Bethel University - Tennis - Junior Kent Nichols

Hometown: (Rural) Milaca, Minnesota ( SW Kanabec County Farm )

Zimmerman High School Football

Elk River High School Tennis 

and USTA  challenger Kent Nichols has remarkable skills on the tennis court...

  ...  but is there is much, much more to

KENT'S  STORY

Below:  Bethel University Tennis,  2009 -  Elk River High School Tennis,  April 2008.

William Kendall Waters - March 1991 - Kendall James Nichols - May 2006  

The above (lower left) photograph is one which I have carried in my billfold ever since it was taken. I have not removed it for so long...that I had forgotten that there was information written on the back. The inscription reads, "William Kendall Waters" 3-13-91... 18 months old, Princeton, MN. I could have scanned a better quality picture for use with this story... for I probably took several hundred pictures of Kent in the three years that I knew him. That's what fathers are supposed to do. The coat he is wearing was purchased "for my benefit". I was an air traffic controller (now retired)... and the "helicopters" apparently were an effort to relate to something akin to "Daddy's boy".

The photograph on the lower right, at age 16 years 8 months, is the first image I'd seen of Kent for nearly 15 years... owing largely to the vindictive, secretive activities borne through the shame of his physical therapist mother, who among other behavior, refused to tell me that just after our separation, he had been diagnosed with a rare form of childhood type cancer. I learned only that "Kent was sick", while standing in line at a grocery store. One argument was that the disease "Histiocytosis X" is believed to be a genetic disorder... and she knew that Kent did not carry my genes, as she later would be exposed to having been concealing. It's impossible to convey the heartbreak of learning how a mother, in fear of being humiliated before the Fairview Princeton hospital staff and community of Princeton... could behave so vindictively. Now, approaching 20 years afterwards, she still has not found the strength to communicate an apology, in any form.

It perhaps is amazing, that Kent actually lived in rural southwestern Kanabec County, Minnesota on an extension of Mille Lacs CR4, where he would normally attend Milaca High School. Every morning, Kent drove nearly 40 miles to school in Zimmerman (Sherburne County). Ever wonder why? There are probably several explanations related to the potential enhancement of Kent's tennis career... but there's the added benefit for his Registered Physical Therapist mother, Nancy Nichols, apparently in further avoiding "small talk" around the community, owing to her extreme antics in the early 1990s. Nancy has often described herself as being a "private person"... and she has good reason to be that way, for there's a lot about her, she would not like you to know. There's a lot about herself that she has carefully planned and designed, to insure that her son Kent, will never know...

During my marriage to Nancy, she sometimes included in her criticisms, saying, "Ashley, your problem is, you can't see what may happen in the future".  Apparently, during that era, Nancy never foresaw the "information age" that the Internet would bring to all of us... and now it appears, that in reality, it is Nancy Priscilla Nichols, who could not foresee the day, when all of her manipulation, lies and deceit, to her family, her friends, her coworkers in the Fairview Hospital System... and even her son, would some day, learn the truth.

Nancy has woven her web of lies that began with an affair she was having with a PT patient of hers in 1988. The plot thickened when she conceived her son in early January 1989... but really got complicated, when she announced her pregnancy in early in March 1989... and manipulated myself and all of those in her world (our families and friends included), that her conception was a "miracle", resulting from a nearly 10 year long effort, over the coarse of our marriage. It's painful to live with someone who lies... and I am left to wonder about Kent's pain, when he reads this. I recently heard it said that a lie is the worst of all sins, in that it steals from those upon who it is perpetrated... and robs them of the ability to trust others... and arguably inflicts much, much more.

I have seen no reason to believe that Nancy has ceased lying to her circle of friends and family... and remember this as you read on, for most of all, Kent is being victimized and potentially, emotionally scarred more than any child should have to experience. 

Remember this as you continue reading... as I would like to underscore with all emphasis, that Nancy has never, ever, ever expressed the slightest amount of regret or remorse... for she appears moreover consumed by anger, which I believe, is rooted in her childhood, to be explained later. Only after having to submit to a D.N.A. paternity test, when Kent was more than two years old, was Nancy's behavior confronted. Even then, she would not reveal the name "James Francis Adams" as the biological father, until compelled to do so from the witness stand, during our divorce hearing before Judge Stephen P. Ruble. Moreover... and more importantly, my belief is that Nancy has not found the inner strength to forgive herself.

While it is clear that Nancy is living with the widower of her former boss and supposed, one time close friend Lorna Kinney, I sometimes consider, if Kent wonders, just how did that relationship began. Steve and Lorna Kinney lost a son they named "Cane", shortly after childbirth. There are some curious "questions" which remain in the circumstances surrounding the death of Lorna Kinney, barely a handful of days after our divorce. Has Kent ever had reason to wonder (along with Steve's daughter Edie), about the basis of a relationship between the man who has stepped in as a "surrogate father?" With Nancy having supposedly been so "close" to Lorna Kinney, could there be a reason Kent's mother chooses not to "take Steve's name?" I can only relate to the serious evidence that Steve Kinney and Nancy were in the early stages of one more "affair" for Nancy... long before our divorce and even longer before the "curious" circumstances of Lorna Kinney's death. What are the possible rumors that would circulate around the Fairview Hospital System, by those who were aware of Nancy's affair with a 3 time Workmen's Compensation  patient at the PT clinic. How would it look, even after all of the time that has passed, for Nancy to suddenly represent herself and now having a last name of "Kinney".  Added to the general "circle" of information, is that Steve Kinney has not attended the Lutheran Church in Milaca for some time, as he frequently did when Lorna was alive... and all things considered, that is understandable, for how would it "look", given the circumstances.  How uncomfortable is it for Kent to introduce Steve Kinney to his circle of friends? 

ABOVE: April 2008  - Steven G. Kinney (left), who teaches at Princeton High School and Nancy P. Nichols, who is a Physical Therapist with the Fairview Hospital System, look on as Kent played tennis recently at the Elk River High School tennis courts... in apparent effort to appear supportive as "parents".

I do not relish in the following story, for there is much pain in it, as even more than 17 years later, it is a source of difficulty... and even nightmares, which attribute to my having a diagnosis of Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome (PTSD).  The diagnosis of PTSD is characterized by recurrent nightmares and "tripwires", reactivating memories of old scars. PTSD is often diagnosed as something that never... ever, truly "goes away". Perhaps this alone, belies the cruelty that Nancy has inflicted on those in her world... with no appearance of her experiencing remorse.

The reader may speculate as to why this story is presented in this manner. I strongly believe, that Kent has been "manipulated" at least as much as anyone... and it is Kent that may potentially suffer the most, in the later stages of his life. I don't think it is a mere coincidence, that a recent newspaper article reported on Kent's expressed desire to become a psychiatrist... which I both understand and applaud.

This story summons a host of feelings and emotions. I only ask that you remember, that I was once very special man in Kent's life... who loved and cherished him more than likely, I could ever express. I was not "pretending" to be his father... for Nancy had carefully manipulated me into the world of fatherhood, in a manner, so that it was "real" and sincere in every way. My name was on Kent's "original" Minnesota birth certificate... and because of what can only be viewed as an extreme form of cruelty, which she has propagated in a "sociopathic form" upon myself... and many, many others.  Those of you who may be reading this and believe you "know" Nancy, are more likely yourself, an unwitting victim of her deep rooted, sociopath capabilty. To know Nancy and not know her manipulation and lies... and anger, is to not truly know Nancy. What is more, to know about the cruelty inflicted upon Nancy in her childhood, is to be the essence of understanding her sociopathic personality. I am not the first male in Nancy's life to be made a victim... for you would only have to be aware of her failed relationship with David M. Thompson (her first husband)... and several former patients at other hospitals, whom received, as an apparent measure of "therapy", such "treatment" as oral sex on hospital grounds and nearby parks.

Sadly in ways... and fortunate in others, hopefully, Kent will have no memory of this. Kent will also likely have no memory of me ever existing in his past life, as in what is one more form of Nancy's manipulation, she has justified erasing any form of reference to our more than 10 years marriage... and numerous, expensive surgeries and medical procedures, made in an attempt to conceive a child.

Young adolescent children require positive support and influence, in order to hope to be self confident and successful... but more importantly, to learn the "stuff" of caring, loving and respecting others. As you will read, despite his success on the football field and tennis courts, he may face greater challenges in the future. In Nancy's case, she was sent off to boarding school and made to be a "weapon" to be used by a vindictive mother... and an irresponsible father. To more details of this, is to begin to understand Nancy's suppressed anger and rage... and a variety of forms of addictive behavior, as she demonstrates. In basic understanding, to know "addiction" in any form, is to know a need to escape "pain".

If you know Kent... and then understand the reason I've written this, as moreover an expression of still holding a special place in my heart for "my son"... then in some way, I pray he will eventually learn, of a man, for which he meant all the world to...

"SPOUSAL ABUSE and ADULTERY, THE OTHER VICTIM'S STORY"

I've had dozens...more likely hundreds of people tell me, "Ashley, you should write a book". In truth, there are probably several books that could be written. I started to write this several years ago. Initially, it extracted such an emotional toll upon myself, that I had to stop. Over time, the effort was renewed, into what has developed into well over a more than 10 year long project.

William Kendall Waters, born September 13, 1989. He no longer exists. What happened to my son?

Kent was certainly no "imaginary person" in my life. In fact...he not only was real, he represented something more special to me than I can summon the words to express.

Many men do not allow themselves to express... or feel such strong emotions openly. When Kent came into my life, I was 46 years old. I loved Kent before he was even born. I wrote letters to him. I sat on our family room couch before a video camera... and made video tape letters to him... before he was born. I did so, because I knew there was a risk that I may not live until he was mature enough to be aware of my love and caring him. I wanted him to know how special he was...and how important he was to me.

Nancy knew of my enthusiasm...she witnessed first hand, as I made the video tapes. She often was the one operating the camera as I would speak my thoughts to him.

As you read this...PLEASE REMEMBER...I was NOT pretending. Kent was not my stepson...he was not adopted. He was MY son...and a very special one as well....

The first pictures I have of Kent are actually ultrasound scans taken by Nancy's gynecologist, Dr T. C. Carrier, in Edina. I was there when the ultrasound pictures were taken...and  was pretty excited that day. Like many expectant fathers, I took the ultrasound shots to work...and shared them with everybody I knew.

Ultrasound and notes from Kent's baby book. . . I looked on as the above ultrasound image was being made on April 25, 1989 of Kent...approximately 3 months after conception and only a couple of days after Nancy had returned from "running away" to Houston. We also had an amniocentesis test performed at the same occasion...and learned a few days later that "it's a boy". I took this "image" to work and elsewhere in the community...to show everyone the "first pictures of my son". 

Nancy and I initially learned of the possible pregnancy from a "do it yourself" pregnancy test. She came to me one Saturday morning in February of 1989 and expressed the thought that she might be pregnant. I am generally not a very outwardly expressive person with my excitement...but this was really exciting news. We made the 10 mile drive into town, supposedly to get groceries. We both knew that what we really wanted was to get a pregnancy test kit. It was fairly late in the evening and there were not many people in the store. Nancy was a physical therapist at the hospital...and a great many people in town knew her. We were both aware that we did not want people noticing what we were buying.

We got the test kit home...read the directions...and to my disappointment, we had to wait until the next morning to do the test. We arose around 6 AM...and went into the master bathroom to commence the test. After a few minutes...the results indicated that she was indeed pregnant. It was hard to believe! We made an agreement that we would not discuss it with anyone...until we were able to get confirmation from an "authoritative source". 

A week later we drove to the specialist's office in Edina, a suburb of Minneapolis. Nancy had been treated by this individual for several years for infertility problems.

I had a vasectomy about 12 years earlier. Shortly after we were married, we viewed a "National Geographic Special" which featured a story of Dr. Sherman Silber in St. Louis. Dr. Silber had perfected "micro surgery" and had established a reputation for successfully reversing vasectomies. This was pretty big news in 1980. 

I ended up having two such surgeries. The first was an unsuccessful attempt by a urologist in Houston. The second surgery was by Dr. Silber himself. We flew to St. Louis and with a little luck, the surgery proved to be modestly successful. My sperm count was low...but I was indeed capable of producing children again. 

