skill is... well, we'll get to his primary skills shortly.
Incompetent in Hattiesburg. Incompetent in Biloxi. The only thing that changed was the zip code and the patron.
And then came A.J. Holloway.
Mayor A.J. Holloway. The man who promised Woolmarket fire stations and delivered tax increases. The man who annexed neighborhoods and forgot about them. The man whose estate — to this day — owns a house on Saint Peter Street in Biloxi.
Source: Property records, Saint Peter Street, Biloxi. See Jerry's Traffic of Influence.
Property records: The Estate of A.J. Holloway owns Jerry Creel's residence.
Coincidence, the undersigned wrote in Hawk Creek, is meeting your future wife in Paris. Coincidence is hearing a song that brings back memories. Coincidence is not living in a house owned by the mayor whose city you serve as Building Official.
But the connection, according to sources, goes deeper than real estate.
The Rumor Unverified
They say Holloway brought Jerry from Hattiesburg. Personally. They say there was a reason for such patronage. They say — and the undersigned emphasizes, they say — that Jerry Creel is the illegitimate son of A.J. Holloway.
The undersigned cannot verify this. The undersigned presents it as what it is: persistent rumor from multiple sources in Biloxi's political ecosystem.
But one thing is not rumor: Jerry Creel lives in daddy's house. The estate's house. The former mayor's house. And he has lived there, according to sources, since arriving in Biloxi. He has never left.
The Saturday Scandal Satire — Hearsay
Here is where the story gets interesting.
Sources tell the undersigned that Jerry Creel, Building Official of Biloxi, once found himself in a compromising position. At City Hall. On a Saturday. With an employee.
The undersigned will spare you the details — actually, no. Who are we kidding? Jerry Creel was caught nailing a subordinate on his desk.
And the crazy part? It was a girl.
Given everything we've documented about Jerry's relationship with Peter Abide — the matching outfits, the synchronized testimony, the way Jerry's eyes light up when he says "Pete Abide directed me" — the undersigned genuinely did not see that plot twist coming. But there you have it. Saturday scandal. Female subordinate. Desk. City Hall. Jerry could rise and shine after all.
What multiple sources have reported to the undersigned:
- Jerry Creel was allegedly caught in a sexual situation with a City employee
- The incident allegedly occurred at City Hall
- The incident allegedly occurred on a Saturday
- Jerry was allegedly required to confess — to Mayor Holloway
- Jerry was allegedly required to confess — to his wife
- Jerry kept his job
Think about that, dear reader. A municipal employee caught having sex at City Hall. In any normal organization, that's termination. Immediate. No questions asked.
But Jerry Creel confessed to Holloway. And Holloway let him stay. Protected him. Kept him in the family, so to speak.
Why would a mayor protect a building official caught in a sex scandal?
The undersigned has theories. The undersigned will let you form your own.
Mr. Creel — Please Reach Out!
We want to hear more about the Saturday fling. Was it love? Was it lust? Was it just the thrill of doing it on government property? The readers demand answers.
Your side of the story matters, Jerry. Rise and shine.
Someone needs to put a tracker on Jerry's vehicle. Seriously. This man reportedly does questionable things on weekends — surveilling federal plaintiffs, engaging in alleged workplace improprieties, who knows what else. Who knew our boy Jerry had an extra hat? Building Official by day. Fuckboy by Saturday. The citizens of Biloxi deserve to know what their Building Official does when he thinks no one is watching.
The Pattern: From Saturdays to Sundays
Here is what we know — documented, verified, published:
THEN (Hearsay)
Saturday activities at City Hall
Could "rise and shine"
Protected by Holloway
NOW (Documented)
Sunday surveillance after church
Claims "rise and shine" is harassment
Protected by Abide
The man who once could rise and shine on Saturdays now spends his Sundays doing something else entirely: surveillance.
Source: Letter to Biloxi City Council, December 16, 2025; Photographs attached.
From pew to pervert. From Saturdays at City Hall to Sundays at Beach Boulevard. The weekend predilections remain — only the targets have changed.
