My Husband of 12 Years Ruined Me — Don’t Let it Happen to You
My Husband of 12 Years Ruined Me — Don’t Let it Happen to You
In 2020, reported losses to romance scams reached a record $304 million, up about 50% from 2019 (FTC). I’m part of this statistic and it sucks.
In the midst of the global Covid-19 pandemic, I discovered my husband of 12 years had defrauded me of more than $120,000.
The inevitable question
Despite never having filled out a credit card application, I had more than 20 credit cards in my name. All of the credit cards were delinquent, some had been for years.
Months after the discovery, I told my lawyer. An ‘ole Southern bruiser, he just looked at me and drawled out the inevitable question: “How could you not know?”
I was raised in a very traditional home. My father was the main breadwinner and was solely responsible for the family’s finances. Math and money were not “women’s” domains. While my mother worked at times when I was growing up, it was only when it was absolutely needed, was considered a last resort. Currently, I’m the only female member of my family (including cousins, aunts) whom works. I’m the lone, childless pioneer woman and I’m proud of it! That said, I did not find it unusual for my husband to handle our accounts with full control and responsibility. After all, I had Political Science and Communications degrees. Todd, my husband, attended London School of Economics. Finance was his expertise. I struggled with calculating percentages. Best to let the family expert take charge in these matters. Todd also needed boosting because he could never hold down a job.
“The whole world is against me,” he used to say.
The deception
In the whole of the 12 years Todd and I were married, we were only equal providers during the first 10 months of our marriage. The remaining 11 years, I was the main provider. This is despite the fact that I put him through school twice: London School of Economics (2009–2011), and the Academy of Art in San Francisco (2017–2018). He graduated from the London School of Economics and managed to have a series of jobs in finance, but his complete lack of emotional resiliency led him to dramatic and embarrassing outbursts at work. He would quit each job within one year because he was emotionally crippled.
He had one steady job and that was to manage our money. Asking questions was seen as a loss of confidence in him and would result in terrible, tear-streaked fights, and endless days of him in bed.
The devotion to a lie
Life with him was hard, but fear and a real blind, devoted belief in the “for better or worse” bit that the pastor sold us kept me in the marriage. I trusted Todd with my life, my body, my future. What was I saying if I didn’t trust him with my money?
I remember looking down on couples with joint accounts. Those couples don’t share EVERYTHING: mind, body, bank account. They’re not nearly as close or loving as Todd and I.
I’d tell my friends about the one nice thing Todd did or said, and hide or excuse the thousands of other instances of blatant abusive behavior.
I lived a giant lie to my family, friends, co-workers, and ultimately, myself.
The warning signs
For a couple of months, I had had inklings we were in trouble financially. There were strange phone calls Todd brushed off with his casual confidence that I used to mistake for competence. I noticed he was particularly moody when the rent or a bill came due.
One time he asked me to sell my camera and computer to make extra cash for an “unexpected tax bill.” He even showed me a letter from the IRS which I couldn’t make heads or tails of. He was so worked up at that point I was afraid to trigger him by asking about it.
Worse case scenario I though, we could really only be in debt up to $10k. I have a good job, we pay a modest rent, no children, no designer clothes or shopping sprees, no big purchases, no assets. How bad could it be?
Then the pandemic hit and my world, your world, this whole fucking crazy world went to hell.
The discovery
Before the pandemic, I worked long hours everyday in an office. This gave Todd plenty of time and opportunity to hide shit. But when I was home all day, everyday, he couldn’t hide the creditor calls or the threatening legal notices and mailings. I had noticed we received a lot of mail from credit card companies and asked him about it not long into the pandemic. Any attempt to hold him accountable was bullied, brushed off or brought up in later arguments as evidence of how I didn’t “appreciate him enough.”
And as the pandemic wore on, his mental illness and our marriage deteriorated. I endured daily emotional abuse. He was unpredictable and had a hair-trigger. I often saw him lose his temper with strangers and family members. His rage was explosive, unpredictable, physical, terrifying. I woke up everyday with a knot in my stomach, unsure what awaited me in the next room (we were sleeping separately at that point). I had to live quietly, out of his way. He controlled every inch of our 1500 square-foot apartment.
When I brought up ending the relationship, there would be a flurry of tears, and sobs that “no one loved him.” He said I was just like everybody else who didn’t believe in him. He would threaten to harm or kill himself. He had already attempted suicide two times in his life. Men don’t typically fail their first suicide attempt, much less their third, so I always worried another attempt was a possibility and that he would take me out with him (about which he often joked). This kept me in silent fear throughout my marriage, particularly that final year. On top of that, he had no money, no job, no support. Leaving felt cruel.
But things came to a head in July. I had received a call from a debt collector and I finally confronted Todd.
With no remorse, and no small amount of rage, he told me he had forged my signature and social security number on more than 20 credit card applications. He told me he ruined my credit score and that it was hovering around 500. In that moment I felt his hate for me in a way which I could finally believe. I felt the resentment and contempt a con-man has for his con. He blamed me for not paying attention. He said I wanted “too much” from him. His anger turned into wracking sobs and threats of suicide.
