Off Balance

by Dominique Moceanu

  During the trial, it was heartbreaking to see Tata and Mama sitting across the courtroom, looking as if they were losing everything that ever meant anything to them. They both seemed so sad and so hurt. I broke down in tears whenever I looked at them, and I literally fell apart bawling on the courthouse steps after I had to testify. I dreaded taking the stand because I had to admit that Tata abused me and physically hit me, which I’d never said publicly before then. I was ashamed to have to say those words, but it was the truth. It was the worst day of my life, and I couldn’t even look at my parents afterward, knowing that I must have hurt them so, so deeply. My heart was broken. Despite these conflicting emotions and enormous feelings of guilt, I didn’t see any other way to break free from Tata. I needed this for my sanity—so I could live and grow—and I prayed one day we could all look back and understand one another in a different light.

  Before the trial started, I was contacted by William (“Bill”) J. Hickl III, a CPA who had read my story in the Houston Chronicle. He offered to help get my finances in order, and I accepted, since I was amassing huge legal fees by the day. Bill’s plan from the get-go was straightforward and simple: gain control of the gym without a court battle to keep my legal fees low, so I wouldn’t wind up spending more on fees than the equity in my gym. Bill was confident that he could accomplish this without involving attorneys. I was surprised when I first met Bill because, for whatever naïve reasons, I was expecting a serious and somewhat detached banker type, but Bill was the opposite—a warm, kindhearted gentleman and a father of three, who approached me with compassion and professionalism.

  Bill did what he promised and immediately focused on gaining control of my only real asset—the gym. Of course, getting control of the gym meant taking control away from Tata. Bill managed to set up a series of face-to-face meetings with Tata. He knew Tata would be a tough nut to crack and instead of trying to challenge and overpower Tata, he aimed to prove that he was an honest guy who wasn’t going to take advantage of me. What was said in those meetings—Bill empathizing with Tata and sharing that he was a father himself—worked. Surprisingly, Tata ended up trusting Bill, which proved to be instrumental in getting Tata to sign over the trustee papers and title of the gym without another painful court battle. Per Tata’s design, the gym was originally held in trust, but what startled me was Tata designed it so I wouldn’t become eligible to receive the gym in my name until I was thirty-five years old. Did Tata really think it was okay to bar me from my own gym for that long? Was that the age he was finally going to let me start making my own decisions?

  Aunt Janice was in the room at the courthouse hearing when Tata had to sign over the gym, and she has shared with me just how painful a moment it was for him. He was crying, telling her that if he signed the papers, he was would lose me forever. It was one of the most difficult things Tata had to do, but he knew he had no choice. The gym was losing money after I’d left home, and Tata didn’t want to see the building go into foreclosure after he’d worked so hard to create it. He knew we’d lose everything I had earned and he had invested if we didn’t try to salvage what we could, and fast. Once Bill gained control of the building, he was able to help me avoid foreclosure by engaging the right real estate broker, who found me a stable, reliable non-gymnastics-related corporate tenant who signed a ten-year lease. When the market permitted, I’d be able to sell the building and hopefully regain some of my earnings by cashing out of the gym. Bill also began helping me manage what little was left of my life’s earnings at that same time. I was by no means wealthy, but I was finally free to make my own choices, free to hire who I believed had my best interests at heart, and free to start building a new dream.

  Closing this chapter of my life, I honestly believed my darkest days were behind me. Little did I know, there were plenty waiting for me ahead, some right around the corner.

  Chapter 10

  DARK TIMES

  My emancipation was a double-edged sword. It lifted an enormous weight off my shoulders by finally giving me the financial and personal freedom I had sought, but it also left me with a heavy heart. I felt awful that my family suffered through a very public trial that aired our dirty laundry. I know it devastated all of us on a personal level, and I didn’t know how to recover from it. I was torn between feeling guilty for what I had done to my family and feeling excited and invigorated by the prospect of starting a life of my own. The wounds were too fresh and too deep for me to enjoy my freedom. Everything had happened so quickly that most of my time after the trial was spent in a state of confusion, guilt, and pain. I had been sheltered my whole life and was suddenly afforded immediate liberty without any preparation, and I made mistakes—lots of them.

