Category: Uncategorized

Leaving San Antonio to return for a memorial in Parker County today, my heart was heavy. For several days now I’ve been hearing from three brides that are upset about letters being sent from inmates that are running from hot to cold. It’s not uncommon for my clients to call me because many of them don’t have family and friends who support their decision to love an inmate. It’s not an easy path and it’s far harder when you don’t know what to believe anymore from an inmate.

A lot of people are surprised I’m so comfortable in prisons. I’m going to share a little background with you to enlighten you. My mother was a heroin addict and effectively in or out of jail or prison most of her life. She forgot my sisters, brother and I on a regular basis. The police station was familiar to us. We spent a lot of time there while officers tried to track down our mother, father or grandparents. Actually, we were comfortable at the police station from a very young age. There were donuts and vending machines and a building full of officers concerned about our well being. You could say we grew up in police stations due to the amount of time we spent waiting for someone to come pick us up. When we were left at the park for hours and another parent noticed, we had the luxury of riding to the police station in the police car.

About ten years ago while in California, I was asked to perform a wedding at Lompoc. Since then I have performed weddings at State, Federal, ICE and County Jails nationwide.

Today while at lunch preparing to go to the memorial for Garrett who was married in June this year, Cindy and I discussed a few emails from brides and grooms planning to marry an inmate as well as a pesky journalist who somehow managed to find out that I am the TDCJ Approved Officiant scheduled to marry a high profile inmate to a woman rather than a man. No thanks. My clients and their confidentiality are important to me. Go fishing somewhere else Pal.

I don’t discuss details of inmates. I don’t share personal information about my clients either. My clients are on the outside. The inmate isn’t my client. The person on the outside is. I’m protective of personal information of my client and the inmate because the inmates crimes often affect perception of my clients from the general public. I’ve never asked why someone is incarcerated. It’s none of my business. Sure, I could look and find it but I don’t. Why? Because my opinion of an inmate is based on their behavior towards me. I don’t want a preconceived idea about an inmate. I “go into every Unit” fresh and without any opinion as to why an inmate is incarcerated just as I would with any client who isn’t incarcerated. Everyone is treated with respect and dignity regardless of where they are marrying.

I’m going to share with you that back in 2007, my twin sister and I literally did everything we could to discourage a relationship with her daughter Leigh Ann and a con artist she bumped into at Target in Lake Worth while we were buying bathing suits for my twin grandnieces on our way to NRH20.

This guy followed us several aisles. I didn’t like him right off. Cindy didn’t either but within weeks Leigh Ann was madly in love with a guy who claimed to be a war hero.

Coming from a military family ourselves, these war stories were fishy to say the least and yet we had no way to disprove everything David said that Leigh Ann believed. This scenario came up at lunch today for a few reasons.

First, because I was discussing a bride who caught her fiancée in a fling with another woman at her house.

Secondly, because she’s pregnant. I don’t want her to marry this guy. I’ve been really pretty vocal about this. I’m always really vocal when I feel strongly against anyone whether it’s my clients or my own family members marrying. I’m a very protective person. I couldn’t win against David. Cindy couldn’t either. Whatever we found on this guy Leigh Ann refused to read.

Playing with her food and probably remembering the drama of David in her life, Leigh Ann looked over and asked “are you going to go as far as you did with David?”

My answer was “I might. He’s going to hurt her and break her heart. This isn’t husband material she deserves better.” I meant it.

Marriage records are public in Texas. Leigh Ann and David had bought a marriage license in McClennan County on their way to his hearing in Amarillo. A reporter would later call Leigh Ann to ask about that marriage license. Thank God she didn’t marry this guy.

Richard David McClanahan knew or must have had some idea that he would be arrested and yet he goes in the opposite direction to Waco to purchase a marriage license with my niece before backtracking to Amarillo? I know the distance because there are prisons near both cities that I have conducted weddings at. Why would he choose Waco? Was it because he was familiar with the clerks office there? Why would he want to buy a marriage license knowing the sentencing he was facing for his stolen valor and financial lies on a bank record? I will never know but I will always wonder.

Leigh Ann didn’t know that David would be arrested at that hearing. She didn’t know she would be driving his car back to drop it at the dealership and turn it in or find a home for his dog or empty his apartment and store everything while he went straight from that hearing to a prison. FCI Yazoo City to be exact.

Even after being called by someone telling her that David was going to prison, Leigh Ann didn’t believe it. She didn’t attend the hearing. She waited at the hotel. I’m glad she did. David was her first real boyfriend. The first person to ask her to marry him. The first person to take her breath away. She believed she loved him. She believed he was telling her the truth. Cindy and I didn’t.

