The gentle reader might wonder why I felt it necessary to provide the facts of the matter. This website first went up some years ago because the impact of my thankfully short marriage to Richard Lee Barteaux was short, but the child of the marriage, who I initially named Carolyn Anne for myself and my two beloved sisters, was all too much like her biological father.
Those asking this question should rest assured my reasons were well thought out and long deliberated. I am now writing a book on this story, which will include more recent research.
I left Richard Lee Barteaux because he tried to kill me. The fact he was appeared to be stoned out of his mind did not reduce my terror or the impact of my injuries. The injuries included deep wounds to my arms, which were delivered from the knife he was wielding as I attempted to hide in the bathroom of our upstairs apartment at 3666 Cardiff Avenue, which his parents, Betty and Dean Barteaux, had rented for our use. Our apartment was at the left, upstairs.
At the time I might have heard the term 'psychopathic', but I would not have known what it meant. It would be many years before the term, "Psychopathy" came to my attention, but when it did, I acquired every study or article on the subject. I still keep up with further insights, for instance, Kent Kiehl's excellent book, which documents his study of thousands of incarcerated individuals who exhibit the characteristics of the condition. The Psychopath Whisperer, The Science of Those Without Conscience. Kiehl is now at the University of New Mexico
As you read the time line and pages reached with links you will see the documents and the calloused disregard for the baby I would birth on 5 July1967, not only by Richard, but also by his family, Walter Dean Barteaux and Betty Mae Stevens Barteaux. They had no interest in seeing her, or paying once cent for the damages, their son had done to me.
I came to realize their unwillingness to confront the duel issues with Richard related to that dreaded and haunting fear, "What would our friends think?" This was mostly due to Betty, who, I later learned, had ignored her beloved son's bizarre behavior from the time he first started school, and was determined not to acknowledge it. Dean always did what she thought was necessary.
You might consider my chagrin when, years later, I realized the baby I loved and fiercely defended was, herself a psychopath. See Morgan Pillsbury Gell
Some situations confronting us leave no good options.
I was 17 when Richard and I married. The very idea of marrying him revolted me. He was the first person with whom I went went out. In toto, we went out about 4 times. Once to a Mexican restaurant, once to the movies, once to a park where he had playing as a small child, and another time to But I could not think of any way out of the dilemma, as he had raped me and I assumed I would be pregnant. Learning about the realities of biology came late for me. The only conversation with my mother, or anyone else, that had ever taken place was short. It also left the salient facts unmentioned.
Mother, Mary Alice Reasoner Pillsbury, sat me down when I was about 11, as I remember, and told me how a baby got into the mother's uterus. She said, and I quote her precisely, "The man puts his penis in the woman's vagina and secrets a fluid." Surprised, I immediately said, "Wow! You must have been very brave to do that five times." She just stared at me and left the room. My assumption was that this act always resulted in a baby.
So, I went along with Richard's insistence we marry.
This site tells the story. At first, I was reluctant to tell everything, but recently realized that otherwise having married three very flawed men makes no sense. But, in my defense, the circumstances were unusual, but all of these originated from the previously mentioned misunderstanding of human sexual behavior. My time was taken up with books, writing poetry, and a growing list of subjects, none of which touched on biology or psychology.
My fourth husband, Brock is very nice, thoughtful, and intelligent.
My first three husbands were hideous for varied reasons. Those disasters are covered in one website for each, Ronald Edward Kellett, who changed his last name to Foster when I changed my name by the then legal procedure of doing so on my driver's license, issued by California. This surprised me, but later events made me realize he had pressing motives. Ronald E. Kellett (Foster)
Ron changed his name to Foster after I changed my name to Pillsbury-Foster, around 1972.
Ron and I were very unsuited to each other. When you have to write someone's papers for them in college and take their tests, it is clear the relationship will not work. Ron eventually dedicated all of his time, when not working (if you can call it that) to the only job he ever held with the Veteran's Administration as a draftsman.
Ronald Edward Kellett (Foster) I married him to protect little Carolyn from her legal father, Richard Lee Barteaux
Craig Franklin (Craig's name at the time of his birth was Allan Craig Franklin) Craig did not use Allan except on legal papers.) See his will LINK Craig's father was an attorney and a double Vice President at the University of Southern California, full name Carl Mason Franklin. The leadership there may be noticed either this site or one of the other ones that mentions Dr. Franklin's odd ideas about the importance of his family, as I cannot find a laudatory page to link there.
I thought our common interests would make for a good, solid marriage. Wrong again, as he was a sexual deviant who also was emotionally incapable of filing his taxes. Craig was definitely intelligent but this did not make up for his other attributes, being intent on having sex with my daughters would have been enough, if I had known. This, he carefully hid from me.
Emotionally normal people are generally forgiving; knowing no one is perfect we try to be understanding.
More of these years of my life at How The NeoCons Stole Freedom and Morgan Pillsbury Gell
The child I originally named Carolyn Anne, is definitely her father's daughter.
None of my later four children are psychopathic. They have their quirks some times, but their emotions are real, and they understood what is right, and what is wrong.
They all suffered from Morgan's despicable behavior when she stayed with us. When I describe this as despicable, I am being kind. Unfortunately, my son Arthur died when he was 42. I had been his caretaker from September, 1997, after the motorcycle accident that nearly caused his death, and the suicide attempt, caused by Craig, that followed. You can find out more about Arthur at Arthur Edward Foster
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