Listing of All Concepcion's Information

I was married on October 29. 1966. At that time, we had very difficult moments due to an old woman that my husband claims as his aunt. She was, however, no relationship whatsoever.

In the beginning, I noticed very peculiar behavior between them. I believed it to be the Italian way of life and Italian customs. I tried very hard to gain her sympathy; but everything I did was useless. she never agreed that my husband was married. One of her best friends, Gina Granrelli, used to tell us that we should move far away from her. This lady told me. "It is not because of you, Conchita (short for Concepcion). Any girl who married him would have the same problems and difficulties." She addressed herself to my husband and said, "So what is the situation now? Two husbands and two wives?" that meant there was something going on between them. After we were married my husband told me that, at the age of nineteen, he was involved with a baronessa in Italy, and that he was living with her until he came to the United States; and that he already had this other old woman's address in his pocket.

She nagged at me all the time telling me that in those days, they didn't have all the facilities that we have today. For instance, that they had to wash everything by hand, that they didn't have a car, and so on. They also made many remarks that I was not able to give birth to a child. This was very painful for me, so one day, I asked her how many children she had. I was sick and tired of her annoying, and interfering in my private life.

We could not go to see a movie unless they felt like going, or even go to the beach. If someone invited us to a wedding, or even a shower for the new bride, they had to be invited too, otherwise we wold have to refuse the invitation.

My husband used to convince me to cope with the situation, since they were very old and that one day we would be the owners of their property and belongings. I did love my husband very much, and so I tried my best to please everyone.

The first two years of our married life were spent at 380 Avenue U, Brooklyn, New York there we had a beautiful modern apartment. The only problem was that we did not spend very much time in it besides the working hours. Every night we had to go to dinner at her house and we stayed very late. We went in the summer and winter, and we had to walk home to sleep. Many times we slept there, too. I tried to convince my husband to stay home and let me cook for him to see if he liked my cooking. He did not like the idea, but finally agreed. However, on Thursdays and weekends, we had to go there. One day during dinner, he started to argue about the same thing. He raised his fist and banged the table and all the dishes and food flew around the room. He then took his jacket and left the house, spending that night in a motel, as he told me after.

The next day, I went to the parish church to see and talk with Father Frank Souccimar, the priest that performed our marriage, and explained the whole situation. He called upon my husband and advised him to change his behavior, or make a decision between the old woman and myself. Again he persuaded me to be patient and to cope with him and carry on this cross that God put upon him.

As the time passed, I was going through the same problem. One day we received news that the apartment on the second floor of this woman's house (but it is also under my husband's name) was going to be vacant. One of the tenants had died, and the house was too big for the wife, so we moved in. I figured that instead of making so many trips going back and forth to the apartment, this would save us a walk in the cold weather. Once we had more rooms than our apartment, and I was trying to make it as comfortable as possible. Besides, I was working at the Commercial Office in the Spanish Embassy and had been for a period of seven years, and I enjoyed buying things for the house.

I wanted to have a baby, but somehow I was not able to get pregnant. We went to see the best doctors, and they told me that there was nothing wrong with me, and that probably I had too much pressure at home and work. The best thing for ms to do would be to stay home and relax, which I refused to do. I liked work, and I had the feeling of independence, plus the extra money came in handy as we always needed things for the house.

I was having a hard time convincing my husband to adopt a child. We went to the Children's Aid Society on East 45th Street between Lexington and Third Avenue in New York City. After a long period of waiting, more than a year, we were told that there wasn't much hope for the only babies they had available at the time did not suit us, these babies had birth defects, etc. My husband spoke with his friends, and people at work, when one of his best friends told us that he would, get in touch with a family in Buenos Aires, Argentina; and that it would be easy to get what we wanted there.

On June 15, 1973, my husband called me at the office and said that his friend had a phone call from Argentina and that there was a baby girl waiting for us. In order to get her, we were told we had to go right away or we would lose the opportunity. We also were told to leave $600.00 for maternity expenses in the clinic. My husband picked me up at the office, went to the bank to withdraw the money, made air line reservations and the next day we flew to Buenos Aires.

