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Bost, Sai Mai, Bangkok (2026)

12/10/2026

“Dad, did you know Mom was calling us?”

Noah stood in the kitchen doorway holding Mark's old black phone.

My husband looked at the screen.

Then he looked at me.

Neither of us had expected our thirteen-year-old son to come downstairs.

“Noah,” Mark said, “this is between your mother and me.”

“No.”

My son's voice shook.

“You told me she didn't call on my birthday.”

Mark lowered his eyes.

Noah pressed play.

My voice filled the kitchen.

“Happy birthday, my sweet boy. I wish I could hug you today. I'm getting stronger every day. I love you.”

The message ended.

Noah stared at his father.

“You heard that?”

Mark said nothing.

“Dad. Did you hear it?”

“Yes,” he whispered.

Noah's face crumpled.

“Then why did you tell me she forgot?”

I had imagined confronting Mark a hundred different ways.

But nothing prepared me for watching our son discover that his father had deliberately hidden his mother's love.

I stepped toward Noah.

“Sweetheart, you don't have to handle this tonight.”

He shook his head.

“I need to know.”

Mark pulled out a chair.

“I made terrible decisions.”

Noah looked at him.

“Why?”

Mark covered his face.

“Because I was scared.”

“Of Mom?”

“Of losing everything.”

Noah looked confused.

I gently took the phone from his hands.

“Your dad and I have some serious problems to resolve. But none of them happened because of you or Lily.”

He wiped his eyes.

“Did Mom really write that goodbye letter?”

Mark shook his head.

“No.”

Noah stared at him.

“You wrote it?”

Mark nodded.

My son began crying.

For months, he'd kept that letter in his desk.

He'd reread it whenever he missed me.

He'd believed his mother had decided she no longer wanted to be his mother.

And now he knew the words had never been mine.

Lily appeared on the stairs.

She was holding her stuffed rabbit.

“Why is Noah crying?”

I went to her.

“Come here, sweetheart.”

She climbed into my arms.

At eight years old, she was getting too big for me to carry comfortably.

My legs were still weak from rehabilitation.

So I sat on the bottom stair and held her.

“Daddy?” she asked.

Mark looked toward us.

“Yes, baby?”

“Did Mommy really leave because she didn't want us?”

His eyes filled.

“No, Lily.”

She frowned.

“Then why did you say that?”

He swallowed.

“I was wrong.”

Lily looked at me.

“Mommy, did you know I waited at the window?”

My throat closed.

“No, sweetheart.”

“Every Friday.”

I held her tighter.

“I thought maybe you'd come home when Daddy wasn't looking.”

I began crying.

“I wanted to come home every day.”

She touched my cheek.

“Then why didn't he let you?”

I looked at Mark.

He had no answer that could make those months disappear.

The next morning, Rebecca drove the children to school.

Before they left, I told Noah and Lily something I wished I'd been able to say months earlier.

“Your dad and I both love you. But adults can make harmful choices. You are allowed to feel angry, sad, or confused.”

Noah nodded.

Lily asked whether she could still love Daddy.

“Of course,” I said.

She looked relieved.

I realized then how carefully I would need to handle the coming months.

I wanted Mark held accountable.

But I didn't want my children to feel they had to stop loving him to prove they loved me.

Sarah Mitchell, my attorney, helped me take the next steps.

We preserved the emails, account records, disputed documents, and messages from Mark's old phone.

Claire gave a written account of the documents she'd submitted and those she'd signed without actually witnessing my signature.

She also provided the original electronic messages.

Her cooperation didn't erase her responsibility.

But it helped establish what she had personally done and what Mark had told her.

The bank continued investigating the disputed power of attorney and transactions.

Sarah also helped me request temporary family-court arrangements that would protect the children's routines while Mark and I separated.

There was no instant judgment.

No dramatic hearing where one document solved everything.

There were appointments, sworn statements, and weeks of uncertainty.

But I was finally participating in decisions about my own life.
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12/10/2026

“Hannah, I need to tell you what Mark made me do.”

Claire's voice shook through the phone.

I was sitting at my kitchen table with the mortgage-related application open on my laptop.

My name was on it.

My signature was on it.

And the supporting letter had been uploaded from an email address bearing Claire Morgan's name.

“Did you send this letter?” I asked.

There was a long silence.

“Yes.”

My hand tightened around the phone.

“Did you know I hadn't written it?”

“I thought Mark had permission to send it.”

