About Me - Brutal Awkening

I was born in California and spent thirty years working as a private investigator. I am also a CEO with expertise in security and executive protection, and I have long served as an advocate for victims. Ten years ago, I relocated to Las Cruces, New Mexico, where I have continued my investigative work alongside my writing.

I have provided security for high-profile figures such as Sharon and Kelly Osborne, Chaz Bono, Molly Ringwald, Queen Latifah, Randy Quaid, and Margaret Cho. 

I  have been involved in security and executive protection at prestigious events like the Golden Globes, the Academy Awards, and more. Additionally, I was a member of several organizations, including The Lambda Legal Defense and Education Fund, The National Center for LGBTQ Rights the California Association of Licensed Investigators, The Doris Tate Crime Bureau, Citizens Against Homicide, Peace Over Violence, The National Center for Victims of Crime, Project Sister, and The Doris Day Animal Foundation. 

People often ask whether being a private investigator is fun and glamorous. Fun? At times, absolutely. Glamorous? Not really—unless, of course, you are a Hollywood P.I.

As a child, I was relentlessly curious, always paying attention to things I probably should not have noticed at such a young age. I saw and overheard more than most children do. Playing spy was my favorite game, though I never imagined it would someday become my profession.

The news offers a filtered glimpse of the world’s darker side, but nothing compares to witnessing it firsthand. I have seen young boys using drugs and drinking alcohol before school. I have observed sexual acts carried out openly—by homeless individuals on the street and by cheating spouses in parked cars. I have stood in phone booths while intoxicated strangers relieved themselves nearby, unaware or unconcerned that I was there. Some cases—particularly those involving child abuse or deeply disturbing behavior—left me so shaken that I cried myself to sleep.

Even my vehicle has not been immune. During surveillance, people have spat on it, smeared mayonnaise across the windows, thrown objects, deflated my tires, and even attempted to steal it while I was inside. Once, two men leaned against my van and bragged about manipulating women with false declarations of love to get sex. Every instinct told me to confront them, but preserving my cover always came first.

These experiences have tested my faith and patience in ways I never anticipated. Many times, I have had to ask God for the strength not to take justice into my own hands. Through it all, I came to appreciate life’s simplest blessings: green grass, quiet streets, clean air, domestic animals, wildlife, and genuinely kind people.

Why stay in a profession that exposes you to so much darkness? Justice. I have the privilege of helping victims and survivors find answers, uncovering the truth, and holding dishonest people accountable. For those who feel lost or powerless, I can offer clarity, direction, and support.

Not every day is grim. Surveillance has also given me a front-row seat to the beauty of the world—crows demonstrating remarkable intelligence, squirrels darting with purpose, dogs and cats wandering freely, and breathtaking landscapes stretching across deserts, mountains, and coastlines. I was once even attacked by peacocks in Mendocino County, California—an occupational hazard I never anticipated.

Being a female private investigator comes with advantages. People rarely suspect me. Security guards open gates with a smile. Children and adults alike confide in me because I appear approachable, often dressed in Disney-themed clothing rather than something intimidating.

My work took on an unexpected level of public attention when Kirby Dick and Eddie Schmidt of Chain Camera hired me to investigate the Motion Picture Association of America’s rating system (MPAA). At first, I did not fully grasp the magnitude of what I was stepping into. The deeper I went, the more disturbed I became. The Classification and Rating Administration routinely rated extreme violence more favorably than something as innocent as two fully clothed women kissing.

As a lesbian, a mother, and a rape survivor, I found this deeply troubling. What message does that send to our children—that violence is more acceptable than love? The bias extended further, with gay and lesbian films consistently rated more harshly than their heterosexual counterparts. That injustice strengthened my resolve to expose the truth.

The experience forced me to reflect on the concept of “normal.” What defines a normal family? Some may not see my life with Cheryl and our family as fitting a traditional mold, yet we raised two remarkable children and now cherish our grandchildren. To me, family is defined by unconditional love, understanding, and showing up for one another. Embracing who I truly am allowed me to find the happiness I had long deserved—happiness grounded in love and sustained by faith.

As I continue my work—whether uncovering deception or helping someone heal from betrayal—I remain grateful. This career has shown me humanity at its worst, but it has also taught me to cherish everything I have. None of it would have been possible without Cheryl and God by my side.

