Happy 1st Anniversary Emma and Tyler Buchheim!

If you are new to this blog, you may want to read the posts “In a Nutshell” or go to July 2012 and read “Sending out a Letter.” My daughter Emma Katherine Roey lied about a friend being raped and attempting suicide, claimed to have been molested by a priest, and then, just as her attorneys were about to file a law suit, Emma accused her mother (me) of physically abusing her and later of poisoning her with DDT. Emma claimed to have a toxicology report to confirm that her mother (me, again!) poisoned her, but would never turn over this report to my attorney. If you read through the blog, you will find many other examples of Emma’s lying. At one point, she even complained about the way her dad touched her and that he called her a “bitch” and a “slut” everyday. (I refused to listen to her when she talked about her dad like that.) As long as Emma continues with the lies, I will tell her story. Love and thanks to all of you who read and have written to me. If you have any questions or comments, please contact me at: losingemma@gmail.com Please continue to share the blog with others.



Happy 1st Anniversary Emma and Tyler Buccheim.  Hope it is a wonderful day!  You two got me thinking, and I am embarrassed to say I can’t remember what Daddy and I did for our 1st anniversary except that we got out the wedding cake that we’d frozen, and ate some, and it was awful!

I remember our 6 month anniversary, and our 2nd anniversary has quite a story to go along with it (ask Daddy, but I’ll tell you about it later).  I can not remember what we did for our 1st anniversary.  Probably went out to dinner.  Daddy and I didn’t do much for our anniversaries or birthdays, and hopefully Daddy will do better with your stepmother, but to be fair, we didn’t have Groupon or Pinterest back then to get ideas!  I always had a hard time coming up with gifts for Daddy because he always wanted computer stuff, and then when he got into the RC toy airplanes, he wanted that stuff.  I just never knew much about either.  Daddy had a much easier time with me because there was always something I wanted or needed for the house and then there’s the old standbys, flowers, clothes and jewelry.  Thank goodness we were both pretty relaxed about it and didn’t expect too much.  (Some people say I didn’t train Daddy right.  Oh, well.  Except for one year, getting me something HE wanted, and forgetting my birthday and our anniversary a few times, it was fine.)    I think most of our anniversaries we didn’t get each other anything, but just went out to dinner.

Anyway, I love you both!  Have a great day!  Give my best to Sherry and Bob Buchheim, and to Caitlin as well.  How exciting to be able to say that Caitlin Buchheim, my son-in-law’s sister, is a cheerleader at the University of Dayton, Ohio, and going to be a biologist as well.  What a smart cookie!

Lots of love,








Emma Changes Churches **Updated 9/13/16

If you are new to this blog, you may want to read the posts “In a Nutshell” or go to July 2012 and read “Sending out a Letter.” My daughter Emma Katherine Roey lied about a friend being raped and attempting suicide, claimed to have been molested by a priest, and then, just as her attorneys were about to file a law suit, Emma accused her mother (me) of physically abusing her and later of poisoning her with DDT. Emma claimed to have a toxicology report to confirm that her mother (me, again!) poisoned her, but would never turn over this report to my attorney. If you read through the blog, you will find many other examples of Emma’s lying. At one point, she even complained about the way her dad touched her and that he called her a “bitch” and a “slut” everyday. (I refused to listen to her when she talked about her dad like that.) As long as Emma continues with the lies, I will tell her story. Love and thanks to all of you who read and have written to me. If you have any questions or comments, please contact me at: losingemma@gmail.com Please continue to share the blog with others.

Emma and Holy Trinity Anglican Church


This is one of those posts that is way out of order, so if you are one of my regular readers just skip down to the ************************ below while I give a brief introduction for my new readers as to what was going on at the time of which I’m writing about. I have 17 years of Emma’s life to write about, and then eventually, I will go back and put everything in order.

In late 2009, Emma had been really, really ugly to her dad, claiming her called her a “bitch” and a “slut” on a daily basis, saying she did not like the way her dad touched her, etc. Then, on her 16th birthday, Dec. 19, 2009, as Phill and I picked her up from her church youth group, Emma told us she’d received a call from her on-line friend, “Lacey” who lived in Dalton, Ga., and that “Lacey” had been raped and called Emma from the ER and was hysterical. Then the story changed to “Lacey” had tried to commit suicide after being raped.

A few months later, on her dad’s birthday, March 21, 2010, Emma told her dad and I that she had been molested by a priest when she was 12 and claimed that the catalyst for bringing up her repressed memories was “Lacey’s” rape and suicide attempt. Emma had been speaking to one of her church youth group leaders about her “molestation” and this woman had reported it to our church Deacon who go involved on Emma’s behalf and found out what we had to do formally to file a complaint with the church……………………….then the police and DFACS got involved……………………….and you can go back through the blog for more of that part of the story.

At the time, we’d gone to our church for maybe 10 years. I thought we had a church home where we would continue to go for years and years and that maybe one day my daughter would get married there. Emma was very involved in many activities at church: Sunday School (both going and then assistant teaching when she was in 9th grade), the children’s choir, VBS, the newsletter group, the youth group, serving as an acolyte and a lay reader….. anything she wanted to be involved in, Phill and I made sure she was able to be there.

During this time, Emma got her heart broken by a boy who was interested in her and then dropped her and was paying attention to another girl. She was also failing her on line physics class, and these two events may have contributed greatly to Emma making up the “molestation” story. Emma was always a good student as long as it was a subject she was interested in, so she should not have been failing, but at the time, I think Emma spent way too much time writing letters to “Lacey” and on-line chatting with “Lacey” and other students, and not doing her schoolwork.


So, at this point, we’d filed a complaint with the church, dealt with the sheriff’s department, DFACS, Gwinnett Co. detectives, therapists, etc. Emma and I were the ones to make all the decisions about these things, with a lot of help and advice from our church Deacon who also wanted to see this situation handled properly. Phill was very passive and left everything to me to decide how to handle things. I would try to talk things over with him, but he never voiced any opinion about how we should proceed. It probably should have been something we worked together on, but he took a passive role. Of course, if Emma’s parents hadn’t been idiots, we would have investigated some of her stories and caught on to her lying a lot sooner, but that is water under the bridge. We certainly we not going to call up “Lacey’s” parents, whom we’d never met, and ask about the rape and suicide attempt. Even when we were going through the divorce, my attorney was very uncomfortable with getting in touch with “Lacey’s” parents just because if the story turned out to be true, it seemed like such an intrusion into the family. Later on, when my attorney discovered how much Emma had lied about, he didn’t feel like you could trust anything Emma said, and Phill’s attorney had issues with Emma as well.

So……………………we are cruising along with all this drama. We went to church sporadically, and Emma pretty much quit going. Because of the way the church handled, or seemingly ignored our complaint (The incident was reported in March, and we did not hear from anyone until the Bishop came to our home in July to speak with us.) I was not comfortable going to our church anymore either. Phill was ambivalent and would go to church if I was going, but had no opinion about anything either way.

We pretty much quit going to church, and then Emma visited a few churches, checking out the youth Sunday School classes, and she continued to go to the youth group at 12 Stone church at Hamilton Mill in Buford Ga., but she didn’t want to go to church there. It was a huge church, and very different than what we were used to. One of the things that bothered Emma was that some of the modern churches had no icons. It was like walking into an auditorium. There wasn’t a cross to be seen.

Another story that was interesting was when Emma went to visit Hamilton Mill Methodist Church. I had dropped Emma off for Sunday School and then she went to church and I met her afterwards. I don’t remember Emma’s specific complaints about the Sunday School class. It was something fairly mild like they just sat around a table and didn’t do anything, but the more interesting comments came after she went to church. If you remember the story about the couple that Phill and I played cards with, and how Emma did not like their son and later claimed he destroyed a book that belonged to her, thus pretty much ending the friendship between the parents, Emma claimed that this family was sitting in front of her at church. (Oh, my! Emma could not go to church there! Since her arch enemy was her age, they would be in the same Sunday School class! She simply could not have that!) I thought this was odd because they had left our church and had been attending another church, in Sugar Hill, Ga., when we were still friends, and I knew they were quite happy where they were going. Another reason I questioned this story was because I knew this family, and if they came to church, they usually attended Sunday school as well. It’s possible they could have changed churches again, but I always wondered if Emma made up this story just because she did not like Hamilton Mill Methodist for whatever reason.

NOTE: Had I to do it over again, I wish now we’d sat Emma and the young man down together and not let either one go until we got the truth out of who destroyed Emma’s book. It’s sad that a friendship between parents ended based on the lies of a child. This is another example of how much control and power we inadvertently gave to Emma.

One day we visited Holy Trinity Anglican Church in Flowery Branch, Ga.


Holy Trinity was a very small church, but the liturgy was very similar to what we were used to, so of course it was very comfortable to us. (Phill was not interested in participating in finding a new church and pretty much left it up to Emma and me. He would go when we decided where we wanted to go, but he was not going to visit churches and participate in deciding where we would like to go for worship. )

After a couple of visits, Emma and I liked Holy Trinity, but it was hard for me to leave my old church behind. Being somewhat of an introvert, it took me a long time to feel comfortable there, and I wasn’t eager to leave and start over somewhere else. My heart just wasn’t in it. I finally told Emma if she really wanted to go there we probably needed to talk to the pastor and let him know why we were looking for a church, so Emma called up Fr. George Ivey and told him her story. Emma got off the phone, and immediately told me that Fr. George knew the priest Emma had accused and said that when she told him about her “molestation,” even before she said who, Fr. George told her that that priest was the first person he thought of. I’m not sure what kind of bad blood there was between Fr. George and the other priest, but I do remember him telling us about when the Anglican Bishop visited and that priest refused communion from him.

Anyway, Fr. George wanted to meet with us, so Phill, Emma and I went to Fr. George and Paulette Ivey’s beautiful home in Buford, Ga. Sure enough, Emma wasn’t lying this time, Fr. George told us that when Emma told him about being “molested” the first person he thought of was the man Emma had accused.

Fr. George was comforting and supportive, and I felt better about going to a new church since he knew why we were looking for a new church home. Fr. George also got very involved with Emma’s drama, helping to find attorneys, going to interviews, etc.

We began attending Holy Trinity which meant Sunday School, then coffee, and then church. As I mentioned, the church was very small. Sunday School might consist of about 10 people and church might be about 20-25. There were only a few other teens, so there really wasn’t much to offer in the way of a youth group, but Emma didn’t mind. She seemed to prefer being around adults anyway. Partly, I think Emma preferred adults because adults were to eaisly impressed with how smart, polite, etc. she was. She gave a great first impression. (If you have read Dr. Richard Born’s Psychological Evaluation of Emma, you will remember that he mentioned she was not comfortable around her peers.)

Phill and I loved Fr. George’s Sunday School classes. He was the best Sunday School teacher we’d ever had. We felt bad that the church was so small and people were missing out on such interesting and informative classes. Fr. George was an extremely smart man and he had a passion for studying and learning and he generously shared his knowledge. While it wouldn’t have been near as lucrative as his business career, Fr. George would have made a great teacher. Paulette Ivey, however, was an elementary school teacher at Ivy Creek Elementary School, in Buford, Ga.

Things rolled along. Emma began serving as an acolyte at our new church……. Emma was still going to therapy, working on her “sexual molestation” and we were dealing with things with our old church. Fr. George knew someone who worked in, I believe it was the ER, in a hospital in Cumming, Ga., and had discussed Emma’s story with her. She had recommended an attorney firm nearby, and we set up an interview with them. Fr. George went with Phill, Emma, and I to meet two attorneys at this firm. They were interested in Emma’s story, but claimed not to have the “war chest” it would take file the lawsuit against the church.

It was around Oct. of 2010 that I said something to Emma about Allen Hunt. Allen Hunt was a Methodist minister (now Catholic) who had a radio program on WSB radio on Sunday evenings that I, and often Emma, enjoyed listening to. I knew he did work raising money for a home for abused children, and I wondered if he could help us. Emma asked me to write him, and I suggested she write to him as I thought it would mean more coming from her, the “victim.”

