The Truth About Sam
Unpacking pain, anger and hurt as a result of abandonment, one story, tip, or piece of advice at a time.
the story behind the blog
That message that he was gone hit me like a ton of bricks...
On May 21, 2024 my brother, Sam, ended his life. It feels so werd to even type that sentence, like it just hasn't even set in yet that he is gone. I can still hear his laugh, and feels his hugs. Your inital thought is WHY- or at least mine was. But the truth about Sam I always wondered how he made it as long as he did. Of the four of us he was certainly the one that my mother did the worst. She walked away, made up lies to justify her actions, and left him, before he was even out of diapers he was motherless. And left to wonder about it his entire life until he ended the wondering. And worrying. And feeling insufficent. And so here we are- it took this to tell the truth...
Finding Your Voice
Growing up with a mother that isn’t so great is hard. No matter how amazing of a support system you have, how amazing your step parent is for being the mother that she didn’t have to be you question your own self-worth. You question what it was that was wrong with you that made your parent not love you enough to stay, or dislike you so much that they had to leave. And it really doesn’t matter when anyone else says to you about how great you are, when your parent doesn’t think you’re worth loving, you’re not. You feel pain, guilt, shame… I would love to just sum this all up in a nice neat paragraph. But the fact is, I’m tired of summing things up or pushing what I want to do to the side just to make it convenient for someone else to live. I’ve done that my whole life and I’m done doing it. It may cost me some relationships, but the truth is the relationships that it might cost me are not relationships at all. They are Stories of grownups who were placed in my life that may decisions that cost me my brothers life ultimately. And I guess the reason that I’m having such a hard time and struggle with it is because knew his struggle and his pain. And I never stood up and fought back to the people that caused it. And so, now it begins. Here is the truth. Not my truth or our truth, but simply the truth.
standing up against the lies
Ever had your mother lie about your entire existence? I did. And whats really messed up is that I was told the lies were to protect my mother. All of us kids were.Well all of the kids she abandoned were.Our grandmother always told us that we had to not tell the truth about Shelly. If we did there was always this dark cloud we would cause for her. Here’s what’s craziest to me about the whole thing; the lies started way before she left.When Shelly was pregnant with Becky she brought Dan (Becky’s father) to meet my grandma. She shared with him that there would be two little girls there that called her mom- but she wasn’t their mom. She had been married to their dad and their biological mom died in a car accident. But, her mother loved them, and they called her mom…
Those girls were Steph and I.Then, she told Sam’s dad the same lie 7 years later pregnant with Sam, taking him to meet grandma and us for the first time.I remember these events. I was so excited to meet these men. I was so excited to see my momma. And she was lying about who I even was…
When I found her 10 years after she left in LaPorte City , Iowa she said we had to not tell anyone in her little city who we really were. Because then she would lose her children. Of course she wasn't talking about us. She was talking about John and Taylor... so as I sat there staring at this huge photo on the wall of the three of them together I knew that she had raised them and loved them. I knew excuses that she was giving us were just that, excuses. And I knew my grandmother was going to allow this. Bad? Right? Well, it gets worse.But first I need it to be known,
Shelly Neighbors Willoughbygave birth to my sister Stephani and myself.
Shelly Dover gave birth to my sister Becky Dover-Marsh and then my brother Sam Tawney.
Shelly Ringlestetter gave birth to Taylor and then John Logan.
And Shelly Hopkins is ALL of those people. Biological mother to 6. Even if the day my brother kills himself she lies to Taylor and John and says he was their "step" brother.
That should make anyone question wether they know Shelly Hopkins at all...
Those girls were Steph and I.Then, she told Sam’s dad the same lie 7 years later pregnant with Sam, taking him to meet grandma and us for the first time.I remember these events. I was so excited to meet these men. I was so excited to see my momma. And she was lying about who I even was…
When I found her 10 years after she left in LaPorte City , Iowa she said we had to not tell anyone in her little city who we really were. Because then she would lose her children. Of course she wasn't talking about us. She was talking about John and Taylor... so as I sat there staring at this huge photo on the wall of the three of them together I knew that she had raised them and loved them. I knew excuses that she was giving us were just that, excuses. And I knew my grandmother was going to allow this. Bad? Right? Well, it gets worse.But first I need it to be known,
Shelly Neighbors Willoughbygave birth to my sister Stephani and myself.
Shelly Dover gave birth to my sister Becky Dover-Marsh and then my brother Sam Tawney.
Shelly Ringlestetter gave birth to Taylor and then John Logan.
And Shelly Hopkins is ALL of those people. Biological mother to 6. Even if the day my brother kills himself she lies to Taylor and John and says he was their "step" brother.
That should make anyone question wether they know Shelly Hopkins at all...
THE BAD GUYS
Laken brought sammy to see us one day
I remember it was a beautiful day in Bowling Green that day. My grandmother was anticipating Laken, Sams dad, to be there for a visit to her house in about an hour. While she should have been so excited that we were going to get to see him (we hadn't in a long time) she wasn't. She was a nervous wreck. And, I guess I was too.
You see, Laken was Sammys dad. Mom had been gone about 3 years at this point, and grandma was certain the reason she was gone was because of Laken.
No, not because they had a falling out. Not because they didn't want to be around each other. It was because when Shelly left she called grandma and told her that she was in Florida with some man we had never heard of named Tony, and that Laken threatened to kill her if she ever came back. And, much like grandma always did, she believed every dirty lie that came out of Shellys mouth. And we were told over and over again that Laken was a bad guy. A scary guy. A killer.
So, poor Laken who was tasked as the third man of raising a child that Shelly dropped off like a puppy at the pound, gets dubbed a murderer. And we have the fear of death put into us that he is dangerous and that he will kill us all if we are not careful.
CRAZY right?! Well, even crazier, this mean muderer checked on me often in life. He always kept up with where we were. He always wrote me, told me to have a good day. Told me he was so proud to call me his. He made sure that I had Christmas cards with pictures of Sam, and took the time that he never had to to play a part in my life. Tells me how much he loves me and shows it every chance he gets.
But, where was Shelly?? Funny thing is when I called her, literally Tuesday to tell her about Sam she tried again to play the "LaKeN iS DaNgErOuS' card... Like I am still the easliy manipulated obtuse little girl that she had told an entire town I was her NIECE just a few years ago (we will get to that another day). I asked her to PLEASE tell my brother and sister the truth, so we can have some sort of unmuddied relationship full of her deciet. She said she would take care of it. And John proceeds to block me. And Taylor tell me I am lying and that Sam is her step brother...
Funny thing is- I told Shelly that day- I will give you this, you taught us self preservation.
And so here we are. This self preservation thing is working out for me.
Turns out the bad guys are the ones posing as the good guys all along in life. Wether it's your mother, or your grandmother.
Maybe it isn't your sister who's just trying to do all she can to ensure that the 5 children left have some sort of common story among a world of coercion, manipulation, and deciet. I guess I am the bad guy too in that sense. Or am I the good guy?
Just like Laken was the good guy all along I learned don't be naieve. The reason she isn't talking to me is because she owes me an apology. The reason she never spoke to my brother is because she owes him one too. Others expierences may be different, but this is mine. And I will continue to tell it.
When I spoke with Shelly on May 21, 2024 to share with her that Sammy had died and how she said "Oh I feel so bad for you kids" followed by "one day real soon we are all going to sit down and talk about all of this" To which I responded "Oh, you mean everyone but Sam, wonder how many more of us are going to be able to make it?"
Well, here we are, having that chat Shelly. How is it going for you?
Starting Trouble
Don’t you girls start any trouble…
Funny thing, when I started to speak up, literally a few days ago others started speaking up about Shelly and her lies to me as well. One story that was shared was that when I was little and Shelly was married to my dad she would wait for my dad to go to work, and then she would lock my sister Stephani and I in a closet so she could go do whatever she wanted to do. I actually remeber the closet. It was one of those doors that has the slats in it that you can see the light through. Closet time was nap time for us. We had to be quiet. Don't you girls start any trouble.
One of the things that all of us (not the "chosen ones" as Taylor and Johns dad so insensitively coined me on the phone yesterday morning) kids always talked about was confronting Shelly and all of her lies. We all expected this huge reaction from the people in her life that would give her no reason to keep lying about us. But, as we found out one night, the fact is that day and time would never happen. Because we were right in front of her face one day, and she still didn’t acknowledge who we were.
My grandmother and I had a hard relationship. I did absolutely everything I could to help her and to be there for her for as long as I can remember. I even took her to Iowa TWICE just so Shelly could tell everyone I was her niece and my grandmother could spend time with her daughter. In essence, my grandmothers happiness was more important to me than my own.We were all conditioned to feel that way. One day, Becky had talked to our aunt who told her that Shelly and Dave were going to be in town, at my grandmothers, for a visit. So, Becky and Steph get this big idea to go down there and face her. I tell them that I will go. But I also tell them that grandma and I are on shaky ground because of me speaking up in the past so it cannot be me heading this circus up. They agree. We go. We ride in anticipation of what may come.What will Shelly’s husband say? What will grandma say? We can’t wait to finally tell the truth about who we are! FINALLY!When we arrive at Grandma Pats she meets us outside on the patio. Big smile on her face she hugs Becky first and then gets down between the three of us and says she doesn’t want us to start any trouble for Shelly. SHE DOESN’T WANT US TO START ANY TROUBLE FOR SHELLY. WOW. Imagine how triggering it is to hear this. Does she know what we have endured? Does she have any idea what it’s like to walk in our shoes? Three little girls who have watched this very woman turn her back on our sweet baby brother and not even try to have a relationship with him due to Shelly’s lies. Three little girls that have endured our own struggles and sadness due to the lies she allowed to be told about us. Three little girls just wanting the support and love of their grandmother and wanting her just ONE TIME to choose them…Don’t cause any trouble.
So we went in. Of course, Shelly in her completely sociopathic and detached way comes in and hugs us all. Exchanges pleasantries with us all. And then introduces us to her husband. Now, no need to introduce me, I had been to Iowa at this point. As the “niece” -entry for another day. But Becky was just “Becky” and Steph was just “Stephani” and that was it.No titles.Just names. Surprised she didn’t try to lie about that. There’s a lot of silence. Three girls trying not to upset their grandmother. Trying not to cause trouble. Literally CONDITIONED to silence after years of being told we have to do what’s best for Shelly. Finally brave enough to come face to face with the beast that we had suffered at the hands of, and stifled again to silence. Her husband knew there was something wrong- he even asked at one point “What is going on?!” SILENCE. And then three little girls left. Sad.And drove home. Tears again. Defeated. Back in the closet. Except this time Becky had to come.
And yet again, Shelly wins. And her charade continues.
I am pretty sure Stephani hit a breaking point after that. I was so glad Sam wasn’t there, his heart would’ve been shattered. But I guess it always was. It was just the way we lived. Always wondering. Never answers. Dirty little secrets being kept, even in front of everyone’s faces.
Maybe if I had started trouble that day I could’ve changed things for my brother. I cannot think about that.
