David A. Willson | Updates

EFS Decryption - Unusual Circumstances

David A. Willson — Fri, 09 Jan 2026 06:42:03 -0500

Case Study: Overcoming EFS Encryption Without Original Hardware

Originally published by Police Technical magazine, this technical case study outlines how the Alaska Bureau of Investigation successfully bypassed Microsoft Encrypted File System (EFS) protection during a felony investigation into the exploitation of a minor. When standard forensic tools like FTK and PRTK failed to decrypt evidence located on a loose "suspect drive" separate from the original operating system, the investigators had to engineer a manual solution.

In this download, you will learn:

The Challenge: How investigators handled encrypted evidence found on a damaged volume where the original machine was unavailable for booting.
The Method: A step-by-step walkthrough of "spoofing" a Windows user identity, including using newsid.exe to replicate Security Identifiers (SID) and editing the registry to force specific relative IDs for user creation.
The Result: How recreating the original user environment allowed for the successful decryption of over 8,000 images and videos essential to the prosecution.

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Neutral Ground in a Noisy World

David A. Willson — Tue, 15 Apr 2025 00:00:00 +0000

As I wandered through social media this morning—scrolling past posts, comments, headlines, and hot takes—I noticed a familiar pattern. People tend to cluster around voices that echo their own. It’s human nature, really. We gravitate toward viewpoints that align with ours because it feels safer, simpler, and more validating. Especially as we get older, we become less tolerant of cognitive dissonance—the discomfort that comes from holding or encountering conflicting ideas. We start pruning our digital landscapes, curating our feeds, and filtering out the noise of opposition. This tendency is particularly visible in discussions about social and political issues, where the stakes feel high and the emotions run deep. But while this instinct might protect our sense of identity, it comes with an unexpected consequence—one that can quietly distort our perception of the world around us.

To explain what I mean, I put together a simple graphic using waves.

Let’s talk about what this image represents.

In physics, when two waves of the same frequency meet, their interaction depends on their alignment. If their peaks and troughs match perfectly—called being "in phase"—they amplify one another. This is known as constructive interference. The resulting wave is stronger, taller, and more intense.

On the other hand, if their peaks and troughs oppose—when one wave’s peak meets the other’s trough—they cancel each other out. This is called destructive interference. The result is a flattened wave, where energy is diminished or neutralized.

Now, take that principle and apply it to human interaction.

When we surround ourselves with people who believe exactly what we believe, it creates a feedback loop. Every opinion, every fear, every emotional peak gets reflected back to us and amplified. We feel validated, emboldened, and sometimes inflamed. The wave gets taller. The emotions grow stronger. That’s constructive interference (although it's rarely constructive).

At first, this might feel empowering. There’s solidarity in a group that shares your passion, your beliefs, your outrage. But when unchecked, that amplification can become dangerous. What starts as a concern becomes a crisis. What begins as frustration becomes fury. The volume of our belief drowns out the nuance.

And here’s the problem: waves don’t only amplify joy or pride or hope. They also amplify fear, anxiety, and despair. That’s the bi-polar effect I want to talk about.

Social media is the ideal echo chamber. Algorithms are built to keep us engaged, and what keeps us engaged is what keeps us emotionally activated. That means we’re more likely to see content that aligns with our current beliefs and feelings. The wave effect kicks in. And as more content shows up that confirms our outlook, we sink deeper into the troughs or rise higher on the crests. The extremes become our new normal.

The result? We see our fellow citizens, coworkers, even family members not as people, but as opponents. We polarize. We demonize. We distance.

But here’s where the metaphor of waves becomes useful again: just as constructive interference amplifies, destructive interference can balance. When opposing waves meet, their energy can cancel out. It’s not about one wave dominating the other, but about equilibrium.

When we surround ourselves with people who challenge our views, it can be uncomfortable. But that discomfort is the beginning of balance. It tempers the emotional highs and lows. It creates space for reason, moderation, and empathy. The wave flattens—not into apathy, but into something more stable.

