{"id":78485,"date":"2026-06-16T11:52:55","date_gmt":"2026-06-16T11:52:55","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=78485"},"modified":"2026-06-16T11:52:55","modified_gmt":"2026-06-16T11:52:55","slug":"shut-your-mouth-or-ill-make-sure-you-never-speak-again-my-brother-yelled-as-my-mother-pinned-me-to-the-grass-smashing-my-hard-earned-trophy-bleeding-and-torn-i-screamed-in-agony-while","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=78485","title":{"rendered":"“Shut your mouth or I\u2019ll make sure you never speak again!” my brother yelled as my mother pinned me to the grass, smashing my hard-earned trophy. Bleeding and torn, I screamed in agony while my father watched helplessly. They thought they destroyed my future, but my secret recording is already on its way to the FBI."},"content":{"rendered":"
\n

\n

Part 1<\/h2>\n

“Get out of my face, Drew. We did what was best for this family,” my mother, Diane, hissed, barely looking up from her laptop.<\/p>\n

Ten minutes ago, my life had completely shattered. I am Drew Collins, an eighteen-year-old from the small town of Ridgemont, and in exactly three weeks, I was supposed to move into my college dorm. But when I checked my educational fund\u2014a $187,000 account built dollar by dollar over eighteen years by my beloved grandmother, Ruth Hartwell\u2014the balance read a devastating $214,36. My father, Roy, had used his custodian signature to systematically drain every single penny over the last eight months.<\/p>\n

“You spent my entire future on Tyler?” I screamed, my voice cracking under the weight of pure agony. My twenty-six-year-old brother was a serial quitter who refused to keep a job, yet he remained my mother’s ultimate golden child.<\/p>\n

“Tyler needed that house to finally get on his feet,” Diane replied receipting it coldly, her tone dripping with toxic favoritism. “You are smart, Drew. You can work hard and pay your own way. Tyler needs the help. He is the only one who truly matters to this family.”<\/p>\n

I looked at my father, Roy. He sat silently in his armchair, staring blankly at the floor, completely subservient to my mother’s ruthless demands. He had signed the papers without a single thought for his own daughter.<\/p>\n

“This is a felony,” I whispered, the harsh reality hardening my resolve. “Nana put that money in a legal trust for me. You stole it. I am going to the police.”<\/p>\n

At that exact moment, my mother\u2019s face twisted into an expression of pure, unadulterated malice. She slammed her laptop shut, stood up, and marched over until she was inches away from my face.<\/p>\n

“You won’t do a damn thing, Drew,” Diane snarled, grabbing my wrist so tightly it bruised. “You live under my roof. If you breathe a word of this to anyone, especially your grandmother, I will ruin your reputation in this town before sunset, and you will be homeless by nightfall.”<\/p>\n

Right then, my phone began to vibrate violently in my pocket\u2014it was Nana Ruth calling.<\/p>\n

My mother didn’t just steal my future\u2014she thought her terrifying threats would force me into absolute silence. But she completely underestimated the fierce power of the woman who was on the other end of that phone call. The rest of the story is below \ud83d\udc47<\/p>\n

Part 2<\/h2>\n

I ripped my wrist away from my mother\u2019s iron grip, stepped backward, and answered the phone. Hearing Nana Ruth\u2019s warm, steady voice was the only thing that kept me from collapsing entirely. I fled the house, locking myself in my car as I sobbed out the entire horrifying truth to her.<\/p>\n

Nana Ruth Hartwell didn’t cry. At seventy-four years old, a retired veteran schoolteacher, she possessed a spine made of pure steel. “Stay right there, Drew,” she commanded, her voice dangerously quiet. “They think they can play games with your life, but they forgot who built that account.”<\/p>\n

Within two hours, Nana had mobilized. She didn’t just have emotional outrage; she had receipts. For eighteen years, she had meticulously kept certified double-copies of every single bank deposit, statement, and legal covenant regarding my educational trust. By the next morning, she brought in Margaret Bowen, a ruthless, legendary local estate and financial attorney. After reviewing the bank records, Margaret made it chillingly clear: my parents\u2019 desperate actions weren’t just a betrayal; they constituted a severe class-three felony of grand theft and exploitation of a minor’s trust. With Nana’s full backing, we officially filed criminal charges against my own mother and father.<\/p>\n

