Brent Detwiler

THE WOLF AMONGST THE SHEEP

The story of how Brent Detwiler infiltrated our family

Who is Brent Detwiler?

The Origin of the Wolf

Who He Says He Is, vs...

In order to get through all of this without spending too much time on the backstory of Brent Detwiler, I’m just going to link his purported résumé.

RIGHT HERE

Now that we have gotten that out of the way, let’s move on to who Brent has demonstrated himself to be in our family. Though some sarcasm is written into the following account, the facts remain just that. And as heart-wrenching this gut punch of a publication has been, jaded humor is indeed a big part of the continued coping mechanism as we fight for our mother's safety (and future).

The singular purpose of sharing our experience with the world is to expose Brent Detwiler for what he has done, while giving a voice to those who have kept silent and to the ones who have found that cutting him off after years of fighting and hurting was just so much easier.

I hope that this story is reasonably alarming; one you won't soon forget.

You Will Know Him By His [low hanging] Fruits

Mr. Detwiler came to live with my mom and her husband on or around October 9, 2023. The story is not super clear, but it was relayed to me like this:

Brent had to leave his current residence in the state of Arizona and was looking for a new place to call home. My mother had been following the ‘work’ he was doing through his online blog and began corresponding through a messaging platform while making donations to the cause. One day in late August or September of 2023, she offhandedly made an unintentional offer that would change our lives forever. Something to the effect of: “We have a big farm with plenty of room and you are welcome to come and visit.” Without hesitation, Brent Detwiler took her up on the offer, and within a very short time, made his trek from Arizona to Northwest Florida with the intent to rent the 5th Wheel at the farm. For $600 per month, Brent would have room and board.

…and then there were the complimentary restaurant meals, the sexual relations with my very married mother (we’ll get to that shortly..), and the guarantee of having his jeans ironed to his liking when he asked… who even does that? Loaded question, I know.

Brent’s entrenchment into my family life was slow–insidiously so. What was immediately evident was that my mom’s eagerness to impress and host a man she had been spiritually and morally captivated by would ultimately be her downfall: her financial wellness, her spiritual journey, and her relationship with her family and children would all serve as collateral damage for Brent’s evil scheme.

From 5th Wheel Tenant to Basement Dweller

The 5th Wheel had been sitting dormant for quite some time, and with that inactivity came decay, brought on by hot and humid summer days that seemed to carry on endlessly. Necessary repairs, some of which were discovered only after Brent came to the farm, had to be made in order to make the place more “comfortable”... The TV wasn’t working (among other things). And just like that, Brent was moved into the downstairs bedroom of the house, just off of the living room. He would have his own private bathroom and free access to the remainder of the house, including a well stocked kitchen. Full disclosure, my mom had made sure he had free access to the kitchen regardless of where he slept or pooped, but to be downstairs in this lovely home was certainly a convenience. Not to mention it had a brighter and bigger feel compared to the perfectly adequate (and remarkably inexpensive) 5th Wheel. This pushing of the boundaries, stressing existing terms and agreements, was all a pattern that would continue playing out (and amplifying) as Brent set his sights on the finer trappings of my mom and step dad’s domestic life. His greed and envy would continue to materialize but were on full display from the start.

Nesting

Repairs to Brent's luxury camper pad were put on a honey-do list that involved setting up an appointment to have the electrical evaluated. During this waiting period, Mr. Detwiler enjoyed the creature comforts that came with being able to nest in the lower level of the house. In an eerie twist, my mother and stepfather's bedroom was directly above this space, a visual reminder that Brent was certainly not an upgrade if ever he were to be considered as an alternative to my stepfather.

Among the belongings brought into the house was his coffee pot, which he positioned on a shelf just along the wall of the bedroom. Neighboring it was a single coffee cup, the pair prepped for a ritualistic morning routine or an afternoon pick-me-up. A desk was generously donated to the space and placed in front of the window, just inside the door, so that Brent could bask in the glow of his self righteousness during the daylight hours (something I didn’t know vampires could tolerate... I guess you learn something new every day). Dare I say, life couldn't get much sweeter than this arrangement... or could it?

A Day in the [Downstairs] Life

As Brent awoke each morning in the main house, I imagine that he felt the serenity of stillness. But true to his nature, and as the curtains were spread, the desire to decimate a fellow human with a typographical tongue lashing would soon get the coffee pot to gurgling, filling his room with a much more delightful scent. The stench of a pharisee is not a pleasant one.

