Something Was Wrong - S16 E1: Spoiler Alert: It's All F*cked Up

Episode Date: May 11, 2023

*Content Warning: emotional and physical violence of children, interpersonal violence, sibling abuse, alcohol and substance use disorder, drunk driving, body-image abuse, disordered eating, anorexia, murder, childhood abuse, animal abuse, dog bite, road rage. Free and confidential resources + Safety Tips: somethingwaswrong.com/resources Artwork by the amazing Sara Stewart @GreaterThanOkay - Instagram.com/greaterthanokaySources: Carmichael Man Accused of Swindling $2.8 Million The Sacramento Bee, By Bee Staff Writer Denny Walsh, Oct 10th 1997, Fri  •  Page 24See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Hey, prime members, you can listen to something was wrong early and add free on Amazon music. Download the app today. I'm Candace DeLong and on my new podcast, Killer Psychy Daily, I share a quick 10 minute rundown every weekday on the motivations and behaviors of the cold-butter killers you read about in the news. Listen to the Amazon Music Exclusive Podcast Killer Psychy Daily in the Amazon Music exclusive podcast killer psyche daily in the Amazon Music app. Download the app today. Something was wrong is intended for mature audiences as it discusses topics that can be upsetting such as emotional, physical, and sexual violence.

Content warnings for each episode and confidential and free resources for survivors can be found in the episode notes. Some survivor names have been changed for anonymity purposes. pseudonyms are given to minors in these stories for their privacy and protection. Testimony shared by guests on this show is their own and does not necessarily reflect the views of myself, broken cycle media, or wondering. The podcast or any linked materials should not be construed as medical advice, nor is the information a substitute for professional expertise or treatment.

All persons are considered innocent and less proven guilty in a court of law. Thank you so much for listening. For 15 seasons now, I've thought about and been asked about sharing my own story. It's honestly just never felt like the right time for me to go public with all of this until now. So much of my own story I've honestly never looked into. I've never spoken to the witness at my brother's murder or read many a document that are out there. I needed to focus on my kids, my family, my livelihood, and then something was wrong.

And keeping it afloat through COVID and the economy crashing and just general, worldly chaos, and honestly I've shared this before, but I'm really afraid of like my parents suing me because that's what they fucking love to do. There's a lot of reasons why I've put this off, even though I'm a very extroverted introvert, ambivert, it's not a school. Like I love people, and I love human connection. I've been so focused on the show and telling other people's stories and it just didn't feel like the right time. I also am really afraid of my parents. I also don't want them to have any excuse to contact me. So there's been a lot of fear and shame,

a fear of like, if I share this and I share my father's crimes or the things about my family that I feel shame about, even though it's not my shame to have, what if that makes people think of me this way? What if people start to associate me with this? And I was telling Amy that the other day and she's like, they won't. People want to know you and support you. That's like ways into what else I wanna say before we get into it is, I honestly, I don't think that I could do this

if it weren't for Amy and her support and her helping me produce this season. I also wanna thank Becca, our audio editor, Lily, our associate producer, and Michael, my partner for participating and for helping with the execution of this season. I really don't think I could do it without all of their help. For 15 seasons, I've wanted to share my story. I've had a lot of fear and a lot of shame and a lot of things that I needed to work through, but I finally feel a desire to share

and be known, even though it's extremely scary and vulnerable. I've been so inspired since season 1 by every survivor who has shared their story with me, and each of them doing so has helped make me be a little bit braver to reach this point. Like the other survivors who have come before me, if it helps even one person, then the sharing is worth it. This isn't just my story, but it's the story of many other people who you'll hear from and some who can't speak for themselves. That were also impacted within this story. I want to hold space for all of those people as well. My memoir is not only about what was

wrong, it's also about those adults in my life, whether it be teachers or coaches or therapists or my friends parents, who saw a kid who was hurting and dealing with a lot and they chose to lift me up and pour into my life I also want to highlight those people because they made such a massive impact on my life And I think that it really helped me continue to persevere and push through all of the horrific shit that I survived Lastly, I'd like to dedicate this season to my baby, brother, Bobby, whom I miss every single day and to my children who better not being listening to this. I'm Tiffany Reese and this is something was wrong. Don't know me well Get on

Get on It can fall Don't know me You don't know anybody Until you die To survive Nobody has you, you don't. Don't, don't, don't. There's so many things you're discussing. There's so many things that touch on your guest stories

that are all compiled in yours. I think people are going to be like, Wow. That's why she's good at holding space. I told you this. You haven't owed anyone any piece of your story to have validity in the space as a victim. Like, you don't need to share your trauma to be able to have validity. To be validated. To be validated. To be validated. To be validated. To be validated. To be validated. To be validated. To be validated. To be validated. To be validated. To be validated. To be validated. To be validated. To be validated. To be validated. To be validated. To be validated. To be validated. To be validated. To be validated. To be validated. To be validated. To be validated. To be validated. To be validated. To be validated. To be validated. To be validated. To be validated. To be validated. To be validated. To be validated. To be validated. To be validated. To be validated. To be validated. To be validated. To be validated. To be validated. To be validated. To be validated. To be validated. To be validated. To be validated. To be validated. To be validated. To be validated. To be validated. To be validated. To be validated. To be validated. To be validated. To be validated. To be validated. To be validated. To be validated. To be validated. To be validated. To be validated. don't know. I don't think it's selfish. I think it's I'm a naturally private person, but I hope that it'll help people understand me a little bit and sitting here with you today, having this first session together, having you hold this space for me and validate me.

