To this day, he still claims he didn’t know he was doing anything wrong, and I’m not going to lie, that really pisses me off. He says he thought that his accountant was filing our taxes. Really? But Joe didn’t check things! That’s what makes me so upset. You have to be on top of your shit, and he wasn’t. Dot your i’s and cross your t’s. For my part, all I did was sign some paperwork. I went to two closings for two different properties, with lawyers, a mortgage broker, and a real estate broker, and signed in front of them, so I thought it was fine. I had to be the one to sign because Joe was using my credit, since it was so good. He was planning to flip the homes. But that was all I did. I was never involved in his business. Nothing. Hello? What would I know about construction? I would say, “Do I have to sign any tax returns?” Because I was used to signing tax returns every year when I worked. “No,” he’d say. “No, everything is fine. You don’t work anymore.” So, I didn’t think anything further about it. I just listened to whatever he said. I trusted him. He’s my husband. He was taking care of all the bills. I was just a housewife taking care of the house and cooking dinner every night. That was my job. Even though I’d originally planned to go back to work in the fashion industry after I had Gia, I decided it was more important for me to be at home to raise my children. That was what my mom did when Joey and I were growing up. And we loved having her there for us. We ate dinner as a family together every single night. I wanted to replicate that for my own kids.
Most people would have paid a fine, learned their lesson, and never made the same mistake again.
But not me. I think they wanted to make an example of me because I’m famous. Actually, that’s exactly what they did. The thing is, to be taken away from your family, to me that’s just trying to punish someone. And, in the end, the ones who were really punished were my children. I remember one of the US attorneys saying, “Kids are resilient; they’ll be fine with it.” How could he say that? What kids would be fine with both their parents going to prison? They were the ones who suffered for eleven and a half months while I was away and are now suffering all over again with their father gone for forty-one months. No child should have to go through that. It’s not like we killed or even hurt anyone.
I’ll never forget a case that happened in the federal courts up in North Jersey after ours. It received a ton of media attention, certainly more than ours did. The media called it “Bridgegate,” and it involved allegations that various individuals who worked closely with New Jersey governor Chris Christie took steps to shut down a portion of the George Washington Bridge that serves as a major connector between New Jersey and New York. It was all in an effort to punish the mayor of Fort Lee, New Jersey, who had allegedly somehow pissed off the governor.
Anyway, there ends up being a trial, and one of the people who was convicted was a woman named Bridget Kelly, who once worked for the governor. She received a sentence of eighteen months in prison. What bothered me most about this story was the fact that this woman was a single mother of four young children and she was going to prison.
The governor, her former boss, was never charged.
That’s justice?
People say that I didn’t take accountability for what I did. But you know what? I did. In fact, I took the blame for something I didn’t do. And I served my time, quietly. I took my punishment. I went. I kept my mouth shut. I did what I had to do.
My thing is, I’m very strong. You’ve got to just pick yourself up, deal with it, and move on. You’ve got to put your head down and keep going forward. What else are you going to do? Cry about it? I did it for my kids. I kept it all together the best I could. Look, I had my moments—who wouldn’t? But even when I wasn’t there for my children physically, I still had control over what was going on around the house, or I tried to.
Joe didn’t deal with it as well as I did. Shortly before I left, he lost his father, with whom he was very close. We all were. That was an extremely difficult time for him, especially because it happened so unexpectedly. His dad was a healthy man, and then, one day, he dropped dead on the side of our house, near where Joe kept some chickens in a coop. After Joe’s father passed away, he lost me to prison. He never voiced the extent of his pain to me, which I wish he would have, but I know that’s a result of his upbringing. Joe doesn’t talk about things that bother him; he thinks it makes him look weak. He likes to be the strong man. Only he wasn’t that strong. He drowned his sorrows in alcohol from the day we were sentenced to the day he left for prison. All the kids and I saw was his drinking too much, all the time. He was constantly drunk. I guess that was the way he coped. At the time it pissed me off; now it makes me sad. Still, my family didn’t see me drinking, because I wasn’t. I was the one holding it all together.
