Silent Cry (24 page)

To the public, I was living the perfect life of a celebrity wife, so my divorce seemed
to come out of the blue. The media reports of Nate's trouble with women, fighting,
and drinking revealed an ugly thread through our public life, but I had stayed with
him through all of it. No one knew how rough things had been for me, and I guess
my decision seemed sudden or even rash.

As agreed, I kept living in the house. In July, I held a birthday party for King,
and Nate showed up. He was pleasant and amiable — and then he disappeared again.

One night he called and wanted to know where we were, telling me he was in town and
wanted to see the kids. I wouldn't tell him where I was, but I reassured him that
I would make sure he could see the boys. We drove up to the house and saw
Nate's
truck parked at the back where the guesthouse was. The boys were excited, bouncing
up and down. “Daddy! Daddy!” they shouted. I drove around to the back so the boys
could run and find him, and there he was — with a woman. I was furious. I got out
of the car, picked up a rock, and threw it in his direction. “Get off the property,”
I shouted. “Just go. Get off the property!”

Nate rushed toward me and held me. “Calm down, Dot. Calm down. Don't worry; I'm gonna
get her off the property.”

“Don't you touch me, Nathaniel Newton. You will not hurt me again!” I pulled out
my cell phone and called the police and then T. Hayes.

The officer came and was jovial with Nate. With me, he was firm and authoritative.
“Mrs. Newton, I've been told his name is on the deed, same as yours. He has every
right to be here. You need to calm down.” I stared at him in shock. It was just as
I imagined it would be if I ever found the nerve to call the police.

T. Hayes arrived, and I ran over to him. “Do you see how the officer is treating
me? Look at him with Nate. He's over there laughing and talking about football. It's
always like this when I need help!” Bad memories flooded my mind, and I fought to
regain control.

Being divorced was supposed to keep this from happening again. Nate was supposed
to be out of my life, unable to harass or threaten me any longer. Even my divorce
was a disappointment.

PART 5

Moving On

CHAPTER 25

Working Things Out

Disappointment to a noble soul is what cold water is to burning metal; it strengthens, tempers, intensifies, but never destroys it.

Eliza Tabor

I
n 2001, I rented an apartment closer to Tré's school in North Richland Hills, but
it
didn't
keep Nate out of our lives. It was like he was a demonic force, always oppressing
me. He bothered us constantly and seemed to enjoy making me miserable. He told me
he wanted to see the kids more. I had begun graduate school two nights a week and
told him he could be with the boys on those two nights — which lasted for one semester
before he grew tired of the responsibility.

When he decided to move to Georgia, I was glad to see him go, but he continued to
call and harass me. “I can't believe you divorced me!” he'd say. “You're gonna pay
for this, and I can't afford no $2,000 a month child support, so you're gonna have
to figure out something else.”

The house had not sold. Nate was out of money and growing desperate to find some
cash. He lowered the price of the house to $650,000 and called to tell me I'd better
agree to any offers. I did agree. Whatever the house sold for, I would be fine. Things
would work out. I knew I would also receive a portion of Nate's retirement. This
included a small settlement now and eventually a portion of his 401(k) when he reached
retirement age. So I decided to stop renting and build a new house.

I knew I needed to be close to Ingrid so she could help me with the kids when I went
back to work. We looked for the least expensive spot we could find in Southlake.
I wanted to build my house close to hers. I had to take Tré out of Fort Worth Christian
School because I could no longer afford the tuition.
He loved the school, and taking
him out was an extremely difficult decision. It felt as though Tré was being penalized
because of the divorce. It didn't seem fair.

In May, Nate served me with papers. He took me to court to get joint custody of the
children and wanted out of the $2,000 monthly child support payments. I would not
agree to joint custody. I wanted full custody of the children, and I didn't care
what he paid me in child support. He could pay whatever — so he stopped paying support.

Now I was really in trouble — a single mom facing legal battles and legal bills.
I felt totally outclassed. Nate Newton was still a celebrity, and everybody loved
him. I was overwhelmed even by the need to find an attorney.
Who could I trust? What
should I look for? How was I going to afford it?
I didn't know what to expect or
where to turn for help. The bills were staggering, unbelievable. I was on my own.

By July, our new house was finished, and it felt like we were finally beginning to
turn a corner. Tré was twelve and about to be baptized; King was ready to celebrate
a birthday; and we were moving into our very own home! We had a huge celebration.
At last, we seemed to be finding our own way. We just had to make it through the
custody battle.

When I arrived at the first court appearance, I was escorted into a mediation room.
I was asked to explain why I didn't want to let my boys go to Georgia with Nate.
I explained that they would be in danger. I told the mediators that something was
wrong with Nate, that he had a violent temper. I told them about the dogs he kept
in Georgia — pit bulls. “The kids won't be safe,” I said in earnest. “Nate is not
stable. It will not be good for the boys to go to Georgia.”

“Can you prove he's not fit?” they asked.

