THE PRICE OF HAVING IT ALL


Chapter 29


I hadn’t seen my son Erik in years. As soon as the “Turnabout” drug rehab program was done, Erik refused to come back to live with Sandie and I, and went to live with his mother.

Instead of getting better, he got worse. It wasn’t long before he was addicted to heroin, had dropped out of school completely, and was living on the streets with a group of junkies. I blamed it on his mom, Lisa. Her “be the kids’ best friend” parenting style and lack of discipline and rules for the kids had always set them up for failure.

As soon as Erik moved in with her, he had no direction, no expectation, no curfew. He could do as he pleased, with no interference or supervision whatsoever from his mother. I attributed it to the fact that he was upset with us for putting him in rehab to begin with. I soon learned that wasn’t the case.

One day, shortly after our new baby was born, I got a phone call out of the blue from Erik; he wanted to come see me. He’d heard through the grapevine I was divorced from Sandie, and wanted to stop by and see the new baby. It was weird hearing from him, because in spite of my efforts, Erik had remained distant. But I was excited. I had often wondered about him and wished I could find a way to rebuild my relationship with him. I wondered why he’d turned to drugs and threw away his life so young, and worried that I was somehow responsible.

About an hour later I saw an old cream colored Infiniti G20 pull up. Erik emerged. He was tall, thin, and pale with shoulder length black hair pulled over one side of his face. For being 21, I thought he’d be bigger, like I was. He wore head to toe black: an open trench coat, black t-shirt, and tight black jeans with chains attached hanging from the waist. I opened the front door and smiled, hoping for a hug or a handshake. He lowered his head and said in a boyish voice “Hi Dad” and walked in. Jen stood behind me holding the baby. I introduced them, and Erik grabbed his little hand and shook it, looking at him like he’d never seen a baby before.

“So, I can’t believe you finally got away from Sandie” he said.

“Yeah, things finally got too crazy. We were never right for each other, anyway.” I admitted. “Well…the reason I came over is because I wanted to tell you something.” He glanced over at Jen, and she quickly got the hint, excusing herself to go upstairs and feed the baby.

“What’s up?” I asked, wondering what he wanted. I was used to my kids coming and asking for money, I assumed it was something like that. Erik was quiet, scratching at the back of his hand at a scab with his long, dirty fingernails. His face was so thin and pallid, it looked like he hadn’t eaten in weeks. I just sat there, looking at him, waiting for him to talk. It was a long, uncomfortable silence.

“I wanted to tell you why I didn’t come back to live with you after Turnabout.” Now he was itching his other hand, nervously. He never looked up. I waited for him to finish.

“It was because of Sandie. Something happened before she sent me away.” I wasn’t sure whether to interrupt, or let him keep on. He was silent.

“What happened?” I asked.

“She called me up to her room when you were gone one day” he said. “She said she found something in my bedroom and wanted to talk to me about it.”

“What did you do?”

“I went up to her room and she told me to close the door. When I turned around she had taken off her robe and was naked.”

“What?” I said. Erik stared at the floor, afraid to go on. I began to feel sick at what I might hear next, but I had to know.

“So what happened?” I said.

“She told me to walk over to the bed, so I did. I was scared. She walked up behind me and undid my pants, and then pulled down my boxers. She started touching me. . .”

“What the hell. . .”

“. . .Dad, she made me do stuff. And then she said that if I ever told anyone, she would kick my brothers and sisters out of her house, and we would live on the street. She said she would take everything away from us.”

I didn’t know what to say. I looked at my son, and remembered the story others had told me about two underage boys Sandie had molested in New York. Now I knew that wasn’t the case. The proof was right in front of me: the pain on my son’s face.

“Erik, I should have known. I am so sorry.” There was nothing I could say.

Erik sat there, empty. I felt like it was my fault, and that I should have known that something was going on. Erik changed in many ways during those years with Sandie, but I never suspected that she had abused him. I always thought he had gotten into drugs because he was a typical teenager and was hanging with the wrong crowd. Now I knew that he had gotten into drugs as an escape.

I had failed him as a father. I should have paid more attention to him and been around more. I had moved my sheep into the den of a wolf, and left them there unprotected.

Sandie Tillotson was a woman who was in charge of charities for children –– the Force for Good –– who some people thought was the “Mother Theresa” of all things to do with kids. She was respected in the community because of her financial success and business acumen, but she craved power –– the power and control to destroy the lives of others, at her will. And she used that power in all the worst ways, buying and selling people like they were the cheap products her company sold, discarding them when she was done with them.

I was just going to pick up the pieces of my ruined life, and try to rebuild something with my new wife and family. I was just going to move on. But I couldn’t now, not after what Erik told me. My son wasn’t the first child Sandie molested, but he should be the last.

The truth needed to be told about Sandie Tillotson: the billionaire who had it all, and it still wasn’t enough.