As fate would have it...Nancy was eventually found to have endometriosis. This also required surgery...and what ended up being several years of taking hormones. We "jumped through all the hoops"...and lived with a thermometer and clip board beside the bed. We did everything exactly as instructed by the doctor...and each month there was the disappointment. 

It's hard to convey the sense of excitement in learning of the pregnancy. We had spent tens of thousands of dollars and an amount of emotional expense which would exceed any explainable value...but NOW...she was in fact pregnant.

My initial conclusion was...what had finally "worked" was the week of "abstinence" while I was away in Oklahoma City. I just "jumped on that idea" and generally "rode with it". Apparently it was this premise that led Nancy to believe this idea would work...but it is also the "trap" that was started...the first time she started trying to deceive and manipulate myself...and a growing list of others...through lying. I sometimes must think of the idea that it is her lack of courage to admit to the lie that led her into a "runaway train" of lying and deception...but this is the risk one takes when one chooses to deceive those who love them.

"Oh what a tangled web we weave...when first we practise to deceive". Sir Walter Scott

I remember sitting in the office of Dr. Carrier that afternoon, waiting for him to return with the news from the lab. As he entered the room, he stated, "It sure looks like you are pregnant to me". It seemed as though all of the emotions we had expended for over a decade, had now come to be worth the effort.

Dr. Carrier went on to explain that he needed to get some further information. One of the first questions he asked was, "When do you think the baby was conceived?"

I emphatically responded with, "I know exactly when it was conceived doctor. I had been away on a trip to Oklahoma City for a week. I returned on Friday, January 13th, 1989. We consummated my return just like most couples would do". I remember going on to think how lucky we were to be able to "pin the exact moment down".

The spring of 1989 was filled with excitement. In March we traveled to Tahiti, New Zealand, Australia and Hawaii. Nancy was barely 2 months pregnant...and suffering terribly from "morning sickness". She seemed easily angered at the slightest provocation. I blamed it on the nausea. Much of the trip was miserable. It seemed like almost anything would provoke an argument. At times I felt puzzled as to why so many things would seem to provoke her in the manner that it did. 

. 

• (Above) Sunday, March 19, 1989...Nancy, approximately two months pregnant and suffering from morning sickness, is shown here, in the airport terminal at Papeete, Tahiti (French Polynesia)...awaiting to board the flight to Auckland, New Zealand.

• (Above) Nancy - Tuesday, March 21, 1989 - Piha Beach, North Island, New Zealand...a few miles west of Auckland. Looking west to the Tasman Sea during late afternoon...the location where the opening scene of the movie "The Piano" would be filmed a few years later...a story kindred to "the bizarre" as this one..

. (Above) Thursday, March 30, 1989...Now approximately 21/2 months pregnant. The picture seems to conceal the three weeks of arguing and bickering during the trip...as Nancy's ability to conceal her "secret", apparently became ever more stressful. 

The arguing continued after we got back home to Minnesota. One evening, during the first week of April, I was sitting in the family room after supper...contemplating the unhappy atmosphere. Nancy was in the kitchen finishing the dishes.

I began to consider some pretty profound feelings. I did not like what I was feeling...and I did not like the reason why I was feeling that way either. Never before had I had such strong "gut instincts"...but I needed to express to Nancy just how badly I was being made to feel.

As I walked through the kitchen door, I vividly remember thinking..."This is a lose - lose proposition". No matter what becomes of this...I am about to lose. My convictions about communications "prevailed"...and I walked up to Nancy as she was still standing at the kitchen sink.

I stated that "I need to talk to you".

Nancy responded as though she did not know what I was about to say.

I continued with..."I've been thinking about all of the arguing...and I want to tell you...that it's beginning to make me wonder as to whether or not the child you are carrying may not be mine".

Her response can now be viewed as nothing less than remarkable. Without hesitation...she instantly elevated her position so as to assert herself..."YOU'RE SICK...REALLY SICK... Why don't you go get some help?"

• (Above) Nancy Tuesday, May 9, 1989 - Four months pregnant with Kent. Photo taken at the exact spot , where approximately one month earlier, she made the statement, "YOU'RE SICK...REALLY SICK!"

   

  I felt horrible inside...as though I'd just said something to devastate the best friend I had ever had. I immediately turned on myself...in the belief that I really must be sick to say such a thing to somebody I had loved so intensely. Almost at once...I told myself that I would get an appointment to see a psychiatrist.

  The next evening, we drove to St. Cloud, about 18 miles to the west, for some shopping. We often drove in the pickup truck for such trips, to allow for ease of transporting our purchases. We were driving home, well after dark...and yet another argument broke out. This time Nancy provoked me to the point that I yelled out and made some foolish statements...none with any real meaning. I was hurt...and being pushed to the point of such outbreaks...and what is more...at a loss to explain WHY they were happening.

  Nancy was keeping a secret...I have only now been able to reflect on the significance of.

  Through the course of the marriage, Nancy had revealed an unexplainable, most unusual fear of the dark on several occasions. There was no reasoning with her about it. I once got a call at work, when we lived in Houston...about 1 AM explaining that she was in the kitchen and wanted to go to the bedroom..."If you don't hear back from me in 10 minutes...call the police".

  In late February 1991, after we were separated, she called me around 11PM...again unreasonably frightened because the screen door had come unlatched on the north side of the house and was blowing in the wind. The kitchen phone she was talking on was no more that 4 feet from the door, yet she refused to open the door and latch the screen. She ended up calling the sheriff to have them lock it. Later on, I would wonder if she had not told them a variation of the story which would have involved me...even though she had called me and we were talking on the telephone...with me 15 miles away .

  Related to her fear of the dark was another problem. We had three horses...which she was adamant about being the only one who was to feed and water them. The problem was...if she got home after dark, she would not go out to the barn...unless I went with her. This was the case, in spite of the fact that I had installed about 2 dozen 100 watt light bulbs in the barn and two mercury vapor lights outside...plus two 500 watt quartz lights. You could easily have played football in the barnyard after dark.

  Later, there would be reason to think that she had somehow entwined her irrational fear of the dark into a story to garnish the "compassion" and support, and the backing of a women's organization...to manipulate their involvement in her case.  

  The following day after the argument in the truck, I came home from work...right on schedule. Nancy had gotten in the habit of not coming home until well after supper...almost every day. She was obviously under a heavy work load...and the pregnancy seemed to be inflicting an additional toll.

  I had waited until almost dark...and decided to go out to the barn to feed the horses...in the belief that I would end up having to go out later when she came home...if I did not do it now. Once out in the pasture, I noticed the horses were nowhere to be found. I then walked down our long driveway and found a place where the gravel had been stirred...as though someone had loaded the horses in a trailer and they had balked at being loaded.

  I went into the house and called the Physical Therapy clinic. I spoke with Lorna Kinney, the "Rehab" manager at the Princeton hospital, who had come to be fairly good friends with Nancy...and I knew she would know how to get in touch with her. I was told that Nancy had not come in to work that morning...and that Lorna had been instructed not to tell me where she was.

  I found out several days later that Nancy had taken the horses to Lorna Kinney's.

  Again...(not knowing the truth) I blamed myself for the aftermath of the argument. I was becoming convinced that I was being a pretty bad guy. I was devastated...beyond reason. I became hysterical at the thought that I had driven Nancy away with my statements. I placed all of the blame on myself for what was happening.

  I did not hear from Nancy for a week. I had no idea where she was. I began driving all over central Minnesota searching for her. I called women's shelters seeking her...only to be told in so many words what an obvious SOB I was. I was at once mystified why Nancy had left...and then turning all of the blame on myself...for there appeared to be no other explanation. The overriding "haunting thought" was that she had run away out of hurt for me making the statement about the baby not being mine.

  About two days after she left, I went to see a psychiatrist named Dr. Milo G. Durst * at a clinic in Fridley...on the north side of Minneapolis. Once in Dr. Durst's office I "dumped" on him...explaining how I believed that I must be suffering from a chronic form of depression...and how I had made the horrible accusations about the pregnancy. A couple of years later I got copies of the notes DR Durst made that day, which stated, "Is of the belief that the unborn fetus being carried by his wife was conceived by a friend of the family". (In reality, the "friend" was not a friend at all...but a patient of Nancy's who had began showing up frequently unannounced...and yes, my "gut instincts" had long led me to be suspicious of him.

  I finally got a phone call from Nancy after about a week. Now three months pregnant, she had gotten in our van and driven to Houston...and had been staying with her mother. I told her I had been to see DR Durst...and that he wanted to talk to her. Curiously...Nancy would not agree to go see him, although she did speak with him on the phone. It now is obvious to me that DR Durst must have been suspicious at the time and Nancy had something to conceal.. I have since lost contact with him, as it is believed he moved to the Milwaukee area. I have often, since had a desire to tell him "the rest of the story".

  Within a day or so, Steve Kinney (the then husband of Nancy's boss at the Princeton hospital) came over "to talk". ( This scenario soon became a familiar one, as Steve began to also weave himself into Nancy's life). Over time, Nancy would garnish ample attention from Steve with her tales of woe. Unlike the other targets of her manipulation...this time Steve would "curiously" become a widower, little more than a month after our 1992 divorce...

  The morning of Saturday, April 15, 1989, still not knowing Nancy's location, after running away...I awoke with a burning desire to go talk to Jim Adams. He lived almost 25 miles away, on what is now called Tiger Street, on the east side of a lake in extreme southwestern Isanti County. I arrived at his house around 8 AM as I remember. He was still in his pajamas when he answered the door. He invited me into the kitchen and we sat down at the table just as his wife Betty walked into the room.

  I explained to Jim Adams, that the reason I had come was because Nancy had "run away" and I did not know where she was. I went on to tell him that I had come to believe that he and Nancy were having an affair...

  I then witnessed one, really convincing, "academy award performance" as Jim summoned tears to his eyes...and went on to say (as he further played out an emotional...cracked tone of voice delivery) to the effect, "This has happened to me my entire life. Every time I try to do something nice for somebody...I always get blamed".

  His wife Betty sat silent at the kitchen table as we conversed... witnessing the entire event,

  Once again I instantly reacted with the feeling that I had said something inappropriate, irrational and inexcusable...and apologized repeatedly for making the accusation. Later that day I telephoned him to apologize again.

  The bottom line from this and the previous "kitchen performance" by Nancy...is that I find myself routinely questioning whether people are lying on any number occasions and circumstances. It seems as though we have become a society of liars at times. I basically have adopted an "operating posture"...that if I can satisfy myself with independent verification...I'll believe them...if not, it remains suspect until I establish otherwise. Despite what self confidence you may have on the subject...you simply can't tell when many people are lying.  

  A few days later, Nancy called and stated she wanted to come home. I was cautiously overjoyed...and at the same time having an inclination to blame myself for everything that had happened. DR Durst had prescribed Prozac in a effort to treat my "depression". I took it faithfully...in the belief that it would ultimately make me easier to live with and that once again I would be a "good husband".

  During the time Nancy was gone, one of our "neighbors" named Rose Johnson came over...having heard that there had been a "problem". I was clearly distraught at Nancy leaving and expressed to Rose how I much I loved Nancy...and how upset I was. To my surprise, Rose responded with..."Yes, I know how much you love her...you can see it everywhere...you have pictures of her all over the house. My husband does not even have a picture of me in his billfold". Rose had been an RN at the same hospital that Nancy worked in...and would reveal to me many months later of the "rumors" going around the hospital. Rose almost apologetically expressed to me that she knew that "everybody in the hospital knew it was not your baby"...and that "I felt it was not my place to tell you".

  I have a great appreciation for such honesty in individuals.

  Rose gave me a gift of insight that day...about how we communicate feelings to and about the people we love...without ever speaking a word. It's a sense that we should all be more aware of. In addition, I took comfort in the things that I had tried to convey to Nancy...through my pictures.

  The morning of Thursday, April 20, 1989, I went into work and expressed that I had a "family emergency" and needed to fly to Houston. My manager became personally involved in what was a greatly appreciated phone call to Northwest Airlines asking for their assistance. By 11 AM the same morning...the "good guys" at NWA had me in the cockpit jump seat of a DC9...headed from Minneapolis, to the William P. Hobby airport in Houston.

