Читать книгу Stolen Identity - Carmen María Montiel - Страница 14

In less than two months, I got my daughter back. But she was destroyed!

My oldest daughter was always a challenge to raise. She is hard headed and a negotiator. “No” never meant “no” to her. It meant there was room to negotiate her way into anything. I called her my 70-year-old daughter. She was like an old lady, very entertaining to talk to. And she has an insight into things that only mature people have. However, she inherited her father’s compulsive and experimental personality. At the time I did not even know my husband had an addictive personality. I just thought he was compulsive.

The divorce was very hard for her. She adored her father, so much so that when she turned six years of age, she asked me to have a wedding with her dad as the setting for her birthday party. Venezuelans like parties big and orchestrated, especially parties for the children. We have themes for our parties and go all the way with decorations, tablecloths, piñatas, party favors, the cake, entertaining, etc. So, this special birthday party was like a mini wedding; even my friends cried like a real wedding. It was hilarious, fun and beautiful.

But now, for her to see and understand the person her father had become was difficult. She could not understand that he had changed or she could not accept it. She was hoping for him to be who he once was. Even for me, it was hard to see who he had become. I definitely did not fall in love with this person.

She went through periods when she was mad at him and would not talk to him. Then she would tell him off and describe what she did not like about the situation. But she loved him so much. And his personality changes made her feel like he did not love her. She was just a teenager dealing with too much… not understanding and thinking “No me ama, Mami!” (“He does not love me, Mom.”)

After two months of not talking with her dad, she decided to see him, because she needed money or maybe it was simpler than that: she missed him. She took her brother and sister to dinner with him, but she came back changed. Every time he saw the children, they came back mad.

Especially mad at me. He filled their heads with hate toward me. He told them it was my fault. I was breaking the family apart, like they did not see what had happened. But they are children and easy to manipulate.

This was on a Sunday. By Monday, she was very rebellious. It was Labor Day, and she said she was going out after dinner. It was nearly 10 p.m. I told her no because it was a school night and it was late.

“But I don’t have school tomorrow,” she said.

“I don’t care. It is a school night and too late. Only prostitutes go out at 10 p.m.”

“Well, I am moving in with Dad. He said he would let me do whatever I want!”

“Please don’t do that.”

“I can do whatever I want, Daddy said.”

She became some other person. She had that look her father got. It felt like the devil. Her eyes were different. I was still very weak from what happened with my husband. I did not have any dignity left and begged her not to leave me. I went on my knees and begged her. But she left anyway, feeling all mythic and powerful.

I knew her father would not watch over her, especially at this difficult stage in adolescence. After all, he had never watched over them. Everything was always “him” first. So much so that once we got out of the car to see a house across the street.

It was just him, our son Juan Diego, and me. We parked in a place where the road was uneven. I was in heels and had to walk carefully. As always, Alejandro did not even care that I could fall. He started walking across the street, not paying any attention to Juan Diego following him. I started yelling at him to pay attention to Juan Diego because I could not run to keep up. Alejandro crossed the street with Juan Diego behind him, and the worst almost happened. A car came and nearly ran over my son. If it was not for the guard in the parking lot, Juan Diego would have not been saved.

It was left for me to always care for my children. I always knew they were my responsibility. I love them so much that they have never been too much for me.

Alejandro was now living in a hotel. There was no space for her. While here in our house, she has her own bedroom and all the space she needed. She was a senior, and we had so much to do: applications for college, the SAT, graduation.

I always had to be on top of her making sure she studied or finished her homework. I texted and called her every day to say “good morning” and “good night.” For weeks she did not reply.

Within two days, we were in court working on the worst temporary orders a woman can have with the most expensive lawyers in town. I am convinced Alejandro had bought them off.

Alejandro walked into court saying: “Alexandra does not want anything to do with her mother. She does not want to see her again. Therefore, I am keeping her.”

The papers were drawn up, and Alexandra was his to keep. I did not even have the right to visit with her. She was not answering my calls or my texts, but I kept trying every day in the morning and right before bed. My house was gloom!!!