See: From Pew to Pervert: Jerry Creel's Sunday Routine
The November 18th Report
The undersigned was not going to post today.
The undersigned is sick. The undersigned is tired. The black voodoo is working. The body aches. The mind screams for rest. Every fiber of the undersigned's being said: take a day off. Just one day. They can wait.
And then the undersigned looked at the calendar.
December 18th.
One month. Exactly one month since November 18, 2025, when Jerry Creel's team waltzed onto the property at 1606 Beach Boulevard. They looked. They measured. They photographed. They found nothing wrong. They left.
And then... silence.
No report. No findings. No letter. No email. No phone call. No explanation. Nothing.
These fucking dinosaurs took a whole month — a whole month — and left us in limbo. No closure. No progress. No resolution. Just silence. Strategic, calculated, soul-crushing silence designed to exhaust. To frustrate. To make the undersigned give up.
So no, the undersigned was not going to post today. But the calendar doesn't care about fatigue. The calendar doesn't care about black voodoo. The calendar says it's been thirty days, and thirty days of silence deserves documentation.
The undersigned has asked. The undersigned has followed up. The undersigned has documented every request. The response?
Silence.
Meanwhile, in federal court, the same Jerry Creel who cannot find the time to issue an inspection report has found the time to:
- File motions claiming "harassment"
- Submit a smiley face emoji as evidence of stalking
- Claim that this website constitutes "extortion"
Time for federal motions? Unlimited. Time to do his actual job? None available.
How Corruption Survives: The Dixie Mafia Playbook
Let the undersigned explain how this works. How the wannabe Dixie Mafia operates. How they have operated for decades, crushing anyone who dares to build, invest, or challenge their authority.
The Playbook: How They Destroy You
- DELAY — They don't say no. They say "not yet." They lose paperwork. They request additional documents. They schedule inspections and cancel them. They make you wait. Weeks. Months. Years. Most people give up here.
- HARASS — If you don't give up, they escalate. Surprise inspections. Stop work orders. Manufactured violations. They show up at your property. They photograph your home. They surveil your wife. They want you to feel watched. Unsafe. Exhausted.
- EMPLOY POLICE — When harassment doesn't work, they add badges and guns. Armed officers deliver civil documents. Police cars circle your property. The message is clear: we control law enforcement. You are alone.
- MUNICIPAL COURT — If you still won't break, they criminalize you. Jerry Creel swears to an affidavit. Tara Busby processes the paperwork. Criminal summons are issued. You're no longer a citizen with a permit dispute — you're a defendant.
- EXHAUST — Legal fees. Continuances. Motions. Appeals. They have unlimited taxpayer money. You have your savings. They bill $718,000 to Currie Johnson in a year. You pay your mortgage. They wait for you to go broke.
- WIN BY DEFAULT — Eventually, most people surrender. They sell. They leave. They give up. The dinosaurs celebrate. Another threat eliminated. Another investor driven out. Power preserved.
This is how corruption survives. Not through competence. Not through intelligence — dear God, not through intelligence. You look at Peter Abide or Tim Holeman and the last thing on the planet you think is "wow, that guy is smart." No. You look at them and think: how did this damn piece of cheese get there? What series of cosmic accidents, failed upward promotions, and nepotistic handshakes resulted in these men holding positions of power?
The answer is simple: attrition.
They rely on the fact that most people have lives to live. Jobs to work. Families to raise. Most people cannot dedicate years to fighting City Hall. Most people, when faced with armed police at their door, decide it's not worth it.
Most people are not the undersigned.
Coming to CBS: Survivor — Biloxi Edition Satire
The undersigned has an idea for a television show. Someone call Jeff Probst.
SURVIVOR: BILOXI EDITION
"We throw 12 entrepreneurs into the City of Biloxi. Each one has capital, a business plan, and dreams of building something. Their mission: complete a single construction project. Get a permit. Pass an inspection. Receive a Certificate of Occupancy."