  Nancy met me upon my arrival at "Hobby". She explained that she had some unfinished business to attend to...and that she wanted me to rent a car and go to Galveston to visit my parents...then she would meet me the following day and we would drive back to Minnesota. (Nancy later, in a moment of anger, told me that the "unfinished business" was her seeking out (by then remarried) ex-husband, David Thompson... and asking him to "take her back". She stated that David had said, "Thanks but no thanks". (At the time, David Thompson lived in Fort Bend County, near Damon... and not too distant from her mother, who lived in Quail Valley (Missouri City). 

  I find this one episode as remarkably "revealing"... in that you no doubt have guessed by now that...in fact, Nancy knew at the time she was indeed pregnant by a "patient"...whom she eventually would testify in court that she had in fact had sexual intercourse with "Jim Adams"...the week of January 8th, 1989 "at a time appropriate for the child William Kendall Waters to be conceived"...when I was some 800 miles distant, in Oklahoma City. It's rather remarkable to consider that...here she was three months pregnant by another man...married to me...and was trying to get her ex-husband to "take her back".

  Through all of this, one needs to remember that Nancy was no "bar room maiden". She graduated with honors at the Quaker boarding school in Westown, Pennsylvania. She has three college degrees. One from Northeastern University in Boston, the University of Miami and the University of Minnesota...and graduated with honors each time. She possess an excellent professional reputation and appears to have been respected throughout the medical community. (This later proved to exacerbate my adversities in dealing with her...for I am certain that these same people simply could not believe the allegations and charges...which I had proven as scientific fact...in addition to other evidence).

  Nancy met me again at Hobby airport the next day, as "agreed" on April 21, 1989. It was a beautiful sunny day. We stopped in Huntsville at the museum home of Sam Houston. April 21st is the date that Texas won it's independence from Mexico at the battle of San Jacinto. As a Texan...it would be the equivalent of remembering something that occurred on the 4th of July.

  We drove a few miles north of Huntsville on Interstate 45. The bluebonnets were out...and it was simply too pretty a day not to stop and experience the beauty. Nancy and I walked a short distance up the hillside to the east of the highway and sat down in a deep blue field of wildflowers...beneath a beautiful blue sky. I took her photograph, as I often did. I then summoned from within me an attempt to express both my love and my sorrow for what I had done. (Again...I was not aware of her "secret"). I made it most clear of my desire to work together and truly was of the belief that we could work things out. I also made it clear to her that she should feel like she could tell me "anything"...for I deeply believed in the value of honesty and integrity. That day haunts me...

  (Above) Nancy - Friday, April 21, 1989 - A stop on the side of Interstate 45, near Madisonville, Texas. We had departed Houston that morning, on the return trip to Minnesota, after she had "ran away" to her mother's in Missouri City, Texas...and further "weaving the web" as she began suggesting to anyone who would listen that she was becoming afraid of me. I approached her only a few moments after taking this picture... and expressed a desire to be open...along with an intense desire to save our marriage. She was three months pregnant...and would never voluntarily reveal the secret she was holding within her. This is a classic case of trying to manipulate and control other people by pretending to be a victim.

   

  "If you bring forth what is within you, what you bring forth will save you. If you do not

   bring forth what is within you, what you bring forth will destroy you".

  -The Gospel of St. Thomas Logian

   

  The first few days after returning to Minnesota were laden with an uneasy sense of "something is still wrong". I tried as best I could to promote a more romantic atmosphere...for I wanted to believe that everything would be OK...given the proper effort and atmosphere. Nancy complained that I was "smothering" her with too much affection...which puzzled me at the time...for it was no more affection than she one time was more than willing to accept.

  During the period that she was in Houston, I promised myself that my family would again start going to church. Part of the "return agreement" made by Nancy was that she would agree to go to church with me. Nancy expressed a desire to attend the Methodist church in Princeton, as the minister there, a man named Jack Harris, was a patient of hers whom she described as "a nice guy". I felt that "going to church" was something that we had both "needed" for some time...and I felt a responsibility toward my family to see that we all attended.

  After the excitement of the amniocentesis results...and the knowledge that the baby was "a boy"...I began to think of all the things that were meaningful to me. I was now 46 years old...I had been divorced before...when I lived near Houston, Texas and "lost" two sons in that divorce.

  Within only a couple of weeks after the divorce in Texas, my former wife had taken my two sons and moved a thousand miles away to Minnesota. I was fortunate to have "free" air transportation...and had spent the first couple of years flying between Houston and Minneapolis as frequently as I could...but generally no more than four times a year. I felt this was woefully inadequate for the sake of my son's having a relationship with their father. I loved them and missed them terribly. We talked every week on the telephone...but that was "not enough" either.

  The PATCO air traffic control strike in 1981 had created some major personnel staffing shortages for the F.A.A. I saw this as an opportunity to move closer to my two sons. The "beaurocracy" within the F.A.A. finally responded with a job offer in Sioux Falls, South Dakota in January of 1983. This was only 90 miles from my two son's residence in southwestern Minnesota. Once we moved to Sioux Falls, we were able to be together "every other weekend".

  Even this arrangement had left me with an "empty" sense. I pondered within me why it seemed so important.

  My father had been a businessman and was 42 years old when I was born. He owned and managed a furniture store near Houston. It was a business which operated six days a week. The only time I remember seeing my dad was on Sunday afternoons...and he was usually too tired to do anything it seemed. Through my youth, I was active in Boy Scouts, Civil Air Patrol and many high school sports activities. I can not remember my dad ever taking me fishing, camping or even attending a sporting event with me. All of this had left me with a sense of how a boy "without a father" feels...and I did not want my sons to feel that way.

  Despite all of my desires...time...overall seemed to have proven my efforts ineffective, especially with my youngest son, who was less than two years old at the time of the divorce...and it would seem that with time...more and more he would not to be able to relate to me as a father. A loss that will haunt me till I die...

  Nancy's pregnancy represented a LOT to me... and knowing early on...that is was a boy, seemed to offer an opportunity to help "fill a void" within me that was troubling...almost every day. It was almost as though life was presenting me with a genuine chance to be...what every person on this earth deserves to have...but many people never do. I revered the opportunity. I was aware that this pregnancy was more important to me than a younger man might ever appreciate...more so than I could even dare attempt to openly express, for they would not likely understand what it was...that I was trying to tell them.

  (Below) - Within a few days after the amniocentesis...I commenced to assemble "Kent's Baby Book". I always intended to make it more formal...but initially just made some hand written notes in it. The next document is a scanned copy of the first page...  

  

  All the while...during this period, I was going to "therapy" ...and being "treated" by Dr. Milo Durst. I simply told the man how I felt...and at the time I had been manipulated into believing that I was suffering from depression. This has since led me to believe how really complicated the study of human behavior can be. I was taking a Prozac every day...in the belief that it was treating my "chemical imbalance". I have since pondered how effective Prozac is for an individual who is being belittled at every opportunity of every hour of the day...saturated with negative criticism. At one time I professed to Nancy that I would be willing to take Prozac every day...the rest of my life, if it would make me OK. Curiously (if not cleverly), throughout this period, Nancy refused to visit Dr. Durst in person... and only spoke with him on the telephone. Upon reviewing Dr. Durst's notes from that period, curiously he seemed to pick up on her "evasion".

  This then also, exposes a willingness and ability to manipulate other people...apparently without conscience. Is this not the stuff of a sociopath?

  Another interesting facet of Nancy at the time was an unusual desire to watch the television program "Dallas". We normally could not make plans for any activities away from the house on Friday nights. If we were away, we would have to videotape the show on two separate VCR's. If we remained home, we still taped the show so she could again watch it on Sunday afternoon. This is a person that watched virtually no other television. I need not review the basis of the show...which was replete with immorality, adultery, sex and preoccupation with money schemes. Is there reason to think that "Dallas" fed her with ideas? More than once I have reason to believe it did.

  During this period, I began frequent visits with Reverend Jack Harris at the Methodist Church. I described to him how important it was to me that the Prozac do what I was hoping for. We talked about depression and my "treatment" on many occasions. By chance, both "Newsweek" and "Time" did cover stories about Prozac and it's "miracle promise". Jack Harris asked me if I would be willing to speak on the subject as "stand in" for a sermon when he would be away one Sunday. I agreed to do it.

  So...on a Sunday morning in the summer of 1989...I stood in the pulpit of the First United Methodist Church in Princeton...with Nancy sitting in the congregation...as I delivered a sermon about those who suffer from depression, mental illness and the treatment of such maladies...including the availability of such "miracle drugs" as Prozac.

  More than once I have wondered as to the extremes of manipulation and deceit required by Nancy to allow her "dilemma" to go on undetected. At what point does one entertain that there is indeed a possibility of mental illness here...but what is it? I brought this issue up with several doctors over the years. Is it possible that she is a (yet to be diagnosed) sociopathic schizophrenic? Even if one entertains the idea that it is only a text book case of "sex addiction"...there are numerous abnormal neuroses to consider...as suggested in the book "Women, Sex, and Addiction" by Charlotte Davis Kasl, PhD. (ISBN 0-06-097321-8) One doctor I spoke with expressed how complicated it can be to diagnose schizophrenia ..."For invariably they are very intelligent and capable of extremes of deception. They can be very skillful at avoiding diagnosis". The "legal" problem here is...someone who is engrossed in a scheme of deception and manipulation...and apparently altogether successful...is not likely to suddenly "turn themselves in" for treatment. There are other factors which further exacerbate problems with getting treatment which I will describe later. (Not the least of which is the ignorance and unwillingness to confront the "politically correct"..."women's issues" entwined in this particular situation by uninformed District Court judges such as Steven Ruble.

  On the other hand...what if it were nothing more than the act of an extremely selfish, immoral individual trying to steal a quarter of a million dollars in child support and hundreds of thousands of dollars in property and other assets?

  The issues here are most troubling to me. In spite of everything she has done, I still find myself caring for Nancy's welfare. For if she is in fact ill...there is not one shred of evidence to suggest she has been given or sought appropriate treatment. If she is guilty of what should be nothing less than criminal fraud...it is certainly curious how many individuals within "the system" choose to "look the other way. The reasons suspect why these persons choose to no confront an obvious problem appears to range from a need to be politically correct to suspicion of sexually exploiting the situation.

  There are memories within me of "a Nancy" that was wonderful to be in love with. It troubles me to deal with the thought that she is anything less than the person I once so believed in. Perhaps this is only a mechanism to help me cope with the "hurt" from within...but when you love someone with such intensity...much like we all viewed in the movie "The Ghost", for example...for the memories do not fade so easily.

  I am then left to flounder almost perpetually in what to believe in. The only "hard evidence" I have is that she has never come forward to apologize. At no time through the entire discourse has she ever expressed any sort of remorse...and that troubles me, for I prefer to believe that "the Nancy" I know must be feeling very remorseful within. What is it that keeps her from making that expression? The most likely reasons might be explained by things that happened to her in childhood...which I will talk about later.

  I have considered that...it is very likely these "things that have not been explained"...are the driving force for me writing this story. If only she would have stepped forward to express remorse...I could at once experience the knowledge that "the Nancy" I once knew does have a conscience...that my efforts to express forgiveness have been worthwhile...and perhaps might be the "stuff" to allow me to "heal". If only I knew what she was really feeling...

  On the other hand...it is "interesting" to ponder...that I was taking "Prozac" for treatment of "depression"...because someone else did not have the courage to admit to her adultery...and in what is reasonable to assume...that, as a result, they were to some degree having difficulty "dealing" with the lying and deceit...and it was surfacing in the "anger" directed at me. One could then conclude that I was taking Prozac to treat the consequences of her cuckoldry and possibly her neurosis.

  Concurrent with other activities during this period, we began to attend prenatal classes at the clinic in Princeton. I was more than willing...and in fact enthusiastic about being present at the birth of my son. The plans were for the delivery to actually occur at the Fairview Southdale Hospital in Edina...nearly 70 miles away. In an effort to save further driving and inconvenience, Nancy arranged for us to attend prenatal classes in Princeton. An obstetrics nurse named "Carol" at the Princeton clinic conducted the classes on Tuesday evenings in the clinic waiting room.

  I eagerly attended the classes with Nancy...  and as you might guess, we were by far the most "senior couple" in the class. I had shared "our story" with Carol...about how we had been trying to conceive a child for over 10 years...and how much we considered this to be one of the "miracle pregnancies" you read about.