But I have learned that sometimes you have to start some trouble to get things done. I just wish I would’ve realized that I really didn’t care to be the villain in their stories, and return the favor before it was too late for my brother.
My grandmother and I had a hard relationship. I did absolutely everything I could to help her and to be there for her for as long as I can remember. I even took her to Iowa TWICE just so Shelly could tell everyone I was her niece and my grandmother could spend time with her daughter. In essence, my grandmothers happiness was more important to me than my own.We were all conditioned to feel that way. One day, Becky had talked to our aunt who told her that Shelly and Dave were going to be in town, at my grandmothers, for a visit. So, Becky and Steph get this big idea to go down there and face her. I tell them that I will go. But I also tell them that grandma and I are on shaky ground because of me speaking up in the past so it cannot be me heading this circus up. They agree. We go. We ride in anticipation of what may come.What will Shelly’s husband say? What will grandma say? We can’t wait to finally tell the truth about who we are! FINALLY!When we arrive at Grandma Pats she meets us outside on the patio. Big smile on her face she hugs Becky first and then gets down between the three of us and says she doesn’t want us to start any trouble for Shelly. SHE DOESN’T WANT US TO START ANY TROUBLE FOR SHELLY. WOW. Imagine how triggering it is to hear this. Does she know what we have endured? Does she have any idea what it’s like to walk in our shoes? Three little girls who have watched this very woman turn her back on our sweet baby brother and not even try to have a relationship with him due to Shelly’s lies. Three little girls that have endured our own struggles and sadness due to the lies she allowed to be told about us. Three little girls just wanting the support and love of their grandmother and wanting her just ONE TIME to choose them…Don’t cause any trouble.
So we went in. Of course, Shelly in her completely sociopathic and detached way comes in and hugs us all. Exchanges pleasantries with us all. And then introduces us to her husband. Now, no need to introduce me, I had been to Iowa at this point. As the “niece” -entry for another day. But Becky was just “Becky” and Steph was just “Stephani” and that was it.No titles.Just names. Surprised she didn’t try to lie about that. There’s a lot of silence. Three girls trying not to upset their grandmother. Trying not to cause trouble. Literally CONDITIONED to silence after years of being told we have to do what’s best for Shelly. Finally brave enough to come face to face with the beast that we had suffered at the hands of, and stifled again to silence. Her husband knew there was something wrong- he even asked at one point “What is going on?!” SILENCE. And then three little girls left. Sad.And drove home. Tears again. Defeated. Back in the closet. Except this time Becky had to come.
And yet again, Shelly wins. And her charade continues.
I am pretty sure Stephani hit a breaking point after that. I was so glad Sam wasn’t there, his heart would’ve been shattered. But I guess it always was. It was just the way we lived. Always wondering. Never answers. Dirty little secrets being kept, even in front of everyone’s faces.
Maybe if I had started trouble that day I could’ve changed things for my brother. I cannot think about that.
But I have learned that sometimes you have to start some trouble to get things done. I just wish I would’ve realized that I really didn’t care to be the villain in their stories, and return the favor before it was too late for my brother.
Pay attention to the Captions
CAPTIONS by definition are a brief explination of what you see in a photo. In this case, and many cases that I see all across Shellys social media, they are nothing more than the fictional life she contiues to build. Just nothing more than her fooling all of you, and making herself into what she wants everyone to see. Just like she always has.
Oh my goodness... here is the truth. By this time Shelly had 3 girls. THREE. It's problably 1987 or so, and shes 27 years old.
Of course, nothing is new for anyone that knows her to listen to a lie. As far as I know she still is surrounded by people that know shes lying and they are ok with it. And that is up to them.
I just know how that ended for my brother, almost both of my brothers.
Honesty makes people that lie really angry. I’ve learned this over the years. When you mess with the castle of lies someone takes a lifetime to build it makes a ripple effect of the liar causing everyone around them to be miserable, being more insistent that they are right, and upsetting those that believed them. Because those that believed them knew they were lying, they just weren’t brave enough to stop the liar. I can imagine my sister and brother in Iowa are riding this wave of anger set forth by Shelly right now. Or maybe they just continue to drink the kool aid in silence. But be careful, kids, and find out for yourself what’s in it before taking a drink if that one is involved. OUR brother didn’t make it out.It’s really easy to make up a facade and tell people what you want them to believe, but less easy when the people are intelligent enough to see through the deceit. If you become that with Shelly, she will block you. Immediately. She doesn’t put up with any disrespect, only dishes it out. I am certain some people wonder, why a blog? Why a website? Well, for YEARS we have all tried. SAM tried. I came face to face with her in her own home and she continued to lie about who I was. Who she was to me. We have all reached out to be gaslit or blocked or guilted into keeping secrets because it was the best thing for Shelly. I hope that castle is crumbling. Because not only kids, but grandkids are going to be asking questions, and I WILL GIVE THEM HONEST ANSWERS if they come to me.Laken and I were talking yesterday at the funeral and I remembered a lie that Shelly had told about Sam. A dispatcher from St. Louis area had called him one time. They found her IROC Z in St. Louis, but more so she had personal questions to ask Laken. Evidently, Shelly was living with this ladies son, moved in in no time. This is right after she left in June of 1993. She asks Laken where Sam is… Laken is like, Sam is right here, what are you talking about? Shelly told this guy she had only ever had a son. And this son was kidnapped by Laken who was on the road and that she was trying desperately to figure out how to get him. This lady knew she was lying, but she reached out just to make sure, and a week later Shelly was gone. Do you know what it’s like to know your mom lies about your very existence? Sam did.He wanted a mom so bad. He wanted our mom. He wanted to know why she left. He wanted to know why she didn’t love him. I am certain it was one of the very last things he ever thought about.
Sam sent me a screen shot from Shellys social media one time about 10 years ago. It was a photo of our brother, and he was just shocked at how much they looked alike. He asked me again, why do you think she is the way she is? Why does she hide and lie? His heart was hurting, and he was at one of those phases we all get to that it was too much pain to bear. Once he read the caption he was in tears.
So I just told him, don't worry about her captions Sam. Most of the time there are lies buried in them anyway.
Aliases
Sam. Sammy. Sambo. Baby Brother. I called Sammy all those names at one time or another. But, he was always just Sam. One time about ten or so years ago, right after I told our siblings in Iowa the truth about who we were, I told Sam about it. He asked me what moms last name even was. Because we never knew. When you’re not a part of a persons life and there is so much time and distance in between you never know who you’re even looking for when you go to look. Or who or what you’re going to find. He never stopped searching for her. Not to find where she was, at least not after we knew that, but searching for HER. His MOTHER.
In 2002 Grandma Pat called me one night. It was on mom‘s birthday which, by the way is October 30 (contrary to what she’s led many to believe where she is from it is not October 31, Halloween.) It was actually Sammy’s birthday too, but we will get into that another day. Grandma Pat shared with me that she had looked for 10 solid years for Shelly and that she could not bear to do it anymore. This journey took us so many places that I honestly can’t even remember them all. Grandma Pat spent hours on the phone trying to get Laken to admit to Shelly‘s murder and recorded all of the sessions confident that she would catch him. She contacted authorities, both local, her cousin in the Kentucky state police, and authorities in Indianapolis in the Indiana state police from what I remember. She filed missing person reports, or at least attempted to. She watched her reports of dead bodies come up time after time that were unidentified and she worried that that may be Shelly. There is a 10 year space between the time that she leaves and the time that I found her, and God only knows where she had been, but there is a list of aliases that a simple online background check produced.
When I started my own personal journey to find Shelly it was that night grandma called me right after her birthday that I mentioned before. She was in tears and absolutely brokenhearted and distraught. And she shared with me that she was giving God all of this. and if it was meant for us to find her that he would lead us to her. Crazy thing is I really don't think that Grandma realized how close my relationship with God is. I was saved and baptized at the age of eight. Led to God by many Sundays on my church pew with my God loving family at Cloverport Baptist Church, and the church camp that grandma Jean took me to Dan's mother, I was blessed with the most wonderful and Godly example grandparents than anyone could have. So for Grandma Pat to make that statement to me, it spoke to me. And I took the reins and within 48 hours. I was standing on Shelly‘s front porch in LaPorte City, Iowa looking at her tiny shoes by the door and knowing that I had found her. I did a simple background check online, very basic however, I did have her Social Security number because it was listed on my birth certificate. And it returned a list of nine aliases. NINE. Including all of her last names from previous husbands, one last name that I did not recognize, and some derivatives of my middle name and her middle name put together. It was crazy! Like how does one human get into so much trouble and do so many things in such a short period of time? How can someone lie constantly about who they are? If you have to lie about who you are then can anything that you say be trusted at all? Too many things to hide, I guess.
Here’s what the people around her now don’t know that maybe she’s hiding from. Her father was the exact same way as she is. She is like a carbon copy of him. He is the one that she said multiple times did horrible things to her. And I know that he did. I will not go into detail about that, yet, but I will say that all this time and including that day that I sat down with her in her living room she lied to me. Just like she is lying to you. She is a master manipulator and will say anything to get the emotional reaction she wants from you. She didn’t know that I knew that she was lying to me that day in her living room in LPC. Grandma Pat did not know that I knew that she was lying to us. And now I know it wouldn’t have made a difference if I had said so or not because she is a liar and she will keep lying. It is no shock to me that that house doesn’t even stand anymore, torn down after being condemned by the floods I am pretty sure, and then she manipulated her current husband into marrying her according to some citizens of LPC.These are the things that I would try to tell Sammy when he would ask questions about her. About why she continuously rejected him. About why she continuously would block him any chance that he got to message her. Or she wouldn’t respond. He suffered over 30 years without a mother because she lies. She has an entire town convinced that she is some sort of amazing member of the chamber of commerce or savior to a missing child all over the news, when in fact, she was the missing one. And her children are the ones that have suffered.
My brother died always wanting to know who she really was, and what's sad is all she was to us was an alias.
In 2002 Grandma Pat called me one night. It was on mom‘s birthday which, by the way is October 30 (contrary to what she’s led many to believe where she is from it is not October 31, Halloween.) It was actually Sammy’s birthday too, but we will get into that another day. Grandma Pat shared with me that she had looked for 10 solid years for Shelly and that she could not bear to do it anymore. This journey took us so many places that I honestly can’t even remember them all. Grandma Pat spent hours on the phone trying to get Laken to admit to Shelly‘s murder and recorded all of the sessions confident that she would catch him. She contacted authorities, both local, her cousin in the Kentucky state police, and authorities in Indianapolis in the Indiana state police from what I remember. She filed missing person reports, or at least attempted to. She watched her reports of dead bodies come up time after time that were unidentified and she worried that that may be Shelly. There is a 10 year space between the time that she leaves and the time that I found her, and God only knows where she had been, but there is a list of aliases that a simple online background check produced.