Now, Phill likes to say that I, the evil mommy, forced Emma to sit down and write an e-mail to Mr. Hunt. I can assure you that I did not, but I guess Phill can use his standby line that oh, yes I did, but I “blocked it out” and have no memory of forcing Emma to sit at the computer and compose and send an e-mail.

Emma happily wrote off an e-mail and sent it. We quickly received a reply from Mr. Hunt who recommended a place for counseling and who also recommended the firm of Cruiser and Mitchell in Norcross, Ga. Bill Mitchell was a personal friend of Allen Hunt’s and in fact, Mr. Hunt called Mr. Mitchell to tell him about Emma’s story. When I called to set up an appointment, Mr. Mitchell wanted to meet with us right away. I called Fr. George who dropped everything to meet us at the firm’s office.

Fr. George was a tremendous help in explaining the hierarchy of the church, rules, etc. to the attorneys. I won’t go into detailing that meeting again as I have already told that story. For those of you who haven’t read it, you will have to go back through earlier posts in the blog.

Not long after we started attending Holy Trinity, we went to the ordination of Bishop Foley Beach in Atlanta. Foley Beach had left the Episcopal church after the 2003 General Convention in which a homosexual, Gene Robinson was elected Bishop of the Diocese of New Hampshire. Bishop Robinson was the first openly gay priest to be consecrated in the Episcopal church, and for anyone in the church during this time, there was a lot of fall out over Bishop Robinson. Our particular church had been growing and had gone to three services on Sunday mornings, but after the General Convention and Bishop Robinson’s consecration, a lot of folks left the church, some temporarily, and some permanently. Our three services were cut to two, but could have easily been cut to one. I think they only kept the 8:30 (early service) for the people who wanted to come to church early so they could get on with their day. If you went to the 10:30 service, by the time you got out and got home, the day was half over, and the early risers didn’t want to waste their day.

Phill was working, but Emma and I went to Bishop Beach’s ordination along with our friend, Janice, who’d grown up as a neighbor of Foley Beach’s wife, Allison. Foley Beach had been the rector at St. Alban’s Epicopal Church in Monroe, Ga. until he left the church and then he became the rector at Holy Cross Anglican Church in Loganville before he became the Bishop.

Befoe meeting with Emma’s attorneys, Fr. George Ivey had spoken to Foley Beach and had told us that Foley Beach was meeting with the Episcopal church and that he would talk to Bishop Alexander about Emma. Just before the ordination of Foley Beach as Bishop, we had settled on Emma’s attorney, and I will never forget going through the receiving line, shaking hands with Bishop Foley Beach, and he said to Emma and I that he understood we were in good hands now, indicating we did not need his help. A short time later, I would be greatly disappointed in both Fr. George Ivey and Archbishop Foley Beach.


Fr. George met Emma and I at the offfices of Cruiser and Mitchell, and we had an interview with Bill Mitchell and one of his associates, whom I believe was named Drew Ashby. The funny thing was, one of Phill’s RC buddies, Mike ( Mike Howell, I believe, but there were several Mikes in the RC group), had given Phill the name of an attorney for us to check out, and it happened to be Stephen Ashby, in Tucker, Ga., who was Drew’s father.

While Mr. Mitchell questioned Emma, Fr. George, and me, Drew Ashby took a lot of notes. At one point, I remember Emma stepped out, and Mr. Mitchell wanted to talk to me without Emma. (Hey, Dr. Richard Born, are you listening? This is something you missed when you did your Psych Eval on Emma!) Emma did a great job, acted very professional and mature as she acted out her drama for the attorneys. She explained how her friend “Lacey’s” rape was the catalyst for her remembering her own molestation when she was 12 years old. She went into detail about the priest following her into the women’s bathroom, pulling down her panties, and sticking a finger into her vagina. She answered all the attorneys questions confidently and was very composed. A couple of things that stood out to me from this session:

Mr. Mitchell said he would need to speak to Phill because often times when a child falsely accusess someone of sexual abuse, they are doing it to cover up the fact that it is someone close to them who molested them. (I have to wonder if this was where Emma got the idea to accuse her mother of abuse. Maybe one day, Emma will let me know.)

Mr. Mitchell mentioned that their firm takes one out of 1000 cases, and he wanted to take Emma’s case. He said he believed Emma and Drew believed Emma so strongly that he wasn’t sure Drew could be objective about Emma’s case.

Mr. Mitchell was firmly against the death penalty. As one who’s always favored the death penalty, when Mr. Mitchell talked about Project Innocence and explained his reasoning and cases he’d worked on, he gave me some things to think about after hearing his perspective.

When Fr. George asked how much we could expect to get from this lawsuit, Mr. Mitchell stated, “The sky is the limit.” His plan was to sue the priest, the church, and the diocese. He would have investigators look into the background of the priest, and they would have to interview Emma’s friend, “Lacey.” A short time later, Emma began making plans on how to spend her money. She could buy a car, use the money for college and would be able to afford to go away to college and not have to live at home, etc. She got a little giddy about her prospective windfall, and that worried me A LOT. I tried to explain to her that this was not about the money, that it was about punishing someone who did something very wrong.

After the interview, Emma and I felt very confident about the situation and indeed felt like we were in good hands. We walked outside with Fr. George and he stood with us in the parking lot and prayed before we all went separate ways.

As Emma and I were leaving, I asked her if she was ok with the attorneys talking with “Lacey” and Emma said she was. She said she had told “Lacey” that we were meeting with the attorneys and that they might need to speak with her and that “Lacey” was ok with it. (At this point, I did not know the whole story of “Lacey” being raped and attempting suicide was one of Emma’s big lies.) Emma had been worried about having to face her “sexual abuser” in court, but after meeting with Mr. Mitchell and Mr. Ashby, Emma said to me, “You know mom, with these lawyers helping me, I could testify in court!”

Emma was almost jubilant as we drove home. She had done a convincing job and had two attorneys that believed her. I guess she was proud of her performance. After dealing with the church attorney the month before (another post I need to write) who was quite unpleasant, I felt comfortable that we had someone looking out for our, but especially for Emma’s best interests.

Just after this meeting, I had to get some papers notarized and faxed back to the attorneys offices. Phill and I rushed around like mad and went to meet a friend from the ladies Bible study that Emma and I attended because she was a notary. I remember us dropping everything to meet her at the Braselton Cracker Barrel on her way home from work so that we could sign and she could notarize. No big deal to Emma that her parents were doing all this for nothing. Emma already knew the lawsuit would have to be stopped and she was working on her plan for stopping it. I hate thinking of how much time and energy was wasted by all parties on Emma’s little drama. Not just my time, but the time of the police, DFACS, social workers, the church, whom I’m sure all had better things to do than take a role in a 16 year old girl’s drama.

If you’ve read the blog, you know that just as Mr. Mitchell was about to file Emma’s lawsuit, Emma had Dr. Elizabeth (Genie) Burnett call the police to say Emma was being abused by her Mother (dramatic music playing in the background). You can read the police report earlier in the blog. I’m not going to rehash that here. I’ve already told that part of Emma’s story, but I wanted to tell about the church’s involvment, particularly Fr. George Ivey’s involvement in Emma’s drama.

In March of 2011, when Emma pulled her, “I want to live in a group home.” at the office of Suzie McGarvey, one of her many therapists, Phill fell apart and couldn’t handle Emma’s problems. Omigosh, his wife was a child abuser! What an idiot (ok that part is true) that it took him 17 years to see that! What an idiot that he had lived with this woman for over 28 years and he never knew she was violent! He had to have a divorce! And besides, there were other fish in the sea!

When Phill turned on me and decided to support Emma, I had no idea what was to come, that Phill would take out a TPO and have me thrown out of my home. My thoughts were to save my family and my marriage. I suspected there was something deeper going on. At this point I hadn’t discovered all Emma’s lies. I didn’t know that “Lacey” wasn’t actually raped, didn’t attempt suicide, her mother didn’t almost die of breast cancer, or that Emma had lied about many, many other things. I was trying to save my family. Even though I was angry at Phill for being so stupid, I thought surely he would come to his senses (boy was I wrong there!).

Phill and I discussed meeting with Fr. George for counseling, and if you’ve read the blog, Phill did go to on therapy session to try to save his marriage. I had talked to Fr. George after Emma accused me of abuse, and he told me he would never believe it. He’d been through his own drama with his two son’s and their addiction/substance abuse problems. Paulette had even told us about one time when he knocked down the bedroom door to their son’s room.

Fr. George told me he saw us every week in church, and he’d noticed how much Emma leaned on me, rested her head on my shoulder, held my hand, put her arm around me, grabbed my arm and put it around her, etc. She was such a touchy feely kid towards me, there was no way he believed she was abused.

After Phill had me thrown out of our home, Fr. George changed his mind about meeting with us about counseling. I knew there’d been a divorce where he’d tried to counsel the couple, and he was called to testify at the divorce. I didn’t know the couple and didn’t know anything about the divorce. I got an e-mail from Fr. George saying he did not want to get involved and one of the funny things I remember was that he mentioned that they tried to make him perjure himself. I thought it kind of funny that he spelled perjure wrong.

This was one of my biggest disappointments in Fr. George Ivey. He knew our family was in crisis. He did not believe Emma, and we were parishioners at his church. I always thought a priest was supposed to care for his flock. Fr. George seemed to care more about the thought of possibly being inconvenienced with his fear of having to testify in another divorce case than he cared about a family in his church. That hard to fathom. I lost all respect for Fr. George after this. I know priests/pastors are human and just as flawed as the rest of us, but I thought caring for your parishioners was part of the job. It seemed that Fr. George just wanted to lecture and stand in front of his church, but God help him if he actually had to get his hands dirty.

Because of the TPO, I could no longer attend church if Phill and Emma were there. My only hope was to get Phill to counseling, so that he could realize Emma had some problems, but Phill decided there was too much water under the bridge and he didn’t want to be married to me anymore. He had no desire to fix our family or our marriage. And besides, SEFF was the following month, and he sure wasn’t going to miss that!

I also sent a letter to Archbishop Foley Beach, since he’d been aware of our drama, explaining what was going on. I got a nice little card from him saying I was in his prayers. (Much easier than actually getting involved.)

To be continued…………

A Note for Emma

If you are new to this blog, you may want to read the posts “In a Nutshell” or go to July 2012 and read “Sending out a Letter.” My daughter Emma Katherine Roey lied about a friend being raped and attempting suicide, claimed to have been molested by a priest, and then, just as her attorneys were about to file a law suit, Emma accused her mother (me) of physically abusing her and later of poisoning her with DDT. Emma claimed to have a toxicology report to confirm that her mother (me, again!) poisoned her, but would never turn over this report to my attorney. If you read through the blog, you will find many other examples of Emma’s lying. At one point, she even complained about the way her dad touched her and that he called her a “bitch” and a “slut” everyday. (I refused to listen to her when she talked about her dad like that.) As long as Emma continues with the lies, I will tell her story. Love and thanks to all of you who read and have written to me. If you have any questions or comments, please contact me at: losingemma@gmail.com Please continue to share the blog with others.

facepaintEmma painted her face while helping with a 12Stone Church project where people went out to do things in the community.  Some of our friends from Bible study belonged to this church, and Emma wanted to go.  She ended up making balloon animals and doing face painting.

Hi Emma,

I realize your 1st anniversary is coming up, and I’ll write a little about that later.  I just wanted to mention that I got an e-mail that you might want to read.  Let me know, and I will forward it do you.  I’m certainly not going to contact you without your permission.  After all, we don’t want you to have to go to the trouble of taking out a restraining order against your mother.  Anyway, I’m not going to post it here and embarrass the person who sent it.

I got a little chuckle when I was at WalMart the other day.  Look what I found:


Not what I was looking for, but this caught my eye and reminded me of when you kicked your bathroom cabinet “accidentally” and you SCREAMED and Daddy and I came running.  I checked you over and said that if your toe was broken, a doctor wouldn’t do anything about it anyway, and since you could move your foot, and it wasn’t swollen, I wasn’t worried.  Then  two nights later you got Dr. Genie Burnett (Manna Treatment and Counseling, Lawrenceville, Ga) to call the police because she was so worried that you were in danger from your evil mother!  The police came, and when they spoke you you alone, you told them how your mother had abused you and you showed them your “broken toes” which were all pink from the cherry popsicle sticks you used to secure your toes.  (We always had a house full of Popsicles due to you frequent vomiting.)