His friend's family was waiting for us at the airport and drove us to their house where we talked and were told that we would see the baby the next day. I could hardly sleep that night waiting for something that I had been dreaming for a long time. Finally the morning came, and we were ready to see the child and take her home. The day came and went, and we did not have the baby. They told us that the father of the girl who had had the baby found out that she was in the clinic and went to see what happened. Although he had been told, there was the problem of a nervous breakdown since in Latin countries, it was very bad for a single girl to have a baby, and it gave her a bad reputation. After three or four days, they told us that Peron was arriving from Spain and the army had taken over the hospitals and clinics. We had to wait a few more days because of this. I started to become suspicious about the whole thing, but I had no choice and had to wait. Two weeks later they told us that the father of the girl had found out the truth about the baby and decided to keep it. I was upset about the whole situation, but I was down there and had no other alternative but to wait and see.

The next step was to look for another baby. They introduced us to a few doctors that they knew, and each one promised to find us a baby, since I wanted & baby girl, and there were only boys available. In the end, I was willing to take any baby as long as it was healthy. They started to bring us babies in a stationwagon as if they were sacks of potatoes. All of them were newborns, and we felt very sorry for the poor things, but there wasn't one that we had in mind. Finally a midwife came to see us with a two-hour old baby girl. We had decided not to look any more because we were Very disappointed with the whole situation. They convinced my husband to go outside to the car and take a look at the baby. He came back in the house and asked me to see the child. I refused in the beginning, but then I went, and we both decided to keep the baby. We made all the arrangements to meet their demands and settle the whole thing. They drove us to the Registration Office to register the baby as our own legitimate. (Olga's Birth Certificate) By this time, another doctor rushed in with the news that he had a baby for us. We thanked him, and told him we already had what we wanted. He was furious and started to demand the money he claimed he had to pay other people for their services. I refused and told him that we did not sign any contract and that we were looking around. Someone came along first and we had taken our baby. He took it very hard and became terribly upset. We agreed to go with him to see the other baby. he drove us to a very fancy clinic and once inside, a nurse brought the baby girl to us with the scissors still holding the cord. We liked her too, but my husband told them that we already had a baby and were settled on her. I felt sorry for that little one and begged my husband to take her, too. I told him I would take care of both of them as if they were twins. He left with the doctor warning us that we had to pay for this.

After two or three days, my husband went to the American Consulate to register the baby in order to come back home to the United States. He signed an affidavit and was told to bring me in to sign, too. A few days later we went back to talk to the Consul Deputy, Mr. Hichkok, who was very angry. He took us to his office and asked us many questions. I'd learned from him that someone sent an anonymous letter stating that the child was not legitimately ours. We denied the fact as I was afraid of losing the baby, with whom I was already in love. They gave me an appointment to visit a doctor at the British Hospital to verify the facts. Meanwhile, the people who gave us the baby were afraid and there was talk about getting rid of the baby by letting the cord bleed. I was so furious that I told them if anything should happen to that child, I would go to the authorities, television, newspapers, etc., I warned them against touching the baby. They tried to convince my husband to have me put under for a small operation to show I had had a baby. I refused the proposition. and told them that no one was going to touch me or the baby. They seemed very angry. My husband had to get back to work, and time was running out, for he had only four weeks vacation. He decided to let me stay there with these people, and he would go back to the States and see what he could do from New York. I begged him not to leave me alone with the baby among people that I already afraid of, but he left, leaving the baby and I in the middle of the danger.

The baby and I went to the British for the check-up and blood test, They took blood from the heel of the baby's foot, and examined me. After through examination of my body, they could not agree or deny the fact that I had given birth to a child. After a certain period of time, the birth canal in a woman's body closes back to its normal size. I had the appointment many days after the baby was born, so it was not a written law against nature. Nevertheless, the Consul would not issue the baby any papers. He simply refused to let the baby enter the U.S., even though he knew we were American citizens.

My husband was calling by phone practically every other day. I begged him to let the baby and I go to Spain with my family and wait there until he could do something about it. Every time I mentioned it to him he refused, but he would allow me to go to Milano, Italy to his brother's house. In fact, he had already spoken to his brother about it on the phone. I refused because I felt more comfortable going to Spain with my own people.

