"People Are Calling Me W!cked Woman, Why? Because I Reported My Husband To Immigration
They also said, "Don't speak. Don't bring your family issues to social media.
No, i will speak. Because if I keep quiet, my heart will burst.
Now let me make this clear: I did not report Jude to immigration.
Jude used his own hands to build the coffin of his American dream, climbed inside it, and closed the lid himself.
He destr0yed his own future.
Let me give you the backstory.
I met Jude five years ago in Enugu while I was visiting from the United States of America.
I had spent years in America working double shifts—day and night—as a Certified Nursing Assistant (CNA).
My feet were always swollen. My back constantly ached from the demands of the job.
When I met Jude at a large church programme, I thought God had finally answered my prayers.
He was humble, a brother in Christ, and always praying. He would even carry my handbag for me everywhere we went.
For four years, we maintained a long-distance relationship.
Every dollar I earned taking care of elderly people in America, I sent to Jude.
When his visa process became difficult, I did the unthinkable. I sold the only piece of land my father left for me in the village. My relatives called me a f00l, but I told them, "He's my husband, and our future is worth it."
The day Jude finally arrived at JFK International Airport, I cried until my makeup washed away.
I truly believed our suffering was over.
For the first three weeks in America, he was wonderful. But by the second month, everything changed.
He stopped eating the food I cooked. He began coming home at 2 a.m., smelling of cheap perfume. He started buying expensive clothes that my CNA salary could barely support.
One Saturday evening, I confronted him.
Jude looked me straight in the eye and said, "Ada, take a good look at yourself in the mirror.
You look like a repackaged grandmother. I didn't travel all the way from Nigeria to America to spend the rest of my life with a feeding bottle, this country has opened my eyes."
After everything I sacrificed, including selling the only land my father left me to bring him to America, that was what he said to me.
He told me I looked like a repackaged grandmother.
And you think that was the end?
No.
The next morning, the wardrobe was empty.
My husband had disappeared. Jude vanished into thin air.
—Wife tells her divorce Story, reveals how she divorced her husband and deported him back to Nigerian after selling the only land he inherited from her father just to sponsor his American Dream.
People are reacting, saying they can't conclude without hearing from her husband Jude.
No, i will speak. Because if I keep quiet, my heart will burst.
Now let me make this clear: I did not report Jude to immigration.
Jude used his own hands to build the coffin of his American dream, climbed inside it, and closed the lid himself.
He destr0yed his own future.
Let me give you the backstory.
I met Jude five years ago in Enugu while I was visiting from the United States of America.
I had spent years in America working double shifts—day and night—as a Certified Nursing Assistant (CNA).
My feet were always swollen. My back constantly ached from the demands of the job.
When I met Jude at a large church programme, I thought God had finally answered my prayers.
He was humble, a brother in Christ, and always praying. He would even carry my handbag for me everywhere we went.
For four years, we maintained a long-distance relationship.
Every dollar I earned taking care of elderly people in America, I sent to Jude.
When his visa process became difficult, I did the unthinkable. I sold the only piece of land my father left for me in the village. My relatives called me a f00l, but I told them, "He's my husband, and our future is worth it."
The day Jude finally arrived at JFK International Airport, I cried until my makeup washed away.
I truly believed our suffering was over.
For the first three weeks in America, he was wonderful. But by the second month, everything changed.
He stopped eating the food I cooked. He began coming home at 2 a.m., smelling of cheap perfume. He started buying expensive clothes that my CNA salary could barely support.
One Saturday evening, I confronted him.
Jude looked me straight in the eye and said, "Ada, take a good look at yourself in the mirror.
You look like a repackaged grandmother. I didn't travel all the way from Nigeria to America to spend the rest of my life with a feeding bottle, this country has opened my eyes."
After everything I sacrificed, including selling the only land my father left me to bring him to America, that was what he said to me.
He told me I looked like a repackaged grandmother.
And you think that was the end?
No.
The next morning, the wardrobe was empty.
My husband had disappeared. Jude vanished into thin air.
—Wife tells her divorce Story, reveals how she divorced her husband and deported him back to Nigerian after selling the only land he inherited from her father just to sponsor his American Dream.
People are reacting, saying they can't conclude without hearing from her husband Jude.
