While I have had a supposedly active investigation by the Morris County Prosecutor’s Office since December, not a single witness has been contacted. Not a single critical piece of evidence has been subpoenaed. And every day this man is allowed to continue holding power and influence over New Jersey public health while nothing is done.
I was not the first victim.
I will not be the last.
Unless they act.
June 4, 2025, was my first contact with local police. What followed was severe trauma, compounded by the inaction of law enforcement and, in numerous ways, enabled by it.
I have eyewitnesses.
I have thousands of files.
I can prove that every single allegation he made against me to law enforcement was a malicious and premeditated lie.
He stole thousands of dollars’ worth of my devices.
He took me against my will—twice—with an active TRO against me.
He falsely accused me of fraud to an important business partner and to Bank of America.
He locked me out of joint business accounts. I still have no access and no idea what is being done in my name.
I was threatened.
I was stalked.
I was terrorized.
I was held against my will.
I was drugged by a physician, in multiple states, and there are records.
St. Clare’s ignored my sincere and credible reports of abuse, including my fears for my children’s safety. Instead, I was treated as though my claims themselves were evidence of mental illness—a conclusion later contradicted by their own psychiatrist.
But not until after I had been placed in four-point restraints.
Not until after I had been prevented from ensuring the safety of my own children.
That was agonizing.
Being disbelieved by police and medical staff after I escaped my kidnapper—and then being physically prevented from making sure my children were safe—was worse than anything he ever did to me.
I escaped on July 4 with no money, my business in ruins, my mind consumed by severe PTSD.
Within a week, I was back at work.
Facing eviction.
Fifteen thousand dollars in debt.
Destroyed credit.
A stellar reputation that was now suspect.
Still being severely hacked and threatened.
I would sit for hours every day, staring into space in complete dissociation.
I was scared.
Or furious.
Usually both.
Close to no one.
The experiences I had are the kind that most people won’t readily believe.
That is an incredibly isolating place to live.
But I also know what it feels like to be backed into a corner and decide to fight for your life.
That animal instinct.
That raw, primal survival rage.
As I fought to keep my housing and provide for my family, I also quit drugs.
I fought for custody of my children.
I endured the complete alienation of my family.
I lost friends.
Because who knows how to deal with a life like this?
I understand.
Even with every day becoming another battle—financial hardship, PTSD, custody litigation, conflict with my own mother, the collapse of important relationships, begging law enforcement to listen to me just once, watching my health deteriorate, never having time to breathe—I get up every single day and decide to fight harder.
I will not be exhausted.
That’s a tactic they love.
They cannot make me surrender through endless courtrooms and lawyers.
They cannot make me disappear by ignoring me.
They cannot make me doubt myself by refusing to believe me.
I don’t need anyone’s approval.
I don’t need anyone’s permission.
And don’t, for the love of God, tell me I have to forgive and move on.
I don’t need to do what makes you feel better.
You weren’t the one who spent days awake, barely eating, terrified for your life and your family, realizing with crushing devastation what true powerlessness feels like.
An enemy that seemed too powerful to fight.
I walked into waters I didn’t even know existed.
I had two choices.
Learn to swim.
Or drown.
At first, I was simply grateful to have air in my lungs again.
But as safety slowly returned, my anger could no longer be ignored.
Not blind anger.
Rightful anger.
Because the lines he crossed were too severe.
The lengths he went to in order to terrorize me and take everything from me—for nothing—cannot be ignored.
I did nothing to that man except say no.
And yet the Morris County Prosecutor’s Office apparently does not consider this as urgent as raiding smoke shops for illegal vapes.
This man continues to hold positions of authority and power in New Jersey.
His associates are influential.
His ties are deep.
But so is my persistence.
I will never be grateful for what I endured last summer.
But I am grateful for the woman who emerged from that fire.
She is not afraid anymore.
And she is not going anywhere
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