When I started my own personal journey to find Shelly it was that night grandma called me right after her birthday that I mentioned before. She was in tears and absolutely brokenhearted and distraught. And she shared with me that she was giving God all of this. and if it was meant for us to find her that he would lead us to her. Crazy thing is I really don't think that Grandma realized how close my relationship with God is. I was saved and baptized at the age of eight. Led to God by many Sundays on my church pew with my God loving family at Cloverport Baptist Church, and the church camp that grandma Jean took me to Dan's mother, I was blessed with the most wonderful and Godly example grandparents than anyone could have. So for Grandma Pat to make that statement to me, it spoke to me. And I took the reins and within 48 hours. I was standing on Shelly‘s front porch in LaPorte City, Iowa looking at her tiny shoes by the door and knowing that I had found her. I did a simple background check online, very basic however, I did have her Social Security number because it was listed on my birth certificate. And it returned a list of nine aliases. NINE. Including all of her last names from previous husbands, one last name that I did not recognize, and some derivatives of my middle name and her middle name put together. It was crazy! Like how does one human get into so much trouble and do so many things in such a short period of time? How can someone lie constantly about who they are? If you have to lie about who you are then can anything that you say be trusted at all? Too many things to hide, I guess.
Here’s what the people around her now don’t know that maybe she’s hiding from. Her father was the exact same way as she is. She is like a carbon copy of him. He is the one that she said multiple times did horrible things to her. And I know that he did. I will not go into detail about that, yet, but I will say that all this time and including that day that I sat down with her in her living room she lied to me. Just like she is lying to you. She is a master manipulator and will say anything to get the emotional reaction she wants from you. She didn’t know that I knew that she was lying to me that day in her living room in LPC. Grandma Pat did not know that I knew that she was lying to us. And now I know it wouldn’t have made a difference if I had said so or not because she is a liar and she will keep lying. It is no shock to me that that house doesn’t even stand anymore, torn down after being condemned by the floods I am pretty sure, and then she manipulated her current husband into marrying her according to some citizens of LPC.These are the things that I would try to tell Sammy when he would ask questions about her. About why she continuously rejected him. About why she continuously would block him any chance that he got to message her. Or she wouldn’t respond. He suffered over 30 years without a mother because she lies. She has an entire town convinced that she is some sort of amazing member of the chamber of commerce or savior to a missing child all over the news, when in fact, she was the missing one. And her children are the ones that have suffered.
My brother died always wanting to know who she really was, and what's sad is all she was to us was an alias.
neighbors
Notice it says Shelly Neighbors. She was never Shelly Gary. Just another alias.
Return to Sender
RETURN TO SENDER
Grandma and I had that pivotal conversation where she handed the reigns over to God as far as finding Shelly on Oct. 30, 2002. As stated before, this was her birthday. Two days we’re always especially hard for me. Mother’s Day every year, and her birthday. The thing that was different about this particular birthday was that I had found a new powerful friend that would help me throughout this journey and even today. The Internet. When Grandma told me that she was done looking it just so happened that I had just got a new PC shortly before that to do my work for college. a big, huge gateway, computer, with a gigantic monitor that took up my entire dining room table. I still laugh about it when I think that I had something so great. But I kinda did because it started this journey. I remember growing to the search engine, I believe it was Ask Jeeves.com and typing in how do you find a missing person? First thing that popped up was 1-800-US-search. 20 minutes later, for the bargain price of $19.95, I had submitted all of my information for my search. Less than 24 hours later, I had a returned list of names, addresses, possible criminal charges, and phone numbers for Shelly. The very last one ending on Main Street in Laporte City, Iowa. Most of the beginning ones I recognized, but towards the end of the list, they did not look familiar besides one that I had sent a card to maybe three years earlier that came back, returned to sender. There was nothing like time after time again, thinking that we had found her sending a local police authority of some sort over there to see if it was her, her matching the description, physical appearance, and all, and hearing the responses of those people say “she says she, her mother is dead” or “she said she doesn’t have any children” Or my personal favorite was one time when the response was “tell them to leave me alone.” At this time you have to remember, we are on high alert because Laken, the terrible awful Laken, had threatened Shelly and just threatened to kill us all years before. And so we were still living in this fictional made up world that she had made for us. After all these years later, realizing that it was just to keep us at bay so she could just live her life. So when I received this list of addresses and the last one ended up on LaPorte City, I knew that we had to tread very lightly, because we were afraid that once we found her, she would leave again. And every time that she would leave again, it became more apparent to me that she wasn’t missing at all, she was hiding.I decided the best course of action would be to just drive to that last address. Immediately.
I called Grandma and I told her of my plan, and she of course agreed to come with me. So within a couple of hours, I picked her up in Bowling Green and we headed to see what we were going to find in this huge flat state of Iowa. I’ll never forget the anticipation the entire ride. We talked nonstop about all of the possibilities of the things that we could find when we got there. Possibilities of maybe that she was in some crackhouse strung out on drugs. Or in some horrible place that was the worst thing that you could imagine. I mean, why else would she have disappeared for 10 years and not even made an attempt to raise four children that she had created and claimed that she loves so much at one time. I was 12 when she left, it’s not like she was young. It’s not like she didn’t know what she was doing. She was 31 years old. So whatever was keeping her from us must’ve been very bad in our minds. I mean, no one wants to think that their mother just left them. No one wants to think that the very person that created them and brought them to this earth, doesn’t care enough about them to check on them, or know that day that they turned 16, or see them graduate from high school, or see them graduate from college. So as we wrote this non-straight hour trip only stopping one time to use the bathroom. We ran through every single possibility of what we could find when we got there.
The crazy thing is that we didn’t find any of these horrible things. But it turns out what we found was even more horrible than anything that I could’ve imagined. We found a great big two story house. I remember when we got there it was early in the afternoon, but it was November, so the sun was going down. There was no car in the driveway. There were tiny shoes by the front door. Along with the shovel, I’m certain for those Iowa winters. I must up all the courage that I had to knock on the front door, but I could tell that no one was home. My heart was racing 1000 miles a minute. Finally, I could feel it in my bones we had found her. But, no one was home. We were going to have to find somewhere to stay, and try this again the next day. We went right up the street to a small restaurant called Dave’s Chicken House. We looked at every single face studying them to see if it was Shelly or not. Everyone stared at us because they knew that we were from out of town. And this charming little brick street town, this is where Shelly had found her home. A little tiny place that you could get lost.
I could barely sleep that night with the anticipation of what would happen the next day. I could not wait to see my mom. I had longed to hear her voice. To get a hug from her, to tell her about all of the things she had missing in my life that I know that she must’ve been dying to hear about. Ten long years I had waitied. 10 long years of tears and sadness all coming to an end that very next day. But as it turns out as you know now that, that day in November didn’t end any better than all of those cards that I sent. Just another disappointment, and 100 more reasons to cry later on the same tears of all those envelopes I received back in the mail marked return to sender.
Grandma and I had that pivotal conversation where she handed the reigns over to God as far as finding Shelly on Oct. 30, 2002. As stated before, this was her birthday. Two days we’re always especially hard for me. Mother’s Day every year, and her birthday. The thing that was different about this particular birthday was that I had found a new powerful friend that would help me throughout this journey and even today. The Internet. When Grandma told me that she was done looking it just so happened that I had just got a new PC shortly before that to do my work for college. a big, huge gateway, computer, with a gigantic monitor that took up my entire dining room table. I still laugh about it when I think that I had something so great. But I kinda did because it started this journey. I remember growing to the search engine, I believe it was Ask Jeeves.com and typing in how do you find a missing person? First thing that popped up was 1-800-US-search. 20 minutes later, for the bargain price of $19.95, I had submitted all of my information for my search. Less than 24 hours later, I had a returned list of names, addresses, possible criminal charges, and phone numbers for Shelly. The very last one ending on Main Street in Laporte City, Iowa. Most of the beginning ones I recognized, but towards the end of the list, they did not look familiar besides one that I had sent a card to maybe three years earlier that came back, returned to sender. There was nothing like time after time again, thinking that we had found her sending a local police authority of some sort over there to see if it was her, her matching the description, physical appearance, and all, and hearing the responses of those people say “she says she, her mother is dead” or “she said she doesn’t have any children” Or my personal favorite was one time when the response was “tell them to leave me alone.” At this time you have to remember, we are on high alert because Laken, the terrible awful Laken, had threatened Shelly and just threatened to kill us all years before. And so we were still living in this fictional made up world that she had made for us. After all these years later, realizing that it was just to keep us at bay so she could just live her life. So when I received this list of addresses and the last one ended up on LaPorte City, I knew that we had to tread very lightly, because we were afraid that once we found her, she would leave again. And every time that she would leave again, it became more apparent to me that she wasn’t missing at all, she was hiding.I decided the best course of action would be to just drive to that last address. Immediately.
I called Grandma and I told her of my plan, and she of course agreed to come with me. So within a couple of hours, I picked her up in Bowling Green and we headed to see what we were going to find in this huge flat state of Iowa. I’ll never forget the anticipation the entire ride. We talked nonstop about all of the possibilities of the things that we could find when we got there. Possibilities of maybe that she was in some crackhouse strung out on drugs. Or in some horrible place that was the worst thing that you could imagine. I mean, why else would she have disappeared for 10 years and not even made an attempt to raise four children that she had created and claimed that she loves so much at one time. I was 12 when she left, it’s not like she was young. It’s not like she didn’t know what she was doing. She was 31 years old. So whatever was keeping her from us must’ve been very bad in our minds. I mean, no one wants to think that their mother just left them. No one wants to think that the very person that created them and brought them to this earth, doesn’t care enough about them to check on them, or know that day that they turned 16, or see them graduate from high school, or see them graduate from college. So as we wrote this non-straight hour trip only stopping one time to use the bathroom. We ran through every single possibility of what we could find when we got there.
The crazy thing is that we didn’t find any of these horrible things. But it turns out what we found was even more horrible than anything that I could’ve imagined. We found a great big two story house. I remember when we got there it was early in the afternoon, but it was November, so the sun was going down. There was no car in the driveway. There were tiny shoes by the front door. Along with the shovel, I’m certain for those Iowa winters. I must up all the courage that I had to knock on the front door, but I could tell that no one was home. My heart was racing 1000 miles a minute. Finally, I could feel it in my bones we had found her. But, no one was home. We were going to have to find somewhere to stay, and try this again the next day. We went right up the street to a small restaurant called Dave’s Chicken House. We looked at every single face studying them to see if it was Shelly or not. Everyone stared at us because they knew that we were from out of town. And this charming little brick street town, this is where Shelly had found her home. A little tiny place that you could get lost.
I could barely sleep that night with the anticipation of what would happen the next day. I could not wait to see my mom. I had longed to hear her voice. To get a hug from her, to tell her about all of the things she had missing in my life that I know that she must’ve been dying to hear about. Ten long years I had waitied. 10 long years of tears and sadness all coming to an end that very next day. But as it turns out as you know now that, that day in November didn’t end any better than all of those cards that I sent. Just another disappointment, and 100 more reasons to cry later on the same tears of all those envelopes I received back in the mail marked return to sender.
