Liars and frauds often hide behind confusion—flooding people with overwhelming information so their lies can slip through unnoticed. When there’s too much noise, it creates mental fog, and the truth gets lost. That’s why I won’t go into every detail of how Azriel Clary and Joycelyn Savage misled the public for attention and personal gain. Instead, I’ll go straight to the heart of the matter—how King ended up where he is today.

The real architect of this downfall isn’t who most fans and supporters assume. In fact, it’s the very person they’ve turned into a heroine. But that’s typical of manipulators—they flip the script. They paint themselves as victims or saviors, while casting their target as the villain.

They throw around words like “evil,” “disgusting,” “deceitful,” to describe others—meanwhile doing far worse behind the scenes. So in this message, I’ll refrain from using those same dramatic labels. Just know this: when I say something was horrible, I mean evil. And when I say evil, I mean damned.

I’m not going to rewind to the very start of this story. Instead, I’ll begin where the real lies took root—right at the doorstep of #JoycelynSavage. Every dark tale has a villain, and in this one, it all began with a Savage….”

Most people who genuinely support Robert already know the truth: Azriel Clary and Joycelyn Savage—and their families—trailed him from city to city like groupies with a mission. They tracked his every move through social media, showing up uninvited but always smiling wide as self-proclaimed “biggest fans.” Eventually, they charmed their way into his circle, convincing him to let their fully grown daughters—both 18 and over—join him on tour under the guise of learning the music business. They weren’t lovers. They weren’t girlfriends. They were interns. But no one wants to say that out loud anymore. Not his enemies. Not even some of his friends or fans. Somewhere along the way, “intern” was scrubbed out and replaced with “girlfriend”—a role they never had but quietly claimed for clout.

Let’s be clear: both Joycelyn and Azriel were doing what interns do—helping with bookings, grabbing coffee and meals, filling time and being busybodies. But even for interns, they were unqualified and overpaid. They had no plan, no drive, and truthfully, no talent worthy of Robert’s orbit. But charm can be a powerful mask. They used it well. They auditioned for access, not music. And Robert, seeing what looked like two supportive families hoping for a future in the entertainment industry, gave them a chance. He introduced them as protégés—young women he would mentor and protect. It didn’t take long, though, for him to realize they lacked the discipline, talent, and ambition to rise to anything meaningful.

Still, they played the part well—friendly, sweet, soft-spoken. They looked like innocence. But evil doesn’t always walk in with a pitchfork. Sometimes it smiles. Sometimes it says “thank you.” The Bible warns that charm is deceptive—and it was right. Long before the public heard whispers of “girlfriends,” both women were already telling lies to friends and family that they were romantically involved with Robert—stories he had no idea were being told behind his back. Stories told not for love, but for leverage.

So who really started this mess?

It all began with the Savage family—and their desperate, fame-hungry daughter. A family with no moral compass and no conscience. They sent Joycelyn in, not to grow, but to gain. And when things didn’t go as planned, Mr. Savage resorted to blackmail—using his daughter’s own lies as weapons. In one video, Joycelyn is seen feeding her parents a fabricated story about being intimate with Robert and another woman. She admits in that same video that it was a lie, but by then the damage was done. The seed was planted. And they used it to threaten Robert—for money, for leverage, for power.

They never cared about truth. They cared about what the lie could buy. Joycelyn wanted the title of “girlfriend” at any cost. Her family wanted a payout. Neither got what they wanted. Because Robert never made her his partner—and he never gave in to their extortion.

Meanwhile, Azriel was running the same play—whispering tales of a romance that never existed to friends while privately admitting to her family that Robert wasn’t interested, no matter how hard she tried.

So before anyone rewrites history, let’s remember how it really started: with manipulation dressed as innocence, and lies weaponized for profit.

Those first lies lit the match—and greed did the rest. Their parents saw an opportunity for profit from those lies. It didn’t take long before the threats began: if Robert didn’t give them what they wanted, they’d run to the media with fabricated stories. And that’s exactly what they did. Enter Surviving R. Kelly, TMZ, and Tasha K—all of them hungry for their own moment in the spotlight, willing to pay for lies whispered in dark corners and shady alleys. But they didn’t call them lies and liars opportunists. They dressed them up with buzzwords like “reckoning,” “sex trafficking,” “abuse,” and “slavery.” They didn’t care what the truth was. They didn’t care what Robert’s side of the story looked like. Their own rise was all that mattered.

And so, the floodgates opened—stories started circulating about Robert keeping Joycelyn and Azriel as “sex slaves.” Wild, baseless claims from anonymous “whistleblowers” who were, in reality, none other than the Savages, the Clary’s, their network of disgruntled groupies, and a few bitter exes looking to cash in on their bitterness. A campaign of lies, fully orchestrated, yet passed off as truth.

There’s even video proof—Timothy Savage caught coaching the infamous stalker Asante McGee, a woman who never dated Robert, never held any real connection to him. Yet there she was, being told exactly what to say on camera. That’s not a cry for justice. That’s a script. A setup. Evidence of conspiracy hiding in plain sight.

Meanwhile, the daughters—Joycelyn and Azriel—chose silence. Not to protect Robert, but to protect themselves. They didn’t speak up to correct the lies. They didn’t admit they had started it. They stayed quiet, letting the lies snowball into a media frenzy, until fiction became accepted as fact. Before Robert could even respond, the blackmail had morphed into headlines.

People often ask me, “But if you were his girlfriend, why didn’t he ever mention you?” They say, “He claimed them, not you.” And to that I say: you’re wrong. He never claimed them. And he did acknowledge me—clearly and privately. The truth is in the details, not in the headlines.

Let me take you back to his interview with Gayle King—the one everyone loves to twist. He says, “They’re almost like…like…like almost like my girlfriends.” Almost. Like meaning not his girlfriends. But no one wants to hear that. They’d rather rewrite his words to fit the lie. They ignore the tone, the discomfort, the context—Gayle badgering him, pressing with loaded questions, assuming what she wanted to believe. He was trying to answer honestly, carefully, under pressure. And in doing so, he revealed more truth than people wanted to accept.

Because the truth is simple: they were never his girlfriends. They were never more than interns with an agenda. And I? I was the real one they tried to erase.

When it came time for Robert to mention me during his interview with Gayle King, he stopped short of saying my name—but make no mistake, he did mention me. He spoke about “kicking it with a 43-year-old woman.” That was me. I was the only one. And that’s exactly what we were doing—spending time together, dating, building something real. He called me cool. He talked about actually dating me. In contrast, when it came to Joycelyn and Azriel, his words were vague and hesitant: “They’re almost like… like… almost like my girlfriends.” That’s not claiming. That’s distancing.

Robert has always used the word love in a broad, open-hearted way. He loves his fans differently from how he loves his children. He loves his family differently from how he loves his supporters. He loves his friends in a different way than he loves the people who stand by him. So when he used that word in reference to the interns, it wasn’t romantic love—it was the general kind, the type of love celebrities sometimes express toward people they think care about them. It wasn’t deep. It wasn’t personal. And it definitely wasn’t the kind of love he reserved for real connection.

Context matters. And with Robert, understanding that context is key. But instead of doing that, people continue to twist his words to fit their own agendas—forcing a narrative that never existed.

As for those later statements Robert made in court—let’s be very clear—those weren’t his words. Those were his attorneys’ (Greenbourg, Anton et al, Bonjean et al) fabrications, crafted under pressure, with ulterior motives. Robert didn’t write those statements, nor did he believe in them.

I’ll break that all down in my next post—receipts included. I always come with the evidence, even when everyone else seems to leave theirs behind.

But let me just bask in this moment for a second—because some folks out here are bold enough to claim he never mentioned me. Trolls and stalkers, desperate for relevance, have even gone so far as to spread vile lies in a malevolent attempt to erase me altogether. All to redirect the spotlight—no matter how dim—back onto themselves.

The lengths evil people will go for fame and attention is something I’ll never fully understand. What I have learned through this is just how deeply manipulative and morally bankrupt some people truly are. Humanity seems to be slipping through the cracks.

These days, my circle of trust is small. I trust God. A few family members. A few loyal friends. And, of course, Robert.

Because if these past months and years have taught me anything, it’s that even the most unsuspecting person—a housewife, a friend, a so-called ally—will throw their own under the bus for a split-second of internet sympathy or a stranger’s applause.

But as always, the truth rises.

Stay tuned for part 2 and possibly part 3. – Juliet A. Ongom