Even though I have control over most of my life, there is one aspect that I do not control and this makes me feel inferior. I have a beautiful child, a nice home, and I am at the top of my professional career, yet I still feel that there is one thing I needed to change to make my life better… my husband. For years, I felt that my husband John was a calculating jerk. I should have listened to my family. My mother was the first to warn me about that type of man. She knew how he was shortly after meeting him at our family cookout. John thought that he was so charming, but the women in my family saw right through his insecurities. He walked around smiling and grinning as if he was making his rounds in a bar full of desperate, single women. I felt that if I could change my husband it would make things better. At the time of my thinking, I was so convinced that my way was the only way. My manipulating ways did not make my marriage better but it made it worse, especially after my act of malicious intent.
The first time I took John to meet my family I thought that my mother would be happy that I was finally settling down. I took John to our annual family cookout. All during the cookout John was being his flirtatious self. I don’t think there was any female from eight to eighty in my family that he did not try working his charm on and trying to impress. When the cookout ended, I went inside to help my mother and my aunt clean the kitchen. John was out with my uncle Bud and my step-dad Dusty drinking beer and talking loud. I told my mother that John asked me to marry him and I said yes. I wanted to know her thoughts to see if I was making the right decision. My mother hugged me and said, “Baby…we all have to make our own decisions.” During her usual, pause before she started a long round about answer to a simple question, I let out an exasperating sigh, under my breath of course and said, “Here we go”
My mother took a sip of her tea and then she started her lecture. “In life you will make some decisions that are right and some that are wrong, but they will be yours to make and you have to be able to live with those decisions. God knows I made some wrong decisions and that is when I pray that he makes provisions for me and forgive me for being disobedient. Ask God to guide you not me, I’m nobody compare to God”
My mother always had a way of not answering my questions directly. Especially those about choices that were mine to make, and she will throw God into it in a minute. Most of her answers were long and detailed, but never a straight answer. At least not the one I was looking for to help my situation. I then asked my mother what she thought of John. She was very reluctant to speak. She looked at me and then looked out the window to make sure John was still there before talking about him. She took another sip of her tea and then said, “When a man flirts that often he will eventually land a willing partner to take him up on his offer.” I looked at my aunt and she quickly looked away. I felt like she was not telling me something that she knew concerning John. I asked her what she thought and my aunt was in agreement with my mother. As usual, she had to add her special polished two cents in by saying, “I know his type, and I dated a few of them in my day.” My mother laughed as she interrupted, “Hell, you married one!” we all laughed. It was even funnier to me to hear my momma curse again. “Yeah, but he eventually calmed down… they usually do” my aunt said in a stern voice looking directly at my mother as if she was giving her the eye to not go further with her business concerning my uncle Bud.
Standing at the car with my door-opened waiting for me to come on John beeped the horn to let me know it was time to go. I felt a little rushed as I told everyone goodnight. When I hugged my mother, my step-dad said in his hearty country voice.
“That John is a good ole Texan, treat em right!”
Texas is where my step dad Dusty is from originally.
As I approached the car, I looked John up and down slowly and for the moment, I forgot everything that my aunt and mother said about him and remembered how we first met. I met John “The Big Texan” as my cousin Trisha called him at the truckers lounge. I was out one night hanging with Trisha when I first made eye contact with John and from that point forward, I knew what I wanted for the rest of my life. He was the sexiest man I ever saw in my life. John was tall and had long brownish hair that he kept in a ponytail. He always had this devious but cute grin on his face like that of a teenage boy grinning in embarrassment when a girl gave him a compliment. The sleeves to his button down shirt were cutoff and all the buttons were unfastened revealing his big chest, muscular arms, and a six pack for abs. His skin was a bronze like color from being in the hot sun all day. John was a bouncer at the Truckers Lounge. He worked from three in the afternoon, until three in the morning, four days a week. The rest of the days belonged to me and I loved every moment. John was big and strong, but with me, he was always gentle.
