(Updated December 15, 2021)
In a previous post, I detailed one of the many lies my ex wife has told to our children about me, spanning almost 20 years. Almost two decades of brainwashing, using lies and deceptions concerning their own father; an inconceivable fact that a mother would do this to her own flesh and blood. Such is the power of pure hatred.
But such is the evil of PAS.
I have also explained in that prior post about my youngest, Aimie (not her real name), who has sent me several emails spanning seven years where she listed a number of reasons why she wants nothing to do with me. Each of these reasons are all based on lies, half-truths, and downright nonsensical stories.
Here is one of those lies allegedly told to her by her mother that I wish to discuss. It is from an email written by Aimie in December of 2021:
-My mom told me about the time you pointed a gun at her just because she wanted to go visit her parents, and you refused to let her go because you’re such a controlling psycho.
Unlike some of the other lies that Aimie has falsely accused me of committing where there is a bit of truth in the accusation, this particular lie is pure, 100%, fiction. Nothing in it is true. No tiny amount of truth is attached to it in order to provide a dash of needed credence to it in hopes of making it more palatable to accept as true.
As with my other posts detailing other lies, some background is necessary:
My ex had a younger brother by the name of Daniel. I liked him. He was quiet, kept to himself, didn’t talk much, and loved animals. Since he did not speak English and I never spoke much Spanish, communication between us was impossible. This did not keep me from forming an opinion of him that was positive. He was simply a nice guy.
Daniel got married; it was long enough ago (almost 20 years or so) that I have forgotten the details, and also due to the fact that my ex and I had already divorced a second time, I was not privy to all the details I normally might have if we were still married.
Evidently the marriage was not a good one for whatever reasons. They were separated or divorced, and Daniel was devastated. I understood he really loved this woman. If memory serves me correctly, he found out she was cheating on him and, overcome with grief, shot himself in the head with a .357 magnum. It was a horribly tragic event.
I mentioned in my other posts that my ex exhibited some bizarre behaviors that, had I taken notice of them at the time, might have better prepared me to understand some of the more twisted actions she sunk to during our post-divorce existence.
I bought a small Chevy car (a two door, I think) when we were married that my ex would drive. As our family grew, this became too small and she sold or gave it to Daniel. This was the car he shot himself in.
And here is where the story gets twisted and, even today, I still can’t wrap my head around what happened.
My ex told me that she cleaned the inside of this car after her brother shot himself inside of it. In other words, her own brother committed suicide inside her old car, with a .357 magnum.
I dread going into details here, but it is important to grasp just how sick this story is. When Daniel shot himself, his brain matter, skull, hair, blood and other bodily fluids were scattered all over the inside of this vehicle. And my ex went inside this horrific scene and cleaned it by herself.
This is unfathomable to me. I know if one of my brothers or sisters had shot themselves in a vehicle, the last thing I would have done would be to go in there and clean the mess up. I could not do it; that was my family member, someone I loved and cared for, and the very idea of going inside such a place and spending hours cleaning up the scattered remnants of their remains would be incomprehensible to me.
We have trained specialists to do these kind of horrific clean up jobs. And even the experts, from what I understand, don’t always do so well in this line of business because of the gory nature of the job and the fact that you are cleaning up after a violent death. Imagine just the stench of being inside that car amidst all of the other macabre scenes inside—it is beyond imagination how terrible that would be.
But she went in there and, from what I remember her telling me, did a thorough job. I remember my reaction even then: disbelief. It was outside of the realm of believability. And she related this story without any emotion, like she went to clean her kitchen or bathroom. No emotion. Nothing. Calm as a cucumber, as if she was talking about making lunch for the kids or describing a routine shopping trip for groceries.
It gets worse. Not only did she clean the inside of the car, she cleaned the gun which, as she described, had Daniel’s brain matter on it which gave her a bit of a challenge to completely remove from all the tiny nooks and crannies that a .357 stainless steel revolver might present as a particularly difficult thing to thoroughly clean.
She never said anything like, “Roy, it was so gross to clean that gun! I almost puked when I realized it was my brother’s own brains that I was cleaning off the barrel and the cylinder. It makes my skin crawl just thinking about it and I have nightmares to this day. I regret ever doing such a stupid thing.”
Nothing like that at all. No emotion. Just like she was reporting the weather: sunny skies and mild temperatures with just a hint of an afternoon breeze.
Now, that’s sick, as anyone with even a hint of a soul will agree. This is not normal behavior. No person in their right mind is going to clean the inside of a car where a beloved family member just shot themselves in, nor the gun they used to do it.
But my ex did, and it bothered me the instant she told me the story and it bothers me today. It’s ghoulish. The woman is not playing with a full deck, neither then nor now.
The story gets even more bizarre. She sold me that gun. She offered to sell it to me and I bought it for, I believe, $150 cash. I still own it to this day. It’s a beautiful piece of craftsmanship, a .357 stainless steel short barrel. Clean as a whistle, too. She did an excellent job cleaning it. I think she even threw in the holster for it as well. Nothing fancy, but good enough.