Even after this event, it took me weeks to build the courage to leave because I was afraid and embarrassed. Afraid for myself, and afraid for him. But each day his rage seemed to grow, and I now understood that leaving was a life or death choice. I knew I would die if I stayed with him. The signs were everywhere:
The pieces of broken furniture and glass, the dents in the wall, the torn light fixtures, the dogs shivering under the bed, the relentless debt collection calls (which he no longer tried to hide), the awkward apologies I whispered to my neighbors, the confused and hurt text messages from family members, the inability to buy much-needed medicine, the fake smiles, the lost work days, my inability to eat or sleep, the endless crying jags, his indifference
The escape
It was a Thursday morning and I snuck out of our apartment to call my dad. I confessed everything to him about the state of my marriage, how I feared for my safety and I needed out. He arranged to fly out to help me and my dogs leave safely and inform Todd I was leaving.
With my plan to leave in my heart, I attempted to keep Todd at a distance. The following Tuesday I had come in from a walk and he began questioning me about why I seemed so “off” lately. I deflected, saying that I was anxious with work. His response was to berate me for not keeping my anxiety to myself so as to not “trigger” him and his temper. That just got me, folks.
I responded to Todd that I had been trying to give him space because of my anxiety, but I just couldn’t do this anymore. He jumped up and screamed; “YOU WANT A DIVORCE?!”
How could I say “no” in that moment when I had plans to tell him this very thing in a couple of days anyway? “Yes,” I cried, “We’ve tried everything. I’m so unhappy. This isn’t working.”
“We’ve tried everything. I’m so unhappy. This isn’t working.”
Todd jumped up from the couch, ripped his clothes off and ran into the bathroom. He hopped into the tub and grabbed the shower curtain, screaming unintelligibly. His anger flashed and he tried to tear the curtain from the rod. When the curtain didn’t give, he grabbed the shower curtain bar with both hands, clenched his teeth, stared at me, and ripped it violently from the wall. I thought he would take the bar and strike me, but he ran past me into the living room. At this point, I was shaking, crying, and terrified.
Todd ran into the living room and started to pull things off shelves and tables. He tried to pull the TV from its stand. Without thinking, I went to stop him, but he pushed me back and put his finger in my face, screaming: “FUCK YOU. SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU EVIL BITCH. YOU CAN’T FUCKING TOUCH ME. DON’T FUCKING SAY A WORD.”
Whenever I tried to de-escalate, he escalated. He then fell onto the floor and rolled around screaming that no one loved him and that he was going to kill himself. I no longer felt safe because he has many, many times threatened about murder/suicide should I ever leave him.
I grabbed my phone, keys and my dogs and ran out of the apartment. He couldn’t follow me because he was completely naked. I ran toward the elevators (we lived on the 11th floor), and waiting in agony, willed the elevator to show up before he could find clothes and come after me. Just as I could hear my apartment door rattle open in its hinges, the elevator doors opened.
Police did come, but because he didn’t touch me physically, and they deemed he wasn’t a threat they couldn’t do much. He had no money and no where else to go, so I was escorted by an officer back to my home and asked to pack a bag.
It amazed me how put-together Todd was for the officers. I could see them just in the distance, chatting in a circle. They seemed like old buddies gettign together. They laughed at a something he had said.
He was adept at turning “the crazy” on and off as it suited him.
Every item I packed was scrutinized by the officer. My neighbors saw me being walked out of my home by a police officer. I felt like the criminal.
But it was my price for freedom.
The future
I have not spoken to Todd since that day. I am now in a safe location awaiting the final divorce decree later this summer.
Despite the clear definition of fraud in this case, it’s impossible to pursue legally as prosecutors rarely if ever look at cases involving spouses. I learned that there is no protection or justice for you if you’re a victim of romantic fraud. A spouse can use your social security number and personal information with impunity. It has left many people (particularly women) in dire financial straits without any recourse for restitution nor relief.
I will be paying all of the debt that is in my name. Family court can order the debt to be paid any which way it wants, but at the end of the day, the credit card companies don’t give a damn. They’re going to pursue the person attached to the debt.
Another interesting question that comes up is what the hell did he spend all that money on? I may never know the full answer to that question, but based on my feeble forensic finance, some of it was withdrawn as cash at ATMs, a lot of it was spent on weed. A good chunk of it was greed capitalized on by credit card companies through ridiculous interest rates and predatory marketing practices (see Jon Ronson’s “Lost at Sea” for more on that).
I hate that this happened. I hate that I now have to pay off his dating services and weed bills. I hate that my credit score will bear the burden of this for years until I can clear that debt. It feels unfair, that yea, I trusted the wrong guy, but damn, that’s a shitty punishment.
But at the end of the day, I have my freedom. I got out and I can tell others my story so maybe one person will be just a little more cautious with whom they trust with their future. Because that’s the reality of what personal data is and why identity fraud/financial fraud is so insidious — it’s not just your money it takes, it’s your future.
Your security, your dreams, all deferred until the debt is cleared.
Good Resources on Spousal Fraud, Romance Fraud, Financial Infidelity (whatever the hell you want to call it):
Avoid it
Federal Trade Commission: What You Need to Know About Romance Scams (also the source for the statistic in the subheading above)
Investopedia: How to Avoid Financial Infidelity in Your Relationship
Recover from it
CreditCards.Com: Steps to Recover from Spousal Fraud
Women’s Law.org: Financial Abuse FAQ