When my father was released from prison in 1987 I had no idea what he was about to do. Not even close. I wanted to believe that he might be successful again, but deep down I knew the truth. My father had never really been successful, it was all a lie. He had always been a conman. But the truth can be a tricky thing in certain circumstances and my denial of that simple fact was about to lead me into 17 months as a witness to my father’s killing spree that would leave four people dead.
For years I had been riddled with guilt, shame, physical illnesses and repressed memories as a result of what I witnessed and learned during those 17 months. Funny thing about it today is I’m still not sure if I had a choice. Well, actually I did. The choice was to go along for the ride or possibly be one of his victims. I chose to be his captive audience and what I witnessed is the face of evil. That evil is my father, a cold blooded, calculating killer. No remorse. No guilt. No love. These were the characteristics and acts of a sociopath.
He enjoyed telling me about it. I think the thrill he got from telling me was greater than the fear that I might actually be different than him. You see, I had never done anything that might indicate to my father that I thought criminal behavior was okay, but I never denounced it either. Maybe he didn’t know because I always kept my mouth shut. Even when I was young and he would tell me about something that sounded illegal, I would just smile and nod. Inside (growing up) I always felt “less than” or inferior because I couldn’t stomach what my father could do. This was a problem as a kid because I wanted to be just like him. I mean I idolized him, like most boys do their Dads. Problem was, I didn’t think I was “man enough” to be like him and it made me sick. So the best I could do was smile and act impressed when he would do something I couldn’t “stomach”. I was sure I was a failure, but didn’t want him to know it.
After serving 3 ½ years for white collar crime (land fraud) my Dad was released. This is where his activities overwhelmed me and painted me into a corner. I became a hostage. This is not an excuse for not stopping him, it is how I felt. He played it perfectly with me. Always giving me enough information that I became his confidant, but never enough that I could have stopped him. Maybe he was having a little problem with the truth as well, and didn’t want to acknowledge the fact that I wasn’t a willing participant in these conversations. Maybe that’s why he never gave me the crime scene or enough detail to put it all together. He was right you know. Because the first time I saw my father described on TV in connection with a murder I called crime line tips. Problem with this”¦it didn’t work. They didn’t pick him up and I was still stuck with him. I gave the cops his name and they didn’t even question him.
My younger brother was still living with him and I didn’t want to appear suspicious so I continued to be around him. Only now, I had the constant fear of that phone call I made. Could he tell when he was around me? The police had come to my house the night I called”¦could he find out?
I’ll tell you the biggest problem with all this, looking back. I never consciously thought that my father might kill me if he found out. That is not a “rational” or natural thought. We are not programmed to be able to make a connection like that. But subconsciously, I knew because my behavior was all about survival. It would be 20 years before it really sunk in that he would kill me in a heartbeat. He liked me and was proud of me. I was one of his prized possessions. But that’s all I was, a possession. Sounds harsh, but it’s true. A sociopath cannot love.
These stories are about what I witnessed and how I felt. It’s about how I managed what appeared to be a normal life to others and the people that saved me from a horrible fate. You see, the bottom line is this:
I am blessed with a family and friends beyond my wildest dreams. All because I began to tell the truth. I am free today and would not change a thing in my life. So with that in mind, I share my experience with the hope that others might benefit from these stories and realize that they are not alone. There is hope and a pathway to freedom.
I knew it was you Travis ! LOVE jere
What a chilling account, and you didn’t even give any details! I can’t believe there are people out there who’ve been unfortunate enough to have to grow up in the presence of psychopaths and still turn out okay. Kudos to you, Ox, and all others here who have made it through the fire.
And thanks for sharing.
Travis,
What a harrowing childhood and proceeding adulthood you were forced to endure. When I say forced, as a child we rely on our parents to love and protect us. There’s not much we can do as wee tykes to save ourselves from harm especially from evil fathers and mothers. We have no choice but to endure the situation, with all the pain and suffering brought upon us.
I feel for you, I do. My biological father was a psychopath (died last year in prison from lung cancer) but if he was involved with illegal activity while my mother was married to him, I’m unaware of it nor do I concern myself too much with his past. He was more of the lazy, parasite P who sponged off my mother while she worked her butt off to feed and take care of 3 daughters….and his useless self. He was abusive and cruel to her and my older sister. I firmly believe that the Holy Spirit sought me out at an early age because I was chatting with God around 5 years of age. My P father was a nihilist (as all Ps are) and my mother never mentioned any connection to the Creator, so how did I know to pray? hmm.
I think I was protected from my P father’s evil at a very tender age. I KNEW he was wrong, bad and wanted nothing to do with him. This may sound melodramatic, but he seemed to ooze evil from every pore. I was disgusted and seriously repulsed by him. I never talked to him even when he would show up out of the blue with lavish Christmas presents (few and far between) I was noncommittal.
