Next door to the McFarlands, Charlene often listened to Rick’s loud and mean-spirited voice yelling at the boys when Sue was not home. And she heard the children crying in response. Many times, she thought about speaking to Susan about the yelling, but was concerned about overstepping her bounds.
One cold, rainy morning earlier that year, she saw William leave the house to catch the bus to school. As he walked out of the house, he screamed, “I hate you!”
Rick’s head popped out the door and he bellowed, “I hate you, too!” Rick then slammed the door shut and locked it.
William tried to get back in to retrieve a school book he had forgotten. But no matter how much he pleaded, Rick would not unlatch the door and let him in.
13
In the fall of 2001, Sue’s mother fell and broke her hip—she would never be the same again. For three months, Sue shared with other family members in the responsibility of caring for her mother. Every other weekend, she flew up to St. Louis. Sometimes Timmy tagged along and visited with his grandparents while Sue sat by her mother’s bedside.
Ann told Sue she’d been advised to put a candy dish on the far side of the room to ensure that the nursing staff would have to pass by Mary Elizabeth on their way to the goodies. But Ann had not found the time to pick one up. Sue took on that responsibility and, of course, purchased the most colorful candy dish she could find.
The whole family was very concerned about their mother’s ability to handle surgery to repair her hip. The situation turned critical before they reached a decision.
Ann was out of town on business at that time. Sue called to let her know the procedure was complete. “You’re not going to believe this, but I think Mom is hallucinating. She woke up from surgery talking about window washers who were strippers.”
Sue wanted to have neurological and psychological tests run on her mother. Ann was not sure if they should put her through that ordeal. Then Ann remembered something that made the testing unnecessary. The last time Mary Elizabeth had people in her home to wash the windows, the cleaners she hired also moonlighted as Chippendale dancers. To Mary Elizabeth, the difference between that suggestive dancing and stripping was irrelevant.
Upon that revelation, Sue said, “How am I going to go back to the hospital and explain that one?”
Mary Elizabeth Mitchell Smith passed away on January 9, 2002, at the age of 82. Because she was an active life-long volunteer in her community and church, the family requested that donations in her name be made to Northwest City Meals on Wheels and to the memorial fund at Webster Groves Presbyterian Church.
Sue’s high school friend Sandy survived her breast cancer and adjusted to the new demands in her life in time to be there for Sue when she suffered the staggering loss of her mother. Sandy offered to stand by Sue’s side for the funeral in St. Louis. But Sue insisted that there would be plenty of family there for her then. The time when she would really need Sandy was when she returned home.
Sandy, with her 4-year-old daughter, Leslie, traveled to San Antonio for a long weekend. Sandy felt the uneasy strain of a stressful marriage as soon as she crossed the threshold of 351 Arcadia.
It was obvious that the magical newlywed love that used to fill Sue and Rick’s home had vanished as if it had never been. In response to Sandy’s questions about the state of their relationship, Sue said, “Well, I just figured raising kids is a partnership.” She added that she had resigned herself to sticking to it until the boys were grown.
That issue addressed, Sandy and Sue plunged into a couple of giddy days filled with laughter. Sue, Sandy, Leslie, Timmy, William and James all piled onto the trampoline, jumping and giggling. As if on cue, the three boys plopped down and sat cross-legged on the taut surface. With an impish twinkle in her eye, Sue looked at her kids and launched herself into the air. The boys flew up in her wake, struggling to keep their legs crossed as they dropped back down. Then, stomp, stomp, stomp—Sue kept going to keep them bouncing. The air filled with squeals of “Do it again! Do it again!”
During the visit, Sandy helped Sue with her plans for a big combined birthday party for William and Timmy the next weekend. They made a trip to a piñata store—a real novelty for Sandy and her daughter. For the birthday party, Timmy picked out a Harry Potter piñata that was taller than he was.
Sue prattled on with boundless excitement about the 25-foot-tall inflatable slide she rented for the occasion. Sandy thought she was even more excited about this party than the two boys, who were both about to explode from anticipation.