"Last one standing wins."
Spoiler alert: nobody wins.
By Episode 3, half the contestants have fled to Florida. By Episode 5, two have been criminally charged for "violations" that don't exist. By Episode 7, the starving contestants watch through the window of White Pillars as Mayor Gilich and Peter Abide dine on taxpayer-funded steak, laughing about their "scores" while the entrepreneurs outside haven't eaten in days.
By the finale, the sole remaining entrepreneur is living in their car outside City Hall, still waiting for Jerry Creel to issue an inspection report.
CHALLENGES: To win the Immunity Bracelet, contestants must complete one of the following:
- Survive a Sunday surveillance session without being photographed
- Get a straight answer from Catherine McMahan about a public records request
- Find a single inspection report issued on time
- Or... visit Jerry's Saturday office. You know the one. Results may vary. Dignity not guaranteed.
The twist? There is no immunity idol. There is no tribal council. There is only Jerry Creel, sitting in his office like a sphinx, deciding who builds and who burns.
TRIBAL COUNCIL: At the end of each episode, the remaining contestants gather for elimination. But here's the thing — Jerry Creel takes 12 turns. Jerry Creel casts 12 votes. All by himself. The contestants? They just watch. Democracy, Biloxi style.
THE FINAL CHALLENGE: The two remaining contestants face off. One must obtain a Certificate of Occupancy from Jerry Creel. The other must obtain public records about Mark Seymour from Peter Abide.
[LEAKED PRODUCTION MEMO]
"The directors have been in emergency meetings for three weeks. Legal is concerned. The insurance company is concerned. Everyone is concerned. Neither challenge may actually be possible. We've consulted with former Biloxi residents, constitutional lawyers, and a team of physicists. The consensus: obtaining either document violates the known laws of the universe. We may need to pivot to a different finale — perhaps something more achievable, like cold fusion or time travel."
DISCLAIMER: All contestants must sign a 47-page waiver acknowledging the risk of:
- Arrest on manufactured charges
- Frivolous lawsuits funded by taxpayer money
- Police intimidation at their doorstep
- Weekend perverts surveilling their property in church clothes
- Smiley face emojis being used as evidence of stalking
- Being called an "extortionist" for documenting misconduct
Coming this fall to CBS. Or, you know, just move to Biloxi and live it in real time.
Inside the Enemy's Mind
The undersigned has been thinking about the enemy. Not with hatred — with curiosity. What must it be like inside their heads right now?
The Dinosaur's Dilemma
They have never faced opposition. Not real opposition. For decades, they operated in the dark — denying permits, issuing stop work orders, billing taxpayers, protecting each other. When citizens complained, they ignored them. When citizens sued, they settled quietly. When citizens gave up, they celebrated.
But then came the deck.
A simple deck. A Certificate of Occupancy that should have taken thirty days. And now, eight months later: three federal lawsuits, $250,000 in legal fees, FBI investigations, State Department inquiries, a website with tens of thousands of readers documenting their every move, and being called mafiosos to their faces at a City Council meeting while they sat there like the cowards they are — mouths shut, eyes down, not a single word in their own defense.
They must lie awake at night, staring at the ceiling, asking themselves:
The answer, dear reader, is no. It was not worth it. It will never be worth it. And somewhere, deep in the dinosaur brain of Jerry Creel, in the Napoleon complex of Peter Abide, in the sweaty palms of Currie Johnson billing another hour — they know.
They just don't know how to stop.
They're in too deep. The sunk cost fallacy has consumed them. They've spent $250,000+ of taxpayer money. They've filed dozens of motions. They've committed perjury, trespass, conspiracy. If they back down now, they admit everything. If they keep fighting, they lose more.
There is no exit. Only escalation or surrender.
The Dinosaur's Paradox
Double down? Or cave?
Except they don't know how to cave. True mafiosos know when they've lost. You see it in the movies — they throw the gun on the ground and smile. They accept defeat with dignity. They live to fight another day.
But not here. Not our boys.