Meanwhile it was a nightmare for me in Buenos Aires, living with that family. I began to notice that every time the baby had her formula, she would get sick. This made me worry. I suspected something was wrong with the formula, so I got a new formula and locked it in my suitcase in my room, so I would be sure that no one could get it. When I gave her the new formula, she was fine and I began to have a suspicious feeling that someone was putting something in it. I always locked myself in the room and I was awake as much as I could, as I did not have any confidence in those people. One night, I heard voices, and people arguing. I peeked out the door and saw a man holding a gun, with his parents preventing him from entering the house. I really panicked, and when my husband called me on the phone and I explained the situation, he insisted I should be patient and wait. I asked him again to let me go to Spain, and once more he refused. After I had been there three months, my husband phoned me and instructed me to go to the Pan American Office and make a reservation for myself and the baby. The baby's ticket amounted to ten percent of the fare. He told me not to worry and that immigration in New York had made arrangements with Pan Am Airlines to let me get on the plane with the baby, who was holding an Argentinean passport. Naturally I was very happy to see that ny imprisonment in that house was coming to an end, (By the way, all of the time I was in Argentina, my husband was calling me practically every other day from the same house that the old woman lived in. She never came to the telephone to say hello, or give me advice, or even a good word... etc) I kept asking my husband why she wouldn't talk to me, and he always gave me an excuse, that she was busy, or she was planning a vacation trip to Italy.

After eleven hours on the plane, I finally arrived in New York with my precious cargo. The baby slept all the way, and no one on the plane could believe their eyes when they saw me disembark with her. They had no idea that there was a baby on board, that's how good she is. At the checkpoint, an Immigration officer called upon me, looked at both passports, and asked me if she was my baby. I told him she was, and he gave me the passports and told me to go ahead to collect my luggage at customs. I finally got out the door, where my husband and a few of his friends were waiting. I was very happy, and I thought everyone must be. After all the greetings we went home. On the way my husband told me that Aunt Tessi (that is how he called. the old woman) went to Italy on vacation. We started painting the whole apartment, and went shopping for the baby, etc. The house started to be filled with my husband's friends and neighbors that Came to see the baby, but I noticed that they were not as warm as they use to be with me.. I did not suspect anything as I did not have a guilty consciencious.

On the week following my arrival, my husband took the baby and I to a lawyer that he said some friends recommended. This lawyer was Mr. Ralph Lavine at 26 Court Street, Brooklyn, New York, who, after hearing the whole story, says his fee for arranging everything with Immigration concerning the baby's papers will be $5,000.00. We knew that $5,000.00 was a lot of money, but my husband said as long as we didn't have any problem with Immigration, we'd sacrifice and pay the money. Mr. Lavine took our passports, the baby's and her identity book, and kept them in the office for twenty months.

The next step was to go to the Immigration Office at 20 West Broadway in New York, to see Mr. Graco, a man that my husband said helped him with the case. He introduced the baby and I, and we thanked him. He also went to the Immigration Office in Brooklyn and presented all the baby's papers. Mr. Vaiggio was the person assigned to the baby's case. (I somehow found out that everyone was mad at me, but I was busy with the baby and didn't pay any attention.) Mr. Vaiggio said that we would hear from him, meanwhile) I was taking care of the baby and the house. Whenever we received any letters from Immigration, we simply gave them to Mr. Lavine and he postponed the case.

The baby was growing up very healthy and bright. From the very beginning, I began to talk to her in three languages, English, Spanish, and Italian. I also spoke a little French, and she was responding to all of them. At the same time I was teaching her letters and numbers, and when I asked which one it was, she pointed her little finger very accurately. She did the same thing with animals and objects, and I was very proud of her. I thought she was doing pretty good for a baby at her age.

When the baby was about twenty months old, I began to get a pain in my left side, and my strength began to lessen. I was very worried since there was so much concern on television about breast cancer. That was the time when Mrs. Ford and Mrs. Rockefeller had Breasts removed. I wanted to go for a physical examination, but my husband refused to allow me to see any doctor. He claimed that I was sick in my head and that he knew my trouble. He told me that the sickness that was bothering me was something that no one would believe and that this sickness would burn my insides. He also told me that no one would help me because no one would believe it.

Meanwhile, my physical condition was getting worse. I was getting up in the morning with a mouth and lips very tight, and my body did not respond as usual. I had to hold myself to the wall in order to control my balance, and I had a, feeling as if I were being drugged. I was very drowsy. I asked my husband for an explanation and received the same answer again. Finally, he decided to let me have a physical examination in the Union Clinic, Local 485, 160 Montague Avenue, Brooklyn, N.Y. in which he was a member. After a thorough examination, they told me I had something in my chest, and asked me if I ever had worked in a place a exposed to chemicals. I told them I had always worked in offices as a secretary, and the only chemicals I had access to were household detergents, etc. Finally, my husband agreed to let me see the family doctor who sent me to a radiologist, Marcus Wisner, M.D., 1430 Forty Eight Street, Brooklyn, N.T. 11219 - Telephone TR-1-9700.

