After 11 months into our relationship, William Jordan made a fatal flaw. He went to the bathroom and left his wallet behind. He had been grooming his privacy and secrecy of his life in me for months prior to this. I wanted to keep his trust but I also knew that something had been amiss for a while. While one gut feeling told me to keep going in our relationship when he told me all about his wild background working for the British Ministry of Defense here in the United States, shuttling foreign dignitaries and embassy workers anywhere between New York City and Washington D.C., another part of me kind of nagged at me that something else was there. I took a chance and looked in the wallet. In it I found an ID that said William Allen Jordan. He had told me that sometimes he was given the ID of other identities depending on what his mission was at the time. I didn’t question it right away. He was about to move in with me and my family, we were planning a wedding and our own family expansion. After all he told me he was adopted off to England when he was about 2 years old due to abusive parents. He told me he was never married, never had children. I wanted to be everything in his life that he led me to believe he was without. However, after bailing on me and my family for Christmas, New Years night and then flaked on Valentine’s Day plans, I decided to do an internet search on the name I had and what I found absolutely rendered me sick to my stomach beyond words. The first feeling I had was shame: how could I, a college educated professional, be so incredibly blind to what was in front of me? How did I tolerate everything I tolerated for a year? The next feeling I felt was relief. I know this sounds really strange, but the super high anxiety, stress and bizarre feelings that he had put me through were not my fault. It was his. He was the one who elicited those feelings in me on purpose. He was a convicted pedophile, bigamist and con-man. He had robbed several women and business colleagues of hundreds of thousands of dollars, fathered over a dozen children and had molested a child under the age of 13. My daughter was 12. A wide variety of thoughts went through my mind. Did he select me because I had children? Did he choose me because I was a nurse thus a steady job that pays decently? Did he pick me because I worked night shift thus allowing him to juggle multiple women all at once? To this day I truly don’t know. I read article after article, I came across the book that his second wife wrote, The Bigamist and also found the website of its author, Mary Turner Thomnson. I used the Contact Me form and did just that. She wrote me back fairly quickly and asked if she could call. I relayed her my number and we spoke for quite a while. It was an immense comfort to know that I wasn’t alone out there in the world who had gone through this with the same man. I couldn’t even say that it was just the two of us, but that there were over a dozen starting when Jordan was in his late teens. He was 48 and not the 38 that he told me he was. He was never adopted but born and raised in New Jersey, not quite a half hour from me. He didn’t move to the US after being displaced by a hurricane in Mexico, but was deported to the United States after his convictions and subsequent jail term in the UK. I didn’t know what to do with my new knowledge. I knew instantly it was all over. I couldn’t be with someone who was a psychopath/sociopath. A chronic one and I started to do research on the disorder and found it to be unrehabilitatable. There are more sociopath out there than people with colon cancer. The statistics were incredibly scary. I binge read Mary’s book all night long, finding her story so eerily close to mine. I just needed to decide what I was going to do. I knew his reign of control over me was going to end and I knew with an absolute certainty that I wanted to confront him on it to see what on earth he had to say for himself. Whatever I chose to do, I knew I needed to do it soon. Time was of the absolute essence.