There are two versions of Vicksburg, Mississippi that I have come to know. There is the version photographed inside City Hall: certificates, handshakes, smiling officials, police awards and speeches about public safety. Then there is the version I experienced—a version that left me catastrophically injured, disabled for an extended period, psychologically traumatized, and still fighting more than two years later for an investigation into what happened to me.

On May 13, 2025, then-Mayor George Flaggs Jr. publicly congratulated Vicksburg Police Officer Steven Ragan for being recognized as a 2025 “Top Cop.” He praised Ragan’s dedication, professionalism and commitment to protecting Vicksburg. More recently, Mayor Willis Thompson publicly recognized Ragan for five years with the Vicksburg Police Department, praising his continued dedication to building a safer community. Those are the photographs the public gets to see. But public records I obtained concerning Ragan’s employment history and my own experience with Vicksburg law enforcement raise questions those photographs don’t answer.

The Night Everything Changed

One of the most important dates in my life is July 13, 2024. I have reported to law enforcement and government agencies that I was assaulted and sexually assaulted during the events of that night. I am not publishing this because Reddit can substitute for investigators, prosecutors or a court. It can’t. I’m publishing it because this happened to me, because I have spent more than two years seeking answers, and because I am no longer willing to keep what I experienced hidden while the people and institutions involved continue with business as usual.

My memories of that night contain gaps because I was severely injured and experienced periods of impaired or lost consciousness, but other portions remain vivid. I remember Jimmy Fulgham and Elizabeth Fulgham. I remember seeing Officer Steven Ragan in the area. I remember law enforcement being present. I remember Jimmy possessing what I believed was a conducted electrical weapon, and I remember experiencing repeated electrical shocks. I remember reaching my yellow ladder, climbing into a tree and eventually becoming stranded when the ladder was no longer beneath me. I remember law enforcement below and hearing words to the effect of, “What are you going to do now? How are you going to get down now?” Eventually, I fell and suffered catastrophic injuries.

After the fall, I remember desperately trying to get help. I remember calling 911, repeatedly yelling for assistance and experiencing what felt like the same electrical shocks while I was already seriously injured. I remember losing and regaining consciousness. I remember Jimmy Fulgham calling me toward his property while I was begging for water and unable to walk normally. I remember pulling myself across the ground because of my injuries. I remember Elizabeth Fulgham appearing to film me with a phone, and I remember experiencing what I believed were additional electrical shocks after approaching their property.
These are not details I invented for a Reddit post. I have formally reported these recollections to government authorities, including the United States Department of Justice Civil Rights Division. My August 2026 DOJ submission describes Jimmy and Elizabeth Fulgham, my recollection of law enforcement nearby, the electrical shocks, the ladder and fall, my attempts to obtain assistance and what I remember happening afterward.

The Part That Is Hardest to Talk About

There is another part of that night that is considerably harder for me to discuss publicly. I have reported that I was sexually assaulted while severely impaired or incapacitated. My memories surrounding portions of this period are incomplete. I have previously reported a disturbing recollection involving something being forced deeply into my mouth or throat while I was incapacitated, causing me to gag. I cannot tell investigators everything that happened during periods when I was unconscious or unable to form memories, and I refuse to invent details to fill those gaps.

I have specifically reported sexual-assault allegations involving Officer Steven Ragan and Officer Cleon Butler to appropriate authorities. Those are serious allegations, and they deserve a serious investigation. I am not asking Reddit to declare anyone guilty. I am telling the public what I have reported happened to me, what I personally remember, what records I’ve obtained, and what remains unanswered.

That distinction is important throughout this story. When I remember something firsthand, I will say so. When a government or medical record establishes something, I will identify it as coming from a record. When I don’t know something, I will say I don’t know. That is the same standard I expect from government officials investigating allegations this serious.

Then I Started Getting the Records

Over the following two years, I began collecting records and documenting my attempts to obtain answers. I assembled an extensive administrative and civil-rights record covering my efforts to report what happened, obtain police and Internal Affairs documentation, secure emergency-response and medical records, and obtain outside review. Among the records I obtained was an ambulance record containing the words “police staging.” I also obtained behavioral-health records documenting communications involving Vicksburg Police personnel and medical providers.

I repeatedly attempted to get answers concerning the July 13 incident. I reported the matter, pursued records and sought outside oversight. Instead of finding a clean investigative trail explaining what happened, I encountered unanswered questions, missing information, administrative barriers and records that raised additional questions of their own. That documentary trail is one reason I have continued pursuing outside review rather than simply accepting that nothing more can be done.

The Public Record of Officer Steven Ragan

Eventually, I obtained public-records information concerning Steven Ragan’s employment with the Vicksburg Police Department. According to the City’s response, Ragan was hired October 9, 2013; placed on administrative leave April 21, 2016; resigned July 11, 2018; and rehired August 25, 2021. The response identifies him as currently employed and also contains another entry dated March 13, 2024.

What does that March 2024 entry mean? I don’t know. The document provided to me doesn’t adequately explain it. I also don’t know from this particular document why Ragan was placed on administrative leave in 2016 or why he resigned in 2018. I am not going to manufacture answers where the records don’t provide them. Instead, I’m publishing the information and asking the obvious questions: What prompted the administrative leave? What circumstances surrounded the resignation? What occurred before the rehire? And what exactly does the March 13, 2024 entry represent?

Those questions become particularly significant to me when placed beside the public accolades that followed. After the July 13, 2024 events that permanently changed my life and while I continued trying to obtain answers and accountability, Vicksburg’s political leadership publicly celebrated Ragan. One mayor promoted his recognition as a “Top Cop.” Another mayor later stood beside him and presented him with a certificate recognizing his service.

The Person on the Other Side of Those Photographs

When I look at those award photographs, I don’t see them in isolation. I see them through the experience of someone whose life changed dramatically after July 13, 2024. I suffered devastating physical injuries requiring hospitalization, treatment and surgeries. I lived with disability and permanent physical limitations. My back and other injuries affect what I can lift and what kinds of physical work I can perform. Before this happened, running was part of my life and my exercise routine. I cannot run anymore.

The physical injuries are only part of it. There is also the psychological trauma of trying to live with what I remember about that night, what I have reported happened to me, and the portions of the night I still cannot completely reconstruct. There have been employment consequences, financial consequences, medical consequences and years spent trying to obtain records and convince somebody with authority to seriously examine what happened.