Now I can understand why it's therapeutic for people, understood it, but to experience it, you know, actually feel what that feels like. This feels really good. We carry a load and when we share it, we're literally sharing it, you know, when that space can be held for us and we can do that together, it's like a lifting up together. And I know that when I do that and when you do that and when your guests do that, they're stepping in to lift that up. Yeah, I feel like I heal apart of myself with every story because I learned something, I sit with something.

Like you said, you hear a lot of other people's stories in my story now and hopefully by sharing my story, it will help people that I work within the future feel even more comfortable working with me. And that's another reason why I wanted to share is because I want people to know how hard and how long I have worked to become the person that I am. When you consider the amount of obstacles that I overcame and the language and the scripts that I was taught about myself and the fact that I said fuck all that. I'm just going to keep doing me anyway. That's what I'm most proud of about myself. And I hope that people will see that it's just pride and not ego or like thinking

I'm the shit, but I am really proud of myself. And I know my brother's really proud of me too. I love it. I love it. I appreciate you listening. I love you too. I really don't think I could do it too. I love it. I love me. I appreciate your listening. I love you too. I really don't think I could do it with anyone else, Amy. I love you.

Hello, I'm Michael Reese and I am Tiffany Reese's husband. I've known Tiffany for the better part of 25 years. We actually we first met in the local punk rock scene. Tiffany was the vocalist of an all-girl punk rock band called PMS. I know you're thinking it actually stood for pretty misleading stereotypes. So fucking punk rock. And I played in a Christian punk band. I had heard about Tiffany and knew that I needed to meet her

cause she sounded so cool. So a lot of the things that I initially noticed about Tiffany when we were first friends and started dating are still the same today in that Tiffany is more or less the complete opposite of me in terms of personality where I might not speak up about something Tiffany will speak up about that thing. The way that I would describe Tiffany is somebody with a great capacity for empathy great capacity for empathy and really holding the feelings of other people, people that she doesn't know, just, you know, strangers. I could think of many experiences where we have been out in public and overheard somebody being shitty to somebody else and Tiffany speaking up to them about it or calling

the mat on that behavior in a positive way and it making a difference. So the way that I would describe Tiffany is as somebody who has a huge capacity for empathy, compassion for other people. Literally, I see it every day in person and it's encouraging and makes me also want to be a better person and have more empathy for other people as well. Tiffany, while she may come across this very serious on the podcast or semi-serious, Tiffany is definitely one on the podcast or semi-serious.

Tiffany is definitely one of the funniest people that I've ever met in my life. Wanna? Let me run that back. Let me run that back. Let me run that back. I don't wanna run that back. I don't wanna run that back. Tiffany is the funniest,

funniest person I have ever met in my life, ever, and I did not say this under dressed. What if you were trafficked into a cult over shot nine times, or fell in love with a vampire, or went into a minor surgery and woke up one week later, paralyzed. What would you do? I'm Whit Missildine, the creator of this is actually happening, a podcast from Wondry that brings you extraordinary true stories of life-changing events told by the people who lived them. From a young man that dooms his entire future with one choice, to a woman who survived a notorious serial killer, you'll hear their first person account of how they overcame remarkable circumstances. Each episode is an exploration of the human spirit and personal discovery.

These haunting accounts sound like Hollywood movies, but I assure you this is actually happening. Follow this is actually happening wherever you get your podcasts. You can listen to ad free on the Amazon Music or Wondery app. Alright, well I guess I can't avoid this any fucking further. Okay, so a lot of this I'm just gonna keep you 100 is a lot of this information that I'm gonna talk about with background with my parents or their family systems, etc. This is all information that was told to me that I have no real way of verifying, but this is the information and the knowledge that I recall and that I have. Here the fuck we go. My mom grew up in Bakersfield, California. My mom had an absent father. She had three brothers.

One of them passed away of a heroin overdose. It was the brother that my mom was closest to. a heroin overdose, was the brother that my mom was closest to. My other two quote-unquote uncles, I looked them up on Facebook, out of curiosity, probably like five to ten years ago, no idea. And one of them had a shirt that said this shirt can say the N word because it's black and the other one had some other racist shit on their Facebook. What I know about them is that they were abusive and that my mom didn't have a relationship with them due to that abuse and also them being in prison systems. Liz, my mom, I'll refer to Liz, my mom, just because that's habit and Bob, my dad. What I knew about Liz's relationship with her mom, just because that's habit, and Bob, my dad. What I knew about Liz's relationship with her mom, my grandmother Peggy, was that it was a very rocky relationship. She did not have a relationship

that I know of with her father, or it was very limited. I got the impression that Liz's mom was in and out of a lot of unhealthy relationships throughout her life. I remember her telling me that for holidays they got a pair of Levi's and a carton of cigarettes. That was the vibes. Honestly it just sounded like a very humble upbringing and that there was a lot of abuse and it was very rocky. I will tell you a story in a little bit about the only time I recalled meeting my grandmother and what that experience was like, but spoiler alert about this whole story, it's all fucked up. Eventually my mom did move out of Bakersfield to Carson City,

