My Name Is Scott Lumley

For nearly a year and a half. Out in the open.

Running two real businesses:

STE Verified City - Import-Export & Real Estate Development

Pressing Pro's - Laundromat Franchise

"No aliases. No hiding. Just building."

Right in front of my own home. No warning. No explanation.

Not for breaking Moroccan law—but because the United States quietly indicted me...then vanished.

They locked me in Tiflet 2 Prison. One of the worst prisons in North Africa. And they left me there.

No hearing. No extradition. No help. I was completely forgotten.

We slept on concrete. No toilets. No windows. Rats. Roaches. Infection everywhere.

"We ate bread once a day. Dry, hard, sometimes moldy. No medical care. No answers. No dignity."

Being American made me a target.

In a prison filled with 5,200 Arabic prisoners, I was the enemy. The hatred was real. The threats were constant.

I was stabbed. Three times.

Each time, I fought back. Each time, I survived. But the message was clear—I didn't belong there, and they wanted me gone.

"Every day was a fight for survival. Not just against hunger, but against pure hatred."

They're supposed to visit American prisoners every 30 days.

I saw them only two times in a full year.

They brought no help. No updates. Just a handshake and a vanishing act.

"The hardest part wasn't the hunger or even the stabbings. It was the silence. Knowing my own government left me behind. Knowing no one was coming."

I trained my mind. I studied people. I learned Arabic.

I survived three stabbings and 5,200 enemies.

I survived by discipline, instinct, and pure will.

Then, one day—without explanation—they let me walk out.

This isn't just a prison story. It's a story about betrayal. About what happens when your country leaves you behind. About how to survive with nothing but your mind and your grit when everyone wants you dead.