Category: Dallas County Jail

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I’ve Got A DANCE That AIN’T Got No STEPS…Work, Family, Clients & Reality…

This morning at 5AM, I was as usual up and at it. My day would have me driving across Texas meeting clients and someone who had contacted me regarding giving up her unborn child to Burt and Deanna who lost their baby girl to Trisomy a year ago. 

Getting my husband breakfast while he watched the weather (as usual) hoping rain would miss his Saginaw development, we had a few minutes to catch up with each other since the past five days have been spent tagging in and out to visit my grandniece at Cook’s Children’s Hospital. 

My husband has been a builder and developer for 50 years. Nothing sets back a development like rain. Saturday’s downpour was yet another setback to Matthew. He’s bracing for yet another one late today. Bless his heart. 

After walking Foxy Wortham, I ran to bathe and chose a Donna Karan suit to wear today while fielding texts, phone calls and emails. Last night while following the ambulance from Cook’s to Mesa Springs with Cindy riding shotgun, I took a call from my Coffield Unit client who was having trouble getting a certified copy of her marriage license from Tarrant County. 

This morning, I drove to the Tarrant County Clerks Office and picked it up for her while leaving Fort Worth. For those unaware of why you need a certified copy of your marriage license or what it is, I will elaborate. A certified copy doesn’t look like your original license. It’s a copy used for legal purposes. Once your license is signed and returned to the clerk, it’s recorded. After being recorded, its returned to you or if you’ve chosen to pick it up, waits for you. Most Units REQUIRE a certified copy be sent to inmate records to update an inmates status. The certified copy is relatively inexpensive from $4-12 based on the county. You will send it to inmate records with the inmates name and number. Please include this information because it you don’t, inmate records can have difficulty if the name of the inmate happens to be common such as John Smith, Michael Moore, Etc. 

Driving through Waxahachie, I was planning to stop for gas on my way to meet the pregnant lady who had contacted me in Corsicana at the Collin Street Bakery while on my way to meet Elizabeth at Beto Unit before dropping off the certified marriage license from Tarrant County to Coffield Unit before heading to Hodge Unit to meet Jenny before going back to Dallas County North Tower to meet two clients and then rushing back to Fort Worth for visitation at Mesa Springs. As usual, my day was busy. Staying busy occupies my mind. 

Arriving in Corsicana, I sent a text to Barbara to make sure she was at the bakery. She was. I rolled into the parking lot to find her wearing a heavy cable knit sweater that covered her wrists. I checked my car for the temperature. Eighty nine degrees. This wasn’t looking good. She was frail. Her eyes were dialated. I knew she was using. This will shock my readers so, I will elaborate. My mother was an intravenous heroin user. At five years old, I found her in the bathroom overdosing with the needle still sticking out from between her toes. To this day, the sight of blood makes me nauseous. 

Leaving my SUV. I ask Barbara to lift her sleeves. She becomes defensive. “Roll up your sleeves. Take off your shoes and open your mouth.” Barbara has dirty hair and clothing that doesn’t fit along with an attitude. I don’t care. Burt and Deanna are good people. I will not let their loss of baby DeLilah be taken advantage of by an addict. Addiction makes me angry. A pregnant addict is even worse. Barbara needs to get help. I plan to discuss this. There’s a program in Tarrant County at JPS that will help her. Convincing her to get help will be difficult and most likely, confrontational. I jump in anyway and decide that if I don’t use this opportunity, I will regret it. I’m tired. My bones hurt. This past week has left me heartsick. Barbara being an addict only compounds my sadness. 

There are old track marks on Barbara’s arms and new ones between her toes. She’s pregnant enough to be showing. Her mouth is full of rotten teeth most likely from meth use. Barbara underestimated me. “You tell them I want $10k for my baby.” When I posted that Burt and Deanna were willing to take on the expense of raising a child, paying for one had never been mentioned. Where did Barbara come up with this idea? 

I look at her deeply sadenned that the child she carries has no say in her lifestyle. Any idiot can get pregnant. My mom did four times. My mom also put a price tag on all four of her children’s heads. How much? Fifty dollars each. I will never get over the amount. None of her children will. The “sale” was recorded by my grandfather. He wrote the check. He also spent our entire childhood reminding us that “no one wants you not even your own mother.” Yes, there was a reason he recorded my mother getting $200 to go get high. The reason was to hurt us over and over again about it. Cindy found the tape years ago and played it until it broke. I listened to it once. It was enough for me. Enough to find her in my 20’s and ask her why myself. The answer would haunt me. The amount still does. 

“Barbara, Burt and Deanna are looking for a child that needs a loving family. They aren’t planning to buy a baby. I’m protective of them. I’m here today to screen you. I’m here today to protect them from being disappointed. I’m sorry but you need to get your head on and put your child’s needs before your desires. I won’t give you money but I will feed you. I will also help you get help when you are ready to find it. Here’s my card. Call me when you decide to change your life.” I took her inside and bought her food she didn’t eat. Addicts rarely do. I packed it up for her and drove away wondering if she would call me? 

Back on the road passing Russell Stover, I thought of the many times Cindy and I had stopped in for a caramel apple. Happy times after meeting happy clients at Tennessee Colony Units for their wedding. I will have to call Deanna and advise her of Barbara and the issues that I had hoped weren’t what I feared. It would be a let down to someone who will never get over losing DeLilah. Reality would be another thorn in Deanna’s heart. The world is often an unhappy place. Many people lose their faith because their path is so painful. I’ve been one of those people. Cindy has too. It’s difficult to understand why God gave us such a hard life now and then. Incomprehensible at times even but, God will find a way to help a mother while gifting Deanna and Burt with a child to love. I have faith. My faith was restored years ago. I lost it in my childhood and again in my first marriage. It’s difficult to “pin down” the many times I’ve wondered why life must be so hard? I’m certain others feel the same way. Barbara came from a good home. She had even gone to college and yet, she chose to become an addict. I don’t get it. Even as a child, I questioned why drugs were so important to my mother. 

My former Beto Bride Client is facing 20-25 years for bank fraud. She has a one year old son and no family. She’s also a good person who has no history of drug abuse. She contacted me two weeks ago fearful for her son’s future in foster care. She also is doing the right thing by giving up the son she loves so much to a family that will love him equally. While Burt and Deanna were more than willing to take on two children, the child carried by Barbara is a drug baby who will almost certainly have health issues do to the abuse of Barbara during her pregnancy. I offered to leave a bus ticket for Barbara on Will Call in Corsicana. I doubt she will use it. But maybe she will put her child’s needs first? I can only plant a seed. I can’t force Barbara to change. No one can. I’m certain her family gave up years ago and fear she may be prostituting herself in exchange for drugs. I had asked. Her face answered. 

I don’t “look like someone” aware of the underworld of drugs. I had to learn it from my mother who was a prostitute in exchange for heroin. I wish I didn’t know the seedy underworld of drug abuse or crack houses but, my niece was also a meth addict. The things people don’t know about me are that I never expected to live this long. Because of this, I’m also unafraid. 

I’ve been in places that would shock you. I’ve marched into dangerous areas to drag my niece out. My sister has too. Our anger prevented us from being afraid. We were determined to “straighten Stephaney up” and the people “pulling her back in” didn’t scare either of us. Instead, they infuriated us both. Twins marching in to crack houses to save Stephaney surprised the dealers but, when you are trying to save a family member, your own safety is set aside in your mission. Ours was. 

