If you’ve been following along with my story about being married for almost forty years to a practicing pedophile, you know that we finally separated.  But, it wasn’t because I knew that he was a pedophile.  Far from it!  That knowledge wouldn’t come until four long, heart-ache filled years later.

Living in a fog — that’s the only way I can describe the first few weeks of our separation.  The one thing I dreaded most in life — a failed marriage — had finally become reality.  And, even worse was the fact that everyone would know that I was a failure.  I live in a small community and because our family was so large, we always seemed to be a topic of conversation, and this was definitely a topic people loved discussing!

Our minds can only take so much pain at a time so I retreated into the well-known fog of grief.  And, one of the greatest coping skills for those who are living through trauma is denial and the inability to think straight.

However, I didn’t have that luxury.  There was a mortgage payment to be made each month.  There were two daughters to take care of, and there were stacks of bills that needed immediate attention.  I had no idea how to do it, but one thing was certain……..  I had to go to the bank and the one I had to see was the top man.  This was a serious matter.  Not only did I have a regular mortgage to pay, but I had a home equity loan to pay (that was mostly John’s legal fees from his federal indictment).  And, keep in mind there was a lien against the house for $1.2 million dollars in John’s name only which meant that I could NOT sell the house.  My options were to continue to pay on the house or to walk away from the house and find an apartment for me and the girls.

I cried for hours on end.  In fact, I sobbed day and night asking God for some kind of guidance.  My trust in God was deeply shaken, though.  I had cried out to God many years ago asking to be directed to a man who would be a Christian leader in our home, and who would be a godly husband and father.  I was certain at the time that John was the answer to my prayers.  But…….time had proven that to be so very different.

When we’re in deep grief and stressed to our limit, we can’t think straight.  We need help.  My only problem was I didn’t know who to go to for help.  So, I finally decided to take the biggest risk of my life to this point and make an appointment to speak with the bank President.  As I think back now, I both cringe in fear and I kind of give myself a “way to go, girl!” because of the courage this took to pick up the phone and make the appointment.

Sometimes we are sent angels from places we least expect, and I will always believe that God allowed me to experience one of those meetings with an angel the day I walked into the bank.

I was shaking with fear.  In fact, I was trembling.  It felt as though I was walking into a den with an open pit and I was going to drop to the bottom and never be able to come up out of the darkness again.  Thank God this wasn’t so!

I was greeted respectfully and was taken “upstairs to the administrative offices.”  Many times when we’re afraid we suffer those horrible things called panic attacks, and I was definitely suffering one at this moment.  Plus, my head was pounding so hard it felt like it was going to explode.  My high blood pressure had returned.  There was no turning back, though.

In walked the President of the bank.

He sat across the table from me and said, “Tell me why you’re here.”  I had a two-age letter typed up that basically said, “I am now a single parent, and my daughters and I want to remain in our home.  I’m going to do all that I can to keep us in the home.  I will work two jobs.  I will never miss a payment.  I am asking you to give me a shot at this.”

He looked at me.  He called his secretary to “bring the files on the house” and that’s when the tears began falling.  I knew it would contain all of the information about the FBI investigation, the seizing of all of our money, the Federal lien against the house, and the terrible financial situation we were in.

He quietly scanned the papers.  He looked at me.  He read some more.

My tears continued to fall on the table and it embarrassed me so much because I had to ask for some tissues.  I didn’t plan on me crumbling like this.

“Here’s the deal.  I’m going to give you one year to get rid of that Federal lien against the house.  Right now the bank stands in second place if you default in your payments and we can’t have that.  I’m going to give you one year, and then we will meet again.  In the meantime, keep up with your payments.”

Then, something happened that I will never forget.  A very compassionate, caring side of this man spoke to me.

“You’re a strong woman.  I have faith that you’re going to do this.  In fact, I know you’re going to do this.  You have two girls to take care of and I want to see you keep your home.  You walk across the street and go see your attorney and ask him to write a letter to the Federal Government asking them to release you from the lien that is in John’s name.  In the meantime, I’ll see you in a year.”