Leigh Ann and David had planned to marry after the hearing. That never happened. She still has the marriage license.

After the hearing, David’s attorney called Leigh Ann to tell her he wasn’t coming back. She called her mom, my twin sister who called me. The details were sketchy. We wanted to fly her home. David’s attorney wanted her to return his car.

The thought of my hysterical niece driving back to Weatherford from Amarillo was horrific. She was overwhelmed. She was shocked. She was finally seeing through the faux life that David had created.

Something was always off about David. He moved fast. Really fast.

After the Amarillo arrest, we helped Leigh Ann drop off David’s car and find a home for his dog and loaded all of his possessions into a UHAUL and into storage. There was a box of medals. Another box of state issued license plates. There were weird things that supported his charges.

He still called from prison and even talked Leigh Ann into visiting him in Mississippi. She took one of my grandnieces, Makenna with her.

As usual, David claimed to be innocent. “This is all a mistake. I will get put and when I do we will get married.” Cindy and I were both anxious about this and had already begun skip tracing David and his history. David has quite a colorful history.

McClanahan was arraigned June 13, 2007 in Amarillo, Texas, for the charges pending against him in federal court. He pleaded not guilty.

The felony charge, which accuses McClanahan of misstating and inflating his income on a financial statement in order to get a car loan, carries a maximum sentence of 30 years in prison and a fine of up to $1 million, Drake said.

The charge of falsely claiming he had three Silver Stars, three Purple Hearts and the Legion of Merit carries up to six months in prison and a $5,000 fine.

The final charge, falsely claiming he received a Medal of Honor, carries a maximum penalty of a year in prison and a fine of up to $100,000.

David spent about a year and a half in prison. He had a 3 year prison term but was released early on good behavior.

While in prison he told Leigh Ann to use his account to pay for phone calls and put money on his books. We still couldn’t get rid of this guy no matter what we tried. Leigh Ann did everything David told her to do THEN David accused her of bank fraud. This idiot had finally laid out enough rope to hang himself.

Horrified, Leigh Ann told me about this accusation. I immediately began collecting information and evidence regarding where the money was sent and on what as well as letters from David instructing Leigh Ann what to do with the money. I created a defense so strong that the bank went back on David.

Con artists don’t care who they hurt or who they use. David didn’t. He finally showed his true colors. We thought it was over but a year and a half later, David called Leigh Ann after release from prison and she decided to go to lunch.

2-3 years of David in and out of her life had worn her out. Did he love her? Was he a sociopath? Could he change? Our answers were no over and over again. David had a furnished apartment. He also had a two year old car.

Leigh Ann asked “how and why he had obtained these things after just being released from prison?”

His answer? “People give me things and do things for me. Do you want to get married?” Leigh Ann left and never contacted him again.

She didn’t date or anything and later bumped into her current husband while traveling to a Microsoft meeting in Seattle.

Alex is everything that David wasn’t. He’s military and in the Navy. He’s a good father and provider. He’s honest and determined to be the best husband he can be.

David is still living somewhere in Fort Worth. He’s also probably looking for his next wife if he hasn’t found one already.

The best advice I can give anyone is to find out more about who you are marrying. Ask questions. Get answers. Run a background check. Do what you need to do to protect you.

My role is to protect you from things you may not see or notice that I do. My role by far exceeds simply showing up and marrying you. I’m your friend and will always be your friend. I care about your future and your happiness.

“My father wants to be invited to my vow renewal. I don’t want him there. Miss Wendy what should I do? Am I obligated to invite my parents to my wedding?”

Oh no. Oh no. Here we go again. There are reasons that certain relatives aren’t invited to weddings and vow renewals. What are they? Conflict and chaos. I could add to that parents who were never there for you that suddenly want to “be there” for you although they don’t deserve to be.

I’m going to share with you my parents. Two idiots. One a heroin addict. The other so self involved that he never once put my sisters and I out of the path of his father who sexually abused all three of us for years. Were either of my parents at my weddings? Not just no but hell no.

“You could give some people a free steak dinner and they would still complain that they had to cut and chew it.” Feed yourself first before you starve to death trying to please everyone else.

In old age, I’ve learned wisdom and priorities. In old age, I’ve often been told by family members who weren’t effectively thrown under the bus to “forgive my parents.” How convenient and PS no thanks.

I will never forget about 15 years ago, my father showing up in Texas and expecting my sister or I to move him into our homes. What in the hell was he thinking by assuming either of us “owed him?”

We didn’t owe anyone in our family anything. We left home at 15 with no money, no car, nowhere to go and nothing other than the clothes on our backs. We were found digging in a trash can for food and taken to a homeless shelter. We had run from the abuse of our grandfather that no one in our family would stop from happening. We stopped it by running.

