Weeds in The Garden of Love

by Steven J. Daniels

  “Boy, that’ll mess up your day. I’ll pass this along to Patrol.”

  “Thanks, Sarge.” Captain Johnson returned to his paperwork.

  At the Patrol office, Sgt. Haskett found two young officers who had just completed a prisoner transfer. He cleared the duty request with the shift boss then explained the situation to the two officers.

  “Be gentle, and let us know if you need any help,” Sgt. Haskett said. “And be careful—sometimes the next of kin can go all crazy on ya.”

  On the way out to their patrol car, the two officers noted the address and discussed the best route to take. Neither had done a death notification, so they flipped a coin to decide who would do the talking. Patrolman Dixon lost.

  Craig was working at home and saw the police car park out front. He watched the two officers walk up to the front door. He knew something was horribly wrong. His first thought was Chrissie had been killed in a drunk driving accident. Craig opened the door before the officers had a chance to ring the bell.

  “Good afternoon, sir. I’m Patrolman Dixon, and this is my partner Patrolman Walsh. We’re looking for a Christine or a Craig Andrews.”

  “I’m Craig Andrews. What’s this about?” Craig was afraid of what would come next. His is heart was thumping in his chest.

  “Are you related to a Robert John Devries?”

  “Yeah. Joe’s my father-in-law. He’s away on a cruise to Alaska. Why? What’s happened?”

  “I’m very sorry to inform you—” Patrolman Dixon paused, searching for the right words. “Mr. Devries was killed in an accident yesterday morning.”

  “Oh, my God!” Craig said. “Where? Why? I mean—what the hell happened?”

  “We don’t have all the details yet, sir. The Alaska State Troopers reported he was sightseeing in a helicopter, and it crashed. Happened outside of Juneau.”

  “They’re sure it was Joe Devries? He hated helicopters!”

  “Yes, sir, they’ve confirmed he was one of the five people killed. If it’s any comfort, it appears they all died instantly on impact.” Craig listened in disbelief. It seemed like only yesterday he had spoken to Joe. “Can we contact someone for you, sir? You know, to maybe, come over and—”

  “No, no. I’m fine, but thanks anyway,” Craig said. “I have to go tell his daughter.” Dixon and Walsh expressed their condolences. Craig thanked them, closed the door and broke into tears. He couldn’t believe Joe was gone. First Olivia and now Joe. I don’t know how I am going to tell Chrissie. It was three o’clock in the afternoon, and she would not be home until late that evening. He couldn’t keep this from her until then. If he called and asked her to come home, she would want to know why. He had no choice. He had to go to Towercrest.

  Craig passed Rita and Heather walking Robbie home from school. He honked and waved. Those poor kids—they’ve lost both their grandparents. And their parents ain’t doing too good either.

  Chrissie happened to be standing at the reception desk when Craig walked into Towercrest. She took one look at him and asked what was wrong.

  “Nothing.” Craig tried to sound as calm as possible. “Just thought we could play hooky for awhile.” What he really wanted was a place where they could be alone.

  “I’ve got a lot of work to do—Craig.”

  “I have something to show you. Won’t take long. I’ll buy you a drink afterwards.”

  “Okay,” she said. “I’ll get my purse.”

  Craig drove Chrissie to Victoria Crossing. He parked on a dirt street where the new houses were in various stages of completion. Framing crews were busy hammering interior walls, while others poured concrete foundations. Some houses were nothing more than marker sticks with red streamers planted in the ground.

  Chrissie wanted to know what was going on. “Okay. What’s up? Why all the mystery?”

  Craig knew this was one blow that could not be softened. “It’s your Dad. He’s been in an accident in Alaska.”

  “Daddy? Is he okay?”

  “He was killed, Chrissie—in a helicopter crash.”

  Chrissie gasped. She held her breath and stared at Craig. For a brief moment, she seemed frozen, unable to move. Then she was hit by reality. “Oh, God! No!” she screamed and fell into his arms.

