Betrayal - BONUS EP 6: Molly’s Listener Essay

Episode Date: April 24, 2025

Molly reads her story of resilience and healing after an abusive relationship.  If you would like to reach out to the Betrayal Team, email us at [e-mail] and follow us on Instagram at @betrayalpod See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Something unexpected happened after Jeremy Scott confessed to killing Michelle Schofield in Bone Valley Season 1. Every time I hear about my dad, it's, oh, he's a killer. He's just straight evil. I was becoming the bridge between Jeremy Scott and the son he'd never known. At the end of the day, I'm literally a son of a killer. Listen to new episodes of Bone Valley Season 2 on the iHeart Radio app, Apple podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. I'm Soledad O'Brien, and on my new true crime podcast, Murder on the Towpath, I'm taking you back to 1964, to the cold case of artist Mary Pinchomire.

She had been shot twice in the head and in the back. It turns out Mary was connected to a very powerful man. I pledge you that we shall neither commit nor provoke aggression. John F. Kennedy. Listen to Murder on the Toe Path with Soledad O'Brien on the iHeartRadio app, Apple podcasts, or wherever you get your podcast. Explore the winding halls of historical true crime with Holly Fry and Maria Tramarchi,

hosts of Criminalia, as they uncover curious cases from the past. The legend of the highwayman suggests men dominated the field. But tell that to Lady Catherine Ferrer's, known as the Wicked Lady, who terrorized England in the mid 1600s. Her legend persists nearly 400 years after her death. Highwaymen are in the hot seat this season. Find more crime and cocktails on Criminalia.

Listen to Criminalia on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. I'm gonna be a good boy Hey guys, it's Andrea Gunning. A few weeks ago, we put a call out for your listener essays. We wanted to hear from you about resilience after a devastating betrayal. And we received so many incredible essay submissions. For this episode, we're going to feature the second of two essays that really moved me. It's written and read by a listener named Molly. The willow tree bends, but it does not break.

It weathers storms by swaying with the wind, its roots gripping the earth with quiet determination. I didn't know I had that kind of strength until the night I left, with my seven and a half month old baby in my arms and a carry-on suitcase packed for a nine day trip. I thought I'd be gone for a short while, but life had other plans. Then again, when I got married, I didn't think I'd have to flee from him in fear for my safety and that of my child. Over the next year, I would cross eight states,

learning to bend, adapt, and survive with nothing but determination, hope, and my baby. The breaking point, the night I knew I had to leave. The conflict started almost immediately after saying, I do. Before marriage, I'd noticed differences in how we handled stress, how quickly he became worked up, but I convinced myself it was manageable. Then within months of being narrated,

he became someone else. The man who had once written me cards each month and planned thoughtful dates now picked fights over the smallest things. How I ate my apples, whether I let my coffee get cold. Things that shouldn't have mattered to anyone but somehow mattered enough to him to start an argument. I was exhausted, constantly trying to recapture the person I had married. When I got pregnant, the shift was undeniable.

The first time he left bruises on my arms, it was because I wouldn't sit on the couch when ordered to, in a voice that sent chills down my spine. It wasn't a request, it was a demand. And when I refused, his grip tightened. That was the first time. But it wasn't the last. The final night was the worst of my life. I wasn't allowed to sleep.

He berated me for hours, his voice drilling into my skull, his words cutting deeper than the bruises he left behind. Bruises on my arms, my legs. Knuckle prints on my ribcage. A giant bruise across my legs. Knuckle prints on my rib cage, a giant bruise across my jaw. I didn't realize you could even bruise from repeated slaps across the face. I don't remember how many times he hit me, but I do remember the moment that changed everything. He had been holding our baby when he put her down just so he could slap me. I watched, helpless, as she fell

off the bed. That was it. That was the moment. I knew there was no more trying, no more hoping he would change. The only thing that mattered now was getting out. Storm 1, California, carrying the weight. California was supposed to be a temporary stop. I worked 40-hour weeks with my baby strapped to my chest sharing a room with my sister,

her two dogs, and the whirlwind of uncertainty that had become my life. The stress of filing for divorce and obtaining a restraining order was relentless, but somehow we still found moments of joy. We laughed, we played, we made memories that softened the sharp edges of my reality. Adaptation wasn't a choice, it was survival. The wounds were fresh, but laughter made me remember who I was, before. Roots that travel, the tree tattoo. In the midst of all the moving, from state to state, carrying only what I could manage, I felt completely unanchored.

