The following is a transcript of Exhibit 3A – A live video stream taken from (subsequently scrubbed from the website)

The video opens with the camera lens obscured. A muffled sound is heard and the camera is pulled back to reveal a wide open mouth.

Jones: “Red Alert – Red Alert – Red Alert”

Fig 1 - Alex Jones
The camera pulls back further to show Alex Jones' (Defendant) face. The background is of a heavily forested area, later established to be approximately 3 miles East of Jones' studio in Austin, Texas. Mr Jones appears to be in a state of distress.

Jones: “This is Alex Jones, at the forefront, from the front line. Not only am I reporting tomorrow’s news, I AM LIVING IT, PEOPLE!

“That’s right, it finally happened. The WAR on Christianity has begun.”

Mr Jones walks forwards and places the camera down. He steps back and removes his shirt.


Fig 2 - Note the abdominal bruising
He beats his chest and winces, then looks down to inspect a large bruise across his midsection. (See medical report)

Jones (Whispering): “I gotta stop doing that.”

Jones: “They can invade my studio, they can try to arrest me, try to take me off to their Chicom deep-state torture pits and have Hilary RAPE! MY! FACE!”

Jones stops for a moment to catch his breath, glancing around occasionally. He stumbles towards the camera and crouches.

Jones: “But they didn’t, did they. I was TOO QUICK and got the hell outta dodge. Thanks to my Turbo 900 Brain Power Pills, I predicted their assault and was halfway to my bunker before they busted down the door.

“I don’t know if the crew made it, and I’m sorry for that, truly I am. But it’s a DOG EAT DOG WORLD, FOLKS, and I’m gonna look after number one. That’s what being a PATRIOT is all about.”

The camera is obscured again as Jones picks it up. Footsteps can be heard crunching through leaves.

Jones: [Coughing]

Jones: “Here it is folks, my salvation. Years of planning, finally paying off.”

Fig 3 - Survival cache
The camera takes a few seconds to adjust to the dark scene. A hole has been dug in the earth between a few trees, a number of blue plastic barrels are partially uncovered, one with the lid removed. Jones leans over and pulls out a small cardboard box, and holds it up to the lens. The camera struggles to focus. (See Exhibit 4e "Brain pills")

Jones: “This shi- excuse me, still a CHRISTIAN SHOW folks, this STUFF, this MIRACLE IN PILL FORM is what keeps me at the top of my game. I’ve got a goddamn lifetime’s supply here, and you can still order my big-boy barrels on info wars store dot com before it’s too late.

“D-Day is upon us folks, but we’re still gonna get these to ya.”

Jones tears open the box and concentrates as he pops all the pills out of a blister pack into his visibly shaking hand. He glances at the camera before shoving the pills violently into his mouth.

Jones: (Choking sounds)

Jones drops the camera to the ground, the view pulls in and out of focus as digs around one of the other barrels and pulls off the lid, and pulls out a bottle of liquor. He turns and throws the lid on top of the camera, once again obscuring the view. Gulping, gasping, and heavy breathing can be heard for the next 37 seconds.

Jones: “Alright folks, I’ve gotta show this to ya as well.”

The camera is uncovered and picked up, then pointed towards another barrel.

Jones: “Here’s the other part, my storeable food here will keep me fit, healthy, and ready to bring the fight right to the communist chinese deep state antifa democrat assholes. Still available, and now we’ve got a DOOMSDAY SALE for the next uhh… twelve hours.”

Jones picks up a plastic package from the barrel. (See exhibit 5a: "Mac and Cheese")

Jones: “And it’s got all my favourite flavours.”

The camera is quickly spun around to Alex's face. He is sweating profusely.
Fig 4 - Blur due to excessive shaking

Jones: (Slurring) “Look, cash is meaningless in this post-truth, post-satanic uprising society so you may as well send it all to me. 

“Alright we’re gonna take a break and we’ll be right back where I’ll tell ya what happened, and what the big plan is. Stay right with us folks this is NOT A DRILL!”

The feed cuts off and resumes 5 hours and 17 minutes later.

Jones: “Alright, we’re back.”

Jones is sitting on the ground in a clearing, surrounded by empty plastic packets (see exhibits 5b-j “Mac & Cheese Wrappers”). It appears some twigs have been assembled into a pile but it has not been lit. Jones has removed his pants (unrecovered) and is wearing white briefs, socks and shoes.

Jones: “That’s right, I’m still here folks, they can’t stop me. They try to raid my studio… and… and finally take me off air. 

“(Sigh) Well, I’ll keep doing this ’till I die.”

Fig 5 - Note the bruising has spread further, presumably from continued chest-beating


He stands with some effort, holding on to a tree for stability.

Jones: “Listen, I think… I may have-“

Jones turns around and vomits behind a tree.

Jones: “I may have miscalculated.”

He wipes his mouth with his arm and stares at it for a few seconds before continuing.

Jones: “A big man like me, th-these storable food packets are like, they’re rations, like for starving people, you know? 


He beats his chest again, and retches violently

Jones: (Wincing) “Jesus Christ Lord.”

Jones: “So, I’m gonna go out there and see what’s left in the world. 

“There’s only you, me, the crew, Donald Trump, the Rittenhouse kid, and that pillow guy fighting the good fight right now. 

“I just hope you all got out to your bunkers like me before the goddamn BLM Antifa socialists burned your houses down.”

Jones bends down and picks up a clod of mud, and begins smearing it across his face.

Jones: “I need to. I-I need to protect myself. Blend in, like an assassin. You guys have seen predator right?? Arnold Schwartz-“

He stops and points at the camera.

Jones: “You thought I was gonna say it then didn’t you. Well, you’ll have to try harder than that. I’M NOT A RACIST!” 

He walks away from view.

Jones: (Inaudible)

Jones walks back in view with an assault rifle over one shoulder, and two ammunition belts crossed over his chest. Note: the ammunition is incompatible with the rifle (See exhibits 7a, 7b, “AR-15” and “Discarded Ammunition Belts”).

Jones: “Alright guys I’m heading out, see if I can get me a deer or something.”

Jones walks away from the camera, into the forest, occasionally stumbling. The feed gradually stops after another 2 hours of inactivity, presumably as the battery dies.
Fig 6 - Last footage before the alleged incident.
Feed resumes 7 hours later.

Jones: (Incoherent babbling)

The camera is partially obscured by earth, having been dropped on the ground. Only Jones’ bare feet are visible. He speaks in a harsh whisper, as though hoarse from shouting, or attempting to hide.
Fig 6 - Jones' feet

Jones: “The fucking frogs, man. I told ‘em, I told everybody and WOULD THEY LISTEN?”

Jones lays down beside the camera and gestures out into the forest.

Jones: [Sighing] “So, I go out hunting, like I said I was gonna. I walk about, what, 20-30 miles which I can easily cover in a few hours, and I smell something.”

He sniffs deeply and coughs.

Jones: “So I followed my nose, like, like Moses in the desert… now I’m not saying I’m a prophet or-or whatever. So I found this house, and I peeked over the fence and OH. MY. GOD.”

Jones pauses to wipe his face. The mud has mostly dried and flaked away. I
Fig 7 - Despite losing his clothes, Jones has successfully charged the camera.

Jones: “A full-on BLM rally in this nice American picket fenced yard. I couldn’t believe my eyes! Dozens, no, HUNDREDS of ‘em all stood around laughing, eating, their… yeah I’m not saying I’m racist but they were all black. 

“Like, you don’t see just white people gathering together with no-one else do you? I mean COME ON! This is segregation all over again, only they’re segregating me from their buffet.

“I mean, I know black people. I’ve seen… uh… Black Panther. Wolanda forever, right?”

He crosses his thumbs across his face, then wipes his nose again. A white powdery residue is visible on the back of his hand.

Jones: “So I climb over the fence, but they musta had some kind of security razor-wire on there like the goddamn NAZIS because it tore up my underwear, I took it off and put it over my head to disguise my identity. Like batman.

“Anyway, I go in there and they all start screaming about the klan or something. Now I had covered myself in mud so that might have looked a little- l-look that’s not relevant, we’ve gotta stay on track. Anyway, they’re terrified of my righteous patriotism so they keep their distance.

“I go over to this smoker thing they’ve got, it smells great, so I’ve gotta check it out. I open the door and- my god- what I see makes me puke. It’s a roasted child. They’ve fattened up a little white kid, stuffed an apple in it’s mouth and roasted him alive on a spit.”

Jones stares off into the distance for 23 seconds.

“So, I ran, I got the hell outta there. I should have opened fire with my rifle, but I didn’t wanna stoop to their level. They must have thought I was a cop because they kept shouting “it’s a pig!” as I climbed back over the fence and ran off. 

It’s like I’ve been warning you about for years – ANTIFA JUST WANNA EAT LITTLE KIDS!”

Jones’ rifle was found unloaded and unfired a few yards from the Bedford’s home an hour after the incident.

Jones: “So I’m running blind, I hear them hollerin’ after me, and I fall-“

He begins to sob, which then turns into a fit of laughter before he regains composure.

Jones: “I fell face down into this pond. I think I’m gonna drown or something until I manage to lift my head out of the muck, the leftist slime, when I come face to face with a demon. I mean an allegorical demon. A spiritual demon. 

“Probably a literal demon. 

“Okay it was a frog. But, I knew in my heart, it was gay.”

Jones cry-laughs.

Jones: “So, I was laid in Biden’s toxic estrogen sludge, straight from satan’s asshole… the sewage pipe of antifa chicom communist…uhh, Hilary.”

His voice tails off and Jones ducks down again, laying flat next to the camera. Voices can be heard in the distance, along with barking dogs.

Jones: (Whispering) “Holy fuck it’s the goddamn Chinese Antifa CIA… FBI!”

Jones scrambles to his feet and hides behind a tree. His fully naked body is in full view of the camera.
Fig 8 - Pixelation present on live stream, presumably InfoWars staff had implemented software to automatically recognise and blur Jones' penis.

Distant voices: “Jones! Alex Jones! Come on out! This is the police!”

Jones: “Fuck off, Satan!”

Jones drops to a crouch and begins digging with his bare hands in the earth.

Jones: (Panting): I gotta… shit. Gotta fuckin…

Jones pulls a large bottle of liquor from the earth and immediately begins drinking it. Figures can be seen moving through the trees as Jones drains the last of the bottle.

Officer Jackson: “Mister Jones we just want to talk, the family are just concerned for your welfare. Look,  we’ve got dogs here and-”

Jones leaps out from behind the tree and swings for Office Jackson with the bottle, missing. Jackson aims his Tazer at Jones’ chest and warns him to step back.


Jones pauses and looks Officer Jackson up and down. Officer Jackson is African-American.


Officer Jackson fires his Tazer into Jones’ chest. Jones collapses and begins to convulse as a police dog arrives and begins biting between his legs.

Jones: (Screaming)

Over the next 13 minutes Jones is tazered repeatedly as Officer Jackson awaits backup. Jones is eventually taken to hospital via air ambulance. Officer Jackson discovers the camera and picks it up.

Officer Jackson: “What kinda Looney Tunes asshole was this guy, anyway? Didn’t they just want him for tax fraud?”

Officer o’Rourke: “You see that barrel of coke he’s got there?”

Officer Jackson: “Jesus Christ.”

-Transcript ends-