Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Introduction
PART ONE - Passion
ONE - Prince Charming
TWO - The Infatuation
THREE - The Courtship
FOUR - Moving In
FIVE - The Proposal
SIX - The Wedding
PART TWO - Patience
SEVEN - The Bliss
EIGHT - Glitter
NINE - The Blues
TEN - The Admiral’s Wife
ELEVEN - The Admiral’s Family
TWELVE - The Admiral’s Decorations
THIRTEEN - The Inaugural Ball
FOURTEEN - The Storm
FIFTEEN - Deceitful Winds
SIXTEEN - The Sinking
SEVENTEEN - Deep Waters
EIGHTEEN - Suspicions
NINETEEN - The Fog
TWENTY - The Attack
PART THREE - Persistence
TWENTY-ONE - The Investigator
TWENTY-TWO - The Trial
TWENTY-THREE - The Crusade
TWENTY-FOUR - The Awakening
TWENTY-FIVE - The Stakes
TWENTY-SIX - The Sponsor
TWENTY-SEVEN - The Lobbyist
TWENTY-EIGHT - The Assembly
TWENTY-NINE - The Senate
THIRTY - The Celebration
EPILOGUE A
EPILOGUE B
EPILOGUE C
EPILOGUE D
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This book describes the real experiences of real people. The author has disguised some identities to protect privacy, and in some instances created composite scenes of certain events, but none of these changes has affected the truthfulness and accuracy of her story.
Copyright © 2008 by Barbara Bentley.
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PRINTING HISTORY
Berkley trade paperback edition / November 2008
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Bentley, Barbara, 1945-
A dance with the devil : a true story of marriage to a psychopath / Barbara Bentley.
p. cm.
eISBN : 978-1-440-62934-1
1. Bentley, Barbara, 1945- 2. Attempted murder—United States—Case studies. 3. Divorce—
Law and legislation—California. I. Title.
HV6529.B46 2008
364.152’3092—dc22
[B]
2008024620
http://us.penguingroup.com
I dedicate this book to my husband, Rex;
to the memory of my friend Helen; and
to the memory of Homicide Detective Greg Smith,
who saved my life.
INTRODUCTION
This is my story, where fairy-tale dreams, trust, and hope collide with the crazymaking world of psychopaths and domestic violence. I could never have imagined my recovery would be so hard won, or that a psychopath would be so hard to lose.
My Prince Charming swept me off my feet, but the euphoria was short lived. Once the honeymoon period was over, he quickly learned how to manipulate my insecurities with his skillful lies. He could be so charming that I didn’t recognize how he was using me and our relationship to reach his own goals to achieve the high standard of living and the admiration he craved. At other times, he could terrify me. When he threatened to leave me, my bones froze. In a panic, I did whatever I thought necessary to keep the relationship on track and stop my fear of abandonment and rejection from becoming reality. I was dealing with a psychopath, but I didn’t recognize it.
Beneath the façade of a retired rear admiral, my Prince Charming was actually a monster in disguise, a psychopath adept at spotting a woman he could enchant and influence. He fanned the flame of love. He knew just what to say, how to say it, and when to say it to trap me. I was his prey, and it led to at least one attempt on my life. Dr. Robert D. Hare, in his book Without Conscience, defines psychopaths as “social predators who charm, manipulate, and ruthlessly plow their way through life, leaving a broad trail of broken hearts, shattered expectations, and empty wallets.” Psychopaths are also known as sociopaths, and Dr. Martha Stout, in her book The Sociopath Next Door, states that “one in twenty-five everyday Americans . . . is secretly a sociopath.”
Dr. Hare further sets forth: “Psychopaths are often witty and articulate. They can be amusing and entertaining conversationalists, ready with a quick and clever comeback, and can tell unlikely but convincing stories that cast themselves in a good light. They can be very effective in presenting themselves well and are often very likeable and charming.”
Psychopaths are experts at manipulating facts and twisting the truth. If I became suspicious and challenged a story, my Prince Charming usually responded without hesitation, offering a plausible explanation that often contained a kernel of truth. At other times he would smoothly glide away from the question. No matter which way he gave his answer, I would be left feeling foolish or crazy, yet I continued to trust him.