I won’t retell the whole story here because I’ve already done that, but I saw these in Walmart and they did give me a chuckle, thinking about that incident.  I was thinking that when you want to accuse Tyler of abuse, here you go!  A product for securing your toes when your husband breaks them.  Oh, and by the way, you might want to use grape popsicle sticks instead of the cherry ones.  Having broken my toe a couple of years ago, it should look more like this:


and not be pink from the popsicle sticks.  Details, darling.  You want to get it right!

In all seriousness though, I would love it if when I publish the column about your vomiting issues, if you wanted to contribute.  I would love to have your side of the story as to what you think made you throw up all those years. (I know you claimed I poisoned you with DDT, but we all know that’s not true.  That was one of your lies that you didn’t really think through.)  If you are still studying to be a counselor, you may have some good insight as to what was going on in your head.

Also, I’m hoping one day you’ll be able to explain to us, why all the drama?  Daddy and I used to joke about how boring we were.  We loved you and we loved each other.  You had a pretty carefree childhood and got, within reason, pretty much whatever you wanted.  Why was that not enough?  Was it just too boring to be happy?  Why the need for all the drama?  Why all the need to be the victim?  (Volunteer, actually.)

Bradley D. Moody, Attorney at Law, Lee Sexton and Associates



(Sorry Folks, had to move this post to insert some other things I was working on when I was so rudely interrupted by Mr. Moody’s Letter.)

If you are new to this blog, you may want to read the posts “In a Nutshell” or go to July 2012 and read “Sending out a Letter.” My daughter Emma Katherine Roey lied about a friend being raped and attempting suicide, claimed to have been molested by a priest, and then, just as her attorneys were about to file a law suit, Emma accused her mother (me) of physically abusing her and later of poisoning her with DDT. Emma claimed to have a toxicology report to confirm that her mother (me, again!) poisoned her, but would never turn over this report to my attorney. If you read through the blog, you will find many other examples of Emma’s lying. At one point, she even complained about the way her dad touched her and that he called her a “bitch” and a “slut” everyday. (I refused to listen to her when she talked about her dad like that.) As long as Emma continues with the lies, I will tell her story. Love and thanks to all of you who read and have written to me. If you have any questions or comments, please contact me at: losingemma@gmail.com Please continue to share the blog with others.


Phillip Thomas Roey, before he got all cool, made new friend and stuff and dumped his old wife.

A Letter From My Husband (AKA Moving the girlfriend/new wife in.)

Well, I guess it’s not really a letter from Phill, but a letter from his attorney. Well……..I guess it’s not really his attorney. Let me point out some interesting things about the letter.
First off, the return address:

Bradley D. Moody
Attorney at Law
320 Corporate Center Court
Stockbridge, Georgia 302981

Hmmm, no mention of the law firm Mr. Bradley Moody works for. And why the extra number in the zip code?

Actually, Mr.Bradley Moody, Attorney at Law (I’m surprised he didn’t use “Esq.” after his name.) works for Lee Sexton and Associates and the address should read:
Bradley D. Moody
Lee Sexton and Associates P.C.
320 Corporate Center Court
Stockbridge, Georgia 30281

Since Lee Sexton and Associates P.C. is a criminal defense attorney, I wonder why Mr. Bradley Moody is taking on a lowly family court action? Doesn’t that seem a little beneath them?

Now, let’s go on to the letter, shall we? If you look at the address at the top, Mr. Moody’s legal secretary did not capitalize my street name (3 places) nor did she capitalize the town I live in.

With all the typos, I would question the abilities of the legal secretary at Lee Sexton and Associates, but hey, I make a few typos myself. (By the way Brad, if you are looking to hire a new secretary, I might be interested in a career change. Give me a call.)

Before I get to the heart of the letter, look at the signature. Well, the signature isn’t that impressive, but look below the signature:
Georgia Bar No. 655693

Ok, I’m a simple person and not very sophisticated, basically a WalMart kind of girl. I have a little bit of smarts (and a great sense of humor), but am no genius, and I certainly don’t have the years of schooling that an attorney would have. I don’t even really understand what a hashtag is for.  I also didn’t have a lot of experience with attorneys until my husband falsely accused me of child abuse and filed for divorce. I had no choice but to hire an attorney.  Up until then, other than for things like signing papers when buying a house and a few John Grisham and Lisa Scottoline novels, that’s pretty much the extent of my experience with attorneys. (I am currently listeing to John Grisham’s, The Litagators, and Brad, you remind me of some of the characters.)

I’ve shown this letter around, and no one that I know has ever seen an attorney sign a letter with their Georgia Bar number. I’m not sure why Mister Moody threw that in there. Just to look impressive I guess, or maybe to look authoritative? “ME! Important Attorney. YOU! Little housewife.”

Ok, now, let’s get to the meat of the letter. Mr. Roey has retained “our firm.” Hmmm. Again, if Phill had retained the firm of Lee Sexton and Associates, wouldn’t Mr. Moody have used their letterhead? And wouldn’t the return address on the envelope have read “Lee Sexton and Associates” in the very first line?

Onward.  It says Mr. Roey has retained the firm of Lee Sexton and Associates to declare the property awarded to me in the divorce ABANDONED.  It also says I could also be liable for storage fees to Mr. Roey.

Don’t you love lawyers? Gotta get that threat in there. I could be “liable for storage fees to Mr. Roey.”

Let me just mention something about the divorce. I know many of my readers have been through it, so I’m sure some of you know a lot more about it than I do.
There’s a radio commercial for men going through divorce that tells guys not to leave their home because that gives the wife the advantage. BUT, if you throw your wife out of the house, YOU have the advantage.

My daughter had made up lies about a friend being raped and attempting suicide and then claimed to have been molested by a priest. Then, when she was about to be caught in her lies, my daughter accused ME of abusing her. My husband turned into an idiot and threw me out of my home. Devastated is an understatement. The STUFF in my home was not on my priority list.

I did try to go over once and take inventory of stuff, but Phill was so offended that I brought a friend that he had to have Judy Hall, our neighbor come over as a witness for him. Phill, honey, I never accused you of anything. You are the one that accused me of abuse and went along with Emma’s lies. My attorney told me not to even drive by the house without a witness because Emma would make up something like accusing me of threatening her. (Like she made up the story of a car that looked like mine stopping in her driveway on the night she knew I would be going to Bible Study down the street.)

When my friend and I went to the house, I picked up a few things that were mine and put them in the car. When I picked up a picture that Emma had made( and I had framed) because I wanted it, Phill had a fit, told me to leave, and threatened to call the police.

Emma had made the picture in a printing class some years earlier and brought them to me one day because she was going to throw them away. She also gave me the press she had carved to make the picture. (I put it on the bookcase on the sunporch, Phill, sweetie, if you happen to see it.) She was cleaning up her room, and I had loved the prints and wanted to keep them and the press. I laid 3 of the prints together and figured out what size mat I would need, and when we went to IKEA, I got the frame with the mat to fit and came home and framed the three prints, overlapping, so they look like one picture.
Phill had all Emma’s photos and all Emma’s artwork, and he was going to deny me one piece that I had saved.  There were also other copies of the prints, so he could have framed his own.  He also had the press, so could have easily had Emma make more copies.

Anyway, as the divorce went on, and when we came to property, I started making a list of things I wanted from the house. In my emotional state, I couldn’t even think of things I wanted from the house. Of course, this was during the stress of the divorce and I was breaking out in hives every day, on medication for anxiety, etc……

I made a list of stuff and gave it to my attorney, and he sent it to Phill’s attorney. Phill’s attorney sent it back with items crossed out, and I made another list and gave it to my attorney who sent it to Phill’s attorney, and the list came back with more items crossed out. I thought the whole thing was ridiculous, and, as I said, I did not care about the stuff. I didn’t even look at the newest list of crossed out items, but instead told my attorney that Phill could have the stuff. I just didn’t care. After all, during the marriage the things we bought were “ours” but most men who are married to a lowly housewife/mother and who are going through a divorce change their view to “my money” bought those things.

The next paragraph tells me that I have 15 days from receipt of the letter to arrange to have a third party pick up my property. Phill had to get an attorney to do this? Well, yes he did. Phill can’t face me. He knows all about Emma’s lies. He knows she’s made up other things and gone around telling people I poisoned her with DDT, but if he doesn’t see me, he doesn’t have to deal with me. If he had to deal with me, he would have to deal with the truth, and if Phill dealt with the truth, he would then have to deal with all the friends and family who have supported him and Emma and turn around and tell them he made a terrible mistake accusing his wife of child abuse. Phill is not strong enough to do this. He wants people to like him and to admit he made such a colossal mistake would be more humiliating than he could bear.   Phill’s mantra is: “I don’t want you to hate me.” He couldn’t bring himself to email or text me, so he had to have an attorney write for him. He can’t handle me coming to my (former) home, so it has to be a third party that picks up the things. I have to admit, Phill is a coward.  The man who I thought would do whatever he had to to take care of his family failed miserably.  All Emma had to do was threaten to run away, and he had no interest in getting to the truth. He threw out his wife for his daughter and let her take over as woman of the house.

Being a simple girl, and not understanding “lawyerese” (I do understand Pig Latin though.), I had to look up the part about “filing a condemnation action.” Here is what I found:

condemnation action
n. a lawsuit brought by a public agency to acquire private property for public purposes (schools, highways, parks, hospitals, redevelopment, civic buildings, for example), and a determination of the value to be paid. While the government has the right to acquire the private property (eminent domain), the owner is entitled under the Constitution to receive just compensation to be determined by a court.
So, I guess Phill gets my things by eminent domain?  Mr. Bradley Moody, attorney at law, the next time you pick on someone, you might want to dumb down your letters for us little ol’ housewives who don’t understand the big words.

Also in this paragraph, there he goes again: Mr. Bradley Moody, attorney at law, has to threaten the little ol’ housewife again “to seek damages for storage for four years AND attorney’s fees.” Oh, my. Do you like being a bully, Mr. Moody? I bet the John Marshall School of Law would be quite proud of you. You flex your muscles and puff out your chest to intimidate a little ol’ housewife. That takes some real intestinal fortitude right there.

Now, let’s look at Mr. Bradley Moody, attorney at law’s closing. “Please reach out to my office…”  (For those of us old enough to remember, I will hum “Reach Out and Touch Someone” in the background.  You can use your imagination to hear it.) The interesting thing is that Mr. Moody never mentions the name of his office, and only types the address on an envelope without said name, AND Mr. Moody encloses no telephone number. I guess Mr. Bradley Moody is afraid to talk to me too, so he wants me to write to him.  Or maybe we are to communicate telepathically?   Nor did Mr. Bradley Moody enclose an email address.   Phill must have told him some pretty scary stuff.  Or maybe, just maybe, Mr. Bradley Moody, attorney at law, doesn’t want me calling the office of Lee Sexton and Associates.  Now, now,  Mr. Bradley Moody, I do know how to use Google.

Don’t you like how Mr. Bradley Moody, attorney at law, threatens me not once, but twice in the letter and then closes with, “With kindest regards……??????” I get the warm fuzzies just thinking about it.

So, Mr. Bradley Moody, attorney at law’s firm of Lee Sexton and Associates is now representing my husband? Hmmmm, or are they? Actually, Mr. Lee Sexton has an impressive Bio as he’s appeared on shows like 48 Hours, Dateline, Court TV and Oprah. Brad, I hope you learn a lot at your job there, and have some great experiences, but it doesn’t look like Lee Sexton and Associates is representing my husband.