At the desk, he would sit... and sit, and type, and think... and think some more, as he molted with every keystroke. His rebuke and condemnation cast off, out, and into the world via harassing emails, pharisaical blog posts, or effortless shares of scandals that had already made the news. We were often left to ask ourselves, what was his motivation for doing all of this? Truthfully, there has been much conjecture, and even heated debates over his moral vices. But no matter your thoughts or ours as to his impetus, one important fact must be shared for the sake of impartiality: he picked his nose while doing all of it.

Yes. It is true. And as he did -as any man of Brent's pedigree would do- with the bend of his finger, he would put the crusted, slime-trailing tip into his mouth, and pinch the specimen between his teeth, staring out from the quiet stillness as he did so... and then he would type some more.

The Trojan Horse

After being in the main house for a couple of weeks and familiarizing himself with just how accommodating my mother was willing to be, the topic of never returning to the 5th Wheel was finally broached. “Would it be alright if I just remained in the main house where I have become quite accustomed?” My mother was happy as a clam to oblige Brent on any request, but especially this one, and convinced her husband that this was a wonderful idea. Just like that, the Trojan Horse had infiltrated the sacred and formally protected citadel under the guise of theological superstar, thus beginning the systematic destruction of boundaries, dignity, and discretion. There would no longer be autonomy, loyalty amongst spouses, or privacy in the domestic lives of my mother and stepfather. Going forward, each day would be a day to impress, address, and include Brent in all things.

Jane’s Addiction

It would not be objective to share this story without also briefly including some facts about my mother. For 18 years, she had been struggling with addiction to OTC and Rx medications. A car accident had rendered her “in need” after sustaining a back injury and undergoing multiple surgeries.

In January 2024, my siblings and I started the process of setting up an intervention for her. Spoiler alert, she went to residential rehab and exited the program in March. With the departure from a dependency on narcotics and all the mind numbing experiences that went along with it, her 'awake' state of mind, diagnosed and undiagnosed mental behavioral health issues, and decades of stressors in the marriage, caused my mother to reach further towards 'friendship' with Brent. I think it goes without saying that he wholeheartedly obliged and even welcomed it.

The Perfect Opportunity

Myself and some of my family members met with and emailed with Brent Detwiler on multiple occasions leading up to the intervention, and continued to correspond throughout most of my mother's stay. He had many opinions and observations to share due to his tenancy, proximity and frequency of communication with my mother.

He disparaged both she and her husband simultaneously. In his words about my mother, he writes, “One of the most powerful "gods" in her life is the god of looking good in the sight of others. That is behind her lying, impressing, anger, flattery, pretentions, slander, gifts and more. It is about image management. How do people view her? That is what she slavishly serves.”

The irony in this evaluation is that Brent would later go on to use these insecurities and weaknesses, along with what we candidly shared with him, to manipulate and cajole her into a closer relationship with himself and further distance her from her marriage, and eventually her family altogether. While it didn't appear this way in the very beginning, I don't believe that it took long for Brent to see that this 'friendship' could be taken advantage of.

It's What He Didn't Do

I feel it’s time to get into the weeds of what Brent did in his role as theological-tenant-friend-person and how–more than what he did–what he didn’t do was so important. In fact, I'd argue that his lack of appropriate action every step of the way was to blame for the affair and the destruction of the marriage. If he had set boundaries, given sound advice, and pointed my mother to God alone, this story would have gone in a dramatically different direction.

He Didn't Participate in the Intervention

Prior to the intervention, Brent had told my husband and I that he would be happy to participate. But as the organization of the itinerary further solidified and the date grew closer, he told us that he decided he would not be participating. Honestly, it was in no way a requirement or an expectation at face value. He was a tenant of my parents. But because the boundary of encroachment and inclusion had been blurred for the last four months, his exit from this stage was an interesting one. Even more interesting was the reason he gave.

Brent explained to us that, if he participated in the intervention and either my mother and/or her husband became furious at him for his involvement, his nest in the basement may become forfeit. Bluntly, he cared more about his comfortable living situation than standing behind everything he emphatically stated to us face to face. It was very similar to receiving a call to action from someone who hid from the front lines when it was time to fight.

