Well it looks like she finally went and did it now: I have been informed by the french medical authorities that my ex-wife, Karine Anne Brunck, was an actual participant in the deaths of (now) three people - with the first being her own mother! Karine was the operator of a (probably worthless) "electro-somatogram" when someone died, pretending she was a quack's nurse or something. (There is also a charge that the quack, Wissembourg, France's Robert Wohlfahrt, was dong something illegal financially. No surprise there, considering the two of them stole all our money.) Man, it doesn't get any crazier than this! They thought they could get away with anything because I was in America: Now I feel like I barely got away from this woman with my life!
I tried to tell Karine, over and over - I even reached out to Wolfahrt's daughter, Hélène (above) - but these people are just too sold on themselves, and crazy, to listen to anything an American (even one who loved them) had to say: like all NewAgers, they hold normalcy in contempt; and, like immature children, they always want to try to be "cool" and on the fringe. (That is what marrying a black man was for Karine: a way to shock her village, Wissembourg, France.) Well, now she has shocked everyone - including me. I mean, if murderers aren't a fringe group, then no one is. I hope she, and Robert Wohlfahrt, go to prison. (I still plan on suing him in Civil Court for what he has done.) My guess is he has probably killed many others - and engaged in rampant sexual misconduct as he did with Karine after her mother was killed - so he definitely deserves having the book thrown at him. They, both, deserve to be shunned throughout France. Actually, the entire Brunck family should be shunned (including Claude and Martine Brunck, who run the bakery in Wissembourg) because they, too, laughed at my warnings: there is blood on their hands as well.
This was my mother-in-law, Jacqueline Brunck, who died too soon, and in horrible pain, because of these monsters. I never thought of her as a nice woman (she regularly referred to me as a "nigger") but I had never wished any of this on her. I am sure she and her husband, Henry Brunck (a truly nice man) would be ashamed to discover what evil people her children have become - or that I would be the one to be correct in my judgments of them. Jacqueline worried terribly about what would happen after she died: thinking Claude was too soft to keep the bakery going; Martine was too tough and would take control of the business, and Karine was just a loser with very bad judgment. Unfortunately, it looks like she was right on all counts.
This is Claude and Martine Brunck. They laughed at me when I told them Robert Wohlfahrt was a quack and had killed their mother. They just did not care, thinking I was just jealous because Wohlfahrt was sleeping with my wife (what husband wouldn't be?). The fact that this "doctor" had violated medical ethics when he slept with my wife - less than a month after the death of her mother, when a real doctor would have been informing Karine on the grieving process - meant nothing to them. For them, everything was about their image, and my style of blackness - not trying to be "cool" - just didn't fit in. Hey Claude and Martine: who is laughing now? I hope murder is good for business, since that was all you cared about, always laughing at the rest of the village for being so "small minded" while you were so better than them. Idiots.
Actually, I guess in the end, the person I feel most sorry for IS Claude Brunck. I tried to be his friend. We had more in common than he would guess (I was good friends with his now-deceased cousin, Sabastian). But Claude was one of those guys who only pretended to be a man. He would never be the real thing because he let the women control his life. That is why the entire Brunck family hated me: they could not control me. It got so bad, the last time I was in France, I ended up leaving Wissembourg in a drunken fury because the Bruncks had locked me in the bakery - for 11 hours - while they all went skiing! Karine, thinking I was trapped in the village that night, teased that I couldn't leave, even if I was a big shot American, but, thank goodness, Patrick Kastner came to my aid and took me to the airport in Frankfurt - an act that I'll be forever in his debt for. (He is a good friend.) Claude Brunck would never have been man enough to do that. Why not?
Because that would have called for: