Games People Play…
I probably shouldn’t have been as shocked as I felt during those several months from 2007 through 2008? For that matter, I shouldn’t have been so clueless, or felt that blindsided for all the years that followed? Forget the divorce proceedings from 2007 through 2008; the jurisdictional battle that ensued until the execution of our MSA in 2008; then the year and a half of unsuccessful attempts to enforce Al’s compliance to the MSA, which concluded with, or included, his Voluntary Bankruptcy filing in February of 2010 and the four years that followed until that case’s close in 2014; or even up until December, 2019, when Al’s last obligation of the MSA, to pay for our Son’s college tuition was completed. Start to finish, that’s 12 years of divorce wrangling, and game after game, I was forced to engage in? It took me far too long to catch on to the never-ending mind-trickery that marks every moment of Al’s life. The “game” that continually moves the goal post, or shifts emphasis from “one fire,” to the next, so you’ll rush over and try to extinguish the other “fire” over there, and then the “fire” there, and still again, the “fire” that just ignited back there? It’s exhausting, and the clock is running the entire time.
Our marriage, and union, had been far from perfect from its inception, but nonetheless I spent at least seven to eight months almost frozen, and paralyzed by fear. Maybe my shock didn’t come from a place of surprise, but more from the way, and where, of how it was initiated and handled? Or maybe I had just gotten so good at playing my role in the “movie” that had become our life, I was stunned by the reality that was right in front of me? Regardless of the reason, I was afraid of everything. Even tiny, seemingly insignificant details caused me to overthink and obsess over the consequences of any action that I might contemplate undertaking. “Baby steps” were all I was capable of making back then.
Our master suite in Cottage 64 on Tabby Lane was laid out in such a way that when you entered our little wing of the house, you looked directly out at the Atlantic ocean and could see that beautiful view whether from the large, king-sized bed, the adjacent cozy and comfortable seating area, and even from my own bathroom and spacious closet/dressing space, which was off to the right from the entryway door. If you entered our master and turned to the left, however, you’d find yourself in Al’s large walk-in closet, which then led around and through to his perfectly white tiled bathroom, absent of windows, but instead possessing an enormous skylight perched above and providing beams of light that shone below. It was a great set-up, particularly on my side; not only could I gaze out to the blue waves and sand dunes beyond, but adjacent to the bathtub sat a wonderful, brick fireplace, and both were used and appreciated constantly. It was indeed a great master suite, and normally, I would suggest that separate bathroom spaces are a pretty decent measure towards keeping a marriage intact. Normally that might be the case, but again there was absolutely NOTHING normal about any of OUR circumstances? For probably three to four entire months, I walked past Al’s very loaded closet full of clothes each morning to get to the shower beyond. My bath had the jacuzzi tub, but Al’s side held an enormous, double-headed shower, and its pretty difficult to wash your hair daily in a bathtub!
When “it all went south,” on September 3, 2007, and I learned of the affair, Al left to stay at the Black Banks condo, which had been finished, furnished and decorated just months prior. The Black Banks purchase and beautiful finishing touches weren’t executed with adultery in mind, (I don’t think?) but that fateful morning when I asked him to leave our Cottage 64 home, where the kids and I remained, the timing of the condo’s readiness did seem particularly convenient? The Black Banks place was just blocks from Tabby Lane, and immediately adjacent to the Main Cloister Hotel building, so it was certainly no hardship for Al to be there, and we had installed interiors there just as we did in every other “home” we created thus far. It too offered water views, but of the Black Banks River, rather than the oceanfront view captured by Cottage 64.
18 years together, 15 years married, 2 children…and still, it was the “Peter Capone Residence?” Look closely in the top right corner, at the dates on the plans (2005/2006); we were still very much married, and together!