  After a couple of sessions, Carol asked us if we would talk about "our miracle" to the other couples present in the class. This is yet one more of the extraordinary moments in time I wonder about...as Nancy stood before two dozen people or more...and blatantly lied about the truth. There are many such examples to cite...for she was equally lying to her mother and father...as well as her "best friends".

  "Nurse Carol" asked if we would mind "keeping her informed" over time...for she was interested in hearing about the baby in the future. Over the next couple of years, I saw her in town while shopping on a couple of occasions and explained how well Kent was doing...as I appreciated her "being interested". She is one of the "nice people" we share this planet with...who seems to be interested in everybody's activities.

  A few weeks after the D.N.A. blood tests, I again ran into Carol in Weisbrod's Bakery in Princeton. Once again she asked about the baby. As we stepped out on the sidewalk, I was aware of a sense that "I can not be a part of deceiving this woman"...and so I told Carol of the story...and that it was not a "miracle pregnancy" after all.

  Later that day...I found myself caring for Nancy's wellness...for I pondered at how difficult it must be to live with such continuing deception of everyone in her presence.

  The summer of 1989 continued to "fly by"...as Minnesota summers always do. We continued to make improvements to the house. Nancy seemed almost "driven" to complete projects. We built a large "pole barn", a 50 x 50 foot dog kennel and a 150 x 75 foot fenced in riding ring....which required the moving of approximately 100 yards of dirt in order to be level enough to use. We planted or moved dozens of trees...in addition to other landscaping. Through all of this, we found time to take a vacation trip to the Oshkosh air show and a drive up the north shore of Lake Superior to Thunder Bay, Canada.

   

    (Above) - On "summer vacation" Friday, August 4, 1989...at Gooseberry Falls State Park in the Minnesota "arrow head"...on the north shore of Lake Superior. Kent's birth was only a little over a month away.

  There seems to be nothing remarkable about the memories of the last month before Kent's birth. I suppose we were preoccupied with the imminent event and not prone to be doing anything very extraordinary. This may also reveal Nancy's growing ability to conceal her story. Sometimes I have wondered that the ability to "live a lie" may be more possible for us to do than we think. If the "need" is present...we can even "deceive" ourselves into living and saying whatever it is that is necessary to do. In opposition to that belief...is that such behavior can easily lead to weaving such an entangled "web of deceit" that it may be extremely difficult...if not impossible to recover the truth. More than once I have literally been on my knees and prayed for Nancy to be granted the strength to heal.

  On Tuesday, September 12, 1989, I was working an evening shift. When I got home about 10:30 PM, Nancy was up and walking around in some discomfort. Believing that the baby was not due for another month or so, we accepted the discomfort as merely "related to the pregnancy"...and we went to bed.

  Shortly after midnight, the discomfort increased to the point where we decided to call the doctor. He advised us to go to the Princeton hospital for a checkup. While at the Princeton hospital, Nancy's "water broke"...and it was clear the baby would be coming soon. There was little to no "dilation" evident...and we discussed continuing the drive to Edina...almost 60 miles distant. We decided to "go for it" and made an otherwise uneventful drive to Fairview Southdale Hospital, in Edina, which is on the "near southwest side" of Minneapolis.

   

    (Above) - Wednesday, September 13, 1989 - 4:25 AM. This photo was taken just as we arrived at Fairview Southdale hospital in Edina, Minnesota, having just driven approximately 60 miles from Princeton...and Nancy's web continued to be woven even tighter under her misleading outward appearance of joy.

    The preparations began that led up to the time of Kent's delivery. Unless there were unforeseen complications the "big event" was to take place in a "birthing room"...which outwardly resembled most any hospital room. By 6AM the contractions were becoming more consistent...although not strong or frequent.

  I was constantly at Nancy's side through the morning. We made several phone calls to the "expectant grandparents" and friends to keep them aware of progress. We talked frequently...but of nothing profound. It seemed as though nothing beyond the excitement of a child birth was present in the atmosphere...for that "excitement" seemed to command the moment.

  It was almost noon before Nancy was significantly dilated. The contractions were growing more intense by the minute. Still the excitement seemed to drag on....until a few minutes before 2PM. I was most aware of my job as "coach"...and Nancy's pain and discomfort seemed to be somehow imparted to me as well. I remained by her...talking and comforting...hoping that perhaps by holding her hand...it would help somehow.

     

    (Above) - Wednesday, September 13, 1989...approximately 2 PM. The nurse on the right was saying PUSH! This is a place and a moment in time that will never dim in my memory. What Nancy said to me only a few minutes later was profound...and I shall never forget that as well...

   As the delivery progressed, I was occupied with trying to divide my time between comforting Nancy and taking pictures. Somehow the "reasons" to document this moment were most important...as I am certain any new father would express. I took almost a whole role of film of Kent's delivery...which are much more "graphic" than the above photo. Out of respect for Nancy...those do no need to be displayed. What I am trying to convey to the reader here is the "sense and extremes of emotion" which childbirth entails...especially if you are the parent. Again...I remind the reader...that I was not pretending...that was my son being born!

  At the moment in time when Kent was almost fully delivered, the doctor, whom you see seated in the picture, allowed me to "step in"...and DELIVER MY SON...

  I took Kent from Nancy's womb...and gently placed him on her abdomen. She was fully conscious, as the picture reveals. The doctors and nurses continued with their duties as I walked around to Nancy's side, gave her a kiss and held her...as I remained "fixed" on the moment.

  Nancy then looked at me and stated to my face..."Ashley, I am so happy to give you the son you have always wanted. Now you will have someone with which you can do all the things you have wanted to do...and teach him all of the things you know".

  I was so struck by the truth of that statement...I don't recall responding to it...for it was EXACTLY what I was feeling. Upon hearing the words...I do recall thinking of how special it was to hear it...and how special it was to hear Nancy say it. It was so special, in fact...that I remember thinking that she must have given some thought to saying it before Kent was born. It is this very type of powerful feeling and emotions that leave me not knowing for sure...what to believe. Is this the "stuff" of an evil, manipulative mind...or the "stuff" of someone that really did love me that much. I have no way of knowing for certain...

   

    (Above) - Souvenirs of September 13, 1989

  Kent's name was decided upon before he was born...one more "benefit" of having amniocentesis and ultrasound tests performed. We named him "William Kendall Waters"...the first name, "William" chosen from a wonderful uncle I had...my dad's brother, who had recently died, and who frequently took my cousin and I fishing in Galveston Bay when we were kids. "Kendall" was a "Nichols" family name...and it was agreed that he would be called "Kent". I have speculated that even this was considered in "Nancy's plan"...in the event that her "secret" would become revealed.

  We took Kent home to our rural Mille Lacs County "hobby farm" near Estes Brook the next day...with me somehow believing that everything that was worthwhile and good in life would eventually come to pass.

  We took Kent to church with us on the very first Sunday after he was born...in part with the belief that this was a part of life that we had missed...but that my family was going to have.

  The following Sunday Kent was baptized by Jack Harris during the 11 AM service at the Princeton United Methodist Church.

  Nancy returned to work only about a month after Kent's birth. I was puzzled by her motivation to return to work so soon. She arranged for the wife of one of the other male PT's to provide day care in their home.

  On days when I got off of work before Nancy, I would pick Kent up at day care and take him home. I soon began to make it a practice to sing to him as we made the 13 mile drive home through the countryside. I sang many of the songs I once learned in Boy Scouts...remembering the fun we had around campfires when I was a kid. Kent would watch me as I sang to him...and smile...and I would reap my reward in garnishing a smile...from a little boy I loved...and I knew someday would be very special to me. Once home, he often would take a nap. At other times we would roll and play on the floor...with me pretending to be no bigger, older or wiser than his few months.

  Through the course of the next year, we celebrated all the "first" rituals..."1st Christmas", "1st haircut" and seemed to be genuinely growing together as a family. Early in the summer of 1990 we drove to Texas and then through Florida so both sets of grandparents could meet their grandson.

  Concurrent with the same period, I continued to take Prozac, regularly attended church and pursued the myriad of home improvement projects. In the spring of 1990 I framed and poured a large concrete apron by the garage. It was to eventually serve as a "basketball court"...and was big enough to park about 12 cars.

  I also assembled and installed a large satellite television dish and designed and built a large deck on the front of the house. One of the guys from work came over to help with the construction...but Nancy was so argumentative that day that he conjured up a reason to leave. He later told me that he "didn't know how I could stand it". Curiously, I somehow appreciated knowing that somebody else was aware of what I was "putting up with".

  At this point in time, given the chance, Nancy could rebuttal with any number of individuals who witnessed me in less than good form. I began to be aware of a sense that each time we were to go somewhere...Nancy would pick a fight, just before we left. We arrived at our destination...with me all upset...and Nancy walking in smiling, as though she had not a care in the world.

  The criticism seemed to escalate over time...and then would ebb again. I started sleeping on the couch in the family room...having been belittled time after time...each time wondering what it was. I could be criticized for putting the wrong kinds of clothes together in the washer...for hanging them up...for not hanging them up...for changing Kent's diaper with the wrong one...the wrong place or the wrong time.

  One of the occasions I most recall was during the drive home right after church. We had just been administered communion. I do not profess to be able to live a Christ like life style...I simply do the best I can. When I fall down...I try to get back up again. I am human... When I take communion...at least for a point in time, I feel as though I am indeed better off for it. I am not necessarily a better person...but communion seems to convey to me the ability to strive to better till next time. During this occasion...we had just driven off from the front of the church. There were any number of possibilities of routes to choose for the drive home. On this occasion, I chose to drive one block west of the church, prior to turning. I no sooner got through the first intersection....and hardly 10 minutes after taking communion than Nancy blurted out, "GOD DAM YOU...YOU DID THAT JUST TO PISS ME OFF".

  I was upset at the comment...for a multitude of reasons. Not only did it violate a basic standard of decency...it seemed to bring a focus to all that I had been sustaining. It graphically demonstrated how there seemed to be nothing that could be done without risking criticism.

  Through this same period, Jim Adams (James Francis Adams), whom I was introduced to as "a patient" of Nancy's began showing up unannounced at random occasions. Occasionally he would bring his wife Betty along...apparently to have the reason for the visit "appear respectable". I was immediately suspicious. Betty seemed to be unusually quiet during the visits...and I pondered if she too was suspicious.

  People who have "affairs" are not necessarily dumb...in fact you might consider that the brighter they are, the craftier they may be in the evasive maneuvers necessary to avoid detection...for it may even be considered to be part of the "excitement"...and serve to enhance the mutual attraction. There are any number of resources which any individual can and will use to conceal the affair. One of them is to bring along one's spouse...almost in a blatant manor...but with the actual intent of making it appear as a simple "social call". The book "Adultery" by Annette Lawson (ISBN 0-465-00076-2) the author describes the "pathological" study of several cases...in addition to her own...and in each one reveals a degree of pain suffered by both the participants and "victims".

  One sunny Saturday morning I was in the barn, doing some electrical wiring. I was sitting on a 5 gallon pail which had been turned upside down...stripping the insulation on some wiring I was preparing to install...when I sensed the presence of someone. I looked up...and in his typical "sheepish fashion"...Jim Adams began to try to strike up a conversation. I remembered this particular conversation for what was not said than as for what was said.

  Jim Adams stated, "I guess you wonder why I come out here like this... huh?"

  Without speaking or gesturing...I simply continued to look at him. I clearly remember thinking..."Well I know you think I am from Texas. Because of my Texas accent...you apparently must believe I am a real dummy...huh?"

  I nodded in Jim Adams direction...so as to encourage him to continue...

  He then stated, "I'm just a guy who enjoys helping people...I just like to help people".

  Again...without speaking, I thought to myself, "You must think I'm a REAL dumb ass...don't you?"

  In spite of my feelings...I was in somewhat of a dilemma. At that point in time, I had nothing more than gut instincts go on. The other factor to consider was...the man was a physical therapy patient of my wife. While one part of me wanted to throw him off of my property...another part of me (the one that Nancy had convinced was "sick...really sick") wanted to dismiss the matter as simply inappropriate feelings.