Alexandra’s sister and brother missed her a lot. I missed her a lot. I missed my first baby! Kamee hardly ever saw her at school. They are on different floors, and Juan Diego is in another building.

On a flight back from Colorado, I wrote her. I poured my heart out. After two days, I got the worst answer ever. It was so hurtful and made no sense. It did not even look like her writing. She writes beautifully, but this was poorly written. It looked more like something Alejandro would write in his five-year-old style.

Within a few weeks, she started answering my texts. She was sick. Ah!!! A sick girl needs her mummy. Alejandro left for work and did not give her medicine or food. There she was in a hotel one-bedroom apartment alone. I offered to take her chicken soup, but she refused. Of course, her father had forbidden her to let me in into his hotel room. Anyway, the important thing was… she was talking to me.

From there on she sent me her paintings, via text… WOW, what incredible pieces they were. She started to get out of the car when she came to drop off or pick up her brother and sister. I enjoyed seeing her. But I noticed how she was deteriorating. She was not taking care of herself. She looked dirty with greasy hair. It looked like she was losing her beautiful hair. She did have such a beautiful mane. But she was volatile. She could be in a good mood one minute and suddenly be mad. It was so hard to deal with her, to talk to her. She was like her dad at times. She would walk in happy saying hello to all, be sweet to my mother, and suddenly in a split second, get mad and walk out. She had no respect for anything, just like her father. She was becoming him!

I checked her Twitter and Facebook accounts. She was not making much use of Facebook, but doing a lot on Twitter. And that is where I started to see that something was wrong. She was tweeting about marijuana and using words I did not know. With the help of my sister, we went online and searched for these words. They were all drug related. Words that of course I did not know. I saved all of the tweets and sent them to my family lawyer. I told them I needed to get my daughter back. Something was terribly wrong. Little did I know.

On Friday, October 18, 2013, she called and said she was sick. She had nausea and was vomiting. I got worried. I thought she was pregnant. She knew where I was coming from and said, “¡Mami! I am not pregnant.” Of course, she knew what was wrong with her.

On Sunday, two days later, she came home to drop off Kamee and Juan Diego. She was so dirty. It hurt me to see her like that. She stayed for a short time and then left.

Then came Monday. The school called me at around 2 p.m., asking about her whereabouts. I said she should be at school, but they informed me she was not. I told the school, “I don’t know if you know, but she is not living with me; she is with her father.”

They said, “Yes, we know, but her father is not answering. The problem is she has missed so many days at school that it is getting into the danger zone. She can lose the year.”

I hung up, and called and texted her. She did not answer. Finally, she did answer and asked, “Mami, what happened?” in a sleepy voice.

“Where are you?”

“Home.”

“Home??? Aren’t you supposed to be at school?”

“I am sick.”

“Sick again? You were sick last Friday.”

“Well, I am sick.”

“Why didn’t your father call the school and let them know you were sick?”

“I guess he did not realize I was still here.”

“What? He does not know if you are home or not?”

“Come on, Mami!”

We finished the conversation and hung up. Frustrated and desperate, I called my lawyer and explained what the school had just told me. My lawyer said they were going to subpoena her attendance records. So, the wheels were in motion to get my daughter back.

I knew my daughter was not doing well. But at the same time, I did not want to force her to come back. I wanted for her to come back willingly.

Tuesday was a quiet day. I did not hear from her or the school. Like they say with children, silence is not good, right? Or is it no news is good news?

On Wednesday, Alexandra called me at around 3 p.m. “Mommmm” She has this way of saying Mami when she needs me. That melts my heart still.

“¡Hola, mi amor!” (Hey, Baby!)

“Mommmmm, I have to tell you something. You know they take the dogs to school…”

The dogs? I know what that means, and it is trouble. The school randomly and unannounced brought in drug dogs to search through the school and student cars. I interrupted her:

“The dogs? You got expelled, Alexandra?”

“No, Mami, no. They are not expelling me. It was not mine.” Here we go. The old story of “It is not mine. It is my friend’s.”

“Alexandra… who is going to believe that?”

“Mami, it is true! Anyway, I told them to call you, that even though I am living with my dad you need to be informed. Please, wait for his call.”

Oh my God! She is delusional. She is getting expelled. The school has a zero-tolerance policy on drugs. I know about cases in previous years when kids got expelled even with all of the excuses they made. Why was it going to be different this time?

The principal called. I know he has a sincere appreciation for Alexandra. This man knows the psychology of the teenagers he deals with and manages them very well. You cannot ask for a better head of the high school. After explaining what happened, he said the incident occurred on Tuesday and that this morning they had a meeting with her father, which Alejandro never told me.

He said Alexandra collaborated and was believable. And the school was not going to expel her, but there were going to be consequences that would be explained to me on Monday. She and another boy were suspended until Monday. I did not know yet why the school was protecting Alexandra and I will be forever grateful for that. Expelling her would have destroyed her, and I would have lost my daughter completely and forever. She would not have been able to recuperate from that. It would have been too much for her. She had enough with everything that had happened in our family.

Ok… this is it! I called my lawyers again and told them they needed to speed up filing the motion to get my daughter back. That it was obvious she was under no supervision by her father and this had gone way too far. My daughter was on the verge of losing the year for missing days or getting expelled.

Thursday went by quietly until around 7 p.m., when Alexandra called me again.

“Mommmm…!!! You know my car got towed. I need you to go with me to get it. Since the car is under your name, I cannot go alone.”

“Alexandra, have you noticed that something wrong has been going on with you every day of the week?”

She started to scream: “Mami, you need to…!”

I hung up. She called again.

“Did you hang up?”

“Yes, I did. I am your mother and until you respect me, I will not talk to you.”

She started screaming again: “MAMI…”

Click. I hung up again.

Just like with other people, I have even lost my daughter’s respect.

I had an appointment on Friday at my lawyer’s office. I am working to get on the stand. I have never done that before, and the lawyers from the opposite side will try to destroy me, to get to me, so I needed to learn how not to let them. In other words, I was coached on how to be on the stand.

Yes, you got that right! You have to be coached for that. Family court and any other court is a theater. The best show wins! You would think the truth always wins. Well, you need the truth and a good show, too. So, I figured that I had the truth already and now I am training to win.

On that day in the afternoon, around 2 p.m., Alexandra called me.

“Mommmmm, can you take me to get my car?”

This time she is sweet, but also sounded sad and depressed.

“Of course, Baby. I am in a meeting. As soon as I finish, I will pick you up.”

I hang up and asked the coach how much longer it would take. He said about an hour. So, we continued. About half an hour later, she called again.

“Mommmmm, can you come get me, please?”

It sounded like she was crying. I told them that I needed to go. I did not like the sound of her voice.

Ever since my problems started, I have been the perfect driver. I keep to the speed limit and do not make a misstep. I cannot afford that. So, even though I wanted to run get her, I did not go over the speed limit. I got to their building and called to let her know I was downstairs. By now, her father had moved to a luxury high rise downtown.

She got in the car. My God, she was like hobo, filthy, smelly, greasy hair. I cannot stand this!!! She looked awful!

I asked: “Are you okay?”

“No, Mami!”

Her eyes looked lost. She was crying, her eyes red. She pulled up the sleeve of her blue jean jacket, showing eight cuts on her left arm.

“I was going to jump from the balcony when you called to tell me you were down here!”

I did not know how I was able to be composed and calm because I wanted to scream and cry.

My poor baby. God gives you strength in the most important moments. Only God could have helped me through that time and so many others.

I did not cry. The shock was such that I could not cry. I was speechless. It felt like a lifetime, but probably seconds passed. I was looking at her and thinking what would be the best possibility at that time for my daughter… Definitely not the emergency room. It would take hours and be in her record as a suicide attempt.

This would prove to be a mistake that haunted me and saved Alejandro from losing his medical license. I called my psychiatrist. Yes, I have a psychiatrist. I needed one to help me recover. After all, I had post traumatic stress disorder and battered wife syndrome, plus I had to clean myself up from the medication Alejandro had been giving me. Years of abuse did this to me.

No answer. I left a message.

“Dr. Gus, I hope you are at your office. I want to bring my daughter to you.”

Within a couple of minutes, his secretary called me back. I explained, and she told me to come right in. The cuts are fresh. She has blood on them. I do not know how I can drive! The tears started to burst out of my eyes. And I do not want her to see me crying. I am shaking!!!

We get to his office, and he is with a patient. When he came out and saw her, he instructed his secretary to clean the cuts. We went to the bathroom, washed her arm, and applied peroxide and Neosporin.

While we were waiting, Alejandro called her. I took the phone and told him what was happening.

“Why is this happening to her?” I asked him.

We have not spoken in three months. But he is the usual victim. He always played the victim. He did not know anything.

“I don’t understand. But Carmen, she is depressed. Come home and I will give you some medicine for her.”

“Alejandro, you will never again medicate any of my children or me.” And I hung up.

We went in to see the doctor and I explained what I knew. Then he asked me to leave, so he could speak with Alexandra alone. When I went back in, Dr. Gus told me: “Take her to Menninger. I am calling and they will wait for her.”

Menninger is a mental health rehabilitation facility. This was all new to me. The doctor made it clear to me she did not need medication and that he will not give her any, that the more important thing now is to get her clean from all medication since she had taken Xanax.

“Xanax? Who gave her Xanax?” I asked.

Dr. Gus gave me a look which I understood to mean that it was better to leave it like that. When we got to Menninger, they would not let us in until they knew for sure that she was committed and we were ready to pay $28,000 for a three-week stay. My God! I do not have that kind of money now. Alejandro emptied the bank accounts and I do not have access to the money. Alexandra decided to call her father and said: “Let’s see how much he loves me. His watch is worth that much.”

She called: “Dad, I am at the hospital. Dr. Gus sent me to Menninger. But they need $28,000 in order to check me in.”

He started to scream: “You and your mom think I am a bank.”

“Dad, your watch is worth that much.”

“Put your mother on the phone.”

Then he started screaming at me: “I am not paying $28,000 or $1,000 for a spoiled girl that is just afraid of a drug test.”

I hung up.

He kept on calling and I told Alexandra not to answer. I asked her what she wanted to do.

“You cannot stay at this hospital. Do you want me to take you back to him?”

“No, Mami, please, please, don’t take me back to him. Take me home with you, Mami.”

He called again and asked her to put me on the phone. When I answered, he started to scream. I said: “You do not scream at me ever again!” and I hung up.

What a powerful feeling to hang up on him! I thought. He cannot control me ANY more.

We decided to pick up her car since every day they were adding more fees and I was left with so little money. She has what her father gave her to pay for the car up until today. While I was at the lot dealing with the car—trying to restart it because the battery was dead—Alejandro called again.

“Mami, it is my papi. He said he won’t scream again.”

“Tell him I have nothing to talk with him about.”

I thought… I do not want to talk to him and I do not have to. What an empowering feeling! He cannot control me anymore. We get the car and go home. Long day. A friend of mine picked up Kamee and JD from school. They are so happy to see Alexandra. She is so filthy! I told her to take a shower, and she did.

Within minutes my house was full of kids. They came up to me and said they were glad Alexandra was back with me. Alejandro called the house and demanded to talk to Alexandra since she was not answering her cell. I handed the phone to her.

“Papi, the doctor said I have to stay with Mommy.”

I could hear his scream on the phone.

“Fine, Papi, if this is how you are going to be. I love you!”

But he had already hung up on her.

