No, I’m not writing about the 9/11 tragedy when the Twin Towers were felled and the Pentagon was struck. I’m talking about a personal calamity that happened 9 years later. I had married my wife in July 2010, and she’d spent that entire month with me in the United States. At the end of the month, we boarded a plane after a night of thunderstorms that had delayed our flight, and I spent August with her in England.
First things first, though. Over the previous year, we had Skype running nearly 24/7 — except for those times when she “disappeared” for days at a time, coming back with bizarre explanations. I’d watched Paula with her kids, chatted them while she slept, and participated in the household from afar.
One of the things I couldn’t quite work out was Paula constantly complaining about the “interference” of social workers. What social workers, and why? She hated them with a passion! I slowly came to understand that social services was concerned about the welfare of the children, but why? I asked Paula, and she would only say, “I don’t know!”
When I pressed her further, she blamed it on Lotfi (her second husband). Here we enter the murky territory of who and what to believe. Supposedly, according to Paula, Lotfi had abused Emma and Yuri even before Reba was conceived. And Reba had been conceived when Lotfi had raped her. Lotfi had been sent to prison (still telling Paula’s version), but it was never clear if his sentence was for the rape or the child abuse. In any case, I was led to believe that he was out of the picture at that point and that they were divorced. I didn’t find out until we were married that Paula and Lotfi weren’t divorced until 2009. This much I know — Lotfi wasn’t in the picture in 2009. Nowhere to be seen.
So… If social services was worried about the welfare of the children, why after he was long gone?
We’d had two full months together, July and August of 2010. Now I was focused on preparing my spousal visa application so that Paula and I could be together. But very early in September, Paula contacted my friend, K, to ask him if he would pick her up at the airport so she could surprise me with a visit. K was already wise to Paula and he refused. He suggested to her that she should consult with me before making a surprise visit. And he told me about the conversation.
I talked to Paula and discouraged her visit. While of course, I craved to see her, I felt the time would be better spent working on the visa application so that we could be together permanently, and that a visit would only delay the visa application. However, she insisted, “But I miss you! I have to see you!” This was the only time she paid her own airfare, and the false promises to repay me.
Now, to backtrack a wee bit, when we arrived in the UK in August, the house was in complete disarray. Not a crumb of food was in the house, and there were maggot-filled nappies everywhere. The home was filthy from top to bottom. Paula had left her kids with Nikki during July. We were immediately faced with a visit from social services. Apparently, while in Nikki’s care, Paula’s children were seen hanging out the upstairs windows by neighbors, and the police were called. Paula was in a heap of trouble for leaving her children with Nikki, because Nikki had had her own problems with her own children and social services.
So when Paula was eager to visit me in early September, I was concerned about who was going to keep the kids. Had she informed her parents? Had social services given approval? Paula assured me that everything was copacetic. I relented, and did not stand in the way of her coming to visit me.
Shortly before Paula’s plane was due to arrive, I received a telephone call from someone in Paula’s family. The children had not been picked up from their schools, and the schools had contacted social services. If Paula did not return immediately, her kids were going to be taken into care. I was to relay this information to Paula immediately upon her arrival, and she was to contact her family. Which I did.
Paula was livid. She didn’t want to make the telephone call, but I impressed upon her the importance of sorting it out. She had arrived in the late afternoon, and we spent the whole night dealing with the problem. She didn’t want to return to the UK, but I kept telling her, “You’ve got to go back or you are going to lose your kids.” We also had to stay awake into the wee hours so she could speak with social services directly when morning work hours came in the UK.
There was so much I didn’t and couldn’t have known. It slowly became clear, and is even clearer now. You see, Paula’s parents had had a long-scheduled trip to Canada planned for early September to see her siblings. Paula wasn’t coming to the US because she “missed me.” She wanted to disrupt their plans. I don’t know for a fact, but I strongly assume, that she didn’t even tell them of her sudden notion of coming to the US at exactly and conveniently the same time.
Paula blamed her mother for everything that had gone wrong:
As for me, I spent hours on the computer, looking to get Paula the first available flight back to the UK so she would not lose her children. Bought and paid for the ticket and got her to the airport. There’s a heck of a lot more to the story, but I’ll leave it at that for now.
The point I’m making about psychopaths is that they don’t care how they hurt their parents, their spouses, their siblings, or even if they might risk losing their own children. They just do what they want to do, and wreak havoc in every life they touch.
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