that were shared by both the husband and the wife?
Novels, movies, and television dramas often depict one spouse or the other charging up to the limits of credit cards, sneaking money out of bank accounts, or cleverly hiding assets. Depending on the slant of scripts, spending an about-to-be-ex’s assets can seem either hilarious or outrageous.
On her divorce attorney’s advice, Sue attempted to freeze the accounts and investments she shared with Bill. But when she inquired about their joint bank account, she had a shock. The money was all gone. She had put almost a quarter of a million dollars from her parents’ legacy to her into their joint account, and it was missing.
First, she cried. “I fell apart,” Sue admitted. “But I had my sister and four good girlfriends who were there for me. My sister took me by the shoulders and there was no nonsense about her. She told me, ‘This is exactly what Bill wants. He expects you to cave in. You have two kids. You’ve got to pull yourself together.’ And I did.”
And then, with Janet Brooks’s help, she began to close out joint credit cards and freeze any other accounts that had been opened in both her name and Bill’s.
Sue didn’t know where Bill lived; he had disappeared, along with their Sequoia SUV. She had even become her own private detective, determined to find the missing Sequoia. In her old Mustang or Jenny’s Impala she drove through parking lots looking for it. And then she deduced that wherever Bill was, he had probably flown there; he’d complained often enough that driving bothered his back and his knee. One day she went to the parking garage of the Sea-Tac Airport and drove up the winding ramps that led to each of the many levels there, looking especially in the handicapped spaces. And there it was. Bill had probably assumed it was safely hidden among the hundreds of vehicles left by travelers.
Sue used the key she had, backed the Sequoia out, and left the Impala that Chuck Jensen had given to Jenny—with no key. They could come back to get that later. She had to pay $300 in parking charges to leave the airport garage, but she had her SUV back.
She knew Bill would be very angry that she had found it. It was an expensive vehicle; they’d paid $48,000 for it the year before. To forestall Bill’s taking it again, Sue hid the SUV in a friend’s garage.
In the first court hearing after Bill was served with divorce papers in July, the judge had awarded the Sequoia to Sue. She would be the one driving their children to school, sports events, doctors, and dentists, and taking the pets to the veterinarians. That didn’t sit well with Bill.
Sue chose to believe that Bill hadn’t held Scott hostage on the day he moved out. Scott loved and trusted the father who had vowed the little boy would live, despite all odds, the father who sheltered him against the problems of the world. Even though Sue and Bill could no longer pretend that their marriage wasn’t over, that didn’t mean that Bill’s participation in his children’s lives would end.
And yet beginning in the summer of 2001, Bill rarely attempted to see his children. He clearly wasn’t in the Seattle area. If his children heard from him once a month, they considered themselves fortunate. Once the divorce was final, surely they would be able to spend time with their father on a regular basis.
Even so, no one could have had any idea of the tortuous and precarious road the Jensens would take as they headed for divorce—or the shocking ending that lay ahead.
The breakup of any marriage that once began with high hopes is sad. That is hard enough; total, paralyzing terror is more than either the husband or wife should have to endure.
Sue expected that Bill would make her life difficult, but she still wasn’t afraid of him.
At first, Sue Jensen and her children felt mostly relief that they no longer had to live with Bill Jensen’s mercurial moods and his glowering presence. The
Novels, movies, and television dramas often depict one spouse or the other charging up to the limits of credit cards, sneaking money out of bank accounts, or cleverly hiding assets. Depending on the slant of scripts, spending an about-to-be-ex’s assets can seem either hilarious or outrageous.
On her divorce attorney’s advice, Sue attempted to freeze the accounts and investments she shared with Bill. But when she inquired about their joint bank account, she had a shock. The money was all gone. She had put almost a quarter of a million dollars from her parents’ legacy to her into their joint account, and it was missing.
First, she cried. “I fell apart,” Sue admitted. “But I had my sister and four good girlfriends who were there for me. My sister took me by the shoulders and there was no nonsense about her. She told me, ‘This is exactly what Bill wants. He expects you to cave in. You have two kids. You’ve got to pull yourself together.’ And I did.”
And then, with Janet Brooks’s help, she began to close out joint credit cards and freeze any other accounts that had been opened in both her name and Bill’s.
Sue didn’t know where Bill lived; he had disappeared, along with their Sequoia SUV. She had even become her own private detective, determined to find the missing Sequoia. In her old Mustang or Jenny’s Impala she drove through parking lots looking for it. And then she deduced that wherever Bill was, he had probably flown there; he’d complained often enough that driving bothered his back and his knee. One day she went to the parking garage of the Sea-Tac Airport and drove up the winding ramps that led to each of the many levels there, looking especially in the handicapped spaces. And there it was. Bill had probably assumed it was safely hidden among the hundreds of vehicles left by travelers.
Sue used the key she had, backed the Sequoia out, and left the Impala that Chuck Jensen had given to Jenny—with no key. They could come back to get that later. She had to pay $300 in parking charges to leave the airport garage, but she had her SUV back.
She knew Bill would be very angry that she had found it. It was an expensive vehicle; they’d paid $48,000 for it the year before. To forestall Bill’s taking it again, Sue hid the SUV in a friend’s garage.
In the first court hearing after Bill was served with divorce papers in July, the judge had awarded the Sequoia to Sue. She would be the one driving their children to school, sports events, doctors, and dentists, and taking the pets to the veterinarians. That didn’t sit well with Bill.
Sue chose to believe that Bill hadn’t held Scott hostage on the day he moved out. Scott loved and trusted the father who had vowed the little boy would live, despite all odds, the father who sheltered him against the problems of the world. Even though Sue and Bill could no longer pretend that their marriage wasn’t over, that didn’t mean that Bill’s participation in his children’s lives would end.
And yet beginning in the summer of 2001, Bill rarely attempted to see his children. He clearly wasn’t in the Seattle area. If his children heard from him once a month, they considered themselves fortunate. Once the divorce was final, surely they would be able to spend time with their father on a regular basis.
Even so, no one could have had any idea of the tortuous and precarious road the Jensens would take as they headed for divorce—or the shocking ending that lay ahead.
The breakup of any marriage that once began with high hopes is sad. That is hard enough; total, paralyzing terror is more than either the husband or wife should have to endure.
Sue expected that Bill would make her life difficult, but she still wasn’t afraid of him.
At first, Sue Jensen and her children felt mostly relief that they no longer had to live with Bill Jensen’s mercurial moods and his glowering presence. The
Similar Books
