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From One Story to Many: The Blog That Exposes What Happened
Published by
Marcie
on
March 14, 2026
Hi everyone,
I have to say that some people look completely safe and trustworthy until they’re not and this is a story of this man – Fady Farouk Zaki.
This is the story behind this blog:
A while ago, a very good friend of mine went through something horrible. She was drugged and assaulted by a man she thought was kind and safe. When she finally found the courage to share her story in this Fb group, she was shocked to realize she wasn’t alone.
Another girl had also experienced a different kind of harm from the same man: manipulation and serious breaches of trust. The more we heard, the clearer it became that this needed to be brought into the light.
My friend and I decided we couldn’t stay silent. We created this blog to collect the real stories of what he has done to different women. It’s a place where survivors can share their experiences safely, support each other, and warn others.
On the blog you’ll find personal accounts, including my own. We are also open to hearing from anyone else who has encountered him, whether it was sexual harassment, unauthorized medication, breaking confidentiality, or any other form of violation.
There is already a website dedicated to exposing who he really is: https://fadyfaroukzaki.com/ . You can see details about his life, where he lives, his profession as a pharmacist, and the pattern of behavior that has hurt multiple women.
We want to encourage real accountability. No one should be able to hide behind a respectable job, a charming smile, or a seemingly normal family life while harming others.
Please note that while we are gathering evidence and preparing a legal process with official structures, all the names of the women who shared their stories on the blog have been changed for their safety and privacy. The experiences described are real, but we have protected the identities of those involved.
If something like this has happened to you, or if you know more information — please don’t stay silent. You are not alone. Sharing can protect other women and help stop the cycle.
We kindly ask you to share this blog so more people become aware. The more eyes on this, the safer we all become.
Together we are stronger. 💔
Hello,
I’m Marcie
I’m a mom and blogger from New Mexico.
I decided to open this blog because my close friend went through a very painful experience with pharmacist Fady Farouk Zaki. What happened to her shocked me deeply, and I realized she is not the only one. I couldn’t stay silent anymore, so I created this space to raise awareness, share real stories, and help other women speak up.
You are not alone here.
More Information
We can contact you!
Please write your email if you want to tell your story and I will contact you.
Recent posts
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I’m sharing this because some stories stay with you, even when you wish they wouldn’t. This is my story about a man named Fady Farouk Zaki.
My name is Emma S. I’m 33 years old. (name changed for privacy)
A few years ago I was sitting in a bar when a man sat down next to me. One of those people you instantly think of as “pleasant.” Neat, attentive, with a soft smile and a calm voice. Not pushy, not rude — just polite and a little charming.
“What are you drinking?” he asked, like we’d known each other for years.
I ordered a beer.
We talked easily, almost without pauses. About work, traveling, the Middle East, Egypt. He said he was a Doctor of Pharmacy — which sounded impressive, solid. He spoke confidently, tilting his head a little, looking at me like he was genuinely interested in everything I was saying.
At some point I went to the restroom. I remember the mirrors, the cold light, my reflection — a little flushed, but completely sober.
When I came back, he was still there, smiling.
I took a sip of my beer.
Nice talk, music. And then – nothing.
The next thing I remember is morning.
Light through the curtains. White walls. A bed. Calle Soquelle area. And him — sitting across from me with that same smile, like the night had gone exactly the way he planned.
I didn’t remember anything.
Not how we left the bar.
Not how I got there.
Not what happened between that drink and the morning.
It was the first time in my life I had a complete memory blackout without any real reason. Without drinking enough for that to make sense.
I don’t remember that night.
But for some reason I can’t forget it either.
What stayed with me is this heavy, sticky feeling that something happened to me that I didn’t choose. That no one actually asked for my “yes.” Or maybe I just couldn’t say it. Was the beer taste different? Was it something else?
Later I found out more about him – Married. Two small kids. Respectable profession. A perfectly normal life.
Sometimes I wonder — maybe it was my fault? I sat down. I drank. I trusted him.
And sometimes I think: no.
Guilt is when you make a choice. And I don’t remember ever being given one….
Before this, I had been in serious relationships and felt safe and trusting. After this experience, I now find it very hard to feel safe when meeting new people or going out. The simple trust I once had is gone, and I’m still learning how to move forward and feel okay dating or being social again. Thanks to my friends that helped me to start talking.
No one should use their charm, position, or profession to take advantage of someone or violate their consent and privacy.
I’ll keep fighting.
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Next story is a nightmare. When I’ve heard it I was speechless…
This story is from the young girl, here it is:
I’ve been staring at this screen for hours, trying to find the courage to write this. It’s so hard for me to even talk about… but I can’t keep it inside anymore.
