Carrie La Seur. That’s the name of our stalker, the woman who has spent the better part of the last year harrassing and persecuting us with unwanted and obsessive attention. Carrie. She’s openly threatened me harm. Carrie. She’s threatened to take everything I own away from me and from Murphy. Carrie. She’s threatened to shoot me. Carrie. She’s caused untold upset and pain and fear in me, my friends, my son and my family. Carrie. She’s threatened my son. Carrie. She’s posted lies about me online, everywhere, and in doing so cost me friends and professional contacts and with those lies, made me an outcast at a place where I am just as much an alum as she. Carrie. She’s cost me professional opportunities by calling places she thinks I might apply and telling them lies about me before I even do apply, even though we’ve never crossed paths professionally. Carrie. She lets me know at least once a week that, “I have my eyes on you” just to keep it scary. Carrie. She is surrounded by a team of people – her husband, Andy Wildenberg, her literary agent Michelle Brower over at Kuhn Projects (what? yeah, she wrote a book, not a great one, but she got it published), her publisher at HarperCollins, Kelly Rudoloph, her attorney, David Grunfeld, at Astor Weiss in Philadelphia, her law partners at Baumstark Braaten in Billings, MT (what? yeah, she went to Yale Law School and is acting like this and they must be so proud) and other Bryn Mawr College Alumnae who either don’t care what she’s doing or don’t realize the lengths to which she’s gone around the proverbial bend. Like the people who surround and defend Trump, no matter what he says or does, she has a circle of people who think it’s acceptable to harass, defamed, threaten and stalk a mother and child over a broken-down 12 year-old car. Be clear: we need to blame every single one of these people for her behavior because they are supporting and encouraging her. I’ve told every one. She’s still actively doing us harm. They are doing not one thing to stop her or help me. It’s a group effort now. They are collectively working together to do physical, emotional and financial harm to a single mom and a child with Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome.
Yesterday, she did some things that could cost me this new job and may make it impossible for us to move. That was after I involved law enforcement. That was after I told all of the people above that she was losing control. Do they want us dead? What’s their limit? Don’t they have families and lives and livelihoods? What if someone was doing this to them?
Carrie. She’s my stalker, and I’m sick of living in fear of her and whatever unhinged thing she will do next while she pretends that she’s not this bad or that she’s somehow justified or that what she’s done is okay. People say that when you name what scares, you take it away its power. I sure as hell hope so. Carrie La Seur. There is its name. She’s my stalker, and she has owned that title for the past 12 months.
Like any other story, there’s background. She offered me a car at a time when I desperately needed one. Yep, she saw the story of the Audi dying a slow, expensive, excruciating death in a Facebook Bryn Mawr Alumnae group she’s since gotten me kicked out of by lying and playing the victim rather than the aggressive stalker, but that’s what a stalker will do, right? A stalker will isolate a victim and try to win others over to her side so that she can continue the stalking and everyone thinks the person suffering, the person being stalked, the person living in terror is the problem? Isolation is the cornerstone of every situation involving abuse because it gives the abuser power; she is the consummate abusive stalker.
A stalker will isolate her target, painting herself as a hapless victim and painting the person she’s stalking as the one who is bad or wrong. As long her stalkee remains without allies, the stalker keeps control and power. Carrie is the consummate stalker.
But she saw that I was in need and offered. Free. I agreed, gratefully. Then it was a nominal sum. Again, I agreed. Then it was more. And I tried to back out. I tried. I told her I couldn’t afford it, was sorry, wanted to walk away. She pressed, I caved. I have written documents about all of this. I have been waiting ever-so-patiently to present it all in court. You can download some of the public records here: [purchase_link id=”1184″ style=”button” color=”yellow” text=”Download”] Take a gander at all of those pages and know that’s just the tippy tip of the iceberg of documents I have in my files. None from me. Not a one. All from her. Every single one. It’s not like I left the ones that make me look bad out of it. Why? I conducted myself the way a decent human does. I didn’t threaten her, or react to her insane ranting or try to make things worse. She was an attorney, I thought. They have a code of conduct, I believed.
When someone in a secret, very special Facebook group told her Murph was in the hospital the last time he got hurt, Carrie texted, “I hope your kid dies, you grifter, he’d be better off without you.” So I quietly blocked the woman, another Bryn Mawr alum who is also a single mom and an attorney, who be told her, wiped my tears away, and got stoic because that’s what I did. She didn’t threaten to kill us. The police would do nothing. I didn’t want to lose any more friends. It’s okay to be hateful in this brave new world. Does all of that crap she’s said and done seem more like the activity of a nice, normal, highly educated woman with a dispute over a small sum of money with someone who is a co-alum or a psycho-serial-killing stalker from Criminal Minds?