I also discovered that Mr. Bradley Moody, attorney at law, is the son-in-law of Phill’s friend, Matt Klos, of Peachtree City, Ga., and married to Jessie Klos Moody, Matt’s daughter and father to Matt Klos’ precious little granddaughter. Matt Klos took over Jeff Meyers’ job as events director at SEFF (Southeast Electric Flight Fetstival http://www.seffweek.com   Matt is also a Designated Airworthiness Representative and an ASI instructor)the big RC event that Phill attends every year, and the last I heard,  is a member of the Fayette Flyers http://www.fayetteflyers.com , along with many other RC buddies of Phill’s. ( Oh, and just a note to all the RC nerds, both the SEFF site and the Fayette Flyers site seem to have a problem. If you go to the site, it gives you a warning NOT to go to the site because these sites might download malicious software to your computer. You guys might want to fix that.  Your Welcome.)

Matt Klos has another daughter, Jenny Klos, a Pharmacy student at Mercer University, who worked at SEFF along with Emma, and if you remember, Emma complained bitterly about the other girls NOT working. I heard a lot about this after the events, I guess because since I hadn’t been there, Emma could embellish her stories to her heart’s content  and I would never know what was true and what wasn’t. The girls did nothing but drive golf carts around and dress like sluts. (Well, Emma, it was usually pretty hot down there, and not everyone has your strict moral dress code of 3 inches below the collar bone and 3 inches above the knee. In fact, from some photos I’ve seen of you, you don’t even live up to that code that you decided was for good Christian girls like yourself.

So, the big question is, did Phill hire Lee Sexton and Associates or did he hire Bradley Moody, attorney at law?  Not that Bradley Cooper, attorney at law can’t moonlight a little bit on the side.

And since we’re talking about my belongings, which is certainly not ½ of the household, but only those things which Phill allowed me to have, I will say that Phill and I have been through this before. Phill has our truck (if he still has it), so I don’t really have a vehicle to go pick up my things. Also, Phill threw his wife out of her home, so I feel like he is the one who needs to bring me my things. Phill knows the only things I want are some personal items. I live in a small house that is already furnished, and I don’t have room for my things. Phill knows what he owes me.

I told Phill a couple of times he could do what he wanted with my things, and at one point he threatened to haul everything down to the curb. I asked him not to do that, but to send the things to Goodwill or another charity instead. I have the e-mails telling Phill he could get rid of my things, so if Mr. Bradley Moody, attorney at law for Lee Sexton and Associates, wants to take me to court over storage (what storage? Phill put all my things in the garage.) and attorney’s fees. I have the proof that I relinquished Phill of any responsibility for my things quite some time ago, not to mention that the attorney’s fee’s I will owe Mr. Bradley Moody are probably the $50 or so that Phill paid him under the table and the $6.46 for the certified letter. I think I can swing that.

Now, Phill is ready to move on and I’m sure ready to move his girlfriend or wife-to-be, Kim Chassion into my home.  I hope you enjoy both my home and my husband, Kim.  A wife is so easily replaced, as is a soul mate. (Phill’s words, not mine. I was never comfortable with that phrase, just like Phill was the one who talked about renewing our vows after he listened to two audio books of Nicholas Sparks’ novels The Notebook and The Wedding.  I meant my vows the first time and always thought those vow renewal ceremonies were kind of silly.  But as I said, I’m not very sophisticated.) I wonder what Kim Chassion thinks of a man who lets his daughter go around telling people her mother poisoned her with DDT?

Or, I suppose Phill could be wanting to put the house on the market so he can move in with Kim Chassion.   Not too many women want to move into the house their hubby shared with his first wife.  Either way, no matter

I guess that’s it for now. Thanks for reading if you’ve made it this far, and to Mr. Bradley Moody, attorney at law, if I ever need a criminal defense attorney, I will certainly give the office of Lee Sexton and Associates a call.  You might want to give your contact information to our lovely daughter, Emma.  Oh, and I looked up the office, and it looks like a pretty little house down there in Stockbridge, Ga.  And for all the free publicity, you’re welcome.

Until next time, with kindest regards………….



If you are new to this blog, you may want to read the posts “In a Nutshell” or go to July 2012 and read “Sending out a Letter.” My daughter Emma Katherine Roey lied about a friend being raped and attempting suicide, claimed to have been molested by a priest, and then, just as her attorneys were about to file a law suit, Emma accused her mother (me) of physically abusing her and later of poisoning her with DDT. Emma claimed to have a toxicology report to confirm that her mother (me, again!) poisoned her, but would never turn over this report to my attorney. If you read through the blog, you will find many other examples of Emma’s lying. At one point, she even complained about the way her dad touched her and that he called her a “bitch” and a “slut” everyday. (I refused to listen to her when she talked about her dad like that.) As long as Emma continues with the lies, I will tell her story. Love and thanks to all of you who read and have written to me. If you have any questions or comments, please contact me at: losingemma@gmail.com Please continue to share the blog with others.


So Emma, you can see how you were able to play a part in the destruction of your parents’ marriage.  By no means do I put most of the blame on you, but Daddy gets a lot of the credit.  I was the only one who was willing to fight for my family, and it was two against one, so I didn’t really have a chance.   You were a kid, and like I said to you many times, you will say or do anything to get what you want.  Of course, even when I said that, I had no idea how far you would go.  As your mom, I never wanted to see the worst in you, and it wasn’t until later that I learned some of the very ugly truths about my own daughter.

But no, I can’t blame you Emma.  You were a 17 year old kid, backed into a corner, about to be caught in some vicious lies, and you piled more bad decisions on top of the ones you’d already made.  You tried to ruin a man by falsely accusing him of sexually molesting you.  When that was falling apart, you turned on your mother.   You were a kid who did what you had to do to get out of it, so no, I don’t blame you as much as I blame Daddy.  After all, he was one of the grownups in this situation.

The trifecta that destroyed our family was made up of:

  1. Your problems.
  2. Daddy’s midlife crisis.
  3. Daddy’s upbringing and his need to just “get along” with everyone rather than face the problem.

I have to admit, Emma, that I thought when Daddy found out about all the lies you told, he would want to investigate further and knowing what a liar you were, and what horrible things you’d done, he would not continue to allow his wife to be victimized by a lying teenager.  I thought surely, Daddy would be a man and do what he had to do to right the situation and save our family.

I can’t tell you how disappointed I was in Daddy.  He married me for better or worse, only he only couldn’t handle the “worse” part.  When things got difficult, Daddy checked out.  He just couldn’t stomach it, if you’ll pardon the pun.  I don’t have to tell you that I loved your dad.  You knew that, and he knew that.  I just made a mistake in judgement.  I always thought Daddy “had my back” and would be there for me.  I always thought Daddy would do whatever necessary to take care of his family.  I was wrong.

Early in our marriage, I knew a woman at work who had to make a very painful decision about her husband with Parkinson’s Disease.  He suffered with some mental illness that goes along with Parkinson’s and it was becoming very clear that this lady could not manage the care for her husband alone.  She was struggling with a very painful decision.  If she divorced her husband, he would have more resources available for his care, making less of a hardship on her, but he was her husband and she didn’t want to divorce him.  It was such a sad situation, and I remember telling Daddy about it, and his response really surprised me.  Daddy said he would want a divorce because he “didn’t sign on for that.” I that was the first time that I thought Daddy was not committed to marriage like I thought he was.  For him, it wasn’t a difficult decision.  He thought she should just divorce him.  What’s difficult about that?  Daddy’s reaction bothered me for a long time, and coming from a divorced family, the odds were higher that Daddy and I would end up divorced anyway, but I thought Daddy was different from the rest of his family, and not a quitter.

Daddy is one of the smartest people I know, but he never had a lot of common sense.  He knows what a liar you are, but he can’t face it, so he just goes along with it.  He is a lot like his daddy in that respect————whatever keeps the peace.

Another thing I know about your dad, after being married to him for almost 27 years, is that he can justify anything to himself.  He’s not a stupid man, and there’s no way he doesn’t know what a liar you are.  How could he not?  He will justify your behavior to himself and he will justify his own behavior.  He will just say to himself that what he does is ok, because……………………… (fill in the blank)  You can make up any number of reasons.  You and I argued a lot, so Daddy can justify what he did and say, “Well, Emma and her mom argued a lot, so it’s ok that I destroyed my marriage.”  Daddy’s mother and I didn’t get along, and he put up with a lot in almost 27 years of marriage, so what he does is ok.   Daddy will make excuses for you, and for himself, and tell himself  that it’s ok that you lied about being molested.  You had your reasons.  Daddy knows the real victims in our situation are the priest and your mother, but it’s easier to put those things aside and pretend that Emma is the victim.  That way, Daddy doesn’t have to deal with the hard stuff.

So, Emma, as you got older, your mom became the competition.  You had to beat me.  You wanted to be independent and prove you didn’t need a micro-managing, control freak of a mother.  I was too much of a hindrance to you.  Congratulations, Emma.  I concede that you won.  Of course, we were playing two different games, and you don’t play by the rules, so you definitely had the advantage, but you did win.  I was trying to raise you to be a decent human being and didn’t know that I was in a competition against you.  I didn’t know your dad would fall apart when things got too difficult.  I knew you had your stubborn streaks, and you could be very difficult.  I tried to tell myself when you would be so difficult that as much as I hated arguing with you, it would serve you well and you would be able to stand up for yourself and stand up against peer pressure because you were so stubborn.

I knew you lied a lot, but I thought you just lied like most kids do about normal things.  I had no idea how far you had already taken things.   I wanted to see the best in you, and thought this was just a part of growing up, the lying, and you would outgrow it.    I remember reading James Dobson’s The Strong Willed Child, and hoping it would help me understand you and how to deal with you, but I’m not sure even James Dobson himself would have been a match for you.

The other day, Emma, I spent several hours over at your grandmother’s, whom as you know has dementia.  The last few weeks, she has been great, very sharp and we have had some good conversations.  Well, I don’t know what happened, but Grandma was very confused and easily upset the other night and I knew I could not win an argument with her.  Fortunately, because of my work, I’ve dealt with some people like this and I am much better equipped to handle this kind of behavior than I used to be.  Grandma wanted to argue and when I tried to reason with her and explain things to her, she got mad.  I knew it was time to shut up, so I just said, “Ok” to whatever she said and wasn’t going to argue, and then she got mad because I said ok and I WOULDN’T argue.  Talk about damned if you do and damned if you don’t!   If I were someone else, it would be funny, but when you’re in the middle of it, it’s not so fun.  I almost said to her, “This is like arguing with a teenager!” but I didn’t.  There were several times though, that I thought, “This is like talking to Emma!”

Love you always,


For Emma: Your Grandma Harriett

If you are new to this blog, you may want to read the posts “In a Nutshell” or go to July 2012 and read “Sending out a Letter.” My daughter Emma Katherine Roey lied about a friend being raped and attempting suicide, claimed to have been molested by a priest, and then, just as her attorneys were about to file a law suit, Emma accused her mother (me) of physically abusing her and later of poisoning her with DDT. Emma claimed to have a toxicology report to confirm that her mother (me, again!) poisoned her, but would never turn over this report to my attorney. If you read through the blog, you will find many other examples of Emma’s lying. At one point, she even complained about the way her dad touched her and that he called her a “bitch” and a “slut” everyday. (I refused to listen to her when she talked about her dad like that.) As long as Emma continues with the lies, I will tell her story. Love and thanks to all of you who read and have written to me. If you have any questions or comments, please contact me at: losingemma@gmail.com Please continue to share the blog with others.

Grandma Harriett
Emma, this will be one of the more difficult sections for me to write because I have to take a lot of the blame here, but I think it’s fairly equally divided between the three of us: me, your Grandma Harriett, and Daddy.  Like some of my other posts, I’d have preferred to keep this between you and me, but since we can’t communicate, I will share it here.  Maybe you can learn from my mistakes.

Your Grandma grew up down south, in N.C.,  and at some point the family moved to New Jersey.  When Grandma was about 18 she married your Grandpa Danny who was about 18 or so years older.  The marriage lasted long enough to produce two babies, and that was it.