Why would my ex sell me the very weapon her brother used to commit suicide? This is one of several questions I have revisited almost 20 years after that horrible event occurred. Recently, I told this same story to a friend of mine and he immediately thought her behavior was out of place for reasons I’ve never considered before. Whether or not his reasons are valid, it will take me time to evaluate them in my own mind before weighing in with my own conclusions. Suffice to say, his concerns have caused me to look at this situation with new eyes.
On a side note, I brought up to our family law judge the interesting fact that she had sold me the very gun her brother had committed suicide with, after she got her second or third or fourth restraining order against me.
I may have said to the judge something like this, “Your honor, my ex claims that she needs this restraining order because she fears for her life, that I’m a violent man that has threatened her, but she doesn’t mention that she obviously didn’t think I was such a violent man when she offered to sell me her brother’s .357 magnum.”
And what was an excellent argument in my mind for the judge to use as a reason to toss out what was an obviously ridiculous claim that I was this violent criminal she tried to make me out to be fell on deaf ears to the judge. He kept the restraining order in place and I lost my second amendment rights because of her lies.
These were my feelings toward her before all the years that she brainwashed my kids to turn against me and after I knew that the alienation process they were indoctrinated in proved I was losing them forever. It is remarkable and tragic that love can be transformed into hate.
This is yet another reason in a long list of others I have previously made concerning the utter unfairness of the so-called “justice system” in Family Court. The lies of women are routinely and normally believed while men are usually always given the shaft. I lost my first amendment rights for years because of her false restraining orders.
When Aimie wrote this to me in her December email, I was not surprised with this particular lie. It was so insane, in fact, to be almost humorous, particularly given the story I just told.
I never pointed a gun at my ex wife. Ever. Never at one time. Such a thought, remarkably, never entered my mind. Nor did I ever forbid her to go visit her parents. I liked her parents. Still do, though I haven’t seen them in about 20 years except for one brief time in Home Depot (about five years or so ago) when I saw her dad in line at a check out stand in the gardening section.
The reality is, I never got to know her family because of the language barrier. I never had a deep and involved conversation with either her mom or dad or any member of her family outside of the most rudimentary attempts at us trying to communicate with each other. And what would I have learned if I had been able to speak the language and been able to peer behind the veil?
When she would go to her parent’s house she would undoubtedly take the kids. And what would that mean for me? I loved my family, of course, but their absence made for a quiet house. And since I have already described in a previous post how much I love—require even—peace and quiet, I always looked forward to those times when I would be by myself. Why, then, would I “refuse[d] to let her go” as Aimie falsely alleged?
As the old saying goes, this story fails to “pass the sniff test.” And it is just another lie in a long line of other lies that never stop falling from the lips of my ex wife.
Lies of every stripe, lies of every color, if she ever told the truth, it would only made her duller.Rojelio Espadas
I have no idea whether Aimie is telling the truth concerning this particular lie. Did her psychotic mother really tell her this? There is no question she is capable of such, but this is the classic example of a “she said, he said” situation that qualifies, in the eyes of the law, as hearsay; I have to take it with a grain of salt.
Assuming it is true, though, it speaks volumes concerning the vile character of my ex. Also, it falls right along in line with the many other lies she told about me in the past, indicating that lying is simply an extension of my ex’s character. It is a part of who she is, a character trait, an accurate representation of the way her mind operates and functions on a daily basis.
So deeply ingrained is lying in her character that it is normal for her to intentionally lie and deceive when she deals with other people—even to her own daughters. And it does not faze her a single bit; for her, lying is perfectly acceptable and her modus operandi.
An equally disturbing question is why hasn’t Aimie sought out my side of this story? She must know her mom lies. Aimie is now in her late 20s and has had ample time to evaluate her mother’s character and understands she cannot be relied on to report truth. So why no phone call, email, or text asking me for my side of this accusation? Is it possible my own daughter does not want to know the truth and wants to believe these lies about me told by her mother? At this point in this tragic story, anything is possible.
After my ex received her real estate license and began working as a realtor, I got mine as well. It was something I wanted to do for years. Like my ex, I went to real estate school, studied for the exam, paid all the fees necessary to get licensed, and went to work for ReMax in their office located in the Tucson foothills.
I soon grew to despise that industry. Hated it. Never in my life did I ever work with so many liars and con artists. I confess in my industry as a contractor we also have our fair share of crooks, liars and con artists, but realtors are in an entirely different league of spinning yarns and fudging the truth.
I’m not saying or suggesting all real estate agents are crooks and liars…not at all. I met some fine people who conducted their businesses with what I felt was honesty and integrity. But what I personally witnessed was disheartening and I couldn’t take it. I soon quit.
All this to say that it is not surprising my ex has done so well in real estate: birds of a feather flock together.