Hard times can define you or empower you. “If the school of hard knocks had a paid internship, we would be rich by now.”

Here’s the deal, if your parents are miserable excuses of being parents, you don’t owe them anything. You certainly don’t owe them being celebrated at your wedding.

Over the years we’ve had clients guilted into inviting their shitty parent or parents. This never ends well. The father in California pretending to have contributed to the expense of his daughters wedding acting like the cock of the walk. The drunken mother at a wedding in Fort Worth barking orders at the groom who nearly divorced his wife over her controlling alcoholic mother. Don’t bring that baggage into your marriage. Save yourself. Cut parasites out of your life, your wedding and your marriage. You will thank me later.

One of my clients contacted me about her husband wanting to move his mother into her home. The background of the bride was shocking. Her mother had given her up for adoption and yet had kept her sister. Her adoptive mother was a hero but this bride kept trying to establish a relationship with her birth mother AKA the zero. Throughout her marriage she had deliberately not established a relationship with the mother in law who over and over again financially helped her husband and effectively her own family. She told me “moving in his mother is a deal breaker. I will get a divorce.” Knowing all the background on this situation, I “enlightened” my bride with a reality check was in order and the truth was going to be ugly. “You had an affair and a child from another man that your husband accepted. You have treated your birth mother like the saint she isn’t. You have chose the wrong people in your life to stand beside. One of the right people was your husband. He has raised your daughter as his own. He is an only child. His mother has always supported him, you and even your surprise of bringing another man’s child into your marriage. Are you prepared to raise three children as a single parent? Are you prepared to think or believe that your worthless birth mother is going to help you now when she has never helped you? You don’t work. Where will you work? What will your future look like? Snap out of it!”

This conversation was last year. The husband had suffered a heart attack. The wife had decided that she “didn’t want to be a nursemaid to her husband.” I had stepped up and stepped in to advise her that marriage isn’t wine and roses. It’s weeds and reality. I forced her to go visit her husband at Baylor. Hell, I even bought flowers and went with her.

Now, let’s go over what your parents expect of you and what they forget you should have been able to expect of them as a child. If your parents were abusive, cut your losses. If your parents allowed you to be abused, cut your losses.

Your wedding is a time and place for friends and family to be present and share your joy. It isn’t a place to invite people “because you felt obligated to invite people you aren’t comfortable being around.” Choose carefully.

All of the people guilt tripping you into believing you owe them need a wake up call. If you need help waking them up, call me. I’ve learned to say no and you can too.

For months now visitation bans at nursing homes and prisons has affected the ability of the people who need visitors the most to have in person visits.

As State, Federal, ICE and County facilities “pass the buck” to Governor’s, the number of Covid cases continue to climb in detention facilities and nursing homes. WITHOUT visitors Wendy? Yes.

Abbott is planning to reopen schools. Will this reopening of the state reinstate visitation? I’m not sure but I remain hopeful.

For years now I’ve had numerous clients lose their visitation. Appeals filed timely with the DRC continue to be denied. Another six months another appeal.

Meanwhile the inmate is isolated from a loved one. Meanwhile the loved one is isolated from the inmate.

I’m on location in Oklahoma and Arkansas this weekend and still dealing with my bum knee trying to drag myself around in a dreaded knee brace. Three of my clients sent me text photos of yet another denial letter in Texas. Another rejection letter. Another six months. It’s a tragedy for them and their loved one. My heart breaks over these denial letters. It’s so frustrating all the way around.

Last Thursday I had a bit of family drama. As my dedicated readers realize, my family and my businesses often overlap. I’m transparent about these overlaps. Why? Because I answer calls, texts and emails as well as DM’s 7 days a week from 8AM-9PM. The possibility of dealing with my family or other clients when dealing with correspondence is my reality.

I had put my niece (the twins mom) in rehab for six months and picked her up from rehab in Oklahoma on May 5th. She returned home to my twin sisters house that evening. At the time, Steph seemed okay without her medication. She’s bipolar. However over the course of the next few months, isolation due to Covid and a host of other factors may have contributed to the mental breakdown my niece experienced on Thursday.

Last weekend I was working events in Missouri. Returning to the DFW area last Monday, Cindy noticed that her daughter “was talking to herself.” From Monday to Thursday repeated efforts to get Steph back on her medication ended in arguments.

By Thursday I had decided to drive Steph to be evaluated in Fort Worth at JPS. Three miles from Cindy’s home traveling around 10-15mph as I was slowing down for a red light, my niece jumped out of my Sahara and started running down the street after dropping and rolling.

