by Amy Watkins
“You gave him a bath last night and today he’s acting strange. Are you molesting him? I have to check him to make sure his anus is okay ’cause I think you are sick,” she said one day out of the blue.
“What? I always give him baths, but I have never done anything to hurt our child.” I responded. Her accusations made me really uncomfortable and I stopped giving him baths for fear that she’d keep it up. That pissed her off, too.
“Bathing Devin is your chore, not mine. You are not pulling your weight around here. I’m tired of doing everything,” she yelled.
That was the last straw. I didn’t know what was going on with her; but I felt like I was in danger. Being with her put me at risk…of losing my job, destroying my credit, and now my son was at risk, too. I had to protect them.
I ordered a nanny cam. I figured it would show that I behaved appropriately with my son. And if Tracy was doing anything malicious—like cheating or telling our kids to lie about me— the video would prove I did nothing wrong. I’d watch the videos at night while she was watching her ratchet shows. She was on the phone, a lot. Texting, talking, laughing. She’d leave the house for most of the day and get back on her phone the minute she got home. I wondered who she was talking to. I wondered where she went every day because it sure as hell wasn’t to work.
When I asked what she did all day and where she went, she’d lie.
“I haven’t gone anywhere. I’ve been in the house cleaning all day.” she’d say.
One time, after a long day at work, I was downstairs washing the dishes when I got a disturbing text:
Unknown: Hey. U can’t change a ho to a housewife.
Me: Who is this? What are you talking about?
Unknown: You dumb ass bitch, you ain’t a man, that why your wife is fuckin’ me and you mess with little boys.
I was enraged. It pissed me off when Tracy accused me of molesting our son and now some random dude is texting me about this shit. She must have been sleeping with someone and said shit about me.
I ran upstairs to confront Tracy, “What the fuck is going on?”
“What’s going on with you?” she yelled back. “I got a message saying you got some girl pregnant.”
“You know good and goddamn well I haven’t cheated on you—ever.”
She didn’t believe me. Her phone chimed again. She read the text out loud, “I think it’s wrong that Ethan got another woman pregnant and you not know. So, from one girl to another, my friend Dr. Elizabeth Smith is having Ethan’s baby.”
“What!” I yelled, “Let me see.”
“Let me see yours,” she said as she clutched her phone close to her chest.
I didn’t want her to look at my phone. I didn’t trust her.
“It’s not true,” I insisted. “I haven’t seen Dr. Smith in over a year.” Tracy did not believe me. She demanded we call. It was embarrassing to have to call my old boss and ask her if she was pregnant with my child, but I had to prove my innocence. We called, and Dr. Smith confirmed that she and I had never had an affair and that she was not pregnant at all, let alone with my child.
“Lying bitch,” Tracy groused after we got off the phone.
Tracy and I were both upset. The next day, I received more messages about Tracy’s infidelity. There were details of the tricks I she did in bed— how she moves and the positions she liked best. Only someone who had slept with my wife would know details like that, so I had proof she was cheating.
To top it all off, Tracy called my office more often than before. My boss was fed up. She requested I take a week off to “handle my personal affairs”. I agreed. It was obvious to my coworkers how stressed I was. I wasn’t the same cheerful guy that anyone could talk to. I had lost weight, there were bags under my eyes from not sleeping, and I looked a mess. I was a mess. I needed a break. So, I went home to Kentucky to visit my family.
That week was horrible. Caroline gave me lots of insight into Tracy. She informed me that they texted and talked frequently throughout the day, clarifying who Tracy was texting while I was at work, and Tracy talked a lot of trash about me.
Caroline was under the impression that I was a dirt bag because Tracy told her I was bisexual and having extramarital affairs with both men and women. She claimed I was abusive to her and our children. She even told her I was a monster and she needed to escape the relationship.
Tracy actually asked Caroline if she knew anyone who would kill me for money. That way, she would still get my military benefits and life insurance, but not have to deal with the abuse anymore. Thankfully, Caroline didn’t know anyone. Tracy’s next plan was to frame me for molestation. She was going to take Devin to a doctor friend of hers and get fake documentation saying that he was molested. She planned to coax Madeline into saying that I molested her as well. That way, Tracy could still get my money, my benefits, and full custody of Devin. I was shocked and hurt, but it one hundred percent explained Tracy’s bizarre behavior.
I asked Caroline why she never warned me of Tracy’s schemes. Caroline believed Tracy. She worried Tracy was really in danger and that telling me would put her even more at risk. During that week, Caroline decided to confess it all because, after getting to know me better, she realized what Tracy was saying couldn’t be true.
Naomi gave me some insight as well. She didn’t talk with Tracy as much as Caroline did, but she did know that Tracy had been spreading rumors. Tracy told my mom that I wasn’t working and that’s why I stopped giving her money for her breast cancer treatments. Tracy also told her I had no interest in visiting her while she was sick and in the hospital. None of it was true.
I tried everything to be a good husband to Tracy, and she was cheating on me and plotting against me the whole time. I beat myself up a lot. I should have known she was no good for me. I had witnessed her schemes before we got married. For instance, she constantly was taking her ex-husband to court for more child support. I also witnessed her lie about her finances to get food stamps or approvals for loans.
