Trashley: Forty-Three

Psych! USA

After Ashley threatened to send copies of my pictures to the man who had assaulted me, I got on the horn with power lawyer Lisa Bloom, who I’d gotten to know from testifying as a #MeToo witness in a few of her trials. Lisa wasn’t my lawyer then, but she sure as hell showed up for me, taking my call on a Saturday morning while all the other lawyers were off the grid and on the golf course.

Lisa advised me to write Ashley a gentle note stating that it would be incredibly hurtful if she did anything with my photos and that I did not consent to her sharing them.

And if that approach didn’t work, my next plan would be to lawyer up and go after her so aggressively that Ashley and her entire family would be begging the FBI to place them in the witness protection program and relocate them to Buffalo, the Bakersfield of New York.

I texted Ashley’s parents to make sure they were aware their daughter was playing with fire and desperately needed help. I used all the right buzzwords– Gun. Knives. Suicide. Police. Revenge porn. Lawyers. And they didn’t respond, they just left me on read. 

Shockingly, Lisa’s approach seemed to work, as Ashley promised she would never send my photos to Alki David and that it was just a silly little empty threat.

If you want to know what true evil looks like, click this link and watch Alki David attack my lawyer in a parking lot. This was the unhinged monster Ashley threatened me with.

Despite years of therapy, my PTSD flared back up.

I didn’t want to be alone, but luckily one of my best friends was coming to town and staying with me while she recovered from Brazilian Butt Lift surgery.

Jenn and I had both moved to New York on August 23, 2004. Me from Alaska and her from Montana. We met while looking at the same apartment and became instant friends. We went to improv shows together, celebrated my twenty-first birthday by getting piercings on the back of our necks, and once spent an entire afternoon stalking Danny Devito around Manhattan. Our lives veered apart when she moved to Hawaii to go to Medical School, so that she could fulfill her fantasy of becoming a Medical Examiner.

Prepping for Jenn's butt surgery.

I dreamed of being rich and famous, while she dreamt of poking around dead people. I’d send her photos doing Karaoke with Paul Rudd, and she’d send me photos slicing open a cadaver. She was one of those friends who I rarely saw, but when we were together it was like we’d never been apart.

I dropped Jenn off in Beverly Hills on the day of her butt surgery, and on my way home Ashley sent me a cryptic text. We’d only been broken up for a few days but I was worried she was still lingering near my apartment. She turned her location off, so I couldn’t be sure.

A normal text.

Ashley tried everything to win me back, she sent me flowers, booked camping sights, and would call and text as if I didn’t breakup with her. I ignored her most of the time, but the stupid section of my brain—the one that thinks in happy sunshine sparkles—would occasionally respond. 

I didn’t hate Ashley, even though I probably should have. 

I wanted her to get better for the sake of her children. And I felt sorry for her. As far as I could tell, the people who should have been helping her, her parents, weren’t doing anything for her benefit. I knew if Ashley continued down the path she was on, she’d wind up in jail,  dead, or squatting in my garage.

I remained in constant contact with Cecelia, and was still learning new things.

“Ashley told me she’s half Israeli,” I said.

“No, her biological Dad is Mexican.”

“She said she grew up in Pasadena in a house overlooking the Rose Bowl.”

“They never lived in Pasadena.”

“She told me after she retires she wants to become a late-in-life movie star.”

“Nope, that’s my dream.”

Ashley had stolen so many parts of Cecelia’s life and incorporated them into her own. I wondered what she had stolen from me, and how she was using it to her advantage. I could see her saying that she had grown up on a gold mine in Alaska where she found gold and woolly mammoth bones, that she was a teenage news reporter, and that she was selected by Mars One to live in outer space one day. No. No one would believe her.

I picked Jenn up from surgery, but she could barely walk up my stairs so I had to airlift her into my apartment. Once inside, I wrapped her in adult diapers and gave her the robe that Ashley had stolen for me from the Waldorf Astoria in Chicago.

