uglyreal

My dear readers,

You may remember, back in 2018, I published a blog post on this site, and it was a fish tale worthy of The Discovery Channel.

All these years later, I’m giving you the truth. The real truth. The whole truth.

I’m no longer afraid that I got it wrong because I did not.

I’m no longer scared that I’m going to damage someone’s reputation because I got it wrong.

I’m no longer worried that SS could actually be the perpetrator behind this intense, detailed, sadistic ruse.

Nope. I know the truth and have known for a while, but today, I found out that she is back, fishing in the University of Alabama waters, which is chock full of single females hoping to find true love, and last night she got found out by another one.

After blocking said girl and deleting her number, I feel certain she is already baiting a new hook.

I don’t want anyone else to be her next catch.

It is time for her to be the one “on the hook.”

Y’all will have to go backward to see my first post where I originally called out “SS.” You can read it here. https://uglyreal.com/2018/02/22/will-the-real-justin-mitchell-please-raise-her-hand/ At the time of posting, I wasn’t 110% convinced that I had it 110% right, so I didn’t use his name.

Well, I AM 110% right, and he has given me permission to tell you that his name is Scottie Spain, and I have permission to use his real name because he is beyond over being the bait for these unsuspecting girls who believe they are talking to him. So is his fiance. I would imagine the US military doesn’t like it too much, either, but that is neither here nor there.

Back in the day, I told y’all that my relative had been catfished by a guy on Tinder, and she believed she was in LUV with a guy named Justin Andrew Mitchell.

THIS is what he looks like:

Today, “he” goes by Justin Mitch McClain. Clever.

And back then, and still today, he is a she.

And her name is Hannah.

If any of these details make sense to you, then you either know her in person, or you have been catfished by her. I sure wish you would tell her you know the truth.

First of all, she is or was married to a female: A.W.B. (I have no idea if the wife knows what she is doing. If she does, she condones cheating, at the very least. At worst, she could have been in on it with her, a fun dating game they play together: let’s see how many hearts we can destroy by pretending to be a man on Tinder.)

Or, she could be clueless and a victim as well. The jury is out.

They had a child.

Still has that Great Dane that she loves to use in her photos.

Still working in some type of healthcare. More specifically, she is a counselor. Terrifying.

Now “he’s” 21, not 28. Still got some kids.

Now “he” lives in the Tuscaloosa, Alabama area.

Now “his” dad died, not mama. Mama is still kicking.

“He” still went to Ole Miss. Hannah seemed to attend Ole Miss for a bit but graduated with a Masters from the University of Southern, Mississippi. In social work. Fabulous.

NOW, people PAY HER for counseling. In Tuscaloosa. So here is another PSA…if you are in counseling in Tuscaloosa, and your counselor’s name is Hannah B, you may want to rethink.

Everyone always asks why. Why would anyone do this? What kind of person does this? Why? Just why?

I wish I could definitively answer that question, but I have my theories. The best way I can describe what is happening is this: imagine a dollhouse in an adult woman’s closet. On the face of the “man” doll, she pastes the face of my friend, Scottie. She calls him Justin.

On the children dolls, she has ripped photos of Scottie’s half-sister and other unrelated minors she found online, and she tapes their faces to those dolls. She gives them names and back-stories as to how Justin aquired these children. In the original back story, Justin fathered a child at 14, and then, out of the goodness of his busy little heart, he took in the daughter of his friend who died of an overdose and earnestly was seeking to adopt her. A 28 year old single man, now the father of two daughters. Who wouldn’t find that admirable? Who wouldn’t excuse “his” time being his own and needing some space. “He’s” SO busy!

She gives them each a room in her dollhouse, even providing them with pets. On the dog doll is pasted the face of Hannah’s own Great Dane. She sends her paramours videos and pictures of her beloved dog, but you will never find him in a photo of “Justin,” because the dog belongs to Hannah, not Scottie. She and her wife must have added a cat to the mix because the new story involves a kitty doll named Matilda. The dog in real life is Sandy, but now she is Mo.

Today, “he” claims two children, but this time, they are a boy and a girl, ages 2 and 4, whom “he” fathered during deployments. One she calls Cyrus, and the other, Macie.

Scottie actually comes from a blended family, so Hannah has some more faces she can pluck from the internet and paste onto other dolls. Today, as I’m told, “Justin” has a twin sister named Jenna, but also has thee more sisters, all with names starting with “J.”

In her dollhouse, Hannah keeps a credit card with Justin’s name on it. Hannah loves sending flowers to her unsuspecting girlfriends with it. She doesn’t ask for money from them; instead, she spends money on them. So thoughtful.

In Justin’s former life, before he decreased in age, he wrote grants and worked in the court system, testifying on behalf of poor children who found themselves in the grips of Child Protective Services, which Hannah may or may not have found herself familiar with as a child. Now, a younger version of “himself,” Justin has relocated to the Tuscaloosa area near Hannah’s real wife’s family and seems to work in medical sales. Much better choice of profession, in my opinion. “He” is quite the sales”man.”

Were you to meet Justin on Tinder, he will send you mounds of photos of Scottie. He will send you Snapchat videos. He will convince you, despite all of the red flags you encounter, that you are incredibly lucky to have found such a loyal, doting, good-looking, family-oriented man to love you. Instead, he is a she who was or is now married to a woman, and she is hoping you might send her some racy texts or pictures because clearly, she can’t get those as Hannah. Hannah couldn’t quite score the amazing, beautiful, smart, accomplished women that Justin can.

So here is your challenge: ask Justin to meet you. He won’t. Ever. He will have fabulous excuses. A motorcycle wreck could be involved, with pictures to prove it. (Don’t worry; Scottie healed just fine.)

He will attempt to make you believe every single one, even turning it around on you for not being understanding.

But he will never meet you. Not ever.

He can’t.

Because he is Hannah.

I am asking everyone who reads this to share it with anyone and everyone they know who is on Tinder, because that seems to be her favorite stomping ground, with every female you know who is between the ages of 17 and 27(ish), especially those (for today) who live in Alabama, but the entire Southeastern Conference seems to be the river she loves to fish in, and make sure they pay attention to this face:

The name may change, but I dare to bet, Scottie’s face won’t. To abandon his face means she would have to burn down her dollhouse and start all over, and this particular house took at least 7 years to build and live in.

When they see it, beg them to swipe right on dear Justin Mitchell or Justin Mitch McClain or whatever version of whatever name she moves on to when she is found out.

And when that first message appears, ask them to simply type: “Hey, Hannah.”

It is time to give Scottie his identity back.

It is time for someone in Hannah’s life to confront her with her mental illness, one that allows her to pretend to be a man to fulfill her own dollhouse fantasies, one that leaves her void of empathy for the victims she discards like fish guts, one that allows her to go to work everyday and sit across from hurting people who put trust in her advice while she hides behind Scottie’s pictures and devestates young women by making them believe she is Justin and he wants a future with them.

It is time for someone to put a stop to her madness.

Eventually, enough “Hey, Hannahs” may just rip that dollhouse to shreds, and you or someone you love can avoid being the face pasted on to the mama doll.

Time to go fishing, y’all.

I pray y’all catch the big one.

Fondly,

Your favorite fisherwoman

P.S. If you think you may be one of Hannah’s victims or know someone who is or was, and you are seeking validation or more information, feel free to email me at mwstaceylaw@gmail.com.