Your Guilt edit No 1
In telling this true story I hope to be able to help others falsely accused of a crime cope with the injustice of the system Australian society now find itself with. Do I think I’m a victim? Yes, a victim of my own stupidly and the incredibly bias Police system.
I had lived a normal Australian family lifestyle, twenty five years of happy marriage, raised three kids and was about to enjoy life. Two of my children had left home to start their own married lives and the third in her early teens; I was financially secure after many years of hard work in a successful manufacturing business.
My wife, who I adored, was my partner in what was now a multi million dollar business. Our success was mostly to do with us working as a team, her management skills my inventiveness and survival skill.
Then in 1989; the day before Valentine’s Day my world fell apart. I had been helping my son out at his retail shop and returned home after closing the shop at 9pm. I had parked the car in the garage and went to the house where I expected my wife to be waiting, the house was in darkness and I sensed something was not quite right. I turned on the breakfast room light and went to the stairs that lead upstairs and yelled out to my wife, no answer. I went upstairs to check if she was asleep, she had told me earlier that she was tired after a hard day at the factory. I check the bedroom and bathroom she was not there, I returned down stairs.
Standing in the kitchen still thinking something is not right here I noticed a bottle of Tequila on the kitchen sink, my concerns suddenly became frightening. My wife doesn’t drink strong alcohol. I picked up the bottle, the top was off and there was a small amount left, what the hell is going on here? The house is large house, I check out the bedrooms downstairs and then go to the formal dining room where I notice the doors on the Bar cabinet had been left open. Everything in the house was spick and span as normal, nothing out of place just dead quiet. I could hear my heart pounding as I stood in the kitchen, where the hell is she? I know that if she had gone somewhere she would have called me at the shop, I then decide to check with a neighbour.
I leave the house and go to the side entrance to the house; the auto light flicks on and I notice the door on the shed at the back of the house open. This large old shed was where we started our manufacturing business from in the early seventies; the door was always kept locked. The old factory was in complete darkness, but I stumble through the darkness and find my way to the main power board inside the factory and turn the power on.
I look around the factory, no one to be seen I yell out, and no answer. I return to the power board to turn the power off again, and then decide to check the entrance way to the factory. “Oh my god, what have you done” were my words as I stood there frozen. In my shocked state I took her hand and looked up at her, a tear rolled down my cheek, “Oh my god, Oh my god, why why why”. Her hand was cold, her body was stiff her face was expressionless she was dead. I had no thoughts in my mind, my mind was a blank. I walked in a trance from the shed to the neighbour across the road; I informed the neighbour who phoned the police.
Over the next few hours I felt very much violated, the house became full of people, family, friends, Police, a priest and a doctor. Their intentions were honourable; however, their offers of support were falling on deaf ears. I retreated up stairs to a bed room where I found my youngest daughter sit on the bed; her eyes fix on the photo of her mother she was holding. We did not speak. It broke my heart seeing her siting there, her eyes blurred with tears sobbing, quivering like a little baby bird that fallen from the nest.
I needed to be strong for my baby, she was only just thirteen. But I failed to show her my love and understanding of her deep grief, only a daughter can have for a mother. She now needs her mother; I wonder how she will cope without a mother to help her through her difficult teenage years.
She needs counselling, I needed help. I was too stupid to admit or show my suffering, concealing my emotions so as not look weak; I was from the school of “men don’t cry”. My business success had given me a certain status level in the community. I was a well known businessman within the industry. An involvement in community charity work had gained me public recognition, in short I was well known in medium size city.
It was the early hours of the morning when the shock started to subside; I heard a car come down the street I went to the formal dinning room at the front of the house. I held open the heavy tapestry drapes and peered out Why? For some strange reason I thought it was a taxi bring her home. I waited by that window all night, Why? Because I had nothing else to do. Many times that night I ask myself why out loud, over and over, I didn’t understand the reason.