I have been in a loving relationship for thirty-five years. Together, we are helping raise our grandson and granddaughter, a source of immense joy in my life. I recently self-published a children’s book, Oolygalees, co-authored with my granddaughter. I am currently completing my novel, Brutal Awakening, with two additional children’s books and my grandfather’s story, Kid from Hell’s Kitchen, planned next.

Brutal Awakening is both a personal reckoning and a broader examination of power, silence, and survival—offering readers an intimate, uncompromising perspective from someone who lived the reality behind the headlines.

My manuscript weaves together my personal history with the stories of my cases over the past thirty years. These include investigations involving domestic violence, child abuse, rape survivors, murder, terrorism, and kidnapping, as well as work within the entertainment industry. Notable cases and professional associations include Randy Quaid, Marilyn Monroe’s assistant Pat Newcomb, comic-book legend Stan Lee, producer David G. Riggs, the exposure of the MPAA through the documentary This Film Is Not Yet Rated, and my longtime friend Peter F. Paul.

Brutal Awkening is both a personal reckoning and a broader examination of power, silence, and survival—offering readers an intimate, uncompromising perspective from someone who lived the reality behind the headlines.

Why James Patterson Believes Marilyn Monroe Was Murdered

I’ve read about yet another book repeating the same claims about Marilyn Monroe, and I genuinely cannot understand why people continue to buy and read them. James Patterson has just published a new book asserting that Marilyn Monroe was murdered, but this is hardly new information. Many authors before him have made the same claim for decades. His book adds nothing original—it simply recycles theories that have already been published countless times. When are they going to stop?

James Edward McClure - The Monster Who Came Back Into My Life- excerpts from my book

It was Easter 1988, and my husband Russ was overseas. We had just moved into the brand-new officers' housing at Camp Pendleton, where the ocean greeted us each time we stepped into the room. Only a few months had passed when Russ deployed for six months. It was the first time I had ever lived alone.

Still, I loved where we lived. Our home sat at the end of a cul-de-sac with only six houses. Just outside our door was a small park where Kevin could play, though I rarely saw anyone else.

That Easter morning, Kevin and I were excitedly driving to the city park, where our family gathered each year to celebrate. The sun streamed into the car, casting everything in a golden glow, while the sky stretched endlessly blue above us.

We arrived at a small park—simple yet inviting—with a few scattered trees, picnic tables, and a modest playground buzzing with kids. My relatives had already claimed a table beneath a large oak tree.

As we parked, the cheerful sounds of laughter swirled around us, blending with the mouthwatering aroma of roasted chicken drifting through the air.

“It was a good idea for us to come today,” I said to Kevin, smiling as we walked toward the gathering.

I settled beside my mom, content to soak in the warmth of the moment—laughter, chatter, the sight of children running wild. Eventually, the food made its rounds, and to my surprise, I had an appetite. I ate heartily for the first time in what felt like ages. Afterward, my mom wandered off while I relaxed in the breeze, sharing stories and laughter with family, my eyes always drifting to Kevin as he played on the grass nearby.

Amidst the chaos of play, Kevin suddenly broke away from his cousins and began walking toward me. I smiled at him—until I noticed something behind him.

A figure in the distance.

At first, just a silhouette against the sun. But as he approached, the shape grew clearer: a man in Levi’s and a red short-sleeve shirt. My stomach clenched.

The way he carried himself—the broad shoulders, the confident stride—I knew it before I could stop myself from knowing.

No. Not here. Not today.

But as he stepped closer, the impossible became real.

Jim McClure.

My cousin. The man who had molested and raped me as a child—and not just me. He had violated others, leaving a trail of shattered lives. Now he stood before me as if no time had passed, as if nothing had happened.

“Hello,” he said casually, like we were old friends. Like he wasn’t a monster.

I froze.

Panic exploded inside me. Without a word, I grabbed Kevin and turned away. My vision blurred as sunlight pierced my tears. I walked fast, breathing hard, trying to escape the weight of memory that had crashed down on me.

Then, I felt a hand on my shoulder.

I flinched, my whole body bracing.

Was it him?

I turned.

It was my mom.

“Why are you acting this way? You didn’t even say hello to Jim!” she remarked, confusion painting her face.

I was taken aback, my silence profound as I struggled to comprehend her words. 

