
Today, as a Purple Heart recipient and proud veteran of the United States Army, I feel compelled to share a story that is both deeply personal and emblematic of the systemic failures so many of us in the veteran community face. This isn’t just about policy—it’s about people. It’s about my brother in arms, Jeremy Harrell, is now headed to federal prison for daring to rebuild his life by helping others. He reports to prison soon, and the weight of this injustice is something I can’t stay silent about.
Jeremy Harrell was determined by the VA to be 100% disabled with a Total Disability Individual Unemployability (TDIU) rating. This status reflects the VA’s recognition that while Jeremy’s overall rating was less than 100%, his service-connected disabilities, particularly his struggles with PTSD, made holding a traditional job impossible. Had Jeremy stayed home, sitting on his couch, trapped in a cycle of depression, contemplating whether life was worth living, he wouldn’t be in this position. He wouldn’t be heading to prison.
But Jeremy didn’t stay on that couch. He displayed an extraordinary resilience. He made the bold decision to get up, leave his house, and try something different. He began by sharing his story, connecting with other veterans, and offering support to those fighting the same battles he faced. At first, it was simply about surviving, about finding a way to cope. Jeremy never imagined that these efforts would grow into something much larger.
What started as small, personal steps turned into something extraordinary. Jeremy founded Veterans Club, Inc., a nonprofit that quickly grew because of the profound impact it had on others. This organization provided resources, support, and hope to countless veterans who felt lost. Jeremy poured every ounce of himself into it, his time, his energy, his heart.
The VA, though, saw it differently. They argued that the time and effort Jeremy put into Veterans Club meant he was capable of working, even though he never took a paycheck from the nonprofit. They claimed he had defrauded the government, saying his work proved he no longer qualified for TDIU benefits. And just like that, the same benefits that helped Jeremy find a path forward became the reason he’s now heading to prison.
This isn’t a case of a veteran faking their condition, like rolling up to a clinic in a wheelchair and then going home to run a 5k. Those are the cases where punishment is justified. But Jeremy’s story is nothing like that. He didn’t game the system or exploit it. He found a way to cope with his disabilities and give back to his community. That’s not fraud, it’s resilience.
What’s even more heartbreaking is the missed opportunity here. The VA could have celebrated Jeremy as a success story. They could have highlighted how the benefits he received allowed him to rebuild his life, help others, and create a meaningful legacy. But instead of recognizing his achievements, they chose to come after him. Jeremy had to stand trial as a defendant in a case labeled The United States vs. Jeremy Harrell. Just writing those words feels like a gut punch. I can’t help but imagine how I’d feel if it were my name on that paper, the name of someone who loves this country and has bled for it, being turned against me like that.
Jeremy wasn’t punching a clock in a 9-to-5 job. He wasn’t answering to a boss or working under conditions that aggravated his PTSD. As the CEO of a nonprofit, he had the flexibility to set his schedule, choose who he worked with, and prioritize his mental health. The VA’s inability, or refusal, to see the difference is maddening.
Now, instead of celebrating Jeremy’s resilience and his contributions to the veteran community, we’re watching him be punished for it. To say it’s unfair doesn’t even begin to cover it. It’s devastating.
Jeremy’s story could have been one of triumph, proof that with the right support, veterans can overcome unimaginable challenges. But now, it’s a cautionary tale about how easily the system can turn on the very people it’s supposed to protect.
This situation makes me sick to my stomach, but I can’t sit back and stay quiet. Jeremy’s work wasn’t a crime. It was his way of healing, of finding purpose, and of making the world a better place. If we let stories like his slip by unnoticed, we lose something vital about who we are as a country.
The VA has its flaws, but I’ve always believed in its mission. I still do. Yet, cases like this show just how far we have to go. The rules need to make room for compassion. Veterans like Jeremy should be celebrated, not torn down.
If you agree, I urge you to share Jeremy’s story. Let’s stand together and send a message: this system is broken, and we won’t stop fighting until it’s fixed.
Jeremy, we’ve got your six. You’re not alone.
Thank you for writing this. It’s EXACTLY how I feel about our brother Jeremy. I will share this letter and his story as much as I can. I’ve contributed and will continue to contribute to his spotfund. What else can I do to help? Please don’t hesitate to reach out with ideas. Robert.d.cooley11@gmail.com