    Early in the fall of 1990 we celebrated Kent's first birthday. Like parents of all 1 year old children, we took several pictures of Kent. The below picture would later come to haunt me as to my blindness. Perhaps I was blinded by my love for Kent...perhaps there is no reason to explain it.

     

  (Above) - Thursday, September 13, 1990. Kent's 1st birthday.

  Anyone who knows James Francis Adams of rural Princeton (address is Zimmerman) Minnesota would instantly recognize the likeness of "Jim" Adams in the above photograph. At the time the photograph was taken, I was "blinded" by many emotions. Perhaps this our nature.

  The book "Adultery" addresses another issue regarding this however...in that it has been established that women involved in cuckoldry frequently... knowingly or unknowingly, choose a partner in adultery who has a physical likeness to their husband. This may account for possibly thousands of children who are the products of such a relationship...going undetected. Curiously...soon after Kent's birth, I saw a "likeness" to my uncle...whom Kent was named after.

     

    (Above) - Wednesday, March 13, 1991. Kent at 18 months of age...and wonderfully becoming "all little boy" as I pictured during an afternoon with he and Nancy at Riverside Park in Princeton....and we had been separated since late December 1990. .

  The date of Sunday, October 7th, 1990 is another date which I will not soon forget.

  There are certain "rites of seasons"...for people who live in Minnesota. These include things related to "winterizing your house and property"..."before the snow flies". Early in the day we laid out our plans to get things picked up in the yard, roll up the garden hose, bring some firewood in closer to the house, etc. That morning I had told Nancy's daughter, Sandy, that she was expected to help in the effort. There was a small pile of brush in the backyard that needed to be taken to the "burn pile". It was a small job that probably would require no more than 10 minutes of her time.

  I acknowledged to Sandy that I knew she had a television program she wanted to watch...and that was OK. When she did the job was up to her...as long as it was done "today".

  Late in the afternoon Sandy received a telephone call from Lorna Kinney (Nancy's supervisor). Lorna wanted to take Sandy and her daughter roller skating at the rink in Princeton. Lorna lived about 10 miles east of Milaca...and about 22 miles from our house...which was about 10 miles west northwest of Princeton. Lorna was willing to drive well out of her way to take Sandy skating.

  I happened to be in the kitchen when the phone rang...and Sandy instantly asked me if she could go...saying "Please, oh please...can I go?"

  I saw this as a time when parental responsibility to teach a child life skills was most evident. I asked Sandy if she had taken the brush to the burn pile as instructed earlier. She said she had not. I told her that if she moved the brush pile she could go. She instantly replied that "Lorna is leaving right now". I told her that she still had plenty of time to both move the brush pile and get ready to go...if she did not waste any further time arguing.

  At that moment, Sandy ran out into the yard to get Nancy.

  Nancy and Sandy returned in a minute or so...with Nancy spouting, "YOU BASTARD...WHY WON'T YOU LET HER GO?"

  Standing in front of the kitchen sink, I attempted to explain my position on the matter.

  Nancy drew to within about 18 inches of me. She had a facial expression so filled with anger as I have not seen on a Hollywood screen...and her right fist was clinched and drawn back as though she would punch me in the face at any moment. (I have had a great deal of facial and sinus surgery...and had good reason to be extremely alarmed). I raised an open hand to defend myself. At that moment we spit in each others faces. I responded with slapping her with an open hand across the top of her head...and even with that, my strike was tempered...it was not intended to injure.

  I was instantly sickened with the idea of what was going on. Again I clearly remember asking myself..."Why is this happening?" It seemed as though there was no logical reason for her to so easily angered. It would be many months before I learned the reason.

  Sandy had a long history of bloody noses. We had taken her to a doctor for the problem only to be told that it was too bad to do anything about...and given her age, with time, it should heal by itself. We had received numerous calls from school and swim practice to report Sandy getting a bloody nose. She had frequently awakened in the morning to find she had a bloody nose during the night.

  During the fracas, Sandy was standing behind me, out of my view. (I thought she had gone outside to move the brush pile). When Nancy started hitting me...and as I was slapping her in return, Sandy grabbed my arm from behind...and strained herself in the process. The strain resulted in a bloody nose.

  The following day...Sandy went to school and before the day was over, I had been "reported" to the authorities as having hit Sandy and caused a bloody nose.

  As long as Nancy and Sandy will live...they will not likely escape the influence of the lie they told that day...nor will I.

  At the risk of repeating myself...my greatest emotion was that of being sickened by the criticism, arguing and bickering...that although tame by many other's experiences...was destroying the fiber of my family.

  This incident might be established as "the beginning of the end" of any hope to salvage my marriage to Nancy.

   

  "I'm From the Government...I'm Here To Help"

   

  I was reported to the "Mille Lacs County Intervention Project" and Mille Lacs County Social Services.

  A man named Richard Schmidt was assigned to my "case"...a man I have grown to despise...as well as any office or process his "authority" represents. I learned nothing from "his system" other than they are full of excuses why a job can't be done right. They are quick to accuse and demean. They have no allowance for input...and through the most lame of investigations will draw conclusions and base prosecution on hearsay. Furthermore there is clear evidence to suggest that he "put words" in Sandy's' mouth and "coached" her what to say.

  Time and again I told Richard Schmidt that Nancy was not only lying...but it was done in such a manipulative manner as to be suggestive of the "stuff" of mental illness. I eventually even shared my thoughts about various potential diagnoses...including "sex addiction". He simply chose to ignore my requests. (Although I have grown suspect of how he may have used the information). I have not talked to the man since the D.N.A. blood tests...and he certainly does not seem to possess the qualities or integrity to admit he was wrong.

  Why would Sandy be willing to do such a thing? Sandy wanted desperately for her mother and father to remarry. She often asked Nancy why such a thing could not happen. Sandy was now old enough to understand how she might be a part of dissolving the marriage of her mother to me...whom she had come to despise. Did anybody ever ask her that question?

  I grew more and more annoyed with Richard Schmidt. He was argumentative and accusational without grounds on countless occasions. He often spoke with demeaning language on the telephone...which I became motivated to record. I not only have the recordings but have transcribed them...for the purpose to have available for admission to court. It is blatantly obvious how this "system" manipulates what will or will not be admissible as court evidence when they have something to hide. The judges work with them day in and day out...and become part of the problem.

  

  (Above) The (somewhat unkempt) residence of Richard Schmidt (who has since moved), in southwestern Mille Lacs County, Minnesota. It is located approximately 1/2 mile east of Mille Lacs CR-7 and 1 mile south of CR-13 (NW Chestnut Road). It is also located a remarkably "convenient" distance of only 1.41 statue miles, at a bearing of 166 degrees, from the residence of Nancy P. Nichols. All of this providing more "food for thought" about the premise and basis of his "professional" relationship to Nancy... especially when it is established that he always visited her home "alone"...and he was fully appraised of her sexual exploits....and he exercised a significant degree of power and influence on her, in a tightly "controlled" envelope. [GPS location 4537.498N 9343.829W]

  In addition I went to the office of Mille Lacs County Social Services as well as the Mille Lacs County Board (equivalent county commissioners or police jurors in other states) ...only to be met with political side stepping and manipulation. They refused to let me address any issues related to Richard Schmidt without the County Attorney present...who immediately tried the "lets manipulate the facts" routine. I told her flat out...in the presence of the board...that "In this room we are going to keep all the cards on top of the table". She did not contain her livid posture well.

  The county board promised an investigation into my complaint. I NEVER HEARD ONE OUNCE OF A RESPONSE...despite several calls to David Tellinghussen...a farmer turned "small time politician". I confronted him once in the Holiday grocery store in Princeton about it...at which time he instantly "went ballistic" in a further display of arrogance. It would seem such individuals do not take kindly to being proven wrong.

  Throughout this time I was becoming more and more convinced that Nancy was mentally ill. I will be the first to acknowledge that I am not a "professional" in this area. I had discussed her behavior with several doctors and read numerous related books...and each one convinced me further that there was something wrong.

  In the meanwhile, Richard Schmidt was trying to get me evicted from my house. Nancy openly expressed that she did not want this to happen. Richard Schmidt began threatening Nancy with removing Sandy from the home...which clearly "scarred the hell out of her".

  Richard Schmidt had me charged with "5th degree assault" of Sandy which included the allegation that I had 'struck her and caused a bloody nose". Nothing could be further from the truth.

  Richard Schmidt approached me to "seek counseling" and attend the "St. Cloud Intervention Project" (SCIP) program. I did so voluntarily...more as a demonstration to Nancy that I wanted to TRY to do something to alleviate the furthering of deterioration in our relationship (which proved to be too impossible a challenge for me to do by myself).

  The SCIP program was operated by an individual who had no professional training whatsoever. He told me so! The "sessions" were held in an old building in an upstairs room in downtown St. Cloud. There were anywhere from 20 to 40 men who attended each Tuesday evening.

  Each meeting began with the individuals standing up and stating what they were accused of. The "dialog" consisted of..."admit you are a bastard"..."admit that all men would rape a woman if given only half a chance"..."admit you beat up and/or intimated your wife". Some of the attendees were actually in jail and released only to attend the meeting.

  On one occasion, a man sitting next to me was told to stand up and "tell his story". He was huge guy...and one could only imagine his physical prowess in a fight could prove overwhelming. During his testimony, he revealed that the had hit his wife...as he held her off of the floor by her hair. He was prompted by the "instructor" with...go on! He responded with..."What do you mean?"

  The instructor added..."What about the baby?"

  To which he responded..."Well she dropped the baby?"

  It seems the baby had gotten a concussion when dropped to the floor by it's mother. Having been so injured, the infant was taken to the hospital. Questions by hospital attendants revealed what had happened...and he also had been charged with "5th degree assault".

  I drove home that night in tears. I was horrified with the story. I grieved for the little baby. I was also becoming aware that "people would identify ME with that sort of behavior"...which both sickened and angered me. I WAS NOT THAT KIND OF PERSON...and I resolved that under no circumstances would I be bullied or intimidated to profess to having indulged in that type of behavior.

  Richard Schmidt clearly despised my confrontational position.

  During this period I learned that there had been multiple investigations of the Mille Lacs County Intervention Project, most recently in a notable complaint from multiple police departments, which included a woman Princeton police officer named Pam Samuelson. A front page story in the "Princeton Union Eagle" reported on the scandal involving the Mille Lacs County Intervention Project. Multiple complaints had been filed by both the Princeton and Milaca police departments. The "Union Eagle" reported that more often than not...when attending to a domestic violence complaint, police would assess a situation as very minor and easily resolved. I went to the Princeton police station and had a rather long conversation with Officer Samuelsson who revealed to me that on several occasions she had learned that the Mille Lacs Country Intervention Project had apparently intimidated such women into getting an eviction order through the filing for an court ordered "Order for Protection".

  In time I also learned that Richard Schmidt was literally a neighbor. He lives in a house on approximately five acres, situated on the corner of property located 1/4 mile south of Country Road 13 and 1/4 quarter mile east of Country Road 7. He has an unlisted phone number...for obvious reasons. His "loose cannon "tactics" have no doubt been party to destroying many relationships.

  Curiously enough, Richard Schmidt is very close to the same age as Nancy. He always worked alone...and always at the "victims" house. He came to "counsel Nancy" on multiple such occasions. My "gut instincts" are screaming at me to be suspicious of his motives.

  On Friday, December 7, 1990, I was working as temporarily in charge for the evening shift at work on the 4PM to 12 PM shift. Nancy came by work about 8PM to tell me that she had a training seminar to attend in Minneapolis the next day and that the hospital had agreed to pay for a motel room there..."So she would not have such a long drive in the morning". A few minutes later...she revealed to me that under the pressure...she wanted to seek a divorce.

  I was devastated beyond description. I could hardly contain my emotions at work. I removed myself to one of the offices and began to cry uncontrollably...hoping that people would not be aware that I was not in the operations room. I forcibly gathered my emotions in time to sign off of the position at midnight.

  I left work that night and drove home to an empty house. We had an oversized two car "tuck under garage" that was well sealed and insulated. I wanted to die. I drove in the garage and left my truck running. I went out to the barn and got our Honda Accord...and drove in into the garage and left the motor running.

  I went upstairs and wrote Nancy about my devastation and how much I loved her...but could no longer bare the situation. I did not want to live under the circumstances. I could not face losing Kent. I could not face losing someone I loved with such devotion.