My mother and aunt never had a man like John. All I knew is that I had a sexy man and they did not, so I felt that they couldn’t tell me a damn thing about my man.
After I got in the car, John closed the door and we exchanged waves with my mother. On the drive home, I was thinking back about the discussion with my mother and aunt in the kitchen and that made me a little upset because of the candor in which they spoke. Deep down there was a side of me knew that they were telling the truth and my aunt knew from experience.
My uncle was a big flirt and he had several women claiming to have slept with him, but my aunt only had proof of one and that was because she caught them in the act when she came home early from church due to a bad headache. My mother said it was the spirit revealing my uncle’s adulterous ways. My uncle begged my aunt to forgive him and agreed to go to counseling with her and the pastor. The pastor convinced my aunt to forgive him and preached to them about for better or for worse, until death do us part. Years later, it came out that the pastor had an affair with two women in the congregation and one of them got pregnant. I guess he understood my uncle because of his indiscretion and shortcomings.
I told John about the concerns that my mother and aunt had with his flirting. He insisted that it was just part of his Texas charm. He promised me that he would tone it down as much as possible. During the time, while were engaged he was very respectable and I thought that he changed, but on our wedding night, he tried to sleep with my best friend. The next morning he claim that he didn’t remember a thing and told me that he was very drunk and must have made a mistake.
How drunk do you have to be to make that mistake…?
I’m five feet-two inches, with small breast and a small body frame. I only weigh one hundred and twenty pounds. She’s five feet-nine inches, with big breast and a big ass, weighing about one hundred and eighty-five pounds.
A blind man could tell the difference with just one touch.
My cousin Trisha was trying to convince me to get an annulment. She had to get one a couple of years back. She got married in Vegas one night while she was drunk. The next morning while getting out of the bed, she was disgusted at what she saw. Her new husband in all his glory came out of the bathroom smiling and that is when she realized how ugly he was. She also noticed all the teeth that he was missing and she was disgusted. I laughed so hard at how she described him and told her story that I wasn’t as mad with John as I was before the story.
I guess you can make a bad decision if you get that drunk. I never have been drunk like that before, so I would not know. I get a buzz off a half a can of beer.
Trisha’s attempt at trying to convince me to leave John actually helped me forgive him, but it would be the last time I told myself.
Things were much better the first year as we started learning more about each other during that time. I also got pregnant that year. After our daughter was born my momma came to live with us because John enlisted in the Army reserves and had to go to basic training for eight weeks. All I could think of is the fact that he had to cut his hair. I loved his ponytail.
When John completed basic he had to report one weekend a month for duty. When the war began, he got a call for active duty to go to Afghanistan. It was rough during that time while he was away, but it made me tougher. During that time while John was away, I went back to school to finish my finance degree that I started years before meeting John.
Later that year my husband got discharge from the Army. He claimed that he was wrongly accused, but wouldn’t tell me what happened. John refused to fight the case and got out with a General discharge under honorable conditions; his only regret is he had to forfeit his G.I. Bill. Since coming back from the war, he took meaningless jobs that kept him in and out of work. He would always ask me for money here and there and I would give it to him. By this time, I was very successful at my job and I did well in the stock market, but John didn’t know all of this at the time. He told me that he really wanted to get a more meaningful job so that he could be financially instrumental in raising our little girl. He told me just the fact of having a child made him want to do better. He was determined and finally he got a job, it wasn’t much but it made him feel better to contribute to the family, he mostly spent the money on our daughter as I continued to handle the household bills.
I was shock when I got a call one day from Trisha saying that John was in jail. She said the he was behind on his child support. I was shocked and disappointed. I was going to leave his ass in jail just because he didn’t tell me that he had another child. While incarcerated, I called John’s job and told his boss that he had a death in the family and was very distraught. I asked his boss if he could take some time off and he agreed to give him a week. I did that because he needed to keep his job. There was no way that I was going to support his other child. I finally paid to get him out because our daughter kept crying for him. My cousin Trisha looked everything up concerning my husband and she found out that he also had two boys, all by different women. That is three different baby mamma’s! Trisha handed me a beer and welcomed me into the club. She told me that I was officially poor white trash. I told her she can call me white trash, but I was far from poor.
