The End of an Era

I’ve stood in Monica Lewinsky’s former apartment at the Watergate in Washington, D.C. Not because of scandal or politics—but because Senator Elizabeth Dole, who now owns it, has opened that door to me many times, welcoming me and my fellow military caregivers into a space that has held the weight of history.

In that room, I’ve learned that the stories we carry can shape us or shatter us. Senator Dole has shown me that telling your truth is not a performance—it’s an act of survival. Monica Lewinsky’s legacy reminds me that the cost of speaking openly can be steep, but the cost of silence can be devastating.

Today, I’m choosing to stand fully in my own story. Not the version that others would prefer. Not the one rewritten to protect reputations or avoid discomfort. The whole, unvarnished truth. My own Monica Lewinsky moment.

I urge you to set aside at least 20 minutes to read this in private and really sit with it.

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Is Dave Alive?

I’ve tried sharing the answer to this this every day for the last few weeks, but it’s been hard to explain the end of the Dave & Betsy era in a way that’s digestible and believable.

Honestly, I’m still struggling to accept that this really happened.

Is Dave alive? Yes.

Where is he living? Not with us in Virginia. After the hospital, Dave came home for nearly two weeks. He then went to Pennsylvania and has been living with a self-induced clean slate life, staying with his mother and working nights at a gas station.

What Happened? Systemic Failure.

In order to understand the severity of this testimony, you’ll need a bit of context. For 18 years, I was either an active-duty combat soldier’s wife or a caregiver to a combat-disabled veteran. I fought for him in every system—military, VA, medical, and community—because that’s what you do when you believe the promises made to families like ours.

But in the end, those systems failed us – this is what happened.

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April 16, 2025 – The School Incident

Without telling me, Dave went to our son’s middle school during the school day and had Matthew pulled from class. They were taken to a conference room and left alone. Dave started crying, told him he was sad, that he wanted to die, and that Matthew might never see him again.

After Matthew helped get themselves composed, Dave left and Matthew went back to class. There was no warning to the school or to me, and no one from the school contacted me while or after it was happening.

When Matthew came home later that day, he found gifts from his father laid out on his bed — the kind you give when you’ve already decided you’re leaving. He was only in 7th grade, yet he was left to process that message alone until I could piece together what had happened.

My heart broke for him.

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April 20, 2025 – Easter Sunday

It was Easter Sunday, early afternoon. Dave stood in our front entryway. My back was to the kitchen, his to the front door. He was filled with rage and screamed at me: “I have 22 pills on standby. You don’t love me!” He turned, opened the front door, slammed it shut, and ran to his truck.

I followed and watched him pull the pills from inside and come back into view. While looking directly at me, he put the pills in his mouth, drank an entire bottle of water without breaking eye contact, dropped the bottle to the gravel, and said, “Are you happy now?”

I was already on with the 911 dispatcher, explaining what I was watching unfold in real time in front of me. Matthew was in the living room and witnessed every moment.

Dave then got into his truck, drove away, and was found unconscious by police half a mile from home. They pulled him from the driver’s seat and saved his life.

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Five-week In-patient Hospitalization

Over five weeks of in-patient hospitalization after the staging his death, Dave completed nearly 30 sessions of Trans Magnetic Stimulation (TMS) at the Richmond VAMC among other treatments.

In week four, Dave’s care team added Monday/Wednesday/Friday ketamine injections. That Friday, he developed overdose-induced myoclonic activity and was admitted to the ICU. At this time, the care team also decided to remove him from all daily medications until further notice and decided he was unfit to drive until further testing could be done on his brain due to the seizures.

Dave spent Memorial Day weekend in the ICU due to continued seizing, then recovered and returned to the psych unit on Monday. All medications were stopped.

He was discharged that Thursday into my care, despite them telling me that the only help for guys like Dave was full-time hospitalization or discharge to me. The VA was out of options, the Psychiatrist explained to me at pick-up.

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After Discharge – Bunnies & Betrayal

For almost two weeks, Dave lived with us like he wanted to be there.