Rick accommodated their need to spend one-on-one time together by watching all four children whenever asked. One of these times, Sandy and Sue went to an art glass store—Sue was an avid collector.
Sandy eyed a pair of glass chili pepper earrings that she thought would make a fun memento of her trip. Then she got side-tracked and forgot all about them. A week later, a small box arrived in the mail. Sure enough, it was the earrings she loved—an unexpected gift from Sue.
On March 6, Sue sent an email to her sister, Ann. She pasted information about an American Airlines special and then wrote a note:
My in-laws are starting a war. They left when I came home last night, as they thought I would be at work all night. They told Rick that I don’t make them feel welcome enough. Gee, it’s such a delight having someone in your house that critiques all your moves.
They’ve told him I also don’t spend enough time with my kids and that I have a drinking problem. I think the drinking thing started on Christmas day, after spending it in the hospital with Mom, I brought over a bottle of wine to their home and had two glasses. The true sign of an alcoholic not someone under a lot of stress. Then I had the nerve to criticize the treatment of patients at St. John’s Hospital—or the lack thereof—in front of their daughter-in-law Debbie who works there. In hind sight, I never should have gone over there and let them make me play the game of all the things I’m grateful for. That’s when I thought I really was going to lose it.
Now if I have one glass (mind you, not two) of wine when I get home from work, they give me dirty looks and tell Rick I’ve got a nasty drinking problem. They’ve also decided the only reason I went to lunch with my girl friends on Saturday was so I can drink. Even though they’ve been in town for a week and I don’t have time to see my girlfriends any other time. Go figure, I didn’t even have a drink as I was getting ready to throw two consecutive birthday parties on Sunday. So how can I make them feel welcome when I dread the thought of them there each night when I get home . . .
Anyway, enough of my raving and ranting. We’re leaving on Saturday morning to go to LA for spring break. This also means that my in-laws will be gone when we get back!!! I ended up getting all of us airfare for $600 as I had two free tickets on Southwest. We haven’t told the kids so that it doesn’t take their focus off enjoying their grandparents. I got a great deal on a couple of days at Disneyland and then we’ll sightsee Hollywood, etc. When they get up on Saturday morning we’re telling them that they’re going to LA and they won’t know about Disneyland until we pull up to the property. They’re going to flip. We’ll be home late the night of March 15th.
The trip, however, almost didn’t happen. The day before they were to fly out, Rick asked Charlene if she would watch the pets while they were in Disneyland. Charlene agreed without hesitation.
Ten minutes later, a loud argument drifted through Charlene’s open windows. Rick and Sue were on their front porch. Sue said, “I want a divorce. I’m sick of getting my ass up at five A.M. every day and you not doing anything. You need to get a job.”
“I have a job,” Rick protested.
“You need to get a real job, Rick. A real job with a real paycheck. With real benefits and a real office. I’m done. I’ve had it.”
“What about the kids?”
“The kids will live with me,” Sue said.
“Maybe we should see a lawyer about that.”
“Rick, we don’t go see a lawyer. It does
n’t work that way. You have your lawyers and I have my lawyers. They’ll work it out.”
Charlene leashed up her dogs and took them for a walk, leaving the house in the direction opposite from the McFarland house. When she rounded the corner, Rick and Sue were still out on the front porch. “Hi, Susan,” she said.
“Rick thinks we are going to Disneyland tomorrow, but I’ve got news for him—we’re not going.”
“Well, whatever you decide, just let me know if you want me to take care of the dog.”
“No. We are not going,” Sue asserted.
A while later, Charlene went out to her guest house to wash some laundry. Rick came over and said, “Charlene, can you still look after Sally?”
“Sure,” Charlene said. The silence that followed made her squirm. She looked at Rick and noticed that the goatee he had been sporting for the last few months was now gone. “Oh, you shaved your beard. I was just getting used to it.”
“There is a certain someone over there that doesn’t like it,” he said.
