{"id":62762,"date":"2026-05-16T14:42:24","date_gmt":"2026-05-16T14:42:24","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=62762"},"modified":"2026-05-16T14:42:24","modified_gmt":"2026-05-16T14:42:24","slug":"just-plant-the-weapon-and-call-it-self-defense-i-heard-the-veteran-cop-whisper-as-i-lay-bleeding-on-my-grass-they-believed-the-blue-wall-of-silence-would-bury-me-forever-but-they","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=62762","title":{"rendered":"\u201cJust plant the weapon and call it self-defense,\u201d I heard the veteran cop whisper as I lay bleeding on my grass. They believed the blue wall of silence would bury me forever, but they didn\u2019t realize they had just handcuffed a senior CIA officer who already knew every dark secret they hid."},"content":{"rendered":"
\n

Part 1: The Grass in Sterling Point<\/h2>\n

The metallic tang of blood in my mouth was the first thing that registered, followed quickly by the blinding, white-hot agony radiating from my temple. My name is Malik Jordan, and five minutes ago, I was just a man trying to enjoy the lawn of my newly purchased home in Sterling Point. Now, I was staring at the polished, silver head of a golf driver, dripping with my own blood, wielded by my neighbor, Dan Ror. He was a veteran cop in his late forties, his face twisted in a mask of pure, unadulterated entitlement and racial prejudice. He had marched onto my property demanding to see my ID, treating me like a trespasser on my own land. When I firmly refused, standing on my constitutional rights, his restraint snapped. The titanium driver connected with the side of my skull with a sickening crack.<\/p>\n

Before I could even blink through the crimson haze, the sharp wail of sirens cut through the suburban quiet. Two Northwood squad cars tore around the corner, screeching to a halt on my grass. Officers Sutter and Bell, Ror\u2019s longtime buddies on the force, slammed their doors and advanced with weapons drawn. I thought they were here to stop a madman. I was dead wrong.<\/p>\n

“Drop to the ground! Hands behind your back!” Sutter roared, his Glock pointed directly at my chest, while Ror calmly stepped back, wiping my blood off his golf club with a towel.<\/p>\n

“He attacked me,” Ror lied smoothly, his voice devoid of any adrenaline. “I defended myself.”<\/p>\n

I watched in absolute disbelief as Bell bent down near my moving boxes, retrieved a stray utility utility knife left behind by the movers, and kicked it right next to my bleeding hands. They were planting a weapon. They were flipping the script in broad daylight.<\/p>\n

“Suspect was armed and combative,” Bell barked into his radio.<\/p>\n

The cold steel of handcuffs bit ruthlessly into my wrists as they slammed my face against the hood of the cruiser, my vision blurring from the concussion. I was being framed by the very people sworn to protect this town, and as the car sped away, I realized I wasn\u2019t just going to jail\u2014I was being driven straight into a slaughterhouse.<\/p>\n

The blood on my lawn was just the beginning. When the blue wall of silence closes in, a normal man suffocates\u2014but they didn’t realize who they just locked in the back of that cruiser. The rest of the story is below \ud83d\udc47<\/p>\n

\n

Part 2: The Snakehead and the Shield<\/h2>\n

The fluorescent lights of the Northwood interrogation room buzzed like angry hornets, aggravating the pounding in my skull. I sat chained to the metal table, the utility knife bagged in plastic sitting between us. But the real threat wasn’t the fabricated evidence; it was the man sitting across from me. Police Chief Damon Whitaker. He looked every bit the small-town dictator, his uniform pristine, his eyes devoid of any human empathy.<\/p>\n

“You made a mistake coming to Sterling Point, Malik,” Whitaker said, leaning in, his breath smelling of stale coffee and malice. “You’re going away for a very long time for assaulting an officer. We protect our own here.”<\/p>\n

I wiped a smear of dried blood from my eye and smiled. It wasn’t the reaction he wanted. “You should have checked my background before you let your attack dog loose, Chief.”<\/p>\n

Whitaker laughed, a harsh, grating sound. “I don’t care who you think you are.”<\/p>\n

“My name is Malik Jordan,” I said, my voice dropping to a calm, lethal register. “Senior Field Officer, Central Intelligence Agency. Operational Clearance Level 4. Right now, Langley is wondering why my tracking beacon went stationary in your jurisdiction.”<\/p>\n