Still, in and of itself, this bow out wasn’t a deal breaker, just something we shrugged at as we continued to focus our efforts on saving my mother’s life.

He Didn't Tell Her Husband - Overview

This is a substantial topic to touch upon. The gravity of this one thing greatly impacted not only the trajectory of the marriage, but also made much more clear to us that Brent Detwiler’s life is likely governed more by faithless selfishness than anything else.

Also, there was this overt sense that he had a personal disdain for my stepfather; a bizarre level of judgment towards him. We think that he may have been projecting his own failures as a husband and father onto my stepfather, because it seemed that nothing he did was 'correct.'

And here lies an interesting point: Brent Detwiler has no problem being extraordinarily aggressive and confrontational when he wants to be. To think even for a moment that he shied away from directly addressing my stepfather about my mom’s inappropriate attachment/behavior because he was timid, or soft spoken couldn't be further from the truth. Other than selfish gain, there was no reason to not go to my stepfather at the first signs of inappropriateness.

Pivot: My Stepfather and the Marriage Dynamic

I want to be impartially clear. My stepfather is in no way perfect, as none of us are, but he did provide for my mother very well. As with many marriages, their communication, or lack of it, could be toxic at times, and nearly two decades of my mother being more of a 'patient' than a wife can certainly change a marital dynamic.

They needed counseling. He needed to be more emotionally available and stop reacting with passive aggravation. My mother was a stick of dynamite. When she did not get what she wanted when she wanted it, she could be incredibly manipulative, angry, self destructive and spiteful. Patience was not one of her virtues either.

The marriage was fixable but unhealthy.

Let's continue.

He Didn't Tell Her Husband - Part 1

On February 7, 2024, my husband and I met with Brent Detwiler at our local Chick Fil A. During our conversation, he explained to us that my mother had, since his arrival to their farm, treated him more and more like a, “surrogate husband.” He explained that she seemed to lean on him for support and encouragement in ways that she should be leaning on her husband. At the time, we chalked it up to my mom’s intense appreciation for ministers, being that she grew up a Pastor’s kid and had always seemed to idolize my grandfather in his later years and after his death. She enjoys discussions on theology and denominational differences, of which her stance has changed numerous times over the years.

As “surrogate husband” was brought up again and again in this conversation and those that followed, it became very clear that Brent needed to speak directly to my stepfather, and we told him as such.

Let's be clear. Brent had no issue with being direct. He had no problem with confrontation and oftentimes preferred to bellow with firm directness. We had witnessed this in him on prior occasions and would be privy to it even more in future gatherings. But, regarding this fairly important claim of surrogate husbandry, he didn’t say a word to my stepfather, nor express concerns over the imbalance in communication, preferential treatment, or topic matter of conversation. Not once. Realistically, he didn’t say anything because he enjoyed and rewarded from the attention and misplaced affection my mother was sharing with him.

After knowing what we do now, it is our firm belief that Brent Detwiler realized that he had the most loyal ‘follower’ in my mother, living within proximity and she was tangible, not just a figment on social media. It didn’t seem to matter that she was another man’s wife. Instead of doing what was right, and required, he allowed the boundaries to remain blurred and did not shut the door to her misguided emotionally vulnerable advances. You may ask, why? Why wouldn’t he go directly to the “authority in the home” (as he so often said my stepfather should be regarded)? The answer is quite simple yet perplexing, given his opinions of my mother and of marriage as a whole. The truth is that the rules of engagement are different for Brent Detwiler. His living conditions were incredibly appealing and he did not want to jeopardize any of it. The financial incentive was much too enticing to bring bees anywhere near that sweet, sweet honeypot.

He Didn't Tell Her Husband - Part 2

Brent unquestionably viewed my mother as a honeypot, a term coined for women who are preyed upon by weak men whom they offer financial assistance, gifts, and support. This perception, which undoubtedly struck him early on, was never more clear than in the following example.

Upon his arrival, and after agreeing to a rent of $600 per month, my mother and her husband made allowances for the first 30 days of his stay, offering him some reprieve to “financially recover,” as she would say, from his long, expensive drive to Florida. My mom emphasized the perceived financial burden that surely was involved in such a big move.