Someone had to.
When it was Joe’s turn to start his sentence, I knew exactly what his daily life was going to be like. Sadly, he did not. I didn’t feel sorry for him, though, not for one second. I know that might sound cold or harsh, but it’s the truth. I did my time, and now he has to do his. He was the one who got us into all this bullshit in the first place. He can blame me all he wants, which he does, very often. He says that none of it ever would have happened if we weren’t on the show, which is because of me, but I know that’s not true. It was his fault, because he didn’t do things correctly. And now he’s paying for his bad judgment. We’re all paying for it.
Sometimes I wish Joe would man up and say, “I’m sorry, I know I fucked up,” but he doesn’t. And that’s not cool with me.
Despite blaming Joe, the three months between when I got home and when Joe left was a happy time for our family, except for Joe’s constant and obsessive drinking. I was thrilled to be back where I belonged, with my husband and my girls, and they were so excited to have me back. It’s not easy for a mother to be away from her family. I’d always been the one to handle everything for the kids. Joe couldn’t even drive! His license was suspended because of another one of his screwups, and even though I tried my best to stay in control of the goings-on in my house while I was gone, it wasn’t the same as having me there. All kids need their moms, especially girls. Actually, kids need both their parents, but that’s another story.
Joe told me that when I got home it was a load off everyone’s shoulders but that it sucked knowing that time was running out for him and that we were going to have to go through another horrible goodbye all over again. He said he was mesmerized by me for those three months and that my being away made him realize how much he really loved his wife and kids. He told me that even though my parents and his sister-in-law helped him out (a lot!), four kids is exhausting. No shit, honey! I wanted to punch him in his face when he said that. He finally appreciated everything I’d been doing for so long?! Too little too late.
During those three months, Joe also said that he felt like a little puppy following me around. He just wanted to spend as much time with me as possible before his long journey ahead. He didn’t know what prison was going to be like, and the thought of leaving us for so long was unspeakable. I felt like saying, Hello, I know! I did it! But, you know what? I got through it and I know he will as well.
In the final weeks leading up to Joe’s leaving, he was really trying to get stuff in order for the house. He dealt with plumbers, electricians, landscapers—you name it. Four acres requires a lot of upkeep. Before he left, he was also having a lot of lunches with his friends. They all wanted to take him out to eat and drink, which is understandable. I mean, my friends wanted to do that with me, too.
I think he was anxious about going, but he wasn’t expressing it to me, because he’s old-school like that. He doesn’t show emotion. I really feel like he didn’t open up enough to me, which I think he should have. I wanted him to. But that’s sort of the way our relationship is. He doesn’t like to express his feelings about things. And life was so busy with the kids and filming the show. Things just kind of moved along as usual, until the night before Joe was scheduled to leave for prison.
<
br /> I had hoped that last night would be nice and quiet for our family.
I had hoped that Joe and the girls and I would get to spend some alone time together.
Boy, was I wrong!
The night before Joe left, everyone was at our house. He has such a big family, and there’s no saying no to them. They just show up and stay. I was annoyed, because I wanted alone time with my husband. And I felt like it was unfair that I couldn’t have that. I mean, I’m his wife. He has four daughters. We needed more time with him. He wasn’t going to see us for three years. Three years!
Even though we had those three months together when I came home from prison, it wasn’t enough, especially since I had to start working right away. All I wanted to do was rush into my house for the first time in eleven and a half months, hug and kiss my babies, and then take a very long, very hot shower; get in my pajamas; and climb into my huge bed with a zillion pillows and sleep for a week.
I did pull Joe aside that last night and say, “When I left, we had alone time. You know my family’s not like your family. It’s like they don’t get that we’re not going to be alone together for a really long time. They should give us space. They’re not here with you every day. I’m here with you every day.”
I was upset for the kids, too, but they seemed to be fine with it. They love having people over. They’re used to us always having company at our house. I just thought we deserved more attention from Joe.