But I thought we were a team. And to think, I wasn’t there for Naomi for her retirement party or her breast cancer treatments because of Tracy. I chose Tracy over my mom and I felt immense guilt for those actions. I made amends with Naomi the best I could and let the truth be known.
Tracy called several times while I was in Kentucky. Each time yelling and screaming, demanding I come home to talk. She even declared she’d call the cops and tell them I was molesting our kids if I didn’t come home. But I was done, the jig was up. I finally knew the truth and refused to back down. I knew I would have to return to work soon, so I needed to rent a place of my own. The only thing slowing me down was being cash poor. I knew it was going to be a trying season.
I stopped answering Tracy’s calls. She became incensed and started sending nasty text messages and leaving angry voice mails, filled with threats.
Tracy: You will pay for this for the rest of your life. You will forever regret leaving me. You are going to jail and get raped in the ass. I’ll make sure of it.
I tried to ignore the messages, but they still hurt. I tried to focus on my family and friends. I tried to enjoy my time in Kentucky. I had been out of the Navy for twenty years and hadn’t really spent any time back home since I retired. I had a great childhood. Our family was close, so a cousin, an aunt or uncle, or a family friend would be at the house cooking, eating, and having a good time a few times a week. Naomi’s best friend, Lola, could throw down in the kitchen. Her peach cobbler was the best I’d ever had. I missed those times.
But, since I’d been back home, I hadn’t seen Lola or any of the family.
“Mom, what’s Aunt Lola been up to? I haven’t seen her since I been home. She used to come over here every weekend,” I asked one day when my mom was sitting alone in the kitchen.
“Mmm,” she responded, “You know Lola ain’t been right since her husband died.”
I remembered getting a letter from mom several years ago
saying that Lola’s husband had killed himself. I wasn’t able to attend the funeral because I was deployed. Suicide is the worst way to go. It’s the only sin you can’t ask for forgiveness for because…well… you’re dead. I felt bad for Lola. I knew she took it hard. Lola and John were thick as thieves. They had been married for a long time and were very close. They always seemed happy, which baffled me. Why would a church going man, with grown successful kids and in a happy marriage, want to take his own life? You never know what people are going through.
“Well what about the rest of the family? I haven’t seen them either.”
“They done all changed. Your brother Quentin has some girlfriend that got him all strung out on drugs. He be up to all kinds of foolishness. He don’t even talk to me anymore. And he keeps on changing his number so I can’t talk to him. The rest of the family done fell off since grandma died. We all got in a big fight over how to split up the family land and haven’t really talked since. A lot done changed since you left for the Navy, son. But if I were you, I wouldn’t associate with the family anymore. They’ve been doing some shady shit trying to get money for grandma’s land. Don’t want you mixed up with all that foolishness.”
I decided to heed Naomi’s warning and distanced myself from the rest of the family.
Our conversation was interrupted with a text from a neighbor back in Virginia.
Neighbor: Hey Ethan. I just passed your house. There’s a bunch of clothes thrown into the street and into the woods across the street from your house. You know anything about that?
Attached were pictures of the mess.
At first, I thought, “No, that can’t be mine,” but I recognized my stuff in the pictures. The neighbors were concerned. They knew we had been fighting a lot. I really didn’t know what to say to them.
Me: I’ll be home tonight. I’ll take care of it when I get there.
I was about an hour away when it hit me, I should probably get a police escort to retrieve my things. So, I stopped in at the sheriff’s office first. I played her threatening voice messages and showed the texts. They agreed to escort me. My mind raced and I thought, “This can’t be me. I have never had this much drama in my life. I’m involved with a psychopath. I can’t even be around my son without her making crazy allegations.”
I didn’t know what to expect when I got there. When I pulled up to the house, I saw my pants and ties hanging from tree limbs. I told the deputies it was my stuff. I tried to use my key to open the door and my key wasn’t working.
“She changed the locks,” I said.
“Well, that’s illegal,” one of the deputies said. “She can’t lock you out of your own house. That’s Virginia state law.”
“Then prosecute her ass,” I thought; but I kept my thoughts to myself and just nodded. I knocked on the door. Tracy answered and, at first, she looked at me like she was going to give me trouble but she knocked it off when she saw the deputies behind me.
My son reached for me since he hadn’t seen me in a week, but she held him close to keep him from me. The deputies asked her to go in a separate room. Then they informed me they did not think it was safe for me to stay in the house with her. I gathered what I could, but a lot of my stuff was missing. My PlayStation, gone. My computer, gone. My military uniforms and shadow box, gone. Most of my clothes, gone. Even Cierra’s stuff was gone.
I asked her where the rest of my stuff was and she told the deputies that she didn’t have them; that I had taken them with me when I went to Kentucky. I denied the accusations and she then tried to say that I had destroyed the stuff myself. The deputies didn’t buy that, so she said that someone had broken into the house and took my stuff.
“Well, where’s the police report ma’am?”
She said she didn’t file one.
I asked, “Where are the rest of my clothes?”