And of course, there’s even more to the story, at least on her part, because I couldn’t figure out the how to attach the voice recordings of her saying, “I am going to stand and watch the sheriff’s take every one of your child’s Christmas presents out of your house while cries and blames you” right before Christmas. Oh! Oh! Or the one where she says, “The reason everyone in Montana owns guns is so that we can take care of problems like you ourselves.” There are more, too. So many more. I don’t know how you enter them into written court records, though. But I’ll present them when we go to trial. As criminal masterminds go, she’s pretty terrible, but as a stalker, she’s quite effective.
Why didn’t I just give the car back? Great question. Have you read the posts about all of Murph’s doctor’s visits and trips to the ER and so on? I can’t be without a car. I got rid of one car when she offered me this one as a gift before she changed it to a purchase before she changed it to stalker central. And without a job — which has been one of her stalker goals this past year — I can’t buy a car.
Why didn’t I just pay her back? Oh, I’ve offered. Since October I have offered her money with one, single condition to which she will not agree. I’ve offered her the lump sum and installments. But she won’t sign an agreement to cease posting about me and talking about and stalking me. Hand to God, she will not just take the money and SHUT THE FUCK UP. And I’m not giving her a penny unless she agrees to SHUT THE FUCK UP. Up until last week, when I literally had had it with her and said no more and filed the counter-claim, I was more than willing to give her what’s owed but she wasn’t willing to keep her mouth shut and leave me and my 10yo son alone. So who really knows what she ever wanted at all or wants now? And me? Now, I want damages and punitive dollars for pain and fucking suffering because I have had enough pain and enough suffering caused by her to last me a long, long time. Now, I’m never going to give her a dime. Now? Now I want justice for me and Murphy and every other person who has had to deal with a stalker or an abusive situation.
I’ve been getting calls from my friends and family for ten months now, all saying, “Who is this woman and what the hell is this letter about and can she really have me arrested? Or you arrested? Can she force me to pay her? What is wrong with her?” I tell them, “That’s Carrie. She’s an insane stalker, and I cannot stop her. She’s a horror show, and I hope she finds another victim before she ends up killing me and Murph, and no, you don’t have to pay her, and no, debt collection laws are really clear about what private citizens can do, and she’s breaking federal and state laws like a maniac.”
I’ve fielded called from Child Protective Services because she’s got some kind of bug about having my child taken away from me (any mother’s huge fear) and so wastes their time on a regular basis with calls reporting us. She’s gotten other Bryn Mawr alums to do it, too. To help her with it. This is what the seven sisters are for? She’s even threatened my family with having Murph remanded to the custody of the state since we are all “grifters.” If true, I am the worst freaking grifter ever born to the earth because I have no dollars and even less sense to be putting up with the likes of her. Friends and family don’t even pay much attention to her anymore because they recognize the stalker behavior, but they are worried for my safety and for Murph. And they are scared. Because if you clicked above, then you read the file. Oh, and all of those women on the crazy thread about having me arrested for grand theft auto? They went to Bryn Mawr College. They are freaking Bryn Mawr College alums. They hold themselves out there as keepers of the mystical honor code and as people somehow better and more moral than others. Every goddamned one of them. Some are lawyers. Or doctors. And this is how they behave in secret alumnae groups. Says something about women’s colleges graduating pretty typical petty, catty, jealous, nasty-in-the-worst-sense women right? Not the nasty like Hillary kind. Nasty like in Mean Girls maybe.
This week, I went to the Tredyffrin Police Department and filed charges against her. I want her arrested. I want her charged. I don’t care that she has kids. I don’t care that an arrest could cost her a career in law. I don’t care about her writing career or her book sales. The officer said he’d read the documents. He said he’d call her and tell her to stop immediately. He said they would have detectives investigate. He was sympathetic. They hate that people act this way. They don’t want was us to terrorize each other. If the case is already in the court system? WTF? But Carrie has the stalker gene or something, so that doesn’t matter. And the police can’t or won’t do much because she has not shown up with a gun or stabbed me on video or run over Murphy with her car or killed my cats. YET.
In the meantime? Murph and I are on our own and remain totally exposed and unprotected from her. In person. Online. With her bizarre penchant for making anonymous phone calls about us. I thought that filing the complaint with the court and with the police would make me feel better. Less afraid. More empowered. But it didn’t. It made me sad, and it made me feel even more scared for us. Because she is freaking scary. People who don’t observe the norms regarding appropriate behavior and action in society are terrifying. And Carrie doesn’t recognize that those norms and laws apply to her. She is a stalker, and I don’t think they play by the rules that the rest of try to let guide us.