  Looking back, the one thing I did right was get a place of my own. As I sat in my apartment, I realized for the first time why people referred to home as a “sanctuary.” I cherished the peace, the quiet, and the safety that little apartment brought me. It was the first time in my life I was able to come home and truly relax, letting the security and privacy of home envelop me. I didn’t have to worry about Tata erupting into one of his rages or that he and Mama would get into a fight that I’d have to break up. I often thought of Mama and Christina and wondered how they were coping with the stress following the trial. I hoped that my absence made home a better place to be, but I knew Tata was upset that I had left and feared that it possibly made things worse. When I’d phone Mama to check in on her and Christina, she always sounded so beaten down; I attributed a lot of it to how much she missed me, like I missed her. She’d also tell me that Tata said he wanted to disown me.

  Moceanu Gymnastics Incorporated began folding quickly after the emancipation trial. The gym was struggling, and the stories about our family that continued to run in the newspapers and on TV didn’t help matters. Families and coaches began to leave the gym, and without my presence and the unity of the Moceanu family, it couldn’t sustain itself. Within a few months, all of my gymnastics memorabilia was taken from the glass cases in the entry and the family business shut its doors for good. I felt tremendously responsible for this loss and wished it had ended differently. I continued to pray that one day Tata would see my point of view and we’d reconcile.

  After everything that had happened, the very notion of working things out with Tata was to be a difficult challenge—especially since he still blamed the loss of the gym solely on me and told anyone who’d listen that our family’s world came crashing down because I ran away from home and started listening to others who were a bad influence on me. By “others” he meant Brian and Luminita, two people he had brought into my life in the first place. He was convinced that Brian and Luminita were out to take advantage of me and had pressured me to leave home. I was definitely an impressionable seventeen-year-old, but I didn’t leave home because of Brian or Luminita; I left because of a turbulent family life and a growing disconnect between me and Tata that came to a head with the firing of my coach. Tata made it very clear in public interviews that he disapproved of “those people” and was afraid they were out for financial gain. He thought Brian and Luminita were trying to take the gym from me and that I was just unable to see it.

  I think in desperation, Tata began harassing me—he’d call many times a day, leaving messages about how I’d ruined everything and when he caught me live on the phone, he’d pressure me to tell him where I was living. I wanted my apartment to remain a private, safe place, so I told very few people my address, and Tata was not one of them. His calls became relentless. I ended up obtaining a short-term restraining order prohibiting him from contacting me. Here I was emancipated, but I was hounded constantly by Tata. I didn’t want to abandon my family; I just needed Tata to leave me alone for a while so I could get things sorted out in my own head.

  Tata was never intimidated by authority, so I shouldn’t have been surprised that the restraining order didn’t faze him one bit. He was still going to see and talk to his daughter whenever he wanted regardless of some piece of
paper. To prove this, Tata staked out my school, Northland Christian High School, one morning and stayed there all day in order to follow me home to see where I was living. I remember it like it was yesterday—sitting in my classroom looking out the window and noticing Tata’s car across the street. I froze when I saw him sitting there behind the steering wheel. The classroom windows were tinted, so I could clearly see Tata, but he couldn’t see me. A wave of terror washed over me.

  I was embarrassed to tell anyone that Tata was across the street, but a couple of friends noticed that I’d turned ghost white and were concerned. My family already had more than enough negative press and I didn’t want to cause any more, so I tried my best to downplay the situation. I was so tired of being the girl with the crazy life. I just wanted to be a normal teenager. As far as I knew, none of my other classmates ever had to deal with their fathers stalking them! Besides, I really didn’t know what to expect from Tata at that point. He was still so angry and crazed, I wasn’t sure if he wanted to hug me or strangle me.