At one point, all four of my girls were in the bed with me while the party went on downstairs. One of the producers from Real Housewives, Caroline Self, came in to my house and up to my bedroom to check on me. We weren’t even working that night. I was very touched by her kindness. She didn’t need a Harvard degree (which she has) to sense that something wasn’t right, with everyone downstairs drinking and me and the girls upstairs in my bedroom. Ya think?
Once the girls had gone to sleep, Joe and his family and more than a dozen of his closest friends remained downstairs in my kitchen, drinking Joe’s homemade red wine, laughing, and having what sounded like a good old time, while I stayed upstairs in my bedroom, crying, by myself, knowing that I was going to be saying my own goodbye to him the next day. For what felt like forever.
Finally, Joe came upstairs and we stayed up even later, trying to make the night last as long as we could. We had sex for the last time. But, eventually, exhaustion took over and we couldn’t stay up any longer. I literally cried myself to sleep. Joe passed out next to me; he was drunk, as usual.
The next morning, Joe and I were both up early to get Gia, Gabriella, and Audriana off to school. Milania is very close with Joe, so she begged us to stay home until he left, and we both agreed to let her.
Watching Joe say goodbye to Gia, Gabriella, and Audriana as they left for school with tears in their eyes broke my heart. I couldn’t help but ask myself, How did we get to this point? Is this really my life? Is there a reason why this is happening to us? I couldn’t believe what was going on. I was always such a good girl growing up. I never did anything wrong. And now my family was entangled in this nightmare. At this point, my time in prison seemed like such a distant memory, even though I had been home for only about ninety days. Now my poor girls were going through it all over again. I felt sick for them and for myself.
Joe was scheduled to turn himself in at FCI Fort Dix at 12:00 p.m. sharp on March 23, 2016, so he had to leave our house no later than 9:30 a.m. to make it there on time. At first, I wasn’t even going to go with him, because he didn’t come with me when I went. Just my lawyer, Jim Leonard, took me. I thought that would be easier and less emotional for both Joe and me. Also, it was supposed to be only guys taking Joe—his brother, Pete; his cousin Ralph; his uncle Dimitri; and a few others. But then his sister, Maria, said she was going, so I decided to go, too. I knew it would be hard and awkward saying goodbye with everyone there, but I had no choice. No one would leave us alone! Again, there’s no privacy when it comes to Joe’s family.
Joe’s brother was scheduled to drive, and he arrived shortly after the girls went off to school. Then came Joe’s sister and his uncle and his cousin. Before I knew it, my kitchen was filled once again with our family and friends. They drank three bottles of wine, a bottle of champagne, and a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue—in the morning, before most people had their breakfast! Joe said he was eating and drinking like he was going to prison, which obviously he was! Duh! I was walking around my house in a daze. I couldn’t believe that he was getting ready to leave in less than an hour and here he was sitting in the kitchen drinking, telling his jokes, and being the life of the party while I was dying on the inside and Milania was sitting on his lap hugging him and quietly crying as she rested her head on his shoulder.
At one point, my brother, Joey, and our attorney, Jim, both came up to me and asked me if I was okay, and I remember telling them that I was numb. I had so much I wanted to talk to Joe about before he left and, now that he was actually going, I barely had five minutes alone with him.
As we were getting ready to leave, all the producers from Real Housewives who had been waiting respectfully outside the house, giving us a little bit of privacy, asked Jim if they could come in and say their goodbyes to Joe. One by one they came inside, hugged Joe, and then made their way to me to do the same. It was touching to see that most of them had tears in their eyes. These are the people who are in our house day in and day out, and they’ve become like members of our family, even though a lot of times we are fighting with them (especially Joe, and even Milania, who calls them “the Filmers”).