Our boys think they're Rambo. They think the municipal coffers are an endless bag of milk — and they've got a straw stuck in it, sucking away at taxpayer dollars like it's their personal beverage.
$220,000+. And counting. For what? To defend the indefensible. To protect a Building Official who can't issue a report. To fund lawyers who can't tell a website from social media.
The real Mafia would have cut their losses months ago. The real Mafia understands business. But these dinosaurs? They just keep drinking from that straw, convinced that somehow, someway, the milk won't run out.
Spoiler alert: the citizens are watching. And they're getting thirsty too.
The "Extortion" Claim
And so, in their desperation, they have landed on a new theory: extortion.
In ECF Documents 49 and 50, filed December 15, 2025, the defendants — through counsel Tim Holleman of Boyce Holleman & Associates — claim that the undersigned is "extorting" them.
Here's the funny part: they didn't follow the rules. They didn't notify the undersigned by email, as they always do. They filed these documents and went radio silent — hoping, apparently, that the undersigned wouldn't see them before Christmas.
It's sad. And funny. But mostly sad.
They think the undersigned operates on the same two brain cells as them. They think hiding a federal filing for a few days will somehow change the outcome. They think Christmas vacation will save them from accountability.
Spoiler: the undersigned checks PACER. Daily. Merry Christmas, counselors.
Let's read their exact words:
"Petrini has simply using the United District Court and 'social media' as method of 'extorting' the City, its attorneys and its employees."
There it is. In black and white. Filed in federal court. They are claiming that this website — the journalism you are reading right now — is "extortion."
Also: "social media"? This damn dumb dinosaur. This is a website. A badass, black, stylish journalistic website. The undersigned doesn't have a social media page. But apparently Tim Holleman — billing at whatever astronomical rate Currie Johnson charges — can't tell the difference between a badass journalistic website and Facebook. These are the legal minds defending Biloxi, dear reader. These are the people burning through your tax dollars.
Under Fifth Circuit law and the Hobbs Act (18 U.S.C. § 1951), extortion requires:
- Obtaining property from another
- With the victim's consent induced by wrongful use of actual or threatened force, violence, or fear
- OR obtaining property under color of official right
- Affecting interstate commerce
See United States v. Robinson, 119 F.3d 1205 (5th Cir. 1997); Hobbs Act Pattern Jury Instructions, Fifth Circuit (2024 Edition).
And here's the procedural context they don't want you to understand:
Tim raised this "extortion" nonsense in a Response in Opposition to a Motion for Leave to File Amended Complaint. What does that mean in plain English?
A "Motion for Leave to Amend" is when a plaintiff asks the court for permission to update their lawsuit — to add new claims, new defendants, or new evidence. The undersigned filed such a motion because the investigation has uncovered more misconduct, more defendants, and more evidence of a coordinated scheme.
And the defendants are opposing it like crazy.
Why? Because the amended complaint builds the RICO case. It connects the dots. It shows the scheme with Centerpoint. It demonstrates that this isn't just one rogue Building Official — it's an enterprise. A pattern. A conspiracy.
So what do they do? They scream "extortion" and hope the judge doesn't notice they're trying to block evidence of their own crimes from entering the record.
But wait, there's more:
"The Court need only read Petrini's email (Exhibit B to the Response) to see that Petrini's motive is to extort the Defendants' Attorney not to properly defend his clients: 'the amended version, that contains extensive details about you and your firm that dates and includes pictures all the way to 2015.…. Mr. Tim. You may avoid being named if you would agree to the following…I will attempt to join you into the amended complaint.'"
Read that again. The undersigned offered to negotiate. The undersigned said "you may avoid being named if you would agree to the following." This is called settlement discussion. This is called giving someone an off-ramp. This is what lawyers do every single day — "drop your claim and we'll drop ours."
But when the undersigned does it? Extortion.
Let the undersigned explain how extortion actually works:
SETTLEMENT: "Agree to these terms or I will pursue legal remedies."
JOURNALISM: "I am publishing this because you are criminals."