Luckily, our anger at my niece’s consistent relapses is (most likely) why we were never shot, stabbed or robbed. A Fort Worth Police officer once told me “she chooses to be here. You are going to get yourselves killed and I’m going to have to write up the paperwork. Get out of this area.” I told him “we know this area because we’ve been coming here for YEARS to save my niece and the dealers are far more afraid of us than we are of them. If we die trying to get her help, we died trying to do everything within our power to prevent my niece from becoming my mom.” He drove off. 

Heading to Tennessee Colony, I returned calls to Luther, Wynn, Hodge and Allred Units. I also cried about people like my mom and Barbara. I don’t understand it. I can’t. I check in with Cindy and Leigh Ann on Makenna. I make a note to pick up shampoo and conditioner for Makenna to take to visitation at Mesa Springs. It’s a very expensive facility. We don’t care. Mesa Springs is also the best facility in Fort Worth. Treatment for mentally ill patients AND addicts is expensive. 

For sixteen and nearly seventeen years, Cindy and I took turns paying for Stephaney’s treatment for drug abuse. Tens of thousands of dollars later, telling her “we were out. We were cutting her loose and we would never help her again” was actually what worked. Cindy and I were enablers. FOR YEARS. We were also, unaware of being enablers. 

I “line up my family for visits everyday” for Makenna while juggling client calls after calling Deanna about Barbara. I also take a call from New York regarding a “show idea.” I end the call by saying “call back after wedding season.” I mean it. I’m overwhelmed. I’m on auto pilot. Frankly, I’m like a horse with blinders the past week. I focus solely on getting everything I need to do done. I’m driven. But, I cannot take on anything outside clients and family right now. I know my limitations. A few months ago while trying to get Stephaney into a “luxury rehab facility in Valdosta,” a producer would waste over a week of my time in his efforts to obtain my clients contact information. He would lie. He would blow smoke and he would also have no idea what was going on in my life and why his “song and dance of empty promises infuriated the shit out of Cindy and I.” From a fake contract to wanting us to secure talent FOR him at our expense, Chris had no idea of what our work and personal lives actually entail. He also had no idea that I would expose his tactics. Don’t call me blowing smoke. I don’t have the time or the energy for bullshit. 

On that “luxury rehab” situation, it was an abandoned trailer with no running water, electricity or food. Cindy and I wouldn’t know this UNTIL we had sent Stephaney there. UNTIL we had send money and until Stephaney told us what was going on. I involved the DA, Attorney General, County Sheriff and more to “get Stephaney back” while saving three children also starving in that abandoned trailer WHILE dealing with clients and the dipshit producer who wanted me to screen my clients FOR HIM. Now you know why I was so pissed off. If you are a producer or casting agent, know your job description and don’t call me to do your job for you. Don’t lie to me to get me to do your job for you either. I have a very low tolerance for liars. 

Driving to Corsicana, I practice deep breaths and being on today. I practice putting my sorrow away to celebrate joy with my clients. I prepare to dance without music. I’m good at it. I always have been. I no longer fabricate the family to others that I didn’t have in order to protect THEM. I stopped doing this at fifty years old. Why lie to PROTECT the people who FAILED to PROTECT my siblings and I? I’m raw. I’m real. I’m honest. This shocks others but, I’m also a survivor. A survivor of a violent childhood and sexual abuse that began at 6 years old and didn’t end until my twin sister and I ran away. We were 15. 

On my fiftieth birthday, I decided to stop pretending I came from a wonderful family. I also decided to stop wishing I had one. This was joint decision by Cindy and I. When we had our children we vowed to treat them the same way we had hoped to have been treated as children ourselves. We kept our promises. 

Maybe a few people found us to be overprotective but neither our children or our grandchildren have ever been beaten or sexually abused because Cindy and I were cautious and extremely careful about who they were allowed to have over to our homes and sleepovers at friends houses were so rare that we can count on one hand the number of times we allowed our children AND grandchildren to stay over at a friends house in 35 years. 

My niece, Stephaney has been in near death situations by her choices over the years. We couldn’t change this. We tried. Over and over and over again. Stephaney’s choices weren’t due to a violent childhood. She had two mothers. Both Cindy and I raised all of our children and grandchildren together but, addiction runs in our family. Cindy and I hate addiction. HATE IT. We pray Stephaney never relapses again. I’m not sure we could handle another setback with Stephaney. We’ve had far too many. 

Elizabeth calls me an hour prior to her scheduled ceremony at Beto Unit. Elizabeth has also asked that I don’t post photos. I agree not to. Client privacy is a courtesy to all of our clients. She looks beautiful in a royal blue dress with her hair down and the Unit photos of her and her husband are the best I’ve ever seen in Texas. Elizabeth is thrilled with her photos. 

We had passed a barbecue place on the way to a Unit and I decided to use it for her bridal photos. I liked the “country backdrop” and it was on my way back to Tennessee Colony to head on towards Hodge Unit. I enjoyed finally meeting Elizabeth and look forward to editing her photos. 

I’m back on the highway and in a hurry to get to Hodge then back to Fort Worth. Due to the delay at Beto, I’m moving my Dallas North Tower Unit to after visitation at Mesa Springs tonight. My clients understand. They are completely unlike traditional clients. Many have asked why I prefer county and prison services? The answer? The people. They are real. They care about my family they have the compassion that many folks lack. They know sorrow and hardship. They too are survivors…. 

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If You DON’T Focus On YOUR Journey To SUCCESS You Will End Up WORKING For The Person Who Did…

For a few months now I’ve been pushing off a press release for an award I was presented. Why? I don’t have time to sit down for a one to two hour interview. My work takes precedence over anything else in my life with family running a close second. 

I’m frequently asked how I became so successful by others who readily realize that I have never advertised or needed to. The answer is by exceeding my clients expectations. If everyone else in the sales industry would put forth the effort with each and every client they too would see amazing results but, sadly we live in a world where sales are similar to taking a number. Once the number is taken, it’s thrown in the trash. 

Relationships outlast the initial sale. I don’t treat clients like sales. I treat them as individuals and make their needs my priority. I’m different because I actually care about my clients. 

My Beto client last week touched my heart. Her journey hasn’t been easy. Both of her parents were sentenced to prison when she was only one year old. She had also just given up her apartment and had her car towed a week prior to her scheduled wedding at Beto. Hearing this news days before the wedding and knowing she had a two year old son touched my heart. How could I find her help for a very stressful situation? I quickly went to my contacts at Womens Haven and Union Gospel Mission as well as deeply discounting my fee and even offering to drive her to Beto myself. 

At her photo shoot, I asked her “what her plans were for her and her son?” My bride had family in East Texas but, her son attended school in Forest Hill and my client didn’t want to pull him out of the school she had fought to get him into. Her son’s school took precedence over any decision she would make to find a new home and job to support herself and her young son. 

It’s not well known but, my twin sister and I were residents at Women’s Haven ourselves at fifteen years old. Homeless and alone, Cindy and I both lived at the center until we could get on our feet again. During my divorce, I worked 2-3 jobs to support myself and my son while paying his Ad Lidem attorney and my own attorney. Without my twin sister helping me by taking care of my son, I have no idea how I would’ve afforded childcare back then. 

I’m driven and determined because I’ve always had to be. I’m compassionate because I’ve learned that caring about others journey is rare but, I care far more than anyone realizes. 