Grandma waitressed and Grandpa worked in a bar up until he bought the diner.  Grandma went to work for Grandpa, and eventually took over running the restaurant. Both your grandparents were hard workers, and Daddy grew up working in the diner for them.  By the time I came into the family, Grandma really did everything, and Grandpa just sort of showed up and waited on customers for part of the day.  It was more like a social thing for him.  He worked right up until he died.  Grandma Harriett ordered him around both at work and away from work.    I got the feeling, when he was younger, he wasn’t quite the pushover, but when he was older, he was very agreeable and just went with the flow.

I’ve told you about how your daddy was raised.  He was the older brother, and the peacemaker.  Daddy’s little brother, your Uncle A, would hold his breath until he passed out if he didn’t get what he wanted, so Daddy was always expected to give in to his little brother.  After the divorce, your grandmother had some difficult relationships, and your dad claimed there was a lot of fighting going on at home between your grandmother and various boyfriends and then with her 2nd husband, John.  Daddy always claimed that any kind of argument made his stomach hurt.  He did not like to argue, and just wanted peace.  Some years later, he enjoyed arguing with your uncle in Ct. about politics, and the arguing between your dad and your uncle seemed more like fighting to me, and it made me uncomfortable.  I asked Daddy to stop, but he loved egging on your uncle.  Daddy is conservative or libertarian and your uncle is a democrat.  They were never going to agree on anything, and you know your dad was always pretty passive, and wouldn’t speak up to his mother or borther, but he could go at it with your uncle.   I just wanted to enjoy my family, but this was the one thing your dad wasn’t his easy going self about.

Your grandmother was married to her 2nd husband, John, for about 7 years.  From what your dad said, it was not a happy marriage from the beginning.  John bought your grandmother a big diamond engagement ring that she had to take over the payments for.   When your dad and I were up visiting one time, your grandmother showed me the ring and told me it would be mine one day.  Although it was a sweet thought,  since I’d never had an engagement ring, I wasn’t crazy about THAT ring because it seemed like bad luck to take a ring from a broken marriage.  I didn’t want to tell her that I didn’t really want the ring.

If I remember right, John drove a bread truck.  I don’t remember all the problems they had, but your dad said that marriage was doomed from the start.  They were divorced after a while, and later on, John came to work for your grandparents at the diner, so in addition to traveling with her ex-husband and her live-in-boyfriend, Kenny, your grandmother worked with her 2nd ex-husband as well as working with her 1st ex-husband.  It sounded odd, but when we were up there visiting, everyone seemed to get along ok.   And then there was Pat, who carried a torch for your grandma, who came by the restaurant every afternoon to help Grandma close.

In addition to a tumultuous household, Daddy described his childhood as one with a mother who always had to have a boyfriend, if she didn’t have a husband.  These men could be married or not, it didn’t matter, but Grandma always had some kind of boyfriend.   I just figured that grandma was raised in that southern tradition of “You are nothing without a man” and always had to have someone, just like her own mother, Stella, who was married several times.

The first time I met your Grandma Harriett and your Grandpa Dan, things were great.  Harriett lived with her boyfriend, Kenny, and Dan wasn’t too far away in his own house.   We got along fine and had a lot of fun.  Harriett was an animal lover as well, so we had that in common.  The only bad side of this was that your grandma would call me up and say, “I know you love animals, so I have to tell you……………..”  and then proceed to tell me about some horrible animal abuse situation that she heard about up there in New Jersey, and no matter how many times I stopped her and said, “Don’t tell me.  I don’t want to know.” she would do it anyway.  Having worked with a dog and cat rescue for many years, Emma, I think you know how many horrible stories we hear and see constantly.  When someone brings up something they heard in the news, I ask them not to tell me, and most people oblige.  If I hear a story starting on the news about some horrible animal abuse story, I turn off the radio.  I know what goes on, and I know there is nothing I can do about it.  I really don’t need to hear it.

As for your grandpa, Danny was very easy going.  He let Harriett call the shots and just went along with whatever was going on.  He was likeable and pleasant to be with.  Danny was also very generous and sweet.  One time when we were visiting he showed me some camera ads.  He knew I was into photography and offered to buy me a good camera.  I thought it was such a sweet gesture, but I couldn’t accept something like that.  At that time, good cameras were very expensive.

On the funnier side, once after Daddy and I were married, he was on the phone with your grandmother.  I walked into the kitchen and Daddy yelled into the phone, “Well, F__K you too!” and I was so shocked.  I got on to Daddy for talking that way to his mother, and he said, “Well, she said it first!”  I don’t know if she still talks that way, but your grandma could swear like a sailor.

I think it was the second time I saw your grandparents that I found out how things could be.  Harriett and Danny came down some time shortly before your Uncle A got married in March of 1984.  They were going to spend a few days at A’s and then a few days with us.  Your uncle lived quite a ways from us, so it was a good long drive.  We drove over to pick them up and the next day, we were all going to have dinner.  Your uncle thought we should drive back to his place to go to a Mexican restaurant near his house, and Daddy didn’t want to and suggested meeting somewhere in-between.  That was the first time I saw Grandma Harriett get mad, and how mean she could be.  I stupidly spoke up and said I agreed with Daddy, and Daddy and I got the cold shoulder for the rest of her trip.

Uncle A won out by refusing to go anywhere else, and Daddy and I gave in, and we drove all the way back over there to eat where he wanted to go.

During that time we had a friend named Steve, who was temporarily homeless because he’d quit his job, living with us, and your dad, Harriett, Danny, and I were going to go up to Amicalola, so of course we invited Steve to go with us.

The whole trip, Grandma Harriett only talked to Daddy and me if she absolutely had to.  She flirted and fawned over Steve the whole trip, and pretty much ignored us.  It was ridiculous to see a 45+ year old woman hanging all over a 20-something year old man, and of course it hurt my feelings that Grandma wouldn’t talk me.  I think your dad was used to this kind of behavior from Grandma, so it didn’t bother him as much.

The cold shoulder went on for months, but eventually it passed, and I think things were back to normal by Christmas. (BTW, Emma, if you and Daddy didn’t throw away all our old photo albums, there is a great picture of your grandpa that I took at Amicalola.  We were at the top, and he was wearing his camera around his neck.)

Usually, when your grandparents came down, all three of them came: Grandma Harriett, Kenny, and Danny.  Considering one was the ex-husband, and one was the boyfriend, they all got along fairly well, with Grandma Harriett always in charge.  Kenny was a retired policeman who liked to work on cars.  He was still married, being catholic he wouldn’t divorce, but had left his wife and moved in with Grandma Harriett.

Kenny was known for having a temper, and I remember your Daddy telling me a story about the two of them having a huge fight and accusing each other of cheating, and one of them going after the other with a shotgun or something, but whenever I saw them, they got along well.

Kenny often went to the diner at the end of the day to help your grandma close up, but for a while he wasn’t allowed in there.  Daddy told me he got very jealous of some of the men who came into the diner to see your grandma and could get very angry.

As far as visiting, your Grandma always favored Uncle A, but I understood that we were 2nd class citizens because we had no grandchildren for many years.  Grandma would make secret visits down to your uncle’s and call us on the weekend, pretending she was at home, so we wouldn’t know she was down here.  She even did it once with us after you were born.  She came down to visit us and called your uncle, pretending to be in New Jersey.  The first time I figured that out that your grandma did this was when she called, pretending to be in New Jersey one Christmas, and after talking to her, we hung up and I remembered something else I wanted to tell her.  I had hung up the phone, but still had it in my hand and immediately called her back, but the phone rang and rang and rang.  Later, when we asked her about it, she claimed that she and Kenny had gone to his sister’s,  but she wouldn’t have even had time to put on her coat by the time I called back.  I knew Grandma was lying, but Daddy wasn’t about to question things, so I let it go.  Of course there were other times when we visited and Grandma let stories slip about being down at your uncle’s.  This didn’t really bother me.  I knew how she was and like I said, we had no grandchildren for her.  I’d seen enough childless friends get cast aside by their parents in favor of spending time with the children who provided grandchildren.  That’s just how people are.

One 4th of July weekend, maybe the first or second year we were married, Grandma Harriett and Kenny came down for a short 4 days or so, and they were supposed to stay with us for a couple of days and then go to your uncle’s for a couple of days.  They got to our house late one evening after a long drive from New Jersey and then had to get up at 4:30 the next morning to go to your uncle’s house because he conveniently did not have a babysitter while they were visiting.  That one did bother me, but I got over it.

Whenever we went to visit, the only time we could do something with your grandma was on a Sunday, and only for part of the day because she still wanted to go in to work to get the diner ready for Monday.  If we went out on an evening during the week, to a movie or out to dinner, Grandma would always fall asleep in the car or at the theater.

I don’t have to tell you how generous Grandma Harriet was.  She always wanted to take me shopping to buy some new clothes, and one visit, she arranged for a limo to take Daddy and I to a Brodaway show and have dinner in New York at Mama Leoni’s.  It was a wonderful night.  When Daddy and I bought our house in Doraville, Grandma Harriett and Danny gave us some money to help make the downpayment.

After we had you, I thought things would change.  Your grandma was so excited that we were having a baby.  She, Kenny, and Danny came down for 4 days after you were born.  Grandma could never leave the restaurant or close the restaurant, and she told me that it was a short visit because she was going to come down 4 or 5 times , but those 4 or 5 visits turned in to ONE visit 9 months later on Labor Day weekend, when your grandma, Kenny, and Danny flew down after they closed the restaurant on Saturday and then had to fly back Monday afternoon, so those 4-5 visits turned into one visit for about 72 hours.  That Sunday, your grandma called Uncle A, and we all had to be quiet so she could pretend to be in New Jersey.

That year, we couldn’t go up to visit because your dad had used up all his vacation to stay home with us when you were born.

When we did go up to visit after you were born, Grandma still would never close the restaurant and take a day off, so we would drive 17 hours up and spend a week, to have part of a Sunday to spend with your Grandma, although I heard lots of stories about how when Uncle A and his family went up, she would close the restaurant and rent them a house on the beach, paying for everything.  Grandma frequently complained about your Aunt K and how she could not “do enough or spend enough” to make Aunt K happy.  She complained about how your aunt had her girls in those little girl beauty pageants and was always asking Grandma to buy the dresses she needed for competitions.  She complained that Aunt K abused prescription drugs.  (I never saw anything to indicate this, and from what I saw of your aunt, she was a very good mother.  To be fair to your aunt K, your grandma complained about your uncle’s first wife until he married his 2nd wife, and then she only had good things to say about the first wife.  I have no doubt that Grandma had plenty to say about me to your aunt.  I always suspected that grandma kind of liked the tension between your dad and his brother. )

Daddy and I never cared about renting a house at the beach or anything else, we just wanted your grandma to spend some time with us, and especially with you.  We always went up and stayed in her tiny pre-fab home, and it was fine with us.  Later on, I did worry about taking you up there because your grandma fed dozens of feral cats, and the backyard was like a big litterbox.  I really didn’t want you playing out in that yard.  The inside wasn’t as bad.  Grandma had four inside cats in her and someone was always throwing up somewhere or missing the litterbox.  You know I am an animal person, but it did bother me a little bit in the house as well, once we had you, but I tried to ignore it and never said anything about it.

Another time, early in our marriage, your Grandma was going to come down and spend Christmas with us one year, but at the last minute decided to go to a Slot Machine Tournament in Las Vegas instead.  I was pretty hurt by that as we’d been planning on it, and she didn’t let us know until almost the last minute.   Grandma sent us some of the promotional gifts she received for attending the tournament.  You know the lamp that was on the old sewing machine in the living room?  That came from there along with the candle holders that were in the china cabinet.

In April of 1995, Kenny Died.  He was out in the yard working on one of his cars and had a heart attack.  I can’t remember who found him, maybe the neighbors, but your grandma was at the restaurant working when it happened.  Of course it was horrible.  There was lots of drama when the EMTs were called and Kenny’s two grown daughters came over.  Later on, your grandma noticed that a big gold necklace with a boat propeller charm she had given Kenny was missing.  Of course no one knew what happened, but it was suspected that Kenny’s daughters took it.  There were some things inside that turned up missing as well, such as a Kenny’s checkbook.  I can’t remember what happened, but I think your grandmother said the girls emptied our Kenny’s checking account.