One of these is a crime. The other two are constitutional rights. Guess which one Tim Holleman can't tell apart?
The undersigned has never demanded payment. The undersigned has never offered to take down articles in exchange for anything. The undersigned has simply documented — with court filings, public records, photographs, and sworn declarations — what these people have done.
In fact — did the undersigned ever mention? — the undersigned offered to settle for zero dollars. Multiple times. $0. Nothing. Nada. Just stop the harassment, issue the permits, and we all go home.
They ignored it. They laughed. They were confident.
They could have ended this for nothing. Instead, they've spent $220,000+ in taxpayer money defending the indefensible. They could have issued a permit and moved on. Instead, they hired Currie Johnson, Boyce Holleman, and a small army of attorneys to fight a man who offered to walk away for free.
Meanwhile, as they bill taxpayers for their legal adventures, the undersigned has accumulated:
- Six months of project halt
- Lost financing — investors don't wait forever
- Over $20,000 in engineering fees to produce reports for blind eyes
- Significant losses — and that's before we discuss damages
They spent $220,000 to cause this. The undersigned offered to settle for $0. Who's the extortionist again?
And they call that extortion?
If documenting misconduct is "extortion," then every journalist in America is a criminal. Every newspaper is a criminal enterprise. Every exposé is a shakedown.
This is the argument of people who have no argument. People who cannot defend their conduct on the merits. People who think that calling journalism "extortion" will make a federal judge forget about the perjury, the trespass, the conspiracy, and the civil rights violations.
The Full Email Tim Doesn't Want You to See
Tim cherry-picked one sentence from the undersigned's email. Let's provide the context he conveniently omitted.
The undersigned's October 15, 2025 email was a request for clarification of scope of representation. Why? Because Tim Holleman stated — on the record — that he "ONLY represents the private attorneys" and has "nothing to do" with City of Biloxi or Building Official matters.
But the undersigned caught him with his fat old hand in the cookie jar — well, probably a bucket to be able to fit:
- July 1, 2025: Contract between City of Biloxi and Boyce Holleman & Associates
- October 1, 2025: Tim participated in correspondence concerning City Building Official matters
- Ongoing: Tim is copied on communications regarding municipal code enforcement, property matters, and Building Official directives
- 2015-Present: Pictures of Tim and Abide together dating back a decade
The undersigned offered to "let bygones be bygones" and continue with civility. The undersigned offered an off-ramp. The undersigned even complimented their coordination and loyalty to each other.
Tim's response? "People like you." Threats of sanctions. Claims that the undersigned suffers from "apophenia" — seeing patterns that don't exist.
Apophenia: A Response
Apophenia — the tendency to perceive meaningful connections between unrelated things. Tim Holleman thinks the undersigned suffers from this condition.
Let the undersigned be clear: being called "apophenic" by Tim Holleman is like being called "too tall" by a garden gnome. This is a man who cannot distinguish a journalistic website from social media. A man who claims the undersigned is "extorting" people via a website that didn't exist when he made the accusation. A man whose understanding of federal civil rights litigation appears to have been formed by watching My Cousin Vinny while half-asleep.
Tim Holleman is, quite simply, a walking museum of lacking.
Lacking intellectual rigor. Lacking legal acumen. Lacking the basic cognitive capacity to recognize that when someone documents:
- Contracts between entities he claims are unrelated
- Photographs of surveillance he claims didn't happen
- Sworn declarations contradicting his factual claims
- Ten years of documented coordination he says doesn't exist
...that's not apophenia. That's called journalism.
The patterns exist, Tim. They're not in the undersigned's head. They're in your contracts. Your emails. Your photographs. Your client's property records. Your firm's billing statements.
The only pattern the undersigned can't find? One showing Tim Holleman providing competent legal advice to anyone, anywhere, at any time.
Oh, and here's another layer of fraud: Tim's email is dated October 16, 2025. This website didn't exist until November 27, 2025 — six weeks later. Tim was calling the undersigned an "extortionist" before there was even a website to "extort" with.