Yesterday as I was driving back from Dallas North Tower and the county clerk, my Beto bride called me regarding filing the license. An issue she faced was that she no longer lived at the address she had given when purchasing her marriage license. If I filed the license for her, it would be mailed to the old address. I spent some time going over a few alternatives with my client that included going to the post office to put a hold on her mail at her old address as well as getting a P.O. Box or filing the license in person. 

If I file a wedding license, it’s mailed directly to the address given by the couple. If a client files the license in person, the license is recorded and handed back. I suggested this option to ensure the license wasn’t lost in the mail and put gas money in the envelope containing her wedding photos to be sure she wouldn’t run out of gas getting to Dallas. I hadn’t heard from her prior to running to Dallas myself yesterday morning and assumed she had filed the license herself last Friday. Otherwise, I would have driven her to Dallas myself to spare her the trip and the expense of gasoline. 

This morning as I prepare for a call from Kate, a journalist on my way to Tarrant County Detention Center, I wonder if my bride has been by my office to pick up her wedding photos and gas money? I wonder if she has found a place to stay or a job and I wonder how the burden of expenses involved to be a Prison wife will affect her life? I worry constantly about my clients. I can’t help myself.

There’s a stack of mail in my office awaiting my attention. There’s also a five page questionnaire for Power Woman Of 2019 awaiting my attention. I have 172 emails to answer and I have a text from Cindy. My day is off to a “roaring start.”

Cindy now has both of her adult daughters and all three of her grandchildren living with her. I’ve talked to Adult Protection Services in Valdosta and Texas. The “Stephaney Situation” is finally blowing over although I may need to testify in Valdosta, Georgia regarding how my niece wound up there and how I realized that there was a problem while at Wynn Unit with my client in Huntsville, Texas. It’s a long story.

Cindy is overwhelmed at “trying to make everyone else happy in my home other than myself.” Cindy does it all and without my help, Cindy would be doing it alone. Maryssa and Makenna argue incessantly and Leigh Ann has a chip on her shoulder regarding her sister, Stephaney moving back home. “Five females fighting” is an ongoing rerun at Cindy’s house. Arguing over the bathrooms, arguing over the chores, arguing about each other. I could go on and on here. Cindy lives at Camp Chaos. Don’t let the happy smile you see Cindy wearing fool you. Cindy spent seventeen years caring for our selfish grandmother. My sister finally snapped over our grandmother and kicked her out after nearly eighteen years. I would have never moved her in. I’m far less tolerant of moochers and morons than Cindy. My twin has the soft heart regarding our family that I possess regarding our clients. It’s a fact. 

Cindy has spent her entire adult life caring for her children and grandchildren and Cindy needs a vacation. Cindy loves leaving her fighting family behind to jump in my SUV and head off to meet clients. Who could blame her? At home, chaos and more chores await my overworked twin sister. 

After listening to Cindy nearly crying while I sat in my SUV at the Tarrant County Clerks Office preparing to file licenses before walking across the street to the county jail, I butt in and suggested “laying down the law. It’s your house. Your adult children are guests. I’m highly concerned about Leigh Ann’s husband, Alex coming to stay from July to August and bringing more chaos. You need to establish rules and guidelines. If you don’t, I will.” Cindy knows I will and it will be far less confrontational if she would snap and start putting her own needs first. If she can’t though, I certainly can.  

My Beto bride sends a text asking “are you home?” I’m twenty minutes from home but at least an hour from attending to filing licenses and meeting my Tarrant County client. I suggest meeting me for lunch at the 7th street Starbucks in an hour after she picks up her wedding photos and gas money. I’m highly concerned about her and her child and have a list of suggestions for her to get back on her feet. I have plenty of time to get to Jack County Jail and Parker County Jail to meet my afternon clients before heading to Willow Lake Event Center with Cindy at 4PM. Leigh Ann will pick up Maryssa and Makenna at 3:30PM and after their incessant arguing this morning on the way to school, Cindy could use a break from the twins and Leigh Ann quite frankly. 

Yesterday, Cindy and I were with our clients at Taylor’s rental looking at bar height tables and chairs for a June graduation party when Leigh Ann sent a group text to Cindy and I regarding Stephaney. I was instantly lit because when my family know we are with clients, the last thing I need are to be blasted with family bickering but, Leigh Ann consistently and repeatedly makes her problems a priority to her mother and I. “Maddy had milk on her mouth and I asked where that milk came from? I went into the living room and Stephaney was eating cereal and had been sharing it with Maddy. I’m so furious about this that my hands are shaking!” 

I walked out of Taylor’s to call Leigh Ann. While she attempted to interrupt me, I interrupted her. “Listen, we are on location with clients. We don’t care about your problems and if Maddy wasn’t hungry she wouldn’t be asking Stephaney to feed her. You need to go feed your daughter and stop disrupting us with stupidity while we are working. We don’t care how mad you are. Now we are mad you bothered to dump your problem on us. Grow up.” I then hung up and practiced smiling in the parking lot before walking back to my clients and sister. 

I abhor disruptions to my carefully orchestrated agenda from family members and everyone realizes it. And yet, the consistent disruptions from my family are a regular and consistent occurrence in not only my life but my twin sisters too. Dash it all. 

What Leigh Ann should have been doing was feeding Maddy first and finishing the Sunday rehearsal photos second. But, explaining prioritizing to my niece is an escapade in futility. 

Meanwhile, my Bridgeport bride had sent me a message on FB that would have to wait until choosing tables and linens and my Allred client wanted to know about the Absentee Affidavit while my Torres client was concerned “about the glass” and my Eastham client wanted to know “how much longer the I60 would take?” My phone never stops ringing and bleeping alerts. 

Preparing myself to text back and answer emails from the Taylors parking lot after happily waving goodbye to my June clients, I turn to Cindy and say “about the California back and forth situation, I’ve come to a decision. We aren’t telling any of our adult children when we are leaving or arriving in California. We need a few days of fun without being drug into drama in San Diego with Leigh Ann, the twins and Alex. We won’t check in on FB. We will pretend we are still in Texas. Wink. Wink.” 

Cindy is shocked by my “plan.” I’m not. I need a break from my family and whether Cindy knows it or not, she does too. My sister is thinking. I jump in before she can respond (as usual) “listen, we are exhausted and overwhelmed. We have a podcast with Karen and then the Twyce Twins, a press release for Power Woman Of The Year, a follow up interview with Kate, and we are juggling 29 clients with new clients each and everyday. We need a vacation and I’m booking us into The Beverly Hills Bungalow for three days of spa, shopping and fun before we hit the bricks on that August wedding in two cities. It’s going to be an ass whipping and if we don’t catch our breath, I’m afraid we will be in the hospital from pure exhaustion. We are bouncing from Louisiana to Arkansas to Oklahoma to California seven times between August and October. It’s time to put our needs in the “front pocket” in order to be camera ready and refreshed for our clients. Our families and their chaos are killing us with stress Pal. Unlike our clients, they dont appreciate our sacrifice today, tomorrow or ever. With them it’s me, me, me, I, I, I. We must hopefully before our 55th birthday in November, learn to put our demanding kids and chaos on the back burner.” 

Warily, and probably feeling guilty (as usual) my twin sister agreed. Traveling gives us the opportunity to enjoy each other’s company but, thanks to cell phones, our family is always a text or phone call away from screwing up the day. It’s a fact.