All the reports they gave me were satisfactory and they said nothing was wrong with me. I went back to the Union with this report and they insisted that I had something in my chest. I began to suspect that someone was not telling me the truth. I decided to get help by my own sources, but as much as I tried, I could get no where. First, my husband would not allow me to leave the house, not even to take the baby for her daily walk. He refused to let me talk on the phone when he was home, using the other extension to tell whoever I was talking with not to believe me because I was crazy. I even called Spain to ask my family to come, but he went and used the same words.

When I began to suspect something was going on, my husband remained at home on sick leave, telling me that he had an accident with the truck at work, and that Mr. Lavine would take care of the case so he and his friend could collect some money. He came home every night from the doctor's office with many little bottles of pills that he was supposed to take every day according to doctor's instructions.

One night I woke up and caught my husband feeling my head. When I asked him what he was doing he simply said that he was covering me with the blanket. It happened two or three times again, and on one of those tines, I heard a click, like glass or metal. He again excused himself Another night he woke up screaming and hit himself saying, "God help me, I will kill myself!" He was all perspiration and I had to change the bed linens and his pajamas. I started to become very frightened.

The next day called Mother Superior Maria Garcia (I had grown up with in Spain) and asked her to come see me. I gave her $40.00 for the car fare since it was a very cold day and the snow was heavy. She came to see me with another nun, and I explained the situation. While she was in the house, my husband arrived and they started to talk, but I was not satisfied with what was going on. The next day when I woke up, I felt the same way. I told my husband I was going to visit an old friend from the office and I would be back. Then I arrived at this old friend's house, I had the feeling of being followed. My friend was not much help, so I called my husband and told him that I was spending the night in my friend's house. Instead I called the nun seeking help. She refused my need, advising me to go to St. vincent's Hospital. It was very late and I was very frightened. I did not know what to do, and being under the pressure from the drug, I panicked and decided to go to Washington, D.C., to get help from the Embassy of Spain. Since I worked for them all this time, they knew me very well.

Everything was against me when I arrived there. Everything was closed as it was a long weekend and everyone was away. I was still seeking help and I went to see a few churches near by, but none of them helped me. As evening came, I began getting cold, and I checked in at the Holiday Inn. I was not completely confident in the whole situation, and I went down to sit in the lobby, and I saw people gathering around me. I got up and went for a walk and noticed that one of them was following me. I kept walking, not knowing where to go. I took a bus, thinking it would be safer, and went for a long ride. When I realized what the bus was going to the end of the line, I got off and saw a gas station. I asked for directions to get back but while I was talking with a boy that was pumping gas into a car, he bent down as if he was hiding from a flying object. I ran inside the office and through the window, I saw the same person who was in the hotel lobby. I called the police and told them what happened and that I would like to talk to the Police Commissioner. A patrol car came and I asked for protection. I told them I would like to go back with them to Police Headquarters. They refused, and told ne that the police in Washington was no better than in New York. I didn't know what to do, so I managed to get in the back of their car and sit down. They refused, using force to get me out of the car. I called for help, saying that was police brutality, and they finally told me that if I wanted to go to the police station, I had to get in a van that was parked near by. In the beginning, I refused, and they said to stay in a motel near by, which I refused. Then I decided it was better to get in the van than to be left alone in the streets. As I approached the back of the van, the police ran ahead and closed the door leaving me outside. I struggled to get in, and finally they pushed me in, locked the door, and, drove me, not to the police station, but to a mental hospital where they kept me in the office.

After all the preliminary questions, I told them I wanted to call my husband, who, instead of helping me, told them to lock me in and not let ne go. I begged my husband not to do that, but it was useless. Somehow they refused and kept me in the office all night. About five a.m., one of the staff of the office, a middle-age Negro, jumped on me and kissed me on the mouth. I passed out and when I woke up, I found myself sitting outside the hospital on a bench. I found it physically impossible to move my eyes and lips due to the pain. My toes and nails were covered with blood. I then saw my husband arrive with a neighbor by the name of James Smith. They went inside the office and came out with a bunch of papers. They put in a taxi to the airport, and sat me in the back of the airplane. I looked at my husband and his friend who says to ne, "This is for the baby's benefit." And my husband was telling him that after they will go on vacation to Jamaica.