Your grandma was understandably very upset.  Daddy and I were about to move to Hoschton, and we thought it was a good idea for me to go up with you to see Grandma.  We stayed with her, and sat with her through all the tears and while arrangements were made.  I think your grandma appreciated me being there with her, and I know you were a wonderful distraction for her.  You were such a sweet baby, just having you around made grandma smile.

Kenny was cremated and the funeral was rather awkward.   Daddy and your uncle A came up.  On one side of the funeral home was Kenny’s wife, daughters, and other family and friends, and on the other side was your grandma, your uncle, Daddy and me, and a few friends.

Kenny was cremated, and since he loved the water, your grandma rented a boat for everyone to go out on to release the ashes.  That was a little awkward too.  The ashes were divided between Kenny’s wife and your grandma.  Like the funeral, the boat was divided with Kenny’s wife and family on one side and Kenny’s mistress and family on the other side.  Before we left, the captain of the boat stopped your dad and I and gave your Dad $200.  He said that Grandma had overpaid and over tipped and that she gave them too much money already and he wanted to return this extra tip she had given him.  Your daddy quietly put the money in your Grandma’s purse and didn’t say anything about it to her about it.  Grandma’s purse was always stuffed with cash, so she wouldn’t have even noticed an extra $200 in it.

You were 2 ½ years old when we stopped toing up to visit your grandma.  We drove a long 17 hours up (since Daddy always wanted to drive straight through and not stop to spend the night), and it was pretty miserable for you.  It was the trip we often talked about how you had learned the song, “You Are My Sunshine” and we were singing it in the car, and you pounded your little fists on the car seat and sang very loudly, “You are NOT my sunshine…..You make me NOT happy….”’   You also pounded your fists and chanted, “Get out, get out, get out, get out, get out…..”

We had a pretty good visit, and took you to Storybook Land ( http://storybookland.com ) on Sunday afternoon, which was so much fun.  That was the only day we could really do something because, as usual, Grandma wouldn’t take a day off. You loved it.  You should be able to find the photos I took of that trip in the boxes of photos in that breakfast nook drawer where I always kept them.

I don’t even remember what your grandma got mad over, but we got the cold shoulder once again at the end of the trip, and by the time we left, I was so ready to go home.  I think it was the day before we left when we went out to eat. (Grandma never cooked, but working like she did, who could blame her?)  Grandma Harriett had a fairly new waitress working for them, named Maureen, and all through dinner Grandma talked about Maureen and how she loved Maureen and people thought Maureen was her daughter, and how she wanted to take Maureen here, and wanted to go there with Maureen, and Maureen said this, blah, blah, blah………..  I knew this was directed at me because usually when we visited, and we’d go to the restaurant, Grandma loved to tell people I was her daughter-in-law like she almost forgot that was her son that was with me.  I always enjoyed how she seemed to be so proud of me.

Of course, I was hurt after this trip, and Grandma wasn’t speaking to us again.  I was so tired of having a fair-weather- friend.  When your grandma was nice, she was like one of my best friends and she would call to talk to me, barely saying hello to Daddy.  I would also call her, like one of my girlfriends, over any little thing I wanted to tell her.  But when Grandma was mad, you (or we) got the cold shoulder for months.

I’m trying to remember what year that was, I think 1996, and Daddy and I had been married for 12 years, and during those 12 years the only time your grandma took a day off when we visited was when Kenny died.   Her visits down south to see us were usually about 2 days.

After that visit, I told Daddy I wasn’t going up there anymore.  I wasn’t fair to drag you all the way up there for what usually ended up being pretty much one day of time spent with your grandma.  I was also tired of the love –hate way that grandma treated us.  I told Daddy that your grandma was welcome at our home anytime, but I wasn’t going back up there.  Daddy didn’t argue and never said a word about it.  He never spoke with his mother and asked her to take time off when we visited like she did for your Uncle and his family.  Eventually, I figured Daddy would want to go back up, but he never said anything about it.  He couldn’t stand up for his family and tell his mother she needed to spend time with us when we came all that way to visit.

The next time we saw your grandma was about a year later when she was traveling back from Disney World with her new boyfriend, Rex.  Your Grandma and Rex stopped and spent the night at your Uncle’s and then drove on to see us and stayed for about 3 hours because they were in a hurry to get home.  (Grandma had promised to go to Disney with us one day, but I knew that would never happen.  She would never close the restaurant to do that for us, but she would for a boyfriend.  Later on, you told me that you remembered Grandma saying she’d go to Disney with us, but you were pretty young, so I thought you must have made it up.)

Rex was a little more demanding of Grandma’s time and she went on a trip to Iceland with him, closing the restaurant for that trip.  Sadly, the relationship didn’t last, but they were together for a year or so.

A  year or so later, we were going to Tybee, and out of the blue, I got some mail from your grandmother.  There wasn’t anything personal in it, just some Xeroxed copies of silly sayings, quotes, cartoons,  etc.  I thought this was ridiculous, since Grandma didn’t even talk to us, but I sent your Grandma a letter, inviting her to go with us to Tybee.  I told her the dates we were going and that we had a condo with plenty of room and all she had to do was fly down and we would pick her up and do the rest.  She never responded to my letter.

I gave up on inviting your grandma to anything else.  She finally retired and sold the diner, and I thought Daddy would want to go up to visit since she was no longer working.  I guess I should have brought it up, but after being hurt so many times by your grandma, I was hesitant and let it slide and Daddy never mentioned going up to New Jersey, although he did see your grandma sometimes when he drove up that way for UPS and she would come meet him for dinner.

I think I told you that with your grandma, I always thought of her as someone who loved drama.  I used to say, “there are no molehills” with your grandma, only mountains.  I’m sure when you and Daddy went to visit after your  “sexually and physically abused” stories, Grandma was all over it.

When Grandma found out your uncle was cheating on his wife, she was fine with it.  She just wanted him to be happy.  She told me about meeting the mistress and how your uncle left his wife and moved in with the mistress and then went back to his wife.  She complained about the mistress (Wife #2) calling her, sobbing and carrying on because your uncle went back to his wife.  Later on, your uncle left his wife a 2nd time and moved in with his mistress.  It was your Grandpa Danny that told Uncle A that he had an obligation to his wife and family, and so your uncle moved back in with his wife again.  At this point, I thought your Aunt K was kind of stupid because she’d been through this once already, so why let a married man move in with you a second time while he was still married?  Grandma again talked about how the poor mistress was so hurt that your uncle had left her to return to his wife a 2nd time.

You know the rest of this story, how your Aunt L (first wife)  gave up and threw your uncle out, but by then the mistress had had a baby by someone else, and then married the man, later left him, and  eventually, your uncle and your Aunt K got back together.  They have been married a long time now, so maybe that was meant to be.

Anyway, Emma, what I wanted to say was to be very careful of how you treat your mother-in-law and your sister-in-law.  I heard some lies you were telling about Sherry Buchheim and about Caitlin Buchheim, and you know that it is wrong.  From what Sherry told me, you spent very little time with Caitlin, so why the need to lie about your her?  I think you can’t help lying, but that is for another post, and I will get to that later.  You are what you are.

In my case, there is enough blame to go around.  I should not have cut off your grandmother like I did.   You know that I come from my own dysfunctional family, so I never really learned how to handle difficult people.  I guess I was a lot like your dad in that I wanted your grandma to like me, and I didn’t know how to deal with someone who loved me one minute and wasn’t speaking to me the next.  I was a young wife and mother and had my own insecurities, and it was very hurtful to me the way your grandma acted.  I should have handled things differently.  Your dad should have stuck up for his family, which he just couldn’t do, and your grandma should have treated us a little better.  We all had fault here.  I hope you will learn from my mistakes and from the mistakes you have already made and do a little better with your in-laws.







A Letter From My Husband (Moved)

Note:  I moved this post and re-titled it:  Bradley D. Moody, Attorney at Law because I was working on some posts for Emma, and Mr. Moody’s poor timing, messed up the order in which I was doing things.


Trifecta Part 2 cont. Great Grandma Stella (completedd 6/14/16)

If you are new to this blog, you may want to read the posts “In a Nutshell” or go to July 2012 and read “Sending out a Letter.” My daughter Emma Katherine Roey lied about a friend being raped and attempting suicide, claimed to have been molested by a priest, and then, just as her attorneys were about to file a law suit, Emma accused her mother (me) of physically abusing her and later of poisoning her with DDT. Emma claimed to have a toxicology report to confirm that her mother (me, again!) poisoned her, but would never turn over this report to my attorney. If you read through the blog, you will find many other examples of Emma’s lying. At one point, she even complained about the way her dad touched her and that he called her a “bitch” and a “slut” everyday. (I refused to listen to her when she talked about her dad like that.) As long as Emma continues with the lies, I will tell her story. Love and thanks to all of you who read and have written to me. If you have any questions or comments, please contact me at: losingemma@gmail.com Please continue to share the blog with others.



Emma, I want to tell you a little about your great grandma because even though you never met her, for me, it is interesting to see how she had some influence on your life whether biologically and/or psychologically.

Your great grandma had three children and at least 4 husbands.  She had two daughters, one being your Grandma Harriett, and a son named Tommy.  Maybe it was the time, and sons were more valued than daughters, but your great grandma’s main focus was on Tommy, whom I never met, and whom I never, ever heard anyone speak highly of.  In fact, Daddy told me that if Tommy ever showed up at our door, not to let him into our home.   Like you, he did some horrible things, but Stella loved him no matter what, which was sad, because your Grandma Harriett was the one who really looked after Stella until Tommy moved her away the last several years of her life.

Stella was raised in the south, I believe around Anderson, S.C.  I’m not sure what is true and what’s not, but your Grandma Harriet told me that her dad, Stella’s first husband committed suicide.  Grandma Harriett could be quite dramatic, and she claimed that she walked in on him after he had slit his own throat.  I wondered about that story, but your Grandma Harriett got quite hysterical, crying and sobbing when she told me that story many, many years later.

Sometime, when your grandmother was growing up, Stella moved the family to New Jersey.  I have no idea why, but I’m sure Daddy can tell you.

I met Stella on my first trip up to meet Daddy’s parents.  We went over to Stella’s little ranch house for dinner.  Stella was married to a man named Frank, whom I believe was her 4th husband.   According to your dad, every time Grandma Stella lost a husband, she would lose weight and then catch another one.   Frank had had a stroke and was lying on a hospital bed in the middle of the living room.  I remembered being impressed with how clean Frank was and how perfect the bed looked.  I thought Stella must have taken wonderful care of Frank.  (I suppose she could have had Home Health coming in as well.)  Later on, Daddy told me that some of the neighbors had witnessed, through the window, Stella attempting to smother Frank with a pillow.

Stella had invited your dad and me over for a “…real EYE-talian dinner” that she had delivered from a local Italian restaurant.  You know how Daddy and I love Italian food?  Well, this was some of the worst Italian food we’d ever had!  It was very bland and flavorless, but Stella was so proud of it, so of course we didn’t say anything.  She wanted me to be able to go back to Ga. and tell people I’d had a real Eye-talian dinner while I was in New Jersey.

As you know, your grandparents were married long enough to create two babies, and then divorced.  Your grandpa worked in (maybe owned, I can’t remember) a bar up until he bought the diner, and your grandma was a waitress.

Grandma Stella was the babysitter for Daddy and his little brother up until they were old enough to stay home by themselves.  In fact, Stella is the one who gave your uncle the name he is called.  Your grandma named him his real name, but Grandma refused to call him that because she wanted him named “A.” so that was what she called him and it stuck.  Daddy claimed to have many fun memories of things they did with Stella, but he was somewhat bitter about it when he found out everything they did was paid for by Grandma Harriett and not Stella.

After that first visit, Frank died, and Stella did something pretty bizarre.  She sold her house and gave all the money to Tommy.  From everything I ever heard, Tommy was a drifter who showed up back in New Jersey now and then, especially if he needed money from Stella.