A few months ago I found out I was pregnant. I wasn’t married, and in our close-knit Arab Christian community that felt like the end of the world. I was scared, confused, and so alone. I went to the pharmacist everyone in our neighborhood trusts, a man from our community too. We ended up talking for a long time. I told him everything: how complicated things were with the father, how lost I felt. He really listened. For the first time I didn’t feel completely judged. He gave me some pills for the nausea and the anxiety and said they would help.
I took them exactly like he told me to.
A few weeks later my body started falling apart. The pain… I rushed to the doctor. When I showed her the medicine, she was furious. She said those pills were extremely dangerous during pregnancy, they basically forced me to lose the baby. I had no choice but to have an abortion.
I went back to the pharmacist, shaking. I told him what happened. He just looked at me calmly and said it was probably for the best… that since I wasn’t married, this was a mercy and he was only trying to help me.
I can’t describe how devastated I am. I actually wanted this baby. More than anything. I was already picturing myself holding him or her, even if everything else was messy. Now I keep wondering if I’ll ever get another chance… if I’ll ever be a mom.
I feel so betrayed. Please be careful who you trust with your body and your future.
I just needed to say it somewhere. ❤️
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One Unlicensed Prescription and a Lifetime of Shame and Danger
Hi everybody, my name is Sarah J. (name changed for privacy).
This is a story I finally ready to share despite the shame and pain that I feel.
In the fall of 2025, I was struggling with a skin rash and had no health insurance. A mutual acquaintance introduced me to pharmacist Fady Farouk Zaki. Because he only speaks Arabic and we shared a cultural connection, I trusted him to help me.
During our conversation, I opened up about my personal health situation. He was easy to speak with. Without doing any proper medical evaluation or giving me a valid prescription, he handed me some pills (I don’t even remember the name) and told me I could take them. I remember that he also made comments suggesting that my rash was caused by sexual activity, words that felt deeply inappropriate and invasive. At the time, I felt uncomfortable with what he said, but I was thankful for the pills because they actually helped clear the rash. I never imagined that a simple act of asking for help would turn into something so painful.
A few months later, my family in Egypt contacted me in shock. They told me that Fady had shared details of my condition with them, claiming it was related to sexual relations. He had broken my confidence completely. As a result, my family turned away from me. They said I had brought shame on the entire family. To this day, I cannot safely visit my relatives in Egypt because it puts my life at risk.
When I confronted him about what he had done, his response was cold and cruel. He told me he could do whatever he wanted. He called me a “dirty prostitute,” said no one would believe me because he is a “veteran” who works at the Department of Veterans Affairs in Albuquerque, and a respected pharmacist, while I was “just” a young woman with no proof.
This betrayal shattered me. As a woman from the Middle East, privacy, family honor, and trust are not just words, they are everything. In our culture, such information being leaked can destroy lives and relationships forever. What should have been a simple medical consultation turned into a nightmare that cost me my family and my sense of safety. The shame, fear, and isolation I carry now run deep. Simple things like trusting others or imagining a normal future feel impossible right now.
I have already submitted formal complaints to the official bodies responsible for oversight:
- New Mexico Regulation and Licensing Department Board of Pharmacy
- U.S. Department of Health and Human Services
- New Mexico Department of Justice
I will continue filing with more institutions as part of building a legal case.
I am also deeply in shock by multiple public allegations of sexual harassment and inappropriate behavior toward young women by the same man that I’ve heard from another girls. It’s unbelievable.
When some girls heard about my story and contacted me I didn’t know how to react. And then they told me that they want to create this blog, to give a safe, private space for stories like mine and others. It feels so right. And gave me power to speak up about my story freely.
Now I know, that no one, not even a licensed pharmacist working with veterans, should be allowed to violate patient confidentiality, dispense medication without proper safeguards, or use their position to harm and shame women.
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Questions we can’t stop asking
In the age of digital footprints and whispered conversations, some personal stories still manage to stay just out of reach. One that keeps surfacing lately is the quiet disappearance of Norma from Fady’s life. Or not dissappearance?
Thinking about Norma these days brings up a lot of quiet questions. She was married to Fady, and from everything we can see, they are no longer together.
What was the reason? That’s the part that lingers the most. Did Norma discover things about Fady that made staying impossible? Did she know about the other stories people have shared? Was there harm involved: emotional, psychological, or something deeper? These aren’t easy questions, but they feel important when someone simply disappears from public view after years of marriage.
They have two beautiful babies together. That adds another layer of weight to all of this. How are the children doing now? Who are they staying with? Are they with Norma, with Fady, or split between both? Kids that young going through a parental separation is never simple, and the uncertainty around their well-being sits heavy.