I watched the sunrise from the window thinking how many times we had watched the sunrise together, we had married as kids she was 17 and I had just turned 21. I meet her when I was in the armed forces stationed in Sydney. One night I was in Pitt st. Pud celebrating with a few mates, she was there with a few work mates after work. Her friend was getting married on the weekend, so they were having a couple drinks together. Some drunken yobo was harassing them, so my mate Jack and I threw him out of the Pub. The girls show their appreciation and invited us to their table. A friendship soon developed and we were married six months later.
We were penniless but very happy when our first baby was born nine months later. I had very little formal education having left school at thirteen; to work and help support six brothers and sisters. Finding a job was difficult and the dole was not enough to live on. I got a job as a motor mechanic at the local garage after convincing the owner I knew how to repair engines. Starting at five quid a week I soon had enough money saved to buy a car, and move to provincial Victorian city in the late 60’s, where over the years we built a house and set down roots.
We were very close couple; we spent most of our time together, we had always worked together we were not just lovers we were also best friends. Now had come the time for us to part, I felt very lonely the day I buried her on that hillside near my fathers grave. She had once told me if she ever died before me that what she wanted.
A returned vet, a combat soldier promoted through the ranks to lieutenant officer. I had seen and faced death many times, but coping with the thought of losing my wife and friend for the rest of my life was a fate I could not accept. The house was full of memories; I won’t let anyone touch anything. The dressing table in the bed room is still as she left it, in the bath room her tooth brush is still in the rack. In the wardrobe are her cloths, they still smell of her, her shoes neatly lined up as they are waiting for her, but she has gone.
Finding a Valentine’s Day card from her on a bedside table was one of the most personal experiences of my life, a message of love from someone after they have died has an everlasting message. “I will love you forever my darling husband” she had written inside the card, the message was carved on heart.
I returned home after being interstate visiting with a friend and his wife for a couple weeks. The house had been redecorated inside and all my wife’s personal items had been removed from the house. I was very bloody angry, I felt as if someone had desecrated her shrine.
My eldest brother arrived the next day after my irrational behaviour; we talked for several hours I finally relented. I was not happy but I tried to see the kindness in what people had done, they where trying to bring me back into the world of the living and move on with my life.
I still saw her everywhere in the house, this was her dream home her castle. She was extremely house proud, a place for everything and everything in its place. She carefully maintained family heirlooms past down by my family, she had a strong sense of family. For many years she had researched my family history, a history dating back in Australian to the very early pioneers. This hobby gave her great pleasure and satisfaction. Her last few months had been consumed with excitement about the coming birth of our first grand child, which was born just three weeks after her death.
After the coroners inquest into her death my life began its long journey back to normality, now many of the unanswered questions were answered. It was the first time I had been made aware of the suicide note my wife had left, in brief the note stated her reasons that related to a terminal condition. Heart wrenching personal notes to each of the children, ending with an apology for what she called her selfish action. After the inquest concluded with its deliberations, the finding was death by ‘misadventure’.
The withholding of the information about the existence of the note made me angry, bloody angry. This information would have saved the family some trauma; maybe it answered the question why. What was once a close family had exploded apart and would never reform as a family. Before the inquest accusations and innuendos flew thick and fast in the heat of the moment and the need for people to have answers dissolved love. My son who was very close to his mother never rejoined the family, my eldest daughter’s marriage ended on the rocks after three children and the youngest daughter now thirty is happily married with two children is my only family contact.
After the inquest I drifted around Australia over the next few months trying to keep my mind occupied with new experiences, I hated going anywhere we had been together.
It wasn’t long before one of these experiences would lead me into another disaster. Now in my late forties and wealthy enough not having to work I become attractive to a certain type of girl, gold diggers is the term most often used. She was 21, bubbling hormones, care free and had expensive tastes. I was flattered; naïve, distracted and I thought I was happy. However, this happiness was not to last, demands got bigger and bigger and the relationship turned to disaster after I discovered her real motivation was more to do with lifestyle than love.
