I have a heartfelt message to share tonight—one that brought me back to where it all began.
Not long ago, I spoke to a room full of middle and high school students. We talked about truth, power, and what it means to stand up for others. Then, a student asked me a question I’ll never forget: “Did you see yourself doing this work when you were our age?”
In that moment, I flashed back to 12-year-old me—the same kid who couldn’t (and still can’t) ice skate.
I didn’t know it back then, but the path I would take would lead me here: speaking truth to power, even when it’s uncomfortable, even when it’s dangerous. And lately, it has been dangerous. The more I uncover, the more those in power push back—hard. I’m receiving threats. I’m being targeted. But I won’t stop. And if you believe this work matters, I need your support. Please consider subscribing today so I can keep going—stronger, safer, and independent.
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The truth is, I never imagined doing this work. I didn’t go to journalism school.
I wasn’t trained to be a reporter. I wanted to be a public defender—in a courtroom, defending people who couldn’t defend themselves.
That’s why I started college at 14. That’s why I graduated at 18. That’s why I went to law school and became one of the youngest graduates in the country at 21. Every step I took was rooted in a belief: that using my voice could help others.
That same belief is what fuels me now.
So no, I may not be cross-examining witnesses in a courtroom, but I am still advocating—just in a different way. And I think little Aaron would be proud of that. If you’re reading this and believe in what I’m trying to build—truthful, fearless, people-first journalism—then join me.
Subscribe, share, and stand with me in this work. Because I can’t do it alone.