This is what dealing with dinosaurs looks like, dear reader. Not suits — Jurassic Park. They throw accusations that don't even make temporal sense. They claim extortion via "social media" that doesn't exist — we don't have a Facebook page, Tim. They claim they have "nothing to do" with the City while holding City contracts.
But wait — there's more. Tim Holleman is also a lawyer for Harrison County. And in his email, he threatened to sue the undersigned in Harrison County Circuit Court. The same court system he's part of.
Appearance of corruption? Indicia of impropriety? Sure as fuck? You pick, dear reader.
But here's the thing — the undersigned wants to be sued. Anywhere. Please. Sue the undersigned.
Why? Discovery.
These gatekeepers hide their documents like Smaug hoards gold. The City of Biloxi sits on a mountain of records, emails, contracts, and communications that would expose the entire operation. And they guard it with the ferocity of a dragon protecting his treasure.
You know Money Heist on Netflix? The Professor and his crew could pull off every season — all five of them — and they still wouldn't get past Stacy Thacker. Cooper himself would have trouble stealing a single email from Peter Abide's watch.
So please, Tim. Sue the undersigned. The undersigned is begging. Open up discovery. Let's see what you're hiding.
And while we're at it — a quick legal lesson for the dinosaurs:
In defamation law, there's a concept called "truth as an absolute defense." To sue for defamation, the plaintiff must prove that the defendant made statements that were false — and knew them to be false, or acted with reckless disregard for the truth. See New York Times Co. v. Sullivan, 376 U.S. 254 (1964).
So here's the undersigned's invitation:
The undersigned has used the following rhetorical characterizations and opinions based on documented conduct: mafioso. Dinosaurs. Hydra. Corrupt. Mediocre. Unproductive. Lazy. Weekend pervert.
These are opinions protected by the First Amendment. But if the subjects believe otherwise:
Come prove the undersigned is wrong.
Sue for defamation. Take the stand. Explain to a jury — with evidence — why these characterizations are false. The undersigned will wait.
The patterns exist, Tim. They're documented. They're photographed. They're in contracts with your signature. And now they're published for everyone to see.
But here's the difference, dear reader: the undersigned is not A.J. Holloway.
When Jerry Creel got caught in his Saturday scandal, he confessed to Holloway. And Holloway forgave him. Protected him. Kept him in the family.
The dinosaurs don't get that here. They don't get to confess and ask for forgiveness. They don't get protection. They commit the crimes, they try to take your house away, and then they get documented. Publicly. Permanently.
Good luck with that, counselors.
The One Who Left: Ivan Spinner
Ivan Spinner Based on Tips
Ivan Spinner reportedly had a four million dollar mansion. Had. Past tense.
According to sources, he too tried to build something in Biloxi. He too met the dinosaurs. He too reportedly received similar treatment — the delays, the manufactured obstacles, the casual cruelty of mediocre men with unchecked power.
But Ivan Spinner had options. He had money. He had mobility. He could sell his mansion and leave. And reportedly, that's exactly what he's doing.
This is what Biloxi does to investors. This is what the dinosaurs call "code enforcement."
Someone comes with capital. With vision. With plans to create jobs and improve the community. They want to build. They want to invest. They want to make Biloxi better.
And Jerry Creel finds a violation. Peter Abide starts billing. The Star Chamber rubber-stamps the persecution. And eventually, the investor gives up and leaves.
The dinosaurs have done this for decades. They've driven out countless Ivan Spinners — businessmen who could have built something, employed people, paid taxes, contributed to the community. Instead, they left. Because fighting City Hall isn't worth it.
Except to the undersigned.
The undersigned didn't leave. The undersigned filed three federal lawsuits. The undersigned built a website. The undersigned documented everything. The undersigned is still here.
And that — dear reader — is what keeps Jerry Creel awake at night. Not because the undersigned is dangerous. But because the undersigned is still here. Still fighting. Still publishing. Still waiting for that November 18th inspection report.