Nevada, where she met her first husband and had my half-brother Tony. When Tony was a few years old after they divorced Liz would then meet my dad. Bob. Bob also grew up in Southern California. What I was told about Bob's background was that he was the youngest. He was a self-described military brat. My grandfather, my dad's dad, was a veteran in the Navy and did many tours and was a Mason, I believe was Christian, and my grandmother had a Jewish background. She had two other children with a previous partner. So I believe my dad had two siblings, a brother and a sister, but that they were significantly older than him. He was

essentially the quote, baby of the family. As far as I know, Bob never really got along with his mother and they had a very complicated relationship. Bob blamed his mother for his father's death. He was having a heart attack is what I was told and that she was too quote unquote cheap to call 911 and Bob presented her for that and blamed her for the heart attack. That's all I ever knew was both of my parents had very broken relationships with their parents. By the time I was born my grandfather had passed away. I did meet my grandmother once and I'll talk about that later. It's kind of funny. I only met both my grandmother's one time. Bob was previously married before meeting Liz to a woman named Darleen. They had a son

together who was my oldest half-brother, and his name is Chad. Chad was probably four years older than Tony, and Bob, he was like nine or so years older than my mom. My mom and dad, they met at a bar in Carson City, Nevada. Both of them previously married, both have one kid previously, they get together. What I remember is my parents telling me that Tony essentially never fucked with Bob. He never liked Bob and they would tell these stories like they were so funny and this is an ongoing theme. You know those types of people that are like, I'm just a bitch and

you're like, um, but you can evolve the changes of human being. You don't have to just be a bitch. Those are my parents. They just be like, oh, Fuckin' horrible, right? Like somehow think that by saying you're horrible or by saying you're a bitch makes it okay. When it's not, that was very much the energy. So They would tell these stories about how Tony hated Bob and how funny that was, which to me is horrifying as a parent now thinking about that. But Tony was a toddler maybe two or three and as a parent now thinking about that, but Tony was a toddler maybe two or three and their first time going out to dinner with Bob and with Tony picks up a cherry tomato off the salad and throws it as hard as he can at Bob's face. Or like another time he took them on a trip to a hotel and they were like outside in the jacuzzi and Tony just gets out of the jacuzzi and

like takes a fat dump on the side of the jacuzzi, but they were just like, isn't that funny? I don't believe my parents dated for very long, but I know that they got married on Valentine's Day. Then within probably a year, my mom became pregnant with me. Tony and I were about four years apart. My baby brother Bobby would later come along. He was about four years younger than me. So I was born a minute late at 421 AM on March 31st year, none of your fucking business in Carmichael, California, which is in Sac County. My parents were living in a house in Carmichael. Tony's dad lived in Reno, so I assumed that he went back and forth as he continued to do throughout my childhood. It really ranged.

There was never ever a set custody agreement when it came to Tonyer Chad. There would be times where they were around. There was times when they weren't and I'll talk about that more and how that impacted all of us. My parents weren't the type of people to really tell me a lot of stories about, oh, when you were a baby, like with Michael and I, we share stories with them all the time. Like, oh, this was your favorite tour. You know, I don't remember my parents ever doing that. These are the two stories that I remember my parents telling me about when I was a baby.

The first one is my mom talking about how pregnancy was one of the few times in her life that she was ever able to abstain from alcohol or drugs. She told me this again as a joke like is in this money. She told me that she was so happy she could drink again. One night she was so intoxicated and decided to that she would just try nursing me anyway even though she knew she shouldn't. And that within one minute I was projectile vomiting because her breast milk was essentially pure alcohol, which I now have breastfed three children. And I know how much alcohol one would have to consume and it's extremely concerning to

me that I was so sick from this that I was a projectile vomiting as a baby. And then to have this story told to me like it's a funny story is a very good example of the culture of the environment that I grew up around. The other story that I recall them telling me about being a baby is that the way that they got me to walk the first time was towards a diet coke. I feel like both are really symbolic. Eventually, my parents had some kind of come up

and they moved from Carmichael to Folsom, California. And it was in this really nice neighborhood, very much giving the family in Beethoven, the movie or something. But those are where I have my first memories is that this Folsom, California house. What's important to know about Bob is that he was basically always selling a line of bullshit.

But at this time, he said he was selling life insurance. The reason I remember that is that he would have a lot of senior clients who were older and they would have these cool vintage things or toys that he would like say that they would give him and he would come home with these things. The traumatic memories of this house start pretty early on. During these years are the years that I remember my oldest half-brother Chad being around the most, and my half-brother Tony was also staying in the house pretty regularly at that time.

