My Last Word, My Parting Gift

My Last Word, My Parting Gift

By 

Samantha Jade Delk

I hope this article finishes the series on Konigun Ninjutsu, the evil legacy of Bryce Dallas, and tells finally the story of one of us who suffered immensely at his hands. Make that two of us. This article is dedicated to a most special pair of friends who together helped tell our story. My love and admiration for both of you cannot be shown enough. 

To G and C, thank you. You owed us nothing and yet gave so much of yourselves these last fifteen years. It is my honor to write this story and tell at last to the world my story. I hope I can do you justice G. You were one in a million. My life was better for knowing you both. My heart will remain warm from the memories shared with both of you.

To my homie HK - Thank you for helping me access the blog just one last time to write this. I'm glad you came aboard. You are such a sweet person and I really enjoyed getting to know you. You really have a mean punch and I will never hold a bag for you again. Keep in touch with me and Jackson. Oh, and thank you for helping my son apply for college last year. You were a lifesaver! XOXOXO

To the victims of Bryce Dallas and his cohorts who remain: I have seen your stories. I know the men who completed this work. You each are special, and to each of you I hope the best in life. You each gave me strength to do what I am about to do here. Gerald and Cayce loved you guys, each one. To you I salute for your stories, your courage and your endurance to do what you did.

I want to say to all the readers over the years for the work these people did, from me and everyone else, thank you. I hope someone, somewhere, found inspiration to do the right thing from this large body of work. Seeing the effort that went into them from everyone all over, the amount of networking involved....I was blessed to be a part of Greysmith Investigations and will never forget a bit of it.

I now write the final chapter in this story to this point. I also say to the true trolls of the story I write this of my own hand and of my own free will. More importantly is that it is all true. And sorry in advance for the format at the outset. I have such a time using blog sites.

---Love always, Sam

I Will Never Forget How

On September 7th , 2020, Gerald Gregory Greysmith’s spirit left this Earth. I was there. I held his hand while he breathed his last death rattles, tears I was unable to hold back flowing down my face. His last words still resonate with me. “No. No. I’m not done yet… It’s not time.”

But it is, my dear friend. You have done your mission. It is time for you to rest. As much as the world will miss you, your jokes and laughter, the meals you cooked for us all when we visited you in Murfreesboro, it is time for you to go on to your eternal reward.

Before I go on, before I tell you who I am and how I got to know him, I want to reassure his followers,
victims of false martial artists and con artists, that a new Gerald is here. See, like Charlie’s Angels,
Charlie is never seen because Charlie is not just one person. His legacy continues. And this new Gerald,
while full of love and compassion for us victims, is a force you do not want to mess with. Dear
perpetrators, you have been warned. I assume that Bret Gordon will attempt to make out that this is a ploy of some sort to divert from his alleged knowledge of who the man we know as Gerald truly is. Sadly he cannot be more wrong. But I will come to that.

And now on to my story: In 2012, I got an odd sensation. I felt the need to research a man I had worked for in 2001. His name was Bryce Dallas. I had just left a career in science and had the world in front of me todo as I chose, and one thing I had always wanted to do and never did was martial arts. 

I remembered magazines from my cousin about ninjas, so when I flipped through the phone book of Cookeville, TN andthe first martial artist school my eyes caught was called Konigun Ninjutsu, I naturally fell for the bait. I called. Bryce said I didn’t have to pay a dime for my lessons. I asked no questions, naïve I now know.

I arrived and our old friend Jay Greene gave me my first lesson. He waved a shinai, a long bamboo sword in front of him. We had to run towards him, dodging the sword as we did. We learned to jump from a sitting position, seiza, to standing. Neither of these were particularly difficult, but Jay did instruct me to move my entire body instead of just the one area in the way of the shinai, something many years of dancing and sports had taught me otherwise. This first lesson was also my final lesson.

I was brought into the house of Bryce. I immediately felt odd, like I had walked into a stereotypical gang house in a movie. Several people I had never met cluttered the living room. No other student from the lesson was there, just me. I met Bryce then, an obese man, not unlike Jabba the Hutt, sitting in a chair next to the steps in the living room. 

He had me stretch for him, stating he wasn’t sure I was up to the task of martial arts. Tough talk coming from a guy who struggled to wipe his own ass on a good day.

