Category: Inlaws & Outlaws

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When Something Is So Shocking It Reminds You Of A Lifetime Movie…

Last night Cindy called me and Leigh Ann after opening a life insurance policy in Maryssa’s name with the beneficiary being her boyfriend of less than 2 months. The policy amount was half a million dollars. We were immediately on Red Alert about this shocking development.

Maryssa’s mom, Stephaney has battled addiction for 18 years but 4.5 months ago finally came to my patio to seek help. She’s been sober 4 months. My twin sister (her mother) and I put her in detox then moved her to Volunteers of America (an organization I cannot say enough good things about) for 90 days before transitioning to an Oxford House at the tip of Westover Hills near my home.

Cindy and I helped Stephaney get a car due to the expense of Uber or Lyft. Steph had found a 2007 Mitsubishi Eclipse for $3500 but it’s had a few issues. The guy who sold it to Steph has fixed 3 things so far and not charged her anything to do so. Cindy and I were pretty sure “this guy likes Steph.” We were right because he finally asked her to dinner this past week.

Steph is struggling because one of the twins, Makenna still isn’t speaking to Stephaney after her entire lifetime of 18 years waiting for Stephaney to get it together. Makenna had hope for years but five years ago, Stephaney was still on paper (probation) in Cotton County, Oklahoma and sober due to mandatory drug testing. It would be the first time in the twins lives their mother was sober for 3.5 years. The day after mandatory testing was removed, Stephaney was back on drugs and Makenna was so devastated by this decision that she took all of her anxiety meds while Cindy was with me and clients at TDCJ Robertson Unit then sent a group text to Cindy and I. We barely saved Makenna she was hospitalized for 3 months then moved to Mesa Springs for suicidal ideation. Makenna may never trust Stephaney again to be a part of her life and it’s something neither Cindy, I or Stephaney can control.

Many of our social media connections and a few of my clients are recovering addicts who have families that “practiced” tough love. They still have no connection to their own families even though they are sober. Cindy and I have fought for 18 years to get Stephaney stable. 18 years of “looking normal” in front of our clients and the rest of our families. It’s taken a toll on both of us financially and emotionally. 24 rehabs at great financial expense since Stephaney after having the twins at 16 years old has never had health insurance and 31 involuntary commitments due to meth induced psychosis. It’s raw Hell loving an addict. Unless you’ve been through it you will never understand. Only someone who has loved an addict would. Steph has overdosed 4 times. Cindy and I have “gotten the call” 4 times.

I once had a production assistant tell me “Wendy we can’t let the networks know you have any problems.” I laughed at this ludicrous statement since 1. My blogs are diaries of my life and businesses and 2. Everyone has problems and 3. No one doesn’t have any problems. She was young and dumb in her 20’s assuming everyone lived a problem free life. What a fantasy.

My life has never been “problem free.” Cindys hasn’t either. There’s a reason we a “different.” The reason is where we came from. Our mother was a heroin addict who eventually sold all 4 of her children for $50 each. But it would be years prior to this sale of Sharon Hill neglecting Wendy, Cindy, Tammy & Jerry due to her addiction of losing or forgetting us in parks, padlocked closets and locked car trunks before she finally sold us to our grandfather, a Pedophile. “Bought and paid for” is a term he used to refer to my sisters and I until Tammy was saved by adoption from our mothers mother as she was a stepsister and not a child of our father at 10 years old. Cindy and I were 6. Jerry was 2. Our grandfather recorded this “sale.” Cindy found the tape when we were liquidating a storage unit she had been paying for at our fathers request after his death. The tape was in the storage Unit dated May 1971 with only Wendy, Cindy & Tammy’s name on it. The reason? We were the only ones forced to listen to the tape. We were the victims of a predator who reminded all 3 of us that we were barely worth $50 by playing that tape throughout our childhoods. Problem free? What an idiotic statement and belief. My life has never been problem free nor has Cindys or Jerry’s. We were the children no one wanted or cared about.

My contempt for family members who wouldn’t help us became rage so all consuming I stopped speaking for many years. No one would listen. Cindy spoke for me. A number of things led up to my decision not to speak so I will elaborate. First Tammy disappeared. Asking where she was resulted in a beating. Secondly since Tammy was our primary caretaker, Miss Dorothy was hired. A woman we were initially terrified of because she looked like a witch. Wild and long jet black hair so dark it was shocking. Equally long red fingernails. Sunken cheeks with cheekbones so strong her face was dramatically enhanced. Odd clothing we hadn’t seen before with flowing and layered skirts similar to Stevie Nicks. Ironically it would be Miss Dorothy who became the only positive influence in our young lives. She was loving, dedicated and cared about us. In fact, she cared so much that she was going to tell what was going on and told our dad which was why she was immediately fired and we never saw her again. Our father moved in one of his cousins, an angry drunk, Vern. We knew to be wary of his angry outbursts and stay away from him but I would earlier than Jerry and Cindy one morning in the kitchen. I was ironing my fathers clothes. We were maids at a very young age. Vern had hollered “get off your ass and make me some coffee.” I did and not knowing it would burn the counter, set the coffee pot on the Formica counter accidentally burning a circle on the counter. Vern punched me with such force that I was knocked into the wall which brought my father into the kitchen asking “what did that dumb ass do this time?” Vern pointed at the counter. Our father regularly beat us with a razor strap, his fists or whatever was handy. Our grandmother used a purple hairbrush. Now Vern like everyone else could do whatever he wanted too. We had no escape from the Hell we were locked into as children.

School was no better. Cindy and I walked miles to and from school. We were regularly beaten up on our travels by a group of hoodlums. It would be 5th grade when the decision to “fight back” occurred to Cindy. She explained why to me. “We are beaten up and assaulted by everyone around us at home. If we don’t defend ourselves at school we will never get away from this. We are worth defending.” She was right and her reasoning would be how we finally stopped getting beat up. In 6th grade since we were immediately separated upon entering school it wouldn’t be Cindy but instead Wendy on my way to Special Ed since I still refused to speak who was cornered. “You’re so ugly your own mother left you.” I picked her up and threw her into a brick wall not knowing how much rage I actually had in me. I was suspended but didn’t care. The rock throwing that resulted in a scar under my right eye after one student put broken glass in the dirt clog stopped. Everyday Cindy and I ran from bullies either beating us or throwing rocks. Throwing Vickie stopped all of that.

