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Crazy in love

We were a happy family until insecurity turned to bloodshed...


Published by: Laura Hinton and Sharon Keeble
Published on: 27 October 2011

It's funny isn't it, how you scratch the surface of some things and find something different underneath. Take me, wandering around the Natural History Museum with my family. My husband Kurtis, 38, was helping our five-year-old daughter Jada search for fossils. At the same time, Jordan, three, was balanced on his daddy's shoulders.
All three were laughing together, the picture of happiness.
‘Smile!' I said, surprising them with my camera. They giggled, sticking out their tongues.
We looked the model family. Yet behind our smiles, the truth was very different. Kurtis and I barely had a relationship these days. As I watched him listen patiently to Jada talking about the fossils, I struggled to see a glimpse of the man I'd fallen for 14 years before.
It had been summer and I'd been working as a nanny in Ringwood, New Jersey. Kurtis had lived next door with his parents. ‘You're
just beautiful,' he'd told me.
Our summer romance had turned into a long-distance relationship until, finally, I'd had to move to Ringwood to be with him. We'd wed five years on, after Kurtis proposed on a flight to Las Vegas.
But it hadn't all been plain sailing. I'd struggled to conceive, so we needed IVF to have Jada. ‘She's incredible,' Kurtis had gushed.
Miraculously, I'd later fallen pregnant naturally.
Kurtis was blown away again when Jordan was born. But something inside my husband changed after his son's birth.
He became insecure, seemed to feel there was only so much of my love to go around - and he was going to miss out because I was giving it all to the kids.
He couldn't understand that my love for the kids and my love for him were two totally different things, and there was room enough in me for them all. ‘You don't love me any more, do you?' he'd constantly accused me.
‘Of course I do,' I'd insisted. ‘But the kids need me, too.'
‘Wouldn't hurt you to notice me,' he'd sulked.
Yet for all that, he was such a patient, doting dad, whispering Jada her favourite stories about mermaids. Yes, he was a great dad. But as a husband, he'd grown worse and worse.
I'd come home to find him shouting down the phone at one of my workmates, accusing them of sleeping with me.
Then, recently, I'd found a listening device taped behind the dresser! How crazy was that? He was so certain I was at it with someone, he'd been convinced he'd catch me out. ‘I'm so sorry,' he'd sobbed, when I'd confronted him. ‘We just need counselling.'
Kurtis was craving my love, but this jealousy was unattractive, unnecessary, and just plain weird.
Only now, as I watched him pick Jordan up so he could get a closer look at the Tyrannosaurus Rex, my heart melted. He was a fantastic father. Surely we could work it out?
So I agreed to counselling, and Kurtis started taking anti-depressants. Yet still his paranoia continued. ‘Do you still love me?' he asked me one morning.
‘I don't know any more,' I snapped, fed up of it all. Kurtis turned and ran out of the house.
‘He just needs to calm down,' I thought. So I went to work as normal. But when I got home before going to pick up the kids from nursery, I saw four bloody knives on the kitchen side. Oh my God! Kurtis!
Where was he, though?
There was no sign of him. Frantic, I rang his mum, who suggested I try their old house in Ringwood. He'd loved that place, and now it
was standing empty.
So I called the police, and they went round. Within an hour, an officer rang me. ‘We found Kurtis in the garage with sleeping pills, and a few small cuts to his arms,' he explained. ‘He's been taken to the psychiatric ward.'
By the time I got to the hospital, I was furious. ‘What the hell were you doing?' I cried.
‘I wasn't trying to kill myself,' he shrugged. ‘I just wanted to
see if you cared.'
‘You've behaved like a child to get my attention. This isn't funny,' I snapped.
‘It was a mistake. Please, just give me one final chance,' he begged.
No, this had been the final straw. I had two children - I didn't need another.
‘You can come home,' I sighed. ‘But as a father, not my husband.'
Kurtis nodded sadly.
After that, we shared a bed but were no longer intimate. Kurtis still held out hope, though... ‘Let's decorate the house,' he said one morning. ‘For a fresh start.'
I just rolled my eyes, too exhausted to argue with him.
The next day, Jordan was coughing like crazy. ‘My throat hurts,' he grumbled. ‘I want to feel better for Halloween.'
‘So you eat all those sweets and make yourself feel sick again?' I laughed. Last Halloween, he'd dressed up as Spiderman. Jada had been Batwoman, and Kurtis had trawled the streets for hours with them trick or treating.
This year, they had their costumes sorted out. After our trip to the museum, we'd bought them a Wolverine costume and Ariel outfit. They'd already been wearing them, they were so excited!
‘I'll put the shower on for Jordan in the bathroom,' Jada said. ‘I can sit and read him my Little Mermaid book.'
‘Good idea, sweetie,' I smiled.
It was what we did if they had a cold - the steam of the shower helped clear their lungs.
That day, Kurtis stayed at home to wait for the decorators, so I dropped the kids at nursery, then drove to my job caring for children with learning difficulties.
On the way, I rang my mum, Jody, 65, on my mobile. ‘Is everything a bit more settled, love?' she asked.
‘Not really,' I admitted. ‘I-I don't love Kurtis any more, and I can't keep pretending.'
It was the first time I'd ever said the words but, now I had, I knew they were right. My marriage was over for good, he'd drained me of all the love I'd ever had for him.
Ending the call, my phone rang again straight away. ‘Why don't you love me?' Kurtis snapped. ‘I've made mistakes, yes...'