In a world of constant amplification, balance feels like silence. But it isn’t silence—it’s peace.

Now, I want to get more specific about the dangers of unchecked alignment. Consider political tribes, online conspiracy communities, or even fandoms gone toxic. These environments thrive on constructive interference. Every new post, every shared article, every reinforcing comment builds a wave that grows until it crashes. Often, these crashes manifest as real-world consequences: violence, disillusionment, depression, or rash decisions.

Think about the emotional toll of believing that the world is ending, that your enemies are everywhere, that justice is out of reach. When that belief is constantly reinforced, not challenged, it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. The wave of despair can sweep a person off their feet.

Conversely, even positive feedback loops can be problematic. Blind optimism, constant affirmation, or the belief that your ideology or lifestyle is unquestionably superior can lead to arrogance, denial, and reckless choices. It’s still a wave—it’s just a different direction. And when reality eventually contradicts that wave, the crash is just as hard.

What’s missing from both extremes is friction—the kind of tension that comes from engaging with people who see the world differently. This friction isn’t a threat; it’s a stabilizer. It’s the conversation that brings you down from a manic high or lifts you out of a depressive spiral. It’s the reminder that your perspective is valuable but not universal. That your beliefs are strong, but not infallible.

And it’s that reminder that prevents existential crises. When we’re too high on the wave, we start to believe we’re gods. When we’re too low, we think we’re worthless. Both extremes distort our sense of self. Balance gives us clarity. It helps us see who we really are—not the best or the worst, but something grounded and real.

So what can we do?

We can intentionally invite opposing views into our feed. Follow people who challenge you. Read books by authors you disagree with. Have conversations—not debates—with those on the other side. Don’t just seek to be right; seek to understand.

We can also practice emotional hygiene. Recognize when you’re riding a wave and ask: am I being swept away, or am I standing on solid ground? Am I thinking clearly, or am I caught in an echo?

And most importantly, we can remember that harmony doesn’t mean uniformity. True harmony—like in music—is the interplay of different notes, sometimes even dissonant ones, coming together to make something beautiful.

So yes, there’s comfort in surrounding yourself with like-minded people. But there’s wisdom—and peace—in surrounding yourself with diversity of thought.

We weren’t meant to live in waves of constant crescendo. We were meant for rhythm, for ebb and flow. For moments of stillness between the sound.

Let’s seek that stillness. Let’s flatten the wave—just enough to breathe.

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The Great Alone (Book Review)

David A. Willson — Mon, 10 Jun 2024 00:00:00 +0000

Warning: a couple wee spoilers.

I finished this book today. It wasn’t the kind I normally read, but it was recommended by someone I love, so I gave it a try.

It was melodramatic. There were no magical spells, spaceships, or alternate dimensions. It was about people. Relationships. Love, hate, anger, envy, and above all else, a relentless frontier spirit that drives the plot forward.

It’s set in Alaska, and I live in Alaska, so that pretty slick. But it’s set in the 70’s, which is different, and an angle I really enjoyed.

This story really pulls you in, I gotta say. The characters, especially the protagonist, Leni, came alive for me. More so than most books. A character-driven story, for sure, but there was plenty of action.

And plenty of violence. The domestic violence in this story really hurts to read, especially for those of us who’ve seen it first-hand on the job. I could almost identify with Leni, a witness to the effects of the violence but unable to really do anything about it. When I was a Trooper, I put handcuffs on more than a few DV abusers. As in this story, they always seemed to get out of jail in a few days, go home, and the victims would suddenly stop cooperating with the case. Charges would go away immediately. The bruises, however, took a lot longer to heal. Then the cycle would happen all over again.

Alaska is a character in this novel. I’ve never seen an environment come alive like this, a clear testament to the author’s research and effort in the area. The seasons, the fishing, the wildlife, all of it comes alive in the reader’s mind.