It would be at the end of 6th grade our father up and moved us to Oklahoma City. Our mothers mother was trying to get custody of Cindy, Jerry & I. We wouldn’t know this for many many years. Our aunt Mildred & uncle Bob lived in Oklahoma. The only meals we had there were free lunches ar school. I found the first teacher in my life who helped me overcome my traumatic stutter and finally speak again too. This same teacher would also save me when at school I began my menstrual cycle early not knowing what was wrong with me but believing God was punishing me due to the years of abuse at the hands of our grandfather while no one did anything to stop it. Not other relatives. Not neighbors. Not teachers. No one except Miss Dorothy had ever tried to intervene.

For a year in an Oklahoma trailer park our miserable lives became more miserable. Aunt Mildred didn’t like children. Uncle Bob saw “free labor.” We swept his chemical plant. We cleaned their house. We were helpless pawns. Our dad went out drinking and came home angry most nights. We had learned to hide as much as we could and stay out of the way. He worked for uncle Bob. There were 2 brothers that spit on me and Cindy or pushed us waiting on the bus in Oklahoma. We had never rode a bus and thought it would be fun. It wasn’t. One day one of them went after our baby brother, Jerry. It would never happen again. Cindy and I beat the daylight out of the two trailer park thugs that had terrorized everyone else forced to ride the bus. We were learning that fighting back was the only option we had.

Melissa went to school with us and rode the bus. One day in 7th grade she came to our trailer. We weren’t ever allowed to have friends in our home or go to other peoples homes either. She wanted a match but our father measured and marked everything and would beat the daylights out of us if he found we had consumed or used anything without asking. We couldn’t give her a pack of matches out of fear. She left and within minutes shot herself beside her trailer. I’ve always blamed myself for not giving her those matches. We never knew why she did it. I ran to her trailer and saw the carnage ahead of Cindy. We both stopped Jerry to keep him from it. The entire school was given the day off. It was the first funeral of someone we had ever attended. If not for Cindy and Jerry I might’ve been Melissa. I might’ve chosen an easy way out of our hellish lives but I had Cindy and Jerry to think about I had siblings to protect the same way Tammy had protected us before grandma Tinney adopted her at 10. Without realizing it back then I became the fixer. The protector. The kid who whatever happened lied and said “I did it” or “it was my fault” to spare my siblings a beating. I also hated my father. This rate would grow over the years to come only more fierce and consuming throughout the rest of my life. But I never considered following Melissa’s lead I had Cindy and Jerry to think about leaving alone and defenseless.

Grandma and grandpa showed up in Oklahoma to move us to Texas. We had been quite nearly starved after a summer of no school and no food. Nothing had changed after a year away from grandpa he immediately cornered Cindy and I loading our meager belongings and said “did you miss me?” We were miserable malnutritioned and helpless. No one would help us. No one would ever help us. Only surviving and escaping our family we would but we were still to young to pull it off.

Cindy and I stopped asking about Tammy in Oklahoma. We had suffered many beatings by asking or even mentioning her name. It was while being moved from OK to TX I decided to one day find my sister and our mother to confront her. This would take years to accomplish but I was hellbent to do it.

Texas was equally miserable. Back in school at Castleberry I was beaten up on our first day. I only had one pair of pants as did Cindy. We both cut up a flag to add length by whipstitching the flag onto the hem of our pants. Debbie cornered me in the bathroom. Cindy was by far more adept to these encounters than I was so I did the same thing I did at home. Nothing. I had taken many beatings over Vickie back in Lompoc. I didn’t want another beating when I got home from defending myself. Debbie and her sidekicks regularly cornered me coming out of Special Ed. It was miserable I knew I would get beaten up everyday and dreaded it. One day my father noticed a black eye and told me “if you keep coming home getting your ass whipped at school I’m gonna whip it again.” The next day I beat the living shit out of Debbie with my books. She never bothered me again. Survival was difficult and arduous. It was hell. Monthly I was beaten for having a period and “posing a financial hardship on our family.” Cindy wouldn’t start until years after me. I’m guessing I had precocious puberty but it was never diagnosed. We never went to a regular doctor or dentist. We were too poor for medical care. Maryssa was diagnosed with precocious puberty at 5 years old.

Cindy and I ran away from home at 15. We had called 911. My dad was beating me because I was pregnant. No one in our family wanted me to have that baby. No one. We couldn’t take Jerry with us. We had nowhere to run and no one to run to. The next years of our lives would be survival and without the “family” who had never cared about us or protected us. My greatest regret is and will always be having to leave Jerry behind. In that Hellish House.

It was imperative for Cindy and I to become the mothers we never had. The people we never met. We made a pact at 16 living in a shelter together. We’ve kept that pact. We must now protect Maryssa who trusts a boyfriend who has taken out a policy on her life. She’s quite literally worth more dead to him than alive. Monday we call the insurance company…

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“Take time to make time. Make time to be there.” Little River Band

Juggling my schedule to accommodate clients who have been waiting for Federal prisons to reopen, I had a call Monday from someone wanting to marry “as soon as possible.” Her reason was that her fiancée would be shipping out today to Anderson AFB in Guam.

I took a moment to double check my schedule and suggested meeting me at the Salvation Army in Fort Worth. The location may surprise you so I will explain. Wednesday’s are half off days at the Salvation Army and whenever I have time, I shop for items that women and children at the shelter might need or furniture for those in need.

My niece is moving from Lompoc to Fort Worth next month so I’ve been on the look out for end tables, a love seat and bedroom furniture.

My sister, Tammy is coming with Kori and Fernando who have already rented a house in Saginaw, Texas near my son and his wife.

A bride I had married at Beto Unit a few years ago sent me an email asking if I could reprint and send her wedding photos? After searching Instagram and FB and copying the photos to my phone, I picked up my niece, Stephaney from the group home she’s living at and headed to Walgreens to print the photos while Stephaney waited on me.

My son had called to ask about my schedule and if I would have time to meet him and “look at Oliver’s diaper rash?” I dropped Steph off at work and went back to Walgreens to pick up my brides photos and headed to the post office where I called my son to tell him I was due at Salvation Army at 11 but could meet him later. It was 10:15AM.