Dead Bodies
Of all of the entries that I’ve made thus far, this one is the hardest for me to write about. I don’t know any teenager that should have to suffer through hearing that their mother‘s dental records have been pulled multiple times to identify a possible dead body that washed up on the side of a lake or river. I can’t think of any single reason to put my personal child through that. To make her endure lifelong pain through some of the most pivotal and important times of her young life just so I could be out living my life and forgetting that she was ever born. But that is what my life was. Pulling into the driveway of 110 W. Main St., LPC took a great deal of courage that day. I was exhausted from the nine hour drive the day before, yet I was so excited to finally be figuring out where Shelly had been and why she had left and to tell her that it was OK whatever the reason for her to just be a part of our lives. I had a scrapbook that I had made for her tucked under my arm. I had worked hard on it to make sure that I filled in every single hole that she had missed in the 10 years that she was gone. I made sure to put photos of all of her kids in there. I made little notes inside of it about where we were or what was going on in our life at that time. I included pictures of Joey and Autumn, Stefanies babies who at the time were her first grandson and granddaughter. And the light of our world that we love so much. I included the pictures in the cards of Sam that Laken had sent and all of everything that I could think of. Newspaper clippings from the scholarship that I received when I graduated from high school school, prom photos, holiday photos, photos of all the concerts and great memories we had made while she was gone. I’ll never forget, pulling in the driveway and pulling up behind a new black Ford Explorer with a soccer mom sticker on the back. Grandma was too nervous to even go to the door, so I walked up to the back door this time and I knocked and I waited. I’ll never forget seeing her walk through the kitchen and through the back room through the door and thinking I can’t believe it. I cannot believe I found her, I was crying before she opened the door. There are so many words that she said to me this day they will stay with me forever. The first ones being “Penny Michelle, my Penny Michelle I can’t even believe you’re here.” By this time, Grandma Pat is right behind me, eyes full of tears. I had received the first hug from her that I had received in over 10 years, from my mother. And for a few minutes, the sting of her being gone wasn’t so bad. She invites us and I step into a little back room. I see cubbies over to the right and tables and chairs and I immediately know I’m in some sort of daycare or classroom. I’m sad. I’m so excited because I am just about to obtain my bachelors degree to be a teacher and work with children, so I do have things in common with her. On the other hand, I feel shock. Utter shock. All of these memories of the person that I knew, a woman that had literally abandoned four children, is running a daycare out of her house and taking care of other people's children? Like, the woman that literally locked myself and my sister in a closet and ran all over town is now taking care of other people's children? And driving around with a soccer mom sticker on the back of her car? Who’s soccer mom?! I have no idea what was said as we walked through the kitchen. I just remember some pleasantries of Grandma Pat commenting on how cute the house was asking about the daycare that she ran. And I’m just trying to process all of it. I’m trying to understand how you can go on and take care of other people's children, and you cannot take care of your own. We passed that front door that I stood at the night before, and walked into a living room. And there is that picture. The one of Shelly with these two children is huge on the wall. The girl looks like me. She has curly hair. I have a photo of myself about the exact same age that she would’ve been with curly hair too. My grandma Jean had permed it for me. It’s in the album in my hands. The boy looks like Sam, definitely the exact same smile as my baby brother. And the crazy thing is even though I’m having these conflicted feelings, I already loved them so much, because I knew they were my sister and brother. And they were part of HER. We sat down, and as all conversations that involve Shelly she led. I figured out that she’s very good at saying the least amount that she has to, I’m listening in between, so that she could contrive whatever it is that she needs to say to steer the conversation the way that she wants to go. From what I hear her father was very good at that too. She shares with us this huge story that I mentioned before about how Laken was this crazy killer that threatened to kill her. (He is NOT) And that’s why she had to leave. And that her father was a bad man, and she had to stay away from him too. But again what I find so odd about all of that is that she had no issue leaving us to him. She had no issue leaving us to any of them. She made it out though. I hand her the scrapbook that I worked so hard on and she barely skimmed through it. It lays it on the table beside her, and looks right at me and tells me that she remembers having me, but it’s like it happened to someone else. That statement resonates within me to this day. Sometimes the aftermath of an event is more telling than the event itself. As I sat in that little living room, I listened to her tell us about how she had been married again to another man and had my brother and my sister. And that she was busy raising them and fighting for custody. And that we could not tell anyone who we were or be a part of her life. Because then she would lose them and get them taken away. What she didn’t know was that I knew where she had been and what she had been doing. I had talked to a dispatcher in the St. Louis area right after she left who had told me that she Was living with her son. And that she had told her son that there’s a missing persons report right now out on her own son. And that all she had was a son. And that his dad was a truck driver who had kidnapped him. Lies. All lies.And so many things that I know that she told us that day were lies too. But I just sit there and I let her lie because I was afraid. I was afraid that if I acted in any way shape or form out of line that we would lose her again. Grandma would lose her again. And all I wanted was some sort of relationship with my mother. Funny thing is my daddy told me, along with Becky‘s dad, along with Sams dad, she was not a good person. And even after abandoning us for 10 years, I didn’t want to believe them. It makes me feel so bad for Taylor and for John because I imagine that they know that she’s not telling them the truth many times. But they allow it because it’s the only way that they can have a relationship with their mother. Because you don’t want to make a liar mad. What I hate the most about all of it is that they’ve never gotten the opportunity to know their nieces and their nephews. Their sisters and their brother. And they’ll never have a chance to know their brother. Because they were lied to about who he even was their whole life. He was a good man. A wonderful person. A loving person, who wanted nothing more than to know them and love them. And he reached out multiple times to Shelly in different ways to be blocked or ignored his entire life. On the notes in his phone after he died we found one single statement that resonates inside me much like the one that she said to me that day in her living room-“If only my mom never left maybe I wouldn't have abandonment issues.” When a parent leaves you it does something terrible to you. I cannot explain in words at this time because it honestly is just too much. And I don’t have to explain for Sam because he did all the explaining himself the day he died. So now his babies have to live without him, too. At least they will mourn for someone who is really gone, and not someone who is living and wants nothing to do with them. And truthfully, a part of me lies with him. And in that living room that day she said those words to me. I feel like I’m on a battlefield laying there. Surrounded by my brothers and my sisters. My nieces and my nephews. A little part of each of us is gone. Shelly is walking off. And she’s not looking back at the dead bodies.
Of all of the entries that I’ve made thus far, this one is the hardest for me to write about. I don’t know any teenager that should have to suffer through hearing that their mother‘s dental records have been pulled multiple times to identify a possible dead body that washed up on the side of a lake or river. I can’t think of any single reason to put my personal child through that. To make her endure lifelong pain through some of the most pivotal and important times of her young life just so I could be out living my life and forgetting that she was ever born. But that is what my life was. Pulling into the driveway of 110 W. Main St., LPC took a great deal of courage that day. I was exhausted from the nine hour drive the day before, yet I was so excited to finally be figuring out where Shelly had been and why she had left and to tell her that it was OK whatever the reason for her to just be a part of our lives. I had a scrapbook that I had made for her tucked under my arm. I had worked hard on it to make sure that I filled in every single hole that she had missed in the 10 years that she was gone. I made sure to put photos of all of her kids in there. I made little notes inside of it about where we were or what was going on in our life at that time. I included pictures of Joey and Autumn, Stefanies babies who at the time were her first grandson and granddaughter. And the light of our world that we love so much. I included the pictures in the cards of Sam that Laken had sent and all of everything that I could think of. Newspaper clippings from the scholarship that I received when I graduated from high school school, prom photos, holiday photos, photos of all the concerts and great memories we had made while she was gone. I’ll never forget, pulling in the driveway and pulling up behind a new black Ford Explorer with a soccer mom sticker on the back. Grandma was too nervous to even go to the door, so I walked up to the back door this time and I knocked and I waited. I’ll never forget seeing her walk through the kitchen and through the back room through the door and thinking I can’t believe it. I cannot believe I found her, I was crying before she opened the door. There are so many words that she said to me this day they will stay with me forever. The first ones being “Penny Michelle, my Penny Michelle I can’t even believe you’re here.” By this time, Grandma Pat is right behind me, eyes full of tears. I had received the first hug from her that I had received in over 10 years, from my mother. And for a few minutes, the sting of her being gone wasn’t so bad. She invites us and I step into a little back room. I see cubbies over to the right and tables and chairs and I immediately know I’m in some sort of daycare or classroom. I’m sad. I’m so excited because I am just about to obtain my bachelors degree to be a teacher and work with children, so I do have things in common with her. On the other hand, I feel shock. Utter shock. All of these memories of the person that I knew, a woman that had literally abandoned four children, is running a daycare out of her house and taking care of other people's children? Like, the woman that literally locked myself and my sister in a closet and ran all over town is now taking care of other people's children? And driving around with a soccer mom sticker on the back of her car? Who’s soccer mom?! I have no idea what was said as we walked through the kitchen. I just remember some pleasantries of Grandma Pat commenting on how cute the house was asking about the daycare that she ran. And I’m just trying to process all of it. I’m trying to understand how you can go on and take care of other people's children, and you cannot take care of your own. We passed that front door that I stood at the night before, and walked into a living room. And there is that picture. The one of Shelly with these two children is huge on the wall. The girl looks like me. She has curly hair. I have a photo of myself about the exact same age that she would’ve been with curly hair too. My grandma Jean had permed it for me. It’s in the album in my hands. The boy looks like Sam, definitely the exact same smile as my baby brother. And the crazy thing is even though I’m having these conflicted feelings, I already loved them so much, because I knew they were my sister and brother. And they were part of HER. We sat down, and as all conversations that involve Shelly she led. I figured out that she’s very good at saying the least amount that she has to, I’m listening in between, so that she could contrive whatever it is that she needs to say to steer the conversation the way that she wants to go. From what I hear her father was very good at that too. She shares with us this huge story that I mentioned before about how Laken was this crazy killer that threatened to kill her. (He is NOT) And that’s why she had to leave. And that her father was a bad man, and she had to stay away from him too. But again what I find so odd about all of that is that she had no issue leaving us to him. She had no issue leaving us to any of them. She made it out though. I hand her the scrapbook that I worked so hard on and she barely skimmed through it. It lays it on the table beside her, and looks right at me and tells me that she remembers having me, but it’s like it happened to someone else. That statement resonates within me to this day. Sometimes the aftermath of an event is more telling than the event itself. As I sat in that little living room, I listened to her tell us about how she had been married again to another man and had my brother and my sister. And that she was busy raising them and fighting for custody. And that we could not tell anyone who we were or be a part of her life. Because then she would lose them and get them taken away. What she didn’t know was that I knew where she had been and what she had been doing. I had talked to a dispatcher in the St. Louis area right after she left who had told me that she Was living with her son. And that she had told her son that there’s a missing persons report right now out on her own son. And that all she had was a son. And that his dad was a truck driver who had kidnapped him. Lies. All lies.And so many things that I know that she told us that day were lies too. But I just sit there and I let her lie because I was afraid. I was afraid that if I acted in any way shape or form out of line that we would lose her again. Grandma would lose her again. And all I wanted was some sort of relationship with my mother. Funny thing is my daddy told me, along with Becky‘s dad, along with Sams dad, she was not a good person. And even after abandoning us for 10 years, I didn’t want to believe them. It makes me feel so bad for Taylor and for John because I imagine that they know that she’s not telling them the truth many times. But they allow it because it’s the only way that they can have a relationship with their mother. Because you don’t want to make a liar mad. What I hate the most about all of it is that they’ve never gotten the opportunity to know their nieces and their nephews. Their sisters and their brother. And they’ll never have a chance to know their brother. Because they were lied to about who he even was their whole life. He was a good man. A wonderful person. A loving person, who wanted nothing more than to know them and love them. And he reached out multiple times to Shelly in different ways to be blocked or ignored his entire life. On the notes in his phone after he died we found one single statement that resonates inside me much like the one that she said to me that day in her living room-“If only my mom never left maybe I wouldn't have abandonment issues.” When a parent leaves you it does something terrible to you. I cannot explain in words at this time because it honestly is just too much. And I don’t have to explain for Sam because he did all the explaining himself the day he died. So now his babies have to live without him, too. At least they will mourn for someone who is really gone, and not someone who is living and wants nothing to do with them. And truthfully, a part of me lies with him. And in that living room that day she said those words to me. I feel like I’m on a battlefield laying there. Surrounded by my brothers and my sisters. My nieces and my nephews. A little part of each of us is gone. Shelly is walking off. And she’s not looking back at the dead bodies.
