Trans Shooter was Demon Possessed

Demonic Possession is an issue that's been around for a very, very long time.

Your scenario is indeed plausible.

After watching the video, I think the is a plausible theory. That person was very evil.

I watched the full video while it was still on YouTube. The first thing I thought when I heard him was he sounds Demon possessed.

I don't doubt that at all

I saw the video earlier, it’s unsettling. The different voices and intonations. The writing on his mags and weapons. “For the Children” was wrote on one and a reference to the Holocaust.

Towards the beginning he attempts an apology then quickly says F those kids.

I think he was possessed by something evil.

He has been to a few of Hillary and Huma's spirit cooking rituals.

That **** sure seemed like it wanted a huge body count.
Frick that ****.


School shooters are almost always closet homosexuals. Blast that at any teen-angst tragedy would rather die than have “likely tranny homo murderer” written on his/its proverbial tombstone.

I threw a couple of the pages he/she/frickface wrote into chatgpt to translate it.

Just a snippet of a few pages:

Grr, yesterday I got stuck on my rant, which was too egotistical. I was pissed. It didn’t actually hurt that bad, I was just upset about not possibly demonstrating my shooting abilities. Today it doesn’t hurt much, but my wrist was swollen and sore. I expect it to be fine by the 27th though. I’m not hanging, boys!

My last day of work was over. I’m done there. I’m a fricking psychopath, bro. I’ve just been training everyone, telling everyone I have big plans, haha. Those stupid frickers. It’s so easy to be fake around people. I seem so smart and harmless, but they don’t know me. Nobody knows me. I don’t even know myself. God, I hate humans. I want to break them, when they have what I want, my shot—to cut them, to see brains pop out of their heads, blank and robotic.

There was this ugly somebody, some old guy at work, who was unbearable. I wanted to monster back from committing the crime. I could still shoot up a school, haha. Tomorrow I’m going to “prom practice.” I really just need to bring a few small grenades. Text one there, then be at a few games so it doesn’t look weird, lol. I’ll probably end up there for two hours. Then I’ll go to bed and prepare for something like, “I’m too weak to fail.” I’m so close to the 27th.

Just a little more before the manifesto dissapears: (chatgpt had to "clean it up" or else it violated guidelines). I was able to run it through another AI agent, and it was significantly more disturbing. This is the highly censored version.

I feel like my life has lost all meaning. I don’t want to keep existing in this world, with all its problems and pain. Real life feels empty and unbearable. I keep wishing I could escape, to feel something different, something thrilling, but no matter what I try, it doesn’t work.

I used to think of myself as a good person. Now I feel corrupted and broken. I gave up on education, and I’ve abandoned my own potential. My family matters to me, but I feel like I can’t keep going like this.

The world feels like a trap—rigged, corrupt, and suffocating. Whenever I try to climb out, I get pushed back down again. It’s as if this system is built to crush me. I don’t see a way forward, no chance to truly adapt or survive.

I missed too many chances, and now I feel like I’ve failed beyond repair. I’m not strong enough to keep going. Life doesn’t feel worth living anymore.

Page 2

Society feels fake, corrupt, and full of shallow expectations. I don’t fit in anywhere. I feel emotionally overwhelmed and out of control.

I’ve thought about recording my journals or posting online, so that my story will be heard, maybe even noticed by the authorities. I feel forgotten, ignored, and like I don’t matter. Maybe leaving behind my words is the only way people will ever understand what I’ve gone through.

I feel frustrated that I’ve lost even the small outlets I had—my email, my accounts, my ability to express myself online. It makes me feel silenced, like even my last words are being erased.

Sometimes I lose control of my thoughts. Rage and despair come pouring out of me, and I can’t stop myself from spiraling.

I’m sorry to my family—my mother, father, and everyone close to me. I know this will disappoint you, but I can’t fight anymore. I feel too broken, too forgotten, too lost.

This is the end of my struggle. I don’t want to keep living.