Safety meant staying in motion, never lingering too long in one place, never feeling truly settled. The instability weighed on me, but I clung to one truth. Even if I wasn't planted, my roots still went with me. That's why, during my time in California, I got the tree tattoo. A tree with strong roots, but at the same time, empty, barren leaves. It was a reminder that no matter where I had to go, I wasn't lost. I carried my strength, my history, and my identity within me, even when everything around me felt uncertain. Another step toward

wholeness. Storm two, Texas, the in-between. In Texas, I lived in three different places, the last being with a family I'd never met before we moved in. I was able to continue working remotely and feel a bit of freedom to fill our days with park visits, time with my friends who lived in the area, and begin to think and maybe even dream a little about the future.

The divorce was final in June. As I hung up the phone with my lawyer, I wiped my tears and high-fived the baby in the high chair and said, We've got this, girly. We're going to be okay. Better than okay. I had begun counseling and went twice a week in Texas learning what had happened to me, figuring out red flags I missed, discovering myself again. Storm 3, Mississippi, an unplanned gift. Texas had been my plan as I just wanted to stay put for a little while, but when my housing fell through and I couldn't yet afford rent,

Mississippi became my unexpected refuge. What felt like another setback turned out to be exactly where I needed to be. My father had just been diagnosed with prostate cancer and being there meant I could help care for him, cook for my grandmother, and have a stable place with my baby. But the greatest gift was the time spent with my grandma. More importantly, she and my baby got to know each other, not just in passing visits, but in the quiet everyday moments that make up a life. We went to

library story time together, made meals side by side, and at night after the baby was asleep, we shared bowls of coffee ice cream, talking in the kind of unhurried way that only happens when you live under the same roof. For two months, I had the privilege of knowing her not just as my grandmother, but as a woman, and she got to love my daughter in that same way. Mississippi was never part of my plan, but it became a balm for my heart, an unexpected pause where I could catch my breath and be surrounded by love. Storm 4, Indiana. My hometown was a wonderful place to grow up, but I never imagined living there as an adult.

Life is funny that way. For eight months, we shared a two-bedroom apartment with my mom, planning our next steps, maybe even a place to stay for good. The three of us became a team. In my mother, I finally found the space to thrive in motherhood. He had made that impossible, but she had always modeled love and support.

Now for the first time, I had the chance to parent with someone, not alone. I found a support group to attend each Wednesday. There, I found perspective and growth and started to realize how much stronger I was than when I first went to counseling, fresh from the abuse, numb and damaged by all that I'd experienced. I was starting to trust myself again. I started to believe people were still good and loving and kind in the world. I remembered I was loved just as I was and that I was enough just for being me.

In Indiana, I was able to even participate in a fundraising event for the local women's shelter, telling my story before a 5K, voicing for the first time that going through abuse doesn't make you weak and that healing from abuse is true strength. doesn't make you weak, and that healing from abuse is true strength. The End of the Bend, North Carolina North Carolina became more than just another stop. It became home. After years of bending

with the storms, I had finally found solid ground. To mark the journey, I went to a new tattoo artist to complete what had begun in California. The tree on my skin, once bare, now had green leaves. As the ink settled I felt the weight of the past few years, the fear, the exhaustion, the moments I thought I wouldn't make it. But I had. I had not only survived, I had grown. And life kept growing with me. In time, I fell in love again. Love that was steady and safe. I built a new life, a family, and welcomed another baby.

