I could bore you with the details, but I need to know that it's wanted. If you were walking down the street and saw a Newspaper Frontpage screaming out this headline, would you pick it up and read it?
Woman found guilty of Grand Theft Auto, Calling in Bomb Threats to Banks, Passing over $100,000 in Bad Checks!!
Of course that doesn't include the sorted details of her dabbling with lesbianism, trying (and in one case succeeding) to extort money for her baby (not mine) to two couples at once, stealing from everyone she ever knew, affairs with her therapists, filing false statements with the FBI, cellmates (one of the Manson women) and of course the "I still love you" letters from State Prison....
So, if anyone is interested I will pull out my file and relay the story of my wonderful EX...
make sure u use the term "grand theft auto" as often as possible . i love to hear it ...
if i had to choose for which crime i wanted to be sent to jail , it would be "grand theft auto", just because of the sound.
btw is there something like "grand theft bonanzabike" aswell, cause that would be even better...
[This message has been edited by iglo (edited 07-30-2000).]
Okay. I fell in love with her the first time we met (yes, love, not lust). After getting to know her I found out that she was studying to be a teacher. On the weekends she spent time with her family and taught Sunday school. We dated for a few months, move in together 6 months after that and got married about 2 years later.
We lived in the San Fernando Valley north of L.A. until the 1994 earthquake. After losing everything we owned, including the house we were living in, we ended up moving to the city (L.A.).
Things were going great until she began to see a "therapist". She told me she had some major problems stemming from her childhood and she needed to learn to deal with the memories. I had no problem with that, until I began to see the change in her face. She looked tired all the time, kept strange hours on the telephone and weird dents began to show up on her Honda Civic.
It was 2 days before my birthday in 1994 when the shit hit the fan. I remember packing for a hunting trip when a woman came to the door. Christine went outside to talk to her and I could see the woman was getting frustrated. Just as the woman was leaving, I walked outside to see if I could help with anything. She looked at me and said, "When you see Christine please contact me." I was kind of dumbfounded and blurted out, "This is Christine". At this point the woman lost it. She was a small business owner from the neighborhood who had come to collect on a bad check written by Christine. I apologized profusely and settled the debt with my trip money.
I sat Christine down and demanded to know what the hell was going on. She explained to me that the therapist was actually a Psychologist who was treating her for depression. While being treated she opened a checking account in her name only and had begun passing bad checks to pay for her medications. As it became easier for her to pass the bad checks, she began to buy all sorts of gifts, clothes, etc.. All told the total amount was about $7000.00!! The smallest being Domino's Pizza and the largest was Sav-On drugs. Being that I was married to her, legally these debts now became mine as well. She made a list and the next day I went down and withdrew the money from my (separate) savings account and hand delivered the money to each and every place she had bounced a check. This included returning a few birthday gifts she had "bought" for me. I was miserable.
I then got on the phone with her Psychologist and asked him what was going on with Christine. He refused to discuss anything with me because of privilege. I realized about then, I was fucked.
Over the next couple of weeks I kept a close eye on Christine. Sometimes, when she would go into our room to use the phone, I would purposely go in to see who she was talking to. I caught her masturbating while on the phone and it was always the psychologist who ended up being on the redial. I couldn't handle it and decided I was going to leave. It was then that she sprung the news that SHE was going to leave and I could stay. I gave her almost everything we owned, packed it into her car and kissed her goodbye. She headed up to the Santa Rosa area of California to live with a friend of hers who was a lesbian.
After numerous trys at reconciliation (including her coming back, broke, crying and pledging her love) she left for the last time December 31st. I met with an attorney and filed for divorce. Simple right? Wrong, it is very hard to divorce someone if you cannot find them to serve them papers.
I "put the word out" to everyone I know and they began to look for her. Two private detectives could only find that she spent some time in New Mexico ($4000. worth of bad checks) and then back to California, again in the Santa Rosa area. She dropped off the face of the earth.
Almost 2 years later I got a break. One of my contacts up north had heard of a girl fitting Christine's description (now known as "CB Madyson") who was arrested in Santa Rosa. I called up and had the Press Democrat search for any articles on Christine "CB" Madyson. Was I surprised when I got the results...
Some of the headlines included the following:
SR Police Investigate Bad Checks "... looking for more information on a woman with a fondness for new cars who is suspected of passing a bad check for a $26,000 luxury sedan and driving off car lots with two other vehicles worth $75,000."