Dr. Hare also writes: “Given their personality, it comes as no surprise that psychopaths make good imposters. They have no hesitation in forging and brazenly using impressive credentials to adopt, chameleonlike, professional roles that give them prestige and power.” You will see them as lawyers, psychologists, military officers, war heroes, professors, company officers, and two of their favorites, CIA or FBI agents. These professions are usually given unchallenged trust, and the psychopath wants his victims to trust him implicitly.
Psychopaths look for the pot of gold and will use ruthless means to get it. They have no financial responsibility and feel no obligation to develop or maintain a good credit rating. Greed drives them to abuse the victim’s credit cards, borrow money, confiscate valuables, encourage second mortgages, and finagle large insurance policies or wills with themselves as beneficiaries. They may even use murder to get what they want. However, if the resource dries up, they casually move along, without conscience, to find the next victim.
The criminal justice system constantly deals with psychopaths who have developed a lifelong pattern of being in trouble with the law. Many use fake IDs. Their rap sheets can be remarkably inventive, but frightening in the potential to do harm. Most practice their deception until the day they die. There is no real cure for a psychopath.
Practicing psychopaths fit the profile of domestic abusers. They are proficient at emotional and financial abuse. They may also revert to physical and sexual abuse to get their way. Domestic violence is about power and control. And a psychopath, who thrives on power and control, knows just how to get and sustain them.
Psychopaths are adept at using the cycle of violence. After an abusive event, they are apologetic and loving, manipulating with their words. “I promise, it will never happen again.” The victim is led to believe that the abuse was her fault. This honeymoon stage may be short lived as tensions begin to build, escalate, and eventually lead to the next abuse.
Some verbal abuse is obvious. Harsh words are said in anger. There is yelling, swearing, and name-calling. The victim responds by developing low self-esteem and by becoming emotionally paralyzed.
Verbal abuse may also be subtle, disguised in smooth, manipulating words. Patricia Evans, in her book The Verbally Abusive Relationship: How to Recognize It and How to Respond, says, “Covert verbal abuse is subversive because of its indirect quality. It is a covert attack or coercion. This kind of abuse has been described as ‘crazymaking.’ ” The psychopath is a master of its use. He knows just what to say to keep the victim off balance, to make her feel crazy and unable to understand why she feels lost, disconnected, and out of control.
A financial abuser may use obvious tactics such as having the victim account for every penny, not allowing the victim to have any money of her own, and not allowing her to have a career outside the home. Her self-esteem is bruised when she’s told she’s not responsible enough to handle money or smart enough to hold down a job.
Covert financial abuse is harder to spot. The psychopath, motivated by greed, is a master at this type of abuse. He uses smooth or threatening words to manipulate finances to his advantage. The victim may find herself giving him her credit cards and allowing their misuse, even though she suffers extreme stress and fear when she can’t pay them off. The psychopath may con his way onto the deed of the victim’s home or clandestinely obtain a second mortgage on her property. When the psychopath moves on, the victim is left financially drained and responsible for the debt.
To the outside world, domestic violence leaves the most easily recognized signs... blackened eyes, broken bones, or dead bodies. For many reasons, including fear, guilt, low self-esteem, financial dependency, and children’s welfare, a victim will often continue to put up with physical abuse, even if it leads to her death. Many victims have nowhere to go, no one to help them. Tragically, a misinformed society perpetuates the problem.
Physical abuse can also be covert, especially when the psychopath needs to cover his deceptive actions. A staged car accident or an unexpected fall down the stairs is physical abuse, though the victim may not recognize it as such. The psychopath explains it away with glib words, apologies, and promises.
Another form of abuse is spousal rape. The abuser demands sex as a husband’s right or forces the victim to perform acts that are offensive to her. The opposite of rape may also apply. There is no sex. The victim may rationalize this away, too.
During my journey I have been given the right people at the right time to support me emotionally, legally, spiritually, and financially. For that I am grateful. I thank those who guided me, directly or indirectly, on my path of recovery: Carolyn Pedrotti, LCSW; Melody Beattie; and Lucia Capacchione, Ph.D. I thank those associated with the criminal aftermath of the murder attempt: Lisa, Michelle, Greg Smith, and Theo Stamos. I thank Harriet and Mike Salarno for teaching me about victim advocacy. I thank Dick Rainey, Kim and Peter for supporting my legislative quest. I thank Gregg Jones and Melvin Belli, who believed in my ability to defend myself in court.