During our first Adoption Day weekend at Rock Island Farm—when we gifted two sets of rabbits to two families of disabled veterans—Dave participated, and his mother and brother visited to see our life. We thought we were all moving toward healing.

Believing we were still trying to heal as a family, I asked Dave to go spend time in Pennsylvania with them after the bunny event. He didn’t object, but he was upset he couldn’t take the dog.

Two days after arriving in Shippensburg, he called to say he wanted a divorce, a clean slate, to start over. He told me he hadn’t wanted this life since 2016—the year he stopped being a killer for the Army and was medically retired for who he had become after years of kill-or-control training.

Just like that – Dave ended it all and moved on with no regard for the destruction he left in his path. He wanted a clean slate – he was taking a clean slate.

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July 2025 – When the FBI Called

One of the reasons Matthew and I left for Seattle so quickly was the timing.

At the same time Dave had declared his “clean slate” and walked away, he was unmedicated — and making violent statements. Among them were detailed comments about bomb making, using his truck, and remotely detonating explosives at federal buildings in Washington, D.C.

Leaving wasn’t just about distance; it was about safety. I couldn’t predict what he might do next, and I couldn’t risk Matthew being anywhere near it.

While we were in Seattle, the FBI called. They were following up on a formal tip a mandated reporter had filed after I shared what Dave had said. The agent explained the tip had triggered a federal case review, and they needed a full account.

Over the next several days, I spoke with the FBI multiple times. We discussed what Dave had said, when he said it, and the broader history of his behavior. I confirmed what I had personally witnessed and answered every question they asked.

One of those calls was a joint meeting with the FBI, the VA Police in Pennsylvania, and the VA’s threat assessment team — the first time all those agencies were in the same conversation about Dave. My role was to lay out the timeline and details of what Dave said to me — and what Matthew had witnessed. The agents and VA could see this was not an isolated incident or exaggerated.

While the FBI did not share operational details, it was made clear that both federal agents and local law enforcement will be actively monitoring Dave going forward. The FBI considers him a potential public safety concern, and that ongoing watch is part of why we remain no contact. They can’t arrest him as he hasn’t done anything illegal yet, but they can watch.

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July 29, 2025 – The Animals

Before leaving for Seattle, Matthew and I had asked Dave to help watch the animals while we were gone. Instead, he left his brother Greg in charge.

Dave never informed me of any issues during our trip, nor did he take any responsibility afterward for what happened under that arrangement.

When we returned from Seattle, it was to remove Greg from the house and immediately file for an emergency protective order to prevent retaliation. Walking in the first time, the smell of rot hit first.

Six animals were dead from neglect—two rabbits and four chickens—including Jeff, below, our little farm mascot and Matthew’s best friend.

To this day, Dave has taken zero responsibility for their deaths. That lack of accountability is one of the factors in our decision to remain no contact.

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What This Means for Us

For myself, Matthew, Emily, Mateo, my dad Bill… Dave is alive, yet we mourn him as if he were dead. We are no contact. Once the FBI became involved, contact stopped being an option. The only thing left is the truth.

Dave is no longer mine to keep alive or to stop from making bad choices. I will not be the villain for refusing to keep living with a man who brought a kill-or-control mindset home from Afghanistan and turned it on his family.

I held up a mirror. I named what I saw. He made me the enemy for that.

Ultimately, I believe Dave did not want to die. He wanted me gone. Casting me as the problem let him keep the hero costume while erasing me.

I will not carry that story anymore.

We release him. We protect our children. We tell the truth.

BETSY, EMILY, MATTHEW, MATEO, & bILL

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To the Reader

If you’ve made it to the end of this, thank you. Thank you for reading what is hard to write and even harder to live.

I opened this by telling you about my time in Monica Lewinsky’s former apartment with Senator Elizabeth Dole—two women who taught me to stand fully in my story. Writing this is me doing exactly that.

I’m not sharing this for shock or sympathy. I’m sharing it because silence protects the wrong people, and because there are other families living through versions of this right now—without the resources, visibility, or support to speak out.

If this moved you, share it. Talk about it. Ask the hard questions in your own circles about how we protect families, hold people accountable!

We tell the truth so the next person doesn’t have to survive it alone.