In 2011, there was a child that I knew of – we’ll call him Thomas. I didn’t know him personally. I had been involved in his life from the time he was born, until he was about 15 months old. But that was 10 years prior – the Thomas had no memory of me.
Thomas spent his entire life living with his father and his father’s friend, Liz in Los Angeles. Thomas didn’t have a mother. Well, he had a biological mother, obviously, but she had left when he was just a baby, less than 2 years old. He had no memory of her; no personal knowledge of her. Thomas had grown to consider Liz his “mother”. Liz’s family was his family. Thomas’ birthdays, holidays, accomplishments, and events, were all celebrated with his father, Liz, and Liz’s family. Like Thomas, his father had no family – well, again, he had biological family, somewhere, but they were not good people and Thomas’ father chose, long ago, to have nothing to do with them. This was Thomas’ world; the only life he had ever known.
Thomas was happy in that life. He was surrounded by loving, caring, responsible people who provided for him and took care of him. Even through the tough times, his father, Liz and Liz’s parents always made sure Thomas had a safe, caring home.
Thomas knew somewhere out there in the world, he had a biological mother. But he never concerned himself too much with it. He knew his “real” mother had chosen, of her own free will, to leave and start another family – but he was okay with that because Liz filled that role and because he had all the “family” he could ever want.
As for me, I had my own life. I had a husband, Michael, and a child, Sage, of my own. In 2008 I had moved, with my family, from Florida to Phoenix, Arizona. I got a decent job at Apollo Education Group, as a Systems Analyst. I was content. My life was going well.
Then, in 2010, I divorced Michael. I got custody of our son – though, Michael never contested the custody. Around that same time, I started living with my new fiancé, Kristopher. Kristopher had an extremely long and violent criminal history, but I convinced myself that was all in the past. Kristopher was also a drug user – crystal meth, mostly. I’ve been a pot user my whole life, and have occasionally done some coke, meth, ecstacy. But, being with Kris meant that there was always meth around and that just made it too easy to start using it more and more.
Out of the blue, in early 2011, I was contacted by Thomas’ father. We began a casual dialogue over the next couple of months. He talked, at length, about Thomas and how well Thomas was doing, how intelligent he was. He told me all about Liz and how she stepped in and filled the maternal role when Thomas’ mother had left. In May 2011, I made plans to go to Los Angeles and visit them for the weekend.
I did go. And I met Thomas and Liz. I was amazed at how precocious Thomas was. And I was deeply disturbed at the thought of this poor child’s mother abandoning him and choosing not to be part of his life. In June, I made another trip to Los Angeles, and visited them again.
Following those two visits, I had some vacation time coming up in July. I had planned a trip to San Diego with Kris and Sage. I thought it would be wonderful if Thomas could come with us. It didn’t seem at all unusual to me that I would want to bring a child I had only met on two short visits, on an out of town trip for a week. However, Thomas’ father didn’t think it was a good idea. He expressed concern that neither he nor Thomas really knew anything about us and that such a trip seemed very inappropriate.
I was enraged that Thomas’ father would not allow Thomas to come with me to San Diego. After that, I discontinued contact with them.
Two months later, early August 2011, Kris and I were on a bender. We had been smoking a lot of meth. I was still fuming that Thomas’ father had not allowed Thomas to come to San Diego with me. In my gacked out rage, I dropped Sage off at my mother’s and Kris and I drove to Los Angeles to confront them.
When we got to LA nobody was home. I called Liz’s mobile. Her and Thomas were at her parent’s place in Pasadena. Thomas’ father was out of town. I demanded she and Thomas come home immediately or I was going to call the police.
A little while later, Thomas returned home. I told him I was taking him with me, back to Phoenix. I told him his father was not coming back and that he had to come with me. I was hysterical; screaming; accusing his father and Liz of all manner of atrocities. I told him his father and Liz had been breaking the law and were going to go to jail and be deported.
Thomas was terrified. He had never seen this kind of behavior before. He begged me to stop. To go away. He didn’t understand what was happening. In one brief moment his whole world seemed to be coming apart and there was no one to help him, to explain things to him.