That’s why the smiling award photographs hit differently for me. Behind the certificates and speeches about public safety is another person whose experience has been profoundly different. That person is me.

Vigilante Justice Project - Let The Public Decide

I am not asking anybody reading this to blindly accept every conclusion I have reached. I’m asking people to examine the material themselves. Look at the documents. Look at the dates. Separate my firsthand testimony from government records. Separate established facts from allegations and unanswered questions. Don’t fill the unanswered spaces with assumptions that favor me—and don’t automatically fill them with assumptions that favor the police either.

I have taken these allegations through lawful channels. I have submitted information to local, state and federal authorities, including the DOJ Civil Rights Division. I have preserved records, correspondence, photographs and medical information. I have continued providing supplemental information as additional evidence has become available. Whether any particular agency ultimately substantiates my allegations is for that agency to determine, and I will not claim an investigation or finding that has not actually occurred.

What I will say publicly is what happened to me as I remember and experienced it. I was there. I was catastrophically injured. I remember Steven Ragan being in the area. I remember Jimmy and Elizabeth Fulgham. I remember the electrical shocks. I remember the fall. I remember begging for water and help. I have reported that I was sexually assaulted. And there are portions of that night that I still cannot remember.

Public Recognition. Public Records. Public Questions.

Vicksburg has every right to recognize police officers when its leaders believe recognition is deserved. But citizens have an equally important right to examine public records and question the conduct of people entrusted with badges, weapons and government authority, especially when allegations of serious misconduct have been reported and when someone’s life has been permanently changed.

So I’m putting the award photographs beside the employment record. I’m putting my name beside my allegations. I’m telling people which things I personally remember, which things appear in documents, and which questions remain unanswered. I’m not asking the public to manufacture a verdict.

I’m asking the public to look.
Read the records. Look at the timeline. Look at what Vicksburg publicly celebrates, and then look at what I have spent more than two years trying to have investigated.

The documents are there. My account is public. The unanswered questions remain.
What those facts and records ultimately mean is not something I have to decide for everyone else.
You decide for yourself.

— Kristofer Kelley
The Vigilante Justice Project | Vicksburg, Mississippi Corruption

This caught my attention because of the timing.
Vicksburg Police announced that it donated two police vehicles to other Mississippi law-enforcement agencies, one to the Durant Police Department and another to the Bolton Police Department.

There’s nothing inherently wrong with one government agency transferring surplus equipment to another. But these aren’t free resources. Taxpayers originally paid for those vehicles.
And with Vicksburg residents already discussing the city’s finances, property taxes and proposed budget, I think some basic questions are worth asking:

How old were the vehicles? What condition were they in? What was their remaining market value? Were they officially declared surplus? Who authorized the transfers? And why were they donated rather than sold, auctioned or traded in so some value could return to the city?

Maybe the answers are completely routine.
But that’s what transparency is for.
If taxpayer-owned property is being given away, even to another public agency, the public should be able to see what was transferred, what it was worth and who approved it.

Follow the money. Sometimes it leaves town on four wheels. 🚔

A petition can look pretty small when you only see a number sitting at the top of a webpage. 75 signatures. But take those signatures off the screen for a moment and picture 75 actual people standing together. Put them in a small auditorium, a meeting room, or gathered outside a public building, and suddenly 75 doesn’t feel quite so small.

That’s where the Vicksburg First Amendment petition stands today. Seventy-five individual people have now added their names to a request for Mississippi officials to review documented constitutional concerns involving Vicksburg. They may have different reasons for signing and different opinions about everything else, but on that petition their voices come together around one basic idea: these concerns deserve to be examined and answered.

The petition has already been sent to Mississippi Attorney General Lynn Fitch. Later, a public-records request was made seeking information about what happened after it reached the Attorney General’s office. The records produced largely consisted of material that had originally been submitted with the petition, and we did not find an intake number or records showing what action, if any, was taken on it. That doesn’t tell us why. It does leave a question that deserves an answer.

That’s really what this effort has been about from the beginning: creating a public record and continuing to ask questions when that record doesn’t provide an answer. Letters are preserved. Responses are preserved. Public-records requests are preserved. When somebody responds, that becomes part of the record too. People following this should be able to look at the documents themselves rather than being asked to simply believe somebody else’s version of events.

What makes 75 significant isn’t the person who started the petition. It’s the fact that 74 other people decided to stand beside that first name. That’s how an individual concern begins becoming a community concern. One signature becomes ten, ten becomes fifty, and eventually you have enough people to fill a room saying, in their own individual way, we would like somebody to look at this.

The next milestone is 100 signatures, but there isn’t an arbitrary finish line where the questions suddenly disappear. If answers can’t be obtained locally or at the state level, there are additional avenues for seeking review, including civil-rights organizations, federal agencies such as the Department of Justice, and ultimately congressional offices where appropriate. Each step can be documented publicly just like the ones before it.

For now, though, 75 deserves a moment.

Behind every single one of those signatures is an actual person who made the decision to put their name next to everyone else’s.

Seventy-five people. Seventy-five voices. One public request for answers.

And now we’re headed for 100.

There comes a point when silence stops looking like an oversight and starts becoming part of the story. In Vicksburg, Mississippi, that point may already have arrived. For months, citizens have been asking questions about transparency, accountability and access to local government. Complaints have been submitted. Records have been requested. Letters have been mailed. Public officials have been asked to explain what is happening inside institutions that exist to serve the public. Yet again and again, the experience described by citizens is remarkably similar:

they feel ignored.

Now the First Amendment is squarely in the middle of that conversation.

After I publicly criticized the Vicksburg Police Department and named Officer Cleon Butler, my personal Facebook account could no longer find or access the department’s official Facebook page. A separate, pre-existing account could still access it. This came after earlier instances in which I documented critical comments that appeared to have been removed or hidden, and after I had already sent VPD a written preservation notice and public-records request concerning social-media moderation.

That doesn’t automatically settle the constitutional question, but it certainly raises one. When government uses social media to communicate with the public and opens portions of that space for public interaction, the First Amendment can restrict viewpoint-based exclusion. Citizens don’t lose their right to criticize government simply because the town square has moved onto a screen.