“You should treat him better; he's a nice person who has paid for his mistakes. The years have changed him. He's truly sorry for what he did,” she continued, her voice dripping like a child.

Disgust surged within me, and I started walking away again. Mom hurried after me, her voice unwavering.

“Listen to me, Becky! We’ve talked since his release. He mentioned how you and he played together when you were young."

I stopped short, battling to find my voice as rage and humiliation closed in. My cheeks burned with shame. How could my own mother misunderstand everything so completely?

“I think it's sweet that you had a childhood crush on him. There's no need for guilt, honey.”

But my frustration finally erupted. 

BECKY

“I... NEVER... HAD... A... CRUSH... ON... HIM... MOM! THE... TRUTH... IS... JIM... MOLESTED... AND... RAPED... ME... THROUGHOUT... MY... CHILDHOOD... AND... I... AM... AFRAID... OF... HIM!”

Her reaction was startlingly dismissive.

“If that makes you feel better to say that,” she said flatly.

“When did he get out of prison? Where is he staying? I need to know where to avoid.”

“He’s staying with me. He has nowhere else to go.”

The weight of her words crashed over me like a wave of betrayal.

“Well then, I guess you’re the one I need to stay away from.”

“Becky, you’re being ridiculous. When are you going to grow up?”

I turned away from her, my heart heavy with sorrow and frustration. I grabbed Kevin’s hand, and we walked to the car, leaving my mother behind—both physically and, in many ways, emotionally.

As we drove off, I glanced in the rearview mirror. There she was, standing with Jim, talking to him like nothing had ever happened—as if he hadn’t shattered my childhood. Their casual proximity sent a chill through me. I turned my eyes back to the road, my grip tightening on the steering wheel.

When we got home, I took Kevin to the playground. He deserved normalcy—laughter, sunlight, a few moments of joy. I sat on one of the empty benches, my body still, but my mind spinning. The breeze moved softly through the trees, the swing chains creaked gently, and for a moment, it almost felt calm.

But inside, I was unraveling.

I began drinking heavily again. It was the only thing that dulled the pain, the betrayal, the shame that clung to me like a second skin. I felt completely alone. There was no one I could talk to. Russ was far away, and even if he’d been closer, it wouldn’t have mattered.

When I told him what Jim had done to me as a child, he got upset—not at Jim, but at me, as if I had done something wrong. Like I was the one who should have been ashamed.

Would you like to continue from here? We could explore what pulled me out of that dark place—or go deeper into the isolation and the resilience it took to survive it.

--To Be Continued!--

Ann Wilkinson - Excerpt from my book

Ann Wilkinson entered my life in a week after Easter 1988. The day was simply stunning; spring had arrived, and I cherished the scent and sound of the ocean. Ann was graceful, standing around five feet tall, with flowing blond hair and lovely blue eyes. She lived just a few houses away from me. Her husband, Tim, a Marine Corps officer, and his wife were also from Minnesota, just like Russ. Interestingly, despite living in the officers' new housing on Camp Pendleton, I never really noticed Ann or her husband. They seemed to fade into the background for me at that time. My life was about to turn upside down. 

 

I stopped by the mailbox one day to pick up my mail, as I did every day. The mailboxes were located at the cul-de-sac entrance.

While checking my mail, I heard a voice call out, “Hey, when did you get a new car? That’s really nice!” 

I looked around, trying to locate the source of the voice, and saw a woman leaning over the fence.

“It’s a rental,” I replied. “My car is in the shop after I got into a car accident a few days ago.”

“Oh, are you okay?” she asked.

“Yes, I am. Thank you,” I said with a smile.

“I’m glad to hear that! My name is Ann. We haven’t seen you at the playground lately, and we wondered if you were doing alright.” 

The playground, I thought to myself. I never noticed anyone there, probably because I never took the time to look. My thoughts were always somewhere else.

“Yes, I’m fine. Just dealing with some issues since my husband left for deployment.”

“I’d really like to get to know you better. I'm having a Tupperware party on Saturday. Would you please come?!”

"Yes, I will"

"Great, I can't wait to see you."

And with that, she disappeared behine her fence. 

Kevin played with the kids at the Tupperware party, but I found myself more focused on Ann than on the woman selling the products. I had never been so captivated by someone before, and my feelings for Ann were unlike anything I had ever felt. She kept looking at me too, and there was this instant attraction between us.

Ann was the first person in years who made an effort to talk to me, and it truly brightened my day. That evening, I decided to go out to the playground, and Ann arrived just a few moments later. I loved our conversations; she was one of the nicest people I had ever met. 

We sat outside and talked for hours. It was a delight for Kevin too, as it allowed him to play with the other kids instead of being cooped up in the house. It was the first night I hadn’t had a drink since Russ left. 

As time went on, our friendship deepened into a profound connection. We became inseparable, spending every day together, and I experienced a sense of comfort and emotions I had never known. I decided to rent one of the mobile homes on base for Memorial weekend, conveniently located a few feet from the ocean. My family joined me, and so did Ann. We were less than three minutes from her house. 

The evenings were magical, especially when Ann came to visit. We would gather around a fire, roast marshmallows, and listen to the soothing sounds of the waves crashing against the shore. Sitting in the sand by the water, we talked for hours. Occasionally, she would gently lay her hand over mine, leaving me with a mix of uncertainty and excitement as her presence stirred something deep inside me.

The time apart felt endless. 

One morning, as the sun began to rise, I took a stroll along the shore, watching dolphins swim by. Standing there, tears slowly started to fall from my eyes, though I couldn’t quite understand why—maybe it was because Russ was coming home soon. I could see his ship on the horizon, which meant he would be home in a few days. The fresh air filled my lungs, and the sky was incredibly clear. The sounds of the dolphins were enchanting, and all I could feel at that moment was the cool saltwater washing over my feet.

Occasionally a mild scent of bacon and eggs would bring me back to reality. I began getting hungry; smelling the food was a change for me from the last few months. On the last evening, everyone sat around the fire, talking and cooking marshmallows as usual. I sat alone, looking out at the ocean and feeling confused inside. I had already pulled away from Russ because of the affair he had when he was in officers' school.

Ann and I spent every day together, and I even stopped drinking. I felt good about our friendship and a sense of comfort that I had never experienced before.  Ann's husband, Tim, was often preoccupied with golfing or watching television. He didn’t seem to care where Ann was or what she was doing. Instead, he just wanted his house kept clean, his meals prepared, and expected intimacy every night. He was a short man, around five feet four, with blonde hair that he mostly shaved off, and he had an arrogant attitude. Ann often complained about his demands for sex every night. 

Ann and Tim had a daughter named Kristin, who was just a few months younger than Kevin. I had taken Ann to my mom's house a few times, without Jim. We usually opted for a hotel if Jim was there during our visits. My mom seemed annoyed with Ann, though I never understood why, and honestly, I didn’t care. At times, Ann and I would go for a drive to get some privacy.

Tim Wilkinson

When Russ came home in June, Ann and I cherished our daytime moments together, but we always felt the need to see each other before bed. We often took long walks along the beach, eventually sitting down to watch the waves and talk. On the walk home, I felt more confused than ever. When I returned, Russ and Kevin were asleep on the couch. I gently placed a blanket over them and went to bed alone, where I cried myself to sleep.

As the days passed, I found myself resenting Russ's return. I couldn’t spend time with Ann as freely as I used to, which put a strain on our friendship. The only moments we could find to be together were when Tim and Russ were at work. Every evening after dinner, Ann and I would continue our daily walk along the beach, relishing the rarity of our solitude. Tim and Russ kept the kids occupied during those times.

During our walks, Ann often confided in me about her unhappiness with her marriage and how she couldn't stand being intimate with Tim any longer. I understood her feelings all too well, as I was unhappy in my own marriage. My distance from Russ had begun long before Ann entered my life; he had cheated on me multiple times, and I had suffered the heartbreak of losing two of our dogs because he ignored my concerns. One of those dogs, Kelly, had been with me since childhood, and her loss left a deep scar.

Russ was on duty for twenty-four hours the night before Ann was set to leave. While Kevin slept upstairs, I began drinking, troubled by the thought of Ann being away for two weeks. With Kevin asleep, I sat on the couch listening to Barbara Mandrell. When her song "Married But Not to Each Other" started playing, it struck a chord. The song is about two people in love but not with their spouses, mirroring my situation with Ann and my fear of hurting Russ. Around 11:30 PM, Ann came to see me. I was on the couch, and she sat beside me.

