Richard Hamlin and Susan Siemer met at the University of the Pacific when both were attending the university's School of Law.  Richard Hamlin says that Susan made the difficult class work appear easy. In protective custody in an El Dorado County jail awaiting a trial that could put him away for 25 years to life, Richard reminisced.  He recalled one particular test that he had spent countless hours studying for determined to score a higher grade then Susan - just this once.  He said two-thirds of the way through the test he glanced over at her and she had put down her pencil and was staring off into space.  She looked as though she did not have a care in the world but he was worried that she had frozen and could not complete the test.  He need not have worried; Susan had simply finished the test before any one else and was waiting for others to finish.  As he described this event his voice contained a mixture of pride and regret.

Richard describes Susan as a brilliant, strong willed woman who is beautiful and petite but tall and slender with a model's figure.  In law school they shared an interest in religion and attended church regularly.  Richard Hamlin was not just attracted to his fellow student, he was in love.  In 1984 they were married.  It seemed an ideal match. She was a smart civil litigator whose expertise was writing well researched civil complaints; he was a confrontational trial lawyer who rapidly acquired experience as a prosecutor and then as a defense attorney.  Together they appeared to live an ideal Christian life responsibly raising four children and building a million dollar home with a view in El Dorado Hills halfway between the capital city of California, Sacramento, and the historic smaller town of Placerville.  Their neighbors describe a couple who were devoted parents who both participated in after school activities and church gatherings.  Susan Hamlin was a stay-at-home mother whose husband's income allowed her to have a gardener and housekeeper to help her run their large home.  Observers said that for eighteen years it seemed to be a perfect marriage and both parents were excellent role models for their children.

The early years of their marriage, like most young marriages, had been a financial struggle with both of them working to make ends meet.  Their first son was born in 1987 and their second child, a boy, arrived in 1992.  By this time Richard Hamlin had left the Sacramento District Attorney's office and was doing well as a defense attorney.  With two children to care for, Susan decide to become a stay at home mom and shortly thereafter in 1996 the Hamlin's became the proud parents of a baby girl.  Two years later, in 1998, a second daughter was born and their family was complete.  Their lives were filled with business matters and social gatherings befitting a successful couple.

In the El Dorado County Sheriff's report made on February 26, 2004 Susan Hamlin "said she started molesting her kids in Fresno in 1996 and that her dad Sidney taught her how to put her kids in a "trance like hyper relaxed stage."  She also said that "she last molested her kids in October, 2002".  So by Susan's own words she continued to molest her own children over a five year period. In the audio recorded interview made of Susan Hamlin that same day she was asked if her husband "ever molested one of your children" and she answered, "No". She was again asked, "Are you positive of that?" and she replied, "Yes."

The transcript of this same recorded interview shows Detective Hoagland asking Mrs. Hamlin, "Does your husband ever beat you?"  She replies, "No."  Detective Hoagland says, "Okay, I've got to ask."  Susan acknowledges, "I know."  Then Detective Lensing explains, "One of the reasons why he's asking that is because last time I talked to you, you had a black eye also. It was on the left side. (inaudible) bruises..." Susan states, "I know, I know. I had been roughed up by this..."  Detective Lensing interjects, "This mysterious guy...." And Susan concludes by naming the husband of her friend.

Richard recalled the first disturbing incident involving Susan that occurred in 1999, although at the time Richard had thought the police officer who issued his wife a misdemeanor child neglect/endangering citation (No. 539644, Sacramento Municipal Court) had overreacted.  Susan had taken the children out shopping in their brown 1996 Ford van and had just run into the Pier One import store in Sacramento for a few minutes to shop.  It was a warm afternoon on April 9, 1999 and fellow customers had observed the children crying in the van. Concerned, they went into Pier One and reported the van's license number and a description of the vehicle. Pier One clerks announced over the store loud speaker that the parents of children in this locked van needed to immediately report to the counter.  Twenty minutes later when Susan checked her products out at the cashier, she walked out to find the police trying to open the van's doors to rescue the children.  When she received the citation from officer T. Taylor, Richard Hamlin appeared as his wife's defense attorney.  Susan plead nolo contendre (acknowledged by law to have the same force and effect as a guilty plea.).  She successfully completed a diversion program and the charges were dismissed on April 13, 1999.

Following this 1999 event, Susan began shutting down and withdrawing into herself and hardly ever speaking.  Richard became concerned about the possibility that Susan was suffering from depression.  He admits that he was not the best husband during this time period, concentrating only on money and providing his family and himself with the very best of material things.  He said he had a very profitable practice and when it reached its peak in 2001 he was making $650,000 a year as a defense attorney.  He was defending some very high profile clients who could afford to keep him on 24-hour call by paying him what ever was needed to defend their clients.  He was hobnobbing with powerful politicians, sampling the good life and having an occasional extramarital affair if he had the desire.  He acknowledges that during this crucial time he was paying little attention to the emotional needs of his family and Susan became quieter and more withdrawn.  Finally, Susan went to a psychiatrist at Kaiser Hospital in Sacramento who first prescribed Ritalin and later Prozac which Susan took for several years.

Richard noticed a marked difference in his wife.  She seemed to have more energy and was not as withdrawn, talking more openly then she had in years.  Then in October of 2002 Susan suffered a panic attack that was worse then anything that had happened in the past.  She was driving in the van with the children and she suddenly suffered from a severe migraine headache so painful that she began experiencing breathing difficulties and temporary numbness in her arm and face.  She panicked and pulled off to the side of the road calling 911. The police responded, called Richard at work to come get the children and took Susan to the hospital where they kept her for the day, medicating her and sending her home later that evening.  According to Richard, the attack seemed to release some type of trigger in Susan and for the first time she began telling Richard about her horrific childhood.  And she began writing to those friends and family who could explain the gaps in her memory that made her feel as though she had been raised in a totally different household from her siblings.

To her father, Dr. Sid Siemer she wrote the following letter on April 22, 2003:

Dear Dad,

This is a letter that I never thought I would choose to write. But, lately, (the past 3-4 years) I have been struggling with behaviors and moods that I can't explain. I have suffered from severe depression, thoughts of suicide, self esteem problems, marital problems, problems socializing; in all settings, including the work environment, etc. I have gone back and forth between concern for, or more accurately, fear of, your feelings in reading this letter and concern for my well being if I did not write, and send, this letter. At this point, obviously, I have concluded that my need to write this letter has sufficient value. I have not yet, as I sit here writing, determined the value of my need to send it. (If you are reading this now, then I guess, not only do I have a need to verbalize my thoughts, but I also have a need for you to hear them. Any need I have for a response from you is a separate issue that I have not gotten to at this point.)

I have so many gaps in my memory of growing up -- I have always wondered why. Terri has similar gaps. Layne recounts memories that are so foreign to me that I think he lived in another house. I have lived my life not ever letting others see the "real" me. I know that everyone does this to a certain extent.  But I have always expended so much energy projecting an image of someone who is "acceptable"..... always feeling that I had to hide something. While I expended such energy to keep others from finding out what was inside me -- it really wasn't hard to keep it hidden, since I had no idea what it was that I was hiding.

I have been trying so hard to figure things out so that I can, at some point, relax and let down enough to actually experience life, i.e., really feel it -- expose myself so that I could really experience life's feelings, instead of merely acting them out as I projected this more acceptable image of Susan. While my protective walls, my facade, kept the true ugliness safely hidden within, they have also unknowingly served to keep life out too. As you will read in any psych textbook, intimacy in a relationship is impossible to achieve without trusting another enough to let your true self be seen, i.e. exposing yourself to a point of vulnerability. Love is what results then, when in that vulnerability, you can draw strength from a confidence that you will still be, at a minimum, accepted, but even more than that (unbelievably so), affirmed and clung to still, i.e., loved. Isn't that the cliché --"unconditional love?"

In my case, exposing the grotesque ugliness that was me, so I thought, could only lead to being cast aside, abandoned, discarded, rejected, shunned, isolated...unloved. The results, of course was ZERO self esteem. How could I have possibly had any good thoughts of myself if disgust and disapproval were a certainty upon someone seeing behind my facade. Perfection of this facade as I went though childhood, then, was a necessity for my very survival, since dependent children would surely perish if abandoned. While this facade served me well, for the most part, in hiding the ugliness that I have always believed to be me, it is now hurting me, and those I love, much more than any good it is doing. It is affecting every relationship I have with those people in my life -- my husband, my children, my siblings, my friends, any employer I have ever had,.....and you. This facade has outlived its usefulness in my life; unfortunately, however, it has taken on a life of its own. It is going to protect me whether or not I need or want it to. How do I turn it off? What was its source? Why is it so STRONG? About 4 or 5 years ago I remember thinking that I was finally happy with my life. For the most part, I felt comfortable with who I was -- I thought I had a healthy image of myself at long last. I had absolutely no desire to focus any attention backward in an attempt to figure out any baggage I might be carrying through life. I was happy and unaffected by any "baggage".

This feeling of peace lasted for a couple of years. Then I started into a plunge that went deeper than anything I had previously experienced --e.g., the break-up of the family, Mom's suicide attempt and problems with alcohol, her death, post-partum depression, etc. Thoughts of suicide were not unfamiliar to me over the years, but the depth and intensity of this particular period of severe depression really scared me. I remember on a couple of different occasions crying to Rick to please watch me closely -- I was afraid of what I might do. It was, at that time, not just others' disapproval that was so devastating, it was that I couldn't even love myself. I was too "ugly" even for me to approve of. I thought I would be doing my family a favor if I died. I thought Rick should have someone better, and I thought, if I were dead, my kids would benefit from the absence of such a negative influence in their lives. This feeling of despair was so consuming and very scary. I really don't think it is a feeling that someone can empathize with if they have not experienced it. The healthy response, of course, would be "snap out of it". But isn't that like saying to a painfully shy person (as I was) "just don't be shy".  It really wasn't a self centered wallowing in self pity.  I think I would have fared much better if I could have been self centered -- at least that would indicate some sense of self that I was worth even that much concern.

