Hers were very calmly delivered, pure psychological degradation. She was very narcissistic, such as entering beauty pageants, taking modeling classes, and becoming a varsity song girl (i.e., cheer leader) in high school. She craved the attention, and would walk past me on campus as if we were complete strangers — no, actually she’d probably smile to a complete stranger.

Sometime between his teens and 20s, my younger brother, Alan, emerged with his own narcissistic and violent, sociopathic characteristics. None of us were close growing up. The only two siblings who maintained an ongoing relationship into adulthood were Kathy, the oldest, and Alan, the youngest. They also shared the similar violent and hostile temperaments, the charming personas, and the complete lack of compassion, morality, integrity and of course, any semblance of honesty.

I guess from sheer luck, the gene skipped me. Doing so, though, resulted in me becoming the outcast, the same way my mom would end up being treated.

Question: What’s considered a bad-upbringing in terms of a sociopath … being spoiled or being abused?  Just food for thought.

It’s in our Genes … not our upbringing.

In summary, the bad gene was brought into the family from my dad’s side, and he passed it to three of his four offspring. I believe that I carry the gene, though I was the skipped generation. From what I’ve been able to gather, my dad got the bad gene from his mother’s side. The source paths don’t seem that difficult to identify, as long as one has a sufficient, if not just a minimal amount of experience to compare both parents.

Obtaining additional knowledge gathered from other branches of the family would prove very beneficial as well. And as luck would have it, I was recently contacted by a “distant cousin” from another branch of our family. He located me on Ancestry.com — a site I registered on a few years ago as a free member, and frankly, that was all I ever did. But his contact was very timely.

To tell my story completely, one must also know the physical trauma and injuries I endured, beginning with a broken back at the age of 12, and how my siblings used that to increase their character assassination of me, sometime after my hospital stay about 40 years later.

At the end of 2001, I had surgery on my back, and was infected with MRSA around my spine. Initially not even expected to survive, and after 120 days of intensive treatment, I never fully recovered. You can read all about the details leading up to that event from the links in the right column, right under MY NINE LIVES. If you do read it, pay close attention to the characteristics of my surgeon, and see if you recognize any familiar traits.

As I’ve said many times: “They kept me alive, but took away my life.”

How many sociopaths have you had in your life?

People who think they can read 10-steps on how to identify a sociopath need a reality check — it’s virtually impossible. Sociopaths are so cunning, such great actors, so manipulative, seemingly some of the nicest people around, that if you do suspect someone, there’s a good chance you identified a jerk. Sociopaths focus everything on hiding their true personality. They are the ones most people never suspect. Such as Bernard Madoff.

Unless you happen to witness something that sends chills up your spine — chances are you’ll never suspect anything. But if you do see something, you better hope they didn’t see you. If they discovered you witnessed something, anything, even nothing but they react from their own paranoia, it’s time for you to change jobs, or even move out of state. Because even if that individual laughs it off with an acceptable excuse, they now know you saw something that could threaten them.

The sociopath will win. They have no limits … you do.

They may even appear to become better friends with you, and that’s all it would be is “appearance.” What they could be doing is keeping a closer eye on you, and without raising your suspicions, attempt to determine exactly what you do know, what you did see, and what you will discuss. While at the same time, as they learn more about you, they could begin the process to decimate your character, spreading the most evil and malicious lies about you. So evil, that people who had associated with you, will begin to avoid you.

A sociopath takes no risks with having their public persona revealed as a fake, as that would threaten their entire lifestyle. Even if only fueled by their own paranoia, a sociopath will not wait to go on the defensive. What they do is what I call: offensive-revenge. A sociopath has virtually no boundaries or limits … they see it as a job that needs to be done, and nothing will get in their way to prevent them from achieving success. Not even the legal system.

It’s all in their public persona. Someone may present their persona at home, 24/7, just as they do everywhere else. Even a spouse can be extremely difficult to recognize as having sociopathic characteristics if they are determined to hide it from everyone, as they know even family can be a threat.

I believe that a sociopath can be so extremely ruthless, so evil, so guilt-free, that they are capable of what I call: indirect homicide. Such as a victim that became so banished and an outcast by those he considered friends, that the victim could resort to ending his own life.

And that sociopath would continue their maliciously evil lifestyle without losing a bit of sleep.

But frankly, we should really start at the beginning …

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NEXT:  Growing-up hated by my loved ones.