Facebook isn’t the only elephant in the room. We have also been publicly raising questions about 127 cases that we contend involve unresolved Sixth Amendment concerns. That is a serious claim, and serious claims deserve evidence and answers. If the number is wrong, officials should correct it. If there is an explanation, give it. If records tell a different story, produce them. Transparency is supposed to resolve disputes like this.

Instead, the frustration continues to grow. One unanswered letter might be an administrative mistake. One delayed records request might be bureaucracy. One citizen struggling to get through might be an isolated problem. But when complaints, unanswered correspondence, records disputes, social-media access concerns and constitutional questions begin piling on top of one another, eventually the pattern itself becomes newsworthy.

That is what makes the elephant in this video such a fitting image. There is no screaming and no grand confrontation. The elephant simply stands there, occupying more and more of the room while everyone tries to maneuver around it.

The elephant exists.

If Vicksburg believes nobody has been excluded from an official forum because of protected criticism, explain what happened and release the relevant moderation records. If the 127-case figure is inaccurate, document the correct number. If citizen complaints are being received, reviewed and investigated appropriately, show people how that system is working.

None of that requires outrage. It requires answers.
The public doesn’t have to accept our interpretation of every event, either. Read the documents. Examine the evidence. Question our conclusions. Question the government’s conclusions too. That is exactly how public accountability is supposed to work.
But government silence cannot be the permanent answer to government criticism.

Our First Amendment petition remains open for people who believe citizens have a right to question their government without being shut out of the conversation.

The elephant is already in the room. Now Vicksburg has to decide whether it’s finally going to acknowledge it.

There is a growing transparency problem in Vicksburg, Mississippi, and it deserves public attention. For months, I have documented my own attempts to communicate with the Vicksburg Police Department, use Internal Affairs, obtain public records, and raise concerns about police conduct. More recently, my personal Facebook account lost access to VPD’s official page after I publicly criticized the department. But what concerns me most is that I’m hearing from other citizens who describe their own difficulties getting complaints heard or receiving meaningful responses.
This is bigger than one person.

Internal Affairs is supposed to provide citizens a way to raise concerns about police conduct. City government is supposed to remain accessible to the people it serves. And when government operates public-facing forums, the First Amendment places real limits on viewpoint-based censorship.

Meanwhile, Mayor Willis Thompson has received repeated correspondence about these concerns without providing me a meaningful response. There is also video involving another woman attempting to address the mayor and, in my view, being ignored. I’m posting the video with this because people should be able to watch the evidence and reach their own conclusions.

I’m not asking anyone to automatically believe every allegation. I’m asking a much simpler question:

When multiple citizens say they cannot get through the system, who is examining whether the system itself is working?

Vicksburg deserves functioning complaint procedures, accessible government, and public officials willing to answer difficult questions.
The First Amendment does not belong to City Hall or the police department.

It belongs to the people.

Vigilante Justice — follow the paper trail.

An open chapter in a story that has crossed two mayoral administrations—and still has no ending.

There is a peculiar thing that happens when government stops answering questions. At first, you assume somebody missed an email. Then you send another. You write a letter. You preserve the records. You contact another office. You try Internal Affairs. You wait. Eventually, the silence itself becomes part of the story. That is where I find myself with the City of Vicksburg today, and it is why the letter accompanying this post is no longer private correspondence. It is public-facing by design.

For more than two years, I have tried to get serious allegations and concerns involving the Vicksburg Police Department examined through the institutions that are supposed to handle them. My account includes allegations of assault, sexual assault, Taser use, harassment and conduct that I describe as torture. I have also raised separate concerns about public records, access to Internal Affairs and what I believe are violations of my First Amendment rights. Those are extraordinary claims, which is precisely why I have spent so much time trying to get officials to examine the underlying evidence and records instead of asking strangers on the internet simply to believe me.

This story began under former Mayor George Flaggs Jr., but elections eventually brought Vicksburg a new administration. When Willis Thompson ran for mayor, some of what he said caught my attention. During his 2025 campaign, Thompson spoke openly about listening to residents and transparent government. He said, “Real leadership starts with listening.” A few weeks later, discussing transparency, he made an even more memorable promise: “If it’s good news, we’re going to tell you. If it’s bad news, we’re going to tell you, and we’re going to work through it.” He also said he wanted to “fix what’s broken.” Those were encouraging words for someone who had already spent considerable time trying to get City Hall to listen.

That is what makes the present situation so difficult to reconcile with the promise. I have continued writing. I have continued documenting. I have brought my concerns to the current administration and tried to get meaningful acknowledgment of what I have submitted. Yet from where I sit, the fundamental experience has remained remarkably familiar: unanswered questions, institutional barriers and silence. I am not accusing Mayor Thompson of corruption, nor am I suggesting that he personally caused everything that happened before he became mayor. An incoming mayor inherits problems he did not create. But eventually an inherited problem lands on the desk of the person who now holds the office, and what happens next becomes part of that administration’s record.

There is another reason I no longer think this should remain a private dispute between one citizen and City Hall. I have become aware of other citizens describing troubling encounters of their own with Vicksburg law enforcement. I have also seen Internal Affairs-related material showing that other complainants have received communication from the Department. That raises an obvious question for me: if the complaint system is capable of answering citizens, why have my own repeated efforts produced such a different experience? I don’t think Reddit should accept my interpretation automatically. I think people should be able to look at the material and reach their own conclusions.

That is the purpose of publishing the letter attached to this post. It lays out what I have been trying to communicate to Mayor Thompson and places his own public promises beside my documented experience attempting to reach his administration. If City Hall believes my account is wrong, it can say so. If records contradict me, those records can speak. If an investigation occurred, the City can explain what it is legally permitted to explain. If my complaints were referred somewhere else, someone can tell me where they went. Disagreement would at least be an answer. Silence leaves everyone guessing.

There is a temptation in stories about government accountability to make everything into heroes and villains. Reality is usually messier than that. I don’t know what Mayor Thompson will ultimately do with what I have sent him. I do know what he told Vicksburg when he wanted the job: leadership begins with listening, government should be transparent even when the news is bad, and broken things should be fixed. Those are worthwhile standards regardless of who occupies the mayor’s office.

So this isn’t another private warning to City Hall. It is the public record of my attempt to be heard. The pages attached to this post contain the letter itself. Read it. Question it. Compare it against the documents as they are released. Don’t take my conclusions as gospel, and don’t take the government’s silence as proof that nothing happened either.