My son and his wife have been traveling together as an Officiant and photography team the past 4 years. When my son and his wife get into an argument, everyone in my family hears about it. My daughter in law “I can’t drive with him in the car. Nothing I do is right and he makes me nervous.” My son “Stephanie doesn’t pay attention. She’s either driving too slow or driving too fast.” Me “you two are married and work together. Try to stop bickering and work together on learning patience.” Cindy “Robert and Stephanie Hafele are arguing again.” Me “I cannot stop what’s coming. Those two think they are communicating when in fact they are arguing.”

When I’m on location with Leigh Ann as I was last weekend at one of my rehearsals, I’m called “The Boss.” I instruct Leigh Ann on locations for photos and how to pose the wedding party. I wonder how Leigh Ann will handle addressing clients in California when I’m not there telling her what to do? It’s a valid point. I recognize that more flights to California to “save the day” await the Texas Twins. Our adult children are needy and often demanding. Heavy sigh. 

For two years now, I’ve been bouncing between states for inmate weddings. It was essential due to my burgeoning client base to add Leigh Ann as a TDCJ Officiant and to bump county Jail Weddings as well as traditional requests for an Officiant/photographer to Robert and Stephanie. 

Cindy and I are both stretched to the limits. My traditional bookings are now three years out. Weekends and evenings that include holidays are taken up by traditional clients. 

Trying to find a day off is impossible during wedding season. As usual, my anniversary will be bumped into my birthday this year when things slow down. My husband accepts my overwhelming schedule. He knew when he married me that I was an overachiever and accepts it. He’s also fifteen years older than me and turns off his phone from 6PM to 8AM Monday through Friday and altogether on weekends. 

Matthew is “off work when he is off the clock.” We have very different views regarding client needs. I never turn my phone off which may be why my husband is “tuned in” on client needs and family chaos. He hears it all. 

My husband doesn’t have any family to burden him with their problems. I cannot imagine what a worry free blessing that would be to not have adult children or grandchildren and their problems dumped in your lap like my husband doesn’t. Seriously. My husband as well as Cindy’s husband don’t have children which is a remarkable comparison to Cindy and I with our “carnival of chaos kids and grandchildren.” Opposites do attract. Our marriages are proof of that.

I’m going to go over the certified marriage license to address questions about the process of changing an inmate status from single to married. While we are inside a unit, often there will be a copy of the marriage license filed with inmate records. This is not a certified copy. 

What constitutes a certified copy being available has a few caviats. First, the license must be signed by the Officiant AND then filed at the clerks office either in person by the client or via certified mail from me to the clerks office BEFORE a certified copy of the license is available for purchase. 

The certified copy bears a seal deeming it as certified to be true and correct. While the original marriage license (after being signed and filed) can be used for the DMV and SS Office, it CANNOT be used for a change of status to inmate records. 

Only a certified copy of the marriage license can accomplish this task. You will purchase and then mail the certified copy to inmate records at the Unit your spouse is incarcerated at. 

You have 30 days from the date I married you at the Unit to provide a certified copy. You will then need to change your name (if you intend to do so) on your state issued ID for visits to the Unit.

The reason that Units NOW REQUIRE a certified license is to prove the marriage license was filed and is legally binding. 

Apparently, several people were “going through the motions to get married” but, by not filing the license, were effectively not legally married. Due to this issue, certified marriage licenses are now a requirement at many if not all Units.

Reading a text from one of my Coffield Unit brides was truly good news today. The inmate has made parole and will finally be coming home. I cannot wait to Officiate their Vow Renewal with family and friends present to celebrate their new journey of freedom and promise together. God Bless my amazing couple and their resilience. What a blessing.

My Beto bride and sit down together to “go over her plans for her son and their new direction to move to East Texas.” Visiting for a little over an hour before running off to Jack County, I also prayed that this trip would bring my client a new job and positive direction although removing her son from school was somewhat troubling to her. At two years old, her son is resilient enough to change schools now as opposed to being older. I will order her certified license as the Officiant and forward it to her to send to the Unit. 

Since there are many questions about certified marriage licenses, I’m adding a photo of the questionare for Dallas County for your review. 

The cost in Dallas is $10. The cost may vary by county. Tarrant county charges $21. Unlike Dallas county, there is no form online in Tarrant county. Here’s the link– Tarrant County Certified Marriage License Request.

Juggling incoming emails and text messages while sitting in the parking lot of Jack County Jail, my husband sends me a text telling me he loves me. It’s the little things but the stinky skunk development problem is finally over and Matthew is relieved! Thank goodness. We’ve had a month of brain storming to solve the skunk issue and, it’s a month too long. 

I miss my happy go lucky husband. Matthew is actually hilarious when he isn’t stressed out. Cindy and I are looking forward to road tripping to Stiles, San Saba, Crain and Huntsville Units before heading back to Louisiana in May. We love getting away for a day or two and hitting the junk shops together. 

My husband prefers long walks with my feisty Beagle, Foxy Wortham along with the Golf Channel or NASCAR and a dry martini. 

Cindy’s husband left for Canada today so she has 5-6 days before Steve Daniel is back home for a 1-3 day “staycation” at Camp Chaos AKA Cindy and Steve’s house. 

With five females fighting over the bathroom, I’m guessing Steve was “ready to roll.” Fighting for a bathroom isn’t fun at Cindy’s house. I drink a lot of water and coffee and it’s not uncommon for me to stop at Petro on my way to her house to effectively “stand in line.” 

Things will get worse when Alex comes to stay for a month before leaving for San Diego with Leigh Ann, Maddy and the twins. A summer in San Diego will do them all good and an empty house will be a Godsend to Cindy as we bounce all over the place to client bookings. 

In fact, I’m looking forward to Cindy staying at my house for our slumber parties and spook movie nights.

My Saturday clients are so much fun that Leigh Ann and I can’t wait to see them again. I love it when clients at outgoing and spirited at photo shoots.We love our LBGT clients and I’m looking forward to seeing the rest of the rehearsal photos for Brokk and Ruben. 

Since I’ve been asked, I do stop and start blogs between bookings. I just leave my WordPress app open and pick up where I’ve left off. All of my blogs are typed with one finger on my iPhone. Often, while waiting on a client at a Unit or venue. I spend a lot of time waiting as I’m always early.

I reviewed another email regarding someone else blogging on one of my sites and will once again go over why I have no interest in “guest writers.” First, my content is entirely my own and based on my experiences with clients and my family since they are both combined. 

Secondly, I have no interest in sharing my platform with others. 

Thirdly, I do not allow back links on any of my sites. Sorry, but, I’m not now nor will I ever be interested in having a guest blogger.

I’m off to the Parker County Courthouse and looking forward to meeting all of my new clients in the coming weeks… 

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Dallas County Jail To Michael Unit To Greyhound…Leaving The Driving To Others…

As usual, yesterday was a serious strain to my normal carefully orchestrated day. Let’s begin. At 8:30AM, Cindy arrived at WorthamWorld to visit and take notes on upcoming scheduling while going over the pick up and plan to get her daughter, Stephaney to Georgia. 

My son, Robbie or R.C. would arrive at WorthamWorld and drive on of my suvs to Tennessee Colony Michael Unit with a departure time of 9:30AM. Cindy would leave my home at 9:30AM to pick up Stephaney at Trinity Pavillion a JPS Mental Facility approximately 20 minutes from WorthamWorld. My niece was really excited to see her mom again and spend some time with her before she leaves for Georgia.