The room went dead silent. For a fraction of a second, a flicker of sheer terror crossed Whitaker\u2019s face. He knew what a federal investigation would do to his town. It wouldn’t just expose Ror’s assault; it would unearth the massive, illicit fundraising empire and embezzled asset-forfeiture funds he had been running for a decade. But desperation makes men foolish.<\/p>\n

Whitaker leaned back, his expression hardening into pure venom. “CIA or not, out here, I am the law. Federal boys won’t find a body if it’s buried under six feet of concrete in the swamp. We\u2019ll just say you tried to escape during transit.”<\/p>\n

He slammed the door, leaving me in the dark. But the blue wall wasn’t as solid as Whitaker thought. An hour later, a young officer named Dwire entered under the guise of checking my restraints. His hands were shaking. He slipped a tiny piece of paper into my sock. Marina Santos. Investigative Reporter,<\/i> it read, followed by a phone number. “They’re going to kill you on the highway tonight,” Dwire whispered, his eyes wide with guilt. “I can’t be part of this.”<\/p>\n

Shortly after, my attorney, Ben Carver\u2014covertly dispatched by Marina after Dwire leaked the arrest\u2014arrived for a rushed consultation. Under the table, out of view of the cameras, Carver managed to press a microscopic GPS tracker into my palm. “We’re launching a medical intervention, but Whitaker is denying the transport,” Carver muttered. “Be ready for anything.”<\/p>\n

At midnight, I was tossed into the back of a heavily armored transport van, bound for a maximum-security county facility. Sutter and Bell were up front. I knew the protocol. They would find a dark, blind spot on the interstate, stage a “prisoner escape attempt,” and put a bullet in my head.<\/p>\n

I couldn’t wait for them to make the first move.<\/p>\n

Using the precise tactical training drilled into me by years of black-ops operations, I managed to slip my thumbs through the cuffs, dislocating them painfully but successfully. I waited until the van hit the high-speed curves of Route 9. With a sudden surge of adrenaline, I threw my weight forward, smashing through the flimsy partition Plexiglas, grabbing Sutter in a chokehold. Bell panicked, slamming on the brakes and violently jerking the steering wheel.<\/p>\n

The heavy transport van careened out of control, tires screeching into the night air. The world flipped upside down in a violent symphony of twisting metal and shattering glass. We rolled twice before crashing into a deep ravine.<\/p>\n

Dazed, bleeding, but alive, I kicked through the broken rear doors. I crawled out into the freezing night, my ribs cracking with every breath. I reached into my pocket, found the microscopic tracker Carver had given me, and pressed the emergency activation button twice.<\/p>\n

Within minutes, headlights sliced through the woods. A blacked-out SUV screeched to a halt, and three heavily armed men from Nightingale\u2014my agency’s off-the-books extraction team\u2014pulled me from the wreckage. As they drove me to a secure underground safehouse deep in the Virginia woods, I knew the physical fight was over. Now, the psychological warfare began.<\/p>\n

If you’ve read this far, don’t hesitate to leave a like and comment before reading part 3. It makes us as happy as reading a complete story! Thank you. \ud83d\udc4d\u2764\ufe0f<\/p>\n

\n

Part 3: The Fall of Northwood<\/h2>\n

Inside the bunker, surrounded by monitors and encrypted servers, I refused the heavy sedatives. I needed to be sharp. Whitaker thought he could bury me with brute force, but he had brought a knife to a drone fight. I didn’t need guns to dismantle his empire; I needed leverage.<\/p>\n

Over the next forty-eight hours, I unleashed a coordinated, multi-pronged intelligence assault on the corrupt hierarchy of the Northwood Police Department, weaponizing their own darkest secrets against them.<\/p>\n

First, I targeted Officer Bell. Through my agency channels, I accessed his offshore accounts and unencrypted text messages, pulling up comprehensive ledgers of his massive, illegal underground gambling debts. I pinged his personal phone with a single dossier containing the evidence, along with a message: The bookies are the least of your worries. The feds are coming. Talk first, or drown with the ship.<\/i> By 3:00 AM, Bell was a hysterical, paranoid mess, frantically calling his lawyer.<\/p>\n

