Through The Shattered Glass

by Jeanie Clarke

  Without really asking me, Steve told them I was doing alright, and it wouldn’t be long before he was back to work.

  Although I was Steve’s wife, I was starting to feel like a widow to the pro wrestling business. I knew it was only a matter of time before he would be back on the road, and I would be in the same position as I had been before.

  It was obvious that our relationship was struggling but we were both uncomfortable discussing the issues as a couple.

  More and more, if Steve became troubled with an aspect of our marriage, he would leave the room and call Jim Ross. They would talk for hours on end.

  For a generation of fans, many will remember Ross as being the greatest announcer in the history of the business. In addition to his role as a broadcaster, he was employed by the WWF front office as the Head of Talent Relations.

  Jim knew the value that Steve had to the company, and was always there to listen to his problems. Over time, they became very close.

  The following week, I picked up the phone to make a call and briefly overheard Steve on the other line. He was again confiding to Jim about our increasing marital differences.

  “You need to tell that young lady that she needs to stay in the kitchen,” Ross joked.

  Jim might have been trying to make light of the situation but I found the comment demeaned the horror of my addiction.

  The next month, I found myself having a wry snigger when I discovered that Jim had published a cookbook and that he was looking to sell a range of cooking sauces too. I guess we all found out who really belonged behind the hot stove.

  Regardless, I had known Jim quite well for years and he had always been a gentleman whenever we met. The truth is that I am glad that Steve had someone to talk through his problems.

  He needed the support of a friend during a time that his home issues were impacting his ability to perform. The stress of being the company’s top star alone would have broken many men.

  Nevertheless, the phone call to Jim underlined what I already knew.

  It was clear that neither of us could directly speak to the other about our relationship. Steve was now turning to the company to discuss his personal issues, shutting me and our family out of his life.

  To an international television audience of millions of fans each week, Steve could produce the most intense and articulate interviews with a command of the spoken word that is rarely witnessed. It was ironic that he could not communicate his most basic feelings to his wife.

  With each passing day, I felt that we were becoming increasingly detached.

  My abuse of drugs stemmed from loneliness, and my unpredictable actions became a cry for help as I descended into addiction.

  In a last-ditch effort to save the marriage, Steve identified the isolation of the hacienda as the source my decline.

  He asked if I would like to move, and offered to show me a new gated community in San Antonio called The Dominion. We went to view a property within it, and it was beautiful. I told him I loved the house.

  Steve wanted to commit to its purchase, and quickly laid down a deposit, but I told him I was not sure about buying it just yet.

  Simply moving seemed hasty. I felt that there were issues beyond the home location that needed discussed, some of the core problems within our marriage had to be sorted.

  Remembering his previous drunken comment that he once really loved me, it was an admission which had weighed on my mind for months, and really affected my self-esteem.

  Damaged and vulnerable, I wanted to let him know how that comment had upset me. As a result of feeling unloved, I confessed that I had been driven towards another man during my brief visit to Miami.

  I told Steve that I still had love for him, but I was no longer in love with him.

  I hoped that if I could stimulate an argument, it would allow us to have the much-needed dialogue to save our marriage.

  We had never communicated to each other about our feelings, and we needed to if we were going to change our relationship to make it work.

  With counselling, and commitment we could. But Steve needed a break. He went off to see Ricky and Sandra.

  By this point, I accepted that the pair would forever be a part of our lives, even if we moved. They had been a poison within our household. I resigned to the fact that I was better without my husband if it meant I would no longer be in their presence.

  After taking time away from work to reach out to me, Steve felt he had done everything he could to try and salvage the situation. Frustrated by my inability to commit to the new home, he sensed it was time to give our marriage a break.

  We decided to separate, and Steve moved in with Ricky and Sandra until we both decided what we wanted.

  I was heartbroken for our children, as it was inevitable that their lives were going to change once again.

  Our days as a family were numbered.

  20 A FRACTURED HOME

  It was not long after Steve had moved his mobile home outside Ricky and Sandra’s that I got a visit from the police. I answered the door to be greeted by Sheriff Hodges and a female officer.

  The female officer noted a complaint that I was a drug addict. She said that I was going to be taken away for questioning. Her demeanour was threatening, and she demanded that Hodges looked into my eyes.

  “Look at her, she’s in la-la land,” she uttered with anger.

  Sheriff Hodges was quick to pacify the situation, and asked if I was okay.

  “Please sir, I’m gonna be fine. I am just tired,” I explained.

  Hodges looked at me and paused. There was a kindness and compassion in his eyes.

  “Just go back and have a rest, get yourself well,” he gently advised.

  Meanwhile, the female officer started to get anxious, suggesting I should be arrested immediately, and she started to argue with her superior officer. It was odd that there was such urgency in her assessment, and it seemed as if she had a pre-conception of my lifestyle.

  Her annoyance at Hodges was out of place, given his rank as the town Sheriff. It seemed as if she had failed to complete a task that she had been set by someone else.