Upon seeing my flexibility, his eyes widened and he asked me my story. I explained
the situation and that I was looking for a job. He asked my monetary needs then offered me to be his
secretary right then. Long story short, I was trained by his current “office manager” Cathy Cox. She was clearly intimidated by him. I saw no reason to be. It wasn’t like he could do anything to me, or move for that matter. He also asked of my religion and attempted to insult it, displaying his dominance. I just smiled and nodded at his ignorance. (Due to years of dealing with a narcissistic father and arrogant older brother, I had learned to deal with his type YEARS ago.) I knew exactly how to handle him, smile and nod. Being blonde helped. (I play blonde a LOT when I need to.) I probably said one cutting sentence At the end, dominating my intelligence and education on the matter. That’s my usual M.O., let them make a complete fool of themselves while playing stupid, then say one single sentence to put them in their place (something I’m currently teaching my fiancé how to do). I honestly don’t remember what that sentence was, nor if I even said it. (It doesn’t really matter.) I was introduced to Patrick Thorton, Cathy Cox, a 17 year old kidnapped foster paycheck slave named Jackson, Jay Greene, Anthony Olberding,and Jackson’s girlfriend (at the time). I was told of Bryce’s leg injury, that a bullet had caused it, and that a book had been written about him (I have, unfortunately, forgotten the title he told me, but I was never able to find said book). He often had others back his stories up for him. It was Cathy’s turn for this one. She nodded, appearing intimidated (as stated earlier). I could go on but this is an obit, not a book.

Then it happened.

One Friday, Bryce gave us $40 to go spend on booze and have a party. We did. The next morning I woke up in the truck, vomit all down the side of the seat I slept on, my shorts on backwards, my underwear missing, and no knowledge of what happened the night before. I went inside. Bryce wiggled around on the couch with a giggly grin on his face claiming how I “slipped into the bottle”. How Patrick had come in covered in my vomit after trying unsuccessfully to have (I was told consensual) sex with me. Part of my background consisted of waiting tables at a very well-known country bar in Tennessee. 

I had worked with guests such as Chip N’ Dale and various bands. One (unnamed) guest of the bar tried to rape me and wound up slammed against the wall with my hand on his throat. I was still with the bouncer I had met and started dating from there two years prior that night I was in Mississippi, and I was not then nor am I now one to sleep around. Staying up till sunrise at parties was a norm for me at one point. I knew my way around alcohol, and “slipping into bottles” was not something I did. So when he said I’d had a one nighter with a guy I barely knew, in other words cheating on my boyfriend I had been with for two years, I knew something was up. My expression gave it away, and I said, “I don’t do that.” I was immediately instructed to go take a shower. When I got out, my clothes were missing.

Now at this point I’m sure you’re wondering why I did what I did. It’ll come clear. Trust me. The shower was blurry. The drugs were wearing off. I had been drugged that Friday night. When I stepped out of the shower, I still can’t tell you what I did. All I can tell you is I was forced to leave my things behind and get into the truck and drive Jay and Bryce home. I finally got so sick I had to pull over. It was then I noticed I was bleeding (I’ll let you guess where). There are more details, but again, I’m cutting this short. I slept the rest of the way back to Cookeville while one of them took over driving. I had no memory of what happened that night or morning after that, even though I tried to figure it all out. Patrick tried to convince me we’d had a one nighter, and well, he certainly did with my body, but I wasn’t conscious for any of it.

In 2012, when I got that sensation to research Bryce, I met Cayce Lancaster. We wrote a bit back and
forth, and from there, I learned I had been drugged and raped by at least Patrick, and we think maybe
one more the next morning while I was still unconscious when he was told to “clean up Patrick’s mess”.
Then in 2019, Gerald contacted me. I told him my story. Then he told me his and how he’d heard about me. See, Jackson had been there that night. He didn’t take part in anything illegal of course, but he was
there. He’s even the one who filled me in on some details. And that night was the reason he tried to
escape even though he was still just a kid. And 2 years later, in 2003, Jay, Bryce, and Robert
hunted Jackson down and tried to kill him. And while he lay unconscious, fighting for his life in the back of an ambulance, Robert Staples told Jay they couldn’t do what they had done, that they had almost killed that kid. Jay told Staples, “We do what we want to who we want, just ask Sam.” So Gerald and Cayce came looking for me. They went through their old e-mails and realized who I was. (And by the way Jay, I was never at State Street, I was at the property in West and also the dojo in the city of Jackson.) 

Then we found Jackson. He became a witness to fill in every gap we needed filled. He also became my best friend.