Ann moved closer and laid her head on my shoulder. My stomach quivered with a mix of nerves and arousal. I had never felt anything like it before. I looked at Ann, and we started kissing. It felt natural and good. She took off her bra, and I began caressing her breasts.

Touching her aroused me, and I didn't think about Russ. All that mattered was Ann, and neither of us wanted the evening to end. However, Ann had a flight to catch the next day. She left around 2:30 in the morning. After she left, I sat on the couch, reflecting on what had happened. I never went to sleep, just watched the sunrise through the open curtains.

I went to Ann's house around 9:00 AM. We were both exhausted, but I needed to understand what had happened that night and what to do about it. While Ann curled her hair in the bathroom, she bent down and told me she was in love with me. As I drove her, Tim, and Kristin to the airport, I couldn't figure out what to make of her confession. She was leaving for two weeks to visit family in Minnesota, which felt even more complicated since Russ's family was also there, and we were planning to leave just a few days after Ann returned.

After saying goodbye at the airport, Ann kept calling to express her love for me and urged me to hold on until she came back. I trusted her and believed everything she said, but her words left me tangled in questions about myself and my emotions. How could I possibly know what to do with my feelings when I didn’t even fully understand them? I was in love with a woman who had awakened something within me that no one else ever had. Throughout her absence, the days stretched on and felt like the longest two weeks of my life, as my thoughts revolved around Ann.

A few weeks later, Ann returned from Minnesota. I picked her up at the airport; Tim had flown back a few days earlier for work. After a brief drive, we found a secluded area just before we entered the Marine Base. The kids were asleep in our van so we embraced and kissed each other deeply.

A week and a half after Ann's return, Russ and I were preparing for our trip to Minnesota. I was hesitant to go, especially since Ann and I had become physically intimate several times since she had come back. I had never expected to be with a woman in that way, but the experience with Ann had been incredible, and I cherished the intimacy we shared. It was satisfying and comfortable, and the thought of leaving made me fear that those feelings would fade.

The night before Russ and I were supposed to leave, I poured myself a few glasses of vodka mixed with orange juice. Overwhelmed, I began to cry because the idea of leaving felt unbearable. I worried about how Russ would handle it all, but I felt lost regarding what to do next. Soon, Russ came downstairs to check on me, concern etched on his face.

“What are you doing down here, Becky? You should be in bed since we have a long drive tomorrow,” he said, his voice filled with concern.

"I don't want to go to Minnesota. Please take Kevin and go without me."

"What the fuck are you talking about? What is wrong with you lately?"

"I don't know, Russ. I don't want to go."

We got into a huge argument, and I had drunk so much that I couldn't even think straight. I went upstairs, and got our gun, and went to the garage where I was crying uncontrollably. I was so upset.  I couldn't deal with Ann and Russ pulling me in different directions. My guilt about Ann was getting worse every day. A few hours later, Russ walked into the garage looking for me.

"What are you doing out here?" 

"You don't understand, Russ. I don't want to go. I have to stay home. Please, Russ, let me stay, or I'll blow my head off."

Russ didn't know what to do, so he called Ann to see if she could talk to me. Ann came over and talked me into putting the gun down. Russ went upstairs so Ann and I could speak alone.

"Ann, I want to leave Russ. I have thought it over and decided I want to be with you."

"I love you too, but you can't leave Russ yet. We need to take it slow, and I promise I will be there for you when you return. We will work things out then."

I finally agreed, but I was miserable during the trip. I closed off everyone in Russ's family, including Russ. During most of the trip, I sat in the back of the van looking out the window with headphones on and the outside world turned off. Russ and I fought every day while we were gone, and I ran off every chance I had to call Ann or just to be alone. Russ's parents knew something was wrong, but they had no idea it had to do with another woman.

Ann kept calling me while I was in Minnesota to tell me she wanted to be with me and was still very much in love. Things changed a few days before we were driving back to California. Ann called me and told me that she was pregnant. Ann said she was confused about everything and needed to try to fix her marriage, saying she wanted to be friends, but the intimacy had to stop. I didn't know what to say. I loved Ann so much, but my friendship meant everything to me. No matter how much it hurt, I respected what Ann wanted and agreed.