  My school wasn’t big, so chances were that Tata would spot me pretty quickly after school. I wanted to slip out immediately after the final bell in the hopes that I’d be hidden in the crowd of exiting kids. I’d switched cars after I left home and had my fingers crossed that Tata hadn’t yet discovered that I was driving a forest green Ford Mustang. I kept peeking out the window during the day, each time spotting Tata sitting there in his car. Was he planning to follow me to see where I lived? Did he want to talk to me? Did he want to hurt me? My mind was racing. This was why I obtained the restraining order in the first place, but I couldn’t bring myself to call the police.

  When school ended, I did my best to blend in with the crowd and swiftly get to my car. As I pulled out of the school driveway, however, Tata immediately started tailing me. I felt like I was in a low-budget movie as I tried pathetically to lose him without getting into an accident. There was no way I was going to lead him toward my apartment—that had to stay sacred—so I randomly zigzagged through some streets, making quick turns. I realized that Tata wasn’t letting up, so I finally pulled into the parking lot of a shopping center. I parked in a very publicly visible spot, locked my doors, and waited for Tata.

  Tata was capable of a lot of things and I knew to never, never underestimate him. I didn’t want a confrontation, but I wasn’t sure what else to do. My stomach was in knots and my adrenaline pumping as Tata pulled beside me and approached my car. I hadn’t spoken to him since I left the courthouse at the close of the trial.

  Tata motioned with his huge hands for me to roll down the window. I looked straight at him and shook my head no. He jiggled my car handle and tried to open the door, but I wouldn’t unlock the door, either. We stared at each other through the glass for a minute, then Tata started talking to me, going on and on about how I’d made a big mistake by leaving home, how I’d lost the gym for us, and how he wanted to know where I was living.

  “Dominique, open the door,” Tata said in Romanian.

  I cracked the window so he could hear me.

  “No, Tata, I don’t want to do this. Just leave me alone … please.”

  “Why are you doing this, Dominique? You want us to lose everything?” His voice quavered as he spoke; he sounded broken. My guilt overwhelmed me. The next thing I knew, I was climbing out of my car. He told me he wouldn’t hurt me, and for some reason I believed him.

  I saw Tata get choked up with emotion as he looked at me. I could see the hurt in his face, but I could also see love … a love that had always been unspoken and buried beneath so much anger, so much drama. Tears rolled down my face. I couldn’t speak and neither could Tata. As he hugged me, I could feel and hear him crying. We sat there, holding each other tightly. It was an honest moment between us, one that I will never forget.

  As oddly as the whole encounter started, it ended. Not wanting to ruin the moment, I climbed back into my car and before driving away, I told Tata not to worry about me, that I was okay and safe. I had hoped that maybe this was a new beginning for us.

  When I got home, I plopped down on my sofa to let it all soak in. I was lost in thought when I heard loud knocking on my front door.

  Oh, my God. Did Tata follow me? I thought as I slowly crept to the peephole. Three police officers in uniform were peering back at me. I was relieved it wasn’t Tata, but it was still scary. The policemen banged on the door again and said they needed to speak to me right away. I was still trying to settle myself after my encounter with Tata and now this.

  “Can we speak to you for a moment?” one of the officers asked, as I showed them inside. I was trying to act like I knew what I was doing, but inside I was scared to death, and I had no idea if I should even be talking to them without an attorney. I didn’t know what this was about, but I’d seen in the movies that people asked for an attorney before talking to the police.

  The officers explained to me that they had become aware that Tata had hired a private investigator to follow me and that this hired PI had gone to the police after Tata started talking a bit crazy. A bit crazy? I thought, wondering what was crazy by their standards. Apparently, the police were investigating Tata for some serious charges. The PI had become concerned and come to the police after Tata started talking specifically about hiring people to “take out” Brian and Luminita.