I should note that any time anyone on my team or family member travel for work or leisure, I handle the travel arrangements. I always have. Traveling by “the seat of your pants” isn’t my style. I orchestrate and coordinate hotels, cars, and in my nieces case, bus schedules. 

Also, I am always the A SUV at destination events and effectively, the leader. In Texas though, when I’m traveling to a Texas Prison, I’ve been known to have either my son, my niece or my twin sister drive one of our suvs while I tend to business on my phone if my schedule is burdened. During wedding season, it usually is. 

Multitasking is essential when I have no days off on weekdays due to Prison Weddings or weekends during wedding season. Tuesday was “one of those days where I had far too much to do and as usual, not enough time to relax and just drive. 

Cindy would also arrive early for this “pick up” with her daughter at Trinity Springs Pavillion and effectively, stay calm regarding what to expect from Stephaney since we never know what to expect when it comes to my niece, Stephaney. 

Cindy was to also “check in” frequently with either my son, Robbie or me while traveling from Fort Worth to Michael and upon leaving Michael with my son after stopping to get bridal photos, heading to Hodge Unit from Tennessee Colony, I would check in myself with Cindy when not with a client. I worried about Cindy and my unpredictable niece. 

Occasionally after a month or more long release from a mental hospital, Stephaney can be agitated and it’s often difficult to keep her medication on schedule. Stephaney is Bipolar One. 

I had also carefully accounted for any and all hurdles as my son drove my favorite SUV while I responded to emails and texts from traditional clients, TDCJ Clients and The Pawning Planners Clients regarding their event last week. 

A few of The Pawning Planners photos were a bit too risqué to post and Leigh Ann (my other niece) was texting why. At first glance, I missed the issue and called her back. It was windy and the bride was posing with the bridesmaids a precariously unique position. Due to the wind, the bridesmaid was overexposed “showing far too much.” 

I instructed Leigh Ann to “crop far left and overexposed bridesmaid” and “save the photo.” For several minutes, Leigh Ann sent additional photos of the groomsmen “mooning the camera” or the entire bridal party effectively “flipping off the camera.” 

Telling Leigh Ann “please do not to send me every troubling photo while I was en route and juggling other more critical things on my plate,” I knew we couldn’t post these photos after reviewing a handful myself. 

I discussed this intentionally inappropriate  “photo issue” with my son. His reply? “I’m pretty surprised that Leigh Ann didn’t say anything. We can’t use those photos. Leigh Ann wasn’t at the rehearsal because she was at the other event. Mom I think you may need to update your contracts regarding inappropriate behavior with photographers. After all, your contracts are so specific about behavior, photography needs to be addressed. The reason you probably haven’t included it is because you don’t do photography. We do.” He was right. 

It’s never come up before but, now I’m going to need to address it. Certainly my niece, Leigh Ann chose not to tell me about photo issues on location because she knew that I was overwhelmed? I decided to call and ask her about it. “Aunt Wendy, we had 6 events in two days. I wasn’t trying to be a tattletale or anything but, I’ve never had anyone at a wedding or anywhere else do that. I was surprised but didn’t want to argue about what they thought was funny that I didn’t.” Hmm, Leigh Ann was uncomfortable but, also unaware of how to react. 

Wearily, I wondered why people do this flipping off type of thing and especially pant dropping behavior in public? My son was right. For a person who shoots for perfection, unusable photos that require far more time to edit and try to salvage during wedding season are far from fun or even remotely funny. I was completely unaware that there were these types of photos at a family event with children on site. 

My son listened to Leigh Ann on Bluetooth to add his two cents in (as usual) Robbie: “Leigh Ann why not admit you didn’t want to tell mom there was a lot going on because she was already overwhelmed and you were too? Why am I the only one that readily admits my mom can blow a fuse when something goes wrong? Because I already know she’s going to get mad but I also know that she will fix it. I haven’t looked at all of the photos because I have my own photos to edit and also because I was at the 3 rehearsals that you weren’t last week because you had family photos and a wedding and you are still working on the weddings from Friday. I went to two rehearsals with mom on Thursday and Friday and I wasn’t lost or late at ANY weddings this weekend either. Update your navigation. You should have said something on location about the photos and issues rather than waiting until right when mom and aunt Cindy are overwhelmed. I’m not even with you and I already know that this “risqué photo stuff” probably started out innocently enough most likely and BECAUSE you didn’t say anything, it got worse.” Leigh Ann hung up. My son and my niece argue on a regular basis. Sigh. 

He was right though. We were both trying to get too much done while taking care of Stephaney and Leigh Ann ALWAYS calls about minor issues we can’t fix when we are dealing with far more important things. Leigh Ann fails to recognize this and she always has. 

This “consistent competition” between my family members literally “lights me up.” Sure, I get upset but I also FIX issues and if I don’t, Cindy does. Leigh Ann isn’t afraid to tell me something. She does it all of the time. Unlike Leigh Ann though, my son walks up on location. I never hear about problems from Leigh Ann until after the fact. 

I have decided to instruct Leigh Ann to go to her mom on location if she thinks I’m going to “lose it over a problem.” I’m not. Lose it? Oh brother. I encounter problems all of the time on location. I’m not running around acting crazy over them because I’m busy fixing the problem. 

We have had a few occurrences over the years of someone being “over exposed.” A few weeks ago, the grooms zipper was unzipped. Such things happen and may happen again but, deliberately being either offensive or even showing too much skin is normally far from intentional. 

On a regular occurrence, brides choose a strapless dress when they should have opted for a halter or strap style for support. 

Having everything up front rely “only on the dress” itself for support is and always will be a “mistake.” If you prefer a corset, try it on with your dress or opt for a strapless bra. Wedding day is a great time for anyone to get a photo on their phones. 

Here’s a perfect example of where a corset or strapless bra or even a wedding dress with a halter or straps attached would have prevented “fallout.”  

I have a photo of myself in a similar revealing pose. The reason? My twin grandnieces kept grabbing the front of my dress and effectively “pulled the front of my gown down.” Although it had boning in it, I should have opted for a corset. Looking back, I wish I had. 

Thankfully, my husband was in front of me hiding the “peek a boo” photo and effectively saving me from the embarrassment of inadvertently flashing everyone. 
Leigh Ann is overwhelmed with 382 photos from an event where half of the photos will most likely be lost due to being unable to use them in her public galleries gifted to clients. Instead, I will have to send such photos directly to the client. Another time consuming task.

We have spent years earning a stellar reputation and therefore, cannot allow unexpected behavior from others to “tarnish our brand or our reputation.” Please do not flip off my photographers and much less, moon them. 

We are on location giving you the event no one else would and such conduct falls under my “Outrageous behavior or conduct from clients or guests that prevent myself or my staff from completing the task that we had been retained to perform.” I.E. Legal Pages pertaining to Texas Twins Events, The Pawning Planners and TDCJ Officiant Services. 

Your contracts are VERY specific pertaining to anything that impedes our ability to work on location including drunkenness or other aspects that no one should be forced to endure while working including myself or my staff. 

Wedding season is a months long dive into unexpected overworked reality for me. I am literally “up and at it by 4:30-5AM daily. For those who ASSUME I have one job at one business, you couldn’t be further from the truth. I juggle numerous tasks and assume numerous responsibilities. 

My twin sister is also my back up and equally overwhelmed. If you call me and I don’t answer, I’m on location. Please don’t continue to call me over and over or Cindy. We are with clients and will return your call when we can. Ten to fifteen phone calls without a voice mail are harassing. 