With Kris’ help, I grabbed Thomas and we put him in the truck. Thomas was frozen in shock! He sat, in terror, in the back seat – unable to comprehend what was happening. This woman he had only met twice in his life; had only spoken to on the telephone over the past few months; a veritable stranger to him, was telling him he would never see his father again, never see his mother again, or any of his family – that he must leave his entire life, and everyone that he loves, behind and come with her right now.
Thomas was exhausted from the shock and the trauma of what had happened and on the 6 hour drive back to Phoenix he eventually fell asleep in the back seat.
When we returned to Phoenix, I told Thomas he would be part of our family now. I told him Sage would be his brother, I would be his mother, and Kris would be his father. I was still very upset about all of this. It angered me that he was resisting assimilating into our world, that he wanted to go “home”. I tried to explain to him that the woman he had been calling “mother” was not his mother; that I was his mother now.
After bringing Thomas to Phoenix, I was able to get an emergency, temporary custody order by claiming that Thomas’ father had abandoned him and was being deported. Some find it shocking that the court would grant an order under these conditions, but I am very, very persuasive. As soon as Thomas’ father found out what had happened, he contacted the authorities. But, because of the emergency custody order there was nothing they could do. Thomas would have to go through the courts if he wanted to get his son back – and that would take months.
I did everything I could to prevent Thomas from being able to contact his father. I filed a petition for an order of protection against his father, prohibiting him from having any contact with me or Thomas.
Time passed. Thomas began to accept his new environment, his new home. Still, I could tell he did not consider us his “family”. I didn’t understand! Wasn’t I treating him with kindness? Didn’t I welcome him into my home and accept him as one of my family? I will not believe that a bond cannot be created instantaneously by parties simply going through the motions of a given role: I as the mother, he as the child. Is that not how emotions work? Has that not been the basis of all of my relationships up to this point?
His 11th birthday was approaching, in September, and he was still very melancholy, very withdrawn. I called Liz and invited her to come to Phoenix for Thomas’ birthday. I thought it might help Thomas to settle in if someone from his past life came to visit him. I told her she could stay with my mother. This seemed an entirely reasonable thing to do. After all, Thomas was not her child – it’s not like I had taken her child away from her. She said she didn’t think that would be a good idea, under the circumstances. I told Thomas that shows how little Liz cares for him.
After 3 months, the court did order me to immediately return Thomas to his father. But that was it – no punishment for my horrendous acts. Not one word mentioned, by the court, about the emotional and psychological damage I had inflicted upon this poor, innocent child. Nevertheless, the court, and Thomas’ father had broken up my family, had torn apart my happy home! I had done nothing wrong; I had provided Thomas a loving, caring home; I had saved him from the dangerous and harmful environment his father was subjecting him to. It was obvious to me that the court did not care about Thomas’ happiness.
I had never done anything but care for Thomas and try to protect him from the dangers his father and Liz were putting him in front of. Only I could provide him the things he needed – not his father. After all, I am the one that gave birth to him!
But Was It Really Abduction?
Many people argue that what I did was not really “abduction”, because I am, after all, the child’s biological mother.
In the strict, legal sense, it may not have been abduction, however, let’s consider it from the perspective of the most important character in this story: the child. Since I had never been part of the child’s life, I had left when he was 15 months old and he had no contact with me for the next 9 years, the fact that there was that biological connection could not have meant much to him. I was as much as stranger as any other person on the street. Is it really reasonable to believe that just because I was the child’s biological parent that this whole ordeal was somehow less traumatic for him? No, that is not reasonable, at all.
Yes, he had spoken to me on the phone and I had visited him 2 times. So, perhaps, it is not fair to say I was a “total stranger”. I was, perhaps, more akin to a casual acquaintance – an acquaintance the child had seen on only 2 occasions. So, the ordeal may not have been as terrifying as had a complete stranger snatched him off the street.
