Kristine Lee (Thorniley)

For some reason, she says I'm not allowed to get money from Jeff. He stole Social Security Disability money from me and from my son, literally engaging in theft from the government. He stole hundreds or thousands from SNAP, returning things for store credit so he could buy cigarettes, likely also selling food to others. Jeffrey Scott Denlinger is a thief, a rapist, an abuser, and tried to MURDER me abd my children, yet Kristie believes he's blameless, calling me selfish. She could never be considered a good candidate for motherhood. Thieves cannot make good parents. These two insist absolutely that Jeff be allowed to indulge in himself and get away with abusing me and the children. She insisted that I give him money if I wanted to try to fix things, money my kids needed. Who is Kristie? Why does her life depend on painting me as a villain, my children as victims because I protect them from a man who tried to kill one in Lake Huron, the other in vitro because he was about to begin his affair over me taking a vacation with my mother and son? What's so important about Jeff that she'll twist herself into obsequious idolatry and ignore the monster he is? Why are my children not deserving of one cent, or of a mother who can complete her education? Jeff stole tens of thousands of dollars meant for college tuition. What forces her to believe that Jeffrey Scott Denlinger isn't just a narcissistic con artist who can't even convince his victims for long, and who clearly resorted to abusing a disabled person to survive? I met a man who acts, talks, lopes, and flatters just like Jeff at a splash pad, and immediately had to know. Yep. He's a former inmate, always on the hustle, and I saw him hit his daughter. Zeb ran away from him; when Zeb finally returned, he was thwacked with one-third of the intensity for running away. I promised Zeb that even though he liked that little girl, I would never let her father see us again if he scared Zeb too much. Standing up for children can subjech them and their mothers to more abuse at home, but I finally said to cool it on terrorizing his daughter for being a typical three-year-old. I had always thought Jeff's swagger seduced my deaf friends who experienced abuse too easily; no one else in my life found it remotely cute. They asked why I was with this creepy old guy. I could never explain that he wrapped hus hands around my neck. And here I am, in the motherhooding neck of the motherfucking woods. And my children suffer for me.