  Craig’s thoughts first centered on Joe, then Chrissie and finally on their marriage. He thought Joe’s death might bring them closer together. He was wrong.

  * * *

  The following year would prove to be one of the most difficult and frustrating times Craig had ever endured. Chrissie retreated into her own private misery and refused any offers of help. She managed to maintain a semblance of normalcy through alcohol. Craig had no idea how much she was drinking, nor did he care. He had long ago lost interest in confronting her about anything. Their sex life was a distant memory. Craig had no doubt—their marriage would be too.

  Craig continued to work at home and was having great success selling new houses in Victoria Crossing. He rarely saw Chrissie and knew she was intentionally avoiding him. She left the house early in the morning and didn’t arrive home until after he had gone to bed. She no longer slept in their bedroom. Craig didn’t know, nor care, where she slept.

  Chrissie’s long hours at Towercrest were paying off, and the company continued to grow. Annual sales were in the millions, and she had become a major player in the city’s real estate industry. Life was good, and she felt everything was under control—except her marriage.

  Chrissie wasn’t sure if she still loved Craig. She wasn’t even sure if she wanted to. People she loved ended up dead. She decided it was easier to ignore her marital troubles, for now. She would deal with it only if she had to. It could wait for another day. That day came sooner than she thought.

  Chrissie was invited to Dianne Paul’s birthday party. Dianne had been with Towercrest from the beginning, and she and Chrissie were close friends. Chrissie joined Dianne and most of the office staff at an Italian place called Trattoria Medina. Towercrest held many corporate functions in their private party room.

  The party was well underway when Chrissie arrived. After greeting and hugging Dianne, she excused herself. Chrissie knew how to work a room. She stopped and chatted for a few moments with everyone. Finally, she sat down to celebrate with Dianne.

  Chrissie was having fun. The drinks poured at the bar were weak, so she surreptitiously added vodka from the miniatures hidden in her purse. The party began to break up around midnight. Chrissie was loaded. She had not eaten anything since a muffin at breakfast. She was among the last to leave and couldn’t remember where she parked her car. She staggered around the parking lot for a while before giving up. The last thing she remembered was hailing a cab in front of the restaurant.

  The next morning Chrissie woke up from a deep drunken sleep. She had no idea where she was. From the décor, it appeared to be some sort of motel room. Suddenly, she panicked. Not because she remembered where she was—or how she got here. No, Chrissie had a bigger problem.

  Who was the man sleeping beside her?

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Deadbeats

  Mark Floyd leaned forward in his chair and placed Craig’s papers in a basket on his desk. He tilted back in his chair, pondering what he had read. “Well, Craig, you’ve done a good job here. This will really help. Now—I have a few questions for you.”

  “Fire away,” Craig said.

  “I need more details about the last few months you and Chrissie were together.”

  “Not much to tell. Chrissie and I continued to drift apart. I didn’t know what to do. I tried to talk to her, but she refused to discuss anything. I finally gave up.”

  Mark picked up Craig’s summary once again. “How much was Chrissie drinking?

  “I really have no idea. She hid it very well.”

  “You mention a couple of occasions when she should not have been d
riving.”

  Craig wondered where Mark was heading with these questions. “Yeah, it was pretty obvious she was impaired.”

  “Has her drinking reduced her capacity to be a good mother?”

  “I don’t think so—well, maybe it has.” Craig wondered why Mark was asking. Then it dawned on him. “You’re not thinking of going after custody, are you? I thought the courts always favor the mother—”

  “It’s part of the strategy,” Mark said, “and you’re right. The courts rarely grant custody to the father. We would need a lot of proof, and it would be messy. I want to shake things up. If she thinks you’re going after the kids, she may want a quick settlement, that’s all.”

  “Okay. But for the record—I wouldn’t hesitate to have my kids living with me.”

  “I know. Let’s move on. How’s she doing at Towercrest? Making lots of money?”