  Once Hodges spoke to me, I think he realised that I was also an outsider facing intolerance in Boerne.

  Within a few days, I received a call from Sue Aitchison.

  She told me that the WWF had become concerned with my personal issues and that they were going to source me a rehab clinic. The company was aware that I had developed a dependence on prescription pills, and I accepted their offer, but there was no further indication on when my rehabilitation would commence.

  In the meantime, I vowed to maintain my promise to Steve that I would not drive. After the previous incidents caused by my abuse of GHB, he said that he had arranged for Ricky and Sandra to help by driving me to the nanny of our children whenever required.

  The first afternoon of our agreement, Ricky and Sandra came over to pick me up in their truck. Despite being Valentine’s Day, I was alone at the house as Steve was wrestling on a major WWF pay-per-view that evening.

  When Ricky and Sandra arrived, they were strangely kind to me, and I got into their pickup, before we set off to collect the girls from Mary.

  Except we never went to Mary’s; they drove past her house and continued on the highway, even though I asked them why they didn’t stop.

  They continued to drive, speeding towards San Antonio. They started to laugh and mocked me. It became clear that I was being set up by them.

  Ricky threw a beer can at me.

  “Have a beer,” he sniggered, as he tossed a second can off of me.

  The pair continued to mock me, and wouldn’t tell me where we were heading, as I pleaded with them to let me out of their vehicle. They seemed to get a sadistic pleasure out of my suffering.

  I had promised Mary I would collect the girls from her, and panicked that they would wonder where I had gone.

  As I begged for them to stop, they just drove faster, laughing at me until we reached a
n unfamiliar building in a suburb I didn’t recognise.

  They stopped the car, and went inside, walking purposefully towards a reception area. Shaking with fear, and worried for my girls, I followed them. I hoped that I could speak to someone about being taken to this strange place against my will.

  I walked to the desk, where Ricky and Sandra were speaking to a lady about me. They told her that they were bringing me in, and I then realised I had been taken to a clinic.

  The lady got up from her seat, and asked the three of us to follow her into an assessment room.

  Instantly, she could see I was shaking. It was clear that I was afraid.

  She looked at me and smiled.

  “So, do you want to tell me what is going on?” she asked us, before directing her eyes towards Ricky and Sandra.

  Ricky and Sandra started claiming that I was an out-of-control drug addict.

  “Look at her, she’s in la-la land,” asserted Sandra.

  Strangely, those were exactly the same words uttered by the female officer who visited the house only a few days prior.

  The lady continued to listen, as the pair continued to aggressively declare that I should be admitted with immediate effect. They professed that I should be locked away, as I had gone crazy. They grimaced as they rudely pleaded their case, and continued to mock me in front of her.

  After hearing their arguments, the lady turned to me and asked for my opinion.

  Despite being frightened, I composed myself, and patiently explained that I had been taken to the clinic against my will. I told her that I had been taken away on the pretence of collecting my children from their sitter. I went on, to tell her that I had promised my babysitter that I would collect my children at a certain time, and I was not agreeable to being admitted into rehab by these people.

  Ricky and Sandra had been drinking during the drive to the centre, and were exhibiting signs of being under the influence. On the other hand, I had remained calm and coherent during the discussion.

  “Test her blood, go on, give her a test,” Ricky demanded.

  “Fine, give me a test, but I need to be home soon to collect my daughters,” I firmly replied.

  I knew that I had no illegal substances in my system, and any issues I had were caused by prescription drugs.

  The lady said a test was not required, and realised that Ricky and Sandra had no power of attorney over me.

  Ricky and Sandra were incensed. Their plan to have me detained had failed.

  Aggravated, they led me back into their truck. They did not get into the pickup, and made a call on their cell phone.

  A few moments later, I saw the flash of police lights in the rear view mirror. The police car pulled over next to them, and the officer started to speak to them.

  They frenetically waved their arms, and went on a tirade about how I was a danger to society and should be forced into rehab, or arrested.

  I watched Ricky and Sandra, as they got further enraged. I looked down into my hands, and realised I was still holding onto the roses that Steve had sent me before I was collected.

  Opening the door, I walked towards the officer who seemed to be getting irritated by their demeanour.

  “Excuse me officer, I am extremely concerned that I was supposed to pick up my children from my babysitter and have been brought here against my will. Would you please be so kind to give me a ride to my babysitter’s house?” I politely interjected.

  “I’m sorry sweetheart, I can’t do that. Would you please take a seat back in the truck?” he asked.

  He then went over to Ricky and Sandra, and instructed for them to return me to my babysitter’s house.

  Grudgingly, they drove me to Mary’s and I got out of the truck. I knocked on her door, and she let me in to her house. I was so relieved; Stephanie and Cassidy were sitting in the living room playing with Mary’s two daughters Jennifer and Michelle.

  I started to talk to Mary, to explain why I was late, but turned around to see Ricky and Sandra.