At about 10:30 while waiting in line at the post office and getting concerned about the distance from the post office up the Salvation Army, I had a text from my bride asking if we could move our 11 o’clock meeting to 12 so her mother and the grooms mother could attend the wedding. I said “sure, see you then.”

I called my son back to let him know I now had time to meet him earlier as opposed to later. My son asked me to meet him in Lake Worth at 10:45 to take a look at his son, Oliver’s rash so I headed there first.

Oliver had what appears to be a yeast infection so I suggested my son go ahead and take him to the pediatrician. It’s not uncommon for my niece, Leigh Ann or my son to send me photos or FaceTime videos to look at Maddie or Oliver.

Often Maddie has a bump from running into something. She’s a precarious little daredevil that jumps off furniture on a regular basis. Oliver is now eating prepared organic foods and this may be why his little body is reacting to the foods my son and his wife are trying out on him for the first time.

After filling up my sons truck, he headed to the pediatrician.

I rolled out of the QT in Lake Worth and headed to the Salvation Army. I had loaded my suv with furs, fascinators, hats and an assortment of bouquets and bouteniers as well as tiaras for the wedding photos of my couple.

I pulled into Salvation Army and sent a text that I was on site and ran in to look through the store quickly.

At exactly 12PM, three cars pulled in beside me. My couple and both of their moms and I met for the first time in person. I opened my trunk and showed them the treasures I had packed for our short notice wedding ceremony. We couldn’t come up with anywhere we liked in the area so I decided that the Fort Worth courthouse would work well and we caravanned our way from the Salvation Army to the courthouse.

I had typed up a wedding ceremony script for the couple and passed out LV and Chanel face masks from my inventory as my bride wanted one “Covid photo” for a keepsake.

The mothers were so much fun and although it was warm, my bride wore two of my fur stoles for her photo shoot after the ceremony. We had a great time.

I’ve had several calls and emails regarding inmate weddings. Currently, State, ICE and County have not announced when visitation might be reinstated. Federal is leading the way by reinstating non contact visitation no later than October 3, 2020. Please understand that I will be addressing Texas clients first then Oklahoma, Missouri, Arkansas and Louisianna. I’m not going to be addressing California and my other service area states until next year. I expect TDCJ to reinstate visitation within a few months and since I have 57 TDCJ clients who were cancelled in March and April, TDCJ clients will take priority when visitation is reinstated.

My longtime secretary, Virginia is and has been blind in her left eye due to a surgery to correct a cataract. Her cornea slipped and a subsequent year long infection left her permanently blind in her left eye. Her right eye was operated on several months ago and she’s been having problems with that as well so between juggling work and family, I’ve been taking Virginia to specialists in the hopes of getting her “good eye” repaired. Virginia has been with me thirty years and we both appreciate your prayers for healing.

Saturday I’m on site in Mineral Wells at a wedding with a bride who has decided to have her dog give her away. I love pets in weddings as many of you are aware and while this may sound odd to a few people, the brides dog is her best friend.

Last week I was trying to locate 60 chairs and 8 tables for this event since the original vendor cancelled. We have now found tables and chairs for the October 3rd wedding. Thanks so much for all of the vendor suggestions.

One of my TDCJ clients, Vickie tagged me in a Palo Pinto post for a mom trying to find another Officiant after their original Officiant became ill but due to my schedule in Mineral Wells then at Belltower Chapel this Saturday, its impossible for me to squeeze in Palo Pinto so I sent a message to Vickie thanking her for thinking of me but my schedule is so crazy and unpredictable that it’s rare to squeeze in a short notice booking. Wednesday worked because I was scheduled to file marriage licenses in Tarrant County and after the wedding Wednesday, I had my newly married couples jump in my Sahara so we could file their license immediately and get two certified copies. One for the military and the other for my bride to change her name.

This morning while preparing to drive to Parker County from my East Fort Worth Appraisal Appointment, I was overjoyed to find that the test results for my former bride, Deanna (who located a surrogate several months ago after a failed a IVF attempt) had exciting news that the baby is Trisomy negative which is something she has been worried about. It’s a blessing. Deanna lost DeLilah to Trisomy two years ago. I baptized DeLilah immediately after birth as we had a very short window. Two days later, I conducted the memorial for baby DeLilah.

My son called me. “Mom, you remember helping Angel get her grandson from Crain Unit whole Lexi was in prison?”

How could I forget? There are many babies born in prison. Families of the inmates take on the role and responsibility of raising these children.

My mind went back to the updates of Angel expecting the release of Lexi from prison after 6 months. Angel has been raising her grandson as her own child. He’s a happy baby.

My son asked “mom are you still there?” I skipped a beat anticipating less than happy news from the toms of his voice. ”

Yes. What’s wrong? I saw where Lexi was released last month.”

This wasn’t going to be good news. I could hear it in his voice. “Mom, Lexi was only home for 6 days with Angel and the baby. She’s in Houston now and she’s back on drugs. She’s posting videos on FB. I saw them. Bad videos. Angel is afraid she will come back and try to take the baby from her. Asher is 6 months old. Angel can’t afford an attorney. What can you do to help her?”

Because Angel has had possession of the baby for 6 months, she’s in a position to request custody. Family court in Texas rarely allows pro se litigants though so trying to help Angel locate an attorney to help will be challenging. Like my twin sister, Angel gave up her job to raise her grandson. My sister gave up her job to raise her twin granddaughters 16 years ago.

I was getting dressed to meet a client bartering in East Fort Worth at an Appraisal Appointment through my sister site, The Pawning Planners and Cindy was tied up on Parker County meeting another client at Willow Lake Event Center. I sat my coffee down. Ugh. I thought prison had changed Lexi. I thought the birth of her child and support of her family would force her to straighten up and fly right. I felt a pang in my heart for her mother and her child.

I decided to go grab my Texas Family Law book and review grandparents rights. I was sitting in my office when Angel answered my message to call me. “Asher has his 6 month check up and I’ve got a dentist appointment after that for my youngest daughter. Can I call you.” Me “absolutely. I will do what I can to get you help in obtaining information to protect your grandson from your oldest daughters choices. I’m so sorry she’s back on the streets. Sick really over it. Heartbroken and saddened.”