Jenn slept in my bedroom while I made myself comfortable in my living room. I’d been so consumed with the fallout from the breakup and all the discoveries I was still making that all I wanted was to have a peaceful, Ashley-free night at home. I turned on my TV and searched for something relaxing to watch and landed on the Ted Bundy Tapes. I hadn’t seen it yet, which is weird because I love serial killers.

This was exactly what I was in the mood for.

As I watched, I started drawing connections between Ashley and Ted Bundy. Not a good sign. He was calculating and manipulative but outwardly appeared like a normal person. Ashley too. Ted targeted his victims, and they all shared the same traits. Ashley too. Me, Cecelia, and Michelle had so many similarities you could’ve mistaken us for sisters. Bundy lured women in using charm, and Ashley came off as incredibly charming when we first started talking—after all, she was sharing other peoples’ stories as if they were her own. Ted Bundy’s eyes turned black when he flew into a rage. Sounded familiar. 

Was Ashley a psychopath?

I texted Cecelia and Michelle with my new revelation. I’m sure Ted Bundy had more victims than the thirty he admitted to killing. And I had no doubt there were many more women Ashley had catfished that we didn’t even know about yet.

Being compared to Ted Bundy, another red flag.

In another desperate attempt to win me back, Ashley flew to Minnesota and told me she’d be checking into a loony bin for a week. I encouraged her to go there, and told her she had to be honest with the doctors or the treatment wouldn’t work. She assured me she would tell them everything, especially about the lying and the catfishing.

Ashley still didn’t know I’d been talking with Cecelia, and I needed to break it to her at some point. Cecelia was the truth-keeper, and Ashley knew that if we ever talked, all of her lies would be exposed. We thought Ashley should know that we were sharing information, since she’d find out eventually.

The day after Ashley checked-in, I got a call from the facility. “Hi I’m Beth, one of the counselors here at Psych! USA. Our patient Ashley would like to add you to her friends and family therapy session tomorrow morning at eleven. Can I confirm you’re able to attend virtually?”

“That’s weird. I don’t know why she put me on the therapy session because we are neither friends or family. She’s my ex-girlfriend.”

“Oh, that’s not what she told us.”

“Well, she’s a pathological liar so I’m sure nothing she told you is true.”

“I see. So would you like to attend the session? Or no?”

“Well, I have to tell her that I’ve been talking to her wife, and knowing her, it’s probably best to break the news virtually while she is in your care.”

“Wife?”

Oh Beth, you poor thing.

“Yes. You’re probably gonna want to write this down.”

I spoke to the counselor for half an hour, and it barely covered everything. At the end of our call she told me that Ashley had consented for me to see her files, so she emailed them to me. 

Just like I suspected, Ashley lied about why she was there. I don’t know why I was shocked, but I was.

“She’s such a fucking liar, she’ll never stop,” I said to Jenn, who was now hobbling around my apartment completely topless and wearing three layers of adult diapers to catch the blood. 

I had no idea why Ashley had given me access to her medical files when she was clearly lying to the doctors.

I realized her whole, “I’m trying to get better visit to Psych! USA” was all a ploy to make me think she was doing the work, when it was clearly all for show.

Cecelia and I agreed that telling Ashley on the call that we had been talking was the safest plan for both of us.

The next morning I set up my computer for our session. Jenn was facedown on the couch, her diaper high in the air.

I dialed in and was greeted by two counselors who were sitting on either side of Ashley. She appeared calm and collected, as if that was her normal state. She may have duped the counselors, but I saw right through her.

“Hi Lauren, I’m Beth, the one who set up the call. And this is Julie, she’s another one of our counselors. So we’re gonna start off by letting Ashley tell you about what she’s been working on since she’s been here.”

Ashley cleared her throat and started.

“Right. I’ve been working on myself a lot in here, and I learned I need to meditate when my thoughts are racing. And that I should be more present when we are together.” 

The fuck was she talking about. This bitch was playing a character.

The call went on for forty minutes, Ashley put on an incredible performance in her one-woman show. She lied, cried, played the victim, manipulated the truth, and by the end of her monologue, Ashley had both of the counselors fooled.