It’s hard to judge a story like this. It stands apart from most others. This story isn’t pretend. It’s real. It’s happening all the time, in many of the houses around us. Lives are being destroyed every day, and those victims try to put on a pretty face, smile, and pretend so that nobody will know the secret suffering that happens behind closed doors.

So, I guess I’m kinda ticked at Kristen Hannah. I like pretend. I like make-believe. I like being transported far away from the slings and arrows of this dark world we inhabit. The Great Alone doesn’t do that. On the contrary, it hits you in the face with raw, human experience. Pain. Disappointment. Broken dreams. There is no pretend. There is no make-believe. Only tears.

Dang, Kristin. Take it easy on us, will ya?

Five stars, for sure.

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The Bad Weather Friend (Book Review)

David A. Willson — Fri, 1 Mar 2024 00:00:00 +0000

Warning: not spoilers, but kinda-sorta hints will reveal themselves in this review.

Ok, this isn’t a perfect book. You won’t walk away from it as a changed person, you won’t fall in love with any of the characters, and you won’t cry, or scream in horror, or anything like that.

But it is fun.

It’s campy, satirical, creative, and entertaining in the way that merry-go-rounds and waffle cones are fun. Dean Koontz seems better known for suspense, sci-fi, supernatural works, and this has some of that sort of thing. But it’s kinda weird, too.

Weird things:

1) He talks to you. Yeah, you. Koontz has a dozen or so sections in (paragraphs where he just talks straight to you like this.) The only book I can remember doing this was The Princess Bride by S. Morgenstern (aka William Goldman). Goldman did this very well. Koontz does it less well. It’s cute, but kinda bothered me. Still, it fit in with the goofy style of this book, so there’s that.

2) Koontz plays fast and loose with the backstory, jumping to and fro, pushing you into the main character’s head during his forming years, then back into the main storyline. I found it a bit unsettling, but then I hate it when stories bounce back and forth like that. Always have. Movies, too - can’t stand it. Give me a prologue with some character development from yesteryear, if you must, then let’s get on with the show. Koontz didn’t do that.

But it is quite fun.

Aliens, secret societies, and one really, really nice guy make this book kind of a riot. It’s not perfect. I wouldn’t even say that it’s great, or really good.

But seriously, you will have fun. That's gotta be worth four stars.

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Scythe (Book Review)

David A. Willson — Thu, 8 Feb 2024 00:00:00 +0000

It is rare that one comes across a novel that is truly original. Often, we just see characters and plots that are reminiscent of so many others we’ve read, albeit seasoned in some slightly new way. Stories like those are enjoyable, if not for their uniqueness, but perhaps for their familiarity.

This is no such book.

The world-building is new, for sure, and I commend Shusterman for it. Very fun. But world-building is just the construction of the stage on which a play is acted out; it cannot stand on its own. After the novelty of it, I expected Scythe to fall on its face.

But it didn’t.

The characters of Scythe are a hero-pair. There is romantic tension, but this isn’t a romance. It’s just something… different. This story has action, subterfuge, dark villains and a plot that forces us to ask ourselves: where is the human race is going? And when we get there, what happens next?

And the answer seems to be: the same thing that always happens. We screw it all up.

Super fun. Great book. Just read it.

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A Salute to the Silly

David A. Willson — Sat, 13 Jan 2024 00:00:00 +0000

I saw a funny meme the other day. It depicted our solar system, complete with the sun and all the planets, but our earth was flat as a board while the celestial bodies that surrounded it were depicted as spheres. The caption read, “Well, this is awkward.”

The cartoon elicited a quick chuckle from me, then I expected to move on to absorb whatever other nonsense the interwebs had for me that day. Instead, I paused. There were smart people on this rock when a flat earth was the prevailing wisdom of the day. Really smart people believed in it.

Imagine the earth’s best brainiacs, gazing out over the ocean, convinced that somewhere, just beyond the horizon, lies a gigantic 'Do Not Enter' sign, warning of the great abyss that marks the edge of our decidedly non-globular world.