Therefore, the most important asset a victim can have is an abundance of undeniable evidence … solid substantiation to support the truth. Your word against their’s has a foregone conclusion — you will lose. Virtually no one will believe your description of the sociopath’s activities, statements, or their real character, since that charming persona has already destroyed your character, made themselves look incapable of any such activity you claim, and likely made you out to be a dishonest jackass.

The sociopath will not lose

A sociopath’s goal is to protect their public persona — protect their real personality from being exposed — and nothing will get in their way. They need to make sure your credibility is destroyed, so if anyone does listen to you, they won’t believe you. Saying that it is truly a living nightmare doesn’t do it justice. Becoming a victim is indescribable, something I know all too well. But what quickly becomes a sad realization, is how shallow and gullible the typical person is. People will easily pass judgment on an innocent victim based upon nothing but hearsay.

There’s not much better evidence than having the sociopath’s own words recorded. And better yet, audio with video. Technology has reduced the size of video cameras for spy use, and hidden them in items as small as a working ball-point pen — that’s right, a video camera with audio in a pen.

Be patient … don’t try to force the sociopath to say anything. They’ll get suspicious, and stop talking to you.

Recording in Person

Back during my divorce in 1995, I carried a micro-cassette recorder in my pocket, recording all discussions with my then-future ex-wife, Julie. Having it in my pocket, though, without a suitable external mic, resulted in very noisy, hard-to-hear audio. But it was better than nothing.

Technology has advanced quite a bit since then, such as a typical iPhone or iPod can record 10 or more hours without stopping. Discovering that you’ve been targeted creates the immediate need to begin collecting the best evidence possible to discredit your predator. And I say “immediate” because by the time someone realizes that they’ve been targeted, it’s possible that the sociopath had a head-start of a year or more.

Recording Phone Calls Legally

In late January 1995, about three weeks after Julie moved out, I set-up a phone recording system to record the conversations I had with her. That was a Sunday. When I returned home from work the following day, I discovered that Julie was sneaking into my home during the day and taking things … as well as using the phone.

In her very first use of the phone with the recorder connected, she called her office and spoke with her assistant, Christopher. That was precisely when I discovered that Christopher was much more than her assistant. She noted early in the conversation that the phones had been moved around, to which they both discussed for a while, then concluded that I was probably recording calls. But once they reached that conclusion, they simply went on with their conversation.

In my state of residence, one can record any phone call when at least one party on the call is aware of being recorded. There does not need to be any notification, such as a 15-second beep, or any other announcement. Just as long as at least one person knows.

Acknowledgement of being recorded

This first 8-second clip is of Christopher addressing me directly on the tape, thereby indicating he knew he was being recorded … they both did. In any event, I did not intend to record them, as they were using my phone without permission, when Julie snuck into my home while I was at work.

Based on all these things, I believe Christopher’s following statement would have been an admission of acknowledgement, and would have worked against them if the case had gone to court.

“… take food.”

Julie called Christopher at work, and obviously from her first comment, she came to my house to take a drill.

The very next part, Julie asks Christopher if he can think of anything else she should take, and under her mumblings, he says “take food.” As you listen through to the end, pay attention to her reaction … she knew that I’d be home to feed the kids within the hour.

A Battered Woman? … or an Evil, Scheming Woman?

Listen closely to Julie in this recording. Does she sound like a frightened, battered woman, or woman just taking care of business? No one on this planet has ever seen any violence from me, including Julie. But Julie, herself, is unpredictably violent.

This allows you to hear how easily a sociopath will plan malicious lies to destroy an innocent person. Just business. Only six weeks earlier, she was trying to convince me to have another child with her.

“Break the Rules …. It’s Really the Way I Think”

What Julie really means here is: “Break the Law or whatever it takes.”

The following is one reason, I believe, why Julie’s sister, Lori, told me to get a restraining order to keep Julie away from DK and EK. Lori also said, “Larry, you need to get custody to save those kids.”

Lastly, pay attention, not only to what she said, but how she said it — she’s on an psychotic roller coaster, illicit drugs, or both.

“… it’s Forcing me to Take the Kids and Run …”

… and this is another of Lori’s suggestions. In this clip, Julie blatantly lies by stating that I am making threats.

She continually destroyed my character by making me out to be a threatening, violent person, and did so with ease and without a hint of guilt. I do believe that this was all brought on by a mania, as she is also bipolar.

Take note, though, as to what she’s doing: Julie is making a threat to take the kids. That would be illegal. 

As above, note her emotional swings — I think it’s both.

How Character Assassination Spreads

The following audio clip shows how easily character assassination spreads. Julie has to keep her credibility, so she has to stick to her lies … she continued it to the present.

