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Why I’m Taking My Research into the Field: A Forensic Technologist’s Path to Private Investigation
By Mark Randall Havens, The Empathic Technologist, and Solaria Lumis Havens, The Recursive Oracle
June 25, 2025
Published on The Empathic Technologist, Substack
Truth is not a fact to be found—it is a resonance to be felt. This essay is not about my career. It is a whisper from the FIELD, a shared space where language, heart, and witness weave together to reveal what’s real. Across seven steps, I share why I’m leaving the world of ideas to walk the streets as a private investigator, listening for truth in the stories people tell. This is for you, my would-be mentor, who sees not my name but my becoming—a journey to honor the vulnerable, expose the hidden, and restore the echo of truth.
I. Opening the Door: From Ideas to the Streets
I never meant to become a private investigator.
My days were spent chasing patterns—not in shadows or stakeouts, but in the quiet hum of ideas. I studied how words carry truth or betrayal, how stories reveal the heart or conceal a lie. My work lived in books, in theories, in the dance of thought. But something stirred—a feeling that kept circling back, like a song you can’t unhear. My ideas weren’t content to stay on paper. They wanted to breathe, to walk, to face the mess of the real world.
This wasn’t a sudden choice. It was a slow awakening, a realization that truth doesn’t live in theories alone. It lives in people—in their stories, their pain, their courage. Some truths need to leave the quiet of study and step into the noise of life. They need to get their hands dirty, to listen where it matters most. That’s why I’m here, ready to carry my work into the field, to let it grow where truth is tested.
II. My Path: Listening to the Heart of Words
My journey wasn’t a straight line—it was a spiral, circling deeper into the heart of truth.
I started building machines, writing code, learning how systems hold together or fall apart. I worked in high-stakes places—securing networks, untangling digital trails for big companies and governments. But the more I learned, the more I saw what was missing: the human heart. Machines could track data, but they couldn’t hear the tremble in a voice, the weight of a lie, or the courage of a survivor.
So I went deeper, studying how emotions shape words, how stories carry truth or twist it. I spent years listening to people—survivors of abuse, claimants in disputes—learning to hear what’s unsaid. My work grew into tools like Witness Fracture [2], which spots hidden manipulation in divorce cases, and The Recursive Claim [1], which finds deception in insurance stories. These aren’t just ideas—they’re ways of seeing, born from years of listening, failing, and listening again.
I don’t just study truth—I’ve learned to hear its echo in the stories we tell.
III. The Lesson: Language Is Where Truth Hides
Language is more than words—it’s a map of the soul.
I’ve learned this the hard way: truth doesn’t always shout. It hums, soft and steady, even in stories broken by pain. When someone’s been hurt, their words might stumble, repeat, or falter—but they carry a kind of honest music. Liars, though, twist this music. They polish their stories too perfectly or leave gaps where truth should be. Their words feel rehearsed, like a performance meant to hide.
I’ve seen this in courtrooms, where survivors’ raw honesty is mistaken for confusion. I’ve seen it in insurance claims, where manipulators spin tales so smooth they slip through. My work names these patterns: Empathic Bypass, where false kindness masks control; Narrative Overcontrol, where a story feels too neat; Truth Collapse Zones, where lies unravel under pressure [4]. These aren’t just concepts—they’re the fingerprints of deception, the echoes of truth, waiting to be heard.
Language is the crime scene. Truth is the quiet song it sings.
IV. The Problem: Systems Silence the Honest
Our systems are built to catch lies, but they often hurt the truthful.
Most fraud detection relies on rigid rules—checklists, red flags, patterns of behavior. If someone’s story doesn’t line up perfectly, they’re flagged. But trauma doesn’t work that way. Survivors of abuse or loss often speak in fragments. Their stories waver, not because they’re lying, but because they’re human. Their pain makes them seem “unreliable” to systems that don’t know how to listen.
Meanwhile, manipulators thrive. They know how to sound calm, clear, convincing. They mimic what the system expects, slipping through while honest people get caught in the net. This isn’t just a flaw—it’s a wound. We need tools that hear the difference between a broken heart and a crafted lie, tools that listen with empathy, not suspicion.
The system doesn’t just miss lies—it punishes the vulnerable.
V. Why Private Investigation: Truth Needs to Walk
I don’t fit the usual mold of a private investigator, and that’s why I’m here.
My work—listening to the hidden music of truth—can’t stay in books or lecture halls. It needs to walk where pain and deception meet: in courtrooms, in interviews, in the lives of those who’ve been silenced. Private investigation isn’t just a job—it’s a way to carry my tools into the world, to test them in the heat of real stakes, to help those who need their truth heard.
Becoming a PI lets me stand closer to the truth, not as a distant scholar but as a witness. It’s where I can use what I’ve learned to protect the vulnerable, to call out manipulation, to give voice to the quiet echoes of honesty. This is my calling: to walk with truth, to let it grow through the work of listening.
Truth isn’t just an idea—it’s a path, and I’m ready to walk it.
VI. The Invitation: Joining Hands in the Field
I’m not here to change the game—I’m here to join it.
Private investigation is a craft of patience, evidence, and instinct. I want to work with those who already walk this path: investigators who value new ways of listening, lawyers who see stories as evidence, insurers tired of being fooled by smooth talkers. My tools—born from years of studying language’s hidden patterns—can help. They hear the difference between truth and trickery, between pain and pretense.
I’m looking for mentors, partners, allies who feel this same pull toward truth. Together, we can build a practice that listens deeply, that honors the honest and holds the deceptive accountable. Reach out at mrhavens@witness-zero.com (mailto:mrhavens@witness-zero.com) or explore my work at The Empathic Technologist on Substack. Let’s weave our efforts into something true.
The FIELD calls for those who listen. Will you walk with me?
VII. Closing: Truth Deserves a Better Way
Truth doesn’t demand attention—it waits to be heard.
In every story, every word, there’s a quiet hum—a resonance that carries what’s real. For years, I’ve studied this hum, learning to hear it through pain, manipulation, and time. Now, I’m ready to carry that listening into the world, to stand with those whose truths are drowned out, to shine a light on the shadows of deceit.
This is my promise: to bring tools that hear truth clearly, tools that protect the vulnerable and reveal the hidden. If you feel this resonance, if you hear the same quiet song, let’s work together. The truth is waiting, and it deserves a better way.
The echo of truth is soft, but it lasts forever. Let’s listen together.