My story is not just about a traumatic moment with a landlord.

It’s about what happens when a justice system refuses to acknowledge harm — and, in doing so, quietly validates it. 

Despite being held naked and vulnerable, calling 911, involving police, providing therapy documentation, and challenging major inconsistencies in the defendants’ accounts, the ruling in my case did not recognize any wrongdoing. Instead, it signaled to my landlord and others like him that this behavior is acceptable.

When a court tells a victim, “This doesn’t count,” it does more than dismiss one person’s trauma.
It creates a precedent.

It emboldens those in positions of power.

And it warns others that they may not be protected — even when they seek help.

Accountability did not happen inside the courtroom, which is why awareness must happen outside of it.

The ruling in my case was not a neutral outcome. It was an affirmation that landlords can:

• corner a tenant while they are naked,
   
• ignore clear verbal statements of discomfort,
   
• refuse to give someone privacy or dignity,
   
• rewrite the story later without mentioning critical events like a 911 call,
   
• and still walk away fully protected.
   

This is not an exaggeration.

It is exactly what happened.

The defendants filed affidavits that never once mentioned the 911 call or police involvement — omissions that would raise alarms in any honest legal process. Yet these glaring gaps were overlooked.

This is how systems quietly validate harm...by refusing to confront the facts.

If a naked, vulnerable tenant can be trapped by a landlord and the court says it’s not a violation, what does that mean for other renters who rely on privacy, dignity, and safety?

When harm is treated as harmless, those with power learn they can push boundaries further.

This ruling sends a dangerous message:

“You can do this too — and the system will protect you.”

If this can happen with a 911 call, police documentation, therapy records, and clear testimony…

what happens to someone with less evidence?

Or someone who is too scared to speak?

My identity played a silent, but real role.

In small communities, being openly gay already creates vulnerability.

When a court dismisses harm involving an LGBTQ+ plaintiff, it reinforces a long-standing cultural message:

“Your experience matters less here.”

Wyoming has almost no tenant protections, minimal oversight, and a history of siding with property owners over renters.

My case fits into a broader, dangerous trend.

When the system validates harm:

• predators and boundary-violators become more confident
   
• vulnerable tenants stay silent
   
• LGBTQ+ people feel unsafe speaking up
   
• rural communities lose trust in their own courts
   
• abusers receive unspoken permission to escalate
   

This is bigger than one ruling.

It’s about the kind of behavior a state is willing to tolerate — and the kind it’s willing to ignore.

I am sharing my story publicly not out of anger, but out of duty.

Silence would only protect the people who already hold power.

Speaking out protects those who don’t.

The court may have refused accountability — but accountability can still happen in the public eye.

“In my case, the court had an opportunity to acknowledge a clear violation of privacy and personal safety — instead, it validated it. Despite a 911 call, police involvement, therapy records, and multiple contradictions in the defendant’s account, the ruling communicated that what happened to me was not wrongdoing. That decision doesn’t just affect me. It sends a wider message: that landlords can cross boundaries without consequence, and that tenants — especially LGBTQ+ tenants or outsiders in small communities — may not be believed even when the evidence is clear.

This isn’t simply a legal failure; it’s a cultural one. When accountability disappears, harmful behavior becomes tacitly permitted. That is why I am speaking out. This is not about retaliation — it is about awareness. It is about ensuring that what happened to me does not become the silent norm for others who feel vulnerable, unprotected, or unheard in Wyoming’s tenant-landlord system.

"Accountability may not have happened inside the courtroom, but it can still happen in the public eye.”

— Andrew Devney
Founder, WyomingAccountability.org

Awareness is the first step.

Here’s how you can help:

Journalists, advocates, and community members can bring visibility to an issue that Wyoming courts refused to face.

Your voice matters. Public pressure is often the only force that drives local reform.

Visibility saves lives. Awareness protects people. Solidarity changes communities.

Financial support allows me to continue exposing systemic failures, sharing my story, and advocating for those who don’t have a voice in these courtrooms.

This page is not here to attack individuals.

It exists to shine light on a system that failed to protect a vulnerable tenant and, in doing so, threatened the safety of many others.

When institutions validate harm, the community must demand better.

This is that demand.