The Black Banks Condo had meticulously chosen furnishings and artwork adorning the walls; its kitchen was completely stocked with glassware, dishes, and a pantry full of food and cooking equipment; there were personal items in the bathrooms; knick-knacks, as well as televisions and game systems in Emily and PJ’s designated rooms; as well as lovely planted palms throughout…. a “signature Katie touch” in all the interiors she created. Each of our 7+ houses had Al’s requisite wardrobe selections in every master closet, so that no matter where we/he might find himself at any given time (Roblar, Cambria, Freehaven, Ocean Forest, Marina, Tabby Lane, or Black Banks), he was able to don either his “work uniform,” tennis clothes, out-to-dinner attire, sweats, and there was even a tuxedo in a couple of the closets. Those provisions were not optional; they were givens! When he left Tabby Lane that Labor Day weekend morning on September 3, 2007, he took nothing but his briefcase and the small duffle that carried his current, favorite tennis racket. I spent the next many weeks and months walking through and past his closet of clothes, shoes, and drawers filled with socks, underwear, cufflinks, belts and the like, in order to use the shower. The closet was cedar, and so it possessed that distinctive woodsy fragrance, but it also held the lingering scent that a person leaves behind among certain items of apparel, like sport coats, cashmere sweaters and ball caps that aren’t washed or dry-cleaned on as regular a basis as other things, like jeans, khakis, button-downs, or the plethora of navy “Polo” shirts that were such a mainstay of Al’s wardrobe. The scent that remained in his closet long after Al’s departure was akin to a ghoulish spirit, staying behind and reminding me not to get too comfortable; it represented the next surprise attack just waiting around the corner. Both Emily and PJ got more than a little frustrated and even furious with me a number of times and would, in sheer exasperation, yell at me….. ”Mom, please, get MAD, and just throw his damn clothes outside on the walkway for one of dad’s ‘minions’ to collect.” Emily went so far once as to suggest that I should put all his belongings from the closet into moving boxes, which she would gladly deliver and set them on fire at either, or both, his ‘make-shift, construction site office’ or the Black Banks front doorstep. I couldn’t do it though! The fear of how he might retaliate was always there.
Wow…how great would it have been to have this company and its candles back then! I’m going to make up for lost time and check them out now, though FOR SURE! Find them on Instagram @scentofsarcasm
There had already been a number of instances, in just the initial few weeks, when Al had either fabricated stories and lies to feed his attorneys, who in turn threatened my attorneys, and by extension me, with more legal suits; or the litany of other ways he attempted to make my life miserable. The assistant in Al’s Roblar (our main home) studio/office, seemed to get great satisfaction sending out numerous letters to multiple resources or vendors involved in our lives like stores, banks, vets, apprising them of our “situation;” even Katie received notification that the “Capone Interiors” account was CLOSED!
Note the date… The plan was in place long before the “trigger was pulled!”
Picture taken at the Santa Barbara Kennel Club Dog Show, the exact day we left California for our return to Georgia and the start of the 2007/2008 school year. The spelling of our name, just like Al’s presence at a dog show, was a bit “off!” 7 days later…boom!
Al’s assistant, got a little carried away in her joy to execute the plan. There’s actually this little thing called an “Automatic Stay” in divorce proceedings, which puts a “halt” on any changes in marital lifestyle, until formal discovery or ANY discovery can be obtained, and a hearing set to determine procedure, etc… I wasn’t even served with divorce papers until September 14th? Oops!
The harrassment even went so far as to threaten an additional lawsuit, if either the children or I mentioned Connie’s name or Al’s affair with her again? I wish I had been a bit “gutsier” back then, and simply told all of them to “BRING IT ON!” I had written, as well as audio, proof that the affair was REAL, and Al would have had to provide evidence of the contrary to prove any suit against me! But... I didn’t know that then; just like so many other things I didn’t know at the time. What I did know was this: It wasn’t me who had left a cell phone full of text messages between Al and his alleged “friend” on the couch where our daughter was watching TV and found the phone as it beeped, signaling a new barrage of “sex/love texts;” nor was it me that Al had just gifted a very expensive diamond watch to, and in the presence of his traveling tennis pro (so much for discretion); it also wasn’t me that had been paid a real estate commission on the 108 acre ranch Al purchased in California just months before, without my knowledge? And as if it all wasn’t more than a little humiliating already…..I certainly wasn’t the person who requested a “Sea Island City Ledger” card for Connie to use during the time she spent with Al in Georgia, in order to pay for her assorted spa treatments and gift purchases? Nooooo, that emailed request sent to Angel in Sea Island’s accounting department had been sent by Billy Ray, just another minion or monkey in Al’s circus.
Fishbowls….
