The Sincasa Frequency: A Forensic Audit

In Season 3, Episode 2, Steven Robert Meyers Jr. pulls back the curtain on the sonic filing cabinet known as Sincasa Metal. This isn’t just an album; it’s a forensic monument. While the Alamance County court system, weaponized by opposing counsel, moved to redact his rights and erase his role as a father, Steven turned to the only language that couldn’t be silenced: high-decibel, high-fidelity frequency.

This episode traces the "Why" behind the noise. It begins with the raw origins of the genre—born not in a studio, but in a mobile laboratory powered by a cigarette lighter. Steven reveals how he used his car as a fortress of solitude, protecting his quality of life with tinted windows and dabs while the world outside remained oblivious. From those traveling car sessions to the ten months spent rebuilding life at dear friends Brian and Stephanie’s, every riff and drum hit serves as a recorded recollection of survival.

Steven breaks down the neurochemistry of creation, exploring how the Serotonin and Dopamine released during the mixing process provided a natural high—a chemical necessity for enduring "Institutional Gaslighting" and the "Sleaze" of the family court system. With technical precision, he audits the tracks using his Steven Slate VSX and Joey Sturgis Tones plugins, (or at least the Billy Decker ones he has access to) explaining how each dial turned on the JST plugins was a step toward reclaiming his agency.

From the systemic bench of Judge Larry Brown and the attempt to receive unredacted FPOA requests from Alamance County Assistant Attorney J. Kwame Opata (both honorable men) to the familial "Groupthink" of the Armada (not honorable worth a fuck), no one is spared in this audit. Yet, through the "autistic anger" and the cortisol-driven endurance of the Burlington-to-Beckley drive, the episode finds its light in "Kiara, My Light." This is a story of a father fulfilling every court order—even the invasive ones—to ensure his daughter one day knows the truth. It is a legacy of impact, a testament to endurance, and a warning to those who tried to break him: the record is permanent.

Welcome to the story behind the Meyers Family Conspiracy Soundtrack.

"The audit is open. Stay put."

Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:02

Before we begin, we need to set the record straight. This episode focuses on the soundtrack and the creative why. You know, like all the music you've heard here and there throughout the podcast, the unique original music. I beg of you not to mistake this music for a lack of gravity. This is and always has been a forensic documentation of a father fighting a system designed to break him and other fathers, and I even dare say mothers, just like him. I want it and the record. No matter what Sean Kellen Eatonfield did with that apartment scam, you know the episode Clever Foxes Aren't So Clever. I want to say that season three, episode one, no matter how hard he tried to derail my life and others, remember, this was not a solo scam. He had done this to many other people. Please know it utterly failed. My living situation is solid. I am good, and more importantly, Chiara is about to be good. I have fulfilled nearly every bit of my end of the court order, including the invasive piece of shit requirement that her lawyer gets access to my private medical records. They want to check for crazy. Fine, let them look. Called him out publicly for this overreach, and I'll keep doing it. But I'm doing it so that one day Kiara knows exactly what I had to endure to stay in her life. This is the price of admission. And I am paying it in full. Also, the following program does contain raw and filtered discussions regarding legal conspiracies, family betrayal, and systemic corruption. It features Sincasa Metal, a genre born from survival. This is not just entertainment, it is evidence. Welcome back to the Myers Family Conspiracy, season three, episode two. We're doing this raw today. No narrators, no buffers. I had considered quite a few friends and some musical compadres to help me out with a little bit of narration for this one, but nah. Nah, we need just me, the music, and the data. So if the internet lags in this truth, it's because the truth is too heavy for the bandwidth. This is the forensic audit. What we're looking at is the creation of music during 10 months of life in a single bedroom at my dear friend Brian and Stephanie's. 10 months I was allowed to rebuild my life, slowly but surely. Ten months of North Carolina family court sleaze, and the end of it being finally being able to afford $900 worth of hair follicle drug testing that the court order required, which was the one thing that was keeping. I mean, I mean, we we've gotten into that several times throughout this uh series, so I I think it would be uh verbose to continue in that. But the the sincosta middle kept me essentially from the edge, that creation of genre potentially. This is explicit, is it is offensive, but it is the truth. So listener discret the the the the the listener discretion isn't just advised, it's required. Before we drop the first track, and it's just kind of a selection to give you an idea of what's up. I'm not gonna display the whole entire soundtrack here clearly. I need to address why a Myers family conspiracy soundtrack even exists. This isn't just music in the commercial sense, it is a sonic filing cabinet. When I realized that the legal system in Alamance County was moving faster than I could document with a pen or a Ford, I turned to the only language I knew that couldn't be redacted. High decibel, high fidelity frequency. So I started this soundtrack essentially as a way to preserve the emotional and factual timeline of a father being systemically erased from his child's life. And every riff is a chord date. Every drum hit is a door slammed in my face. It exists because a podcast tells the story. Like a book, yeah. But a soundtrack forces you to feel the weight of the evidence. And to understand the frequency, yeah, you have to understand the birth of Cincinnati. It didn't start in the bedroom, it started in a car. My car. Shortly before I was at Brian and Stephanie's during an incredibly tense period where I just couldn't afford to live anymore after getting hurt at this job I had started. Uh I was homeless. I was living out of my vehicle and traveling every back road and parking lot in Alamance County undetected. Remember, I've got Sheriff's Association license plates, I've got a Blue Lives Matter sticker. Uh nobody bothered me. Plus, I'm not doing anything, so I didn't look unkempt, you know. It wasn't like I was doing anything criminal. Uh cops didn't bother me. I'll give them credit for that, okay? Now I've got this power box plugged into the cigarette lighter. It basically turns my car into a mobile laboratory. I transformed that interior into a home when when I didn't have one, yeah. Until I was talking to Brian about what was going on, and he's just like, come on. I I owe them my life. I wouldn't be here with without them. I wouldn't be where I'm at. I didn't want the world to know the struggle I was in. So I used those tinted windows as a weapon of defense. It was my fortress of solitude, yeah. I had to be smart about it, too. Now, you can't be out there smoking flour. I mean, the the smell is a neon sign for every cop looking for probable cause to tear your life apart even more. So I mean, it doesn't really do much for me anymore, anyways. Please forgive me. It seems more like um I don't know, like you're just doing it with friends because it tastes good and it's nice or something. Like uh I practically freebase cannabis. I I stick to the vape pens and the dabs. No smell, no heat, just high quality lifestyle, or quality of life rather, you know, mentally, most definitely. That kept me at least creative in some form while the world thought I was just another ghost in the parking lot. I was making high fidelity art in a low-rent situation, maintaining my quality of life while the system was trying to strip it away. That's the grit you hear in every track. The sound of a man who refused to stop creating just because he didn't have a front door. The background of this project goes back to the absolute collapse of what I thought was a family unit. When uh the betrayal I allege that's taken place here by Stephen Kenneth Meyer Sr. and the rest of the armada began, excuse me. I found myself isolated, living out of a single bedroom, grateful to have it, but rebuilding from everything, like right from the get-go, like this is rock bottom. Uh not to discount, again, the gravity, okay? I feel like I'm being stripped of my role as a father. I at this point, uh, let me just think for a minute. Um, at this point, I was only getting to still see Kiara for one hour a week, but I was in uh North Carolina, so it was much closer, clearly, like a 20-minute drive as opposed to uh Bluefield, West Virginia, which was two hours and thirty minutes, or Beckley, West Virginia, which was three hours and thirty-five minutes, or Cowan, West Virginia, which was four hours and twenty-two minutes. Um I had two choices. So you you succumb to the autistic anger, and how fucking well has that worked out, okay? Fuck, fuck all, not at all. Not at fucking all. Or channel it. So I chose a ladder, and uh after I was able to finally get my facilities back, I built a little mobile uh forensic laboratory in the room, yeah? So while everyone's living their best life, I was doing what I can to keep my brain going, and I built a digital monument to the truth. And the soundtrack is the psychological armor that I wore while navigating the sleeves. And today I'm opening it up opening up the forgive me, today I'm opening up the master files so you can hear exactly what survival sounds like. Now, I'm sitting here, uh, yeah, with the Stephen Slate VSX model uh the headphones, yeah. Google that if you're not familiar with it, they're amazing. Um, modeling a professional room because my actual room at the time was a pressure cooker. I mean, where I'm at now it is great, but neither here nor there, who would ever not want to work out of a multi-million dollar studio setup?

SPEAKER_07 9:36

I mean, come on now.

SPEAKER_00 9:39

But then, you know, I'm living in a place that it's not mine. I'm I'm there at the uh mercy of my friends who love me and want to see me do good and help me rebuild my life. And when your environment's falling apart, you've got to build a digital sanctuary, and that's what this episode explains.

SPEAKER_02 9:58

This is explicit. It is scary, it is angry.