Proof that healing isn't just moving on from pain, but making room for joy. The fear never fully disappeared. He tried to find us while I was pregnant with my second daughter, but he did not win. We are safe. We are free. We are strong. Now I give back, offering the kind of support I once needed. I share my story so others know they aren't alone.

Healing is not a straight path. We never returned to who we were before the storm. But like the willow, we can root ourselves in resilience, bend without breaking, and when the time is right, grow fresh leaves once more. When we come back, our producer talks with Molly about her writing process. And stay tuned until the end of the episode, when we'll be sharing our next listener essay theme. Something unexpected happened after Jeremy Scott confessed to killing Michelle Schofield in Bone Valley Season 1. I just knew him as a kid.

Long silent voices from his past came forward. And he was just staring at me. And they had secrets of their own to share. Um, Gilbert King? I'm the son of Jeremy Lynn Scott. I was no longer just telling the story. I was part of it. Every time I hear about my dad, it's, oh, he's a killer. He's just straight evil. I was becoming the bridge between a killer and the son he'd never known. If the cops and everything would have done their job properly, my dad would have been

in jail. I would have never existed. I never expected to find myself in this place. Now, I need to tell you how I got here. At the end of the day, I'm literally a son of a killer. Bone Valley Season 2. Jeremy. Jeremy, I want to tell you something. Listen to new episodes of Bone Valley Season 2 on the iHeart Radio app, Apple Podcasts,

or wherever you get your podcasts. And to hear the entire new season ad-free with exclusive content, subscribe to Lava for Good Plus on Apple Podcasts. I'm Soledad O'Brien, and on my podcast, Murder on the Toe Path, I'm taking you back to the 1960s. Mary Pinchot Meyer was a painter who lived in Georgetown in Washington, D.C. Every day she took a daily walk along the towpath near the E&O Canal. So when she was killed in a wealthy neighborhood... She had been shot twice in the head and in the back behind the heart.

The police arrived in a heartbeat. Within 40 minutes, a man named Raymond Crump Jr. was arrested. He was found nearby, soaking wet, and he was black. Only one woman dared defend him, civil rights lawyer Dovey Roundtree. Join me as we unravel this story with a crazy twist, because what most people didn't know is that Mary was connected to a very powerful man.

I pledge you that we shall neither commit nor provoke aggression. John F. Kennedy. Listen to Murder on the Toe Path with Soledad O'Brien on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. I'm going to hand it over to our producer, Moe, who talked with Molly for this episode. Can you just tell me a little bit about

what the process of writing this was like for you? Yeah, I mean, I have had a lot of distance and time for healing, Yeah, I mean, I have had a lot of distance and time for healing. And so I think looking back and seeing the journey was important to me and trying to weave that through just because anyone that leaves abuse, it can be chaotic, especially at first. There's just a lot of upheaval and people think leaving is it. That's it. And it's just the start.

It's the first step. And there's so much that comes after that. So I just really wanted to emphasize and hopefully have people relate to just that journey that is leaving and how much that becomes its own story, really. I want to talk about the headings you used and why you chose to title some of these headings, you know, Storm 1, Storm 2. What does storm mean and why did you title the headings that way? There was just so much upheaval. I mean, when I left, legitimately, I had a trip planned. It's a yearly trip I do with my college girlfriends. And he had been threatening me and saying

I wasn't going to go. He had hid my suitcase. He'd taken my phone. I didn't know if I was going. So that night before when I literally slept 45 minutes and I had a three hour drive to the airport and he was going to drive us. I didn't know if it was happening. So he woke me up. I took a shower. We drove to the airport. I was in shock, honestly, that we were leaving. I had a nine day carry on. Like I had packed for me and a baby for nine days going to Florida. This was not me leaving. This was not me packing up my life, taking any documents I needed, you know, anything

important. It was just some clothes for nine days. And we never went back. Not one time. So I guess the storm was really just each step was unplanned. I went to LA. I was supposed to be there for a birthday for my daughter's first birthday. Stayed for two months. And it just kept being things like that where I had a plan and then everything else happened around me. You know, I had a place to live in Texas, that fell through.