All the “grinding” and rubbing my nose in, or flaunting Al’s great deception and power was an extra element of embarrassment and intimidation, and it worked for QUITE awhile. I was almost too afraid, and humiliated to leave the house, except for my daily walking of the shore and drive, or to do my routine, and welcome, school drop-offs and pick up’s. I felt, and I knew my children felt similarly.... that we were like goldfish frantically circling and treading water trying to stay afloat in the “fishbowl” that both Sea Island and St. Simons had become. While my children and I were mandated by the legal system to stay within Glynn County, unless we had permission from Al to leave; Al, on the other hand, was free to come and go as he pleased, and our Lear, with tail number, N692PC, was parked right there at McKinnon Airfield to facilitate that freedom. It seemed like there was no end to the bullying and harassment that Al and his network within Glynn County would stop at, to keep me from feeling anything other than weak, small and powerless?
As I read, and heard, last Spring about the Ahmaud Arbery case, which also occurred in Glynn County, Georgia and involved some of the same “legal eagles/players” from my divorce proceedings with Al, I was reminded of the injustices and bully tactics I endured. I’m sure I have no conception of the fear that man felt as he was chased and gunned down in the middle of the street? Obviously, any fear I felt paled in comparison to Ahmaud Arbery’s, as I’m still very much alive, but there are parallels to be drawn. I am a woman, who gave up a career, stayed at home to raise her family, support her husband’s enormous successes, and I wasn’t privy to the benefits that powerful men in Glynn County, Georgia wield. Ahmaud Arbery was a black man, who happened to be running through a predominately white neighborhood and was, I suspect, also not afforded the benefits that the power players in that very same Regional arena exact at their whim. We were BOTH targeted.....for different reasons certainly, but targeted nonetheless.
Both of Al’s divorce attorneys were tireless in their efforts to facilitate Al’s intimidation of me, and those same two men are now “Justices” in Glynn County, Georgia. One of them was even employed as Special Counsel through the authority of California’s Central District Bankruptcy Court to continue representing Al during the pendency of his bankruptcy. It was then, (2012) even after having appeared in a Glynn County courtroom in November of 2010, together with Al, myself, as well as my own Georgia counsel, that one of the two “subject” Justices contacted me directly…..’USUALLY’ a strict “No, No” and violation that steps far outside the scope of legal and ethical practice, but those Glynn County officials seem to have a special knack for avoiding consequences. Those good ‘ol boys take care of their own!
That same Justice’s written admission, (realizing he’d been NAILED), following his ‘overreach,’ attempted to excuse his bad behavior by claiming he had “inadvertently forgotten” about my Georgia counsel? How was that possible? My Georgia legal counsel was the son of a local Judge, himself? No, I don’t buy that story for a New York minute. Regardless…..whether the misdeed was exacted out of the Lawyer/Judge’s claim of forgetfulness, (despite 55+ years of being a lawyer, principal partner in his own, well-known Regional law firm, and then too, a member of the local Judiciary), or whether it was done with deliberate intent to “shake me up,” is unknown but either way, neither reason seems worthy of the authority and credibility extended to a Judicial professional in Glynn County Georgia, or any other court system in America…..yet, it happened? That’s a none-too comforting circumstance when you’re NOT someone operating from an equally elevated position in that certain circle of power and influence? No such thing as an “even playing field” in that game!
There have been far too many occasions, particularly since 2007, when my own life has taken on the illusion of theater, and while I adore attending and watching movies, it never crossed my mind, that my own life would start to resemble a scene from one? When the movie, “A Beautiful Mind” was released in theaters in 2001, I saw it with a small group of friends who did a weekly Friday movie night, and I was gripped for weeks afterwards by the startling resemblance I saw to the behavior of my then husband, and the Russell Crowe character depicted throughout the film. They were both hauntingly and frighteningly brilliant…..in a way that’s almost TOO close for comfort? Similarly, I am reminded of the many weeks and months I spent secluding myself within the comforting walls of Cottage 64, desperately seeking solace from the “bubble-type” existence that accompanied our divorce proceedings, amongst the very high-profile life we had lived up until then on Sea Island. I spent hours, days and weeks ironing (of all things) in the den/media room of our Tabby Lane home, watching the movie “Fracture” with Anthony Hopkins and Ryan Gosling. It was an escape, and together with the relatively mindless activity of ironing, which kept my hands occupied, it helped to fill the empty hours until my children were home from school. The den became my “ironing/movie area” for months! Baskets lined the walls, and I ironed curtains, every sheet or pillowcase in all six bedrooms, all our cloth napkins (which were all we used), every item of the kids and my clothing that we possessed, and practically everything else that had an inch of fabric attached to it, over and over. Each time I saw it, (the movie), and there were MANY, MANY, countless times, I was struck once again by an eerie comparison between Al, and a movie character. The parallels I could draw between Anthony Hopkins, who played the demonic husband in “Fracture,” the movie, versus Al in his real-life role as my husband were both alarmingly similar and disturbing! The two significant differences between real life and the movie reel, were that in real life I wasn’t the one doing the cheating; and the second being, that my husband hadn’t killed me! Otherwise, the calculated behavior, the machinations of their brains and the games they exacted, combined with the condescension that practically oozed from each character, both real and reel, were inconceivably similar; even the landscape and contemporary nature of both the “Fracture” home and our original Rancho Cielo house were comparable? It was unsettling to say the least!