It was around this time my husband became ill. He threatened suicide several times a day and finally
one night lost it completely. My son had to help me prise his fingers off a gun while I called 911. He was committed. My son and I ran. My husband died a few months later (natural causes). Gerald also became ill, but it was the physical kind. And I became his Girl Friday, but unlike my boss in 2001, Gerald treated me with love and compassion. I’ve never had a more caring friend or boss. I helped sort his mail, research his articles, pay bills, cook meals, care for his medical needs, and he put my kid through school. I never wanted anything from him like that, but he insisted. He was just that way, kind, caring, giving. Full of love, seeking truth and always wanting right to prevail. And he succeeded. 

Thanks to his and Cayce's efforts, Konigun Ninjutsu, Bryce Dallas and others such as David Richardson, Bret Gordon and his teacher Steven Hatfield, and all the other fake martial artists out there would fall or be exposed. Ever being honest, David Richardson himself was accused of duping women to come to California and raping them, something I helped G investigate and ultimately find the story originated with Frank Dux of all damned people. So to David I will say, despite calling me fat among other names, our mutual friend did the right thing despite how you acted. You owe him at the very least a thank you. I was there when he found out Bret Gordon had harbored a pedophile under his ranks, something the world now knows. A lot of people owe Gerald and Cayce. 

A lot of people. Jackson does. My son does. Johnathan does. And I know I do. 

So it is with great sadness I inform you of his passing. Stricken with pancreatic cancer, I cared for him up to the end. I held his hand as his breathing became difficult and his clouded eyes stared into mine. I
cried as he did. He begged God to let him to keep going, begged so he could help more people. More,
more, more. That’s all he wanted to do was help others. But he did more than I think he’ll ever know.
And I pray now, as he sits in Heaven looking down at us, that he realizes and is rewarded for everything
he accomplished, for everything he sacrificed. Because of him, I have closure. Because of him, my son
has a future. Because of the actions of him, members of BSMA, Don Roley, Lordus Sapiens, and many more a pedophile has been removed from the martial arts industry, along with a wannabe murderer and a cowardly rapist. From a victim of Dallas to you all, thank you. You guys are amazing and deserve so much more credit than you get. 

And that kidnapped foster child/paycheck I told you about, the guy named Jackson? Don’t worry about him. He made it out alive and lives thousands of miles away from those monsters. In fact, he recently asked his girl to marry him and I said yes.

 I think that above all would make G smile bigger than anything if a little more love was in the world. I smile as I read that. I look over at my packed bags and know it won't be but a few days and I will be there with him beginning our new life together.

 

 The Show Must Go On

This is about to be a bit personal. Please bear with me everyone. I feel it needs to be said though. 

The sun sets on the Gerald Greysmith we all knew and loved. For over fifteen years he existed as the bane of Bryce Dallas, the thorn in David Richardson's side, and one of the many who stood to the dynamic duo of Bret Gordon and Steven Hatfield....both of whom are convinced that the man I worked for was a combination of Dale Dugas and Barron Shepherd.

Here you go. You wanted proof of Barron's arm. Feast your eyes upon it.

Sorry to tell you Bret but this "gotcha moment" you worked so hard for is nothing more than a sham perpetrated by our team. When we said we wanted to see how gullible you were we really meant that. You're no closer to "unmasking" anything than you are to pissing straight into a toilet. What more can we expect though from a man who still grapples and "teaches BJJ" while wearing skirt pants?

And Cayce, dear Cayce....where do I begin to talk about your friendship to him? He considered you his dearest and closest confidante. You were always there for him. And he never forgot the conversations about comic books, film, television and the love of Dungeons and Dragons. I hope you know how much you meant to him as a friend. I know you do, but  I want to leave nothing unsaid. To you as much as him I say thank you. I hope you enjoy your much-earned retirement.

And so, to the last.

Remember I said Gerald would continue? I believe he said it best. 

"So you see whenever you see someone do something kind, compassionate, honest, you see me. 

When you're happy to see a friend or loved one, you see me.

I'm one of your students when I look at you in a trusting manner hoping you give me the best you can, honestly and selflessly. Notice I said honestly, right? 

Maybe I'm the man sitting near you at Golden Corral during one of your buffet trips laughing with his children. Perhaps I have entered into Civil War reenactments with you. Maybe I stood by during a sad moment in your walk in life and listened to you. 

I may be the old man you help across the street or the lady you held the door for. 

