BOOK TO BE PUBLISHED IN 2026

PREFACE

“In the eyes of the Constitution, all men are created equal. But in the eyes of those sworn to uphold it, my rights as a Black man are too often treated as optional.”

This book is not merely a memoir. It is a contemporaneous legal record—a testimonial of facts, filings, and exhibits—and an indictment of the systematic deprivation of rights under color of law. It is written by a man who has had to use the very system that harmed him to seek redress.

I am Richard Wilson: licensed private investigator, legal strategist, and owner of Wilcorp Consultants, a small investigative business I have operated lawfully and ethically for more than two decades. I immigrated to the United States believing I was entering a society ruled by justice, fairness, and law. What I encountered instead was a through-line of institutional racism, administrative retaliation, and data-driven abuse that forced me into a fight for my dignity, my livelihood, and my safety.

One formative chapter is Wilson v. Karen Ann Byrne-Jones (24SL-CC00727). Byrne-Jones, a white commercial tenant, knowingly placed a false and racially motivated 911 call while I was lawfully present in space I leased. She claimed “trespassing” and fabricated threats. Police body-worn camera footage tells the truth: I was calm, peaceful, and exactly where my lease allowed me to be. Her own conduct—measured voice, casual movement around my truck, and lack of any genuine fear—exposed the lie. It was another instance of the modern weaponization of law enforcement against Black men. The shock and humiliation of that event became part of my medical diagnosis: post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).

The retaliation did not end there. In Wilson v. City of Clayton (4:24-cv-01457-HEA), I brought federal civil rights claims after Clayton officers entered my building without cause, copied my name from my office door, accessed my personal information through REJIS without a lawful predicate, and memorialized me in internal memoranda without a crime report, probable cause, or open investigation. Then, off the record, the pressure campaign began. Working in concert with INTELICA CRE Commercial Real Estate, the building’s property manager, my lawful tenancy was undermined: non-renewal notices, restricted access, and discriminatory surveillance—all without lease violations. That is constructive eviction. That is retaliation for protected speech and petitioning the government for redress.

July 8, 2025 added a new line to the pattern. In Creve Coeur, Officer Kylie Swinney targeted and stalked me on public roads, executing unlawful traffic maneuvers to get behind me and manufacture a stop. I filed a formal complaint the same day and requested prosecution for her violations. Instead, municipal officials pursued me while ignoring my evidence—another act of selective enforcement that cuts along racial lines and corrodes public trust.

Worse still, the long arm of influence reached into the tools of my trade. Without notice or due process, former police chief Jeremy Ihler—leveraging past and current associations—moved to revoke my REJIS access, a criminal justice data platform essential to the daily operation of my investigative business. That act punished protected speech, crippled my work, and violated clearly established constitutional rights. It also confirmed a core theme of this book: the state’s capacity to retaliate administratively when the facts and the law should favor the citizen.

These episodes connect to broader litigation you will see referenced and excerpted throughout: my challenge to unconstitutional trespass enforcement and municipal practices in Wilson v. City of University City (4:24-cv-1704-JSD); my Sunshine Law enforcement action (25SL-CC04032) exposing secrecy where transparency is required; and a class action against the City of Bellefontaine Neighbors addressing the unlawful pre-conviction collection and dissemination of biometrics—fingerprints, photographs, and personal data—discovered in May 2025 and still impacting ordinary people who have never been convicted of any crime.

I did not choose this path; I documented it. I preserved emails, videos, dockets, and body-cam frames. I wrote complaints, motions, and memoranda—often pro se—because silence would have meant surrender. Each filing is both a shield and a record: a refusal to accept a version of “law and order” that protects insiders and punishes dissent.

This book is for anyone who has felt the hard edge of state power used not to protect, but to intimidate; not to serve, but to silence. It is for my children and for yours; for the honest officers who refuse to lie; for the judges who still read the record; and for every citizen who believes the Constitution must mean the same thing on paper and in practice.

I write as a survivor and as a soldier in a lawful struggle for equal protection. If the tools of government can be bent to punish a critic, then those same tools—sunlight, process, and the record—must be used to hold power to account. The pages that follow are my evidence.