I paused telling my story, sat up, looked Dr. Smith in the face, and said, “You see Doc, I may come from a lower class family, but I earned my degree and got a good paying job. Prior to this moment in my life I was a financial analyst who made a lot of money in the stock market. I was very smart when it came to investments. My knack for doing good research leads me down a good financial path. Even with all the book smarts, there is something to say about having good common sense. If I had researched my husband like I did my job assignments I wouldn’t have put any stock into our marriage, but now I’m fully invested.”
I lay back down and started my story again.
One time I sought legal advice to get a divorce, but I found out that I would have to pay my husband alimony. His sorry ass wasn’t going to get anything from me, it will be cheaper for me to let him stay here and just have a roof over his head.
I thought about what my uncle use to say.
“It’s cheaper to keep her!”
I understand now what he was saying, but to say, “It’s cheaper to keep him” doesn’t even rhyme, that doesn’t even sound right. I thought men were supposed to take care of their responsibilities. Later that year my husband finally got a better job doing security work with a friend of his from the Army named Jerry. I hated his friend Jerry and his slutty looking wife. I told my husband that I do not want them in my house every time I come home. They were trashing my house, with all that damn drinking and smoking pot. It was so bad, that my friends didn’t feel comfortable coming over to my house.
A month later, my husband and Jerry lost their jobs and were trying to sell me this crap about opening up their own business and they wanted me to invest.
I told them “HELL NO!”
John was mad but didn’t argue with me at all, but later that week he tried to extort money from me by telling me that if I would give him an extra $400.00 a week for the next month or a lump sum of $1600 he would hang out at Jerry’s house instead of here.
I looked at him as if he was crazy.
“Do I look stupid to you?”
“Is that a rhetorical question, or do you want an answer?”
“Kiss my ass!” I said as I walked away.
The next day I came from work and three other men along with Jerry and his slutty wife were all hanging outside in my yard by the swimming pool with my child and two other dirty looking kids. It looked as if they were having a redneck cookout. They had the radio by the pool beer floating around in a bucket all while grilling, smoking and chewing tobacco. I went out, snatched up my child, and told them to leave my house before I call the police.
His sorry ass dared me to call the police.
“What are the cops going to do? My name is on the deed,” he boasted. I called my lawyer, it turns out that my husband, and his dumb ass was finally right for once.
As time passed and frustration started building, I told John that I wanted a divorce. John reminded me in a somewhat threatening way that it was until death do us part. I was willing to do anything to get out of my marriage even if it meant excessive force.
How did my life change to this so fast?
Later that night I agreed to my husband and his terms of giving him money every week, but it would not be $400, I negotiated him down to $200 a week if he promised not to have his friends over anymore.
My best friend Stacey always complains about going back home to visit her mom who refuses to leave the hood. She said that she hates going to her old house she is ashamed of how she grew up. She asked her mother to move and come stay with her, but her mother refused. I only been to her mom’s house once, and that was because her mother called complaining about the gout in her foot while we were at the store, so we rushed over there immediately. Stacey didn’t want me to come in, but her mom insisted. After being in the house for 2 minutes, Stacey could tell how uncomfortable I felt. She was so ashamed that she walked me back out to have me wait in the car.
I now know what it feels like to be ashamed of your home.
One day Stacey came to my house and was shocked.
“Damn girl! How you turn a beautiful home into a hooch house?”
I didn’t even know what a hooch house was. She told me that a hooch house was where a bunch of drunks hangs out.
The next day I went to lunch with my cousin Trisha and I was so upset that I started to cry.
She asked me if my husband was beating me, and I told her no, that is something that my husband has never done. He never got violent, at least not with me.
“That’s too bad!” she said. I looked at her as if she was crazy
“What do you mean that’s too bad?”