And there was a lot of abuse that took place, things like me being pushed in a pool, being told to just swim. I can't remember if it was my dad or my older brother who pushed me in the pool, but I do recall just being pushed into the deep end and being told to fucking swim. Probably four or five at the time. I remember and have found journal entries of me writing about my brothers pushing me down this giant flight of stairs. There was a lot of abuse that would happen at my brother's hands, and then witnessing my parents then abusing them as punishment,

and it from a very early age created a very toxic environment within the home, not only within my relationship with my parents, but with my brothers. Some other things that they would do would be like convincing me to catch a bee with my hands They were eight and four years older than me. I was a bit outnumbered What I also

Unfortunately recall about living in this house is my parents Constantly fighting a lot of it seemed to be about money a lot of it was accelerated by alcohol and other various substances. I specifically remember an incident where my mom became so enraged that she started throwing plates. I also remember her being very abusive towards my dad about him gaining weight. The memories of emotional and physical abuse start pretty young, and unfortunately, I began having what my parents described as night terrors. I would essentially cry and walk around the house, and a couple times they found me across the street. There was good memories mixed in with all of this shit,

but it's hard to think about that stuff when there's so much trauma that sits beside it. The first time that my mom told me that I needed to go on a diet, I was sitting in a chair waiting for her to get her acrylic nails done at the salon. I came up and I'm four years old, by the way, four, not even in kindergarten yet. I came up and I'm four years old by the way. Four, not even in kindergarten yet.

I walk up and the nail technician. It's like, oh, this is your daughter? Yep, you're right. She does need to go on a diet. I was so humiliated and every woman in the salon was staring at me. And I remember my face just becoming hot like a iron and sulking back to sit down. And then my mom gets mad at the nail technician. She's like, why the fuck did you say that? hot like a iron and soaking back to sit down. And then my mom gets mad at the nail technician. She's like, why the fuck did you say that? How could you? Storms off and then grabs me and puts me in the car and she's like, I can't believe she said that to you.

That was so rude of her to repeat that. That was her response. Wow, denying any responsibility she had in it. There is no responsibility. She has none. There is none. The world is happening to her and only her. That's what living with a narcissistic mother is like. So you learn at a very young age that you're not safe and that you're not loved. I also being the punk rock badass. I am was like fuck you. I know what I'm worth Even though it would hurt and it would sting because it's the person who's supposed to love you the most in this world Even when I was young. I knew it was fucked up. I knew it wasn't okay. It hurt. It hurts so bad

But I think that I always knew That they were the problem. Because I loved people deeply. I've always been a people person and connected deeply with people, my dad and mom, our kens and parents. Like we'd be out and my dad would be screaming me inward and I'd be screaming at my dad. And then I'd get in trouble. And I was the problem. I was not the right or die for my family. Lessons I learned at school about right from wrong lessons. I learned from TV about right from wrong.

That's where I got all those lessons. That's where I connected with the outside world and saw that not everybody was like them and started to do from a very young age fight back, but also Still felt that it was my job to take care of everybody. Well, and they told you that was your role, right? It's like a weird, it's like both things can be true at the same time. There would be times where I would know that it wasn't me and there was times where I would feel like it was me. My parents' relationships with their own parents

and their own family systems seem to be very fractured. I never grew up with uncles in my life, cousins or anything like that. So the experience of living within my family system was very isolated. Mostly the core four of us, my dad, mom, and myself and my baby brother, Bobby, and then Tony would come in and out and Chad would rarely come in and out

after the Folsom House. It created a very anti-social cult like atmosphere that I grew up in because of my dad's views of the world and his anti-social personality disorder and then my mom and her own trauma that she never worked through her own narcissism and selfishness. When I was a kid I didn't have the words, didn't what narcissistic personality disorder was or narcissism. When people would ask me about her I would, she's a naturally selfish person. I would try to like give her any excuse I could. And I think I, as a kid,

kind of thought I could encourage her into being the mom that I wanted, even from a very young age. When I was around four or five kindergarten age, it was her birthday and, or Mother's Day, and my dad took me to the store to get her something, and he asked me what I should get her, and I said to him, maybe we should get her a journal to write her feelings in. I remember her remarking like that it was funny because I knew that she basically needed to work on her shit. She had a lot of her own trauma. My mom definitely suffered from disordered eating and anorexia throughout my life. And she unfortunately inflicted a lot of herself hatred and her issues onto the rest of us.

From a very young age, I was essentially my mom's therapist, like her best friend. It was put into service. I was always told you're an old soul or you're so mature for your age or all these things, but it's like really I had no fucking choice because nobody else was gonna fucking be the mature one. Nobody else was gonna fucking listen to my mom's shit and spend their time making her feel better about herself and being her supply, so that became me. But throughout my childhood, my mom's body image abuse is probably the most difficult and harmful thing that I've had to overcome and work through. There are so many stories of her making me feel rejected and shameful and embarrassed about just existing in the body that I had, or physical appearance, not being to her standards.