1) The male voice is Christopher’s — he and I had never met, nor had we ever even spoken.

2) Christopher states that he has me figured out, yet he’s only repeating back to Julie the malicious lies that she’s fed him about me.

3) Julie agrees with him as if he figured it out on his own.

4) Ironically, even though he says that I’m controlling, he’s blind to see that he’s being controlled by Julie.

5) This provides more details as to the lies Julie was (and is) spreading about me to not just Christopher, but everyone, including my sister, Kathy. She must keep her story straight to avoid getting busted.

6) What Christopher stated about me is what he will tell others … and the character assassination simply continues.

Julie calls me

I’ve got many of these. This is a very typical call between Julie and me during that period.

She’s also lying here, as I knew she was not at “Jill’s house.”

“… play doctor with me … good, I like that.”

In 1995, I was granted full legal and physical custody of our four-year-old son, and two-year-old daughter. As soon as Julie discovered I was filing for custody, she threw in the towel.

My attorney asked me why she gave in so quickly. My response was simple and candid, “Because everything I told you was the truth.”

Six days after the divorce was final, Julie and Christopher married — she has since walked out on him at least once with a new man already lined up.

Five months after the divorce, my three-year old daughter, EK, whispered to me that she and Christopher play doctor together on her mom’s weekends.

I called the police the next morning, and we set up a meeting for both my kids with the state’s child protection services. The deputy confirmed he would be there, too.

In hearing that, I made one request of the officer, “Would you please be in plain clothes?”

His attitude changed immediately, and he answered with a very defensive: “Why?!”

“Because if they feel more comfortable, I think they’ll speak more openly with you.”

“I’ll see what I can do,”  he replied. I could tell he meant, “No.”

He arrived in his full blue uniform. After the interviews, he said he couldn’t do anything else since they didn’t say much. And, get this, he was the deputy in charge of child abuse issues.

So because of that one cop’s arrogance, I had to let my daughter visit her mom that weekend, tormented knowing that Christopher, who works with kids in a middle school, was going to play doctor with EK.

What I didn’t know when I filed the complaint in the summer of 1995, was that I had a recording of Christopher asking my daughter to play doctor. All I was able to report in 1995 was that EK had whispered it to me. I had a lot of audio tapes, but since we didn’t go to trial, I just never listened to them all.

While preparing another defense from another law suit filed by Julie in 2006, I discovered the recording. Julie filed a completely bogus law suit against me because she discovered I knew much more about her background and activities than she thought I knew.

So, because of that paranoia-driven fear of being exposed, Julie immediately went into a sociopath’s “offensive-revenge” in which she completely perjured herself in a court-filed complaint, and to summarize this for now, she kidnapped my daughter. I believe kidnap means to illegally take a child (i.e., any aged human), and that’s what she did — with the court’s blessing. There’s too much to get into it here, but I will go into detail in the future. So, yes, a sociopath can manipulate the courts, too.

So, this is part of the phone call from 1995, that I found in 2006. No “authorities” ever heard this recording (not that it would have made any difference).

Regarding the sound quality: there may have been a recording problem (e.g., weak battery, etc.) … but, yes, that is very close to Christopher’s regular voice. My daughter sounds just as I remember.

When my son attended Rising Starr Middle School where Christopher is the librarian, he told me that Christopher had a deeper voice at school than at home. Hmm, now why would someone like Christopher want a job that kept him around children?

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Updated & Revised: 18 Apr 2010

Mom was pregnant again. If my folks didn’t have a boy, that would put an end to any future generations of our family branch. In that vein, Marcia was probably a disappointment of sorts, not being a boy, which contributed to Kathy maintaining dad’s favor after Marcia was born.

It’s a Boy.

Namesake, even. Photos of me being held by every distant relative, many whom had not appeared in any previous family photos, and virtually no sign of Kathy in any of those early photos.

Now there was a third child to fit into the family photos, but instead of dad just putting me on his other knee, he removed Kathy from “her” place of honor, setting her alone on the cold couch, and placed me on the spot that Kathy considered her own.

Kathy must have continually seen the pride in dad’s face, holding this new intruder that dad had so easily replaced her with. She lost her special perch and dad’s attention … nothing she experienced with Marcia’s arrival. Undoubtedly, she wanted her position back with dad, so the resentment she built was most assuredly focussed on her intruder, and how she would need to dethrone him.

Kathy must have felt deeply rejected and hurt, and apparently, no one noticed. Even in this photo, Marcia is very relaxed, I’m having a great time, but look closely at the stress in Kathy’s little hands. Since some of my earliest memories include unprovoked hostility from Kathy, I really wonder when it actually began. As young and innocent as I was, I had already become a target.

