Framed with a Text
Late one afternoon, I received a text from our Nanny. I was sitting in heavy traffic when I received the text, but it was so long and involved that I could not read the entire message while driving. I decided to call her instead.
Before I placed the call, I got the chance to view more of the message. The first part of the message I read was alarming. The text read that she was very concerned about my wife, that my wife needed help, and that was scared for the children’s welfare. I remember the main point to the text was that my wife did not take the kids to school that day. That remark prompted me to call and find out what was happening, but she did not answer.
At this point, I had just “beaten” a temporary restraining order (TRO) from another state where the beach house was located. I was feeling overwhelmed, fearful of the future, and my mind was preoccupied trying to rationalize the “what” and “why” that TRO just happened.
Just a few weeks prior before the two-week-only TRO, I had a few concerned conversations with our Nanny about her impressions of the homelife, what she observed and what she thought. I wanted desperately to speak with her because my circumstances were becoming so erratic. I was scared something dire would happen. I wanted validation of my reality. As such, I got the opportunity to questioned her privately about my wife. We spoke about my wife’s addictions, drinking, and the Nanny’s overall impression of my wife. For the most part, the Nanny was guarded. She discussed the obvious like when she baby-sat on date nights that she observed my wife would come back with me “falling down” drunk and would proceed to nag me relentlessly unwarily.
Ashamed of my failed marriage, being “cheated on”, and the craziness materializing in my day to day world, I tried to explain my reality to the Nanny. Hopefully, not in vain. I recounted what had occurred to me relative to the “web of lies”, the manipulation and the infidelity. I wanted some real opinion-based input as to what she observed living intimately with the family and befriending my wife. I desired honest answers as to why she found my wife more credible. Especially in consideration of the false accusations. I was beyond aggravated when she evinced that my wife’s version of an old domestic dispute a friend was manipulated to get police involved.
She sat their unresolved, somewhat guarded to protect my wife but with some incredulity.
To entice her for further personal information or confirmation, I revealed that I had a series of tapes of my wife’s lover voicemails and other private conversations. It worked. I let her listen to at least one track where the boyfriend kept erratically begging her to tell him, “the truth.” He further exclaimed, “Stop Lying!” His enraged voice on the voicemail screaming in disgust, “It’s always something … you are always lying to get out of something … like a doctor’s appointment … F*** the doctor … F*** the kid’s appointment … F*** you, or is the doctor your husband … telling you what to do?” Since time was limited with the Nanny, I did not delve much into the boyfriend and what I knew or experienced. I knew in my heart that they were a toxic couple. The evidence was right there on the tape for her to witness. However, I did ask the Nanny, “if she knew?” She denied and relented, “how could she … we spent hours each day together … I thought it was you calling her relentlessly.” I played another recording to prove my point, and later summed up my encounters with that home wrecking maniac. She looked at me in surprise.
I continued to question her in effort that she would realize the lies and manipulation even upon her, “did my wife ever spend any nights over at her home.” She declined. I reinstated the dates and coincidences that my wife said she stayed over at her house, however, as usual they were all lies. The lies were at this point confirmed. However, she still had her back.
From their relationship dialogue the Nanny acknowledged my wife said, “she loved me very much.” However, my wife explained, “there are rocky stages in every marriage.” The Nanny’s advice to my wife was, “get divorced if you felt strong about it … as there is always time to get back together if you “are” such good friends.”
Sometime thereafter she called back. I quickly responded questioning the purpose of the call and random text. She quickly asked where I was and where I would be going. She wanted to know if I was going to the beach which would be a typical destination of that time of year and night. However, that night I had planned to return home although I was not living at the marital home and meet with an attorney.
The conversation then transitioned to her fear, “I am very concerned because your oldest son did not go to school today … it is the second or third day he has missed so far.” I replied, “Why, what was the problem are you not driving him to school anymore?” She remarked that since I moved out and no one was paying her, but she wanted the best for my children that she continued to check on their welfare. The Nanny went on to say that she called my wife last night and explained that “she was out of it.”
With intimate knowledge about my wife’s addiction and behaviors, I asked her for the time she called. From my experience, my wife typically could be incoherent with erratic behavior somewhere after 10pm when her sleeping pills, Xanax, pain killers and wine combined. The nanny somewhat down played the question only to say or ask me if I knew about a black bag. She further mentioned that there was a black bag with pills in it. I said that I knew about a bag where my wife keeps her pills in a pouch. She kept that bag in her purse typically close to her person. The Nanny continued about a black bag. I said there was no medicine in a black bag, but there was a pouch that my wife kept on her person.
When the nanny realized that I was coming back to the area, she asked me if I would come visit her in my marital home. She exclaimed that she would “pro-bono” be cleaning the house and organizing the kid’s clothes, school items and their extracurricular. Furthermore, she stated “she would be waiting for her son to call to give her a ride from a late evening practice.” She sounded concerned. At first, I was horrified that the kids were not cared for. I also felt some reprieve that the Nanny had realized that my wife was in fact a poor mother. My wife succumbed to her addictions providing her behaviors and poor judgments to affect the children. I held hope that the Nanny was most concerned with the children. At least that is what she said. However, it was in her character to play either side of the fence.
Anyway, I kept my appointment with my attorney and reassured the Nanny I would meet her in the marital home.
I happened to be running late because of traffic, the timing of the meeting, the need to make a payment, discuss a call he had with my father-in-law (another attorney) about the status of affairs and that he was “writing something up.”
Anyway, I had to make payment and discuss the case. I was running late and received a second phone call from the Nanny as to my whereabouts and timing. I answered that I should be there within the next hour and a half. She said that we could hopefully meet if the timing was right, and that she would be working upstairs unless her son called for an impromptu ride. The call prompted me to share the previous phone call I had from the Nanny that day and let him review the text she sent prior. His impression after informing him about the discussion I had alone with her a few weeks back was that she may be a beneficial ally. She could be a witness to show my wife as an unfit mother.
I eventually left and headed towards my marital home. As I pulled in the driveway, I saw the Nanny’s car. I got out of my vehicle and went to look in the trash cans outside of my garage. My attorney advised me that I should get somebody to check the trash for empty liquor bottles for future evidence for potential child custody hearings. I looked inside the cans, but they were over packed. The evening was getting late, so I walked in the side door of my home. From that entry way, the room was empty, and I could see clearly through the kitchen to my back porch. However, I could not see the entire kitchen as there was a 90 degree turn that accounted for half the kitchen space. I turned to shut the door and six to seven members of law enforcement came around the corner of my kitchen. At that point, the guns were pulled on me. I’ll never forget that sound. It was like they all cocked their guns at once. Yes, there were several officers maybe more than seven all in S.W.A.T. suit action attire. The whole team was there waiting for me. They were bound in their bullet proof vests vigilant for some action. The pleasure of small town law enforcement never ceases to amaze.
With guns cocked and drawn, I was thrown on my knees, pushed face down and cuffed in disgust. In utter shock, I realized this was happening in my own family room.