The relationship between Sue and Rick perplexed Charlene. Sue was the breadwinner. She kept the home organized. And yet, she always consulted with Rick in the decision-making. Why? Rick did what he wanted, when he wanted. Still, she deferred to his wishes—even on the most minor things. Like the time Sue wanted to plant climbing jasmine on the side fence. She didn’t do it because Rick overruled her—he objected to having to maneuver the mower around the irregular shape it would create.
Other friends understood Sue’s behavior. They knew she would always consult with Rick. Sue had a desperate desire to believe her marriage—and her husband—were normal.
In April, Rick McFarland got busy fixing a household problem. Back in January, the family dog Sally had wandered off the property and into the street. Her leg was broken when she was hit by a car. Rick now installed an underground electric fence to keep her contained in the yard.
He dressed for the occasion in a plaid shirt, jeans and a miner’s cap. He completed his ensemble with the perfect accessory—a circular saw. For some reason, this tool was Rick’s implement of choice for digging the trenches in the ground around his yard. Charlene took one look at her neighbor and knew it was an amusing photo op. She grabbed her camera and went next door.
She tried to get Sue to come out and pose with Rick. Her coaxing irritated Sue. “I do not want to be in any picture with him.”
Unbeknownst to Charlene, Rick’s exuberance for his project had already run amok. He had cut down one of Sue’s four prized rosebushes in the process. It was more than a minor irritation to Sue—it was another in a long list of wrongs. She clung to her anger as stubbornly as a grape juice stain on carpet.
Her fury prompted Rick to write a conciliatory email:
Dearest Susan, I know I deserve to be in the dog house. I am really sorry about chopping the rose bush. I promise to be more open and ask before doing. Sincerely with much love. Rick.
The email may have solved the immediate crisis, but it was no magic elixir for the ills in the McFarland household. By May, Sue was writing in her journal again.
On Friday, May 17, I drove to Timmy’s school after work. As soon as I arrived, he threw up on me. The teachers told me he had been lethargic all day. I told Rick but he did not offer any explanation.
On Monday, Timmy said he was not feeling well and Rick picked him up from school around 3. The teachers told Rick that he had not eaten and Timmy complained that his stomach hurt.
Two days later, preschool called and asked that Timmy be picked up because he was being abusive to the teachers. Later, I asked Rick what happened at school that day.
“It was partially my fault,” he said. “I forgot to give Timmy his meds.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked. “Timmy has been off meds for two months.”
“I gave him 5 mg of Adderol on Friday and again on Monday but haven’t given him any since.”
I told Rick how distressed I was that he gave Timmy meds without asking me.
“I had every right to. I asked you about it at work a few weeks ago and you said you didn’t want to discuss it at that time. Since you didn’t bring the subject back up, I had every right to do what I wanted,” he said. Then, he added, “I’m going to get a strap and spank Timmy.”
“No. It’s just as much your fault as it is Timmy’s. You put him on meds twice in the last week and then you took him back off. The ups and downs could have caused Timmy’s abusive behavior.”
“Okay. I’ll give him a lesser punishment, then.”
After that entry, there was nothing more for two months. She did, however, take another step in her contemplation of divorce. She called George Dowlen, Dee Ann’s husband and an attorney, to ask questions about community property laws in Texas. He assured her that any inheritance she received from her mother would be her sole property and would not have to be divided up in case of divorce.
While Sue pondered taking a dramatic step in her life, she did not break her stride. She even took on additional responsibilities. From May 28 through June 25, she reported for duty at the 379th Grand Jury. One of the indictments this body handed down was served on Richard Clemmer, who was accused of ripping off older people by building trust through religion and taking advantage of their loneliness. He was convicted in November and given 2 years probation.
Sue knew Clemmer. He owned a Texaco station near her home. She warned her friends that he was not trustworthy. Nonetheless, her husband did not avoid him. Soon, Rick would entangle Clemmer in a fatal web.