What she failed to mention is that when Brent began providing the $600 payment as agreed upon, she was returning it to him, unbeknownst to her husband. I discovered this trending discrepancy while she was in rehab and I had taken over the management of the finances. What I discovered was utterly ridiculous. Not only had she reimbursed Bren’t rent payments, she was also giving him financial incentives for helping her husband to watch their dogs while she was away at rehab. Later on, by her own admission, I discovered that she was also paying him for any time that she and her husband stepped away for a weekend or took a cruise, feeling guilty for leaving him at home. Honestly, she could PayPal him for just about any reason, and looked forward to the gratitude in response.

Brent never went to her husband about this either. He knew of their bleeding financial situation, from our conversations we had before and during her stay in rehab, and witnessed for himself my mother’s spending habits. Yet he stayed perfectly silent when her habitual desire to please and to purchase benefited him the most.

He Didn't Tell Her Husband - Part 3

My stepfather was never made aware of the growing emotional attachment that my mother was developing. Divulging information in a disparaging, complaining, and comparative format to Brent with regard to her husband became a regular occurrence. One of many problems is that he was not then pointing her back to her husband, to counseling, to personal therapy, etc. He would instead affirm any evaluation of my stepfather without God-centered objectivity or counsel. This lack of responsibility on the part of Brent, as a purported leader, minister, theologian, and family guru, was one of the most calculated decisions that he made. This wolf, this snake in the grass, was validating all of my mother’s feelings, whether those feelings came from a place of legitimacy or self righteousness; he was helping to drive the emotional wedge between my mother and stepfather, all while inserting himself into the equation as the sympathetic, husband-hating, “better example” of a “Godly man”. This ensured that the financial incentives kept on pouring in, month after month. Brent never said a word.

He Didn't Tell Her Husband - Part 4

The timeline for this portion has not been fully made clear yet, but we suspect that the emotional relationship deepened after August 1, 2024, which ironically matches up to when Brent seemingly paused his blog postings.

Keeping true to the theme of these entries, you may have concluded that Brent had still not gone to my stepfather to alert him to any red flags, and you would be correct. Brent’s encouragement of the attachment would continue as would his disparaging affirmations and assertions of my stepfather. Not once in these 10 months of living in their home did Brent Detwiler put his selfish motivations aside, speak with the husband, and remove himself from the residence for the sake of the marriage and the family. For the right price, Brent will seemingly do nothing at all. Kind of makes you wonder about the Sovereign Grace situation…

He Didn't Tell Her Husband - Part 5

I suppose it’s time to share the more damning crescendo of circumstances that lead to the realization of physical infidelity. And no, Brent never confessed to the husband, so I’ll get that obvious conclusion out of the way.

It all began with a prompting, a feeling, a discerning thought; whatever you want to call it, my stepfather became increasingly suspicious that something more than friendship may be going on between his wife and Brent Detwiler. And unfortunately, he was correct, discovering them in the most unholy of entanglements on the downstairs living room couch. Somehow he was able to remain composed and capture on his cellphone what he regrettably saw, while simultaneously being nearly overcome with shock and disgust. At this point, the only clear and rational thought was that my stepfather needed to seek counsel before confronting the situation. He was now concretely aware that his suspicions had been correct, but couldn’t make that known. What would happen next took us all by surprise.

The Aftershock

Following this incredibly grotesque discovery, my stepfather sought counsel from a legal standpoint and a biblical one. He did as he was instructed to do, and further collected evidence of the affair for legal and moral purposes. In Florida, you have to prove adultery, and you are within your legal rights to take whatever measures the law allows in order to gather that evidence.

Day after day, the scandalous, secretive, and intentional affair continued, and with that came plenty of evidentiary documentation. Yes, they continued to get down and dirty in the living room on the lower level where the first observed incident had taken place. To be clear, Brent did not rent the downstairs as a whole, but only the bedroom. The living room was a common space, the sewing room was also down there, as was my stepfather’s office and another bedroom, plus food storage. My point? These have got to be the dumbest adulterers I have ever heard of. But I give credit to God, that His ways are certainly not our ways. He brought into the light what Brent had undoubtedly assumed was being carried out in the darkest and most secret place, never to be anything more than speculation, if even that.

In the meantime, my stepfather had somehow been able to maintain decorum. Don’t ask me how, that just does not compute for me. Nonetheless, this provided a daily opportunity for my mother or Brent to come forward and be honest about what was going on. As I said, this never happened. My stepfather tried to maneuver around the topic many times, asking my mom repeatedly to please be careful around Brent, do not spend time alone with him, be aware of how things appear and what could ensue. She would become angry, outrageously defensive, and emphatically state that there was no need to be concerned, nothing was going on between herself and Brent, nor would it ever, because, “Ew, he’s old and gross!”