Angel had called me three years ago. “Can you help me? My daughter is in the streets and I have no idea where she is. I know you are familiar with searching the streets because I follow your updates about your niece. I know you’ve found your niece several times. I’m afraid my daughter is dead.” Angel had sent me recent photos of Lexi. I examined them and printed 2 to keep in my suv.

Amazingly a few days later, I did find Lexi. I found her off Calmont and Camp Bowie. She had dyed her hair. Her clothing was dirty. She had been talking to a group of other people who didn’t respond well to a stranger walking up to the group. I was the stranger.

Lexi didn’t recognize me. I rolled up and said “Lexi, it’s Wendy Wortham. Robert’s mom. Your mom worked with my son years ago. You know me. I’ve met you before. Your mom is worried about you. Can I take you to get something to eat and have you call your mom?”

Reluctantly, Lexi got into my suv. A few of her friends wanted to join her. I’m not stupid and declined having strangers sitting behind me in my suv. “Sorry folks I’m only interested in taking Lexi. Maybe next time.”

She was just obviously on something. “What are you doing in this area? You don’t fit in. You could get hurt. My friends wanted to come with me. “Your friends aren’t my friends and I don’t want strangers in my car. I have a family depending on me. I have clients depending on me and quite frankly I have a husband expecting me to come home tonight so putting your friends in my suv wasn’t ever going to happen.”

I thought about the nearly 16 years my twin sister and I had spent back then trying to find her daughter, Stephaney. It was Hell. We’ve been in dangerous places to drag Steph out and put her back in treatment. We both had late night calls from jails with Steph screaming at us.

We’ve both aged trying to save Steph. No one and I mean absolutely no one understands where we’ve been or what we’ve been through UNLESS they have a loved one with mental illness and addiction issues. Don’t judge people who do whatever they can to try and save a loved one. We don’t need your negativity. We need your understanding.

Normality is the one thing every parent of an addict lacks and desperately wants.

I had driven Lexi to a restaurant. I handed her my phone to call her mom on FB messenger. She didn’t know the phone number to reach her mother. I had offered to take her to women’s haven. I had offered to help her get off the streets. Lexi wanted none of my suggestions. I had tried. God knows I tried to help Lexi. She wanted me to take her back to where I had found her. She wanted cigarettes. I bought them. I feared then Lexi would die in the streets. I recall seeing her wave goodbye in my rear view mirror happily walking back to her group. Lexi had made a decision. She wouldn’t return home to her mother. She wouldn’t accept my offer to get her off the streets either.

Leaving the apartment complex I dropped her off at, I was pulled over. “What are you doing in this area?” It’s true I didn’t fit in.

“My niece, Stephaney is missing. I filed a report. Here’s the number. I’m her aunt. I’ve been trying to find her and another mother reached out and asked if I could look for her daughter, Lexi. I found her but she won’t let me take her to the women’s haven.”

Both officers look at the missing persons report on their computer. One of them walks back to my suv. “This is a dangerous area. You don’t belong here. People who are here want to be here. Go back to the suburbs. Get out of here before you get car jacked or robbed or killed.”

I’ve heard it before. For years. In desperation to find my niece, I’ve heard similar things many times from officers. My sister has too. We just couldn’t give up on Steph. We would find her. Put her in treatment. She would get out again and we would lose her again. I’m crying as I admit how hellish it’s been. How painful. How tragic. It has been the hardest thing I’ve ever been through in my life to save Steph. It was even harder on Cindy. She gave up her life at 40 to raise the twins. She tried over and over to fix Steph but she couldn’t. We couldn’t. My niece has done so many things to hurt our family that my husband won’t allow her in our house. The twins won’t speak to Steph. I recall driving her back from treatment in Oklahoma 6 years ago and flat out telling her “if you don’t straighten up one day your children won’t have anything to do with you. Get your life together.” She didn’t believe me. But I knew that at some point the twins would give up on their mom and I was right.

Two years after finding Lexi, she was arrested and a year later sentenced. Her rap sheet is a mile long.

Lexi was pregnant at her sentencing. During those years of Lexi lost to the streets my niece was in and out of psych wards and treatment centers when she wasn’t back on the streets again. I wouldn’t give up hope for Steph even when Cindy did. I couldn’t. I believed I could save Steph. No one could convince me otherwise not my husband, not my twin. No one. When I wasn’t working I was driving into dangerous areas trying to find Steph. Cindy would call me and say “don’t you go look for her alone.” I would tell my twin, my best friend, my other half “I’m not don’t worry I won’t go look alone.” I would then go look alone driving through the areas I knew homeless people often congregated.

Six months ago, while Steph was still in rehab in Grove, Oklahoma, Angel contacted me again. “Lexi is going to have my grandson while on prison. What can I do to get my grandchild?” Angel picked up Asher exactly 6 months ago. She hoped prison would change Lexi but it didn’t. Angel chose to save her grandchild.

Sixteen years ago, my twin sister saved her twin granddaughters. We both hired an attorney and sought custody of Maryssa and Makenna. If we hadn’t at any time my niece could have stormed in and demanded the twins.

Lexi is in the wind. Angel needs to get legal custody of her grandson. She’s had him in her care for 6 months. Helping Angel to protect her grandson from having Lexi show up and try to take him won’t be easy but it’s necessary.

My niece is now stable. She’s working. She’s living in a group home. She’s focusing on finally getting it together. She was 15 when she became pregnant with twins. I was 15 when Cindy and I ran away from home. I was also pregnant. Unlike Steph or Lexi, Cindy and I lived at the women’s haven. We got our lives together. We escaped the streets, homelessness and poverty. We came from nothing. A heroin addict for a mother and a family who didn’t care about us. We survived. Work became our passion. We had each other.

Cindy and I have raised our children and grandchildren as a team. We have dedicated our lives to being the parents we never had. I believe Angel has done the same thing. Saving her grandson from Lexi’s choices has been difficult financially and emotionally. Angel prays for her daughter to straighten up and fly right while she cares for her grandson.

Like many grandparents, Angel is about to do whatever is necessary to give her grandson the stability he deserves…

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What If? Why Not? What For? When Love Isn’t Enough…

Reading text messages from my Michael Unit Bride, Bridget, it became apparent that salvaging a marriage she had wanted so badly wasn’t going to work. Why? Her husband was making financial demands of sending $500 here or $700 there or he would be the victim of gang violence? Guilt is often a form of coercion and manipulation. Was Bridget aware of this? Perhaps not but I was about to enlighten her.