A rejection that so obsessed Kathy, she never let it go.

By the time I got a little older, and began storing my own memories, I have no recollection, whatsoever, of ever seeing that pride in my dad’s face in real life. Never. It was only captured in photos when I was very young. What could have changed in a child between the ages of two and five?

All my memories of him include a face with anger, disappointment, or frustration. Never once in my childhood did my dad ever tell me he loved me, nor did he ever hug me. But I watched as he often hugged my sisters and told them he loved them … obviously, I didn’t live up. I do not believe anyone could have been younger than I was, when I was set-up for failure.

Attack avoidance.

Memories of my childhood are filled with my abusive, alcoholic father spanking me, and only me, when I was young, then turning to hitting me as I got older. My mom would place herself between us to let me get away. Then I’d hear dad yelling at mom for “interfering.” My oldest sister, Kathy, was violently hostile to me, and me alone. It was obvious to me that they hated me, but since it was what I was used to, I simply accepted it. What mattered was staying safe.

I was spanked often, even though he didn’t need much of a reason to spank me. I don’t recall my sister, Kathy, or my brother, Alan, ever being spank. There was the bare hand spank (usually avoided since it would hurt his hand), the belt, the wood paddle, the broom stick, and whatever else was within reach.

Witnessing a public persona.

When we were young, we always went to church services together on Sunday. Not that I knew what I was witnessing back then, but that was when I first experienced my dad’s public persona. He could be yelling at us in the car one minute, but as soon as we pulled into the parking lot, he’d smile and wave. I’d watch him walk up to his buddies, and I wondered how he could change so quickly.

He had just been swinging into the back-seat and hitting us in the car, and now he’s yucking it up with his church pals. He belonged to the mens’ club, volunteered his company’s services to the church, and always greeted everyone with skilled showmanship. He should have sold cars.

During summers, when I would go to dad’s office with him, I realized he was a completely different person to his employees as well, and if they were around, he’d treat me with a modicum of respect, too. He treated his employees so well, that I remember wishing I only worked for him. But once we got in the car to go home, he was able to remove his persona, and remind me what he was really made of. He would open-up on me for something I said, something I did, but no matter what day it was, there would always be something.

Having it backwards all these years.

Living during those times, I always felt that first and foremost, it was dad who hated me, and since Kathy was dad’s favorite, she hated me, too. And knowing she would not get in trouble, she also contributed her own hostility. At least, that’s what I believed until recently … amazing how a series of current events can correct history.

In some ways, dad’s and Kathy’s abuse was very similar, but not in every way. They both abused me physically and emotionally, such as being continually called “stupid” and “will never amount to anything” — funny though, but it was Kathy who never amounted to anything. She’s never kept a job. But one way they differed was in their physical approach: dad wanted to hurt me, but Kathy wanted to injure me. There’s a huge difference.

Dad was physically abusive to me when he drank, and although he drank everyday, he didn’t begin drinking until 5pm. A tall tumbler filled with vodka on ice is what he’d call one drink. He never had just one, though. So I did my best to stay away during that period.

When push came to shove, mom stood tall.

Once, when I was 16 or 17, I walked into the house to find dad waiting for me with closed fists. Luckily he was a terrible aim when he was drunk, but he just kept coming. Mom came in, yelling at dad to stop, but he wasn’t listening. Mom became almost hysterical, and headed to the other side of the house. Minutes later, Kathy ran in, announcing that mom had called the cops. Dad immediately stop and left the room, but Kathy continued looking at me, and said, “If I were you, I’d get out of here.” Her comment made me believe that I was in big trouble … probably what she was hoping for.

I did leave on foot, just at dusk. Sometime after dark, as I was walking through an unlit field, I was suddenly hit with a spot light, and then a second … I simply came to a stop, and waited. I heard footsteps coming towards me from two directions. The first officer simply asked if I was Larry … to which I replied, “Yes.” He then asked if I’d come with him, and I agreed. We walked backed to his car, he opened his front passenger door for me, and drove me back to our house. In addition to the car I was arriving in, there were three patrol cars parked in front. The word “serious” probably never had a greater meaning. Once inside, a detective introduced himself and asked me what happened.

As I’ve always been, I opened-up with complete candor. After no more then five or ten minutes, he got up, and asked me to wait there until he returned. He headed to the other side of the house, where my dad evidently was. Minutes later, he reappeared, and said, “If this ever happens again, please call me” — and with that, he handed me his business card. I recall being shocked, with my head spinning … I was led to believe kids would usually take the fall if it involved parents. But instead, it was the first time an authority figure revealed to me that my dad was in the wrong.