All my friends from my married days were avoided because the first topic they wanted to discuss was “the good old days” this depressed me. I found new friends these on the whole were younger, I could afford younger girlfriends and older women bored me. I liked adventure, travelling overseas to remote locations; I just could not imagine taking some 50 year old housewife trekking across china.
My single days were suddenly halted when I met a lady in her early forties, cute and a lateral thinker. I thought it was time to settle down again and start a new life new house, and new wife, far from my past. I needed someone strong in my life. I met her at a political rally, and she had political ambitions. She impressed me with her quick wit and people skills, and had a reputation as a man slayer. With a razor sharp tongue and acid response to criticism of the party, she definitely was not a woman to be messed with. In achieving her goals she was not afraid to step on heads or ruffle feathers, thrived on challenge and the words surrender or defeat were not in her vocabulary. Maybe it was her strong character I was attracted to; she certainly was not the motherly house wife type as my first wife had been.
I enjoyed her company I, no longer had to be the final arbitrators concerning all maters affecting my life. I let her take control to a certain degree relinquishing some of my responsibilities to her. I now move in a different social circle, new friends from the guard of the old establishment, Judges, Lawyers and Politicians. We married a year later. No fanfare, a simple registry office ceremony and move interstate. There we started a new business together.
My new wife (who I will call Joan) had three children one daughter was married; the other two children lived at home. However, when we move interstate the son stayed behind in Victoria with his father. By this time the youngest daughter (who we will call Kate) was fifteen and my relationship with her was anything but friendly, in my opinion she was a spoilt brat. Kate always called me by my first name; “I don’t want or need another father”, she told me in no uncertain terms.
Kate had a torrid childhood, after her parents split. Her mother worked long hours to support the three kids; latch lock kids left to their own devices grow up quick. Kate told me by the time she was ten years old she knew and had seen the lot. The much older sister brought boyfriends home while the mother was at work, at night the sister would let boyfriends climb through the window into her bedroom, a bedroom she shared with Kate. Kate’s childhood was soon stolen from her by a boyfriend of her mothers; Kate’s flirtatious personality and with an “I can do anything my older sister can” altitude she was soon taken advantage of.
Over the next few years I got to know Kate better, we became very close. Her outlook on life was philosophical and very mature for her age. She enjoyed life didn’t worry about much and was fun to be with. Our odd relationship was as close friends, we told each other secrets, walked on the beach together, played together and we would swim together. It was strictly a platonic relationship I didn’t see it any other way. Kate was getting older and now nearing 18 but there were no boyfriends. I wondered, she was a bit of a “Tom Boy” was she gay? However, that question would be soon answered.
My relationship with Joan had turn to a sexless business relationship; we both worked long hours in a very high pressure industry. The demands of the business had not helped our relationship, separated for days at a time and only discussing urgent business matters when we were together. We had opened a second business in another town one hour’s drive away so Joan would leave early in the morning returning late at night six days a week. I spent most of my time with Kate as we also worked together at the same store.
We had returned home from work, I had showered and began cooking; Kate had showered and was lying on the rug watching TV in her bathrobe. Kate told me there was something interesting on TV and to come and look, I sat in the lounge chair and asked her what. She rolled over on her back and undone the robe; she was naked and she motioned for me to join her on the rug. I was a bit shocked at first, but her sexy young body soon had me thinking with the wrong head.
I soon discovered that she was no virgin and had obversely had some sexual experience, although having sex with Kate was very exciting I had mixed feelings about the sexual experience. Kate on the other hand gave me a little sheepish smile and told me that she had been trying to make me have sex with her for years.
Next day I felt a bit guilty, not because I was married to her mother, because marriage had finished, but because my friendship with Kate had turned to something else. I wasn’t sure this is what I wanted, but Kate soon had me wrapped around her finger. She was young, beautiful, and very sexy and a near nymphomaniac, she may not have had many sexual experiences she when she was younger, but she was sure making up for it now. Anytime, anywhere she was a thrill seeker and the more dangerous it was the more excited she became, she was the master of deception. Her sexual prowess was extreme.
