The Truth Behind the Signature: Blackhawk Missions

Since yesterday, my phone has not stopped buzzing. Messages pouring in—thank-yous, confessions, voices full of relief. People telling me they always knew who Blackhawk Missions was. That they suspected. That they were certain. That I was Blackhawk Missions. In order to accomplish some parts of this mission, I needed to keep my identity from this website. For those who knew, and didn’t say anything, I thank you.

For so long, that name was a shield. It was my way of speaking truth without being silenced, investigating and executing missions that needed anonymity, my way of reaching you when it wasn’t safe to stand in the open. Every report, every exposé, every cry for justice on hopcc.com carried my author sign, Blackhawk Missions.”

And now the mask is off. My name is no longer hidden. The truth is no longer shadowed. I can’t explain the weight lifted hearing your words, your gratitude, your courage in reaching out. I wrote because I couldn’t stay silent. I wrote because too many were suffering. I wrote because I knew God had given me a mission, even if the cost was great. You may have also heard my voice as Project Noah in the forum.

And today, to hear your voices, to know you read, to know it mattered—it breaks me open. It heals me in ways I can’t put into words.

Blackhawk Missions was never just me. It was all of us who refused to bow to lies. It was every survivor’s story, every prayer whispered in the dark, every soul crying out for freedom. But I cannot take sole credit for the mission of hopcc.com.

Arlen & L. Abigail Bradeen

My husband, Arlen, and I poured our souls into writing House of Prayer/Den of Thieves: UNVEILED EDITION. This is not just another book—it is a cry from the depths, a testimony carved out of pain, loss, and survival. If you’ve never read it, know this: it carries not only our voices, but the voices of men and women who bled in silence and still found the courage to rise. Survivors placed their broken pieces in our hands, trusting us to shape their stories into light for others still trapped in the shadows.

Arlen has walked countless souls out of the iron grip of HOPCC, one conversation, one desperate night, one trembling step at a time. While he stood on the front lines, I worked in the shadows—digging, uncovering, piecing together the truth the cult tried to bury. Together, we became both sword and shield for those who had lost their strength.

This book is not just ours. It belongs to every survivor who dared to speak, every family who refused to give up, every heart that still beats after years of control, manipulation, and lies. It is their freedom cry, unveiled at last.

John & Jennifer Rodriguez

I would be remiss if I didn’t pause right here and honor John and Jennifer—the true pioneers, one of the original whistleblowers, the ones who first sounded the alarm and laid down the path for the rest of us to walk. They are the founders of hopcc.com, the first crack in the fortress of lies, the first voices to break through the silence.

Their exit wasn’t clean. It wasn’t easy. It was harrowing—ripped out of the cult’s grip with scars that still ache, but with a fire that never died. Their mission was born from pain, yet carried out with a passion so fierce it could not be quenched, no matter the opposition. They were mocked, threatened, slandered, yet they kept pressing forward—warning, writing, exposing—because they knew lives depended on it.

And now, years later, they are finally witnessing the faint but undeniable dawn of justice. What they sowed in tears, they are beginning to see in truth. John and Jen still lifts up the banner of the Gospel, still carries the torch of the newest Project Ex (Exodus 14:14)—the cry that echoes from every survivor’s heart: “Until they all make it out.”

Their names deserve to be etched into the story of this fight, because without them, so many of us would still be trapped in the shadows.

Ray & Sharita Yorke

Ray and Sharita carried the torch of hopcc.com when it burned heavy and hot, when most people would have dropped it and walked away. They bore the weight of that mission on their shoulders while arrows flew from every direction—ridicule that cut deep, harassment meant to break their spirits, threats that reached into their homes and tried to silence them. Yet they never stopped.

They stood tall in the fire, refusing to be intimidated, refusing to let fear dictate their obedience to truth. They didn’t just type words on a screen—they wrote with blood, with tears, with the unshakable conviction that someone else’s freedom was worth their fight. They weren’t just writers; they became advocates when voices were trembling, friends when hearts were shattered, and trailblazers when there was no map for survivors to follow out of the darkness.