My dad got diagnosed with cancer, that seemed the next logical step, go be with family. Then go back to your hometown, figure out next steps. Each time it was a storm, but storms cannot be peaceful and ironically, now I listen to a thunderstorm to sleep. So it's actually calming to the system. And when I look back, they all had such purpose. Lylea How did it feel for you putting this down on paper and then reading it out loud?

Jennifer I mean, the process was fairly seamless, I would say just because I've thought of it so often since and I've, you since and I've journaled and I've done things like that. It's not been obviously in this sort of structure as an essay or anything like that. But I think it's always a little bit therapeutic to take ownership of it. And I kind of describe it to other people as it almost happened to someone else

because I'm now someone else. So when I look back, it's almost, it's not disassociation, but it's non-emotional as far as like I'm not emotionally affected by telling it. I'm empowered by telling it because I remember what I've gone through and who I am now. And I don't remember that girl that left because she was just such a different version of me. But I was not fully destroyed. And that's something I hope people remember, is even if it's, you know, day one that you just left yesterday,

you will become something else. I promise. Thank you so much for listening. And thank you to the incredible listeners who wrote in to share their essays on the theme of resilience. We were so moved by your submissions that we're bringing you more of these listener essays. And our next theme will be, The Moment Everything Changed. Set the scene. Take us back to that memory. Describe the feelings and thoughts you had in the moment when everything changed for you. The limit is a thousand words.

If your story stands out, it might be featured in a bonus episode. Please save your submission as a PDF and email it to betrayalpod at gmail.com. If you would like to reach out to the Betrayal team or want to tell us your Betrayal story, email us at betrayalpod.gmail.com. That's betrayalpod.gmail.com. We're grateful for your support. One way to show support is by subscribing to our show on Apple Podcasts. And don't forget to rate and review Betrayal.

Five-star reviews go a long way. A big thank you to all of our listeners. Betrayal is a production of Glass Podcasts, a division of Glass Entertainment Group in partnership with iHeart Podcasts. The show is executive produced by Nancy Glass and Jennifer Faison. Hosted and produced by me, Andrea Gunning.

Written and produced by Monique Laborde. Also produced by Ben Federman. Associate producers are Kristen Malkuri and Caitlin Golden. Our iHeart team is Allie Perry and Jessica Kreincheck. Audio editing and mixing by Matt Dalvecchio. Additional editing support from Tanner Robbins. Betrayal's theme composed by Oliver Baines. Music Library provided by MIBE Music.

And for more podcasts from iHeart, visit the iHeart radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. Something unexpected happened after Jeremy Scott confessed to killing Michelle Schofield in Bone Valley Season 1. Every time I hear about my dad is, oh, he's a killer. He's just straight evil. I was becoming the bridge between Jeremy Scott and the son he'd never known. At the end of the day, I'm literally a son of a killer. Listen to new episodes of Bone Valley Season 2 on the iHeart radio app,

Apple podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. 2 on the iHeart radio app, Apple podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. I'm Soledad O'Brien, and on my new true crime podcast, Murder on the Towpath, I'm taking you back to 1964, to the cold case of artist Mary Pinchomire. She had been shot twice in the head and in the back. It turns out Mary was connected to a very powerful man. I pledge you that we shall neither commit nor promote aggression. John F. Kennedy.

Listen to Murder on the Towpath with Soledad O'Brien on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. Explore the winding halls of historical true crime with Holly Fry and Maria Tremarchi, hosts of Criminalia, as they uncover curious cases from the past. The legend of the Highwayman suggests men dominated the field. But tell that to Lady Catherine Ferrer's, known as the Wicked Lady, who terrorized England in the mid 1600s.

Her legend persists nearly 400 years after her death. Highwaymen are in the hot seat this season. Find more crime and cocktails on Criminalia. Listen to Criminalia on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts.