How Narcissists Weaponize the People They Love: The Case of Cole LeCody
Trapped in His Shadow: The Invisible Cost of Fighting a Narcissist’s Battles
There are two kinds of victims in narcissistic abuse.
The first is the obvious victim—
…the one who is attacked, discarded, smeared, and burned at the stake when they no longer serve a purpose.
The second is the one who doesn’t even know they are a victim at all.
This is the supply.
The mouthpiece.
The human shield.
The one who speaks in the narcissist’s voice, carries their battles, bleeds for their cause, and mistakes their suffering for loyalty.
This is Cole LeCody.
And this is how narcissists like Andrew LeCody keep power—
…even after they lose everything.
The Strategy of the Human Shield
A narcissist’s greatest trick is never fighting their own wars.
They don’t attack head-on.
That would expose them.
Instead, they embed their voice inside others.
They implant their narrative in the minds of those who trust them the most.
This is why, after Andrew LeCody was banned from Dallas Makerspace, he did not defend himself.
Instead, his wife, Cole, wrote one article.
Just one.
Is she a writer?
She once said she was—to me.
Yet, does she have other posts?
None that I see.
Does she have a history of speaking out?
Not that I know of.
Yet, for this?
For this one moment?
She emerges—fully armed, fully ready, fully willing to go to war.
Why?
Because she believes it is her war too.
This is What Narcissists Do to Their Loved Ones
They replace personal identity with their battle.
Cole’s essay is not about her pain.
No—not at all.
It is about Andrew’s pain—
…spoken through her mouth.
Look at her words.
Look at how they move.
She is not just telling a story—
…she is recruiting.
Nostalgia as a Weapon
Her first paragraphs are not about what happened.
They are about the past—
…the golden days, the dream, the movement, the hope.
The illusion of paradise before the fall.
This is the emotional hook.
It softens the reader, makes them long for what was.
Because if you miss what was, then you will hate what is.
And that’s the setup.
Villains Must Exist
Next comes the enemy.
The board.
The usurpers.
The betrayers.
They are not just people who disagreed with Andrew.
They are corrupt.
They are power-hungry.
They are destroying everything good.
No proof.
No evidence.
Just righteous outrage, delivered through Cole, but crafted by Andrew.
The Call to Arms
By the end, it is clear—
…this is not just about Andrew.
This is about YOU, the reader.
Will you let this injustice stand?
Will you let them rewrite history?
Will you let the dream die?
She doesn’t need to say join us—
…the framing does it for her.
And just like that, Andrew has an army.
And he never had to say a single word.
The Moment It Became Clear
I remember the day he was banned.
He sat next to me... and lied.
He lied about his early role in policy making.
He lied about the bylaws.
He sat next to me, knowing I was there—knowing I knew the truth—
and still, he tried to gaslight me.
He thought I wouldn’t remember.
But I did.
And I remember his silent, unspoken rage when the ban was finalized.
I remember the hand his wife placed on his shoulder—
the way she absorbed his fury,
the way she believed it was hers,
the way she carried it for him.
Not because he was wronged.
But because he believed he was good—
…and he wasn’t.
It was evil.
Confabulated victimhood,
draped in the costume of a vilified hero.
And he had plenty of support—
not because he was innocent,
but because he rallied them,
like willing puppets.
The Real Victim: Cole’s Disappearing Self
Narcissistic supply is not an accomplice.
They are a casualty.
Cole does not know she has been used.
She does not see that her own story is absent from her own writing.
That she has no existence beyond her husband’s war.
That her emotions, her outrage, her grief—are not hers.
This is what narcissists steal from their closest victims.
Not just time.
Not just loyalty.
But identity itself.
In every narcissistic relationship, there comes a moment when the supply wakes up.
When they realize they have lost themselves.
When they see that their love was never love—
…it was control.
Has Cole woken up yet?
Maybe not.
Maybe she never will.
But someone else—someone reading this—might.
The Final Warning: How to Break Free from a Narcissist’s War
If you recognize yourself in Cole—stop.
Stop before you write their manifesto.
Stop before you burn your own credibility to defend someone who would never do the same for you.
Stop before you become nothing more than a puppet—
their voice, their anger, their cause—
trapped inside your body.
Ask yourself:
Who am I without them?
Do I exist beyond their war?
If the answer terrifies you—
…you are already trapped.
But you can get out.
Before they use you up.
Before they leave you behind.
Before you become just another name on the list of people who sacrificed themselves—
for someone who never bled for them.
It’s not too late.
This isn’t just about Andrew.
This is about every narcissist.
Every supply.
Every war that isn’t really a war—
…just one person’s hunger for control.
And it ends when the supply walks away.
Before it’s too late.