Bridget met her future husband in middle school. They hadn’t seen each other in thirty years. How did they reconnect? Her future husbands mother put Bridget in touch with her son.

At the time Bridget contacted me about marrying at Michael Unit, she was excited and thrilled to have found love. They hadn’t seen one another in person for thirty years. Their only correspondence was by mail or phone. I was a bit concerned about the fact that Bridget hadn’t had a visit and mentioned this to her but she wanted the emotional surprise and delight of seeing each other on wedding day.

I rolled into the parking lot at Michael in one of our Santa Fe suvs that day. I sent a text to Bridget and met her in the parking lot. We walked into the shakedown area.

For the record, I remember each moment I finally meet my clients marrying an inmate in person. Why? Because my traditional clients have always met me in person long before wedding day.

Clients marrying an inmate talk, text and email. We have a virtual relationship long before an in person meeting.

As we waited for our escort at Michael Unit, Bridget gave me the details of how this love story came about. It was romantic and filled with precious memories of their childhood. I loved the dynamics of “love finding a way.”

I never ask why an inmate is incarcerated. Often though my clients share this information on their own. Bridgets soon to be husband had a 55 year sentence. This alarmed me. Why? Because 55 years is a very long time.

While it’s true I have many clients who marry a lifer or death row inmate, I wondered with a sentence that heavy and a virtual courtship if Bridget could make this marriage work? After all, Bridget had children and grandchildren. The expenses of being a prison wife are many. Money on the books of an inmate, expensive phone calls, long drives to the Unit and lonely nights and holidays are hard on the person on the outside.

I recalled another client at Stiles who had been on the outside not once but twice for an inmate who claimed he wanted a fresh start only to wind up back in prison. My bride had called me after he was again back in the system. She needed an ear to listen. She needed a way to vent her frustration at loving someone who chose to go back to his old ways. He was released last month. Will he fly straight? Only time will tell but his beautiful wife won’t be around for a third stint. Everyone has limits.

My Wynn Unit bride contacted me about a divorce two months ago. My Ellis Unit client contacted me about a divorce while Cindy and I were in California.

Now Bridget is contacting me about a divorce. This is alarming. Why? All of these clients are in Texas. Not other service area states but only in Texas? Why the trend?

I sent Bridget information to self file her divorce. She’s in Dallas County. The clerks offices and courts are closed. Her husband continues to accuse her of being unfaithful. This type of tactic is a form of control. Generally it’s used to put the victim on the defensive. Why? To rattle their cage. To force them into being defensive. Manipulative people use emotion to bend or break someone. Bridget’s husband claimed the gang going after him was going after him for drugs. How did he obtain drugs in prison? Why did he consistently accuse her of being unfaithful. Why did he use guilt to attempt to coerce her into sending hundreds of dollars she didn’t have to send? Control.

Let’s go back to a client a few years ago who told me the inmate wanted her to send risqué photos of herself to him. She was uncomfortable about this and said so. The inmate became infuriated about her refusal. He then accused her of being unfaithful. He then demanded she send half of her income to him “to create a nest egg for our future.”

When I heard these red flags flying, I advised her to cut him off entirely. Stop taking his calls. Stop sending money. Stop being manipulated. Why? She has 3 children. She works two jobs. The last thing she needs are upsetting phone calls and accusations along with monetary demands. She cancelled plans to marry this con artist and found love on the outside.

Let’s go back to the two brides and one groom “scenario.” It’s tough to shock me but that catastrophe did. On the one hand I had someone in North Dakota wanting to marry someone in TDCJ. On the other hand I had someone in San Antonio wanting to marry the SAME INMATE.

How did I know it was the same inmate? The Unit, the inmates ID number and the inmates name perfectly matched. It was the same person. This Don Juan had a lot of time on his hands. He also had not one but two women sending him money in exchange for him sending these two women identical love letters. North Dakota sent me videos of the love letters to prove it was the same inmate she also sent copies of the envelopes. San Antonio sent me copies of the letters too. I advised both of these women to dump the flim flam man.

For weeks I continued to lay out all of the reasons this unethical scoundrel wasn’t marriage material. San Antonio demanded he “choose” between the two brides. She also decided to go ahead and marry him. He was paroled two weeks after the marriage.

While Cindy and I were in California he also hit the young lady who had offered her heart and her home to this abusive con man.

There are a number of names for scoundrels. Let’s review them… Charleton, Fraudster, Dastard, Scallywag, Bagabond, Hooligan, Grifter, Swindler, Rat, Villain, & Rogue to name a few. I’m going to add Insincere and Treacherous.

For the “prisoner attempting polygamy” all of the above references fit what he had been doing to not one but TWO WOMEN.

Betrayed by her husband, the bride that decided to marry the emotionally unfaithful con man who had prayed and played two women at the same time (that we knew of since there could have been more) she sent me a message on FB for her help filing a divorce. Cindy and I were in Oceanside. I asked what had happened? She told me he had struck her. That was enough information for me and certainly too much for her. Two weeks out of the joint and physically abusive only added to the emotional abuse this inmate had put her through. She’s divorced now and happy I might add. Well rid of a snake that crawled into her life and begrudgingly slithered out of it.

Bridget like all of my clients is worthy of true love. True love doesn’t have a price tag or demands. True love is freely given and freely received.

“When Kindness Is Consistent It Becomes Constant.” Cindy Daniel

Bridget like all of my clients deserves to find love and have love. Sadly, she married someone unworthy of her. Together we will fix that by obtaining a divorce and freeing the chains that bound her to someone hellbent on taking advantage of her…

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Passion Is The Plow That Pushes Dreams Into Reality…Prisons, People & Places.

The holidays are “that time of the year” when holiday parties can bring out a few unexpected conversations after one too many. Loose lips sink ships. I never drink too much or have the desire to do so. There isn’t anything glamorous or funny about people who cannot handle their liquor. A glass of wine occasionally or one vodka martini on a bad day are my limit. I rarely drink even one drink on location but occasionally have based on the situation. Certain clients insist I share a celebratory cocktail or highball and I oblige. 