I closed my eyes.

“Claire, I was in rehabilitation. I was learning how to walk again. Why would I be applying for financing without speaking to anyone?”

She started crying.

“I know how it sounds.”

“Then tell me what happened.”

She took a breath.

“Can we meet somewhere Mark won't find us?”

An hour later, Claire walked into a quiet coffee shop near the library.

She wore the same cream sweater she'd been wearing when I came home.

Her dark blond hair was tied back.

She looked exhausted.

My sister Rebecca sat beside me.

Claire noticed her immediately.

“Is this okay?”

“Rebecca knows what's happening,” I said.

Claire nodded and sat down.

Then she placed a small flash drive and a thick envelope on the table.

“I copied everything I still had.”

I stared at them.

“Why?”

“Because Mark called me last night.”

My stomach tightened.

“What did he say?”

“He told me to delete our messages. He said lawyers were twisting things.”

She swallowed.

“Then he told me if anyone asked, I should say you signed everything in front of me.”

I stared at her.

“Would you have?”

Claire shook her head.

“No.”

Rebecca leaned forward.

“Did you ever actually see Hannah sign a document?”

“No.”

“Then why did you put your name on the power of attorney?”

Claire covered her face.

“Because I trusted him.”

She told us she'd met Mark through work earlier that year.

At first, he'd said his wife was seriously ill.

Then he'd begun describing our marriage as effectively over.

He claimed I'd told him I wanted a different life.

He said our children were adjusting.

And he showed Claire the separation agreement bearing my signature.

“I believed him,” she whispered.

I looked at her.

“You moved into my house.”

Her eyes filled.

“I know.”

“You slept in my bedroom.”

“I know.”

“And my children thought I'd abandoned them.”

Claire started crying harder.

“I didn't know that part. Mark told me they understood you were separated.”

I wanted to hate her.

Part of me did.

But the woman sitting across from me looked like someone who'd finally realized the life she'd entered had been built on lies.

That didn't erase her choices.

It didn't excuse the documents she'd signed without witnessing.

But I needed the truth more than I needed an argument.

Claire opened the envelope.

Inside were printed emails.

One was dated July 18.

The day the separation agreement supposedly received my signature.

Mark had written:

Hannah is still having trouble writing. I've attached the authorization she approved earlier.

Claire had replied:

Shouldn't she sign in front of someone?

Mark's response was immediate.

Her medical team doesn't want unnecessary stress. Please don't contact her directly.

I stared at the words.

He'd used my illness to prevent anyone from asking me questions.

Claire turned to another page.

This one concerned the mortgage application.

Mark had asked her to send a supporting letter using an account he'd created for administrative correspondence.

“He gave me the wording,” Claire said.

“Did you write any of it?”

“No. I copied what he sent.”

I looked at the email address.

It contained her name, but Claire explained Mark had set it up and given her the password.

She had used it for the submission.

That made her responsible for what she'd done.

But it also meant Mark had been directing the process.

Then Claire pulled out a final document.

“I didn't understand this one until yesterday.”

At the top were the words:

Proposed Parenting and Residential Arrangement.

My heart began pounding.

I read the first paragraph.

It described Mark as the children's primary residential parent.

That part, during my rehabilitation, had reflected their temporary living situation.

But the next paragraph was different.

It stated that I intended to establish a separate residence and agreed the children should remain primarily with Mark after my discharge.

I stared at it.

“I never agreed to this.”

Claire nodded.

“I know.”

There was no signature on the copy she had.

It was a draft.

But Mark had written an email beneath it.

Once Hannah's separation paperwork is finalized, this will support the custody discussion.

I felt sick.

He'd been preparing an argument that my absence was voluntary.

An argument that I wanted to live somewhere else.

An argument that the children should stay with him.

While telling those same children I'd chosen to leave them.
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12/10/2026

“Your husband promised me this house.”

The man standing on my porch said it as though he were confirming a dinner reservation.

He wore a navy coat and carried a black leather folder.

Behind me, the kitchen still smelled of the toast Rebecca had made for breakfast.

I gripped the doorframe.

“What did you say?”

He glanced at the house number.

“This is the Bennett property, correct?”

“Yes.”

“My name is David Keller.”

My stomach dropped.

D. Keller.

The name from Mark's old phone.

The man who'd asked whether I knew our home was being used as security.

I stared at him.

“What do you want?”

He opened his folder.

“To discuss the agreement your husband signed.”

I didn't invite him inside.