My heartache at consistent attempts to keep my niece stable has been an ongoing debacle for nearly 16 years. My fury over these setbacks cannot be described in words.

I had 2 options. Chase her with a bad knee or call the police and request an ambulance for a 51/50 to get her evaluated. I chose to call the police and wait on an Ambulance.

Why people who require medication refuse to take it I have no idea. My mother self medicated with heroin most of her life. My stepdaughter, Ann who died last year would do fine on meds then go off them and disappear for weeks. I don’t understand why people who function well on medication stop taking it. I may never understand it. Their choices affect their families though.

Friday morning I picked up my niece and took her back to JPS to pick up her medication. I spent several hours with her going over the fact that her choices have affected my twin sisters health as well as my own. I explained that her choices have affected her twin daughters lives too. I then went out on a limb and reminded her that next week she will be 33 years old. At what age would she start being responsible and independent? At what age could her mother and I stop worrying and monitoring her ability to take her medication on her own? I’m hoping my conversation sank in. I’m old. I’m tired and I’m exhausted from trying to keep my niece on a path of stability.

Jumping out of a moving vehicle was a new one for me and something I hope never occurs again. I nearly ran over my own niece. Bipolar people off their medication are highly unpredictable. Bipolar people on their medication can and do function well. But how to keep them on their meds?

I’m at an event where once again there are guests refusing to wear their masks. This frustrating reality has been occurring more and more frequently.

Whether you are pro mask or anti mask, I pray you stay safe and must dash off to go address an unruly guest that believes wearing a mask violates his civil rights…

Last Wednesday as I prepared to leave for TDCJ Allred Unit from Fort Worth, my grandniece was attempting suicide as my twin sister dressed to take her twin granddaughters to school.

For the past week of my life, I’ve worried about my grandson in NICU, I’ve juggled my clients and my commitments and I’ve tried to act normal under extraordinary circumstances.

My sorrow regarding Makenna is profound. A stellar student determined to be the best in every class, Makenna was overwhelmed with schoolwork and yet unwilling to voice her stress to me, my sister or the school counselor.

Moving from Units to two hospitals and answering emails, texts and phone calls from clients while trying to hold it together for Makenna, Maryssa, my son and his wife as well as my twin sister and husband hasn’t been easy for me.

We live in a world of easily offended and or outspoken people who have no idea that words hurt or worse they simply don’t care. Bullying backed Makenna into a corner.

Cindy and I were unaware of this because Makenna chose to internalize her struggles at school.

I’m outspoken and unfiltered as my dedicated readers are well aware. Also, I don’t care about opinions of others who aren’t bound to me by blood, business or friendship.

This morning while answering someone who had apparently “found me on Facebook,” I was once again alarmed at the arrogance of others who assume my clients and their loved ones cared about his views.

Happy Sunday stalker and oh by the way, I’m going to enlighten you as to why your opinions and views have no impact on me or my clients.

Ignorance may be bliss but education and enlightenment can be informative.

The most liberating thing that has ever happened to me in my entire life is not caring about what others who aren’t important to me think about me. It’s a fact.

Nathan believes that everyone in prison belongs there. Nathan is unaware that the majority of people in prison never went to trial. They took a plea deal. There are people in prison who are guilty but there are also people that aren’t.

There are also people who aren’t in prison that should be. How do I know? I will explain.

As a child I had no voice. As a child my sisters and I were not only sexually abused by a family member but also physically abused by other family members. Our abusers were never prosecuted. Hence my knowledge of people who belong in prison that have never been held accountable for their crimes.

My sisters and I all went into our first marriages believing violence was normal. Why? Our childhood was filled with violence that’s why. It was during my divorce and subsequent custody battle over my son that I literally decided no one would ever hurt me physically or emotionally again.

It took years to realize I was capable of standing up for myself. In fact, I was 34 years old before recognizing this.

Spending days at Cook’s under the watchful eye of an observer in Makenna’s room who wrote down our conversations and masking our grief over why we were there, I realized that every parent or guardian on our floor wore the same defeated look. The exhaustion, the worry, the concern was a heavy cloud hanging over all of our heads. Being positive and putting on your happy and hopeful face walking into a visit is a must. You hide your fear until you leave the room to take a call or go to the food court to pick up Chick Fil A for Makenna. You walk out of that room slump shouldered.

You go to your car to cry and you soldier on. You have to. Your twin sister and you are the matriarchs of your family.

You don’t have a mother or father in your life to lean on. You never had a mother or father, an aunt or uncle or even grandparents in your life to lean on.