Every post they made, every phone call they answered, every conversation they dared to have under the weight of constant opposition—those moments became lifelines. They showed the world that this was not just a website, but a war cry, a safe harbor, and a rescue line for those still trapped.

Ray and Sharita proved that courage isn’t the absence of fear—it’s the decision to keep moving through it, to let the cost fall where it may, and to keep the light burning for the sake of others.

Derick & Gladys Jordan

Gladys’ efforts were not always seen on the frontlines, but make no mistake—they carried just as much weight in this mission. She worked in the shadows, combing through details, piecing together evidence with relentless precision, refusing to let anything slip through the cracks. But her heart went far beyond the investigations.

When the phone rang late at night, she answered. When desperate voices cried out for help, she didn’t hesitate. She showed up. No judgment. No questions. Just action. Survivors climbed into her car with what little they could carry, and she drove them away from Denis’ grip—away from the suffocating stranglehold of a cult that sought to own their souls.

We called it “the underground railroad,” and it was exactly that. A hidden lifeline. A quiet rescue in the night. Gladys’ concern for survivors was unwavering, her compassion steady, her hand always reaching for the next one who needed to escape. She didn’t just write or investigate—she gave herself. She and Derick opened their home, turning it into a safe haven when someone had nowhere else to go. Survivors found not just a roof over their head, but warmth, food, and the kind of love that restores dignity. For many, it was the first breath of freedom after years of captivity.

This is the kind of sacrifice that doesn’t get headlines but changes lives forever. Gladys’ devotion was more than work—it was warfare on behalf of the broken. She became both shield and shelter, standing between survivors and their oppressor, and then walking with them until they could stand again.

To 007

There are truths lodged in my throat I will not release — not out of fear, not because they’ve lost their weight, but because of duty. My silence is a vow, not a forgetting. There were countless seconds when my mind sprinted ahead to danger and my whole body tightened with the effort of keeping you safe from whatever I feared. I watched shadows where you stood and prayed the shadows would pass. I cannot tell you everything I want to say, but know this: whatever I do not speak, I carry. You are not erased from me. I will hold you in memory, in the ache and the gratitude, for as long as I breathe.

Now the world knows. And we're still here—still fighting, still writing, still standing with you.

The Most Urgent Fight

There are countless others—Jenessa, Lorenzo, faces I cannot name, stories I cannot tell—who have fought, and who are still fighting, in this mission to expose the darkness of HOPCC. I am not alone in this cause. This website has never been just about articles, headlines, or updates—it has been a lifeline. When you reached out, we answered. When you cried out, someone was there. And that same lifeline is extended to you now.

Please hear me: you are not alone. Behind you, and before you, stands a network of people who have prayed for you, waited for you, and kept the light burning in the window until you found the courage to take that first step toward freedom.

And today, I am urging you—if you have been a victim of HOPCC, it is time to come forward.

The FBI is listening. Justice is at the door, but it cannot be opened without your voice.

If you have been physically abused, sexually assaulted, or spiritually manipulated… 

If you have been financially exploited, coerced into bankruptcy, or driven into ruin… 

If you have been trafficked for labor, working with little to no pay while others lived in wealth… 

If you were used as a conduit for real estate scams… 

If you were forced into a marriage against your will…

Please—reach out. Don’t let the silence steal your story. Don’t let fear chain you any longer.

Our stories have already been told in excoriating detail—we have laid ourselves bare, naked before the world—so that you would know you are not crazy, not forgotten, not alone.

The system is finally paying attention, and now they need you.

Your voice matters. Your pain matters. Your truth matters.

If you are ready, use this link fbi.gov/HOPCCVictims or call the FBI directly at 800-CALL-FBI. Anyone victimized by Semexant use this link FBI.gov/semexantHOPCC. Every call counts. Every voice builds the case. Every testimony cracks the chains of this cult even further.

Please—come forward. For your healing. For justice. For the others still trapped.

This was never about revenge. It was never about gloating over someone in handcuffs or celebrating ruined lives. From the very beginning, it was about freedom. It was children no longer afraid, families no longer torn apart, and survivors finally tasting the air of a life beyond control, manipulation, and abuse.