But what would be traumatizing about these events was not being “taken” against the child’s will, but the child’s realization that his entire universe can be completely obliterated in the blink of an eye. More so, that the complete destruction of the child’s life can occur by the very person he has been conditioned, by society, media, and endless Disney movies, to believe is supposed to be the one person who would never harm him!
So no, it is not fair to say it was abduction in a legal sense. But the psychological harm inflicted on a 10 year old child, the permanent scars Thomas will have, the hesitance to trust the people closest to him, does not care about statutory definitions.
I See Nothing Wrong With What I Did
The very day I took that poor child and threw his whole world upside down, I was posting comments on Facebook, saying:
I want to say a big Thank You to the universe for always bringing what should be. My beautiful son G***** has finally come home to live. I have my 2 awesome boys and my man who I couldn’t love more. My home is now complete…finally. [smile emoticon]. Thank you also to everyone for their love and support – I needed it and it worked!!!!!
And posting a picture of that same child, sleeping, in the back seat of the truck on the drive back to Phoenix – exhausted after what was the most traumatizing encounter of his young life.
Absolutely no sign of remorse! My words, which I publicly shared with the world, are entirely about how everything relates to me without a single thought to how my son might have been affected by it. Notice how often possessive pronouns are used in the above comment.
Even in my own sworn declaration, in the family court, I acknowledge that what I did was traumatic to our son, but I just didn’t care:
When the officer arrived he requested to speak with G***** in private seeing how traumatic this was for him…
Those are my own words, in my own declaration in the family court. The police that attended the scene tried, repeatedly, to reason with me, to get me to realize how wrong it was to take the child like that, to rip him from everything that he know, but none of that matters! He is mine, and I have a legal right to take him – just like any other material possession!
And I Did It Again, and Again!
A year and a half after this ordeal, after the court had ordered me to return my son to his father, I did, essentially, the same thing all over again. Only, this time rather than taking my son by force, from the only life and family he has ever known, I waited until he was with me on a court ordered visitation, then I had the only life and family he’d ever know removed!
While he was visiting me in Phoenix, I filed a false report against his father with the expectation that his father would be arrested by immigration and deported from the US. In that way, I would not have to return my son at the end of his visitation.
But again, there was no notice, no indication provided to my son. Suddenly, without warning, a few days before he was to return home, he was informed that his father was arrested by ICE and that he would be deported. I got to tell me son that it was over – that he would not be going home, he would never see his friends again, never return to his school, never see Liz or any of her family again. And, again, there was not a shred of remorse on my part – I had my son, my object, my possession – and that’s all that matters to me.
What a Non-Sociopathic Person Might Have Done
It can be argued that I was the child’s biological parent, so I had every right to do what I did. And some, including myself, have argued that.
But, while my actions may have been legal, no decent person can dispute they were grossly immoral, narcissistic, and blatantly sociopathic. My complete disregard for how all of this might affect my 10 year old son can be described as nothing other than monstrous.
Had I even the slightest bit of human decency and concern for others, I would have gone to court and obtained an order granting me custody first – then gradually built a relationship with my son before bringing him to live with me in another city. Patrick was still in ICE custody at the time I would have obtained the order so he wouldn’t have been able to challenge it. There is no fathomable reason I could not have taken that approach.
Had I done things that way, then maybe my son would not have been permanently traumatized; maybe I could have actually had some kind of normal relationship with my son; maybe my son would have grown to love and respect me.
But that is not, and never has been, the way I do things. This story clearly shows I have serious psychological problems. I do not, and will not, ever consider how my actions might affect or grossly harm others – as long as I get what I want at the precise moment. I, like any sociopath, will sacrifice everything good in the future, to get what I want today.
Respect is something a person earns – only fear can be forced on someone. History has shown that I have never done anything to justify my son respecting me or loving me. I have certainly done many things to cause my son to fear me! And I will continue to. I am unable to distinguish between respect and fear, and I don’t believe the difference matters anyway.
If you still question whether or not I really am a sociopath, whether I would really do something that would permanently harm an innocent person without giving it a second thought, then we really should get in touch because you would make the perfect victim the next time I am bored.