Then the first disaster struck, lust turned to love we both became jealous, she because I was still sleeping with her mother, and me because she had made new younger friends. After Joan left for work of a morning Kate would come into my bed for sex, if I refused she would accuse me of having sex with her mother. Kate’s opportunity came when we opened another business some 300 kilometres away. Her mother insisted that I manage the new store and Kate will be able to help me. Kate could not have been happier she now had me all to herself in the new apartment. The jealousy stopped and we lived secretly like a happy couple for about a year, Joan only visiting us about once a month.
Then the second disaster struck; Kate got pregnant, this really shook her up. I told her whatever she wanted to do I would support her, she decided to have an abortion. After this we were somehow closer, Kate changed grew-up a little bit, started talking about the future. But the quantity and quality of the sex intensified, she started to get a bit kinky after surfing the net.
Kate started pushing the envelope further and further, telling me her deepest secrets, wild sexual experiences when she was very young. Leading questions about my sexual experiences, her talking about threesomes had me wondering what she was planing or had been doing.
Then the third disaster struck; we planned to all move back to my family home interstate, but before we could I would have to carry out some renovations to the house as it had been rented for some years. We hired a bungalow in a caravan park to live in while the renovations were being done.
Kate, now 22 was back on her old stomping ground amongst her old friends all grown up, worldly travelled and a bit of a novelty with her old school friends soon had the boys chasing her. Kate had the ability to convince me with her lies that she was not interested in having sex with young men “they have no idea how to satisfy a women” she told me.
I was very busy every day trying to finish the renovations to the house, so Kate had plenty of free time. My suspicions grew stronger when she returned late one night and had a shower, when she came to bed I questioned her. She just laughed and told me not to be jealous she was only with her girlfriend.
After the renovations were complete Joan returned to my family home, all seemed OK, then the shit hit the fan............
I discovered that Joan had been losing thousands of dollars on the poker machines; she was addicted to the bloody things. A quick reconciliation of our finances and I discover more disturbing facts, the gambling had been going on for years and a fortune had been lost. I now was in deep financial trouble and had no time for Kate which she resented, but said nothing. The fact that blood is thicker than water started to show, Kate felt sorry for her mother. I had told Kate the party is over I have to sort out this financial mess, Joan had come into the marriage with nothing but still had claims on anything that I owned; plus there was a law suit pending which a company that I jointly owned with Joan would receive a large cash settlement.
The final blow and the rats showed their colours - Kate didn’t have a job and had been spending a lot of time on the internet, nothing unusual I thought for someone out of work. However, at 3:30am one morning I went downstairs to the kitchen for a drink and noticed the light still on in the computer room. I peeped around the door; she was on web cam with some guy having cyber sex masturbating. I did not let her see me and returned upstairs.
Next day when she went out I checked out the computer’s memory cache to find out what she had been up to. Kate’s surfing on the net was mostly sexually orientated, cyber sex chat rooms and porn sites of all descriptions. I said nothing after checking that she had not made contact with anyone. About a week later I was working in the garden, Kate arrived all dressed-up carrying an overnight bag. She told me she was going to Melbourne to visit a girlfriend for the weekend and would return Sunday night, then told me she loved me, gave me a kiss and told me not to do “anything stupid” (That was over five years ago I’ve never seen her since).
That night her girlfriend telephoned asking could she speak to Kate I played dumb and questioned her, she told me she had not seen Kate for months. I went straight to the computer, it took me five minutes to crack her email code then I discovered her deception and lies there in black and white. I sat there dumbfounded, for the second time in my life I had my heart ripped out.
My mind crashed, I could not think, I was irrational. I had to do something but what. Then I made the biggest mistake of my life, I told Joan about my relationship with Kate. I thought she would spin out but she was very calm about it “I’ve always known something was going on between you two” Needless to say we slept in different rooms that night, the next morning when I went down stairs Joan had already left.
At about 10am Joan returned, the fury of a woman scorned struck ‘hell and brim stone’ she told me she had been to a lawyer who had obversely told her her rights and how to maximise them. Her tune had completely changed now full of rage telling me she will “screw me for every penny I have” then see me in jail for incest and rape. I ask her who told her all this rubbish “I meet with Kate this morning and she told me everything” I told her I did not believe her Kate would not tell her anything. “Kate told me you raped her when she was fourteen” I told Joan that I could prove that is not true.
Telling Joan anything proved to be a big mistake, I learnt many things from my experience. One is do not talk to anyone if you are accused of anything, it only arms them with information to fine tune their lies.
After about an hour of screaming at each other I decided it was time for her to leave, she demanded to stay so I assisted out the door. Joan returned about an hour later with the police, I still refused her entry to the house; she gave up and left.
With peace restored I started to descend into a state of depression and disbelief, I could not believe Kate had accused me of rape. Nothing added up to my way of thinking, first how anyone could believe I had raped Kate when she was fourteen, then had a very mutual loving relationship for many years after and secondly why would Kate say this, I could not understand her motive for such outrages accusations.
Next day hell broke loose again Joan arrived all calm and said she wanted to talk with me. She calmly explained that ‘she’ would not inform the police and we could make a fresh start together now Kate had ‘moved on’ I could not believe my ears and told her it was over, to get her cloths and leave, she left without much resistance. Now I’m having trouble coping with my stress and depression, I was descending deeper into depression. I’m not answering the phone or the door bell anymore, spending as much time as possible asleep.
I awake and hear voices down stairs in the house, I go downstairs and Joan has broken into the house by smashing a panel of glass in the door. An argument develops she now has a new set of alligations, most I can cope with except I’m now being accused of anal raping Kate, this accusation tips me over the edge and I forcefully removed her from the house. She starts a screaming match from outside the house, when she realises I’m not going to participate she starts to smash the house windows in anger. After she leaves I get dressed and attend my local GP who prescribes antidepressant drugs and some sleeping tablets.
Several days later I’m not feeling too bad, although I’ve lost a lot of weight and having trouble sleeping. I answer the front door bell and two detectives from the local police station inquire as to my name, they inform me that they taking me to the station for questioning concerning a rape case. The third biggest mistake of my life is about to happen, thinking I have nothing to fear I tell the truth, I expect that will be that and common sense will sort this matter out.
Wrong Wrong Wrong……….. Not having any previous contact with any law enforcement officers I had no idea how they think. There is nothing like a rape case to excite a cop, trying to impress his senior officer in charge. I can’t believe my ears as they read out the complaint against me; I ask if Kate made this statement because it seemed too precise as if written by a lawyer. They assure me she made the statement of her own free will, I then ask if her mother was present when she made the statement “I can’t remember” was the officer’s reply. In brief I was accused of anal rape and incest.
After making a statement (a very big mistake) to what amounted to proof that I did not commit what I was accused of I was released and returned home. Depression took hold of my life; I just could not except that Kate had made such accusations I could not understand her motive if she did. Later that night my mind completely collapsed I become irrational, suicide was on the agenda. I went to the computer and wrote Kate a letter pleading for an explanation demanding a reply within a certain time, I tried to send the email to an email address I knew would pass it on to her but I could not get my internet connection to work. I walked several blocks to my son’s house and used his computer to send the email.
I remember walking home very deeply depressed thinking how lonely and broken I felt, I felt abused and used but I still did not understand the motive behind her accusations. I walked up the stairs in the house thinking about my late wife and my kids. I thought how did I let such people into life, people who could stoop to such low levels for self gain. I had just collapsed onto the bed when the door bell rang; I ignored it, minutes later I hear people coming up the stairs. Two welfare people from the local mental clinic had arrived to take me to hospital. I was admitted to the mental clinic, and later diagnosed to be suffering post traumatic shock syndrome.