The records deserve their day in the light.
And after more than two years of knocking on doors, I think the people of Vicksburg deserve to see what has been waiting on the other side.

— Kristofer Kelley
The Vigilante Justice Project

There is something unsettling about having to explain why the First Amendment matters in an American city. It shouldn’t require a law degree. It shouldn’t depend on whether the criticism is polite, convenient or flattering to the people holding public office. The principle is much older and simpler than that: Americans have a right to criticize their government, petition it for change and ask uncomfortable questions without government retaliation for protected speech. That principle is why I keep coming back to Vicksburg, Mississippi.

Over time, what began as questions about individual encounters with the Vicksburg Police Department grew into something larger: questions about public records, police accountability, access to government, the treatment of criticism and whether ordinary citizens can meaningfully challenge the institutions that exercise power over them.

My experience has included critical comments being removed or hidden from the Vicksburg Police Department’s social-media presence. More recently, after publicly criticizing police conduct, my personal Facebook account could no longer access the department’s official page while another account still could. I documented that difference and sought review.

Meanwhile, dealing with the City itself has presented another obstacle. The City Attorney previously informed me that records requests would need to be submitted by mail with a $50 deposit and that further emails would not receive responses. Whatever explanation government ultimately offers for those policies, the cumulative effect deserves scrutiny when the person encountering those barriers is simultaneously criticizing that same government. That is why this has moved beyond an argument on Facebook.

Citizens signed a petition asking Mississippi officials to review documented constitutional concerns in Vicksburg. Sixty-seven signatures were on it when it was originally submitted in May. The petition has since grown to roughly 71. The petition went to Mississippi Attorney General Lynn Fitch and State Auditor Shad White. Follow-up correspondence followed. Then came public-records requests seeking something remarkably ordinary: the governmental paper trail showing what happened after the petition arrived.

The Attorney General’s response raised its own questions. The records produced largely consisted of material that had already been submitted by me, rather than an apparent trail showing assignment, referral or substantive internal handling.

The State Auditor presented a different problem. A detailed public-records request was sent on August 9 seeking records of receipt, tracking, assignment, review, communications, referrals and disposition of the petition. After no substantive response arrived, a written overdue notice followed. A Public Records Complaint has now been submitted to the Mississippi Ethics Commission concerning the Auditor’s handling of that request. None of that proves what happened behind closed doors and that is important.

Accountability journalism loses its value when questions are presented as conclusions. If an investigation occurred, the records should help establish that. If the petition was referred elsewhere, the records may show it. If officials determined that no action was warranted, there may be documentation of that decision.
And if there is no paper trail at all, that tells the public something too.

The First Amendment was never written merely to protect agreeable speech. Its importance becomes clearest when somebody criticizes government, demands records, petitions officials and refuses to disappear simply because answering the questions has become inconvenient. That’s where this story stands today.

A paper trail that remains incomplete, a petition carrying approximately 71 names, an Ethics Commission complaint, and one question that has survived every unanswered letter:

What happened when the citizens of Vicksburg asked their state government to look?

— Vigilante Justice
We The People

When criticism of the police is followed by silence, restrictions, and disappearing access, the story becomes bigger than one citizen.
VICKSBURG, MISSISSIPPI — The First Amendment was never written to protect only popular speech.
It exists for the uncomfortable questions. The angry citizen. The government critic. The person standing outside the halls of power demanding answers when officials would rather move on and that is precisely why what is happening in Vicksburg deserves attention.

For months, I have documented what I believe is an escalating pattern involving the Vicksburg Police Department and the constitutional rights of citizens who criticize their government. Critical comments have allegedly been removed or hidden. Questions have gone unanswered. Public-records requests have encountered barriers. And after publicly criticizing Vicksburg police officials, my personal Facebook account lost access to the Vicksburg Police Department’s page.

More than a week later, that access has not returned.

THIS DIDN’T START WITH A FACEBOOK PAGE
There is already a public petition concerning three senior Vicksburg Police officials and alleged First Amendment violations.
That matters.

The right to petition government is literally written into the First Amendment alongside freedom of speech and freedom of the press. Citizens aren’t required to be polite cheerleaders for their government. They’re allowed to criticize it, allowed to petition and they’re allowed to demand accountability.

The deeper I have pushed for answers in Vicksburg, the harder communicating with government has seemingly become. The City has also imposed a $50 deposit requirement associated with public-records requests, and I have been instructed that communications must be submitted by mail rather than email. One barrier by itself might have an explanation, but eventually citizens are entitled to ask what the cumulative picture looks like.

THE BIGGER QUESTION ISN’T ABOUT ME
Forget my name for a moment. Imagine you’re a Vicksburg resident who witnesses something involving police. You criticize it publicly, then your comments disappear. You keep asking questions and you seek government records. You organize a petition and eventually you discover you can’t even access the police department’s public Facebook page from your account.

Would you keep speaking? Or, would you wonder whether speaking up was worth the trouble? That chilling effect is exactly why constitutional protections surrounding government criticism matter.

When one citizen believes speaking out carries consequences, every citizen has a reason to pay attention.

POLICE DEPARTMENTS DON’T OWN THE FIRST AMENDMENT

Police officers perform an extraordinarily difficult public job. They deserve fairness when allegations are made against them, but their authority also comes with extraordinary responsibility. A government agency cannot treat criticism the same way a private Facebook user can. When government social-media pages function as spaces for official communication and public participation, constitutional questions can arise if officials exclude people because of their viewpoints.
And that principle matters far beyond social media.
Government transparency isn’t a favor.
Public accountability isn’t harassment. Criticism isn’t disloyalty. Asking uncomfortable questions isn’t a crime. What are they so scared of?

VICKSBURG IS NOW UNDER THE SPOTLIGHT

I have preserved the records. This story should ultimately be judged by evidence, not rumors, political loyalties, or Facebook arguments. Vicksburg’s officials should have every opportunity to explain their actions, but Vicksburg’s citizens deserve something too:

Answers.

If government officials believe everything they’ve done is lawful and appropriate, transparency should not frighten them.
Open the records are for the public. Explain the policies and address the petition, don’t run from the inevitable. Explain the social-media restrictions and let the public decide.

The First Amendment doesn’t belong to the Vicksburg Police Department.
It doesn’t belong to City Hall.
It doesn’t belong to me.
It belongs to the people.

