I Helped MyselfAfter taking some time to reflect on my recent discovery and reorganize my thoughts about it all, I believe everyone else couldn't see the evidence I was sharing from my perspective because they were so trained on the pushed "official" narrative. Just like when I would encounter parts of their "official" version, I would struggle to see it from their perspective. I would wonder why they couldn't see the con—why the truth was so hard for them to understand. Now it makes sense. Looking back at the work of the last two years is astonishing. That 'Heywood Jablowmey' insult wasn't just vulgar—it crossed a line. As a woman, there is simply no excuse for anyone to address me with that kind of disrespect, especially in a professional setting. Then, I thought finding the will that led me to Harvard with the inheritance was huge, but finding those three April 14th dates was even larger. I am still feeling disoriented from the discovery. Like "pinch me, is that true?" Did I just find what was sitting in the room for everyone to see, but they were so focused on Anthony Amore and the rabbit hole he took everyone down that they couldn’t see it? I think I figured out the award Anthony Amore truly deserves, and that is an Emmy for Best Con Man of the Century. I refused to look into the museum's rabbit hole more than I needed to. I now know why my instinct to filter it carefully was correct. When I found the will, even though I was still sending newsletters, it was still a "pinch me" moment for about three months before I finally realized it was my reality. It was like I ran in those doors, dropped my message, ran back out, and went back to shouting from the rooftops. Only now, I had new discoveries. I haven’t had a moment to take a breath. If you've been following along, you know what this journey has looked like. To everyone opening these emails: if my evidence is right, we didn't just witness this shift—we went through it together. The rest of the world is spinning around, oblivious to these discoveries. These discoveries that are about to be released upon them—you knew before them. We knew before them. You watched the scrambling of a woman as she tried and finally proved her mother’s story. What makes the 4/14 sequence undeniable is that it places the action directly in Palm Beach, right in Okeechobee's backyard. It maps the movement of the man behind the date and reveals how completely the official story led everyone away from the truth. These three 4/14 dates, though—I have to say, that was a moment where I felt everyone else felt that same disoriented feeling. We all just watched me solve another layer of this heist—a layer that was sitting out there in plain sight. That is a strange place to stand. I can’t properly explain the journey I have been on, or the "path I chose to take," as my family would dismissively say to me. I don’t even know if I believe in destiny—but if there is such a thing, then I was definitely destined for this story. It became something larger than anyone could understand, including myself.
I have never taken this lightly; I understood the gravity of this investigation every single step of the way. That gravity is what pulled me in. And you don’t come out the other side of a path like this the same person.
When everyone around you is laughing or dismissing you, and you are standing there knowing the truth, it hurts. But deep down, you know they will be ashamed of their dismissals once the ledger is finally acknowledged.
It is hard to write what I have fully solved here, because I am still in the silence. I would love to know what I fully unlocked. I would love to finally be able to wake up and stand in the light of the truth—to no longer get up and think about what I have to do today to prove what I have done. For no one to ever roll their eyes at me again. For no one to ever say "no one is ever going to help you" again. Though they were right: I helped myself. No one can say I gave up. #NeverGiveUp is my hashtag. I stood strong for my granddaughter Emma and my grandson Daniel. I had to move away from them when I moved to Michigan, and it has broken my heart every day. I miss them so much and can’t wait to be able to hold them in my arms again. I also did this because, as my husband and I recently discussed, we went over a list of things where he agrees our lives over the years have been tampered with by the gatekeepers. If you think that "Heywood" moment was the only time they have tampered with my life, you would be wrong. I can’t live a life free of the gatekeepers unless I prove this story and end this once and for all. My name is Suzanne Kenney, and I never gave up. I proved that persistence and determination—even if you have to do it alone—can accomplish historical things. A Statement of StandingWhile I adopt the methods of an open-source researcher to map the wider historical timeline, make no mistake about where I stand: I am a whistleblower rooted in first-hand family art encounters from 1991 and 1992. In Okeechobee, Florida—just 45 minutes from Palm Beach. The math is undeniable. The Yale playwright left his signature. The gatekeepers have been caught red-handed omitting the evidence. Yet I am still left asking: How much more evidence do I need to find before people start standing with me? The Nobody is still sending the data. The Nobody is still standing. Standing with Mary. Standing with Isabella. Standing for Boston. Where do you stand? Thank you,
Suzanne Kenney - daughter, mother, grandmother
Web Developer (Websites by Suzanne), Creator (Suzanne's eBoutique), Book Author (Crime & Canvas), Podcaster (Crime & Canvas Podcast), Blogger, TheArtworkStory.com
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