She said my clothes were in the garage. We all walked to the garage and found some of my clothes had been thrown in the garbage. They were wet, with dirt and leaves all over them. The deputy told me to load what I could in my car and leave, then come back for the rest later.
“I have been on calls like this before and, from my experience, it never ends well for the guys,” he shared.
“Can I give my son a hug and kiss? She been saying all this crazy stuff about me, so I don’t want to chance anything.”
The deputy nodded yes. Devin ran to me, wrapped his little arms around my neck and held on tight. I hugged him back and gave him a kiss. “Everything is going to be alright,” I whispered in his ear, “Don’t worry. I will see you soon.”
As I was leaving the deputy said, “Abused kids don’t run to perps like that.”
“I know,” I responded. “I love my son.”
“Be careful,” he said. “That woman’s got a nasty look in her eye.”
I wasn’t sure what he meant. I only saw anger, but he saw more.
“Some people don’t know how to handle things maturely. They do vindictive things that do nothing but cause more heartache. Don’t go back there unless you have one of us with you,” he suggested. I agreed. I was going to keep my distance.
I took the little money I had and got a room at a cheap motel but I couldn’t settle. So I got up, took my clothes to the laundry, and tried to get them clean. Then my car smelled of wet clothes and mildew. I tried to salvage everything I could. I didn’t have much room in my car, so I rented out a storage unit and kept a lot of my things there.
When I went back to work, my manager informed me that Tracy kept calling the clinic and asking for me. She told her to stop calling my job and to reach me on my cell phone, but Tracy kept calling all the time.
I called Naomi to let her know I was safe and at a hotel. She told me that Tracy called her saying horrible things about me and my family. While Naomi was on the phone with Tracy, she heard a guy’s voice in the background playing with the kids. My mom told me to get a divorce and move one. I agreed. It was beyond time for me to move on, so I started the paperwork that day.
I went to the police station to get documentation that the locks had been changed and my belongings had been thrown out of the house. I knew it would pad my grounds for a divorce. But when I got there, they served me. Tracy had placed a protective order on me claiming I was abusive to her and the children. I was ordered to go to court about the matter in ten days.
When the trial date came, I was prepared. I had the documentation from the police and receipts from gas and food that I purchased while I was in Kentucky.
“Mrs. Conner,” the judge asked, “what are your grounds for requesting a protective order?”
“You see my husband over there, Mr. Conner, he gets upset with me. He beat me up and choked me out two weeks ago,” she responded. She wore a scarf over her neck and tried to act meek and humble. I couldn’t believe she was lying so boldly to the judge. There was no guilt or shame in her.
“Did you file a police report?” he asked.
“No.”
“Did you go to the hospital?”
“No, but my mother is here as a witness.”
Her mom stepped up and stood beside Tracy.
“Ma’am, did you witness this abuse?” the judge asked.
“Well,” her mother replied, “I wasn’t there but I know he hit and choked my daughter.”
“How would you know that if you weren’t there?” the judge asked.
“Because my daughter told me.”
“Case dismissed,” The judge declared and banged his gavel. “Next case.”
I was so glad that the judge saw through her lies, but I was still in shock that Tracy would go so far as to lie to law enforcement to get me in trouble. I knew she and I could never be together again. She proved being with her was not safe.
I went to the clerk of court’s office after the trial and filed my separation paperwork to find Tracy filed it first. I asked for mediation in the hopes we could talk it out and come to an agr
eement about child support and visitation. I knew the divorce would be ugly because Tracy refused to even try negotiating.
That evening I got a text message from my neighbor:
Neighbor: Hey, glad you and Tracy worked it out. I saw you guys making out in the driveway last night.
Me: Um, that wasn’t me.
Neighbor: Oh, sorry. It looked like you. It looked like your car. It was definitely Tracy. She waved at me.
That confirmed it. Tracy was cheating. My marriage was over. We were done. And Tracy had already moved on.
I couldn’t stay at the motel very long as I had no money, so I called Ty. He lived in the area and allowed me to crash at his place. Unfortunately, he received orders and was being transferred to another duty station soon, so I couldn’t stay there very long either. While I was there, though, he gave me some good advice, “You should start giving Tracy some money now. You know she’s going to go after you so, if you have it on record that you’ve already started paying her, the courts might have some mercy on your ass.”
I hated the idea, but he was right. So, I mailed Tracy four hundred dollars out of the next two paychecks. It didn’t matter, though. Over the next month, Tracy filed several police reports. She claimed I had hired a hit man and was trying to kill her and her children. She filed another one saying that I molested Devin. She filed another one saying that I had been threatening and harassing her. Each time she filed, I was notified I was under investigation and that I should refrain from contacting Tracy or Devin. They also strongly suggested that I not leave the area while the investigations were ongoing. I was devastated.
Then Caroline told me that Tracy was going to use the money I sent her to hire a hitman to kill me. She showed me emails between her and Tracy as proof. Naomi advised me to stop giving Tracy money. She recommended I give it to Caroline, instead. Caroline’s dad knew some high-powered lawyers willing to help with my case at discounted rates. So, I stopped giving Tracy money and started mailing it to Caroline.