Corporate Christmas parties always bring the chaos. Why? Free flowing alcohol. Whether I’m working the event or a guest at my husbands Christmas gathering for work, there’s always that one employee who “wants to know more” about the person sitting next to them. Or, there’s at least one person who should have stopped at two drinks. A combination of both always proves for an enlightening conversation. 

I was recently at a corporate Christmas party where I was asked “what do I do?” The person seated next to me was talkative and entertaining but my answer sent her into a laughing fit.

This question about “what I do” comes up frequently. It’s changed from “where do you work?” 

Describing what I do to people who either have an opinion regarding inmate marriage or are unaware that inmate marriage exists can get a few less than tactful responses from the person asking me. 

My usual answer? “I own several businesses and work as a coordinator, Officiant and also barter event services as well as perform prison weddings in numerous states.” The last part is always surprising to the person asking if they don’t follow me on social media or read my blogs. My statement is either met with shocked silence or in this weeks scenario, a laugh from the person asking me an intrusive question such as “what do I do?” A better question would be “what don’t you do?” 

Not caring what others think about what I do or who I do it with is the most liberating gift that I have ever given myself. Let’s get started with “how I got here.” Years ago, I was successful in high end sales, print and commercial modeling and promotions. Years ago, my life was spent on the set, the sales floor or traveling. Years ago, I was always working and spending little time with my family. Years ago, I was working for the man to pay my bills. Years ago, someone laughing at my profession would bother me. It doesn’t anymore. 

I don’t care what others think about my job or my clients. I have the time to spend with my family that my jobs took from me for all of those years. I work for myself. I set my own schedule. I’m highly sought after in the events industry and I regularly turn down gigs with “traditional clients.” Why? Because I don’t HAVE to work. I haven’t HAD TO WORK in many years. 

I’m often “recognized” as is my twin sister. “I saw you on TV.” Or, “I saw you in an ad for Cadillac.” Or, “weren’t you in those commercials for Whataburger with Mel Tillis?” The answer is yes, I’ve been in the film industry since I was a teen. 

I’ve been a promotional model for thirty years and I’ve filmed five commercials with Mel Tillis. For the record, my favorite burger isn’t from Whataburger. It’s from Kincaids. I’m nothing if not blatantly honest. 

How did I get from Whataburger commercials to high end sales and promotional modeling? Good question. I began modeling in my 20’s to obtain an upscale wardrobe I couldn’t afford to buy. I then used my wardrobe to become a high end sales person. You’ve got to “look the part” and, I did. During the week back then, I worked a wide variety of weird jobs but on weekends I was a model for numerous brands. I preferred to get clothing rather than a paycheck. 

Modeling for clothes? It was a barter and a great deal for me. I have closets full of designer clothing and none of it was bought. In fact, my son modeled with me for Stripling & Cox a number of years and was the best dresssed kid in Fort Worth. Those mommy and me style shows kept my son in school clothes year after year. Those years on the catwalk at country clubs provided me an amazing wardrobe of clothing, furs and jewelry. The experience also taught me that I could sell anything. “How did Cadillac come into the picture?” Buckle up kids… during my second divorce my ex husband sold my car. I needed a vehicle, insurance and income. I became a Cadillac salesperson. 

To generate clients I hired a photographer and paid for print ads targeting consumers who could afford Cadillacs at the very same country clubs I had walked the catwalk at. True story. 

Experience is a great teacher. I knew where the money was and where to market. The county club had the clients who could afford Cadillac products.

Moving into an industry I had no experience at? Why not? Selling myself as a high end salesperson was easy. I knew that luxury car dealerships provided demos. I needed a car, health insurance and income. I decided to pitch myself at a local dealership. 

After all, I had sold furs, jewelry, designer clothing and even solar panels. How hard could it be to flip luxury cars? I’ve never sold anything I wouldn’t buy and I would have bought a Cadillac if I could have afforded one so I was all set to start selling. 

I decorated my office off the showroom floor and studied my manuals. I passed my GM certification courses. I also spent time wondering how to generate new clients.

Finding a client base took creativity but I did. Cadillac gave me everything I needed. I had a free demo, gas, health insurance and an income. I decided to run ads featuring myself with a different car every month at country clubs. I was investing in myself. It takes money to make money. I needed the “right clients” and found them. What I did had never been done before by a salesperson in the car industry. I was a pioneer. 

My ex was shocked at how I went from nothing to something. My ex was also one of the many country club members viewing my ads month after month. Smiling back at him from those glossy brochures making more money than I ever imagined? Absolutely. 

That smile was real folks. I wasn’t a hangar anymore hawking or flipping for clothes. My game literally stepped up for those Cadillac ads. Coordinating evening gowns? You bet from my years as a model. I have closets of options. 

In the ad below I decided to wear a chocolate gown rather than match the car. Who didn’t want an XLR? What a great car the XLR was! I loved them. I could sell anything I believed in and did.Poverty is a great teacher. If you don’t learn you will never earn. Successful people don’t start out successful unless they are lucky. I have never been lucky but I have always been resilient. Trial and error are essential to success.

I’m a survivor. I also think outside the box. Other salesmen laughed at my ads. I laughed all the way to the bank. 

I left Cadillac on top. I retired from car sales. I left laughing and moved on to my next adventure. Years of car sales, classy demos and fantastic paychecks was a wild ride but I was ready to move on. Everyone knows I’m an identical twin. This isn’t a news flash. My twin sister has been raising her twin granddaughters since birth. We are two sets of twins. 

While working for Cadillac, I even put my twin and twin grandnieces in one of my Cadillac ads for Escalades. “Got a big family? Get an Escalade!” 

I sold the $hit out of Escalades with that two sets of twins ad posted in the Ridglea and Colonial Country Club monthly brochures. The twins are now fifteen years old. 

My twin is my partner at Texas Twins Events, Texas Twins Treasures, The Pawning Planners and TDCJ Officiant.When I decided to start Texas Twins Events, Cindy and the Twins joined me on location at events and clients hired the twin as flower girls, ring bearers and ushers. This was a surprise. Taking our kids to work became a family affair.