And then there’s Norma herself. Where is she staying right now? Where is she living? Is she safe, supported, and rebuilding a life that feels like her own? She always came across as vibrant and full of life in the pictures from before, someone who deserved honesty, peace, and the chance to raise her children without shadows hanging over them.
It’s hard not to think of how quickly a shared life can change. One day you’re building a family, the next you’re navigating separation, custody questions, and whatever truths led to the split. Our hope is that Norma and the kids are okay — truly okay — wherever they are. That she has the space and support to move forward in a way that feels safe and free.
These kinds of situations remind us how much we don’t see behind closed doors, and how important it is to care about the people who quietly step back from the spotlight.
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Another Traumatic Experience with Pharmacist Fady Zaki F: A Serious Breach of Privacy
My name is Sophia J. (name changed for privacy)
A few months ago I walked into a pharmacy in a haze of desperation. I had crushing anxiety that kept me up for nights on end, and I was barely sleeping. I just needed someone—anyone—to help me breathe again.
He was behind the counter: neat, professional, soft-spoken, with that calm, attentive smile that makes you feel like you’re being truly seen. A licensed pharmacist. Someone who was supposed to keep your secrets safe.
I told him everything. The panic attacks. The sleepless nights. The painful details of my personal life and relationships that I had never shared with anyone else. In that moment, I was too broken to hold anything back.
He listened. He nodded. Then, without any real medical evaluation, without a prescription, without even the basic paperwork, he handed me medication and told me it would help. And while he was doing it, he made comments—personal, intimate remarks about my relationships—that made my stomach drop. The kind of things no stranger, let alone a pharmacist, should ever say.
I took the pills. I went home.
The real nightmare didn’t hit until weeks later.
People from the Arab community started reaching out to me. Strangers. They knew things: intimate, private things I had only told him. They called me a “dirty prostitute.” They said they were going to tell everyone so no one would ever want to be with me. The messages kept coming. The shame was suffocating. I stopped leaving the house. I stopped answering my phone. I still wake up some nights in a cold sweat, terrified that more people know, that the story is spreading, that my life is ruined.
I keep thinking about that day in the pharmacy: the fluorescent lights, the quiet conversation, the way he looked at me like he cared. And I wonder how someone with that kind of power and trust could treat a person’s most vulnerable moments so carelessly.
My broken confidentiality, the inappropriate comments, the way my private pain was turned into gossip and none of that is my fault.
Before this, I still believed that when you’re honest with a professional, your story stays safe. Now that trust is shattered. Meeting new people, opening up, even simple interactions feel loaded with risk. I’m still trying to find my way back to feeling safe in the world.
No one should use their position, their title, or their access to someone’s pain to violate their privacy or dignity. Ever.
I’m still learning how to move forward. But this story? It stays with me. And I think it’s time it was told.
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The Curious Case of Fady Farouk Zaki: How Does a VA Pharmacist in New Mexico Afford Over $1 Million in Real Estate?
Fady Farouk Zaki works as a pharmacist at the Raymond G. Murphy Department of Veterans Affairs Medical Center in Albuquerque, New Mexico — a solid government job serving veterans.
On paper, it’s a respectable position. He’s got a family with two kids, regular living expenses like housing, school costs, insurance, cars, groceries, and all the usual stuff that comes with raising a family in Albuquerque. Yet public records and property info suggest he owns multiple real estate holdings worth well over $1 million combined.
Here’s where things stop adding up.
The Numbers
VA clinical pharmacists in Albuquerque typically earn around $122,000 to $145,000 gross per year, depending on experience and exact role. After taxes and deductions, you’re looking at roughly $90k–$110k take-home.
For a family of four in Albuquerque (cost of living a bit below the national average), realistic monthly expenses easily hit $5,500–$7,500 : housing, food, kids’ activities, transportation, insurance, the works. That doesn’t leave a ton of extra cash for building a big investment portfolio.
Now layer on multiple properties valued at over a million dollars. Even with some rental income, you’re talking serious down payments, mortgages, maintenance, taxes, and insurance. Accumulating that kind of asset base while supporting a family on a single public-sector salary? It’s not impossible… but it’s definitely not straightforward.
Something here just isn’t clear. The math feels off. Maybe there’s a high-earning spouse, big inheritance, or some very lucky early real estate wins. Or maybe other income streams we don’t see. But on the surface, it looks like a stretch — the kind that makes you pause and wonder how it all fits together.
In public service roles like this, especially at taxpayer-funded institutions, these kinds of gaps raise fair questions about transparency and how someone’s lifestyle lines up with their reported paycheck.
Is it something else that he might be hiding?
Truth about Fady Farouk Zaki 