On our drive home, I prayed a lot and tried to let go of Ann. I had to try to make things better with Russ. We talked the whole two thousand miles of our trip home. We both agreed to work harder on our marriage and to try to communicate better. He promised that he would control his temper. I stayed home, tried to be a good wife, and didn't even call Ann. I needed time to overcome the fact that we would not be as close as we once were. However, Ann started calling me, but I didn't answer the phone. She would knock at the door for a few days, so I finally gave in and let her come inside. We walked upstairs to the bedroom because I needed to check on Kevin who was taking a nap.

"I think you should stay away so I can work on my marriage. I'm confused because that is what you wanted."

"I know, Becky, but it is so hard. I love you, and I want to be with you."

I looked at her, feeling at a loss. I didn't know what to say anymore.

"I'm not happy with Tim. I am so jealous of Russ, and I can't stand sitting at my house knowing you are having sex with him."

"What do you want from me? You are messing with my head."

"I'm so in love with you, Becky, and I need you."

She lays me on the bed, I'm trying to understand what she was saying. Ann began kissing me, and I couldn't stop kissing her back. We were both happy and decided to make a plan to leave. Ann and Russ constantly yelled at me about one another, and my depression started again.

I hurt my back due to all the stress and began to have muscle spasms. My doctor gave me some pain pills, and I used them to numb myself. Between the medications and the alcohol, I would close off the whole world. Kevin became my entire focus. He was the one person I could love and who loved me in return.

I wanted to be far away from everyone. Each day became more difficult for me to function. I didn't want to feel anything anymore. My feelings of being lost and confused with my life emotionally destroyed me. One night after Russ went to bed, I swallowed ten pain pills, drank a bottle of vodka, and hid in the garage. A few hours passed before Ann and Russ found me. They called 911, and I was rushed to the hospital, where they gave me a shot to make me vomit. A psychologist came in to talk with me.

"Why did you want to kill yourself?" the woman asked.

"I didn't want to kill myself. I just wanted to make the yelling and pain disappear," I replied.

We spoke briefly, and then I explained what had been happening with Ann and Russ. The psychologist decided I needed to go to a psychiatric hospital for at least a seventy-two-hour evaluation. I agreed because it meant getting away from everyone and clearing my head. An ambulance arrived at the hospital; they placed me in a straitjacket and took me to a psychiatric hospital about twenty minutes from the house.

"What has happened over the last year, and how do I fix it?" I just kept thinking.

The following day, I called Ann to talk to her. She started to cry when she found out I was in a psychiatric hospital. She apologized for everything that had happened over the last eight months. I told her I had been confused, and all the game-playing made it challenging to move on. She planned on visiting me later that day. 

The psychiatrist entered my room after I hung up and took me to a private conference room.

"How are you this morning?" the doctor asked.

"Fine."

"Then tell me, why did you want to commit suicide?"

"I don't know if I wanted to commit suicide or if I wanted the problem to go away for a while."

"What problem would that be?"

"Well, I suppose it would be Russ and Ann."

"And who are Russ and Ann?"

"Russ is my controlling, jealous husband who has anger issues. Ann is my best friend who I have fallen in love with."

"I see. Have you been sexually involved with her?" "Touching, but I never thought anything like this would happen."

"Are you a lesbian?"

"No. What makes you think I'm a lesbian?"

"Well, you're kissing and touching another woman. What would you say that makes you?"

"Being a lesbian is a sin; I can't be one. I just can't!" 

"Who told you it's a sin to be a lesbian?"

"My family, society, and God."

"Okay, Becky. Then let's say that you're bi-sexual. What do you want to do now?"

"Why do I have to be labeled? Why can't I be in love with her? I'm so confused. I love Russ, but I'm completely whole with Ann. Please help me figure out what I can do?"

"I can't. Only you can make that decision. I'm here for you to talk to and try to help you along the way. The final decision will have to be yours. I do think you should have Russ and Ann stay away for a while so you can figure this out."

We ended the session that way, leaving me no better off than before. That evening, Ann came to visit me and told me she still loved me and wanted to leave Tim to be with me. Following the psychiatrist's advice, I decided to stay in the hospital for a week to figure things out. I asked Russ to stay away, and he did. I should have told Ann the same thing, but I didn't.