With holding food, with holding love, with holding, anything that they could to essentially motivate me to develop an eating disorder to be honest, they never tried to teach me a healthy way of eating. It was always just like, don't eat fatty. That's the message. You're not fucking good enough. This is your fault. There's something wrong with you and you better fucking change it or no one's gonna love you. That was the messaging for sure. Throughout my childhood, I would describe my mom's two moods as drunk and hungry. When you're not eating and you already have mental health It's an unprocessed trauma and then you're adding alcohol and pills and all sorts of other stuff to that equation

It's a very fucked up Equation my dad on the other hand. He's a very charming con man like it's very much giving season one Michael Scott George Charming con man like it's very much giving season one Michael Scott George Cassanza He gives off a very jovial vibe. He definitely saw us as extensions of himself being a more narcissistic personality type that's true of both of my parents How would you describe Bob? Hmm, my dad his personality How would you describe Bob? My dad. His personality very much reminded me of Donald Trump, like not lying or exaggerating

at one bit. He's very charming to be around. He can make you laugh. Like, you know when somebody says something that is just so funny, but you're not really sure if they're meaning to be funny or if that's just how they are and you're just like okay. All right there's a lot of that. One thing your dad would say all the time is your dad always had this mindset that everybody was out to screw him over because he would say that kind of stuff to me like he was trying to give me dad life lessons

or something, which he hadn't realized I had had more than enough of that. These lessons often consisted of him telling me about how people try to screw you over and how you can never trust anybody. Projection. Yeah, like pretty much everything he said is what he does to people, because he's doing that to people. He thinks that everybody else is trying to do that to him.

I don't know what you call that, but not healthy. Antisocial personality disorder. Is what you call that? Which I feel like fed into how your mom saw the world as well. Mm-hmm. Because everybody's her competition. Yeah, it was really important.

When your mom was not absolutely intoxicated or on alcohol or pills or both and sleeping on the couch. When I first started working with Bob at the office, she was still quote working there. And what that consisted of was her coming in looking at a computer for about 30 minutes maybe, maybe making a phone call, and then she would like go out to lunch, and then she would come back and just sleep on the hospital bed that was in the office. That was what I remember.

How would you describe the way that my mom treated me, or I guess like what our relationship was like before. I don't it was always strained when I saw it was just obvious to me. Your mom seemed like she wasn't very present but when she was present it was normally because she was fucking mad about something. They saw our wins and our successes as theirs and encouraged those at all costs, but any sort of imperfection, like me being overweight, that was like a blow to their ego, their outside appearances, even though they quoted people, as they would always say, they also very much give a fuck about what people thought

and made it their personal missions to quote be better than other people, have more than other people, and essentially viewed other people as their entire competition. Both of my parents were extremely misogynistic. While my dad was very much the jovial presenting person and had this very fake charming way of interacting with people. He also had a very dark side to his personality, specifically struggling with impulse control and incidents of road rage or losing his temper when we would be in public. An example I can think of when we were living in the Folsom house was we went out to pizza one time and the person

behind the counter wouldn't take a coupon that Bob was trying to use and he got so enraged that he threw the extremely hot pizza on the person who worked their face. During this time, I don't recall seeing any incidents of physical rage or screaming at us within the household. I don't recall him being around very much in general. I do recall my mom screaming and throwing plates and in general being a very unpleasant person.

What I also recall about this age and living in the house in Fulsom is that I started preschool and kindergarten. So I started to have more interactions with other adults outside of the home. And while school wasn't always the easiest for me in terms of being picked on and bullying and stuff like that, which I'll talk more about later. I did feel comforted by being in a school setting. I just remember so many moments after lunch, you're laying your head on the cold desk and your teacher is reading to you. And those little moments became very important moments of escape for me. I think teachers are some of the most undervalued, highly valuable people in our society and kids like me who

can't count on parents to teach them. Necessarily the right things or educate them. I don't know, I could just always count on teachers throughout my life in a way I couldn't count on most adults. So many quiet, satisfying moments at school around safe adults. I also had that through theater or dance or sports that I played as wild as my parents were, at least they cared enough about how things looked that they put us into extracurricular activities and they wanted to see us be successful because of that motivation.

But really, for me, it benefited me because I got to start learning how to cope through creativity and getting into theater and dance and singing sports that all helped me become the person that I am. The Folsom House is one I have the earliest memories of someone that I was told to call Uncle Steve. Uncle Steve was a longtime friend and, quote, business partner of my dad bob. First of all, my mom hated him and never wanted my dad to be around him or hang out with him or spend time with him.

But the one way that my dad was seemingly able to do this was he would use me as essentially a decoy. Fake Uncle Steve, he had, I believe, three daughters. So my dad would tell my mom that he was taking me on like a play date, and he would take me to Uncle Steve's house. I don't think I actually ever met his daughters. For years and years and years,

I may not have met them until his funeral, actually. But what I loved about going to fake Uncle Steve's house is that my dad and Steve would let me eat tons of junk food and I wasn't allowed to have a lot of that at home. Essentially, they would set me up with sweets and the dog or whatever they wanted me to do and then would use this time to do whatever the fuck they were up to. Later on when I was probably closer to 10 or 11, I learned that Uncle Steve had passed away.