I don’t do much talking about stalking or having a stalker in a real sense when I write. Stalking is serious stuff, and I don’t mean lurking on people’s Facebook profiles to see which way they lean politically or Googling someone your friend met on Tinder or doing a drive-by to see if your dream house has sold yet (which is actually the extent of my midlife, Main Line mom stalking activity). I mean real stalking. And I am unwilling to chalk this up to some type of mental illness. It’s illegal harrassing and urelenting pressure and invasive, life-impacting, never-ending stalking. It leaves you immobilized and in a constant state of adrenaline rush and fear. You can’t really move forward, or anywhere. You’re paralyzed, waiting for the axe to drop, the gun to go off, the police to come to arrest you on some made up charge, someone to take your child from, whatever. You stop going out at night because you’re scared to walk into your house. You avoid crowds at places you think that she thinks you might like. You start looking at strange cars parked nearby. Everything lights up your threat board.
It’s hard to explain what living with that kind of constant terror is like if you haven’t experienced it at the hands of an actual stalker. Thanks to Carrie La Seur, Murphy and I know all of this, all too well. It’s not a lesson we ever needed to know.
Thanks to Carrie, Murphy has enjoyed almost no freedom this year. At 10.almost75, he’s not allowed to ride his bike across the street to the park by himself or play outdoors if no adult is watching him. I watch him get onto the bus that picks him up at our doorstep, and I am waiting when he gets off if I don’t pick him up. I have to take him to and from friends’ houses, even if it’s walkable, in bright daylight, in one of the safest areas in the US, and he’s carrying his phone. I’ve kept my eyes on him or had other moms keep theirs on him or had the school watching. Like hawks we’ve watched, not so much him but for Carrie. They all know about Carrie. They’ve heard the voicemails where Carrie threatens him and threatens me. They’ve all seen her photo. They know to call 911 immediately if they see her. Thanks to Carrie, I haven’t even applied for jobs I’d like because friends have called to tell me about some “crazy woman” who called and got someone on the phone and told them all manner of nonsense about me. It didn’t matter that none of what she said was true. It mattered that no one wants to bring crazy drama into their office, and her stalker shit is the epitome of crazy drama and potential workplace shooting. How she ever expected to me to pay her back when she was spending all of her time cutting off my sources of income perplexes me. But maybe you need to be a stalker to understand it.
I tried to make Carrie stop. I told her to let this work through the courts. I asked her to behave like an adult. I sent her Cease and Desist orders. Hell, I asked her to behave like an actual attorney since she is one. I filed an ethics complaint with the Montana Bar Association. Nothing. It’s like with every request for her to cease and desist, she escalates and increases.
And I have never said a word about her to anyone but my closest friends and family, and that’s only to protect Murphy. Until now. I’ve held my head high, trusting that the courts would be just and fair. But the courts aren’t doing a thing, her attorney either doesn’t care or can’t stop her, her husband must condone this crap and her law partners are likely as disgusting and unethical as she is (or why would she work there, really). This isn’t new behavior. She’s probably 50 years old. This cannot be her first brush with aberrance, threats and stalking.
I have told David Grunfeld, her local counsel, about what she is doing a number of times. That poor man probably thought he was doing a favor for a colleague and is now stuck because if she doesn’t fire him, he can’t quit if no one will take over, and she’s a fucking unpredictable stalker who won’t listen to anyone, so who’s taking over working with her? His last message to me, when I filed an almost $200,000 counter-claim against her for her ongoing harassment of me and my child and offered a very fair settlement last week was:
“My client has authorized me to decline your settlement proposal. We shall consider any offer by you for a payout by you of your debt. Please be guided accordingly.”
Let me loosely translate that for you into what I can only imagine he most probably meant because, by all accounts of my lawyer pals, he is a good guy who is ethical and smart and fair:
“My client is insanely nucking futs and I can’t talk to her anymore. Do you think I have not tried every goddamned time you’ve shown me another example of her bullshit batshittery? I have told her to stop. I warned her to get out of her own way and to stop snatching defeat from the jaws of victory. I’ve beseeched, threatened and all but beaten her. In fourteen million thousand different languages, and once using interpretive dance and maroccas. She still thinks she’s fighting for truth, justice and the right to carry a gun into a domestic violence shelter because did I mention she’s a nutter. She believes you still owe her money even though you sent almost 100 pages of evidence proving she’s spent a year doing not much else but destroying your life and breaking countless laws and detailing how you and your child are in therapy over her, explaining how she’s cost you jobs and income and she’s still trying to keep you from working, so I don’t even know how the fuck you were supposed to pay her, and I am as trapped as you are. Please, please, please, please for love of Cthulu, go to the fucking police and have them take her into custody, hopefully with no bail and no phone calls, so that I can get the hell out of this because I don’t do criminal work. I’ve been drunk since she started this shit in December, this is in no way the easy small-claims thing I agreed to do for her as a courtesy, and all I want is for this to end but she’s fucking Joan of Arc on Mission Impossible in a remake of Under Siege. We’re all on our own with this loon. Save yourself!”