  They had followed me in to the house, and grabbed the girls. Within seconds, they took them away into the truck and sped off down the road.

  I burst into tears, and called the police. Amongst my sobs, I struggled to explain that my children had just been snatched.

  Hours passed, as I became increasingly frantic.

  As the night sky darkened, the police returned to the house. They informed me that they had traced the girls to the address of Beverly Williams, the mother of my husband.

  Ricky and Sandra’s defence of the kidnapping was that I had become an unfit mother, and they were taking the children for their own good.

  I called my lawyer to arrange for an urgent court order. It ensured that my children would have to be returned with immediate effect.

  Moments after Beverly was informed of the order, I got a call from Steve.

  “You know, it’s really late for my mum to be driving. Would it be okay if she could bring the girls back in the morning?” he mumbled.

  I agreed to Steve’s request. Stephanie and Cassidy were to be returned to me by 9am.

  It never happened. Concerned, I called the police again.

  Hours later, the officers returned with the girls. They had been dropped off at Ricky and Sandra’s house. Beverly did not even have the decency to take her grandchildren home to their worried mother.

  A few days passed without incident, but then it happened.

  The unsettling phone calls returned.

  Whoever was behind the calls knew one thing; I was in a vulnerable condition, and near tipping point.

  By March 1999, Steve had moved into an annexe property with a friend, as he prepared for his match against The Rock at WrestleMania XV.

  A couple of weeks before the show, he arrived at the hacienda with Ricky. Steve said that he was looking to take away one of our couches in Ricky’s pickup truck, while I was playing in the garden with Mary and our daughters.

  As we were sitting on the grass, Steve reached to hug Stephanie, as Ricky went over to say goodbye to Cassidy.

  In an instant, the two men lifted the girls and marched towards Ricky’s pickup.

  I sprang up, chasing towards the vehicle, as the girls were banging their hands in terror at the windscreen. I managed to get to the side of the truck, to try to open the door. With the driver’s window down, I begged for Steve and Ricky to wait.

  Steve strapped the girls into their seatbelts as I begged them to stop. Ricky smirked and spat in my face. The truck then sped off down the road.

  With the shock of the girls being taken from me, I broke down on the street. Not knowing when I would next see my children, I was riddled with the horror of my two youngest daughters beating on the glass and screaming for their mum.

  As I sat and cried with Mary, I was in such a shaken state that I could not even remember the moment when the girls were returned to me.

  Regardless, the incident made one thing clear; I could never be alone with the children. After the girls were snatched from me a second time, I was consumed by a fear that it would happen again.

  I wanted to be civil to Steve, as I was worried that they would be forcibly taken from me if he decided that he wanted to challenge me for their custody.

  Any issues I had would need to be put on the back burner, and I decided I would have to conceal my prescription problems. I could not afford to seek help as it would afford Steve the opportunity to prove that I was an unfit mother to the authorities.

  With our relationship beyond repair, it was only a matter of time before Steve and I instigated divorce proceedings. Although our relationship had taken us to the heights of fame, the world had become a much lonelier place for me. It drove me to the depths of despair before I accepted my problems with Steve were irreversible.

  Once we separated, I sought a rental house in The Dominion, the gated community that Steve and I had considered as we tried to save our marriage.

  I was broken by the misery of my life in Boerne, and even
Steve looked drained when he announced our divorce on The Howard Stern Show. I hoped that the distance would do us both good, as it was important to remain amicable for the sake of our children.

  I had already witnessed the effect on Jade as a result of her estranged relationship with Chris, and how confused and damaged it made her. It was important for Stephanie and Cassidy to have access to their dad, and each of my decisions were made with them in mind.

  Within the divorce papers was a clause inserted at Steve’s insistence.

  The clause stated that I couldn’t leave Texas with Stephanie and Cassidy for any period longer than three months, nor could I take them on holiday abroad without his written permission.

  Steve knew that my judgement was impaired, and I was still too dependent with drugs to make a correct assessment of the terms that were being presented.

  I just sensed that I could trust him as he had seemed so understanding throughout the process. I figured he just really wanted to maintain contact with the kids. I never fully agreed to the terms, but I felt compelled to sign. Despite feeling badly represented by my lawyer, it was my only way out of a loveless marriage.

  On 5th May 1999, it was official. Steve and I had finalised our divorce.

  After the divorce was finalised, I sat on the pavement beside the lawyer’s office. Steve followed soon after, and seeing me there, he sat next to me and we put our arms around each other.

  We shared a moment, as we realised that our nine year relationship had finally ended.

  “You know, it was the business which broke us up,” Steve said.

  He was convinced that the time away, chasing fame as the Stone Cold character had torn apart his marriage.

  “Actually, I think it was my addiction problems,” I responded.

  After we parted, I came to a realisation. It was neither the demands of the wrestling business, nor my addiction issue which was the sole reason for the demise of our marriage. It was a failure to communicate our feelings which caused us to drift apart from each other.