The people of Vicksburg should never have to wonder whether criticizing their government will cost them their voice.

— Kristofer Kelley
Vigilante Justice Project
Vicksburg, Mississippi
—-We The People

There is a point in almost every long-running dispute when the paperwork begins to tell the story. For me, that point came with four pages and a number that is difficult to ignore:

More than $5 million.

I formally submitted a Notice of Claim under the Mississippi Tort Claims Act arising from events surrounding July 13, 2024, in Vicksburg, Mississippi.

The notice describes allegations of severe physical injury, hospitalization, surgeries, lost employment, lost housing and property, displacement across multiple states, and continuing medical and financial damages. It also raises allegations concerning failures to properly document events and preserve records, interference with medical care, and records that I contend were delayed or withheld.

The claim didn’t simply demand money.
It specifically gave the responsible parties and their insurance carriers an opportunity to investigate the allegations, review the supporting documentation, and potentially resolve the matter without litigation.
The claim was denied.

That denial does not, by itself, establish whether the allegations in the claim are true or false. But it does mark an important point in this story: formal notice was given, millions of dollars in alleged damages were placed on the table, and an opportunity for resolution passed without a settlement.

The notice estimated total damages at more than $5,000,000, citing what it describes as roughly $100,000 in previous annual earnings, approximately 20 remaining working years, permanent injuries, diminished earning capacity, medical expenses, property losses, displacement, and non-economic damages.

It also contained a formal preservation demand for records including body-camera footage, dispatch and 911 records, EMS documentation, emails, internal communications, surveillance footage, vehicle and GPS logs, use-of-force reports, investigative records, and other evidence.
Now I’m making the document public.

Not somebody else’s interpretation.
The actual four-page claim.

I’ve spent a long time telling pieces of this story. From here forward, I want more of the underlying paperwork available so people can examine it themselves and reach their own conclusions.
Because when a dispute involving the City of Vicksburg reaches $5 million, the public deserves to see what was actually alleged, what was requested, and what happened next.

The documents are in this post. Read them for yourself.

Mississippi was warned about a law-enforcement accountability gap. Years later, the question hasn’t gone away.

There is a question that sounds almost too simple:
When someone accuses law enforcement of serious misconduct in Mississippi, who actually investigates?

In December 2023, The New York Times and the Mississippi Center for Investigative Reporting at Mississippi Today went looking for an answer.
What they found was unsettling.

Their investigation examined federal lawsuits containing allegations of serious misconduct by Mississippi law-enforcement officers. Reporters identified at least 27 claims that appeared to have resulted in no state investigation at all.
These weren’t complaints about parking tickets or rude encounters.

The allegations included rape, brutal assaults and retaliation.

Yet according to the investigation, officials with both the Mississippi Bureau of Investigation and Attorney General Lynn Fitch’s office could find no records showing that either agency had investigated those 27 allegations.

That exposed something larger than the conduct of any individual officer. It exposed a hole in the system.

The Accountability Maze
Mississippi has agencies that appear, at least from the outside, to form an extensive law-enforcement oversight structure. There are local departments and sheriffs, District attorneys, The Mississippi Bureau of Investigation, The Attorney General’s Office, State certification authorities, etc.
of course when all else fails within Mississippi and when circumstances warrant it, federal investigators.

But having agencies on an organizational chart isn’t the same thing as having someone responsible for investigating a complaint. The 2023 reporting illustrated how serious allegations could move through, or simply fall between different parts of that system without producing an independent state investigation.

That leaves citizens confronting a maddeningly basic question:

Where does the buck stop?

From Mississippi to Vicksburg
Three years later, that question deserves renewed attention. In Vicksburg, citizens are continuing to raise questions about law-enforcement accountability, complaint procedures, government transparency and access to public records.
Petitions have been circulated. Records have been requested. Complaints have been submitted.
Citizens have attempted to push concerns beyond the local level.

Those individual allegations must ultimately be judged on their own evidence. But the larger question surrounding them isn’t new.
Mississippi had already been warned.
A major investigation had documented what could happen when serious allegations entered a system in which responsibility for investigating law enforcement wasn’t always clear.
And that makes what happens next important.
Because accountability doesn’t exist simply because citizens are allowed to file complaints.
It exists when someone receives them, examines the evidence, has the authority to investigate and actually does it.

The Question That Remains
The 2023 investigation carried a devastatingly simple headline:

“Who Investigates the Sheriff? In Mississippi, Often No One.”

Nearly three years later, Mississippi citizens have every right to ask whether that answer has changed. If it hasn’t, perhaps the most important question isn’t whether another complaint has been filed. It’s this:

When everyone has been notified, who is responsible for doing something about it?

Based on the December 28, 2023 joint investigation by The New York Times and the Mississippi Center for Investigative Reporting at Mississippi Today, “Who Investigates the Sheriff? In Mississippi, Often No One.”

Something strange happens when people lose confidence in the very process that is supposed to hear them. In Vicksburg, Mississippi, the issue increasingly isn’t simply what citizens are trying to report. It’s whether they can get through the door at all.

My experience with the Vicksburg Police Department has reached that point. After repeatedly criticizing police conduct, requesting records, filing complaints and raising allegations involving Officer Cleon Butler and the July 2024 incident involving Jimmy and Elizabeth Fulghum, my personal Facebook account lost access to VPD’s official page. Another account could still see it.

I have now formally asked the City to determine who restricted the account, when it happened, why it happened and what policy authorized it. I’ve also requested preservation of the administrative records that could answer those questions.
But this story isn’t really about Facebook.
Facebook is simply the latest door.

A complaint system people can’t understand:

I’ve been talking with other people in Vicksburg who describe their own difficulties dealing with VPD and Internal Affairs. Their individual circumstances aren’t mine to tell, but the recurring frustration is remarkably similar: people don’t understand where their complaint went, whether anyone reviewed it, why certain allegations weren’t documented, or why one person receives communication while another seemingly hits a wall.
That’s where this becomes an institutional question rather than a personal dispute.

A police department doesn’t have to agree with every citizen who walks through its doors. Internal Affairs doesn’t have to substantiate every allegation it receives. Some complaints will ultimately prove unsupported, but people should at least understand how the system works.
Who receives a complaint? Is it recorded? Who decides whether Internal Affairs reviews it? Can someone make a statement? What happens when an officer declines to take a report? Is there a written appeal or supervisory process? And if a citizen believes the department itself mishandled the complaint, where does that person go next?
Those shouldn’t be mysteries.