One afternoon, while taking a break from my obsessive ironing, I was sitting on the couch in that same media room, trying to reconcile some paperwork I had to gather and get off to my attorneys later that afternoon. I opened the large drawer in the much larger, reclaimed, antique wooden coffee table sitting directly in front of me, and while digging for some paper clips and” post it” notes, I also pulled out a scrap of paper, which had Al’s writing on it, together with one of his typical “doodle-type” drawings, but the words that were present didn’t make immediate, or any, sense? While I was able to draw some reasonable meaning from past geographical references and human ties, the overall message was a total mystery?
Maybe not the typical musings that accompany the average “doodle;” but then Al has proven himself to be far beyond typical, and absolutely operates outside the law.
What was I looking at, and was there some hidden meaning I wasn’t capable of recognizing, or wasn’t meant to understand? It was a little too reminiscent of the kinetic sculptures that were Anthony Hopkin’s “pet project” in “Fracture.” I was more creeped out than ever. Once again I caught myself seriously questioning the workings of Al’s brain, and what else he could possibly be involved in?
Maybe you just have to see to believe? Picture taken from a scene in “Fracture..”
All that I could, vaguely, reason my way through, when looking at the drawing were the references to Saudi Arabia and Iran.
1.) Saudi Arabia…Prince Bandar, our one time close friend (check my past post, “Money, Marriage, Mafia and Saudi Arabia”) had been the Minister of Defense for Saudi Arabia, as well as a member of the Royal Family, which is how Al had met him way “back in the day” when Al was doing design work on Saudi Military complex’s in Islamabad.
2.) Iran…Paulo was Al’s buddy from Iran, who had at one time worked for Firestone International, and who had also been Al’s sidekick when they each bought homes in Rancho Santa Fe many years earlier. I knew that Paulo had gone on to become an EXTREMELY POWERFUL AND WEALTHY man after he pursued the project Jay Pritzker, another one of Al and Paulo’s Rancho Santa Fe tennis buddies, had originally offered to both Al and Paulo, together. The two friends had flown to Baku in Azerbaijan to identify a potential site for a Pritzker owned, Hyatt Hotel. The rest would become history.
It’s all right there, in black and white….but WHAT did it mean?
I remembered that Al had chosen to pursue the Sea Island project, while Paulo picked up and moved to Baku and was now a mega-millionaire; commanding hotelier; steel industry magnate, as well as a major soft drink (Coca Cola, I think?) distributor, and drinking water supplier. Paulo’s linguistic skills, knowledge of foreign governments, and big business dealings, uniquely afforded him the IDEAL skill set to essentially develop and run this new, burgeoning mecca…the western equivalent of a winning lotto ticket? I had then, and still have now, no idea, how all those pieces fit into the doodles of Al’s odd drawing, but it certainly held the power to get my “brain chemistry” firing at light speed?
Paulo and Al at Emily’s christening in 1991
Pretty sure neither Paulo, nor Prince Bandar, had anything to do with the “ties” that I thought bound Al to Anthony Hopkin’s “Fracture” character, but when considering the ABSOLUTE PLETHORA of power, position and international “reach, Al enjoyed, combined with his local, Glynn County, Georgia influence, it was enough to leave me feeling WAY more than a little rattled, and on edge. It was then that I began to delve into studying some mental health issues, and concluded that Al’s dissociative personality and malignant narcissism had to be what drove his actions. I am in NO way a medical, or any other type of expert, but I had lived with the man for 18 years by that time, and had witnessed far too many frightening occasions and displays of deplorable conduct that simply couldn’t be attributed to a mere mood swing or bad day? I also couldn’t account for another explanation of his constant compartmentalization, manipulation of every variable in every situation, and the easy, endless stream of lies that defined Al’s being, behavior and ego. Both men too, Al and “Anthony Hopkins” the real and the reel character, were genius-like in their professions, yet almost childlike in their close, interpersonal relationships and the insecurities that accompanied those circumstances. It was a beyond troubling element that I had stumbled upon, and when I spoke about it to James, my much-needed therapist and “safe-haven/shoulder” during our weekly phone conversations from September, 2007 through May, 2008, I still had trouble conceiving that I could have allowed myself to be drawn into such a puzzling and potentially destructive equation for that many years? What could be so incredibly wrong with me, that I had fallen for, and become entrapped in such a life? It took, first James, and subsequently Steve, (both psychologists) and 16+ years of therapy for me to finally grasp, and understand (or even begin to) the theory that I was/am an enabler, co-dependent, and had been groomed from childhood for the exact role I stepped into.