Ann attended a few therapy sessions with my psychiatrist and me. She told the psychologist that she was in love with me and wanted to ask her husband for a divorce. Ann said she would tell her husband as soon as I left Russ. I never took the time or made the effort to resolve my issues when I knew we would be together. I just buried them and pretended like the problems didn't exist.

After seeing Ann every day and not seeing Russ, I concluded that Ann was who I wanted in my life. I asked Russ for a divorce the day before leaving the hospital. He was distraught, and I felt horrible for causing him so much pain. The hospital released me on a Friday night. I stayed with Ann, but Russ refused to let me see Kevin. Russ had Kevin hidden, and the military police wouldn't help me because Russ convinced them that I had escaped from a psychiatric hospital.

Even after showing the military police my release papers, they sided with Russ. They allowed me into the house just long enough to gather a few clothes. While inside, I grabbed one of Kevin's stuffed animals and the letters I had written to him over the years. Russ had opened them, and he had no right to do that.

I headed to Ann's place. Tim didn't mind me staying with them; he spent most of the weekend playing golf. Despite being with Ann, my depression and insecurities grew. I lay on Kristin's bed for two days, staring at the ceiling and holding Kevin's musical teddy bear, playing the song Jesus loves me! This I know, For the Bible tells me so; over and over.

Ann would cry, begging me to talk to her, unable to bear listening to the musical teddy bear anymore. I didn't want to talk to Ann. My pain was unbearable. The thought of Russ taking Kevin away had never occurred to me. Kevin had been my life, and Russ knew that.

After days of begging, Russ finally let me see Kevin, but only if I talked to the Military Chaplain. We sat on a bench outside. I tried to express my feelings while the Chaplain told me I would go to hell if my relationship with Ann didn't stop. Confused and desperate to see my son, I reluctantly agreed.

The next day, I left to stay at a hotel just to sppend time with Kevin. Russ agreed, but i had to take him back the next day. I made the mistake of calling Ann. She kept calling me, begging to see me until I finally gave in. I met her at her house, insisting we talk outside to avoid any physical contact. The kids played while Ann kept telling me how much she loved me. She always brought back my confusion. She was an addiction, one that needed to stop.

Russ didnt have anyway to keep Kevin, so he gave me custody. I stayed at a nearby hotel. My hotel stay was for five days. Russ finally canceled the credit card, making me have to go home. By the time I went home, Ann and I had already engaged in sexual intercourse. Russ, Ann, and I sat together on the stairs of our house to talk. I only wanted to talk to Russ, but Ann insisted on staying. My attempts to explain everything to Russ weren't going anywhere because Ann kept talking. She told Russ everything about what had happened between us, even told Russ things he didn't need to know. 

It was hard for me to sit there and listen to Ann talk to Russ because his pain made my guilt unbearable. For a short time, Russ seemed excited about my sexual relationship with Ann. He kept asking us for a threesome and would become angry when we refused. He threatened to tell Tim about everything, but Ann begged him not to, promising she would do it herself. She also assured me she would tell Tim. That was a lapse in judgment on my part.

Ann and I continued seeing each other during the day but not at night. Every night, Russ would yell at me, demanding to know where I had been and if I had seen Ann. Over the next few weeks, his cruel words and hurtful remarks made me feel like I deserved the pain.

Russ was starting to realize our marriage was over, so he agreed to let me take Kevin and leave. He said he didn't have the time or energy to care for Kevin. Even though Russ knew it was over between us, he knew leaving would get Ann away from me. We moved everything into storage. He helped me buy a new truck to get a job to support Kevin and me. Russ was willing to do anything for me at the time. He was hoping that if he got me away from Ann, we could work on saving our marriage. 

Kevin and I stayed at my brother's house for a few days. Ann kept calling me, telling me she would stay with Tim until  I found a place to live. She insisted she was going to join me and that she loved me. Why didnt she just leave me alone?

Russ called me every night, still trying to win me back, insisting it wasn't my fault. He said Ann was playing games with me and that she would break up with me after leaving. He was right. On the third day after I left, Ann called me in a panic. She said she had thrown all my letters, cards, and gifts in the trash because she didn't want Tim to find them. She knew that if she got rid of everything, Tim would never learn the truth, and then she hung up.

