PLEASE DON’T LOOK THE OTHER WAY

(An Emergency Relocation Fundraiser for Joe and Princess)

My name is Fontana, and I’m asking you to help me save two lives.

One of them walks on two legs. The other walks on four.

Both of them sleep with one eye open.

Joe (not his real name) and his dog Princess (also changed) are caught in something no one should have to survive — a living situation so dangerous, so volatile, that even the police can’t seem to make it better. In fact, every time the sirens fade and the flashing lights disappear, the retaliation gets worse.

We've done it all by the book.

Reports. Videos. Paper trails a mile long.

But when local power is unchecked, and oversight is just a word in a brochure, the system fails the people it was meant to protect.

So now, it’s come to this:

We need to get them out. Fast. Quietly. Permanently.

This isn’t about comfort — it’s about safety.

About getting them somewhere the danger can’t follow.

About giving Princess a backyard to enjoy instead of a being a canned hunt target for some sicko's enjoyment and sport.

About letting Joe finally sleep through the night, without fear of a break-in, waking up to car alarm of his vehicle getting tampered with, or what is waiting for them when they to go outside!

And maybe you can’t fix the system.

Maybe you can’t stop what’s happening.

But you can help them escape it.

That’s what this fundraiser is for.

That’s why this matters.

If you’ve ever wanted to be the reason someone got to start over...

this is your moment.

Don’t scroll past. Don’t wait.

Please don’t look the other way.

Example:

"It started again today at 6 a.m. The neighbor is back at it.

He woke us up in full Mad Max fashion, revving his diesel truck outside like he was trying to provoke us. I called the police—again—but, as usual, they said they’ll “keep an eye out,” which we’ve learned means they’ll do nothing.

Just like every other day, we’re now bracing for 6 to 8 hours of harassment—loud engines, yelling, and general chaos—until he either gets too tired or too drunk to continue. Then the stalking begins.

He rides his ATV back and forth in front of my home, over and over, stopping and parking right outside—targeting us. He’s done this daily for over four months, driving the exact same stretch of road that lines up with our house.

And it gets worse: because he started early today, we won’t even be able to take the dog outside until after dark. If we go out during the day, he starts shooting at us. Yes—he uses the cover of hunting season noises to fire live rounds at us from across the street, into our own backyard.

This is my life now. We’re trapped. Scared. Exhausted. And no one is helping.".

This Is What Terror Looks Like in America

(And it’s happening right next door.)

It started with a flag.

A hateful one. The kind meant to say, “You don’t belong here.”

Joe had barely moved in before it went up in the neighbor’s window.

Then came the warning:

“Don’t let me see you outside — and there won’t be no problems.”

That wasn’t a misunderstanding. That was a threat. And the police? They laughed.

You’d think it would’ve stopped there. You’d hope.

But hatred never stays small. It grows teeth.

Almost one year ago to the day, Joe’s emotional support dog — Princess — went outside to use the bathroom.

Gunshots cracked the air, dirt around them leapt. She screamed and jumped. They both ran for shelter, bleeding.

One shot hit her neck. She survived. He took two in the legs. But the system didn't even flinch.

The shooter? Never charged. The evidence? "Lost." The case? Closed.

And now?

Now Joe and Princess are trapped in a war zone they never signed up for.

The house next door has become a revolving door of intimidation — a haven for dangerous, transient individuals with nothing to lose. Every weekend brings new faces and new threats. Stalking. Screaming. Slurs. Noise at all hours. Objects hurled onto the roof at 2 a.m. Laser sights sweeping across their bodies. Engines revving outside their windows. Firearms openly displayed. Break-in attempts “just to send a message.”

They’re lucky to get three hours of sleep. Lucky to not to be shot at again, until the next time. Lucky to still be alive, so far.

Princess now shakes in her sleep. Joe barely eats. And both of them flinch at shadows.

They’ve documented everything. Hours of footage.

Admittance of guilt on camera. Still — law enforcement shrugs.

Too “busy” to watch. Too disinterested to act.

They’ve talked to lawyers. They’ve filed reports.

They’ve followed every rule, checked every box, gone through every “proper” channel. And they’ve been met with silence. Or worse — apathy.

But here’s the worst part:

Joe works. Hard. But at this rate, it’ll take a year just to scrape together enough. And they don’t have a year.

They may not have a month.

That’s why this fundraiser exists.

Not to make life easier.

Just to help them survive.

You don’t need to know Joe to know this isn’t right.

You don’t need to know Princess to know she didn’t deserve that torture.

You just need to believe that no one should live in fear for existing.

So if you're reading this — don’t scroll past.

This isn’t a story about a “bad neighbor.”

This is targeted harassment.

This is trauma.

This is hate.

And it’s happening right now.

Help us get them out.

Help us get them safe.

Because no one else is coming.

Don’t let silence be the last chapter in their story.

Don't let it end this way.