That was the first funeral I had ever gone to. My mom was pissed. She didn't want to go to the funeral and I was upset at the funeral crying about this loss, you know, because I'm a child and my mom getting mad at me and being like, he's not a good person. You don't even know the kind of person he was. The story I was told was that he had had a heart attack, but my mom had told me that she thought the quote mafia had taken him out because that's the kind of character that he was. Now,

do I know if any of that is true or false? I do not. The reason that she didn't like fake uncle Steve is that he was arrested due to running a fraud scheme, frothing people with missing children and collecting all of this money saying that they were using it to help find missing children. And allegedly it was a complete scam. And somehow Bob, my dad had been involved in that or worked within that in some way. And that's why Liz did not fuck with him. That's why Liz did not like him. Now I recently have done some research and I did find an article in the Sacramento Bee from Friday, October 10, 1997. The headline is, Carmichael Man accused of swindling 2.8 million, which is like so much more money at this time than it is in current day. It says a Carmichael man was accused Thursday

by a federal grand jury of using heightened concern about missing children in the mid 90s to swindle people nationwide out of 2.8 million. Steven Brent Prine extracted money between July 1993 and April 1995 from contributors who were told by telemarketers, it would be used to print and distribute a free magazine, picturing missing children according to an indictment returned by the jury. Prime diverted the proceeds to enrich himself and his telemarketing associates instead of

publishing the magazine. The 28 count indictment charges, Prime 45, with male and wire fraud and money laundering. He is free on his own reconnaissance pending a rainment October 23rd in Sacramento federal court. This exemplifies the adage that no good deed goes unpunished said Malcolm Seagull primes attorney. Prime tried to raise money for a good cause and the effort was misperceived by the government.

Fundraising is difficult and expensive. He did the very best that he could. Much of the money was used to pay professional fundraisers. Seagull said his client is suffering from a debilitating disease and is not available for comment. The magazine, Missing Children Report, actually was published in 1993 by Prime and Bonnie L. White out of their Carmichael home. Oh, I wonder if that's his ex-wife's name. In early 1994, White said it would cost 2 million to publish and distribute four editions that year. He said

350,000 copies would be sent to police, schools, libraries, social service agencies, and other officials throughout the United States and Canada. They hoped to eventually reach a million circulation, she said. Missing Children Report used the tax exempt status of a dormant citrus heights church called Place of Good News. It says the church was formed in 1971 by the Reverend Truman Leslie Shelton, who was introduced to Prime to be an unwitting, quote, frontman. Telemarketers in Vegas, Houston, and Laguna Beach worked with Prime. Each time setting up offices or renting mail drops at various addresses or in order to make the operations appear legitimate. According to the indictment, potential donors were promised that they had won a valuable prize

of 10 described as their fair share of $50,000. They were told the money would be used to continue publishing a magazine to help locate missing children throughout the country it alleges. Donors received an outdated copy of Missing Children Report, along with an official looking letter, worthless plaque, or a so-called premium gift. Usually a statuette worth only a small percentage of the amount donated the indictment says. Between August 1993 and March 1995, Prine caused more than 20 bank accounts

to be opened in several states in his name, his associate's names, or the magazine's name, to make it hard to trace the money the indictment charges. Prime and White made headlines in 1990 when their US reality report magazine folded out having published its first edition. At least 40 investors statewide paid 750,000 for stock in that venture. The pair later paid 22,500 in fines and costs to settle a civil lawsuit brought against them by the State Department of Corporations. The suit charged that the proposed real estate magazine used high-pressure telephone tactics to sell stock and make false promises of lucrative returns. Holy fuck. I've actually never read this.

Hovering. Damn. Well, that was Uncle Steve. So, um, around that time is when my family moved from Folsom to a beautiful neighborhood in Grass Valley that I have no idea actually how my parents were able to afford living there, although who knows if Bob and Uncle Steve were indeed working together and Bob was a part of these schemes as my mother claimed, which would actually make a lot of sense now that I am processing that. I do have very fond memories of Uncle Steve as horrific of a person he clearly was. He knew that my mom was person he clearly was, he knew that my mom was abusive to me in my body image and would withhold food and things like that. And so when I would go over there, he would be like, whatever you want.

What do you want? And he always had junk food. He was like a very, very thin, but he would eat so much shit. And I remember my dad would talk, match him about it, because my dad was always dieting and his weight fluctuated a lot. He'd be like, this fucker, he eats horrible, blah blah blah, look at him, he's so skinny, but like, he can do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do like fond memories of going over to his house because they both were nice to me. I mean, it makes sense because I was like, they're fucking cover. Well, they were doing probably God knows what else fucking out there.