Cindy and I grew up fast. Runaways at 15 years old and homeless, the police took us to a shelter. We left the shelter found work as waitresses and never looked back.

Last night we followed the ambulance from Cook’s to Mesa Springs.

Treatment for depression and suicidal ideation at Mesa Springs can run tens of thousands of dollars.

You know the drill. You’ve done this before. Over and over again you’ve walked into a visit. Put your purse in a locker. Held your hands out to get “wanded.” Signed in. Showed your license. Given the patients ID code. Signed in. Waited with other worried family members. Shoulders hung waiting in the lobby.

Called to line up, you put your happy face on. Your hopeful face. Breathe through your nose. Control your anxiety. Walk in and hug your loved one.

The remarkable similarities of visiting a relative in a Psych Ward or Prison are many. The vending machines are a focal point. The visiting loved ones are stressed and anxious.

The screening process is nearly identical for a Prison or a Psych Ward.

Cindy and I have become experts at walking into Prisons AND Psych Wards. During the week we officiate State, Federal and County Jail Weddings.

For nearly four years now we’ve been visitors at Sundance, JPS, Wellbridge and Mesa Springs.

Our “Psych Ward Cycle” began when my niece, Stephaney relapsed and began using 3.5 years ago. Stephaney would be the first family member involuntarily committed for drug induced psychosis.

Cindy and I had no idea what to expect on our first visit to JPS to visit Stephaney. We didn’t know about patient ID numbers. We didn’t know about “psych ward friendly clothing and accessories.” We had to learn.

Walking into that first visit with other patients yelling at their loved ones and throwing chairs around at JPS was an eye opener.

Stephaney talked to her “invisible friend” while we were at our first visit.

Acting normal and staying calm was very difficult. On site security was there for a reason. JPS was the worst inpatient facility we have ever visited.

We would visit Stephaney 18 times on 18 involuntary commitments over the past three years. It never got easier.

About two years ago while Stephaney was yet again involuntarily committed, our father believed people were living in his attic and shot at the ceiling. He was also involuntarily committed.

My grandniece Maryssa played the choking game and was also committed.

THREE family members at THREE Psych Wards at the same time?! Yes. Visitation is 7 days a week. Cindy and I missed ONE day of visiting my father and never heard the end of it. Never mind we were working and running to three mental hospitals for three family members everyday.

We became experts at Psych Ward Friendly clothing. We cried in our cars. We screamed. We yelled. We prayed. We endured.

For two years during that window when Stephaney wasn’t involuntarily committed, she was on the streets again. We spent so much time looking for her when she wasn’t committed that we were relieved when she was. True story.

Stephaney is now in treatment and doing better than she ever had in three years. But, Stephaney relapsing was a rock in the pond.

Maryssa and Makenna were devastated by Stephaney’s choice. We all were. For sixteen years now Cindy and I have tried everything humanly possible to save Stephaney. We were forced to learn that Stephaney had to choose to save herself.

Children need stability. Cindy gave up her career to give the twins the stability we knew that Stephaney couldn’t. Protecting them from the childhood we ran from at 15 years old, Cindy and I have and will always put the children’s needs as our priorities.

Had I not been a frequent visitor to a Prison on that first visit to see Stephaney, the screening process would have shocked me.

After leaving Johnson County Jail today and addressing Nathan publicly on my FB Page Prison Weddings With Wendy Wortham, I drove to Walmart to buy Psych Friendly shoes for my grandniece. I cried in my car away from my client at Johnson County Jail. She would never know the stress I was facing. I hide my pain. I’m a professional. When I’m on, I’m on.

Last Wednesday after hearing Makenna attempted suicide, I drove to not one but two prisons to meet and marry my clients. Neither of them knew I was under extreme stress. I’m a great actress. Only when I’m alone or with my sister does our pain and fear manifest itself.

No shoelaces. No buckles. I find the shoes. I buy them. I drive to Mesa Springs. I park. I cry. I walk in. I hold it together. I stay positive. Strong. Resilient. Determined.

Makenna sits with me and tells me she wants to come home. This breaks my heart. I need her to get counseling. I need her to realize the gravity of attempting suicide. I need her to know how devastated our family would be without her in it.

The counselor comes by to schedule a family visit Thursday. I’m at Coffield Unit Tuesday and Prairieland Detention Center Wednesday. I’m filing licenses and buying books for Makenna tomorrow. I’m going to see my grandson who was released today tomorrow. I’m helping Cindy remodel Makenna’s room next weekend.

I’m trying to remain strong for my grandniece and her sister as well as my sister.

What I’m not going to do is listen to arrogant and one sided views about my clients or their loved ones from people like Nathan…