Since July 7, 2025, the undersigned has undergone four eye surgeries. Four. The undersigned has a permanent neurological condition. In the past six months, there have been more days when the undersigned could not get out of bed than days when the undersigned could. More days of darkness than light. More days of pain than productivity.
And yet — here we stand.
It's been barely a week since the undersigned has been able to fully utilize a computer properly. Barely a week of functioning vision. Barely a week of being able to read, write, and document.
And what sucks for them? We are coming back.
They thought the black voodoo would break us. They thought the surgeries, the illness, the manufactured stress would be enough. They thought wrong. The undersigned is healing. The undersigned is recovering. And every day the undersigned gets stronger is another day their nightmare gets worse.
The dinosaurs said it to the undersigned's face: "This would take forever."
Forever. They said forever. As if that's supposed to scare the undersigned. As if the undersigned — who has survived four surgeries, a neurological condition, and six months of hell — is going to be intimidated by time.
So let's make a bet, dear reader. Who's going to be more bothered by time? The undersigned — a 30-something with decades ahead, recovering health, and absolutely nothing better to do than document corruption? Or the dinosaurs — aging bureaucrats with pensions to protect, reputations to salvage, and a growing pile of evidence that isn't going anywhere?
Place your bets.
While defending four criminal charges they manufactured. While running three federal lawsuits. While operating a business. While traveling abroad for a month. While taking Master of Laws classes in Louisiana. It's been a crazy semester, dear reader. Absolutely insane. Four eye surgeries, a neurological condition, criminal court, federal court, international travel, and law school finals — all at once.
But finals are done. Our eyes can once again see. And the undersigned is back.
The undersigned has time. The undersigned has patience. The undersigned has a website that will outlive every single one of them. And unlike Jerry Creel, the undersigned doesn't need to "rise and shine" to do damage. The undersigned just needs to type.
But here's the thing: the undersigned is going to call Ivan Spinner.
Not to say goodbye. To convince him to stay. To fight. To not let the dinosaurs win one more time.
Because every investor who leaves is a victory for Jerry Creel. Every businessman who gives up is validation for Peter Abide. Every citizen who surrenders is proof that their system works.
The undersigned refuses to let that stand.
Rise and shine, Jerry. Ivan Spinner might be leaving. But maybe — just maybe — he can be convinced to stay. And fight. Like the undersigned.
December 16, 2025: The Mafioso Meeting
City Council Chambers
On Tuesday, December 16, 2025, the undersigned attended the Biloxi City Council meeting.
Arrived a few minutes early. Stayed until the end. Circled around afterward — you know, to give them a chance to approach.
They sat there, these would-be mafioso, these municipal gangsters in suits, thinking themselves untouchable. The Mayor. The Council members. The apparatus of small-town power that has operated unchecked for so long.
And yes, dear reader — you probably had the pleasure of seeing this handsome devil at the meeting. The undersigned. In the flesh. If you didn't, you sure are missing out — as much as the dinosaurs miss the mark.
The undersigned dropped documents on the table:
- A letter — detailing the death threats, the surveillance, the trespassing, the perjury
- A sworn declaration — from Sumire Maeda, documenting Jerry Creel's August 5, 2025 trespass and interrogation
- A VERIDEX report — containing photographic evidence of dozens of surveillance instances, submitted to the FBI
The undersigned looked them in the eyes. These people who have funded $220,000+ in legal fees to defend constitutional violations. These people who sat in "executive session" discussing the undersigned's lawsuit. These people who think they are some sort of Dixie Mafia.
They are not the Mafia. The Mafia is competent.
They wouldn't look our way. Wouldn't offer comments. Wouldn't even acknowledge the documents dropped in front of them.
Interestingly, two people did talk to the undersigned.
Councilman Tisdale — probably the favorite councilman. The one who actually asks questions. The one who stopped the change to public records law. A rare species in that chamber: someone who appears to give a damn.