  By around 1 AM Saturday morning, I finished the letter...and took several pain pills. I went into the basement and opened the door from the garage into the house. I was soon drowsy from the pain pills. I went to sleep knowing I would never have to deal with this intense of pain again. My last conscious moments was that I was not only going to die...but now welcomed the relief it would bring.

  I laid on the floor at the landing to the basement steps unconscious until Nancy came home about 9PM Saturday night. At that time I had been unconscious for more than 20 hours.

  I was transported by ambulance to the Princeton Hospital emergency room. The air ambulance helicopter was summoned from Minneapolis. Apparently by the time it arrived, it was determined that I exhibited a possibility of survival. By only some unexplained miracle...I was still alive.

  The helicopter was sent back to Minneapolis with a sample of my blood. Apparently a test of blood gases indicated that I could then be transported by surface ambulance.

  Nancy later conveyed to me how embarrassed she was that people had heard about the incident on their "scanners" and were talking about it.

  My first conscious moment was as we were driving through the tunnel and/or overpasses of Interstate 94 in downtown Minneapolis. I could see out the back window of the ambulance. I recall my first thought as "Shit...I didn't die".

  I was admitted to the Riverside Hospital psychiatric unit and placed on a "one on one" observation. Eventually I became conscious enough to realize that I needed to urinate...as I had apparently not done so in over 24 hours. The pain in my abdomen was becoming unbearable.

  I tried to get up out of bed in order to urinate...and then discovered that my legs had no "feeling" and it seemed as though I was paralyzed from my waist downward.

  The orderly went for assistance. I was still quite drowsy...but increasingly aware that there was a growing concern for my situation. After an unknown period I was placed in "intensive care". I was by myself...without a sole in the world who knew me or knew about my situation.

  A short while after I was placed in intensive care, a doctor came by with equipment which apparently evaluated the nerve responses in my legs. They were not pleased with the results.

  I was told that I would require emergency surgery in order to prevent my legs from having to be amputated. My right leg was seriously swollen to the point as to stop circulation. My left leg was swollen to a lesser extent...and I had a huge "bed sore" about 5 inches in diameter on my right buttocks.

  The diagnosis was one seen rarely except in big city hospitals that see numerous suicide attempts. It's called "compartment syndrome" and is the result of remaining absolutely still, which occurs only when you are unconscious. During normal sleep, you roll around and move...which at least in part, aids circulation.

  When you are unconscious...you do not move at all. In this state, liquids begin to "pool" in the extremities...and your body begins to break down quickly. I was astonished to see the size and extreme progress of the bed sore. I had no idea such a thing could develop in that short time span.

  I was coaxed into signing a permission notice for the emergency surgery. I was totally disoriented and confused as to why I should be needing any kind of surgery. It was something of a nightmare's ...nightmare.

  An incision was made from along my right leg, from a few inches above my ankle to just below my knee. The wound was left open to heal...which took several weeks. I had no sensation in my right or left leg. Much of the feeling returned with time. To this day...seven years later, I have no feeling across the top of my right foot and a few inches up the shin and across the ankle area.

  I was confined to a wheel chair for about two weeks. I then required crutches for another couple of weeks. I forced myself to start to jog...even in the cold Minnesota winter. Eventually I was able to run without dragging my foot...and for the most part... have physically healed.

  Almost losing your life because you love someone with such intensity is difficult to explain. I acknowledge that there are many people who will never be able to identify with such pain. I pray such people "count their blessings"...but we need to acknowledge the pain that people inflict on other people...and the destructive toll of such insensitivity. Given sufficient time and intensity, angry words and manipulation of one's emotions can maim and kill...just as effectively as physical abuse and weapons of violence. These issues need to addressed...for if we do not...we are treating only part of the symptoms which contribute to the escalating problem of spousal abuse.

  Verbal abuse is cruel...and it is not gender specific. In the book "The Verbally Abusive Relationship" by Patricia Evans (ISBN 1-55850-133-9) it is revealed that it often a "male" problem...but I strongly believe that there is a compelling argument to address it as gender neutral.

   

  "Yelling at living things does tend to kill the spirit in them. Sticks and stones may break our bones, but words will break our hearts". - Robert Fulghun

   

  Nancy came to the hospital to bring some pajamas and a change of clothes. She came to visit me on one other occasion...at which time she expressed that "it was suggested that she not come see me". I have since wondered about the motive of that statement...and if was for her benefit or mine...

  I was released from the hospital on December 21st...which was our 11th wedding anniversary. Nancy had previously stated that she would come get me...but as the afternoon passed on, she never showed up.

  I called upon one of our former neighbors who lived in northern Anoka County, near Nowthen, to come get me. They took me in and fed me...washed me and dressed my wounds through the weekend.

  Nancy would not allow me to return home.

  One of the nicest people you could ever hope to work with...a "good guy" named Howard Hinnenkamp, who lived east of Princeton a few miles was leaving for Christmas vacation. He asked if I wanted to "house sit" his home when they were gone.

  "Howie" has a beautiful home on a scenic location. It was bitter cold...but unquestionably the loneliest Christmas I have ever spent. No matter who you are...I wish for you to never suffer as I did through that Christmas day.

  Soon after the first of the year...Richard Schmidt began to increase pressure on Nancy to sign papers so that I would not be allowed to come home again.

  I got a small basement apartment, a couple of miles northeast of Princeton on Mille Lacs County Road 2.

  Nancy began calling me quite often. We would talk long hours into the night. Her moods ranged through everything in the imaginable spectrum. She frequently expressed ideas that she did not want the divorce. At other times ...viewed with benefit of hindsight, she was controlling and manipulative.

  On one occasion in late January, Nancy wanted to meet me for lunch to talk. She said she would meet me at the Holiday grocery store...as she had a couple of things to buy.

  When I got to the Holiday store...Nancy's van was there and she obviously had gone inside. I went into the store and found her back among the grocery aisles doing some shopping. She instructed me to "Go on out to the van and I'll meet you there".

  I remember it as a sunny...although bitterly cold day...and I started the van's engine in order to have heat. I waited for Nancy to return...as I sat in the right front passenger seat.

  I can not clearly recall the subject of conversation that afternoon...but I vividly recall that Nancy almost immediately began screaming in angry tirades...to the point where I almost immediately "shut down" ...and waited for this ambushed verbal assault to be done. What she was saying didn't matter...and all I was left to do was to wonder what is really wrong here.

  I continued to sit in the van...starring at the console in front of me, both of my hands clasped in my lap (I guess unconsciously trying not to appear confrontative) ...thinking, "Gee I am glad it's a cold day. If the windows were rolled down, they not only would hear her in the grocery store...but she could likely be heard for at least a block away."

  Only a moment later...I again became aware of what Nancy was saying as she screamed, "Look at you...just sitting there thinking...just let her get it out of her system!"....and she was correct!

  The troubling part of this story is what happened later that night...

  Nancy called me around 8:30 PM that same evening. All of a sudden...it was as though she did not have a care in the world. She was bubbling with chit chat...continuing as though I would not have any remembrance at all of what had happened only a few hours earlier at the grocery store.

  This and other similar incidents prompted me to read the book, "The Verbally Abusive Relationship" by Patricia Evans (ISBN 1-55850-133-9)

  The book describes the phenomena I experienced on that and other occasions. In essence, such assaults allow the perpetrator to release an immense amount of pent up anger....and once it is done...they feel great! It's almost like such a tirade is a "fix"...and now they feel so wonderful...and can not understand why you don't feel good too!

  There were also periods in the spring that she would not talk to me for days at a time...threatening to "turn me in" if I called her. The pain of the loneliness is difficult to convey.

  One of the few "local" contacts I had in Princeton was a lady from the Methodist church whom had approached me after I had spoken about depression. She spoke with me on the telephone for untold hours during this period. I sometimes feel as though she and her husband, who put up with it all...should be credited with saving my life...for without them, the depression I suffered in the spring of 1991 may indeed have been overwhelming.

  My friend recognized my predicament...and offered to introduce me to a cousin of hers named Shirley, who lived on a farm near Forest Lake...about 45 miles to the southeast. I initially wanted no part of it...all I really wanted was for Nancy to want to take me back.

  I told Nancy of the offer which my friend had made. I clearly...if not emphatically explained to Nancy that I did not really want to go...and all she had to do was say so...and I would give her more time to think about it. Nancy was not encouraging at all.

  I drove to Forest Lake with my friend...and can well remember even to this day how I did not really want to go...but the alternative was a growing sense of loneliness. I missed Nancy terribly.

  The visit to Forest Lake went better than I imagined...once I was there....but I very much felt a "presence" within me of wishing I were somewhere else...where I wanted to be.

  A few days later I again drove down to Forest Lake. Once again I called Nancy, practically begging her to tell me not to go. She would not do so.

  I began driving east towards Isanti...and made radio contact with Nancy. For some reason she now seemed interested enough to want to talk again. I offered to stop at a drive up phone in Isanti to permit greater ease in conversation. Once on the phone she seemed to vacillate...and once again would not encourage me.

  I began driving south on Minnesota highway 65...and we were about to run out of radio range. We changed frequencies to the Anoka club repeater. While less "private"...it allowed for further distance. As I grew nearer to Shirley's house, Nancy asked if I would find a pay phone and call her again. I retraced my path about five miles until I found another gas station telephone.

  Once on the phone again, I was struck with what seemed to be a huge void in Nancy which wanted me to come back...but she would not say so. I have often been preoccupied at the significance of this conversation. All she would have had to do that day is offer me a modest amount of genuine hope...and I would have instantly turned around. I was not willing to sustain the degree of loneliness without some sort of promise.

  I ended up returning to Shirley's farm and where I had supper and visited before returning to Princeton.

  Within a couple of days, Nancy began calling my friend from the Methodist church...and even drove to her home about 7 miles east of Princeton to visit with her. Nancy began telling her that if I would agree not to go see Shirley, she would consider canceling the divorce plans.

  In the span of a week the divorce was off...then on...then off...then on again...and I was being torn apart inside once again.

  The following Friday night I again drove to Shirley's. Her 80 acre farm was in the middle of a 37,000 acre wildlife sanctuary. Her driveway was exactly 1 mile long...down a single lane through heavy dark woods. At night it could be pretty spooky driving that last mile. There were absolutely no lights...and no turn around for the entire distance.

  Shirley was a wonderful cook and baked fresh bread and rolls at least twice a week. We had supper and were sitting watching television...when about 11 PM there was a bright light shining on the house. I looked out the window to see a vehicle with 4 bright headlights parked in Shirley's pasture...and pointing so as to illuminate the house.

  I walked outside...somewhat frightened as to what it might be...only to recognize Nancy's van. The person who was so afraid of the dark...had driven 67 miles in the night...down that incredibly long driveway...and was sitting in the van looking at the house.

  She drove off shouting, "GARBAGE....GARBAGE...GARBAGE...GARBAGE".

  A few minutes later I discovered a large Hefty trash bag tied on the door handle of my truck.

  The following morning, Shirley found another trash bag tied on her mail box out on Lexington Avenue.

  Shirley had a masters degree in Chemistry...and did cancer research at the Veterans Administration Hospital in Minneapolis. When she returned to work the following Monday, she learned that someone had called during the past week...asking questions about her and where she lived.

  A couple of weeks later, I was attending a Wednesday night Bible study at the Baptist church east of Princeton on Highway 95. The meeting was located in the minister's study, with a view towards the parking lot and highway. The blinds were up and the windows had been open for some "fresh air".

  About midway through the meeting, I looked out to see Nancy's van drive up in the parking lot in front of the church. I excused myself from the meeting.

  I walked outside to approach the van...and could see Nancy sitting the driver's seat. She was alone. She rolled the window down. I could see that she had been crying. She was sobbing...and all of a sudden started to blurt out, YOU'VE KILLED ME...YOU'VE KILLED ME...I'M DEAD...I'M DEAD".

  I was heartbroken to see her in such an emotional state. In fact I had never seen her like that before. I was not certain what to do. I spoke with her quietly and asked, "Nancy...please let me help you. Please go to the doctor with me".

  Without responding...she drove off into the night.

  I was too embarrassed to go back inside the church...and never returned there again.