The mother of one of her friends came over. This is where she stayed the most while she was with her father. Yes, she spent more time at this friend’s house than with her father. She brought Alexandra her favorite snack and started telling me how bad it had been. Alejandro would text Alexandra not to come to the hotel when he had company until later. She would hang out and wait and wait, sometimes until it was 2:00, 3:00 or 4:00 a.m. She slept in her car, many times parked on the streets or in the school parking lot. Then she had to wake up at 5:00 a.m. to get back to the hotel for her books and uniform to get to school by 7:45 a.m. Many times, when she arrived, the door to her father’s room was open and she could see him in bed with a woman. No wonder she wanted to escape.

She was so mad at Alejandro’s lack of responsibility with Alexandra that she offered to be a witness at the upcoming custody hearing.

Later a friend of Alexandra’s came to visit and wanted to talk to me.

“Please, Mom L, do not let her go back to her dad’s. That was bad. She does not want to go back; don’t allow her to. Alexandra does not want me to tell you the truth. Promise if I tell you, you will not let her know I told you.”

I hated to promise. What if it is something I really could not hide? But I was so in the dark during the time Alexandra was with her dad that I wanted to know, especially if it was something so important. I wanted to know what Alon needed to tell me, but was afraid of it.

I have known Alon since he was eight years old. He and Alexandra are like brother and sister. They care for each other.

Alon started to talk, “Alexandra was spending most of the time in the street when her father had company. But the worst part was when he brought prostitutes over and they stayed there for days. God knows what else happened there!”

By midnight everybody was gone. What a long day! I could have used a drink, but I did not drink alcohol anymore, not even a drop. I became afraid of it because Alejandro was drugging me to get rid of me. With time I was going to find out how often he did it.

Just as Alexandra did when she was a little girl and got sick, she slept in my bed with me that night. She needed Mommy. My children had slept with me every time they were sick or felt scared. I looked at her and saw my baby, not a 17-year-old girl. I still did not know the whole story of what she had gone through.

Next morning when I woke up she was still sleeping. It was Saturday so I did not mind. She slept most of the day. When she finally got up, she said she was not feeling well. It was October and the weather was changing, so I figured that must be it. She was catching a cold or the flu, I thought.

She had chills and fever. She was shaking and sweating a lot, to the point where the bed was wet. Chicken soup cures everything. I gave her lots of chicken soup and lots of love. Little did I know that I was nurturing my daughter through detox!

Saturday and Sunday, she stayed in bed. I fed her and continued taking care of her, changing the bed sheets because they were wet with sweat. On Saturday, her father kept calling her and arguing. She kept hanging up, until finally she blocked his number in her cell phone. She did not want to talk to him. I still did not know what this was all about.

I spent a lot of time with her in bed, keeping her company and talking to her. She needed to feel she had a mother who was always there for her. We watched movies together. Her siblings came and went. But I stayed there with her.

Finally, she said: “Why didn’t you fight for me? Why didn’t you fight for me in court?”

“Your father said you did not want to be with me.”

“That was not true. I wanted you to fight for me. You always fight for us.”

I started to cry. I saw then what she was expecting from me.

“¡Mi amor! I had so much on my plate at that moment and you were so rude when you left that I believed what your father said. I was weak, so weak, and I am so sorry.”

She looked at me with tears in her eyes; I had tears in my eyes. I just hugged her and we cried together.

Finally, on Sunday she said: “You know, Papi is afraid that I am going to talk.”

“Talk about what?” I asked.

She did not answer, and I did not want to push her. If she did not want to talk, that was fine. It would all come out in due time.

However, by Monday she started to talk. I had seen how on October 17, a school night, she was tweeting at 3:00 a.m.

“You are too old for this. I cannot believe this s…!”

We were in my bed. I was caressing her hair.

“Papi brought three prostitutes to the apartment,” she suddenly said.

“What? When?”

I could not tell her I knew. I had promised her friend.

“Almost two weeks ago, Mami.”

“How did you know they were prostitutes?”

“They said it. They stayed for days. We talked a lot, Mami.”

She went on: “Dad left with tío José and they came back with three women. Tío told Dad something when he saw me there. He left after a while and said, ‘Your dad is crazy.’”

He did not leave because he had a moral attack because he would have taken my daughter and dropped her at my house. He left because he was worried Alexandra was going to tell his wife what he was doing, but the damage was already done. He was there with one of the prostitutes who was hurt when he left. That girl was in the bathroom when he left by Alexandra’s account.

“They pulled out cocaine and started using. My dad said she needed some white. Mom, he acted like a little boy with those women. Later, another woman came. So, now there were four. At the end, only three stayed overnight. Dad got sick. He was sweating and throwing up in his bathroom. I went and checked on him. He was white, Mami, so pale. So, I stayed with the women until I had to go to bed.”

“By Thursday afternoon, when I came back from school,” she added, “my dad was going to have breakfast with two of them and invited me. I did not go because I had homework. On Friday, when Kamee and Juan Diego arrived, only one of them was still there, and Dad told them she was a friend of mine.”

Oh My God! How disturbed this is. Even my younger children spent time with a prostitute.

On Tuesday, I was with my lawyers, who had already filed the motion to get my daughter back and to restrict Alejandro’s visitation with the children, when suddenly Alexandra called: “Mami, you have to withdrew the motion.”

“What motion?”

“The one you filed.”

“How do you know about that?”

“Papi just sent it to me and is threatening me. If you do not withdraw it, I am leaving and you will not ever see me again.”

She hung up.

I told my lawyers he forced her to make that call and called her back. She did not answer. I called the maid and she said Alexandra had left. I went home with my lawyer and called her again. No answer. My lawyer told me to call the police.

I texted her: “Alexandra, the police are going to be looking for you. Come home, please.”

The police came and completed a report, but said there was nothing they could do about it until 48 hours after she was gone. My lawyer left and I prayed: “God please don’t let her do anything irrational.”

She finally came back crying and apologized after three hours.

On November 20, 2013, we went to court to legally get my daughter back and have Alejandro’s visitation with the children supervised. My lawyers had requested a drug test since Alexandra saw him using.

Alejandro drank water at the courthouse worse than a fish. This was very rare because he does not drink water; he usually drinks Coke. My lawyers were making fun of it.

I testified about what I saw when my daughter came back to me. However, Alejandro’s lawyers diverted the court’s attention by asking me about the plane incident, accusing me of being an alcoholic and a drug addict.

“After all, she takes after her mother.”

With this, Alejandro had managed to accuse me of his ways. He is the drug addict and alcoholic, but now the tables were turned. The psychiatrist who saw Alexandra testified and gave an explicit account of what Alexandra had told him: drugs, prostitutes and sleeping in the streets. At lunchtime, my lawyers told Alejandro’s lawyers to have him take a drug test. His lawyers refused, saying they had to work with their client. Work or go do another treatment to get him clean? I thought to myself.

The lab sent the technician to the court. It was a female. Alejandro refused to be tested by a woman. He said he preferred to wait for the male technician. Suddenly, he was all modesty. A man that walked naked around the house where all the maids, workers and children saw him.

When Alejandro got on the stand, he lied. He said none of it was true. After a full day, the associate judge dictated that I was to get my daughter back; Alejandro had to pay 100% of the medical bills, Kamee’s horseback riding lessons and Juan Diego’s tutoring; and we all had to attend a class of families in divorce, but Alejandro’s visitation stayed as it was.

Alejandro never paid for anything or attended the class. We, my children and I, did. We were punished, not him. I was devastated, and so were my children. They did not want to go back to visit him.

After a week we got the results from the drug test back… negative! My daughter looked at me with tears rolling down her cheeks: “Mami, I saw him! I saw him! Believe me, he uses.”

“I know, mi amor. I believe you. I have seen also.”

Two and a half years later, Alejandro proudly told me how a dinner with a judge from another court helped him get on the good side of the judge in our court. That is how he got away with this.