AT ALL COSts
While studying for my Masters Degree in Counseling one particular psychology class really piqued my interest. We learned about all the different facets of psychology, criminal psychology, forensic psychology, and clinical psychology. All the different ways that the brain ticks and thinks and the outcomes. Psychology, always fascinated me. Psychopathy, leading to pathological lying, low empathy, for the effects of what you do on others, having a lack of remorse or guilt for your actions. These people do not feel bad for what they do, rather lie to themselves and others to justify their actions at whatever cost to anyone else..In putting the puzzle pieces of my life together I knew that there had to be the presence of some major mental illness for anyone to do the things that I had heard about and witnessed myself and had done to me growing up.Another particular thing that we studied was denial and how denial protects your brain in many ways, allowing it to heal and adjust to things that happen around you so that you can continue on. I think that I lived in a state of denial for many years after I left Laporte City in 2001. I remember driving straight to Indiana to see my sister, Becky. I remember Grandma Pat telling me to call her and tell her that we were coming to visit but don’t tell her anything about Shelly. Grandma was extremely scared that Becky would say something to her father, and then her father would say something to Laken and then they would know where she was. And it was our job to protect her at all costs.So, with our newfound knowledge, an email address for Shelly, a phone number, and pure joy that we had laid eyes on her for the first time in almost 10 years we drove to Indiana to tell Becky the news. I remember arriving at the hotel and feeling so bad for Becky. She was so truly excited that we were coming to see her, and she brought her new boyfriend that had to sit and watch us unload all of this on top of her. Becky did not talk about Shelly, to anyone.I always worried for Becky. You see, of all of us kids she was the one that lived with Shelly as her mom the longest. I’ll let her tell her own story, but I knew that she was traumatized deeply from the damaging things that had been done to her, even before her abandonment. She also had her live baby doll, Sam, stripped from her at a very young age. Becky had cared for Sam in Shelly’s absence while either asleep or out at the bar many times. At the young age of 7 she was the mommy. Her bond with him was deep. Her love for Shelly was deep as well, or at least who Shelly used to be. I think we all held on to who Shelly was, and not who she had become to us. Denial, if you will. Many years of living in fear of what happened to her, followed by many years living in the sense of urgency to protect her. She had been abused. She had been threatened. She had been living so fearfully on the run… But do people living fearfully on the run stay in one place? Have children (again)? Get married- two more times? Establish multiple businesses? The reality of the situation was right in front of me and I never wanted to see it. I just wanted my softball playing mom back. I wanted my mom with the I-ROC Z with the t-tops. I wanted my hair braided, and I wanted to hear her laugh. But, as much as I tried to hold on to those things, the further they got away. I returned to LPC many years later to take grandma. I didn’t know what it would be, but again the truth was worse and had more of an impact than anything I could imagine.This is where my real damage came. Because I wasn’t looking at an oppressed woman. I was looking at a woman who was in control and willing to lie about my very existence as well as my sisters and my brother no matter what it cost him. Even his life. And that is exactly who she still is today.
Owensboro Motor Inn
Demolition
Certificates don't lie.
OUT OF ORDER
After many times my sister and I being left unsupervised in our little trailer, and after being cheated on, my dad divorced Shelly in 1982. Then with practically no fight at all, he obtained full custody of my sister and I. Daddy went on to work full-time like he always had swingshift at Big Rivers Electric, and we stayed a lot of time with our aunt and uncle. We did however go for once in a while visits to see Shelly. At the time, her father, Shelby was living in a motel in Owensboro, The Owensboro Motor Inn. By all accounts of everyone around, she was really enjoying her newfound freedom as a young 21 year old girl. She was singing and working in the bar downstairs. I would ask her about this, however, ambiguity is her specialty and I’ve never been given the opportunity to sit down and talk with her about it, and if I did I doubt I would get the truth. I remember the Motor Inn well. As I was growing up and even into my young adult years, I thought maybe it was just a place that I had dreamed up, but I continued having dreams about this place and so when I started asking questions about it, I realize that I hadn’t dreamt it up at all, the events that I remembered were real.The Motor Inn bar was a really busy place. I remember the bar being on the left when you walked in the door, and there were tables to the right and a stage somewhere in between toward the back of the room. It smelled like cigarette smoke there, but I guess most places did in the early 80s. There were even these really cool arcade games out in the hallway on your way into the bar. I remember seeing a sign on one, that I realize now must’ve been an out of order sign. I was too small to play them, but I remember them being there. I remember being in the bar until it was time to go to sleep. I remember going and getting on the elevator and pressing the floor and it lighting up and thinking that was really cool too. Our room was down the hall just a few doors and when you went into the room. I remember there being a bathroom, a bed, and a pullout sofa bed. That’s where my sister and I were going to sleep. There was also an adjoining room with the door wide open. That was Shelby’s room. We got ready for bed, climbed into the fold out couch beside a couple of great big sliding doors that went out to what I guess was some sort of balcony. And I remember Shelly telling us good night, giving us kisses, singing, hush little baby to us, and then telling us to go to sleep. And shortly after that, she left the room, and headed back down to the bar for the rest of the night. I don’t remember how much time passed, but I do remember Shelby coming into our room. He had on a pair of brown slacks and he slid them off. I don’t remember a whole lot after that. But I can say this, any claim that Shelly ever had that what she did in leaving was to protect her children is a farce. As a matter of fact, her M.O. is leaving her children to the world and going on to live her best life. The very beast that she wants to claim followed her and tortured her all those years, she fed us too knowingly and willingly. As a mother myself when I think about that day, I become disgusted inside. Because there is absolutely nothing that anyone would ever do to touch my children in any sort of way. If Shelly knew that Shelby was a predator then why did she leave us with him? If he was such a terrible person then why did she choose to go live with him? She loves the ambiguity that she offers everyone. it leaves the reader with feelings that maybe she got pregnant by her attacker which never happened. Or maybe she really had to escape because he was following her? Which also never happened. Or maybe that the attacks just continuously happened throughout her entire adult life, which also did not happen. Did Shelly get pregnant because of her promiscuity and horrible choices? The simple answer is yes. Well into her adult life and second husband she did. She had affairs, ended up pregnant, and ended up terminating those pregnancies. But they weren’t Shelby Neighbors children, they were some man that she had met at the local gym and decided to have a fling with. She just could not handle life as a mother and as a wife and needed that escape.She also probably realized that Stephani and I were going to start asking questions about the things that we had been through. And she did not want to answer them. As a matter of fact, she doesn’t answer questions at all even to this day. She just depends on the ambiguity of saying what she wants to say selectively. Telling her story, out of order. Depending on people to be so shocked they don’t ask about the in-between. Even right down to denying ever having Sam at all. Under this mask that she was just so abused and chased and pursued by an attacker that didn’t exist. I had an attacker too. As a matter fact, not only was I abused by hers but I was abused and abandoned by HER more than once. What I absolutely did not have was a biological mother that cared enough to stop it. And still has no intention of telling the truth to this day. And later on a biological mother who would cause more harm and emotional distress than any attacker ever would in my entire life. Not just me but my three siblings. Who’s inaction and unwillingness to admit the wrongdoing ultimately lead to a young man feeling no self-worth. And myself being questioned at every turn and only just trying to tell the truth. However, no matter how out of order she tries to tell the story, state records do not lie. There is no ambiguity. There are only the facts. They do not deny that on October 30 of 1991 my brother Sam was born to Shelly Neighbors Dover. And they do not deny that on May 21, 2024 that he died Mother listed as Shelly Hopkins, maiden name, Neighbors. And the facts are never out of order. No ambiguity. They are in black and white.