When we arrived in New York, they told me that we would go home to see the baby for the last time. As soon as we were in the house, my husband told me to lay down on the bed; the baby was downstairs with the old woman. After a while I started to feel a little less pressure and could talk, so I asked for the baby, but the old woman did not want to release her. I tried to go down, but my husband was in my way and wouldn't let me move from the apartment. Meanwhile, I was getting much better from the drowsy feeling and pressure. I called the nun on the phone and told her that I was afraid to be alone with my husband that night, so she sent a woman to stay. We were supposed to pay her $35.00 for the night.

Later in the evening, they let the baby come up. I could not sleep that night; my husband came to get me back, so I told him that I wanted to go down to say good morning to the baby, as I always did. When she opened the door, I gave the baby to my husband, and locked the door behind me, leaving my husband out with the baby.

I took the old woman by the shoulders and shook her, asking at the same time what was going on between them, and what my husband was doing to me at night because I woke up every morning very sick. She started to laugh at me, loosening herself from me. I held on to her tight and gave her another shake in order to make her talk, but she was screaming so loud, saying that I wanted to kill her. My husband forced his way in, jumped on me, and sat down on top of my body, choking my throat with his hands. Cutting off my breath, I tried to scream and he pushed me out and I went upstairs, leaving the baby with the old woman and my husband. I took the telephone and called the nun again, but nobody would help me.

Then I telephoned the Insurance Co., Mr. Winderman, since my husband had recently changed the insurance policy a few months before. I asked Mr. Winderman for help. He told me he would send the police; but, by that time, my husband already had called the police and an ambulance. The house started to fill up with my husband's friends that were not too near the house. I do not know who called them, but only men come.

Then the ambulance came and took me to Coney Island Hospital, arriving there at 10 a.m. My husband, the police, and his friends were talking to an Italian doctor. I began complaining about my ear, and they put a drop in it. They kept me there all day, waiting for an available ambulance that would transfer me to another hospital, but I did not know for what. I thought it would be for a physical examination. Later in the evening, they pushed me in a white van and injected my arms until we arrive at the hospital. That was King's County, where my husband, police and his friends were already waiting for me, and talking with a doctor as they approach me. Then I saw may funny people and I realized what was going on. I told the doctor that all we needed was a marriage counselor, but he ordered me to underdress completely and gave me a very strong medicine to drink and started to inject me again. I tried to refuse and protest, but nothing would help for I was in their hands. They laughed and put me in a chair, sending me to a ward where I saw all these funny people that I was afraid of. I did not have a choice, and this was against my will.

The next morning, I called the nun, asking for help. She promised to come, but she would send a priest first. I spoke with the priest, but he was not very much help. In fact, I noticed that he was talking to me and looking around at the same time in fear.

My husband came to see me, and I begged him to take me out of there. He laughed at me again and said that I was going to be transferred to Pilgrim Hospital in Long Island. I was very angry at his attitude, but helpless. I asked the nun to get me a lawyer, but she refused. She was coming to see things, and that it was just terrible what they did to me. She may very well that I was not sick, and that was not justice at all.

The days went by, and I was still there. They stuffed me with strong pills and drinks, which I managed not to swallow for I knew they would make me very sick. I started drinking plenty of water, and the nurses used to come and slap my hand in order to drop the cup. They did that several times. I started to eat a little and began to feel better. The nun sent me some fruits and desserts; but the way they treated me there was terrible, not even an animal deserves such behavior. One day I was walking in the corridor and two nurses jumped on me and injected my backside and pushed me into the gymnasium where all the mixed patients, male and female, were at play. I was so drowsy that I sat on a bench.

I tried to talk with the doctor that they assigned to me, Dr. Sinkman, but every time I asked him, he gave me the same answer, "I have no time, I have no time," and would walk away. I asked for another doctor since I wasn't satisfied with only his opinion, but he looked at me with a sarcastic face and said, "you are stock to me." (I am using the very same words that he said at that time.) He laughed and walked away.