Rebecca came to the doorway when she heard voices.

“Everything okay?”

I looked at her.

“This is the man from the messages.”

Her expression changed.

David glanced between us.

“I take it there's been some confusion.”

I almost laughed.

Confusion.

That was what everyone kept calling it.

A forged goodbye letter.

A disputed power of attorney.

Money missing from my children's education fund.

Another woman living in my bedroom.

And now a stranger claiming my husband had promised him our house.

“Show me what you're talking about,” I said.

David handed me a copy of a document.

At the top were the words:

Proposed Property Transfer Agreement.

Our address appeared beneath them.

There was a purchase price.

A proposed closing date.

And a section stating that the property would be transferred after certain financial obligations were satisfied.

Then I saw my name.

Hannah Bennett.

Below it was a signature.

Mine.

Except it wasn't.

“I never signed this,” I said.

David frowned.

“Your husband represented that you had agreed.”

“I didn't.”

He looked at Rebecca.

Then back at me.

“Mrs. Bennett, I don't want to become involved in a family dispute.”

“Then you should have checked with both owners before accepting a document bearing both our names.”

His expression tightened.

“I was told you were receiving treatment and had authorized Mark to handle matters.”

I felt cold.

“When was this signed?”

He pointed to the date.

July 19.

The same day the bank's records showed changes to my account access.

The day after the supposed separation agreement.

I stared at the page.

“What money did you give Mark?”

David hesitated.

“An initial advance.”

“How much?”

“Forty thousand dollars.”

The amount Mark had admitted borrowing.

I looked up.

“And he promised you our house?”

“Not immediately. The agreement contemplated repayment or a future sale, depending on what happened next.”

I swallowed.

“Did you record anything against the property?”

“No deed was transferred. My attorney was reviewing the security documents.”

I felt a small measure of relief.

Then David added, “But Mark told me you planned to relocate permanently.”

I stared at him.

“Relocate where?”

“He said you wouldn't be returning to this house.”

Rebecca stepped beside me.

“Mr. Keller, we're going to have our attorney review these documents.”

David nodded.

“I think that would be wise.”

He handed us his contact information.

Before leaving, he hesitated.

“Mrs. Bennett?”

I looked at him.

“Your husband told me the house would be vacant by the end of the month.”

My heart stopped.

“What?”

“He said the children would be staying with relatives while he arranged the move.”

I stared at him.

Noah.

Lily.

My children.

Mark hadn't only told them I was gone.

He'd apparently been planning to move them out of the only home they'd ever known.

Without telling me.

I closed the door.

Then I sat on the bottom stair.

Rebecca crouched beside me.

“Hannah?”

I couldn't speak.

For four months, I'd fought to come home.

I'd learned to walk again.

I'd practiced writing.

I'd counted the days until I could sleep under the same roof as my children.

And Mark had been planning to make that roof disappear.

Rebecca placed a hand on my shoulder.

“We need to call the attorney.”

I nodded.

My hands were shaking so badly she had to dial for me.
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12/10/2026

Trump considering firing Kimberly Guilfoyle after reports of misconduct, source says | CNN Politics

President Donald Trump is weighing whether to dismiss Kimberly Guilfoyle from her position as US ambassador to Greece after a string of reports about misconduct, a person familiar with the matter said Sunday. Trump has been monitoring reports claiming Guilfoyle, who was engaged to Trump’s eldest son Donald Trump Jr. for four years, accepted lavish gifts as ambassador and sought money in exchange for providing access to administration figures before she was confirmed. The reports have irked senior administration officials, particularly since they emerged when Secretary of State Marco Rubio was visiting Athens for a high-profile speech on Western democracy delivered from the Acropolis. Trump is expected to decide soon whether to fire Guilfoyle, the person said. The president offered no defense of Guilfoyle when questioned by CNN about the allegations Friday. “I just heard about it. Too bad. I mean, I don’t know,” Trump said. “I just heard a little bit about it. I don’t know too much, but she was always very nice.” CNN has reached out to the White House for comment. Eric Deters, a former Trump donor, said Guilfoyle asked him in a text message to wire her $100,000 to pay off an American Express card in the days before her Senate confirmation. Deters ultimately did not wire Guilfoyle the money, saying he didn’t have the liquid assets at the time. The messages were first reported by the Wall Street Journal. Lawyers for the ambassador said in a statement provided to CNN that Deters owed Guilfoyle money for speeches and consulting work and called his statements false. “When Ms. Guilfoyle was preparing to leave private life for public service, she did what any professional does and tried to close out her outstanding receivables. Asking a client to pay for work already done is not corruption. It is the opposite of corruption,” her lawyers wrote. Guilfoyle also denied to administration officials last week that she sent the messages, the person familiar said. Guilfoyle has remained close to the Trump family. After her breakup with Donald Trump Jr., she received the plum assignment in Greece. Allies of the president and his son told CNN they felt the episode is embarrassing, though it’s not clear whether there will be consequences for Guilfoyle. Trump has repeatedly made clear he is not happy when allies profit off of their relationship with him. Vice President JD Vance on Friday withheld judgment on whether there should be consequences for Guilfoyle, saying he refused to “try people in the court of public opinion.” But the vice president said, in general, he was uncomfortable with access-for-pay schemes. “Of course I don’t like anybody selling access to another government official, certainly a high-level government official,” he said. “Let’s see what the truth is. And obviously, if there was something bad that happened, then people have to suffer consequences for it,” he said. This story has been updated with additional information.