Joe’s brother, Pete, broke up “the party” by saying, “Come on, Joe, we need to get going.” And then Joe poured everyone a shot of Johnnie Walker Blue and made a toast in Italian that translated to: “To family, friends; to good health and freedom.” The kitchen got very quiet, and I noticed most of the men had tears in their eyes. The only thing that cut the silence was their muffled sniffles. One at a time, Joe’s friends started going up to him and saying their goodbyes, embracing him tight, whispering something to him, and kissing him on his cheek. It was heart-wrenching and reminded both of us of the same horrible feelings we had when I left. At least then, it was only Joe and me in the kitchen, as the girls were all asleep, and Jim, who was driving me to Danbury, went outside to give us some privacy.
I wished that someone would have done that for me on this day. I really wanted to be alone with my husband, even if just for five minutes, but I never got the chance.
By this point, the paparazzi had formed outside of our gate, and we did our best to shield ourselves from them as Joe and I got into Pete’s black Lincoln Navigator to follow Jim to Fort Dix. Joe saw Milania crying in the window, and he said that was torture for him. It was for me, too. I knew exactly how he felt. The image of tucking my girls into bed before going to prison for eleven and a half months is something I will never forget, though I wish I could.
Sadly, there is a lot I wish I could forget.
As we drove down the driveway, the paparazzi rushed Pete’s car in an attempt to snap pictures of Joe and me, so they could sell them to the gossip magazines, but Joe’s sister, Maria, shielded us with her jacket. We followed Jim down the road. Some people were talking and trying to keep the mood upbeat, but I was mostly quiet in the car, holding hands with Joe but not saying much. Looking back, I now realize that Joe and I didn’t communicate well with each other in our marriage, all too often not saying things that needed to be said. Joe is someone who doesn’t like to talk about things. He holds things close to the vest.
On the way to the prison, Joe wanted Burger King for his last meal, so we stopped there. Fucking Burger King, can you imagine? I wasn’t hungry at all. As a matter of fact, I was sick to my stomach and couldn’t believe he wanted to eat at a time like that, but prison food is disgusting, and to each their own, I guess. He probably wanted something to absorb all the liquor he’d consumed.
Before I knew it, we were approaching the Fort Dix Air Forc
e base in South Jersey, which also houses the prison complex where Joe was scheduled to report. As we went through the security checkpoint, two prison vehicles were traveling with us, one in front of Jim’s car and one behind Pete’s car. Ultimately, they directed us to an empty parking lot, where the guards told Joe that he should say his final goodbyes.
He went around and greeted everyone with hugs and kisses, until he got to me last. Joe held me tighter than he ever had before and said, “I love you, honey. Take care of the kids.” Then he kissed me (it wasn’t like we could make out or anything!), and I could see that he was crying. I wasn’t crying anymore. For one, I was all cried out. Also, I remembered when Jim dropped me off at prison and I just said, “Okay, goodbye. I’ve got this. I’ll do it.” Not to mention that part of me felt relieved that Joe was finally starting his sentence. I knew that the sooner he started, the sooner this nightmare would be over once and for all.
Once we’d said goodbye, the two guards escorted Joe to a building that looked like an old elementary school about a hundred yards from us, as we all stood there watching him walk away. He turned around one time and gave us a wave, but before I could blink, my husband was gone, disappearing into that building to begin serving his forty-one-month sentence.
That was the moment I realized I was a single mother and that it was my responsibility to raise our four girls by myself.
It was like I was staring into an abyss. I was now all alone.
I later found out that after we left and Joe checked in, the guards didn’t take him to his room all day because he kept blowing the highest alcohol level on their device. Then he had to go to the medical department for five hours to sober up. It wasn’t until 7:00 p.m. that they let him in and gave him some food, a toothbrush, soap, and sneakers. He said the whole thing felt surreal and that all he could think about was when he would get to go home, and when he would be able to call his family—which wasn’t until the next day. He said that drove him nuts not to hear our voices. He met a few nice guys, including Apollo Nida, Phaedra Parks’s ex from The Real Housewives of Atlanta, and basically tried to keep busy just like I had.
Standing Strong Page 2