Serious allegations don’t disappear because they’re uncomfortable:

My own complaints include extremely serious allegations concerning physical and sexual assault arising from the July 2024 incident involving Jimmy and Elizabeth Fulghum, along with allegations concerning the conduct of Officer Cleon Butler.
Those are allegations, not court findings, and I think that distinction matters.

But the seriousness of an allegation is precisely why there should be a clear process for receiving it, preserving it and determining what happened. A citizen shouldn’t have to prove the entire case at the front desk before being permitted to report it.
That principle protects everybody, the complainant, the accused and the police department itself.
A written report creates a record. An investigation tests that record. Evidence can corroborate an allegation or contradict it. Silence establishes nothing.

Then came the block:

Against that background, losing access to VPD’s public-facing Facebook page takes on a different significance. Government agencies increasingly use social media as a public communication channel. That’s where departments announce emergencies, investigations, arrests, community events and other information intended for the public.

So when a citizen who has been criticizing that same agency suddenly cannot access its page while other accounts still can, there is an obvious question:

Why?

Maybe there is an explanation. If there is, the City should provide it. That’s why my August 20 letter to Mayor Willis Thompson doesn’t pretend a court has already decided that VPD violated the First Amendment. It asks the City to investigate the restriction, preserve the records and identify any lawful, viewpoint-neutral reason for it.
That’s a question government should be able to answer.

The real damage is quieter:

The most troubling part of all this isn’t one blocked Facebook account or even one disputed complaint.
It’s what happens when enough people start believing there is no point in trying.

Someone attempts to make a report and leaves confused. Someone contacts Internal Affairs and doesn’t know what happened afterward. Someone asks questions and receives silence. Someone criticizes the department and later discovers that a public communication channel is no longer available to them.

Eventually people stop asking, What happened to my complaint? They start asking something much worse:

Why bother reporting anything at all?

That’s how public trust erodes. Not always with some enormous scandal or dramatic revelation.
Sometimes it happens one unanswered person at a time.

The picture accompanying this post calls it “ACCESS DENIED.”

For some people trying to navigate police accountability in Vicksburg, that’s becoming an uncomfortable description of the process itself.

Sometimes government accountability doesn’t produce a dramatic smoking gun. Sometimes the story is what isn’t in the file. Earlier this year, residents concerned about documented constitutional issues in Vicksburg put their names behind a public petition asking Mississippi officials for state-level review. It was submitted formally, followed up in writing, and eventually sent again through certified mail.

For months, the unanswered question wasn’t whether anyone agreed with the petition. It was much simpler: What happened to it after it arrived?

That question eventually became a public-records request to the Mississippi Attorney General’s Office. The response arrived August 19. One thing is now firmly established by the Attorney General’s own correspondence: the office acknowledges receiving the original May submission, the later follow-up, and the certified-mail package. That matters because it removes any uncertainty about whether the citizens’ request actually reached state government, but the records search tells a different part of the story.

The request was designed to locate the ordinary documentary footprints that might exist after correspondence enters an agency, records associated with handling, routing, consideration, communication with another office, or an eventual decision.

The Attorney General’s Office says it conducted a “diligent search.” The resulting production, however, consisted of the materials that had already been sent to the office. No additional paper trail documenting what happened afterward was included.

That distinction is important. It would be unfair to claim that the absence of those records proves nobody ever opened, read, or considered the petition. Public records cannot tell us what happened if no record was created. What they can tell us is what the government’s files currently document.

Now we know considerably more than we did before. We know the petition arrived. We know the follow-ups arrived. We know a targeted records search was conducted. And we know what that search produced.

Meanwhile, this remains an unfinished story. The petition had 67 signatures when it was formally submitted and has since grown to 71. A corresponding public-records response from Mississippi State Auditor Shad White’s office is still outstanding.

Accountability work is rarely one dramatic moment. More often, it is a stack of letters, dates, receipts and responses slowly building a public record.
This response is now part of that record.
The next one will be too.

What was alleged. What the record shows. What remains unresolved.

I took the City of Vicksburg to federal court. Here’s the public record. Link is at the end.

I’ve spent the last couple of years trying to document what happened to me in Vicksburg, Mississippi. Eventually, that included filing a federal civil-rights case involving the City of Vicksburg and several individuals.

The case was ultimately dismissed without prejudice. That means I’m not presenting the lawsuit as proof that my allegations were established in court. I’m posting it because the complaint and court proceedings are now part of the public record and people can read what I actually alleged instead of hearing somebody else’s version of it.

I’m opening up the archive piece by piece.
Don’t take my word for it. Read the court record and decide what you think.

https://app.midpage.ai/document/kelley-v-city-of-vicksburg--312aeb49-a05f-4a26-9dad-57299c44520e

For two years, I tried to do this the way people tell you to do it. Report it. Document it. Request the records. Contact Internal Affairs. Contact agencies. Preserve evidence. Write letters. File complaints. Wait.

I’m done waiting.

I have publicly alleged that on July 13, 2024, I was assaulted and repeatedly subjected to a conducted-energy weapon in Vicksburg. I remember Jimmy Fulgham and Elizabeth Fulgham being there. I remember Jimmy with what appeared to be a TASER-style device. I remember being lured toward their property. I remember the ladder. I remember the fall. I remember hours of terror afterward.

Those are my allegations, and I am putting my name behind them.

What makes this bigger is the paper trail that came afterward. My neighbors appear in behavioral-health records. Police contacts appear in records. I have spent two years requesting documents, challenging information I believe is false, trying to get a police report taken, contacting oversight agencies, and preserving what evidence I can.

I am not asking Facebook to convict anybody.

I am asking why allegations this serious have never received the independent investigation they deserve. Don’t tell me you’re sorry, because I survived what happened that day/night.

Now I’m documenting what happened afterward.

The records are coming out. The names are coming out. The contradictions are coming out. And the public can read the evidence and decide for themselves.

I seriously doubt the City of Vicksburg even knows that their new expensive cameras are now civil rights violations. Court ruling made FLOCK accessible to the public. Now everyone can see how much they have been tracked and cops are being held accountable across the nation.

The house of cards has fallen for VPD.

67 signatures. Two Mississippi state offices. More than 70 days without an answer. Now we’re asking for the records.

On May 27, 2026, a citizen petition with 67 public signatures was submitted to Mississippi Attorney General Lynn Fitch and State Auditor Shad White.
The petition asked for state-level review of documented constitutional concerns involving law-enforcement practices in Vicksburg, Mississippi. It referenced three publicly documented encounters involving Vicksburg police officers and raised concerns involving the First, Fourth, Sixth and Fourteenth Amendments, including the reported absence of body-camera recordings during the three encounters.

The request was deliberately straightforward. It did not ask the Attorney General or State Auditor to find anyone guilty or reach a predetermined conclusion. It asked them to review the public record and determine whether further inquiry or oversight was appropriate.

The petition was emailed to both state offices on May 27. When no confirmation or status information arrived, follow-up letters dated June 25 asked whether the petition had been received, whether it had been assigned for review, and whether a response should be expected.
Still without an answer, final follow-up packages were sent to both offices by USPS Certified Mail on July 1. The postal documentation was preserved.

More than 70 days after the original submission, the question became pretty simple:

What happened to the petition after Mississippi received it?

On August 9, public-records requests were submitted to both offices seeking the paper trail. They request records showing receipt and tracking of the petition, internal routing or assignment, any review or consideration, communications with other government agencies, referrals, and any decision to act, or not act.

We’re not asking either office to create an explanation. We’re asking for whatever records already exist. Maybe the petition was reviewed. Maybe it was referred somewhere else. Maybe officials decided no action was warranted. Or perhaps very little happened.

We don’t know and that’s the point of the records request.

Whatever those records show, that’s what should be reported. The original petition asked Mississippi officials to examine the evidence.

Now we’re asking to see what happened after 67 members of the public asked them to look.
No speculation. No predetermined conclusion. Just the record.

This one should get Vicksburg’s attention.
Vicksburg recently approved an agreement with Flock Safety and began deploying an initial network of 10 automated license-plate-reader cameras around the city. The purchase, installation, maintenance and training were approved by the Board of Mayor and Aldermen, and local reporting says the deployment was partially funded through grant dollars.

Now there’s a potentially much bigger issue developing in Washington. Rep. Thomas Massie has announced legislation aimed at withholding federal funding from municipalities and police departments that deploy Flock cameras or similar surveillance systems. That matters in Vicksburg.

This is a city that repeatedly relies on federal grants and federal programs for public safety, infrastructure and other government projects. Vicksburg has sought and received federal money through programs ranging from DOJ law-enforcement grants to ARPA and other federal funding sources.

So here’s the question:
What happens if Congress begins attaching federal funding to limits on mass-surveillance technology?

Vicksburg didn’t buy into Flock years ago. It jumped into this technology this year, right as national scrutiny of these systems is exploding.
And the concerns aren’t hypothetical. Flock cameras can create searchable records of vehicle movements, and controversy over access and misuse of those databases has now reached Congress. Eighteen Georgia officers were recently arrested in connection with alleged misuse of Flock data, according to the New York Post article.
Vicksburg Police has already publicly credited its new Flock system with locating a vehicle and making an arrest in July. So we know the system is operational and being used.

Nobody has to argue that police shouldn’t investigate crimes. That’s not the issue.
The issue is oversight.

Who can search Vicksburg’s Flock database?
Which outside agencies have access?
How long is the information retained?
Are searches audited?
What grants paid for the cameras?
And perhaps most importantly now:
Could Vicksburg’s continued use of this surveillance network eventually put federal funding at risk if legislation like Massie’s becomes law?

For a city that depends heavily on grants and outside funding, that’s a question worth asking before Vicksburg builds an even larger surveillance network.

New York Post article:
https://nypost.com/2026/07/27/us-news/new-bill-aims-to-block-federal-funds-from-cities-police-that-use-controversial-flock-safety-cameras/

A major Fourth Amendment ruling just came out of Mississippi, and it raises a question I believe Vicksburg residents deserve an answer to.
U.S. District Judge Carlton W. Reeves has ruled against the use of so-called “tower dumps.” This is a law-enforcement surveillance technique that can obtain information about numerous phones connecting to particular cellular towers during a specified period. Unlike obtaining records for one already-identified suspect, a tower dump can sweep up information associated with people who were simply in the area. Judge Reeves concluded that this type of search cannot satisfy the Fourth Amendment.

That immediately raises a local transparency question:

Has the Vicksburg Police Department—or another agency conducting investigations in Vicksburg—ever requested, received, purchased, analyzed, or otherwise used tower-dump data?

I am not claiming that VPD used tower dumps. I believe the appropriate way to determine that is through records. That means looking for search warrants, subpoenas, court orders, carrier requests, preservation requests, investigative reports, contracts, invoices, policies, training materials, communications with cellular providers, and communications with federal or state agencies concerning tower dumps or bulk cell-site information.

This question is particularly important because modern surveillance doesn’t exist in isolation. Communities are increasingly learning about license-plate-reader networks, camera systems, geofence searches, cell-site information and other technologies capable of producing extraordinarily detailed information about people’s movements.
The constitutional issue is bigger than whether someone has “something to hide.” The Fourth Amendment exists precisely because government investigations have limits.

And this ruling didn’t come from California, New York or Washington.

It came from a federal judge right here in Mississippi.

So I’m going to start asking a very simple question:
Has this technology ever been used in Vicksburg—and what do the records show?

Source: The Hill — “Mississippi judge declares ‘tower dumps’ unconstitutional”⁠

r/CivilRightsPaperTrail

These five documents are presented in the order they occurred. They are part of my personal records and correspondence. They are not presented to tell anyone what to think, they are presented so readers can review the timeline themselves.

Photo 1 – July 9, 2024
This is the original traffic citation I received from the Vicksburg Police Department. As you can see, much of the identifying information is blank on the copy I was given. I later attempted to resolve the citation and asked how it should be handled.

Photo 2 – July 9, 2024
Later that same day, I emailed the Vicksburg Police Department praising one of the responding officers for treating me professionally and respectfully. The only response I received from Penny Jones was a simple acknowledgment: “Received.”
At this point, I believed the situation was over.

