Disclaimer: The characters, events, and situations depicted in this narrative are fictional, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or real events is coincidental.
By Julian Borrowell
Fabricio Liftman went on a self-imposed exile in Hollywood—as a TV writer – leaving his three young children with their mother.
For 13 years, the children Maya, Mason and Carter shared their days with their mother, Karina Goodwin, amid the picturesque landscapes and charming neighborhoods of Westport, CT.
In Hollywood, the echo of Fabricio’s laughter mingled with the bustling streets, and the banter of the occasional male escort to ease his loneliness, as he carved a path toward a secure financial future.
His nights were devoid of romantic affairs, except for the occasional young hot Latino male whose services he purchased by the hour negotiated curbside on Santa Monica Blvd.
The years passed. His children grew. He in Hollywood. They with their mother in CT amid her extended family and friends.
One fateful day, Fabricio committed a small error that the unforgiving merchants of Hollywood would not overlook. As a writer, he plagiarized a script he believed had never seen the light of day, authored by another creative mind.
Unfortunately, the television show in question had indeed aired.
In the harsh world of the entertainment industry, the consequences of this single misjudgment were merciless.
A single misstep, one note awry in the symphony of his career, shattered his aspirations. He lost his job, his agents severed ties. He faced the grim verdict that he would never work in Hollywood again.
As the world of Hollywood closed its doors, Fabricio turned his gaze to the beacon of his heart – his beloved children.
He returned to CT, seeking refuge in his children’s warmth, laughter, and innocence. But Karina, the mother, seemed estranged. The children felt more comfortable with her.
He tried to sleep with them in their bed to get closer. Sometimes to coax them, he seemed accidentally asleep in their bed.
He tried to playfully tickle them and kiss them all over. But they responded with fear, not love.
He tried being stern and discipline them. He raised his voice to earn their attention.
He punished them, and showed his temper. He secretly recorded them to show others how they felt about him and why it was the mother’s fault.
“Parental alienation, a venomous serpent of manipulation, slithered forth to ensnare my offspring in a cocoon of mistrust,” he said to his parental alienation consultant, an expert on divorce and custody, using words he might have plagiarized from another creative mind.
Finally driven by an unquenchable longing to hold his children close, he locked his wife, Karina, out of their joint bank accounts, keeping her share of the marital funds, and took her inheritance too.
Then he filed for divorce.
He fought his battle in CT Family Court, where the right attorney found the friendliest judge, who appointed the most carefully selected guardian ad litem, who would ensure the best court appointed therapists and agreeable custody evaluator.
These would ensure the results the man who paid paid for. In other words, parental alienation. Presto! Remove the mother from the children’s lives.
Custody Evaluator Porcia Snodwell finds parental alienation every time the GAL tells her.
The right attorney, Nathan Gypsmith
A good judge, Judge Dominique Cheatley…
Fabricio stepped into the arena of justice, his armor clad in determination, his sword etched with two little words — parental alienation.
His checkbook, enabled by taking his wife’s share of the funds, paid for experts who would decide Karina had alienated the children, and custody must be flipped to the father regardless of how the children felt.
The courtroom’s hallowed halls transformed into an arena of clashing wills. Fabricio stood as a colossus of determination, a knight armored in valorous resolve.
He told the judge, using words he borrowed from another creative mind, how the mother Karina Goodwin “ensnared the children’s hearts with artifice, weaving a tapestry of deceit that danced upon the winds of parental alienation.”
Since he had all the money, he could pay the experts to testify for the “best interests of the children.”
Still accusations flew in the courtroom of Judge Jane Kupson Schemer – money, greed, betrayal. Karina accused Fabricio of taking her wealth and leaving her with nothing.
But he said he was backed into a corner, forced to make choices he never wanted to make. If he hadn’t taken her money, Karina would have used her own money against him, tearing apart any chance of a peaceful resolution. He had to steal her money, in the best interest of the children.
Hour after hour, Fabricio made his tear-stained testimony. He pleaded, he begged, he implored for the chance to bring his loved ones home to him alone.