Thankfully, something kept me from totally succumbing to despair and actually taking my life. And as the fight inside me slowly came back, I figured there must be something I needed to figure out. I didn't know how to frame the questions, though.  And I knew that if I didn't ask the right questions, there would be no way of coming up with the right answer. I spent a lot of time spinning my wheels trying to find answers to the wrong questions. I was continuously frustrated when discovering the answer to my questions failed to produce any change in my emotional health. I have been to counselors, I have read books, I have talked to people, I have spent time just trying to figure something out. I thought that the discovery that I have held this "ugly" image of myself all these years would, by itself, be so liberating.  It was not just other people's approval that had such power over me, it was also my own and that, finally, was something that I had control of -- or so it seemed. That it took me until mid life to figure out what seems so simple did nothing to bolster my self esteem, but I guess I'm OK with being a late bloomer. What really bothered me was that I was ineffective at changing my self image , even with conscious effort. As I tried unsuccessfully several different ways to "undo" this disabling self image, it occurred to me that before I could undo it, I needed to know where it originated. I started to re-phrase the initial questions. What was it about me that, if it were discovered, would be so repulsive to others that I would certainly be cast out? This is more than just being "self conscious". My ugliness must be kept hidden at any cost. When did this need to cover arise? Where did it come from? I still haven't answered these starting point questions. So, very shortly after concluding that I needed to take this journey, my trip has stalled out. So now what? Well, maybe if I tackled it from another side first, instead of so directly, I might at least be able to get a start. (More my style anyway.) I started looking again at memories that I do have, instead of racking my brain trying to remember something that I don't remember.

One memory that I never really gave a second thought to in the past, but that has begun to cause more concern for me lately, is one that you could shed some light on for me. I don't need help reconstructing the memory -- that has always been very clear in my mind. What I do have a problem figuring out, as only you would know, is why it took place, whether it was an isolated event, and why nothing has ever been said about it. When I was 16, J-------- L ---- and I planned to take a day trip to the beach. We planned to leave early in the morning so she spent the night at our house. We slept on the floor in the living room so we wouldn't wake everyone else so early. During the night I woke up, rolled over and saw you sitting beside J ------ . I immediately felt awkwardness and said "you guys are being weird". J---- did not say anything, but you said, "Roll over and go back to sleep". I did as I was told. I don't remember thinking anything else about it that night or the next morning. It wasn't until J---- and I were driving home from the beach the next evening that it was raised by J----. She told me that she had not wanted to say anything earlier because she didn't want to ruin our day, but she wanted to ask me something. She told me that you came in to where we were sleeping the night before and started rubbing her breasts. She didn't know what to do at the time, or what to think. She was confused and felt very awkward, as did I. She asked me if that was something that you did to me to help me get to sleep at night. I don't know if she asked that because it was something you told her, or if she was trying to explain it in some way that could make some sense. My response was a very embarrassed "no". But I knew that was what was going on when I woke up during the night when I said the two of you were acting weird. I was so extremely embarrassed, confused, and deeply hurt and affected in ways that I couldn't begin to know. I can only guess about the resulting impact on J-----. We never spoke of this incident again beyond this one brief conversation. As far as I know, you never explained or apologized to J----. I don't have any memory of you raising it in any way with me either. WHY? Because of your failure to address it, I was left with my own assumptions and their resulting impact. (As was J----.) I was hurt to the core by my assumption that my dad didn't love me --how could he love me if his actions evidenced a total disregard for any feelings I might have. When I woke up and said something, your dismissal of me made me feel like I didn't matter at all. And when you didn't say anything the next day, or ever, it just confirmed that you didn't care. Were you concerned at all that J---- and I might talk, or that she might tell her parents? It was a crime you know. She was my best friend for all those years --I can't remember if she ever spent the night at my house again after that, all our friendship was affected, or if her suicide attempt was linked. I have thought about writing her, but thought I should start with you. A big thing that has come to me lately is why, with a clear memory of that night, I have thought of it as insignificant all this time. Looking at it differently now may be because C---- is at the age of spending the night at friends' houses now.

So, all of a sudden, I had a need to write this letter. As I have been writing this for the last week or two, I have been immobilized by severe depression. My body has shut down. I don't drive without literally falling asleep at the wheel. I am freezing cold all the time and crying at the drop of a hat. What does this all mean??? I don't feel anger at all towards you. Perhaps that is odd -- Rick thinks that is odd. He definitely feels angry -- maybe it is a guy thing, or maybe the field he works in, or maybe feelings of a protective husband. But where is my protective daddy??? My feelings started being piqued as C---- is getting older. But I was your baby -- what about that? This is my only memory so I am not making any accusations beyond what I clearly remember. But in my pain as an adult, I have to ask the questions -- did you sexually molest me as a child?? Is that why I have so few memories of growing up? I know that must a horribly painful question to be asked. But it is just as painful, if not more so, to be asking it. As I said earlier, I feel no anger at all, only extreme pain and a desperate need for healing. If you can help me heal, as your baby still, won't you please answer my questions with loving honesty? I am a wreck and, at this point, just trying to survive.

Your baby,

Susan