Next, I severed the bond between Sutter and Whitaker. I extracted financial records proving that Sutter\u2019s wife had been receiving monthly “consulting fees” from a shell company tied directly to Whitaker\u2019s illegal asset-forfeiture fund. I leaked these documents directly to Sutter’s personal email, revealing that Whitaker had been using Sutter’s family as a financial shield to take the fall if things went south. Within hours, the internal brotherhood evaporated, replaced by toxic suspicion and explosive shouting matches inside the precinct.<\/p>\n

The final nail in the coffin belonged to Dan Ror. Using a directional microphone and a drone parked outside his favorite dive bar, we captured a drunken, panicked conversation between Ror and a local bartender. Ror, terrified of the missing CIA agent, boasted on tape that Chief Whitaker had personally ordered the arson of Marina Santos\u2019s independent newsroom the previous year to destroy documents linking the department to extortion.<\/p>\n

“Whitaker burns the building, and I get stuck taking the rap for a golf club?” Ror bellowed into his whiskey glass. “No way in hell.”<\/p>\n

The trap was completely sprung. At exactly 5:00 AM, I compiled the encrypted audio files, financial forensic reports, and the metadata proving the fabricated evidence on my lawn into a single, un-killable digital payload. I transmitted it simultaneously to the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI), the Department of Justice (DOJ), and every major news syndicate on the East Coast.<\/p>\n

The response was instantaneous and devastating.<\/p>\n

As the sun began to rise over Sterling Point, a convoy of federal tactical vehicles and unmarked black SUVs completely surrounded the Northwood police headquarters. FBI agents swarmed the building, stripping local badges and executing federal arrest warrants. Chief Damon Whitaker was led out in handcuffs, his face pale and his legacy shattered, followed closely by Sutter and Bell. Dan Ror was arrested at his home, still sleeping off the alcohol, handcuffed by the federal agents on the very same street where he had attacked me.<\/p>\n

The subsequent federal trial dismantled the Northwood shadow syndicate entirely. Whitaker received twenty-five years without parole for corruption, racketeering, and attempted murder. Ror was sentenced to fifteen years for civil rights violations, aggravated assault, and arson.<\/p>\n

But the truest victory belonged to the town itself. Inspired by Marina Santos\u2019s front-page expos\u00e9s, the citizens of Sterling Point demanded a complete overhaul, establishing an independent, civilian-led police oversight committee with teeth. Officer Dwire, who had risked his life to hand me that note, resigned from the corrupted force with his integrity intact, publicly thanked by the community, and was later appointed to help rebuild the new, transparent department.<\/p>\n

As for me, I didn’t stay for the media circus or the victory lap. I returned to my house in Sterling Point. The grass had grown back over the tire tracks. On a quiet Saturday afternoon, I stood on my balcony, a piece of sandpaper in hand, carefully smoothing down the wooden railing before applying a fresh coat of lacquer. My herb garden was thriving in the corner. As my new neighbors walked past, they didn’t look at me with suspicion or fear anymore. They nodded with genuine respect. The small town was finally at peace, and so was I.<\/p>\n