She looked around before leaning across the table and said to me in her country ass voice…
“If he was whooping that ass then you could get a restraining order out on him, get him out of the house, and file for divorce without having to pay him one red cent.”
That damn Trisha has always been in bad relationships and if she doesn’t know anything else, she knows the laws concerning domestic violence. It’s sad, but I think that she like the physical abuse. She was a cutter, but after her current boyfriend Cody beat her ass, she stopped cutting herself. He beats her at least twice a week.
I guess the beatings made her feel some sort of worth, so she finds no need to resort to cutting. I make sure to stay out of her business and I never give her advice concerning Cody.
One time her mother told her to leave Cody after he put her in the hospital with a broken arm and two cracked ribs. Trisha got angry with her mom and started attacking her right there in the hospital. Trisha refused to press charges against Cody and she was right back with him later that night.
Trisha tried to convince me that it would be easy to set my husband up and that she would help me do it, but I told her I don’t think that there is anything that I could do to make John get mad, let alone mad enough to hit me.
He’s a big country boy. He was use to fighting big men. He was a bouncer before going into the Army. One time before we got married I was mad and started yelling at him. He laughed at me and that made me furious. I was so furious that I walked over and punched him in his jaw.
He laughed again and said, “Hell, I’ve been punched by big men that hit hard like a mule’s kick… your little ass can’t hurt me.”
He then got up out of his chair and I ran thinking he was coming to hit me back, but he went to the freezer and got some ice and wrapped it up in a towel, handed to me and sat down. I looked at my hand and realized that I sprained my wrist.
“You might wanna go to the hospital to let the doc take a look at that wrist.”
On our drive home, John looked at me and said. “My ma and pa used to fight all the time when I was a chap until one day ma started jumping on pa as soon as he walked through the door from work, pa pushed her off of him and she fell and hit her head on the chair and died.”
After telling the story, John was teary eyed. Everything was quiet for the rest of the drive home. He wanted me to promise that I would never try to scrap with him again. So I promised.
Trisha looked at me with a sad look on her face…
“The hell with a that, you need to get your house back together, if I wasn’t so use to being in that trashy trailer of mine I would be ashamed to come to your house the way it looks now.” she said with no remorse.
I told her that I would think about it, and her reply as usual was.
“Think long, think wrong, that’s what my papa use to say.”
I told her I would call her if I needed her help, but for now I would handle everything my way and I left.
Two days later, I was very upset when I came home and a strange man was in my house coming out of my bathroom. I got so use to other people being in my house that it didn’t startle me. I ask who he was, and where’s John? He told me that John had to go pick up Jerry and that he was here waiting to pick up Cara from the school bus stop if John didn’t return in time.
I said, “Mr. I don’t know you and I’m asking you to leave now before I call the cops.”
He put his hands in the air, backed up, and said, “Lady I’m leaving, but don’t call the cops I have two strikes already.”
When he left and I quickly locked the door and screamed, so loud in anger that the man heard me through what I thought was a soundproof door and he started running. John knew how I felt about our daughter Cara and the concerns of her being around his friends. However, to be alone with a man whom I don’t even know was definitely the last straw. John has shown that he is no longer fit to stay in this house.
The next day I called Trisha and she came over and asked me what was wrong. I told her what happened.
“So are you ready to handle things my way now?” she asked.
“Yes, but I didn’t want him to go to jail for a long time, just enough to get him out of the house and enough evidence for a divorce.” I replied.
Trisha then told me different things to do to provoke him, and even told me to lie and say that I was seeing someone else if everything else fail. I was trying to get him to hit me not kill me. I might be out of my mind right now, but I’m not stupid.
Later that night I went into John’s room to start a fight, but immediately he laughed and said, “I know what you’re doing, you’re trying to get me to hit you so that you can call the cops on me.” he laughed again as he walked away and locked himself in the bathroom.
“Damn, I guess he’s not dumb after all.”
The next day I told Trisha what happened and she laughed.
