The support of Kym’ family was astounding, and their nurturing home gave me the motivation I craved to wean myself off the Ambien. When I had been prescribed it, I was told that its strength was certain to prevent it from being abused. Developing a rapid immunity to it, I had tripled my dosage of the pill by early December. I decided to let my supply run out, and clear it from my system.
As Christmas was approaching, I was sitting next to Kym’s mother, chatting on the couch. I stood up and felt strange. Grabbing for the sofa to give me support, my hand could not reach it.
I collapsed on the floor, biting my tongue, as my eyes rolled into my head.
I had lost total control of all my body functions, as my body started to experience convulsions on the floor. Bereft of the drugs, my body had started to shut itself down, as I had a seizure in the living room of Kym’s parents.
And that’s all I remember.
Hours later, I woke up hospital. I hoped that the New Year would be clear of any further destruction caused by drugs.
Once I got home, we packed up our belongings and prepared to move to Arlington. I hoped that the new house would give us some much-needed happiness. The previous summer, I had already received some wonderful news; my eldest daughter Jade and her boyfriend Derek Kutzer, were pregnant.
On 21st February 2001, Jade gave birth to her first child, the cutest baby boy named Blaise. I was so proud to be a grandmother, and I couldn’t wait to visit my new grandson.
Not long after that, I got a call from Steve. He let me know that the WWF was going to be broadcasting its live Raw is War telecast from nearby Fort Worth on 2nd April, and asked if I would bring Stephanie and Cassidy. He said he had missed them and was keen to see his children given that he would be in Texas for the show. Since the divorce, the girls’ time with their father had been a rarity, so I told him that we would be there.
When I told the girls about the show, they were thrilled. Bustling with excitement, they asked if they could make some signs to hold up in the crowd in support of their dad.
On the afternoon before the show, the phone rang.
“Hey, sorry to have to tell you this now, it’s best you don’t come. Debra’s not to happy with it,” he awkwardly confided.
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
“Steve, don’t do this. They’re so excited they’ve made signs and really want to go. Don’t upset the girls. Let me take them and we’ll just sit in the audience. We’ll leave straight after the show and I’ll just tell them you couldn’t see them as you had an injury. Anything, just don’t let them down. It’s too short notice to cancel on them, it’s not fair” I pleaded.
There was no way I was going to crush the girls by stopping them from going to the show after weeks of promise. I told Steve that I was taking them, before we ended the call.
We arrived at the Convention Center, and watched the show. I let the girls know that their dad was busy, but they were just happy to sit amongst the crowd and watch him perform. They yelled and went crazy for their dad, as he faced The Rock in the centre of the ring.
The girls had such a fun time, and we headed towards the exit. On the way, we were stopped by one of the road crew. He recognised me and waved us over to him.
We started speaking and he asked us if we wanted to go backstage. Just as we were going to, we bumped into Paul Heyman. After his ECW promotion had filed for bankruptcy, Paul was now thriving as the primary heel commentator for the WWF.
Paul was so gracious. Having not seen each other in years, he led me to the backstage area, and opened one of the dressing room doors. It swung open, and we saw Steve.
Sitting on a bench, icing his knees, Steve had a blank expression when he saw us. He gave the girls a brief greeting but it was clear from his awkwardness that we were not expected. I let Stephanie and Cassidy give him a wave from the corridor, as we turned to leave.
We started to walk our way down the hall, and saw Debra. She frowned and started approaching us with anger, before grabbing a hold of Stephanie’s arm.
“Come on, I’ll take you to your father!” she snapped.
I snatched my daughters arm away from the grasp of Debra’s bony clutches before we squared up face-to-face. There was no way I was going to back down from her volatile attitude.
“They’ve already seen him Debra. And by the way, do you have a problem them seeing their dad?” I retorted.
“Yes!” she barked. She turned on her heels and stormed into the locker room to see Steve.
I then realised why Steve did not want the girls to come to the show. He was so worried that our presence would enrage Debra, and would rather that our children did not come to the show at all.
Later that night, when Debra was in bed, I got a call from Steve. He wanted to apologise for his wife’s actions, and continued to explain that she had been in such a rage that she had taken his rental car and drove away from the arena without him.
Stranded, he had to hitch a ride with his new on-screen associate Triple H. I shook my head, realising this debacle could have easily been avoided if Steve had just told Debra that his girls were coming to the show, regardless of her jealousy.
It was pathetic that a rare visit to let the girls see Steve had caused such uproar, and I knew the situation would not improve. After years of trying to make the joint custody of our children work, I resigned myself to the fact that it never could.
For two years, I had been forced to stay in Texas on the agreement that Steve would have access to the children. He knew I had struggled to get clean in the States, but had insisted that I stayed in the country so he could see them.
Since the divorce, he repeatedly let down our kids, and I was always left to pick up the pieces. I could not accept any more broken promises. Feeling I had lost all hope of a happy life in Texas, I found myself in a no-win situation.
I had made up my mind. I could no longer tolerate being trapped under the court order of Texas house arrest, and I needed to return home to England.