I thank those who fostered, encouraged, and mentored my writing, especially Gary and Gail Provost and Hannelore Hahn. They were there at the beginning of my writing journey and continue to be an inspiration to me. I thank Lois Winsen for her advice and editing skills, and Patricia Evans for her encouragement. I thank my literary agent Rachel Vater for her enthusiasm, support, and skill in getting my manuscript sold. I thank my literary agent Nancy Yost for monitoring my progress. I thank my three editors at Berkley: Samantha Mandor for acquiring my manuscript, Katie Day for improving my manuscript with minor changes, and Shannon Jamieson Vazquez for bringing further clarity to a fact-filled story and gracefully handling a first-time author. I also thank my copyeditor, Amy Schneider, for her meticulous work.
I am grateful for the support of my family and friends. I thank my husband, Rex, for his patience as I have pursued my publishing dream. And I wish to thank my departed golden retrievers, Gobi and Gaby, for giving me wet kisses at the times I needed them most.
Some scenes in this book are a compilation of events because everyday life strings out experiences. Facts are represented as accurately as possible, but some names and locations have been changed for privacy. As a survivor of this story, I realize now that I am the product of my upbringing and my life choices, good and bad. Throughout my journey I have encountered many life-altering decisions. What if I had turned away when I met John, instead of running into his arms? Where would I be now? Would I be the whole person I have become, or still a victim of my own ignorance of self? Because of my experiences, I have learned how to survive being a victim and find a truly fulfilling life without shame, and I have had the opportunity to recognize and overcome some of my deepest fears. It is my hope that by sharing my experiences, I can reach others who may see themselves in my story, and that they will find courage, strength, and hope for finding their own freedom before it is too late.
PROLOGUE
To Trust or Not to Trust
I was sitting at my office desk staring at my November day planner when I made what seemed like an innocuous decision—I would invite my recently reconnected friend Rex to the Justice for Murder Victims dinner dance in San Francisco. It was less than two weeks away. I reached for the telephone and paused as a pang of guilt reminded me that I didn’t like it when people changed plans on me at the last minute, and inviting Rex meant putting my mother off after she had been my date for the charity affair the last several years. She won’t mind, I rationalized. She’ll be happy that I will have someone to whisk me around the dance floor.
My hand grasped the receiver and I shuddered. A sense of impending doom enveloped me. Before the receiver reached my ear, I dropped it back into its cradle as a paralyzing déjà vu washed over me like a ghost from the past, taunting me with memories best left undisturbed. Was I reacting as I once did? Without abandon? Could I make the same mistake twice? At least I had learned one lesson—I didn’t trust my decision to extend the invitation without bouncing the idea off a neutral party. I grabbed the receiver and quickly punched my friend Pam’s number.
“My plan feels too close to how I got started with John,” I fretted.
My stomach knotted at the memory.
“This is different,” Pam counseled. “Didn’t you have a good time at the lunch I arranged a couple of weeks ago?”
“Yes,” I conceded, “it was fun reconnecting with him at the Potato Barge.”
“You’ve known Rex since nineteen sixty-nine, even if
you hadn’t seen him for eight years before the lunch. You know his history and he’s already a good friend. You can trust him.”
We discussed my feelings of impending doom, and in the end I had to agree with her that I could trust Rex. I knew his background. As former co-workers, we had learned a lot about each other during the six years we tested production samples in the analytical lab at the Excelsior Chemical plant in Martinez, California. Rex, a chemist, transferred from the Midwest in 1969. He specialized in the emerging technology of gas chromatography, and Pam and I occasionally worked directly with him when we rotated into his area as lab assistants. We lost contact when he transferred to another company.
“You’re right,” I said. “Rex is a kind man without hidden agendas.”
I thanked Pam for her friendship and closed by saying that she had helped bolster my resolve to ask Rex to the dinner dance. I had barely returned the receiver to its cradle when the phone jangled with a double ring indicating an outside call, startling me into a nervous jump. I laughed. Another one of my mother’s endearing traits that she passed along to me, I thought.
My reverie was short lived. The call was from my divorce attorney, who let me know that my now ex-husband had just thrown another monkey wrench into what I thought was a final property settlement. My shoulders tightened. I slammed the receiver down and took a brisk walk to regain my composure.
Later that afternoon I called Rex. He gladly accepted my invitation and, because of logistics, we decided that I would drive. This is just a date with a friend, I thought to myself as I hung up the phone. Then I called my mom.
A Dance With the Devil: A True Story of Marriage to a Psychopath Page 1