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Sunday, August 12, 2012


This post is more about some of the circumstances Dave and I have been through the last few months than it is directly related to the case.

Dave did find a job. As instructed, he notified Family Court. The morning he was to start his new job I heard CRASH! BANG! as I pulled in the drive. I ran up the steps and tried to open the door but the knob wouldn't turn. I could hear the Furious Fiance (FF from now on) yelling inside and heard more crashes. The door wasn't locked but it wouldn't open either! It's 6:45am and now I'm standing on the porch yelling too! "What the hell is going on in there?!"

Dave opened the door from the inside a few minutes later and I saw the living room was a wreck. The TV is upside down and there's a tower speaker in the wall. I see why the door wouldn't open. The knob is smashed. FF is still yelling. I demanded to know what was going on. He started sputtering something about the remote control and his house. Then he threatened me with a meat cleaver because I was yelling!

Wow, nice start for Dave's first day on the job, eh? When the story finally came out FF was mad because he couldn't get the TV to come on. Dave told him not to use the remote then, just use the buttons on the TV. He blew up like defective fireworks because Dave told him not to use his remote in his house!. Sheesh...

Obviously, this wasn't working and so much for my hopefulness in the beginning. Dave and I had to get out of there. I knew FF wanted me to stay and Dave to go but I was being treated horribly, too. Why would I want to stay? There's a lot more to this part of story but once again it's another chapter in another book. It also has little place in this story. The problem was we had no money and no where to go. We decided sleeping in my vehicle would be preferable to the added stress of coping with about-to-be ex-FF.

We had to time it right to try to steer clear of any additional violence. The timing worked out that we both worked all night, came home and then moved. It took us five hours. Dave's sister allowed us to store the big stuff in her basement and we did sleep in my vehicle. As if we both don't already have enough problems now we're homeless, too!

I asked for help from the Salvation Army, church associations and shelters. Most of them wanted me to file a PFA first and the only shelter options they offered was each of us to go to different shelters in the city 30 miles away. Dave and I were each others moral support. We weren't going to be separated. How in the world were we both going to get back and forth to work from so far away with no money for gas? I didn't feel filing a PFA & going for even more rounds in a court room was necessary. He wasn't stalking me. He hadn't actually put his hands on me. So we did the best we could with what we had.

It took six weeks and help from a fund through my job for us to get a roof over our heads. But at least my son and I were together. Neither of us had to worry about being emotionally abused, threatened with physical abuse or having our personal belongings raided or destroyed. Dave could now sleep on a bed in his own bedroom for the first time in six months.

Next up...
So much for notifying the court and other legal ridiculousness


  1. The paperwork snafu to get help is atrocious and self-defeating. Most of those who need help are so frustrated by the process as to not get what they need because they give up hope before they get it.

  2. Then again, the more who walk away, the less they have to give. Ugh.

  3. More broken systems... It's such a shame those who try to help themselves get thrown out in the deep water to sink or swim. Yet most of those who just hold out their hand end up getting it filled. This has been my personal experience for decades...