  “Yes,” Craig said. “Towercrest is now number one in commercial real estate.”

  “What about you? Are you working yet?” Craig expected this, even from a lawyer who’s a friend. After all, lawyers live to bill.

  “I’m still looking.” Craig was embarrassed by the fact he was having trouble finding a job. He felt an explanation was in order. “But the job market is tough. In the meantime, I found some money in a joint account at our old bank. Guess we forgot to close it when we switched banks. Not a fortune but enough to tide me over for a while. You’ll get your money, old friend.”

  Mark gave him a reassuring smile. “That’s not why I asked. Chrissie’s lawyer probably won’t proceed with the divorce until you’re employed. It will enable them to demand more financial support from you, for the children.”

  “What about spousal support for her? Chrissie has always made a lot more money than me.”

  “Court is a funny place, Craig. They say they believe in gender equality, but guys usually are the ones who get screwed. We’ll do our best to prevent that, but we may have to get tough.”

  “In addition to the custody thing?” Craig said.

  “Yes.” Mark hesitated. He had the look on his face lawyers get when they smell a litigation battle. Craig was reminded of a lion stalking weak or lame prey separated from the herd. “We’ll ask for full disclosure of Chrissie’s finances, including a look at Towercrest’s books. If they try to hide anything and we find out, we’ll nail ‘em.”

  “Whatever it takes,” Craig said. “She put me through hell. But I won’t do anything to hurt my kids.”

  “Understood. But don’t forget—you will be legally bound by this court decision for many years. I’ve seen men financially ruined because they wanted to be fair. I want you to have what is rightly yours.”

  Craig was relieved. Initially, he was unsure Mark would be a match for Chrissie’s lawyer. She had retained Kathryn Edwards, one of the top divorce lawyers in the city. She had a reputation as a ball-buster, bent on making men suffer in divorce cases. Mark, however, was proving to be sharp, articulate and motivated. He would be a strong advocate and certainly up to the task.

  “One more thing,” Mark said. “What precipitated the letter from Chrissie’s lawyer requesting you vacate the matrimonial home?”

  Craig shook his head. “I have no idea. It came right out of the blue. She threw it at me one night and said: ‘Here, this is for you!’ No explanation—nothing. Maybe your private investigator can fill in that blank.”

  “Spoke to him yesterday,” Mark said. “He’s almost done. We’ll know soon. I’ll be in touch after I get his report.” They small-talked for a moment about sports and their kids.

  Man, I’ll be glad when this is over, Craig thought, as he walked out. He had yet to realize divorces are never over. The divorced do their best to forget. It’s like they take all the heartache, the blame and the anger and wrap it in a package marked: “divorce – do not open!” They place the package on the top shelf of a closet, way back out of sight, hoping it will be forgotten. But invariably, something comes along and forces them to take the package down and unwrap it: graduations, weddings and funerals, a court case or simply a chance encounter. Then they re-wrap the package and put it back up on the shelf—until next time.

  That evening, Craig attended his first Men’s Group meeting. Mark suggested it would be a good resource during the maelstrom of divorce. This self-help group was formed so men could fight the prejudices of the divorce industry. Many divorced men are persecuted and discriminated against, both by the courts and the SOE. The meetings provided the support and fellowship they needed, as well as the opportunity to share horror stories, helpful information and contacts.

  Craig parked in the lot behind St. Paul’s Church. The meetings were held in the church basement and were always full. A man seated behind a table welcomed him. Craig signed in and filled out a “Hello—My Name Is” stick-on tag.

  Looking around the room, Craig saw men from every walk of life, every ethnic group, every size, shape and age. He was surprised so many divorced men sought the support of meetings like this. He hoped he could find some answers that would help to mend his hurt.

  Craig found a seat near the back of the room. Several of the men seated around him introduced themselves, and he immediately felt he was among friends.