We made friends with our neighbors and they, I think, had older kids because a lot of the people that lived in this neighborhood were retired people and they had a dog. Not long after we had moved there, I was around eight, and my brother was four. We went over to the neighbor's house, and all the parents were drinking, laughing, and having fun. A couple of their older sons were there, and it was me and my brother. And I remember when we got there, the dad said,

oh, he's a weird dog, you'll see. Which I don't think he meant it in like a nefarious way, but it did feel nefarious later. My brother was crawling under the table or on the floor, something, and maybe the dog started to feel cornered, or I don't know what transpired, because we didn't see it, but the dog attacked my brother and ripped his top upper lip off of his face. And there was just blood everywhere, and everybody is screaming. So I'm like freaking the fuck out. Not to be too graphic, but like when your face is cut, it's so bloody and he's this tiny baby, he's preschool age. There was just like blood everywhere, people are screaming, somebody gets ice and somebody is holding him and they're screaming about calling 901 and then they I think they drove him to the hospital Because they figured it would be faster my mom and dad left and the neighbor mom went with them and I was left

With the neighbor dad the dog and the oldest son They leave the dad takes the dog into the garage and I hear him proceed to beat this dog And I hear him proceed to beat this dog within an inch of its fucking life while I'm sitting at this table, blood everywhere, and how horrific that sounds. I don't remember anything after that. The next day, I was told that my brother was so little that when they performed with the plastic surgery on his face to reattach his lip. My mom had to hold him because he was too small. I remember the next morning going into my mom's room. He was so cute.

And he's like propped up on all these pillows, like the little king he was. His face is so obviously, it's horrifying. I'm fucking eight years old, you know. And I'm trying so hard not to cry, feeling so emotional. I'm like, Bobby, when I start to cry and my mom turns to me and she's like, how fucking dare you? Why are you having a fucking response right now? You're gonna make them feel bad about how he fucking looks. Get out of here. You started this story by saying this is one of Bobby's biggest traumas.

However, from the start to the finish, it also sounds like one of your traumas because how could it not be super fucking traumatic to see somebody witness somebody like a text you were quite literally going through that trauma with him. So what do you think my parents did? Sood the fuck out of the people and we never saw the neighbors again anytime my parents would actually try to make a friend or we would actually be around somebody some shit would happen and I would never see those people again because my parents were so fucking volatile and like both so anti social that it would never last long. After that happens, my parents decide they're going to cash in on this and they sue the people's homeowners insurance. My brother, I think he was thankfully seen by a psychologist. They determined that it impacted

his mental health significantly. He couldn't be around dogs for like a long time after that. There was just so many different moments like that that when I think of them now, it's like, God, it makes sense why he and I both were so rebellious and just like, fuck everything by the time we became adolescents. So much back to back to back trauma. So much compounded PTSD. After that incident, they end up suing. Thank God, the judge could probably smell my parents fucking scams on them. And he's insisted that the trust was set up so that nobody could access that money except my brother and when he turned 18 he would get this fat amount and then every year after that he would get an amount of money because of this and that comes into play later but again I think my parents did it because they thought they would get money. After the dog incident the other major memory that stands out from living in this house, involving my family, is that my parents had asked my half-brother Tony to essentially like weed whack this field next door house,

and we were going somewhere. Tony was at home taking care of this chore, and we got a call that the field was on fire. So come to find out that instead of doing the weed whacking, Tony decided that he would light the lawn on fire and almost burned people's houses down and this was a very pretentious neighborhood where they didn't even... this is like a great example actually. They didn't even fucking let kids trick or treat on Halloween in this neighborhood. It was a big huge deal and I remember not seeing Tony for a while after that. What I knew about Tony's dad was that he was also very physically abusive towards Tony and what's ironic is my parents would comment on that and judge them knowing that they also beat the shit out of him.

I really do have a deep sympathy for all of my brothers. Specifically, Tony, the way that he was treated and the way that I saw him be abused, not only by my parents, but would hear stories about the abuse that he suffered at the hands of his own father when When he would be there, it is really, really sad and unfortunate the amount of abuse that he endured. And I think that the fracturing in our relationship from a very young age came from what my parents would call jealousy, but I think it was very valid feelings of Tony feeling left out and like an outsider of the family. When we would go on vacation, for example, my parents wouldn't invite him or leave him out or would plan it for when he wasn't going to be there. It was always that way. So I think that it created an

environment where Tony naturally was quote, jealous or hated me and my brother, my younger brother, he really seemed to be upset with me because of the favoritism that created even more unhealthiness and his and I's relationship throughout and even into adulthood. It was always like, how could you be upset? Don't you see that my life is way more fucked up than you at least you got to go on vacation? That was very much the vibe.

We really didn't have a very positive relationship, most of my my life. And I think a lot of that is for reasons outside of our control. But my brother also was very physically abusive towards me. And like I said, pushing me down the stairs or would convince me to do very scary things. I think a lot of that was coming from the way he thought people were allowed to behave because of the way that he was raised and the way he was treated. Chad, I remember him being around the most at the Folsom House.