MAKE BELIEVE
The summers of the late 80s always stand out in my mind. After Shelly married Dan, and after he knew that we (Steph and I) were in fact her children, and not someone else’s whose mother died in a car accident, he told her that it was time that we all started spending time together. So, during the summers we were to go and stay with them in Indianapolis.By the time I started I was 8, and I was so excited to FINALLY get to spend some actual time with my mother. I don’t want it to seem like we weren’t ever offered time- we got Christmas at our grandmothers that Shelly would make an appearance a day or two at. But as far as actual time living with her, we had none, until Dan. Later I found out that Dan had told her, if they were going to be together she would absolutely be spending time with HER children. And so, we were invited. The summers at 1771 Maynard Dr. in Indianapolis were some wonderful childhood memories for me. My baby sister, Becky and I spent our days using the CD changer in the living room and blasting Poison, Mötley Crüe, Warrant, and Henry Lee Summer through the house. We spent our mornings under the shade trees in the backyard swinging and blasting AC/DC. And our evenings in the basement watching The Lost Boys. And serving our grown-ups our make believe restaurant with food from our toy food stand. Our imaginations ran wild. I remember my time at VBS at Lynhurst Baptist Church, and I remember spending lots of time watching softball games there too. Watching Shelly play. I clearly remember one night we still had a couple of weeks left that we were supposed to stay and she called my mom and dad and told them that we were going to have to come home early. I remember kind of beating my head against the wall because I heard the conversation and I was so upset. And her telling me to stop it. And now I realize that she did that because she just couldn’t handle it. She was gone all day through the summer. Either working at some part-time art kiosk in the mall, or sunglass place in the mall or at the gym. But she was gone, and it was just us kids hanging out all day playing until she got home. She couldn’t handle the life that she had made. She couldn’t handle the consequences of the choices that she had made. She did not want to be a mom. She did not want to be OUR mom. My last summer on Maynard Drive was the summer of 1990.I later on went to find out that Shelly had actually cheated on Dan, not once but at least twice and that she had gotten pregnant. And that she terminated those pregnancies. They got divorced and in October of 1991 my brother was born. Which tells me that she wasted absolutely no time going right back to the life that she knew. Imagine my surprise when I found out from Dan that she lied about who we were the first time that he met us. That lie that our mother was in a car accident. And that she wasn’t our mother at all. And then when she met Laken Sam’s dad she told him the same thing. It’s like that all along we were just living in her made up world, her world of make-believe. And we’re still there today. Because she still lies about who we are. She is still lying about who Sam is. Because it’s just easier for her to lie than it is for her to own the truth of the horrible decisions that she made and say that she is sorry for what she’s done to us. It’s easier for her to blame me and say that I am traumatized, and that I have done damaging things, but she does not own a single damaging thing that she’s ever done. People who know me know I will be the first to admit when I do wrong. People who know me know that I would do anything for anyone. People who know me know that I tried in every way that I could to have a relationship with her multiple times. I went on to take Grandma back to LaPorte City three more times after the initial trip that we took in 2001. Once in 2009, once the summer of 2011, and once the summer of 2012. All for three different reasons, and I will talk about those another day. I remember driving up there in 2009 and Grandma telling me the entire ride just be prepared because she never said who you were going to be. Who am I going to be?? I didn’t ask. I just thought in silence. Not understanding why I had to lie to people I didn’t even know about who I was. I don’t think I understood that statement. And it’s still extremely hard to wrap my head around. But within two minutes of getting that yearned for hug that I hadn’t had my whole entire adult life she introduces me to her husband Dave, Penny, my “niece.” Wow. All this time and distance between us, and she is still living in a world of make-believe. Still making up her life to be whatever she wants it to be.I overheard someone talking one time about Shelly as a child, they said “Shelly would rather climb a telephone pole and tell a lie, than stand on the ground and tell the truth.”Evidently, it’s even worse than that even now.I spoke to Shelly May 21, 2024, the day Sam died. I told her the news. Her response “Oh I am so sorry for you kids” - HE WAS YOUR SON. We said some other things, but I will add that she said “One day real soon we are all going to sit down and talk about all of this” the trouble is, it’s too late for Sam. Maybe it could have made the difference in giving him what he needed to move on. Maybe just one of those hugs. We will never know. Just like she will never know my AMAZING daughter and son. Or hear my baby sister sing in her band. She will never know her children, her grandchildren. She has still not grown into an adult that owns their actions. It is just easier to live in a make believe world for her than it is to face her bad choices. What she doesn’t get is she is now the abuser. That myself, Steph, Becky, and Sammy are all victims of her neglect, her continued abuse. Or maybe she does, and that is why it is easier for her to just keep playing make believe. The only people who lie are people with things to hide.
Apology
Apology
In June 2009 I returned to LaPorte City.
Writing about going back to LaPorte City after my initial visit in 2001 is extremely hard for me. I think it was because my entire childhood I put this tremendous hope on the fact that once we found Shelly, if she was alive, that there would be some way that we could get our mom back. I mean, if you find the person that should be simple, right? But the fact is nothing about this entire last 32 years of my life has been simple when it comes to Shelly. And it could very well be that I just really didn’t realize who I was even looking for. Or what I was even looking for. And every trip to LPC any hope I had got pushed further away. I thought I was looking for my mother. Her face looks exactly like mine. Her voice sounds a whole lot like mine. She was always the coolest person. She had the biggest hair, the coolest Oakley or gargoyle sunglasses thanks to her time working in a kiosk at the mall, And she drove a 1987 IRoc Z28. She took out the T-Tops and blasted Van Halen and AC/DC from the speakers all summer long. She was an awesome softball player, and she never cared to slide into a base. One time I remember her leg bleeding from her ankle all the way up to her knee from sliding in to Home and getting a run for her softball team. I remember her limping off the field and as soon as we got home, I can remember helping her clean it. This is the mother that I helped when my sister was attacked by our family pet, a Chinese Chow Chow named Attila, that smelled the neighbors kids on my sister one day and attacked her. It almost ripped her arm off. I remember the screams and the blood everywhere, and my mom and I rushing her to the hospital where they placed over 400 stitches in her arm and chest. I remember helping my mom hold Steph’s arm down. My mom. That’s who I thought I was looking for.So finding her in 2001 and hearing the words that she remembered having me, but it was like it happened to someone else, I thought over the years is it like all those other things, my memories, happened to someone else too? How do you forget your children? I am a mother. My children are my world. They are my joy. How do you just walk away? I could never. In May 2009, Grandma Pat asked me if I would please take her back to Iowa to visit Shelly. I was so extremely excited. Over the years I had talked to her very little. You see, a conversation with her is extremely detached. And painful, when a person that you loved so much that is supposed to love you unconditionally is so cold. So I had talked to her very little. But I guess in her own selfish yearning for her own mother and realizing that she missed her, she invited her up, and I was going to be the way that Grandma got there as we drove the nine hours Grandma went on and on about that there was going to be a festival going on while we were there. There would be lots of things to do and keep us busy, that Shelly owned the bar right in the city center, Two Friends Tap. There would be lots of exciting things to see and do. And then woven into all of those conversations was always the question and sentence “We’re not sure what she’s going to call you so prepare yourself or anything.”So, I did. In the back of my mind I was struggling at this time. You see, I was a grown adult almost 30 years old at this point in time. I did not understand why there was the constant need to continue to lie about who I was to anyone. But I also knew going there that people were going to see me, see my face, and know exactly who I was no matter what she wanted to say. It’s all kind of a blur, pulling up outside of her house, getting out, receiving that cold hug from the “stranger” that I had so many memories with, both good and bad. We stood in the yard and we chatted, and then over to the other side of the yard was her husband, Dave. I could tell upon meeting him that he was a good man, and I was so happy that she had found someone to treat her well. And then the introduction- “and this is my niece, Penny.”...On the outside, I’m certain that I was smiling and happy, but on the inside I was falling apart. It wasn’t being called her niece that hurt me. It was knowing that I was lying to people that I just met, and that I would have to lie to my brother into my sister, who I love so much even though I didn’t even know them. I still cry every time I think about it. It’s not just an injury to my heart. It was an injury to my morality. Like I was automatically being broken down, just being associated with the entire thing. The last thing that I wanted to do was lie to anyone. It is so far from who I am justified it because I knew it’s what I had to do in order to be there for Grandma to have her time with Shelly and to see what this life for her was now, but every step I took through that house hurt. I couldn’t stand the thought of even looking at my brother and my sister. I wanted to know them so bad, but they just looked at me, and I could tell that they knew because again, I look the most like Shelly of any of the kids. And I always wonder if they questioned her, or if they were afraid to know the truth. That first night we stayed at Shelly’s house, but after that I stayed in a hotel in nearby Waterloo, I need a place to escape to where no one could hear me cry. I was so thankful that week for that little bar that she owned. Grandma and Shelly spent hours and hours visiting and talking and I would set out on her covered porch with a fake smile and an occasional laugh. Just listening. We would do whatever tasks were meant to be done for that day. And then in the evening I would report to work, and I would work in her little bar to keep myself busy. It was the busiest time of the year. I’m assuming in the small town with the festival right outside the door. So I spent my time stalking cool, and doing whatever I could to help the staff. I remember getting money and throwing it in a big container that was up in the middle of the bar. I found out later on that those were Shelly‘s tips. She laughed when I told her what I did with that money, but the truth was, I didn’t want to keep a dime for anyone. That’s just not who I am. I remember there was a bartender at her bar that I really liked and her name was Penny. Taylor, my “cousin” came in for just a few minutes one evening and I’ll never forget Shelly snapping a picture of Taylor and I, handing me back my camera, and saying “you two look alike.” It was just another jab. The last night that I worked at the bar before we went home Penny, the bartender looked straight in my face and said “you’re not her niece”- I knew what she was saying. I completely froze up. Literally all the breath went out of my body. My thoughts started swirling around in my head, I did not want Shelly to lose everything that she had worked so hard for just because I said no, I’m not, so I said nothing. I put my head down, and I left the bar. This is my apology to her. To everyone of LPC. I’m sorry I lied to you. I sorry I allowed someone so deceptive to control the dialogue and you didn’t get a chance to know me. I’m sorry to my sister, Taylor, and my brother John for not clearing up things before ut was too late for you to know Sammy. You would have loved him. He loved you.I don’t remember a lot about the drive home from LPC, I remember I was completely exhausted. I felt such a tremendous sense of guilt for all of the people that I had to lie to. I just did not understand why it was necessary. I did not understand why again my mother and my grandmother were the ones that were continuously allowing this to happen. I still don’t. They made ME a liar.That is the most unfathomable thing about all of this. It has literally left me with an emotional scar. Moral distress, if you will, from the guilt I carry and the ripple effect caused by me going along with the “niece” lie from the beginning. It discredited my character for people that had just met me. And now, we live with this ever lasting wave of anger, and sadness, of grief for what didn’t have to be. If you are a reader who is not involved in this and don’t already know, Shelly has never offered an apology not ever to us. It’s always been an excuse or scapegoat, but there’s never been an apology that “I abandoned you kids and I am so sorry for what I did and what it’s done to you.”Not ever.She doesn’t call us. She doesn’t answer any sort of text messages. She doesn’t try to seek any sort of relationship or forgiveness. No acknowledgment for what she did. No recognition of the harm that she caused. No remorse. And the biggest sign of all that she’s not sorry- no change in her behavior.She just goes on living in her own world. I may look like her, but I am not her. I am a grown adult who is capable of a sincere apology.To those of you I have wronged, I apologize, truly.I can admit my wrong doing. I can apologize.
In June 2009 I returned to LaPorte City.