In kindness and in love Gerald Greysmith exists. And to any who need him he will always be there. 

 

Ultimately I think you should know that Gerald Greysmith is me, I am him, and I am very, very real."

Despite your rampant stupidity Bret this was written specifically for you. He meant every word of it and hoped it would show you that he knew all along you were lying about a vast majority of your training. I mean, come on, how many super high ranks can one person achieve in their lifetime? Even with accelerated training times in other arts at the age you are there is simply just no way. Gerald could see your ego was holding you up and you were allowing it, along with your rogues' gallery of friends, to drive you onward. It is simple pride, dude. Gerald's greatest fear was that you would wind up the same as Bryce Dallas. Believe me when I say you do not want that but at this point I see it headed that very way.

But it truly is pride is what has caused you to reach for the most insane lengths hoping to prove that the man we knew as Gerald Gregory Greysmith is supposed to be two men in Florida. We can prove that they are not but you have shown in past actions you will ignore that. You're just too dumb to see it, but you were warned ahead of time by me.

Oh well. I'm a woman. What do I know?

All of your hissy fits are only because he helped expose you along with so many others for the fake you and your teacher truly are. The majority of sane thinking people can see through your stories. After reading my story above I have to ask as a victim myself....why would you think getting a letter from both the sex offender as well as his wife helped you in any way?  You showed NO remorse and in doing that you betray everything you as a martial arts "master" is supposed to stand for.

It was me who was helping you set up the video conference. And as usual you showed who your character. A spoiled man-child of epic proportions who thinks he has control. You have no control. You can't even humble yourself to admit when you were wrong, and that's why you find yourself where you are now.

If you honestly thought what we (yes, I helped) exposed about your pal Justice was the ace in the hole (you say that a lot) oh, boy, you are so mistaken. Something tells me you will make this face much more often after today. 

As I said the show must go on. And with that I introduce you to the man we, that is to say our entire team, chose on the wishes of his predecessor. 

While the sun sets on the previous Gerald, a new one arrives in his stead and with him the sun rises again on the idea that one person can make a difference. Especially if he has the right friends to help!

Gerald is an idea that your mind cannot comprehend Bret. And no amount of swaps, dodges, spins and edits on your blog will slow this nor will it ever stop him.

The guy you knew is gone. He may have had a soft spot for you. This one, however, has no affection for you, your lies, or your imaginative stories.He knows what kind of man you are. I don't think there is any doubt of that to anyone now.

Allow me to introduce to you and yours Gerald Johnathan Greysmith, the successor and fourth person to be in charge here. Look upon that with awe Bret. This has been going on longer than you or your dimwitted friends could have ever guessed. Greysmith Investigations has had years to perfect what they do and we are very, very good at it.

You were played you just like a fiddle. You took the bait, now swallow it hook and all.

I will end this by quoting you. 

"Poker just isn't your game Ike." Gerald bluffed you all the way to this point and you still have never caught on. I doubt anything we say to you will change this. I sit and type this now with the new Gerald watching me to my right, and a room full of other people who helped him expose you. You're not Ringo you moron. You're the mud on Johnny Tyler's boots. I may be a woman but I can quote Tombstone also. 

And no need to go heeled to get the bulge on a tub like you.

We're laughing at you, your sorry excuse for blog posts, your "proven" research and the fact you have only yourself to blame for all of this scrutiny. In your haste to cover your own ass you never took the time to think everything Gregory told you was real. Well, he's gone now. And Johnathan is all that remains.

Something tells me you opened a can of worms you will never be able to close again. He sends his regards and said you should do dinner sometime. You do seem to have the desire to take all your detractors on dinner dates.

Please, look at this and read it all, written by a rape victim who I'm sure you will make light of. Go ahead and go for broke. You will swear that someone asked me to write this. Or even better...you'll probably claim one of the "haters" wrote this to spite you.  And you know what? They did....me! I have nothing short of disdain for your dishonesty.  But I saw one up close who was more capable, for more intelligent, and much worse than you ever dreamed of being kiddo.

This is Samantha, and this is dedicated to you Greg, and to you Cayce. Thank you both for everything. We love you and we miss you already. I hope you both smile as those who rose to the challenge now continue with your work.

Good luck Johnathan. Bear the name of Gerald well. It suits you. Be proud of this. You will do fine.

You are the right man for the right time. Fight the good fight.

----Forever indebted, always free.