But this time, I was taking my daughters with me.
22 GENTLEMANLY CONDUCT
In the two years since my divorce, my life had been dictated by an ill-advised agreement between Steve and my attorney. They established a court order for me to live under house arrest in the state of Texas. The aim of the settlement was supposed to guarantee that Steve would see his family on a regular basis.
But Steve rarely called to check up on his children, and seemed to be ignoring his family out of a fear that any interaction with us would upset his new wife. On a number of occasions, Steve would hang up the phone in the middle of a call to me, even if it was simply to ask how his girls were doing. This continued as the months passed, and it became obvious that Debra’s jealousy of me would never fade while I was around.
It made the situation of sharing custody of the children together impossible. I knew that any attempt to reach Steve would only serve to stir up trouble in his new marriage, and the last thing I wanted was to cause any more hurt to him. It was widely known that he never wanted to get a divorce from me, but I was glad to see he had found someone with whom he could share the rest of his life.
Debra was aware that he had two daughters from his second marriage when she met him, but she still felt threatened by me. As a result, her selfishness and insecurity stopped two little girls from seeing their dad.
Our divorce agreement had failed in its objective. I had received no assistance to raise the girls, and the order was being used as a means to control me. There had already been attempts to portray me as an unfit mother, and I couldn’t visit home, or take the girls for a brief vacation without expressed permission from my ex-husband.
At boiling point, I needed a temporary escape from the unsettlement in my life. The control of my destiny had caused me to suffer anxiety attacks, and I depended on one mechanism to alleviate stress.
Each time I would reach out to try and get off the pills I was abusing, I was prescribed even more drugs to
counter-balance the cocktail I had been taking. Everyone knew that I had prescription problems, but it seemed that a game was being played until my inevitable self-destruction. I needed to be miles away from the familiar network of mark doctors who had been feeding me drugs to serve their own interests.
Nobody cared about the cesspool of addiction which had trapped me, and it was common knowledge that my issues had stemmed from loneliness and homesickness.
In the weeks following the Fort Worth incident, I had felt a strong yearning to return home.
Chris could sense I was discontented and started visiting regularly. He had recently gotten engaged to a single mother named Karen Burge. She was really warm and brought some much-needed love into Chris’ life following the end of his wrestling career. The couple even offered to take Stephanie and Cassidy to the Six Flags theme park with his young daughter Julia.
Karen Burge Cole, former wife of Chris Adams: “When Jeanie and I first met, we became instant friends. Chris and I and my two children, Shea and Tyler and his daughter Julia would spend time at her house in Arlington. Shea remembers playing with Stef and Cassie. I recall Chris taking the kids to Six Flags. It was important to Chris to always have season passes to Six Flags.”
After years of turbulence, it was nice to see Chris revert to his former fun self.
In early May, his parents arrived to visit and I offered them the chance to stay with me. It had been years since I had been around Jean and Cyril, and I looked forward to catching up with them.
One night during their stay, Chris came to the house with his friend Brent Parnell, who he called ‘Booray’. It was a really fun evening, but Chris and Booray never knew when to stop drinking. They turned a family event into an exhausting booze binge.
Nevertheless, being around Chris’ parents had made me realise how much I had missed England.
I wanted to fly across the pond and see my own family. I also believed that the rigidity of Britain’s National Health Service could save my life.
I was certain that my daily diet of Vicodin, Ambien and Xanax would be reassessed, and a plan would be put in place to help me get well.
I wanted freedom from addiction. But more than that, I wanted freedom in my life. However temporary my stay would be, I just wanted to fly back home.
On 31st May 2001, I hurriedly packed a couple of suitcases and set off to Dallas/Fort Worth International Airport with Stephanie and Cassidy. I hadn’t received anything in writing from Steve to permit our departure, but I knew that a call to him would only enrage Debra.
Once we arrived at DFW, I was terrified at the prospect of being followed and abandoned my car in the parking lot. I was in such a rush to get on the next flight, and ushered the girls to the gates.
As we boarded the plane, I looked out the window and sighed. I knew I would miss Texas, but I felt enslaved by years of having to abide to the law of Steve and Debra, and wanted to escape the scrutiny of watching eyes.
To save Steve from worry, I left a message on his voicemail so he would know that the girls were safe with their mother in England.
Ten hours later, I arrived in the United Kingdom. It seemed that I was finally free.
After taking a moment to savour my surroundings, we gathered our luggage and set off to stay with my mum. She had continued to remain sober from her alcoholism for years since getting married to Fred in 1981.
I was in awe of how she had managed to get over her problems and regain control of her life. Having spent a childhood ashamed of my drunken mother, I started to view her as an inspiration. She was the role model who showed me that it was possible to get clean, and stay that way. I was so proud; she finally seemed to find peace in her life.
As a person who was struggling with addiction, it was so important to be greeted by someone who had overcome it. She will never realise the hope that she gave me. I believed that, one day, my life would change.
We went to stay at her house in Southend and even though it was going to be a tight squeeze with the three of us all sharing a bedroom, it felt far more liberating than being caged within the confines of the Texas court order.