For tips or flips, the twins loved being in weddings. They now book as princess characters for birthday parties. Within a week of going LIVE with Texas Twins Events, production companies started contacting me. This was shocking because my goal wasn’t to get famous. We filmed a Pilot for The Pawning Planners in 2015. It went with the smallest minority of our actual bookings though and our focus was helping others not filming. We don’t have any interest of fabricating our embellishing our journey or our clients.

My goal was to find a way to spend time with my family while making Events affordable to our clients. Any client. Any event. Any location. 

We welcomed diversity. Narrow minded people had opinions. Those “opinions” were THEIR luggage and THEIR trip. “What percentage of your clients are LBGT?” This idiotic question along with others used to bother me. Why? Because the person asking wasn’t supportive of my client base. 

I was the first openly LBGT friendly vendor. While everyone else was hiding their affiliation with LBGT clients fearful of backlash, I was openly LBGT friendly. All of my businesses are LBGT friendly.My first prison client all of those years ago came to me because I welcomed diversity. She had seen me on a news interview regarding support of the LBGT community. She knew I was open minded and she was right. My first Prison wedding was to help a person no one else wanted to help. 

The CW33 interview was aired on numerous stations. Cindy and were in Dallas when I was hijacked by a reporter for that interview. Two sets of twins caught his attention. The fact that we weren’t LBGT was why he stuck a microphone in my face and said “roll it.” 

Even members of my family voiced their disdain for our client bases over the years and effectively cut themselves from my life. I didn’t care about opinions. 

Those family members didn’t lift a finger when Cindy and I were homeless at 15. We had no one but each other to lean on and did. Those “family members” never once helped my sister or I. We had each other and a new family. Our clients became that family.

Prison weddings evolved from a creative request for services. I perform up to 20 prison weddings per month. 

I prefer prison weddings. There aren’t any divas or drama. There is love. There is resilience. There are happy endings. There is life after lock up. My clients are amazing!

“Why did you and Cindy go to the expense to create your own inventory of photo props? Why do you do photo shoots with clients?” Prison photos aren’t always great and guests in Texas aren’t allowed. 

Photo shoots bring the fun, the flowers, the tiaras, the family and magical moments. I’ve spent thousands on my inventory but it’s worth every penny to clients because my SUVs are treasure troves of fun stuff. 

I became the person I wanted to meet. I became the mother I never had. My twin sister and I continue to change the wedding and events industry one family or barter at a time from Fort Worth, Texas. We love our clients and our role to make their Dream Event a reality. Many of you recently saw us on the Mel Robbins show regarding “over sharing.” We are driven and passionate. What was cut from that interview and effectively missed was my explanation of why I was excited a new baby was coming though Cindy already had a full house and was raising her twin granddaughters when a call from her oldest daughter planning to come home pregnant on a one way ticket came in.

Cindy was excited to have another baby coming and posted the update on FB. Cindy offering to take her daughter in with a baby on the way gives you far more insight on how we had decided that with “two of us we could handle anything.” We do everything together including raising our children and grandchildren.

Little Maddy rode with us to Units and jumped into client photos for three years and nearly four before her father returned to the states. Leigh Ann, Maddy and Alex are now reunited in California. We miss Maddy and FaceTime  daily. We are flying to see them in a few weeks while working destination weddings in California. 

Our little Maddy is a ray of sunshine. Leigh Ann is homesick and excited about our twin trip to visit. We are honest and open. We don’t care what others think. Their opinions or negativity don’t enrich our lives. They have “limits” to what they think is controversial or acceptable. 

I was told a few years ago by a production company “what you do is just too controversial.” Really? They contacted me. I’m not going to change who I am or what I do to fit it someone’s mold of what they think I should be or do. My clients are more important than the opinions of strangers.

What Cindy and I have is each other and a desire to change the way people perceive our clients and their relationships. What we have accomplished is giving our clients the event they wanted with the kindness, compassion and attention that they deserved… 

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It takes HEART not STRENGTH to lift a LOVED ONE back up when they are DOWN…

Loving an inmate requires dedication and perseverance. It’s not an easy path for any of my clients. But, love is stronger than than most people realize. 

Yesterday, a stranger called me who had been following my blogs for years. This person had decided to finally “reach out” in order to point blank ask me “how I became so compassionate towards others?” 

It’s confusing to others how I became the person I am today but, I’m open minded and determined, passionate and perseverant because I haven’t had an easy life. If I had, I might have been a different person but, a hard path didn’t define me or my sister. A difficult childhood empowered us both with strength, courage, tenacity and resilience. 

The truth is that throughout my childhood, Cindy and I as well as our stepsister had very little attention and much less compassion from those who were supposed to love and protect us. Our mother was a heroin addict. Our mother also sold all four of her children for $50 each to go buy heroin. 

Cindy and I were 6 years old and at our grandparents house alone with our grandfather while our grandmother and other family members were at another house planning a birthday party for my twin sister and I. Neither of us will ever forget this particular 6th birthday.

Why? Because my grandfather had played the tape recorded conversation with our mother (as he often would over the years) to remind us that no one wanted us before sexually assaulting us. I would stop speaking on my 6th birthday. I would for many years have difficulty speaking. 

People say “children learn what they live.” This is bullshit. Children can and do learn to break the chains. Cindy and I did. We both hate drugs. We both went to great lengths to protect our children and grandchildren from ever being hurt in the same way we had as children ourselves. We were never taught compassion by example. 

Instead, we learned to be compassionate regarding others because we knew lack of compassion by the examples of people who were supposed to love and protect us failing to do so throughout our childhoods. Cindy and I left home at 15. We never looked back. Instead, we looked forward.

Last Friday, my twin sister, Cindy was hospitalized with chest pain. After 16 years of the “carnival of chaos” Cindy’s youngest daughter, Stephaney has pulled us back on over and over again, the end result is that my sister has hypertension. Stephaney is a meth addict. 

Someone told me last year “don’t hate the addict. Hate the drug.” I’m assuming they must have been an addict because I know damn well that anyone who loves an addict would never say anything this stupid to someone who was yet again “Trying To Save Stephaney ONE MORE TIME.” 

The number of times I’ve told my niece “this is the last time” would astound you. The lengths Cindy and I have gone to in order to put her daughter on the right path would amaze you. We absolutely refused to give up. We can no longer go on. Yesterday was Stephaney’s last chance. I fear if she doesn’t choose to change, her choices will destroy our family once and for all. 

My niece and her choices have hurt my own health as well as my sisters. Stephaney’s choices have affected her twin daughters mental health and self esteem. Stephaney is self destructive. Stephaney has consistently backtracked. 

Last weekend after three months of sobriety, Stephaney backtracked again. Sunday, I was in the hospital with chest pain regarding Stephaney’s latest relapse. My sister and I as well as Stephaney’s twin daughters, Maryssa and Makenna were all (yet again) devastated. 

Yesterday, Stephaney was released from her 18th visit to JPS due to drug induced psychosis. My son had driven my niece to JPS while Cindy was in the ER with me. My daughter in law and son also took over my bookings last Sunday. I’m terrified that Stephaney’s choices will eventually kill my sister or myself. 

I drove my niece to rehab yesterday. I cried as she cried. I mourned the years she had lost with our family. I feared and continue to fear the future of my sisters health issues that Stephaney’s choices have burdened her loved ones with. How do you change an addict? How do you save them? 

People have asked “how did your mom stop being an addict?” She didn’t. High as a kite, a Los Angeles transit bus collided with my mother’s car. The “accident” took 60% of my mother’s cognitive ability and one of her eyes. 

In essence, my mother “forgot” that she was a heroin addict. I pray my niece decides to stop being an addict and chooses to be a part of our family instead….

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Meanwhile In Fort Worth And Memoirs Of A Monster In Law? Timelines, Deadlines & Whining…

My son and my nieces would tell you “we have two moms” and, they would mean it. Cindy and I have been tag teaming our adult children and grandchildren for thirty four years now. Does the “peanut gallery of people” compromising our family appreciate the luxury of two moms and two MiMi’s? Not always. In fact, last night, my daughter in law had a fit because “you posted that we were expecting before I did on FB? What were you thinking?” Okay, here’s what I was thinking… I was thinking that surely my son and his wife had already shared this news to be honest with you and I was planning a baby shower for them but, in this family, someone is always being accused of overstepping their bounds around here. 

This “incident” carried over to dinner with my husband last night. While advising Matthew that Cindy and I had planned to fly to NY for two days of filming, I “squeezed” the FB post into the conversation. My husband who is all too aware that Cindy and I are the “bank” for our adult children and grandchildren quickly took over the conversation by interjecting “who is going to be buying everything? You and Cindy assume that Steve and I have no idea how much money you two spend on your adult children and grandchildren but I’ve got news for you, we have a few clues. Maddy has never worn the same outfit twice. The twins haven’t either. Steve and I sit back and watch you two enable everyone while wondering when you plan to push these birds out of the nest.”

In defense of Cindy or I being “enablers,” it should be noted that we are the mothers we never had. The grandmothers we never knew. Are we overdoing it? Maybe. But we didn’t want our adult children of grandchildren “going without.” Matthew and Steve don’t have any children or grandchildren of their own. What they DO HAVE are two meddling wives and mothers who “stepped it up a notch” being MiMi’s to Maryssa, Makenna and Madyson. Are we “too involved?” Absolutely. 

Matthew has had a helluva time with the rain this year slowing down the homebuilding process. He had spent yesterday viewing lots and trying to “come up with Anniversary ideas for me.” I don’t need an anniversary celebration. Hell, for fifteen years neither of us knew the actual date of our wedding until two years ago when I requested a copy of our marriage license. True story. Matthew thought it was September 23rd Wendy thought it was September 15th. 

Back to the FB post that my daughter in law, son, nieces and twin grandnieces thought was “out of line.” Leigh Ann claims Cindy and I announced her pregnancy before she did. I don’t remember doing this but, maybe we did. What is everyone waiting on anyhow? Christmas? 

My husband thinks I’m a control freak. Cindy’s husband thinks she is a meddler. Are we too involved with our adult children? After all, Cindy and I work seven days a week. How involved can we be when we are out on the road? Humph. 

Today is my daughter in law’s birthday. As usual, Cindy and I have planned to surprise her with gifts at work then take our families to dinner Monday because I’m working all weekend and everyday next week. Do I mention the now deleted FB announcement? I’m on the fence here. 

Today, I’m meeting the couple who may or may not be getting married. Why? Because the groom had an affair. The bride found out from grabbing his cell phone while he was in the restroom. The bride had planned to read these sext messages at the altar. I suggested not doing this in front of families and friends. I also suggested counseling. Will this wedding happen? I have no idea. 

People are unpredictable. Our adult children and even our grandchildren are unpredictable. Clients are unpredictabile. Weddings are a wild ride. Life is a circus. 

My son and I argue frequently about Stephanie’s pregnancy. Robbie doesn’t understand the changes his wife is going through. Prior to the FB post, I had told my son “your wife needs attention and support.” Did I plan on redirecting the attention to myself regarding announcing their pregnancy? No but I stand accused. Inlaws and Outlaws. In-laws are the wonderful additions to your life marriage brings. Outlaws are the in-laws perpetually stirring the chili. 

I’m not a monster in law, I’m a magician trying to solve everyone else’s problems and patch my family full of fighting in-laws together. It’s a tough job but I’m a boss lady Hellbent on getting the job done in Fort Worth, Texas. 

Quite frankly, juggling work and my family isn’t for the meek or the weak. I may be unfiltered but, I’m also a realist, the go to gal and the mom that gets things done. 

Leigh Ann and her mother in law SHOULD have a fantastic relationship but they don’t. Why? Because Leigh Ann thinks that Janet is “too involved.” Too involved from Florida? What the? 

My niece, Stephaney thinks that her relationship with my son was lost when he married Stephanie. 

Getting my family to “get along” is an ongoing escapade. For two years after filming our television pilot, Pawning Planners, Robert and his wife, Stephanie traveled with me to “traditional” events. An event in Dallas changed things. Stephanie had too many photos on her SD card from a weekend of weddings. Robert was trying to delete photos from the previous weekend and inadvertently deleted photos from the event we were on site at. A loud argument in front of 200 guests ensued between them. I sent my son and his wife to their suv “until they could cool off  or apologize.” 

The following weekend, I took Leigh Ann to handle photography. The “switch” was due to my son and his wife arguing on location. 

Leigh Ann is now in California. Cindy handles photography. Robert and Stephanie book their own clients and I’m a monster in law? This is going to be a long weekend…