  I would be reticent not to mention the rest of the story as pertaining to this time. I do not think I need to establish further how much I loved Nancy...or what I would have done to help her.

  IT BECOMES IMPORTANT AT THIS TIME...to remember that what Nancy was telling other people...that she was growing in fear of me...was becoming a problem for Nancy.

  I submit this as evident...because there is strong reason to suggest that she drove to Shirley's and the Baptist church in the manner in which she did...because she still was very much in love with me. Her lies were now becoming very much in the way of what she actually felt...and she was increasingly tormented. However...not to this very day has she admitted how she feels. Instead...she became trapped in a need to validate her story.

  Several months...perhaps a year later...I ran across a man named Dale Anderson at "Taco Johns" in Princeton, during my lunch hour. Dale was the real estate agent who had sold us our house near Estes Brook.

  Dale motioned toward me to join him at his table. I sat down and we engaged in what impressed me as somewhat "guarded" conversation.

  I mentioned..."Dale...You heard something didn't you".

  Almost apologizing...Dale stated, "Yes I did".

  I told him..."It's OK Dale...What is it that you heard".

  He said there are women in town gossiping that "You left Nancy with the baby...and ran off with another woman".

  If the reader would be kind enough to reflect at this time how I felt when I heard that...try to place yourself in that moment in time...and think about how you would feel.

   

  Moments Experienced... The spring of 1991

   

  On several occasions Nancy came by my apartment. We occasionally would just talk. At other times she was clearly there to have sex. There were even times she left Kent with me when she went shopping or elsewhere...and I have since wondered if I was baby-sitting...so she could continue with the affair with her P.T. clinic patient, Jim Adams, who lived near Zimmerman.

  She was being pressured by Richard Schmidt to no longer see me....but she also had another "problem" which was growing more and more difficult to resolve.

  During the Easter weekend of 1991, Nancy agreed to go to St. Cloud for a Saturday matinee movie and see "Dances With Wolves". My "instructions" were to meet her about 1/4 mile west of the house, near Estes Brook, in the middle of the intersection of County Road 13 (now Chestnut Road) and County Road 7. She expressly forbade me to pick her up at the house. I did not receive an explanation... but it apparently was really important, that somebody did not happen to see us together. Who was it?

  We no sooner reached a short distance from the house, than some unexplained "trip wire", once again had Nancy reeling in anger. I offered to take her back home... but a moment later, she indicated she wanted to go with me. We drove the 20 mile distance to the movie...and once again, all seemed to be just fine. We actually were able to enjoy a sense of "romantic closeness"... and afterwards had a brief snack at "Bakers Square" in St. Cloud, before I drove her back home.

  Again I was told that I had to drop her off about 1/4 mile west of the house...and she would then walk home. Again, without expressing it, I was really puzzled, as to just what it was she was trying to conceal.

On the way back from St. Cloud I had asked Nancy if she would like to come to my apartment with me. She seemed reluctant...but also appeared to vacillate once again as to wanting to come.

Disappointed and confused, I dropped her off, just as she had requested. It was still daylight... and it was clear that she was preoccupied with someone seeing her with me.

I drove back to my apartment and went into my bedroom to change. It was a relatively warm day and I had left the front door open.

I heard the screen door open...and I heard Nancy's voice....Ashley? I was overjoyed to see her come. I instantly allowed myself to reach for her, hold her and feel her next to me. Nancy began unbuckling my belt and lowering my jeans. She dropped to her knees and immediately began performing oral sex on me in the middle of the living room... all without saying a word.

There was a part of me that was at once alarmed...and another part of me that wanted to spend the night with Nancy in the worst way. I coaxed her into the bedroom and we immediately laid out across the bed. I then removed the balance of her clothing and she reciprocated in kind. What followed was both wonderful...and the last time we ever had sex together.

I had asked Nancy to go to church for Easter Sunday services the following day. Sandy was in Texas on a visit to her father's near West Columbia, just southwest of Houston.

Nancy agreed to go to church with me...but stated that she would "meet me there". Driving to church, I made radio contact with her on our "secret frequency". She instructed me to "go on inside and I will meet you there". It was a beautiful sunny day. My feelings were becoming more than aroused as to what it was that she was trying to conceal.

Sunday morning, I decided to "defiantly" wait on the corner by the church for her to come. She parked the Dodge minivan across the street and walked towards me. As she approached...she stated, "I thought I told you to go inside." I responded with a simple, "I thought I would tell you how that makes me feel".

During this same period, Nancy and I had occasionally began jogging through the rural area near the house. There was little to no traffic and an ideal area for exercise. The houses were very often separated by a half mile or so.

A couple of days after Easter Sunday, we were again jogging, about 1 mile east of the house. I had driven out in my Jeep pickup truck and was about to leave for my apartment. We were standing on the side of the road...embraced and kissing. We were thousands of feet from the nearest farm house...and hardly making a "public spectacle" of ourselves.

A moment later, a car drove by slowly. The driver seemed to be "gawking" (If you have ever lived in a rural area...you are familiar with how people seem to slow down as they drive by and stare out of curiosity).

The following morning, Richard Schmidt called me a work...apparently under the disguise of a "check up...and howzit going?" kind of a telephone call. I told him I had thought things were pretty nice...That Nancy and I were talking a lot, that we had a "date" the previous Saturday...and to serve as ultimate proof of how well were doing...I even told him we had been to bed together that evening.

Later that same afternoon Nancy called me...sounding almost livid in her tone of voice saying to the effect that she would never jog with me again...and that the sex we had shared on Saturday evening was "GOOD BYE". She went on to say that "Someone turned us in to the county".

I was totally puzzled...and responded with, "What do you mean...Someone turned us in to the county?" AGAIN...we were fully dressed, wearing full length jogging suits. We were a minimum of 1/2 mile from the nearest occupied residence. We were doing nothing more than embracing and saying good bye...until the "gawker" drove by.

It took several months before circumstances would reveal that the gawking driver of the car that afternoon had to be Richard Schmidt...the epitome of "Minnesota government in action"...and there is every reason for me to believe that he was doing far more than simply trying to counsel Nancy. Repeated requests I made for him to take steps for her to be tested by a psychiatrist went completely ignored.

What is important to be kept in mind is ...I know Nancy was lying to me about some "crucial facts"...and there is equally good reason to be suspect of what she was telling Richard Schmidt. Mr. Schmidt remains suspect in my mind because of his failure to act on any of my requests. Again...it was stated by management at the Mille Lacs County Social Services office that, as a matter of policy, he never had anybody go with him on his "house calls".

  Even through all of this, Nancy seemed to make a ritual of special occasions....not that there should be anything wrong about it...but with the benefit of hindsight, one could begin to conclude that there was serious evidence of emotional manipulation going on. 

(Above) I received this card for Father's Day, June 16, 1991. This was almost 6 months after we were separated and I was being allowed to see Kent only under court ordered visitation. Nancy filed for divorce in late January, signing a notarized document that I was Kent's father and as such she was seeking child support. The note reads< "Daddy, can you guess why this is such a special card? Because it's full of wishes that I'm wishing very hard! Happy Father's Day!" She appears to have had Kent "sign" the card. 

Soon after Easter weekend, our relationship mysteriously began to further deteriorate...as though driven by some wicked, unidentifiable force.

I have only been able to speculate...but it appears the embarrassment suffered by Nancy when Richard Schmidt questioned her about us being together and/or his intimidation and his insistant will to have his way... eventually resulted in her relenting to have me served with an Order for Protection. I have also speculated as to the source of her embarrassment being more rooted in the manner that she had begun to enhance her story about being in fear of me...and when he saw us together...that simply did not make sense...thus she opted to save herself from humiliation...rather than tell the truth. I also know, for a fact, that Richard Schmidt, who at the time only lived a few hundred yards to the south, was in our house, alone with Nancy... and fully aware of her sexual exploits.

I was served the Court Order by a uniformed Sheriff's deputy at work...supposedly because he had not been able to find me at home. I was ordered not to go to the house or attempt contact with Nancy. The order contained a statement signed by Nancy that I had "beaten her, kicked her or otherwise intimidated her" and that she was fearful of me.

I was so flabbergasted at the charges and statement...I had little more than a compulsion to call Nancy and ask her why she had made such a statement. It's very difficult to be accused of something you did not do...but then to have the added betrayal of someone you have nothing but the greatest care for...is heartbreaking...to say the least. I asked her over and over...Why did you say that? Why did you say that?

Compounding this very moment...as I write...I am once again feeling the sleazy feeling of what it is like to tell someone else of what happened. You no doubt are questioning as to whether I am telling the truth...and of course, that is but one more of the "damage control" problems one is faced with.

Nancy and I had come to have some rather intense verbal exchanges. The root of virtually everyone of these was the "stuff from another time and place"...and had little or nothing to do with the moment or time we were arguing about. I was mystified as to why there was so much anger. If I had not loved her so...I probably would have left her...long before....but I believed that marriages gain strength from the effort you put into them...and ultimately the reward would be a long life together. I regret very deeply ever slapping her...but I guess I also regret not walking out on her verbally abusive assaults far more times. There are those who will differ with me...but Nancy is ultimately just as responsible for any physical activity as I am...and I believe she knows that. There is no way that I will accept the idea that she...on her own...voluntarily made the accusations contained in that order. Underneath it all...there still remains a piece of me that knows she loved me more than that. For that...I can only forgive her. My gut instincts demand that I consider who it was that is behind the OFP being issued.

Driven by confidence in the knowledge that I knew the charges in the OFP were a lie...I started asking some questions. I drove up to the Mille Lacs County Courthouse and decided I would go through the motions of filling one out. I got the application and was told that there was an example of how to fill one out on the table near the County Clerks door.

I walked over to the table...and sure enough, a sample OFP application was mounted between two sheets of Plexiglas....complete with "sample" charges and allegations to make. I had seen the very words before...for the form had written on it, "I was beaten, kicked and otherwise intimidated"...and "I am in fear of _______". Nancy had simply copied what was on the form...with only very minor differences!

As I was reading the sample...three Native American women came into the courthouse. (The Mille Lacs Band of Ojibwa have a large reservation in Mille Lacs County). I overheard them ask about obtaining an OFP. I removed myself from the table, walked upstairs to the open foyer...and watched below as the women also copied the sample. In no more than five minutes, they gave the completed form to someone in the County Clerk's Office. In no more than another 10 minutes, the clerk returned and gave two of the women their copies of the OFP that had clearly been signed by the judge!

I could not believe it! They did not have to go before a judge...they were not questioned or challenged in any way whatsoever.

I wish to add that there was one more written piece of information sandwiched between the two pieces of Plexiglas. There was a typed statement which read..."If you need assistance in filling out this form, call (Milaca telephone number)...signed "Mille Lacs County Intervention Project.

Even now...with all that I know Nancy was trying to conceal...it's very, very difficult to understand how she could carry out such an action.

There are other motives that I have considered. Was her attorney Tom Meinze behind it? It eventually proved impossible to challenge or defend myself in court in questions of property, financial and income topics. The OFP provided Nancy sole custody of not only "my son"...but income tax records, pay stubs, billing records, canceled checks, warranty papers and car titles.

When I "vacated" the house after I was released from the hospital...I was on crutches. I had no help what-so-ever with moving in the bitter cold January weather in Minnesota. I was able to take a few things to set up "an existence" in my apartment. I trusted Nancy...and left absolutely all marital property in the house...including a brand new $1200.00 Panasonic video camera that had never been used. I had not even received the bill for it yet! (and guess who had to pay it?) Later Nancy would deny it existed.

Nancy was most aware of my love and devotion to Kent. She had good reason to believe that I would seek "joint custody" of Kent in the divorce. Imagine her dilemma with that? Instead...she chose to slander and demean me in order to save herself from embarrassment. It is ironic that this very thing is what ended up "backfiring" on her...and exposing what she had done.

Almost immediately...when Nancy obtained the OFP...I began to be haunted by the idea of her motive being related to paternity issues. I brought up the question of obtaining a D.N.A. paternity test with my attorney Mike William's in Princeton. Mike challenged me with, "What do you want to do that for? That's vindictive!" I was certainly not considering it to be vindictive...but my "gut instincts" were talking to me again. I let Mike William's talk me out of it however.

A few weeks later I brought up the question of getting a D.N.A. test...and again he talked me out of it.

