Barry Nussbaum A man who builds his castle not on stone, but on lies. He parades himself as a truth-teller, broadcasting from beaches and mansions with bought film crews, pretending to be something enlightened. (americantruthproject.org) founder of the American Truth Project (ATP), a platform that produces content on topics such as U.S. foreign policy, national security, and domestic political issues.

He is known for his appearances on various media outlets, including Lindell TV and TNT Radio, where he discusses current events and political matters.

But he’ll be remembered as…..

Barry Nussbaum: The Ego in the Mirror

Barry positions himself as a messenger of national integrity — yet his truth is a mask. One that is about to crack under the weight of what he’s actually done.

You broadcast lies behind a banner of truth.
Now let’s see what happens when the truth goes live — on you.

“You say, ‘You CAN handle the truth’? Good. Because here it comes — and it’s not a segment. It’s a reckoning.”

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Hawai‘i Intermediate Court of Appeals — VACATED ORDER.
A decade of lies now reversed by law.

Barry Nussbaum: media manipulator. Ego-driven bully. A man so weak I once had to carry both our boogie boards off the beach — because he couldn’t lift his own. A memory etched in metaphor. That was always the truth of him: hollow. Propped up. Already collapsing.

He pretends to stand for justice, but behind his lights and cameras stood a lie so massive it consumed a decade, destroyed property, stole life, and left scars no court could erase. He stalked me. Obsessively. Claimed dominance over the courts like it was a game. Boasted about manipulating filings like chess moves. His cruelty wasn’t passive — it was premeditated.

He once bragged that he settled his wife Denise’s phony discrimination suit just to shut her up. He said it like it was clever — not cowardly. But we’ll get to her soon.

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Barry, you thought your lies were safe behind your gates in the coffee farm.
But I am the one behind the walks in the rows of trees now.

I walk with Iad Baltōh — the God of Justice.
You feel it, don’t you? That presence you cannot name? That tightening in your chest? It isn’t me. It’s the spirit that found me — and now follows you.

I have seen your truth.
You are an aging alcoholic with a crumbling ego and a heart corroded by manipulation. That board I carried for you — it wasn’t just foam. It was a burden you couldn’t lift. You were exhausted from waves you couldn’t command.

You don’t get to escape. Not this time.

You tried to control me. Intimidate me. Dominate me. But I refused to cower. You threw tantrums. You tried to steal from me. My land. My vision. My trees. And when you couldn’t — you turned vindictive.

But you didn’t take the trees. They stayed with me.

And now — they watch you.

Their roots stretch into the dirt beneath your home, speaking through the mycelium web. Their branches trace your steps. Even the insects you swat from your chest report to me. There is no breeze, no blade of grass, no camera flash that doesn’t echo my gaze.

You claim to know remote vision, spiritual technique — but what you practice is mimicry. Cheap theater. I walk with something ancient. Something real. Something that now studies you.

Your cameras once sought your spotlight. Now they serve as mirrors — and they don’t blink.

I know you fear your heart.
And yes, Barry — it’s weakening.

But death will not come easy. Not while justice is still waiting. Not while truth still trembles in the dark.

You’ll pray for the end.
But the end won’t come.

I am the echo of every lie you told. The weight in your chest. The eyes in the mirror.

This is not revenge.
This is reclamation.

Truth isn’t your brand anymore, Barry.
It’s your indictment.

You built a slogan. I built a case. Let’s see which one stands.

You say, “You CAN handle the truth”?
Good. Because here it comes — and it’s not a segment. It’s a reckoning.