I think my evil ex is haunting me.

Building a Case

I had my journal with all the dates and times written down. I had photos of the bruises and scratches. I had screenshots of the threatening document on my laptop—real evidence for a real threat, not ghost stories.

I walked into the police station just after noon and asked to file a report about stalking and breaking and entering. The officer at the desk looked tired and skeptical, but he took me to a back room with a table and two chairs.

I showed him everything while he wrote notes, watching his face stay neutral in that cop way where you can’t tell what they’re thinking. He asked questions about my ex being dead and whether I was sure about that, which made me want to scream, but I stayed calm and showed him the funeral program I’d kept.

Detective Gibson

He asked if I had any suspects, and I admitted I didn’t know who was doing this, but someone clearly was. He asked about the visible security camera and why it didn’t catch anything, and I explained that whoever was doing this obviously knew where it was.

He asked if I’d considered that I might be experiencing trauma-related symptoms, and I pulled up my sleeves to show him the bruises that were still fading. He took pictures of everything with his phone and said someone would follow up, which sounded like cop-speak for nothing.

Two days later, I got a call from a detective named Sebastian Gibson who wanted to meet at a coffee shop near the station. He showed up in regular clothes, not a uniform, and he was direct about the whole situation being complicated.

Solid Ground

He told me that without a clear suspect or physical proof of someone breaking in, his resources were really limited. But then he said something that made me want to cry, which was that he believed something was happening to me and he’d do what he could to help.

He asked detailed questions about my ex’s friends and family, about who had keys to my apartment, about my daily routines, and whether I’d noticed anyone following me. He wrote everything down in an actual notebook, not just his phone, and he gave me his direct number for emergencies.

He said to call him immediately if anything else happened, not to wait or second-guess myself. Having someone official actually take me seriously felt like the first piece of solid ground I’d stood on in weeks.

The Advocacy Center

That same afternoon, I called a domestic violence advocacy center that Sebastian had mentioned. The woman who answered transferred me to someone named Cecilia Mercer who had an opening that day if I could come in.

I drove straight there and found a small office in a building that looked like it tried to be welcoming without being obvious about what it was for. Cecilia was maybe 40 with kind eyes, and she didn’t waste time on small talk.

She asked me to tell her what was happening and I went through the whole thing again, expecting her to look doubtful like everyone else. But she just nodded and took notes and asked practical questions about my safety right now.

Focusing on Safety

She didn’t question whether the incidents were real or suggest I was imagining things. She just focused on keeping me safe, which was exactly what I needed.

We talked for almost two hours, and by the end, I felt like I had someone in my corner who actually understood how abusive relationships work. Cecilia helped me create what she called a safety plan, which was basically a detailed strategy for making myself harder to track and hurt.

We went through my daily routines and figured out ways to vary them so I wasn’t predictable. We established code words I could text to Clare and other friends if I felt unsafe but couldn’t talk openly.

The Predator’s Strategy

We set up a system for documenting every single incident with photos, times, and detailed notes. She explained that stalkers often get worse when their victims try to escape and my ex dying might have triggered someone else to continue his control over me.

That thought made me sick, but it also made sense in a horrible way. She gave me a folder full of resources and phone numbers and made me promise to check in with her twice a week.

Having a concrete plan made the fear feel slightly more manageable, like I was doing something instead of just being hunted. Over the next few days, I upgraded my security setup with cameras that weren’t obvious like the first one had been.

Setting the Trap

I ordered tiny cameras that could hide in normal objects and stream directly to cloud storage so nobody could erase the footage. I set up motion sensors that would alert my phone if anything moved in my apartment when I wasn’t there.

The visible camera had obviously been a decoy that whoever was doing this knew to avoid, so now I was setting traps they wouldn’t see coming. I spent hours placing everything perfectly, testing the angles, and making sure I had coverage of every entry point in every room.

It felt good to be taking action, to be strategic instead of just scared. If someone came into my apartment again, I’d have proof that couldn’t be explained away.

Sweeping for Trackers

I also ordered a tracking device detector online and spent an entire afternoon sweeping my car and apartment. I checked every surface and crevice, running the detector slowly over seats and under dashboards and along baseboards.

I moved furniture and checked behind picture frames and unscrewed vent covers. The detector stayed silent the whole time, which was somehow more frustrating than if I’d found something.

I knew someone was monitoring my movements because they’d found me at that motel 200 miles away, but I couldn’t find any obvious tracking devices. This meant either they were using something more sophisticated or they had access to my phone or accounts.

Digital Forensics

The not knowing made my skin crawl, but at least I’d eliminated the simple explanations. Cecilia recommended I talk to a cyberstalking specialist named Raymond Carver, who could audit my devices for spyware or remote access.

I met him the next day at a coffee shop and he looked exactly like you’d expect a tech security guy to look, which was tired and skeptical of everything. I explained what was happening and he asked to see my laptop and phone.

I handed them over feeling weirdly exposed, like I was giving a stranger access to my whole life. He said he’d need a few days to run a thorough audit and check for any unauthorized access or monitoring software.