He shook my hand, then stood up and said, “Thank you for your business.  Go home to your girls tonight and enjoy an evening together.”

“And, by the way.  Stop crying.  It’s going to work out.”

I know I thanked him profusely, but I can’t remember the exact words that I said.  I know I signed a one-year agreement, and I didn’t really know what kind of good faith agreement it was.  I just knew that someone had faith in me.  There was a person who believed in “me” — this man believed in me.  He entrusted me with the care of our home, and I knew that I would crawl to work if I had to in order to keep up my end of the bargain of never missing a house payment!

It was a good day!

I wish I could say that things were easy.  I wish I could say that the payments were always on time.  I wish I could say the Federal Government answered the attorney’s letter and had compassion and released the lien on the house, but I can’t say any of those things.

Soon after that meeting, the electricity was shut off because I made the house payment but couldn’t  pay the electric.  The girls contributed money from their jobs at McDonald’s to help buy things such as gas to get to and from work, food, and to help make the mortgage payment.  I was able to find a second job, but even that wasn’t enough to keep things going smoothly.  Our phone was disconnected.  We had no fuel oil, so we used electric blankets ONLY for heat and let’s just say that it dropped to 32 degrees in the house and the temperature hovered around 40 degrees until spring arrived.  *NOTE:  We live in snow country and our weather is brutal!  It is common to have snow clear into the first weeks of May.

What does any of this have to do with being married to a pedophile?

Two things stand out to me.  While we were going through this difficult period of adjustment, John was living very comfortably with a son and daughter-in-law.  He was buying food for families in the church and delivering it to them.  He was making trips as far as an hour away taking baked lasagna, freshly made brownies, and other goodies he had made so that he could help those less fortunate.

Practicing pedophiles are thinking of only one thing when they are grooming for their next child.  They are thinking of self-gratification and the thrill it gives them to know they have the power to control others! 

He gave such confusing messages to the kids.  He knew how to look like “poor John” and play up the fact that he was so lonely he didn’t know if he could live without me.  He took the girls out to breakfast on Saturdays to spend time with them — a wonderful thing to do — but he didn’t care about our struggles at home.  What kind of father does that? What kind of message was that sending?  How mixed up their minds were at this time!

He was the kind, wonderful man at church who bought toys for the kids and entertained them during the sermon so that their mothers could get a break and listen to the sermon.

And, he continued to offer free babysitting for any parents who wanted to go out because “he knew how hard it is to raise kids and not have any time out together as husband and wife.”

Pedophiles know how to become everyone’s hero. 

He was kind.  He was generous.  His faith was strong.  He helped people in the community.  He preached for free.  He visited sick people.  Little kids loved him.  Adults loved him.  Community members, family members, church members — everyone loved him.  And, why wouldn’t they?

He was helping a lot of people.  AND at this very same time — as was proved in our court of law — he was molesting children!!!!

Please listen.  If someone is willing to spend more time with your children than you are, then something is wrong!  If someone is paying more attention to other families than their own something is very wrong!  If someone’s behavior seems “odd” stop handing your children over to them!  Set boundaries and stick to them!  Open your eyes and pay attention!  Don’t fall for the lies and deception any more!

A word I want to leave with those who have been the victims of abuse.  As former Miss American, Marilyn VanDerber says so well, “There is hope!  You can heal!  When you do the work, you will be free!”

Thank you so much for reading.  Thank you so much for continuing to follow this story of learning from my mistakes of not being educated about the fact that child sexual abuse does happen.  It is very real, and it happens to people we know every day.

Most often the abusers are not the scary men hiding in the bushes.  The abuser is the man or woman you love and trust.  The abuser is the person who scoops up your child and shows that child love.  The abuser is the one who is laughing as he controls you and sexualizes and abuses your child!

It’s time to stop allowing abuse!  We’re stronger, we’re smarter, and we’re growing a strong voice for our children!

Love,

Clara

Next time we will talk about John’s driving determination to get a job as a full-time, live-in childcare giver — a manny!

If you are in need of a speaker for your school group, your church, or your community group, please email me at clarahintonspeaker@gmail.com .