Her husband has to be every bit as bad as she is, and he’s probably tenured at the University of I Hired A Family of Stalkers and We’re Now Stuck With Them because he hasn’t gotten her to Stop the Insanity, and he would have if he had anything to lose. She’s got a new book coming out this winter. I mean, is it an epic work of nonfiction about how to stalk someone on the Main Line? That seems to be her forte. She’s clearly got a shitty grasp of the law given how she’s handled herself, so it’s not like she’s the next Grisham or Baldacci. Jesus Crackers, they let her fly planes? She should be on a no-fly list. Fuck, she should be on a no-knives list. And while she went to Bryn Mawr for undergrad, anyone who lives in these parts would laugh hysterically at the idea that it would give you even a glimpse of the social hierarchy that is the “Main Line.” Maybe it’s about shooting people, skinning them, eating their innards and then disposing of their bodies out in Flyoverville. Oh, wait. Jodie Foster and Anthony Hopkins already did that one; Foster was a Yalie, too. Maybe Carrie decided to write a sequel? Or maybe Yale just attracts a good stalker. I think Reagan got shot by Jodie’s stalker. At this rate, her press tour will involve freelance bloggers visiting her in the women’s prison and asking her what made her chuck a writing career to kill a single mom with a kid with Ehlers-Danlos over a couple thousand dollars and an “I’ll shut up now” clause?
You’ve all wondered why I am keeping where Murph and I are going such a big secret? It’s because I’m scared to death of Carrie La Seur. And I am scared she will do something to destroy this wonderful new opportunity for me and Murphy, and I know that given the chance, she will do just that with a vengeance and a sense of righteousness that is terrifying. I know there are people who think she seems normal and trustworthy and that this person I’m describing could not be her, but trust me and read those damned documents and see, in her own words, how off the freaking reservation she has gone. No one can control her. She’s a stalker on a mission of death and destruction. Nothing, nothing at all, is going to make her stop. I can only hope the police will be able to intervene. She is gearing up and ramping up and raging up more with every passing day, and I am in terror that she will become violent, and I or Murph will end up dead. Yeah, it’s that bad. She’s getting that much worse, that much faster, and I feel like I am screaming into the wind to get someone to hear me and help make her leave me alone.
We are overjoyed and joy-filled that we have this wonderful opportunity in front of us, and that we can go and start over, fresh and happy and free. And yet, this week, there she is, rearing her hideous head and voice and ugly threats and pulling the rug away. Still. With renewed energy. It’s like having the wind sucked right out of us. She is a terrorist. She is a stalker. She needs to be stopped. And our laws favor the stalker, not the ones being stalked, even when they are kids.
On paper, she seems great, and she puts on a terrific show. She seems like she’s got her act together. An attorney. It’s hard to believe, right? But 100 pages of court documents from her own lips and fingertips don’t lie. She’s great at the act. Who’d believe someone like that would be someone like this? Anyone who has suffered abuse, that’s who. Because abusers, stalkers and bullies come in all shapes and sizes. And her fancy degrees, aside, Carrie La Seur is an abusive stalker who needs to be stopped from doing more harm before something terrible happens to me or Murph.
And our laws favor the stalker, not the ones being stalked, even when they are kids. Just like no one wants to stop a bully, no one knows how to stop a stalker. If they walk a fine line, you’re dead and everyone is sorry that they watched it escalate, but no one intervened. How many cautionary tales do we need before this behavior is taken seriously?
But there’s no one listening to me. And that’s a goddamned scary place to be with someone like her. So we’ll just go (maybe), and hope it’s far enough and across enough land and water and jurisdictions that she can’t hurt us anymore and that we’ll find friends and allies there when she tries.
Just in the time between writing this and posting this, Carrie La Seur has committed two additional acts against us. If Murphy and I end up dead it something bad happens, she’s the only person with any intent to harm us. Make sure the Tredyffrin Police and District Attorney Tom Hogan know that.
If you’d like, you can make a small donation (literally every penny counts and is appreciated) to The Kraken Relocation Fund to help us land in another home and not on someone’s sofa (and now, you know the truth, to keep this woman away from us) and of course, to keep The Kraken going!