I thought, Cover up.
She complained for a while longer. I said nothing and walked out of the room without saying a word to her. After I left, I realized the amount of contempt I had for Jess. For me to look at a beautiful woman’s breasts and be disgusted by them was extremely abnormal. I wondered what her intention was in wearing that revealing lingerie.
After she left the next morning, I did a lot of yard work, mowing, weeding, and working in the garden. When Jess came back to the house around three thirty in the afternoon, she was in a really pissed-off mood and complaining that the Focus was stalling again. She had called me five times earlier, but I hadn’t heard the phone—it was inside the house, and I had been working outside.
I had told her the month before that I was not her fix-it guy anymore. I had also told her twice before that Belle Tire also did vehicle diagnostic and repair. She still thought she could call on me anytime to help her out, and she expected me to do whatever she asked.
I told her again that she needed to take the Focus to Belle Tire or another shop to get it fixed, but she replied that Belle Tire was a tire place. Why should she take it there?
I didn’t reply to her and then went back to work in the backyard. She came back and said the truck wouldn’t start. She had loaded it up with a bunch of her stuff while I was in the backyard. I tried starting it but got the same thing. I couldn’t help but think, What now, and why does all this have to happen?
I went online to the Ford site to see what diagnostic procedures there were, reviewed a few of them, and then got out my OBDII code reader. There were no faults, so I checked the fuses and relays. I had a spare relay, so I swapped it with some in the fuse box. It turned out to be the starter relay. That was a very lucky and easy fix.
Jess then told me she was taking the truck for four days. I told her she should have asked me about this—I had already made plans and needed the truck the next day and Saturday for the Fourth of July. I also said she couldn’t expect me to jump at her last-minute requests and needed to tell me ahead of time. She wouldn’t budge and told me she was taking it. She even had the nerve to tell me I had to find alternative ways to haul stuff or have someone else do it for me. I thought she should follow her own advice, but I didn’t say it—I didn’t want to escalate the situation.
I tried to compromise and said she could use the truck to haul her things, but I needed it back the next day. She refused and went on a rant about how she felt unsafe driving the Focus. It was old and unreliable, blah, blah. She said she had to drive four hours away. This surprised me, and I asked, “Four hours?” I didn’t believe her; she would say anything and make up any lie to get her way.
I sternly told her no and that I was through with her nonsense. I popped the hood, and she immediately asked what I was doing. I didn’t answer, and she got in the truck and started it up. She started to back out but stopped when I raised the hood. I started pulling relays and fuses in the fuse box, and the truck’s engine stopped, as I intended. I put all but two back in and hid the relays downstairs in my shop. One of the relays I left out was the new starter relay I had replaced, so the truck could not be started.
I walked away and started to do more yard work. She stayed in the truck and talked on the phone. About a half hour later, I went inside to make my dinner, and a short time later, there was knocking on the door. I thought it probably was the police. I answered the door, and two deputies were there. They asked if I had any firearms on me, and I said no. I immediately pulled out of my wallet the list of meds she had been taking and told the cops this was what we were dealing with. Since the year before, I had known she would flip out again, so I had made a list of her pills on one side of the paper and, on the other side, had listed proof of her involuntary commitment with a psych hold from a few years earlier.
Having this list really worked in my favor. The cops looked very surprised at all the meds. I asked if they knew Travis. They said yes, so I briefly told them about what Jess had tried to do with Laura by telling our neighbors that Travis beat her. I told them I had Laura’s texts and could show them, but they said no. I could tell by the looks on their faces that they now suspected Jess was a nutcase. Her credibility was blown.
I told them the truck was in my name and the Focus was in hers, but I had told her she could use the truck overnight. I explained that Jess was being unreasonable and that I was not letting her take my truck for the next four days when I had already made plans. They went to talk to Jess, came back, and told me that because we were still married, the truck was jointly owned, and she could use it overnight. I told them I had no problem with this. They went over to tell her she could take the truck but must return it by ten the next morning.
She did not respond. She was extremely angry at not getting her way. I overheard them ask her if she had any medical conditions, but I didn’t hear her reply. She went back to the truck, and they repeated that she had to bring it back by ten the next morning.
Jess left, and one cop asked me how much longer it would be until the divorce was final. I told him it wouldn’t be until November, and he said he had gone through a divorce with something similar, and I should consider living somewhere else so I didn’t have to deal with her problems. I told him my attorney was working on a motion to get her out of the house because of her issues. He said that was a good idea.
Afterward I thought, Why didn’t he tell her to consider living somewhere else? Why is it that they ask the man to leave? It was a huge bias.
About fifteen minutes after Jess left, she called, but I didn’t answer. She came back home. One of the same cops also arrived with her. She told me she didn’t want any more of “my” conflicts. She started taking things out of the truck and putting them in the car, but she went into the hurt-bird routine in front of the cop, saying she needed help unloading some items because they were heavy. She’d had no problem putting them in the truck, but I helped load her stuff, and then she left in the Focus. What a lunatic.
