Andrew LeCody’s name has drifted through the history of Dallas Makerspace like an apparition—

…never fully present, yet impossible to ignore.

He was never its founder, yet his fingerprints are all over the mechanisms that sought to control it.

He was never the vision, but he became its gatekeeper.

His name is rarely spoken in reverence, but in whispers, in warnings.

And now, years later, his tactics have resurfaced.

This time, the target is not an organization but an individual.

The same patterns, the same strategies—

…silencing, reframing, erasing.

A meticulous campaign of historical distortion, executed with the same precision as before.

But this time, the mirror does not blink.

To the uninitiated, Andrew LeCody is nothing more than a figure in the background of Dallas Makerspace’s history.

A board member.

A president.

A policy enforcer.

A man who, in his early twenties, held unchecked power over a growing organization, using its bylaws not as a framework for governance but as a weapon to eliminate opposition.

But those who knew him—those who watched him operate—know the truth.

His strength was not in leadership, nor in vision.

It was in control.

His defining skill was not creation, but deletion.

For years, he manipulated narratives, orchestrated expulsions, and erased voices.

His greatest victories were not in building something new, but in ensuring that no one could challenge the structures he had cemented.

Dallas Makerspace did not flourish under his reign—

…it became something else entirely.

A social machine built on fear of crossing the wrong person.

And when his control faltered, when the mechanisms he put in place turned on him, LeCody did what he had always done: he rewrote history.

LeCody’s influence didn’t die when he left Dallas Makerspace.

It evolved.

He took the lessons he learned from institutional control and applied them elsewhere.

He understood something most people never realize: history is malleable.

In a world governed by digital permanence, where every word and action is archived, LeCody sought to master the art of digital erasure.

His power was no longer in bylaws and board meetings—

…it was in narrative manipulation.

He learned to erase inconvenient truths.

To frame himself as the hero of a story no one else could remember.

To gaslight an entire community into believing that the past was different than they recalled.

It worked—

…for a time.

And now, we see his influence again.

Joel Johnson, an unremarkable man with no clear agenda other than self-preservation, has suddenly become a master of the very tactics LeCody employed.

The DARVO inversion.

The projection.

The meticulous restructuring of events to cast himself as the victim.

Joel is not the architect.

He lacks the strategic mind for it.

But he is the willing participant, the pawn in a game he does not even fully understand.

And his words—

…his frantic, desperate words—

…carry LeCody’s fingerprints.

The fight against the “bully”—

The sudden obsession with “control”—

…it intensified with a subtle whisper of LeCody’s influence.

The attempt to liken his opponent to a serial killer.

The deliberate attempt to make exposure seem like persecution—

…not simple victumhood—

This is not Joel’s rhetoric.

This is Andrew LeCody’s doctrine.

If history has taught us anything, it is that narratives do not erase truth.

They can obscure it, distort it, bury it beneath layers of misinformation—

…but the record remains.

LeCody built his legacy on the erasure of others.

On controlling the perception of reality.

On making sure that the people he removed, the voices he silenced, were never heard again.

But this time, the erasure does not hold.

The record is intact.

The words remain.

The actions are archived.

This time, the truth is immutable.

Andrew LeCody will never step forward.

He will never engage directly.

His role has always been behind the curtain, orchestrating the downfall of those who threaten his narrative.

But he has already made a mistake.

He left his signature too visible.

He trained too many people in the art of rewriting reality, and in doing so, left a pattern so clear that even his most dedicated followers cannot hide it.

And now, we document.

Now, we make permanent what he has tried to erase.

Now, we expose the architect of digital erasure for what he truly is.

The mirror does not blink.

And history, finally, is out of his hands.

Andrew LeCody’s name has drifted through the history of Dallas Makerspace like an apparition—

…never fully present, yet impossible to ignore.

He was never its founder, yet his fingerprints are all over the mechanisms that sought to control it.

He was never the vision, but he became its gatekeeper.

His name is rarely spoken in reverence, but in whispers, in warnings.

And now, years later, his tactics have resurfaced.

This time, the target is not an organization but an individual.

The same patterns, the same strategies—

…silencing, reframing, erasing.

A meticulous campaign of historical distortion, executed with the same precision as before.

But this time, the mirror does not blink.

To the uninitiated, Andrew LeCody is nothing more than a figure in the background of Dallas Makerspace’s history.

A board member.

A president.

A policy enforcer.

A man who, in his early twenties, held unchecked power over a growing organization, using its bylaws not as a framework for governance but as a weapon to eliminate opposition.

But those who knew him—those who watched him operate—know the truth.

His strength was not in leadership, nor in vision.

It was in control.

His defining skill was not creation, but deletion.

For years, he manipulated narratives, orchestrated expulsions, and erased voices.

His greatest victories were not in building something new, but in ensuring that no one could challenge the structures he had cemented.

Dallas Makerspace did not flourish under his reign—

…it became something else entirely.

A social machine built on fear of crossing the wrong person.

And when his control faltered, when the mechanisms he put in place turned on him, LeCody did what he had always done: he rewrote history.

LeCody’s influence didn’t die when he left Dallas Makerspace.

It evolved.

He took the lessons he learned from institutional control and applied them elsewhere.

He understood something most people never realize: history is malleable.

In a world governed by digital permanence, where every word and action is archived, LeCody sought to master the art of digital erasure.

His power was no longer in bylaws and board meetings—

…it was in narrative manipulation.

He learned to erase inconvenient truths.

To frame himself as the hero of a story no one else could remember.

To gaslight an entire community into believing that the past was different than they recalled.

It worked—

…for a time.

And now, we see his influence again.

Joel Johnson, an unremarkable man with no clear agenda other than self-preservation, has suddenly become a master of the very tactics LeCody employed.

The DARVO inversion.

The projection.

The meticulous restructuring of events to cast himself as the victim.

Joel is not the architect.

He lacks the strategic mind for it.

But he is the willing participant, the pawn in a game he does not even fully understand.

And his words—

…his frantic, desperate words—

…carry LeCody’s fingerprints.

The fight against the “bully”—

The sudden obsession with “control”—

…it intensified with a subtle whisper of LeCody’s influence.

The attempt to liken his opponent to a serial killer.

The deliberate attempt to make exposure seem like persecution—

…not simple victumhood—

This is not Joel’s rhetoric.

This is Andrew LeCody’s doctrine.

If history has taught us anything, it is that narratives do not erase truth.

They can obscure it, distort it, bury it beneath layers of misinformation—

…but the record remains.

LeCody built his legacy on the erasure of others.

On controlling the perception of reality.

On making sure that the people he removed, the voices he silenced, were never heard again.

But this time, the erasure does not hold.

The record is intact.

The words remain.

The actions are archived.

This time, the truth is immutable.

Andrew LeCody will never step forward.

He will never engage directly.

His role has always been behind the curtain, orchestrating the downfall of those who threaten his narrative.

But he has already made a mistake.

He left his signature too visible.

He trained too many people in the art of rewriting reality, and in doing so, left a pattern so clear that even his most dedicated followers cannot hide it.

And now, we document.

Now, we make permanent what he has tried to erase.

Now, we expose the architect of digital erasure for what he truly is.

The mirror does not blink.

And history, finally, is out of his hands.