SPEAKER_00 10:30

Sailing the seas of sleas is the thesis statement to the Myers family conspiracy. When I say I am immortal, I'm talking about North Carolina General Statute 132. Forgive me, I love coffee. These recordings, these podcasts, these stems, they are public records of my existence. We started this journey back in season one, episode one, where I first laid out the background of the conspirators of this autopsy. This song is the bridge from that initial shock to the permanent record we're building now. Psychologically, this is about narcissistic injury response. When a system tries to erase your identity, the brain compensates by declaring its own immortality through art. It's a survival mechanism against institutional gaslighting where the court or anyone really tells you your reality doesn't exist. I'm telling them it's tracked, mixed, and about to be mastered under the North Carolina Rules of Evidence. Rule 803. This is what you call a recorded recollection. One could potentially conveniently lose court transcripts, although let's just be honest, that is highly, highly unlikely. But you can't unupload this album. If you think my anger makes me a psychopath, you need to crack open the DSM 5. I'm not a psychopath, I'm just an autistic father who is long the fuck out of patience. Before we dive into the next track, people do ask me why I would create a soundtrack to a podcast about a legal conspiracy. Then I'm like, do you fucking know me? What? I mean, I'm sorry. Why put myself through the ringer of production when I'm already fighting for my life? So for 10 months, I'm living in a bedroom at Brian and Stephanie's house. I am off the street, able to start rebuilding my life, both mentally, spiritually, physically, financially, all that jazz. Fulfill the court order, do the fucking drug tests, the careful bullshit, and be done. Yeah. So because of that, I was able to complete that, ironically enough, on the anniversary of December 12th, which will forever be a date in infamy throughout the custody case. And if anyone is uh in any form an avid listener of this podcast, which the fuck, I don't know why you would be unless you're a masochist, Jesus wept. This is not a good story. Just understand, I'm still under great mental stress and severe depression. Without friendship, I wouldn't have made it. So that bedroom wasn't just a living space, yeah? It was a laboratory of trauma. Recorded every single one of these tracks right there throughout that 10-month period. Now, I have my guitars, my bass, Joy Sturgis Tones plug-ins, and my Steven Slate VSX mixing setup. And don't get me wrong, I still got the Yamaha HS5s right and the uh focus right 18920. But look, like that bedroom you couldn't mix worth a fuck ass in. So, you know, get the headphones. Now, if you know anything about audio, uh the Steven Slate VS X mixing setup is the only way to get a professional mix when you know you have a shitty environment. I'm talking about the physical portion of can you mix in this room? You know, like is the room dead? So on and so forth. Yada yada. Not about like, you know, the the place itself. So let's keep that in mind, how that what that means. Now, creating this wasn't a hobby, it was therapeutic survival. On the drums, I've got uh, for example, the drum bus, right? A bus is essentially like all the tracks of a relative instrument mixed together into a generally a stereo track, yeah? So think of like all the drums mixed together with a good amount of headroom, like you know, negative six, negative four, something like that, into a stereo track uh for mixed bus mixing or you know, however you're doing shit. Well, uh on the drum bus, for example, I'll be using the Billy Decker uh Joy Sturchestones plug-in to decorate and compress knobs. I mean, like I'm telling you, like this plug is powerful. And like I kind of need that impact to feel like a physical blow. Same thing on the bass with uh the Billy Decker bass plug-in, the stay put S T-A-P-U-T. It's a switch on there, man. No grit. I don't need distortion to tell this story. I just needed that physical, thick, low-end foundation that can't be shaken. Scientifically, it hits three major psychological pillars. One, emotional externalization. In psychology, externalization is the process, yeah, of taking an internal abstract pain and turning and turning it rather into an external tangible object by putting the sleaze into a lyric, it no longer lives in my head, it lives in the file. I hope that makes sense. Um, two, agency and self-efficacy. I hope I'm saying that word right. When the court system strips you of your rights or anything, right? Or let's just say your fucking dignity at a minimum, you