Jess didn’t come back home during the rest of the week I had off work. It was great.
On July 7, I met with Ray to go over the motion to get Jess out of the house and give me sole possession. It also had language stating that she had to return all documents she had taken but would not return, that prevented her from contacting me on my Ford phone and e-mail, and that gave me permission to change the locks. Ray told me her calling the police on me was the last straw, and she had to go. He had been very hesitant to file the motion, but now he realized what a danger Jess was to me.
We were reading some of the e-mails she had sent me, and after reviewing her previous incidents, Ray asked, “How long has she been a pathological liar?”
We both laughed. Ray hadn’t seen the e-mail I had forwarded him about what she’d said about him. When I showed Ray the e-mail, he told me, “That’s a lie. I never said that.”
We prepared all my evidence of her behavior, and Ray submitted the motion to the court on July 8. He also sent a copy to her attorney. The hearing was scheduled for July 16. I was sure their response would be full of more false accusations, but there was no way they could prove anything. Over the last few months, I had known Jess might be recording me at any time, and I had made sure my actions could not be held against me. I had been very careful around her, knowing she would look for anything to use against me.
One part about getting her out of the house I was not happy about was having to pay her $2,140 per month for interim spousal support. Ray said I couldn’t get out of it, but the money I paid would be worth it if I didn’t have to deal with her problems at home. This didn’t sit well with me, knowing I had to pay her to stop targeting me. It was like bribing a criminal not to harm me. That large sum was really going to hurt me financially, especially since I was still paying all her medical and car insurance.
On July 8, I submitted a Freedom of Information request to the Washtenaw sheriff’s department for a copy of the incident report with the police on July 2. I would be
able to pick it up in five business days. Ray had asked for it the previous day, hoping it would contain information that showed she had fabricated more lies. This could be used during the motion to get her out of the house.
Jess hadn’t stayed the night since July 1, and July 2 was the last time I had seen her. Good. It had been great and stress free without her around causing trouble. Even on the rare occasions when she was pleasant, I knew she could flip in an instant.
When I got home from work, I went into nerd mode. I started redoing my old PC so I could hook up digital video cameras for my network video recorder (NVR) system. I had to prepare to get security video running to protect myself against her false accusations.
I got a call from Ray’s secretary on July 10, and she told me the hearing to get Jess out of the home had been rescheduled to July 30 because Jess’s attorney would be out of town on July 16. Now I had to wait two more weeks. I was wondering what stunts Jess would pull until then. Knowing I had filed this motion, she was bound to do something malicious. She had to be seething with rage and plotting revenge.
I absolutely had to get the NVR working with the IP video cameras now to protect myself. I started running Ethernet cable throughout the house for four IP video cameras.
I received more texts from Jess about the Focus stalling. She had procrastinated for more than a month about taking it to a repair shop. She wouldn’t take care of problems herself; instead, she had a hostile dependency for me to fix issues for her. If I refused, she went into a rage. She needed to grow up, be independent, and realize it was not my responsibility.
Here are the texts:
On July 12, there were huge problems with Jess again. She came into the house at 11:50 p.m., but this time, I turned on a small audio recorder to make sure I had evidence. This was the first time I had seen her in the house since July 2. When she came in, she was yelling downstairs about “assholes” and having a hard day.
I thought, How hard can your life be, not working for a living, having no responsibilities, surfing the Internet, watching TV, and shopping?
She turned on the lights, came into the bedroom, and started throwing and slamming things around. She was extremely hostile and said angrily, “The Focus is fixed.” I didn’t know and didn’t care where she had taken it or what had been done to it. It was not my problem.
She started to get into bed with me. I told her, “Don’t even get in bed with me, Jess.”
She replied, “I won’t get in bed with you. You go to the bed, the bed you bought. Go to your bed.”
I told her she was not even living here, but she cut me off, saying, “I live here. This is my house.”
I repeated, “Don’t even think about getting in bed with me.”
Then she grabbed my lower leg. I raised my voice and said, “Jess, don’t even touch me.”
She said, “I’m not touching you.”
It was purely psychotic behavior. She grabbed my leg but immediately denied she was touching me. She pushed against me to move over but denied she was touching me. Then she stopped pushing but stayed in the bed. This was another deliberate attempt to bait me into using physical force so she could call the police on me for assault and get me arrested on another domestic violence charge.
We exchanged more words, with her going off about the car. I told her again to get out of the bed, and she said, “No, this is my bed.”
I said again, “You don’t even live here.”
Then I called her a crazy bitch and told her multiple times to get out of the bed.
She said, “I’m not touching you” over and over and told me to “get into my half.” She meant my half of the bed.
She then said, “This is my house, same as yours. You cannot control me.”
She rambled on, making more false claims about me hitting her. Two minutes into this, she called me a “fucking asshole.” She accused me of lying on “the paper,” and I knew she had to be referring to the motion to get her out of the house. The motion to remove her from the house absolutely enraged her.