Wouldn’t you want the same attention from my staff at YOUR event that we give others? Please be considerate and either leave a voice mail or email instead. DO NOT REPEATEDLY CALL, HANG UP and then CALL BACK. 

I’m a professional and cannot tolerate such childish and/or demanding behavior from anyone for any reason. Again, review “outrageous conduct.”

When I’m out of pocket, I also review photography as well as any other aspects of client needs from all three of my businesses including venues I’m on staff with as well as being the matriarch of my family and it’s not a job for the meek or unorganized. 

I create a daily itinerary each and every day of my life. I have to. After all, I’m juggling 4 businesses AND venues I’m also on staff at. What does this mean? It means I have numerous clients.  

A few of ya all have asked about my other businesses. Texas Twins Events was my first business. Years after starting Texas Twins Events, I decided to rebrand and expand by offering a barter option. To do so, I merged Texas Twins Treasures and Texas Twins Events to create a new business, The Pawning Planners. 

Later, I AGAIN expanded Texas Twins Events to include Texas Prison Weddings. I HAVE NEVER ADVERTISED OR HAD THE NEED TO ADVERTISE any Wendy Wortham business. I’m picky. I’m in high demand and 

I cannot and never have been able to control my niece, Stephaney who consistently disrupts my well orchestrated schedule. 

I do not tolerate “crazy, uncontrollable clients or prospects.” Why? I don’t have to. Secondly, I have crazy family members who try my patience all on their own that’s why. Seriously. 

Apparently, a few clients are more than a little predictable with my photographers too but, I cannot be everywhere all of the time on location. 

At the event in question, Cindy was off working inside the venue while I was helping in other areas and apparently, Leigh Ann was busy taking photos that went from posed to disrobed? Dang it! I cannot believe anyone finds outrageous behavior appropriate and will now address this in updated legal pages regarding client conduct. I’m overwhelmed. 

The consistent stress my niece, Stephaney has brought to our family is so incredibly stressful that no one (unless you have ever in your life dealt with a drug addict who relapsed over and over again could either comprehend or imagine). 

Yesterday was both trying AND stressful  for my twin, Cindy solely because I wasn’t with her for support due to my existing schedule that had left today “open” as Trinity Pavillion had given us this date rather than yesterday for her release from JPS. The change of the release date was a huge issue to my carefully orchestrated agenda. 

Because of the change, I now had my niece, Leigh Ann scheduled to pick up Maryssa and Makenna aka “the Twins” from Tison Middle School at 3:30PM in order to free up Cindy to go buy the bus pass to Georgia and make any and all other necessary purchases to accommodate Stephaney’s trip. 

The bus would leave the Fort Worth Terminal this morning at 4:30AM. Due to the early hour, I also located a hotel in Fort Worth for Cindy and Stephaney to go through clothing, toiletries and medication from JPS for Stephaney. 

As usual, my careful timelines had zero margin for error. ZERO. What could go wrong usually does and because of this, I had a Plan B already in place in the event that something unexpected occurred. 

On my phone (as usual) and addressing incoming questions, event changes and rental confirmations for this weekends event schedule as well as calling numerous Units to confirm dates and check in with India (Michael Unit) 2-3 times on my way from Corsicana to Tennessee Colony as my son drove on, construction caused a 13-15 minute unexpected delay. Good Lord. The unpredictability of road construction continues to be a “time killer” on my road trips. 

Aggravated about “losing time” on the road due to construction, and now clock watching and concerned, I sent India a text regarding my later arrival to the Unit at approximately 12:15 rather than the previously set time of my arrival at 12:00 and instructed my son to “bump the speed up from 60-70MPH to accommodate the timeline we had lost near Corsicana. 

My son pulled into Tennessee Colony General Store and jumped out. It was now 12:04. I was 5-7 minutes from Michael. But, road construction would delay my expected travel time. One lane was closed off with a “follow me truck” turned my usual 5-7 minutes into 8-11 minutes to Michael Unit. Damnit. Again? 

Fifteen minutes early is fifteen minutes late for me. Anxiously, I called India to advise her of my “hold up.” 

Pulling into the Unit, I walked around searching for a white Kia. A few rows over, I found my bride. Together, we walked into Michael Unit. The Unit is under lock down. Because of this, we were instructed to wait. Escorted to the Visitation Area, I decided to use our time together to learn more about my beautiful and excited bride. 

My bride had a really interesting job as a “fire watcher.” I’d never heard of this job before and found the aspects of travel interesting. I’m glad we had time to visit together and learn about my client. All of my clients have an interesting back story. 

Since Michael was on lock down, we had a great visit visiting and waiting together. About an hour later, the Law Library clerk advised us if another delay. About an hour and a half later, the clerk returned to advise us the inmate was being cleared at not one checkpoint but three and getting “shaked down.” 

A “shake” is a strip search. Three shakedowns would rattle anyone. I understood this and couldn’t imagine how stressful walking to your wedding and consistently being “cleared” must have been for him. 

By the time our groom did arrive, he was a little agitated. Working to ease his frustration, I took my time during the ceremony to allow him to relax. 

As usual, I brought $9 in quarters for photos. I posed the groom and India in several choreographed positions and finally got him to smile. I’m a lot of fun and weddings are meant to be celebrated wherever they might be. 

Leaving Michael, I picked my son up and headed for bridal photos with India before heading to Hodge Unit. 

Cindy and Stephaney were doing fine and having fun at lunch when I checked in again. I then headed to Hodge then back to Fort Worth to meet Cindy and Stephaney for dinner. 

I will admit that I’m melancholy regarding Stephaney going to Georgia but, I’ve consistently paid for rehab as her mother and tried everything humanly possible to fix her daughter, Stephaney and more importantly, Stephaney’s addiction. 

If I don’t change states, I will eventually be BURYING my niece. I’m a realist. I know this. It’s a difficult choice but, the only choice I have left. I must protect my sister at any and all costs. 

I called Cindy between Units to check on her emotional state and checklist for Stephaney’s trip. Cindy had to purchase numerous items including luggage as well as pick up Stephaney’s medications (30 day supply), buy another cell phone since Stephaney had lost the other new phone we had just bought her prior to being involuntarily committed for the 16th time last month. 

For those unaware of drug induced psychosis, it is often mistaken for mania or mental illness, drug induced psychosis has been regularly and consistently confused with mania regarding my niece, Stephaney as well as the fact that she is Bipolar One and consistently “goes off her medication” and self medicates with meth. These Psych Ward stints with Stephaney began nearly two years ago. 

Police REGULARLY have found Stephaney and subsequently have taken her to JPS. Stephaney gets released. We try to stabilize her. Stephaney finds drugs again. Stephandy is committed again and the entire cycle starts over. 

I cannot even begin to describe how this has affected my family. Specifically, my twin, myself and Stephaney’s twin daughters. If I sound intolerant regarding my family or outrageous behavior from clients, it’s because I am. I hate surprises. 

These “setbacks” with Stephaney are specifically why her mother, Cindy and I are sending her to Georgia. Stephaney knows where to find drugs in Fort Worth. We need her to change her environment and Georgia will. 

Stephaney is (hopefully) finally ready to change her life but it took 16 years to get her here. My sorrow over the number of years lost is quite profound. I cannot change the past but continue to hold hope for the future. 

