Bitch Lawyer made every possible attempt to dismiss the final witness after her first one totally flipped on the stand and called my ex exactly what he was—a lying, cheating, abusive piece of shiz. Her efforts were thwarted and the witness was there to stay. Her name was Mary and she was Psycho Ex’s former boss.
Have I mentioned that I’m on the Executive Management Team at the psych hospital where I work?
And Mary is too?
And we’re friends?
According to the court affidavit, she’d been called to testify regarding the fact that Psycho Ex was an “ideal employee,” and had never been under any sort of discipline. He’d worked there for 30 years and was 2 years shy of retirement when they fired him for sending my naked photos around. His goal was to get his job back and he was just delusional enough to think she’d help him with that.
I almost can’t blame him– Mary is one of the most positive and sunshiney people I’ve ever met She leaks rainbows and unicorns out of all her orifices. Even when she told me her story of being robbed at gunpoint and tied up in a closet she kept a smile on her face and wrapped it up with a cheery life lesson.
But not this time.
Mary took the stand and was quick to emphasize that she’d refused to testify until she learned there’d be an armed guard. She described his erratic behavior on the wards and how the last time she’d given him an evaluation she had marked “needs improvement” on every bit of criteria. He’d begun yelling and pacing, and she’d been so afraid of him that she told our boss she would never allow herself to be alone with him.
“This is a man who knows how to use intimidation to get what he wants.”
Much of his past is a mystery to me (let’s be real, I was 2 years old when he was the same age I am now) but I learned a lot from Mary’s testimony. He’d been implicated in a series of internal affairs investigations over the years but always managed to keep his job—most notably was a former patient who claimed he’d gotten her pregnant after she discharged from the hospital. I eventually got my greedy little hacker hands on the document itself and learned that he admitted to meeting up with her (the biggest NO NO ever) but claimed it was only so he could tell her to stay away (riiiight). Her sister submitted a signed statement about him staying overnight at their place for weeks. But he still kept his job. After all, he was the decorated Army Ranger and she was the psych patient.
I learned about a pending case with Child Protective Services from a minor who alleged an inappropriate sexual relationship while she was in the juvenile wing of the psych ward. It had fallen through the cracks during a change of administration and recently been re-opened.
The plot was thickening like one of those rap guys girlfriends.
There are too many stories to list, and they keep surfacing. I can’t help wondering why it took so long for all his bad karma to finally catch up with him. How can someone like him go through life using and abusing people to his own end and never be held accountable for it?
I can’t imagine how Bitch Lawyer must have felt, watching the character witness she’d subpoenaed, trouncing her client. Probably not as bad as she felt when she found out Psycho Ex had negative dollars in his bank account and no way to actually pay her.
After all testimony was heard and the trial concluded, the judge took two weeks to make her final ruling.
Do you know how many times I had to listen to Katy Perry’s “ROAR” in that two weeks? I decided this waiting period legitimized my need for a two-week vacation, and retreated to the mountains to wait it out like some sort of truth-seeking hermit.
Being that I was “only a witness” in the case, I wasn’t entitled to notification of the judge’s verdict. I had to either wait for blank-stare-attorney to let me know, my employer’s asshat legal team to remember how to write e-mails, or for him to kick in my door and kill me in my sleep.
I was assuming the latter would be the most likely tip off but when the decision came through, I was proved wrong. My phone was ringing off the hook. Everyone wanted to be the first to tell me.
“He’s never coming back.”
“You did it.”
In a nine page ruling, the judge nailed it:
“Lorens was a credible and consistent witness. Psycho Ex was not. His testimony was calculated and evasive. It is a stretch at best to believe that Lorens would go to such great lengths to move her residence, change her phone number, and seek protection at work and an Order of Protection in District Court, all to avenge Psycho Ex’s infidelity.”
If ever there were a time that I was going to pull off the coordination to jubilantly karate kick the air whilst twisting and simultaneously fist-pumping, it was now. This man had put me through hell for the year we dated, stalked and intimidated me for another 8 months, then put me through this bitch of a trial—and it was finally over. He wouldn’t be returning to my work, he wasn’t allowed to have any contact whatsoever. It was a sweeping victory.
But then my attorney texted me.
“There’s one other thing you should know.”
“He’s gone back to the district court and petitioned to have the restraining order revoked.”
Apparently I wasn’t the only one who’d realized he was out of options to screw with me. Somewhere in some domestic violence law there is a clause that states either party can file a motion to vacate the restraining order. Nine times out of ten this is because they’ve reconciled. One times out of ten it’s because someone is a supreme douche bag.
So that is where I leave you.
His petition to vacate the order is sitting in a “not urgent” queue at the courthouse, waiting for some indeterminate amount of time before a Judge looks at it and decides whether or not to have a retrial.
If that day comes, I’ll be ready. I’ve got “ROAR” on repeat and a friend who’s already agreed to come and live tweet the entire thing. #AussaBeatDown
Forgive me, I know there’s nothing quite so unsatisfying as an unresolved story, but in a lot of ways I think most stories never really complete themselves– they just bow out and make way for something else, resting demurely in the sidelines, flirting with the idea of a comeback.
If anything happens, you’ll be the first to know. And while we love to call him a myriad of profane names (more on that later) I suppose I have one thing to thank him for:
When I returned from the mountains to my wifi-lacking abode, I finally signed up for internet access because if there is any conclusion to this story, it is this: I totally had to start a blog.
Have you known someone who received a long-awaited “comeuppance” after a lifetime of wrong? Do you prefer stories with clear-cut endings or can you handle a little mystery? Why did YOU originally start your blog?
Part One: HERE
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