12/10/2026

“I never saw you sign anything.”

Claire whispered those words through the phone at 12:07 in the morning.

I sat alone at my kitchen table, staring at the power-of-attorney document displayed on my laptop.

My signature was at the bottom.

Claire Morgan's name was printed beside the witness line.

And my husband, Mark, was listed as the person authorized to act on my behalf.

“Claire,” I said carefully, “did you sign this?”

She was silent.

Then she whispered, “Yes.”

My stomach tightened.

“Why?”

“Mark brought it to me at his office. He said you'd already signed it at the rehabilitation center.”

I closed my eyes.

“Did he show you any proof?”

“No.”

“Then why did you witness it?”

Her voice broke.

“He told me the bank needed someone to confirm the signature. I thought I was helping you.”

I stared at the document.

Claire had signed something she hadn't actually witnessed.

Mark had used my illness to make it seem believable.

And I was beginning to understand why he'd spent four months convincing everyone I couldn't make decisions for myself.

I asked Claire to send me everything Mark had shown her.

She agreed.

Then I called my sister Rebecca.

It was nearly midnight where she lived.

She answered anyway.

“Hannah?”

“I found something.”

I told her about the power of attorney.

About Claire's signature.

About the bank.

Rebecca was silent for several seconds.

Then she said, “Hannah, you need a lawyer.”

“I know.”

“And you need to make sure Mark can't access your accounts while this gets sorted out.”

“I've already reported the document to the bank.”

“Good.”

I swallowed.

“Rebecca, I'm scared.”

Her voice softened.

“I know.”

I looked toward the staircase.

Noah and Lily were asleep.

At least, I hoped they were.

“I don't even know what he's done yet.”

Rebecca took a breath.

“Then we'll find out. One thing at a time.”

The next morning, I went to the bank.

I took my identification, the power-of-attorney copy, and the discharge papers from rehabilitation.

A fraud specialist named Mrs. Collins met me in a small office.

She was calm and careful.

She didn't promise me everything would be fixed immediately.

She explained that the bank would investigate the disputed authorization, restrict its use while the review proceeded, and help me secure my online access.

Then she showed me the transaction history I was authorized to review.

I stared at the screen.

Several transfers had been made while I was in rehabilitation.

Some were ordinary household expenses.

Mortgage payments.

Utilities.

Groceries.

But others were unfamiliar.

There were payments to a consulting company.

A large transfer to an account I didn't recognize.

And repeated withdrawals from the savings account Mark and I had established for Noah and Lily.

I leaned forward.

“That's our children's education fund.”

Mrs. Collins nodded.

“The transactions will need to be reviewed to determine who authorized them and under what authority.”

I felt sick.

“How much is missing?”

She printed the account history.

I added the disputed withdrawals.

The total was $28,600.

I stared at the number.

Twenty-eight thousand six hundred dollars.

Money we'd saved over years.

Birthday gifts from grandparents.

Part of the money I'd inherited when my father died.

Money we'd promised not to touch unless it was for the children's education.

I covered my mouth.

When I returned home, Mark was standing in the kitchen.

He looked at the folder in my hand.

“Where have you been?”

“The bank.”

His face changed.

“Hannah, we need to stop doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“Turning every decision I made into an accusation.”

I set the folder on the table.

“Did you withdraw money from Noah and Lily's savings?”

He looked away.

“We had expenses.”