Another day, this lawyer, Mr. Kaplan, came with papers for me to sign for the transfer to Pilgrim Hospital. When I refused, he says that I will have to go to court according to the hospital rules. I agreed to go to court because I thought I would have a chance to speak up .... But again he came back a few days later with the same papers and the same words. I made it perfectly clear that I would not sign anything that is against my will.

I spoke about the whole thing to the nun, and she said to go ahead with the court business, and that she will be at the hearing. I gave her the name and address of a lawyer along with a letter, so he will be there, too.

When the day came to go to the mini hearing, the nun was there but not the lawyer. I kept asking for him, but the nun kept saying that he promised to be there. The hospital provided me with a lawyer by the name of Mr. Engle. The trial started, and the lawyer asked Mr. Sinkman, the doctor, for background on the case, and evidence. He also asked for the Coney Island records. He was really confused and would only say that I was incoherent when he called me to his office. The truth is that he was incoherent himself, and a liar. So the judge said to Mr. Engle, are you with us or not? The judge's name was Nichols. They postponed the hearing.

After we left the room, the nun told me that never in her life (and she had been in courts before) had she seen such a pig of a judge. Those were her exact words.

The days passed by, and they kept me there, treating me worse than an animal. I tried to get the nun on the phone, but they would hang up on me, saying the time was over, etc. They also would send the most dangerous patients in the same room.

I wanted to talk to Mr. Engle, the lawyer, but they kept saying he was not in the office, etc... Finally, one day I sent a message with a social worker and he came, but he appeared to be very frightened to be seen with me. He told me that the administration had discharged my case, but the doctor was keeping me there, and he left.

I called the nun, and when she came, I told her everything. She went to the administration office, as I instructed her to do, and talked with the director of the hospital. She came back and told me that he was not available, but that she spoke with someone else there. She tried to get the doctor, but the told her that he already left the hospital. She insisted on signing out for me. Finally they said the doctor was on the phone, and she went t talk with him. When she came back from the conversation with the doctors, she signed the papers and we went to the convent on 251 West 14th Street, New York, N.Y.

When we arrived, she called my husband on the phone asking for some clothes. He was furious when he came and saw me free. We talked and I told him that we could forget the whole thing and start all over again. But he gave me a very cold look and said I was a dead woman. He asked me for the key to the safe deposit box, since I changed from a small one to a large one and put only my name and the baby's on it. Then he said that in the coming week, we would go together to the box and give him all the contents, and he left.

The nun told me that the best thing would be to go to Spain the next day. Since it was Saturday, they would not expect me to move from there without getting the safe deposit box. she paid the fare and gave me $200.00 in advance for my expenses. I signed a receipt which she would also send me a bank form for her to get into the box. Then she put me on the Iberian Air Lines of Spain.

When I arrived in Spain, the first thing I did was to get a through a physical examination, and all kinds of tests. I found out that my right ear drum was broken from the blow that my husband gave me that day I wanted to make a phone call.

I also called my husband on the phone and tried to make him understand, instead he was very angry and told me not to bother calling anymore because he was going to change the number. I also called his brother in Italy and sent him a letter, but nothing helped.

I talked with the nun on the phone and she told me not to come back to the U.S., but to go to another country and start all over, that I was still young and well prepared for any position, because she said this time they are not going to put you in a hospital, and they will shoot you in the streets. I was terrified and helpless.

I received a letter from the nun enclosing a bank form for me to sign. I went to the American Consulate in Bilbao, Spain, and legalized the power of attorney in order for her to enter the safe deposit box. I registered the letter and mailed it. I also told her to open another safe deposit box near the convent, under both names, her's and mine, and to transfer the contents, so it would be convenient at my return to get there, and not to go to Brooklyn, since I am in much danger.

Another day she called me on the phone and told me that she got the letter, went to the bank and took all the jewelry and had it with her. The rest she left there because it was heavy to carry (I have silver things) and the documents. She added that in the evening, Mr. Lavine, the lawyer, called upon her warning her not to interfere and to give everything to my husband. She appeared to be very upset.

I decided to come back in spite of her warnings of being in danger. I came to Canada and stayed with some diplomatic friends that I knew before. It happened to be the Consul of Spain in Ottawa. I was in their house as a guest for a month. After I explained the whole situation they recommended a lawyer in New York that was supposed to be very efficient. His name was Mr. Hayton Stannaged at the Empire State Building, N.Y., N.Y. Telephone 212-524-0830. I went to the New York office to see the lawyer and then to see the nun at the same time.

