Phil Haberman

Bogus Special Forces training,
war injuries and marriage

Phil Haberman, a member of the Screen Actors Guild,
wears a Marine uniform in his acting photo.

On Christmas Eve, 2003, Phil Haberman took Kristen Rhoad to the buffet at the Palms Casino in Las Vegas. They met on Match.com and had been seeing each other since early December— a whirlwind romance. Haberman doted on Rhoad, calling her 15, 20, 30 times a day, she says. "He always did the right things," Rhoad remembers. "I was thinking I might have something here."

Haberman had told Rhoad he served in the Marines from 1989 to 1998, and was now in the Special Forces of the U.S. Army. He was trained as a sniper, underwater specialist and crypto-linguist. He also did some acting—walk-on roles such as a Marine in the television show JAG. Rhoad was a single mother who supported her 13-year-old daughter by working as a legal secretary in Las Vegas. At the moment she was unemployed.

Haberman had swept into her life, with the help of his dog. At their first meeting—lunch at the Palms—Haberman learned that Rhoad was a dog-lover and owned two purebred Akitas. He said he would soon be shipping out to Iraq, and asked Rhoad to take care of his dog, Jake, while he was overseas. Rhoad agreed—it was the least she could do for a soldier.

Within days, Jake moved in—along with his owner. Haberman wanted to make sure his dog was going to adjust, Rhoad says. He, of course, would sleep on the sofa. "It would be nice, one of these days when I get married, to have my own home and my own bed," he said, according to Rhoad. "You and I would be great together."

After a couple of days of sweet-talking, Haberman was no longer sleeping on the sofa.

On Christmas Eve, though, the gung-ho military man was crying. He said he might not come back from Iraq, according to Rhoad. He wanted to settle down and have kids. If he was blown up over there, he just wanted to live life. "Let's get married," Haberman said.

Rhoad thought it was too soon. But, she says, "he really made me feel guilty that the opportunity was there and if I didn't take him up on it, I was missing out on a really great guy.

"Since he was an honest military man with 14 years of service, I thought I could trust him."

The big marriage pitch

Haberman's arrival in the Rhoad home was not without problems. Geisha, Rhoad's female Akita, did not like him or his dog. And Rhoad's daughter had difficulties with the man immediately. "I thought she was not used to someone coming into the family, taking me away from her," Rhoad says. "I thought it was jealousy."

Haberman, however, decided the daughter had a discipline problem. The two were fighting, and Rhoad says she didn't know whom to believe. So when Haberman insisted that her daughter go away for counseling for a couple of weeks, Rhoad thought it might be positive. At least it would defuse the home situation.

In early January, Haberman told Rhoad he had to leave for a five-day military briefing in Utah. He suggested that Rhoad, who had done some modeling, try dancing in a strip club to make some money. She did—for three days.

Haberman, back from his trip, showed up at the strip club on the evening of January 9, 2004. "Come on, let's go home," he said to Rhoad.

Back at her place, Haberman made his pitch. Here's what he said, according to Rhoad: "I'm getting deployed to Iraq; I've got 72 hours to get to Fort Bragg. Let's get married. I want to be married, and if anything happens to me, you'll get all the military benefits. I'll send you money; I'll be making $70,000 a year."

"He made it sound too good," Rhoad says.

Wedding day surprises

The next day, January 10, 2004, they got married. Haberman, however, didn't have any money—Rhoad says she had to give him $200 to pay for the marriage license and ceremony before a judge.

Then, as soon as they walked out of the courthouse, Haberman told Rhoad that he had to leave.

Rhoad stood on the courthouse sidewalk, dumbfounded. "What?" she said. "You said you have to go in three days."

Haberman insisted that he had to leave immediately, and take their marriage certificate with him. So Rhoad packed him a lunch, gave him $300 for gas, and he was gone.

The next day, Haberman called Rhoad from Texas, where he was staying with a woman whom he described as a friend. "So 24 hours after marrying me," she says, "he's with another woman."

Assault allegations

The marriage of Phil Haberman and Kristen Rhoad quickly crumbled. In fact, when Haberman returned to Las Vegas in February, Rhoad alleges that he raped and assaulted her, administering an intravenous solution with medical equipment he brought back from Fort Bragg.

Rhoad ended up in the emergency room, with 19 pills of Xanax in her system. Then she spent three days in the Montevista Hospital, a psychiatric facility, on suicide watch. Rhoad blamed Haberman and reported the incident to Haberman's commanders, believing the military had jurisdiction. It wasn't until June, 2004, that Rhoad reported the incident to the police in Henderson, Nevada.

According to the police report, Haberman said Rhoad became depressed and attempted to take her own life. Rhoad admits taking two Xanax—after days of arguing with Haberman, she just wanted to go to sleep. But Rhoad alleges she was not suicidal, and Haberman administered the overdose.

"I'm such a fighter," Rhoad says. "Why would I commit suicide in front of him?"

The case was administratively closed by Henderson police.

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