When the police department served the initial notice, our household erupted into total warfare. My mother, Diane, was a master manipulator who spent years playing the perfect, pious community victim. She immediately began spreading vicious rumors throughout Ridgemont, claiming I was an ungrateful, unstable child trying to bankrupt my family over a “temporary financial rearrangement.”<\/p>\n

Nh\u01b0ng Nana Ruth bi\u1ebft r\u00f5 b\u1ed5n ph\u1eadn v\u00e0 b\u1ea3n ch\u1ea5t thao t\u00fang c\u1ee7a con g\u00e1i m\u00ecnh. To counter the lies, Nana bypassed the local gossip entirely and contacted an investigative reporter at our regional television news network, handing over a bulletproof file of financial records.<\/p>\n

The tension reached a boiling point during my high school graduation party at our house. In front of dozens of neighbors, teachers, and church members, Diane took the microphone. Smiling brightly, she loudly announced that my college fund had been “generously repurposed as a collaborative family investment” to secure a home for my brother, Tyler, claiming I was fully supportive of the decision. The hypocrisy made me physically sick, but I stood completely silent, adhering strictly to my lawyer\u2019s instructions.<\/p>\n

The true, massive twist happened later that night in the backyard. I cornered my brother Tyler away from our mother and handed him a packet of the actual certified bank documents.<\/p>\n

Tyler stared at the papers, his face draining of all color. “What… what is this?” he whispered, his hands trembling.<\/p>\n

“Mom stole my entire college education fund to buy your house, Tyler,” I said, looking him dead in the eye.<\/p>\n

Tyler gasped, completely shattered. He wasn’t malicious; he was just profoundly lazy and easily manipulated. He confessed that Diane had shown him official-looking Home Equity Line of Credit (HELOC) paperwork, telling him the money was a legitimate, pre-approved bank loan she had secured through her own merits. Our mother had forged financial documents and lied to her own golden child just to justify stripping away my future.<\/p>\n

Realizing he was an accidental accomplice in a criminal scheme, Tyler broke down. “I can’t keep this house, Drew. I won’t,” he muttered fiercely. Two days later, Tyler defied our mother, put the house on the market for an immediate cash sale, packed his things into a tiny studio apartment, and legally transferred the entire $178,000 proceeds directly into a secure holding account for me.<\/p>\n

When Diane discovered Tyler had sold the house, she completely lost her mind. She stormed into my bedroom, screaming like a wild animal, smashing my graduation trophies against the wall, and threatening to physically harm me if I didn’t drop the legal charges. The danger was palpable, but the trap was already springing shut. That exact evening, the local news channel aired a devastating four-minute investigative segment v\u1ea1ch tr\u1ea7n the entire financial crime.<\/p>\n

The public backlash in Ridgemont was instantaneous and catastrophic. By the next morning, Diane was summarily fired from her part-time administrative job, and the church board officially excommunicated her from their prestigious committees. The District Attorney\u2019s office, sensing an ironclad case of organized fraud, officially stepped in and issued massive subpoenas for all of my parents’ personal bank records. They were facing actual jail time, and my mother was cornered with nowhere left to run.<\/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

Part 3<\/h2>\n

With the District Attorney’s office fully armed with forged bank documents and the broadcast evidence, the legal hammer fell quickly on my parents. The state line-itemed every single unauthorized transfer, transforming their selfish family betrayal into an organized criminal indictment. Confronted with the terrifying prospect of a multi-year prison sentence, my father, Roy Collins, completely cracked. He agreed to a swift plea deal, pleading guilty to a lesser charge of criminal negligence and financial non-feasance. The court sentenced him to three years of strict probation and ordered him to pay $93,500 in direct restitution to me.<\/p>\n

My mother, Diane, remained utterly defiant until the very bitter end. She hired a defense lawyer and attempted to argue that as a parent, she possessed the absolute right to allocate family assets as she saw fit. It was a disastrous strategy. The judge was completely appalled by her total lack of remorse and blatant exploitation of her daughter. Diane was convicted of a class-four felony of grand theft. She was sentenced to five years of supervised probation, 200 hours of mandatory community service, a matching $93,500 restitution order, and a permanent, indelible felony record that would ruin her social status forever.<\/p>\n

