There was a moment—one I can pinpoint with surgical clarity—where I realized they weren’t just trying to deny me care.

They were trying to disappear me!

The surveillance. The metadata. The disclosure. Not because I broke a law. Not because I posed a danger. But because I became inconvenient.

My name didn’t raise a red flag. My identity did.

UnitedHealthcare had no legal reason to send my personal medical information to police.

There was no warrant. No subpoena. No imminent danger. Just a phone call where I dared to assert my rights. Just a timeline that challenged their narrative. Just a trans woman on Medicaid who refused to be silent.

So they flipped the script. And they framed me.

Not as a person.

But as a potential threat.

And that is what happens when corporate systems are allowed to function like state intelligence. This wasn’t about safety. It was about containment. It was about eliminating the variables they couldn’t control.

It didn’t matter what I actually said. It didn’t matter that I followed the law. They labeled me unstable. Flagged me as risky. And then quietly delivered that label to the Grand Junction Police Department.

That is administrative erasure.

They didn’t kick down my door. They didn’t need to. Because when a bureaucratic label says "dangerous," you don’t need to be dangerous. You just need to be documented.

The day I felt so small was the day I felt like Luigi.

Not Mario. Not the hero. Not the face on the box.

Just the afterthought. The sidekick. The shadow.

That’s what it felt like when they erased me. When my voice was stripped of context. When my medical records were weaponized. When I was framed not as a person—but as a potential threat.

Luigi never asked to be second. He just wanted to exist. To matter. To be seen.

And that’s all I ever wanted, too.

So I built something they can’t erase.

AdministrativeErasure.org

If you want to see what they tried to bury, look here: https://www.administrativeerasure.org/2025/07/the-35-day-myth-of-imminent-threat

This isn’t a conspiracy theory. It’s a paper trail.

And it ends with a truth they can’t control.

🧷 When I said “Deny. Defend. Depose.” on the phone with UnitedHealthcare, I wasn’t threatening anyone—I was speaking a truth that made them uncomfortable.

That phrase wasn’t invented by me. It’s already embedded in legal, academic, and cultural conversations about how corporations dodge accountability. It names a real pattern. And I was far from the only one who saw it.

In December 2024, a sharp and controversial article titled “Deny. Defend. Depose: A New Model of Corporate Accountability?” was published on the Peter A. Allard School of Law Blog by a contributor using the name lukaszk. It reflected on the public reaction to the assassination of UnitedHealth Group CEO Brian Thompson, and examined why so many people saw his death not as tragedy—but as retribution.

“The words engraved on Mangione’s bullets were about legal procedure and are related to how insurance companies weaponize legal procedure against vulnerable people.”

That article didn’t glorify violence. It interrogated why those words—legal, procedural, bureaucratic—were seen as justifiable targets for outrage. It recognized that for many marginalized people, corporate abuse doesn’t look like a villain in a cape. It looks like a denial letter, a phone tree, an escalation team. A system designed to delay until you break.

That article remains live. But another one does not.

A second piece—attributed to law student Serena Kaul—was also published on the Allard Blog in 2024 under the same title: “Deny. Defend. Depose.” That one is now gone. Removed without explanation.

Kaul’s version wasn’t about vigilante justice—it was about legal architecture. She dissected the phrase as a symptom of deeper systemic failure: how administrative actors use procedure to silence dissent, punish the vulnerable, and make civil rights technically compliant but functionally unreachable. Her analysis warned that institutional actors might one day try to criminalize protest language under the guise of public safety.

Her piece was less visceral, more academic—but no less dangerous to those in power.

It’s no coincidence that her article was taken down. We’re working to recover and preserve a copy for public record.

🔥 UnitedHealthcare Didn’t Misunderstand Me. They Recognized the Pattern. I used the phrase Deny. Defend. Depose. not on a weapon. Not in rage. But on a phone call—while trying to survive.

I used it:

After my hormone therapy was illegally denied

After two weeks of delay and misdirection

While pleading—lawfully—for the medication that Colorado state law required them to cover

UnitedHealthcare didn’t treat my speech as policy critique. They treated it as a threat.

They stripped it of context. They reframed it as “instability.” And they sent my audio, gender status, psychiatric medications, and call transcripts to the Grand Junction Police Department— without a subpoena, without redaction, and without lawful justification.

But as the Allard blog post and Kaul’s removed article made clear:

This wasn’t just my language. It was the language of protest. The language of systems being named. The language of people who have had enough.

We will update this page with a link to the preserved Kaul article if and when it becomes available. Until then, remember:

My words weren’t dangerous. What’s dangerous is a system that treats truth as threat.