He babbled on, not making any sense. ‘I'll ring you back later,' I told him finally, before hanging up. He'd been fine this morning, what had ruffled his feathers this time? Well, whatever it was, he could forget it, I was sick of mollycoddling him.
Instead, I went to work, got on with stuff... and, oh God, it hit me like a slap in the face.
My phone call with Mum - Kurtis must have heard it, that was the only explanation. He'd somehow tapped my phone...
Still, he was in such a fragile state, I didn't want him hurting himself again. Panicking, I rang him. There was no answer.
‘Come on,' I muttered.
Finally, he text me. I'll pick up the kids, honey was all he said.
A chill went through me. Something about the message just didn't feel right. It was always me who got the kids from nursery. It was too early to get them, anyway. And Kurtis hadn't called me honey in years.
Feeling uneasy, I left work early. On the way, I rang the nursery. ‘Kurtis picked them up over an hour ago,' the owner told me.
My blood ran cold. Call it mother's intuition, but I knew something wasn't right.
For the next couple of hours, I paced the kitchen with my friend Jodi, 36, who I'd called over in my panic. ‘He's probably taken them to the park,' I said, but my eyes didn't leave the phone.
Finally, I gave in and called the police. ‘They've only been missing a matter of hours,' a policeman said in my kitchen later on.
‘You don't understand,' I sobbed, fingering the edges of Jada's Little Mermaid book. ‘It's gone 7pm. Kurtis knows that's bedtime.'
When the phone rang 30 minutes later, I nearly jumped out of my skin. But it was Jane, an old friend from Ringwood. ‘I wondered if you knew what was going on at Kurtis' old place?' she asked, a strange edge to her voice.
‘I've no idea,' I admitted. ‘But he's gone missing with the kids.'
‘The whole place is taped up like a crime scene,' she said reluctantly.
The phone fell from my hands. ‘He's killed my babies,' I sobbed.
Jodi was immediately by my side, soothing me. ‘We don't know anything yet,' she insisted.
No, I knew. As we drove over, my body clenched in fear. Would he try to take them from me?
When we arrived, the street was blocked. There were FBI trailers, detectives, TV cameras...
I was ushered into a trailer, and the detective asked for a photo of the kids. I silently handed him one of them grinning at the museum.
‘Just tell us what's happening!' Jodi begged. But I was content for the detective to take his time. I knew what he was going to say.
‘I'm afraid your husband and children are dead,' he told me gently, before handing back the picture. ‘We believe Kurtis shot them both in the head with a .22 calibre rifle, then killed himself.'
‘Not my babies!' I screamed, collapsing. Curling up like a baby, it felt like my whole world had ended. He'd taken what I loved most. Why?
Just to hurt me?
I was taken to an ambulance, kept sedated in hospital for three days. Yet the searing pain kept piercing through the numbness. ‘I want to die, too,' I wept to Mum.
‘No love, I can't lose you, too,' she begged.
‘Have you seen them?' I asked her.
She shook her head, crying. ‘I don't think you should, either.'
Closing my eyes, I remembered Jada splashing about in our pool like her favourite mermaid, Jordan dancing to Smooth Criminal in the lounge... ‘I need to remember them like that,' I agreed. ‘Jada will be looking after Jordan.' They'd called her the ‘little mayor' at school, as she loved looking after people.
When I came home, traces of my darling children were everywhere. The drawing board they drew on in the bath, the Halloween costumes they were so excited about.
Falling to my knees beside Jada's bed, I buried my head in her duvet. ‘How could you?' I screamed to the sky. I hated Kurtis, wished he'd lived so I could kill him myself.
Next day, a forensic expert and detective visited me.
I bit back tears as he explained Kurtis had shot himself in his car. Jordan's body had been found inside the front door. ‘Jada was on the porch. Due to the positioning of the bodies, we know that neither of them would have seen the other killed,' he added. ‘The single shot to the back of the head would have been instant. They didn't suffer.'
It was some consolation. I was amazed to feel gratitude towards Kurtis. ‘It's hard to explain,' I told Mum. ‘I know he was thinking of the kids. He was messed up in the head.'
It's what I had to think to keep myself sane as I prepared their remembrance service. I'd asked for them to be cremated already, and just had their ashes in two boxes in a beautiful cedar chest, which took pride of place at the service.
‘My children were full of life, we'll remember them that way,' I decided. So we ate chocolate cupcakes - the kids' favourite treat - as photographs of my babies were shown on a projector screen.
I found the strength to attend Kurtis' funeral as well, but only for half an hour. Maybe I was in denial, maybe I wanted to remember the good times, but I needed to pay my respects. After all, he was the father of my kids - a good father, despite everything, until the very end...
Now, a year on, I still have mixed emotions. Part of me still loves him for the person he was. He was ill and needed help. I regret not recognising that fully. I believe he murdered our children not out of revenge, but love. Kurtis loved them so much, he couldn't deal with leaving them behind.
I still have so much love to give, so although I can't have any more children, I may foster one day.
Sometimes, when I close my eyes, I hear Jada giggling as she reads stories to her brother, I see them prancing about in their Halloween costumes, remember the love and warmth I felt as I tucked them in at night. And no matter what, nothing can take those precious memories away from me.
Zoey Mendoza, 38, Pompton Lakes, New Jersey, USA