experience a total loss of agency. And creating a complex multimedia project restores self-efficacy. That's the belief that you can still master a craft while your world is being dismantled, essentially. Okay, it's to paraphrase. Now, three. Now, heavy music like syncasa metal acts as a venting mechanism. By channeling quote unquote autistic anger into a controlled rhythm, I am essentially performing a non-violent surgery in my own rage. And for the record, I plan for 100% of the royalties to go to Monica's PayPal for Chiara. When she turns 18, they can transfer directly to her. So essentially it's a financial and emotional legacy. In Alamance County, the easiest way to bankrupt a father's credibility is to slap the addict label onto him and bleed his wallet dry. Now, I've had my fair share of fun with drugs. We all know this. I've talked about it extensively at one point and like intermittently if it was relative to something. I'm not going to give it any more credence at this point because I've proven to the court that I don't use them. I've never had an addiction issue. Comorbidity smells like shit to me. It's always been drug escapism. And what that means is you think your life sucks, you can't handle your problems, you're not strong enough for whatever reason, and you would rather escape and forget about life and have a kind of like a pleasure island Pinocchio type feeling. At the end of it, you end up turning into a jackass, you always have to pay the piper. There's the truth. If no one else tells you that in the world, you heard it here. Let's talk science. Gas, chromatography, mass spectrometry. That's GC hyphen MS, yeah. I paid to have my own DNA snitch on me to prove I was sane. And I was allowed to test positive for THC, which contemplated by the court. Imagine that shit. Like, thank I appreciate Judge Brown for that. That was solid. Like, cannabis gives me a quality of life I don't get anywhere else, and we've talked about that extensively as well. Calling a $300 drug test disposable income isn't a legal finding. It's what we call financial waterboarding. I was at the time, like I've talked about again at one point extensively, using drugs to escape the suffocating gaslighting of a conspiracy. Not to party and because I had this urge to use, use, use, because my body was like, if you don't use, I'm gonna get sick and all that dumb shit. Um much love to people involved in that, but like I hope they get clean and work it out. I that's I I don't know what else to say. But the more you ask me if I'm sober, the more I want to drop anything just to survive looking at your faces. And making this song was the only way to spit back at a system that was trying to starve me out. If you're going to audit the conspiracy, you have to audit your own monumental stupidity. Mine. Look, my lawyer at the time, Brian W. Ray, he's a judge now, so let's give him the respect he deserves, yeah? At the time he gave me a legal map out of Hell. And I wiped my ass with it because I thought I knew better. What the fuck? Like, stupid. Stupid. Neurologically, this track is a real-time recording of an amygdala hijack. When you are under conic severe stress, your logic center completely shuts down. For the past two, three weeks, for example. I've had uh Steve Hofstetter, uh, Sam Miller, um, Sam Morrill, Mark Norman, Christopher Titus on repeat. Yeah. Their voices are the only thing that kept me from doing something stupid at times. Like Christopher Titus says in a special carrying monster, you should just wait one more day. And this track is the sound of that struggle. I actually broke down the genesis of this in season one, episode four. Remember the YouTube video with Officer then Deputy Cameron Henley. Now he is a sergeant, for fuck's sake, in Elon. Oh God, don't ever want to drive through that area. If he pulls me over, I'm just a whole level of fucked. I've I've never been. But look, that autistic anger that made me pull out my phone and go toe-to-toe with a cop is the exact same anger that made me ignore Brian W. Ray in court. I'm not breaking the law, I'm breaking under the weight of the law. And, you know, I failed for that. I pay I paid for it too. I have a lot of remorse for that. Um but like it'd be nice to know that the 12 deputies that beat the fucking life out of me two weeks after Deputy Henley's interaction with me, uh, if they were held accountable, that'd be kind of cool. But beyond hearing them talk and recognizing their voices, I ain't gonna never know who the fuck they were. And well, being left in a puddle of your own blood, shit and pissing isn't isn't exactly the best way to do surveillance on anyone to figure out who they are, is it?