Grandma Harriett told me that some people came into the restaurant asking her when her mother was moving out of THEIR house?  Grandma Harriett had no idea that Stella had sold her house with absolutely no idea where she was going.  Fortunately, your grandma had connections with someone high-up in town who was able to get Stella into a subsidized senior high rise.  It was a nice little apartment, and Daddy and I visited every time we went up there.

Grandma Harriett told me a story about how a few years earlier, Stella had been in a car accident and won $100,000.00 in a lawsuit, and then gave all that money to Tommy, too.  For whatever reason, Stella would do anything she could for her son, even to her own detriment.

Like you, Emma, Stella was also a liar.  She could tell some whoppers.  When Daddy and I went to visit her, she would always want to give me things.  I think she was probably getting rid of things she didn’t really have room for in her small apartment, and I remember leaving with my arms full of stuff one evening and joking with Daddy that she probably told people I asked for those things.  Sure enough, that was what she said to Grandma Harriett.

One of the funnier stories was when Grandma called me (I would say mid 1980’s) and told me how sick she was.  She claimed to be passing “pure” blood and vomiting up “coffee grounds” blood.  She went on and on telling me how sick she was, and how the doctor told her she didn’t have long to live and she needed to have her LEFT intestine removed.  (I was guessing she meant to say “kidney.”)  I can’t remember what year Stella died, but it was many years after that!

Great Grandma Stella lived in the subsidized senior housing apartment for several years and then one night disappeared.  Her apartment was cleaned out and she was gone!  It seemed that Tommy had showed up and talked her into leaving with him.   Maybe he wanted her social security check as a source of income, I don’t know.  Tommy and Stella moved to Mt. Airy North Carolina.  Later on, Daddy heard that Tommy had beat her badly enough that she had to be hospitalized.  I think Grandma Harriet told that to Daddy, but who knows if it was another Stella whopper.  Eventually Stella died at the age of 92, I believe, and Tommy became a pastor.  I guess it’s never too late to turn your life around.

So Emma, as you can see and you’ve heard from Daddy’s stories about Stella, her influence on Grandma Harriett and on Daddy trickles down to you.  Grandma Stella’s lying (and possibly Tommy’s?) could also be a genetic component into why you lie.  It may just be an inherited trait.  From the things I heard about Tommy, I’ve wondered if you could have some of those genes, too, but I never met the man, so I don’t have anything to on there, other than again the lying and Tommy’s relationships in comparison to your relationships.  Daddy can tell you much more about Stella and Tommy, and you may want to ask him, and maybe that will help you figure out your “issues” as you used to say.

Love always,


Trifecta Part 2, Daddy’s Family (Part 1)

If you are new to this blog, you may want to read the posts “In a Nutshell” or go to July 2012 and read “Sending out a Letter.” My daughter Emma Katherine Roey lied about a friend being raped and attempting suicide, claimed to have been molested by a priest, and then, just as her attorneys were about to file a law suit, Emma accused her mother (me) of physically abusing her and later of poisoning her with DDT. Emma claimed to have a toxicology report to confirm that her mother (me, again!) poisoned her, but would never turn over this report to my attorney. If you read through the blog, you will find many other examples of Emma’s lying. At one point, she even complained about the way her dad touched her and that he called her a “bitch” and a “slut” everyday. (I refused to listen to her when she talked about her dad like that.) As long as Emma continues with the lies, I will tell her story. Love and thanks to all of you who read and have written to me. If you have any questions or comments, please contact me at: losingemma@gmail.com Please continue to share the blog with others.


Emma Katherine Roey

Daddy’s  Family

Emma,  I’m writing a couple of these posts to you, and then I will get back to writing about you.  I would much rather write to you privately, but since I don’t want to be threatened with a restraining order, I will have to do it here.  I had hoped, when you grew up, we could discuss these things and you could learn from my mistakes.  I don’t want to trash your dad’s family, but I will tell you how things were from my perspective and from what your dad told me.  I think you know about a lot of the “scandals” so I’m not going into the details on those.

By now, I think you’ve realized that every family is dysfunctional.  You know about my family life because we discussed it, but I don’t think your dad ever really discussed his with you.  I can only tell you what he told me and what I saw for myself.  I hope that learning about your family helps you figure out who you are, and by learning about your dad’s family, you will understand why your dad couldn’t face what you did, how he doesn’t like to argue or confront anyone, or do anything difficult.

Your dad grew up in a pretty tumultuous household.  He always said he didn’t like to argue because all the fighting in his home growing up made him literally sick to his stomach and he hated arguing.   Even after your dad and I had been married for years he claimed he didn’t like to argue because he would still get sick to his stomach.  And you know your dad and I could have a disagreement or an argument, and we still loved each other.  By now, you’ve been married long enough to know you are going to have arguments with someone you live with so closely.

Daddy’s  parents were divorced when he was a toddler, and fortunately they got along amicably.  Your grandfather was very easy going and passive, so your grandmother kind of ran things, including his life.  It was kind of funny when they came to visit.  Everyone always thought it was so strange that your grandmother traveled with her ex-husband and her current boyfriend.

Your grandmother had two divorces and many boyfriends, according to your dad.  The first marriage was very brief, and the second marriage sounded pretty bad right from the start, and there was a lot of fighting then.  Your grandmother had quite a temper and could swear like a sailor, but she was a hard worker, very generous, and could be very loving and kind.  It sounded to me like your grandmother was one of those people who didn’t feel validated without a man.  When your dad was growing up, if she didn’t have a husband, she went from one boyfriend to the next.  She was a real people person, if you saw her at the restaurant, and she chatted with everyone,  was very friendly, and made her customers feel special.  There were several male customers who paid a lot of attention to her.  After your dad and I were married, even though she had a boyfriend, there was a man named Pat who hung around the restaurant a lot at the end of the day because he was very fond of your grandmother.  I thought this was a little odd because he was married, and your dad mentioned that it had upset Kenny (her then boyfriend).  For a while, Kenny wasn’t allowed to go up to the restaurant because he got too jealous of the men that paid attention to your grandmother.   Your dad also told me that Pat at one time gave your grandmother the key to his safety deposit box that had something like $100,000.00 in it and it would all be hers if she married him or something like that.

Because your grandmother had to work as a waitress, your dad and his uncle were raised by their grandmother, Stella, until they got old enough that they were home alone.  They were pretty young when they started staying home alone, but this was a different time.  Your great grandma, Stella is another story, and I will tell you about her later.

Growing up, Daddy, as the older brother was expected to be the peacemaker and give in to his little brother.  You dad described your uncle A. and a child who would hold his breath until he passed out or pitch a big fit if he didn’t get his way.  To get things calm, Daddy always had to be the one to give in and do whatever little brother wanted.

When your dad and I were dating, your dad and Uncle A were roommates for a while after your dad’s roommates had gotten married, and your Uncle’s roommates had graduated college and moved on.  Your uncle got a free apartment for being a police officer, and agreeing to handle calls, sort of like he was the apartment security when he was home.  When your dad was home, he had to answer the calls.

Also, since your uncle got the free apartment, your dad had to pay for the utilities, which didn’t seem quite fair since your dad acted as security when your uncle wasn’t there.  One time when I was over, your uncle pointed out that a certain cat food was on sale, and when your dad said that the cat was your uncle’s cat and not his, your uncle said that since he lived there, he should pay for part of the cat food.

A few times, your uncle went to a movie with your dad and I, and he would always ask your dad, “Aren’t you going to get some popcorn.” So that he could have some without having to buy it.

One time, your dad and I had been out on a Sunday and he was having car trouble.  Daddy had to get up very early to be at UPS (his part time job before he became a driver) and he asked your uncle to borrow some tools to work on his car, and your uncle refused.  They argued, and Daddy was upset and went to his room.  Then your uncle wrote out a note and told me to deliver it to your dad.  I can’t remember word for word what the note said, but it was something about telling your dad he needed to admit that he should have worked on his car earlier instead of waiting until the last minute and to apologize.  It was so crazy and stupid to me, but your dad did what he had to do to borrow the tools, and he got the car running and made it to work .

After your dad and I were married, and after your cousin had been born, your uncle was too cheap to pay for trash pickup at the house, and he would take his trash to the police station and throw it out there.  Your grandparents came down, and I guess Uncle A. had taken some time off work, and hadn’t taken his trash to work.    They all came over to our house, and I will never forget your uncle opening up the trunk of his big old care and pulling out 17 large garbage bags and saying, “Here Phill, I thought you could put this out when you put your trash out.”  I was pretty angry at the gall, but said nothing.  Had your uncle asked us before hand, I don’t think I would have minded at all, but to just bring all that trash over to our house and not even say, “Would you mind…….!”

I had witnessed the way your uncle treated your dad for so long that I never much cared for your uncle.  Your dad always thought he was the better looking brother who always got the girls, etc., but I always thought your dad was such a much more decent person than your uncle.  They were very competitive.  Once, before we were married, I went hiking with your dad, Uncle A., and a friend of your dad’s.  It turned into a race up to Amicolola, which I have to say was one of the worst dates ever.  Of course I tried, but couldn’t keep up with the three of them, and I when I hike or walk I want to enjoy the scenery, look at things, etc.  It was not my idea of fun at all.

The one thing your dad did that was kind of funny, after we were married, was that every time we were around Uncle A., when we hadn’t seen him in a while, your dad would always find a reason to walk around behind your uncle when he was sitting down so that he could check our his hair loss.  As your know, your grandfather was pretty bald, and I figured both the boys would head that way eventually, but your dad had a lot more hair than Uncle A., and I guess that was the one thing he felt superior about.

I’ve heard that your dad and Uncle A. get along better now, but in all the years we were married, there was only one brief time that they got along well, and that was when A.’s first wife threw him out and his mistress had married the father of her child, and was no longer available.  A. was pretty sad and lonely and came over to see us some.  We hung out, went to movies, went bowling and such.   We introduced your uncle to a friend of ours and they became a couple right away, practically living together.  She fell in love with him, and with his little girl.  I much regretted introducing them when later, your Aunt K. dumped her husband and called Uncle A.  Your uncle immediately dropped our friend with no explanation.  She called my crying, with no clue as to why your uncle did not return her calls.  It was horrible, and I was so sorry for even being a part of it.

Except for this brief spell of niceness, your uncle was always rude and condescending to your dad, and I didn’t have much use for him.  I loved your dad and your dad was such a good person, that I hated seeing him treated this way by his own brother.

Shortly before you pulled all your “my mother is abusing me” stuff, your dad and I had talked about getting together with your dad and his family.  We hadn’t seen the girls in several years, and I think we were ready to try and have a relationship with your uncle’s family again.  Your dad and I were talking and your dad still had some anger towards his brother when he told me, “He cheated on every girlfriend he ever had, he cheated on his first wife, and I no doubt he’s probably cheated on K. (second wife) too.”  That kind of surprised me.

I know you know the problems that were going on with your cousins, and to be honest, your dad and I weren’t sure we wanted you around them.  Of course now, it sounds as if all three girls have grown up and gotten themselves together.  Little did I know that you would be the one whose problems made theirs pale in comparison.


To be continued…

Trifecta Part 1, A Midlife Crisis

If you are new to this blog, you may want to read the posts “In a Nutshell” or go to July 2012 and read “Sending out a Letter.” My daughter Emma Katherine Roey lied about a friend being raped and attempting suicide, claimed to have been molested by a priest, and then, just as her attorneys were about to file a law suit, Emma accused her mother (me) of physically abusing her and later of poisoning her with DDT. Emma claimed to have a toxicology report to confirm that her mother (me, again!) poisoned her, but would never turn over this report to my attorney. If you read through the blog, you will find many other examples of Emma’s lying. At one point, she even complained about the way her dad touched her and that he called her a “bitch” and a “slut” everyday. (I refused to listen to her when she talked about her dad like that.) As long as Emma continues with the lies, I will tell her story. Love and thanks to all of you who read and have written to me. If you have any questions or comments, please contact me at: losingemma@gmail.com Please continue to share the blog with others.



This post is really for Emma, so I am writing to her.