What do you think of this story? Please leave a like and share your thoughts in the comments. Your support means a lot to us and inspires us to keep writing more meaningful and powerful stories. Thank you! \ud83d\udc4d\u2764\ufe0f<\/p>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Part 1: The Grass in Sterling Point The metallic tang of blood in my mouth was the first thing that registered, followed quickly by the blinding, white-hot agony radiating from my temple. My name is Malik Jordan, and five minutes ago, I was just a man trying to enjoy the lawn of my newly purchased […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":62766,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"tdm_status":"","tdm_grid_status":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[4],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-62762","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","category-purpose"],"yoast_head":"\n\u201cJust plant the weapon and call it self-defense,\u201d I heard the veteran cop whisper as I lay bleeding on my grass. They believed the blue wall of silence would bury me forever, but they didn\u2019t realize they had just handcuffed a senior CIA officer who already knew every dark secret they hid. - Purposeful Days<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=62762\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"\u201cJust plant the weapon and call it self-defense,\u201d I heard the veteran cop whisper as I lay bleeding on my grass. They believed the blue wall of silence would bury me forever, but they didn\u2019t realize they had just handcuffed a senior CIA officer who already knew every dark secret they hid. - Purposeful Days\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"Part 1: The Grass in Sterling Point The metallic tang of blood in my mouth was the first thing that registered, followed quickly by the blinding, white-hot agony radiating from my temple. My name is Malik Jordan, and five minutes ago, I was just a man trying to enjoy the lawn of my newly purchased […]\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:url\" content=\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=62762\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:site_name\" content=\"Purposeful Days\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:published_time\" content=\"2026-05-16T14:42:24+00:00\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:image\" content=\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/05\/Police_brutality_setup_on_lawn_202605162136.jpeg\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:width\" content=\"558\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:height\" content=\"1000\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:type\" content=\"image\/jpeg\" \/>\n<meta name=\"author\" content=\"Phong Nguyen\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:card\" content=\"summary_large_image\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:label1\" content=\"Written by\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data1\" content=\"Phong Nguyen\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:label2\" content=\"Est. reading time\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data2\" content=\"9 minutes\" \/>\n<script type=\"application\/ld+json\" class=\"yoast-schema-graph\">{\"@context\":\"https:\/\/schema.org\",\"@graph\":[{\"@type\":\"WebPage\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=62762\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=62762\",\"name\":\"\u201cJust plant the weapon and call it self-defense,\u201d I heard the veteran cop whisper as I lay bleeding on my grass. They believed the blue wall of silence would bury me forever, but they didn\u2019t realize they had just handcuffed a senior CIA officer who already knew every dark secret they hid. - Purposeful Days\",\"isPartOf\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#website\"},\"primaryImageOfPage\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=62762#primaryimage\"},\"image\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=62762#primaryimage\"},\"thumbnailUrl\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/05\/Police_brutality_setup_on_lawn_202605162136.jpeg\",\"datePublished\":\"2026-05-16T14:42:24+00:00\",\"author\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#\/schema\/person\/4bbf0aec017fee1fb5027b7c39e98951\"},\"breadcrumb\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=62762#breadcrumb\"},\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"potentialAction\":[{\"@type\":\"ReadAction\",\"target\":[\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=62762\"]}]},{\"@type\":\"ImageObject\",\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=62762#primaryimage\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/05\/Police_brutality_setup_on_lawn_202605162136.jpeg\",\"contentUrl\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/05\/Police_brutality_setup_on_lawn_202605162136.jpeg\",\"width\":558,\"height\":1000},{\"@type\":\"BreadcrumbList\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=62762#breadcrumb\",\"itemListElement\":[{\"@type\":\"ListItem\",\"position\":1,\"name\":\"Home\",\"item\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/\"},{\"@type\":\"ListItem\",\"position\":2,\"name\":\"\u201cJust plant the weapon and call it self-defense,\u201d I heard the veteran cop whisper as I lay bleeding on my grass. They believed the blue wall of silence would bury me forever, but they didn\u2019t realize they had just handcuffed a senior CIA officer who already knew every dark secret they hid.\"}]},{\"@type\":\"WebSite\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#website\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/\",\"name\":\"Purposeful Days\",\"description\":\"\",\"potentialAction\":[{\"@type\":\"SearchAction\",\"target\":{\"@type\":\"EntryPoint\",\"urlTemplate\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?s={search_term_string}\"},\"query-input\":{\"@type\":\"PropertyValueSpecification\",\"valueRequired\":true,\"valueName\":\"search_term_string\"}}],\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\"},{\"@type\":\"Person\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#\/schema\/person\/4bbf0aec017fee1fb5027b7c39e98951\",\"name\":\"Phong Nguyen\",\"image\":{\"@type\":\"ImageObject\",\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#\/schema\/person\/image\/\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/secure.gravatar.com\/avatar\/9e2b64a6c1ed5f8027bfe6755272684b8d3b9607a7de613d6bdb22d00442333c?s=96&d=mm&r=g\",\"contentUrl\":\"https:\/\/secure.gravatar.com\/avatar\/9e2b64a6c1ed5f8027bfe6755272684b8d3b9607a7de613d6bdb22d00442333c?s=96&d=mm&r=g\",\"caption\":\"Phong Nguyen\"},\"sameAs\":[\"http:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\"],\"url\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?author=3\"}]}<\/script>\n<!-- \/ Yoast SEO plugin. -->","yoast_head_json":{"title":"\u201cJust plant the weapon and call it self-defense,\u201d I heard the veteran cop whisper as I lay bleeding on my grass. They believed the blue wall of silence would bury me forever, but they didn\u2019t realize they had just handcuffed a senior CIA officer who already knew every dark secret they hid. - Purposeful Days","robots":{"index":"index","follow":"follow","max-snippet":"max-snippet:-1","max-image-preview":"max-image-preview:large","max-video-preview":"max-video-preview:-1"},"canonical":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=62762","og_locale":"en_US","og_type":"article","og_title":"\u201cJust plant the weapon and call it self-defense,\u201d I heard the veteran cop whisper as I lay bleeding on my grass. They believed the blue wall of silence would bury me forever, but they didn\u2019t realize they had just handcuffed a senior CIA officer who already knew every dark secret they hid. - Purposeful Days","og_description":"Part 1: The Grass in Sterling Point The metallic tang of blood in my mouth was the first thing that registered, followed quickly by the blinding, white-hot agony radiating from my temple. My name is Malik Jordan, and five minutes ago, I was just a man trying to enjoy the lawn of my newly purchased […]","og_url":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=62762","og_site_name":"Purposeful Days","article_published_time":"2026-05-16T14:42:24+00:00","og_image":[{"width":558,"height":1000,"url":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/05\/Police_brutality_setup_on_lawn_202605162136.jpeg","type":"image\/jpeg"}],"author":"Phong Nguyen","twitter_card":"summary_large_image","twitter_misc":{"Written by":"Phong Nguyen","Est. reading time":"9 minutes"},"schema":{"@context":"https:\/\/schema.org","@graph":[{"@type":"WebPage","@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=62762","url":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=62762","name":"\u201cJust plant the weapon and call it self-defense,\u201d I heard the veteran cop whisper as I lay bleeding on my grass. They believed the blue wall of silence would bury me forever, but they didn\u2019t realize they had just handcuffed a senior CIA officer who already knew every dark secret they hid. - Purposeful Days","isPartOf":{"@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#website"},"primaryImageOfPage":{"@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=62762#primaryimage"},"image":{"@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=62762#primaryimage"},"thumbnailUrl":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/05\/Police_brutality_setup_on_lawn_202605162136.jpeg","datePublished":"2026-05-16T14:42:24+00:00","author":{"@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#\/schema\/person\/4bbf0aec017fee1fb5027b7c39e98951"},"breadcrumb":{"@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=62762#breadcrumb"},"inLanguage":"en-US","potentialAction":[{"@type":"ReadAction","target":["https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=62762"]}]},{"@type":"ImageObject","inLanguage":"en-US","@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=62762#primaryimage","url":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/05\/Police_brutality_setup_on_lawn_202605162136.jpeg","contentUrl":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/05\/Police_brutality_setup_on_lawn_202605162136.jpeg","width":558,"height":1000},{"@type":"BreadcrumbList","@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=62762#breadcrumb","itemListElement":[{"@type":"ListItem","position":1,"name":"Home","item":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/"},{"@type":"ListItem","position":2,"name":"\u201cJust plant the weapon and call it self-defense,\u201d I heard the veteran cop whisper as I lay bleeding on my grass. They believed the blue wall of silence would bury me forever, but they didn\u2019t realize they had just handcuffed a senior CIA officer who already knew every dark secret they hid."}]},{"@type":"WebSite","@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#website","url":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/","name":"Purposeful Days","description":"","potentialAction":[{"@type":"SearchAction","target":{"@type":"EntryPoint","urlTemplate":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?s={search_term_string}"},"query-input":{"@type":"PropertyValueSpecification","valueRequired":true,"valueName":"search_term_string"}}],"inLanguage":"en-US"},{"@type":"Person","@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#\/schema\/person\/4bbf0aec017fee1fb5027b7c39e98951","name":"Phong Nguyen","image":{"@type":"ImageObject","inLanguage":"en-US","@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#\/schema\/person\/image\/","url":"https:\/\/secure.gravatar.com\/avatar\/9e2b64a6c1ed5f8027bfe6755272684b8d3b9607a7de613d6bdb22d00442333c?s=96&d=mm&r=g","contentUrl":"https:\/\/secure.gravatar.com\/avatar\/9e2b64a6c1ed5f8027bfe6755272684b8d3b9607a7de613d6bdb22d00442333c?s=96&d=mm&r=g","caption":"Phong Nguyen"},"sameAs":["http:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org"],"url":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?author=3"}]}},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/62762","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=62762"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/62762\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":62770,"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/62762\/revisions\/62770"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/62766"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=62762"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=62762"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=62762"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}