“What are you laughing for, this is serious.” I said.
“I’m laughing because we didn’t think he was that smart, but he probably learned it from watching his ma and pa go through it.”
I really was committed to getting him out of my house, but I needed to find another way. Trisha told me that when she was mad at her old boyfriend because he went back to his wife and wouldn’t give her any more money that she decided to get even. She told me how she beat herself up, blamed it on him. He was order to perform 20 hours of community service and attend anger management classes for three months. This was after his release from jail. The only proof she had was that he was leaving the house while she was screaming aloud.
“You better not hit me again, you bastard.” she did it loud enough to draw the attention of two of her neighbors in the trailer park where she lived.
I doubt that I could beat myself up like Trisha. Trisha was a cutter so she was use to pain. I wasn’t into pain of any kind not even pleasurable pain that woman talk about when it comes to sex.
Trisha gave me some numbing cream and told me to put it on the parts that I was going to hit. I was desperate so I decided that I was going to do it on Saturday.
John always came in drunk on Saturday after playing peanut poker and drinking with Jerry and his crew. I always left the money I promised him on his desk on that night. The plan was for me to not have the money there and get him agitated. I would start yelling at him and he will avoid me by leaving the house. While he’s out the door, I will yell at him accusing him of beating me and then call the police. I thought it was the perfect set-up. I was proud, I never knew that I could be so criminal minded like Trisha.
The week went by fast and Saturday was finally here, I sent my daughter to my mother’s house and I was ready. Trisha told me things to use around the house to hit myself with and or against to make bruises on my face and arms. I also decided to get a little drunk so that I could get up the nerve to go through with the plan.
It started getting late and I fell asleep when I woke up I noticed that John was already in the house on the couch passed out. I went to the kitchen and started pacing trying to get the nerve up to hit myself. Suddenly, I slammed my arm in the cabinet door. It hurt like hell.
“Damn!” I said in a low tone.
I forgot that the numbing cream and the alcohol wore off when I went to sleep.
I went to the bedroom, got the cream, and put some on my arm and face. I went back to the kitchen, took a couple shots of liquor, and started jumping up and down trying to psych myself up and to get the alcohol to flow through my system faster. Ten minutes later, I went crazy on myself. I placed an apple in a sock and started hitting my face. I did it lightly at first because I wasn’t sure how well the numbing cream would work. “Damn, this numbing cream works well” I said in amazement. I hit myself good a couple more times when the apple stem cut through the sock and scratched me in the outside corner of my right eye. I stopped to go get the hand mirror and I saw blood running down my face, it looked bad and that was good. One more thing and I should be good to go. I placed my foot in the door of the refrigerator and slammed it hard as I could. “DAMN IT TO HELL!” I yelled. I forgot that I didn’t put any numbing cream on my foot and ankle. How stupid of me I thought. I quickly hopped over to the freezer and got some ice, most of it dropped on the floor, but I didn’t care at the time.
As I hopped towards the counter to get a towel, I slipped on a piece of ice, hit my head on the counter, and fell down to the floor. My head was throbbing, as I lie on the floor thinking that maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. That thought quickly left my mind as I was determined to get my house back in order. I took a deep breath as I recompose myself. Finally, I was able to reach up, grabbed onto the counter, and pull myself to a standing position. My head was throbbing, but I couldn’t feel any pain. I could now feel pain in my back now that I’m standing.
This wasn’t part of the plan, I thought to myself. I really felt stupid and embarrassed as I placed my left hand on my head and then I grabbed the mirror to see how bad it was. I had this huge knot on my head.
“DAMN!” I said softly.
I heard John move in the next room, I glanced over as he was turning towards me but not waking up.
I inhaled deeply and then yelled…
“GET THE HELL UP YOU SORRY BASTARD!”
John jumped up, stared at me with a puzzled looked on his face
“What the hell happened to you?”
I looked at him as I grabbed a knife.
“YOU DID THIS TO ME, GET OUT, TAKE YOUR LAZY ASS, AND GET THE HELL OUT!”