Once you know, and are truly able to accept those realities…..what do you, or I, do then? That’s been, and what continues to be my challenge now; is there some conceivable way I can turn my experience into an avenue to help others? I haven’t devised the EXACT plan…yet, but I’m working on it.
In the meantime, I’ll continue trying to encourage, to be supportive, and share a few tidbits from “Easy’s” bag of inspirational tricks. I can even offer a suggestion or two about more movies to watch, when a distraction is needed, and/or warranted. I’m ALL over the map in my cinematic likes and dislikes, and any given rainy day might find me on the couch with a bowl of popcorn watching one of my chosen favorites. All-time favorites include High Society, Big Jake (John Wayne is my idol, and the day my Grandfather introduced me to him at The La Jolla Beach & Tennis Club, will stay with me always), Sabrina (the original), Houseboat, Secretariat, Guess Who’s Coming To Dinner (Spencer Tracy and Katharine Hepburn are magic together), Four Weddings And A Funeral, and nothing offers a good laugh like, Arthur (but again, the original).
Some recent, some not, but more choices might include, Walk The Line (Johnny Cash was my Dad’s hero), The Equalizer I & II; (serious crush on Denzel…shhhh!), A Good Year (Russell Crowe ~ another crush), Birdcage, Draft Day (feeds my football addiction, but really only for college/SEC games… “Roll Tide!”), The Help, and most recently, Molly’s Game. Don’t say I didn’t warn you…..my taste is diverse? Binge-worthy TV series must include Blacklist and Yellowstone! Last, but absolutely NOT least, Gilmore Girls plays on a loop in my house. Between Emily Gilmore, Lorelai and Rory, you’ll find the perfect storm of my Mother, my older Sister, my daughter, and finally myself; just watch and see!
If you need more distraction…..bake! I was, somewhat, relatively, famous at Franklin Academy for my (Easy’s) Coffee Cake that I would bring to certain holiday programs, like Veteran’s Day, (on at least one occasion a certain Veteran said he would only speak during the presentation, if my cake was there). I don’t often share recipes, but I’m breaking the rules today, so here you go:
Vital to the process…a well-buttered and lightly floured Bundt pan.
INGREDIENTS:
2 Sticks butter, 2 cups sugar, 2 eggs and 1 Tsp. Vanilla
2 cups flour, 1 Tsp Baking Powder, and 1/2 Tsp salt (sifted twice)
1 cup Sour Cream
Cream together butter and sugar with electric mixer; Mix in the eggs and then vanilla. Add sifted ingredients, and then sour cream. Beat well.
Mix together in separate bowl or jar, 3-4 Tbsp of Sugar, and 1-2 Tbsp Cinnamon. (I make lots of extra in a Mason jar for additional use later) You can also add in chopped pecans or shredded coconut if you like ~ maybe a cup of each.
In the WELL-GREASED Bundt pan, put three large spoons of the batter and spread evenly; sprinkle an entire layer of the sugar/cinnamon mixture etc…on top; then add another three spoonfuls of batter and another layer of sugar/cinnamon mixture. You may, or may not, be able to get a third layer, depending on how aggressive you are with the batter spoonfuls?
Bake in preheated oven @ 350* for 45-60 minutes, depending on how hot your oven runs. Cool 15 minutes; remove from pan and dust the top with sprinkled Powdered Sugar.
Enjoy! It also freezes well; enjoy half one day, and save the other half for next week.
It’s Friday; time to open my favorite Pinot Grigio, and toast to how far I’ve come, and to the adventure that lies ahead! Cheers!