You Know About the Blog. That Means You Know What You Did.

I don’t need to wonder anymore if people saw what happened.

They did.

I don’t need to question whether the video reached them, whether the rumours filtered down, whether the damage was noticed.

It was.

And I don’t need to guess who’s been reading this blog — because the numbers don’t lie, the shares don’t lie, and the silence that followed certainly doesn’t lie either.

You know about the blog.

And that means you know what you did.

You know you watched.

You know you stayed quiet.

You know you smirked at a story that wasn’t yours to tell.

You know you liked a post that cost someone more than you’ll ever admit.

You know you stood next to someone who was doing harm — and didn’t speak.

You didn’t say my name, but you felt it in every post I’ve written since.

And now you’re reading them — slowly, quietly, like you think I don’t know you’re here.

But I do.

And I’ve always known.

This blog wasn’t built for applause.

It was built for permanence.

It’s a mirror. And right now, you’re staring into it.

Every sentence you scroll through is one you hoped I’d never write.

Every timestamp is a reminder that what you thought would disappear was actually being recorded — meticulously, methodically, and permanently.

You didn’t expect that.

You thought I’d get overwhelmed and fall apart.

You thought I’d delete myself while you deleted your evidence.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I built this.

A living archive.

A public, trackable record of what was done, how it was allowed, and who benefited from the silence.

You’re not just aware of it.

You’re part of it now.

And I know what comes next.

Some of you are going to message me. Not with apologies — with justifications.

Some of you will say you “weren’t sure what to believe,” even though your reaction at the time said everything.

Some of you will pretend you’re only just finding out now.

But most of you will say nothing.

You’ll keep reading.

Keep scrolling.

Keep checking for your name without ever acknowledging the weight of what you participated in.

And that’s fine.

Because this isn’t about dragging you out into the open.

It’s about making sure you can’t pretend to be innocent anymore.

You know about the blog.

You know what’s been documented.

You know what I’ve written, and why.

That knowledge alone is enough.

You don’t get to erase your involvement just because I did the work of archiving what happened.

You don’t get to call yourself neutral anymore.

Not after this.

This is Playback.

And this post is for everyone reading this quietly, hoping I don’t realise they’re here.

I do.

And I wrote this for you.

— Calvin-Lee Hardie

Inverness