Emma, BTW, I heard again from someone in Santa Rosa, CA who was looking for you.  You might want to let everyone know where you are.   Oh, Emma, Emma, Emma how many times did I tell you, if you are hiding what you’re doing, then maybe it’s something you shouldn’t be doing.

I haven’t wanted to write about your dad or your dad’s family, but since we can’t talk, and even your dad can’t talk about what you did, I will write it here.  Today, I will tell you about your dad’s midlife crisis.

I have to admit, I was really disappointed in your dad.   I always had too much faith in your dad.  I’d always thought he would do anything to take care of us.  Well, I was half right.  I thought when he realized your friend was never raped, never attempted suicide, her mother was never dying of breast cancer, you never babysat for the neighbors down the street although you made up some great stories.  You never babysat for our former priest and never had to call 911 on his bipolar son, and you were never molested by another priest………………  I really thought your dad would apologize and want to get to the bottom of your problems.  And later on, I found out you were telling people that Tyler’s mom, Sherry Knopp Buchheim was afraid I would show up in Liberty Township, Ohio and kill her whole family and that I poisoned you with DDT and you had the toxicology report to prove it,  I e-mailed your dad, but he just couldn’t deal with it.  He e-mailed back that he refused to discuss you with me.   I was kind of shocked when he just ignored everything you did.  I was hurt too.  I always believed in your dad, and believed he would do what’s right, even if it took him a while to realize how wrong he was.  He always called himself a “secular humanist” and he didn’t have any need for religion.  He wasn’t quite an atheist, but more agnostic.  He wasn’t quite convinced about the whole God thing, but he thought of himself as a good person, and he was.  Well, he was until things got difficult.  Part of it was that your dad was going through a midlife crisis and part of it was your dad’s upbringing, and I will tell you about both of these.  Your dad just doesn’t like difficult stuff and just chooses not to handle things.

Emma, I don’t blame you for the divorce, or at least not all of it.  You were just a part of it.  So many people joked about my daughter being “the other woman” and you really were.  I was the one who stuck up for your dad when you made fun of him when he wasn’t around.  I was the one who reminded you how hard he worked so we could have a nice home and nice things and you could do all the activities you were involved in.  You thought your dad was stupid because he didn’t finish college.  You made fun of him for being a truck driver, but he made a good living working for UPS.  Something you didn’t think I noticed was how jealous you were of the way Daddy treated me, like when he brought me my coffee in the mornings.  I remember how when Daddy would see a book by my favorite author at Costco and bring it home, you almost couldn’t stand it.  You looked at me like I was something evil, even though you read my books too!  I never realized my own daughter was jealous of the relationship between my husband and myself.  It was like you couldn’t stand for me to get the attention or the little gifts.  Then, after I was thrown out of my home, you became the little woman, doing the shopping, loading the dishwasher, taking care of the pets.  I saw your posts on facebook before you removed me.  You took over as the woman of the house.  I guess that was your practice marriage.

Emma, remember when we’d get the $10 JCPenney coupons in the mail.  We always let you have them and took you to buy something with them, but the one time I said I was going to use one because I could use something decent to wear to my job at the homeschool arts program, you go furious with me.  I don’t know what we did that you turned out to be so selfish and vicious, and I know it wasn’t just me.  I wondered if part of the reason you talked so badly about the girls you rode the bus with was because you were jealous of them.  Maybe you were too insecure at school, so you had to make others look bad.  And remember when we had the baby shower for the unmarried daughter of one of our friends at Bible Study?  You were so jealous of the gifts and attention she got for doing something you considered shameful.  I tried to talk to you about how she was a lucky girl to have a family that supported her because she was traveling down a difficult road.  You couldn’t see it that way at all.  You just thought she didn’t deserve a shower for having a baby and not being married.  Well, I digress.  I really wanted to write about your dad’s midlife crisis, so let me get back to that.  I just keep hoping you will get your life turned around Emma, but I know it’s not going to happen.  Some people live their whole lives a lie, and I’m afraid that’s where you are headed.

Your dad couldn’t face what you did and still can’t.  It was easier to throw his wife out than to face the truth about his daughter.  After all, blood is thicker than water.  And also, your dad comes from a family with a high divorce rate.  Even though he made a marriage vow, and he vowed to get counseling or help if we were every at the point of divorce, your dad just couldn’t do it.  It was easier to walk away.  When your uncle cheated on his first wife, your grandmother, who has been divorced twice, just wanted her son to be happy, while your grandfather told your uncle that he had an obligation to his family.  At the time, I did wish your grandfather was still living because I don’t believe he would have fallen for all your drama and he would have talked some sense into your dad.

Your dad always joked about how lucky I was that his midlife crisis was RC planes.  It’s kind of funny because your dad was always the one who talked about “self-fulfilling prophecies” too.  Since I was a worrier, can’t help it, it’s just my nature, your dad would always tell me if you worry enough about something happening it probably will.

About a month before all the drama at Suzie McGravey’s office, where you wanted to go live in a group home, Daddy was working on a friend’s computer and talking about our plans for retirement, how he wanted to get a camper or an RV and we planned on doing some traveling, and of course because he was all into the RC planes, we would be going to a lot of RC shows.  So yes, at this point in my life I thought your dad and I would be retired, or close to it, and you would be out of the house, and we’d be doing some traveling.  You never know what life is going to throw at you, do you?  Anyway, this friend, who yes, knew you, was so shocked that all of a sudden your dad wanted a divorce and that he was letting you manipulate him so.  All of a sudden, according to your dad, there was “too much water under the bridge.”  How do you go from talking about retiring with your wife one month, and then the next month wanting a divorce?

Daddy really had all the classic signs of a midlife crisis.  Everything was RC planes, and I heard that a year or so later he bragged about taking almost 100 planes to SEFF, but when we were married, he had maybe a dozen planes.  That is some major money he spent for planes and motors.  That gets pretty expensive.

What was also a shock was that our family was going through a major crisis, and yet Daddy took off every chance he could to go to RC shows for days at a time:  SEFF, Joe Nall, and I don’t remember where the one was he went to up north (Midwest) was.  What kind of man goes traveling the country when his family is in crisis?  Our poor, supposedly “sexually abused” daughter was left home alone or with the neighbors or dragged around the country to RC shows?  What kind of man does that?

Another classic sign of a midlife crisis was the camper.  A lot of men go out and buy a sports car, but your dad spent $23,000 on a camper as well as all the RC planes?  Again, he sure wasn’t hurting for money.  Maybe I should have hired a forensic accountant like one friend wanted to do.  I don’t know where Daddy came up with all this money but then, I was just the dumb housewife who let my husband handle all the money.  Let that be a lesson to you!  Don’t let Tyler handle all the money.  Remember how I was trying to get daddy to teach me how to do the on line banking and he was so reluctant to do so?  I was more worried about if something happened to him that I wouldn’t know how to pay the bills.  I didn’t even know how much money we had in the bank.

Daddy had always been an introvert, like me.  We were always happy at homes, doing things together or near each other like when he would work on airplanes upstairs and I would work on my glass stuff.  I had looked forward to more of these times when you left home, but that was not to be.  BTW, what did you do with my glass studio?

Once Daddy discovered his RC friends, he really came out of his shell.  He found a crowd he fit into.  He became a big fish in a small pond.  He became one of the “cool kids” and wanted to hang out with them and fly planes and sit around at night and drink beer.  He no longer needed a homebody wife who fostered dogs and spent Saturdays at adoptions.  That wasn’t going to fit into his new life.  We never talked about it, but I figured I would quit fostering, or maybe foster a small dog that we could take with us in the future camper.  I supposed a lot of this is my fault because I was the one who encouraged Daddy to get back into his childhood hobby of RC planes.

Daddy was always freaked out about the idea of menopause.  Even when you were just a little thing, Daddy worried about it.  He often brought up that you would be going starting your cycle around the same time I would hit menopause.  I just made a joke about it, but he brought it up so often, I should have realized he was having a problem.  Then, when I had the hysterectomy, Daddy freaked out that I was going to become a crazed mad woman.  Actually, the hysterectomy had the opposite effect of what your dad was afraid of.  My hormones were so messed up because of the fibroids and cysts, that I felt so much better afterwards and wished I done it 10 years earlier.

Funny how your dad called me your “sexless parental unit.”  I’ve met several other women who went through divorces because their husbands were so freaked out about menopause.  All of a sudden, these men realize they are getting old.  Well, they don’t think they are, but they think their wives are, so they dump them.  I’ve also heard stories from the adult children of parents who divorced because their dad’s freaked over menopause.  It’s really not that uncommon.

Your Aunt Chatty Kathy used to talk about the “burnt cookies” divorce, which was really the same kind of thing.  She described it as how one partner in the marriage freaked out and basically said, “You burned the cookies!  Oh my God, I want a divorce!”  All of a sudden everything that was ever wrong in your life is the fault of your spouse.  You can ask her about it, but it was how your dad acted too.  He couldn’t handle our family crisis, so OMG, let’s get a divorce.

I will never forget some of the things your dad said to me.  When I was over at your “Aunt Janice’s” and he came over and brought me some things, we were arguing, I don’t remember about what.  He was going to leave, and he put his arms around me and told me he loved me, but “I’ve put up with a lot.”  Really?  Isn’t that what married people do?  Was your dad so perfect that I didn’t put up with anything?  No, I put up with a lot, too, but I loved your dad and part of loving someone is putting up with their faults.  Hopefully, you and Tyler have been married long enough now to realize that it’s not all puppies and rainbows.  Tyler has his faults, and you have some of your own.

Well, Emma, I think I’ve pretty much covered your dad’s midlife crisis.  At the time, I didn’t realize what it was, but after a little distance, it was easy to see Daddy had so many of the classic signs.   Even through all of it, I thought your dad would eventually get himself together and do what’s right.  He knows he messed up, but daddy cares too much about what people think of him to admit it.  He’s just not strong enough to face his friends, family, and neighbors after all that he did and let you get away with.  He’d rather go on living the lie.

And speaking of that, there is so much your dad owes me.  (Oh dear, do I sound like you Emma?  You had me, you owe me?  You married me, you owe me?)  No, your dad knows what he did wrong and what he took from me.  He owes me a furnished home, a fenced yard, etc.  Funny how we were updating the house with a new fridge, new dishwasher, the counters, the floor, and the new shelves on the sunporch.  Daddy owes me a furnished house.  All the little things like cookware and cutlery, linens, a bed, appliances, etc.  I could use a couple of ceiling fans, so be a dear and ask Daddy to put them in for me.  He’s got my number.  Oh, and a funny story about that, when I asked Daddy for the stand-up fan, he brought me the industrial fan!  I know you haven’t been in my house, but daddy has.  It’s about 900 square feet and that fan was way too much for this house.  I ended up giving it away.  I used to joke about Daddy’s passive-aggressive streak, and there it was!

Here’s a photo of the sun porch that we’d just spent about $2500 on new shelves for:


I’m sure by now Daddy got the flatscreen tv he wanted for that bare spot, even though he wouldn’t let me have the old giant monster tv that was sitting in the garage.


And here is the $10 bookshelf, leftover from homeschooling, that was out in the garage to get rid of that Daddy gave me when he had me thrown out of my home:


Your dad sure made out like a bandit from the divorce, didn’t he?  Well, after what my attorney told me, there was no way I was going to go near the house, and Daddy was certainly not going to divide up the household fairly or bring me my things, although he did bring me a few things at first.  I will write more about that part of the divorce later on.


So, Emma are you out of school for the summer?  Are you working?  And what about Tyler?  Is he going to school for his Master’s or did he start working?  I’ve always heard you need a master’s in architecture to really do anything, but I don’t know much about it.

In my next post, I’ll tell you about your dad’s family and his upbringing and you will understand a little better why your dad can’t handle a confrontation or face the hard stuff.  You’ve heard all about my family, and by now you may have realized that every family has it’s on kind of dysfunction.  Ours did too, but we had a lot of love and I always thought that would see us through.  Wrong again.  When I tell you a little about your dad’s family and his upbringing, you will be able to understand why your dad is the way he is.

So long for now, Emma.  Love you.