With Chad, it seemed that Liz was a bit more paranoid about how he was treated knowing that he would go back to his mom and report back. And she really wanted us to make a good impression when he would come to visit. As I got older, those visits became less frequent. So I think it became perhaps easier in their mind to sort of control the narrative of like the environment. We were going to this nice steakhouse and Chad was gonna be there and we hadn't seen him in a while. I said something

that my mom felt was incorrect in front of Chad or something I wasn't supposed to say. And I remember her taking me into the bathroom and digging her nails into my skin, into my arm, and that was something that she started to do throughout my childhood. She had these long acrylic nails very much, she known very popular in the 90s, like fake tan, fake nails. When she would become upset, she would dig her nails

into my skin. And it just makes you afraid. It makes you really afraid to say the wrong thing or do the wrong thing when you are being physically assaulted. Anytime you are perceived to be doing the wrong thing. I have memories from preschool and kindergarten and second grade, but I have no memory of first grade or anything that took place in that year. When we started living in Grass Valley and I was

around second grade, so probably around eight years old, this is when I really started getting into music and I bought my first tape and it was Michael Jackson Bad. I remember listening to that tape on repeat and memorizing every word and breath and dancing in my room. And then I got Ace of Base, the sign. That in combination with doing theater and getting involved with creative stuff it started from a very young age, a coping mechanism for me to use creativity

as an outlet to channel all of this pain and shit that I did not know and was not equipped to deal with. I asked for a keyboard for my second grade birthday and I would spend hours trying to write music and singing by myself. This is when I also started to discover that I could separate myself from my family. So a lot of the time that I would spend at home, I would spend in my room or in a den or in the backyard. My parents would pretty much let us do whatever. So I also learned that I could just take care of myself. I could just be by myself and not rely on anyone because honestly, at second grade, at eight years old,

I felt like I already had more emotional intelligence and understanding of how the world worked than these adult human beings who were responsible for raising me. Through things like TV shows that I would watch, like, save by the bell and family manners and fresh prints and full house, I would see that, oh, not everybody is like this, but I also thought, well, maybe TV is just fake and like nobody's life is like that. It was very confusing. I relate a lot to dynamics that people describe of cults in my family at misfear. My dad was sort of

seen as the prophet and everybody else had to essentially fall in line. What's interesting about this time in Grass Valley, I don't know if this had to do with my dad redeeming himself to my mom or if they just had a wild hair up their ass or whatever, but they both started eating vegan and insisting that we all eat vegan. My dad became obsessed with these Tony Robbins tapes and he would make me listen to them all the time in the car and I fucking hated it. And he also became very obsessed with toxic positivity. Anything negative was not allowed to be said. They were trying to abstain from alcohol. We only lived there for a year. Tiffany's dad, I was definitely so shocked to read the court documents of the things that he did to people or how he treated people and lied to them and took advantage of them. He's like the true definition of a dog who's looking

your face while pissing on your leg because you're having so much fun, but then you realize you're getting fucked over. This season on something was wrong. 2021 and Yesterday I got a copy of My father's appeal and it covers a Bunch of information of his crimes that I don't know about because I've Never really looked into any of this so I finally feel like maybe I'm ready. You explaining to me what happened to you?

Them tossing a room, tossing your whole house, looking for whatever evidence, and you not really understanding what the whole deal was about about just knowing that your dad had done something again. He was like I had lunch with his dad. He literally was sitting there with me, got a phone call from the attorneys and then just left and I was the last time he saw him and talked to him and never heard from him again. She got mad. She grabbed me by the back of the head and she slammed my head into the sidewalk

in front of the house. She would be banging on the door, open this fucking door, open this fucking door right now. And I would be screaming, no, please do not make, please please please please please please please don't make me open door. They arrested him for elder abuse. Among other charges, it was fraud and financial abuse of the elderly.

There was many times in my life where she made sure I knew you're not the daughter that I wanted. I wanted a better daughter, a skinnier daughter, and you fucked it all up, basically, by being who you are, instead of what I wanted. I also remember feeling like, fuck, I worked for him. Am I going to be arrested? Am I going to be charged with these same things that he did, even though I literally had no

idea what was going on. I just remember being very scared of that. I didn't realize, there's so much I don't know, there's so much I've never looked at. About the cases about my dad and like, fuck dude. Once I read what your dad was charged with, I realized pretty much everything he told me revolving around the business was all lies.

After fleeing my dad's business partner going to prison, who my mother would later claim was a member of the mafia and then told me that she suspected that Uncle Steve was, quote, taken out. Drove so wasted with us in the car, I thought I was gonna die so many times. It is Friday May 14th, 2021 and I am for the first time walking to the scene where my brother was murdered. He was like, wait, who are you affiliated with? And I was like, well Bobby's sister. He was like, I didn't even know he had a sister. Oh my God.

Yeah. Fuck. I explained. I was like, Tiffany and I worked together. She has worked so hard to help other victims tell their stories. I think she's finally in this space. She's healing further in this process. I think it would be very cathartic to talk to him.

So, next thing I know, here comes squad cars from every direction. Came out with a gun drawn, came up to him, picked him up, and shot him point blank. His partner came and he said, hey partner, we did it. Good job. Good job partner. You imagine that? Imagine somebody saying that after they murdered somebody. Hey, Prime members, you can listen to something was wrong early and add free on Amazon music. Download the app today, or you can listen early and add free with Wondery Plus in Apple podcasts. Before you go, tell us about yourself by completing a short survey at Wondery.com slash

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