For nineteen months now, losing Stephaney to the streets has happened over and over again. I’m mentally exhausted from the continued effort to force my niece to get her shit together while her mother is an emotional basket case who is not only waiting “for the next shoe to fall regarding Stephaney” but also, my partner in all of my businesses but also and more importantly, the primary custodial parent of Stephaney’s twin daughters, Maryssa and Makenna Mahaney. 

For fourteen years and counting, Cindy has assumed the role and responsibilities of raising her twin granddaughters. This is critical for you to understand because we are not simply “dealing with an addict” while conducting our businesses and our marriages but also raising twin teenagers. 

Anyone who has been through the “teenage years” will comprehend the challenges. However, most of you who have dealt with raising teenagers weren’t in your 50’s and in our husband’s case, your 60’s. 

Now you have a far clearer “picture.” Cindy and I are burdened with a “full basket” of responsibility and unexpected setbacks when it comes to her daughter, Stephaney. 

My father went “off the rails” last year. I don’t know why or how. I may never know. He became convinced people were living in his attic. I became exasperated about continually running three blocks from my home to his to re assure him or answering crazy phone calls and texts while driving to a Unit or on location with clients on weekends. 

It was actually while I was on location at Bell Tower Chapel (working as usual) that my father began shooting his own ceiling. I hate surprises but, nothing prepared me for dad AND Stephaney being committed at the same time in two different mental institutes. NOTHING. 

Cindy and I had  “learned the ropes” regarding Psych Wards specifically from visiting Stephaney. “What’s the patient number? What’s your relationship? You cannot bring black clothing. They can’t do this. Bla Bla Bla. Visiting Psych Wards especially since we work so much was exasperating! 

My father continued to complain “you missed a day” over and over and one day, I snapped. “We run from you to Stephaney to clients to bookings and we missed ONE day? Are you kidding me? We are the only two people bringing you this or doing that and there isn’t anyone ELSE standing in LINE to take our place. We were in Houston working!” 

I also couldn’t stand or tolerate continued phone calls and or idiotically “advice” from other relatives “about dad” who didn’t bother visiting themselves but wanted to tell us what else CINDY and I needed to do with dad OR Stephaney. 

The “Psych Ward Circus” of both dad and Stephaney from my “ring leading relatives” the past 19 months, have aged not only me but also my sister.

I now rarely bother to take calls from my “full of advice but completely devoid of action relatives” anymore. Why? I’m still mad about their idiotic assumptions. They had no idea how stressful these “visits” were with not only one but two relatives involuntarily committed were actually like for Cindy or I. They never will. Why? It’s easier for them to sit in the comfort of their home while we run around like lunatics that’s why. Attention relatives: if you want to be helpful, stop calling Cindy or I and telling us what we aren’t doing while you do nothing. The rampant stupidity of your advice is annoying, offensive and intrusive. 

This Georgia trip was and is our last effort to get Stephaney help. The reason we put her on the bus was solely to “test her.” If Stephaney does not make it to Georgia on Greyhound, after 16 years of dealing with the horrific pain and sorrow of consistent disruptions that Stephaney had brought into our lives and households, I and my twin must walk away. I know, you’ve heard it before. I’m hoping it won’t come to that. I’ve tried EVERYTHING. Cindy had tried EVERYTHING. We are frustrated and desperate. 

By 6:34AM this morning, my niece wasn’t answering her cell phone. Assuming the worst (as usual) that she had left the Dallas Terminal and found drugs again. Cindy called me crying and I threw up. I couldn’t just couldn’t go through this “cycle” with Stephaney again. 

This next statement MAY  offend a few of you but I AM honest, blunt and forthcoming and therefore will admit that during 16 years of my nieces meth use, on more than one occasion, my sister and I would have been actually been relieved if she had died. Why? What? You can’t believe I just said that. Get over yourself. Walk a mile in OUR SHOES. We are raising twins. We are running to Psych Wards. We are working 7 days a week. We are bleeding money on rehab and have been for years to attempt to save Stephaney. We also don’t want to die going through this again and again and again. We are nearly 55 years old. When will Wendy and Cindy finally be able to live a normal life? Now, you know (whether you accept the above statement or not) where Cindy and I are “at” in our lives and why we work 7 days a week to occupy our minds and focus on work rather than on Stephaney. 

After that collect call, I left my home office to go get my Xanax. Sick that Cindy was in Weatherford while I was in Fort Worth, I feared my sister would have ANOTHER heart attack due to her daughter, Stephaney. 

Cindy and I were calling each other and while trying to call Stephaney for over an hour, my sister was crying while throwing up while we both thought and assumed that we had “lost Stephaney again.” I cannot even describe how devastating this was to both of us. I can’t. 

You will never fully comprehend the damage and devastation an addict brings to your family and your life UNLESS you have been through it or you are currently going through it. Don’t judge me. I’m weary. I hate addiction. I don’t understand how addicts cannot comprehend the “sea of devastated victims” they leave in their wake. 

My mother was a heroin addict. I’ve lived through a childhood of addiction and for 16 years, I’ve been an adult who should be enjoying my life alongside my sister who couldn’t due entirely to her daughter, Stephaney. 

I’m unfamiliar with the Greyhound Terminal in Dallas. But, knew that if there were drugs, they were (most likely) available “in the area” around or near the Terminal. 

Angry at Stephaney and fearful of going to look for her again or keeping my promise to give up and FINALLY forget my niece (a joint decision by Cindy and I) because I couldn’t take or tolerate yet another relapse, it would be a collect call from Dallas County Jail that changed my furious anger to sadness instead. 

Like anyone getting a collect call from jail, I needed a credit card and subsequently ran over 2k feet across my home to go find my purse and a credit card while the recording droned on. 

Prison and jail phone calls are expensive. The ONLY person who has ever called me collect from jail was my niece, Stephaney. Waiting on more prompts and losing my patience, my niece FINALLY said “aunt Wendy I didn’t do anything wrong.” I’ve heard this so many times that not surprised to hear it again, I started screaming. “Why do you keep doing this to your mother and I? What have you done this time? I was trying to help you get a fresh start! Don’t you want to see your kids graduate? Get married? Have a baby? I cannot do this anymore. You are killing my sister. You are destroying any degree of peace in our family.” 

I was furious. Disappointed. Scared. Angry. Inconsolable. And, I had to tell Cindy….God. Another devastating blow to my fragile sister. 

I sat down on the floor of my entry hall of my “perfect home that was anything BUT a mirror to a perfect life” crying and screaming about hurting my sister even further by yet another unexpected call ABOUT STEPHANEY. My sister who has given her entire life up to care for others. My sister who took on the responsibility of raising Stephaney’s twins. 

My sister who has been drug into putting her own needs last her entire life. I’m fearful of dying not because I fear death. I’m fearful of dying because no one will attempt to protect my sister as I have over my entire life doing. I’m brutally honest. I can’t leave Cindy because I’m the strongest person in my entire family. I’ve always protected my sister. I will always protect my sister as long as I can breathe. I hate to hear my sister cry. 

At 6 years old, a family member (my grandfather) sexually abused both my sister and I. No one cared. At fifteen, we ran away together. I was pregnant. I had again protected my sister. Think about this statement. Now you fully understand and may possibly even comprehend how important protecting my sister is to me. The background of our lives is “enlightening for those who may not fully comprehend” the dynamics of our relationship. There is a reason for everything. The “reason for our inseparable relationship” has a long and painful history. 

Stephaney “collect called” her mother and as expected, had a similar conversation about “not doing anything wrong” with her mother. We are SO worn out over dealing with dad and Stephaney. WORN OUT. 

I called my niece, Leigh Ann to drive Cindy who was absolutely hysterical. I was frightened about Cindy having a heart attack coming in from Weatherford and already calling my entertainment attorney to locate a criminal attorney. I had no idea what had happened. I also had no idea there were so many Jails in Dallas. Who would? Stephaney hadn’t told us where she was. That’s right. Nothing in our lives has ever been easy. EVER. 

Stephaney continued to call either Cindy or I. We continued to be angry. I told Leigh Ann to meet me at Frost Bank as I knew that this would be another $1k-4K “Stephaney incident.” I went into the bank vault and withdrew 10 “just in case.” Jonathan called me back with “details” I was too angry to hear from my niece. 

I called Jonathan back as Stephaney was again trying to call me. All of our children and grandchildren do this first- call Wendy then call Cindy then call Wendy then call Cindy. They always have. Stephaney was doing it over and over while I tried to understand what Jonathan was describing to me as the reason for the arrest. 

An outstanding warrant in Oklahoma. A felony warrant. Omg. How did this happen? Everything was going so well. Cindy and Steph had a great day together. Steph was excited to be getting a fresh start but, Stephaney’s probation payment had been lost in the mail. 

Also, my niece had been beaten at the bus station and when the Dallas PD ran her license, the felony warrant from Cotton County “popped up.” Rather than calling an ambulance, my niece was arrested. 

Stephaney was trying to push one suitcase and pull the other with her purse around her neck when she was attacked and beaten this morning at 6:24 at Greyhound Terminal in Dallas, Texas. A victim of the knockout game. Targeted solely because she was struggling and an effectively “easy target.” 

Stephandy WAS ACTUALLY trying to get on that bus! But, Cindy and I had suffered so many setbacks with Stephaney that we were programmed to expect the worst and never imagined that while we were both calling her cell phone, my niece was being beaten. I’m sick about this. Cindy is equally sick about this. 

We for the first time ever WERE wrong about Stephaney? And, we were angry and screaming at her AFTER she had been beaten and arrested. We may never forgive ourselves for jumping to conclusions either. But, we have been programmed to expect or believe the worst from Stephaney. For years. 

Due to Stephaney’s probation payment in Cotton County being lost in the mail, Stephaney (although she was the assault victim) was subsequently arrested and taken to Dallas County Jail. 

My niece who was so proud she had made the decision to finally seek help and “win her twins love and trust back” was in the wrong place at the wrong time. After years of choosing to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, Stephaney was a victim rather than a drug addict. 

Jonathan suggested I call Cotton County and pay Stephaney’s entire probation balance in full. I did. I trust Jonathan and a probation violation would put my mentally ill niece in prison for 10 years due to the violation. It would effectively kill my sister. Having their mother in prison would also embarrass Stephaney’s twin daughters too. The rock thrown in the pond has a “ripple effect.” I was in quick sand AGAIN on my only day off months out. A day that I had planned to spend with Cindy and Stephaney preparing my niece for a fresh start. 

I HAVE NEVER BEEN LUCKY. Cindy hasn’t either. Each and every time someone tells me this “lucky” shit, I want to slap the crap out of them. “You two are so successful and lucky.” The idiocy of such a statement infuriates me. We have never been lucky. What we are and have been are two of the most resilient MF’s I’ve ever met or encountered. That’s the truth. That’s the accurate fact regarding our “success.” Not luck but driven determination. 

In Stephaney’s case, Cindy and I have consistently failed to be successful at achieving any degree of success. 

Meanwhile, I also had Cindy contact Trinity Springs JPS to fax Stephaney’s release papers (less than 24 hours prior) to Cotton County to prove she had just been released from a Psych Ward and couldn’t call to check in with Cotton County because she was involuntarily committed AGAIN over a month ago. 

Then I called Dallas County Jail and after making the payment in full to Cotton County and thanking Jonathan while crying and driving at the same time, headed to Dallas County Jail with Cindy. Or so we thought. Trying to wipe her eyes and stop dry heaving, my sister showed me her phone. Omg. There were SEVERAL detention facilities. We were losing it in Dallas, Texas. How I didn’t wreck my SUV or suffer a stroke, I have no idea. Thanks Xanax. 

Stephaney called again. I screamed “where are you? There isn’t one jail in Dallas! We have no idea where we are going! We are losing our minds.” Stephaney: “stop screaming. I don’t know where I am.” Jesus Christ. I cannot begin to describe how upsetting this was. Pulling over to dry heave myself, I told Cindy “pick one. We will go to all of them.” This was the worst day off I’ve ever had in my entire life. 

On route, I again called Cotton County to confirm the teletype that would rescind the warrant to Dallas County had been sent to them. Cotton County and JPS, God Bless You both for being so helpful while my normal composure flew out the window. I couldn’t even pump my own gas. Cindy has never seen me so upset. I’m the strong one. My sister finally pumped the gas for me. We were both crushed. I called Georgia still crying and advised them of the situation. Finally we got back on HWY 30 to Dallas to the FIRST Detention building on Google. 

The location from my niece? “It’s next door to Greyhound.” This information was so sketchy that I hung up AGAIN. Cindy got out and walked into numerous buildings. I finally parked and we walked the entire area around Greyhound together. We couldn’t find Stephaney. I cannot even describe our wild eyes, lost expressions or the devastated reality of our situation. Homeless people moved AWAY from Cindy and I. We were the scary and unpredictable people for a change. Crying, screaming and back in my SUV. A homeless guy with brass balls walked up to my drivers window. This wasn’t a “hey buddy have you got a dime (or dollar)” time to hit me up. BUT- maybe this guy knew where another jail actually was? We sure as Hell didn’t. Guess what? He did. He had just left the jail and gave us articulate and well informed directions. I gave him $20. We pulled out and headed to the North Tower Detention Facility Dallas, Texas.  

Crying all the way, we finally managed to get to the jail and wait in line an hour only to find that after hours in holding, Stephaney was still not checked in. Due to this, she could not be checked out. I asked “how long will the process take? Cotton County has been paid in full and rescinded the warrant.” The clerk looked at me and said “this is Dallas County Jail ma’am it could be late tonight or early in the morning before they process her in and tomorrow or Friday before they process her out.” Stunned, my exhausted and emotional sister and I had no other option other than to drive back to Fort Worth and wait. My eyes still burn from crying harder than I ever have all day long. Thank God I didn’t have work commitments today! 

I’m picking up my Hobby Bride tomorrow at 7AM to drive her to the Unit myself and now concerned that Stephaney will be released while I’m in Waco. I blame myself for not flying Stephaney to Georgia. Cindy is so upset about this that I nearly had to carry her upstairs to put her in my guest room. We are both weary. I have no idea how long it will take Dallas County Jail to process her out but, when they do, I’m taking my niece to Baylor or Harris for medical treatment and filing a police report. Less than 24 hours after being released from Trinity Springs, my battered and helpless niece is waiting for her mom and I to save her. After all of these months of trying and failing to save my niece, nothing prepared me for this. I don’t believe anything could have.

I will be flying Stephaney to Georgia instead as soon as she is well enough to travel. We have no idea how badly she’s been beaten. 

I now wait for my niece to be released. Like my clients, the waiting is the hardest part…