14
In the spring of 2002, Rick participated with a group of men in the Walk to Emmaus, a weekend retreat adapted, in the seventies, by the Methodist Church from an older Catholic program. This three-day spiritual renewal program was designed to develop servant-leaders who would then strengthen their local church.
As part of the experience, participants are supposed to bring along letters from others extolling their virtues. Rick asked Sue to write a letter praising his role as a father. She refused. Rick was stunned and wounded.
Some said that Rick was very sincere in these acts of spiritual immersion and transformation. Others believed he was just polishing his image to enhance the possibility that he would get custody of his sons if Sue carried through on her threats of divorce.
Sue and Julie Speer had met at a school that both their children attended, and had known each other for about two years. The two women had a chance encounter at the Houston Hobby Airport in June 2002. Julie thought Sue looked very stressed.
Sue talked to Julie about wanting to redo her master bedroom and then complained about the bathroom. “Rick got upset about the colors. He wanted to use gray. But I am the only one that uses the master bedroom.”
That was the first indication Julie had that things were not going well in the McFarland household.
In June, Sue and Rick traveled to Cozumel with Bill and Molly Matthews. Over the long weekend, the couple snorkeled, relaxed and dined together nightly. Instead of being a renewing getaway, the trip was a precursor to the disintegration of Rick and Sue’s relationship. Sue turned to her journal once again.
Rick and the boys went up to St. Louis to have an extended visit with his family on July 13. I talked to Rick on July 24 and he told me that Timmy had behaved so badly in Bible school that his brother David had called him and asked that Timmy be put back on meds. When he left home, Timmy was on meds. Now Rick was telling me that he stopped the pills as soon as he got to his mother’s house.
“Why?” I asked him.
“Because Mom insisted.”
“I’m ready to file for divorce,” I told him and hung up the phone.
I went upstairs to work on cleaning out Rick’s office while he was gone. It was impossible to walk in the room because of all the boxes and trash strewn across the floor. He had resumed his compulsive shopping habits and there were unopened items everywhere. And he didn’t just buy new stuff—he’d also bought polo type shirts
at the Boysville thrift shop. They all looked too worn-out to wear but he did not seem able to stop himself from buying more.
Rick started driving back with the boys on August 1. He stopped at his alma mater, Southwest Missouri State University in Springfield, Missouri, and took a nap in the Student Union. He allowed the boys to run wild and unsupervised on campus while he slept.
On August 2, Rick called to tell me that he and the boys had just returned from an all-night stay at the hospital in Pauls Valley, Oklahoma. “I drove until late and then we checked into a hotel,” he said. “I decided to take a shower but didn’t notice that the non-skid decals had come off the tub. I slipped and hit my hip.”
An ambulance took Rick and the boys to the hospital where x-rays revealed that nothing was broken. Rick was prescribed pain medication and muscle relaxers for his discomfort.
“I’m going to take a nap since I didn’t get any sleep last night,” he told me. “Then I’ll drive back to San Antonio.”
Because the medications he was taking were a safety concern, I objected. “I’ll catch a plane and drive you all home.”
“I am capable of driving,” he insisted.
The argument raged back and forth but finally Rick relented and agreed to wait until I got there to drive them home. I flew up to Dallas where I planned to rent a car and drive up to Pauls Valley. Then, I thought, I would drive the boys in the rental car and Rick could follow me back to the airport to return the rental.
But when I landed in Dallas, I had a voice mail message on my cell phone from Rick. “I’m feeling good. I’m driving to Dallas to pick you up.”
On the drive home, all he could focus on was his desire to sue the hotel for negligence. Apparently, he had spent that morning calling several of his Christian Bible Study attorney buddies trying to establish grounds for a law suit.
“It was your fault you fell in the tub because you were groggy. Common sense is all the defense the hotel owner needs. Besides, Rick, even if you won, what would you end up with? A hotel in the middle of nowhere that carried a large note?” I argued. I believe I talked him out of the law suit. But who knows?
Gone Forever Page 7