My thoughts were scattered, and my heart was broken. I kept calling her, desperate to understand what had happened and why she had lied to me. She would laugh at me and then tell me she loved me. She said she was confused and that the pregnancy had made her reconsider. Why now? I kept asking why she did this to me, why she didn't leave me alone when she first told me she was pregnant and that it was over. Why take everything from me and then say all of this? What a cruel thing she did, not only to me but also to Russ.

I couldn't take it anymore. One night, I was so drunk that I had my gun in my hand, contemplating suicide. Kevin played with my niece in the other room, and my brother found me on the bedroom floor. He begged me to give him the gun, but my thoughts were everywhere, convinced my life was over. I put the gun to my head, ready to pull the trigger, when my sister-in-law brought Kevin into the room. My God, what was I thinking? My son walked over to me, and my life was about to end. I thought about what would happen to my son if he saw his mom blow off her head. I gave my gun to my brother, hugged Kevin, and everything seemed okay, but the police had already been called.

They handcuffed me and took me to the San Bernardino County Department of Behavioral Health. I spoke to the officer about my thoughts and what had happened. There was a lot of time to talk since it took an hour to reach our destination. Russ was there by the time we arrived. My brother had called him, and he was the last person I expected to see, especially since he drove further than the officer. After speaking with the psychiatrist, they released me to Russ. He had always been there for me, but it was too late when I realized it. We talked during the drive to my brother's house. He wanted me to come back to him and start over.

My thoughts were a mess. I asked Russ to be patient while I tried to fix myself. There was nothing I could say to make him feel better. I didn't even feel good about myself. However, I often apologized during our drive to my brother's place. Russ saw Kevin before heading back to Camp Pendleton. My brother informed me that his in-laws wanted me to leave since the house belonged to them.

My dad let me move in for as long as I needed. My drinking increased as Russ kept sending me money, and I had nothing else to do. I repeatedly tried to get Ann to explain what had happened and attempted to tell Tim, but Ann convinced him I was a liar and not to listen to me. My conversation with Tim confirmed he knew nothing. 

Then one of Ann's sisters called me to inform me that I was a sick person and that I better leave Ann alone or she would come to California to shove a plunger up my vagina and kick my ass. I told her to come, and my pain turned into anger. I continued calling Ann, desperate to know what had happened and how she could change so drastically overnight. She never answered the phone, and if anyone did, it was Tim. I was surprised he was at home. Something had happened, but I would never know what or why.

About a month after I moved away, Tim and Ann got a restraining order against me. I didn't care about the order; I just wanted to hear what Ann had to say, so I went to court. Tim claimed he was concerned I would physically hurt Ann and that my calls were excessive. Of course, Ann never said a word or looked my way. Tim asserted that I had tried to seduce his wife, that he considered me crazy and dangerous, and that he was worried about his family's safety. He was such a blind idiot. How could he not know? I stood in front of the judge and told the absolute truth. I explained that I was a suicidal person, not a homicidal one. Hurting Ann or anyone else had never crossed my mind. Russ was in the courthouse and told the judge I was telling the truth. Ann just stood there, not looking at me or saying a word.

After returning to my dad's, I retreated into a nightly routine of drinking, the days blurring into a haze of resentment towards Ann. My mind was a constant loop of how she had derailed my life. My father, burdened by his own struggles, seemed oblivious to my pain, or perhaps unable to address it. The affair itself, a daughter involved with another woman, was likely a truth too difficult for my family to process, explaining their silence. Ann had fractured my world, and a desire for retribution flickered within me. The thought of exposing her to her family crossed my mind, but it wasn't in my nature to inflict that kind of pain.

The truth of Ann's actions remains elusive, locked away in her silence. Now, thirty-seven years later, the questions linger, though I've formed my own conjectures. Perhaps pregnancy played a role, or familial disapproval, or maybe she believed forcing a separation was the only way to truly let go. The reasons remain unknown. What is clear is the profound cruelty of her actions, a stark contrast to the person I believed her to be during those intense four months. Yet, time has allowed for a measure of peace. I can finally say that I forgive her. What I do believe is Ann really loved me. You can't fake that.  The sad thing is she has had to live with this lie where I am free of all lies. I sincerely hope she has found happiness and health in her life. Ultimately, despite the pain, she gave me the experience of my first true love.

 

Kristin and Ann Wilkinson 

Kenneth Wilkinson