I got up, left the room, and walked away from her, as I had done countless times in the past. She slammed the door shut and told me not to come in. She constantly contradicted herself by saying it was our bed, our room, and our house but then said I couldn’t come in. She made appearances at the house once every week and a half to exercise control and cause trouble. She also only came by so she could claim she was still living there.
This was really getting tiresome. I almost called the police when she was so out of control and throwing things, but I didn’t think there was anything they could do—she hadn’t thrown anything at me or hit me. They probably would have told me to leave the house, and she would have gotten her way again for being a hateful control freak. Later on I thought that her aggressive behavior could have been a last-ditch effort to get me to do something she could use to combat the motion. It didn’t work.
I should have set my phone to record video, not just audio, in order to get a more complete record of her behavior. Next time I would, and if possible, I’d use it to file charges against her so it was not just my word against hers. The only problem I saw was that the prosecutor probably wouldn’t go after her, even with evidence. It was clear from my experience the year before that they were not interested in truth and only wanted a conviction of the male.
On July 28, I sent a copy of the July 2 police report to Ray. The lying psycho had told the police I had a gun. In the report she also claimed, “He took some part off her car so it won’t run.” “Her car”—another lie. The hearing for my motion to remove her from the home was in two days; we couldn’t put this latest tidbit in our motion, as Ray had submitted all paperwork to the court already.
The next day Ray gave me a call with great news. Jess had been kicked out, and the court had canceled the hearing for July 30! This was outstanding news and a very surprising and positive outcome.
What had just happened was almost unheard-of in the liberal utopia of Washtenaw County. I made a good salary as an engineer and had family in the area, but she had no family here and was unemployed. The court kicked her out anyway without even considering what she had to say in person. The evidence I had against her was so overwhelming that the court removed her without hearing her testimony. In addition to this, she was required to vacate the house on or before August 8 and could remove only her personal belongings. I could change the locks after 4:00 p.m. on August 8.
All documents she removed from the house were ordered to be returned by noon on July 31, only two days from now. All other items she had taken must also be returned. She had taken inventory from the store, along with sewing machines and other equipment. She did get $2,148 a month in interim spousal support, which I had expected, and I had to pay $2,000 for her second attorney. I had to maintain the status quo in paying for her auto and medical insurance, but she was responsible for her rent, renter’s insurance, utilities, and phone. This was a major victory for me.
I called Dad and gave him the good news. He was elated. We talked about this and agreed it was about time she was held accountable for all her malicious behavior. I told Dad that Jess had to be in an absolute rage right now and probably couldn’t think straight. On the way home from work, I stopped at Home Depot and bought new locksets for all my exterior doors. They would go on exactly at 4:01 p.m. on August 8. I would also change the garage door code for all the remotes.
The only worry I had now was what her next move would be. She had to be looking for revenge, and it was a given that she would start concocting a whole new series of false accusations out of her lust for vengeance. I had no doubt she was telling people I had lied about everything.
On July 30, I told a couple of people at work that this was the one-year anniversary of my DV arrest. We laughed at that. After I got home from work, I changed the oil in the truck and did some other household chores. Later in the evening, Jess sent a text asking me to give her a Ford A-Plan PIN so she could lease a new Focus. I repli
ed that I would do it the next day. The only reason I agreed to this was that she would be responsible for the car payments. With this new car, I wouldn’t have to pay for a new insurance policy, as this was not maintaining the court-ordered status quo.
Jess replied, “I will transfer the insurance over to the lease car.”
I called my insurance company and put a lock on the auto policy to prevent any changes.
Jess then texted me, “Do you want me to trade in the car? They will give me $600.”
That was a lowball amount, since the Kelley Blue Book value was $2,100. I told her no and said I would give her the $600 trade-in value for the car. That way I could keep cheap transportation as my daily driver to work.
Jess was fighting back on the financial details of this recent court ruling kicking her out of my house. Her attorney scheduled a hearing on August 6, demanding I give her financial assistance for finding alternate housing. Ray and I replied no, quoting the previous court order stating she was responsible for rent. The judge denied their motion and hearing. This was a futile effort; any attorney must have known the court would deny the motion. The only reason her attorney did this was either extreme pressure from Jess or to get more billing hours.
Jess got four people to help her move her personal stuff out before the August 8 deadline. Due to her history of malicious behavior, Ray told her attorney that a civil standby by the police was required. From now on, Jess could not enter my home unless she arranged a civil standby for a police escort. I had to protect myself. When Jess arrived with people to help her move, she was completely out of character and amazingly nice to me. I had no doubt that she acted this way with others present so she could portray herself as the victim. On August 8 at 4:01 p.m., I began changing the exterior locks, per the court order. I even texted a friend of mine, Alan, at 3:55 p.m. about changing the locks: “T minus 5 minutes.”
Tales of the Crazy Page 25