I lay in the hospital bed in a drug induced abstraction; a zone of consciousness that was a couple clicks this side of a coma. This comfort zone is some place in my mind where I could easily stay the rest of my life. The heart ache had stopped because my mind was now in a state of suspension, a peaceful tranquillity. My emotions were a lot of nothingness; elucidations separated my mind from my body. Time and space become irrelevant, I was at peace.
After some days my consciousness was being awakened by the lack of medication. My return to the here and now was like being dropped into liquid nitrogen, freezing cold but burns like hell. Trying to stay on track for a safe landing I started to occupy my mind with what I imagined was mind exercises. I counted the perforation holes in the tiled ceiling, counted uncountable patterns on the wall and sang songs from my childhood. Anything to occupy my mind, I felt relaxed.
A further reduction in medication became acutely apparent when I woke and recognised the every day smell and sounds of a hospital. A split second later the VCR in my mind started playing a fast forward version of recent traumatic events. This plunged me into a confused state, the doctor reacted quickly and despatched me off to dreamland with an injection of drugs.
Over the next few weeks I did return to the world of the here and now after overshooting the runway on the first attempt. I spent eight weeks in the clinic and then was released as a day patient.
Several months passed but time had not stopped the pain of losing real love for the second time in my life. I had lost about twenty kilos in weight and was taking several prescription drugs. My life was without reason; I constantly had suicide on the agenda. I spend most of my time sleeping, occasionally surfing the net. My health was not good; I suffered from lupus for many years after contacting meningitis in my early thirties. My ability to now cope with stress was about nil, bursting into tears for the slightest reason. I was on so much medication I just about spent all day taking pills.
I had been told that Kate had dropped the charges but I had become suspicions when a letter from the local child protection agency arrived at my address. The letter was address to Joan but I opened it, the letter was advising her that a claim for criminal damages could only be process after a guilty verdict had been decided by the court.
The two detectives arrived at the front door again and ask me to come with them to the local police station. This is the day when I lost all respect for police officers; I had all my life respected the police. I had always thought they had carried out their duty well as public servants keeping law and order in society to the best of their ability within the laws of the land, laws enacted by the state and federal parliaments.
I was wrong……. The police force culture is about getting convictions, finding people guilty of crimes. My naive premise that they are appointed to serve the community, upholding law and order for all citizens is a fantasy. In their mind there are only to types of people victims and perpetrators, the victims are there customers and the perpetrators are their work.
The police have no interest in seeking the truth; all investigations are only instigated on the premise that the accused is guilty. Finding evidence contrary to this is not on their agenda, my statement was just a straight forward statement of the facts. After they had manipulated and massaged it to accommodate the accuser’s story and added other non related matters it read more like a confession than a statement.
After the recorded interview I was asked if I had any questions, I replied yes. The police officer was a bit taken back at my response, I asked had they investigated certain facts in my statement that would clearly prove they were true, his response, NO. I asked why not, he told me my lawyer will have a chance to present these at a court hearing. I then asked why only I was being charge with incest with a woman over 21 years of age; if I’m guilty the other party is guilty, his response was amazing to say the least. “No one has made a complaint against the other person” I was then told if I had any other questions ask my lawyer.
I was formally charge with two counts of incest and one of rape. The original complaint sheet contained a reference to Kate when she was thirteen, and molestation of minor allegations. These allegations were not pursed after the police realised I did not know Kate when she was thirteen.
I went to my family lawyer’s office; the lawyer told me I would need to engage a specialist lawyer from the city. The specialist Barrister’s (lawyer) fees were outrageous and had to be paid in advance. The first interview (no more than a friendly chat) $3000.00. fee. (Kate’s lawyer and court costs would be paid for by the state) My opinion of lawyers has never been high, parasites living on others misfortune, bleeding them for every penny they can when people are in distress.
Reputed to be the best in the business this lawyer fails to flatter me, his line of inquiry has more to do with my financial position than the matter at hand. All the advice and opinions he gave me where not good news, I had the strange feeling he did not believe me.