The OFP provided for "supervised visitation" for Kent and myself. Initially...it was ordered that I would visit with Kent at the home of the neighbors across the road...on the south side of County Road 13 (now called Chestnut). Sharon and Gordon Wolf had supposedly "volunteered" to let us visit at their place and by that time, Nancy had employed Sharon as a baby sitter.

I was bitter and humiliated to have to endure the "supervised" visitations. For Kent's sake...I would take off from work in the middle of the afternoon and drive out to spend a couple of hours with him. Sharon Wolf was always home...and obviously made no effort whatsoever to "watch me". We walked through the woods, played in an old truck of Gordon's, built a straw house in the deep ditch in front and I would let Kent "drive my truck"

(Above) - August 1991. Photo taken during a "supervised visitation" at Gordy Wolf residence.

There were a couple of times when Sharon Wolf commented that I "seemed angry"...when I left their place. For this...I can only add, "I wonder why?"

After a couple of months, Sharon told the court that she did not want to participate in the visitations any longer. The judge was mandated to allow me to see Kent for weekly visitations. The Mille Lacs County office was supposedly so "short staffed" that they could only "supervise" the visitation one hour a week...and it had to be done at the Court House...and at their time of choosing.

By late summer of 1991, I could only see Kent for one hour a week...in a tiny conference room in the basement of the courthouse...for one hour a week.

Each week I took a large brown grocery bag of toys and treats for Kent. I would let him take the treats home...but kept the toys...as I would never get them back for use later. Kent had usually had a nap...so when he got there...he was "full if it"...just as you would expect from a 2 year old boy. He wanted to go through the filing cabinets and piles of brochures stored on shelves...climb over and under chairs and tables. I asked why it was that he had to stay inside...it just was not only unfair...but also unreasonable...to expect a little boy his age to be confined in this manner. After two or three requests, I was eventually able to have the visitations at the city park, several blocks west of the courthouse.

The emotional devastation brought by the D.N.A. results moved me to no longer try to see Kent.

There was an equal to the devastation yet to be learned...

On a Friday evening in late January 1992, I was standing in the "check-out" line at Freichel's Grocery Store in Princeton. I was about second from being served and a man whom I recognized from the Methodist Church...but had never known very well walked up behind me to wait his turn.

He greeted me with "How are you doing?" and I responded with a polite, appropriate response...

A moment later he stated, "Say I'm really sorry to hear about you little boy...and the cancer an all".

It would be difficult to summon a moment filled with more emotion...and yet filled with an equal urge so as to not alarm the other person.

I gathered within me the ability to say, "I know there are a lot of things going on that you probably have no idea about...But I don't know anything about any CANCER.

Then I found myself urgently wanting him not to feel embarrassed. I tried to assure him that I did not want for him to be embarrassed...for he had no way of knowing...

I had heard Kent was in the hospital the previous week. It was another period of extremely cold weather...and somehow I just made the assumption that he had the flu or something similar.

I can not remember the following two days as anything more than another weekend filled with more extremes of emotions. Once more there was nothing for me to do but pray for strength and the ability to understand.

Monday morning I called Mike Williams and asked him to find out what he could about Kent. I explained what had happened at the grocery store. Mike stated that he had "heard Kent had been sick"...then went on to add that Nancy was probably spreading rumors just to be vindictive. I briefly entertained the possibility...but thought that it warranted further investigation.

I asked Mike Williams to contact Tom Meinze and inquire about Kent's health.

Tom Meinze would prove to steep so low as to refuse to even acknowledge the receipt of the letter.

I had heard Kent was apparently still in the hospital...but did not know which one.

Slightly complicating the matter was that on November 12, 1991, Nancy had Tom Meinze file a "Petition for Declaration of Nonexistence of Father and Child Relationship" in the Seventh Judicial District Court, Family Division.

The following is faithfully reproduced (in part) as follows:

"Petitioner Nancy Nichols Waters hereby petitions this Court for a determination that Fenelon Ashley Waters is not the biological father of William Kendall Waters, based upon the following:

1. William Kendall Waters was born on September 13, 1989 to Nancy N. Waters at Minneapolis, Minnesota. At the that time Nancy N. Waters was married to Fenelon Ashley Waters and the two have been married to each other since that time.

2. During a marriage dissolution action involving the marriage of Nancy Nichols Waters and Fenelon Ashley Waters, filed separately with this Court under the Court File No. F8-91-582, Fenelon Ashley Waters requested that Nancy N. Waters and William Kendall Waters be ordered to submit to blood testing for the purpose of determining whether was or was not the biological father of William Kendall Waters. Testing occurred at the Memorial Blood Center of Minneapolis, 2304 Park Avenue South, Minneapolis, MN 55404 as Case No. 39782. Blood specimens were taken from Fenelon Waters on October 16, 1991 and from Nancy Waters and William Kendall Waters on October 17, 1991.

3. By the letter dated November 4, 1991, H.F. Ploesky, M.D., Director of Memorial Blood Center of Minneapolis, by a letter and attachment, copies of which are attached hereto and made part of the Petition, indicated that "From the testing shown on the attached protocol it can be established that the alleged father is NOT one of the biological parents of the child in question". DR Polesky indicates in the cover letter the reasons which support this conclusion. The attached gene system index concludes with a paternity index for Fenelon Waters as the father of William Kendall Waters a "0" and a likelihood of paternity as "0%".

4. Petitioner Nancy N. Waters affirmatively states that she had sexual intercourse with a male other than Fenelon Ashley Waters at a time in which it would have been possible for the conception of William Kendall Waters to have occurred.

5. The marriage dissolution of Nancy Waters and Fenelon Waters is scheduled for Pre-hearing November 20, 1991.

THEREFORE, Petitioner requests relief from this Court as follows:

1. Declaring the nonexistence of a father-child relationship between William Kendall Waters and Fenelon Ashley Waters and terminating any presumed parental rights of Fenelon Ashley Waters to said minor child.

2. For such other and further relief of the Court deems necessary and fair under these circumstances.

Dated the 12 day of November, 1991.

(Signed) Nancy Nichols Waters, Petitioner

Thomas J. Meinze, Attorney for Petitioner

Immediately after executing the above petition,

 Nancy changed Kent's name to Kendall James Nichols.

It is difficult to call a hospital and find out the status of a patient when you do not know their name.

Within about 10 days, I began receiving statements from Blue Cross of Minnesota which indicate they had paid bills for surgery, radiology and chemo therapy. There were also statements from surgeons and oncologists. The treatment had occurred as St. Paul Children's Hospital.

I spoke to one individual who had knowledge of Kent's condition. He told me that Nancy had threatened never to speak to him again if he told me how Kent was doing. This man's name is Steven Kinney.

I went to my family physician at the Princeton Clinic. I was told that he "did not have to tell me a thing" and "I had no right to know"...(even though it was MY insurance that had already paid out in excess of $10,000 for Kent's treatment).

I eventually was able to call the hospital, pretending to be a representative of Blue Cross and requesting the correct name for billing purposes and payment of claims. I was given the name "Kendall James Nichols".

Most now know him as " Kent Nichols ".

Only in April 2006, after some 14 years of Nancy vindictively blocking any and all information as to Kent's welfare, would I learn the extent and the seriousness of his illness. For 14 years, after learning of Kent's "cancer" from a near stranger, while standing in line at Freichel's Grocery on a Friday night in 1992... I would learn very, very little more. For this, I blame not only Nancy... but the Christian bigots at the Princeton United Methodist Church and most especially, Tom Meinze... who makes certain to be seen at the Lutheran Church in Princeton... because it's "good business".

In the April 25, 2006 issue of the "Minneapolis Star Tribune", an article written by Mr. David La Vaque, appeared with the following headline:

              "Elk River tennis ace fought disease that almost killed him"

The article provided an insight into Kent's illness that had been concealed from me since he was 2 years old, with comments such as "Even tumors caused by a rare blood disease and years of chemotherapy couldn't stop Kent Nichols from success on the tennis court and in the classroom".

The article went on to identify "Histiocytosis X" as a "cancer like" disease, which medical documents list the incidence a 4.5 in every one million. The disease is considered "familial" or "hereditary", can strike at any age through early adulthood... and generally can affect any major organ or bone, anywhere in the body. At Kent's age (then 2), it is often non survivable a experience.

The "Star Tribune" article went on to explain, "Shortly after Kent's birth, he began having chronic problems with his ears and a string of bloody noses. Because the disease is so rare - approximately 1 in 200,0000 children or adults are affected each year - it went undiagnosed for six months to a year until Nancy took him to Children's Hospital in St. Paul".  If the preceding time period is true, then Nancy clearly did so "secretly". I has a close relationship until Kent was nearly 2 years old... and I strongly suspect the part of the "Star Tribune" report was in error.

The article continues, "There, a CAT scan revealed a large tumor underneath the right side of his face. It had crossed hi septum (which caused the bloody noses) and had started growing through the roof of his mouth".

"Histiocytosis X is caused by an excess of white blood cells called histiocytes which cluster together and can attack the skin, bones, lung, liver, spleen, gums, ears, eyes - even the central nervous system. It is not a form of cancer, but it is treated in similar fashion."

"Kent had the disease in one of its worse forms and received aggressive steroid and chemotherapy treatments until about a month before he started kindergarten. He wore a Hickman catheter - inserted in the chest and used to draw blood with the need for numerous needle sticks - which led to a blood infection that nearly killed him around his third birthday".

I can only ask the reader, to understand how it feels... to have such information deliberately withheld from me, only for the sake of being a cruel, vindictive action by his mother. Along with considering the lies and uncontrolled sexual behavior of his mother, through multiple relationships, in multiple hospital settings, does one begin to see the serious potential of her "sociopathic" tendencies.

Interestingly, the April 2006 "Star Tribune" article went on to expand on the "genetic background" of Kent's "maternal" ancestry, including that of his mother and maternal grandmother. Curiously, the article made absolute no mention of the existence of a father, or for that matter, it would appear that the reader be expected to believe that Kent had no "paternal" genes. I'm prone to consider, given Kent's reported intelligence, what thoughts he may have had, about the appearance of the article deliberately steering the reader away from any "father" related issues. I assure you, it is not a case of Nancy not knowing who Kent's father was... but more likely a case, of her being ashamed of who Kent's father was.

More than one reader, with whom I shared the article with, picked up on the idea, that as written, the article seems to imply, she is a lesbian. I could not necessarily take issue with that notion, as there are several examples of Nancy's past behavior to support that issue. She is, without question, a very "complex" personality.

Kent was reported to carry a 4.234 grade point average... and considering a medical career as a pediatrician. I can only add, that given his "life experience" so far, he should be graciously gifted with the intuitive manner, that would make a prize pediatrician for any community to value.

Some day...  perhaps, Kent and I will once again sit in a park swing and visit. Some day... perhaps he will know how much I've missed not being able to laugh and tease with him, as we once did. Some day... perhaps he'll learn how much he meant to me and how much I loved him.  That, is best expressed with a "hug'. Some day... as a man, I hope he may understand how important it is, even as a man... to share those kinds of feelings with others in your life.

Of one thing that is for certain, the "Star Tribune" article more than underscores the sense of loss of my relationship with Kent... but if the reader has paid attention to the copious details provided in this document, one will realize, that the responsibility of "loss" is not owed to myself... but to either a yet to be identified, serious behavioral disorder of his mother... or at least as possible, a mind twisted in anger, bent on dealing cruelty to others, rooted in what is known, from what her parents... and specifically her mother, inflicted upon her in her pre-adolescent years.

* 2005 Address:  Milo Gerald Durst MD - 2600 N Mayfair Avenue - Suite 650, Wauwatosa, WI 53226  Ph: (414) 771-930

       More:  The D.N.A. Paternity Test  ---  Espionage  --- Who is the Father?  ---  What I Believe --- My Affair With Nancy

Princeton Minnesota  - Mille Lacs County - Kanabec County - Fairview Hospital System - Westtown School - Physical Therapy - Sex Addiction - University of Minnesota  - University of Miami  -  Fairview Northland Regional Medical Center  - Fairview Milaca Clinic  - Fairview Redwing Medical Center - Physical Medicine - PT - Physical Therapy Association - N5FOT - DNA Paternity Test

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