John grabbed his phone off the couch and then ran out the house. I limped to the door and started yelling
“DON’T YOU EVER HIT ME AGAIN!” and then I screamed. By this time, my heart was racing and my mind was thinking ahead of my actions as to figure out what to say next. I noticed the neighbor lights came on and then they glanced out the window. I moved outside under the light on my porch, so they could get a good visual. My neighbor Liz came running out towards my house as her husband walked steadily behind.
When she got to my porch and looked at me, it was as if she was going to cry. She asked with great concern and a trembling in her voice as she paused.
“Who did this to you?”
I looked at her as I started crying.
“John did this to me.”
By this time, her husband came up and said, “I saw him running down the street, you need to call the police.”
“No, I don’t want the police involved!” then Liz said, “You have to report this and go to the hospital.”
It was as if I was in a zone, I anticipated that she was going to say all those things and everything was going as planned.
“I’ll call the police!” I sobbed. “Can you call the ambulance for me though?” I asked in a sorrowful voice.
She agreed and I felt like I was a mastermind. There was nothing stopping me now, I was done, and by next week, I will have my house back to normal.
The ambulance took me to the hospital and they patched me up. While at the hospital, police officers took down the complaint and I filed a domestic violence case out on my husband as they issued a warrant out for his arrest. It was late when the police officers escorted me home.
A block away from my house I noticed Trisha’s car driving pass. She was leaving from the direction of my house. When we arrived to my house, John was out standing on the lawn. The police arrested him and took him down to the station. An officer searched my house to make sure it was safe for me to go in and then he left.
I took my shower, then lay down, and went to sleep. When I finally woke up in the morning, I was hurting all over. I did more damage than I thought, but it was worth it, it was definitely worth it to get my house back and the next step will be the divorce.
“Now this is what I call pleasurable pain.” I said aloud.
I couldn’t help but to wonder why Trisha was coming from over this way so late, she lives 35 minutes across town and I didn’t tell her when I was going to actually put the plan in motion. I took the advice my step-dad gave me when I was little.
“If you going to do dirt, do it by yourself, because when your friends get caught they will rat you out.”
It really bothered me seeing Trisha leaving my house last night so I decided to call her, but her phone went right to voice mail. I left a message telling her to call me as soon as she got up. I forgot that it was early. Trisha is probably sleeping still.
All of a sudden, there was a loud knock on the door followed by a voice “POLICE, OPEN UP!”
I looked out the peephole and it was one male police officer and one female officer. I opened the door and the officer asked
“Are you Janet Hollis?”
I looked at them and said, “Yes, I’m Janet Hollis!”
The Officers pushed their way through the door as the woman police officer turned me around and put me in handcuffs.
“Janet Hollis, you’re under arrest.”
She started searching my body and reading me my rights. I was so distraught that I didn’t hear a word she was saying.
“What for, what did I do?”
She started talking but I was distracted by laughter and clapping. It was John and his friends standing on the lawn. Escorted to the police car, embarrassed as my neighbor, John, and his friends looked on with shame and disappointment. Put into the back seat of the police car I knew that I shouldn’t have listened to Trisha, but now it was too late…
I spent five years in jail and got one year of probation. During that time, my husband wiped out all of my accounts took my stock and is the sole owner of my house. He did all of this when I granted him power of attorney to be able to care for our child.