SPEAKER_03 24:09

Had to stop to breathe through you. And I hate all that you do. One time they killed all our hope, then replaced it all with dope, set it all up, is with fear. Move away cause that is breathing air into your lungs is an oysting life. That's fun. In my eyes the next day, I wanna speak out of the life. Yo, how is that bigger since I know you weren't the biggest break? Yeah, how the rope with the bomb sign by the fuck? How the fuck?

SPEAKER_00 25:32

This track title, Psychologically Damaged, is a direct quote from Judge Larry Brown. He watched me have an absolute meltdown quite a few times because my kids were stolen, and uh, well, he diagnosed me from the bench. Now, under uh Rule 702, I believe, let me just double check that. And yes, that is correct. Under Rule 702, you usually need an expert for that, but uh, well, Judge Brown played doctor. I'm not gonna say he was wrong. This whole bipolar and antisocial bullshit is just nonsense, and I've long proven with evidence that it is. So moving forward, the damage here, yeah, is uh systemic systemic betrayal trauma. When the person who is supposed to be the neural arbiter of justice mocks your mental health, even if it's unknowingly okay, uh it causes what we call hippocampal atrophy, okay? Take a minute to Google that. It it is still it still correlates directly back to season three, episode one, right? Like not only did we deal well, actually, no, it might have been season two in the last episode. No, sorry, I'm wrong. Let me correct that. It was season two in the last episode. We were uh um we had filed a Freedom of Information Act request with uh Jay Kwame Opada in the Alamance County Attorney's Office. Um and I appreciate the efforts that they put, but the results that we got back was like, you know, eating a bowl of water with a fork. Now, like under Article 1, Section 12 of the North Carolina Constitution, I have the right to petition for redress, but when the government stonewalls, which through policies or oh, we're investigating you and don't want you to know shit, and you just call it a duck a duck, it creates cognitive dissonance. And this song is kind of like, you know, just this just the sound of me like getting ready to kick in the door. And it's I don't think it's it's uh illegal to uh express these sentiments in a song. Like that's First Amendment protected speech, right? It's the art of the scream.

SPEAKER_08 28:11

God fucking hates you. He dresses on your life, and wipes is shit in your eye.

SPEAKER_01 28:22

I I let you happen to you the gun the barrel I detect and pull the trigger and do the wish you The conspiracy isn't just a judge, it's the familial group think.

SPEAKER_00 28:59

My own father, Stephen Kenneth Myers Sr., and my sister, Angela Aiken, along with Umpa Loompa. Under North Carolina General Statute 1432, they might claim I'm the one who abandoned responsibilities, but the forensic truth is that they enabled the theft of my child to protect their status and whatever they were loved in. For example, with dad, it's his MAGA friends, with Sue, it's whoever she puppets around his ass with, and with Angela, it's her racist white people church. Sociology is the scapegoating theory. My father is choking on the metaphorical dicks of authority figures over the truth. And if I see you in hell or heaven, I hope our rooms are adjoining so I can play this album through the walls of eternity. The law guarantees your right to action. But the UCCJEA doesn't pay for your gas money. This track is physical, geographical proof of effort. I'm doing well with work. I bust my ass and do what I can, make mistakes along the way, and just pick myself up and move dust off and carry on just to fund this fight and now pay for life. This is this is cortisol-driven endurance. The sleaze tells a story of an absent psychopath. The odometer on my car tells a story of a man who never stops showing up. Now, before we close with the light, I want to talk about the why behind the frequency. Why spend hours mixing stems when the world is burning? Well, it's because creating this music is a chemical necessity. When I'm in the zone, it triggers a massive release of serotonin and dopamine. There is a natural high in this kind of creation that is unique. It's the feeling of taking the sleaze and the autistic anger, as it were, and turning it into something structurally perfect. It's the brain's way of rewarding survival. There is a visceral, genuine reaction that happens when you play this for people. It doesn't matter if they respond with shock, anger, or empathy. As long as the reaction is genuine, the art has done its job. In a world of fake family narratives and redacted court documents. Well, I can't redact an audio recording and I've got everyone. So I guess that's a raw emotional reaction to a syncass of metal riff where lyric is the only honest thing left. If I can create something that impacts a listener, my daughter hears it one day and understands the hell I went through on a different level, as opposed to just hearing a story, you know, hearing a musical. Well, that hits them in the chest and it makes them realize the weight of this conspiracy. And then I've won. I'm cool with whatever impact this has. I don't see it hitting anyone negatively, except, of course, for those three pieces of shit involved in the theft of my kids. But I don't care about their feelings. Who gives a fuck? They traded their right to my concern. The moment they stepped into their racist white people churches and their MAGA acceptance groups to justify breaking me. To me, their discomfort is just a sign that the mix is working. Even like the people on the periphery, right? Like, I don't know, Monica's boyfriend, Brandon, or whoever, they might hear this and feel the vibration. I'll bet you anyone hears the truth in the low end. And at the end of the day, the soundtrack is a legacy of impact. It's the proof that even when you're cornered in a single bedroom, you can still reach out and shake the world. It's not about taking the power back. It's about grabbing it and just owning it one decibel at a time. Monica and I brought a girl into this world who loves Taylor Swift, K-bop Demon Hunters, pink, chicken nuggets from McDonald's, no pepperoni on her pizza, and she sees the best at everything and questions everything with the vocabulary of a college student. Scientifically, this is oxytocin overdrive. This is the bond that the court cannot adjudicate. Or anyone for that matter. But they cannot touch this frequency. The audit is closed for today. To the kid thieves. Anyone involved. To the Oopaloomba Armada. To the unholy trinity. The record is permanent. I'm Steven Myers Jr. I'm still here. I'm still loud. I'm still waiting for you.