Happily, the experts he paid became his allies in his quest for reunion.
As the experts told Judge Schemer, “the sinister dance of parental alienation by the mother collides with the intricate dance of the father’s healthy family dynamics.”
The Guardian Ad Litem, Joyce Wurlitz….
The court ruled in his favor, ordering a future where he and his children could find solace without the mother they thought they loved.
The children were ordered out of their home with their mother, and by evening they were alone with their loving father.
For three years, he had them all to himself. The mother excluded.
Judge Schemer barred Karina from phoning, texting or emailing the children. Yet their brains were controlled by their mother’s brainwashing. They felt resentment toward Fabricio. It was a dark shadow, casting a pall over the relationship.
He moved his children to a solitary home in Madison, away from their mother, school, and all their family and friends they knew their whole lives. He wanted his new home to be a lighthouse of love casting its beacon upon the stormy seas of family turmoil.
Despite the sacrifices he made, the teens struggled to see beyond their mother’s absence, which became a gaping void that seemed deeper than the unselfish love their father showered upon them.
But life can be cruel, and happiness elusive. After three years where they did not see her, Karina brainwashed the children remotely to leave the only person who truly loved them – their father.
The tiny ones, aged 16, 16 and 13, after three years with him alone, left him alone and returned to their mother.
Fabricio again went to court.
Judge O. Neal Bribington stood as the voice of reason.
Faced with the shattered dreams of a wealthy father, a penniless mother and three infant teenagers caught in the crossfire, the judge grappled with a decision that would forever impact their lives.
The only solution was to put Karina behind bars until the children reached the crucible of adulthood — age 18.
Despite Karina’s incarceration and Fabricio’s hopes for a fresh start, the father’s heartache didn’t end.
Even with their mother in prison, the children would not return to him and ran to their maternal grandfather instead.
With a tempest of emotions, and a maelstrom of aspirations, Fabricio found himself standing on the precipice of loneliness that cut deep.
He had hoped that time would mend the wounds and scars of the past would fade. As he looked upon the photographs of his teens, taken by nanny cams he secretly installed in their bedrooms for their protection, he couldn’t help but wonder if he had done enough, if he had given enough, if he had loved enough.
In a desperate attempt to reclaim the fading fragments of their relationship, Fabricio resorted to a drastic and heartbreaking decision. Fueled by a deep-seated love, he made the difficult choice to go to court with his attorneys to have his children arrested and by court-order confined within the four walls of his home under home arrest.
Judge Neal O. Grifterstone knew the children were brainwashed without even meeting them.
Judge O Neil Falsington ordered the police to arrest the tots, Mason, 17, Maya, 17 and Carter, 14, and provide Fabricio with authorization to parent them properly.
With legal maneuvers that seemed almost surreal, ankle monitors were fastened on Maya, Mason and Carter, and security guards became the constant shadows of their days.
Fabricio took care to select the dogs that guarded the perimeter to ensure Carter, Maya and Mason did not leave the house.
At first he tried a pair of bullmastiffs, but they bonded with the children and would not bite them even if they scaled the fence. German Shepherds, Rottweilers, even the Doberman Pinscher proved a failure.
Fabricio settled on the Central Asian Shepherd Dog, which looked upon the teens as so many stray sheep. The dogs were aggressive and assertive in bringing the wanderers back by sharp nips, warning yelps and aggressive tugs.
Though heavy with the weight of his actions, the father’s heart held onto a flicker of hope. He believed his children would see the extent of his love, and the lengths he had gone to keep them.
The stun gun he carried served as a physical reminder of the fear that had driven him to this point, a fear that they might escape the clutches of his care and slip away forever, and that a carefully aimed shot would only subdue, but never really harm unless of course they fell down the flight of stairs.
So many nights he was tempted to let them sleep, not handcuffed to the bed. But he knew it was senseless, for even with their mother in prison, she would find a way to communicate with them and lead the brainwashed teens to escape.
