Man accused of killing his wife for money

Desmond Campbell, a former British policeman living in Australia, is accused of taking his new wife camping, and then pushing her off a cliff. On the day of the woman’s funeral, he attended a singles networking function.

Read British policeman ‘pushed wealthy Australian wife to her death’ on

Also, read Alleged wife-killer was greedy: court on

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63 Comments on "Man accused of killing his wife for money"

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buttons posted “”“ all spaths, and all believing that they are the Emperor/Emperess of the Universe!”
Just had to comment on this…..before I moved out from the X’s control (and my house…I had to leave as he refused to), and during one of his escalating out of control tyrannical abusive verbally lambasting episodes, he screamed “YOU’VE DESTROYED MY EMPIRE!!”
these words are seared into my brain!
buttons, your comment hit it right on the “button” with me.
I haven’t posted for months, just getting the time and energy to read here again…..I hold the best wishes for you all xxoo

Hope you don’t think I was saying dupes are lonely and vulnerable- point being that caring people are vulnerable and given the right trigger from a pity ploy, anybody could get sucked in who isn’t a SPATH.

The more sophisticated the SPATH, the more possible it is.
Charm is Charm and calculating is calculating.

I believe that somebody who will work that hard to decieve is going to get over at least for a while.

I feel as you do that the people who jump there are kitrchen table shrinks and it stinks.

Especially when some of them are the very perpetrators of the fear that created the places for the SPATH to hook into.
Its enough to produce a virulent form of rage and why I have no doubt that over and over here we recognize that anger toward our parents before we get over losing the illusion which camoflauged the insult.

And part of what, It seems to me, to make the grieving process so damned dark forward of the early stages. Because there is a lot, lot more to reconcile than one idiot who played a game on us. When you catch the one, what follows is like the magicians trick of pulling the hankerchief from his sleeve that keeps on going and going.

I all but explode over the lonely woman shorthand for I’m ok but you obviously were not and find it to be a harsh judgement. The hardy folk wisdom seems to find that to be the only way they can understand.

And for all their judgements on who has manners and who doesn’t, there is a shallowness to it that I refer to as people whose interest reaches as deep as entertainment.

I resent it. I hate it. And to live in the world without the SPATH I have to accept it and move through it. Otherwise, I would find shelter in his arms where he prpomised to be my champion against them and I accepted him totally and completely for it.

SOmetimes I remember how when playing tag as a kid, there was always a big tree where you could run as fast as you could and have BASE- an eddy out from being chased and being turned into IT.

There are long hours when it is quiet and I am alone when I wish there was a base to run to. Sometimes I pick up the phone or reach for the keyboard and realize, there is no where to go, but only to let go, let go again and again.

Because that is real.

The new son-in-law will get the memo pretty soon. He and my spoiled-brat cousin are renting Uncle Larry’s house from him. And my cousin is addicted to painkillers and being spoiled by her hubby-of-the-day.

Poor guy — but right now he’s “Hey Chris, hey buddy, how’s it goin’?” He’ll never see it coming. He never read the labeling on this can of crap, nor did he ever ask to see it. The advice on the other blog is apropo; his sweetie has a family, and they’re really PO’d at the moment — even Uncle Larry’s relatives. One beer and I’d spill the whole thing on him. Not only that, but it’s a little town in the Midwest and word gets around. Heck, my poor, affronted mom lives and works less than a mile from their little love shack, but he never asked to meet her.

Son-in-law No. 3 (yes, no. 3) is too stupid to stay in the gene pool, I’d say. Must be pretty hard-up for love.

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