  The chairman called the meeting to order and proceeded through the agenda. It included the latest changes to the Divorce Act, controversial court rulings and examples of hard-handed SOE tactics. Apparently, the SOE showed no mercy when tracking down support payments from fathers in arrears, whom they refer to as: “deadbeat dads.”

  Next, he introduced a guest speaker, a lawyer and the author of a new book about the divorce industry. Craig missed his name. The speaker had done extensive research on the myriad of problems plaguing our family law system, especially those pertaining to non-custodial fathers. He was currently lobbying politicians and government for changes.

  Craig was astonished at what this lawyer was saying. He had statistical evidence indicating ninety percent of child support orders are in compliance. The remaining ten percent of orders were in arrears but less than two percent of the payers could legitimately be labeled as, unwilling to pay, deadbeat dads. The divorce industry blindly lumps together the “unable-to-pay” and the “unwilling-to-pay.” Thus, the entire ten percent of payers in arrears are classified as deadbeats and dealt with harshly. They are hounded, harassed and prosecuted, ostensibly without recourse. Family Court, unfortunately, often offers no relief. Judges, rightly or wrongly, assume the non-payer is just another deadbeat deliberately avoiding payment and are reluctant to vary child support orders.

  “We must not confuse the willingness to pay with the ability to do so,” the speaker said. “Most non-payers, almost always the father, have little or no choice. Often they are in financial trouble and unemployed due to lay-off, downsizing or are otherwise unable to find work. They also face the added burdens of support payments set when they were employed, steep legal fees and separation from their children. Hardly the ‘Life of Reilly’ many in our society believe these men are living. Many so-called deadbeat dads are living in poverty or are homeless.”

  Talk about prejudice, Craig thought. He was learning how unjust and one-sided the family law legal system was in its treatment of these men.

  The speaker continued, “I found a confirmed case where the SOE prosecuted a man living in the back of his pick-up truck. They had another man served with a summons to a default hearing while he was in the hospital suffering from malnutrition. The man was out of work and couldn’t afford groceries.

  I’ve read several cases where custodial ex-wives send children to live with their fathers. These women claim the children have behavior problems and are beyond their control. According to the court and the SOE, even though the children are living with their father, he must still make child support payments to his ex-wife. He would be prosecuted as a deadbeat if he stopped paying. Dead
beat dad statistics also include some unable to pay because they are in jail and even some who are deceased.”

  The speaker took off his reading glasses. He leaned on the lectern and stared at the audience for a moment. Then he resumed.

  “I know of a unbelievable documented case where a man was ordered to pay support for a child conceived by his wife as a result of an extra-marital affair. The biological father could not be found.”

  Craig shook his head in disbelief. In all the examples the speaker cited, the men would be classified as deadbeat dads. It didn’t seem fair. The media and politicians make the deadbeat dad issue sound like a whole bunch of rich guys are running around avoiding payment to their ex-wives. No wonder the Men’s Group is trying to change that perception.

  The next speaker was a Dr. Dorothy something, a psychologist and family counselor. Her resume was impressive. She had counseled many couples and their children both pre- and post-divorce. She said children often shoulder the blame when their parents separate. They think their own misbehavior was the cause. Craig wondered about Robbie and Heather. He would discuss this with them.

  Dr. Dorothy talked about non-custodial fathers who either can’t find their children or are denied access. Custodial mothers who attempt to punish the fathers by playing access games only end up harming the children. Craig’s ears perked up. Chrissie was capable of that. She could be vindictive.

  “Many times children become pawns in their parent’s senseless battle to get even with each other,” Dr. Dorothy said. “The children are used to convey messages and gather personal information. They are compelled to choose sides, in an effort to mitigate the pressure they feel. If the absentee parent, usually the father, is constantly criticized and degraded, the children will naturally choose the custodial parent. These absentee parents end up being rejected by their own children.

  “A custodial parent utilizing children to punish the other parent is one of the most devious and destructive aspects of divorce. Children need to be secure in the knowledge both their parents will always love them unconditionally, regardless of the circumstances.”