My mum will never know how much she did for our family by taking us into her home when we returned to England. Free from alcohol and the threat of an abusive partner, her house was the secure shelter that I wished it had been when I was a child.
After we dropped off our belongings, we sauntered down to the beach. I wanted to take a long, peaceful walk along the seafront, and get a cup of good old English tea.
Meanwhile, Stephanie and Cassidy absolutely loved playing on the beach and at the amusements that I had frequented as a child.
I felt like my life had come full circle. All I needed was to find a way to wean myself off of my pills.
It was not long after my return to England when I realised that my stash of prescription pills were starting to dwindle. I knew that I could not allow myself to experience the shock of withdrawal, and set about finding a way to source some lower-strength pills which could lead me towards a drug-free lifestyle.
My aim was to gradually reduce my intake until I was ultimately clean.
Having tried to go the cold-turkey route which led to disaster in London and Arlington, I realised that I needed medical help. I made an appointment at the local doctor’s practice, and confessed my addiction.
It was obvious to the doctor that I was gripped by my dependencies, and he set up a withdrawal programme for me.
Unfortunately, the programme was not enough for my cravings. Years of abuse had made my body resilient to the medication, and I craved more.
The withdrawal symptoms had returned. Not only that, they were worse than ever.
I needed to feed my craving, and searched for a private doctor. I made an appointment, professing to be a visiting American citizen, who wasn’t registered with an NHS doctor. To reinforce my claim, I showed my Texas driving licence.
It worked. I had talked my way into another months’ worth of pills.
My attempt at getting clean was short-lived.
The girls and I needed the space of our own home, but I could not commit to buy a property. Having stayed in the U.K. longer than I expected, I lived with a growing unease that I would get extradited by Steve.
And then, on 11th September 2001, the world changed.
As the World Trade Center collapsed, the confidence of the Western world had changed, and there was an inherent fear of air travel.
To my surprise, I got a call from Steve. Worried about the safety of the girls, he told me not to fly back under any circumstances.
Because we couldn’t fly back to the States, I was worried that the girls would miss out on their education, so I enrolled them into a local school and sourced a rented bungalow near the seafront. Living at my mum’s house had started to become difficult, and we found ourselves irritating her husband. Worst of all, Stephanie and Cassidy were afraid of him, and I knew we needed to find a place of our own.
We were beginning to be settled as a family in our new rental home, when my mum stopped by the house. As soon as I saw her whitened face, I could tell something had troubled her. Her eyes were glazed with shock, as she led me towards my couch.
“Sit down. I need to tell you something. It’s Chris, he’s been shot – he’s dead!” she trembled.
I could not believe it. I had spoken to Chris only a few weeks prior, when he seemed positive that he could avoid the manslaughter charge that had loomed over him, even if it meant he would be deported from the States. He had married Karen on 25th August, and spoke of his dream of returning to England to open another wrestling school.
I heard my mother’s words clearly, but my mind couldn’t process the information. Surely it was a mistake.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t. It was Jean who had called to provide the sad news.
As soon as the information registered with me, I fell apart. I wanted to know the circumstances which caused his demise.
Chris had been drinkin
g with his friend Booray, during a visit to Parnell’s mother’s house in Waxahachie, Texas. They had gotten into a drunken argument which ended with the two of them brawling. But the fight continued to spiral out of control.
Blinded by rage, Chris had managed to get on top of Booray, strangling him on the bed. Gasping for breath, Parnell reached for a gun.
He hit Chris with the pistol, but there was no stopping him. As Chris continued to choke Booray, it resulted in a desperate act.
A shot was fired into Chris’ chest. Tragically, his life ended at the hands of his best friend.
When I met Chris Adams, he was such a charming and funny guy with unlimited potential. He was a caring and sensitive individual who just wanted to be loved.
After moving to the States, Chris floated across many different independent promotions all over the country, but had never really found a home in any of them after World Class had shut its doors. His star rapidly fell, and years of fast living had caught up with him.
In later years, his face always seemed to be etched with worry. He was penniless, and gripped by a dependence on drugs and alcohol. After Linda died, his spirit was truly broken. By the end, Chris lost all the qualities he once possessed, alienating almost everyone who cared for him. He became a violent man and he died a violent death.
Jade needed to know that her father was dead, so I was next faced with the horrific task of calling her to break the news. Inconsolable, she just screamed and cried into the phone.
Not knowing where to turn, I called Steve. He didn’t have much to say other than he expected it. Despite the news of his death, the resentment that Steve harboured for Chris never softened. I felt completely helpless but tried to reach out to assist Chris’ family as best I could.
Because my Arlington home was vacant, I offered it to them in order to make the trip as comfortable as it could be, under the circumstances. Chris’ parents Jean and Cyril, his brother Neil and his sister-in-law Niki all stayed there, and I arranged for Jade and a friend to go there too. A drinks reception was held at the house, and so many of Chris’ remaining friends attended the service, including his old friend Kevin Von Erich.
Through The Shattered Glass Page 23