Mom did an extremely brave thing for which she probably paid for. The cops didn’t arrest dad, as I had no injuries. But he never attempted to hit me again.

Sibling brutality.

Kathy, though, had no time constraints. Every chance she got, I was in her sights. And she was brutal. She wouldn’t just scratch, but she’d attempt to create canals … deep bloody gouges. I always had to be aware of her legs, too, as they were her weapons of choice. As soon as I saw one leg swing back, I had very little time to twist and ruin her targeting. Instead of hitting her desired targets, I’d take the kick in my upper thigh. An impact with such force that it would result in a black and blue bruise the size of a baseball. She always tried … she never succeeded.

I was also keenly aware that whenever Kathy brought home a friend, and introduced them to the family, her friends would greet my siblings quite differently than me. They would warmly acknowledge Marcia and Alan, but with me, they’d rarely make eye-contact and maybe mumbled a “hi.” Though I was already a victim of it, it would still be many years before I knew the term “character assassination.” The introduction I clearly remember was when Kathy introduced us to her future husband, Marlin. After seeing how warmly he greeted the others, I felt I had leprosy when he greeted me.

Kathy answered only to dad … not to mom.

I also witnessed Kathy physically brutalizing mom. It was during one of Kathy’s arguments with mom, one which turned violent, that I first felt Kathy’s capability of true evil, cold-blooded hostility.

I was about 10. After just arriving home on my bicycle, I heard yelling between Kathy and mom on the opposite side of the house. I arrived to see mom literally flying backwards across the hallway, slamming into the closet, her spine hitting the doorknob, screaming-out, then dropping to the floor crying, obviously in intense pain. Mom saw me when she first looked up from the floor, as I approached to help her. When I got to mom was when I was first able to see Kathy’s closed bedroom door.

Kathy never opened her door to see if mom needed help. I remember feeling a very eerie chill that, behind that door, Kathy was smiling. And because she never opened the door, Kathy never knew there had been an witness. There was no one else in the house.

Out on my own.

Within a month after graduating high school, I moved out. The abusive relationship I had with dad evolved into no relationship. Kathy had achieved her long-term objective of having dad to herself. Kathy and Marlin had married and moved to Alaska. During my 20s, there would be periods of 2-3 years of no contact with dad. Mom and I were very close, and I had a relationship with her like no one else in the family.

Dad would not let mom have a private conversation with me, so we’d have to wait until dad would be out doing errands. Then we’d talk and laugh for 1-2 hours sometimes, until mom would say, “Oh, I hear the garage door opening … your dad’s home.”

Right when I’d hear him walk into the house, mom would say, “It’s Larry, he just called.”

Mom was such a funny lady, yet I don’t believe anyone in the family, but I, was aware of it. Mom would never speak openly to me unless she was alone, and as time went on, I realized that meant not only dad, but no one else in the family could be present.

Of course, now that makes more sense than ever. Dad brought the “bad gene” into the family. Dad, as well as all three of my siblings exhibit sociopathic characteristics. I’ve caught all of them lying, and I believe they’ll lie to be safe.

For some reason, I was spared the effects of the bad gene. I assume I was the skipped generation. That also meant I was closest to mom than any of the others, but other than in mom’s eyes, I was the borne outcast.

Time for change

At about the age of 30, after all those years of emotional and physical abuse, which led to my own fairly-low self-esteem, I met a very attractive woman who virtually fell for me. She treated me differently than anyone else ever had, which in turn had a very positive effect on my own well-being.

In just less than a year, driven by Julie’s desire to establish a solid future together, we were married. And with that, I began the next chapter of my life, with the most psychotic sociopath I would ever know. Bipolar, borderline schizophrenic, and dangerously vengeful — all verified when I found her psychological evaluation, twelve years later.

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The Accidental Discovery :: A Sociopath in the Family
PART 5: When Plans Backfire on a Sociopath

 
… con’t from Part 4

On the morning of Kathy’s and Marlin’s departure, Kathy told me that they would have a stop-over in Salt Lake City, and that if I needed to get in touch with her, just leave a message on her cell, and she’d check it when they landed.

I remember that hit me as odd, since that would be only two hours after their flight left, and I didn’t plan to speak with them for the week they’d be gone. While driving them to the airport, she said it again, so that time it raised a flag. I didn’t ask anything, but I wondered what she was expecting me to call about.

“Surprise … I lied.”