Writing about going back to LaPorte City after my initial visit in 2001 is extremely hard for me. I think it was because my entire childhood I put this tremendous hope on the fact that once we found Shelly, if she was alive, that there would be some way that we could get our mom back. I mean, if you find the person that should be simple, right? But the fact is nothing about this entire last 32 years of my life has been simple when it comes to Shelly. And it could very well be that I just really didn’t realize who I was even looking for. Or what I was even looking for. And every trip to LPC any hope I had got pushed further away. I thought I was looking for my mother. Her face looks exactly like mine. Her voice sounds a whole lot like mine. She was always the coolest person. She had the biggest hair, the coolest Oakley or gargoyle sunglasses thanks to her time working in a kiosk at the mall, And she drove a 1987 IRoc Z28. She took out the T-Tops and blasted Van Halen and AC/DC from the speakers all summer long. She was an awesome softball player, and she never cared to slide into a base. One time I remember her leg bleeding from her ankle all the way up to her knee from sliding in to Home and getting a run for her softball team. I remember her limping off the field and as soon as we got home, I can remember helping her clean it. This is the mother that I helped when my sister was attacked by our family pet, a Chinese Chow Chow named Attila, that smelled the neighbors kids on my sister one day and attacked her. It almost ripped her arm off. I remember the screams and the blood everywhere, and my mom and I rushing her to the hospital where they placed over 400 stitches in her arm and chest. I remember helping my mom hold Steph’s arm down. My mom. That’s who I thought I was looking for.So finding her in 2001 and hearing the words that she remembered having me, but it was like it happened to someone else, I thought over the years is it like all those other things, my memories, happened to someone else too? How do you forget your children? I am a mother. My children are my world. They are my joy. How do you just walk away? I could never. In May 2009, Grandma Pat asked me if I would please take her back to Iowa to visit Shelly. I was so extremely excited. Over the years I had talked to her very little. You see, a conversation with her is extremely detached. And painful, when a person that you loved so much that is supposed to love you unconditionally is so cold. So I had talked to her very little. But I guess in her own selfish yearning for her own mother and realizing that she missed her, she invited her up, and I was going to be the way that Grandma got there as we drove the nine hours Grandma went on and on about that there was going to be a festival going on while we were there. There would be lots of things to do and keep us busy, that Shelly owned the bar right in the city center, Two Friends Tap. There would be lots of exciting things to see and do. And then woven into all of those conversations was always the question and sentence “We’re not sure what she’s going to call you so prepare yourself or anything.”So, I did. In the back of my mind I was struggling at this time. You see, I was a grown adult almost 30 years old at this point in time. I did not understand why there was the constant need to continue to lie about who I was to anyone. But I also knew going there that people were going to see me, see my face, and know exactly who I was no matter what she wanted to say. It’s all kind of a blur, pulling up outside of her house, getting out, receiving that cold hug from the “stranger” that I had so many memories with, both good and bad. We stood in the yard and we chatted, and then over to the other side of the yard was her husband, Dave. I could tell upon meeting him that he was a good man, and I was so happy that she had found someone to treat her well. And then the introduction- “and this is my niece, Penny.”...On the outside, I’m certain that I was smiling and happy, but on the inside I was falling apart. It wasn’t being called her niece that hurt me. It was knowing that I was lying to people that I just met, and that I would have to lie to my brother into my sister, who I love so much even though I didn’t even know them. I still cry every time I think about it. It’s not just an injury to my heart. It was an injury to my morality. Like I was automatically being broken down, just being associated with the entire thing. The last thing that I wanted to do was lie to anyone. It is so far from who I am justified it because I knew it’s what I had to do in order to be there for Grandma to have her time with Shelly and to see what this life for her was now, but every step I took through that house hurt. I couldn’t stand the thought of even looking at my brother and my sister. I wanted to know them so bad, but they just looked at me, and I could tell that they knew because again, I look the most like Shelly of any of the kids. And I always wonder if they questioned her, or if they were afraid to know the truth. That first night we stayed at Shelly’s house, but after that I stayed in a hotel in nearby Waterloo, I need a place to escape to where no one could hear me cry. I was so thankful that week for that little bar that she owned. Grandma and Shelly spent hours and hours visiting and talking and I would set out on her covered porch with a fake smile and an occasional laugh. Just listening. We would do whatever tasks were meant to be done for that day. And then in the evening I would report to work, and I would work in her little bar to keep myself busy. It was the busiest time of the year. I’m assuming in the small town with the festival right outside the door. So I spent my time stalking cool, and doing whatever I could to help the staff. I remember getting money and throwing it in a big container that was up in the middle of the bar. I found out later on that those were Shelly‘s tips. She laughed when I told her what I did with that money, but the truth was, I didn’t want to keep a dime for anyone. That’s just not who I am. I remember there was a bartender at her bar that I really liked and her name was Penny. Taylor, my “cousin” came in for just a few minutes one evening and I’ll never forget Shelly snapping a picture of Taylor and I, handing me back my camera, and saying “you two look alike.” It was just another jab. The last night that I worked at the bar before we went home Penny, the bartender looked straight in my face and said “you’re not her niece”- I knew what she was saying. I completely froze up. Literally all the breath went out of my body. My thoughts started swirling around in my head, I did not want Shelly to lose everything that she had worked so hard for just because I said no, I’m not, so I said nothing. I put my head down, and I left the bar. This is my apology to her. To everyone of LPC. I’m sorry I lied to you. I sorry I allowed someone so deceptive to control the dialogue and you didn’t get a chance to know me. I’m sorry to my sister, Taylor, and my brother John for not clearing up things before ut was too late for you to know Sammy. You would have loved him. He loved you.I don’t remember a lot about the drive home from LPC, I remember I was completely exhausted. I felt such a tremendous sense of guilt for all of the people that I had to lie to. I just did not understand why it was necessary. I did not understand why again my mother and my grandmother were the ones that were continuously allowing this to happen. I still don’t. They made ME a liar.That is the most unfathomable thing about all of this. It has literally left me with an emotional scar. Moral distress, if you will, from the guilt I carry and the ripple effect caused by me going along with the “niece” lie from the beginning. It discredited my character for people that had just met me. And now, we live with this ever lasting wave of anger, and sadness, of grief for what didn’t have to be. If you are a reader who is not involved in this and don’t already know, Shelly has never offered an apology not ever to us. It’s always been an excuse or scapegoat, but there’s never been an apology that “I abandoned you kids and I am so sorry for what I did and what it’s done to you.”Not ever.She doesn’t call us. She doesn’t answer any sort of text messages. She doesn’t try to seek any sort of relationship or forgiveness. No acknowledgment for what she did. No recognition of the harm that she caused. No remorse. And the biggest sign of all that she’s not sorry- no change in her behavior.She just goes on living in her own world. I may look like her, but I am not her. I am a grown adult who is capable of a sincere apology.To those of you I have wronged, I apologize, truly.I can admit my wrong doing. I can apologize.
THE LAST TIME
When something happens for the last time many times you don’t realize it’s the last time.The last time I spent any long amount of time with my mom was the summer of 1990. We went to stay with her and my step dad, Dan in the little house on Maynard Dr. it was what had become the new normal summer for me over the last few years, swings in the back yard, chores, running the neighborhood, I had even made some friends on the street and would go to their house to play. On July 7, 1990 we got the most exciting news ever, NKOTB were going to be at Deer Creek Amphitheater, and my big sister Stephani, the neighbors Laura and Mary abs myself we’re going to get to go. I’ll never forget Shelly driving us up to huge Deer Creek, letting us out into this huge crowd and we were off. It was the first time I had ever been to a concert. I still think about how crazy it was that ten year old me got to go without any parental supervision, my how times have changed! We had a great time, even though we lost Mary eventually finding her in this corral of lost kids up by the doors. Got back in the van, and headed back to Maynard Drive to see what other adventures awaited us that summer. Crazy thing is, not many did. We left shortly after that. We weren’t supposed to leave until the first of August, but something had happened. Something between Mom and Dan… they had a fight. She was extremely upset. Sitting dazed and confused on the couch, and very uncharacteristically slow. Dan was angry and quiet. Now I know that she had just had an abortion, from an affair that resulted in an unwanted pregnancy. And it wasn’t the first time in the marriage this had happened. I clearly remember the phone call Shelly placed to my mom and dad that Steph and I would need to come home as soon as possible. Something had come up. I was so upset, I cried myself to sleep. Why didn’t she love us enough to want us to stay? Why was she always so willing to let us go? Little did I know that when I left that house it would be the last time I left. The last time I would pet Digger and Molly, our Chow chows, the last time I would hear the creaks in the floor as I walked across the kitchen, the last time I would look out that big picture window over the street… if I only knew.
The last time I spent time in person with my brother was July 28, 2019, the day of his infant son Zaydens funeral. Sammy was so excited that Becky and I had come to be there with him. I had made him a promise that day that I would reach out to Shelly, to tell her about Zayden. I did do that. I called Dave, Shelly’s husband. I felt comfortable speaking to him because I had been to his home and spent time with him on my visits to LPC. He was a calm and kind person. I shared with him the truth about Shelly, about us kids, about Zayden, her grandson that she had lost. He said that she stayed to herself about things but that he would try to pass it on to her, and that was the last time I spoke to him.
The last time I spoke to Shelly was the day that Sam died, May 21, 2024. I thought long and hard about the right course of action to take. I tried to call my brother John, and then my sister Taylor, and neither one answered. Left with only one other person, I dialed Shelly’s number. On the other side of the line I hear the voice of my mothers “Hello?”“Umm Hi Shelly, this is Penny, from Kentucky. I was just calling to let you know that Sam, our Sam, died last night”Her “oh no, that’s so sad, I’m so sorry for you kids.”...Me “well, I can tell you as much or as little as you’d like to know”Her “wah wah well how did he die?”Me “suicide, he shot himself”Her “oh well that’s sad, I’m sorry for your loss”Me”well he was your son so I’m sorry for your loss”Her “oh I, I, had nothing, I don’t, no, that’s got nothing to do with me”
Me “yeah, he was your son so tell yourself whatever you want.”Her “well, ya know penny one day soon we are all gonna sit down and talk about all of this” Me “hmmm… yeah, when do you think that’s gonna happen??? Cause Sam, he isn’t gonna make it. Think Grandma will live to make it?”
Lots of other lies and fake words I can only chalk up to her being in front of someone that she wants to make sure doesn’t catch on to her come out of her mouth- at this point I just tell her… you know you taught us something really valuable in life. Her responses “I’ve taught you nothing.” Well I would love to agree with that internally, I respond with a warning, though she doesn’t know it yet I say, “oh you did you taught us self preservation, and that we need to do what we need to do to save ourselves.” I honestly don’t know what her reaction was to that I can’t remember. My emotions were so high at that point in time. All of the emotions from the day, and from my lifetime of hurt and pain in anger, mixed with the grief of the loss of my baby brother, that I always knew that I was going to lose because of her and her constant lies and refusal to take ownership of what she had done to us. My last request of her was just one thing, please tell John and Taylor that their BROTHER is gone. YOU OWE HIM AT LEAST THAT ONE MERCY. TO WHICH SHE AGREED. We got off the phone, my mind reeling. And silly little girl me really thought that she was going to tell them the truth. But I forgot what beast I was working with. Even after all these years and all these letdowns, I was still dumb enough to have faith in her. But believe me that was the last time. The last time.Later on that evening, I got a message back, a text message, of course because who needs to talk on the phone to the weird people from Kentucky that they have been told all these horrible things about their entire life?? I mean, who even knows who they really are? So, a text, from Taylor, a vague, what did you need? And I tell her, that I am sorry to be telling her this over a text message, but that our brother passed away early in the morning, and that it was by suicide, and that I owed it to him to tell her that in person. And that I owed her that as well. And then I was very sorry for her loss. And her response was I didn’t know him and I don’t know what you want me to say…...My first thought is that I can’t believe that I thought that anything that had to do with Shelly was going to lead to anything positive whatsoever. Because nothing in my life ever had. At least not past the point of eight years old my second is that if Shelly had control of Taylor and John Things were going to continue to be the exact same way with her, controlling their thoughts and the conversations and ideas of what her messed up truth was and that they were going to continue to believe her. And so when they die, I could say the same thing about them. And so that was my response… I did not mean it ugly. I meant it as a dose of truth that if things did not change and that if we did not start having some real conversations about what really was the truth and what really had happened that Oliver our past were going to continue to be separated by the one person that could benefit from it. And it was not us. And then, the much awaited message of “he was our stepbrother, right?”...Shelly strikes again. Her lies. Her deceit. Her self purpose, fulfilling bullshit. Even in his death, Sam could not escape being nothing to her. Even in his death, Sam could not get any respect from the very being that brought him into this earth. He received no love from her, not an ounce of mercy from her, not an ounce of respect to this day, only being addressed as “a young man” and not ever given the opportunity to even know his brother and his sister because of her blatant lies about him and his father. This ran through me. I cannot explain the feelings, but I can tell you that you are reading the results because I refuse to let my brother death be a part of the dialogue that this woman continues to derange. My brother and my sister will know the truth whether they want to know it or not. Their children will know the truth whether they want to know it or not. Shelly will know what the truth is whether she wants to admit it or not. Grandma Pat will know the truth whether she wants to admit it or not. My brother‘s life and death will not be in vain. SAMUEL LAKEN TAWNEY WAS THE FIRST BORN SON OF SHELLY HOPKINS. And she abandoned him as a child and never looked back.