SR Woman Pleads Guilty to Crimes "...she also took a 1996 (new) Land Rover worth $46,000 from a lot at RAB Motors... and a 1996 (new) Dodge Ram pickup off the Autoworld dealership.....She pleaded guilty to passing the bad check for the Hansel car, phoning in a bomb threat to the National Bank of the Redwoods in SR and burglary
All in all she was given a $100,000 bail and was looking at 4 years in State Prison. After a bit they let her out of jail so she could rest up... it turned out that she was pregnant as well!! She had a one night stand with a guy she new, she was now pregnant and having problems with the pregnancy. It was then that she began to search for someone to adopt her baby. She went to an agency that would set her up with a family and they would help pay for her room and board as well as spending money.
That is when I heard of a couple by the name of the Culver's. They wrote a letter to Christine's mom, who in turn gave a copy to me. She had lined up this couple to adopt her baby. After the baby was born, she tried to prevent the adoption and started doing crazy things like feigning illness and pretending she was blind. The Culver's had found out that she had lined up another couple without their knowledge and was collecting money from them under an assumed name. In total she took over $10,000. from both couples and refused to give up the baby.
A quote from the letter:
"...which escalated into conflicts with the housemother, who believed that CB had a gun and who was cutting herself for attention....CB called the FBI, IRS and the SR Police claiming that the adoption rep was misappropriating birth mother support funds...since that fateful day in early May when we learned the awful truth about CB and what she had done, we have heard that Anna (the baby) has constantly been in the hospital and that at one point there was a police hold on her. She was severely dehydrated and was not being properly cared for, which can be deadly to a premature baby..."
Well, the other couple Christine was milking (pun ) happened to be a lesbian couple that Christine ended up having a sexual tryst with. She would have lesbian sex with one of the partners to steady up the abnormal stories she was feeding them.
Needless to say the police found out and Christine went to State Prison for 3 years. Her cellmate here in Southern California turned out to be Patricia Krenwinkle, in for murder in the Tate/La Bianca - Manson killings. (yes, Charlie Manson). She spilled out to me once that she had to perform sexually in order to stay out of trouble (there you go dingle).
Her baby was given up to the foster parents who kept her when she went to Prison. I ended up getting the divorce, but I still have bad marks on my credit thanks to her. Her dad died while she was in prison, which broke both mine and her heart.
Oh and she just got remarried a couple of weeks ago....SUCKER!!
[This message has been edited by CAL (edited 07-30-2000).]
WOW!!!! CAL!!!! *picks jaw up off floor* That is FUCKING incredible. I truly feel privliged to hear a story like that first hand.
I don't know what to say, I feel sorry for what you have gone through but if they line us all up and say, "OK, who has had a boring life?", you will NOT be raising your hand.
Some day you are going to tell that story to your offspring and say, "That was an interesting time, lil granbabies, an interesting time."
*CAL is now officially on wonder's list of people to meet IRL*
CAL, my respect for you grows by leaps and bounds! I've talked with you and I never get the sense that you have a bad attitude about anything. If I had to go thru what you went thru, I'm not sure I would have made it.
Ok, now don't tell anyone I got that mushy. I'll deny it.
So, I've been trying to recall the narrative and decide how to tell it without it becoming Gilgamesh... here goes:
*clears throat, cracks knuckles*
"A long time ago in..."
no, that's not it.
I was young, stupid, and had never left suburban SoCal. After a number of major events, it was time to go. So I packed up the car and headed out for New Orleans. This was summer '93. I should have known I was in over my head when my car was broken into the 2nd night I was in town.
Anyway, after a few months that don't relate directly to this tale, I was in a cozy little punk-rock bar on Decatur St. called Kagan's. I doubt it's still there. It was already a long nite of pub crawling, and it was late, but the bars there are 24 hours. I walked in and spotted these 2 gorgeous goth girls drinking and being stupid, and I decided to go talk to them. One was Missy, and the other went by "Raven", yeah, I know... I found out they were strippers at a club on Bourbon St. They started pouring more alcohol down my throat, so I'm thinkin' OK, sure. This was the night I was introduced to Chartreuse, a close relative of Absinthe. Actually, I learned most of my drinking habits while in NO. Go figure. I found myself making out with the one I didn't date before the end of the night, then found out they both had boyfriends.
We wound up hanging out a lot, the boyfriends went by the wayside, and our little group decided to go on a road trip, which is entirely another story altogether. We wound up separated out on the road, so I got back to NO a few days after they did, and didn't really wind up on the trip "with" them at all. Missy wound up not even going, which I only found out after I'd already left. Fine. Whatever.