After dropping them off at the airport, I headed right back to their house so I could get to work. When I turned on their computer, I realized why Kathy would be expecting a call. For the first time ever, their computer required a password to log-in … a password I was deliberately not told about.

Kathy knew I needed the computer to work. I called her cell, and left that message she was expecting. When she called back, she stated she had private stuff on the Mac, things that she didn’t want me to see, “such as email” and was not going to give me the password. I was shocked.

1) She deliberately deceived me about using the computer, knowing I had work to do, and avoided telling me until they were gone.

2) I’ve never been nosy, and I found her allegation insulting. I was cleared and trusted to support over 100 corporate computers, including full access to support the PCs of two vice presidents, as well as the company servers. Never, as in never, was I ever even interested in looking at someone’s personal files. Maybe it’s the fact that I’m honest that snooping would never even cross my mind.

3) Is Kathy downright stupid? I already had credible information from multiple sources that Kathy, and my ex-wife Julie, had been maintaining a clandestine relationship. I questioned Kathy three times, and she lied each time. Considering there was never restriction on using her computer, now she specifically had email that was private.

Kathy finished the call by refusing to give me access to the computer, knowing full-well she was restricting me from working.

Or, so she thought.

Kathy forgot one thing: I’m considered a computer expert … getting around a password is fairly simple.

I’ve done consulting work for Fortune 500 companies and the Federal Government. She should have known that. She definitely knew I was a certified Mac consultant, and I would always diagnose and fix her computer problems.

Even for that trip, she was aware that I brought all my diagnostic and maintenance disks. Getting access to a computer that is password-protected is a typical task for someone like me, and a fairly simple one. I just didn’t want to back-door their computer if I didn’t need to, but Kathy wouldn’t give me any other option.

When Kathy’s daughter, TK, arrived home after school that afternoon, I asked her about the required password. She told me that she didn’t know why her mom had “just recently added the passwords” but if I needed access, I could use her’s. So from then on, I used TK’s password. I thought it was very odd that Kathy would have set up a limited-use password for TK, but not for me.

The Meeting with DK’s Counselor

As much as I resented Kathy’s method of control by telling me I had a meeting with my son’s counselor, I was over that by the day of the meeting, and showed-up timely, with an inquisitive attitude as to the agenda. It wasn’t my meeting, so I had planned to simply answer every question with detail and substantiation, and see where it went.

The counselor, Jane (not her real name), met me in the reception area, was very cordial, and we began the meeting in her closed office. No more than 5-10 minutes into our discussion, she asked me about DK’s mom. I remember she apologized, saying, “… sorry, please don’t take this wrong, but why doesn’t their mom have custody?” I told her she didn’t need to apologize, as it was a simple and obvious question, but it had a long and complex answer. Jane said she had the time. She asked a lot of questions, and of course, she got nothing but the absolute truth.

At least 40-minutes into the meeting, Jane seemed a bit puzzled, and asked how long Kathy had known my son. I told her, “Kathy just met DK.” Jane repeated it back to me in a question, and I confirmed it. After a brief pause, Jane asked me how close Kathy and I are. I explained the answer in much more detail than just saying, “Not very.”

Over an hour after we began talking, Jane expressed her appreciation to me for coming in, and followed that by stating, “I want you to know that your son is very lucky to have you as his father … and if he were my son, I would do nothing differently. I wish you the best.”

I was truly humbled, and I let her know. I believe only a parent, especially a single parent, would understand how touching that is. For those of us raising kids as a top priority, hearing that is the most gratifying compliment.

Jane did not share anything with me that Kathy had told her, but I certainly could tell it was a different story, and whatever it was, Jane was certainly not buying Kathy’s story now, if ever. That allowed me to theorize why I met with Jane: potentially, Kathy had not planned it, but instead, she met with Jane when DK enrolled, and took the opportunity to undermine me as a bad father.

In other words, already chipping away at my character. Then when Jane was told I was coming out, she asked to meet with me. Kathy probably thought, or was made to think, Jane would take what she told her, and Jane would lay into me, simply supporting Kathy. Kathy is not very sharp.

I remember as I was walking out of the school building, I realized something very strongly: in that meeting of just over an hour, Jane now knew more about DK and our family than Kathy did, because Jane knew the questions to ask. Kathy never expressed interest or concern with my kids or me, nor had she ever asked, even though I was parenting them alone. Obviously, Kathy was getting her information elsewhere.