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I’d just had this beautiful, hopeful moment with Tata in the parking lot—a possible fresh start—and now they were telling me he was trying to have Luminita and Brian killed. The PI was concerned with Tata’s mental state; he wondered if Tata was losing touch with reality from all the stress his family was under. As part of the subsequent investigation, the PI had started recording his conversations with Tata for the police. I knew Tata was distraught, but I couldn’t imagine him going that far. It was all so bizarre. I wondered if Mama knew about any of this craziness.

  The officers wanted more information about my “friend Brian” and my “coach Luminita,” as they had been referred to in the recorded conversations. I told them that Luminita was out of town, I believed in Las Vegas with friends, and that as far as I knew, Brian was in Houston with his family. Brian ended up coming to my apartment to talk to the officers in person. Brian paced the floor as he listened to this story of “contract hits” and private investigators. I remember thinking that Brian looked so much calmer than I did, sipping his Dr Pepper and easily answering the officers’ questions. It made me realize just how much older he was than me.

  I was at a loss for words as the officers explained that Tata was only one step away from carrying out his plan. They were just waiting for Tata to make the payment for the hit, and once this “exchange” occurred, they would arrest him. I had been through a lot in my seventeen years, but this was the most insane of all. I was freaked out enough that Tata was following me and waiting outside my school the entire day, but now there was this.

  Has Tata gone mad? I wondered. I just kept thinking back to that moment we had shared in the parking lot. Despite the circumstances, that had probably been our most normal father-daughter experience, with actual shared emotions, actual expressed feelings. This man who was, for better or worse, a part of me and whom I loved was capable of a murder plot? And Brian and Luminita—who had been friends of our family, friends and colleagues of Tata’s, were the targets. I just couldn’t bring myself to believe it. Tata was a big talker who would often shoot his mouth off and make threats that he didn’t intend to carry out. I tried to convince myself that it was all a misunderstanding and someone must have taken Tata seriously when they shouldn’t have. Yet the police sounded so certain, I just didn’t know what to think anymore.

  I knew I’d heard it all when the officers suggested that Luminita, Brian, and I leave town immediately and “disappear” for a while. They said it was for our own safety and to make sure we didn’t jeopardize the case before an arrest was made. I thought the police only said those things on television shows, including their par
ting line about them letting us know when it was safe to return to Houston. I couldn’t believe this was my life.

  “My dad has officially gone crazy!” I gasped once the police officers left.

  Brian’s wheels were turning, and he started to make some calls on his cell phone as we sat on my patio trying to figure out where to go. Brian lit up a Marlboro Light and I reached for one, too. I never thought I’d want to smoke a cigarette because I’d always thought it was a disgusting habit. Tata was a big smoker, and I couldn’t stand how he reeked when he’d come in the house from smoking on the porch. Nonetheless, there I was, picking up a Marlboro like I’d smoked my entire life. I figured it would settle my nerves.

  Brian just kept shaking his head in disbelief at the thought of Tata putting a hit on him. I know he was in shock, but in typical Brian fashion, he tried to lighten the seriousness of the situation by joking he’d “get a bullet in my ass” if Tata had his way. We laughed, which made the whole scenario that much stranger.

  “Where can we go?” I asked. “This isn’t going to look good in the media, either, you know!” The stories of my emancipation and family were still fresh in the newspapers. I was doing everything I could to fly under the radar and avoid more public scrutiny. Meanwhile, Brian was a married man hanging out with a teenage girl. How were we going to “disappear” together without causing more rumors?

  We talked for hours, weighing our options, and in the end, we decided to follow the officers’ advice and leave town. Through one of his friends, Brian was able to the get use of a private jet and within twenty-four hours we were flying to the Cayman Islands, where that same friend offered up his vacation condo for free. I didn’t expect to be hiding out on a resort island in a gorgeous home, but since we had nowhere else to go and all of our expenses were paid, we went.