My mother also generously shared the same sentiment with me, without any prompting on my part, consistently referring to Brent Detwiler as a, “Nerd,” and, “Unattractive,” and used the exact same exclamatory declaration of, “Ew, he’s old and gross!” And as with me, opportunities to discuss any current struggles or any new developments were made available to her, without directly inquiring about the potential of impropriety. But every ordained moment came and went without forthcoming information, though Brent’s name often came up. It killed me to know that God was giving her chance after chance after chance, but Brent had so deeply planted all of the seeds necessary for this whole situation to go parabolic.

Biblical Precedent

After gathering an enormous amount of evidence speaking to the validity of the affair, my stepfather knew it was time to confront each of them. He wanted to do it in such a way as to have biblical assistance, so he reached out to their current Pastor to set up a meeting. I was to also be present for the confrontation as a female presence and direct relative. As you can imagine, I was not looking forward to seeing Brent. He was the home-wrecker, the marriage destroyer, and the irresponsible Teacher of The Word, among other colorful descriptions. He was the wolf in sheep’s clothing, as cliché as it is.

In fact, even while he was having relations with another man’s wife, he was a guest preacher at the church my mom and her husband attended. He would take the pulpit, and instruct the sheep on how to live a Godly life, looking over the crowd and making eye contact with my mom and her husband as he did so.

Enough was enough.

It’s Time

The date was arranged. The Pastor, a Deacon and I would arrive at the farm around 7:30pm on November 7, 2024. There was no turning back, this had to be confronted. A month had now passed since my stepfather first discovered the infidelity, and their adulterous activity had not dissipated, nor had confessions been made by Brent or my mother.

The mood in the house was very gracious, and very calm. Her husband met us at the door, and my mom accepted the idea that we had shown up for a visit. She would soon accompany us in the sitting room after cleaning up in the kitchen. Until then, natural small talk carried throughout the home.

What would transpire once she joined us was not at all how I had imagined that it would go.

The Confrontation - My Mother

My mother entered the living room and took a seat in her reclining chair, adjacently positioned to the matching chair her husband sat in. The Pastor and Deacon sat on the leather couch, and I sat in the primitive rocking chair, directly in line of sight with my mom.

The Pastor transitioned the small talk into the reason he had stopped in, in somewhat of a generic manner, advising her that her husband had some concerns he’d like to address. The Pastor turned the floor over to my stepfather, who got to it. He asked my mother if she and Brent had been having an affair. The accusatory question was met with indignant and emphatic denial, followed by a long pause and the revelation from my stepfather that there was evidence to the contrary.

Without spending so much time on the small yet remarkable details, the meat of it all is as follows:

My stepfather offered the chance for reconciliation, but for my mother, there was no remorse and no apparent interest. Brent had gotten into her head so firmly at this point, she was cancerous. My mother spent a good portion of the time convincing the room that Brent loved God, was a great person, and that she was 90% responsible and to blame for the affair. Needless to say, she was ready and willing to fall on that sword as ridiculous as the assertion was.

At one point, she shared a very odd recollection. This account would evolve with swaying details as it was being developed in the moment. According to my mother, Brent had come to her, "two or three times," recently and said that he wanted to back off from the "physical" because it was "inappropriate". Objectively speaking, we were not there for this supposed conviction, but what I can say is that the "physical" and the "inappropriate" only ever increased with time. There was no indication of turning away.

What would Detwiler have to say about all of this? His turn was coming.

Pivot - My Mother is Brainwashed - Example 1

When asked to respond to a piece of art hanging on the sitting room wall, reading, "It is well with my soul," my mother looked to the Deacon and responded, "Yes, I do feel it is well with my soul." The Pastor pointed out the impossibility when we have not acknowledged sin for what it is. His remarks on the subject didn't seem to resonate with her. The truth is that she does not think that she is in sin, because she has done this with a "minister" who is the ultimate condemner, the ultimate judge of all things abominable, and if he is not condemning but encouraging this, it can't be wrong. It just isn't wrong.