“Twenty-eight thousand dollars?”

He rubbed his forehead.

“The rehabilitation bills were enormous.”

I stared at him.

“Then show me the bills.”

He said nothing.

“Mark, show me the invoices.”

He pulled out a chair.

“Hannah, you're getting worked up.”

I felt my hands trembling.

“Don't.”

He looked at me.

“Don't what?”

“Don't use my illness every time you don't want to answer a question.”

His jaw tightened.

“I kept this family going while you were gone.”

“I know you had responsibilities.”

“You have no idea.”

“Then help me understand.”

He stared at the floor.

I waited.

Finally, he said, “I borrowed money.”

My stomach tightened.

“From whom?”

“A business associate.”

“How much?”

He didn't answer.

“Mark.”

“Forty thousand.”

I sat down.

Forty thousand dollars.

He looked at me.

“I was going to replace it.”

“With our children's savings?”

“I didn't have another option.”

I stared at him.

“You could have told me.”

“You weren't well.”

“I was ill, Mark. I wasn't gone from the world.”

He looked away.

I asked him why Claire had witnessed the power-of-attorney document without seeing me sign it.

He rubbed his face.

“She trusted me.”

“Did you sign my name?”

He stared at me.

“Be careful what you're accusing me of.”

“I'm asking a question.”

“I had to keep things moving.”

“That isn't an answer.”

He stood up.

“Do you know how hard it was managing this house, the kids, your medical appointments, and the bills?”

My eyes filled.

“I know it was hard.”

“Then why are you treating me like a criminal?”

“Because you've been lying to me.”

He looked at me for a long moment.

Then his voice became cold.

“The children were finally getting used to things.”

I stared at him.

“What things?”

“A routine. Stability. Not wondering when you'd be well enough to come back.”

“You told them I didn't want them.”

He looked away.

“I gave them an explanation they could understand.”

I felt my chest tighten.

“Mark, you made them believe their mother abandoned them.”

He didn't answer.

Then he said something I will never forget.

“Maybe they were better off believing that than watching you fall apart.”

I stared at him.

I had spent 117 days learning how to walk properly again.

I had cried through physical therapy.

I'd practiced holding a pen until my hand cramped.

I'd counted the days until I could see my children.

And my husband was telling me it would have been better for them to believe I didn't love them.

I stood.

“I'm going to speak to an attorney.”

Mark's face hardened.

“You think a lawyer will fix what happened here?”

“I think I need to know what you signed in my name.”

He stepped closer.

“Hannah, think about what you're doing to the children.”

I looked at him.

“No. Think about what you've already done to them.”

He was silent.

Then he said, “If you keep digging, you're going to make everything worse.”

I felt cold.

“Worse for whom?”

He didn't answer.

That afternoon, Rebecca arrived.

When she walked through the door, I started crying before I could say hello.

She put her arms around me.

For the first time since I'd come home, I let myself fall apart.

Not because I wanted to.

Because I was exhausted.

Rebecca helped me organize the documents.

The supposed separation agreement.

The power of attorney.

The bank statements.

The emails from the rehabilitation center.

The forged goodbye letter Noah had carried around.

We made copies and wrote down the dates.

Then Rebecca helped me arrange a consultation with a family-law attorney and report the suspected document forgery to the appropriate authorities.

The attorney explained that the papers needed careful review.

A document bearing a signature wasn't automatically proof that I'd signed it.

And a power of attorney wouldn't necessarily give Mark the authority he claimed.

We would need records, evidence, and time.

I understood.

For the first time, I wasn't relying on Mark to tell me what was true.
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12/10/2026

Russell Brand is on trial for r**e and s*xual assault. His career has been a catalog of controversy | CNN

