By Joyce Alexander, RNP (Retired)
I don’t have much use for people who lie … but sometimes I have resorted to it myself, and today was one of those days.
You know, sometimes psychopaths are sort of like a sexually transmitted disease, they are the “love that keeps on giving in a negative way,” it seems, forever.
What brought me to telling a lie, because it was just more believable than the truth, was a convoluted story about the “Trojan Horse Psychopath” who infiltrated my family. This man is a three-time convicted child molester who had been a former cell mate and friend to my son, Patrick Alexander, who is in prison in Texas for murder. My son had sent him to infiltrate our family as a “friend,” and position himself to be able to kill me and take over our family resources. The Trojan Horse Psychopath had worked on my farm and helped out with my elderly family member, and thus gained access to my home and sneaked into my personal documents.
I’m a meticulous record keeper, and very organized with my record keeping, and pretty well know how to lay hands on any document I need instantly. I have a fire safe in my office that is never locked, because it is small enough to steal and carry off. I have a sign on the front of it that reads, “There is nothing of any value in this safe, the combination is X-Y-Z, it contains only business documents I want to protect from fire.”
The titles to my several vehicles and trailers that are used around the farm are, and have been for years, kept in the slot on the inside of the door to the safe. Since I haven’t bought or sold any vehicles or trailers (except for the recreational vehicle I bought to live in when I fled my home in the summer of 2007), I had not had any cause to go through any of these titles, or even count them, until yesterday. I decided to sell a Conestoga wagon, and the flat-bed trailer that I used to transport it, so I went to the safe to get out the title to the trailer and it was gone! Going through the titles there, I realized that four of the titles to various vehicles and trailers were missing!
The Trojan Horse Psychopath had been arrested in August 2007, when he and my son’s wife tried to kill my oldest biological son, after my son discovered they were having an affair, so he hadn’t had access to my documents since several months before his arrest. But prior to then, he had stolen documents and “messed with” my credit card accounts, my cell phone account, and other items that kept me spinning in my insanity. He would order items off “late night television” and have them sent to my house, like those “Send me $49 and I will make you a real estate millionaire,” and those “clubs” for music and videos that are like the Mafia, once in you can never get out! He even signed me up for interest in Scientology, and I still get tons of mail filling up my post office box from that group. He took over my cell phone account and deleted my contact numbers and added and deleted services and turned it on and off.
So today when I had to go to the department of motor vehicles to request the replacement of four vehicle and trailer titles, there was no way I was going to tell this tale of woe to the nice ladies behind the desk. There was no way they would have believed me if I had told them the truth of why I needed that many titles replaced, so I took the easy way out and I lied. (So shoot me!)
I told them that my grandkids had been playing “office” and had gotten into my important papers and destroyed them. The nice ladies believed my lie and I paid my fees and the titles should come in the mail in just a few days.
I sort of feel guilty about telling the nice ladies the lie, but there was no way they were going to believe that a pedophile ex-convict from Texas got into my documents and randomly destroyed and stole some of them just to mess with my mind. Maybe I should have used this as a “teaching opportunity” to educate these women about psychopaths (I was the only customer in the office with three nice ladies), but I had to be quick in order to get to the court hearing of the ex-minister of our little country church who had been arrested for child pornography and Internet stalking of a child. I didn’t want to explain to them why I was in such a hurry either.
Here’s the news story on HarrisonDaily.com:
Predator in court
I didn’t want to miss his court date, and as it turned out, I was the only one from my community there. He was, I believe, very shocked to see me walk into the courtroom in the small country town about a hour and a half drive north of where I live. I was dressed very nicely in my “pillar of the community matron goes to court or funerals” ensemble. Court had not yet convened and people were quietly talking among themselves in the spectator section of the room.
As I walked by where he was seated, waiting for his turn in front of the judge, I slapped him cheerfully on the back and said, “Hi, Dicky, what are you doing here?” I didn’t wait for a response, but kept on purposefully walking and sat down a couple of rows directly behind him, where he couldn’t see me unless he turned around in his seat, which he didn’t do, but sat facing forward, looking neither to the right or the left. None of his family was there, and though most of the defendants in the courtroom seemed to have friends or family with them, no matter what the charges were. He was alone. I don’t doubt that he felt my eyes boring into the back of his neck.
I never did particularly like this man, even when he was preaching at our little community church. His messages always seemed to me to be shouted and angry, rather than uplifting and loving. He presented an angry God, not a loving father. In fact, several months after my husband’s accidental and very sudden death, I was very sensitive to shouts or loud talking, and I actually went to this man privately and asked him very nicely (I thought) to “tone it down,” and to shout less, and maybe the attendance at our little church might stop dropping. My request was not received well, needless to say.
He did, however, embrace the Trojan Horse Psychopath and my (now ex) daughter-in-law, both before and after their arrests for trying to kill my oldest son. My requests (before their arrests and afterwards) went unheeded, and I was basically told not to bother him, he was “too busy” to get involved in my problems.
It really isn’t all that noble of me to glory in the downfall of those that I don’t like, but at the same time, it is validation of my “sixth sense” about people. Almost every time I have ignored my dislike of someone there has been something, somewhere down the line, that has validated my “spidey sense” about that person. Several times that “something” has been child molestation or murder, or all of the above, though at the time I felt the intuitive dislike for that person, I never dreamed that they would molest children or be responsible for someone’s death. I just thought, “I don’t like that person,” or, “there’s something about them I don’t trust.”
It is important, I think, that we listen to our intuition about predators, and believe me, psychopaths are predators on two legs. They camouflage themselves and try to blend into the landscape just like a lion does, but there is something within us that, if we listen to it, will many times protect us. If we “turn it off” or “tune it out,” however, it can’t protect us from the predators. Just like the antelope must be alert for the lion, we must be alert for the psychopaths that prowl the savannas of our lives. When we get a whiff of “there’s a predator about,” we must honor that intuition in order to survive. Even if no one else would believe it!