Stop Feeding the Trolls

It started, as these things often do, with a single post.

I woke up one morning to messages from friends and fellow advocates, all linking me to a podcast clip that had been circulating overnight. In it, a tabloid-style podcaster—someone who’s built a brand on rumor and spectacle—was spinning yet another outrageous tale about me

For a moment, I felt my blood boil. My hands hovered over the keyboard. I wanted to set the record straight right there in his comment section. I wanted to call out the lies and defend my name. But as I scrolled through the responses, I saw something that stopped me cold.

Dozens of people—some of them strangers, some of them people I’d worked alongside—were already in those comments. They were pleading, explaining, arguing with faceless accounts that had no interest in truth. Every time someone replied, the post got bumped higher, shared wider, gaining more traction for the very person who had created this mess.

And that’s when it hit me: this is exactly what he wanted.

Tabloid podcasters thrive on chaos. They don’t need facts; they need noise. When we engage—when we argue back, defend ourselves, or try to reason with their trolls—we feed the algorithm that keeps their circus running. It’s like tossing kindling onto a fire and wondering why the flames grow higher.

I’ve watched this play out in real time. I’ve seen families, already broken from loss, dragged through the mud because someone wanted to pad an episode with salacious claims. I’ve seen vulnerable people—those battling addiction or mental health struggles—exploited for sound bites. And I’ve seen good-hearted advocates waste entire days trying to counter lies, only to watch the lies spread further.

I had to ask myself: what good would it do to argue? Would it bring a missing person home? Would it heal a grieving mother’s heart? Would it stop him from doing it again?

The answer was no.

So instead of lashing out publicly, I documented everything. Screenshots. Dates. Names. I spoke with an attorney about options—cease and desist letters, potential defamation claims, harassment reporting. I learned that the courtroom, not the comment section, is where real accountability happens.

That day, instead of replying to a troll, I spent my time calling a victim’s family. I worked on a case timeline. I reached out to a lead investigator. And something shifted in me.

The truth is, our energy is sacred. Every minute spent on a troll is a minute stolen from the work that actually matters. People like that podcaster want you distracted, exhausted, and defensive. But I’m here to find answers, to honor victims, and to demand justice—not to entertain a sideshow.

I don’t plan to address him again, not here, not anywhere. If needed, I’ll do so in court. That’s where lies meet consequences. But here, on this platform, I’ll keep doing what I’ve always done: telling the stories that deserve to be told, and amplifying the voices that matter.

So if you’ve been targeted by someone like him, let this be your reminder:
You don’t have to play their game. You don’t have to fuel their fire.
Document. Protect yourself legally. And keep walking in the direction of truth.

The noise will fade. The work will remain.

💜
LaDonna