That was the last time that I talked to Taylor. Shortly, after that text, I offered to get us all a DNA test if that would put her thoughts to rest and stop the questioning about who we all were. I did mention that Sam of course could not come for the DNA test as that he was gone but that we could use one of his boys, one of his boys had already lost one, DNA sample. So that we could put all of this to rest to show that yes we are all biologically, brothers and sisters by our mother. And then she blocked me. A few days later is when her father messaged me for a phone call, Thinking, I guess that a stern talking to was going to clear up that I made his daughter cry. Well, welcome to the club formed by Shelly no one wants to be a member of Taylor, I’ve been crying my entire life at the hands of our mother. And all I want is the truth and all I’ve ever wanted is the truth. But yet you guys just sit over there in your lies and you’re OK with it. Just wait until your children grow up, and they start asking questions. And they start finding things. Because if they find me, I’m going to tell them the truth.
Last time I talked to sam- he asked about mom. He asked if I had a phone number and a way to get a hold of her. I gave it to him, again, after multiple times of giving it to him. Every time he got a new number he always asked for it. I think he hoped that he would say something different this time that would strike a cord with her and she would respond. But he always wrote me and told me that she never did. She never did. I asked her about it that last day and that last phone call with her, I said that he said that he text you, and of course she lied and said she never got a text from him. But I know that he did. Because he didn’t lie, unlike her.
Last time I talked to Shelly she lied about Sam. Even though he was dead, she lied about talking to him, or his attempts to talk to her. And then she turned around and lied about who he was to my sister, who was no doubt upset and devastated at his death. Because I know her heart because it is like mine and no doubt it was broken. And rather than tell her the truth, Shelly chose the selfish route like she always does.
Last time I talked to grandma she hung up on me. It was a few days after Sam had died. I called her just to see how she was. I hadn’t talk to her and I don’t know how long. She answered and I said that I was just calling to check on her after everything with Sam and her cold response was, “oh yes, I know about that.” Followed by “ I hear you’ve been busy on the Internet.” No doubt Shelly had called her and fed her. Her massive spoonfuls of lies and Grandma had eaten every bit of it about how horrible I was and that I was making Taylor cry and making things up and so on and so on… my response was “ I’m not really sure what you’re talking about.” Not because I didn’t know what she was talking about, but because I didn’t know specifically what she was talking about. Was she talking about Facebook? Was she talking about the blog? I was just trying to get to the bottom of what I was supposed to defend myself from. But, instead, Grandma just said I don’t want to get into it with you and a hateful voice and hung the phone up on me. And that will be the last time that I ever speak to her.
Sometimes the last time is the last time and you don’t even realize it until it’s done
The last time I spent time in person with my brother was July 28, 2019, the day of his infant son Zaydens funeral. Sammy was so excited that Becky and I had come to be there with him. I had made him a promise that day that I would reach out to Shelly, to tell her about Zayden. I did do that. I called Dave, Shelly’s husband. I felt comfortable speaking to him because I had been to his home and spent time with him on my visits to LPC. He was a calm and kind person. I shared with him the truth about Shelly, about us kids, about Zayden, her grandson that she had lost. He said that she stayed to herself about things but that he would try to pass it on to her, and that was the last time I spoke to him.
The last time I spoke to Shelly was the day that Sam died, May 21, 2024. I thought long and hard about the right course of action to take. I tried to call my brother John, and then my sister Taylor, and neither one answered. Left with only one other person, I dialed Shelly’s number. On the other side of the line I hear the voice of my mothers “Hello?”“Umm Hi Shelly, this is Penny, from Kentucky. I was just calling to let you know that Sam, our Sam, died last night”Her “oh no, that’s so sad, I’m so sorry for you kids.”...Me “well, I can tell you as much or as little as you’d like to know”Her “wah wah well how did he die?”Me “suicide, he shot himself”Her “oh well that’s sad, I’m sorry for your loss”Me”well he was your son so I’m sorry for your loss”Her “oh I, I, had nothing, I don’t, no, that’s got nothing to do with me”
Me “yeah, he was your son so tell yourself whatever you want.”Her “well, ya know penny one day soon we are all gonna sit down and talk about all of this” Me “hmmm… yeah, when do you think that’s gonna happen??? Cause Sam, he isn’t gonna make it. Think Grandma will live to make it?”
Lots of other lies and fake words I can only chalk up to her being in front of someone that she wants to make sure doesn’t catch on to her come out of her mouth- at this point I just tell her… you know you taught us something really valuable in life. Her responses “I’ve taught you nothing.” Well I would love to agree with that internally, I respond with a warning, though she doesn’t know it yet I say, “oh you did you taught us self preservation, and that we need to do what we need to do to save ourselves.” I honestly don’t know what her reaction was to that I can’t remember. My emotions were so high at that point in time. All of the emotions from the day, and from my lifetime of hurt and pain in anger, mixed with the grief of the loss of my baby brother, that I always knew that I was going to lose because of her and her constant lies and refusal to take ownership of what she had done to us. My last request of her was just one thing, please tell John and Taylor that their BROTHER is gone. YOU OWE HIM AT LEAST THAT ONE MERCY. TO WHICH SHE AGREED. We got off the phone, my mind reeling. And silly little girl me really thought that she was going to tell them the truth. But I forgot what beast I was working with. Even after all these years and all these letdowns, I was still dumb enough to have faith in her. But believe me that was the last time. The last time.Later on that evening, I got a message back, a text message, of course because who needs to talk on the phone to the weird people from Kentucky that they have been told all these horrible things about their entire life?? I mean, who even knows who they really are? So, a text, from Taylor, a vague, what did you need? And I tell her, that I am sorry to be telling her this over a text message, but that our brother passed away early in the morning, and that it was by suicide, and that I owed it to him to tell her that in person. And that I owed her that as well. And then I was very sorry for her loss. And her response was I didn’t know him and I don’t know what you want me to say…...My first thought is that I can’t believe that I thought that anything that had to do with Shelly was going to lead to anything positive whatsoever. Because nothing in my life ever had. At least not past the point of eight years old my second is that if Shelly had control of Taylor and John Things were going to continue to be the exact same way with her, controlling their thoughts and the conversations and ideas of what her messed up truth was and that they were going to continue to believe her. And so when they die, I could say the same thing about them. And so that was my response… I did not mean it ugly. I meant it as a dose of truth that if things did not change and that if we did not start having some real conversations about what really was the truth and what really had happened that Oliver our past were going to continue to be separated by the one person that could benefit from it. And it was not us. And then, the much awaited message of “he was our stepbrother, right?”...Shelly strikes again. Her lies. Her deceit. Her self purpose, fulfilling bullshit. Even in his death, Sam could not escape being nothing to her. Even in his death, Sam could not get any respect from the very being that brought him into this earth. He received no love from her, not an ounce of mercy from her, not an ounce of respect to this day, only being addressed as “a young man” and not ever given the opportunity to even know his brother and his sister because of her blatant lies about him and his father. This ran through me. I cannot explain the feelings, but I can tell you that you are reading the results because I refuse to let my brother death be a part of the dialogue that this woman continues to derange. My brother and my sister will know the truth whether they want to know it or not. Their children will know the truth whether they want to know it or not. Shelly will know what the truth is whether she wants to admit it or not. Grandma Pat will know the truth whether she wants to admit it or not. My brother‘s life and death will not be in vain. SAMUEL LAKEN TAWNEY WAS THE FIRST BORN SON OF SHELLY HOPKINS. And she abandoned him as a child and never looked back.
That was the last time that I talked to Taylor. Shortly, after that text, I offered to get us all a DNA test if that would put her thoughts to rest and stop the questioning about who we all were. I did mention that Sam of course could not come for the DNA test as that he was gone but that we could use one of his boys, one of his boys had already lost one, DNA sample. So that we could put all of this to rest to show that yes we are all biologically, brothers and sisters by our mother. And then she blocked me. A few days later is when her father messaged me for a phone call, Thinking, I guess that a stern talking to was going to clear up that I made his daughter cry. Well, welcome to the club formed by Shelly no one wants to be a member of Taylor, I’ve been crying my entire life at the hands of our mother. And all I want is the truth and all I’ve ever wanted is the truth. But yet you guys just sit over there in your lies and you’re OK with it. Just wait until your children grow up, and they start asking questions. And they start finding things. Because if they find me, I’m going to tell them the truth.
Last time I talked to sam- he asked about mom. He asked if I had a phone number and a way to get a hold of her. I gave it to him, again, after multiple times of giving it to him. Every time he got a new number he always asked for it. I think he hoped that he would say something different this time that would strike a cord with her and she would respond. But he always wrote me and told me that she never did. She never did. I asked her about it that last day and that last phone call with her, I said that he said that he text you, and of course she lied and said she never got a text from him. But I know that he did. Because he didn’t lie, unlike her.
Last time I talked to Shelly she lied about Sam. Even though he was dead, she lied about talking to him, or his attempts to talk to her. And then she turned around and lied about who he was to my sister, who was no doubt upset and devastated at his death. Because I know her heart because it is like mine and no doubt it was broken. And rather than tell her the truth, Shelly chose the selfish route like she always does.
Last time I talked to grandma she hung up on me. It was a few days after Sam had died. I called her just to see how she was. I hadn’t talk to her and I don’t know how long. She answered and I said that I was just calling to check on her after everything with Sam and her cold response was, “oh yes, I know about that.” Followed by “ I hear you’ve been busy on the Internet.” No doubt Shelly had called her and fed her. Her massive spoonfuls of lies and Grandma had eaten every bit of it about how horrible I was and that I was making Taylor cry and making things up and so on and so on… my response was “ I’m not really sure what you’re talking about.” Not because I didn’t know what she was talking about, but because I didn’t know specifically what she was talking about. Was she talking about Facebook? Was she talking about the blog? I was just trying to get to the bottom of what I was supposed to defend myself from. But, instead, Grandma just said I don’t want to get into it with you and a hateful voice and hung the phone up on me. And that will be the last time that I ever speak to her.
Sometimes the last time is the last time and you don’t even realize it until it’s done