I described some of the things that happened in our marriage — about the violence
and abuse.

“Did he ever hurt the children?”

“No,” I said with a sigh, “he never hurt the children, but he is violent.”

“That has nothing to do with him not being able to take care of the kids,” came the
reply.

I was stunned when the mediators told me I had to allow Nate visitation rights, which
meant thinking about such things as which holidays the children would spend with
him. Then the subject of child support came up. Because Nate no longer had an income,
he was no longer obligated to pay the amount that had been agreed upon for child
support. Once again, everything was coming out in Nate Newton's favor.
Will I ever
be free of this man? Even now, he gets to call all the shots.

I left the courthouse dejected. I thought about reaching out to friends, but I wasn't
used to sharing my problems with people. Even if I did call someone, what could they
do? How could they help? I was used to trying to figure things out on my own and
didn't know how to ask for help. God was the only one I really trusted. I had trouble
with trust even in my closest relationships. All I knew to do was pray.

On November 4, 2001, Nate was arrested in St. Martin Parish, Louisiana. The police
had discovered 213 pounds of marijuana in his van, but there was no conviction. I
continued to pray. I was desperate to find a way to prevent the boys from going to
Georgia with Nate.

In December, we had our next child custody court appointment. I had paid more than
$40,000 in legal fees and was at the end of my rope. I fasted and prayed. “Please,
God,” I prayed, “intervene.” I called my friend Sheila and asked if she could
come
to court to stand with me. She immediately agreed. When the mediator asked me which
holiday Nate could have the boys, I said, “New Year's Day.”

I looked across the courtroom. There was Nate and his girlfriend. He was smiling
and hugging her. Our eyes met, and my heart sank. It seemed as if he took pride in
hurting me. I thought about all the things I had been through with him. I had never
done anything to tarnish his reputation. I stood by him whenever he was in trouble.
I took care of him and lived with his abuse in silence. I watched him lavish gifts
on others, while all I got were angry words and curses.
Why did he have to take the
boys too?

There was just one more court appearance to get through, and then everything would
be settled. I left the courthouse broken-hearted. All I could do was surrender the
future to God. “It's up to you now, God,” I prayed. A few days before our fortieth
birthdays in December — just five weeks after Nate's arrest in Louisiana — Nate once
again made national headline news. He was caught with 175 pounds of marijuana on
Interstate 45. This time, however, he was not released; he was convicted and sentenced
to thirty months in a federal prison.

Tré was devastated. He had just started in a public school, so he was away from the
friends he'd grown up with and the support structure he had come to depend on. I
was embarrassed and angry. It was a nightmare.

CHAPTER 26

Standing Strong

Vitality shows in not only the ability to persist but in the ability to start over.

F. Scott Fitzgerald

I
f my kids are going to survive this, I'm the one who is going to have to show them
how
to
do it.
I looked at myself in the mirror, measuring the reflection I saw. Instead
of sadness, I saw determination. I saw hope — even confidence. “We're going to make
it,” I said out loud, lifting my chin. I twisted the tube of lipstick and applied
the color. I nodded to myself and squared my shoulders. “Better.”

The boys and I grew even closer in the days that followed. I didn't ask for help.
I had a fiercely independent streak in me, and I believed we could deal with things
on our own. I didn't allow the boys to watch television during the week, and we had
Bible study every day. We were active in church and spent lots of quality time together
— healing, coping, finding our way. I got involved in women's ministry and began
looking for a job. I had not been employed professionally for some time, and I knew
I needed something more than an entry-level position to take care of our needs.

I really needed the child support, but with Nate in prison, there was none. Even
with careful management, paying the legal fees and apartment rental costs and then
building a house had exhausted all my resources. I felt like I needed to stay home
with the boys during the transition, but I began to amass credit card debt just to
make ends meet. That was something I was not willing to continue. It was time to
take a job — any job. Even if it wasn't enough to sustain us, it would be income.

A friend, an internist, knew I needed a job and got me an
interview at the clinic
where he worked. I was hired for a position in the medical billing department. It
was an entry-level position. The salary wasn't enough to meet our expenses, and the
job responsibilities weren't challenging, but it was a job. It was also close to
home, which allowed me to remain accessible to my kids. I took it, praying that God
would make my income stretch and grant me favor.

Three months after I began working, a management position opened up at the clinic.
I spoke with the lead physician at the clinic, telling him I was interested and qualified.
But in the back of my mind, I was concerned about all the bad publicity surrounding
Nate's arrest and afraid that because of it, I might not be given a fair shot at
the job. My worries turned out to be unfounded. This compassionate man asked me to
tell him about the kind of person I was. He asked about my experience and how I could
be an asset to the company. I answered his questions openly and honestly.

“You are the person I'm interested in,” he said. “I'm not interested in who you've
been married to or what the media has to say about you. I will not judge you, nor
will I penalize you for someone else's actions. All I ask is that you remain focused
while you're here and not let that life interfere.” From that time on, my career
blossomed.