The months rolled on. The melodious chords of life led to an emotional crescendo traversing the labyrinthine depths of heartbreak, betrayal, and life’s enigmatic path.
The children’s resentment, once an ember, burned with intensity.
Their claim of longing for their mother – which he knew was the result of her brainwashing them – and their hatred for their loving father – echoed through the halls of the captive home.
Still, he clung to hope.
Then a twist of good fortune arrived. The mother, whose presence had cast shadows over their existence, had breathed her last breath behind prison bars.
This could be the turning point, the moment his children finally understood the depths of his love and gain release from the manipulative grasp of their mother.
With a heart brimming with joy, relief, and gratitude, he told the children the glad tidings, imagining they would see this as a liberation from the toxic maternal influence that tainted their lives.
Instead of feeling liberated, the children wept and mourned their mother.
The bitter irony was not lost on Fabricio. The cruel woman who had been the source of his own suffering retained her hold on his babies’ minds from beyond the grave to torment him.
Time marched on. The two eldest reached adulthood, and even Judge Avarice J. O’Neill could not force Mason and Maya to stay past 18.
Yet, a glimmer of hope remained. The youngest, a beacon of innocence, was still captive.
But even this bond would prove fragile. The young one, fueled by a restless spirit, found a means of escape. Athletic prowess met determination, and the electric barbed wire fence became an easily scalable obstacle.
He slipped away, leaving the father alone in the shadow of unrequited love to tread upon a path yet veiled by fate’s inky veil.
And so, this was how the story unfolded, a tragic tale of love and loss.
His children refused to speak to him ever again.
The courts refused to force them home. Even his well-lawyered attempts to declare the adult children legally incompetent, and have the court appoint him their adult guardian, were unavailing.
Judge Adel I Swindelman
Attorney Marcus Cuta
Attorney Edward Baumnusser…
Fabricio He returned home from the court of Judge Jane Kupson Scandleton, his heart heavy with anger, choked by rage and confusion
He forum shopped and got yet another judge. Judge Gerard I. Swindleman, permitted the adult children to testify.
News in the town spread fast. The townspeople who once supported Fabricio, when they heard the children tell of years of abuse, believed them.
The unjust seed of doubt struck Fabricio at the core, gnawing at his consciousness with venomous fangs. A persistent effort to proclaim his innocence consumed him.
Each day saw him crafting a more elaborate tale about how the mother brainwashed the children, weaving intricate layers of proof and fiery declarations into his narrative. Yet, the sands of disbelief only shifted further.
The whispers behind his back carried a cruel verdict: “Deceitful evidence,” they whispered, condemning his desperate attempts to shield the truth – he had abused his children.
Fabricio felt the weight of their skepticism, a relentless pressure sapped his vitality. His ceaseless efforts, a dance of words, and emotional reasoning left him drained, his energy reserves dwindling.
Even a trip to Hollywood and a drive down Santa Monica Blvd to find some hot, young Latino lads, with nice heads of lettuce, did not halt the transformation in his appearance.
He found he had venous leakage and could not respond to their twinkie bodies, but with flaccid tepidness.
He returned to CT.
A ghostly shadow overtook him, a slow fading away that found its climax around the turn of the year.
By the time January arrived, he was confined to his bed, his strength waning.
As the symphony of his existence made a diminuendo toward its final movement, a poignant realization dawned on him.
He had failed.
In those fleeting moments between life and death, his cries of being a good father echoed, a desperate plea amidst a haze of anguish.
Even at his deathbed, his children refused to come. They would not text, email or phone him either – just like he had done to their mother.
His faltering voice, mingling with the ripples of agony, repeated the haunting refrain spoken to no one:
“O my son Mason, my son, my son Carter would God that your mother had died sooner, and O Maya, my fille, my fille! You wicked kids, I did everything for you.”
Then with a labyrinth of harp strings, where emotions bloom like fragile fairy lilies, the Unbroken Bond laid broken. Fabricio, whose fatherly heartstrings were woven with the silken threads of time, gave up the ghost.
He died surrounded by young hot Latino male angels, and ascended into heaven.