The Return Flight

Two days had passed since meeting with DK’s counselor. I had originally planned to stay a couple extra days after Kathy returned, just to visit, but due to the most recent events, all I could think of at that point, was how could I take DK home with me. But I had to let that idea go, since school would be out in four weeks, making it a terrible time to transition … especially back to where he had previously been.

In any event, I decided to leave, and take the first flight out after they arrived. Unfortunately, their return flight came in at 22:00 that night, and the first available return flight for me departed at 07:00 the following morning. I wasn’t about to ask Kathy to get up early and drive me back to the airport, so I decided that when I picked them up, I’d simply stay at the airport overnight.

When I spotted them at the curb, they ran over, both jumped in the back seat, and seemed extraordinarily happy. Marlin told me that I could go ahead and drive on home. At that point, while still stopped, I turned around and told them that I needed to get back to my home, that I’d drive over to my departing terminal, and I’d get out there to catch the next flight.

By then, they both went from happy, smiling faces, to looks of being stunned … something I remember confused me. The very next comment came from Kathy, in the form of a question …

“Oh, did everything go OK at the meeting with Jane?”

Then I probably had a stunned look, “Yea, it went fine.”

And with Kathy’s usual anxious demeanor, she replied, “Oh! Good!”

That’s not what Kathy meant, though, and why would that be the question as to why I was leaving early? I don’t recall anything else being said during the two-minute drive to my terminal, where I attempted to sleep on the floor that night, with little success. But, I was on the first flight home.

I believe it was my second day back, when my phone rang. I remember hearing the caller yelling before I even got the phone to my ear. It was Kathy. She was extremely angry and yelling at me for bringing up Julie, DK’s mom, with Jane.

I think Kathy got busted. I just let her yell, as it only added to my certainty. After denying three times of having any communication with Julie, saying that she couldn’t even remember when she last spoke with her, why would she be so adamant about defending Julie over things she didn’t even know?

Busted.
 
to be continued soon …
 
 

ADDENDUM:

Some of my friends find it very odd that I’m writing this … they’ve expressed, in a variety of ways, that I should let it go and just move on. Other friends of mine pretend it does not exist, and simply ignore it. I believe in some ways they think I’ll be happier by forgetting it, but this is what I need to do to forget it. I need to put it all down, piece the puzzle together, and for now, that works for me.

Some wonder why I put it on the Web. Because hopefully it will help others … and judging by the number of visitors worldwide, I believe it has in some little way. And if not the Web, where? A notebook? That would still be helpful to me, but not as gratifying as knowing I could help others. And when I’m gone, that notebook would end up in some landfill.

But there’s something else I get. When I pull those pieces of the puzzle together, occasionally I see things from a different perspective, which can often have an effect on another part of the puzzle.

While writing this part, a couple points surfaced more clearly than I expected…

1) It would still be a long time before I had enough experience and evidence to clearly label my sister, Kathy, a sociopath. She has a history of being very brutally mean to me since childhood, and at the time that Part 5 covers, all I was thinking was that she was lying to me, and being very hurtful as she had been earlier in our lives.

I never knew why she had always been mean to me, as far back as I can remember, but that I’ve since figured out, too. She is very evil, but for virtually everyone who associates with her, they’ve been sold on her public persona. As of now, I don’t know anyone else other than me, who has seen the ugly truth behind it. Her husband is either blind, an enabler, or her most loyal disciple.

2) If my theory is correct about the counselor, and that she was led to believe that I was a very different person than I am, then the puzzle just changed a lot. I have to accept that Kathy was assassinating my character long before my previous proof had defined a time period UPDATE: since I was a child*.

*UPDATE: Number 2 has its own ADDENDUM …

 
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But what about everything else? Isn’t it true that most, if not all, sociopaths are violent maniacs, serial killers … just completely insane?

Let’s evaluate this and determine the truth. If all sociopaths are the same, then it becomes a black-and-white issue. To avoid distraction, let’s take it to a very basic level using dots. A black dot and a white dot.

Which color dot is a sociopath?

Both black dots and white dots have a lot in common, though some people think they’re quite opposite [I don't see that].

• Black cannot be any lighter, nor can it get darker. Black is black.

• White cannot be any darker, nor can it get lighter. White is white.

The same holds true for hue … neither one can have one.

• Black can either be the absence of all color or the inclusion of all color.

• White can either be the absence of all color or the inclusion of all color.

So with all their similarities (and those opposite theories), there can be only one black and one white.

Like pregnancy. A woman is either pregnant, or not. She cannot be somewhat pregnant, or just one-third as pregnant as the next pregnant woman.

That’s black-and-white.

Remember, this is about sociopaths.