“Sorry, can I jump in real quick?” I interrupted. “Ashley, I want you to know that I have been talking with Cecelia for the last few weeks, and I’ve learned that you were living a double life. And I think you should know that I told her everything. I told her about the extravagant spending, the jewelry, the thirty thousand dollar check. All of it.”

Ashley blinked, and when she opened her eyes they were completely black. She struggled to keep her anger contained, but I could see it clawing it’s way out of her.

“NOOO! She’ll pay for this,” she finally managed to scream.

“We’re just gonna stop right here,” Beth said as she turned the camera off.

“Oh my god Lauren, your life is so fun,” Jenn said, still face down on the couch, “I would trade you all three of my children for your lesbian drama.”

I called Cecelia immediately and told her what happened on the call.

“She gaslit everyone in the room, it sounds like,” Cecelia said.

“Yeah, her ability to manipulate people is incredible,” I said.

“And telling the counselors that I’m keeping the kids from her is wild, I would never do that, I’m just parenting. The kids are safe and well-cared for, and she needs to get to a place to provide them safety and stability. I’ve been begging her parents to get her help, but they just ignore my pleas.”

“Hold on,” I said, “I’m getting a call from Psych! USA. I’ll call you back.”

I answered, assuming it was Beth, but it was Ashley, and she was scary.

Ashley didn’t know that I’d also been recording our calls. I had to protect myself in every way possible so that if she threatened me I would have proof. Luckily, Minnesota is a one-way consent state, meaning you can record someone without telling them. Nice.

“Do you know what you just did?” Ashley said, “They’re gonna take away my kids now because of you. I hope you can sleep at night because Karma’s coming for you.” 

I hoped Karma was the name of a beautiful woman.

“Ashley, you did this to yourself,” I said.

“I hope someone comes for your kids one day, I hope you suffer.”

“Okay, Ashley. I’m gonna go.”

“You’re never gonna find someone better than me,” she said. “NEVER!”

“Ashley, I will get whoever I want.”

I hung up. 

I was so over her noise. The way her voice sounded. The volume and the pitch of it. Her constant chaos. It was time to exit the ride.

I just wanted my life to get back to normal. 

I took Jenn back to the doctor for her butt surgery check-up. I waited in the car and saw I had a voicemail from Psych! USA saying Ashley was being discharged early. 

I called back and asked to speak to her main doctor.

Dr. Troff told me that Ashley would be discharged early, and he didn’t think it was necessary to keep her any longer.

“She’s playing you, Dr. Troff. She is not well.”

“I assessed her myself and I guarantee you I found her well,” he said.

“Okay, but just so you know, she is not. And she’s a scary and abusive person, and she is deceiving you into thinking she’s okay. But what do I know, you’re the smart doctor man.”

“As I said before, nothing is wrong with her.”

We got off the phone. 

Great, now there’s an angry lesbian on the loose.

Hide your kids, hide your wife.

Dr. Troff was a fucking fool. Ashley had manipulated him into thinking she was something she wasn’t. Because that’s what she does. It’s what she’s always done. 

She had been lying and deceiving people her entire life. She’d put in her ten thousand hours, and was more than an expert.

I told Cecelia that Ashley was discharged, and we were both scared of what Ashley would do next. I hoped she wouldn’t take her anger out on Cecelia, especially in front of the sweet and innocent kids.

Ashley had made our break-up extremely easy. Once I saw who she was, I couldn’t unsee it. There was no yearning for her. No missing her. I didn’t even know her.

While I waited for Jenn to get out of her check-up, I created a Bumble profile. I decided to not let all of this Ashley drama keep me from finding the woman of my dreams.

To quote one of the greatest philosophers of my generation, “I get knocked down, but I get up again. You’re never gonna keep me down.”

I knew I was a catch. Afterall, I’ve almost been kidnapped four times, and those are just the times I know about. You know what that means? It means I’m so desirable that people want to steal me.

Getting back out there.

Jenn got back into my car. She was still swaddled in the stolen Chicago bathrobe. The robe was a perfect symbol of Ashley and my relationship. What had begun as plush, elegant, and fancy, was now soaked in butt blood and ready for the trash.

Goodbye stolen robe, good luck out there.