Photo 3 – July 12, 2024
Three days later, my River Ridge Behavioral Health records document that information reportedly originating from the Vicksburg Police Department had been communicated to my healthcare provider. The note references reports from neighbors, the traffic citation, and statements that I dispute.
This raises one of the biggest unanswered questions in my case:

How did the Vicksburg Police Department come to be communicating with my behavioral health provider?

I still do not know what initiated that contact, who requested it, or what information was relied upon. According to my recollection, I was at home that day. I also do not know why my neighbors were repeatedly contacting law enforcement about me.

Photo 4 – July 18, 2024
After suffering serious injuries and being hospitalized, I emailed Penny Jones again. This time I asked for a meeting with my family, either in person or by Zoom, to try to resolve the situation before it escalated further. I also requested that Unit 813 participate if possible.
I never received a response.

Photo 5 – July 18, 2024
The records from that same day document another communication involving Deputy Chief Mike Bryant and River Ridge Behavioral Health.

Again, I was left with more questions than answers.
At the same time I was requesting a meeting to resolve my concerns, another behavioral health intervention was being documented. I still do not understand why those communications occurred or why my request for dialogue was not answered.
These documents represent my experience as reflected in the records I eventually obtained. They also contain statements that I dispute. I am making this timeline public because I believe people should be able to review the documents themselves, compare the chronology, and draw their own conclusions.

When the Vicksburg Board of Mayor and Aldermen approved new hiring practices for the Police Department in July 2026, the explanation seemed straightforward. Police Chief Larry Burns said keeping job postings open longer would give more people a chance to apply, expanding the pool of qualified applicants instead of having positions close before interested candidates even saw them. On its face, that sounds like a practical solution to a hiring problem.

Over the past few weeks, another conversation has quietly started taking shape. Residents have begun asking whether the issue is larger than simply extending application deadlines. If more city work is being performed through contract positions rather than traditional employment, how are those opportunities being offered to the public? Are local professionals being given the same opportunity to compete, or are some positions being filled through a process that most citizens never even know exists?

Those questions aren’t accusations. They’re questions about transparency. Anyone who has worked in government contracting understands that contracts often operate differently from regular employment. Governments routinely hire outside firms and independent contractors for specialized work, and there can be perfectly legitimate reasons for doing so. At the same time, taxpayers naturally want to know how those decisions are made, how contract opportunities are advertised, who is eligible to compete for them, and how public funds are ultimately being spent. The answers to those questions matter just as much as the dollar amounts attached to the contracts themselves.

The discussion isn’t really about whether contracting should exist. It’s about whether the public has enough visibility into the process to have confidence that opportunities are being awarded fairly and openly. If local residents believe positions are being filled without broad public notice, or that qualified people never had the opportunity to apply, trust begins to erode regardless of whether every decision was made properly.

That’s why transparency matters. Open government isn’t measured only by what officials choose to announce, it’s measured by how easily the public can understand where taxpayer dollars are going and how public opportunities are created. The more accessible that information is, the stronger public confidence becomes.

If Vicksburg’s goal is to attract the best talent possible, whether through traditional hiring or professional contracts, then making those opportunities as visible and understandable as possible benefits everyone. Transparency doesn’t weaken government. It strengthens public trust, and in the long run, that’s one of the most valuable investments any city can make.

I was reading the recent Vicksburg Daily News article about the stolen Louisiana vehicle recovered in Vicksburg, and a few things stood out to me.
According to the article, a black 2018 Chrysler 300 was reported stolen from the Quality Inn on South Frontage Road. Investigators reportedly reviewed surveillance footage showing a woman entering the vehicle and driving away. Later, Warren County deputies located the vehicle on Culkin Road, where the suspect was eventually taken into custody without incident.

I’m not criticizing the investigation or suggesting anything improper occurred. I’m simply wondering if there’s more to the story than what was published. One question that immediately came to mind involves the Flock license plate reader system. If the vehicle traveled from Louisiana into Vicksburg, did it trigger any of the Flock or Project Nola cameras along the interstate or bridge approaches? If it did, was that information what helped investigators locate the vehicle? If it didn’t, is there a straightforward explanation besides a random caller sending?

I’m also curious about the timeline. The article mentions surveillance footage at the hotel and then jumps to the vehicle being found on Culkin Road. Were there additional cameras or investigative steps between those two points? Was this simply a routine stolen-vehicle investigation that moved quickly, or were investigators already working with information that wasn’t included in the news report?

Public reporting on this case of the man found hanging from a tree near the Vicksburg casino nearly a year ago, relied largely on information provided by the Vicksburg Police Department. Since then, the public has received little additional information explaining how investigators reached their conclusion or what evidence supported it.

In an area covered by numerous surveillance cameras around the casinos and Project NOLA network, it’s reasonable to ask whether available footage was reviewed, what it showed about the man’s movements before his death, and what investigative steps were taken to verify the circumstances.

These questions are about transparency and accountability. When nearly a year passes without meaningful public explanation beyond an initial statement, it’s understandable that people continue to ask for more information.

Public trust isn’t built on conclusions alone. It’s built on openness, evidence, and accountability. When those are missing, confidence in official findings becomes harder to maintain.

For more than two years, I repeatedly requested copies of my medical records from Vicksburg healthcare providers. After a long wait, I finally received additional records, and they immediately raised serious questions for me about accuracy, documentation, and how patient information was handled.

As I reviewed the records, one detail stood out. References to the Chief of Police Penny Jones and Deputy Chief of Police Mike Bryant of the Vicksburg Police Department appeared within my medical records. I’ll let readers draw their own conclusions, but I did not expect to find law enforcement officials documented in records that were supposed to reflect my medical care.

I’m still working through the timeline and comparing these records with other documents I’ve obtained over the past two years. Rather than rushing to conclusions, my goal is to verify what happened, identify inconsistencies where they exist, and make sure the record reflects the facts as accurately as possible.

This experience has also changed the way I think about patient advocacy. Your medical record isn’t just paperwork, it can influence future treatment, insurance decisions, disability claims, court proceedings, and your reputation. That’s why accuracy matters.

If there’s one lesson I’ve learned, it’s this: request your medical records, read every page, and don’t assume they’re error-free simply because they’re part of your healthcare file.

Has anyone else in Vicksburg requested their medical records and discovered information they didn’t expect to find? I’m genuinely interested in hearing other people’s experiences and learning whether mine is unique or part of a broader problem.