The Psychopath: A True Story

The Psychopath: A True Story

Mary Turner Thomson


AUTHOR’S NOTE

This is a true account as I remember it, and as it has been told to me by other victims of Will Jordan. Many of the names have been changed to protect those who do not want to be identified. I have used my own name because I have never felt that I have anything to hide and I feel very strongly that by standing up to talk about this issue I am helping others to speak out as well. I have used Will Jordan’s real name because I feel it is important to protect past and potential future victims who may not know who he is, and by using his name they may find some peace in finally knowing the truth.

When my first book, The Bigamist, was originally published, I didn’t use my children’s real names because they were too young to decide for themselves whether they were content to be identified. However, as my children grew up, they were annoyed with me because they don’t feel they have anything to hide either. So in the latest edition their real names are used: Robyn, Eilidh and Zach, as they are here.

I also invented the name ‘Michele’ for Will Jordan’s other British wife in my previous book, to protect her privacy. However, one of the newer victims is called ‘Mischele’, something which might cause confusion and indeed it has confused the press on occasion. Mischele (the newer victim) wants me to use her real name. I have therefore not used a name for Will Jordan’s other British wife when referred to in this book. I suppose, due to the number of women involved in this extraordinary story, it was not surprising that names would be duplicated!





PROLOGUE

I was numb. I hovered in the carnage that was my life like a movie scene from the aftermath of a bomb attack. Ears ringing and deaf to the chaos around me as everything exploded outwards. My external world shattered as my mind inside crumbled. At that moment I could not imagine how anything would ever be ‘all right’ again. The devastation was all-consuming and left me wondering how it would even be possible to recover at all. But recover I have.

In 2006, I lost everything from the life I knew. It had all been taken from me by the man I’d fallen in love with in 2000 and married (bigamously as it turned out) in 2002. My savings and everything I had built up financially as an adult had disappeared; work was gone and with it my ability to earn money; my home was taken away, leaving my children and me to the mercy and whims of a landlord; the debts incurred in my name were astronomical. The man whom I had pledged ‘to have and to hold’ had turned out to be a monster who not only impregnated women to rip them off for money but psychologically tortured and abused women all his life – mentally, emotionally and financially crippling them just for his own amusement. This man who had professed to be my soulmate had got into my head and systematically changed my thinking, making me live in fear and robbing me of my powers of expression, keeping me silent so I couldn’t articulate what was happening to me. He made me love him whilst he was abusing me. I had given everything to this man, my body, my heart, my money, my voice and my mind – but I had been sleeping with the enemy. I had been fooled, manipulated, conned, abused – emotionally crumpled up like a piece of rubbish and discarded. My self-confidence and my self-esteem were shattered.

I kept asking myself, ‘How could I have been so completely taken in by this consummate liar?’ And it threatened to silence me all over again because I knew others were also asking the same question. How could I have been so stupid, desperate, needy or naive?

However, the far more important question was, ‘Where do I go from here?’

I still had something to help me hold it all together though. My children. Robyn, Eilidh and Zach. No matter what had happened I still had them, and I owed it to them to find a way out of the quagmire.

Spoiler alert, I not only moved forward but I found my voice and used it to climb out of the pit and up a mountain. I not only made it back, I created a new and more vibrant life for myself and my family. When I finished writing The Bigamist I was still breathing. I was surviving after my traumatic experience. Now, as I finish writing The Psychopath, I feel lucky and grateful to be where I am. Not grateful to my abuser, but thankful to have had the opportunity to test my mettle and use my experiences to help others. I have not only recovered, I’ve become immune to toxic personalities, and now use my knowledge to show people who are in a similar situation how to escape, survive and thrive, through my writing and speaking.

This book is about my journey to the top of that seemingly overwhelmingly high mountain and proof that recovery from a psychopath is possible. It is also the story of what that psychopath did next.





THE END

My life changed forever on 5 April 2006 when I answered the phone and the woman on the other end introduced herself as my husband’s other wife. Suddenly, the walls of my terrifying world crumbled around me and I was free from the abuse and control that I wasn’t even aware had trapped me. I look back on that moment now with even more clarity as time gives me the wisdom to see what was really happening.

For a while in 2006 I seemed to be living my life in a vacuum. I functioned, and as the days turned into weeks I gradually stopped having to remind myself to breathe in and out – but I could still only focus on one thing at a time. I would take my children to school and I got my son a free nursery place for a few hours a day. When he was there, I would go and see my mother and busy myself helping her. I concentrated on each task in turn because it stopped me from thinking about what I had just come through and the wider situation I was in.

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