So you see, even if I wasn’t my P father’s confidante as your father chose to force upon you, I do emphatically understand living in the presence of an evil parent. I’ve had my own emotional and spiritual issues to deal with over the years and I was only able to finally begin to heal and recover by discovering the truth of what he was: A psychopath.
To finally be able to put a definition to such cruel and evil behavior and actions is such a complete relief. Incredible relief.
Thank you for sharing your painful, yet liberating memories.
Peace, love, joy to all….
Travis, Your journey through pain, denial, suffering and shame to love and freedom is truly inspiring and uplifting. I cannot imagine how difficult the opening up of your feelings must have bene.
I hope I never need to share your story with my sons. They are the chosen captive audience of their dad at present and I fear for their well being, though not their physical safety. (unless he is driving or boating or around other potentially dangerous stuff, as he has no sense of caring for the safety and well being of himself or others).
They are still trying to have a “normal” relationship, and to also somehow justify and “normalize” his behaivor. This is natural. But hard to watch when one has been bludgeoned by the emotional cruelty of the very same man.
Your story gives me great comfort. You were NOT like him, and your wisdom and humanity prevaled. So important to hear for the likes of me. Thank you for posting here.
Travis this passage struck me as an extremely good description of what they do:
“Always giving me enough information that I became his confidant, but never enough that I could have stopped him. Maybe he was having a little problem with the truth as well, and didn’t want to acknowledge the fact that I wasn’t a willing participant in these conversations. Maybe that’s why he never gave me the crime scene or enough detail to put it all together.”
They love that. The dropping of hints. The sly references. The just-enough-truth to make you feel like you’re a part of what they do. That you are somehow responsible.
My own P-father was a ranter and raver. He’d force my mother and me to stay awake, sometimes for days, listening to his screaming and yelling. Once, I remember that he came in drunk and woke us up to listen to him yell. My mother kept drifting off to sleep and he got tired of slapping her awake, so he made me stay awake and LOOK HIM DIRECTLY IN THE EYES while he screamed. I remember thinking inside my own head “You can make me look at you, but you can’t make me become like you.”
I am grateful for whatever it is inside us that keeps us from becoming like them. Damaged though we may be, we are not like them.
Dear Travis: I know what I am about to write you is not the appropriate time or place to do so, but, I’m going to write it anyway and hope you and other bloggers understand what I am going to write.
Forgive your father and know, if he knew how to live his life better, he would have. I know this is very controversial, but it was your father’s perception of life, that lead him on his path of destruction. He was blinded by his own perception of life. Blinded by the vices of life and not guided to learn the wisdom of all God’s virtues.
Yes, we all have choices, but who was there to guide your father into making righteous choices versus the unrighteous choices?
Who was in your father’s life to show him how to step back from his myopic view of life and show him that there is a bigger, brighter picture that could be seen, if only someone showed him how to see?
What I am saying is that we all need nurturing and guidance all through our lives, at every age of our lives … as we give guidance and nurture others. This nurturing should not stop when we get out of school and go venture into the world … it should be done throughout our lives, each and every one of our lives… for we are our brothers keepers.
Peace.
Anyone Who has not read this needs to !
AFTERMATH; SURVIVING PSYCOPATHY
Robert D. HARE
Bigdude here it is!
Travis,
What a chilling story, albeit one with a triumphant ending (and I celebrate that with you). After you realized what your father was and that he was using you, was there a period of grieving that you never had the love of a caring father? Or were you so accustomed to it that you didn’t know the difference? I grew up with narcissists and psychopaths, and I definitely feel the loss ofhaving never really being parented. Part of me always wants that, even though I’m 48 and have mostly learned to parent myself. (That’s mostly what made me vulnerable to the S I met back in April). I’m just curious how others deal with the neglect part.
Thanks for sharing your uplifting story.
StarG
Stargazer – it was 15 years after my father was on Death Row that I finally understood that he was a sociopath and what that meant. Until then I felt sorry for him (some call it Sympathy for the Devil) and was always trying to rationailze his behavior through my emotions which was very confusing. In fact I could never make sense of it. Even though he put me through that I felt sorry for him…but that would always lead me back to his victums. Very hard to describe. Once I accepted he was a sociopath I would still go back to expecting “normal behavior” from him and try to rationaile things in emotional terms that I could understand. It was a slow process, one that I had to constantly remind myself that he could not love…anyone.
As I said before, this allowed me to forgive him. I finally understood that I was expecting something from him that he could not give me. I don’t need to understand it today, just accept it. That was the answer for me…peace.
Travis where abouts in Orlando are you can I use your Credit card :)~