Pivot - My Mother is Brainwashed - Example 2

While the Pastor spoke to my mother about the sin that is adultery, my mother–the Pastor's kid, the believer of Brent's condemning blog agenda–uttered these words. "I know, theoretically, that this is a sin, but..." The Pastor interrupted her and emphatically in astonishment stated, "Not theoretically, biblically this is sin."

Pivot - My Mother is Brainwashed - Example 3

My stepfather had recently injured his back, and was in excruciating pain. After a visit to the ER just a few days prior, he was told he may need surgery, which is a fairly serious diagnosis. He was awaiting an appointment with a back surgeon while this confrontation was transpiring.

When faced with the obvious truth that Brent would certainly have to move out and move on, my mom calmly and clearly stated that she would then also be leaving. The reason? Brent was to undergo shoulder surgery at some point, and he was going to need her to help him… No, I’m not joking. Her own husband may face a complex and life altering surgery, yet she could not see the lack of rationale in her ultimatum, focusing solely on Brent’s needs.

Intermission - Where is Brent Detwiler?

This part of the story takes us back to where it all began; the 5th Wheel. Why? Because that was exactly where Brent Detwiler slipped away during the conversation we were having with my mother. It was the most bizarre set of circumstances that led to that bit of information being discovered. Let’s go.

At the end of the discussion with my mother, she reluctantly took it upon herself to go downstairs to retrieve Brent. It was now time for him to make an appearance in the upstairs sitting room to discuss the discovery and the next steps, regarding both the church and our family.

Brent was nowhere to be found. My mother came back up the stairs and headed outdoors. It was not unusual for either of them to take walks, but for Brent, this never happened after sundown. Nonetheless, she stepped out the front door and began calling his name.

Subsequently, my husband had recently pulled up to the house, parking himself next to the 5th Wheel, waiting for the meeting to conclude. No one knew exactly how this was going to play out, so those not participating were eagerly awaiting news of the resolution.

What my husband witnessed while he was waiting by his truck was my mom, calling out into the darkness for Brent, moving up the driveway. Suddenly, Brent Detwiler emerged from the pitch black interior of the 5th Wheel into the moonlight. My mom had a brief conversation with him as they made their way back to the house. While not knowing quite what was said, I think we can speculate that something along the lines of, “It’s about us,” was likely spoken.

After what felt like forever, my mother finally came into the house with Brent right beside her. As their voices transitioned from outside volume to the stillness of the interior, I heard Brent say, “Does [husband’s name] know?” before silence kicked in.

They made their way to the sitting room, and my mother told Brent to sit in what was her chair, now dubbed, The Hot Seat, and she pulled up a dining room chair beside me. Now I was in direct line of sight with the one person I honestly never wanted to see again and my mother was at my left. Fantastic.

The Confrontation - Brent Detwiler

The floor opened up with the Pastor looking to Brent to acknowledge that he certainly must know why we were all there. Brent responded that he had just briefly been informed by my mother. He looked... annoyed; legs crossed, hands folded, then to mouth, a bit fidgety, and many weird mouth gestures. This is the posture he would maintain for the majority of the conversation, which was primarily one-sided. He also kept his gaze squarely on the Pastor, with an ever-growing, underlying aggravation. It's as if he knew this was a giant waste of time and I could tell that he was not phased. There were even the occasional smirks that seemed to come out of nowhere and were highly inappropriate. There was a smugness, no doubt.

As the Pastor addressed him, Brent didn't audibly respond, but made sharp, slight head nods here and there. Detwiler was informed that he would certainly need to leave the home, for the sake of the marriage, to put necessary distance between him and my mom, and for the sin to basically be plucked out of the situation. It was stated and implied in many ways that this adulterous situation was something that Brent Detwiler needed to turn away from, immediately and indefinitely.

At one point, the Pastor looked him in the eye and said, “Now, [wife’s name] has basically told us that this whole situation has been 90% her fault, I mean, she has fallen on that sword,” to which Brent made no concessions, confessions, or corrections. He did not chivalrously come to her defense in any way whatsoever. He did not correctly accept his portion of responsibility or consider evening the deck. I don’t even recall the batting of an eye.

At this same time, my mother interrupted the Pastor, saying, “It’s true,” and Brent briefly looked at her before returning his eyes to the Pastor, but not a word was spoken.

