Chloez1996
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- Joined
- May 9, 2025
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My own father is the “Joe Goldberg” of my life—because I am certain he has killed people and gotten away with it. That’s why I uploaded our DNA into crime databases, hoping for a connection that finally exposes him. He’s a sociopath with what I believe to be a split personality, and for years, he has self-medicated his mental illness with drugs and alcohol.
He abused my siblings and me in every way imaginable. As a child, I witnessed him shoot and kill neighborhood cats and dogs from his bedroom window. He openly admitted to attending cockfights, dog fights, and even feeding live animals to a friend’s snake. I also overheard disturbing conversations with his friends—talking about burying bodies and past crimes committed while in a gang in New York.
When I was around 12 or 13, I reported his abuse to a school counselor. Months later, CPS showed up. But my father manipulated the situation, convincing the social worker I was just a “troubled child” making things up. He got off with nothing more than a warning, and though the social worker recommended family counseling, we never went. My father knew exactly what he was doing. He was always careful never to involve anyone who could hold him accountable.
He is a narcissistic sociopath who can twist the truth to make himself appear the victim, deflecting any blame for the pain he’s caused. Over the years, I’ve cut off contact with him. He now lives in Arizona, having retired and relocated.
Looking back, I wish someone—anyone—who saw what was happening had stepped up and gone to the police. I wish CPS had dug deeper and had the courage to do their job. But now, as an adult, I’m taking matters into my own hands.
While searching through missing persons cases on NAMUS, one in particular stood out to me: a 15-year-old girl named Kelly Morrissey. She disappeared on June 12, 1984, in Lynbrook, New York. She was last seen walking toward a place called Captain Video, near Earl Avenue and Merrick Road. At that time, my father lived on Marshall Avenue—just a five-minute drive from where Kelly was last seen.
Kelly and my father were the same age in 1984. There’s a strong chance they attended the same school or at least crossed paths, given how close they lived to each other. According to an article on The Charley Project, Kelly had been experimenting with alcohol before she vanished, was associating with older men, and occasionally broke curfew—but her loved ones said she was no more rebellious than any other teen.
To be clear, this is all speculation. But I have a memory from when I was around seven years old. My father told me a story about a teenage girl he knew—someone who acted out in similar ways to how Kelly was described. He claimed he once saw her walking alone several blocks toward a strip club—and that she was never seen again. He used the story as a warning, telling me he didn’t want me to “end up like her.”
I can’t say for certain if the girl he was referring to was Kelly Morrissey. But I’ve always found it disturbing that he described being the last person to see a teenage girl before she vanished.
He abused my siblings and me in every way imaginable. As a child, I witnessed him shoot and kill neighborhood cats and dogs from his bedroom window. He openly admitted to attending cockfights, dog fights, and even feeding live animals to a friend’s snake. I also overheard disturbing conversations with his friends—talking about burying bodies and past crimes committed while in a gang in New York.
When I was around 12 or 13, I reported his abuse to a school counselor. Months later, CPS showed up. But my father manipulated the situation, convincing the social worker I was just a “troubled child” making things up. He got off with nothing more than a warning, and though the social worker recommended family counseling, we never went. My father knew exactly what he was doing. He was always careful never to involve anyone who could hold him accountable.
He is a narcissistic sociopath who can twist the truth to make himself appear the victim, deflecting any blame for the pain he’s caused. Over the years, I’ve cut off contact with him. He now lives in Arizona, having retired and relocated.
Looking back, I wish someone—anyone—who saw what was happening had stepped up and gone to the police. I wish CPS had dug deeper and had the courage to do their job. But now, as an adult, I’m taking matters into my own hands.
While searching through missing persons cases on NAMUS, one in particular stood out to me: a 15-year-old girl named Kelly Morrissey. She disappeared on June 12, 1984, in Lynbrook, New York. She was last seen walking toward a place called Captain Video, near Earl Avenue and Merrick Road. At that time, my father lived on Marshall Avenue—just a five-minute drive from where Kelly was last seen.
Kelly and my father were the same age in 1984. There’s a strong chance they attended the same school or at least crossed paths, given how close they lived to each other. According to an article on The Charley Project, Kelly had been experimenting with alcohol before she vanished, was associating with older men, and occasionally broke curfew—but her loved ones said she was no more rebellious than any other teen.
To be clear, this is all speculation. But I have a memory from when I was around seven years old. My father told me a story about a teenage girl he knew—someone who acted out in similar ways to how Kelly was described. He claimed he once saw her walking alone several blocks toward a strip club—and that she was never seen again. He used the story as a warning, telling me he didn’t want me to “end up like her.”
I can’t say for certain if the girl he was referring to was Kelly Morrissey. But I’ve always found it disturbing that he described being the last person to see a teenage girl before she vanished.