While the sluggish wheels of the American justice system slowly ground out our restitution payments, my incredible grandmother stepped up once again. Knowing that my college bills were due immediately, Nana Ruth quietly walked into her local credit union and withdrew her entire remaining life savings and retirement pension\u2014exactly $42,000. She placed it into an airtight, Irrevocable Trust that my parents could never touch, ensuring my freshman tuition was completely covered. “Money can be remade, Drew,” she told me, wiping a tear from my eye. “But your education and your dignity can never be compromised.”<\/p>\n

What happened next, however, completely restored my faith in humanity. My high school English teacher, who had watched the devastating television broadcast, quietly launched a community GoFundMe campaign titled “Justice for Drew’s Future”. Within two weeks, the campaign went viral across the state, raising over $67,000 from complete strangers who wanted to see a corrupt system defeated.<\/p>\n

Then came the ultimate call. The admissions director from my dream university called me personally. Having reviewed my perfect academic record alongside the intense news coverage of my resilience, the university officially awarded me a prestigious, full-ride academic scholarship covering my entire tuition, housing, and textbooks.<\/p>\n

Because of that incredible outpouring of love, I moved into my campus dormitory exactly on schedule, surrounded by genuine support. I consciously made the decision not to harbor active hatred or burning anger toward my parents; carrying that heavy emotional toxic waste simply required far too much energy that I needed for my studies. Instead, I chose absolute peace by establishing an ironclad boundary: I completely cut off all communication with them, blocking their numbers and deleting them from my life.<\/p>\n

A few months into my first semester, a handwritten letter arrived at my dorm from my mother. I opened it, hoping for a shred of maternal remorse. Instead, the pages were filled with the same old, bitter justifications, painting herself as the victim of a malicious judicial system, without a single word of apology. I didn’t cry. I didn’t get angry. I simply folded the letter neatly and slid it into the back of my desk drawer as a historical artifact of a past life I had outgrown.<\/p>\n

Standing by my dormitory window, looking out over the beautiful, sunlit university campus, I finally understood the true meaning of independence. Setting strict boundaries with toxic people isn’t a betrayal of family; it is a profound act of self-preservation. I didn’t need their permission or their stolen money to succeed. By standing tall alongside my grandmother, I had finally built the door to my own beautiful destiny.<\/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 “Get out of my face, Drew. We did what was best for this family,” my mother, Diane, hissed, barely looking up from her laptop. Ten minutes ago, my life had completely shattered. I am Drew Collins, an eighteen-year-old from the small town of Ridgemont, and in exactly three weeks, I was supposed to […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":78488,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"tdm_status":"","tdm_grid_status":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[4],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-78485","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","category-purpose"],"yoast_head":"\n"Shut your mouth or I\u2019ll make sure you never speak again!" my brother yelled as my mother pinned me to the grass, smashing my hard-earned trophy. Bleeding and torn, I screamed in agony while my father watched helplessly. They thought they destroyed my future, but my secret recording is already on its way to the FBI. - 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=78485\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\""Shut your mouth or I\u2019ll make sure you never speak again!" my brother yelled as my mother pinned me to the grass, smashing my hard-earned trophy. Bleeding and torn, I screamed in agony while my father watched helplessly. They thought they destroyed my future, but my secret recording is already on its way to the FBI. - Purposeful Days\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"Part 1 “Get out of my face, Drew. We did what was best for this family,” my mother, Diane, hissed, barely looking up from her laptop. Ten minutes ago, my life had completely shattered. I am Drew Collins, an eighteen-year-old from the small town of Ridgemont, and in exactly three weeks, I was supposed to […]\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:url\" content=\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=78485\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:site_name\" content=\"Purposeful Days\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:published_time\" content=\"2026-06-16T11:52:55+00:00\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:image\" content=\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/06\/ChatGPT-Image-18_50_22-16-thg-6-2026-2.jpg\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:width\" content=\"1000\" \/>\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=78485\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=78485\",\"name\":\"\\\"Shut your mouth or I\u2019ll make sure you never speak again!\\\" my brother yelled as my mother pinned me to the grass, smashing my hard-earned trophy. Bleeding and torn, I screamed in agony while my father watched helplessly. They thought they destroyed my future, but my secret recording is already on its way to the FBI. - Purposeful Days\",\"isPartOf\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#website\"},\"primaryImageOfPage\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=78485#primaryimage\"},\"image\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=78485#primaryimage\"},\"thumbnailUrl\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/06\/ChatGPT-Image-18_50_22-16-thg-6-2026-2.jpg\",\"datePublished\":\"2026-06-16T11:52:55+00:00\",\"author\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#\/schema\/person\/4bbf0aec017fee1fb5027b7c39e98951\"},\"breadcrumb\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=78485#breadcrumb\"},\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"potentialAction\":[{\"@type\":\"ReadAction\",\"target\":[\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=78485\"]}]},{\"@type\":\"ImageObject\",\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=78485#primaryimage\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/06\/ChatGPT-Image-18_50_22-16-thg-6-2026-2.jpg\",\"contentUrl\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/06\/ChatGPT-Image-18_50_22-16-thg-6-2026-2.jpg\",\"width\":1000,\"height\":1000},{\"@type\":\"BreadcrumbList\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=78485#breadcrumb\",\"itemListElement\":[{\"@type\":\"ListItem\",\"position\":1,\"name\":\"Home\",\"item\":\"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/\"},{\"@type\":\"ListItem\",\"position\":2,\"name\":\"“Shut your mouth or I\u2019ll make sure you never speak again!” my brother yelled as my mother pinned me to the grass, smashing my hard-earned trophy. Bleeding and torn, I screamed in agony while my father watched helplessly. They thought they destroyed my future, but my secret recording is already on its way to the FBI.\"}]},{\"@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":"\"Shut your mouth or I\u2019ll make sure you never speak again!\" my brother yelled as my mother pinned me to the grass, smashing my hard-earned trophy. Bleeding and torn, I screamed in agony while my father watched helplessly. They thought they destroyed my future, but my secret recording is already on its way to the FBI. - 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=78485","og_locale":"en_US","og_type":"article","og_title":"\"Shut your mouth or I\u2019ll make sure you never speak again!\" my brother yelled as my mother pinned me to the grass, smashing my hard-earned trophy. Bleeding and torn, I screamed in agony while my father watched helplessly. They thought they destroyed my future, but my secret recording is already on its way to the FBI. - Purposeful Days","og_description":"Part 1 “Get out of my face, Drew. We did what was best for this family,” my mother, Diane, hissed, barely looking up from her laptop. Ten minutes ago, my life had completely shattered. I am Drew Collins, an eighteen-year-old from the small town of Ridgemont, and in exactly three weeks, I was supposed to […]","og_url":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=78485","og_site_name":"Purposeful Days","article_published_time":"2026-06-16T11:52:55+00:00","og_image":[{"width":1000,"height":1000,"url":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/06\/ChatGPT-Image-18_50_22-16-thg-6-2026-2.jpg","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=78485","url":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=78485","name":"\"Shut your mouth or I\u2019ll make sure you never speak again!\" my brother yelled as my mother pinned me to the grass, smashing my hard-earned trophy. Bleeding and torn, I screamed in agony while my father watched helplessly. They thought they destroyed my future, but my secret recording is already on its way to the FBI. - Purposeful Days","isPartOf":{"@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#website"},"primaryImageOfPage":{"@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=78485#primaryimage"},"image":{"@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=78485#primaryimage"},"thumbnailUrl":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/06\/ChatGPT-Image-18_50_22-16-thg-6-2026-2.jpg","datePublished":"2026-06-16T11:52:55+00:00","author":{"@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/#\/schema\/person\/4bbf0aec017fee1fb5027b7c39e98951"},"breadcrumb":{"@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=78485#breadcrumb"},"inLanguage":"en-US","potentialAction":[{"@type":"ReadAction","target":["https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=78485"]}]},{"@type":"ImageObject","inLanguage":"en-US","@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=78485#primaryimage","url":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/06\/ChatGPT-Image-18_50_22-16-thg-6-2026-2.jpg","contentUrl":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/06\/ChatGPT-Image-18_50_22-16-thg-6-2026-2.jpg","width":1000,"height":1000},{"@type":"BreadcrumbList","@id":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/?p=78485#breadcrumb","itemListElement":[{"@type":"ListItem","position":1,"name":"Home","item":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/"},{"@type":"ListItem","position":2,"name":"“Shut your mouth or I\u2019ll make sure you never speak again!” my brother yelled as my mother pinned me to the grass, smashing my hard-earned trophy. Bleeding and torn, I screamed in agony while my father watched helplessly. They thought they destroyed my future, but my secret recording is already on its way to the FBI."}]},{"@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\/78485","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=78485"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/78485\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":78490,"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/78485\/revisions\/78490"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/78488"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=78485"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=78485"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/purpose.lifestruepurpose.org\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=78485"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}