The Pastor continued and explained how my mom had told them that Brent loved God, that he was a good and righteous man, and to these praises, Brent nodded in agreement. The Pastor continued, “but we have some serious issues of hypocrisy here.” He discussed the time spent in the pulpit, the spectacle of worship, all while carrying on with another man’s wife. Brent would need to face the congregation and repent, it was just that simple.

My mother’s face was angry. In her brainwashed, defensive blindness, she could hardly tolerate the confrontation, her eyes like poisonous daggers.

The Pastor then brought up that my mother had shared Brent's hesitancy in continuing the physical portion of the relationship. At this point, my mom interjected and 'fed' Brent the story she had told on his behalf. He did not confirm or deny this, and had a perplexed, focused look on his face, as if this was the first time he had heard such a claim, and he could not own it. He never looked to her once as this account was being shared.

More words were said to the effect that my mother and stepfather needed time to think about their marriage, together and independently without Brent being around, and therefore his departure was absolutely vital. My mom interrupted to emphasize, for Brent's ears (obviously), that she "did not know yet," making it clear to him that she was not abandoning their adulterous relationship. The Pastor reminded her that in order for my mother to be able to have unclouded thought, distance had to be put between her and Detwiler. Once again, my mom had to chime in. "I think I have pretty clear thoughts," she said defensively. It appeared that she had wanted to be sure to signal quite openly that her loyalties to Brent had not waivered.

All I could do while sitting witness to the interaction was to think, look at what Brent has preyed upon, indulged and encouraged. He has molded her into exactly what he wanted. My mother had joined a cult. In this cult, there is one leader and one follower, but a cult no less, and this is what it looks like.

With prompting from the Pastor, (no joke), Brent, as if he missed a cue, shifted his body and his eyes, looked to my stepfather and claimed he was sorry for sinning against him, and asked for his forgiveness. To all in the room, this didn't appear to be an honest sentiment. This was an expectation being fulfilled, for show. Brent Detwiler was sorry that he was caught, that I have little doubt. Now, the scheming and manipulation would only increase.

The Aftermath

At the close of the meeting with Brent Detwiler, my stepfather offered to let him remain in the house for a brief time. I would not have offered such a courtesy, but nonetheless, in the lower level of the house, he would stay.

There were agreements that were established but these obvious boundaries should not have needed to be spoken. My mother would not venture downstairs, they would not meet up, etc.

These guidelines were never followed. Brent, even before the affair, had never respected my stepfather. He certainly wasn’t going to start now. So, when my mother would slip away downstairs to watch TV with him, not one time did Brent forcibly encourage her to go back upstairs nor did he shut himself in his bedroom. In fact, he accepted the company wholeheartedly, and the rum and cokes she had prepared, which had been somewhat of a ritual between them before they were found out.

The audacity… in the husband’s home, right in front of his face. It’s as if being known made it acceptable to flaunt it openly, like a pair of spiteful, disrespectful midlife crises with no moral compass, let alone any decency.

It is now November 16th. Brent Detwiler is potentially spending his last night at the farm. He, with the financial help of my mother (no doubt), has been set up with an apartment. What we have gathered through their behavior is that they have likely planned to continue the relationship.

My mother has become increasingly irrational and impulsive since being discovered which is incredibly concerning. She has a very small annuity from my father and some disability income, yet has stopped at nothing to try and provide for Brent. All that she has and will lose by making this decision is substantial. We believe that Brent has filled her head with preemptive directives and she is looking to him for instructions; how to divorce her husband, how to fund their adulterous relationship, how to talk to (or avoid) her children and family, and how to orchestrate it all. Meanwhile, he will undoubtedly continue to sit on his manipulative, self righteous arse as my mom dutifully hangs on his every word and provides for his every need.

Brent Detwiler came into our lives, learned about the family, my mother’s weaknesses and insecurities, and used that knowledge to conquer and divide. He is by all accounts a predator and has likely been looking for such a woman that he could manipulate and dominate: a woman who refuses to see any fault in him and who has no problem excusing his behavior, even when the very scripture he touts never will.

Epilogue

This story is still unfolding, and I will be adding to it as I am strategically able to, given that legal proceedings will be underway in time. Meanwhile, share our story, expose Brent Detwiler for who he truly is. And pray for my mother, that she will realize that God is in the details, and this certainly isn’t where He ever wanted her to be. He will never deliver us to the wolves, the wolves will always come looking for us.

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