First I went to see Mr. Stannaged and he told me that he will get in touch with Mr. Lavine and Mother Maria Garcia and let me know.

Then I went to the convent to see the nun and collect my things, but then I arrived, she started to give excuses. Finally she came with a little bag and gave me a few things or pieces of jewelry. I asked for the rest, but her expression on the face was very grave. She said that it was all she had and I told her how I have an inventory to everything. She said she gave my husband what she thought was his and she wanted to be fair. Naturally I was angry and told her how I trusted her integrity and how she told me over the phone not to give anything to my husband because he had no intention of giving me anything, etc... So I told her that the power I gave her was to protest my interest, for that was the only thing I could count on. Then she was intimidating me, saying not to talk anymore because I was going to be the loser. I left the convent with a broken heart and the little things she gave me. I went back to Canada and waited there for the lawyer to call me.

A few weeks later I came back to the States to see Mr. Stannaged and he told me that the baby was already out of the country, that he had a meeting with my husband and Mr. Lavine and that they will give me some papers to sign a Santo Domingo divorce. I refused and told them I want to go through U.S. law, not Santo Domingo Law. He refused to give any more help. I asked who was going to pay for the operation on my ear that the doctor told me I must have, and he said nobody. I was very discouraged and helpless. I tried very hard to settle my situation and get my baby back, but every time they contacted Mr. Lavine, everybody drew back.

In 1974 my husband started to tell me to leave the house and go away leaving the baby too, because the coming year, 1975, we wouldn't be together anymore. I told him if that is your desire, the door is wide open, he was the one that should leave for only he wanted to part. Nevertheless, I thought he was bluffing, and did not really believe him, besides, I figured that if he had planned to leave me, I would remain in the house with the baby. I put the pieces together and saw that he had everything premeditated for he used to say to me he was going to leave me, but the time did not arrive yet, and on account of me he didn't going to lose this house, etc.

Also, if we had an argument about the old woman he would get very angry and go with his fingers directly to my eyes saying he would pull them off and leave me blind.... Only God knows what I have been through with him.

Once he had an accident at work. He got burned with the steam from an open valve. He had severe burns over his face, chest, and arms. They took him to a New York hospital and called me at the office. When I arrived there, I did not recognize him. He called me because I was passing by looking for him. He cried like a baby, and said that if he will have to live with scars on his face, he will shoot himself.... When everything was over, thank God he was lucky. the doctor told him, you're a lucky man to have such a wife. Then he came home to recover and I took good care of him.

On another occasion he was very sick to his stomach. We rushed him to an emergency room in a Brooklyn hospital and they did not know what it was and said he had to be operated on immediately. I thought it was cancer because they said he had a tumor. He was in intensive care for ten days. During that time he was insulting the nurses with dirty words. I was ashamed when I went to visit him and the other patients were telling me that he was very rude. I asked them to excuse him because he was sick. Thank God he pulled through. He came home and I took good care of him. I just don't understand how a human being can forget everything so easy and do such harm to my life. It has to be a real sick person, even animals respond to kindness, love, and care.

Another sort of problem we use to have was that someone introduced him to a man that just arrived from Italy. My husband got involved with him so deep that he was mistreating me. When that man use to come to the house, they kissed and hugged each other in my presence, and the change of looks was just incredible to me. I have to confess that our intimate relationship was very poor .... from his part, so I refused to let him come to my apartment. So my husband took him to work in his job and also introduced a girl to him to marry in order to remain in this country. They had a baby and I was forced to become a good mother. He used to give very generous bonuses and gifts to the baby, even with my own money, since I always had a joint account. This man was imposing and demanding so much of my husband, that I felt uncomfortable when he was around.

One day I asked the friend who introduced this man to my husband, what was going on, that I didn't like their behavior; but they just kept quiet. The old woman was also asking my husband when the Lacuna affair was going to end. That gave me more to think about, and I always had been a loyal and faithful wife, good housekeeper, and mother.

I could go on telling many things, but I feel that I don't have to go on every detail. I tried to be as brief as possible.

Washington, October 29, 1980 -- Madrid July 13, 1978 -- Madrid July 24, 1978

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