And what about other things we knew to be true and just weren’t? Spontaneous generation held the scientific stage for far too long, akin to a bad comedian who doesn't know when to exit. This theory, which posited that life could emerge from non-life like a rabbit from a hat, was the talk of the town. Picture this: medieval scientists and observers, with the best of intentions but perhaps a little too much mead, gazing at a piece of old cheese and, lo and behold, mice appear! Or witnessing with awe as maggots miraculously appeared on rotting meat, as if a tiny, unseen magician was at work. It was the ultimate DIY for nature - no need for complex biological processes, just a bit of old food or a dirty shirt, and voilà, life!

How about some dark European superstition? Back in the Middle Ages, doctors clung to a rather fragrant idea that diseases sprung from a noxious air, dubbed 'miasma'. It's amusing to think that this medieval myth actually shaped medical vocabulary – take 'malaria', which literally translates from Italian as 'bad air' (‘mala’ for bad, ‘aria’ for air). Imagine that – a deadly disease, named after a misguided hunch!

And when it came to the dreaded plague, our ancestors were no less creative. The doctors of the Great Plague of London fancied that stuffing their masks with flowers would shield them from the plague's ‘perfumed’ wrath. While these petal-packed masks made for a rather dapper look, they did squat against the actual plague. So much for the power of posies!

We also thought the sun revolved around the earth, we thought the human body was made up of humers (blood, choler, phlegm and black bile), we removed 'bad blood' with leeches, and we electrocuted our mental patients.

So, while society muses about the power of science, the death of religion, and revels in the confidence that modern humans have finally got it all figured out, I have to ask, didn’t the thinkers in eras past also consider themselves wise? Since human nature hasn’t changed all that much, I must ask a followup question—with history as a guide, what exactly are we stupid about today? What do we believe right now that is absolutely ridiculous and will earn the ridicule of future generations?

I’m immediately drawn to the human brain. It’s the last area of medical research where we are profoundly ignorant. We’ve done well with deciphering the machinations of the rest of the human body to a significant degree, but that noodle in our noggin still confounds us.

Why does each hemisphere insist on conducting the opposite side of our body? It's a quirky conductor indeed. Face recognition is another enigma. Six brain areas are in on this secret, yet the full story of how they transform a sea of faces into familiar landmarks remains untold. We are also vexed about the journey of images from the retina of our eye to a virtual canvas in our cortex? It's a magical art show where the brain is both the artist and the audience.

What about the brain areas responsible for speech? Like solo performers, they usually hang out in the left hemisphere, but musical activity is way over on the right? Sleep is another profound mystery. Why do we surrender to its embrace every night, and what secret stories do our dreams weave? Are they our own creations, or as many mystics believe, messages from the beyond?

And then, there's consciousness – the grandest mystery of them all. Some believe it’s a natural consequence of the complex neural symphony happening inside our heads. It's as if our brains are finely tuned instruments in the vast orchestra of life, and consciousness is the most sublime note they can play. Or does it come from some other place, sitting on the brain for a lifetime, then off to adventures unknown? (That actually sounds like a good idea for a novel.)

As we stand in awe of these wonders, we can't help but marvel at the possibilities. Perhaps, one day, as we unravel these neural mechanisms, we'll finally grasp the elusive melody of our minds. Until then, let's revel in the wonder, the humor, and the sheer magnificence of not knowing, yet seeking. And let’s give our silly ancestors a break.

After all, generations down the line, we’ll surely be the butt of jokes by our own progeny. They'll chuckle at our quaint attempts to decode the universe while sipping on their quantum coffee or whatever the future fancies.

So, lift your cup to blissful cluelessness! A salute to enigmas still cozy in their cloaks of mystery and those who were bold enough to unravel them! And if you bump into a flat-earther while gallivanting about, just chuckle and remember: we're every bit as ridiculous, albeit with a slightly different flavor.

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