The lawyer’s scenarios of the possible outcome of the court trial if I was found guilty were not what I wanted to hear, I had not considered any such outcome I was not guilty of any crime. “Just because you are not guilty doesn’t guarantee you will be found innocent” scary stuff I thought to myself. The lawyer was to do his home work and I was to return in a week.
The following week the lawyer’s news has gone from bad to worse. At the previous meeting I had instructed the lawyer to offer a plea bargain in exchange the charge of rape would be dropped. (I did not know at the time that getting a conviction of rape against me was the only way Kate could be awarded compensation by the Crime Compensation Board). He now tells me to strengthen their case Kate and her mother Joan have made statements to the interstate police and he expected charges to be made and an extradition order to be issued for my return interstate.
I talk to the lawyer about my situation, including my poor health, reports from doctors and psychiatrists advising my prognosis are not good, the stress level is taking it toll. I’m losing the plot; I can no longer cope I’m like a zombie even with the help of medication, I’m not sure what the hell I’m saying or doing I can’t remember. Bloody hell I need to get out of here before I crack. Before I leave the Lawyer’s office he tells me I need a break “get the hell out of here before they kill you” He did not ask me to make another appointment?
I go home, feeling defeated I lay on the bed and try to sleep but I had a doctors appointment at 3pm I must go to. I leave the house at about 2:30 to go to the doctor’s surgery. I have trouble finding a parking space near the surgery and have to walk several blocks; I wait about 45 minutes to see the doctor. The doctor, a friend I’ve known for over thirty years. He advises me that I need to take it easy and stop letting the stress get to me, while he is writing out a long list of prescription drugs. I leave the doctors surgery and while walking back to the car I’m just about knock to the footpath with a pain in my chest, I hold onto a street sign and regain my breath then slowly walk to the car.
At home I lay on the bed, the chest pain increases to unbearable level, I call my son on the phone, and he soon arrives and takes me to the local General Hospital. Within 2 minutes I’m in intensive care wire up to several machines blipping and flashing. The doctor arrives and tells me I’ve had a heart attack and my condition has been stabilised, they would carry out further test to determine the extent of the heart damage. The next day the heart specialist advises me that I need urgent surgery to repair the damage; it had been scheduled for later that day. After spending three week in hospital I returned home to recover, I had been advise to take things very easy and not become stress another attack could be fatal.
The trial date had come and gone while I was in hospital, my lawyer advised me a new trail date would have to be set and his office would notify me of the date. I feel completely defeated, unwilling and unable to be concerned about what the hell happens to me. While I was in hospital my house was ransacked, anything of value was taken including a 5ton Pantek truck used to remove my property. My gold credit cards had been all maxed out with phone purchases (over $50,000) and all money in joint accounts had been taken. I reported these thefts to the police, their response was “it’s a domestic matter, see your lawyer” they certainly let me know which side they we on.
With the help of the local welfare office I placed a restraining order on Joan preventing her coming within one kilometre of the house. Straight after the warrant was served on her she come to the house and started screaming and yelling abuse about treating her like a criminal. I phoned the police only to be told “they will have a word with her”.
Next day I’m surfing the net trying to keep my mind occupied, looking through an Irish site “Bulletin Board” I read a web blog about a girl wanting to meet an Australian guy with the hope of marriage. I post a reply and she responds, daily correspondence continues. We exchange photo’s I’m a bit flabbergasted she is very attractive and only thirty. Hum…………. this is most likely a scam I’m thinking; so I test the water and tell her I would like to meet with her and she agrees. A week later I’m on the other side of the world trying to regain my life.
Without details for obvious reasons, over the past four years my health has returned to a seasonable level I have a new life, a new family and children and some degree of happiness no longer possible in Australian. I live a very humble existence with my new family in a one bedroom apartment.
Footnote; - all my assets were seized by creditors and sold to repay debts accumulated by Joan while we were still legally married. These included my family home for the fire sale price of $280,000. I had owned my home for over thirty years; I was left homeless and penniless.
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~~~ I~~~LOVE~~~MICHAEL~~~