Well, I guess my husband wasn’t as dumb as I thought. The times when I thought he was being a lazy bum hanging out at the house all day with his friends, they actually was relaxing after a hard days work of installing security cameras throughout the house. They never was smoking pot, it was just a stinking smelling cigar. They were testing the ventilation and smoke alarm, John wanted to make sure that the ventilation for our home was just right for our child. He actually was a good and caring father, but he made me sick because he always tried to hide things from me, that he should be sharing. He really doesn’t have any other children. Actually, he secretly had a vasectomy after our child was born. He said that he didn’t want to raise another child in this cruel world. The child support arrest was not true, it was a lie told by Trisha. I was so mad I didn’t even look it up I just paid for him to get out of jail and fussed at him concerning the lie. He could have defended himself better and reassured me, but he brushed it off and said, “If you are going to keep believing everything that Trisha tells you, than what’s the point of me arguing.” That was the first time he told me and I didn’t listen. John was mad one day because Trisha was always getting involved in our business, so he went over to tell her to stay away from me because she was a bad influence. Trisha got mad and claimed that he hit her and he went to jail. She is the one that told me the lie about him having other children and when he told me that she was lying and I didn’t believe him, he refused to defend himself any further. He told me that if I’m going to believe a slut like Trisha who would stab me in the back for money than go right ahead. That was the second time he warned me about Trisha. I was such a fool not to believe John. Later John gave Trisha $100 to stay away from me and our family, but she kept asking for more money, she threatened to tell me about what John was doing to the house. He didn’t want me to know because he knew that I was a control freak over my house and I would not have let him do the job the way he saw fit, even if it was for his daughter’s safety.
John then agreed to give Trisha a hundred dollars a week until he finished the project. The $400 he was asking for was so that he could put our child in after-school care during the time he was working so that she wouldn’t be in the way. Jerry’s wife agreed to come over and watch our daughter while the men worked on the house, that’s why they were there every day when I came home. The man that was in the house waiting to pick up our daughter is John’s older brother who I never met because he was in jail for being a vigilante. He beat up a child molester the first time and a drug dealer the second time. John knew if he had a convicted felon in the house around our daughter that it would drive me to the edge.
When I started degrading John and his friends, he got tired of me not trusting him, but trusting Trisha at her every word. He was going to prove to me that Trisha was no good. When he finished the job, he had to test the alarm system that he built with hidden cameras around the house. What better way than to use me through Trisha. John decided to bet Trisha that she could not turn me against him. Trisha told him that she could persuade me to hurt myself and blame on him.
When I was in the hospital, John went back to the house, retrieved the tape, and gave it to his friend Jerry. He arranged for Trisha to come to collect the money but recorded the conversation and threatened to lock her up for extortion. She was mad because she didn’t get her money, but at least she didn’t have to go to jail. It really made John sad when he noticed that I was once again siding with Trisha to set him up, especially knowing that it would cause him to go to jail. John’s friend Jerry took the tape to the police and told them that he had proof the John was wrongfully accuse of domestic violence, so they released him shortly after. There was one other thing that troubled me… I found out that John never tried to sleep with my best friend on our wedding night. He got up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom and found Stacey in the spare room of the cottage going through our wedding gifts. He was so drunk that when he went to grab her she knocked him on the bed, but he held on to her wrist pulling her down on top of him as he mumbled “What do you want?, You want this… You want that… What, take it, take it all.” Stacey was scared because John was so big and aggressive that she started screaming for him to let her go. People ran in and saw what happened as John passed out. He didn’t remember anything the next morning.
While I was in prison my first year, Stacey finally came and told me the truth because her mother made her promise to get closure. I told her never come back and that I never wanted to see her again. I got my wish…
During my last seven months of incarceration, Stacey died of cancer. I didn’t even know that she had cancer. Now that I’m out of jail, I wish that I could see her again. When I got out of jail, my husband agreed to give me a roof over my head and $200 a week. All I can think of is what John use to say to me. “Remember… what you get back may be what you give out… so make sure you give in the abundance that you would like to receive.” John always had these little saying like that of a monk, priest or something so I was not surprised that while I was away he got saved and he lives his life as a true devoted Christian. I should have at least given him the $400 a week when he asked. I ended up doing time in jail because I tried to set my husband up for something that he didn’t do because of my pride. The judge was very harsh because she felt that my actions were malicious and heinous. She went on to say that, it was because of people like me that others have served time for crimes that they didn’t commit and some have even been put to death. “The system has failed innocent people,” she said. The judge was using me as an example by making it known that she was not going to tolerate…