approach, and stationed eight officers around the perimeter of the property. A negotiator called the phone inside, but Bill wouldn’t pick it up. They left messages on the answering machine, hoping that he was listening.
It was a very bad night. Sue and Carol waited outside. Sue wasn’t sure what Bill might do—but she was still certain he would never hurt Scott.
For two and a half hours, they were at a standoff. And finally Bill walked out. Bill was served with the no-contact order, and allowed to go.
When Sue checked the master bedroom closet, she found that Bill’s service revolver was gone. As for the seventeen guns in his safe, Bill told Officer Kurt Raskow that he had forgotten the combination to his own safe. After midnight, and just to reassure themselves that Jensen didn’t have access to it, the Bellevue police arranged to bring their van to pick up the safe full of guns and remove it from the house. It was subsequently locked in the department’s property room. That was probably a wise move; Bill had committed the combination to memory. He was in and out of it a few times each day, although Sue wasn’t allowed to see what he kept in there.
Any police officer—Bill Jensen included—knows that the two most dangerous calls he can respond to are mental cases and domestic violence disputes. Bellevue officer Kurt Raskow admitted that he had feared for his own safety when the huge ex-cop went in an instant from being reasonable to towering rage.
All in all, the conclusion to that long June evening had been lucky. Nobody was hurt. Nobody was killed. Everyone involved—the Harris sisters, Sue and Carol; the Jensen children; the Bellevue police officers; and quite probably Bill Jensen too—was relieved.
Sue Jensen hired Janet Brooks* to represent her in her divorce proceedings. Sue had never had a will, assuming as most young wives do that she and Bill would be each other’s heirs if one of them should die. She had never checked on the bank account she shared with Bill. They had begun it with $10,000; she had eventually contributed $208,000 with checks she had written from her inheritance account. Bill never put so much as a dime into the account, and for fifteen years he didn’t take anything out without Sue’s okay.
Bill had always figured their income tax and did the filing.
It only made sense now for Sue to evaluate their assets as they would soon be negotiating the division of the property and funds they had accumulated in twenty-two years of marriage. She assumed that they were headed for nasty battles and that Bill would attempt to wear her down until she was “broke mentally or broke financially—or both.”
Money meant everything to Bill Jensen, but it wasn’t what was foremost in Sue’s mind.
Sue made lists of what mattered most to her. Any woman caught in a litigious divorce would probably recognize and empathize with her final document:
My children
My sister
My health
My sense of peace
My future
My friends and the happiness friendships bring
My happiness
A sense of self-integrity
My sense of purpose, lifetime accomplishments
Financial security
All things being equal, it was a modest list.
In Washington State, if parties agree, it takes only three months for a divorce to become final. Sue had no illusions that Bill was hurting emotionally because he still loved her. It was just that he—like a number of husbands (and wives)—had always wanted to be the one to walk away, and he’d been ill prepared when Sue filed for divorce.
Janet Brooks worked with Sue in an attempt to determine which assets belonging to her and Bill were intact and which were somewhat diminished. They needed to find out what was community property and what was separate. It was standard procedure in any divorce. On some occasions, it is necessary to discover if there has been any “dissipation of assets”—that is, has either party disposed of money, stocks, vehicles, jewelry, or other valuable belongings
It was a very bad night. Sue and Carol waited outside. Sue wasn’t sure what Bill might do—but she was still certain he would never hurt Scott.
For two and a half hours, they were at a standoff. And finally Bill walked out. Bill was served with the no-contact order, and allowed to go.
When Sue checked the master bedroom closet, she found that Bill’s service revolver was gone. As for the seventeen guns in his safe, Bill told Officer Kurt Raskow that he had forgotten the combination to his own safe. After midnight, and just to reassure themselves that Jensen didn’t have access to it, the Bellevue police arranged to bring their van to pick up the safe full of guns and remove it from the house. It was subsequently locked in the department’s property room. That was probably a wise move; Bill had committed the combination to memory. He was in and out of it a few times each day, although Sue wasn’t allowed to see what he kept in there.
Any police officer—Bill Jensen included—knows that the two most dangerous calls he can respond to are mental cases and domestic violence disputes. Bellevue officer Kurt Raskow admitted that he had feared for his own safety when the huge ex-cop went in an instant from being reasonable to towering rage.
All in all, the conclusion to that long June evening had been lucky. Nobody was hurt. Nobody was killed. Everyone involved—the Harris sisters, Sue and Carol; the Jensen children; the Bellevue police officers; and quite probably Bill Jensen too—was relieved.
Sue Jensen hired Janet Brooks* to represent her in her divorce proceedings. Sue had never had a will, assuming as most young wives do that she and Bill would be each other’s heirs if one of them should die. She had never checked on the bank account she shared with Bill. They had begun it with $10,000; she had eventually contributed $208,000 with checks she had written from her inheritance account. Bill never put so much as a dime into the account, and for fifteen years he didn’t take anything out without Sue’s okay.
Bill had always figured their income tax and did the filing.
It only made sense now for Sue to evaluate their assets as they would soon be negotiating the division of the property and funds they had accumulated in twenty-two years of marriage. She assumed that they were headed for nasty battles and that Bill would attempt to wear her down until she was “broke mentally or broke financially—or both.”
Money meant everything to Bill Jensen, but it wasn’t what was foremost in Sue’s mind.
Sue made lists of what mattered most to her. Any woman caught in a litigious divorce would probably recognize and empathize with her final document:
My children
My sister
My health
My sense of peace
My future
My friends and the happiness friendships bring
My happiness
A sense of self-integrity
My sense of purpose, lifetime accomplishments
Financial security
All things being equal, it was a modest list.
In Washington State, if parties agree, it takes only three months for a divorce to become final. Sue had no illusions that Bill was hurting emotionally because he still loved her. It was just that he—like a number of husbands (and wives)—had always wanted to be the one to walk away, and he’d been ill prepared when Sue filed for divorce.
Janet Brooks worked with Sue in an attempt to determine which assets belonging to her and Bill were intact and which were somewhat diminished. They needed to find out what was community property and what was separate. It was standard procedure in any divorce. On some occasions, it is necessary to discover if there has been any “dissipation of assets”—that is, has either party disposed of money, stocks, vehicles, jewelry, or other valuable belongings
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