Richard Weaver, Chief Administrative Officer — the undersigned has had a couple of meetings with him. Weaver is a very nice person. Educated. Potentially honest. But probably stuck between gears he can't move himself. The undersigned doesn't envy his position: working for an apparatus that has operated this way for decades, surrounded by dinosaurs who don't want change.
Not everyone in that building is a villain. Some are trapped. Some are trying. Some might even become allies.
But the Mayor? The inner circle? They sat in silence like the cowards they are.
The evidence is on the record now. The City Council has been formally notified. They cannot claim ignorance. They cannot claim they didn't know.
The FBI knows. The State Department knows. The DOD knows. And now, the City Council knows.
What they do with that knowledge will define them.
Coming Soon: The Full Picture
The undersigned is building several articles. This is just the origin story.
Coming soon:
- The Perjury Article — where the undersigned presents all evidence and explains the scheme in detail. The July 10th affidavit. The "personally observed" lie. The criminal summons issued before the affidavit was even signed. All of it.
- The Timeline — every surveillance incident, every trespass, every manufactured violation, mapped out with dates and documentation
- The Money Trail — $220,000+ in taxpayer money, where it went, and who profited
- Simpkins & Costelli, Inc. — The Queen Engineer of Fraud and Deception: Maddie
- How Jerry Creel Will Get Arrested — 4x Perjury. Felony.
- Jerry: I Know What You Did Last Summer — Yes, the undersigned waited until winter just to make this joke. Jerry committed his crimes in July. The undersigned documented them. And now, dear reader, the undersigned knows what he did last summer. Damn weekend pervert.
You will have to wait it out a little, dear reader. The undersigned is building the case — in court and in the court of public opinion.
But it's coming. All of it.
The undersigned would wish the boys a good Christmas. But the undersigned would be like them — lying — if he did.
Conclusion: Rise and Shine
Jerry Creel once could rise and shine. On Saturdays. At City Hall. In circumstances the undersigned will leave to your imagination.
Now he cannot rise to issue an inspection report. He cannot shine a light on documented compliance. He cannot do the basic functions of his job.
Instead, he:
- Survives on Sunday surveillance
- Lives in his (alleged) father's estate house
- Files federal motions about emoji harassment
- Claims journalism is extortion
- Protects himself behind Abide, Currie Johnson, and $250,000 in taxpayer money
The origin story explains everything. A man protected from consequences his entire career. A man who survived a sex scandal through patronage. A man who has never faced real opposition — until now.
He doesn't know what to do. None of them do. The playbook doesn't cover this. There's no chapter on "What to do when the plaintiff builds a website and documents everything."
And so they flail. They claim extortion. They file motions about smiley faces. They spend taxpayer money like it's infinite. They hope, desperately, that the undersigned will give up — and that Ivan Spinner won't pick up the phone.
The undersigned will not.
"Who knew you could, in the distant past? Who knew?"
Legal Disclaimer
This article contains both documented facts and satirical commentary.
DOCUMENTED FACTS (sourced from court filings, public records, sworn declarations):
- Jerry Creel lives in a house owned by the Estate of A.J. Holloway (property records)
- A.J. Holloway was a former Mayor of Biloxi (public record)
- Jerry Creel conducted surveillance on July 14, 2025 (photographs, Letter to Council)
- No inspection report has been issued since November 18, 2025 (direct knowledge)
- Defendants claim "extortion" in federal filings (court record)
- Declaration of Sumire Maeda documents August 5, 2025 trespass (sworn declaration)
- VERIDEX report submitted to FBI (documented)
SATIRICAL COMMENTARY (protected under Hustler v. Falwell):
- Allegations of illegitimate parentage (hearsay, presented as rumor)
- Allegations of Saturday sex scandal (hearsay, presented as rumor)
- "Dixie Mafia" characterization (political commentary)
- Psychological analysis of defendants (opinion)
The satirical sections are clearly labeled and constitute protected political commentary on public officials.
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If you have information about Jerry Creel, A.J. Holloway, or similar treatment by Biloxi officials, we want to hear from you.
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