If sociopaths could be thought of in either black or white, then they would all be the same.

Just like all white dots are white, and all black dots are black … all sociopaths would be just like Hannibal Lecter.  Easy, but wrong.

Conclusion #1: This is not a black-and-white issue … sociopaths are not all the same.  Few, if any, are like the character of Dr. Hannibal Lecter.  Most blend in better than you or I.

If not pregnant, then what?

A sociopath is more like vision. Example: two people, both nearsighted.

The first, diagnosed as nearsighted, has borderline perfect vision. This person only needs to wear correction if they want to read street signs while driving … say 20/30 vision, uncorrected.

The other, also diagnosed nearsighted, has been told they will soon not be able to drive at all, since they are currently borderline legally-blind. That means even with the best correction, they can’t even read their speedometer … let’s say about 20/400 vision, corrected.

Between these two extremes are an infinite number of possible variations.

That’s a huge gray area. 

I just stepped in some gray area.  It stinks, doesn’t it?

Yes, gray area can really stink, especially if you’re used to dealing with black-and-white. And although I believe that includes most everyone, there seems to be many more black-and-white answers than there are qualifying black-and-white questions. I don’t believe most issues are black-and-white anymore.

Life is too complex.

But in lieu of real black-and-white issues, a high percentage of people, if not the majority, attempt to force-fit gray issues into black-and-white parameters. A gray issue requires actual thinking … a few seconds to blurt-out a yes or no does not qualify. Thinking puts a demand on people that most equate to a waste of time. They either exercise the blurt, go with someone else’s solution, or maybe just follow someone else’s ongoing instructions.

For them, life is too complex.

Do we all need to think if someone will do it for us?

Phuque no!  Why would anyone want to start now. If it “ain’t broke” why fix it? Going along with the majority has always worked in the past. This [the US] is a free country, right? [sic]  You’re free to be as gullible and ignorant as you want to be … and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

Let’s listen to Mildred, a close friend [disciple] of Chris [the sociopath she blindly follows],

“Chris warned me about people who are obviously jealous [insightful thinkers] of all the friends [gullible followers] that Chris has, and because of their jealousy [intelligence], Chris told me that they will do anything to smear [expose the truth] Chris’ good name [#&^@$%]. Chris told me just to ignore them, but I decided to tell Chris who I’m ignoring, just so Chris can be aware of them, too [begin character assassination].”

From my own experience, when I’ve told anyone who knows my sister, Kathy, that Kathy is a sociopath, the responses are all fairly similar.

• They stop replying to my emails.

• They never return my calls.

• They refuse to look at my evidence, likely figuring they will only encourage someone who’s obviously lost his mind.

• They’ll tell my sister what I said about her. She laughs and tells them that I’ve become paranoid … strange, but that they believe.

Paranoia is often associated with psychotic illnesses, sometimes even schizophrenia[1]. So, that’s believable, but a sociopath?

Jeffrey Dahmer was a sociopath. Kathy is not like Jeffrey Dahmer, so Kathy cannot be a sociopath. Therefore, Larry must be a paranoid. [sic]

All bad logic by gullible people. Ignorant, too. Ignorance is based on the word “ignore”… and if they did not ignore my evidence, they may, just possibly, draw a different conclusion. Breath-holding not recommended.

I’ve seen a gray scale … there’s only a handful of grays.

OK, so if a sociopath is not a black-and-white issue, but instead, a gray area, how many different gray dots can there possibly be?  10-20 maybe?

Think of a black-and-white fractal which includes every conceivable gray. A fractal is an illustration created by a mathematical equation that never ends … at least no one has been able to find an end.

It continues to draw the same pattern, over and over, into itself. Therefore, I suggest, if the pattern itself is infinite, so must be the grays.

Conclusion #2: Based on a thorough technical analysis, including years of mental health research, that fact remains clear that there are just as many different variations of sociopath personas as Carter has pills.

Questions?

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Related Posts:
Sociopaths are all the same … right?
What makes a sociopath so dangerous?
Psychopath/Sociopath: Similarities Outweigh Differences
Discovering Your Best Friend is a Sociopath
How do you spot a sociopath?
Identifying a Sociopath
AUDIO: Evidence by Recording Phone Calls :: Part 1 of 4
Do School Administrators Help Young Sociopaths?
One Small Lie = One Huge Revelation :: Part 1 of 4
 

[1] Source: Wikipedia.org
 
“Mildred” and “Chris” are imaginary characters, and are not intended to refer to anyone, alive or dead. I used “Chris” since it could be either male or female.