So I get back, and she's decided I'm her new boyfriend (no problem with that). It was decided I would move in at once. "In" was a shitty boarding house just off of St Charles, 2 converted really old mansions connected by little more than paneling (the 70's pressboard kind). New York roaches got nothin' on NO roaches. Each one of the girls had a room, and Missy's ex lived downstairs. On New year's, we moved to a room on the 1st floor. New year's day was her birthday, our little group decided to go get some acid. Not a difficult thing in NO at the time.
So, about a half dozen of us go back the the room, things are getting good, a couple girls are playing jump rope with some xmas lights, much to everybody's amusement, then we start hearing alarm clocks, we thought, "hey, this is good shit! but that one sounded more like a smoke alarm?!?" Then, we notice there's a lot of activity outside. Some of the other residents start pounding on the windows, there seems to be a fire. Oh shit.
We grabbed what we could, and got outside. The room we'd just moved out of was totally engulfed in flame. Unfortunately, all my books, drawings, and other assorted heavy stuff had not yet been moved. "OH SHIT, MY STUFF!!! but look at the colors!" Turns out her ex, who was in the room below that one, decided to try to off himself by throwing a bottle of alcohol at a lit gas stove. Unfortunately, he failed, but had the good sense to get out of NO before we fucking gutted him. All I can say, thank the gods my vinyl collection was in storage.
After that, we spent the next month or so living in a crappy crackhead motel a few blocks from the Dixie brewery. Then, we ("the girls", the other one's new boyfriend, and a couple of other people) got a house out by Riverbend, near the end of the streetcar line. This worked fine for a few weeks, then, as bad as the economy is is NO, several more of their stripper friends and their loser boyfriends who couldn't get jobs because they had no tits (i was no better, at the time) started moving in. Then we took in a couple of gutterpunks from Salt Lake, Then, a ferret, a rabbit, 2 cats, and a gecko. Tensions mounted around the whole house.
I was still operating on the model of a sane relationship, sharing deep dark secrets, and all that. I made the mistake of asking her about her family one day, "where'd you come from, what's it like, etc..." She changed the subject. I never did find out what that was all about (I doubt, now, I would have wanted to know), but she got very defensive, then very hostile.
A few nights later, a friend dragged her in to their apartment in the French Quarter, semi-conscious and twitching. I was trippin' again, and was in no state of mind to see something like that. Nobody knew the story, we weren't sure to go the hospital route or not, none of us were in any state of mind. One of the few phrases she could utter was "nooo hospital!". Several hours and a few minor seizures later, she started coming out of it. Turns out it had been a busy night at the strip club, she'd had about 15 glasses of cheap champagne (the old "buy a girl a drink?" routine), then somebody gave her 2 Xanaxes. She popped 'em both.
A few days later, I got home to find her passed out on the floor again, and everything that had been in the bathroom (bottles, soap, whatever) had been thrown thru the shower door. After waking her up with a lot of cold water, she couldn't remember a thing about it. This was a Very Bad Sign.
Then, she and her friend disappeared for 3 full days. No phone call, no nothing. I was shitting bricks about what could have happened this time. Finally, I get a call. They'd been at some guy's house. She got home a few hours later, and informed me we were over. I made the mistake of asking what was going on, and realized it was time to start packing. She went into the same mode as when I asked about her roots. "Just shut up, don't worry about it, get out". Whatever. Her and her friend barricaded themselves in the bedroom while I figured out what I would do. The last straw was when I had the nerve- The Nerve!! to ask for the last book of my CD's which was still in their little fortress. I was not leaving without S-Z, dammit! Next thing I know, the door opens, and one of them is on my back, punching, kicking, scratching, and the other was headed to the kitchen. I peeled the 1st one off my back just in time to turn around and see Missy coming at me with a 10" carving knife! Time to run. Grabbed my suitcase, took off up the street, got a cab, and, as I had noplace else to go, headed to the Greyhound (bus) station. I escaped with a few scratches, she wasn't very effective with the knife, thankfully. I wound up in Amarillo Tx, with my father (no, I have no clue why he moved there after we all left SoCal). But that's another story, and this has become long enough.
Well, there it is. Sorry for the long-windedness, I told you all it was involved...
No Charlie Manson in mine, but, with women like that, who needs him?
the drunkard formerly known as S8N93
[This message has been edited by Shadow23 (edited 07-31-2000).]