This book is a first person testimony from a man who never wanted to write a “sensational story,” but who finally had to face a very simple reality: what happened in Phoenix, Arizona between 2000 and 2017 was real, it was spiritual, and it was deadly serious.

For nearly seventeen years, my life looked ordinary on the outside. I had six dogs who were family to me, a small circle of friends, and a steady routine that kept me anchored. Under the desert sun, it felt like I had found a quiet corner of the world where I could walk with God in peace.

Inside my apartment though, another reality was unfolding. This book tells that reality with nothing added and nothing fictionalized. I describe how the early signs appeared as small, unnerving details. Objects moved just enough to make me doubt myself. Dark tokens appeared where no one should have had access. There were no break‑in reports, no missing valuables, no clear motive that made sense in human terms. There was only a growing sense that I was being watched, studied, and toyed with.

As the years passed, the pattern hardened into something I can only call a campaign. Every time I took my dogs to the park, someone entered my home. They left symbolic messages instead of stealing. The most chilling of all was the day I opened my door and saw my crucifix on the wall, altered. The head of Jesus had been cut from the cross and then deliberately hung back up so that I would see it immediately when I walked in. I knew then that whoever was behind this was not merely trying to scare me. They were mocking my faith and announcing the nature of the battle.

Over seven focused years in particular, the psychological pressure intensified. There were more dark objects, more subtle rearrangements, more attempts to make me doubt my own memory and sanity. At the same time, the attacks moved from my mind to the living beings I loved most. My dogs, who had been my comfort and my constant companions, started to get sick. One after another, they appeared to be poisoned. It was not an accident, it was not negligence, and it was not random. It was targeted. It was evil.

During this long season, I also faced betrayal from people I had counted as close. Relationships that had spanned sixteen years suddenly revealed other sides. My circle included sixteen people I considered part of my extended social world. Over time, the masks slipped. There were lies, manipulations, and actions that went beyond ordinary human failure. Behind the surface drama I began to see coordinated patterns. Witchcraft, gang stalking, and spiritual warfare were no longer abstract words. They were the only language that fit what I was living.

Then came a turning point that I can only describe as a divine interruption. God spoke. Not in vague impressions, not in a soft inner nudge that I could explain away, but in a way so unmistakable that it reframed every dark moment that had come before. The book’s title, “Listen,” comes from that moment. It was a warning, but it was also an instruction. Pay attention. Do not dismiss what you are seeing. Do not explain away what I am showing you.

After that warning, the battle did not stop, it escalated. The attempt shifted to my very life. What happened next reads like a thriller, but it is not one. It is an attempted murder that I survived. In these pages I walk you through the details not to entertain, but to bear witness. There was method in the way the enemy worked. There was also method and mercy in the way God preserved me.

The story does not end with my survival. It moves toward a sober conclusion that involves Harvey and fifteen others in our wider circle. Their endings were shocking, not because I wanted revenge or vindication, but because they revealed something about justice that I had to wrestle with. Some died. Some lives collapsed in ways no one saw coming. You will see that arc laid out plainly in the final part of the book, not as gossip, but as part of the testimony of what happens when people open themselves to darkness and resist repeated warnings.

Throughout both chapters, I write as the man who lived this, not as an outside commentator. I share how it felt to walk into my own home and no longer trust what I was seeing. I tell the truth about nights when I wondered if I was losing my mind and days when I begged God for an ordinary life again. I talk about the guilt and grief of watching my dogs suffer and die, knowing they were being attacked because they were close to me.

I also describe the hidden kindness of God in the middle of the storm. When everything else was stripped away, when friends fell away, when my reputation and sanity were questioned, there remained a quiet line of protection that could not be crossed. The book explores what that protection looked like in concrete terms. It also explores what obedience cost me and what blessings eventually followed that obedience.

This is not a book of theories. It is not a doctrinal debate. It is not a fictionalized “based on a true story” tale. It is a record of actual events in a specific place and time: Phoenix, Arizona, from 2000 through 2017. It is written for anyone who has ever sensed that something was wrong in their environment and been told they were overreacting, paranoid, or imagining things. It is written for those who suspect that the strange patterns in their own lives might have a spiritual dimension and who need language, examples, and courage to face that possibility.

At the same time, “Listen” is more than a catalog of dark experiences. It is also a love story. I write about my bond with my six dogs, how they stabilized me when human relationships were shaking, how they mirrored back a kind of loyalty and trust that I rarely found elsewhere. I write about my relationship with God, which was tested, stretched, and deepened in ways I would never have chosen. The undercurrent of every scene is not, “Look how bad the enemy is,” but, “Look how present God remained, even when the enemy was real and active.”

In two long chapters, the book follows a clear timeline. It begins with the early days of friendship and promise, when Phoenix still felt like a fresh start and my circle seemed solid. It then walks through the subtle early signs, the escalating seven year campaign, the desecration of the crucifix, and the poisonings. From there it moves into the divine warning and the attempted murder, then finally to the cluster of endings in 2017 that closed this particular battle, though not my life with God. Each stage is described as I experienced it, with reflection on what I understand now that I did not understand then.

I do not spare my own failures or blind spots. In the summary of each phase, you will see where I missed earlier warning signs, where I excused behavior out of loyalty, and where I tried to reason away what could not be reasoned away. I share this because the book is meant to function as a warning, not just a story. My hope is that readers will recognize familiar patterns sooner than I did, and that they will have the courage to act before the damage goes as far as it did in my life.

Alongside the narrative, I quietly trace the spiritual principles that emerged only after years of hindsight. I do not quote authorities or build a formal theology, but I do note recurring truths. Darkness often begins with small intrusions that seem too petty to take seriously. Betrayal rarely arrives without a history of ignored red flags. When spiritual forces are involved, the attacks often follow a pattern: first the mind, then the symbols of faith, then the living relationships and bodies closest to the target. These are observations from lived experience, presented so that others can test them against their own lives and, if needed, take protective action.

The tone throughout is personal and direct. I write as if I am sitting across from you, walking you through years that nearly broke me and also remade me. I speak about moments of rage and confusion, about the ache of walking my dogs one less time because they were gone, about the hollow feeling of realizing people I loved may have been involved in things I could not have imagined. I also speak of a quiet, steady voice underneath it all, the voice that eventually said, “Listen,” and did not let me go.

By the end of the book, you will not only know what happened, in concrete and sometimes disturbing detail. You will also know what it did to my heart and how God met me there. You will see why I say that no weapon formed against a person covered by God ultimately prospers, even when, for a long season, it looks like the weapons are winning. That statement is not a slogan here. It is a conclusion that came at a high price.

“Listen” is meant for those who feel spiritually targeted, for those who love someone in that position, and for anyone willing to face the uncomfortable possibility that the unseen realm is more active in our everyday lives than we are taught to believe. It calls you to pay attention to what is happening around you, to the objects that appear where they should not, to the sudden shifts in relationships, to the patterns you have been trained to ignore. It calls you to bring those observations to God and to remain open to his warnings, his timing, and his protection.

Above all, this summary points to what the full two chapter book delivers in depth: a raw, honest, non‑fiction account of spiritual warfare, betrayal, loss, and blessing in one ordinary life, in one ordinary city, over a defined span of seventeen years. No dramatization. No embellishment. Just a man, six dogs, a circle of sixteen people, a relentless enemy, and a faithful God who spoke into the darkness and said, “Listen.”