British comedian and actor Russell Brand arrived at Southwark Crown Court in London on Monday, where he is due to stand trial on accusations of r**e and s*xual assault. The 51-year-old has pleaded not guilty to three charges of r**e, one charge of indecent assault and three counts of s*xual assault, relating to six women. The charges go back to the beginning of his career. Who is Russell Brand? Brand became a household name in British television in the early 2000s, presenting the talk show “Celebrity Big Brother’s Big Mouth,” a spin-off from the popular reality series “Celebrity Big Brother,” and receiving accolades such as Best Male Comedy Newcomer at the British Comedy Awards for his talk show “Russell Brand’s Got Issues.” As well as garnering many TV fans, his eccentric stand-up performances made him one of the UK’s most popular live entertainers. Brand’s energetic character and provocative jokes, often relating to s*x, made him a distinctive voice in the UK media. In 2006, he became host of “The Russell Brand Show” on BBC Radio 2, a weekly Saturday night program during which he had frank, comedic — and often X-***ed — conversations with a co-host and guests. ‘Sachsgate’ While the popular radio show attracted around 400,000 listeners on average, it came to an abrupt halt in 2008 when Brand quit the show after offensive voice messages, left by him and entertainer Jonathan Ross for “Fawlty Towers” star Andrew Sachs, were aired on the program, sparking outrage and breaching UK broadcasting regulations. In the voice messages, Brand joked — using explicit language — about having s*x with Sachs’ granddaughter. He and Ross went on to say that Sachs, who was 78 at the time, might kill himself on hearing the news. The episode was widely criticized, with the BBC receiving tens of thousands of complaints and regulator Ofcom receiving almost 2,000. Even the British prime minister of the day, Gordon Brown, reacted to what was later labeled “Sachsgate,” calling Brand’s comments “inappropriate and unacceptable.” At the time, Brand said he took “complete responsibility,” adding: “I got a bit caught up in the moment and forgot that, at the core of the rude comments and silly songs, were the real feelings of a beloved and brilliant comic actor and a very sweet and big-hearted young woman.” However, he changed his tone five years later in a BBC Radio interview. While he admitted that listeners’ offense was “genuine” and apologized for his “wrong” actions, he also said that “there was obviously a pre-existing agenda in privately owned media to destabilize, attack and diminish the BBC.” Off to Hollywood Despite the notoriety of Sachsgate, Brand’s rise was only briefly impeded. The same year he quit his radio show, his Channel 4 TV show “Russell Brand’s Ponderland” was nominated for a BAFTA, and he became a recognized name in Hollywood after portraying the hedonistic rock star Aldous Snow in the romantic comedy “Forgetting Sarah Marshall.” Two years later, he reprised the role in the spinoff “Get Him to the Greek.” It was around this time that he began dating US pop star Katy Perry. The high-profile relationship didn’t last, however. After marrying in October 2010, the couple were fending off divorce rumors by 2011 and, by the end of that year, Brand had announced he was divorcing Perry, reportedly catching the singer off guard. Perry revealed in 2013 that Brand told her that he was divorcing her via a text on New Year’s Eve and that she hadn’t heard from him since, adding that while he “wanted an equal” at first, strong men “get that equal and they’re like, I can’t handle the equalness. He didn’t like the atmosphere of me being the boss on tour. So that was really hurtful, and it was very controlling, which was upsetting.” Brand, however, blamed busy schedules for their split, and said in 2017 that the up-and-down nature of fame contributed to the brevity of the marriage. He said he still felt “very warm towards her.” A shift to wellness Brand has credited yoga and meditation for helping him deal with addictions to drugs, alcohol and s*x. In 2017, he wrote a self-help guide, “Recovery: Freedom From Our Addictions.” He had previously published his autobiography, “My Booky Wook: A Memoir of S*x, Drugs, and Stand-Up,” which became a best-seller in the UK and was published in the US two years later. Critics described the book as “funny and frequently awful,” as well as a “relentless ride with a comic mind clearly at the wheel.” Brand’s stand-up shows and podcasts began to focus more on societal trends, spirituality, psychology and childbirth, and his on-stage performances moved from theater stages to speaking at wellness gatherings, such as Wanderlust Wellspring in Palm Springs, California in 2018. With his second wife — author Laura Gallacher, whom he married in 2017 and with whom he has three children — Brand launched a spirituality festival in Wales, titled “Community,” which had its first outing in 2023. A subsequent edition was postponed and then canceled. More recently, Brand has been hosting a podcast, “Stay Free,” and making YouTube videos for his “Awakened Wonders” online community – paying members with whom he shares his thoughts on spirituality, culture, politics and global affairs. Brand promotes his community as a counter to what he describes as the “corrupted and broken” old systems that govern the world, with “a New Spirit” being born among them. He frequently airs conspiracy theories about a “concealed agenda” and deception by governments, Big Pharma and Big Tech, as well as voicing suspicions about the Covid vaccine, and corruption and dishonesty in the mainstream media. In a YouTube video published in September 2023, Brand accused the British government of trying to censor him online, and he has described the claims against him as “coordinated” and “egregious attacks” by the media, questioning, “Is there another agenda at play?”

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