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Pages From a Fathers Fight Robbie Parker
Pages From a Fathers Fight Robbie Parker
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Advance Review Copy. Not For Sale.
Retreat
“How is Emilie tonight? We know the bitch is alive or never
existed.”
“You dirty no good son of a bitch we know Emilie never
existed and you just collect money.”
“You will have to answer to God for your bullshit! Your kids
are ugly! You punk bitch!”
It was so demoralizing. How could I compete with this propa-
ganda machine and the fervor it allotted? How could I ignore this man
and also fulfill my obligations to protect my family?
We did everything we could to get Facebook, Twitter, and
YouTube on our side, hoping they could implement policies to slow,
if not stop, the spread of these conspiracies. Alissa’s cousin used to
work for a high-powered public relations agency out of New York.
His former boss (and vice president of the company at the time),
Marian Salzman, came to bat with us in our battle against the malig-
nant spread of lies and conspiracies. With her help, our pleas were
elevated to the highest echelons at Facebook. We weren’t aware but
at the same time other families through their own contacts were also
fighting against social media giants. Our individual crusades were all
met the same way, with typical corporate responses that began with,
“After careful review . . .” or deafening silence.
No matter how high I climbed or how far I yelled, nothing
seemed powerful enough to overcome the stacks of money Alex
Jones’s content brought to these platforms. Or as I felt, my voice, my
family and our safety was worth nothing compared to the financial
gain that came from disseminating outrageous conspiracy theories.
With seemingly no barriers in place, the tidal wave of misinfor-
mation continued to flow inland totally unimpeded. It was freakish
how one conspiracy would birth others that would then mutate
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Advance Review Copy. Not For Sale.
a father’s fight
until it became unrecognizable from the original parent conspiracy.
In their world Emilie was still alive, never existed, and I willingly
sacrificed her in a zealous pursuit to rid the country from guns.
They all bragged about doing individual research and reaching
unique conclusions while all sounding the same. Yet despite all
this work and sleuthing they never did reach the most logical con-
clusions or come across any of the actual evidence that was readily
available to them.
Finding no recourse from the social media companies left me
feeling completely abandoned. It was demoralizing to feel that I was
left to battle these forces alone. Without any tools at my disposal, the
only approach I saw was that information was power, so I remained
engaged about what misinformation was being spread. However,
this fight left me feeling like I was diverting precious water from a
natural river into a manmade canal, leaving my natural ecosystem
thirsting for needed resources while watering an artificial landscape.
And it became clear to me that I could not hold both grief and the
vigilant protection of my family in the same place at the same time.
This forced me to live a very split life, battling between my two
biggest priorities. The desire—and need—to focus on processing
my grief remained strong and continued with counseling. When
I was with my family and in therapy, I found pockets of time to
incorporate my grief work with Alissa and my girls. At home I felt
more loose and could play steamroller with the girls with lots of
laughter. Or I would zone out on the couch holding each of them
while watching Shaun the Sheep together. The times when I was
present and open I felt like I could be me. Then there were quiet
moments when Alissa and I held each other and talked openly with
each other. Even though this could be painful, I felt safe. Those
experiences were beautiful.
In public or at work my guard was up at all times while I tried
to remain invisible. I was tense with my eyes peeled and ears always
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