Thirty years. This morning my cat Beau woke me up at 4:00 AM. My first thought was that this bastard should be dead already. When I Googled his name, it took me a minute to realize a death date followed his birth date. Could it be? Could it be?
Yes! The bastard is finally dead. I’m free at last! Thirty years, and I’m free at last!
His obituaries were interesting works of fiction written by his enablers. It said he had three wives. He had four. They left out the one who moved out while he was at work and relocated across country to get away from him. I called her hoping she could give me tips on how I too might successfully get away from him. During the call, I shared with her who was his stalking informant: he flew across country to have a brief weekend affair with her new husband’s ex-wife who foolishly and faithfully called him on her dime every week for eight years to keep him up-to-date. And, I told her how he had sabotaged her career and her new husband’s career. She had told herself that she was being paranoid and was livid to discover her worst fears were true.
She was also surprised to hear that the U.S. Navy (Reserves) denied him elevation to “flag” (Admiral) because they deemed what he did to her was not the conduct of an officer or a gentleman. He was forced to retire when we were together in 1992.
You’d think he would have learned. Nope. His other dream was to be a federal court judge. He knew the late, great Sen. Paul Simon (D-IL) was a very close family friend. He was chair of the Senate judiciary committee. When his name made the short list for a seat on the federal bench, they went to inordinate lengths to track me down a/k/a Anita Hill. Shortly after Bill Clinton was re-elected in 1996, I got a letter from the White House informing me that hell would freeze over before anybody with a hint of domestic violence history would be appointed to any position in the Cllinton administration. I didn’t know at the time that Bill Clinton had witnessed his own mother’s domestic violence.
The OR state police similarly tracked me down when he made the short list for nomination to OR’s supreme court. After a very long chat, the officer asked me if I had anything good to say about him. I replied, “well, he’s great between the sheets.”
He ultimately was elected to OR’s supreme court on the platform that he had “extensive experience with family and child abuse.” The attorney who tipped off the Senate judiciary committee was the campaign chair of his best opponent’s campaign. She brazenly told me at an OR bar convention that I should keep her card on me at all times because I would need it. Apparently, I was the only person in OR who was unaware of his history of abusing women and alcohol.
But, she remained mute during the campaign. Ditto for the state bar association, all of his opponents, the judiciary oversight folks, and the press. They all knew it was “hands on” experience, but none of them had the integrity to tell the voters.
A few days later after my call to his ex-wife, deputy sheriffs arrived at our home to beat the hell out of me for his pleasure and enjoyment. When he pointed a loaded gun at my head, he said with conviction that he could kill me and “get away with it.” The beating was intended to show me that he could, in fact, deprive me of my right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness with absolute impunity. He knew this would wound me to the core because the Declaration of Independence was penned on my family’s paper. And, it did.
I relocated twice across country in my futile attempt to escape his stalking. For decades, I never knew who was informing him about my life. It was nearly impossible to trust people. When I applied for jobs, he would call with a message that it “wasn’t a good idea” to hire me. He was a state supreme court judge. It destroyed my career and any hope of getting any kind of a job.
His obituary also claimed he had two kids. He had three. He got a girl pregnant when he was in high school. Her life was over. He sailed on to college, a fraternity, law school, and a successful legal career. He didn’t care enough about this child to find out whether it was a boy or a girl.
When I discovered that his daughter lives less than a mile away from me and had easy access to my confidential home address as well as my confidential medical and financial information, I nearly had a stroke. It wasn’t long before my car was tampered with twice.
He destroyed the careers of every person who offended or crossed him. When we were together, he stalked every woman who had ever been in his life on a weekly basis. There were a lot of us including four wives. He was Donald Trump with less money.
Karma paid him a well-earned visit at the end of his life with bladder cancer, leukemia, and cardiac issues. This inordinately vain man with a tremendous sex drive and voracious appetite must have hated the treatment protocol. He died of a heart attack which I think is fitting. His heart was pure evil.
I’m so fucking glad that this bastard is dead that there aren’t words to adequately express my relief. Adios, mother fucker! Adios! I hope you rot in hell.
I’m free, y’all. I’m finally fucking free of this asshole. Oh, happy day!